#completely going against the king who he’s *suppose* to be loyal to) then knocks up with his heir

[gagmebucky]

24, 28 & 32 with charles blackwood, pretty please? and i loooove your blog so much!! also, i tried really hard to try and find the “before you request” page/link on your blog and couldn’t find it at all. so so sorry if i did something wrong ahh! 😩💗

you are SO polite and adorable! dw about it ❤️🥰 I got you 🥰❤️

“Behave.” // “I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.” // “If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” (includes bodyguard!charles blackwood x princess!you, royalty au, violence in your defense, spanking, fingering, d/s dynamics, light bondage.)

do not repost.

—

“If you think because you’ll be queen, you speak to me that way—” Duke Eldridge is snarling at you. (or is it Eileen? Alfred? You don’t know. All you know is his nation is much smaller than yours.) His mature features are screwed up in red-faced, raging embarrassment, and his finger jabs out with the intention of shoving you backward.

Who knew pointing out an elder royal’s causal, insecurity-based sexism then making a joke about his overcompensating demeanor would have him seconds away from throttling you? Well, you did—it wasn’t necessarily your intention, but it was always a possibility.

It’s always a possibility, because you’ve done this many times before. But it’s like, being the princess, future queen, to kingdom powerful as yours that means you can go against these assholes in the way their people dream to.

Before the Duke’s index touches your chiffon clad shoulder, it’s being twisted around his back. A sickening CRACK! preluding his wimpish cries before combat boots swipe underneath his ankle that sprawls him across the ballroom floor.

The expanse had already been quieting at the confrontation, but now is effectively silent, grandiose gowns and tuxedos locked tensely on your personal guard’s wrath. A usually charming man, six feet tall with an equally intimidating mass, shifting in the physical embodiment of a tornado wrecking whatever’s in your path—and right now, he’s intent of ripping Duke Oldboy out of your way.

Charles sets a heavy, leather clad boot against his throat, blackened blue eyes narrowing. “Didn’t anyone inform you disrespecting the princess is cause for death?”

The other guards are clamoring in to make good on his word, hauling the now blanched royalty to meet his deathly fate. And, you use to try and convince him that such consequences are far too extreme, but it’s never been successful. Instead, your personal blackguard has you escorted out before you can lament your dissent.

Muttering under your breath, you don’t bother revolting, allowing two armed wards to bring you back to your suite. Truth be told, you’ve always hated the whole ostentatious party scene, and Duke whatshisface might deserve what your lifetime protector is furied to give him.

When Charles is finished, he promptly locates you. Barging into your suite without knocking as you preen in your vanity mirror, he’s splashed in blood, bow tie loose, jacket off with his white long sleeve rolled to his forearms. The anger emitting from his tightly coiled form is almost suffocating, the majority directed at you, apparent as his icy blues pierce you.

“Cosa ti ho detto, principessa?” The slow drawl of baritone Italian cuts through the air, the switch in language a calm indication of true lividity, deadly as he repeats, “What did I tell you, princess?”

Your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip, dithering between snarking back—because might as well—and accepting your fate. A bead of silence, and he narrows on you in silent demand. “Behave,” you finally say with a mild hissed quality. “You told me, comportarsi.”

“So you did hear me.” With a sardonic smile, a juxtaposition to the fire beneath the storming waters of his eyes, he presses forward, plucking a cloth off your vanity to clean blood from his split knuckles. “A simple fucking order to follow, correct? And yet—”

“It wasn’t my fault!” you suddenly blurt in a belated realization the former of the previous choices is best. “You can’t blame me. He was a dick to me first! Was I not suppose to relatitate?!”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses!” he explodes, slamming his hand on the wooden desk, almost shattering your mirror. “You were suppose to get me so I could handle it. How many times do I have to tell you that?! Princess, you know I don’t like to repeat—”

You stomp your foot like a petulant child despite being a grown woman, insisting your shifty innocence: “All I did was make a joke—”

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god—” he snarls with another dangerous step toward you, fists flexing at his sides.

“Or what?” you challenge, an infuriating smirk tilting. You’re the motherfucking princess; your own father doesn’t speak to you like that. “What are you gong to do, Charles? Spank me?”

The mocking prompt strikes him, first nonplussed by your blatant disrespect, processing it with parted lips. It evaporates instantly, a wicked curl of his redden lips, a considering gleam like white tips on waves in his eyes. Your stomach dips with his delighted, determined, “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

His hand shoots out to yank you forward, stumbling you into his chest while he buries it in your hair. Ruining the updo, locks falling down your back, strands cupping your cheeks, he forces your gaze on his. “Take your gown off, princess,” he growls, watching defiance flicker in your expression. His grip tightens, a sting to your scalp that has you gasping. “Don’t make me rip it.”

Your hands are trembling underneath the heat rising in your center as you grasp his wrist. “You wouldn’t,” you whimper, but the look in his eyes tells you different. Now, you’re scrambling to peel it off, and he releases you to shakily unlace the tight then flowing fabric. It’s a gorgeous piece done by hand, a blended A-line with thin straps, tied at your waist.

Unknotted, it pools around your feet, leaving you indecent. In nothing but your undergarments, it’s most exposed a man has ever seen you—a fact attributed to him (not that you have a problem with).

Goosebumps arise in the wake of his lascivious orbs, a cold heat invoked solely by his gaze and not the low temperature of your bedroom. Your face flushed, his eyes roam covetously over your skin, pushed up cleavage to the line of your navel, down the tempting V of your thighs.

A soft sound erupts from the base of his throat as he nods to your covered flesh. “What’re you waiting for?” he growls. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“You only said the gown,” you simper despite better judgement to simply obey.

Once again, you’ve astounded him and pissed him off all in one go. “You know the things I’m capable of, the things I’ve done, the people I’ve killed, and you still test me?”

You don’t back down, you should, but you don’t. “As if you’d done any of it if weren’t to protect me,” you snark matter of factly.

You’re right, and his eye twitches. “Bend over.”

“Make me.” You fold your arms and turn your back to him.

You can’t help it, truthfully. There’s an addicting rush to provoking a man like him—testing his thin patience because you’re the only who can without having a death wish.

He chuckles, low and humorless, and a shiver slithers down your spine. His hand wraps around your arm tightly, bringing his face beside yours. “You have three seconds to lay across my lap, or, instead of spanking your ass, I’ll shove my cock in it,” he utters calmly in your ear, syllables slow so the commitment to his threat sinks in.

Lightning jolts through your veins; a spike of arousal so powerful, it’s dizzying. Your breathing catches as you twist around to face him. The tension fizzles between you two, the unflinching demeanor, and your desire because of it.

“You can’t - you aren’t allowed—” you mean to speak strongly, but your voice cracks, vaguely a whimper. “You’re not suppose to say things like that to the princess.”

The hand around your arm unfurls, and he perches himself expectantly on the edge of your bed. Remaining aplomb, he merely looks at you, legs spread wide in anticipation of you. “One, two—”

Your body springs into action before your mind thinks to, draping your abdomen across his muscular thighs. There’s an echo of humiliation in baring yourself like this for him, a perverse pleasure in knowing this is a disgraceful act of princess to do—much less with the man who’s grown up alongside you in purpose of your safety. An irony there, too.

You squirm. Not your fault with an uncomfortable sensation itching at your skin in being in a position so foreign, both dynamically and physically.

Half balancing in a plank, your hands are pawing for stability on his thighs, legs shifting between finding footing flat on the ground and straightening. It’s a flail, subconsciously trying to irritate him like he’s done with you.

“Be still,” he orders but it’s just so awk—“That’s it!” he suddenly growls. Then the sharp riiiiiiiiiip of your brasserie fills the air, roughly tearing the elastic down the middle of your back and off your chest. In a similar fashion, he’s grabbing your wrists and lace immobilizes your arms just above your ass.

“C - Charles!” you whine when your vehement wiggling does nothing to budge the knot. It straddles the edge of painful and lax; a slight strain in your shoulders as a reminder it’s there yet blends uniquely with everything else you’re feeling.

“Unless you want me to gag you, I suggest you keep your pretty mouth shut,” he warns, a husky chuckle when you do just that, teeth worrying your bottom lip in replacement. “Don’t think being good now is gonna get you outta this ‘cause it’s been a long time coming, princess.”

His hand caresses your behind lightly, palming each cheek through the thin fabric of your underwear. Little noises catch in your throat, almost gasping beneath his touch, pushing to your toes in an effort to receive more.

“You’ve just got the best ass I’ve ever seen.” There’s a guttural factor to his rough praise, emphasized with his fingers kneading into your skin. “Wearing those tight skirts and dress, you were just begging for me to get my hands on them. The amount of times I had to stop myself from bending you over my knee like this.”

It’s debauched, but you want it—whatever it is. An ache throbs below like never before, and you’re helpless to soothe it, completely dependent upon him, like so many times before.

Your pinned hands clench, and you shake your head. “Charles,” you moan, beginning to wiggle, “you’re not allowed - you’re not suppose to treat the princess like—”

“If you were acting like a princess, I wouldn’t have to instill this lesson into you,” he hisses before wrenching your panties down your thighs, and you don’t get to question lesson because his palm is cracking down.

Calloused flesh on soft rings deafeningly within your bedroom, your loud cry mixed in as burning blossoms through your bottom. The pain drips low between your thighs, a confusing flash of satisfaction before disappearing with the wined back of his arm.

“Oh, God,” you warble, and you’re wriggling again, your head heavy over his thigh. “C - Charles…”

“You can do whatever you want, princess, but make no mistake, when it comes down to it, you will listen to me.” Charles twists your hair around his arm, enforcing an arch in your back to offset the sting in your scalp. It effectively stops any residual writhing, and it allows him to brace your hips firmer under his knee. You know you’re going to get it, so why are flooded in scathing eagernesss?

In a false sense, he’s rubbing over each cheek gently, and you’re squeezing your eyes shut in preparation. “You can do whatever you want, princess, but make no mistake, when it comes down to it, you will listen to me.” His voice washes over you like gravel. “And I’m going to make sure you don’t forget it.”

The wind whistles as he draws back.

“When I say, don’t do something, you don’t fucking do it.” THWACK! “When I say behave, you will behave.” THWACK! “And if you don’t—” THWACK! “You won’t sit right for weeks.”

Each blow is centered between your respective asscheeks, an evenly toned bruise to span across in the morning. Your ass can light a candle with how hot it burns, sizzling with aftershocks as the cold air breezes past your aching flesh.

You jolted with every hit, whimpers escaping, but ultimately withstood the pain. Now, with the release of your hair, you’re panting incessantly, your cheek resting on his lap, lingering tremors down your back. To make matters worse, liquid lust is trickling down your thighs, tickling and uncomfortable.

“Do you understand me, princess?” Charles pauses then, THWACK! But this time, he’s angled lower, a smack on slick flesh. “Dimmi che mi capisci, principessa.”

“I - I understand,” you rasp.

He makes an approving hum. “Good.” His hand returns to you, massaging your stinging bottom, briefly rubbing his thumbs into the tender muscle. Then he moves lower, dipping his fingers over your folds teasingly. “Look what you’ve done,” he murmurs as his fingers move lower, brushing across your dripping folds. “You’re making a mess all over my pants. I have half a mind to make you lick it up.”

“S - sorry,” you immediately moan, careening back in hopes of relieving stimulation.

He chuckles. “S’okay,” he says. “The question is, should I oblige the princess? Already spoiled rotten. Giving in would only make it worse, right?”

As he speaks, you feel his eyes taking you in greedily: how unmistakably you glisten underneath the light, the darkened glow of your abused ass, the shake of your bound wrists. His fingertips are teasing, rough pads tracing your entrance then sinking down to encircle your engorged clit.

“Please, please.” You strain to look back at him, for him to see the sincere need in your eyes. “Charles, please. It hurts,” you whimper, and you aren’t referring to the spanking.

“Princesses aren’t suppose to beg,” he mocks. “But I do live to take care of you, so…”

His fingers finish the sentence, honing in on your nub, direct pressure beginning to swirl hot and steady circles.

“O - oh!” you gasp when the furnace in your belly suddenly roars to life.

Your tippy-toe footing fumbles, but he’s anachoring a hand curled around one of your thighs, fixing your stability while he plays.

Wrists tied, bent over his lap, all you can do is take it, moans and mewls, limited squirming. His touch is skilled, tactful compared to your otherwise virgin experience (again, his fault, although without complaints.)

Palming your sex, heel slotted between the heart shape of your ass, his arrowed fingertips are working with an ever increasing pace, sponsored by your excessive wetness.

“Prissy princess, I should’ve known you’d have the cutest little pussy. So soft, and wet for me,” he croons above you, not a slow in his ministrations, the pit in your stomach preparing to combust. “But I think it’d be even prettier after I’ve fucked it all abused.”

Your nails cut crescents into your palms, gasping as the dizzyingly sweet sensations swell. “Charles, oh, God,” you moan, eyes shutting while waves begin to crash.

“Is that what my filthy, little princess wants?” he continues, a ravenous note to the husky question. “Wanna match with this pretty spanked-red ass of yours? Fuck you so you’ll still feel the burn days later?”

“Charles—”

A cocoon of heat engulfs you snugly, blazing as convulsions involuntarily wrack your body, so strong you almost rip your ties off. For over several seconds, the most pleasurable sensation render you wild, only waning with the reluctant end of his caress.

Once he’s sure it’s died down, a few twitches as you go slack, you’re being maneuvered. A careful and gentle shift places you on your bed, laying you out in your belly because your ass still resounds with smarting pain. Your bra-turned-bind is pulled free, your arms instantly going underneath your face despite your wince at the sudden movement.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he says but you already know it. “I’m going to take care of you, princess.”

[masterlist / feedback]

[roger-that-cap]

meet me in the gardens

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say no to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected your knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either.

knight!natasha x lady!reader

sort of royalty au (there’s social hierarchy and a king and queen and knights and commoners and all that so- yeah it’s a royalty au nvm lmao)

warnings: this is fluff, angst, uh, basically everything but smut and serious angst.

word count: 2.5k, starting off short before we get into this 

part one!

also, to the very few people who look for fics up here- i promise i’m alive, sorry for being m.i.a! work and school are bodying me right now 

A lot could change within a year.

In a year, one was expected to grow wiser and older, and for you, because you were a woman, prettier. And because you did all three of those things in one year, you were herded off like cattle from your small farm, where the old pig you would soon be forced to call “husband” had seen you in the first place, and carted away to his large estate. You were supposed to be his wife, bear his children, and love him unconditionally even though you knew nothing about him, and he was supposed to do not even half of that for you. He had chosen you purely because your father had an abundance of wheat and animals, and he thought you were nice looking. He would surely never go hungry if he had the owner of a relatively large farm’s daughter with him.

Regardless of his reasoning for wanting to make you his wife, it ended up happening. You cried yourself to sleep the night before, and when you were done consummating the horrid marriage, you cried after he fell asleep, unable to shut your own eyes. That was how you spent your first night at the female counterpart to your lord husband, and as Lady Mirellis.

The marriage was loveless. The only thing you got out of it was a nice roof over your head and some silky clothing that made you feel like you were betraying who you really were. He was a brute and a pig, and he hardly ever spoke to you other than to tell you to get on your back, your knees, or something else as equally vile. You were the lady of his large manor, considered a small castle, but that was all you were. You made friends with the staff around, and that made things just the tiniest bit better. He was still cruel and crude, still insanely aggravating, and getting more and more angry with each month that you weren’t carrying his child.

And then, all of a sudden, he grew ill. And, within a month after he fell ill, he died. And then you were a single woman who had a large estate to her name, and a growing line of suitors who wanted nothing more than to have their last names attached to the great patch of land. You were the lady of the house without a lord, still young and still capable of marriage. After a large fuss over whether or not a young woman from your background was fit to take over, you had inherited everything.

So, yes, a lot could change in a year. And you decided that the changes that took place in that year were ones that you could barely handle.

§§

You knew exactly what the letter with the King’s Seal on it was when it was put into your hand, and you very easily guessed the contents of it.

You supposed that you should have seen it coming. Miraculously, your late husband and lord had gotten out of the Hosting, which could have been seen as treasonous or dishonorable if he had been any less careful. You grew up on a farm, and you had no idea how to go about denying or questioning royal decree, so you weren’t going to. You were going to have to Host, for the first time in your life.

Your family was never important enough to have to do it, so you had no experience with it, other than knowing that a high up lord of a small castle, or big estate, whatever one wanted to call it, was in charge of having a knight in their home while the knight completed his year long training. The training was said to come from within, and the job of the knight was to be a good, honorable guest, and to come back to the castle after their year expired as a new and improved person.

But it was rare that they truly soul searched, you had heard. Mainly because they were ninety nine percent male and thought with their penises more than their brains and hearts. The Hosting was a knight’s last stop before true knighthood, more or less a time that humbled young knights. It was a test of the true intentions of a knight, the true desires of a man who wished for glory and authority.

“For you, Milady.” You grimaced inwardly at the title, the title that you used to have to call the lady that you used to bring barrels of hay to on Sunday mornings. You nodded at the young boy, a smile on your face. He was new, and it was clear that this was his first task that involved him to speak to a “higher up” person.

You patted his head. “Thank you,” you said, and his eyes widened comically before he laughed and ran away, obviously shocked by the way you spoke to him back.

It wasn’t against the law, but it was frowned upon for nobles to speak to servants more than necessary. A noble person was not required to have manners or ask kindly for things, and when they did, it was certainly an out of the ordinary experience. You knew that well enough.

You broke the red seal and took in a deep breath, going to sit at your late husband’s desk (that you of course inherited, as you inherited everything the man had) and finding your name in perfect and Royal handwriting.

Lady Mirellis,

As you know, the time for the selection of The Hosting has come. Your house was not a host during the previous Hosting, therefore, you will be required to sponsor a knight this year. Out of respect for your late husband and all he has done for me, I will choose a knight for you, a knight that I trust. You will be safe with my choice, and the year will flow smoothly. Once again, I am sorry for your loss.

Please expect your knight within the fortnight, Lady Mirellis.

With respect, King Anthony Stark.

§§

Two weeks later, your keep was buzzing. You hated hosting things, even if they were short dinners. And you knew that you were going to hate hosting a person for an entire year. A brand new knight who was full of himself, no less.

King Anthony had given you what he thought was going to be an easy charge for a reason. New knights were known for being rowdy, disgusting, perverted, and authoritative when they shouldn’t have been. No lady should ever have to deal with the crude words or behavior of a man—certainly not. And with you and your poor husband gone, that meant that no one was there to help you.

You appreciated the kindness, but it was obvious that every man thought that women were only an extension of their husbands. If you weren’t able to handle the loud voices and taunting shouts of men and boys, you would have melted or turned to dust by the time you were thirteen years old. If you had survived a man who carted you off and away from your family like you were cattle, you could handle a boy who was staying under your roof.

Nonetheless, your people were busy, and so were you. They were making accommodations to the largest guest room, because it was to be someone’s for an entire year. They were cleaning things that you never thought would be cleaned, washing random sheets and hanging them to dry. And you? You were making the welcoming package.

You had never made one before, but you were trying your hardest. It was more or less a care package to make the knight feel comfortable. It was a starter kit, so that they wouldn’t have to ask for much or seem unfit for knighthood, because it was all about pride. So help anyone above, you wouldn’t be dealing with a knight with a bruised ego.

“Men,” you scoffed out, rolling your eyes as you fluffed the silk pillowcase and folded the top of the woven basket over, closing in everything and tying the top with a bow. 

“Y/N,” a woman’s voice called out, and you turned to it with a gentle smile.

Of course it was Wanda. Her and her brother were always by your side, ever since you had arrived at the keep. Pietro was the messenger boy for Lord Mirellis, because he was so fast on his feet. He delivered a message meant to go hundreds of leagues away and came back within days, when it would take others weeks. You liked Pietro a lot. He was a funny man, cheeky, but he knew his boundaries with people, whether they were lowborn or highborn. He had the same amount of respect for everything, and you admired that about him.

Wanda however, was your favorite person in the castle. She was the first kind face that you saw when you walked into the keep. She was the first person to actually ask you if you wanted help being dressed or brushing your hair. She was able to see that you needed help with your corset before you even asked. There were so many trivial things that Wanda did for you that made you so loyal to the friendship you shared, but there was one thing you were sure to never forget.

She had been the one to help you out of bed after a rough consummation night. She was also the only woman who had offered you even a sliver of sympathy, and for that, she was your greatest ally, and on a deeper level, a true friend. 

You had barely even seen her for more than five minutes before you woke up in bed by yourself the morning after that horrid night, crying silent tears and feeling sore between your legs. A knock sounded on the door, and instead of her turning away and apologizing for coming in on such an improper moment, she shut the door and asked you if you needed help, without any fear of being scolded. Wanda Maximoff was different. That’s why you liked her so much.

She was standing beside you as you waited, even though waiting for a knight was somewhat improper. You were supposed to wait inside and have them knock on your castle door, and you were to welcome them inside and have a warm dinner ready. That was how it was always supposed to go, but you decided not to do that.

You were standing outside, like the lady you had been forced to become. Your chin was slightly lifted and your hands were at your sides, even though you were desperate to fiddle with your thumbs. You took in a deep breath as you heard the sound of a carriage coming, horses and the chatter of men getting louder with each passing moment.

You would be a liar if you said that you weren’t scared to have a man in your house that you didn’t know. Not only would he be a man, but he would be a man that knew how to do things that most didn’t, such as how to properly wield a sword. You were a woman alone, a widow to a lord, and people had tried things with you before, ever since your husband had died. Most of the time, those things ended up with their hands being cut off as the legal and unyielding punishment for their attempted crimes.

“No one here is going to let a stupid knight hurt you, you know.” Pietro had come out of nowhere, chest puffed out as he looked to his sister for a moment, and then back at you. “Wanda is practically with you every second of every day, and I’m never too far.” It was true. There were guards around, as well, but you were still scared.

“If you don’t like it this year, you can always say no next year.” Wanda offered, but you whined under your breath when you remembered that this was no visit. The man would be living with you for an entire year. “And King Anthony said he would be giving you a man he trusted to sleep under your roof. I trust his word.” 

“As do I,” you said quickly, ringing out your hands one last time before the carriage got closer. “I’ll be fine, you two. Thank you.” And they knew just how grateful you were for them.

The carriage was being pulled by two white horses, both looking around carelessly and cluelessly as the coachman pulled them to a stop. “Lady Mirellis,” he said, looking you up and down, clearly judging you for not yielding to tradition. “It is very kind of you to meet us outside.”

“I thought it may be easier to begin the tour early,” you said, remembering at the last moment to school your voice into sounding ladylike. The stark difference between your public voice and the one that you spoke to Wanda and Pietro with always made Wanda smile a bit, and you knew that you would have laughed if you were looking at her. “I don’t want to give my new guest too large of a culture shock. I am not quite sure if he would appreciate being hoarded inside a place he hasn’t seen before.”

The coachman gave you an odd look, almost like he wasn’t understanding what you were saying. Or maybe, why you were saying it. But, he knew that because of your status, your word outweighed his, and he would do as you said. Your heart was beating nearly out of your chest as you watched him climb out of his chair and walk around, and you saw his hand wrap around the handle of the white and gold carriage.

There was a flash of brilliant red. That was all you saw at first, and then you saw shiny armor, glinting in the sun. Your eyes trailed up from the shoes that you knew were crafted specifically for knights, up to the legs and then to the breastplate, which you noticed was curved outwards. Your brows furrowed as your eyes got stuck in that place, and you willed yourself to believe that it was a trick of the eyes. There was a pinch on your arm, and you realized that you had been staring without speaking for much too long. In your embarrassment, your eyes flickered up to meet the man’s, and then, you nearly choked.

The knight was no man at all.

*****

so this is a series! this idea has been cooking up in my head for a while now, and i figured it was finally time to go through with it! i’m really excited about this one, and i’ve already got most of it planned out. i hope you guys liked this!

also- if you would like to be tagged, you are free to ask! (bold of me to assume that any of y’all want a notif for this bye 😭) please interact with this if you liked it, it makes me so happy and motivated to hear from you guys!

[hoodoo12]

The Ties That Bind (And How to Follow Them) 28/28

@turtlepated @mel-time @werwulfy @bunnys-beetlejuice-blog @infptarius @rainingpaint @strange-n-unbluusual @sweetcat-666 @monsterlovinghours @go-whovian-universe @rainingpaint @genderless-cryptid @heresathreebee

SFW. The surprises never cease.

I would like to thank everyone who has read this beast of an rp. Knowing that people have enjoyed it has been so incredibly nice!

Extra love and hugs go to @turtlepated, my writing partner, for being such a creative wizard and all around awesome person. You've made 2021 a better year for me. From talking pretty much every day to getting to travel with you to see shows on Broadway, I can't believe how I got blessed to become your friend--if it's because of The King In Yellow I'll be its loyal cultist.

Time, as it tended to do, passed. Beetlejuice healed, physically before emotionally. There were still occasions deep rooted shame, watered by his brother’s disembodied voice whispering about it in his ear on random occasions. A trip to the Netherworld and a scene at the office--that included a lot of throwing office furniture and some dramatic foreboding gloaming of an “unspeakable horror” sort, courtesy of dear ol’ Dad’s inadvertent transfer of some power--and a threatening word to Rigel made at least that part of it stop. He continued to work on trusting Pate’s promise that he was forgiven.

She still left for work. He was still left behind in her apartment. He didn’t attempt to leave again, still shaken by the fact he was so easily trapped twice, plus who would he visit? It might be boring without Pate around, but at least it was home. She found him sitting on the counter one night when she returned. Usually he met her at the door; so that was unusual. He had an expression that mixed guilt and excitement, which made her immediately even more suspicious. “Hey Bug. What’s up?” she asked, with a casual look around the small kitchen. “Nothing.” “Uh-huh,” Pate replied, and opened the oven. It wouldn’t be the first time her spectral roommate had hidden something decidedly non-edible in there. It was empty. Beetlejuice swung his legs. Pate looked him over again, not sure if she could handle some random surprise after the long days she’d spent at work. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “What do you have behind your back?” “Something. It came for you. Right at the door. The guy knocked and everything!” “Beej, we talked about you answering the door, and you’re not supposed to do it--” “It looked important!” he interrupted, and pulled the large envelope out from behind him. “Look! It says certified letter. It needed a signature! I didn’t want the guy to leave--who knows when he would be back? Somebody really wanted you to have this. It’s pretty light though, so it’s probably not food or a new toy--” He wagged his eyebrows wolfishly to emphasize what kind of toy he meant. “--or anything but a dumb piece of paper--” Pate interrupted him in return. “Wait. Wait. A signature? You signed for this?”

“Well . . . yes? In a way . . .” Pate sighed and had a feeling the mail carrier was going realize they experienced missing time, because Beej never hesitated to possess delivery people when it suited him, or when he thought it was funny. The signature on the receipt was scrawled and completely illegible. “This doesn’t look anything like my signature!” “So what? Nobody cares. Just open it, baby, and see what’s inside!” She guessed she should be happy he hadn’t ripped into whatever this was already, or that he hadn't forgotten about it and handed it over promptly. Despite his excitement, certified letters weren’t fun; they meant something important and or pressing, for a lot of different reasons-- She glanced at the unfolded letter inside, then read it again. And again. And again, this time leaning heavily against the countertop. Beetlejuice raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. “Pate? Baby? What is it?” “It’s . . .” Pate flipped it over, to see if there was any additional information. “It’s . . .” In a blink, he was off the counter and behind her, peering over her shoulder. “From the office of blah blah blah . . . attorney? What’re lawyers sending you a letter for?” Staring at the paper in her hand, Pate croaked out, “It’s Lillian. Lillian . . . she . . . she left me her store. And the building? She owned the building, and she left it all--the store, her apartment, everything that’s in it--to . . . me?” Pate turned to him and leaned against him at the same time. Beetlejuice’s hands went to her waist to steady her. She seemed to need it. While she was processing the information, his mind went to the random energy and obvious beings in the shop, from that guitar in the window that strummed ethereal music, to the little kid ghost rocking the doll’s cradle, to the deer head that had turned to look at him, and all the others. “Baby,” he grinned, “this is going to be fun.”

fin!

