#continue drawing and focusing your energy inward

[cherry-vennom]

The deeper you go, the lighter it gets.

[blackjackkent]

Arabella has been staying in camp since they rescued her from the House of Healing. However, she has kept to herself, not speaking to anyone except for an occasional mumbled thank you when someone brings her food. Even Karlach, who has made the biggest effort to connect with her, can't get anything out of her. So Rakha is surprised to notice, as they begin to make camp for the evening in a shadowed corner of the temple, that Withers of all people has approached the young girl and seems to be in a (for him) animated conversation with her.

As Rakha draws close, she sees Arabella's shoulders hunch up, and she flinches away from whatever Withers just said.

"I don't believe it," she mumbles. "They can't be..."

Magic swirls on her skin - the same magic Rakha witnessed from her out in the shadows, with the same wildness as Rakha's own. Her breathing quickens with agitation.

"Breathe, child," Withers intones, watching her. His voice is the closest approximation to gentle that he is capable of, but his eyes burn with unusual intensity in his skeletal face. "Resist not the winds of change. Let them carry thee."

"No..." Arabella whispers.

Then, louder - angry, despairing, defiant... "NO!"

The magic flares up around her in a sudden bright wave. It blasts outwards through Rakha, searing through her skin down to her bones and she gives a low, howling moan of pain and staggers. It is the most visceral touch of magic she has ever encountered, as if the Weave - or something deeper still, the very energy of the ground she stands on - has reached into her and gripped her heart.

For a seemingly infinite moment the air around them writhes and burns, and then Withers raises a hand as if to arrest the power in its tracks.

"Listen!" he says sharply. "Dost thou not hear it? Where creation meets ruin, where morning meets midnight... the root of all being..."

Rakha has no idea what he is talking about - but the words seem to mean something to Arabella. The boiling energy eases. Her fists slowly unclench and her arms fall to her sides.

"Balance," Withers murmurs.

"They're dead..." Arabella mutters brokenly. "I can't..."

Silence. The magic wave fades down into rippling stillness again, though Rakha can still feel it shuddering under her skin.

"Balance..." Arabella whispers.

Narrator: Your very soul is tangled in shadow. Arabella's magic, wild as cursed briar. Her talent is now yours too.

Rakha stands very still, breathing slowly, focusing inward, feeling this new touch of magic settle into her. It is not like her usual magic, the magic of the Weave. It is something closer to what Jaheira and Halsin control - the power of earth and sky and plant and creature. Nature, but nature as it exists in this cursed land, touched by the dark of the Shadowfell.

It is something wholly new to her, except that it is wild in the way that Rakha's magic has always been in the time that she can remember. That wildness is the only thing familiar about it.

She opens her eyes to find Withers watching her impassively. "The girl must learn the ways of the arcane," he says gravely. "But she shan't remain here."

Rakha considers this, glancing at the girl who stands shivering between them. [WILD MAGIC] "Who could teach the girl?" she says flatly. "Her magic is even wilder than mine."

"She will tame it in time," Withers answers. "The Weave would not see one like her abandoned. Arabella holds a power beyond reckoning - that of the decaying forest and the seedling that bore it. But it is unbalanced. Her yoke is already heavy; if she walks thy path it will surely break."

Rakha feels a slight ripple of sardonic amusement. As it is, my path may break mine as well, she thinks wryly. But her attention is caught. She has never heard the Weave spoken of this way before - as a conscious thing with an agenda and control. She has heard Gale speak of Mystra as its orchestrator, but never of the Weave itself having its own design.

"Arabella will depart," Withers continues. "Once thou dost leave these accursed lands. She will find her way safely; thus it is fated."

Arabella has moved to Withers' side and looks up at him, frightened. "Bone Man... you're making me leave?" she asks unsteadily.

"Fear not, girl," Withers murmurs reassuringly. "The Weave knows thy purpose. It will guide thee, if thou dost listen..."

Does the Weave see me? Rakha wonders abruptly. Does it have plans for me as well?

She finds that she wishes for such a reassurance for herself - that the veil of the world's magic will guide her to the right path, which seems so often clouded of late. And she wishes the girl could stay, so that Rakha could better understand this new magic and what the Weave might intend for her.

But she cannot even begin to form words that might stand against Withers' calm, implacable certainty.

"I'm sorry," she says gruffly. "I wish it could be different."

Arabella's face crumbles in fear and grief, her shoulders shaking with a sob. And then, to Rakha's surprise, Withers lifts a hand and--

Warm, golden light suffuses all three of them, saturating the air, sinking through them like water through oil. Rakha's breath catches, and Arabella's sobs fall to sudden silence.

Narrator: You feel her grief fade as if it were your own. There is a lightness in her now, veiling the power within, soothing it.

A moment of peace. The spell is not meant for Rakha - she does not feel the full effect of it. But she feels how it calms them both, settling for a moment the turbulent maelstrom of emotions that are Rakha's constant companions. Inwardly she is still, her own wild magic soothed and even and silent.

Not since her last dream of the guardian - not even in Wyll's embrace - has she felt so at peace. She squeezes her eyes shut and holds onto the feeling as long as it lasts.

"Is that my future?" she hears Arabella say wonderingly. "Is that why they died?"

"It is," answers Withers softly.

"It's wonderful..." Arabella sounds calm now too. Settled. Eager, even. "Thank you, Bone Man. For being nice."

Rakha opens her eyes and finds the girl looking up at her with a slight smile. "If there are people like you around," Arabella says, "perhaps everything will be all right."

Rakha doesn't answer. She doesn't share the girl's confidence about that. And yet... in the wake of that soothing moment of peace, it is possible to almost believe it.

[kk8official]

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[growwithmeastrology]

Saturday, July 22nd 2023

Sun in Cancer ♋️🌊 and Leo ♌️🔥Moon in Virgo ♍️🌎

I know I’m not the only one but the last few days have been exhausting. Well today, there will still be some stuff to get through then the energies will finally turn and have an element of fun.

The power struggles continue as the Sun in Cancer is still opposite Pluto in Capricorn. The Virgo Moon will trine Uranus in Taurus where the innovative mind is still active and the Virgo Moon is also opposing Neptune in Pisces. What ever conclusions we’re drawing from whatever we’ve had on our plate this week, is probably inaccurate and not what it seems or what we think it is. The Virgo Moon will also trine Pluto in Capricorn which is a great time to research and review for hidden truths.

Late tonight the energies shift big time. The Venus retrograde is here and the Sun makes its way into playful Leo. Now this is, all eyes on me, main character energy. If you know a Leo, then you know they always seem to take center stage. With the Venus retrograde also in Leo, that energy is reenforced having us focus more on what we value for ourselves and in ourselves. Venus is the planet of love and beauty but also values and personal finances. It will be retrograde until October. I predict some major glow ups this fall as we’ll be focusing more inward with this transit and rethinking or changing up our appearance. It’s possible old flames turn up at this time or have already as we’ve been feeling this energy as the planet stalled. Check the Leo area of your chart to see how and what area of life is affected.

Get through today with all those crazy transits. Tomorrow is a different story. ☮️💚✨

📸: Fernanda Meier Photography. Check out her work at FernandaMeier.com

Learn more about your personal energies and how the daily forecast affects you! Comment below⬇️ or DM me for a FREE consultation.

Grow With Me Astrology provides astrological roadmaps that empowers people to take full control of their lives. Let me reveal to you the most powerful tool you already possess.

If you’d like to support or donate:

🅿️ PayPal @KameyBatizWilson, Venmo @KameyBatiz or CashApp $NaliniFlor

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Matters of Importance Part 4: The Padawan Years

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hello! Thank you for your patience as I wrote this part, I’m working on updates as I post this, not sure when they’ll come, but thank you for all the love on this fic!

Warnings: Torture (I have separators in for you to skip the torture if that is something you don’t want to read), Violence, Blood/Gore, Angst

Summary: (Ages 16-20ish) A glimpse into the years of missions as Padawans and what travels through the connection. Years of separation and training makes you cling to the connection, wondering if Obi-Wan is as invested in it. It’s not until your mission goes wrong that you both realize the importance of the connection.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,861

You were sixteen when you felt a shift in your connection with Obi-Wan. After a few years of training under Master Yoda, he was put under the tutelage of Master Jinn. Master Windu and Jinn promoted a fostering of the Force connection between the both of you, years of meditating and communicating through the Force had made it so you could sense the other, even across Coruscant. There was never a need to test the connection further, at least, that was until the missions began. Obi-Wan and Master Qui-Gon had been sent on a mission to Mandalore. Your knowledge of their mission was limited, but you knew that there was unrest in the planet, that the duchess was in need of protection. The danger must have been significant if it required Jedi.

Within a few weeks of his time there, you felt him withdrawing from you, not a complete break, but distancing from you. The past few months there had been a consistent flow between the two of you, your Force signatures were constantly entwined. You could sense his unease, his concern, then you sensed his concern focus. On what, or who you weren’t sure, but you could feel his mind shift to one thing. It had been a matter that intrigued Master Yoda, even planets away, you were able to connect like you were next to each other. But slowly you felt Obi’s Force signature ebbing away from you. You tried to shake off your confusion and sat down, crossing your legs to begin meditating. Inhale, exhale, inhale….. You feel the Force draw you into its arms, wrapping you in peace.

You reached out to Obi-Wan, only to find a wall blocking you from him. He had never put up walls against you, you both had sworn that you would never let anything come between you, but here it was. A wall. Blocking you out. Hurt and fear rushed through your veins. You pushed them away, control. Even though a part of you wanted to push against the wall, maybe break through it.Control, you snarled to yourself. Reaching inward to find peace and clarity. Search your feelings. You are hurt because he cut himself off from you. You analyzed. You are scared, he could be hurt. You would feel something if he was injured. He couldn’t keep that from you. Someone could be in his mind, searching it. He might be protecting you.

While you analyzed your feelings a turmoil began to boil in the pit of your stomach. He could be intentionally cutting you off. He probably is. You don’t matter. You are insignificant. You began the inner battle, feeling Master Windu’s Force energy reaching out to you, filled with clarity and calmness. You anchored yourself to his energy and began to battle your inner self.

Your insecurities, your doubts, bringing each to the surface, only to wrap them in clarity, in rational thought. Obi-Wan may have had his reasons for blocking you, but they would not rule your existence. His actions were not in your control, but your reactions were. Fear and anger would lead down a path of no redemption, to the dark side.

When you opened your eyes, Master Windu sat across from you. His eyes opened as yours did. “Nice work, Padawan.” He said, “Now, to sparring.” He rose from his seated position, you rising as he did.

You walked a step behind your Master to the sparring ring. It was empty today, odd. You heard Master Windu ignite his saber, the amethyst light glowing in the arena. You ignited yours, a pale yellow light falling on your face. Windu made the first move, a direct attack, you brought your saber up to counter his, dancing out of his reach and beginning a quick burst of counterattacks. He parried each blow, pushing forward, but you held your own against him. Even with your sabers set to the lowest settings, you could feel the heat when they collided. He gave a shove and you fell onto your back, you rolled over your shoulder and leapt to your feet.

“Good, very good.” He murmured, his saber retracting. “What is it that troubles you?”

You retracted your saber and looked at him. “I felt Obi-Wan block me from the connection.” The connection was not something that Master Windu claimed to be an expert in, but he never ignored its importance to you.

Windu hummed for a moment. “Mandalore is in a fluctuating state. The mission he is on, is not an easy one.”

You nodded, glancing down at the ground. “What if the connection is lost?”

Windu rubbed at his chin for a moment. “We never had you attempt to keep the connection across the galaxy, perhaps there is a limit when it comes to distance.” You could feel his eyes staring at you. “There is no reason to lose yourself to worry, you can only control how you react.”

More weeks passed before you felt a fluttering across the Force during meditation. Obi? You asked tentatively, reaching out, keeping your reach light as a feather, afraid that if you reached out too aggressively he would disappear.You could feel him retreating from you. Promise, your mind grumbled insistently, Never shut us out.

Then his voice appeared, danger, running, alive. He started to fade from your mind, the connection breaking.

Air rushed from your lips in relief. He was alive, that was a comfort, the only comfort you had from the news. Time continued to pass, every so often you would receive a snippet of emotion or a simple, alive. You continued to train with Master Windu, sparring daily. During your sessions with him you had noticed other masters in the doorways, around the area when your sabers were ignited. You decided to ignore them and focus on the battle at hand. It was no secret that you had become skilled with the blade, but it was hardly a reason for the Masters to appear.

Master Yoda appeared one day during sparring practice. He watched from the doorway, leaning on his cane. You became distracted for a moment and Master Windu’s blade singed your hair. You shook your head and focused on sparring, the battle ended with Master Windu pinned to the ground, your blade at his chin. You heard a shuffling of feet and glanced at the door, Master Yoda was nowhere to be found.

The year came to a close and Mandalore was set right. When the news that their mission had been completed you were excited, Obi would be coming home. You reached out to him in excitement and felt a cloud surrounding him.

Obi? You reached out tentatively through the Force. You could feel him reaching for you.

I’m here. His voice whispered in your mind. It’s alright.

You sensed the lie, anyone would have been able to. Liar.

A chuckle traveled through the galaxy to you. I understand why the Jedi forbid attachment.

You could feel the tinge of sadness that laced his words. The frustration, the hurt. I’m sorry. His Force signature leaned into yours, and they mingled together for a moment. You wanted to press him for more information on what had happened, your mind was racing trying to understand.

We’re entitled to our secrets, even from each other. His voice murmured settling your racing mind.

The years continued, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were sent on missions to maintain peace throughout the galaxy. You remained with Master Windu on Coruscant, taking missions when the Council mandated it. Master Windu’s dedication to the preservation of the Jedi arts fueled your late teens and early twenties. As master and apprentice you had brought several younglings to the Order, delivered safely to begin their training. You had found joy in the missions, the smiles of the younglings when they joined their clans. Every return to the Temple you were greeted by eager little ones to meet the newest member. You had found peace in the missions.

That all changed when you landed on Oosalon. You were aware that Padawans had been missing, and their masters along with them. But you hadn’t realized what the warlord Guattako was doing, the army of children he was amassing. Windu had explained the missing Padawans, but no one had been aware of just what Guattako was planning.

Landing on Oosalon you noted the barren terrain, high cliffs and mountains littered the landscape, not a single plant grew. You tried to tap into the planet’s Force, but it was feral, filled with fear and anger.

“Stay alert, we don’t know what lies ahead.” Windu warned as he lead you up a steep incline.

You continued climbing, looking for signs of the lost children and Masters. You froze when a rock fell from the path above you. You glanced up and a flurry of red landed on you, knocking you to the ground. You grasped for any hold, but were pinned on your back. Master Windu went to ignite his saber and a blade appeared at his throat.

“I wouldn’t try it, Jedi.” A green skinned Kyuzo barked, knife biting into Windu’s throat.

The girl dragged you to a standing position, your arms pinned behind your back. She unclipped your saber from your belt and shoved it into her pack. “Don’t forget to bag his.”

You were shoved to your knees in front of, what you assumed was a man. Clothed in dark stone armor and a red cape, his face was concealed behind some kind of deer mask. He sat on a throne, hewn into the side of the cave, his legs crossed over the arm as he lay across it. A staff lazily gripped in his right hand.

“Guattako, we found them on the trail.” The red haired woman snarled, the child had ran into the darkness.

The man, Guattako, appraised you and Master Windu. “Another apprentice and master, I wonder, will they turn to me just as quickly as the others when I kill the master?”

“I would never.” You spat out, Windu giving a warning murmur as the warlord’s full attention turned to you.

“Never?” He asked, “Aren’t you angry, they stole you from your family, trained you, robbed you of the place you belonged?”

“I am where I belong.”

“Oh dear child, how would you know?” Guattako chuckled, “I will make a deal with you. Join me and I will spare you from death.”

“Never.” You spat out.

Guattako whirled on Master Windu, “And what do you have to say, Master?” He stated the title in a mocking tone.

“My apprentice is free to make their own choices, and it would seem, they made their choice clear.” Windu answered calmly.

Guattako’s eyes glowed his eyes landing on the lightsaber in his accomplice’s hand. He reached out his hand and she placed it in his hand. “I will break your apprentice, then I will kill you. All on the holonet, for others to see. They will see, my cause is even greater than the Jedi!” Guattako snarled, he looked down at Windu’s saber in his hands and broke it over his knee. He snapped his fingers, causing the red haired woman and another to grab you and toss you against the wall.

They tied your arms to the chains hanging from the walls. A droid hovered in front of you, it scanned your frame then a red light began flickering on its face.

——————————————————————————————————

The red haired woman approached Guattako and placed two knives into his waiting hands. He spun them, the light glinting of the blades, he turned to Windu. “Shame, I could have had a new lieutenant.” Then he swiped down on your dominant arm, slicing through your robe and into the flesh, you screamed as he dug the blade into the wound. He ripped the blade out and you felt the blood dripping from your arm.

He brought the blade up to your cheek and dragged it down, a long cut following its path. He chuckled, “I’ve always liked the color red.” His blade notched a small cut in your robe and he ripped it open, exposing your front. He sheathed his blade and held his hand out to the girl over his shoulder. “Saber.”

Your lightsaber was placed in his open palm, you flinched when he ignited it. The hum filled your ears, that hum had always been comforting, but in this moment, your blood ran cold. Guattako chuckled.

“In all the Masters I have killed, I haven’t used their sabers against them.” He stepped back for a moment and twirled your saber in his hand. “I’ve heard of the damage Jedi do with these, sure, there’s the ability to cut through anything. Metal, bone, stone. The Padawans I saved, spoke of burns that they had when learning how to wield the saber.” He smirked before setting the blade of your saber against your side.

Heat burned at your side and a scream ripped from your mouth. Your saber was removed from your side for a moment before it was set against your other side. The smell of burning flesh made you wretch.

You could feel eyes on you, not just the ones in the room, but familiar ones. You looked up and swore you saw Obi-Wan before you. This thought was a small distraction before your saber blade was pressed against your body so many times that you were wondering how much of your skin wasn’t burnt by your lightsaber.

——————————————————————————————————

“Would you die for the Jedi Order?” Guattako asked, you could hear the sneer in his voice under his mask.

You glared into his red eyes. “I would.”