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight  - Chapter 15: Hiccup

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4300

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: Almost four weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: And we’re back! Since it’s been ages... Previously on Fight or Flight - Hana had learned that Barthelemy and Godfrey were working with Auvernal from Kiara, but Liam didn’t seem motivated to take much action regarding that fact. Leo had gotten money and belongings to Riley, who shared an intimate moment with Drake when she returned to their hotel.

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Liam let out a sigh as he changed the channel back to CBC. He needed to be actively watching, probably should be taking notes, in all honesty. This hour of programming consisted of discussion with three of the most connected political pundits in the country. It was the easiest and most reliable way to get a feel for the leanings of both the journalists and the common citizens, and it aired every weekday, so it was far more up to date than waiting for the biweekly polling.

The issue was that the panelists were revelling in the recent turn of events with such glee. It was understandable, he supposed. This was the most exciting political turn of events this country had seen in centuries. It put the mild speculation that he was Bridget’s biological father, a rumor had surfaced around the time of his announcement that Drake and Riley’s child would be heir and had briefly flared again at Bridget’s first public appearance when people had seen that she indeed looked like a child with some East Asian heritage, to shame. This wasn’t just baseless gossip and stirring the pot to increase ratings. This was true turmoil, plain and simple. There was a relative unknown carrying the power of the Crown, the current Queen-regent had been “kidnapped” and not seen in weeks, citizens were protesting daily, and this was all expected to last for months until the Conclave, where all the tension and drama would culminate in a vote among the five major noble houses to name a new monarch. The journalists and talking heads had a seemingly endless feast in front of them. All of it at his expense.

He took another sip of his scotch as he tried to focus on the screen ahead of him. If he could figure out how to gain a majority of the public’s support, then he could apply some pressure to Kiara and Landon prior to the Conclave vote. Not that he was naive enough to think that would be enough to assure that he would regain his title, but at least it would be one more piece of ammunition in his arsenal.

“The protests outside of the Capital aren’t going to be as easily quieted as the ones in Valtoria, Victor,” Francine Giorano stated, leaning forward and gesturing across the table to Victor Blussé. Blussé was the moderate on the panel, while Giorano was a staunch traditionalist. “They have had fears about the role the essentially-American Walkers played in our government for years, and look how right those fears turned out to be.”

“How is any of this the Walkers’ fault, Francine? This can all be traced to Barthelemy Beaumont!”

“The Conventus Nobilis was written into our foundational laws for a reason, Victor,” chimed in Willa Hyllop, the final member of the panel, added to the program in the past year to bring in a more modern, pro-democratic viewpoint.

“Surely you aren’t saying you are on the side of Beaumont, Willa! He represents an even less progressive faction than Liam Rys ever did.”

“I may not agree with everything he stands for, but I will always support measures that place some checks and accountability on our monarchy,” said Hyllop with a shrug. “Besides, the fact that Rys surrounded himself with yes-men and granted titles and appointments on the basis of friendship since he ascended the throne did little to convince me that he was the ‘progressive king’ he swore he was. He was more of the same, just without the aggressive rhetoric of his father.”

“And look how that turned out! Lest we forget, he stood by while Auvernal brought warships to our shore last year,” added Giorano.

Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Giorano and Hyllop were never on the same page about anything, and here they were, agreeing that he had been an ineffectual king. He tuned out Blussé’s response, knowing that some lukewarm rebuttal from him was going to do little to bolster his confidence. The fact was simple - his fall from grace was widespread. There were few left who saw him as worthy of the title of king. He had failed, completely and entirely.

 “Liam?” Olivia’s voice cut over the television. 

Liam opened his eyes to find her staring at him from the lounge’s doorway, a frown cutting across her face. He forced a smile as he gestured for her to join him. “Just taking a little break from hearing how incompetent I am.”

Olivia’s green eyes narrowed at his poor attempt at humor, but she strode over to him, joining him on the couch, undoubtedly taking in the blank notepad, the untouched stacks of documents, and the glass of liquor that sat on the table in front of him. “Well, that’s the perception we’re going to have to work to change.”

He tipped his head to rest along the back of the couch, sighing as he did so. “I know, Liv. It just seems so impossible at the moment.”

She didn’t say anything for several excruciating seconds. He rolled his head to the side, taking in her face, concerned eyes boring into him as she slid a hand around her neck, her blood-red nails digging into her skin. “We’ve got months still, Liam. Calling our goal impossible is premature.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right, and I’m all ears if you have any recommendations for where to start.”

“Well, I got confirmation that Landon and Emmeline’s driver is loyal to us, so Ray is going to approach him at the Derby this weekend to see if he might be willing to earn a little extra cash by divulging some secrets. And their new head of kitchen has a brother with significant gambling debts, so that’s another lead worth pursuing.”

“Sounds good, Olivia.”

“Now, as far as next steps for you, I was hoping you might give reporters a few minutes for questions before the derby.”

Liam swallowed, his brain scrambling to come up with a reason, any reason, against her suggestion, when his phone vibrated on the table, the name “Bastien” flashing across the screen.

“Why is he calling you?” Olivia asked. All Liam could do was shrug as he leaned forward, grabbing his phone and swiping to accept the call.

“Bastien?”

“I don’t have long,” he started, not even taking the time for a greeting. “I don’t know if you are in touch with Drake, but if you are, you need to let him know that they need to get out of Athens.”

“What are you-”

“Rashad is negotiating with Greek authorities right now to allow the King’s Guard to be the ones to make the arrest. We are waiting on the tarmac for clearance to fly to Athens.”

“How-”

“He’s requesting Greek surveillance of their hotel until we get there. They need to leave now.”

“Bastien, what-”

“I have to go.” And then, the line was dead.

Liam sat there, numb and frozen, trying to process the slew of information that had just been dumped into his lap by his former head of security. 

“What the hell is going on?” Olivia’s voice drew him out of his daze, prompting him to set down his phone on the couch, digging frantically through the stacks of papers.

“I need my burner.” He heard his voice as if he were an outsider observer. It was thin and shaky, frail and panicked. His hands shook as he felt around the table in front of him, knocking over a pile containing reproductions of the accounts of the last Conclave, dozens of papers spilling onto the floor.

“Liam, what the fuck did he tell you?”

“They know where they are. We have to warn them.” All his frustrations and pain related to Drake and Riley suddenly felt so petty, so ridiculous. The stakes were higher for them, always had been higher for them. They were about to get arrested over wanting to keep custody of their daughter. And while they left him to fend for himself, left Cordonia in a state of political upheaval, he knew that was a price that was wildly unfair.

“Who knows where they are? Rashad?”

“Yes,” said Liam, shoving more and more documents around the table. Where was his burner?

“How does he know?”

“I don’t know! Where the fuck is it?” Liam swiped his arm across the table, books and papers flying, the sound of glass breaking echoing through the room as his scotch tumbled to the ground.

A strong set of fingers with sharp red nails slid around his wrist, holding him still. He took a rough breath as he turned to face Olivia, who was eyeing him as she tugged her own burner out of her pocket, only breaking his gaze to glance down at the screen, tapping three times before holding it to her ear and looking back at Liam.

The few seconds of silence on her end were maddening, but then she was speaking, her voice curt and all business. “Drake, authorities are coming. You gotta go. Now.”

Liam tried to rein in his rapid breathing, tried to calm his heart rate down to something more human. “The King’s Guard is flying into Athens. They are leaving now. Rashad asked for Greek surveillance until-” but Olivia nodded at him, cutting him off.

“I don’t know how. But your hotel is about to be under Greek surveillance until the King’s Guard arrives, so you guys have to get moving. Good luck.” She hung up at that, letting out a massive sigh. “Shit,” she breathed out after a few seconds, her eyes bouncing back and forth before she slammed them shut, clearly planning and preparing.

Liam felt her fingers trembling around his wrist for just a second, but then she let go. She pushed herself off the couch with a flourish. “Find your burner. I’m gonna make some calls, but we need to destroy any evidence that we were in contact with them,” she said, nearly jogging towards the door.

“Olivia…”

She spun around and let out a little breath before walking back towards the couch. Her hand settled on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze as she gave him a nod. “We warned them as soon as we could, but we need to be the ones worried about the big picture right now. And things will only be worse for them if you and I are arrested, right?”

All he could do was nod. She was 100 percent correct.

“Okay, so find your burner. I’ll be back in a little bit, Liam.” And with that, she was off, a woman on a mission, leaving him sitting there, shaking on the couch, just trying to find his footing.

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

Hana shook hands with the final citizen, a woman in her late 40s who had been born and raised in Valtoria.

“Thank you so much, Your Grace,” she said, smiling as she returned the handshake.

“Of course. Just because our country is going through a period of transition doesn’t mean that I am going to ignore the needs of Valtoria’s citizens.”

The woman thanked her again before turning and exiting the formal dining room, the location Hana had chosen for the first Citizen Open Forum she’d scheduled. The large table provided ample seating, but the room was close enough to the main entrance to make it unlikely that anyone could wander into private areas of the estate without being caught by staff. 

Olivia had been irritated when Hana had told her she was opening up the estate to the public. “You are giving Barthelemy’s people free access,” she told her. But Hana knew that she couldn’t just sidestep her duties as a duchess. Not only would that weaken people’s perception of Liam by association, but morally she just couldn’t do that. The country was in such turmoil because of a few members of the nobility trying to wrest power from some other nobles. For her citizens to be left neglected due to the whims of the highly privileged was ethically something she couldn’t allow to happen. So she’d hosted the forum, hearing directly from Valtoria’s residents what she should prioritize to improve their lives, but made sure to instruct her staff to notify her immediately if anyone was caught wandering too far from the dining room or bathroom. It was the best she felt she could do under the circumstances.

However, the last citizen had now vacated the estate, and Hana couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh. It had gone well, she thought. She had clear budgetary priorities to request at the upcoming meeting between the social season’s derby and the stop in Lythikos. Plus, one of the leaders of the protesters in front of the estate had come, and conversation with him had been productive. Obviously, she couldn’t outright tell him that she wished she could be right out there with them, carrying a sign that said “She’s their kid,” but he had given her a knowing smile when she told him she saw no reason to intervene when Cordonia citizens were just exercising a right to free speech. He had all but promised her that the protests would stay peaceful and would not target her for her assumption of the role of Duchess of Valtoria.

As she wandered into the kitchen to make herself some tea, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She turned on the tap to fill the kettle with one hand as she moved to answer the call with the other.

“Olivia, how are you?” she asked, watching the kettle fill.

“Do you not answer your phone anymore?”

Hana frowned, pulling the phone away from her ear and swiping the screen. “I don’t have any missed calls, Olivia.”

“Not this phone. I’ve called you no less than ten times.”

She turned off the tap and set the full kettle on the counter, a nagging thread of anxiety and fear worming its way into her heart with that statement. “What’s wrong?”

“Turn on the news.”

Hana spun around, finding the remote laying on the island and turning on the television mounted in the eat-in nook.

“-these exclusively obtained photos show a woman who appears to be the former duchess, Riley Walker, conversing with the former Crown Prince, Leo Rys, at a bar in Athens.”

The screen filled with a low-quality image, clearly zoomed in several times. The lighting was a sort of orange color, and the faces were grainy and fuzzy, but there was Riley, although her hair was clearly dyed a much lighter color. Leo’s face was only seen in profile, not as identifiable, but he was obviously talking to her. The screen changed to a new photo, Leo a bit more recognizable in this one, passing Riley something.

“Oh no,” said Hana, leaning against the counter.

“-clear evidence of collusion between the former Crown Prince and Riley Walker, who has been charged with treason and kidnapping of the monarch,” the anchor droned on, but Olivia’s response drowned out the quiet volume of the television.

“Yeah, that’s an understatement. So what was so pressing that you were ignoring your burner?”

“I had the forum with the citizens, and I thought if I was carrying two cell phones, that might-”

A massive groan from Olivia cut her off. “Whatever. Well, you need to destroy your burner. Now.”

“But what about Riley and-”

“I warned them. Hopefully they are able to get out of Athens, but nothing else we can do there. It’s time to protect ourselves.”

“Olivia, what-”

“I gotta go check on Liam. Destroy the phone, Hana. And don’t call me.”

“Why can’t I-”

“-Liam is definitely going to be questioned since Leo is now known to be involved. We can talk at the derby, but if they start monitoring our phone records, I don’t want to give them any reason to think we are scheming.”

Before Hana could as much as tell Olivia she understood, she heard the line click dead. Taking a few seconds for some calming breaths, she centered herself before she climbed the stairs to her quarters, a pit of dread cementing itself firmly in her stomach with each step. She reached her room and opened the top drawer of her dresser, pulling the burner phone out from underneath her nylons. Sure enough, she had dozens of missed notifications from Olivia, and a couple from Maxwell as well. Well, she knew what those were regarding. No need to deal with them at this point. Instead, she walked over to her dressing table and grabbed her manicure kit.

She wandered down the hallway towards the lounge, taking in the quiet and calm. It was odd; the estate probably had more people in it currently than it had for most of the time Riley and Drake had lived there. Hana didn’t feel compelled to aggressively minimize the staff presence like they had, far more used to having employees around from her upbringing. But staff were expected to be as discreet and silent as possible, to make themselves scarce, particularly in the private quarters. 

No one had ever called Riley quiet. There was a certain vibrancy she brought to any room, and her voice and laughter were always echoing through the halls. And even though Drake wasn’t the most talkative, he certainly would quip, snark, and joke in the privacy of his own home. Of course, once Bridget was born, there was more noise and energy and life than ever before. Now, it was just Hana and the corgis. The estate felt hollow and soulless.

Once in the lounge, Hana shut the door behind her firmly. Anderson glanced up, but quickly draped his head back over Vera, all the dogs curled up on their giant cushion in the corner. Hana knew that the maids had cleaned the lounge yesterday, so she was unlikely to be found there. She sat down in one of the armchairs, and pried the cover off the back of her phone using her cuticle pusher. All the electronic components stared up at her, ready for her to do her worst. But before she could bring herself to kill the only connection she had to her best friend, she flipped the phone over and sent one last message to Riley.

I love you all. Stay safe. I’ll find a way to get in touch when I can.

Letting out a sigh, she turned the phone back over. She spent the next 15 minutes prying off motherboards and any chips and cards she could find, dropping them one by one into her container of acetone nail polish remover. Then, she removed the battery before placing the remaining elements into the fireplace. She would just have to store the battery under her floorboards until she could figure out how to safely dispose of it. 

She started a fire, then curled up on the couch, tugging a quilt over her lap as she watched her only connection to the first person to show her unconditional love melt and warp, eventually turning to ash. Tears started trailing down her cheeks, dripping onto her blouse and the quilt, but she didn’t care. She was devastated - for herself, for her found family, and for her country. At some point, Anderson jumped up to join her, nestling in against her legs.

“I miss them so much,” she said, dropping a hand to the top of his head. “So, so much.”

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

Bridget was wailing in her crib, but Riley didn’t have time to calm her. She needed to pack. Now.

When Drake had called her, she knew something bad was happening. He’d left with their passports this afternoon to take them to a cousin of a friend of someone Drake had met at the restaurant, someone who was supposed to be able to help with fake documents and forgeries. The plan had been to change their names and their country of origin, allowing them to catch a flight to the States without getting stopped at the airport. The final destination once there hadn’t been decided. Drake had wanted to go to Texas, but Leona’s presence scared Riley. She had already sold out their safety for a quick payday once before.

But that debate was a moot point now. So was the uncertainty about this unknown forger on whom they were relying. Drake had called, frantic and alarmed, clearly running and somewhat out of breath as he spoke to her. Telling her Olivia had called to warn them they were about to be arrested. Telling her to pack. Telling her they needed to run.

So Bridget was unceremoniously dumped into her travel crib as Riley tried to shove everything into the duffel bags from Leo. She knew she should leave the impractical things, like the framed photos, but those would incriminate their friends. So they had to come with. Toiletries seemed essential, too. Some of the clothes were going to have to get left behind. Some of the toys as well. She had to be able to carry everything in one trip. She had to get to the car as quickly as possible. 

She knew it had probably been less than five minutes since Drake had called, but it felt like she was moving too slowly, taking way too long. Drake hadn’t given her any sort of time frame. Who knew if Olivia had even given him one. But for all she knew, police were rounding the corner, waiting for her in the hallway, about to burst through the hotel door. So she shoved and crammed and squeezed everything she could into the duffel bags and the diaper bag. Those would go over her shoulders, the crib would collapse and go in one arm, Bridget in the other. That would have to be good enough. 

Once she was sure that the bags were as full as they could be, she pulled Bridget out, placing her on the floor as she scrambled to collapse the crib, fumbling with the locking mechanism for just a few seconds before it folded in on itself, allowing her to tuck it into her elbow. By some mad miracle, Bridget was hanging close by, not trying to crawl away to explore and cause trouble. Maybe she was frightened by the way Riley was acting. Regardless, it was a blessing.

Knowing she was as ready as she was going to be, she loaded everything up and grabbed Bridget, pausing just briefly to juggle their possessions as she opened the door. She didn’t bother closing it behind her, just moved as quickly as she could with her load down the hallway, down the stairs, through the lobby, and around the corner to the street where their car was parked. No one tried to stop her or talk to her, so she took the time to toss everything on the ground and properly latch Bridget into her car seat. Then, she threw everything in the hatchback before climbing into the passenger’s seat and locking the doors behind her. Bridget continued to cry, but there was little Riley could do to comfort her at this point. All that was left to do was wait for Drake.

Drake had told her to meet him in the car, but she didn’t like feeling exposed, sitting where anyone could see her during broad daylight. Add to that the fact that she was in the passenger seat, so she wouldn’t even be able to make a quick getaway if need be. Her piss-poor driving skills were just one more area where she was making their life harder, but there was no way to fix that right now. All she could do was hang tight. She was contemplating what in the car she could use as a weapon if it came down to it when her phone buzzed. She swiped to answer instantly when she saw it was Drake’s number.

“Drake, where are you?”

“Around the corner from the hotel. You in the car?”

“Yeah. How did-” but before she could get her question out, she saw Drake through the driver’s side window. She let out a little yelp of surprise before reaching over and unlocking the door, handing him the keys as soon as he sat down. 

He didn’t even bother to say anything, just started the car and eased off the clutch as he shifted into first gear, pulling out onto the road. Bridget quieted soon after they got moving, but Riley didn’t feel any better as the yelling and screaming subsided. She just stared at Drake, one hand braced on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift, his neck and shoulders so tense and coiled, he looked ready to burst.

“Where are we going?” she finally chanced asking.

Drake shook his head, never taking his eyes off the road. “I don’t know. Out of Athens.”

“Then why are we making so many turns?”

“Don’t know if we were being watched or followed. Gotta lose anyone who might be tailing us.” His voice was clipped and frayed. He sounded about five seconds away from losing it completely. Riley wanted to hold his hand, to comfort him in some way. But she didn’t want to distract him, both from driving and from the tiny amount of control he had over his emotional response to everything that was unfolding. After all, they weren’t safe yet. So she just nodded and grabbed her phone off her lap.

“I’ll pull up some maps, okay?”

He nodded and let out a rough breath at that. “Thanks, Walker,” he said before flipping on the radio. “Can you try and find us a news station?”

“Drake, I won’t-”

“I’ll translate.”

And so they were off, unsure where or how far they needed to go to be safe. All they could do at this point was keep moving forward.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @octobereighth​ @kimmiedoo5​ @mom2000aggie​

TRR/TRH: @twinkleallnight​ @iaminlovewithtrr​ @mskaneko​ @axwalker​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @kingliam2019​ @sirbeepsalot​ @texaskitten30 @princessleac1​ @ladyangel70​ @debramcg1106​ @masterofbluff​  

Drake/MC:  @no-one-u-know   @iplaydrake​

FoF: @burnsoslow​ @bobasheebaby​

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt20

HELLO and thank you for reading!!! i appreciate you very very much :D

pt1

pt19

pt21

It was exhausting to put on a beaming smile and cheerful attitude to interact with others, but (Y/N) had learned at a very young age that first impressions were everything. If the leaders of other nations liked her, their chances of working together with the Fire Nation to rebuild the world were doubled.

(Y/N) was having a miserable time. The night that was supposed to be the biggest celebration in over a century was now soiled. She had spent so hard working on it and making sure that everything was absolutely perfect, and now she wasn’t even enjoying herself. 

She sat at the large rectangular table before the crowd. Zuko was to her left, Katara to her right. On Zuko’s other side sat Mai. The two were engaged in casual conversation that (Y/N) was trying her best to drown out. It was hard to maintain a pleasant expression on her face when her heart had been broken just hours ago, but she was managing. The purpose of this night was more than a celebration after all, it was a political step forward in the right direction and (Y/N) wouldn’t let her sour mood get in the way of that. 

Still, Katara’s constant worried looks weren’t helping her mood either. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Katara whispered. (Y/N) nodded and gave her a tight smile. 

“Just great,” She said, picking at her food with her chopsticks. She had lost all appetite for the night. She couldn’t wait until she could go to her room and break down in tears, or set something on fire, or both. But she had a long night ahead of her. 

After everyone ate, she made her way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with everyone she passed. It was exhausting to put on a beaming smile and cheerful attitude to interact with others, but (Y/N) had learned at a very young age that first impressions were everything. If the leaders of other nations liked her, their chances of working together with the Fire Nation to rebuild the world were doubled. 

The moon was high by the time the crowd dispersed, leaving only (Y/N), her friends, Zuko, and Mai. Zuko walked up to (Y/N) with Mai in tow. She put on her best smile, but it faltered as she saw their hands intertwined. “I’m going to go to Mai’s house for a little while.” 

She nodded, crossing her arms. “Don’t forget you have a reparations meeting in the morning.” Zuko smiled. 

“I know, I know.” He said goodbye to his friends and the couple walked out of the palace gates. 

(Y/N) turned around to find her friends solemnly staring at her. “I can show you guys to your rooms,” She said softly, before leading them into the palace. Their rooms were on the same hall as hers, and she let them know this and said that if they needed anything, to just knock on her door. 

Sokka paused with his hand on the doorknob to his room. His blue eyes met (Y/N’s) and he gave her a small smile. “You did a really great job today, (Y/N).” He hugged her tightly and (Y/N) tried her hardest to suppress the tears that were forming in her eyes. 

“Thanks, Sokka,” she said as they parted. Hurriedly, so no one would see her cry, she walked to her room and slammed the door shut behind her. Wringing her hands together, she shook them out and lifted her head up to the ceiling, furiously blinking them so the tears wouldn’t fall out. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry over Zuko anymore and while she felt her resolve slowly breaking, she was trying to let this moment pass. 

(Y/N) changed out of her clothes and into a silk pajama set. She brushed out her hair and scrubbed her nails clean to distract herself. She almost felt fine again until she heard a knock on her door. 

“Come in,” She called, and Katara walked in quietly. The Water Tribe girl didn’t even have to say anything, but (Y/N) saw the sympathy in her eyes. She turned her head away quickly so Katara wouldn’t see the tears that flowed freely down her cheeks. 

“Oh, (Y/N),” Katara sighed, sitting next to her friend. She wrapped her arms around (Y/N) and held her close. 

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” (Y/N) said, wiping furiously at her eyes. “It’s not like he owes me anything. I should’ve known that just because we were betrothed as kids doesn’t mean anything now.” She sniffled loudly. “I shouldn’t be crying. I should be happy because we’re friends again.” 

“Whatever you’re feeling is how you should be feeling,” Katara said. “You’re crying because you’re hurt, (Y/N), and that’s okay. Don’t try to minimize your emotions.” 

“I just feel so stupid and ridiculous, Katara. And it makes me mad that I’m crying over him again.” 

“(Y/N), you have the biggest heart out of everyone I’ve met. You might make yourself seem rough on the outside, but on the inside you’re just as soft as unfried dough. You care a lot about Zuko, but that doesn’t make you stupid or ridiculous. The fact you held it together for as long as you did just shows how strong you are. And, for the record, we were all surprised when they came out together.” 

“Really?” Katara nodded. 

“Yeah! Anyone with a brain can see how good you guys are together. If Zuko doesn’t see that, it’s his loss.” (Y/N) smiled softly at her friend. Her words didn’t completely convince her, but they did make her feel a lot better about the situation. She wrapped her arms around Katara’s middle and hugged her. 

“Thank you, Katara. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Katara squeezed her tightly. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, either.” They pulled away from the hug, both wearing a smile on their faces. “Want me to stay with you tonight?” 

“Yes, please,” (Y/N) sighed. “I’m going to need someone to listen to me analyze every interaction between Zuko and I.” Katara laughed, which in turn made (Y/N) laugh too. 

---

(Y/N) woke up late the next morning. The night’s events had completely exhausted her, so she figured she deserved a day to sleep in. She didn’t wake up until the sun was high in the sky, and didn’t leave her room until much later than that. She searched all over the palace for her friends and eventually found them all sitting under the big tree beside the turtle duck pond. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Toph said. The small girl lay in the grass, her eyes closed as she pointed her face toward the sun. 

“Really, it’s good afternoon,” Aang grinned. (Y/N) chuckled. 

“A long day of planning wiped me out.” 

“You did an amazing job, (Y/N),” Zuko said. He was propped up against the big tree. His eyes looked up at her as if he was expecting her to sit beside him, but instead she chose to sit next to Katara and Sokka. 

“Everything alright?” Sokka asked. “Your eyes are kind of puffy.” Katara elbowed him in the ribs. “What? What’d I say?” 

“I’m just tired, Sokka.” To emphasize this, she let out a yawn. 

“I can ask the servants to get you tea,” Zuko said. “Maybe some green tea to help you wake up?” 

“That won’t be necessary,” (Y/N) said. Zuko was taken aback at how she refused to look at him when she spoke. 

An awkward silence fell over the group, but it was quickly broken by Katara. “I can’t believe you both grew up here. It’s so lavish!” 

“Sometimes I forget about it too,” (Y/N) admitted. “Things were a lot different the last time I was here. You won’t believe how many portraits of Ozai we had to take down. The man only got more vain as the years went on.” 

The group giggled before diving into a conversation about their upcoming plans for the future of the world. Zuko and (Y/N) planned on removing the Fire Nation colonies from the Earth Kingdom, to keep the nations separate like they were before. It was named the Harmony Restoration Movement and had been something that Zuko and other government officials had the task of coming up with. 

Zuko and (Y/N) also had the tough job of handling those in the government who remained loyal to Ozai. Having a government that sided with hate and imperialism would not do well with the plans they had for the future. 

Their talks ended as the sun began to set, which signaled the departure of their friends. They all walked together to Appa and said their goodbyes. (Y/N) hugged each of her friends tightly and leapt onto Appa and hugged Momo before they departed. She and Zuko watched sadly as their friends flew away. 

“I really like all of them,” Zuko said. “But it’s also nice when it’s just you and me.” (Y/N) gave a grunt in response and walked back into the palace. 

“I’ll be taking dinner in my room tonight, please,” She told one of the servants. 

---

Few months had passed since Zuko’s coronation and much had changed. The Harmony Restoration Movement was an effort to remove the Fire Nation colonials from the Earth Kingdom that was heavily supported by the Earth King and his men, but not so much from Fire Nation officials. (Y/N) and Zuko had to take their time figuring out which of Zuko’s cabinet members were still loyalists to Ozai’s cause and relieve them of their duties. It resulted in many threats of harmful action, but after surviving war, (Y/N) found that there was little she feared now. 

After a particularly long meeting between her and Zuko, (Y/N) walked down the lantern-lit halls of the palace. Ever since he had started dating Mai again, (Y/N) had chosen to distance herself from him. While she was happy that he was happy, she found it far too painful to watch the two be together, and she did not want to intrude on their relationship by any means. So, she decided to take a break from Zuko. Their friendship had suffered because of it, but (Y/N) figured that it was best for right now. She still remained his closest confidant and his trusted advisor. It hurt to be so close to Zuko yet feel so far away, but she was no stranger to pain. 

She rounded the corner to the hallway that led to her room and hummed an old Fire Nation lullaby as she approached her door. Entering her room, she readied herself for bed and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the soft, fluffy pillows. 

When (Y/N) awoke, it was not to the rising sun shining through her windows, but rather the sound of glass breaking. Confusedly, she blinked the sleep from her eyes and peered around the room. It was hard for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. “Zuko?” She called out. 

She leaned over in her bed to light the lantern on the nightstand and immediately felt a strong hand twist itself into her hair. She shouted in pain, contorting herself to kick at whoever was grabbing her. Her feet found purchase on the person’s chest and kicked them back into the wall. (Y/N) freed herself and quickly lit all of the lanterns in her room with firebending. 

There, on the other side of her bed, stood a masked assailant wearing all black. In each of their hands was a sharp dagger that glinted in the firelight. (Y/N’s) eyes widened in fear. “Who are you?” She demanded. 

“I was sent here to punish you for your crimes against the Fire Nation,” The assassin said. (Y/N) furrowed her brows. 

“Crimes? What crimes?” One of the daggers was flung at her head. She had just enough time to dodge it before it sank into the wall beside her. She felt the anger rise in her. “Guards!” She shouted before blasting fireballs at the person. They dodged them with ease, flipping out of the way of her attacks. 

The assassin darted to the window to escape, but (Y/N) was just as quick. She ran across the room and launched herself at them, tackling them to the ground. The two rolled around the floor, kicking and punching at each other. (Y/N) hissed as her arm was cut by the sharp dagger. Eventually, the assassin over powered her and sat on top of her. (Y/N) used every bit of strength she had in her to hold onto their arms and prevent the dagger from piercing through her chest. Just as she was about to lose her grip, a blast of fire knocked the assailant off of her. 

(Y/N) turned to see Zuko standing in the door. A few seconds later, guards flooded in after him and apprehended the person who had tried to assassinate her. Zuko ran to her side as she stood. “Are you okay?” He asked urgently. She shook her head and removed her hand from the cut on her arm. It bled heavily, droplets of blood dotting the hardwood floors of her bedroom. 

Zuko took off his shirt and ripped it down the middle to use as a makeshift bandage. He tied it tightly around her wound and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Come on, I’ll take you the the physician.” He turned to the guards. “Throw them into prison. I don’t want them to ever see the light of day again.” 

---

Tag List!

@afxndommess , @xapham , @thanosismybitxh , @outerxorbit , @thenerdiverse , @himawarichild , @welovediaaxx , @justahockeylover , @loganrwebb , @awesomelupe , @cirtruss , @eridanuswave , @aroyaldarknessblr , @theinfernalmemes , @akariblue , @julietvsanchez05 , @harryisthesunshine , @prospekt-42 , @kindxrjcy , @lunariasilver , @lovepsychicbitch , @mcallmestiles , @simply-stanning , @helbreajs , @shephard17895 , @astroninaaa , @leiaofthestars , @miskwaadesiwag , @art-flirt , @musicalkeys , @aangsty-sokkasm , @we-lucky-few , @vgirl-10123 , @ella-solei , @davnwillcome , @valiantprincessthea , @errrrca , @hahaimstoopid , @kamahriii , @michelletc , @unseasoned-emo-bitch , @maybe-a-fangurl , @niramoon , @hyluas , @jvghead-jones-iii , @youneedmemanidonotneedyou , @luleck , @toasted-crispy-emo27 , 

[babybatscreationsv2]

A King on a Leash ch2

Marvel | Starker

Tony Stark is a powerful man with a beautiful husband and a loyal crime family, but it looks like he didn't keep his husband on a short enough leash. After turning Peter lose on a Cuban gang leader, Peter's life is in danger. The real trouble is that Tony now realizes that Peter is the only thing in this world that he cares about and he never meant for that to happen.

Rating: Explicit

Full Fic

A Doll on a String

Warnings under the cut*

warnings: mafia au, murder mention, daddy kink

The low sun cast an orange glow over Peter's angel face. He was just starting to tan and no less beautiful for it. He was beautiful and pale in the winter, sun-kissed and stunning in summer. The diamonds he had worn when Tony came to get him had been beautiful, but they weren't Tony's diamonds and so they lay now at the bottom of the Atlantic. So did Suarez's yacht. Tony was confident that if the gangster had known Peter's name, he would never have laid hands on him. Yet, he wished Peter had left the man alive so he could peel the skin from his hands. The sight of him with his eye burned out and half of his head missing was almost enough to soothe the possessive itch. Almost.

Tony took off his jacket and laid it over Peter's near bare body. It calmed the fire for now. He would buy him something later, some clothes or jewelry. At least he was covered in hickies, Tony's mark left on his skin. Tony saw them starting to purple across his neck. The sight of them had Tony's body forgetting its age. He shifted in his seat, letting his legs spread as his cock filled out. He should fuck him while he sleeps. Peter would love it. But no, he did have business to handle. The diamonds Suarez had stolen weren't just from any bank, but a bank that stored the belongings of one Wilson Fisk. The diamonds had belonged to his late wife Vanessa.

Vanessa Fisk was probably the only person that her husband ever loved and he loved her dangerously, desperately. Much in the way that Tony loved Peter. It was something that they had come to understand about each other.

It hadn't been easy to convince the families not to punish Peter for killing Octavius. In the end, they understood that Otto had kidnapped Tony and that Peter was only doing his duty as a Stark and as a husband. Not that they were married at the time. He had wanted to lie. To convince them that he was the one who killed Octavius, but he knew that sooner or later the truth would come out and it would only mean greater trouble.

He watched Peter sleep, laid out across the seat. He was genuinely and undeniably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. How lucky he was to have his love, his loyalty, his respect. He would do anything for him.

If he had to burn down the entire city to keep Peter safe, he would. Hell, he would burn down the whole city if Peter asked him nice enough.

It was absolutely terrifying, but he would burn it all, sacrifice any and all of his men all for Peter. Not because he was beautiful, but because he was loyal to the death and he meant it genuinely. He didn't follow Tony out of fear or because of a debt. His love and loyalty were pure and unshakable.

Peter had been offered money, fame, fancy condos. He laughed at it all. What he wanted was Tony. Sure, Peter enjoyed the power, he enjoyed the money. Tony did doubt sometimes that Peter would love him without those things, but for now, the only money or power he wanted was Tony's and that was enough to keep him.

Tony smiled to himself. He remembered before, back when Peter was just a pretty doll on stage, never knowing who was funding his performances, who was sending him such nice gifts. He remembered what a fool he was to think that Peter was someone who should be bought and tricked. Like a stay cat being led to a trap with a can of tuna. He felt cold when he imagined how it could have been. How he could have led Peter to despise him and their relationship by turning it into an obligation. Peter never had a choice in being his, but Tony's choice to show Peter respect made all the difference. Sometimes he pondered what Peter had said when he proposed.

 I think you would do anything for me. Even if it meant letting me go.

To this day, Tony wasn't certain if he was right. In his bones he felt sure that he would go to any lengths to keep Peter by his side. Anything at all short of killing him was on the table. At least, Tony believed that Peter would never try to leave him and so he tried not to think about something so painful. At the end of the day, he understood that Peter meant it symbolically. What he meant to say was that he wanted to be Tony's husband. That he didn't feel coerced or obligated. He was smart. He knew what Tony needed to hear. Even if it was a lie. Even if Tony thought that he might just kill them both if Peter tried to walk away.

In a few days, Tony would leave Peter behind at their beach front home to meet with the other family bosses. He needed to make sure there was enough security at the house. No one was allowed in or out when Tony went to a family meeting. Not even Peter. Sometimes he pouted about it, but Peter was undeniably excited by Tony's possessive nature, keeping him locked away like a precious princess in a story. This time though, Tony would be gone a whole weekend. No risks would be taken, no pouting indulged. The time they would be apart would have Tony too on edge. Maybe moving in together was a mistake. It only led him to cling harder to Peter's side.

He sent a text to the man in charge of Peter's security, just to make sure everything was in place. They had spent days vetting candidates to join Peter's security team. They had to be both loyal and clean. Clean in the sense of drugs, but also clean in the sense of debts. If they owed so much as a penny to anyone other than Tony Stark himself, they were off the table. No one with outside loyalties or motivations would be allowed near his little devil. That was what he should call him, the bloodthirsty little thing.

He had another performance coming up soon. Tony had talked to the director of the performance hall and had the opening night moved back a week. The original opening had been the same weekend he was to meet with the families. Everything and everyone was in place. Now he just had to survive leaving his heart behind for two days.

He watched him sleep, his heart. He watched him as the boat sailed along through the water. Peter didn't stir until the boat was docked. Just in case they had been seen, they were borrowing a dock several miles from home. A car waited by the road to pick them up.

Tony stood, casting a shadow over Peter's face. He smiled, opening his eyes in the dimmed light.

"Hello, sailor," he teased.

Tony bent and scooped him up. "Little siren."

Peter laughed. "I suppose I lured at least one man to his death."

Tony hugged him to his chest. He was so light, so thin and delicate. His arms wrapped around his neck. "And did it occur to you at any point, that you might have left Suarez or his men alive?"

Peter blinked. It was endearing, watching the young man realize what he had done. He hadn't thought for a second that he might simply leave them drugged and stranded, tied up. He could have asked Tony for something to slip into their drinks. He could have got Suarez alone and knocked him out. He could have played the game with his charm and some clever words. Instead, Tony had found two bodies floating down the current as they made for his coordinates. Another had been hanged from the side of the ship. No one could say Peter wasn't an effective and terrifying killer. Tony loved it. Because he knew that Peter wasn't cold, wasn't without empathy. The truth was that Tony said 'Get me those diamonds' and Peter's mind became focused on his task and he completed it by whatever means felt easiest, fastest.

If Tony said jump, Peter wouldn't ask how high. He would jump, immediately and without question. Whatever happened next, it would bring him joy to know that he done what Tony had asked. He wasn't the type to waste time.

"Should I have? Left Suarez alive I mean..." He was blushing, shame creeping into his voice.

Tony carried him from the boat, still held snug in his arms. "No, my angel. You did exactly what I wanted you to do. Alive or dead, it doesn't matter to me. If it did, then I would have been more specific."

"Really?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Daddy doesn't lie to you."

Peter smiled. Then he said one of those things... the things were dark and forbidden and made Tony's blood rush south.

"I set him up to die." He whispered in Tony's ear. "I let him think he could have me and when he thought he was going to get what he wanted, I burned his eye out and shot him in the face. Because I know who I belong to."

Tony's jaw clenched. His grip on Peter's body went tight. He stepped off the dock and set Peter on his feet, slamming his back into the wall of the boat house. Peter's eyes glinted with fear or excitement, he wasn't sure. He wasn't thinking either. He just crushed their mouths together, pressing Peter back until he whimpered in pain. His hands grabbed his hips and pulled him up, moaning when their groins pressed together. They could spend a good long time against this boat house, but Tony wouldn't push the graciousness of its owners further. Still he kissed his boy breathless before leading him along up the hill.

Peter pressed into his side, walking like he was drunk. Tony wrapped an around him, made sure his jacket was snug around his shoulders.

The door was opened for them as they reached the car. A guard slid in first then Tony. He helped Peter in and tucked him into his side. Peter gave him a quick kiss before he settled in against him. Tony smiled to himself as the car carried them away.

[elenamiria]

We’ll Never Be Royals

Royalty!Reader x Knight!Din Djarin

Rating: G Summary: A mysterious knight comes to your rescue and you find an unexpected bond on the journey home Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Light violence, reader in peril, tropes lol  Tags:  @fishswimbetterunderwater @a-dorin @blxwjobsforclones @lynnie51 @katrynec @mistermiraclee @theelvenvalkyrie​

1. Sorry for my absence in the past week, my family thought we potentially were exposed to covid (my mom’s coworker got sick and had to get tested) but good news! We’re all good!! 2. To my requesters I promise you I am working on my fics, I have had a little bit of writers block and I keep writing and then rewriting things because I go back and don’t like what I have so I’m so sorry it’s taking so long!! 3. I already had this written from a while ago and feel bad for the lack of content so I figured I’d throw this out there (Even though I’m not really sure if I like it, I kinda think it might be bad alsdhaiweo oh well) Also I’m pretty sure I want it to be a series but we’ll see how this goes

Anyways I love you all and I hope you enjoy!!

Din Djarin Masterlist     ~     Main Masterlist

Your knight in shining armor was not exactly what you expected. His armor was shining, gleaming silver, and he was dressed like a knight however he was not loyal to anyone but his covert band of mercenaries. He was a quiet man, never really speaking to you unless you spoke to him or he was telling you what to do. You had gathered that he was normally a bounty hunter after you had inquired which knight he was and he replied that you would not know who he was. You had also gathered that the king, your father, had sent him specifically for his quick and efficient ways as well as promising him a great reward if you were to be returned alive. You were beaten and bruised when he found you, the rival kingdom who had captured you desperate for the information you had on your fathers forces. When you had realized it was just one man coming to the rescue you fought back hysterics as you were sure the two of you were going to be killed, but he was quick with a sword and clever too. When you made it out alive you had wanted to see him, to know who he was, but he told you he couldn’t show his face.

There was a long journey ahead of you, traveling in secrecy did not lend itself to efficiency, and you found yourself growing closer to your mysterious knight. Always ensuring he had several portions of food ready for each meal while you made an excuse to wander off so he could eat in peace, you would watch the flames of your campfire reflect off of his armor and let your mind wander to what he was like under his helmet, you found you enjoyed his silence compared to the bustle of the castle, and you especially loved when he would gently tend to your wounds with a special salve. He would talk then, especially in the first few days when you were almost constantly in agony, you figured it was to distract you from the pain but you enjoyed hearing his stories. He told you of bounties he’d caught, of the lands he had seen and one day he told you about his creed, “I know you’re curious why I won’t show you my face. My people take this creed to protect ourselves from those who would wish us harm, it is our way. I am sorry I frighten you but I hope you can understand.”

You stared for a moment, slightly shocked he was bringing it up, before you spoke. Simply stating, “I am not afraid of you.”

His helmet tilted slightly before he turned to face you fully, “You do not have to lie to me your highness. I see how often you watch me, like you are anticipating my attack.”

You felt your face heat at the misunderstanding and you reached towards him but thinking better you let your hand fall to your side as you spoke, “My dear knight I do not stare at you because I am afraid of you.” You looked down as you continued, “I stare because I yearn to know you and I am curious. I do not fear you, in fact I think I trust you more than I have ever trusted any other being before.”

You glanced up with a shy smile at your confession. When you were met with silence you faltered, this time it felt different there was a tension in the air. When he said nothing for several very long moments you rose intent on retiring for the night in your embarrassment. A gloved hand lightly curled around you wrist as you brushed by causing you to freeze and turn to face your knight. There was a deep breath loud enough for you to hear through his helmet and then he spoke, “I do not trust easily.”

Something about his tone had you reaching forward to cup the helmet’s cheek but your gentle moment was interrupted by an arrow whizzing past your face. A startled yelp flew from your mouth and instantly he was in front of you shielding your front with his body, one arm pushing at your side to urge you behind him.

"Stay by me." he ordered, helmet scanning the area where the arrow came from. Your hands laid on his back as you looked around wildly, heart nearly pounding out of your chest, there was a noise and then another arrow was flying your way which was blocked and struck harmlessly off Din's armor. It seems the bandits realized with his protection they would have to take a more direct approach as three figures emerged from the shadows to charge at the knight. Barking an order for you to stay back he launched into action, sword drawn and clashing with the attackers. You backed away and aimlessly looked around for something to help, seeing nothing else you grabbed the metal pot that you used to cook your meals. Clutching it to your chest you continued backing up until you ran into something solid, you assumed it was a tree until the object wrapped a hand around your mouth and the other around your waist. Panicking you did the first thing you could and bit hard, your attacker wore thin cotton gloves that did little to protect him from your harsh teeth. The man cried out and pulled away from you and before you could even process what you were doing you were wildly swinging your pot into the man's head. 

He dropped and you stared with wide eyes unsure if he was dead, the loud shouts behind you disrupted you and you turned to see a blow to the side of your knights head knock him to the ground. This didn't deter him as his blade swung towards the attackers legs causing them to fall back while he recovered. He had just risen when one of them came from behind and wrapped a thick arm around his neck, the other two approached intent on disarming him. The situation looked grim and when a rough call of 'go, take the horse and go,' met your ears you knew you couldn’t leave him. Swallowing down your fear you approached quickly and as the other attackers shouted warnings to the third you made your attack. Once again you swung the pot as hard as you could striking the man on the head, as that seemed to do the trick last time. He stumbled and let go of your knight who stumbled but regained his bearings as oxygen filled his lungs once again. He landed a solid swipe on one of the other bandit’s arms and with that they seemed to give up, retrieving their friend who had only just stumbled up and they fled into the woods. You couldn't help the gleeful laugh that flew past your lips as you cheered in victory but it quickly died down when your savior stumbled. You rushed to steady him but he held up his hand and sunk to the log that you had been using as a makeshift bench while he caught his breath, "Gather our things, we'll stay in an inn for the night."

You nodded and hurried to collect your belongings. When you had completed the task, ensuring everything was securely attached to the horse, you fidgeted slightly before tapping your knight on the shoulder, "Everything's ready, are you feeling well enough to steer or would you like me to?"

He rose and turned towards you, "I'll steer."

He left little room for discussion as he extinguished the fire and mounted the horse, leaving you to climb on behind him. Wrapping your arms around him you rested your head on his shoulder as he stirred your horse to life. You found yourself drifting off as your adrenaline wore off despite the steady jolting sensation of your cheek against his shoulder armor.

You were roused by a call of your name and a gentle shaking sensation, you jolted up when you realized that you truly had drifted off, cheek sore from the harsh metal it had been laying on. The gleaming lights from the inn illuminated the night around you and Din instructed you to stay with the horse as he went to get a room. Dismounting you absentmindedly stroked your horse's snout, rambling softly to the animal, until a hand landed on your shoulder. You startled but relaxed when when you turned and it was just your knight, he hitched the horse and gathered your bags, leading you into the inn and up the stairs to your room. You paused in the door when you noticed the sleeping arrangements, there was only one bed. There was a low grunt behind you and Din muttered, "You can have the bed."

"No! You were the one who got hurt, you can have the bed. Please, I insist." You stared at him, and you assumed he was staring back at you, for several  moments until he sighed and nodded. You went about changing into your nightgown, quickly covering yourself with a spare blanket as you settled onto the floor and fluffed the pillow that you had taken from the bed. A throat cleared and suddenly he was speaking again, "Thank you. For earlier. You didn't go like I told you to."

His voice was questioning, even though you were sure it was supposed to have come out as a statement. You shook your head before you realized he couldn't see you and so you spoke instead, "I couldn't leave you, after all I suppose I was only repaying the favor. After all you saved me from a much more dire situation. But I wanted to help you, I....trust you."

You finished lamely wincing slightly, you sat in silence and as you waited for a response. Din's voice came hesitantly, "Earlier I said I don't trust easily." Your heart sunk, fearing that this was about to have the same outcome as last time - you going to bed full of embarrassment, until he continued, "I stand by that, but I trust you."

A smile crossed your face as your heart skipped a beat and you couldn't stop yourself from asking incredulously, "You trust me?"

There was another period of silence before, "I do, more than I thought possible."

And then yet another pause before so softly you almost missed it, "I think you deserve to know, my name is Din."

[m00nycore]

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙔 𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙋𝙄𝘿 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏 ;; 𝙤𝙣𝙚 .

𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 .

𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙤𝙘 (𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨)

𝙩/𝙬 : 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙩𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛. 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.

𝙏𝘼𝙂𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 ;; @dreaming-about-fanfictions @aesthetic-el

Her room became a prison.

Persephone tried in vain not to cry herself to sleep the first night she spent trapped in the manor. No, she told herself, you’re too strong for that.

But she wasn’t. She vomited the very minute Draco left her alone in the room. She had to assist in killing Dumbledore. The Dark Mark painted her forearm. It was too much for her.

Her step-mother had arranged for her favorite house elf, Poppy, to bring her belongings to her new, overly spacious room. It had been quite the fight for her to be able to keep Poppy with her- until Narcissa Malfoy agreed, on the condition that Poppy helped to maintain the house while Persephone was absent.

She sat on the edge of the bed, Poppy organizing her things, while her hairless cat, Aegis, laid curled on her lap.

“Poppy,” she murmured, the elf immediately running towards her.

“Yes, Mistress Persephone?” she wondered, her giant eyes full of love and respect.

“Just Persephone,” she gently reminded the elf; she knew it was hard for her to correct that. “You don’t have to put my things away, dear. I can do it myself… would you sit with me?”

Poppy hopped onto the bed, and Persephone leaned on her. In some ways, Poppy was the mother she never had. In other ways, Poppy was like a best friend, or a little sister.

“Poppy,” Persephone whispered, tears collecting in her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What’s the matter, ma’am?” Poppy wondered, alarm written over her features. “Did Poppy do-?”

“Poppy, you’ve never given me a problem for as long as you have lived,” she pulled the elf into a hug, which she returned. “Poppy, do you promise me to keep a secret? Even from the Malfoy’s?”

“Ms. Persephone has my word!” she exclaimed, full of determination.

Persephone sighed, absentmindedly stroking a sleeping Aegis. “Poppy, I’m getting married now,” she showed her the extravagant ring, making her friend’s eyes widen.

“Congratulations, ma’am!” she exclaimed. “To Mister Malfoy?” she inquired, curiosity and innocence laced in her tone.

“Yes…,” Persephone confirmed. “But I don’t love him. I was forced into this. Honestly, I used to hate him in school… we haven’t talked civilly in… I don’t remember when.”

Poppy frowned. “Why is Ms. Persephone being forced to marry? Poppy doesn’t understand.”

“Apparently, our parents agreed… but, Poppy… here’s when it gets to be a bigger secret… Draco has been tasked by the Dark Lord to kill Dumbledore,” Poppy gasped at her statement. “And I… have to help him. They made me a Death Eater,” she showed her forearm, still red hot and painful. “Poppy, I can’t do it. I don’t want to. But if I don’t…”

Tears pooled in Poppy’s eyes. “They may kill Ms. Persephone!” she wailed. “Poppy doesn’t want Ms. Persephone to die! Poppy loves Ms. Persephone!”

Persephone gathered Poppy in her arms again, shushing her. “Poppy, I love you too… I’m more worried about them hurting you to hurt me,” it was true, it had definitely crossed her mind. Her love for her house elf was apparent, and they could very well use that against her. It wasn’t like she cared about any harm coming to others. Persephone cared about Poppy and herself. Self-preservation might be selfish of her, but she simply didn’t care. She wouldn’t have the Dark Lord kill her.

“Ms. Persephone should never worry about Poppy!”

She smiled sadly at her. Poppy was loyal to a fault, but she was the only being alive she considered family. Her father was a monster, as well as her step-mother.

“Ms. Persephone looks ill,” Poppy said. “Does Ms. Persephone need something to eat?”

“No,” she responded. Truthfully, she hadn’t eaten all day. Nor did she yesterday, when she had received her assignment. The Malfoy’s hadn’t seen her since. She imagined Draco was isolating himself, as well. She wouldn’t blame him.

A knock sounded at her door, and Poppy quickly jumped off the bed, running to finish putting clothes away.

“Poppy, stop, I’ll help,” she told her, in a whisper. “Just stay there, please. I need you,” Poppy nodded. “Come in,” she responded, in a voice that betrayed none of her turmoil.

Narcissa Malfoy entered the room, with all the grace and authority she was raised to aspire to. She was absolutely beautiful, and she seemed kinder than the other women she had encountered in the circle, purely because of her obvious love and devotion to her son.

“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy,” she greeted, wondering why she had come to see her.

She nodded, crossing the room and taking a seat on the plush couch.

“You haven’t been eating,” she stated. “You shouldn’t starve yourself.”

Persephone couldn’t muster a reply. Narcissa continued. “You were unaware of your betrothal to my son,” it was a statement rather than a question. She paused. “You two are just children.”

Persephone heard the sorrow in her voice. She was worried for her son more than anything, she knew, but was Narcissa concerned for her?

“I,” she began, locking eyes with Poppy, who looked anxiously at her. “I’m being rude… thank you, Mrs. Malfoy, for allowing me to stay in your home and for me to bring my dearest Poppy along with me.”

Narcissa spared a glance at Poppy, who bowed to her.

“I supposed you needed some sort of comfort,” she told her. “So you genuinely were never told of your betrothal?”

Persephone locked eyes with her. “I wasn’t, ma’am, no.”

Narcissa looked towards the window. “I was always fond of your mother… and I was distraught to hear about her passing,” she said it as delicately and discreetly as possible, considering the circumstances behind her death. “I watched you grow up. I knew you were clever… you never played with Draco or the other children… you observed. You read books.”

Persephone was at a loss for words. She had no clue where her soon-to-be mother-in-law was going with this.

“I love my son,” she stated. “I love him more than anything. You know, you’re like your mother… in more than just looks. I expected you to be a Ravenclaw,” another pause. “My dear,” Narcissa stood, tears in her eyes, and sat next to her. “I care for my son, and I care for you as his fiancée. Persephone, as a mother, I am not only concerned for him, but for you. You don’t have anyone left… but, however you feel, you have Draco now. Persephone, I beg of you… help him. Protect him.”

Persephone stared down at Aegis, regretting that her hands were always so cold on her hairless skin.

“I will,” she whispered.

Narcissa nodded, and walked to the door. “You’re welcome to leave the room, to walk around the manor or the gardens,” without another word, she left.

Her mother had once told her a story when she was little.

“Do you know why you were named Persephone?”

The five-year-old considered. She wasn’t fond of her name. It sounded silly, and once Draco made fun of her so much that she cried. She liked her middle name, Wren, better.

“I don’t know, mommy. I hate my name,” she pouted.

Her mother laughed, gentle, stroking her daughter’s hair and snuggling her closer in the plush bed.

“There’s an old Greek story about Persephone,” her mother began. The child perked up. “You were named after a goddess.”

“A goddess?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “The story isn’t completely happy, but it teaches an important lesson.

Persephone was a beautiful goddess, the goddess of spring. Her mother’s name was Demeter. Demeter and Persephone loved each other and would spend lots of time playing and dancing through the meadows. Demeter loved her daughter almost as much as I love you,” Persephone giggled, snuggling closer to her mother. She continued. “But, one day, Hades, the god of the Underworld, saw Persephone and fell in love with her beauty… so, he had her kidnapped and brought to the Underworld with him.”

The child gasped in horror, eyes widening.

“Demeter grew very sad. Almost as sad as I would be if I lost you. She searched the earth for her daughter, and the plants and crops stopped growing. Demeter was the goddess of agriculture. Humans grew hungry and starved because she wasn’t helping anything grow.

One day, Hermes, messenger of the gods, saw the misery Demeter felt, and he told Zeus, the king of the gods, to bring her back. Zeus demanded Hades return Persephone, who was pale and sick, but something bad had happened. Persephone ate pomegranate seeds in the Underworld, and if you eat there, you must stay there. Zeus decided that for half of the year, Persephone would stay in the Underworld with Hades, and the other half of the year, she would stay with her mother. So, when Persephone was on earth, it was spring and summer. When she wasn’t, it was fall and winter.”

Persephone looked up at her mother, brow creased with concern. “Mommy, that’s too sad. Why did you name me after something sad? I never want to leave you ever, ever, ever!”