You could sense the smirk on Guattako’s face, hidden by his mask as he raised your lightsaber to your throat, the heat pulsing as you took a breath. You raised your eyes to his. If the bastard was going to kill you, you would look into his eyes. Blaster fire echoed in the cave, Guattako fell, your sable rolling across the cave. A young Padawan stood opposite you, blaster in his shaking hands.

“I want to go home.” The boy whimpered. He gripped the blaster and his eyes traveled to Master Windu, who he ran to and began untying him.

“And we will go home.” Windu told the boy before he stood and raced to you, he manipulated the Force to break the chains that held you up, he caught you in his arms as you slumped forward. He gripped at your chin, turning your gaze to him. “I am proud of you.”

You felt tears forming in your eyes. “Master…”

He shook his head, “Sleep now.” He waved his hand before your face and your eyelids drooped and you felt sleep overtake your mind.

Pain burned through the connection, Obi-Wan felt panic rise in his throat. It had been months since anything had passed through the connection. He reached out to you, trying to understand why he was feeling the pain. He tried to send soothing energy to you, something from him. He felt you lock onto his energy for a moment before more pain filled his senses. Master Qui-Gon had sequestered himself in the holo room of the ship. Obi-Wan pushed himself into the room, his eyes wild as he searched for his Master.

Qui-Gon stared up from the holonet projection, Obi-Wan’s eyes fell on your projection. He flinched when the masked figure used his knives against you. He froze when your lightsaber ignited in the figure’s hands.

“Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon greeted solemnly. “The mission on Oosalon has turned. Guattako captured them. He plans to execute Windu, after breaking his apprentice.”

Qui-Gon’s apprentice gripped at his head as pain rippled through the connection again. “So we’re just going to watch? We have to go to them!”

“We are across the galaxy.” Qui-Gon murmured. “We wouldn’t make it in time. The Council is aware of the sacrifice they make.”

“Is sacrifice all the Council cares about?” Obi-Wan snarled.

A chuckle escaped Qui-Gon’s lips. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

Then your voice cut through the room. “I would.”

Obi’s eyes grew wide. “No, no!” He reached out with the Force, wildly grasping for your signature. He locked on just as the blaster fire rang out. Guattako fell and you remained breathing, your eyes focused on where Obi stood through the holonet. Alive. He heard your voice in his mind.

“We are returning to Coruscant.” Qui-Gon stated, standing from his seat and turning off the holonet projection. Obi’s head whipped to his Master, who offered nothing more as he walked to the pilot’s seat.

Obi-Wan sighed, he hadn’t realized the security that single word had brought to him. It had been years since the mission on Mandalore, he wondered if you had felt the same when he sent that one word. Alive. He sat on the floor and closed his eyes, willing himself to meditate, to calm his mind. He was consumed by calm as your voice echoed in his mind. Alive.

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Nine-Part One)

Summary: After (Y/N) experiences a health scare tied to her evolving magic, she and Loki decide to take some time off from their Avenger duties to visit Asgard.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Nine (Part I) September 28th, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

“How’s the book, doll?”

Careful to not move her head too much, (Y/N) glanced up from her novel to look at Steve, who was entirely focused on sketching her from his spot on the floor of the library. The super soldier’s brow was furrowed and his blue eyes were narrowed in concentration as he hunched over his work, his pencil flying over the large sketchbook resting in his lap. During her first week in the tower while she was still getting to know everyone, Steve surprised her by asking if she could pose for him sometime and she agreed, a little flattered that he wanted to sketch her of all people. It’s nice that he finally has the free time to do this, she thought to herself, knowing how busy he’d been the past few months with his role as the leader of the Avengers. “It’s good, but I think I prefer the movie; the humor doesn’t work as well here as it does onscreen, although that may be my childhood crush on Cary Elwes talking.” She turned the page of the book. “Have you seen The Princess Bride yet?”

The super soldier glanced up and nodded before resuming his drawing. “Yeah, Clint made me watch it a while ago, claimed it was the best movie ever made. It’s pretty good, but the best movie ever made’s actually Casablanca; you can’t go wrong with Bogie and Bergman.” He pulled away from his sketchbook to examine his work before swiftly returning to it. “So, how’s everything going with you and Loki?”

“Everything’s going great,” (Y/N)’s smile widened as she thought about her boyfriend and their incredible two months of dating. “He’s actually been talking about bringing me to Asgard to meet his mother…”

Steve’s brow rose and a bright smile played on his lips. “Meeting his mom, huh? Sounds like things really are going great.”

“Unfortunately, it’s a bit more complicated than that. You see, Loki and Thor haven’t explicitly said anything but I’ve got a feeling that Asgard’s not very welcoming of Midgardians, so who knows what Queen Frigga will think of me…” (Y/N) chuckled lightly, but inside her emotions were swirling. After everything Loki had told her about his mother, (Y/N) was a little nervous at the prospect of meeting such an important person in his life, but she’d been sure to hide her discomfort from him; she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by making him think she didn’t want to meet the Queen of Asgard.

“I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, doll. Just based on the way Thor and Loki talk about her, she sounds like a very kind woman and I’m sure that she’ll like you a lot. Hell, if you could get Tony Stark to like you after almost killing him, then I’m sure that the Queen of Asgard’s gonna be a piece of cake.”

(Y/N) suppressed her laughter at his words and felt herself begin to finally relax. “Thank you, Steve.”

“Don’t mention it,” Pulling away from his sketchbook to examine it once again, Steve smiled and looked up at her. “There, all done!” With an inward sigh of relief, (Y/N) set her book aside and stretched out her aching limbs. “You’re a lot tougher than the others, you know, they usually whine and complain whenever I have them pose for too long.”

(Y/N) chuckled, slowly getting to her feet and stretching her unusually sore legs; I must’ve pulled a muscle during my mission yesterday, she thought with an inward shrug. “I guess I’m just more patient than they are; ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ can take down countless Hydra agents in a single mission without breaking a sweat yet they can’t sit still long enough to be sketched…almost like puppies…”

Laughing, Steve got to his feet and closed his sketchbook. “Well, thanks for posing for me, doll, and I promise I’ll show it to you as soon as I touch it up.”

They walked side-by-side out of the library and down the hall. “I really should be thanking you, Steve; I’ve seen some of your sketches, and it’s an honor to have such a skilled artist choose me as his model.” (Y/N) grinned when he blushed at her compliment. “We should probably head to dinner; I think I heard Tony mention that Clint was making his world-famous lasagna.”

“Damnit, Sam and Bucky’ll try to hog the whole thing like last time…”

(Y/N) stopped walking, a sudden chill in the air causing her to shiver. “You go on ahead, Steve, I’m going to go and grab a sweater from my room. Save me some lasagna from those bottomless pits while I’m gone?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He flashed her a smile and hurried down the hall to the dining room as she turned and headed to her room. Just as she reached her door, however, she suddenly felt lightheaded. Black spots began dancing before her eyes and she leaned heavily against the wall; gasping for a breath, she tried to call out to J.A.R.V.I.S. for help but not a sound came out of her throat. Her knees finally gave way and she fell into unconsciousness before she hit the floor.

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

Swirls of purple magic clouded (Y/N)’s vision before clearing to reveal two shadowy figures. They appeared to be a woman and a man but they vanished before she could get a good look at them; suddenly, a strangely-familiar voice echoed in her mind…

“She must never learn the truth of her heritage. The truth will not only destroy her, but the world as we know it…as painful as it will be for her, she must never know about her parents.” The voice waivered a little. “Goodbye, my darling (Y/N). Until we meet again in the stars…”

“(Y/N)? Darling, can you open your eyes for me? Please?”

(Y/N) was pulled out of her deep slumber by another voice. A very distressed, yet achingly familiar, voice. With a small groan, (Y/N) slowly opened her eyes and Loki’s worried face came into view. “Loki?”

Loki’s face broke out into a relieved smile but his green eyes were still filled with concern. “Thank the Norns! How do you feel?”

“I feel fine…a little cold, I guess, but other than that…” She trailed off as she looked around the room, realizing that she was once again propped up on a bed in the tower’s sickbay. “How long was I unconscious?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Frowning to herself, (Y/N) recalled her strange dream. If she’d only been unconscious for a quarter of an hour, then it would be scientifically impossible for her to experience a dream; dreams occur during the REM cycle, usually over an hour from falling asleep. However, Loki continued on before she could say anything about it. “Romanoff and I were just returning from our mission debriefing when the Artificial Intelligence informed us all that you’d collapsed. We found you in the hall and took you down here; Doctor Banner and Stark are running some tests to determine what caused your fainting spell, they should be done any minute now…”

(Y/N) wrapped her arms tightly around her torso, trying to generate enough heat to warm herself. “I think I might’ve overexerted myself during my mission yesterday; I’ve never succeeded in making something explode with my magic before and I probably used too much energy doing it…”

The day before, she and Clint were attempting to take a suspected Hydra scientist into custody in a French hospital but were forced into a high-speed chase through the city; the chase ended suddenly when (Y/N) concentrated her magic and blew up the road in front of the scientist’s car, causing it to skid to a stop and allowing them to finally apprehend him. I suppose that arresting that Hydra scientist and seeing my magic advance so much is worth the extra exhaustion, she thought with an inward shrug.

Nodding, Loki took the blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders before taking her hand in his. “I believe that as well, but it’s wise of Doctor Banner and Stark to evaluate your health just in case.” He tightened his hold on her hand as he continued, “Will you promise me that you’ll be more careful with your magic in the future? Remember, you need to stick around and force me to read that infernal Percy Jackson book series.” Although his voice took on a teasing tone as he repeated her own familiar words, she could clearly see the vulnerability swirling in his eyes; she could only imagine how he’d felt, seeing her unconscious and unresponsive on the ground, and her heart clenched in her chest.

“Of course I will, sweetheart…” With a small twinge of pain to her sore muscles, (Y/N) leaned forward, cupping his cheek with her hand and pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. Loki immediately kissed back and released her hand in favor of wrapping his arms around her and tugged her closer to him. When she pulled away, his lips followed after hers and she couldn’t help but smile. “So, does that mean you’re finally going to read them?”

Chuckling, Loki pressed his forehead to hers and grinned. “Oh no, my love, I cannot be swayed that easily-” She interrupted him with another kiss, this time with more passion; running her fingers through his soft hair, she gently tugged on the ends and elicited a growl of satisfaction from him. To her pleasant surprise, Loki’s lips began trailing openmouthed kisses along her jaw and down to the skin of her neck, and she couldn’t hold back her breathless moan when she felt his teeth graze the sensitive spot just beneath her ear.

“Okay (Y/L/N), we’ve got your-geez, get a damn room, you guys!”

They broke apart and immediately noticed Tony and Bruce standing in the open doorway, Tony’s hand clamped over his eyes in disgust and Bruce smiling at the ground in mild embarrassment; (Y/N) was awkwardly holding her head in one of her hands and Loki was grinning roguishly, obviously enjoying the billionaire’s discomfort. “On Asgard, one knocks when they wish to enter a room; do they not have that custom here on Midgard?”

Tony shrugged and removed the hand from his eyes. “Takes too much effort. Hey J.A.R.V.I.S., can you let me know if people are gettin’ hot and heavy in a room I’m about to enter?”

“Of course, sir, although Prince Loki has a point about knocking…”

“Anyway,” Bruce stepped forward and glanced down at the medical charts in his hands. “We finished running some tests and it looks that you have a severe cold, most likely brought on by your over-exertion yesterday. I recommend bed rest for the next twenty-four hours to prevent any more fainting spells, and I’m prescribing some Tylenol and chicken noodle soup for the cold; no solid foods, which is perfect because Sam and Bucky managed to polish off all of Clint’s lasagna by themselves while you were unconscious.” The doctor smiled and patted her on the shoulder as Tony muttered threats against the two offenders under his breath. “You’ll be okay, just be more careful with your magic from now on, all right?”

She nodded and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Bruce, I’ll be more careful. Do I have to stay in here or can I go back to my room?”

“You can go back to your room; I’ll make sure to tell everyone that you’re okay so they can stop worrying, and I’ll speak with Director Fury about giving you some time off to recover. Take it easy, (Y/N).” With one last smile, Bruce left the room.

Tony shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned. “Well…get better, Glinda, and no playing any ‘hide-the-zucchini’ for twenty-four hours, you two…” He giggled to himself as he followed Bruce out of the room, and (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“So childish, isn’t-Loki, what’re you doing?!” (Y/N) gasped in surprise when Loki suddenly picked her up in his arms and scrambled to hold onto his neck as he carried her down the hall to the elevator, afraid that she might slip out of his arms and fall.

“Doctor Banner said that you needed to rest, so I’m carrying you to your room.” Loki smiled cheekily down at her as he stepped into the elevator. “I wouldn’t want you to overexert yourself by walking, my lady.”

“Oh, my savior!” She pretended to swoon in his arms and he laughed at her dramatics. The elevator shot upwards, and (Y/N) rested her head against his chest as she asked, “How was your mission?”

“Child’s play. Romanoff and I had absolutely no trouble infiltrating the meeting and collecting intel. How was your day?”

“I read a little while posing for Steve.”

Loki hummed in acknowledgement and stepped out of the elevator when it stopped. “He didn’t show you the sketch when he finished, did he?” She shook her head as they continued down the hall. “He refused to show me the sketch he did of me as well. I suspect that he’s planning a grand reveal of all the ones he’s done of everyone in the tower…thank you, darling.” He said when she opened the door of her suite for him.

“Steve sketched you?” He never mentioned anything about it before, she thought curiously.

“Yes, he did…and I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I return with your soup and medicine.” After gently setting her down on her couch, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and left the room.

Standing up, (Y/N) took a cautious step forward and when she realized she wasn’t going to fall over, she made her way to her bedroom and changed into a pair of lounge pants and a long-sleeved thermal shirt. Her muscles once-again protested while she changed clothes and she dismissed it as lingering soreness from her collapse and her previous day’s mission as she sat on the couch and stretched her legs out across the cushions. Before she could reach for the magazine sitting on her coffee table, Loki returned with two soup bowls in his hands. “That was quick; maybe I should call you ‘God of Cooking’ instead of ‘God of Mischief!’”

“In this case, darling, I’m afraid that you can’t,” After handing her a bowl and a pill bottle, Loki picked up her feet, sat down and placed them in his lap. “Stark forced Wilson and Barnes to cook it as punishment for eating all the lasagna, so you have the two of them to thank for our dinner.”

“So, what’s the story behind you posing for Steve?” (Y/N) asked, blowing on her soup before taking a cautious sip.

Loki smiled and took a sip of his own soup before answering. “Well, during my first months as an Avenger I kept mostly to myself; I stayed in my room reading the books my mother gave me and only left whenever I was assigned a mission. The others, besides Thor of course, kept their distance and never attempted to be anything more than reluctant comrades-in-arms until my second month here. The others were supposed to be out of the tower, so I decided that I wanted to take advantage of their absence and read in the library for a change. When I arrived, however, Steve was already there and busy sketching the city’s skyline. I was surprised, to say the least; I never expected the soldier to have an artistic side, so I asked him about it. He told me about his childhood dream of becoming an artist and asked me about the art on Asgard; we ended up talking for quite a while, and I wound up posing for him.” Loki smile widened, a hint of admiration in his green eyes. “He was the first Midgardian I came to respect and as I gained his trust, the others soon followed until finally, I was allowed an unaccompanied trip to the local library where I met an incredibly clumsy trainee librarian…”

“I think ‘incredibly’ is a bit of an over-exaggeration, sweetheart,” (Y/N) replied grumpily as Loki smirked. “But I’m glad that Steve gave you a chance, otherwise we may have met under very different circumstances.” She shivered slightly at her own words; she was so busy as an Avenger that it was easy to forget Hydra’s attempted abduction of her all those months ago. To distract herself from her darker thoughts, she swallowed two Tylenol pills and smiled brightly. “Anyways, it’s still pretty early; did you want to read together or maybe watch a movie?”

He gave her a disapproving frown. “You heard Doctor Banner, darling, you need your rest…” When she continued to silently stare into his green eyes, he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat. “You know, those enchanting eyes of yours should be classified as deadly weapons; you wield their power as skillfully as you wield a sword.”

Grinning triumphantly, she took another sip of her soup. “Thank you, Loki, I’ll take that as a compliment.” She scooted closer to him and kissed his cheek as he smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist. “How about we watch That Thing You Do? I was listening to the soundtrack this morning and the theme song made me think of you.”

“It’s not like that atrocious Grease musical film, is it?”

“I promise you that it’s better, sweetheart.”

“…Fine.”

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

The next morning, (Y/N) slowly opened her eyes and smiled as she looked out her bedroom window; the sun was beginning to rise, illuminating the skyscrapers with a soft golden glow. The beautiful sight turned bittersweet as her thoughts shifted to her aunt. When she was little, her aunt would wake her up early on the weekends so they could watch the sunrise together; as they sipped on hot chocolate, the rising sun would brighten their small kitchen and instantly put the two of them in a good mood. Aunt Evelyn would’ve loved Loki, (Y/N) thought, her smile widening as she imagined the petite woman meeting the towering God of Mischief; it would’ve meant the world to her if the two most important people in her life had been able to meet.

“And Loki feels the same.” She muttered to herself, playing with the edge of her blanket as she thought about the situation. With her mind finally made up, she wrapped her arms around her pillow and continued to watch the sun light up the skyline of the city. When the sun began to shine high above the skyscrapers, there was a loud knock on her bedroom door. “Come in.” The door opened to reveal Loki, already dressed for the day and balancing a tray laden with food in one hand. “G’morning, Loki…what’s this?” She asked, sitting up in bed and putting her glasses on.

Loki grinned, setting the tray down on her lap and carefully climbing onto the bed next to her. “Breakfast in bed, of course; I wasn’t sure if you’d be feeling well enough to breakfast with the others, so I brought it to you instead.”

Smiling, (Y/N) kissed him on the cheek. “You’re amazing, sweetheart, thank you.” Egged on by her grumbling stomach, she started on her oatmeal first.

“Are you feeling any better?”

She nodded. “Yep, my muscles are still a little sore but I think my cold is gone.”

“Good, I’m glad…” Loki paused, an uncertain look on his face as his fingers fidgeted in his lap. “Darling, what would you say if I told you I asked Director Fury just now to give the both of us three weeks off?”