She smiled at her child, with all of the love and adoration in the world. “Oh, my sweet baby… you will never leave me, nor will I leave you. I named you Persephone for a few reasons. One, you reminded me of beauty and springtime as soon as you were born. Your hair and eyes are as dark as mine, but you are vibrant and sunny, even in the cold. But the biggest reason, my love, is because nothing and no one will ever compare to the love I have for you. I love you more than anything in the world.”

Persephone jumped onto her mom, hugging her tight. “I love you more, mommy!”

“I love you more!”

“No, I love you more!”

She dissolved into giggles as her mom began tickling her, once again telling her she loved her more.

Persephone was lost in the memory, walking through the gardens. She wasn’t springtime, no, not anymore. She was only Persephone to her mother, and the people she had to act in front of. No, she was Wren now. Wren was pale and wan, battered and self-serving. Wren was a Slytherin, she lost the kindness she had carried before.

She only cared for what she knew was right, what she knew was worth fighting for.

The Malfoy’s gardens were spectacular, plants and statues well cared for, the scent of fruits in the trees and the perfume of flowers thick in the air. She wandered, in the warm night, dressed in her silk pajama shorts and matching top, trying in vain not to think of the hell she was living in.

She stared at the magnificent fountain with the strange urge to drown in it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a new presence.

Draco walked up to her, in a black suit, an impassive expression drawn on his features.

He stood by her, neither looking at each other or saying a word.

“You aren’t wearing the ring,” Draco was the one to break the silence.

“No, I’m not.”

There was silence again.

She took his hand, which he shook away.

“What are you doing?” he nearly spat, disgust on his features.

She exhaled out of her nose. “Practicing. Didn’t you hear him? Hogwarts needs to see the happy couple.”

“I’m surprised that you’re even going to go through with any of this,” he commented.

She considered, finally looking at him. He was pale in the moonlight. He didn’t look well, either. He looked back, eyes falling to her bare arms, the Dark Mark covered with bandages that Poppy helped her with.

“I’m a selfish person, Draco. I don’t fancy dying. Nor do I fancy helping you to spill blood that doesn’t deserve to be spilled.”

Draco scoffed. “You’re just a blood traitor like your mother,” he sneered. “It’s exactly why I didn’t want this betrothal. Not with the likes of you.”

She glared at him, a hard set to her mouth, and began to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

She whirled around, tears threatening to form in her eyes. “If we’re suddenly so fond of speaking ill of one’s dead parent, I’ll make do with calling your father the biggest prat on the planet- he got what he deserved and I have no qualms hoping that you’ll be next, you twat.”

With that, she resumed her walk back to the manor, until Draco called out.

“Bardick,” he only ever addressed her by her surname. He walked up to her. She had stopped walking but still faced away.

She felt something press into her hand. A green apple.

“Eat. If you starve to death, it’ll ruin the mission.”

He walked by her, quickly, making his own way back to the manor.

[themadauthorshatter]

I haven't really done one of these in a while

If Cal and Iris married AU/UA Part 3.5(to build up their relationship):

We're backtracking to Cal and Iris's blooming friendship, before the ball where Cal saved Orrec.

After training, Cal does some lessons and goes to the garage.

And gets a surprise visit from Iris herself; when he asks, she admits she's been "waiting in this oil reeking hole for thiry minutes."

"You didn't have to. I was going to come to dinner."

"I needed to see you. Alone, I mean."

"Any reason why?"

Iris shrugs, after a very awkward moment of silence. "I was just wonder when we would have that rematch, seeing as how you can't see how I won."

Cal chuckles and folds his arms. "I won that fight," he says with a slight tip forward.

"We shall have the rematch decide."

Cal gives a crooked smile and a nod. "Fine. Just don't cry when I win."

Iris chuckles at that and agrees.

She wishes him luck and leaves him to his machines, also telling him not to die underneath one of them; ending his life and happiness is her job, damn it.

It's another joke, which Cal contiunes by saying he'll just break his fingers for her.

Iris leaves and Cal gets to putting the finishing touches on the engine, looking back at where Iris left and smiling at how they didn't argue and didn't rub each other the wrong way.

Dinner is just as pleasant, though there is a very minor hiccup when Iris almost calls the servant Red rather than her name. It's minor and she catches it.

Cal notices both the slip up and the catch, but doesn't speak on it, not wanting to start a fight.

After dinner, Tibe and Orrec meet up and talk, both having noticed that Cal and Iris aren't as eager to kill each other. It's a step forward, to say the least, but it could just be an act for the adults, so they're placated.

Tibe shakes his head at the idea, explaining that Cal wouldn't do something like that; he's not a very good liar, if he even lies at all.

Orrec only hums at this, wishing Iris was the same, easy to read and too honest for her own good, though he does admit that Cal should maybe practice his lying, as being too easy to read will be his detriment as King.

Tibe simply mutters that it will be the least of his concerns, considering the new alliance and a new growing tension between the Nortan-Lakelander alliance and Piedmont, who was against it like absolutely no one's business.

Orrec has nothing to say to that because he knows very little about Piedmont, seeing as how that nation was loyal to Norta, and they possibly made a new enemy.

Neither elaborate on that, instead raising a glass and hoping for a slightly shorter war with Piedmont.

Back with the young and happy betrothed couple, Iris is in training as she stretches, noticing Cal discussing something with a general, and Evangeline approaches, asking if she's enjoying her stay in Norta.

Iris admits it's not home, but she's still having a fairly decent time, thanks to a certain prince who was surprising nicer than she had previously thought.

Evangeline agrees Cal is quite kimd, too much so in her opinion, but he's not an idiot. He'll find out that Iris is nothing but a liar and a manipulative bitch, being a Lakelander and all that. Iris only blinks at her and continues stretching, chiding her that unless she has something to say that's worth Iris's time, she can just go and bother her own betrothed.

Evangeline only stays where she is and scowls, sneering that Iris should know better than to be so daring when she's out of her territory, where her armies can't protect her.

Iris only ignores her and resumes stretching.

In one more effort to get some kind of reaction out of her, Evangeline reminds Iris that Cal isn't always going to to be around to protect her, and it's times like that where she should watch her back.

Iris raises an eyebrow at her, eyes darting slightly to over Evangeline's shoulder.

"What's going on over here?"

Evangeline turns and Iris stands, greeting Cal very warmly, though he, surprisingly, glares at Evangeline as he gently pulls Iris to his side and then pushes her behind him.

It's an action that DEEPLY wounds Evangeline, because he was supposed to be her betrothed, not Iris's.

"What?" She asks. "Are you her shield now? Last time I checked, she was our enemy."

"Not anymore," Cal growls. "And unless you want to start the war all over again, and be the one responsible for doing so, knock it off, Evangeline."

Evangeline scowls, a little broken hearted and angry, but Cal continues glaring, only stopping when he walks away with Iris, careful because she's looking between him and Evangeline.

Cal asks if she's okay, and if Evangeline did or said anything. Iris brushes it off, saying that, as she has proven to him in particular, she is fully capable of taking care of herself.

He knows she can, but he's her betrothed. He'll worry about her regardless.

Iris warns him to be careful, because he's getting his heart and his mind mixed up and that can get him killed, if he's not careful.

Cal gives her a simple, "Fine," and they go about training.

More awkward hijinks ensue, like the two helping each other stretch and Cal accidentally falls down, pulling Iris with him. He lands on his back and she lands on top of him. It catches everyone's eye and Maven can't help but cringe at it.

It gets worse when she stands, but her hair's tangled in the flame maker bracelet on Cal's wrist, so she's practically stuck on him and kind of kneeing and hurting him in an attempt to quickly get free.

People don't know what to do, so they all try not to laugh, completely out of nervousness because both Cal and Iris are beasts, Maven only groans into his hands from secondhand embarrassment, and Evangeline smirks at the display.

It's essentially a very loud, very jerky, VERY awkward tsngo between a couple about to marry that are night and day.

Worst part?

Tibe, Orrec, and Julian are watching, wanting to be witnesses, should Iris decide to try drowning Cal or Cal try to cook Iris alive. For Julian, the pain from watching the two of them is so immense that he can feel it on his skin. Tibe pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head and Orrec simply stands resolutely, because there's too much stuff he's feeling to properly express it.

It ends when the two calm down and Cal untangles her hair from his bracelet and says a pun to ease the tension.

It just makes Iris figure out a reason why Evangeline wouldn't want to marry him as she walks to a peice of training equipment, though Cal trails behind her because the comment was too below the belt for him.

The next day, Cal sees the Lakelander King himself, upon his request, of course.

"Hello, Tiberias."

"King Orrec," Cal says with a bow of his head.

Orrec shakes his head. "Please, leave niceties for an audience. It's just us here."

Cal nods and replies, "Alright."

"Tell me," he sort of asks-sort of lightly commands, "how are you and my daughter getting along?"

Thank goodness Cal is a soldier because, with the 'answer carefully or I'm going to tie your ankles to a cement block, empty a part of the ocean, as deep as possible, throw you in, and bring the tide as slowly as I can so you can think about raising a hand against my child as you drown(and the rope would sort of tether, so every time he's about to drown, the rope gives and he's above the water breathing as the water continues to rise, so he'll get tortured by the repeated drowning and the pressure from the depths of the sea)' eyes Orrec is giving him, he would TOTALLY run for his life.

Cal only gives a sigh. "We... weren't exactly friends, at first. I mean, we used to be a war for over a century, so of course we would be at odds."

Orrec nods. "True. Now may I what you meant by, 'at first?'"

Thinking back on their first normal conversation, and the efforts they're both making to not kill each other, Cal allows a small smile to grow on his face.

"We've been... getting along better."

"How so, exactly?"

Cal shrugs. "I mean, we're not fighting like we used to. And we're just getting along better now. I don't know," he admits with a head shake. "We're not... We don't hate each other, but we aren't fully comfortable with each other. Not yet, at least. Hopefully."

Orrec smirks at that, and gestures for Cal to come closer, more specifically for his hands, which Cal does.

After a second, Orrec speaks.

"I knew you were different from your father. You have oil in your nails."

Cal takes his hands back to check, and, yes, there is oil around his fingernails, which is just embarrassing.

"It may be foolish thinking, but, I'll admit, it's admirable. Hopefully Norta has a King that will try creating rather than destroying."

You'd better believe that Cal's thrown off by these words, even when Orrec thanks him for being the ine to marry Iris, not Maven, because his mother is Elara.

Orrec then makes Cal promise he will protect Iris, at the very least, should something happen like an attack.

He promises.

Later that week, Iris finds Calnin the garage again, but he's about to ride away on his cycle.

She asks where he's going and Cal, passes her his helmet, saying it's best he show her(she's already in casual looking clothes).

He takes her to a slightly higher end tavern in a Red village, and they simply enjoy some water and watch the hustle and bustle.

Yeah. Cal's still doing his "leaening about my people" thing, even though he's going to marry Iris, a Lakelander who probably has polar opposite thinking to him.

Like this, he can see that Reds aren't that different from Silvers. The only difference is power, which helps the Silvers lord over their inferiors.

It opens up her eyes very much so to who she's marrying.

We get more hijinks with them joking at their table, dancing, because it's fun and Iris isn't the best dancer, and even avoiding a bar fight because teo Reds ran into each other.

They leave before they're spotted.

When they arrive back, Cal escorts Iris to her room and admits that this trip wasn't his best and he'll make it up to her. Iris, though flattered, tells him to work on his puns because they need some tinkering.

More below the belt Cal's a little offended by, but he instead snickers that he's wearing off on her.

They share a laugh and Iris thanks Cal for being him, because, in all honesty, he's starting to make this whole thing easier.

Cal thanks her back and even kisses her hand, saying he looks forward to their marriage.

They stare at each other for a second, lost in each other's eyes, and share a kiss(Sorry Marecal shippers!!!).

They bid each other good night and go to bed.

It's all good and happy, but it's a shame that a couple weeks later, at the ball in Part 4, a spy tries a poison wine attack to end the alliance of Norta and the Lakelands.

Cal, keeping good on his promise, takes Orrec's glass, which is poisoned, and drinks from it, as to not set off a possible fire fight, one with guns, not real flames

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) Signs

Ivar x Artemis (OFC) 

Word Count: 1643

Warnings: Corny

AN: Okay, so I lied. The epilogue wasn’t the complete end. I have 5 extra bonus chapters that take place after the end of the original story, but before the epilogue. They are all corny. Beware. Hope you guys enjoy, they were so fun to write 💙 @leilabeaux, I hope this and the next few bonus chapters are to your liking 😘

...

Heracles was the first to notice a change.

Though the mastiff was a natural guardian and had always followed his mistress like a shadow, he had gotten far more aggressive towards strangers, even to those he knew.

No matter where Artemis went, he'd follow loyally, remaining by her side at all times, night and day, outdoors and indoors.

The dog was nicknamed Jötnar to those that frequented the hall, a devourer of those who'd come near his mistress.

Hvitserk was next in noticing a change.

As her instructor, he chose to reserve mornings for their training in archery and basic swordsmanship. She proved herself agile with both sword and bow, slowly becoming proficient in both areas, but she could not yet be given the title of a skilled fighter.

The days went by and suddenly her skill steadily declined, each blow weaker and weaker to the point where she barely had the energy to lift a sword in the first place. The amount of times Hvitserk almost knocked her to the ground were too many to count, and eventually, lessons were always cut short.

Her aim with a bow hadn't changed, in fact, she was extremely precise with her arrows though now it exhausted her to even think of lifting her bow.

Hvitserk thought she'd make for a terrible warrior.

Heahmund was third to take notice.

The Queen was always tired. Usually, she'd take a portion of her day to study Ivar's rune sticks, practicing to read and write each symbol in the hopes of becoming more proficient in the duties that usually fell to her husband. Since she couldn't read or write in her own language, she wanted to learn how to in her adoptive language.

Asa, though very young, had previously been learning her runes with her mother, and now offered the little knowledge she had with Artemis. It was a nice pass time for them, sitting in the middle of the hall atop furs and pillows in a fort like fashion, though it usually ended with telling the young girl stories of her homeland.

Heahmund caught them asleep many times during their little study sessions.

He almost thought it was cute.

Geirdis was fourth to notice.

Her mistress never asked for help in getting dressed, that was something she could do herself. That changed when the dresses began to fit just a bit more snug. The fabrics felt tight on her skin and if Geirdis pulled at the laces too tight, a string of complaints would spill from Artemis's lips.

Perhaps she just needed a new wardrobe.

And then, Ivar finally took notice.

Artemis had a strange attraction towards lingonberries. Not particularly a fan of the fruit in the past for their sourness, she ate them almost all the time now, much to Ivar's confusion. But it didn't stop there.

He noticed at first how much she suddenly detested food, the smell, and just the sight of any cooked meat had her feeling quite sick. Later on she would have a ravenous hunger where it seemed she could eat anything in sight, especially those damn lingonberries that she had no taste for.

His concerns began when she constantly took ill most mornings. Nothing she ate from the night before lasted long in her stomach before she'd retch it up by the time the sun was out.

She slept so very little and yet somehow slept so much. She never wanted to leave the warmth of their bed most mornings, opting to fight for Ivar to remain with her for as long as he could spare before his duties couldn't wait longer.

Turned out the healer had an answer to all this.

"With child?" Both Artemis and Ivar repeat at the same time, much to the healer's amusement. What a sight it was to see the King, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. The Queen had a hand to her chest, no doubt in an attempt to calm her beating heart.

"With child, yes. About 3 months along now." The healer, Brenna, tells the pair with a smile, "It seems the gods have finally blessed your union. Congratulations."

Everything else went by in a blur for the both of them as Brenna laid down a set of rules the Queen was to follow, along with a list of dietary needs. Everything must change for the benefit of the baby. After a while of probing Artemis's belly, the healer leaves and immediately Ivar turns toward Geirdis who was present with them during the examination.

"Did you hear the healer's instructions?" He asks her, and Geridis nods.

"Yes, My king."

"Good. Go find Aria and fetch whatever herbs and items the Queen needs." Geirdis nods, running off to go do as she was told, a large smile already breaking across her face.

Ivar turns to Artemis, his own smile making it's way on his lips. His wife was laid out on their bed as still as a statue, her eyes staring up toward the ceiling. She places a hand over her belly, feeling around the tiniest bit of protruding skin that confirmed the healer's declaration. She hadn't noticed it before.

"Ivar?" She calls out to him, and he does not hesitate to go to her, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, "We're having a baby." She tells him as if he didn't already know. She shifts her eyes from the ceiling to his face, watching his lips spread into the widest of grins. It made her smile too.

"We're having a baby." He repeats dumbfounded, placing a hand over hers that rested over her belly. They stayed this way in silence for brief moments, both processing the new information that would be changing their lives.

"You're going to be a father."

"I'm going to be a father," Again he parrots her words, staring off into the corner of the chamber without so much as a blink before turning to look down at her with the biggest grin she'd ever seen, "I'm going to be a father!" He laughs in glee, leaning down to press a kiss to his wife's lips with such enthusiasm that he left her breathless. "And you, an incredible mother," He mutters against her lips, slowly pulling her up so that he may embrace her properly, "Can you believe it, my love? A child!" Artemis buries her face into his neck, feeling his pulse pump at a rapid pace. Ivar was over the moon with joy, and so was she, except...

"I'm afraid." She says against his skin, fingers gripping tight into his tunic. Ivar pulls away from her, eyebrows furrowed, and lips pursed in questioning.

"Afraid? Whatever for?" He wasn't getting it. It wasn't he who would be carrying the child.

"I don't suppose you know what it's like to carry a child, do you?" She jokes, and he rolls his eyes in response.

"Mother gave birth 4 times." Ivar begins to explain.

"She must have been out of her mind." Artemis mutters.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing," She sighs, offering him a smile, "I suppose I'm just nervous is all."

"Isn't it normal for first time mothers to feel nervous?"

"...I think? I don't know how to be a mother, Ivar! I've barely had time with my own."

"And I had an absent father, baby bird. We will both learn, together." Somehow, Ivar had the right words to say, and they were enough to reassure her in those moments, until another thought entered her mind.

"The seer." She says suddenly, and Ivar shakes his head, already stopping her from continuing any further.

"Artemis," Ivar heaves a sigh, grasping her hands, "You are my wife and the future mother of my child. Do you think I'd let anything happen to you?"

"No but-"

"Then let the seer, and whatever else that may plague your thoughts rest for just a moment," He says, almost begs, bringing her hands to his lips, "We should celebrate." His blue eyes were so sincere. She sighs, lowering her gaze for a moment, but the smile that pulled at her lips was enough to let Ivar know she agreed. Before she could say anything more, Hvitserk enters the chamber with an infectious smile.

"Geirdis has just informed me of the great news," He comes forward with a spring in his step, clapping Ivar on the back with a laugh, "I'm proud of you brother!" The concerning air that had filled the room disappeared, and Ivar grins, laughing along with his brother in boyish celebration. "Shall we throw a feast?" Hvitserk suggests, a smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes, any excuse to eat and drink.

"Yes!" Asa comes bursting in through the leather dividers with Heracles at her little heels as he barked at her excited outburst. She weaves herself between Ivar and Hvitserk, climbing up the bed to embrace Artemis. "There's a baby in there?" Her little chubby finger pokes at her abdomen, wondering just how a baby could fit there.

"Mhm." Artemis laughs at her enthusiasm.

"Soon you will have a little cousin to play with." Ivar tells her in a childlike tone he reserved for his niece.

"I hope it's a girl!" She whines, hopping off the bed to run into Hvitserk’s open arms.

"And what's wrong with a boy, hmm?" Hvitserk questions her, lifting her up against his hip. She scrunched up her face and everyone laughed at her innocence.

"We will welcome whichever we are blessed with." Ivar declares.

That night, when his wife had drifted off to sleep, he shifted his body so that he may gently lay his head on her belly, his hand caressing the skin of her abdomen under her thin nightgown. Pursing his lips to place a kiss on the small bulge, he closes his eyes.

"Welcome to the family, little one."

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @leilabeaux @jzr201 @inforapound @a-mess-of-fandoms @rastakami23 @ostra814 @zumzum96

[swanqueeneverafter]

The Once & Future Queen Pt.19

Camelot. Courtyard. (While Merlin is joined by Guinevere, Lancelot and the Charmings, Henry speaks to his moms.) Henry: "Are you guys sure about this? I mean, aren't you worried Merlin's going to want revenge for what Emma did to him?" Emma: (Scoffs:) "Mr. Holier-than-thou?" Regina: "Merlin isn't the revenge type, Henry. He's far more likely to want to prove his brilliance than dwell on the past." Henry: "Yeah, but even so-" Emma: "What's important right now is that we as a family are safe." Regina: "Your mother's right, Henry. This whole situation with Morgana was never about us. It's about who belongs on the throne of Camelot. Let them figure it out." Henry: "That's a little cold, don't you think?" Emma: "Honestly? No. Merlin is more than capable of dealing with Morgana on Camelot's behalf." Regina: "And if you don't believe us, just ask Merlin."

(A short distance away, Merlin converses with Lancelot and Guinevere.) Lancelot: "I'm glad you're free again, but if Arthur finds us here there will be trouble." Merlin: "I agree, we must leave this place, but not together." Guinevere: "What does that mean?" Merlin: "Send the knights who are loyal to you back to Arthur. Allow them to be our eyes and ears in Arthur's camp." Guinevere: "All right, that makes sense, but what about Morgana?" Merlin: "She has grown too powerful for any mortal blade to kill her. That is why we must separate. (To Lancelot:) I need you to seek out your Mother, the Lady of the Lake, for help." Lancelot: (Nods in understanding:) "My mother once forged the Vorpal Blade that trapped the Jabberwocky, perhaps she can do the same again for Morgana?" Merlin: "Exactly. Your mother does have great power." Lancelot: (To Guinevere:) "We should leave right away. The lake is a two-day journey from here." Guinevere: (To Merlin:) "What about you?" Merlin: "Though Arthur is but a shade of his former self, I very much doubt my presence in Camelot will be welcomed. I shall therefore return with the others to Storybrooke. There I can come up with a plan to end Morgana's scheming once and for all." (Standing against the short stone wall lining the courtyard, Snow and David weigh up their options.) Snow White: "I think we should go with Guinevere and Lancelot, they may need our help." David: "Absolutely not. (At Snow's look:) Have you not understood why Regina and Emma are doing this? It's to keep us all safe. The fight for Camelot is not one we need to involve ourselves in." Snow White: "Oh, David. Not you too? We can't just walk away. That's not what heroes do." David: "That is not what we're talking about here." Snow White: (Stubbornly:) "Well it seems that way to me." David: (Sighs:) "Do you even remember the last time either one of us could claim to be heroes? Let's face it, Snow, ever since the first curse was broken, we've relied on either Emma or Regina to fight our battles. Against Gold, Zelena, the Snow Queen, Pan-" Snow White: "That's only because magic was involved all those times. And it wasn't just us, the entire town relies on them." David: "Which is exactly my point. And now, since the Realms were joined, they've been called upon to use their powers even more. All I'm saying is there has to be another option, one that doesn't lead to our daughter and the woman she loves putting themselves in harm's way." Snow White: "But, David, we've always found a way to defeat whatever comes our way." David: "I know that, but the day may still come when we won't be able to win. Listen, Emma and Regina have already gone up against Morgana several times now and she's still out there causing mayhem. So maybe this time, we let Merlin be the one to come up with the answers."

Forest. Near Caerleon's Army Camp. (Agravaine sneaks through the woods while checking for any pursuers, then turns and is surprised to find Morgana standing there.) Agravaine: “Morgana.” Morgana: “You seem troubled. What is it?” Agravaine: “Arthur is Camelot’s King once more, as you wanted.” Morgana: “Yes, I know, I saw the fireworks. That can’t be what you came to tell me.” Agravaine: “Merlin. He’s free.” Morgana: “How? When?” Agravaine: (Shakes his head:) “I do not know, My Lady. Merlin’s tree was gone by the time we returned to the castle.” Morgana: “We?” Agravaine: “Arthur insisted on scouting Carleon’s army.” Morgana: “There is no need for that. You gave him my note, I trust?” Agravaine: “Yes. He did not seem pleased by it.” Arthur: (Appearing at the top of the ridge above them:) “Not pleased at all.” Morgana: (To Agravaine:) “I don’t know whether to be impressed by Arthur’s tracking skills or annoyed by your incompetence.” Arthur: (His sword pointed towards them as he approaches:) “You know, back when I was alive, I learned to despise Merlin. However, there was one thing about him that earned my admiration.” Morgana: (In a bored tone:) “Really, and what was that?” Arthur: “His ability to resist my commands even when tethered to Excalibur and under the most desperate of circumstances. In fact, it was what inspired me to do this!” (Sensing the attack before it even began, Morgana’s eyes glow and she uses her powers to send Arthur flying backwards into a tree, knocking him unconscious.) Morgana: “Not a word, Agravaine. Not a word. (Agravaine stands quiet as Morgana walks over to Arthur and begins an incantation, her eyes glowing once more:) Efencume ætgædre, eala gastas cræft ige. Hige hefe. Hefe mæst sara. Fornéðe þas, ende hie æra. (Her eyes return to normal:) There, my hold over Arthur has now tripled in strength. He will give us no more problems.” Agravaine: “Yes, My Lady.” Morgana: (Casually:) “What news of Guinevere?” Agravaine: “Ah... Arthur did send out men to search but unfortunately, Guinevere and Lancelot’s whereabouts are currently unknown.” Morgana: (Scoffs:) “Of course they are. The knights are loyal to them both. No matter. I have a feeling I know exactly where they’re headed.”

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. Morning. (Regina and Emma are making breakfast when Henry enters.) Henry: "Good morning, Moms!" Regina: "Henry. You're looking chipper this morning." Henry: "And why shouldn't I be? Ella and I both have jobs, my parents are about to retire from putting themselves in danger on a regular basis and the sun is shining." Emma: "Well, can't argue with that I suppose." Regina: "So, everything is back to normal with you two?" Henry: "Things got a little shaky there for a little while, but I think we're okay. Plus, Ella and I have an agreement that should an adventure come our way, we'll both jump in with both feet. Together, I mean." Emma: (Smiles:) "Yeah, we got that." Regina: "And in the meantime you're okay with driving people around all day?" Henry: "Well I'll admit it's not my ideal job, but it pays the bills. (Kisses Emma on the cheek:) Bye, Mom." Emma: "Have a good day, Henry." (Henry kisses Regina on the cheek and, carrying his coffee, leaves the kitchen.) Hallway. (Henry walks to the door and picks up his keys from the bowl. He's about to leave when Regina speaks up.) Regina: "You know there's still college, Henry. Higher education sounds like a pretty wonderful adventure to me." Henry: (Smiles:) "I know and I'll think about it, I promise. But things have just got back on track with Ella and I don't want to rock the boat too much." Regina: "But you could be so much more. I thought you wanted to make a serious run at becoming a writer?" Henry: (Nods:) "I did and I do but for right now I have to put that on hold. I have to think of what's best for Ella and me. We may not see each other much during the day with us both working jobs, but if I went to college Ella and I wouldn't see each other at all." Regina: "Okay, well as long as you're happy and you know what you're doing, you know I'm happy." Henry: "I know, thanks Mom. (Pulls her in for a hug:) I love you." Regina: "I love you too, Henry." (Waving as Henry walks down the pathway towards his car, Regina closes the door and returns to the kitchen.) Kitchen. Emma: "Has he gone?" Regina: "Yeah. (Distractedly, walks into the kitchen:) I can't help but think he's making a mistake by not going to college." Emma: "Oh don't worry about that now. Here. (Slides a plate across the table to Regina:) Have your breakfast." Regina: "Thanks. (Finally looking at Emma, Regina sees the naughty smirk on her lips before noticing her complete lack of clothing. Casually:) You know your shirt is buttoned incorrectly?" Emma: (Innocently:) "Oh. (She unfastens the last remaining button:) Better?" Regina: "Much. (Emma winks and drinks her orange juice:) Although now I don't feel much like pancakes suddenly." Emma: "I can get you something else if you like?" Regina: "No, no. I already have my eye on something." (Picking up a stick of butter from a side plate, Regina slowly approaches Emma. Upon kissing her wife, Regina gently pushes the shirt down off Emma's shoulders, exposing her breasts to her ravenous gaze. Reaching over, Regina grabs a croissant from the table and hands it to Emma.) Emma: "Thank you." Regina: (Before Emma can take a bite:) "Uh uh. (Regina holds up the butter:) Room temperature. (Emma nods then watches as Regina takes one finger and rubs it into the butter before smoothing her digit over the croissant. Then, moving Emma's shirt out of her way, Regina proceeds to liberally coat Emma's breasts with the butter, rubbing it in slow, generous circles. When Emma clears her throat, Regina looks up at her:) Oh, how thoughtless of me. (Reaching for something, Regina picks up a little pot and shows it to Emma before removing the lid.) Cinnamon. (Before Emma can say anything, Regina taps the bottle over her croissant and adds a little cinnamon. Pulling up a chair beside Emma, Regina leans forward. Looking up at her:) Bon apetit." (Regina lowers her mouth to Emma's left breast and begins to feast. For her part, Emma bemusedly watches her wife for a long moment before finally bringing the croissant to her lips.)