“Well,” (Y/N) began, suppressing her amused smile; she had a sneaking suspicion as to what he was getting at. “I’d say thank you, of course, then I’d ask you if he really agreed to that and if he did, I’d suggest that we use that time to visit your mother on Asgard. What would you say to that?” She gave him a knowing glance as she sipped her orange juice.

Loki’s lips curled into an amused grin. “I’d reply that yes, Director Fury’s been impressed with our ability to do our jobs without our, and I quote, ‘sappy romantic shit getting in the way’-” (Y/N) choked a little on her orange juice and shook her head in exasperation. “I’d assure you that he’s given us three weeks off, and then I’d agree with your suggestion, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” She joked before sobering. “I know that you think she’ll love me, Loki, but to be honest, I’ve been feeling a little nervous about meeting your mother.” When Loki opened his mouth to reply, she placed a finger on his lips to silence him; the comical look of surprise on his face nearly caused her to burst out laughing but she remained composed. “However, I also know that as long as you’re with me, I’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“You’re such a hopeless romantic, (Y/N),” Loki breathed before taking her face in his hands and kissing her sweetly. They parted after a moment, but he kept her close by pressing her forehead to hers. “You really are going to love Asgard, though, and I promise you that my mother will adore you just as much as I do; how could she not? You’re the kindest, most intelligent, beautiful woman in the entire universe, after all.”

“Now look at who’s the hopeless romantic.” (Y/N) teased, gently bumping his shoulder with her own as she continued eating her oatmeal. As she was finishing breakfast, Loki regaled her with talk of a rumored pranking war that was going on as a result of the hogged lasagna from the night before; I think he may need this time off more than I do, she thought pensively, watching him as he pondered aloud what clever pranks the others would come up with, a truly cheerful gleam in his eyes as he spoke.

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

By the next morning, however, things were looking significantly less cheerful. As it turned out, Thor learned of their trip and decided that he would also return to Asgard to give his quarterly report on the state of Midgard to Odin. (Y/N) didn’t have any problems with Thor accompanying them; in fact, she welcomed the presence of another friendly face on their trip, but someone else didn’t see the situation quite the same way she did.

“It’s as if I’m forbidden from visiting my home realm without being on a leash,” Loki muttered darkly under his breath as he paced along the tower’s protruding helipad, his displeasure evident in his scowl and the tension of his jaw. “Held tight by my glorified babysitter.”

“Loki, you and I both know that Thor’s not coming as a babysitter; he has a report to give and it just happens to be three months since the last one.” (Y/N) lightly scolded and continued to play with the hilt of her sword from her spot next to the glass doors. She originally decided to wear her uniform to Asgard and leave her sword in her room, but her gut told her that she might need it. Probably to break up whatever fight Loki and Thor are inevitably going to get into, she thought with a sigh as she glanced at the fully armored Asgardian before her. “So, are you going to bring your mother and Samson those flowers and fruits you told me about while we’re there?”

Just as she hoped, Loki’s mood brightened at her words. “Of course; perhaps I’ll bring you along with me when I do, but I’ll have to procure another horse and teach you to ride first.”

“I look forward to it,” She flashed him a smile as the glass doors opened and Thor emerged, also dressed in his full Asgardian armor. “Good morning, Thor!”

Thor grinned down at her. “Good morning, Lady (Y/N)! Good morning, brother!” Loki’s glare did nothing to damper the Asgardian’s good spirits. “Are you ready to depart?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yeah, but I think the others wanted to say goodbye before we leave-”

“Keep your pants on, (Y/L/N), we’re here,” Tony quipped as he walked onto the helipad, closely followed by Steve, Natasha and Bruce. “But just so you know, I’m only here to see the My Little Pony bridge, not you guys.”

Rolling her eyes as the others chortled, she gave him a hug. “Try not to get into too much trouble while we’re gone, Tony.”

“Trouble? Me?” Tony grinned when they separated. “Have a good time for me, Morgan le Fay.” He walked over to Thor and Loki and called over his shoulder to her, “Bring me back something cool!”

Steve was next; he wrapped his arms around her waist in his trademark bear-hug. “Keep your chin up, (Y/N), and you’ll knock ‘em dead.”

“Thanks Steve,” (Y/N) mirrored his bright smile and turned to Bruce. “Since you’ll be working on that new project of yours while I’m gone, I asked J.A.R.V.I.S. to remind you to take breaks for meals so promise me you’ll listen to him, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I promise,” Bruce ducked his head shyly before pulling her in for a hug. “It’s gonna be weird not having you around for a month, but you and Loki deserve a break, (Y/N). I hope you guys enjoy yourselves!”

Natasha grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the others. “Have fun, (Y/N), but keep your eyes open and your guard up; you’re dating a prince, after all.” Her lips curled into a mischievous grin. “And I wanna hear every juicy detail about your trip when you get back, okay?”

“Nat!” (Y/N) exclaimed under her breath, a light blush spreading across her cheeks at the spy’s suggestive words; she followed Natasha back to the others and was pleased to see them wishing Loki as well as Thor a good trip. “Well, thank you guys for seeing us off; can you please tell the others ‘goodbye’ for us when they get back from their missions?”

“Sure thing, (Y/N),” Steve nodded and ushered the others away from the circle of etchings the brothers were standing on. “Keep an eye on Thor and Loki, will you? They need all the looking-after they can get!”

Giggling as the two brothers scoffed and rolled their eyes from the end of the helipad, she took her place next to Loki and rested her arm around his waist. “You can count on me, Cap.” She looked up at her boyfriend and smiled. “Ready?”

“Ready.” Loki tore his excitement-filled eyes from hers and looked up at the blue sky above them as he tightly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and as Thor thrust his hammer into the air above.

A moment later, they were encased in a rainbow of lights and (Y/N) caught one last glimpse of the four Avengers waving before the three of them were completely pulled into the swirling beam of colors.

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

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Nine-Part Two

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[talesofnovembria]

19. A memory of someone they don’t see anymore

Send A Number to Experience One of My Muse’s Memories

You are not sure where you are when you look around. You can tell it’s inside some kind of building from the interior design, as well as the stone walls and ground. There’s a warm glow around you, but only so small to cut through the darkness that surrounds you.

The sound of ‘clanging’ draws your attention away from your surroundings. There are a few soldiers clashing with each other… or rather soldiers and… you’re not sure what the other is.

The one crossing blades with the other combatants looks human in physicality, but dark in shape. If it weren’t for the fact that he was solid, you’d almost be able to say he was a shadow. A ‘shade’ perhaps then.

Finally you fall on Salena. Much of her is the same… save for a couple things that stand out. Aside from her altered physical look… her fur is… different. There’s patches of fur along her face that are not normal… same with the fur you can see between her armor. The colors are wrong to how you remember her looking. You can also see along her left arm, that’s exposed, are strange tattoos. The weapon she’s holding is also one you haven’t seen her wield before.

She shakes her head, eyes focusing on the shade as she pushes herself off the wall. The blade is in her right hand, the left one coming up to her forehead so she can try and reorientate herself. You watch as she tightens the grip on the blade, taking a few steps towards the shade.

You pause as you see a glow coming from her arm. Her face contorts in a way that shows pain.

There’s a static that fills the air around you. A voice breaks through, but the static remains as an undertone of the voice. It’s as if you are hearing voices you are not meant to.

Ah ah ah worgen. Don’t think about it.

“What?”

Don’t interfere.

“You can’t be serious.”

Oh I am very serious. Don’t interfere.

“I can’t do nothing. Everything I’ve done has been to help him. Fehskir must be stopped.” There’s a moment where you see her face twist more in pain, her arm glowing slightly brighter.

Did you forget? You made a deal in service to me. You do what I tell you.

Do. Not. Interfere.

You see her open one eye, glancing down at the weapon in her hand. You watch as her lips curl up, her teeth pulling together as she snarls. You watch as she raises her right arm, “I’ve come too far to stop now. You will not stop me.” You watch as the sword comes down on her left arm, severing it from the rest of her body. There’s a slow stream of blood flowing from her shoulder, but that doesn’t seem to be bothering Salena any. You can see the pained look fade from her face.

Both of you glance over at the arm on the floor. There is no movement from it, but the tattoos continue to glow from the discarded limb. There was a brief pause before Salena’s focus returned to the shade, ‘Fehskir’ from what you can infer.

You can hear the ‘tink’ of metal remains hitting stone as she moves. Fehskir has his back to her, his own sword locked with the other man. She picks up speed, adjusting the weight of her body as she rushes forward. Her arm pulled back, the blade thrusting forward, piercing the shade in the chest. There was a moment, where everything in the room seemed to still. You watch as Fehskir curled inward, ‘eyes’ peering forward at nothing in particular. The sword absorbed the shade’s body, blade hitting the ground.

There’s no movement from the sword, resting along the ground. You watch as Salena turns to the other soldiers, a symbol plastered on their tabards. So you can at least infer they’re working under the same group. She seems to be checking over them when there’s a noise coming from behind her.

You turn your head to see the sword swaying back and forth. You watch Salena approach the weapon, an energy bursting out of it. There’s a flash of bright light, and when it fades, there’s a man standing there… one that seems to mirror the shade you saw before.

The man himself is shorter than Salena, but not by much. He’s older looking, though you’re not sure if that’s from age, or the fact that he’s a walking corpse. His eyes are glowing bright blue, so are Salena’s for that matter. He’s got white hair, styled in a way that the top of his hair looks flat, and almost square along his head. The facial hair he has is the same color, bright enough to make you think its coloration is not due to age. His armor is in the same aesthetic of Salena’s.

She manages a tiny smile as she stands next to him, “You actually did it. And you were so unsure.”

“That was incredibly risky. I was certain there were moments I wouldn’t succeed.”

“Hmm… well you did in the end. That’s what matters.”

His eyes seem to fall on her missing arm, her’s moving up to where it was still laying on the ground. She padded over to it, the man crossing his arms, “He’s not going to be pleased you did that.”

“I will accept the consequences of my actions. I couldn’t lose you.”

“I’m not worth keeping hold of.”

“Deal with it.”

You watch as she grabs the arm, pulling it up to the empty socket. Her eyes close, a green magic dances along her shoulder. You watch as the skin seems to attach itself to one another, sickening sounds of everything being returned to place before there’s natural movement again in her arm. There’s a moment of silence…

Then grunts of pain echo from her. You watch as the glowing tattoos begin to spread along the rest of her upper body. That static voice returns as the memory begins to fade out.

Foolish bitch. You obey my commands. I will let this one slide, but defy me again, and I’ll punish you accordingly. Am I clear?

The memory grows dark…

Am I clear?

“Yes…”

The memory goes to black.

[turningwheeltarot]

Pick a Card: Message Spirit Wants You to Hear Now

How it works: Let your intuition pick a card pile above (click on the image to enlarge). Which one do you feel most drawn to? One may immediately pop out to you, or you may want to gaze at each pile until you feel which one is your reading.

From left to right: pile 1, 2, 3, and 4. Scroll down to the pile you picked for your reading.

Group 1:

Go SO easy on yourself right now. You’re going through a deeply emotional time and trying time, but you are on the tail-end of it. Things are going to be looking up for you. Trust that good things are coming your way. You are on the right path.

You are going through a character-building time; you’ve been developing your inner strength and it hasn’t been easy. But you are beginning to see the rewards of your efforts – enjoy and know that you deserve the good ❤️

It’s time for you to exhale, take a rest, and focus on self-care. Stop pushing yourself and stop working so hard – relax and allow yourself to receive. You don’t have to do everything. Lean on others and let them help you. And most importantly, lean on Spirit; ease into the arms of Spirit and know that you are loved.

With the Grief card from The Power Deck appearing, many of you have been going through a grieving process. But as this beautiful card says:

“The seeds of wisdom and enlightenment are planted within the wounds of grief. What is lost can come back to us again, in higher ways.”

❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Group 2:

Spirit is urging you to detach and pump the brakes right now. You need to take a breath and take a time out.  You’ve been pushing too hard and you’re are headed towards burnout if you continue on the way you’ve been going. Some of you have been trying to ignore what you know deep down to be a wake-up call of some kind. You are asked to focus on bringing things into balance in your life: reflect on where you’ve been going to extremes and where you feel out of alignment. Your path to balance right now is primarily about more Being and less doing.

As much as you may want to charge ahead, this is not a time for taking action. Spirit wants you to know that things are not what they appear to be right now. Things are unclear and uncertain – and it’s time for you to practice being ok with not knowing. Be with the void instead of fighting against it. By practicing loving detachment – from the outcomes you want, from other peoples’ behaviors, etc. – you will come to a place of Divine neutrality…and peace. Trust in Divine timing. There is no need to rush. The way will become clearer in time, but the clarity is not here yet.

Spirit wants you to know the answers you’re looking for will not be found in your mind through analyzing – they are found deep within. You are asked to turn inwards and connect with your intuition and spiritual nature through meditation, spiritual practice, and getting out of your thinking mind and into your body and feelings. In these ways, you’ll be able to hear the messages of your intuition more clearly. You may find that gazing at the artwork in the Intuition Power Deck card above (bottom left, click to enlarge) will help you get out of analytical mode and flow into your intuitive knowing mode.

“Take a break, let insights arise, and know that you have plenty of time to make plans…Bear Spirit reminds you that sometimes the best and most effective action is nonaction, allowing the situation around you to reveal itself to you so you can better understand it.” – Brown Bear Spirit oracle card, The Spirit Animal Oracle

❤️  ❤️ ❤️

Group 3:

The energies of overcoming obstacles, success, and victory surround you now. You’ve been doing some deep inner work and you’re coming out on the other side of it. You’ve grown and learned a lot and you have “leveled up” – you’re coming into your power more than ever before. Conflicts are being (or soon going to be) resolved, particularly your own inner conflicts. You are learning how to create peace within, which then creates peace in your outer world.

The inner work you’ve been doing seems to be a lot about letting go of judgement, over-thinking, and over-analyzing – basically getting out of your head. You are facing your shadow side (destructive, self-sabotaging patterns) and your emotional wounding. And you are learning what it means to open your heart and be in your power. Spirit encourages you to continue focusing on this inner healing process and wants you to know that you are doing a great job. Keep up the good work! 😊

“You are both the king* and the queen*, secure in your prosperity and wisdom, and generous of spirit as you help others. Take pride in your ability to serve from the heart.” – Lion Spirit oracle card, The Spirit Animal Oracle

*and all these King and Queen tarot cards came up in your reading!

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Group 4:

You are not satisfied with the material aspects of your life right now. You may be dissatisfied with your job or living situation, experiencing financial hardship/worries, or any combination of these. Things are just not going your way right now in terms of your material world – but Spirit wants you to let go of your fixation with what’s not going “right” in these areas. You are focusing too much on the material (job, money, possessions) and spending too much time in your mind (worrying, over-analyzing, judging, getting lost in thought loops).

Some of you may be experiencing base chakra level fears (about material security needs being met), which is very challenging. But Spirit wants all of you – regardless of your situation – to rise above the challenge and to identify with IT (Spirit within), not your circumstances. Go higher. Stop fixating on the outside world and turn inward. Spirit reminds you that YOU create your reality through your thoughts, beliefs, words, and actions. You are the author of your life. You can dream a new reality into existence. What does your dream life look like? Positive affirmations and visualizations will be extremely helpful for you, especially at this time.

It’s very important for you to stay out of negativity and fear. Spirit is drawing your attention to negative patterns that come from your past conditioning, and is asking you to stop repeating them. These past patterns seem to revolve heavily around fear and negativity. Complaining, in particular, is coming up: when you complain, you give your power away and create more of what you don’t want. You have a choice and you don’t have to keep repeating the past. You can choose a new and higher way. Know that you have the power to create the life of your dreams.

There is a resistance to what is, as well as a resistance to change that you need to acknowledge and release. It’s time to take your hand off the wheel. Spirit is asking you to trust. The good news is you’re going to be working towards building something that you do want in your life soon – likely with the help or guidance of others. And you’ll want to be sure to bring only the highest, brightest energy (expectations, intentions, and thoughts) to this project or collaboration.

“It is like creation looking for itself. You are oneness with all life, though you are not aware of it yet.” – Dream oracle card, The Power Deck

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Decks used:

The Rider Waite Tarot Deck

The Power Deck (Lynn V. Andrews)

The Spirit Animal Oracle (Colette Baron-Reid)

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[hilo--keahi]

Tuesday 05 January 2021; 03:00. Your dream stops. The beings and the scenery come to a standstill before gently fading into a comfortable office space that seems vaguely familiar. You are seated in a plush chair across from a being you do not recognize. He is more attractive than anyone you’ve ever laid eyes on, but when you wake you will never be able to describe him. When you move your eyes from his, you notice your bracers are gone, and you think you can feel your legs in this dreamscape.

Hilo couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming before, lost in the immediate forgetfulness of waking that ushered the details of dreams quickly away, leaving only the static afterburn of images and wisps of feeling in their wake. He thought that previous dream was pleasant. This one wasn’t... not pleasant, but it was strange. There was a weight to it that felt uncomfortably real in comparison, but the more he tried to focus on the man in front of him, the more his senses failed him -- like trying to look sidelong at the sun, squinting and using the shadow of your hand to dull the edges.

Wait.

He could feel the press of the chair against the back of his legs -- a stupid, thoroughly mundane thing for anyone else to notice, but for Hilo, it was something he hadn’t felt for half a century. Hilo’s breath stuttered in his throat, startled and confused. He hadn’t dreamt of walking for a long time, longer than a decade or two. Even his subconscious had given up on deluding itself. Fingers splayed wide, Hilo brought his hands to careful rest just above his knees. No metal barred their path, no leather straps. Hilo’s chest tightened, but the man -- clearly more than a simple man, and clearly more than Hilo’s bland imagination could come up with -- spoke.

“You have fallen far, Son of Kona. The curse that plagues your legs was not one I designed to be used in such a way: in the search for power. When I gave your realm my art, I assumed they would use it to punish wrong-doers as my kind do.” There is a long pause, the atmosphere so heavy it feels inappropriate to speak.

A God-designed curse. More than one Emitter had told him as much, when they’d failed to be able to do anything for him. At the time, Hilo had thought they were saying so simply to spare his anger, or their pride. Who had cared enough about his ascent to resort to a God-designed curse? It was a statement previously asked with scoffed dismissiveness, but now it was asked again with all due severity -- only within the jumbled swirl of his own sleeping thoughts. This was not a question for the God in front of him, because a God was what he so obviously was.