Caerleon’s Army Camp. Queen Annis’ Tent. (The sentries bring Arthur into the tent.) Queen Annis: “What is the meaning of this?” Arthur: “Your Highness, I’m here to– (Annis slaps him:) Your Highness, I know that you feel nothing but contempt for me. You feel I’ve done you a grievous wrong, and you would be right. I’m ashamed of what I did. It was cowardly, it was unjust, and I am deeply sorry.” Queen Annis: “Sorry does not bring back my brother. Sorry does not give his people back their king.” Arthur: “I realise that. I know there’s nothing I can do to repair that loss.” Queen Annis: “Then what are you doing here, Arthur Pendragon?” Arthur: “I want to call off the battle.” Queen Annis: “It’s a little too late for that.” Arthur: “I don’t propose a truce, but an alternative. I invoke the right of single combat. Two champions to settle this matter between them.” Queen Annis: “And why should I grant you this favour?” Arthur: “There’s been bloodshed enough already, Your Highness. Many hundreds of lives will be saved this way.” (Annis nods for her men to release Arthur’s arms.) Queen Annis: “And your terms?” Arthur: “If my man wins, you must withdraw your army.” Queen Annis: “And if mine is the victor?” Arthur: “Then half of all Camelot is yours.” (A guard brings Agravaine into the tent and shoves him to his knees. Agravaine is seething at being treated this way, but holds his tongue.) Agravaine: “Sorry, my lord." Queen Annis: “You know him?” Arthur: “He’s my advisor, he must’ve followed me here. I knew nothing about it.” Queen Annis: “Kill him.” (Agravaine’s eyes flash toward Arthur, imploring him to do something. Arthur lets him sweat a moment.) Arthur: “Wait. Please. Let him go. He’s just…a simpleminded fool.” Queen Annis: “That is two favours you’ve asked of me, Arthur Pendragon. (Queen Annis turns and sits on her throne, considering Agravaine. Arthur is calm while Agravaine is tense, waiting for her decision:) Very well. You shall have your trial by combat. (Arthur nods:) Announce your champion by noon.” (Arthur bows.) Arthur: “Thank you, Your Highness, but there will be no need to wait. There can only be one choice. One choice which is just and honourable. This fight’s mine.” (Annis is impressed by this while Agravaine is very pleased.) Queen Annis: “Noon it is then. You may leave to prepare yourself. And take your fool with you.” (Arthur nods and Agravaine glares at Annis, for her slight upon him.) A Short Time Later. (Annis is now joined by Morgana.) Queen Annis: “I don’t like it. It must be a trick.” Morgana: “What concerns you, Your Highness?” Queen Annis: “Arthur. Why would he choose himself as the champion?” Morgana: “Because he’s Arthur. He’ll always risk his own life before those of his men. Trust me, it’s no trick. Arthur will fight.” Queen Annis: “It’s as if you were pleased, Morgana. Whatever else he is, Arthur is a great warrior. You have as much to lose as I if he wins. You desire the throne of Camelot, do you not?” Morgana: (Enraged:) “I don’t deny it. It’s rightfully mine, after all. (Annis considers Morgana’s emotional response. Morgana calms herself:) Arthur will not win.” Queen Annis: “How can you possibly know that?” Morgana: “Because I have the power to ensure that he doesn’t.” Queen Annis: “Then you must use it.” (Morgana smiles and nods.) Shortly After That. (A mean looking giant stands before Annis and Morgana.) Queen Annis: “You have served me well, Darian. I know you’ll do the same again today.” Morgana: “And Darian, no pity, no quarter. Do not hesitate for one second. Arthur Pendragon must die.” (Darian grins menacingly.)

Storybrooke. Granny's Bed & Breakfast. (Ruby sits down to talk with the Reporter.) Reporter: "So, it's been a little while now since Mulan and Emma returned from the past, how have you adjusted to having Mulan back?" Ruby: (Smiles:) "I won't say it's like she never left because I missed her terribly, but Mulan and I have pretty much picked up where we left off. It helped a lot that I was surrounded by friends and family and I know Mulan kept herself busy in the Enchanted Forest." Reporter: "I'm pleased to hear that. (Writes a few notes then changes the subject:) Today marks the beginning of Snow White's quest to find a candidate for Storybrooke's next Mayor. You've moved around a lot recently but for almost thirty years you lived among the people of Storybrooke, so who would you like to see nominated?" Ruby: "Gosh, I mean where to start? Naturally as Snow is one of my best friends I would've voted for her, but she's not interested in taking the job on full time." Reporter: (Pushing for an answer:) "So who else?" Ruby: "Um... Archie might be a good choice. He knows the people better than most, being the town's only therapist. Then there's David, I think he'd be a great candidate for Mayor. However I think, like Snow, he's content tending to his flock." Reporter: "Would you ever consider the position yourself?" Ruby: "Me? (Chuckles:) I don't think I'm meant for public office. I spent most of my time under the curse trying to leave this place. Anyway, I love my nomadic lifestyle with Mulan far too much to give it up." Granny's Diner. (Snow White shares a booth with Jasmine while she looks over the various CV's she's received from interested candidates.) Snow White: "Oh this is going to be a nightmare." Jasmine: "I don't see why. You managed to run the Mayor's office while still keeping a full teacher's schedule." Snow White: (Holding up a binder:) "Only because I'm organised." Jasmine: "So start your search looking for someone else equally as anal then." Dr. Whale: (Arriving at precisely the wrong time:) "Hello, ladies. (Places his CV on the table:) I'll just leave this here for your consideration." Snow White: "Thank you." Dr. Whale: "By the way..." Snow White: (To Jasmine:) "Here we go." Dr. Whale: "Did I overhear correctly that you're looking for some anal?" Snow White/Jasmine: "No!" Dr. Whale: "Oh, my bad." Granny: "Move along, Doc, you're holding up the line." (Dr. Whale gives them a courteous smile and leaves. To Jasmine's amusement, Snow tears up Whale's CV before he's even left the diner.) Jasmine: (When Granny places her CV on the table, surprised:) "Granny, you're interested?" Granny: "Sure. Thirty years of getting to know everyone's likes and dislikes makes me a front runner in my eyes." Granny's B&B. (A short while later, Granny also speaks with the Reporter.) Granny: "Not to speak ill of Snow White, but she has no clue how to run this town and it was same back in the Enchanted Forest. Of course, Snow and David meant well and fought hard to reclaim her father's kingdom, but then what?" Reporter: "Surely their time as rulers was cut short by Regina's curse?" Granny: "To a degree I suppose, though to my mind that's just another example of poor leadership on their part. True leaders don't blame their failures on others, they tackle adversity head on. She may not have been universally adored back in the day, but at least Regina got things done." Reporter: "So it's safe to say you're pleased Snow White has chosen not to take the position of Mayor herself?" Granny: "Put it this way, Snow is technically still Queen of the Enchanted Forest. (Leans closer:) And I don't know about you, but I haven't seen her do much Queening lately." Reporter: "I hadn't considered that." Granny: "Oh yeah. Rumour has it that Snow wasn't best pleased with Emma and Regina's decision to retire.” Reporter: “And what would you say to that?” Granny: (Shrugs:) “I figure if Snow's moved on from her old life, why can't Regina and Emma?"

Sheriff's Office. (Lily walks with Regina towards Rumplestiltskin who is sat at Hook's desk.) Lily: "He's been coming here a lot lately. I think he misses his friend." Regina: (Smiles:) "How adorable." Rumplestiltskin: (Leaning back in his chair:) "Regina. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Regina: "I may be the outgoing Mayor and not have my eye on every detail of this town like I once did, but I'm pretty sure you don't work here." Rumplestiltskin: "Perhaps not, but I like to think I add a little charm to the place." Lily: (Scoffs:) "If you mean like a good luck charm, I think we're all lucky you and my Dad aren't off indulging in one of your drinking binges." (Lily walks away.) Regina: (Shaking her head:) "And at your age." Rumplestiltskin: "Is there something you wanted?" Regina: (Leans down towards him:) "Just to tell you that Merlin is free and that means so are Emma and I." Rumplestiltskin: "I see. And you think Merlin is the answer?" Regina: "Not my problem." Rumplestiltskin: "I hope not. We'll just have to wait and see." Regina: "Has anyone told you how infuriating you are?" Rumplestiltskin: "Yes. (Regina glares at him then walks away. Quietly to himself:) Mainly you in fact." Camelot. Ridge. (The armies of Camelot and Caerleon face each other. Darian and Arthur walk towards each other at the centre of the neutral ground. Arthur looks up at the giant while Darian bears his teeth. Morgana watches from Caerleon’s lines. Agravaine, now joined by the knights loyal to Guinevere and Lancelot, grins in Camelot’s front line. Arthur twirls his sword and the fight begins. After exchanging parries and thrusts, Darian eventually knocks Arthur to his knees. When the giant attempts an overhead strike, Arthur rolls out from the blow and slices Darian’s cheek. Darian checks for blood and howls, enraged.) Morgana: “This has gone on long enough. (Annis turns her head to listen:) Time to turn the tide. I’ll enchant Arthur’s sword. It will hold the weight of a thousand ages. No one could bear it for long.”

(Morgana’s eyes glow and Arthur’s sword drops like lead behind him. He looks at it, unable to lift it. Darian swings and misses on the down sweep. Arthur punches Darian’s face and gets caught on the up-sweep of Darian’s sword. He cries out in pain. Arthur tries to lift his sword again. Darian begins to strike, but Arthur leaves his sword and rams his shoulder into Darian, knocking him over and falling. Morgana is confused. Darian gets up first and kicks Arthur over. Darian picks up his sword and Morgana and Agravaine smirk. Annis waits. Arthur lies helpless and Darian raises his sword over his head. Arthur looks up at his men on the ridge before the giant runs Arthur through with all his might. Annis’ army cheer while Camelot’s forces look on, aghast.) Morgana: (Turns to Annis:) “You are victorious, Your Highness.” Queen Annis: “Indeed. And now we must ensure that CameIot’s forces comply absolutely with the terms of our agreement.” Morgana: “Worry not, Your Highness. Lord Agravaine is an honourable man and can be trusted to do the right thing.” Queen Annis: (Following Morgana’s line of sight to stare up at Agravaine:) “Arthur called him a fool.” Morgana: “Arthur is dead. That is all that matters, Your Highness.” (Annis considers Arthur’s slain form for a moment, then turns to leave.) No Man’s Land. (Arriving too late to witness the duel, Merida, Anastasia and Xena & Gabrielle stand watching the aftermath as the giant Darian absorbs the cheers from his fellow soldiers while standing over Arthur’s body.)

[yukiwrites]

Time for Revelation

Thank you for the support as always, @breeachuu! I got carried away a bit heehee :’D

Summary: Wolfram, in his quest to stay beside the Heart of Immortals and silently support Dimitri through his battle against himself, wanted to let his own feelings out of his chest. He wanted to tell everyone about his roots and his reasons for coming to Fódlan.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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The stifling atmosphere after the defeat of the Empire’s vanguard was almost unbearable as there were conflicting thoughts about their next course of action.

Some believed that charging towards Enbarr would end the war faster, while others wanted Dimitri to reclaim Faerghus and strengthen his position as their king. Meanwhile, Dimitri himself decided that he would head to the Empire’s capital with or without company, so the group had no choice but to follow under his bloodthirsty banner.

However, despite the conflicting ideas regarding their next move, there was a more pressing matter: they had made haste to gather in Garreg Mach, but there was no structure to allow their numbers to grow -- honestly, they were barely holding on with the bare supplies they had.

Wolfie saw how Ingrid lamented not being able to use her house to help with the cause while Sylvain grumbled about the margrave’s forces being spread thin throughout the remaining loyal factions of the kingdom. Felix grumbled something about sending word to his old man after a few pressing words from Gilbert.

During the time they waited for Rodrigue’s reply, Wolfram fidgeted, wondering if he would be able to talk to Dimitri for a bit. He wanted to catch up with his friend after so long, especially since it had been rather traumatic to hear about his ‘execution’ by some random merchant’s mouth some years ago.

Yet, the half manakete could not do so, because Dimitri simply isolated himself. He still joined whenever they had a war council, as though to at least show his face and let people know he was still around, but that was about it.

Clenching his chest, Wolfie couldn’t help but remember Dedue’s words about the uphill battle Dimitri had been fighting for almost half of his life at that point. Right now wasn’t the time to impose his own feelings on someone who’s been overwhelmed with his own burdens, so all Wolfie could do was make his presence known and quietly stay beside Dimitri.

Soon Rodrigue’s positive reply arrived, bringing relief to the hungry soldiers’ hearts. Of course, most of them realized that although Rodrigue’s supplies would arrive, they would also come along more soldiers, so their situation wouldn’t drastically improve as they had hoped.

But it meant that their sword that they would point towards the Empire would be much sharper, and that was what kept everyone, especially Dimitri, going.

After Wolfram had shown his dragon form to Caspar, they used the nights they weren't on night shift to fly around the Monastery, though they took a while to figure out how, exactly, they would fly together. After all, Caspar didn’t really have any experience in mounting wyverns and no matter how smart Aquilo was, having someone unreliable controlling his reins was difficult.

Which meant that Wolfram had to carry Caspar on his arms as they flew -- it wasn’t hard, mind, but it wasn’t easy either, especially if Caspar wanted to fly for a long period of time. Wolfie might have the blood of dragons which allowed him to have enhanced physical abilities, but he was mostly focused on magic.

They eventually found a comfortable position -- the famous princess carry -- that would allow Wolfram to carry Caspar for around 30 minutes per night before collapsing from exhaustion, but that was always enough for the eager young man. The first time they flew, he even yelled on top of his lungs in excitement, making Wolfie lose his balance and fall down on a tree. They still had a lump on their heads for that…

Having yet another person he could honestly share his past with made Wolfram much more comfortable in this half-destroyed monastery. He naturally spent more time with Caspar, to the point that they didn’t even find it strange that they were back to being roommates.

It was simply how the flow of things went, as though they came in a set: where one went, the other followed. Byleth noticed that during their meetings as well, making a mental note to deploy them together in battle so they could support each other’s deficiencies.

Of course, sharing Caspar’s room meant that Wolfram could no longer sleep in a room close to Byleth’s, which made him anxious in the first few nights. He had been beside the Blood for the past five years, and although he could still feel it since they were only one floor apart, it made Wolfram fidget under his skin.

It made him think about a lot of things regarding Byleth, honestly. During the time of her Slumber, he couldn’t help but feel closer to her since she was his lifeline in this world. He had to stay by her to complete his mission, but at some point she began to mean more to him than just that. Of course, it was more than friendship as well, especially because Wolfie was someone who made friends easily.

He couldn’t explain it well, even to himself in his own head. It was more than kinship… It was like Byleth was an existence that occupied such a large portion of his life that he couldn’t find a simple word to designate what she meant to him. That’s why he made a decision after spending weeks pondering about it.

He was going to talk to Byleth about his mission and about the Blood. Of course, the Professor most likely remembered how he had transformed to save her from the fall, but that didn’t mean that he could just hide everything from her after all that time they spent together. Even if all of it was during her Slumber.

Wolfram decided to tell Byleth after they came back from getting Rodrigue’s reinforcements. The point the Duke chose to deliver the soldiers was an odd one to say the least, especially because Wolfie had never been close to a volcano like his mother had told him. Well, Ailell wasn’t a volcano per se, but the ever-burning fire covering the place reminded Wolfram of the description of ‘lava’ he had heard from Nidra. To think he, too, would fight in a place covered in fire just like his mother had done in the past, it made him smile from the coincidence.

Regardless, after Rodrigue and his reinforcements had arrived, Wolfram heard Gilbert ordering some of their stealthiest men to find out who the traitor had been. Apparently he wasn’t supposed to hear it as nobody else mentioned it, but he couldn’t help his enhanced hearing, so he simply nodded at the competence of the old knight.

It made him want to be someone who could help Byleth and Dimitri just as much, igniting his conviction to tell the Professor about his mission even more.

The rift regarding their next move seemed to amplify after they returned to the monastery. After all, the situation back in the kingdom had been precarious, according to Rodrigue’s report. He had managed to steal the Hero’s Relic compatible with Dimitri’s Crest as well, so it seemed like the King had been reunited with his trusted weapon. Despite the inner conflict, the King’s orders were clear, and they were to march to the Empire within the moon.

Regardless of their future plans, Wolfie still wanted to come clean to Byleth about everything, so he pulled the sleeve of her overcoat after a meeting, asking her to make some time for him with his head down.

“What’s up, Wolfram? Did you have any questions?” She tilted her head to the side with his sudden sheepish request, placing one worried hand over his.

“No,” he shook his head, “I just wanted to talk to you for a bit, Byleth. About… the reason I enrolled in the academy in the first place.”

Byleth blinked after his words, immediately realizing that he didn’t want to talk about such a topic in the middle of the meeting room, amongst all the other people.

“Alright,” she squeezed his hand for a bit before letting go. “Meet me in my room after dinner. Then we can talk as much as you want.”

Wolfie smiled brightly as he bowed happily. “Thank you! See you then!”

Despite saying their goodbyes like that, they still headed to the dining hall with the others, chatting away about the topics they had just gone through in class. People naturally talked more about battle tactics and food preserves than any other topic during war, as Wolfram noticed. Five years ago, he remembered how the dining hall was filled with vitality and innocence as the teenagers chatted away about all sort of things.

It left a bitter taste in Wolfram’s mouth as he headed to Byleth’s room after telling Caspar he would be late.

“Come on in,” Byleth replied to the knocks Wolfie placed on her door before opening it.

“Thanks for hearing me out like this, Byleth.” He thanked awkwardly, sitting on the chair by the desk as Byleth motioned for him to do so from her seat on the bed. “It’s just that… I’ve been debating over how to tell you about this.”

The Professor’s clear eyes didn’t miss Wolfram’s hesitation and calmly looked at him from her stoic expression. “Is it about that transformation you showed back at the battle for the monastery?”

“Oh,” Wolfie took one hand to his chest in surprise. “Yeah, it’s about that. I was wondering if you still remembered since you fell into a Slumber right after…”

“A Slumber?” Byleth tilted her head to the side once again, frowning slightly.

“Yeah, it’s how we call it back in my… well, back in my world. I came from a faraway place under the guidance of its, uhh, don’t be mad at me,” he mumbled under his breath as though speaking to someone that was standing right next to him, “under the guidance of its goddess. I was sent here with a mission to ‘protect the Heart of Immortals’.” 

Byleth took one hand to her own chest as well, closing her eyes to its silence. She could guess that the mission meant to stay with her and Sothis, but did that mean that the goddess in Wolfram’s world was somehow acquainted to Sothis in this one? Sure, they were both goddesses, but…

“O-ow, I said I was sorry,” Wolfie grumbled as he looked like something pulled his ear, making Byleth raise an eyebrow at the action. Noticing her gaze, Wolfram scratched the corner of his mouth. “Even here I can sometimes hear that goddess’ voice, though she insists she isn’t one, so I shouldn’t call her that even if it’s the easiest way to say it.”

She’s not a goddess? Byleth thought silently, easily accepting Wolfram’s story. Considering all the mythical stuff that had happened to her after that first conversation with Sothis, there really wasn’t much that could surprise her anymore.

Still, one step at a time.

“You said something about a Slumber?” She asked calmly, making the pent-up anxiety in Wolfram’s shoulders melt away as he shakily breathed out.

“Mhm, I never managed to ask you about your powers since you looked more human than the other three,” he bobbed his head to the sides before pulling his bandanna up, revealing his pointy ears, “but you, me, Seteth, Flayn and Rhea are kind of the same species.”

Byleth’s eyebrow flicked as she remembered the Immaculate One that Rhea had turned to. “Seteth, Flayn, you and… me, are dragons?”

“Oh, you’re accepting it so easily it’s making me confused.” Wolfram blurted out. “So you didn’t know, after all… I wonder if the other three knew you didn’t know.”

“My situation is very peculiar. We can talk about it some other time.” Byleth took a short breath. “I think that talking to you will clear a lot of things in my mind as well, so please tell me everything on your mind.”

Wolfram nodded vigorously. “Got it!”

He then explained his descent, the contents of his mission and how he had watched over her during her Slumber. Of course, he explained about the Slumber as well, which made Byleth nod as though something had clicked inside her mind.

“After hearing all of this, I can be certain that I can talk to you about my condition as well.” Byleth crossed her arms. “Though I myself don’t know much about it, I can at least say that this goddess of your world probably felt that the goddess of this one was about to reappear.”

“Reappear?”

“I can’t be sure how she ended up stuck with me, but I had the goddess trapped within my mind for a long time before she made herself known to me when I started teaching at Garreg Mach,” she said with her usual stoic expression, though there was a hint of confusion in it. “After we were sent to another dimension, she said we would merge our souls and I’d gain her power -- most likely the Heart of Immortals you meant. I do remember hearing her voice right before waking up, as well, so it does seem like she was of the same species as you.”

Byleth blinked before adding: “Well, the same species as us.”

“Yeah, the history of the manaketes was too long for my Mother to tell me all of it before I left, so I can’t say something like that happened in my world too. I know that my Father found a way to extend his lifespan using a dragonstone,” Wolfie tapped on his locket, “but he doesn’t feel like the Blood like you do.”

“Hrm,” Byleth took one hand to her chin in thought. She spent a long while staring at one spot, as though putting her thoughts in order.

Wolfie didn’t interrupt her either, as he knew exactly how she felt when he needed time to think.

However, Byleth soon moved her gaze back to Wolfie. “Thank you for sharing all of this with me, Wolfram. I won’t tell anyone of your circumstances.”

“Ah, Dimitri and Caspar already know, but it’s still a secret to everyone else, so thank you.” He bowed slightly on his seat, receiving a nod in return.

“I’m glad you managed to make strong bonds in this foreign world, too.” She included herself in this ‘too’ since she also found irreplaceable bonds within this academy. “Please stay by Dimitri’s side during this turbulent time.”

Byleth asked not for herself, but for the struggling Dimitri, whom she knew would be the one who was suffering the most at that moment. Wolfram simply nodded and smiled brightly before slipping his bandanna back on.

“You can count on me! Thank you for listening to me until the end, Byleth; I’ll also stay by your side, so don’t worry about your back.” He got up from his seat, followed by the Professor before she led him to the door.

“That’ reassuring.” She smiled as she waved him goodbye. “Good night, Wolfram.”

“Good night, Byleth!” Wolfie replied enthusiastically, his body feeling lighter than ever. 

Truly, the answer was really to just not carry this heavy secret anymore. He would come up with a way to tell everyone about his condition in a simple manner so as not to freak people out too much. Maybe leave out the part that he was from another world? Just being able to walk around with his ears in the open would already be so satisfying and relieving…

Bearing such thoughts, Wolfram walked with light steps towards his and Caspar’s shared room for the night.

Since the next course of action had been decided, the Kingdom Army now had to descend to the Empire through the Great Bridge of Myrddin that was within Alliance territory. The plan was to capture it so as to secure a strategic position that would allow them to reach Enbarr quickly any time they wanted.

Wolfram could immediately tell why there was a need to add ‘great’ in front of the bridge’s name once they got closer to it since it was massive. Thousands of men could pass through without fear that it would give out under their feet. Of course, it was also heavily guarded, so they got into position right away after Byleth had placed them in their positions.

Since Wolfie rode a wyvern, he was great not only to strike hard and fly back to safety but to deliver orders quickly through the battlefield, so he was the first one to notice someone approaching the group from behind amidst the mess of reinforcements from within the towers.

His eyes widened in shock as he saw a familiar face and shield run all the way up to Dimitri, who had been kept to the rear close to Rodrigue despite his protests to go to the frontlines.

“Your Highness! Apologies for the late arrival.” The large man huffed, barely widened from running miles while wearing heavy armor.

“Dedue?!” Wolfram shouted from the skies before landing beside the shocked Dimitri. “Is it really you?!”

“You’re aliv-” Dimitri’s eyes shook as he took one step towards the scarred face he had known so well. “How?”

Dedue bowed deeply to both Dimitri and Wolfram’s concerned expressions before lifting his gaze towards the battle that had just begun. “We can discuss it later. For now, let me join your forces.” He said in his always-calm and level voice, making Wolfram’s chest feel like it would burst.

The boy couldn’t help but tear up, immediately reaching for his eyes to dry them before the tears fell. It had been so hard when he thought that- when everyone-

Dimitri had a similar expression on his face, but shook his head before clenching his fist. “Go to the Professor, she’ll put you to good use.”

Dedue once again bowed before doing as he was told, leaving the three of them to themselves as though nothing short of miraculous had happened.

“You should go back to your position as well, lad.” Rodrigue urged as Wolfram stood there without reaction.

“A-ah, yes! I’ll be back with Dedue soon, Dimitri!” Wolfram’s heart tickled as he said Dedue’s name with such a hopeful tone, smiling as he climbed on top of Aquilo’s back.

Honestly, the battle flowed like a blur to Wolfram as his heart beat wildly in his chest. Immediately after the victory horn blew, Wolfie headed towards Dedue, who was naturally by Dimitri’s side.

He overheard the end of their conversation as he landed.

“... I ask that you swear something to me, here and now.” Dimitri spoke in a soft tone no one had heard after they had reunited. “Do not ever throw your life away again,” his voice shook slightly, showing how much Dedue’s sacrifice had weighed down on him. “Understood?”

Dedue took a shaky breath, bowing slightly. “Your Highness... Understood.”

“Dedue!” Wolfram ran to his long lost friend, not knowing what to do with his hands once they were face to face. His chin trembled with emotion before grabbing both of Dedue’s large hands with his thin ones. “I-I’m so glad you’re okay; when I heard about what happened I- I was…” he sniffled, bringing Dedue’s rough hands to his forehead. “Please don’t do that again…”

Dimitri crossed his arms beside the due, nodding slightly at the emotional scene before turning back to leave, the heaviness in his heart slightly lifted.

Something that hadn’t occurred to Caspar once they took the Great Bridge was shockingly clear once their next step was decided: they would need to head to Gronder field that was located within Bergliez territory.

He was scared shitless to have to face his old man in battle.

Sure, he got stronger during these five years he roamed about fighting imperial factions, but so did his dad -- and the man was already crazy strong back then! He shivered with the thought one day as Wolfram had brought up the topic during their meal.

“You don’t get how strong my Dad is, I’m shaking just thinking about it.” Caspar brought a shaky forkful of meat to his mouth to prove his point.