Even as the pause stretched between them, Hilo focused on the man in front of him with an attentiveness unfit for the clouded realm of dreams.

“I was wrong. Those of this world…. fight for the wrong things. I have watched you and your Iron Master work on an artifact to bring you closer to normalcy. This was clever.” Another pause as he studies you. “The curse has plagued you too long for me to remove it without side effects, nor do I trust what you would do with returned power, but if your heart continues to impress me, I may help you.”

Only now did Hilo try to open his mouth to form words, but none came -- whether they were actively prevented or he simply couldn’t find them, though, Hilo wasn’t sure. His heart hammered against his ribs even as his fingers dug into the meat of his thighs, and he nearly startled himself with the foreign feeling of the pressure. Fighting for the wrong things, fighting for power -- Hilo knew this, had known this, deep down, for years, but only recently had it started to come into the sharpest of contrast. He wasn’t sure if this man was alluding to the same things, or if Hilo was simply making the connection that was most convenient for him. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to say, but every thought bumped up against three others before any could escape his throat.

He was losing this thread of the dream, he could tell, but not like before. Even as the man in front of him dissolved into obscurity, Hilo didn’t forget his words. He couldn’t forget his words, even if he wanted to.

The dream begins to fade back into what it was before. The man’s final parting words were this: “I am Fuku, deity of curses and hidden knowledge. Do not call my name in vain, Son of Kona.”

Hilo awoke to find his heart still hammering roughly at the inside of his ribs, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Pushing into the bed with his hands until he could rest his back against the cool wall, he let his shoulders sag as he tried to steady his breathing, staring down where the sheets pooled in his lap. He didn’t have to settle his hands on his thighs to know he wouldn’t feel the same pressure he had moments before.

As with so many things, it was easier without hope.

For decades it’d been easier for Hilo to adjust to the use of his bracers and how they gave him his mobility back without the hope he might, someday, be able to move without them again. It was easier to accept this as his new normal, gaze wandering to where the leather and new, fine metal glinted in the dying light of the hearth’s embers, turquoise mana swirling pensively within the crystals.

Hilo glanced away again, burying his face in his hands to rub furiously. Just because it was easier without hope didn’t mean it would be easy for him to forget what he’d been told. There was no ignoring this message; he already knew it would occupy far too many of his waking moments, even if it never came back to him in his sleep.

Sleep didn’t come back to Hilo, either, not in those early hours of the morning. He simply sat and let his mind whirl with what he’d been told, committing what he could to memory as if it wasn’t already burned into the back of his mind.

It didn’t take him long to decide what he wanted -- needed -- to do next.

The hour was barely five when he left a note with one of the Dwarves at the end of their shifts in the Forge to say he wouldn’t be in today. It was a simple, cryptic, ‘something’s come up’ -- with what he’d been put through lately, Hilo imagined there were few (if any) who would challenge it. He’d been lucky enough that most of his coworkers were also his friends, and the worst he’s had to suffer from them are lingering glances of something akin to pity. Hilo was early enough today to avoid that, a fact for which he was absently glad.

Even though the first daylight was only barely bleeding up from the horizon as Hilo rode towards the outskirts of the city, he knew his cousin would be awake. Alamea had always been an early riser, and now, in her advanced years, Hilo was aware that the aches and struggles of her body had a tendency to keep her from proper sleep. Even in light of this she didn’t greet him with any less sharpness and intelligence in her eyes when she opened the door, though her surprise quickly softened to concern. Hilo was welcomed in without question.

It hadn’t been long since they’d last seen each other for Yeon Nen, so the chatter was idle as Hilo prepared a battered tin kettle and two cheaply made mugs. Ultimately, there was no casual easing into the conversation he wanted to have; the question was eventually asked point-blank, Hilo’s attention focused on pouring the boiling water over dried leaves and herbs. “Alamea… there are still parts of our family that worship the Old Gods, aren’t there?”

“Mm.” Alamea gestured to what they could see of Hilo’s tattoos as he set the mugs on the table between them, sleeves pushed back to his elbows to display rows of neatly inked triangles. The white pointed inward, drawing positive energy towards his heart. The black bled negativity away. “You wouldn’t have those if the elders didn’t still believe.” She paused, then let out a short laugh that seemed altogether stronger than her narrow chest should’ve been able to produce. “I say, like I’m not one of the elders now myself.”

It was hard for Hilo to view her as such, even as Alamea and the rest of his family aged around him while he stood more static in time. She was only older than him by a handful of years, but by looks, it was more like a handful of decades.

Alamea held the roughly-made, misshapen ceramic with equally distorted fingers, joints swollen with arthritis and skin spotted with age. She was piled in blankets despite the roaring hearth he’d stoked. Hilo almost felt silly sitting across from her, barely fitting on the chair.

“We’ve never really believed in the old ways, you and I,” Alamea pointed out, and Hilo simply nodded. “But I know there are pockets of our family that still do. I wouldn’t be so exhausted from Yeon Nen if we didn’t,” she added with a glint in her milky eyes, and Hilo chuckled before nodding again. “Why do you ask?”

Hilo wondered if he should feel silly, asking what he was going to. As Alamea said, their generation of Keahis had always approached religion with a softer lens; the traditions were fun, and good excuses to gather family, but the proper meaning felt long lost to the depths of time. He knew one dream oughtn’t change his mind so thoroughly, and maybe something in his resolve would soften with the clarity of daylight, but that didn’t change what he felt in his bones now as the dream lingered within his periphery.

“I’m hoping there’s someone in our family who can tell me more about a deity named Fuku.”

[justheretobreakthings]

Okay, we’re starting off Bad Things Happen Bingo with a bit of a throwback to the Voltron Bingo event from back in 2018. Way back then, I got a request from @familyofpaladins for my ‘Taking the Fall for Someone’ square, for Keith taking the fall for Hunk, and then the bingo ended and the prompt has just been sitting there for an eternity. But now, my BTHB card has just the square for me to finally get this prompt filled. Hope it was worth the very, very long wait!

Got Your Back

Written for @badthingshappenbingo Prompt: Taking the Blame Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Word Count: 13,198 Characters: Hunk & Keith Read on AO3

Summary:

While defending the planet of Crelxatain from attacking drones, Hunk causes what he believes to be some minor collateral damage, but what turns out to be much, much worse. And when the Crelxats needed something to blame, Keith steps in to take the fall.

I don’t even drink coffee.

It was fortunate that Hunk had gotten better with flying during the battles and flight practices he’d been through with Yellow. It might have been the Lions’ magic helping to keep their pilots stable, or the more mundane gyroscopic design of the cockpit helping with his equilibrium. Or, of course, it might just be a matter of him getting used to it. Whatever the case, he had come a long way since his Garrison days, when even a fifteen-minute run in a simulator would be more enough to empty the contents of his stomach.

It was fortunate, because if he hadn’t gotten better about keeping the nausea at bay, his cockpit would be a revolting mess right about now.

He and Keith had only been tasked with coming here to Crelxatain to negotiate for supplies, its geography home to mineral ore that Coran assured them could be top-grade fuel when Altean alchemy was in use, but just as they had approached the planet’s atmosphere, Yellow and Red both picked up a distress signal from the same city they were nearing. It seemed they had coincidentally arrived just in time for an air strike on the city from a nearby Empire ally, and the Crelxat had little in terms of defensive weaponry. So of course, that duty landed on the paladins.

If Yellow’s failed attempts to detect life in any of the little attacking cruisers was correct, they were only dealing with drones, not manned vehicles, but the maneuverability of the drones was downright amazing. They were constantly dodging strikes and blasts from Yellow, skimming near the tops of buildings and sometimes slipping between them, making sharp turns and speedy dives that left Hunk reeling.

The drones’ weapon of choice appeared to be some sort of energy pulse, and well-aimed blasts had elements of the infrastructure and sections of buildings toppling inward. These pulses were also being aimed at the Lions, and although they were made of strong enough material to resist being damaged by the force, the pulses would still send them jerking off course and blown aside.

Hunk groaned into his comm as Yellow tumbled in the air from one such blast, rolling rapidly enough that the gyroscopic cockpit couldn’t stop the blood from rushing to his head and then down again. “I swear,” he grunted, “When we’re finished with these things and back on the ground, I’m just going to spend like three days just lying on the floor, perfectly still, not moving. I’ve had enough movement.”

“You know we’re going to have to head back to the Castle eventually,” Keith replied through the comm. “That counts as movement.”

“So? Allura and Coran said we could take a few quintants.”

“Because it could take time for them to gather and refine the stuff we need, not because they expect us to conk out for days at a time.”

“I don’t care, I’m going for it. Day one, we place our order. Day whatever, we head back. Everything in between, we go comatose.” He squinted into the viewscreen and tried to get his vision to stop swirling before directing a blast toward an oncoming drone. The shot went wide, and the drone responded with a pulse that shoved Yellow backward and threatened to give Hunk whiplash.

“You hanging in there?” Keith asked.

“Yeah,” Hunk replied. At the corner of his viewscreen he spotted a beam of flame, the Red Lion’s fireblast, reducing a drone to ash. “Not as well as you are, though. Aren’t you getting dizzy too?”

“I was on the pilot track at the Garrison, I’ve been flying longer.”

“Still.” He righted Yellow as best he could and caught a drone in his sights. He sent off a cannon fire, and although he didn’t hit it head on, he managed to wing it just enough to send it spiraling. “Seems you’re taking down three of these things for every one I get.”

“We’re not keeping score, Hunk.”

“Just wish I was being a little more useful right now, is all.”

“You’ll be plenty more useful than me when we actually get around to talking to the Crelxats and making deals. You know that’s not exactly my strong suit.”

“Hmm, fair point,” Hunk said. “Your people skills are pretty abysmal, aren’t they.”

“Don’t hold back, Hunk, tell me how you really feel.”

“I’m just agreeing with you.” Yellow lurched upward, and Hunk narrowed his eyes at a drone zipping by from the bottom of his viewscreen while his stomach tried to right itself. He took aim with Yellow’s laser cannon, but just before he fired, another pulse threw the Lion to the side. The laser shot off, and he winced as it blasted through what appeared to be an enormous sculpture in a plaza below. “Crap,” he grunted.

“What is it?” asked Keith.

“I think I just took out some public art,” Hunk replied. “You don’t think that’ll come across as some weird anti-art statement, do you?”

“Let’s hope not. If the pulse things are giving you trouble, why don’t you focus on the drones that are flying higher up for now? I’ll work on the ones nearer to the buildings. Red’s got quicker reflexes, it’s easier to avoid collateral damage with her.”

“Yeah, sure,” Hunk sighed, managing to hold back a self-deprecating remark about how it was probably more to do with the pilot than the lion. For now, he set his sights on a drone careening toward the city's outskirts, and directed Yellow to go barrelling after it.

The pulses continued to give him no end of frustration, but he eventually managed to take down another three drones, and a scan informed him that the sky seemed to be clear around this elevation. He sighed with relief at the scan’s results, and reminded himself that he was this close to finally getting to touch down on flat ground and relax. His stomach was still churning, and his face was soaked in salty sweat, but it was over.

Well, almost over. The skies were clear at this elevation, but there had been more drones closer to the ground, and he wasn’t sure whether Keith had finished them all off yet. Odds were, of course, that he had, and might even be waiting impatiently on the ground wondering why it was taking Hunk such a long time to finish off his own batch. And now he was wasting more time catching his breath instead of actually finding out.

Heaving a deep breath, he grabbed the controls again and started downward, eyes peeled for signs of Keith. It didn’t take long to find him, as Red and her fire were making quite a scene above the city square, currently whipping around in a complicated air ballet while facing off against five drones at once, all focused on sending their pulses into Red from every direction.

Red was able to wing one of the drones before pulses from two of the others sent her flying back, and the Lion let out a growl that was echoed in Hunk’s comm as Keith let out one of his own. She dove back into the fray, expertly wheeling around between the drones and the building tops to send an arc of fire their way.

Hunk hovered on the outer edge of the ongoing fight, feeling the urge to help but not wanting to risk hitting Red by accident. “Uh, Keith?” he said. “There anything I can do right now?”

“Um, keep an eye out if any of these try to make a break for it,” Keith answered. “Other than that, think I got this under control.” As if to emphasize the point, a blast of Red’s fire hit one of the drone’s dead on, blasting it to ash.

“Okay…” Hunk said. He chewed at his bottom lip as he watched the drones, eyes straining as they flitted amongst their flight paths, trying to catch any sign that one of them was liable to break from the pack so he could go after it, but they all seemed to have their sights completely honed in on Red. It felt a little wrong to simply be waiting around while Keith managed the whole firefight on his own, even if Keith had sounded pretty certain of what he could handle and what he needed. He tentatively spoke up as Keith shot down another drone, “You know, um, maybe I could get a shield up and you can sort of feint toward it, see if we can draw them into - ”

He was cut off by a loud blast and a flash engulfing his viewscreen, and Yellow reeled back, sending him slamming his head into his dashboard. It seemed Red had sent out a powerful arcing blast from all to send the remaining drones careening out of the air, at the same time that the remaining drones surrounding her had all pulsed at once. Resulting in a shockwave that pushed Yellow back and, as was apparent when Hunk managed to blink his vision back into focus, leave many of the surrounding buildings with caved-in roofs. Hopefully any Crelxats inside them had had the sense to hunker down in the lower floors.

As he made sure Yellow was steady again, he glanced around for Red, and grimaced when he spotted her. She was still airborne, but the lights on her face and the tip of her tail were stuttering, while bolts of light crackled beneath her flank. “Um, Keith?” Hunk said. “Red’s not looking too hot.”

“I know, I’ve got it under - shit, hang on,” Keith grunted. Red turned around in the air, her movements jerkier than Hunk ever would have expected from Red, and starting soaring away from surrounding buildings. He followed in Yellow, and together the Lions made it to an open stretch of land. Red glided toward the ground, and as she was lowering, her lights went completely dark. She hit the ground with audible force, collapsing in a heap where she landed.

Hunk winced at the sight of the downed Lion before scanning his eyes over ground, making sure the terrain was clear for his own landing. He managed to maneuver Yellow close to the other Lion before lowering her to the ground and disembarking from her mouth. Keith was already outside of Red, standing with his arms folded and staring up at her face.

“You okay?” Hunk asked as he approached. “Looked like kind of a rough landing.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Keith said. “Managed to get nearly to the ground before she went offline. So, little abrupt, but nothing I couldn’t handle. We’re gonna have to see about getting her powered up again before we can head back to the Castle. Think it was one of those pulses throwing off the propellant tank that downed her.”

“Hmm. If that’s the case, I can probably do the repairs myself in a day or two, but we’ll need to replenish the fuel.”

“Hopefully the Crelxats will be willing to help us out for that.” Keith looked around. “Speaking of whom, see any of them coming this way yet? Battle’s over.”

Hunk frowned and joined Keith in peering about at the surrounding buildings. He had only seen a few sparse Crelxats on the ground while they had been in battle, the pale shocks of hair against skin shades of red and orange making them easy to spot, but most of them had likely fled indoors when the drones had arrived.

He felt a tap against his shoulder, and when he turned, Keith pointed; it seemed he’d been first to spot movement, and without a word between them they started off to follow the pair of Crelxats heading away from the Lions’ landing site and deeper into the city.

It didn’t take long for them to see where the many Crelxats had ended up, since after only a couple of turns they could see a crowd gathering in a wide plaza ahead, a murmur from the assembled onlooker reaching the paladins even at this distance. Hunk glanced to Keith, eyebrows raised, and Keith only shrugged, just as unsure as to what had the crowd so enthralled.

As they moved closer, heads began to turn in their direction, some of the onlookers nudging others beside them and pointing, the chatter gradually dying down as they stepped aside to let the paladins through. No face wore the joy or relief that Hunk was used to seeing from aliens after Voltron fought off invading forces for them. Instead, they were eyeing him and Keith with apprehension and suspicion.

This, Hunk decided, was not a good sign.

The Crelxats were quick to step aside for them, so they were able to reach the front of the crowd fairly easily. And Hunk’s stomach knotted itself tightly as he realized what they were all staring at.

The sculpture. The sculpture that he had blasted with Yellow’s cannon. Or, at least, what remained of it.

From above, it had been hard to see what the sculpture had actually depicted, and here from the ground, seeing only the bottom half, it wasn’t any easier to discern. The shape seemed to be fairly complex, a tangle of angles and loops, but nothing that resembled anything Hunk had ever seen before. His best guess was that it was an abstract piece; a lot of the public sculptures that could be found in plazas like this back on Earth were abstract. There was rubble, he noticed, bits of the same material as the sculpture scattered along the ground behind it, some of it smoldered black like the top of what remained of the standing sculpture, burnt up by the cannon’s heat.

The Crelxats standing nearest to the statue turned as Keith and Hunk approached, and one stepped toward them. She was half a head shorter than most of the others gathered nearby, although she made up for it with a piece of headwear that to Hunk just looked to be a tangled pile of wires. She appeared to be unarmed, although the other Crelxats just behind her all wielded either halberds in their hands or daggers at their hips; the weapons combined with the helmets on their head and matching sashes indicated that they were security of some sort, although Hunk wasn’t sure if they were guards for the city as a whole or just the Crelxat with the wires on her head.

Allura had briefed him and Keith a bit on who they would be interacting with on Crelxatain, and she had mentioned one of the Crelxats was both the governmental and religious leader for the city. Malvet, he was pretty sure her name was.

And right now, despite her being smaller than the other Crelxats and unarmed, he was feeling much more frightened of her than of the surrounding guards. Because he had never seen that much icy fury on a person’s face before. Her narrow silver eyes fixed him and Keith with a wrathful glare that he could almost physically feel, her hands clasped together in front of her were shaking from how tightly the fingers were intertwined, and dark veins pulsed visibly beneath the skin on her forehead.

“What,” she bit out, her voice low and dark and heavy, “happened?”

Hunk gulped, though it did little to alleviate the feeling of daggers in his throat or the clawing in his stomach. He had anticipated that people may be upset about the damaged sculpture - people always had a fondness for public art, especially pieces that had been around for quite a while and been accepted as an inherent part of the landscape - but the irate looks on the faces of Malvet and her guards and the horrified silence of the surrounding crowds was far worse than he expected.

Beside him, Keith cleared his throat, making Hunk jump. “Look,” Keith said, “I understand if you’re upset. But collateral damage is basically unavoidable against a weaponized enemy like the one that was attacking just now. We’re both here representing Voltron, and we were expected today, and we’d be willing to assist with repairs to your art while we’re here if you - ”

“Our art?!” Malvet spat, her face going an even deeper shade of maroon. “You believe this monument to be simply art?!”

“Um… isn’t it?” said Keith.

Her hand shook as she pointed a clawed finger toward the sculpture’s remains. “This monument is the vessel for the Twenty Gods of Crelxatain, the channel through which they grant life and fortune. It was built as a cenotaph to the spiritual leaders who have dedicated their lives to guiding Crelxatain to the will of the Gods, and as such is the one site wherein their connection to the citizenry is most powerful. It has stood for centuries, and now… it has been destroyed.”

“...Oh,” said Keith, as a murmur began rumbling through the crowd. He had paled somewhat, and seemed to be at something of a loss for words.

Hunk was faring no better; he didn’t think he’d be able to string two coherent words together right now with his nerves the way they were. This was much worse than he could have predicted. Why the hell would something this important to them be out here in the middle of the town with no additional protection? Why wasn’t it in some sort of ultra-enforced temple and under constant watch? He could only hazard wild guesses - maybe they wanted it to be more exposed to the people, maybe they had assumed that faith in those twenty gods of theirs would keep it safe or something. Now didn’t really seem like the correct time to ask about it.

Keith was the first to speak again, keeping his voice surprisingly level. “I - I appreciate the seriousness of the damage, then. Know that we did what we could to prevent it. The drones were - ”

“No,” Malvet cut him off. “We witnessed these drones. They used force, yes, their weapons have done damage enough. But they burned nothing. The monument - it has been burned.” She swept her arm out to gesture again toward the remains, the singeing and ashes seeming somehow darker now. “We witnessed your ships too. You had cannons and flame. So tell me,  representative of Voltron. What. Did. You. Do?”

“I - ”

“Which of you did it?!” Her voice rose abruptly in volume, crackling with despair. “It had to have been one of you! This callous destruction - which of you is to blame?!” She rounded on Hunk, who stepped back, swallowing down a whimper. “You’ve not spoken, have you, yellow one? And why is that? Have you nothing to say?! No words in your defense?!”

Hunk could feel an icy sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “I - I - I, uh - ”

“Is it guilt that stays your tongue?!” Malvet continued, jabbing a gnarled finger toward him. “Is the sight of the damage you’ve done before you too much to - ”

“I’m sorry,” Keith suddenly spoke up beside him. Hunk and Malvet both turned to him, incredulous, as Keith stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest and eyes on the ground.

“You’re sorry,” Malvet repeated tonelessly.

“Yeah,” Keith said. “It was my doing. Red - you know, you saw her out there, she’s awfully fast, and, um, gets real heated in battle and stuff, so it can be easy to kinda - to lose control, see, and I wasn’t really paying attention to the, um - ” He waved his hand in the direction of the destroyed sculpture. “The scenery, and stuff, so, yeah. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry.”

Hunk bit his lip as he turned his attention back to the Malvet, who was examining Keith with narrowed, probing eyes. If she knew Keith at all, it would be obvious that he was lying. He had rambled and stumbled and refused to look even remotely in her direction and his voice had kept getting lower as he spoke. All tells of his. Not to mention that Keith was the least likely of any of the paladins to ever focus during a battle or be unable to handle his Lion’s agility and fire.

But the Crelxats didn’t know Keith, so after several ticks of silent examination, Malvet hissed out, “I see.”

She stepped back, and Keith’s eyes darted upward, looking apprehensive. Malvet let silence ring throughout the square for a couple seconds more, but just as Keith opened his mouth to speak again, she nodded.

Instantly there was an eruption of activity, and Hunk was nearly knocked to the ground by the guards rushing past him toward Keith. Half a dozen fully armored guards descended on Keith, and though Hunk saw Keith’s hand fly instinctively to his hip where his bayard was holstered, he either was too caught off guard to grab it in time or thought better of whipping it out right now, since it was still holstered when his arms were wrenched behind his back and he was brought forcefully to his knees.

“Hey!” Hunk yelped. “What are you - ?” His attempt to rush forward to help Keith was stymied by halberds crossed in front of him, and a guard took his arm to hold him back, although he was handling Hunk more gently than his fellow guards were handling Keith, whose ankles were being pinned to the ground by heavy boots on top of them and whose hair was in the tight grip of gauntlet-covered hands. “Stop it!” Hunk cried. “You’re gonna hurt him!”

“After what he has done to us, hurt only seems fair as recompense,” Malvet said, stalking over to glower down at Keith. Around him, Hunk could hear others in the crowd murmuring their agreement. “He must be made to pay penance.”

“He didn’t do anything to you!” Hunk shouted.

“He just confessed to being responsible for the destruction of our monument.”

“But it wasn’t his fault! He only - ”

“Not his fault?” Malvet finally turned to Hunk. “Are you saying that his confession was inaccurate?”

Keith shook his head, or at least gave a little twitch in the guards’ grasp that may have been meant as a head shake, but Hunk nodded at the Crelxat, relieved. “Yes, yes, that’s what I’m saying! It was my - ”

But Malvet was already turning away before Hunk could finish, making a gesture to one of the guards. “You heard him; remove it.”

“Oh thank God,” Hunk sighed. “I’m sure we can all - um - ” He faltered as he watched the guards. When Malvet had told them to ‘remove it’, he had assumed she meant removing their feet from on top of Keith’s legs or removing the weapons from where they were pointed at him, sharp tips far too close to Keith for Hunk’s liking. But they weren’t. Instead, they still held him in place despite his struggling, and one of them had moved in front of Keith and was grabbing his jaw. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“If his tongue is to be used to spew false witness before the eyes of the twenty gods,” Malvet said, “Then it is of no good to us nor to him. It shall be removed.”

Hunk’s eyes blew wide, every drop of blood in his veins turning to ice as the guard managed to force Keith’s mouth open and a dagger’s blade approached. “No! No, no, no, you can’t do that! He - he wasn’t lying, you misunderstood!”

“And pray tell, what did I misunderstand?” Malvet said.

“Just - I meant - he - it was an accident,” Hunk fumbled weakly. “He did but - but he didn’t mean to, you know? It was, like, unavoidable. So - so - so it’s not his fault.” He glanced toward Keith, trying to figure out whether that had been the right thing to say, but with the way the guards were still holding his jaw and gripping his hair, Keith couldn’t exactly make an expression to indicate one way or the other.

Malvet let out a derisive sniff. “Unavoidable? The people of Crelxatain have avoided damaging it for centuries. This one could easily have done the same.” She turned away from Hunk again, back to the guard. “How soon can we have him perform his penance.”

The guard let out a pensive hum before replying, “We’d need until overmorrow’s nightfall to prepare and deliver an oblation to the twenty gods. The penance can take place the morning after.”

“Begin preparations, then,” Malvet said with a nod.

Keith was hauled to his feet, meeting Hunk’s gaze as one of the guards behind him drew a set of shackles from somewhere within their armor to cuff his hands behind him. “Hunk,” he said, a slight rasp to his voice, no doubt from the way his mouth had been manhandled a moment ago, “It’s gonna be fine, okay?”

Hunk almost let out a laugh of sheer disbelief. Keith should be the one being reassured right now, not Hunk. “Are you insane?” Hunk said.

“Look, just get the supply stuff taken care of, I’ll figure this out, and we can - ”

“Get moving,” one of the guards said, shoving him away from Hunk as two others began wheeling him around by the arms.

“Just a sec,” said Keith. “See if you can get Red up and - ”

He grunted, his words cut off by the hilt of one of the guards’ daggers being slammed into his face. When he scowled back up at the offending guard, his nose was bleeding. “I said get moving,” the guard growled.

“Hey!” Hunk cried. He tried moving toward the retreating guards, but the ones who had held him back before intercepted him again. “Hey, you can’t treat him like that!”

It was useless. The guards ignored him, and as the crowd began surging and milling around him, they disappeared, along with Keith.

This was so, so, so bad.

For a long moment he simply stood there on shaking knees, uncertain what to do, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He whipped around, coming face to face with a tall, narrow-faced Crelxat. “What?” he snapped.

“Your companion said you were here as a representative of Voltron,” the Crelxat said. His expression was stoic, unfazed by Hunk’s tone and by the scene that had just gone down before him.

“Yeah,” Hunk said. “And?”

“I am Kalgex? Of the Crelxatain Geological Survey Bureau and Mine Repository. I was contacted about overseeing a trade deal between your organization and our department?”

Hunk stared. “Um,” he said, “Look, I’ve kind of got other things on my mind at the moment. Keith - I - I don’t know where they’re - I have to figure this out, I have to see - ”

“I am certain a member of the security force will be in contact with you once your friend has been duly processed,” Kalgex said. “They are quite efficient in matters of communication.” He pulled something out of his pocket, a small cylinder with a screen across it that lit up like a cell phone. “Those attackers put us behind schedule. We really oughtn’t postpone negotiations any longer than necessary.”

A part of Hunk, a small but strong part, wanted to punch Kalgex in the face right then and there. He was talking about Keith being arrested and hurt and forced to pay ‘penance’ - Hunk wasn’t sure what that entailed exactly, but it didn’t sound like fun - as if it were a minor inconvenience in a normal workday. As if Hunk were being somehow unreasonable for wanting to go after him rather than worry about the stupid ore.

“No,” he said. “No, I have to go.” He turned away, scanning the crowd and spotting the array of wires that had decorated Malvet’s head. Immediately he began shoving his way through the crowd, ignoring Kalgex calling after him, and didn’t stop until he had reached her, right on the edge of the plaza with a guard at each side. “Hey!” he shouted. “Where did you people take Keith?!”

She turned, eyeing him up and down with pursed lips, like he was a stain on her floor that she was deciding how to get rid of. “To the holding cells to await penance, of course,” she answered.

“And where’s that, huh?”

Malvet’s eyes narrowed. “He will not be allowed visitors until his case has been fully processed according to our laws. Respect our criminal proceedings should be the least we could ask of Voltron, considering the disrespect your friend has shown toward our - ”

“Yeah, I know,” Hunk said, frustration turning his voice to a growl. “Fine. When will that be done so I can visit him?”

“I will see to it you are contacted when proceedings are completed,” Malvet said. It wasn’t exactly an answer, but at least it was an assurance that he would get to visit Keith before the penance took place. “And of course,” Malvet continued, “Your companion will be duly returned to you once penance has been completed.”

“Right,” Hunk sighed. “So, what is this ‘penance’ anyw- ”

But Malvet had already turned away, leaving Hunk standing uselessly, grinding his teeth and dreading what the answer would have been.

--------------------------------------------------------

He tried and failed to come up with a plan.

His first thought once he finally accepted that the whole situation with Keith was out of his hands was, naturally, to contact the other paladins for help. But the reason it had only been himself and Keith coming to Crelxatain in the first place was that the others were on missions of their own. They had docked the Castle, shields in place, on a moon in a neutral zone the next star system over, and Shiro and Allura were off on Heliuruta to negotiate allowance through their blockade into the quadrant, while Coran had recruited Lance and Pidge to help him on a medical supply-gathering expedition. So Hunk couldn’t reach any of them at the Castle, didn’t know where on the planets the groups had gone and wouldn’t have time to track them down, and couldn’t contact them through just the Lions’ communications system at such a range.

Which meant that whatever happened to Keith, he was going to be the only one around to deal with it.

It also meant that he was stuck doing the negotiations for the Crelxat ores alone. Between himself and Keith, Hunk was better with numbers, but Keith was more stubborn and better at steamrolling attempts to mislead. By the time he wrapped up his meeting with Kalgex and his board, they had wound up settling on a price nearly twice as high as what Coran had told them to aim for.

Hunk couldn’t bring himself to be that put out about it, though. The main reason he’d done such a lackluster job of negotiating, after all, was that his mind was more occupied with the much more pressing matter of what the hell was happening with Keith.

He managed a grand total of less than a varga of sleep the first night on Crelxatain, despite the comfortable accommodations that had been prepared for him at a lodging house not far from the plaza where the monument had stood. He had made sure every single member of the staff there knew that they were to come get him immediately the instant anyone contacted him about getting to visit Keith, but no message came.

The Crelxats had predicted it would take them about two days to refine the ore he’d requested and prepare it for transport, so he tried to occupy his time by working on repairs for Red. He dried up nearly all the GAC they’d been given for this trip gathering tools and supplies for it - apparently the ability to fix vehicles must have been considered something of a luxury in Crelxatain, and was priced as such - and as he set to work on her dark and still form, wondered what she would be doing right now if she were up and running. If she was calm, then he’d know Keith was okay. If she was angry and trying to reach Keith by force… well, then he’d be even more worried than he was now, but at least Red would be helping to take care of the problem.

He worked on her throughout the day, still with no word about Keith, and the longer he went without answers the more nauseous he felt. He managed to eat some lunch between getting supplies and starting on Red’s repairs, and it sat like rocks in his stomach for the rest of the day. He didn’t bother with dinner.

He managed to fall asleep at some point that night, and woke tangled in his bedding after tossing and turning in his sleep, not feeling refreshed at all.

It wasn’t until later that day, when he returned from Red’s landing site back to the lodging house, promising himself that he would at least try to eat something because starving himself wasn’t going to help Keith, that he discovered a member of the security force was there waiting for him, had told the staff that he was there to escort Hunk to visit ‘the prisoner’ as requested.

Finally.

The walk to where Keith was being held wasn’t far from the plaza that had housed the monument, and the building he was led into looked from the outside a bit like a country church, long and narrow and with a vaulted roof. Hunk was led into a dim anteroom as the guard who escorted him had a muttered conversation with another who was standing watch inside, then, another door was opened, and he was ushered through and into a hall lined on each side with cells. The guard didn’t accompany him any further past the door, just told him, “You have fifteen doboshes,” before taking his leave, slamming the door shut behind him.

The hall was just as dim as the anteroom, the walls and floors a shale-like shade and narrow windows in the walls of the cells lining only one side of the hall casting sharp shadows, so it took a moment for Hunk to spot the cells’ only occupant, seated on the floor against the wall at the end of the hall. When he did, he let out an enormous breath of relief and rushed toward him, yelling out, “Keith!”

Keith looked up at the sound of his name, and Hunk grimaced at the sight of him as he got to his feet. He’d been stripped of his armor and left only in his dark undersuit, and was shackled hand and foot, maybe a foot and a half of chain between each metal cuff on his wrist, and the same around his ankles. A red and purple bruise spread from his cheek to his nose, swelling enough to make one eye squint; this was likely the result of that guard who had struck him with the dagger hilt the other day. Besides that, Keith appeared to be uninjured, just tired, a fact that the dark rings beneath his eyes could attest.

“Hunk,” he said. “So, um. So, how are you do- ?”

“Are you out of your mind?!” Hunk cried. Honestly, he had been intending to ease into that a bit more, give Keith a friendly greeting and see how he’d been being treated before moving onto the topic of what the actual quiznak Keith had been thinking, but it seemed his brain had forgotten to relay that plan to his mouth.

“Hunk,” Keith repeated, lifting his shackled hands placatingly. “You have to be calm, all right?”

“How can I - you can’t expect - what were you thinking?!” Hunk demanded. “You know as well as I do that Red didn’t - ”

“Hunk, I’m serious. They’ll hear you.”

Hunk shut his mouth, teeth coming together with a click, and looked back toward the door. Right. Apparently the Crelxats really didn’t like being lied to. As much as he hated it, their story was that Keith had been the one to ruin the monument, and that’s the story they were going to have to stick with if they wanted to get out with their tongues still intact. “Sorry,” Hunk said. His eyes roved over the rest of the hall, stopping at the sight of a lens near the ceiling in the center. “Crap, will they be able to hear - ?”

“That one’s just video, no audio,” Keith said. “They can’t hear us.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“The guards told me.”

Hunk raised a brow. “And you’re just taking their word for it?”

“Course not,” Keith replied, shaking his head. “I tested it. They didn’t care one lick about me slinging insults at them through that camera for about an hour straight. Moment I said the same while they were actually here, they got pretty thin-skinned.” He tapped lightly at the dark bruise on his face. “This, uh, this was smaller yesterday.”

Hunk winced. “Dang it, Keith,” he said. “Why did you have to go and do that, huh?”

“... You mean, why’d I have to insult them?”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

There was a long moment’s pause between them, and then Keith sighed. “I was trying to help, Hunk,” he said. “That’s all. That Malvet, she was so mad, and the guards were at the ready, and you - well, you were - ” He took a deep breath. “I dunno. Maybe if you were able to see how you looked in that plaza, you’d get why I needed to step in.”

Well, Hunk could certainly recall feeling terrified to his core, but he didn’t know how much of it had actually shown on his face. If it was enough to get Keith to take the fall for him like that, though, it was too much. “I mean, you did a heck of a lot more than ‘step in’,” he said. “Look, Keith, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but I - God, man, I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

The shadow of a sad smile played on Keith’s lips before vanishing again. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Wasn’t really expecting you to be overjoyed about it. But it’s not like they were giving us a whole lot of time to come up with a better plan to get you out of that mess than just… getting in myself.”

“Why did you decide you needed to get me out of it in the first place?”

Keith frowned at him, appearing genuinely surprised. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because - because I’m the one who caused the mess? Yeah, it was an accident, but it still was mine to own.”

Keith shrugged. “We’re teammates, right? Your mess is my mess.”

“I - ” Hunk took a long breath and blew it out slowly. “You really picked a horrible time to embrace team spirit.”

“I guess. Can’t exactly go back now, though.”

“Right, suppose not.” He let the silence linger a little longer, half-hoping that Keith would suddenly pipe up with an, ‘Unless…’ and a brilliant idea to make everything right, but of course he didn’t. “So we’re just supposed to see this out to the end, huh? Endure whatever they throw at you?”

“Don’t exactly have much choice,” Keith answered. “But, I mean - it’s just a waiting game until tomorrow morning. They’ll dole out their punishment and then it’s over. Just have to get it over with. Did you get the ore stuff taken care of?”