“Aren’t you, um…” Wolfram didn’t know how to approach such a sensitive subject, especially in such a place full of people. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked right at that moment… “Aren’t you scared not of fighting him but, um… about having him as your enemy? He’s your father even if you’re on different sides…”

Caspar’s expression blanked out, as though that hadn’t crossed his mind at all. It was true, it didn’t. He was so focused on fighting against his dad that he hadn’t considered what that fight actually entailed. “Huh, now that you mention it, I didn’t really think about that. Weird.”

Wolfram poked the light meal in front of him cautiously, peeking at Caspar from time to time.

Yet, the young man simply shrugged and continued to stuff his mouth with food, even if that food was scarce for the time being.

“This isn’t like fighting my uncle, you know.” Caspar added, “I dunno how to explain, but I’m okay, Wolf. It’s like a warrior’s resolve or something? I’m pumped to fight a strong enemy, but scared ‘cause I know he’s super strong. Dad or no, he’s someone we might take on, so I’m just gonna get stronger to deal with that like usual.” He explained simply, gulping down from a cup of water.

Wolfie pressed his lips into a line, not knowing how to react to that. “You’re so strong, Caspar.” He mumbled, poking his food.

“Well, YEAH?” he confidently threw two punches in the air, smirking behind his fists in a way that made wolfram feel all tingly inside. “I’m training hard everyday, you know!”

“Haha…” Wolfie let out an awkward laugh as he scratched his cheek. “That’s not what I meant, though…” he mumbled before finishing his food in front of the oblivious Caspar. “I’ll hug you again when the time comes, okay?”

Frowning, Caspar got up with the tray in his arms. “Huh? You won’t hug me anymore ‘till when this time comes? What’dya mean?”

Wolfie was following Caspar in getting up with his tray, but suddenly choked from his friend’s brazen words.

“Whoa whoa, are you okay, buddy?” Caspar held the tray with one hand and circled the table they were on to pat Wolfram on the back. “You choke on food?”

“Cough, ah, yeah I-I did…” Wolfram touched his throat before picking up his tray again. “I’ll hug you anytime I want, then!”

Caspar grinned. “Sure, bring it on!”

The lively atmosphere slowly turned heavy as the day passed, since the battle at the Gronder Field was nigh. The army had wanted to avoid battling Alliance forces much like how it happened at the Great Bridge, but it seemed like there was no other choice but to face all of them at once.

Their former classmates would surely be in this battle as well, since the reports had said that the emperor herself was leading the imperial army to defend Gronder.

Dimitri, who had been calmer after Dedue’s return, was covered in a large aura of bloodlust after hearing Edelgard’s name, making everyone around him flinch whenever they made eye contact with him. Felix’s comments on how he looked more and more like a wild boar reached the soldiers’ ears whenever he complained about it, scaring the rank-and-file soldiers into staying as far away as the future King as possible.

There was an air of uncertainty as the concerns regarding the abandoned Faerghus and whichever it was justifiable to head to Gronder under such circumstances filled their minds. That was why nobody noticed the strange movements of a young recruit who had joined their ranks recently…

She had been placed in a platoon away from the frontlines, as a supporting unit or an emergency messager. However, no one noticed her as she slowly moved behind their forces as they decimated the Empire’s soldiers while steering clear from the Alliance. She hid behind broken towers, trees and even corpses as her eyes were filled with murdering intent towards the one that led the attack in his blind quest for revenge.

No one noticed as Dimitri shouted to all who could hear that he would pursue Edelgard alone as he commanded them to retreat to the Great Bridge. No one except Rodrigue, who was standing a ways from Dimitri at the time.

“Who are you?” The Shield of Faerghus raised his voice an octave louder as he saw a maiden step out of a tree with a dagger in her hands.

If Dimitri had been in a right state of mind, he would’ve probably noticed her. But he was so focused on going after the revenge for the dead that he didn’t notice a small woman slip her dagger in between the crevices of his armor.

“Ugh!” He stepped away from the girl like a wounded animal, pulling the dagger out effortlessly as the blood poured out.

“Ahahaha!” The girl laughed maniacally as she took out another dagger, yelling nonsense just as Dimitri had done previously.

“No!” Wolfram, who had been delivering messages after the end of the battle, only noticed what was going on after the girl had managed to stab Dimitri a second time. “Dimitri! Aquilo, fly, boy! Fly!” He urged his wyvern to fly with everything he had, but Wolfie could see that he wouldn’t make it in time before she struck again. Dimitri wouldn’t hold on if she aimed for his neck… “NO!” Wolfram jumped out of Aquilo in desperation, transforming as he zoomed towards the girl with his weapon in hand.

He was seeing red.

Not Dimitri, not him! He thought as his brain shook with the impact of ramming into the girl right after she landed the third blow. He could hear the sound of blade piercing flesh, unknowing if that was his own weapon on the girl’s blade on Dimitri’s neck.

“Dimitri!” He gasped as he got up from the girl’s lifeless body, turning around quickly. The sight that greeted him was Dimitri holding Rodrigue’s fallen body instead. Breathing quickly as his senses were exponentially enhanced due to the transformation, Wolfie saw everything in slow motion for the first seconds.

He saw Dimitri grieving as Rodrigue uttered his last words. He saw Byleth’s eyes widen in surprise once they made contact with his own; expression that was mirrored by most of the classmates that arrived after hearing the ruckus.

For a moment he wondered why they all looked at him like that before looking down at his own scaled arms and thinking ‘oh, I’m still transformed…’ as though he had forgotten to drink something before it turned cold.

Then he blinked and called his wings back, still a bit out of it.

He looked up to the shocked faces as the people didn’t know where to look -- Rodrigue’s sacrifice? The stab wounds on Dimitri’s body? The dead girl? The somehow winged Wolfram?

There was too much going on.

Noticing the air of confusion, Byleth quickly asserted the situation and barked orders here and there for the people to get back to their senses. “Ingrid, go bring Mercedes right away, and Sylvain, call Felix over here. You and you there, go search into that girl and find me everything you can about her.”

The way she calmly but effectively put the people to work made them focus on the most pressing matters, though there was still shock in their minds.

There was so much going on.

They retreated to the Great Myrddin Bridge before sunset, though there was no cheer of victory amidst the troops. Despite everything that that victory brought them -- control over the granaries, safe passage to Enbarr, yet another win against their enemies… There was no cheer. There was no way there could be cheer, especially when their King simply retreated to goddess-knew-where after seeing Rodrigue’s body be carried by his classmates.

The supplies they had taken from the nearby imperial base enriched their meal tremendously, but there were many people who couldn’t bring themselves to eat. Wolfram, too, preferred to eat alone at the edge of the bridge, with his feet dangling in the air, than at the mess hall. He hadn’t even managed to process the information yet.

He had revealed himself in front of everyone without warning.

He was just so desperate that he forgot about everything for a moment.

It couldn’t be helped; his first friend in this world was being stabbed right in front of his eyes! Of course he had to do something.

And he didn’t regret anything either. He did the right thing in protecting Dimitri, even if he wasn’t able to prevent Rodrigue from receiving the final blow. He flew with the most he could make out of his wings.

Now everyone knew about it. He hadn’t even figured out how to tell everyone yet! What could he do? Call them over to the meeting room and say ‘hey, I’m from another world!’ or something? He had been thinking long and hard about how to reveal his secret to all of his friends, but now that it was out, he REALLY didn’t know how to deal with the aftermath.

“Um… Wolfie?” A voice caught him by surprise, making the boy flinch and look back and up to the person who walked up to him: it was Dorothea. “Sorry, did I startle you? I came to check on you.”

“Ah, no, it’s okay, Dorothea. I’m fine.” He shook his head, which prompted Dorothea to smile warmly to him.

“That’s a relief. Are you okay? I saw how shocked you were earlier today and I wanted to see if you needed to vent.” She asked carefully, leaning on the edge with both arms.

Wolfie’s eyes started to burn with tears. “You’re not gonna ask…?”

“Well, I AM curious, but everyone has their circumstances. I’m sure everyone else feels the same.” She bobbed her head to the sides with a cautious smile. “I’m sure we all remember how terrible you were when pretending to have amnesia, so…”

“Wh- hey! I didn’t suck-” He gasped, clearly offended as he brought one hand to his chest in shock. Then he lowered it slowly. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Heehee!” Dorothea giggled in the night air, throwing her head back so her hair could flutter along it. “Don’t worry too much about it and just go at your own pace, Wolfie. No one’s going to blame you for keeping secrets. We all have one or two.” A silence followed before Dorothea stealthy added: “Well, not as big as this one, though.”

“Aw, and I was almost feeling better!” Wolfie puffed his cheeks, feigning annoyance as Dorothea laughed once again. They shared hearty chuckles before taking deep breaths under the bright moonlight. “Thanks, Dorothea. I think I can… Yeah, I’m sure I can tell everyone properly.”

“Mhm, that’s good.” She nodded. “I’ll wait to hear everything with all of them, then, so please come up with a good explanation, hmm?”

“Heehee, leave it to me!”

Before turning in to sleep, Wolfram went through his bag that was inside the tent for something: the friendship jewel pair he had made for him and Dimitri during the years they spent apart. Dimitri had just lost someone important to him, and although Wolfram couldn’t ever suggest that he would fill that spot, he wanted to put his honest feelings towards his first friend into actions.

He had respected Dimitri’s space and left him alone all this time, but he couldn’t keep on doing that anymore. He needed to tell Dimitri that he was going to stay by him for as long as he could and hand the jewel that was five years overdue from the time he had asked for a lock of his hair.

Wolfram had poured all of his feelings into this jewel, and although it was the first time he made it -- no, especially because it was the first time he made -- he couldn’t help but think that this was a special jewel. The color was a mix of gold and silver, making it look expensive, though it had more sentimental than material value.

Taking a deep breath, the half manakete took the jewel to his chest, clutching it inside his hand as he fell asleep.

The war council was called early in the morning as usual as Gilbert reported the grim situation after Rodrigue’s death. Wolfie could see a few of the classmates stealing glances at him as the key figures talked, though all of them turned to the door once Dimitri walked in as though he hadn’t been stabbed just yesterday.

“Your Highness, your wounds-” Dedue’s hands hovered in front of Dimitri with worry, but he didn’t know where to touch so as not to hurt his liege.

“I am alright, Dedue, thank you for worrying.” Dimitri spoke in a warm tone that hadn’t been felt in his voice in over five years.

Wolfie clutched the jewel he had in his pocket, widening his eyes as Dimitri apologized to the group for having brought them down in a dark path. The half manakete could see that the classmates’ gazes were all the same -- they were filled with surprise and hope.

The council started in earnest after Dimitri had asked them to follow him to Fhirdiad instead of rushing to the Empire -- first they had to save the people that were suffering under the imperial heel, to which all of them agreed.

They talked about which routes to take, the messages they could send, the potential state of the capital… there was much to discuss now that they would return ‘home’ to the frozen land.

Once all of the topics had been exhausted, before anyone could call it over, Wolfie lifted his hand shyly. “I, um, I wanted to talk to everyone before we leave.”

Byleth and Dimitri nodded in unison as Dorothea smiled.

“What is it, lad?” Gilbert asked as he placed the documents he had taken back on the table.

“I don't know how many of you saw it, but I… transformed back then. I’m not fully human,” he took off his bandanna to show his pointy ears,” and I came from a faraway place to help Byleth fulfill her role.”

Silence filled the room.

There were many questions left hanging in the air, as though one could simply grasp on to ask, but the first one to move towards Wolfram was Annette, followed by Lysithea.

“Oh, your ear is really different!” Annette reached out to touch before gasping and asking for permission. “Ah, sorry, can I touch it?”

“Sure,” Wolfie tilted his head to help the short Annette reach his height.

Wolfie couldn’t see, but Seteth and Flayn’s blood had drained from their faces at the shocking sight -- sure, they could feel that Wolfie was similar to them, but to reveal himself in the open like that?! How- Why-

“Hey, so does that mean your eyes are actually closed?!” Annette huffed after she retreated her head, receiving an elbow to the ribs right after.

“Annie! You don’t ask people that!” Mercedes scolded her apologetic friend.

“Ah- Oh no! I did it again, didn’t I? Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Annette panicked and bowed in confusion.

Wolfram laughed, feeling a weight come off of his shoulders. “It’s fine!”

“... So your hair really wasn’t…” Lysithea mumbled as she contemplated the hair that was the shade of white as hers.

“But what did you mean when you said you weren’t fully human, Wolfie?” Mercedes tilted her head to the side, “are you related to the Immaculate One we saw at the battle for the monastery?”

“Hmmm, kinda?” He scratched his cheek. “My family can also turn into dragons, but we’re not the same kind as Rh- uh as the Immaculate One. I can only transform partially, though.”

“Hmmm…” Mercedes looked deep in thought as she touched her cheek with one palm. “It was said that the Immaculate One was a Child of the Goddess… so you’re related but not related?”

“Yeah! We come from another goddess entirely.” Wolfie nodded.

“How wonderful!” Mercedes clasped her hands together. “Would you mind telling me more about it? I’d love to hear about where you came from.”

“Ahh, me, me! I want to hear too!” Annette raised her hand.

“Oh, please let me listen as well!” Ignatz chimed in with a glint in his glasses.

“Mhm, mhm!” Ashe took a step forward along with some of the others. Wolfie smiled brightly, welcoming the curious friends as he chatted happily about his family.

Dimitri and Byleth nodded from the side, proud that Wolfie had finally taken the step he had always wanted to. Byleth then tapped Dimitri to send him off to his quarters to rest, leaving the eager boy to pour out the stories he had always wanted to share with his friends.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader)  Word count: 7k+ Warnings: Language, angst, minor original character death, grief, mentions of illness and treatments, stress, breakdown, drinking, drunk, stealing, Four is redeemed! *Disclaimer, here we are, the first briefing  for who the Ghosts new target will be! This chapter is dark, I’ll warn you now, and I would dare say the next few chapters will be angsty too! Though if you’re all very well behaved, then maybe we’ll start getting some fluff and maybe a bit extra going on between Four and Eight.... Read Chapters One, Two, Three and Four first (Or don’t? I can’t make you do anything, after all I’m just text...) 

Chapter Five: I need a Doctor

“I am the fairy king! Bow to me or you shall die!”

You stare up at the shouting blonde stood atop One’s trailer, the fairy lights you had purchased weeks earlier were now coiled around his body, now no longer producing the beautiful glow they once had. Up until a few minutes ago, the lights had been plugged in and twinkling away merrily, that was until Four had somehow gotten himself tangled up in them. He then decided that the shining bulbs suited his alter ego of ‘Fairy King’ quite nicely and had proceeded to race around base with them on, only pausing for a few moments when he realised, they no longer lit up.

The rest of the team were either asleep, or trying to sleep, you knew for a fact that One was in the latter category, as he had screamed at the top of his lungs “Stop fucking tap dancing on my roof!” The moment Four had begun parading around on the trailer.

You want to tell him to stop, but considering you were the reason he was so highly intoxicated right now, and that you were only one or two drinks away from being on his level of drunk, you find that it really isn’t your place to tell him off. “Oh, powerful fairy king!” You call out, lowering your torso in a sloppy bow, keeping your head tilted up so you can watch Four closely. He was teetering on falling over, which if it weren’t for how close he currently was to the edge of the trailer, then you wouldn’t think anything of it. “Your majesty, perhaps we should move this conversation to more sturdy ground?”

Four wobbles on unsteady legs, his face growing pale as he backs away from the edge of the trailer. For someone who spent most of his time jumping from skyscraper to skyscraper, it was rather comical to see him afraid of what would only be a short drop. “That is an excellent idea my loyal subject, now help me down please!”

You’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to help Four down, but it likely shouldn’t have gone this way. Skipping over to the bus, a half bottle of Jack Daniel’s sloshing away in your hand, you pause just beneath Four, waving up at him with a cheesy grin, before extending your arms in front of you, with the plan of catching him. Without even so much as a pause, Four leaps off the trailer and into your waiting arms. Anyone who wasn’t currently shitfaced would’ve seen that this was a terrible plan, and that it wouldn’t end the way you both expected. However, being shitfaced as you were, it took you more than a few seconds to comprehend what had happened. One moment you were standing upright, and the next, your entire body had been slammed into the ground bellow, a heavy weight pressing against your front. “Ugh, fuck…” You groan, blinking bleary eyes down at the mass that was slowly crushing you.

Four looks up at you, a lopsided grin brightening up his entire face. “ ‘As anyone ever told you that you’re very comfortable?” He mumbles, speech slurred and slow.

“Can’t say that they have.”

“Well, you are.”

Four lowers his head down, cheek resting against your chest as his eyes flutter closed. You want to protest; this man was five foot eight and made of pure muscle! Yet your aching body began to relax, as you heard tiny snores escape the Brit. As you allowed yourself to drift off, ignoring how you were sleeping on the ground, your mind started to wonder. ‘How had this man, who you had shared no more than five consecutive words with at one time, gone from being the person you avoided at all costs, and now to the person you got piss drunk with, and allowed to fall asleep on you?’

*****

“Briefing room, five minutes!” Seven called behind your closed trailer door, not bothering to knock, knowing full well his voice could be heard clearly through the thin metal that was your trailer. You’d just finished your morning routine of; wake up, drink coffee, go for a run, drink more coffee while you updated yourself on the happenings of the world on your laptop, eat breakfast, have a ten minute internal battle over whether you should go back to bed or not, in that time drink a third cup of coffee, ignore Five’s suggestion of perhaps not ingesting so much caffeine, shower, then return to your trailer while your hair dried and go through the building blueprints One had sent you.

Slowly, you stood up from your bed, stretching your arms above your head after having sat hunched over for too long. You close your laptop, then set about searching for a sweater to throw on over the top of your shirt. Outside, the base was stifling hot, yet for some reason, the briefing room was perpetually freezing. One always insisted on turning on every single fan in the shipping container, and it was just too much! After the third team meeting there, you had vowed never to return without a sweater. Finally, you found the one you were looking for, dark gray with a red #mood splattered across the chest. The sweater itself was perhaps one or two sizes too large, but it was warm and snuggly.

You made your way towards the briefing room, slipping the sweater over your head when you were halfway there. As you pull the material down your torso, you fail to realise that you’d put the garment on backwards, coming to an abrupt halt when you notice that the hood was over your head, completely obscuring your face. Behind you, Four silently leaps from the roof of a shipping container, walking up behind you as you struggle to readjust the sweater. “Oh yeah, you should wear all your clothes like that. Prove to everyone that you’re as stupid as your role in the team is.” He snarls, pushing past you, knocking his side against your shoulder.

You can feel your eyes roll, trailing behind Four as you both head towards the meeting “You know, at first it was kinda intimidating, the whole, ‘you don’t belong here’ schtick. But really, now it’s just sad. You don’t have to feel threatened by me, Luke never felt threatened when he discovered Leia could use the force too! As a Skywalker, you should know better than to allow your emotions to cloud your judgement.” There’s a grin clawing at your lips, which you no longer bother to hide, picking up speed and walking past the scowling blonde. If you had looked back you would’ve seen Four raise his eyebrows in surprise, not having expected you to talk back. Quietly, he was actually rather impressed that you had, even if in doing so you had continued with the Star Wars trend.

*****

“Doctor Genevieve Lushnick, for twenty years she has worked as a general practitioner in a family owned GP clinic, and if she has it her way, will continue doing so until retirement. However, over time, her remedies have become more extreme. She stopped prescribing antibiotics to help fight infections, and instead would recommend her patients undergo unnecessary surgeries.” One begins, displaying images of the Doctor on the screen at the front of the room. Just the sound of her name makes you sick to your stomach, a sweat breaking out on your forehead, though no one seems to notice.

“This is Doctor Gregory Lushnick, Genevieve’s husband. He, is the surgeon who has been performing the procedures, along with a well-paid, and unethical team of doctors and nurses. Genevieve will suggest the surgery, telling the patient that it is a matter of life and death, she will then refer them on to Gregory, who will of course agree with her course of action. The patient, who at this point has been warned if they aren’t operated on soon, they will die, will pay an exuberant fee, any amount the Lushnick’s request, which they then pocket for themselves.”

Three lifts his brows at the information they had all been presented with. “How have they gotten away with this? Surely they’ve had patients who know at least a little bit about general health, who know if a procedure they’ve been recommended is necessary or not?”

One nods, folding his arms across his chest while gazing out over his team, all with an equal expression of shock and disgust. Except for you, who looks on the verge of tears. “That actually happened a few times. A Doctor went and visited Genevieve after hearing about the outrageous number of procedures she had recommended. He went in complaining of an ingrown toenail that had become infected, which he did in fact have at the time, but was treating it himself. Genevieve took one look at it, and informed him that the infection was too far gone, and if they didn’t remove his toe urgently, the infection would likely spread, and perhaps enter his blood stream. He asked for some further testing to ensure Genevieve was correct, to which she obliged, and sent him to pathology to have blood taken.”

“Yeah, but if he got blood tests then that’s it right? Game over? The tests would prove that there’s nothing wrong with ‘im.” Four interjects, leaning his hip against the edge of the table everyone was stood around, taking care to watch you from his peripherals.

“In a normal situation, then yes, you’d be correct. But this isn’t normal, nothing about the Lushnick’s is normal. The test results came back in, and of course, they read perfectly, no deadly infection obviously. But the convenient thing about living in the modern age we do, is that all test results are sent through electronically. All Genevieve had to do, was edit the results, and suddenly, her patient was suffering any ailment she wished! When she presented the results to him, and he played along, saying he would organise the procedure shortly. Instead, he went to the Minister of Health, and presented his findings. The Lushnick’s found out who he was, and what was happening and fled the country. No one knows where they went, so they escaped punishment.”

“Alright, so they fucked off somewhere else, but they’re not hurting anyone, anymore right? So how does this affect us?” Seven shrugged, One’s eyes boring into his.

“I know exactly where the Lushnick’s are. They’ve been performing their surgeries in secret for a few years now, but they’ve moved on to more desperate patients, and are providing more extreme remedies. Rather than patients finding her, Genevieve is seeking out her own patients, the one’s who are unable to afford a visit to the Doctor’s surgery. She’ll play nice, offer them a free consult to ensure they’re all healthy, then she’ll drop the health bomb on them. These people are so afraid, that they will believe anything Genevieve tells them, and will do anything to get the money needed for their life saving surgery.”

Your hand grips the back of a chair, while your other presses flat against the wall nearest you. Your head is swimming, memories flooding back to you in a tidal wave. Heart racing so fast you think it’s about to explode, all the while sweat drips from your skin. No one notices, no one cares. They all have questions that need answering.

Four notices though, how could he not? For weeks now, he had done nothing but watch you closely, always checking to make sure you were safe, and not putting yourself in any unnecessary danger. If you were going to stay with the team, and it looked as if you were, then he would keep an eye on you from a distance. He may not be your friend, but that didn’t mean he cared any less, not really.

“What kind of surgeries are they doing now?” Five asks, her hands resting on her hips.

“Similar to what they used to suggest, only now more extreme because they have a more desperate clientele. From what I could find, the most chilling was what she and Greg did to a fifteen year old boy. He was complaining of shortness of breath, and if he had been seen by any other Doctor, he would’ve been diagnosed with mild asthma, and given an inhaler to use. But Genevieve instead informed him and his father that he had a potentially life-threatening lung infection.” One pauses, a frown creasing his features as he looks over at you, your skin having grown pale and your eyes unfocused, you looked about ready to collapse. He pulls he gaze away for a moment to finish, though his eyes continue to dart back over to you. “The boy underwent surgery to have an entire lung removed. His father paid nearly twenty thousand for his son to have the surgery. Two weeks after the procedure, the boy died.”

A chocked sob rips from your lips, causing everyone to focus on you, six pairs of eyes staring you down. They all either thought you were crazy, or just overly emotional over the death of a kid you didn’t know. How could they know the truth, it’s not as if you had ever told anyone? “Eight? Are you alright?” Five asks slowly, reaching a hand towards you just as you step backwards.

“Hey, sit down for a second kid…” Three offers, gesturing to the chair you had just released from your vice like grip.

“It’s the sweater, she’s probably just over heated.” Four shrugs, though even with his air of indifference, his eyes are clouded with worry.

Another sob followed by your nose sniffling. Were you crying? When had that started? You bring one hand up to your face, your fingers shaking the entire time, until they press against your cheeks, only to pull away a second later damp with tears. Lips are moving, but you don’t hear any of the words that are spoken, there’s a ringing in your ears which is too loud to ignore, and it drowns out everything other than your internal voice. The expressions the Ghosts wore changed from that of curiosity and caution, to full blown panic now as it dawned on them, that you truly weren’t alright. Just as One walks over to you, you spin on your heel, racing away from him and the team. You’re vaguely aware of people calling out after you, but you don’t turn back.

You throw yourself into the gray McLaren which had unofficially become your car, after the driving display you had given a few weeks ago. The engine revs as you try to clear your mind enough to decide on where you were going. Should you be driving in the state you were now? Probably not. Were you going to anyway? Definitely. Were you more than willing to run over Four who now stood between you and the exit you wanted to take? Without a doubt. Pressing the tab on the door, the window lowers at what felt like a comically slow rate.

Four had sprinted after you the moment you left, and was now trying to decide what his next move should be. Behind the car, he could see the others grouped together, all unsure of what to do, just like him. “Either get in the fucking car or move. You have ten seconds or I’m driving through you!” You bark out of the window, providing him with the motivation required for him to spring into action.

The passenger door slams shut, with Four diving in just milliseconds before you slam on the gas, the car fishtailing for a moment, before flying through base. Four stares dead ahead, his mouth slightly agape, while you glare at the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles had turned white. When you had given Four his options just before, you had never expected him to pick the first, and from the looks of things, neither had he.

 Silence fills the speeding car for twenty odd minutes, your eyes locked on the road ahead, while Four was staring out the passenger window, his elbow propped up on the centre console,  while his other hand was resting with his fingers pressed to his lips. You felt as if you were being strangled in the silence, but neither of you were prepared to break it, both too stubborn to admit defeat, and voice your curiosity. Reaching one hand out, your hover above the power button for the stereo, taking your eyes off the road for just a second.

Oh, how things can change in one second.

The car had been travelling in an undisturbed straight line down the freeway, though all of that changed in a heartbeat. With your eyes focused elsewhere, you never saw the massive pothole looming ever closer to the McLaren. Just as you look back at the road, your eyes fall to the dip in the road, something that you should’ve avoided at all costs. Your barely functioning brain kicks in at the last minute, and just as one of your front tyre’s dips into the pothole, you spin the steering wheel, attempting to keep your remaining tyres from hitting the hole too. It was too little too late however, and instead of avoiding the pothole, the car spins out, flying off the edge of the road and skidding along the red dirt uncontrollably.  Your shriek is the first sound to pierce the silence the entire drive, and it seems to be what snapped Four out of his shock.

Four reaches out, taking the wheel in one hand, attempting to straighten out the cars path, while his other hand wraps around the handbrake, pulling it up with all his might. The McLaren spins for another few seconds, until coming to a halt, a cloud of dust having been kicked up by the erratic tyres. “Jesus Christ Eight! What the fuck was that about?”

You can’t answer him, your words are choked in your throat, and refuse to budge. You unclip your seatbelt and bolt out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition as you sprint away from both the car and Four. Why was he here? Out of everyone that could’ve blocked your path and jumped into the car, why did it have to be fucking Four? He didn’t give a shit what was going on with you on a regular day to day basis, so why the hell would he care about this?

Where were you even running to? You were in the middle of nowhere, and all that was around you was desert and the highway. There was nowhere for you to run to. As this realisation hits you, you stop dead in your tracks. Heart pounding in your chest. Clenching your fists at your sides, your drop to your knees in the middle of the desert, titling your head back, and screaming gutturally towards the sky, as fresh tears flow freely down your cheeks now.