“Yeah,” Hunk said. “And don’t say ‘just get it over with’ like it’s just a hard test at school or something, man. They’re gonna - I don’t even know what, but they were awful mad. What are they planning to do tomorrow anyhow?” Keith didn’t answer, and Hunk’s gaze grew more intense, newly ignited worry crackling in his gut. “Keith? Do you know what’s gonna happen?”

Keith hesitated, dropping his gaze. “Okay, um, they, uh, they haven’t really given me much to go on, so I don’t know for sure.”

“But you have some idea?” Hunk prodded.

“Well, so, you know they said that I’ve got to face ‘penance’ for the monument.”

“Yeah.” Hunk fought down the anxiety that bubbled up at the mere mention of the word. “Still don’t quite know what that means, though.”

“Right.” Keith took a deep breath. “Well, uh, no one’s said anything to me directly, but I’ve overheard some chatter. From the guards here, see. They don’t seem to have any specifics either, but they’ve got a better idea of what ‘penance’ usually refers to, so they were talking, and, um…” He trailed off and began to chew at his lip.

“And what?”

Keith lifted his eyes back up to Hunk, and they were wide, brow pinched, almost appearing apologetic. “You have to promise not to freak out.”

Immediately Hunk was fully prepared to freak out. “What do you mean? What’s there to freak out about?! Keith, what’s gonna happen?!”

“Okay, look, it’s probably not as bad as - ”

“Keith, if you have to warn me not to freak out, it’s probably pretty bad!”

“That’s not what - it’s not the penance part, I just didn’t want you to feel guilty about what happens, all right? I promise, Hunk, I’m gonna be able to handle it. Okay? Whatever happens, you’ve got to keep a cool head. The last thing we need is for them to decide to detain you too. And, well - ” He let out a little cough and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m probably, um, gonna need you to help me out afterward…”

Hunk gulped. As much as he dreaded the answer, he had to know. “Keith,” he said, “What’s the penance?”

There was another second’s hesitation before Keith quietly answered, “If what those guards were saying was true, Crelxatain seems to be fond of, um… corporal punishment. A public display of it. Apparently it’s, um, they seem to think it’s an effective way to, uh, deter repeat crimes, and, like - ”

Hunk’s voice, which had frozen in his throat at some point while Keith had been talking, managed to find just enough strength for him to repeat in a squeak, “Corporal punishment?!”

Keith winced. “Yeah. Um, best as I could tell from what they were saying, flogging’s pretty common, so that’s probably the most likely, but, um, yeah… Hunk? Please don’t freak out.”

“How can I not freak out?! Keith, they’re going to - !”

“I know,” Keith snapped. “I - yeah, I know.” He huffed out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, it’s not like I’m looking forward to it, but it’s not exactly like we can opt out. The place is under heavy guard, Red is still down… Only thing for us is to ride this out, let them take their anger out on me if they have to, then get back to the Castle as soon as we’re able so we can, um, you know.” He tightened his arms where they were crossed. “Fix anything that needs fixing.”

With a frustrated sigh, Hunk leaned against the wall, letting his shoulder rest up where the hard wall met the narrow bars of Keith’s cell. His legs were feeling leaden, like they would give out on him if he spent much longer standing on his own two feet, so he let himself slide down toward the floor. Once he was seated, Keith joined him, sitting down cross-legged on the other side of the bars, although it took some maneuvering to get settled with those chains on his ankles. “You okay?” Keith asked.

“Don’t ask me that,” said Hunk. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be in that cell right now, not you.”

“Hunk,” said Keith, “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t do anything wrong either! You know as well as I do that Yellow was the one who took down that monument. You’re too good a pilot, you’d never let something like that happen with Red.”

“It has nothing to do with who’s a better pilot. Yellow’s bigger than Red, it’s harder to avoid collateral damage with her.”

“Doesn’t matter. The damage was still mine. And you - ” His lip began to tremble, and Keith seemed to tense at the catch in Hunk’s voice. “You shouldn’t have lied to the Crelxats like that. You should’ve just let me take responsibility. What good does it do for you to have to do this stupid ‘penance’ thing instead of me?”

“Hunk, I - ”

“Either way, we’re ending up with one paladin who’s gonna wind up really, really hurt, so why did you get to decide it should be you instead of me, huh? Why would you go and complicate things like that? What the hell were you thinking?!”

Keith sighed, bringing his hands up and combing his fingers into his hair as he grabbed his head. “I was thinking, you were scared. And I just… I dunno. I wanted to fix that.”

Hunk set his jaw, hoping that that would help keep the tremor out of his voice. “And you just decided the best way to do it would be to take on all the consequences for yourself? That’s not fair to you, Keith.”

Slowly lowered his hands from his hair to cross his arms over his chest instead, and he muttered something under his breath that Hunk couldn’t quite make out. “What was that?” Hunk asked.

“I said, nothing’s ever ‘fair’,” Keith replied. “This isn’t about fairness. If things were gonna be ‘fair’, the Crelxats wouldn’t be upset with us over that monument in the first place, they’d be too busy being grateful to us for saving their asses and they’d realize that that should be much higher priority than a stupid statue. But as is, we can’t leave, we can’t get help from the others, and the Crelxats want blood. It’s not fair, but it’s happening, so all we can do now is get it over with.”

“I know, but - but - ” Hunk sighed and rested his chin on his hand. “I still say you shouldn’t have done it.”

“I know.”

“And I wasn’t that scared.”

“Okay.”

“Are you scared?”

There was a pause before Keith answered, “No.”

Hunk sighed. “You’re a really awful liar, Keith.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a long while before Hunk slowly reached through the bars of the cell and took hold of Keith’s hands, twining his fingers into Keith’s and trying not to think about how cold they were. “I’m sorry, man,” he said softly.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Keith mumbled.

“Sure. I’m just gonna go ahead and be sorry anyway, kay?” He gave his hand a squeeze. “Besides the face, have they hurt you?”

“Nah. Bit of shoving around, but that’s all.”

“They been giving you water? Food?”

“Enough, yeah.”

Hunk frowned, making a mental note to set aside some food from the lodging house to fill Keith up the moment he was released. He was just opening his mouth to ask if Keith had any requests - none of the Crelxat food was an exact match to any from Earth or any they’d encountered in space so far, but he could at least do some taste testing and see if he could find something similar to whatever Keith wanted - but he was interrupted by the door at the end of the hall slamming open.

“Time is up,” the guard grunted. “Make your leave.”

Hunk scowled at the guard, but after giving Keith’s hand one final squeeze, he rose to his feet. “I’ll be right there waiting once the penance is done,” he said. “The ore delivery should be finished early tomorrow morning, so once Red’s back up and running we can go straight back to the Castle. Get off this planet for good.”

“That’ll be nice,” Keith said, and he grimaced when the guard knocked his halberd into the doorframe, ordering Hunk to get moving. “I’ll - I’ll see you then. Better get going.”

Reluctantly Hunk complied, shuffling back down the hall of empty cells and giving Keith one last wave goodbye before the door was slammed shut again with a sickening finality.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Time moved at a crawl as Hunk waited. He kept himself occupied as best he could, working on Red’s repairs throughout the day, and he managed to convince a guard to let him take Keith’s confiscated armor and bayard off their hands (with the understanding that if he tried any funny business with the weaponry he would be tossed into his own cell before he could so much as blink) to have them ready for Keith when the penance was finished, and he polished the helmet three times over just for something mindless to do.

He stared at the ceiling in his room that night, trying to convince his exhausted body to sleep, but it wasn’t easy. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Keith, standing before that same crowd that had been in the plaza, and he was facing his penance, Malvet raising a whip with sadistic glee in her smile.

He always opened his eyes again before it actually made contact.

It took vargas of pacing around the room that night - ignoring the irritated knocking from whoever was staying in the room below his - to finally wear him out enough to get any amount of sleep, and then he was up again, getting the ore loaded onto Yellow in the earliest hours of morning and anxiously watching the planet’s sun creep upward into the sky, the whorling dread in his stomach growing stronger with every inch it rose.

No one came to fetch him or let him know when the penance was starting, but they didn’t have to. He could see for himself when Crelxats started to eagerly emerge from their homes and head off all in the same direction, and he overheard bits and pieces of discussion about whether they thought the twenty gods would be appeased and what they thought of the offering that had been made by the city the night before; Hunk didn’t know what that offering had been, and honestly he could not have cared less, but apparently it had been act one of this show, and Keith’s penance was the finale.

For visibility’s sake Hunk donned his full paladin armor before leaving the lodging house, hopefully for good, and he followed the flow of Crelxats past the building that housed Keith’s cell and even past the plaza featuring the statue, which, judging by the scaffolding that had been set up around the plaza, was currently under repairs. The Crelxats moved down a road veering off to the side and sloping down toward a long, solid wall, where they congregated toward a large arched entryway flanked by two guards.

He started toward the entry, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. He jumped and whipped around to find a stony-faced Crelxat guard, dressed in the same garb as the guards had been in the jail where Keith had been kept. Two other guards were hovering nearby, watching with the same stoic expression.

“If you are intending to view the penance,” the guard said, “You must remain under our watch.”

“What?” said Hunk. “Why?”

“You have made known that you hold close personal connection to the transgressor.” Ire scratched at Hunk’s throat at Keith being referred to as ‘the transgressor’, but he held his tongue and let the guard continue: “It is standard, then, to ensure that you are kept under supervision to prevent attempts at interfering with the penance.”

“Oh. Um, right,” Hunk relented. It made sense, he supposed. Any decent person witnessing their friend being publicly tortured would want to try to put a stop to it. It seemed that even if he hadn’t already promised Keith that he would let the Crelxats go through with their punishment, there wasn’t much he would be able to do under the eye of their guards.

The one who had stopped him nudged him forward as one of the others began leading the way toward the entrance, while the other approached and held out his hand. “No weapons are allowed at the viewing. Hand it over.”

Reluctantly Hunk removed his bayard from where it was holstered at his hip and dropped it into the guard’s hand. The guard nodded curtly and turned to follow the other, turning the bayard in his hand to inspect it as he went, and Hunk was nudged again, a cue to follow.

He trailed behind them, and as they passed through the entryway, he got his first view of where this penance was being held. The space seemed to be some sort of amphitheater, with rows of seats curving in a semicircle, getting lower and lower as they reached the center, where there stood a completely bare platform, high enough that the spectators sitting in the front row would probably have to crane their necks to see what happened on top of it.

Hunk wanted to go toward the front, to be as visible as possible when Keith was brought out, so he would be able to see him in the crowd, know he was there to support him and rush to his side the moment this whole mess was finally over, but the guards instead led him into a row toward the back. As they filed in, Hunk scowled at the Crelxats who were milling around the amphitheater, filling up the rows of seats in front of them. All these people, taking the time out of their lives to come and watch Keith suffer. As though this was some sort of entertainment to them. They wanted blood, they wanted it from Keith, and there was nothing about this whole situation that wasn’t disgusting.

He had to take care to clench his jaw so he wouldn’t wind up just shouting at everyone in the crowd, since that would probably only end with him being forcibly escorted out by the guards, and took his seat obediently. The other Crelxats in the crowd were gradually sitting down as well, taking their time far too casually, and every dobash of waiting felt agonizingly long.

After that wait, though, the crowd finally hushed at the sight of the guards coming through the entrance at the front of the amphitheater behind the stage, and as they did, Hunk wished they could go back to the waiting. Harrowing though it was, it was still better than watching Keith being escorted onto the stage.

His wrists and ankles were still shackled, so his gait was only a shuffle, and the guards at either side of him pushing him forward didn’t seem to be making walking any easier; he tripped on the steps leading onto the stage and, rather than pause to let him regain his balance, the guards grabbed him under the arms and began dragging him before Keith managed to find his footing again. He still wore the leg portion of his underarmor, but he’d been stripped of the top, and his bare torso looked deathly pale in the too-bright sunlight.

He also, as Hunk realized with a surge of fury as Keith shook his hair out of his face, been gagged, a strap of what looked like leather cinched tightly over his mouth and digging into the skin at the corners. Hunk wondered vaguely what he had said to the guards to warrant that addition. Or who he had bitten.

The Crelxats in the amphitheater around him had begun to jeer as Keith was escorted onto the stage, and only stopped when another figure stepped out: Malvet, the wiring of her head blindingly reflecting glints of the sunlight as she raised her hands for quiet.

“We are gathered here,” she began, her voice booming despite Hunk not seeing any sort of microphone or other audio equipment anywhere, “To offer the Twenty Gods of Crelxatain a display of our respect, our reverence, and our compunction. The offender who stands before you now has, in an act of brash disregard for our planet and its citizens - ”

She continued, but Hunk tuned her out, and not just out of anger toward the way she was talking about Keith. His focus had instead been drawn to the guards who had come forward along the stage. Where he had thought there had just been flat floorboards, they opened a hatch, and from beneath the stage they unfolded a bundle of beams that clicked into place as a solitary and stationary pole, with a hooped hook sticking out of it a good six feet up. Keith was pulled forward, and the chain between his wrists was lifted and latched onto the hook, leaving Keith standing with his arms stretched above him, back stretched out and exposed.

So Keith had been right about the flogging, and Hunk pressed his lips together, feeling nausea bubble up in his throat and wondering if he were going to start blowing chunks onto the row of Crelxats in front of him.

He kept his eyes on Keith, trying to meet his gaze, and Keith was looking out to the crowd too. It was hard to be absolutely sure from this distance, but Hunk was pretty sure that Keith spotted him, because his gaze was definitely aimed Hunk’s way, his pale face and wide eyes directed right toward him.

And no matter what Keith said, he was definitely scared.

Unlike in Hunk’s nightmarish visions from the night before, Malvet wasn’t the one to bring out a whip. Instead it was one of the guards, unfurling a length of cord from behind him as Malvet stepped toward the pole, fixing Keith with a withering glower before turning back to address the crowd once more. “To each of the twenty gods he has chosen to desecrate, he shall pay blood in penitence. Firstly, to Taelxot.”

That was all the fanfare given before the crack of the whip rang through the amphitheater, making Hunk jump at its suddenness. It seemed too soon to be starting, he needed more time, more time to emotionally ready himself and for Keith to say his own piece, but here they were. It was happening. Now.

The first lash seemed to have taken Keith off guard too, since he let out a yelp at the contact that was muffled by his gag. The crowd of Crelxats let out applause as the whip struck, and the sound seemed distant to Hunk as he watched Keith, trying to see if he was okay.

“Secondly,” Malvet continued, “To Vokrin.”

Another crack of the whip, another cheer. These names Malvet was saying, Hunk surmised, must have been the names of some of those twenty gods she kept talking about, and they must have been giving Keith one lash for each god that had been disrespected.

Which meant there were going to be twenty lashes in total. Hunk’s eyes widened as the whip dragged on the floor as the guard reeled it back, leaving a red streak on the wooden planks that Hunk could just barely see from where he was sitting.

There was no way he was going to be able to stomach eighteen more of these.

At the third lash, Keith squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, and at the fourth, the whip struck deep enough that Hunk could see blood droplets flying directly from Keith’s back. The crowd was eating it up, getting to their feet as they applauded, and at the fifth lash, Hunk stood too, because that was the only way he could still see over the heads of the cheering Crelxats in front of him.

The lashes kept coming.

Hunk’s hands hovered over the lower half of his face, threatening to move up and cover his eyes, but he resisted the admittedly powerful temptation. He owed Keith this much, at the very, very least. He owed it to Keith to be there and watch, to meet his eyes whenever Keith opened them so that the red paladin would have a face to look toward for support, for a silent message to hang on, just hang on, it will all be over soon.

Besides, closing his eyes now wouldn’t get rid of the image of those blood droplets Hunk had already seen spraying from Keith’s back, so there really was no point. That image would probably stay burned in his mind forever.

Another lash - Malvet was still counting them, but Hunk couldn’t hear her. All the sounds in the amphitheater were starting to blur together in his ears, muddling into loud and angry static as he focused only on Keith. The pain of the flogging must have been getting to be too much even for him, because an agonized shout escaped into his gag this time, much to the delight of the assembled Crelxats. At the next lash, he screamed again, and his eyes flew open, meeting Hunk’s almost immediately.

Hunk’s heart stopped at the sight of the tears gathering there, the sun sparkling off of them, and it started up again, pounding like a drum, when the whip came down again and the tears broke free and began to fall.

The specks of blood staining the platform were growing thicker with every lash. They couldn’t possibly keep this up. They were going to kill him.

On the next lash, the whip’s aim was off, and it landed over Keith’s shoulder. The barb on the tip must have caught on his skin, because it ripped a line of flesh off with it as the guard pulled it back, sending a splash of blood across his chest.

Hunk finally threw up, then, and the cries of delight coming from the Crelxat in front of him turned to ones of disgust as the sick splattered onto his back. Which did nothing to relieve Keith’s pain, but it did give Hunk just the tiniest glimmer of satisfaction before he straightened up again to watch the last of the lashes.

“And to the twentieth God of Crelxat, Skovok!”

The whipped cracked for the final time, the crowd cheered, and Keith was motionless on the stage, all his weight dangling from his wrists, his head bowed and hair covering his eyes so Hunk couldn’t tell whether they were open or closed. The floor at his feet far, far too red.

Hunk could only spot the tiniest bit of movement, just catch the way Keith’s chest shook as he breathed, and he tried to focus only on that as he waited for Malvet to give her stupid closing speech and Hunk could finally take Keith back to the Lions and try to find some way to patch up his back, which had to be a grotesque mess at this points.

“To each of the gods, a due has been paid,” Malvet was saying grandly. “So all that remains is our assurance that the transgressor can never again bring harm to the gods, or to Crelxatain itself. To that end, we offer the last of his life, that they may find solace in its removal and a better purpose for it in the world beyond our own.”

… What?

With great difficulty Hunk pulled his eyes away from Keith to see what was happening on the rest of the stage. All but one guard had moved to the other side, and another hatch, like the one from which they’d pulled the pole, had been opened, something else being unfolded from this one. They locked the pole into place, but this one kept unfolding, into a bracket that projected over the hole the open hatch left in the floor. The hatch was pulled back into place, and one of the guards hooked a loop of wire over the projection.

It took a long moment for Hunk’s brain to catch up to his eyes, for him to realize what he was looking at.

Gallows.

His heart racing, blood pounding he whipped around to face the guard next to him. “What - what is that?!” He jabbed a shaking finger toward the stage, and oh god, the guard who had stayed by Keith was taking him down and starting to drag him across the stage.

“It is a device that will allow penance to be completed,” the guard said, explaining it like he was a teacher giving a classroom lecture. “The wire is placed around the neck of the criminal, and the hatch - ”

“I know what it is!” Hunk yelled. “Why is it here?! Keith paid his penance! He got his punishment already!”

“He paid a blood penance, yes,” the guard said. “Now, they are ensuring that he can never again cause harm to the sacred - ”

“We were never gonna even come to this stupid planet again!” Hunk shouted. He ignored the surrounding Crelxats who were turning to glare at him, a couple snapping at him to be quiet. “They don’t need to ensure it! They - they - they said he’d be returned to me once the penance was done! What happened to that?!”

“He will. To be preserved or memorialized as you and your culture see fit.”

Disbelief had Hunk lost for words for a few seconds, while on the stage, he could see Keith, even in the state he was in, starting to struggle in the guards’ hold. “I don’t want his corpse!” he finally squeaked out. “I - I - oh god, I’ve got to - ” His eyes roved toward the guard holding his bayard.

A hand thumped onto his arm, holding him in place. “Consider this your only warning,” the guard said. “Any attempt to derail the proceedings will result in you joining him.”

Hunk swallowed, his legs feeling close to giving out under him as the loop of wire was wrestled over Keith’s head and around his neck. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. “Please,” he begged, tears pricking at his eyes. “There - there has to be something I can…”

Keith was shouting into his gag, and Malvet was saying something again, raising her voice to drown Keith out. The guard’s grip on Hunk tightened, and he felt dizzy. Keith was going to be hanged right in front of him. Keith shouldn’t even be the one going through this, it should have been Hunk.

Keith was going to die, and it was going to be Hunk’s fault.

There had to be something he could do. He owed it to Keith. Keith had saved him from the Crelxats’ wrath, hadn’t even thought twice about him, and Hunk needed to repay him. He couldn’t let things end this way.

If he were up on the stage right now, in that noose, and Keith were the one having to watch, what would Keith do?

Lance would probably say Keith would ‘punch his problems until they go away’.

It wasn’t much of a plan -

A thunk sounded as the hatch below Keith’s feet was dropped and the wire went taut.

- but it was all he had.

All the fury that had built in him since the moment he had been ushered into the amphitheater flooded into his fist as he whirled on the guard holding him, and it connected with the chin of his helmet. His knuckles immediately throbbed with pain, but there was a satisfying crunch of bone as the guard’s head reeled back, his grip going slack.

Hunk dove for the guard holding his bayard. The guard let out a shout and tried to jump back, but Hunk was not to be deterred, and he bodily tackled him into the next row, the Crelxats there shrieking and scampering out of the way. He clawed his way up the guard’s arm, fighting to pry his fingers off of the bayard, and when he wouldn’t give, he decided he didn’t have the time to fight clean. He hauled himself forward and bit down as hard as he could on the guard’s hand.

The bayard was dropped immediately, and Hunk snatched it up and clambered to his feet. It expanded into its miniturret launcher form as he hefted it up and aimed it toward the stage. Several Crelxats screamed, and his vision swam as he saw Keith through the optic. He was still moving, still jerking in his bonds even as the wire tightened around his neck and his face began turning blue. That meant his neck hadn’t broken when he dropped. He was still alive. There was still a chance.

Although, that chance was getting exponentially smaller with every tick that passed, and Hunk didn’t have time to reach the stage. With his vision hazy and his body shaking and his stomach doing somersaults, it would be insane to try to shoot from here. There was too much chance of hitting Keith. He was going to survive being hanged only to be killed by cannon fire instead.

But it was the only thing he could do.

He fired, praying to anything that was out there and that might be listening that the shot would hit its mark.

It didn’t. It went too high. Hunk’s heart sank, despair flooding him -

Until another shot came from behind him, the projectile this time much larger. This one took out the projection of the gallows that Hunk had been aiming for, dropping Keith’s struggling form to the ground, and burned through half the stage along with it.

He turned around.

Never in his life had he ever been so happy to see the Yellow Lion, hovering just over the amphitheater’s entrance. The buildings behind her were darkened by her enormous shadow, and her eyes blazed down on the crowd that was practically trampling itself to get out of her way.

Yellow had come. She had sensed Keith in danger and -

No, that wasn’t quite it, Hunk realized as he finally noticed Yellow’s presence in his mind, the weight trying to ground Hunk like a heavy blanket, the low rumble of her growl asking if he was okay.

She had sensed Hunk’s distress. That’s why she had come. That’s why she had flown here on her own.

Huh. It seemed Keith wasn’t the only one with an overprotective Lion.

And speaking of…

Hunk’s bayard shrank back down into its dormant form as he raced down the amphitheater steps, shoving panicking Crelxats out of the way and sliding onto his knees as he reached Keith’s crumpled form. The smell of iron from his bloodied back was so strong Hunk could taste it, and he gagged as he rolled him over. Keith’s eyes were closed, his lips gray from lack of air, and Hunk immediately set to fumbling at the wire noose, mumbling reassurances to Keith’s unconscious form as he loosened it.

Right as he pulled it up over Keith’s head, grimacing at the dark bruises it had left on the skin of his neck, the body was yanked aside by the arm, and Hunk looked up to see Malvet, both her hands locked around Keith’s forearm as she tugged at him.

“Get away!” Hunk snarled. “Haven’t you hurt him enough?!”

“He has not completed his penance!” Malvet cried. She swiveled her gaze onto Hunk, and the angry gleam in her eyes was almost manic. “The destruction he caused must be paid in kind! The twenty gods require his life, and we must - ”

Hunk let out a frustrated growl, just about at his wit’s end with Malvet’s gods. In a show of rashness that would make Keith proud, he brought his bayard back up, and it morphed into its energy minigun form as he pointed it right between Malvet’s eyes. “If you even think about hurting Keith one more time, then my gods are gonna need your life in exchange.”

Malvet narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Sure I would. I already took out your monument. I’m on a rampage. I can’t be stopped.”

Her jaw dropped, and her hands shook as her grip on Keith’s arm loosened. “You - it was you who - ”

Hunk was already hauling Keith onto his back and taking off before she could finish the thought, and he raced up the amphitheater steps in leaps to meet Yellow at the top, where she scooped the paladins into her mouth and took flight.

The sound of screams below them was cut off as her jaw shut and Hunk collapsed onto the cockpit floor, rolling Keith off of him as gently as he could before rushing to the controls, taking Yellow around in a wide arc and scanning the city below before he spotted where Red lay, still not quite fixed up to working condition. He dove toward her, and Yellow grabbed the smaller Lion up from the ground around the middle like a mother carrying her cub before rocketing upward, gaining speed until she broke the atmosphere. Then he set her autopilot to the coordinates of the Castle’s landing site and…

It was over. After all that, it was finally over. They were off Crelxatain. They were safe.

They were alive.

Well, Hunk reminded himself as he left the pilot’s seat and made his way back toward Keith’s prone form on the cockpit floor, the worst part was over, at least, but they weren’t in the clear yet. He reached to the overhead storage unit to pull out the emergency medical kit and got onto his knees next to Keith to get a closer look.

It wasn’t a pretty sight. Keith’s back had been slashed to ribbons, the gashes in varying depths with a couple cutting so deep Hunk could swear he could see vertebrae. Some of them had stopped bleeding, most had not, and the sounds of the slowly seeping blood dripping onto the floor of the cockpit rang in Hunk’s head. He’d be able to clean the wounds and get some gauze onto them for now, but the cryopods in the Castle would have to do the bulk of the work.

And his back wasn’t the only spot injured. His ankle was bent in the middle in a way it shouldn’t have been able to bend and was starting to swell; he’d probably landed on it at a bad angle when Yellow had shot down the scaffolding. A trickle of blood dripped from the edge of his mouth where the tight gag was cutting into the skin, and Hunk reached up to start working it free, relieved to hear Keith breathing when he pulled it away, even if the breaths were raspy and strained. Small wonder, considering the purpling bruises covering his neck where the noose had strangled him.

He opened the medical kit, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the extent of Keith’s injuries, and decided to pull out the bottle of disinfectant first. His back was definitely going to need it. He unscrewed the lid and held his breath against the sharp smell before lowering it toward the gashes and pouring the disinfectant in.

It let out a sizzling sound as it spread over the wounds, and Keith’s back arched as he let out a strangled yell, his swollen neck leaving his voice as nothing but a dry rasp. Hunk immediately set the disinfectant down and hurried up toward Keith’s head. “I’m sorry, man,” he said. “I know, I know, it’s gotta hurt like hell, but I have to clean it up, I’m sorry. Hang in there, bud.”

Keith let out another rasping groan, and slowly his eyelids began to peel apart. “Keith?” Hunk whispered. “You awake?”

His back rose and fell in a couple of slow, deep breaths before he finally grunted out, “Sh’ro?”

Wow. Keith may as well have just rammed his fist through Hunk’s chest, grabbed his heart, and wrung it dry. “Uh, no. No, it’s not Shiro. It’s me, it’s Hunk.”

Keith blinked slowly, his eyes working to focus on Hunk’s face, and then: “Hunk? We’re alive?”

Hunk let out a breath. “Yeah, man,” he said, giving Keith a wobbly grin. “We’re alive. We made it out of there. You did great, buddy. Just need to hang in there a little longer before we get back to the Castle.”

“I thought they - ” Keith took a rattling breath, but his voice didn’t sound any less gravelly when he continued, “They decided t’ kill me, di’n’t they.”

Hunk grimaced. “Yeah. They did. But that was a pretty stupid decision, wasn’t it?”

“You stopped th’m,” Keith said. “I saw you. In th’ crowd. You had - y’ had your bay’rd. Before I couldn’t see ‘nymore…”

“Well, I - I tried,” Hunk said. “But it was really Yellow who saved the day, you know. She’s the one who started blasting. All I did was get a little chaos going in the stands and grab you. It was nothing.”

“Nah,” Keith sighed. “It wasn’t noth’ng.”

He let his eyes drift closed, and Hunk pushed his bangs out of his face before scooting back toward the medical kit. “Once we’re in close enough range of the Castle, I’ll radio in and see if anyone’s there to get a pod ready for you. If we’re the first there, well, I’ll do it myself. Coran showed me the basics of how those things work, I can at least get you stabilized before he or Allura comes back and can get it started for the deep healing stuff. But, um, for now I’ve got to get this stuff disinfected and wrapped up. It’s definitely gonna sting.”

“‘S’okay,” Keith grunted. “Go ahead.”

“And Keith?”

“Mm.”

Hunk leaned in close. “Don’t you ever, ever scare me like that again, you got it? You’re no longer allowed to come that close to dying, I forbid it. And if you ever try to jump in and take the blame for my screw-up again, I swear to the Twenty Gods of Crelxatain I’ll bring all the wrath of the Yellow Lion raining down upon you. You hear me? Never again.”

Eyes still closed, Keith gave him a weak attempt at a smile. “We’ll see,” he rasped out.

Hunk sighed. Shiro really should have warned them right from the start how stressful it was to have Keith around. “Good enough,” he said, moving back to focus on the gashes. Keith tensed and let out a couple of whimpers as Hunk dabbed disinfectant into the wounds, but they got through it.

It wasn’t until Hunk was halfway through wrapping Keith’s torso in bandages that he opened his eyes and spoke again. “Hunk?” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Remember, when I said t’ just let them get th’ penance over with? ‘nd not to interfere?”

“Yeah…”

“Thanks for not list’ning to me.”

Hunk let out a loud laugh, more out of the hysteria still left in his system than any humor in Keith’s weak joke, but he still broke out a wide smile as he said, “Any time, buddy.”

“And for… ev’rything else.”

“Hey. You had my back from the start, right? Of course I’m gonna have yours too. That’s what teammates are for, you said it yourself.”

“So now… we’re even?”

“Not even close,” Hunk said, shaking his head. “Not until you get out of that cryopod and eat every bite of the feast I’m going to make for you the moment we get back to the Castle. I’m talking twenty dessert courses and live entertainment by the mice. Then we’ll be even.”

Keith let out a breath of laughter and let his eyes slide closed again. “Deal.”

[kat-hawke]

Cessation

(Following [To Hunt a Shadow]) (Run in conjuction with [The Voice in the Dark])

"You're not alone." Alyssa chimed in as Kat and Erzis stared one another down.

"I know," Kat responds tentatively, "I'm never alone. Always been a blessing and a curse."

"Maybe we'll get to the place where it's more the first and less the latter," Alyssa said.

"Been this way since I was twelve, so I doubt it..." Kat's mental conversation trails off as she strafes the lesser void lord, drawing the Gilnean dagger and turning the blade over in her fingers.

"Renegotiate," she addressed the entity directly now. "I believe ya' will find this soul t' yer likin'. Powerful, already subdued, and bound to live within this blade."

An eerie bout of laughter erupted as the creature of Void closed the distance. "So callously, you would discard a loved one for your own gains?" Erzis taunted as a shadowy claw ran over the engravings of the blade.

"Love is weakness," Kat spoke in a monotone, "but a damn fine method o' manipulation."

As Erzis inspected the offering, Alyssa spoke again, seemingly unaware she had become a bargaining chip. "What can I do to help?"

"Don't die," Kat answered slowly, taking caution not to alert Erzis of their communication.

"You first," Alyssa replied.

"No promises."

"Same...but I'll do my best." Alyssa paused for a second. "I've decided I'm not really ready to be dead."

The latter statement sends a quick ping of concern through Kat's mind; her rampant paranoia threatened to derail the carefully laid plans. Perhaps this could be the ideal resolution; to hand Alyssa over to the Void lord as payment and no longer worry about a betrayal in the future. To close a debt and eliminate a threat in one action, the temptation was overwhelming.

Kat dismissed the notion and shelved the subject for another time as her attention returned to Erzis, who appraised Alyssa's worth.

"This one stinks of fel, and she tries to siphon from my touch," the Void lord sounds amused. "It is more fun when they struggle."

"She is a defian' one," Kat scoffs, focusing on reality more than Alyssa's voice in her head. "That's how she ended up in there in th' first place."

A low tone of consideration echoed off the cavern walls as Erzis circled Kat, leaving a wafting trail of shadows behind in its movement. "This one may be payment enough, with one stipulation."

"No," Kat immediately protested, cutting the creature off, spinning on her heel to face the empty visage. "We're done. Take her and do as ya' will," the dagger was offered outward, "but our business is concluded."

"Who are you to make demands?" Erzis challenged, sticking it's empty eyes inches from Kat's. "You've cheated death multiple times because of me, all while failing to uphold your end of the bargain. Now you bring me a single soul and seek to change the terms of our agreement? And not even that of the priest whom it was meant to be?"

Kat bristled, snarling at how close Erzis got to her face. "With this soul, ya'll have yer freedom and enough power to hunt after Saelkath on yer own. Our. Business. Is. Concluded."

A long silence followed as they stared each other down, their temperments nearly palpable in the static air of the cavern as the echoing breeze bounced off the stone walls.

"Very well," Erzis answered in a chilling tone as it reached for the dagger, accepting the new agreement with a gut-wrenching smile. "A pleasure doing business with you."

The moment the shadowy hand made contact with the dagger, Kat spun it back around, aiming to plunge the blade into the Void lord's center mass. The creature was quicker to Kat's misfortune, slipping out of reach with an angered screech that rattled the cavern stones.

"You okay?" Alyssa promptly reaches out.

"Yeah," Kat answered shortly as she stepped back from the angered entity.

"Ezris spoke to me," Alyssa continues, "it wanted me to believe you were trading me away in payment."

Though concerned at that implication, Kat does not respond, despite the paranoid thoughts clawing at the edges of her sanity, focusing instead on Erzis, who dropped the mirrored facade, taking on its proper form, which expanded throughout the cavern. The slender arms and formless body tripling in size as the area grew darker by the second.

"I'll drag you both into the abyss!" Erzis exclaimed in anger as reality shattered.

The cavern's stones shattered like glass, peeling away as space transformed into an endless, twisting void. An illusion but a reality in the same instance, one which still felt disorienting as Kat found her footing left with only a sliver of ground. The once walls and ceiling now hovering through the dimly illuminated space in chucks.

Shifting the dagger to her left hand, Kat drew the shortsword from her waist. With an upward swing, she cleaved a chunk of stone in two, thwarting the would-be projectile Erzis had launched. The deflection left her little time to leap into the empty space, narrowly dodging the horizontal sweep of the Void lord's claws.

Bouncing from stone to stone Kat kept herself on the defensive, failing to create an opening to move closer to Erzis, who attacked without mercy. Hurling the broken shards of reality, lashing out with the natural void, and swinging the narrow, shapeless arms at each foothold Kat could find. Her energy expensed carefully over the hour in which the fight dragged on, siphoning tentatively from the azerite crystal around her neck to supplement recovery.

Running out of patience, Kat formulated a final hail-mary. Hanging in what felt an upside-down position, she kicked away from one of the final remaining pieces of reality, launching herself towards Erzis in a feverous assault. The Void lord retaliated, gathering up the last few stone pieces and throwing them into Kat's path. With a zealous shout, her sword and daggers swung, one after another in various angles to cut away each oncoming chunk of earth.

Tucking arms tight across her chest, she dove into a slide, drawing what energy remained from the azerite necklace to propel herself between the body and arm of the Void entity. With the dagger meticulously positioned upward, the tip of the blade dragged across Erzis' body, slicing open a small wound with spilled coalesced void like blood. Hoping the brief moment of contact was enough for Alyssa to draw some of its essences and weaken the void lord to some degree.

Turning over to observe the damage, the sword and dagger were returned to their sheaths, watching as Erzis patched the gushing wound and set its lifeless sights on Kat. The two charged at each other with unprecedented conviction, waiting until they were only a yard apart before shouting out to Alyssa, "Now!"

Without delay, the dagger on her thigh lit up with a swell of energy. Kat's left hand reach forward as shadow-forged chains sprung from her flesh, ensnaring Erzis as they passed one another. In a pained roar, she yanked downward, dragging the Void lord back into reality as the cavern appeared around them in the blink of an eye.