*****

Four had never seen someone lose control as you were doing now, he’d seen his fair share of people in pain, screaming and crying over the death of a loved one or because they were in pain. But this, it felt different to him. Watching you collapse to your knees, he felt his chest tighten, and his own breath hitched in his throat. Your scream rumbled through his entire body, and echoed around the empty sky, there was nothing around for miles that would block your screams. He didn’t know what else to do, so he grabbed the keys, pocketed them before jogging over to you.

“Hey… Hey, it’s okay – You’re gonna be okay.” He whispers, kneeling beside you now, wrapping his arms around your shaking torso. He was sure that if it weren’t for the vulnerable position you found yourself in, that you would never return his embrace as you now were. But you did, your arms circling around his neck, as you pressed your face against his shoulder.

“Any other target… It could’ve been anyone else.” You cry out, hot tears splashing against his thin t-shirt. Four tightens his grip around you, slowly lowering himself into a sitting position, and guiding you down with him. You follow him down, and he half expects you to break out of your emotions when he settles you against his lap, though that never happens.

He rubs soothing circles against your back, listening for the sounds of your cries to ease, before he finally asks. “What d’you mean Eight? What’s wrong with the target?”

You shake your head, pressing further into his shoulder, as another body shaking sob overtakes you. Your mind is swimming in horrifying memories, and all you want to do is to claw them out of your brain. You want to forget; you need to forget. “Eight, look at me… Talk to me.”

Four rests his hands on both of your shoulders,  gently guiding you away from him so he could look you in the eyes red rimmed and now puffy, though your tears had slowed at the very least. “Hey – Hi…”

*****

You blink across at Four, sniffling as you attempt to clear your thoughts. Why did he suddenly care what was wrong with you? For weeks now, he barely spoke a word to you, when he did, it was always something snarky or sarcastic. There was never any care for your wellbeing, so where had this all come from? “Hullo… I’m sorry. Please, just forget about that. I’m sorry.”

You move to pull away from Four, but his large hands on your shoulders tighten their grip, and you honestly just don’t have the energy to fight against him. “I’m not going to forget about this. Talk to me Eight, what happened back there?”

“What happened? I lost control of the car, it spun out. Happens to the best of us.” You shrug, opting to play dumb for a little while, just to see how far you would get with doing so.

There’s a fierce glare that settles over Four’s eyes, and you can feel a physical chill run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend to be stupid. We both know you’re the furthest from stupid a person could possibly get.” Four breathes out deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, before opening them and reconnecting his sight with yours.

You’re not sure which is more likely to occur first, your heart stopping entirely or for it to literally explode under the amount of stress you’re experiencing right now. “It’s the Lushnick’s. I – I know them. Or at least, I did know them.”

Four stills his movements, where he had been drawing tiny patterns against your shoulders, he no longer seems able to do even that. “What do you mean you know the Lushnick’s?” His voice comes out strangled, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he was worried about you.

“Doctor Genevieve, the clinic she worked in was local to my family when I was little. When I was around five, I had a babysitter, Kellie, she would look after me every afternoon after school, and some weekends. She would’ve been around seventeen, and at the time was my best friend. I didn’t get along with the kids in my class, so I turned to Kellie, she was always there for me, and I loved her like a sister.” There, that was the easy part to talk about. You could just leave the story there, but really, you know you couldn’t do that. You had given away too much to stop now. “Every afternoon, she would walk me home from school. On the walk, we would pass by the clinic where Doctor Lushnick worked. One afternoon, when we were heading home, Kellie started to feel dizzy, I remember she was struggling to walk, and I was worried. I left her on a bench, and ran to the Doctor’s clinic. The receptionist grabbed the first doctor she could find, Genevieve, and we all ran to Kellie to help her.”

“Fuck Eight, I’m sorry –“

You cut Four off before he can say anymore. “Let me finish. There’s more to tell, and I can’t stop now.” You pause for a moment, waiting to see if he had anything else to say, but clearly he thought better than to speak up again. “Doctor Lushnick performed heaps of tests, I remember she kept sending Kellie for more and more blood tests, x-rays and ultrasounds. Always telling her and her family that the results had come back inconclusive. It must’ve been around two weeks, until Kellie was given her diagnosis. Heart failure. I don’t remember much of what happened after that, there was a lot of adult conversations had that I wasn’t made a part of. What I do know though, is that Genevieve sent Kellie to have a heart transplant. Kellie was terrified, I can still hear her crying, begging her parents not to make her go through with the surgery. Her parents didn’t want her to have it done either, but Genevieve and Gregory made it sound as if it were her only option. They told Kellie and her parents that without the surgery, she would die.”

Tears had returned to your eyes now, and Four pulled you subtly closer to him, not enough so you were embraced as you were before, but enough that you could feel his warmth soaking into you, and hear his steady heartbeat. “Kellie had the surgery, and was recovering relatively well.  She was in the hospital still so the nurses could keep an eye on her while she healed. After school one day, I lied and told my parents I was going to a friend’s house, and that no one needed to pick me up until later. Instead I went to the hospital to visit Kellie. I had gone to see her twice after the surgery, and both times she had seemed alright, at least in my eyes she did. This third time though, when I got to her room, everything was different. She was pale and sweating, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. There was no one else in the room for me to get, so I pressed the call button from the side of her bed, and in came running nurses and doctors.  No one really explained to me what had happened that day until I was older. And it wasn’t until I was much older, did I realise truly what had happened, and with the information One gave us today, I knew for sure. Kellie was never supposed to have had that surgery, her body underwent unnecessary trauma, which it couldn’t heal from. Doctor Genevieve and Gregory Lushnick murdered my best friend.”

Suddenly, you were pressed against Four’s chest, as your felt tears stream over your cheeks. He held you firmly, his warm embrace was one of comfort and peace, two things you had never associated with the man. “When One was telling us about what they had done to others, I just couldn’t stop the memories from coming back, everything I felt back then, it all came rushing back to me.”

“It’s alright, fuck Eight. I’m sorry, I am so sorry. I wish there was more I could say..”

You gulp, before looking up at him, your eyes scanning over his handsomely chiselled face for the very first time. In the time you had been with the team, not once had you had the opportunity to look at Four up close, and of course this would be your first chance. While sitting on his lap, crying your heart out, as you both grew more covered in dust. “Promise me we’ll make them pay. Promise me that we’ll get them both, and that they won’t get away.”

Four allows a deep breath to flow from his parted lips, the lines on his forehead smoothing as he takes in your words. “I promise you, they won’t make it through this alive.”

*****

Allowing Four to drive you both back to base had likely been one of the best decisions you had made in a long time. Despite the panic and anger which had clouded you before, now faded to a dull shadow, you were still shaky, and your concentration was easily lost. Four driving truly was the safest option, if you both wanted to arrive home in one piece. “Can we stop in town?”

Four glances at you for a moment, retracting his hand which was resting on your knee. The entire drive, you would find Four resting his hand somewhere on your leg. To you, it was grounding and comforting, serving to remind you that you weren’t alone. It let you know that someone else on the team understood your connection to the targets. For Four however, you weren’t sure if he was doing it out of habit, or for comfort too. “Sure, what do you need?”

Turning to look at his side glance, you allow a tiny smile to tug at the corners of your lips. “I desperately need a drink. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like, but I’m sure you’d rather forget that this all happened.” You shrug softly, before turning to look back out of the passenger window.

Four’s eyes grow wide at your comment, and he finds himself at a loss for words. “I- You- What?”

Pressing your forehead against the window, you take a deep breath in, before blowing out through your mouth, fogging the glass up in the process. “I appreciate you following me out here today, I really do. But, let’s be honest, we’re not friends. You hate me. You’ve made that perfectly clear since the day I arrived. So, while I’m happy to extend the invitation of getting piss drunk with me, I’m not expecting you to accept.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“Hate you… I’m sca – Way too sober to have this conversation right now. But put it this way, I don’t hate you.”

Four focuses back on the road, while his words swirl through your mind. ‘Scared? Was he about to say he was scared? Scared of what though? He always seemed so grounded, almost as if nothing could touch him, let alone hurt him…’ On the drive away from base, you hadn’t paid any attention to where you were headed, not really. All you knew at the time, was that you needed to get as far away from everyone as was humanly possible. Which is why it came as a surprise to you when Four pulled into a small town, not the one you had visited with Two and Five a few weeks ago, but an entirely different one which you had never known to exist. “There’s a liquor store just up that side street there.” Four observes, while pointing to the left of the town, where sure enough, there was an opening in the path for the side street.

You nod, climbing out of the car, just as Four lowers his window and the passenger side window. “I’ll be back in a few. Want anything?”

Four shakes his, carding his fingers through is windswept curls. “Thanks, I’m good.” It’s said with such a firm edge to the words, that you know the conversation is over, before it really began.

As you walk down the street, you look back over your shoulder at Four and the McLaren. His wrists are wresting on top of the steering wheel, as he picks at his nails, clearing them of the dirt that had gathered there from earlier. Music was pumping through the speakers, and you could see the car shaking with the intensity of the bass Turning the corner, the liquor store comes into view, a small bell chiming as the door pushes open. A man, likely in his forties or fifties is stood near the cooler section, collapsing empty beer boxes.  Looking at the few shelves that lined the wall nearest the register, you feel a lump rise in your throat. In your haste to leave base, you hadn’t brought anything with you,  no phone, no wallet, no money!

“Can I help you with anything?” The man calls from the opposite side of the store, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Just looking thank you!”

The man squints at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Hope you’ve got some ID kid…. You don’t look old enough to be buying anything from here…”

Your jaw drops at his words, a scowl marching across your features. How dare he question your age, suggesting you weren’t old enough to drink! You had never been ID’d before now, and now that you were not only dead, and still waiting on One to present you with your fake ID’s. But you didn’t even have your bloody wallet with you, where said fake would be kept, this was the time, of all times where the world decided to turn against you and start questioning your age? “Of course I have ID with me.”

The man watches you for another moment, as if assessing whether he could trust you or not. With a final huff, he bends over and picks up a box of beers, pushing the cooler door open and heading inside to restock the fridge shelves, clearly having decided you were trustworthy. Oh buddy, wrong decision.

Maybe it was because of the shithouse afternoon you had just experienced, or maybe it was because you were sick and tired of people making assumptions about you. No matter the why’s, you found yourself snatching bottles of Jack Daniel’s, Malibu, and salted caramel vodka. Without a second thought, you cradled them against your chest, then bolted for the front door.

“Get back here you thief!” The man screams after you, having re-emerged from the fridge just as the door swung closed behind you.

This was wrong, so fucking wrong! It was one thing to steal money from a stranger’s bank account (Granted that stranger then went on to fake your death, and now was your employer…) Or to work from afar and have people do the dirty work, while you reaped the benefits, they did the snatching and grabbing, you just made sure they didn’t get caught. But this? This was you stealing, with no one else there! This was all you!

Your feet pound against the pavement, the McLaren coming into view just as the store clerk sprints after you. “Open the fucking door Four!” You shriek from the top of your lungs, praying to any deity who may listen that he will hear you over the pumping music.

Despite your thieving tendencies, someone answers your prayer, and Four looks up and over to you through the open passenger window, his eyebrows shooting up into his hair line as he spots you sprinting at full speed towards him, three bottles clutched in your arms, as a pissed man follows close behind. He leans across the centre console, pushing the door open before returning to his seat fully and twisting the key in the ignition. With the sound of the door slamming shut behind you, he throws the car into reverse, getting you both the hell out of town! “What the actual fuck Eight? What did you do?”

You stare down at the three bottles, now laying by your feet, rocking back and forth as the car moves. Laughter bubbles from your chest, and you can’t help the burst of chuckles that rip through you. “I didn’t have any money…”

For a brief moment, you could’ve sworn you saw Four grin, though the look is soon replaced by a sigh. “And you didn’t think to come and ask me if I had any?”

“Do you have money on you?”

“No… But that’s not the point! Your first instinct was to steal what you wanted!”

“Are you seriously telling me off for stealing? Sorry, last I heard, One met you after a robbery gone wrong.”

Four’s grip on the wheel tightens for a few moments, before his knuckles relax somewhat, tension visibly leaving his shoulders. “Now we’ve gotta find a new liquor store.”

*****

Walking through base, you felt everyone’s eyes on you, all boring down on you, as if thinking if they stared long enough then they would understand what had happened to you. There’s a part of you that wants to explain yourself, and to reassure the team that you are in fact, not insane as they may now think. However, before you even have the chance to consider explaining yourself, Four is dragging you by the hand towards your trailer. “If anyone needs us, don’t. Just don’t fucking need us!” He calls out behind you, gripping the bottle of Malibu with such intensity your genuinely worried he might smash the glass.

Four’s warning seemed to have worked, at least for the time being, and you watched as the Ghosts all shuffled away, back to whatever they had been doing before your arrival. One stays out for a few moments longer, arms folded across his chest, and both eyebrows raised in confusion. You can see the questions he’s dying to ask dancing across his eyes, mixed with a look of what could only be described as, understanding. You don’t take the time to dwell on One, as you’re far too preoccupied with Four who had swung your trailer door open, and was pushing you inside and up the steps, his hands pushing against your lower back to keep you moving.

Four followed you up, placing the Malibu on the small table opposite your bed, while you plonked down on the bed, the bottles of Jack and vodka falling to the foot of your mattress. “Right, you stay here as long as you need to. Drink, get smashed, scream, cry. Whatever you wanna do.” His broad shoulders shrug, as he turns away from you, and steps back towards the door, resting both hands in his front pants pockets.

Quickly, you twist off the cap of the vodka, the strong scent of salted caramel filling the air. “The offer still stands. Only this time, I’d like you to join me…”

Four turns on the spot, looking back at you in surprise. “You sure?”

“Yes, I – I want you here with me please.”

There’s no need to ask him a second time, though you would’ve if necessary. Four reaches out and takes the vodka from your outstretched hand, bringing it to his lips and taking a deep swig. Just as you do the same with the Jack. “Cheers to your first mission briefing.” He chuckles, his crystalline eyes sparkling in joy.

You roll your eyes up at him, as you move further back on the bed, leaning your back against the wall. “Let’s try not to make this a tradition yeah?”

“It’s been five seconds, and you already hate drinking with me enough to never want to do it again?”

“That’s not what I meant. The drinking, I’d be willing for the to be a tradition.  The whole, me running away from base thing though? Yeah, let’s not do that again.”

Four nods, his curls swaying under the gesture, before he takes another swig, savouring the sharp after burn the vodka left in the back of his throat.  You crawl up off the bed, and shuffle over to the small, mint green radio that was set up towards the back of the trailer, fiddling with the dials before it decided to pick up something other than static. “I won’t let that happen again… You won’t be hurt like that again.” Four breathes out, though the words are drowned out by the functioning radio.

“Fuck! I love this song!” You squeal, turning the volume up to full, dancing to the blasting music.

“Seriously, Kesha? Out of all the music you could love, it’s this?”

“Don’t be an ass. This is my trailer, and my booze, I can and will kick you out if you’re not careful!”

“It’s stolen booze, so technically, the shop still owns it, not you….”

You don’t really think about your next move, all you know is that one moment you were drinking from the bottle of Jack while dancing and being sassed at by Four, and the next, you had grabbed one of your multiple decorative pillows, and had begun attacking him with it. Four grabbed his own pillow, and retaliated in kind, swatting you left right and centre, all the while attempting to not spill either of your drinks. And thus started the great pillow war of 2020.

*****

You don’t know what time it is, there’s a gentle stream of light washing over you as you carefully peel your eyes open, though a set of curtains over the window make it impossible for you to see anything else, other than the suns rays. Lifting your arms above your head, you stretch your aching body, before finally giving in and opening your eyes fully. It takes far too long for you to realise something was wrong. This was not where you had fallen asleep, quite the opposite actually. You know for a fact you had fallen asleep outside, in the dirt no less, with Four using you as a pillow. Yet somehow, you were now alone, in a strangers bed, inside a strangers trailer….

You sit bolt upright, your stomach instantly churning at your sudden movements, you blanch at the taste of bile as it rises in your throat, swallowing it back down. Slowly, you look around the trailer, finding nothing familiar in the small space. “Four?” It had to be his home… You had been inside everyone else’s trailer, but never his.  With a great deal of care, you pull yourself off the bed, pressing a hand over your eyes for a moment, as you feel a wave of dizziness wash over you. “Four? Hello?”

Looking around, you find no trace of him, or at least nothing that pointed to his whereabouts. You pass by a mirror as you walk towards the door, and you take a moment to assess your reflection. Your hair was knotted, sweaty, and had flecks of dirt tangled in it, there were deep set bags under your eyes, and overall you looked, and felt like death. Though all that combined, you still felt better now, than you had yesterday during the briefing.

You allow the trailer door to swing shut behind you, spotting a determined looking Two, marching across base and headed to the rec room. Was there another meeting this morning? Had you slept through the announcement, and Four couldn’t be bothered to wake you up? There was no time to think over the millions of possibilities as to what had happened, all you know, was that if Two was storming off somewhere, it was likely the best course of action would be to follow her.

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Chapter six out now!

[squidbatts]

i’m gonna run this nothing town

“That’s how I know I'm making the right choice. Cal, will you be my aide-de-camp?” A smile spreads across Calroy's face, sharp like the water-steel dagger he keeps tucked in his boot. “Amethar,” He says, voice sweet as the sugar beneath their feet, “It would be my honor.”

or: four snapshots of calroy and amethar, after the war

((this requires some explanation. this exists in an au where calroy and amethar (eventually) get married, calroy hates amethar but is also in love with him (and doesn’t know he’s in love with him), and calroy is still actively working against the rocks. it’s.... involved. inspired entirely by the enablers in the d20 server of color and @kindlespark‘s wonderful calroy art. please enjoy!))

{ao3}

1.

When the War is over, when all the dust has settled, Calroy still stands.

He stands beside Amethar, the new King of Candia and the Sugarlands; Amethar, the War buddy that considered Calroy his closest friend; Amethar, the arrogant, spoiled, ungrateful boy that cared more about playing soldier than his place in the Kingdom; His Majesty King Amethar of House Rocks, the Unfallen.

He stands there, and Amethar, in mourning clothes even at his own coronation, clears his throat.

“Cal,” Amethar starts, voice a whisper and brows furrowed, “You know I- I can't do this. I was never supposed to be the one to do this, I don't know anything about politics and I didn't pay attention in my etiquette classes and I never remember any of those fancy titles. I don't even know how to read, you know that.”

Calroy, who once had to trade hard labor and quick favors for his lessons, makes himself nod understandingly. “So you've told me, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, come on, don't call me that,” Amethar says quickly, waving a hand like his title is an annoying bug that he can shoo away. Calroy feels so sick with envy and anger that he worries for a moment that he'll pass out. “I'm not just outlining my flaws for my own health, alright, I wanted to ask you… I mean, you're the best guy I know, and I trust you to watch my back, and you're great at talking us out of scrapes, and my advisors told me that I should choose someone, and-”

“Keep talking like that and I'll die of boredom before you can ask me anything,” Calroy interrupts, tone balanced on the line between joking and rude. 

Amethar smiles, a clever little thing that looks much more at home on his face than his earlier wide-eyed nervousness, and his shoulders relax from where they'd begun to climb towards his ears.

“That’s how I know I'm making the right choice. Cal, will you be my aide-de-camp?”

A smile spreads across Calroy's face, sharp like the water-steel dagger he keeps tucked in his boot. “Amethar,” He says, voice sweet as the sugar beneath their feet, “It would be my honor.”

--

2.

Her name is Caramelinda Merengue and she hates Amethar. She doesn't say as much, because she's whip-smart and understands that would be an insult that even Amethar couldn't miss, but Calroy can tell. He reads it in the line of her brow and the tilt of her lips, in the way her hands tighten on her dress under the table and the way her cheek dimples when she bites it to keep herself from speaking.

Calroy rather likes her.

Her father is in talks with Amethar about marriage and Amethar is deeply miserable about it, as he makes clear to Calroy each evening when they drink together. Caramelinda is miserable about it too, though she's more graceful about it and never even brings up the fact that her set engagement to the late Archmage Lazuli of House Rocks had been one of love and not simple allyship; no, Calroy had to use his spies to find out that one because Caramelinda was too loyal to her duty and her father to complain where she could be heard. This is, technically, exactly the type of thing Amethar brought him in for, even ignoring that he has his own reasons for not wanting Caramelinda and Amethar to get married; marriage means heirs and Calroy doesn't need any Rocks brats running around and complicating his plans.

He approaches the Duke of Meringue with a soft smile and an open ear. He asks leading questions about the Duke's land, his crops, his wife. Caramelinda is his only child, the last of his line, and even despite subtracting the land and livestock included in her dowry, the bride price Lazuli had promised is… exorbitant. More than enough for the Duke to live comfortably for the rest of his days and more than the daughter of a fairly minor noble merited, in Calroy’s opinion.

Love, He scoffs mentally, can make fools out of even the brightest of mages.

“You know, he doesn’t actually want you to marry his daughter,” Calroy confides to Amethar that evening.

“It seems like he wants me to marry her,” Amethar responds petulantly. The syrupy scent of his cologne fills Calroy’s nose as Amethar leans closer to fill his goblet with butterscotch schnapps and Calroy has to resist the urge to either sneeze or take a deep breath in. “My advisors want me to marry her too. They said keeping Lazuli’s promise will show that we still respect our allegiances in Candia.”

A part of Calroy is almost impressed that Amethar remembered all that well enough to be able to parrot it to Calroy; the rest of him is too busy being annoyed at Amethar’s advisors to care. Amethar’s advisors are a bunch of rich elders who have been pressuring the Kings of Candia for the past fifty years and who have no problem publicly calling Calroy an upstart.

Calroy does not like Amethar’s advisors.

“Don’t you trust me?” Calroy asks, making a show out of pouting. Amethar’s eyes flicker down, just for a second, before he settles that earnest gaze back on Calroy’s eyes. There was a time, during the War, when Calroy had gotten tired of Amethar trying to be subtle about checking out his ass and staring at his mouth, when Amethar had let Calroy push him against a tree just outside of camp, when Calroy had bit Amethar’s lip hard enough to make him bleed and then blamed it on inexperience, when Amethar had cupped a hand over Calroy’s cheek and-

Well.

Calroy mentally shakes himself. None of that matters right now. The War was the War, but this is now.

“‘Course I do, more than anyone in the world,” Amethar answers, soft and genuine enough to make Calroy’s skin crawl.

“Then trust me on this. He wants land and gold, and his quickest route to those things right now is making you keep up Lazuli’s part of the bargain. If we can offer him an easier way to get what he wants-”

“Then I don’t have to marry Caramelinda!”

Calroy makes a noise like a champion’s bell and clinks his cup against Amethar’s. “Then you don’t have to marry Caramelinda.”

Amethar is smiling so widely that he spills more than he swallows when he tries to knock his drink back. “You’re the best, Cal, really.”

Calroy grins back, but when he says “And don’t you forget it,” his voice comes out a touch too demanding.

Whatever.

It’s not like Amethar will notice anyway.

-- 

3.

Amethar is looking for something. Calroy doesn't know what it is, which is weird enough on its own and would normally make him dismiss the idea, but Amethar's been spending too much time personally visiting the Dairy Islands for someone without a vested interest in what he could find there.

While Calroy appreciates the space he’s been given to pull at the strings that move Candia, the absence of the King has had the side-effort of making the other nobles bolder with their power grabs, more openly distasteful about Calroy's power. If Calroy has to hear another minor baron say Amethar's reliance on Calroy is unbecoming or gossip about how Calroy is a leeching social climber, he's going to do something he regrets, like run them through with his saber.

None of these people know that it's Calroy that keeps their precious liquor and food flowing, that he writes the trade proposals and organizes the council meetings. None of these people have ever had damp soil from a newly weeded field caked so deep under their fingernails that it takes fives washes for the water to run clear, they've never had so much blood dried into the creases of their hands that their palms were dyed red. Everything Calroy has, everything he is, has been fought for, and he refuses to let some snobby nobles or a flighty King ruin this for him.

He starts with increasing the number of meetings Amethar has to attend. As the Royal Aide-De-Camp, Calroy has almost complete control of Amethar’s schedule and, while it’s typically more advantageous for Calroy to go to these meetings alone and gently shift the popular opinion, Amethar’s stubborn blunt force works just as well when aimed right.

For a while, that is.

He can tell when Amethar starts to get jittery as he has less and less opportunity to sneak himself off to another country; the man all but whines about having to actually do his blood-granted duty, and Calroy makes himself grit his teeth in an approximation of a smile and then lets himself grip just a bit too tightly onto Amethar’s arm as he leads him to his next appointment.

He likes to think that he responds with more restraint than Amethar deserves.

It’s not until Amethar actually skips a meeting, like he’s a child sneaking out of his lessons, and doesn’t come back to the Castle for three days that Calroy decides this has to come to a stop. He stands outside Amethar’s rooms and puts all his energy into channeling the visage of a kind and concerned best friend. He takes a deep breath to center himself, puts a hand on the doorknob, and enters without announcing himself.

“Hey, you can’t- Oh, it’s just you,” Amethar says from where he’s making a pathetic attempt to cover the blown-up map of the Dairy Islands, brush still dripping with ink from where he’s been apparently marking the map. He relaxes when he sees Cal, even as Cal tenses.

This doesn’t look like a silly flight of fancy for Calroy to prod Amethar out of pursuing, it doesn’t look like the thrill-seeking work of a boy who misses the adventure of War. This looks calculated, particular. This, Calroy thinks, looks like a nightmare.

“What’s all this, then?” Calroy asks, gesturing.

Amethar runs a hand over his locs and laughs nervously. “It’s nothing. Just a little project of mine.”

Calroy wants to sigh, to yell, to demand that Amethar explain, but he knows that Amethar moves easiest when he thinks he's not being made to do so. He allows himself to furrow his eyebrows a bit more, hunch his posture a bit; make himself look confused and small like something hurt and sad, like someone who needs Amethar’s protection. It takes only twenty seconds under Calroy’s pitiful stare before Amethar folds.

“Okay, fine, but you have to promise to not get mad.”

“When have I ever been mad at you?” Calroy asks, question rhetorical not because he’s never been angry at Amethar but because Amethar would’ve never realized he had been. “I’m just worried. All this galavanting around, avoiding your duties, it’s not like you.”

It is like him, Calroy and Amethar both know it, and Amethar slumps at the lie. Calroy can almost see the cracks appear in his defenses. “Alright. You can’t tell anyone, but I… I have a wife.”

“You have a what.” Calroy says. It’s not a question but it should be because surely Calroy’s misheard. Surely Amethar Rocks is not telling Calroy that he has some secret little milkmaid in the Islands.

“A wife. Her name is Catherine, Catherine Ghee, and I was going to marry her the right way after the War and bring her in as my queen, but then I got moved from the Islands and she stopped answering my letters, and then my sisters-” Amethar cuts himself off, clearing his throat thickly. “Anyway, I forgot about it in the shuffle of everything else. And then there was the whole Caramelinda thing, you know.”

“I know,” Calroy confirms. Bribing enough the duke to make him rescind his acceptance of Lazuli’s -- Amethar’s -- marriage proposal had been his job, after all.

“Yeah! It reminded me. And I thought I’d go find her, it’s the right thing to do and I mean, I think I really loved her, Cal. I think she might’ve been it for me.”

Calroy’s jaw works hard enough that he feels the joint pop. Calroy closes his eyes in the face of Amethar’s enthusiasm, just to give himself a second to process. This would’ve been useful to know when you were almost married off to someone else, Calroy thinks but doesn’t say. What do you mean you got married and then just forgot about her? What part of that screams ‘she’s the love of my life’ to you? Calroy thinks but doesn’t ask.

“So, have you had any luck?” Calroy asks when he trusts himself to speak without screaming. Amethar’s face drops immediately.

“No. I found her parents back in her village but they say they haven’t seen her in almost a year, so I’ve just been traveling around. I hope- well. You know what I hope.”

Calroy hums. He does.

Many, many Dairy Islanders were lost in the War, a larger percentage than any other country. It’s very possible that Amethar’s Catherine Ghee is dead by now. Still, if she’s not…

“You should’ve asked me for help in the first place,” Calroy chides, playfully hitting Amethar’s chest. He lets his hand linger, feeling Amethar’s warmth and the strong pulse of his heartbeat through his doublet. “You have people to do things like this. I mean, really Amethar, I completely understand you and usually I’d be all for this -- hell, I’d join you! -- but when you’re gone so often, it worries the Kingdom.”

“It does?”

Calroy hums mournfully, tucking his hands behind his back and turning away from Amethar to study the map. “The War is over and the Concord is formed, but things are still getting back to normal. If your citizens notice their King, the venerated Amethar the Unfallen, leaving them so regularly, what will they think?”

Calroy doesn’t have to look at how Amethar’s face spasms at the title, but he watches out of the corner of his eye anyway. He knows the flinch intimately, has watched it and caused it enough that it’s burned into his memory; the way it starts with Amethar’s eyes slipping shut, how his jawline shakes, how he twitches as though he’s been slapped. Sometimes, Calroy wishes he could chant it just to see the reaction over and over again. Amethar the Unfallen, Amethar the Last of House Rocks, Amethar the Unprepared.

“The people will really get upset?” Amethar asks. His voice sounds smaller, less sure. Calroy makes sure his smile is more concern than smug delight before he turns around.

“It’s very possible,” Calroy answers, “But there’s no need to worry about it. Now that I know what’s going on, I can get the people whose job this should be on it. We’ll find your girl, Amethar.”

Amethar brightens, falling into step with Calroy and allowing himself to be guided from his rooms. “What would I do without you, Cal?”

Calroy is already mentally scripting how he'll tell Amethar that I've gotten some news back from the Islands and, well... your wife… they just couldn’t find anything. I'm so sorry, Amethar, I know the War has taken so much from us all, but no news is good news, right? regardless of what his search-and-destroy party finds. He bumps his shoulder against Amethar's, supportive and affectionate. “Let's hope you never have to find out.”

--

4.

It has been… a very long night.

It began with a furious letter from the Duke of Meringue, accusing Amethar of defiling and kidnapping his daughter, of breaking his word, of trying to undermine him. Calroy, who reads all of Amethar’s mail, throws the letter into the fire before taking the Amethar his daily stack of relevant but not too important mail. The day only turns to chaos as the evening falls, when an unannounced carriage pulls up to the gates, holding none other than the Lady Caramelinda Merengue. Before anyone can react, Caramelinda shoves a letter at Amethar’s chest, furious and red-eyed from crying.

“I’m pregnant,” She said, with a voice that carried across the courtyards of Castle Candy like a song even as she bowed low and proper, “It is your sister’s. I have come to ask to be quartered by House Rocks, on behalf of my unborn child, your kin.”

Amethar embraced the women, gleefully accepting her words without a lick of proof, while the entirety of the assembled court gossiped and Calroy picked up the letter. It was from Lazuli, of course, and it explained what had happened in the most confusing and circuitous way possible, of course. all will make sense in time, Lazuli said, trust your feelings, Lazuli said, all is as i foresaw, probably, and if it is not then it is close enough that it does not matter, Lazuli said. It all seemed to fit perfectly, arriving just in time, and Calroy could barely stop his fist from tightening and crushing the letter. After all, if he remembered Lazuli, there was probably a letter in lemon ink waiting just for him on the back, just like there had been on so many of the missives she sent to Amethar and Rococoa on the front lines.

Calroy, now, sitting on a part of the Castle wall far from the celebration for Amethar’s new sister-in-law and incoming nibling, lets his eyes slide closed for a moment. If there's one Rocks sister he hated, it was Lazuli, who used her powers of divination for busybodying and mocking instead of something as simple as saving her own life. There's nothing Calroy hates more than a waste of potential.

Speaking of which, I should probably check this. He holds the letter carefully over his lamp, watching as the heat darkens the lemon ink until he can clearly read Lazuli’s final secret message.

congratulations. or maybe not congratulations, if it didn’t happen in this time, The letter reads, you might never get this letter, or you might get it too late, or it might not matter to you, or you might get it and assume it means something else. it is of no concern to me. congratulations, if they apply.

Calroy presses a hand to his temple, frustrated. This, right here, is why he liked Lazuli the least. He's meditating on that when he hears the footsteps and jolts, his hand is almost around his secret dagger before he recognizes the gait, the sound of the slight drag of expensive shoes and the sure thud of his steps. Calroy forces himself to relax as Amethar swings himself onto the wall beside Calroy, close enough that he can feel the other's warmth.

“What a day. Just like Laz to drop something like that in a letter,” He starts without prompting, “When I was a kid and snuck out, she was almost always waiting right outside the gate for me like she’d used her divination just to scare me shitless. She loved that kind of stuff. Guess she wanted one last gotcha, huh?”

Amethar swings his legs restlessly as he gazes out over his Kingdom, lost expression making him look more like the youth of his story than the Ruler of the Sugarlands. Calroy reaches over and pats Amethar’s knee. “It’s not your fault.”

He says it both because Amethar wants to hear it and because it’s true; with all the forces invested in the downfall of the less impressionable Rocks siblings, it would’ve been impossible for Amethar to stop it.

Amethar’s eyes clear as he nods, and then he reaches down and takes Calroy’s hand in his own. “You always know exactly what to say.”

“You make it easy,” Calroy says, half a joke. Amethar snorts, and then he pulls their joined hands up and presses a candyfloss-soft kiss to Calroy’s knuckles

It happens so quickly that Calroy can’t anticipate it or stay his reactions; the shock that he feels, the flush rising to his cheeks and the speeding of his heart, is all 100% real. Amethar looks up at Calroy through his lashes and smiles at whatever expression he finds, slow and small. When he lowers his lips back down to Calroy’s hand, this time a proper kiss right at the curve of his wrist, Calroy is more ready.

He goes for flattered but nervous, allowing some of his real tension to make a laugh come out jerky and unsure. He widens his eyes and looks away even as he continues to let Amethar hold his hand. “Your Majesty-”

“Please,” Amethar murmurs, and when Calroy turns his head he’s looking back at Calroy with warm, expectant eyes, “Not from you, Cal. Never from you.”

“Amethar,” Calroy concedes, and is rewarded with a brilliant grin, “I don’t- I didn’t think-”

“I didn’t think of it either,” Amethar says, picking up Calroy’s purposefully fumbled sentence with perfect timing. “But it just makes sense. We’ve been through so much together and I wouldn’t be able to run anything around here without you; you’re my partner in all but ceremony at this point anyway. And Laz’s letter said to trust my heart.”

“And your heart says-”

“Yes. Yes, this is what my heart wants, Cal. What about you? Will you give me, give this, a chance?”

Calroy gives himself exactly two seconds. Any longer and Amethar will get anxious, any shorter and Calroy will seem desperate. In those two seconds, Calroy starts to reorganize his gameplan for the next five years and makes a mental note to write a letter to Ceresia to personally inform them of this development. He takes a deep breath in, lets it out, and smiles like the crescent moon above them.

“I'm so lucky,” Calroy says, entangling their fingers, “To have had a man like you beside me all this time. I would be luckier to keep him at my side.”

“Not as lucky as I’ll be,” Amethar says, looking like he’s barely holding himself back from doing something decidedly improper. He settles for pressing another kiss to Calroy’s hand and Calroy, sitting atop the parapet of a castle that will be his much sooner than planned, looks out to the sparkling stars. Not as lucky as you indeed, he thinks, but still, when he squeezes Amethar’s hand, their hearts beat as one.

[sweetbettycooper]

Today I reread the INXS Life from the beginning and I’m going to be honest and say I’m really proud and happy with what I’ve created and my writing. I can’t believe I have written this story because personally I think it’s really good 😂 not to be up myself but I love it.

NEW UPDATE COMING SOON....!!!

So I thought I’d share some of my favourite parts

Read below or on AO3

FROM CHAPTER 5

Hearing the door slightly creek open, Jughead turned around ready to get the hell out of there with his fellow Serpents and burn this room to the ground but what he had expected was not the reality he received.

It was Betty she was there in the door way. Dressed in a simple track suit, hair in a messy bun and eyes red and glassy. She was taking a while to react, not believing what she was seeing. Jugheads eyes darkened in the split second he saw her. She was not getting the better of him tonight but damn did she look hot even dressed like that.

He went to pull his gun on her with no intention of using it but just to show he was a dangerous threat to her, she backed away and opened her mouth to sound the alarm. As Betty did this another body came right up behind her pressing against her back and a hand forcefully covered her mouth so she couldn’t scream.

Sweet Pea and Joquin had arrived at precisely the right time. It was Sweet Pea who had a menacing hold of Betty and who pushed her into the room and up against the wall, knocking her head harshly against the bricks. He was pressing his body fully against her own so she couldn’t move no matter how hard she tried. He then grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head with his free hand so now she really couldn’t escape.

She was already in a state after her summons to see Malaki and Nick and tears threatened to well in her eyes at the large lump that was forming on her head.

Joquin shut the door and the three men looked at each other and then back to her.

Joquin was in a state of shock. Betty was his friend, of sorts, and having her like this, threatening their success was something he was struggling with.

“What are we going to do with you princess.” Sweet Pea taunted in her ear.

Betty was breathing so heavily the sound of the air flowing out of her nose rushed against Sweet Pea’s hand. She struggled against his body but to no success. Why did everyone have to man handle her like this all the time she thought to herself as she felt completely small and vulnerable. But amongst all the eyes staring at her she only stared into one pair the whole time she was trapped.

Jughead’s.

He walked forward, inching closer to her, gun still in his firm grasp. However, the next thing Betty knew he was holding it up into her chin making her head tilt upwards. Pressing it hard into her soft skin, leaving a red mark for everyone to see later, his body was also right in her personal bubble. He leaned into the side of her face, his nose brushing against her silk hair.

Whispering so quietly only she could hear, his hot breath trickled down her neck like syrup on hot pancakes. He spoke in a husky voice. “Not a word ok.”

Those four words tuned her brain to mush. She was gone for him. For his sexy as fuck leather jacket and dangerous demeanour. Why was she attracted to bad guys?

To the others it would have looked like Jughead had just leaned in intimidatingly to smell her hair when really, he was sparing her life.

“Maybe we should keep her. Bring her home and have some fun?” Sweet Pea suggested disgustingly.

Jughead knew he had to show that he wasn’t going to display mercy even though he really was.

Pushing the gun harder into her neck making her wince in pain he spoke in the most authoritative and dark tone he could muster.

“Unless you want me to blow your fucking brains out and hunt you down for making me lose that race and snitching to your boyfriend that we were here tonight I would think twice before screaming when we let you go.”

Betty knew he was putting on an act for his Serpents and she didn’t blame him. There were certain unwritten rules that needed to be followed and one of them was never showing they were soft for each other. Or should she say hard?

She could see it in his eyes that she still hadn’t looked away from and she felt it in the hidden soft touch he gave her thigh when he was whispering in her ear as a way to calm her down.

“You’re just going to let her go!” Sweet Pea yelled, forgetting where they were and the fact that they had to be quiet.

“She won’t say anything and the less blood the better. Besides we are men of honour. Hurting woman is not the Serpent way.” Jughead spoke, backing away, feeling like he really was the king of the Serpents now, upholding their laws and values.

“Fangs will be waiting. We have to go.” Joquin said. “You ready to light this all up Jug?” He was getting impatient that they had taken this extra time to deal with the situation.

Jughead was now staring at Sweet Pea for him to let her go. Not breaking eye contact he answered Quin’s question with a serious Yes also with a double meaning for Sweet Pea that Yes he had to let her go.

Slowly he released her. His hands and body parting from hers.

“Lets go.” Quin said checking the coast was clear and then rushing out the room. Sweet Pea took one last look at Betty. Angry he couldn’t get his way and then departed out of sight.

Jughead flicked his lighter on with one swift action and approached her again at the wall.

Betty was frozen in her spot. She was still completely dazed from her earlier drinking and thought she might have a concussion from that forceful bang to her head she received from Sweet Pea that she didn’t know how to feel with so many emotions rushing through her. She didn’t want to tell Malakai they were here. She didn’t want them to die. But then again, she didn’t want to die either. And she knew her fate would be something far worse if he knew she had let them go.

Holding the flicking flame in one hand Jugheads arm stretched across her body and leaned against her stomach, holding the flame near her legs. His face then came back to hers. His nose was pressed into her cheek bone as his lips ghosted against her cheek. Betty closed her eyes as Jughead then pressed them into her porcelain skin in a delicate kiss that made his lips tingle and her whole face turn red with passion. They stayed there glued to her cheek for what felt like eternity.

“I’m sorry Betts.” He whispered, breaking the chaste kiss. The movement of his lips against her cheek in that small but meaningful kiss was too much for Betty. She felt like she was going to crumble like pastry as he whispered her pet name in such a loving way. No one had ever called her that before except her family.

She was so overwhelmed a single tear spilled out of her tear ducts. She wanted to feel his lips everywhere on her body. Hear him say her name over and over again but hated him for putting her in this position. Making her choose between him or Malakai.

“You might want to get out of here now.” He said backing away from her to the door looking at her with utter desire. The restraint he was showing in that moment was even amazing Jughead himself.

Moving to the door she wanted to leave with him. For him to take her away from this place and never look back. Like Romeo and Juliet except they live happily ever after instead. Maybe it was her concussion but nothing would make her happier in life than Jughead’s arms wrapped around her as they rode away on his motor bike together.

FROM CHAPTER 6

now their bodies just touching in the middle of that small room. So, Betty did the one thing he was willing her not to do. She went to slap him again.

Lifting her arm, palm flat ready to strike, she swung it hard but this time Jughead caught it and stopped her in a forcefully tight grasp. He held her wrist in mid-air staring her dead in the eye. Betty was completely overwhelmed, she had never been good at controlling her emotions and in that moment, under his intense threatening gaze that said “don’t even think about it” she wanted to cry.

Then completely knocking Betty of her feet he thrusted her forward into his body holding her tightly and pressed his moist lips passionately against hers. Fuck it felt amazing for them both to finally have their lips connected together. Like their locked lips were the key to saving so many lives. Betty was so stunned she didn’t kiss back just reviling in the way his lips felt against hers. His strong hands on her body just like she wanted.

They stayed still like that for what felt like forever never wanting the moment to end. But it had to as the rational part of Betty’s brain kicked into play. She was supposed to be mad at him supposed to be a loyal girlfriend to someone else. She screamed to herself before she arrived, that nothing would get in the way of her mission. So, she pushed him away with all the force she had. Both of them stumbling backwards, Betty looked down at the ground. Still in shock she reached up and delicately touched her lips where Jughead’s had just been. God, she wanted them back there so badly and this time she would be ready to kiss back. But it was wrong, forbidden, a death wish.

Looking back up at him he was already staring at her feeling the exact same way. Lust replaced the fury in his eyes. She could tell he wanted her and he could read her like a book. So, what was stopping them?

Jughead didn’t have a girlfriend. They both didn’t care about their stupid gang war but Betty did have a boyfriend. He was Malakai her keeper and that was no man that truly loved her.

So, Betty gave zero Fucks in that moment.

Deciding this at the same time, Betty and Jughead collided together, grabbing each other’s faces and bodies, joining their lips back together in a heated and hungry kiss.

Their mouths opened and moulded around each-others, breathing in air and teasing each other’s lips. Jugheads hands cupped Betty’s face, angling it perfectly so he could deepen the kiss even more. Their tongues slid against each other’s as Betty melted into him, eyes fluttering closed, intoxicated by his need for her. Betty’s hands raked through Jugheads hair and pulled tightly, using it as an anchor when she briefly broke away for air, before they both leaned in again. Their breathing was so heavy the only window in the little projection house began to fog.

They couldn’t get enough of each other wanting more and more. They had both wanted this from the moment they met that night at the party and now it was finally happening, they weren’t going to waste any time. Jughead was gone for her feeling his dick harden as he moved his hands down her chest giving her breasts a rough squeeze. They fit perfectly in his hands just like they would in his mouth later on. She was fucking the sexiest thing alive and he couldn’t believe she was here now letting him do these sinful things

[hadesglance]

All hail the new queen... - 26 (Hades Original Story)

You fought your way through the maze of the underworld to make a deal with the King…intrigued the lonely king listens…

Part One  Part Two  Part Three  Part Four  Part Five  Part Six Part Seven  Part Eight   Part Nine  Part Ten  Part Eleven Part Twelve  Part Thirteen  Part Fourteen  Part Fifteen  Part Sixteen Part Seventeen  Part Eighteen  Part Nineteen   Part Twenty  Part Twenty-One   Part Twenty-Two  Part Twenty-Three  Part Twenty-Four  Part Twenty-Five

I got really inspired, soooo yay double update!

Your eyes snapped open for the hundredth time that night. You couldn’t find any rest since Hades told you of the prophecy. Your mind raced over how many instances you could have triggered all of this…how if you had never been here maybe nothing would have happened.

You sighed throwing the covers off yourself frustrated. Stepping onto the cold floor you weighed your options feeling like you’d been here before. You walked the halls down to Hades room not bothering to knock as you walked in.

You crept in slowly to his bed wrapping your arms around him making him wake up slowly, “Y/N?”

“Hm…go back to sleep.” You whispered to him as he rolled over securing you into his arms.

“Everything okay?” He blinked a few times squaring himself off to you to better see your face.

You leaned into his hand as he brushed your hair out of your face, “Restless…”

“Still?” He frowned a little caressing your face with his thumb, “No one is blaming anyone at this point…there’s no meaning to it, and we’re going to find Media soon.”

“…yeah…” You sighed staring into his blue eyes. How did you end up here? The story was simple, but out of all the believers in the world desperate for something…how was it you that ended up here in the arms of Hades?”

“What is it?”  He stared at you obviously trying to figure out what was on your mind.

You simply smiled at him tightening your arm around him pressing your body against his, “I love you.”

“Yeah?” He quirked an eyebrow at you, “Why?”

“Why?” Yours shot up in surprise, “I…I believe it’s because you’re handsome…and loyal…and smart…and care so much about your family and…do I need to keep going?”

“Mm…no…” He leaned forward planting a kiss on your lips, “You sure know how to make god blush.”

You laughed a little, “I doubt it anything I say could really make you blush.”

“On the contrary…a beautiful woman climbs into my bed in the middle of the night and tells me she loves me.” He rested his forehead against yours, “I’d say that’s surprising and blush worthy.”

You sighed contently shutting your eyes, feeling completely secure in his embrace. You listened to him take breaths in and out in a soothing rhythm. You wished you could just stop time and stay right here.

“You know you can start in here.” Hades murmured as he began to drift off.

“Start?” You breathed against his neck.

He chuckled a little, “Yes…if it helps you get some sleep, you can always come to bed with me to begin with.”

“If we weren’t already living together, that would sound an awful like you asking me to move in.” You hunkered down next to him.

“Maybe you should…” You looked up to him cracking his eyes open, “move into my room…”

“You serious?” You stared at him amazed that you could be having such an easy ordinary conversation with him. With everything going on, it was almost surreal.

“Why not?” He smiled at you his eyes lighting up as he did, “We are technically married…”

You felt your face get red instantly. You’d just gotten to the boyfriend stage, but everyone kept saying wife. You had thought about it…you were okay with it…you thought.  

“Hey…if you don’t want to, it’s not a big deal.” He spoke softly when you fell silent on him.

“No…I mean…” You shut your eyes sighing, “I would not mind…in fact…I like the idea.”

“You do?” You nodded slowly before he went on, “But…”

“No but…” You shook your head as he stared at you, “What?”

“I’ve been around you long enough now to know that something is bothering you.” He propped himself up on his elbow letting his other hand caress your arm, “I also know you keep a lot to yourself because you don’t want to stress me out and I’ve told you numerous times that nothing you say will change anything.”

You pouted a little, “There isn’t anything and if there is I will let you know…but you need rest, especially with you having to go out and help search everyday…we should just go back to sleep.”

“Y/N…please talk to me.” God the look he was giving you would made you crazy. So much concern and love for you just oozing out of his eyes. It was wonderful.

“I promise I will if there is anything.” You smiled at him, “You know what I want right now though?”

“What?” He smiled as you inched closer to him.

“I think you already know the answer.” He chuckled as wrapped you up pulling you into a kiss.

Later you sat alone in the house absentmindedly throwing the ball for Cerberus out of the living room as you surfed the internet. Not going to school had left you free to figure out what to do…which meant nothing…

You surfed social networks, looked at videos, browsed stores…nothing really kept your interest long. You often found yourself looking out the large back window to the river. Hades had told you it was the Styx and what you were seeing was just an illusion.

“It’s important to see it. Any signs of trouble for the Underworld usually starts there.” He told you as he looked down at a book on his desk.

“Does trouble happen?” You looked back at him sitting at his desk. The window lined the entire back of the house so he could see it no matter what.

“Occasionally.” He wrote something down in the book before setting it aside and picking up a folder, “When a tragedy happens…the banks overflow and well its how shades are created. They need a new purpose, since their life ended before it was supposed to…so it’s a lot of work afterwards.”

“…has it happened recently?” He glanced up at you when you stepped up next to him.

“Um…yes.” He nodded glancing at the stack of folders on the corner of the desk, “Unfortunately.”

“Well, maybe I can help?” You tilted your head a little, “I could hand out assignments…”

He smiled at you turning his chair toward you, “I would like that, but it’s a little more complicated then just handing out details. You’d need to be able to traverse from realm to realm freely…”

“Ah…right…mortal means of travel only for this one…” You hung your head as he took your hands, “I just want to help. I hate that everyone is able to do something and I’m just…stuck here.”

“Hey, I will let you know as soon as you can do something.” He kissed your fingertips, “Until then, relax, you’ve been through a lot this last year. Maybe go visit your mom and your brother.”

Relax…sure thing. When people you cared about were out there looking for a psychotic goddess who was in league with your loved ones even more psychotic father…

You were brought back to what was in front of you when Cerberus dropped a slobbery ball on top of your hand. You made a face, “Cerby…really!”

He pawed at you giving you a goofy look making you laugh. You tossed the ball as your computer pinged letting you know that you had a new email. You watched Cerberus prance off after the ball before opening it up.

“Huh…” You read it over a few times. It was a letter from Professor Talbot reaching out about being a guest in class.

Hades looked at you over dinner when you told him about, “Do you think you’ll go?”

“I don’t know.” You held your wine glass in the air thinking, “Maybe…I did like his course, what little I went to. He seemed really open to talk about different perspectives and didn’t think I was off my rocker when I told him I believed in you all.”

“You should do it.” He told you after a while.

“I don’t know…I mean with everything going on…” You shook your head setting the glass down.

“Y/N, just because you’re part of my family now doesn’t mean you stop your life.” Hades reached over taking your hand, “I’m actually really worried that you’re shutting yourself off from the world because of us.”

“I’m not…I call my mom all the time.” You told him squeezing his hand, “And I text my brother…”

“You know what I mean.” He smirked at you a little, “You had friends and you liked riding your bike…go be a guest for the class…I’ll be here when you get home.”

You couldn’t imagine anyone being more supportive. That’s not true you could think of one, but he was likely in Elysium now with Papa. You really did need to go see your mom and Gigi more often.

A week later you were back in the classroom discussing your belief in Hellenism. The class asked a lot of question about rituals, sacrifices, and whether or not you danced around a fire naked. Of course, you answered them to the best of your ability, putting to rest a lot of the misconceptions. You told them that most of your family had converted to Christian Orthodox but retained a strong belief in the Hellenistic gods.

“How does that work? How can you believe in one thing and then something that completely opposes it?” A young freshman girl asked squinting at you.

“Uh…good question. I mean…my grandparents were very Hellenistic. They would pump it into every bedtime story and they were so superstitious. Since my father was raised that way it translated over, it was my mom who was more the Christian Orthodox.” You smiled at her, “We went to church, had communion…but uh…my parents never made me choose.”

“So…which is it?” Another student asked.

“Well, you know about a year ago I would have said Christian Orthodox, but I have had a bit of journey this year.” You told them leaning against the front desk, “At the end of the day I guess I believe in it all now, but I put my faith in only a certain few.”

“What ones?” You flushed a little as everyone stared at you expectantly.

“And that is all the time we have for today. Everyone join me in thanking Ms. Petrakis for being willing to share her beliefs.” Professor Talbot stepped next to you clapping his hands getting the rest of the class to join him. He assigned them all some work as they filed out.

You collected your jacket and helmet turning to him, “Professor Talbot, thank you for inviting me here today.”

“No, thank you for coming. I missed having you in class.” He smiled at you as he button up his suit coat, “I heard about what happened with your father…I’m sorry.”

You took a deep breath in nodded as pain hit your heart, “Thank you…”

“You seem to be fairing well.” You looked at him as he started collecting papers off his desk.

“I have a good support system around me. Not sure I’d make it without them.” You told him setting your helmet on a desk and zipped up your coat.

“I bet, having the whole of Olympus does make one feel comfortable I imagine.” You froze momentarily as he continued to pack up.

He turned around big smirk planted on his face. You felt your mouth go dry as his eyes pierced yours making you shiver, “Well…Hellenism has it’s perks that way…”

“Hm…you’re very bright.” He stepped toward you as you picked up your helmet, “I can see the appeal I suppose.”

Your heart thumped against your chest wildly as a tingling sensation filled your nose, “E-excuse me?”

“You’re a very hard person to kill, Ms. Petrakis.” He ran a hand through his hair, his handsome features disappearing turning into a dangerous look as you began taking steps away from him, “Then again I was relying on an incompetent youngling…”

You swallowed down the knot in your throat, “What did you do with Media?”

“I put her away.” He shrugged a little as if it was an everyday occurrence, “Along with a few others, not to worry…”

“W-what do you want from me?” You felt a tear fall down your face as you bumped into a desk.

He stepped right up to you, taking your chin in between his finger and thumb gently with care, “Media, already told you what I wanted. I want you to break Hades’ heart. Shatter it…send him spiraling down the rabbit hole back where he belongs…”

“He’s your son…how can you-ah!” His grip tightened quickly silencing you.

“He…is a tool…one I intend to reforge to use for my purpose and believe me…” He leaned in right next to your face, “if you don’t do exactly as I say…you will watch him destroy everything you love and hold dear once I have ahold of him.”

He let go of you standing up straight giving you a smile, “Have a good day, Ms. Petrakis. Thank you again for your wonderful presentation.”

When he finally left, everything seemed to catch up with you. You grabbed your helmet running for the bathroom into a stall getting sick several times before collapsing into a sobbing mess. You could feel your arm burning and soon your phone was ringing.

You pulled it out seeing Hades’ number. You answered it letting out another sob, “Ha-hades…don’t come here…you can’t come here…”

“Y/N, what’s wrong.” Hades looked at Poseidon as his hand went to his chest feeling distress, “Calm down and tell me what’s happening.”

“Cronus…he’s here…I don’t know how but he’s here.” You shuddered pulling your knees closer to yourself as tears soaked into your jeans, “H-he did something to Media…and I think someone else…”

“I’m coming to get you.” He turned from Poseidon who had already summoned his trident. Your immediate protest made him pause, “Y/N, you’re not safe there…”

“I-I’ll go…I just…” You took in a deep breath, “I just need a minute. I’m okay.”

“You’re not…” You could hear his fear through the phone, “You’re not okay…let me come to you.”

“No…that’s what he wants…” You sniffed putting your hand to your chest, “He wants you.”

Hades felt his world drop from under him. After all this time locked away in the darkest depths of this world, his hatred for Hades still existed.

Hades cleared his throat, “Go straight home. I will meet you there.”