The chains had been wrapped around the damaged effigy, which now sparked to life with defiant shadows. Suspended in the air at the center of the cavern, the excess energy swirled around Kat's body in faint wisps, faulting as Erzis pushed back at the confinement. In another shout of anger and pain, she reached with the right hand towards the undisturbed effigy on the opposite side, light-forge chains coiling from her fingers as she tapped into the bound entity's power.

Straining, she pulled her arms inward, the flesh and soul of her being threatening to shatter and tear apart into thousands of pieces as skin broke like a china doll and energies seeped from the crevices. Syllables were muttered through gritted teeth as she spoke the ancient words of power in tongues, expelling the remaining fuel to her fingertips. The cavern lit up in the explosion, and Kat collapsed onto the ground, panting as she stared at the charred fingertips which supported her on the stone.

Leaning back, her haunches rested on the heels of the boots, gaze casting upward to the void-bound effigy. The stone visage of the crudely carved statue repaired and patched with dark fillings, Erzis once again bound to captivity and servitude. Slowly her eyes swept down the statute to its base, the rune alive with energy. An identical rune had been carved into the flesh of her left wrist years ago in the origin ritual.

With heavy breaths, Kat looked to her hands. Conjuring and orb of shadow and light in either palm before snuffing them out in a fist. Emotionlessly she laughed, hands slipping over her hips as she held herself. Back to the beginning to start anew, whole again with the stolen powers.

[ @alyssa-ward​ ] [ Mentioned: @saelkath-alzarah​ ]

( [Chapter I] [Chapter II] [Chapter III] [Chapter IV] ) ( [pt.I] [pt.II] [pt.III] [pt.IV] [pt.V] [pt.VI] [pt.VII] [pt.VIII] [pt.IX] )

[alchemabotana]

Hindsight is 2020

Walk with us through our medicine wheel:

The Eastern Direction:

No one could have been less surprised by the announcement of the Corona virus pandemic than my medicine hoop. 

In 2018 a local paper, Yes! Weekly interviewed me on my predictions for 2019, in which I detailed many of the struggles we’d see that year as a sneak-peak on what to expect for 2020: Whaples said 2019 is the preparation and intention-setting year, “for the real show;” she said [2019] is the “dress rehearsal for 2020.”“It is an important year to set up positive energy for what you want to come in the future,” she said.

We saw this come to fruition in the work we do with Kindred Spirits, my shamanic healing store and art gallery located in Winston Salem, NC. 

In early 2020, we celebrated my most dedicated Shamanic apprentice, RJ Walker as the Winston Salem Ambassadors awarded him the Everyday Hero Award - an exceptional and much-needed recognition of BIPOC work in the spiritual community.

Having dealt with the emotional and financial hits taken by the closing of the major highway through downtown Winston Salem, we were more than excited to celebrate the re-opening of our roadways and a new lease on business and life. I worked with a local news station to bring awareness to our continued existence in the downtown community, and our work to support and bring together that community. I hope any readers will take the time to watch the linked newsclips in order to gain a deeper understanding of the situation.

Not long after this, one of our hoop members came onto our fb livefeed to announce the pandemic and warn others to be aware of the upcoming energy. You can watch this on facebook!

As soon as the national news hit, our store promptly closed its doors prior to the statewide shutdown. We continued to provide shamanic services and wares through our online portal, and distance work.

The Southern Direction:

RJ and I answered a spiritual call close to our hearts in early June with spiritual warfare and ceremonial ritual work on behalf of national and local protesters in the Black Lives Matter movement. I created a ritual crucifix for our hoop member Camille to carry in the protests. One such protest was held on the very street where our store resides, bringing awareness to the issues of racism on our street. A local business owner who had posted racist material was ousted from our block. We celebrated in solidarity with song, drumming, and our ceremonially summoning. We walked, carried the painting of St. Maya Angelou, and wore our traditional regalia with pride:

Antonina Whaples is a shamanic artist and co-owner of Kindred Spirits, a store and healing arts center on Trade Street. She has been marching in the protests while beating a Siberian goat-skin and birch wood drum.

She made a crucifix for her student Camille Adair to carry in the marches. Instead of the traditional Christ figure, the cross bears an image of a black madonna with a sacred heart.

“I said to her, ‘You are like a daughter to me, and I have no other way to express how I feel,’” Whaples said. “It is a layered piece. It is very personal and emotional to me. I felt like Camille would be protected by it.”

Her friend, Elyse Bottomly, carried another one of Whaples’ art works in the marches, “Her Majesty St. Maya Angelou,” which Whaples had made for Rosa Johnson, Angelou’s niece.

Whaples is doing what artists do: responding to the moment and finding ways to express feelings for which there are no words.

We were able to re-open in early July, seeing a completely new client and customer base supporting the work like never before. Just before re-opening, I was able to completely finish drawing the Minor arcana for the Piczanka Tarot, now available for first edition pre-order on the website.  We celebrated this victory by partnering up with an amazing team of entrepreneurs in Winston Salem: PinkTalk Podcast. We truly enjoyed being the guests for Episode 14, hosted by Bobbi Bugatti and produced by Mizz Faith. You can access it on youtube, facebook, instagram, and iHeart Radio! 

The Western Direction:

As a traumatic brain injury survivor still in the depths of my healing journey, I have been a high-risk individual for the entirety of the COVID pandemic. Going further inwards, I focused my sorrow, grief, and understanding on the transformative power of art throughout this year. Creating and displaying hundred of pieces of sacred shamanic artwork at my store, Kindred Spirits, became my purpose and grounding act of revolution daily. In a time of destruction there is nothing more revolutionary than to create.

From late September through August I focused my attention solely on my work for Winston Salem Fashion Week’s 6th show, presented at the Southeast Center for Contemporary Art. Although I had participated last year for the 5th anniversary as a model & guest designer with Melissa Coleman from Hanesbrands; this year I designed jewelry and headpieces for Melissa while also designing my own line of jewelry and clothing for Kindred Spirits.

 This year we presented the fashion week virtually, filming the showcase at SECCA in late August, and launching the showcase in October. Filming was exciting and different, with our models being able to walk through the open and empty gallery during the shutdown. It was a a beautiful presentation. I worked double-time, modeling for Melissa’s bridal line, and coordinating and preparing my own models at the same time. In fact, I walked with one of my own models for Melissa just prior to my own line’s presentation that day. Talk about being in two places at one time! 

My line was sponsored by Goodwill Industries as part of the sustainable fashion initiative of WSFW. I enjoyed painting shoes, purses, and hats - as well as upcycling clothing that represented the designs and colors of our culture lineage systems.

We were happily surprised when Yes! Weekly did a feature-story about WSFW, with our 2019 designs on the front cover, and beautiful large format photographs of additional designs in the inside story. I was especially proud of the front cover, as the make-up design feather, head-pieces, and jewelry thoroughly represented the medicine work we intentionally worked last year. The pre-runway experience was true ceremony. 

But that’s not all 2020 had to offer us! 

RJ and I also worked on finishing many of our long-term projects already far into the completion phase. We announced many of these upcoming releases with Yes! Weekly when it was announced that I had been voted the “Best Visual Artist in the Triad” by the paper’s readers:

“As an artist, to be named something like that in your hometown feels more special than some of these international awards that I have gotten,” she said. “Especially since people voted for it, it has made me feel more affirmed.”

In addition to being a visual artist, Whaples is the owner of Kindred Spirits on Trade Street, a Shaman, a published author, and a fashion designer. Last year, she gave half of her business to her shamanic apprentice, so that she could focus on creating art to sell at Kindred. The new book she just published is called Stone People: An Introduction to Stone Medicine, which she said is a descriptive book about “all the healing stones organized by the chakra system, and how to use them to heal yourself.” Whaples also finished drawing her own 78-card tarot deck she calls the Piczanka Tarot Deck, which is set to be released this month.

“[Piczanka] was the name of the holocaust camp that my grandmother was interned in,” she said. “So this deck is like a reflection and a message from those of us who have already conquered and lived through tragedy to others who are experiencing displacement in order to help them through their journey spiritually.”

Stone People: An Introduction to Stone Medicine has been a big hit at the store, with only 12 copies currently available of the first edition. 

The Piczanka Tarot first edition major/minor arcana has just become available for pre-order this month, and can be purchased on our website. 

The North Direction:

As we close the year, we celebrated the Winter Solstice and great conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter in Aquarius (my natal sun & moon!). Along with this celebration of the dawn of a new age, we at Kindred Spirits were congratulated by the Innovation Quarter, Chronicle, and Triad Minority and Women’s Business Expo, the Urban League, and more as we were named the “Business of the Month” 

I became an official artist with Saatchi Gallery, an international fine arts organization with an online gallery. You can now purchase the originals or prints of many pieces of shamanic fine artwork created exclusively for Kindred Spirits through their gallery online. 

RJ and I are still hard at work completing the final touches of a project over 6 years in the making: the launch of the online Introduction to Herbal Medicine program through Piedmont Herb School. Although we had hoped to launch before the new year hit, it looks like the first thing we’ll be doing in 2021 is making sure that this very important information can be accessed ASAP.

We hope our local and extended hoops continue to be blessed by the important recognition of the medicine work we’ve been deeply involved with this year, and in the years leading up to this massive event. I truly believe that the more recognition and normalcy granted to shamans and medicine people practicing in the open, generational and cultural healing will move further and deeper in our shared experience of community and personal well-being, regardless of your place on a chess board of life. 

We’ll be in ceremony, of course, celebrating the new year and the beginning of our 27th year in business in Winston Salem, NC in the heart of the downtown arts district.

[27dragons]

For the @tonystarkbingo‘s November Flash Bingo, card #2, prompt Witchcraft:

Bucky strolled along the long path, enjoying the brisk evening air and the quiet rustle of the leaves. Autumn had always been his favorite season, though his mother would have chided him for having favorites -- all the seasons had their strengths and weaknesses, after all.

And Bucky would have dutifully agreed... but secretly, quietly, autumn was his favorite.

He continued on along the path until he found the spot he was looking for -- a wide, flat area near the center of the park, off the path but near it.

The spell to find a familiar was lengthy; it was just nearly nine now, and it would be midnight before he was finished. But this part of the park was unlikely to be inhabited that late.

Bucky laid down his cloth and began setting out his tools and ingredients, wondering what sort of creature would answer his call.

Traditionally, a witch would perform this spell in the wild, surrounded by as much nature as possible. But Bucky only had a motorcycle, and he hadn’t wanted to drive for hour to get to the nearest forest and then end up with a familiar too big to fit in his jacket on the way home.

There were plenty of animals in the park -- stray cats and squirrels and chipmunks, groundhogs and birds and even a few deer, though Bucky couldn’t imagine trying to explain that to his landlord. Birds of all sorts. Coyotes, sometimes, though animal control tried to discourage those. Raccoons -- a raccoon familiar could be very useful, actually.

[’ware the readmore!]

He set candles on the corners of his spellcloth, more to keep it from blowing around than because the ritual required them. Last of all, he pulled out his spellbook, an ancient tome that had been passed down from parent to child for generations. Only frequent renewal of the preserving spells on it kept it from falling into dust.

With a practiced hand, Bucky opened it to the Findings section, and turned the ancient, fragile pages until he found the one he was looking for. To Finde a Familiar.

He read through it again. Frowned, and switched out a few ingredients that he’d remembered wrong. Read through it one more time -- it was a very bad idea to undertake such a complicated spell without being certain of each step -- and then began.

The spell took hours to cast, though a lot of that was inward-focused, centering himself and readying himself to accept the gift of a familiar’s presence, creating a sort of well for the extra energy it would share with him, altering the shape of his protective wards so they would enclose his familiar as well.

Bucky touched the tattoos on his left arm and wondered whether that protection would also extend to his familiar -- spiritually, they would be one and the same, but human logic didn’t always apply to demons. He made a note to ask Steve about it later.

For now, he didn’t need to worry about demons. 

He released the last of the spell’s energy into the night air, sending it forth to find the one that would belong to him. The one he would belong to.

The energy burst from him with what felt like a joyous, impatient leap, eager to do Bucky’s bidding. That was a good sign — it meant the tendrils of seeking he’d released had already found a target, drawing the magic toward it like a magnet. He took a deep, calming breath and made himself sit still, to wait patiently.

Half of witchcraft, it seemed sometimes, was waiting. Bucky had been honing his patience since his magic had first manifested at the age of eight. That didn’t make it much easier when he was so excited for the outcome. But fidgeting could frighten off a skittish familiar, so Bucky curled his fingers into a gentle lotus, closed his eyes, and concentrated on breathing, counting slowly.

A soft sound penetrated his counting. A steady rhythm, slowly growing louder.

No. Not getting louder. Coming closer.

Footfalls, on the dirt path.

Bucky opened his eyes, though there wasn’t much light to see with, and stood up. His familiar--

A large shape rounded the bushes at the edge of the path and nearly collided with Bucky. “Whoa, shit, sorry!”

It wasn’t an animal at all. It was a man, wearing a ridiculous jogging suit. Who the fuck went out jogging this late? Bucky looked past the man impatiently, but that crackle of energy, that feeling of pulling was gone. The spell had dissipated. And... no familiar.

“Damn it,” Bucky swore, and glared at the jogger. “Did you fuck up my spell results?”

“Uh.” The man was staring at Bucky with wide, startled eyes. “I... I think I might be your spell results.”

[fuckingfinwions]

Scene in the Harem AU. Turgon had a bad time. Fingon helps, and then “helps”

Turgon was walking very carefully towards his bedroom, half leaning on the wall. If he fell over he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up on his own, and he’d rather spend the night on a soft bed than on the floor.

“Here, let me help you,” Fingon said, lifting Turgon’s arm over his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“I could hardly let you collapse. Who was it this time?”

“Curufin. He wants to find an oil that stings if you put it on cuts and welts, but not if it gets elsewhere. Apparently he had some discomfort last time he and Caranthir got elaborate.”

“Did he find one?” Fingon asked, propping his brother against the wall as he opened the door to Turgon’s bedroom.

“No. It stings on welts and cuts and on my cock and in my ass.”

“What does it taste like?”

“I don’t know. Curufin wanted to be get his cock sucked after his experiment, and he’s capable of thinking ahead ”

“Too bad, that would’ve been funny. Sit on the stool here for a moment.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I can’t hold you up and start the bath at the same time, and you’re too tall for me to lift you up from the bed by myself.”

“Fine, I’ll sit to accommodate my littlest brother.” Turgon sat down, letting out a hiss of pain at the pressure against the welts on his ass.

Fingon turned the water on, and began gathering soaps and salves from the various cabinets. “How deep in you did the oil go?”

“Pretty deep, he used that dildo with the emerald on the base.” Turgon began unbuttoning his robe, flinching as the cloth moved against his injuries.

“I’m not sticking my arm up your ass while it’s full of stinging oil, I’ll be right back.”

Turgon managed to get his robe fully off, except where he was sitting on it. He was naked, not having bothered to put on tights for the walk back across the palace.

Fingon walked in holding a dildo over a foot long but only an inch wide. “Found a good one in your cabinet, sometimes I wonder why we even have half this stuff - oh wow. Is your back as bad as your chest?”

“It shouldn’t be. Curufin wanted to see how the oil reacted with different types of injuries. My chest was cuts, back was with a whip, ass was with a crop.”

Fingon walked in a quick circle around Turgon. “There’s a welt on your shoulder that’s bleeding a bit, but you should be able to sleep on your back without opening anything else. Your chest really is a mess though, I don’t know if you’ve looked in a mirror.”

“I haven’t.”

“Well, there’s one next to the tub. You can take a look while we get the oil off you.”

With Fingon’s help, Turgon got into the bathtub. His chest really was a mess, dozens of shallow cuts and nicks, all less than an inch long except for a hair-thin line tracing his breastbone.

Fingon had to help him wash his back, but Turgon scrubbed down the rest of his body. The soap didn’t feel great in the cuts, but it was bliss in comparison to the stinging oil.

Between the two of them, they managed to get Turgon out of the tub and seated on the stool again, and even mostly dried off.

“I‘m going to put a salve on a the cuts first so they close up faster, then I’ll work on the welts.”

"Alright, but what about the oil still in my ass?”

“Same cooling cream as on the welts. I’ll use the dildo to make sure it gets everywhere.”

“Can we do that now? It hurts even worse now that the rest of me is clean.”

“Unless you can support yourself hands and knees for as long as it takes, we need to do your chest first,” Fingon said as he applied the salve. “Rubbing all these cuts against the floor or a towel will just make them take longer to heal.”

Turgon tried to sit up straighter, then sighed. “I don’t think I can, even for ten minutes. Not sure I have enough energy to hold ‘head down ass up’ either.”

“That’s fine. I’ll rub the cream on your cock, and then you can fall on your bed face first. You only have to be awake enough to roll onto your back when I’m done.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, what’s family for?”

The cream had a slight minty scent, contrasting with the medical smell of the herbs. Fingon rubbed it on Turgon’s cock and balls, paying special attention to the sensitive head, which was irritated even more than the rest.

“Did I miss any spots that you can tell?”

“My thighs still sting a lot.”

“I’ll get your thighs after your ass, it’s good enough for now.”

Fingon left Turgon sitting on the stool long enough to fold back the covers. Then the two of them walked slowly together up to Turgon’s bed, where he quite literally fell onto the bed. He managed to get his head on the pillow and his feet not, so Fingon let him be.

Turgon’s asshole had closed a bit in the hour since it had been last used, but the dildo Fingon selected was narrow. He coated the whole thing with the cooling cream, and placed a large dollop on the end.

“Let me know when it’s in far enough,” Fingon said, and began to push the dildo into Turgon. He went slowly, and paused every inch to wiggle it so he could be sure to coat his brother’s walls thoroughly.

“Almost - stop, that’s as far as he went.” Turgon focused on keeping his body relaxed. “I really wish there was a better way to do this.”

“If you were less wrung out, I could pour water up there and rinse you out a couple times. I’m pretty sure you’d just make a mess of the bed with as flat as you’re lying now though.”

“It’s annoying how that works.”

“Yep. I’m going to take the dildo out for a minute while I rub the cream on the outside of your hole and between your thighs. It’ll go back in while I do your back though, you’re irritated enough that two rounds is better than one.”

“Fine.”

The dildo came out just as smoothly as it went in. Fingon did as he said he would, until the scent of mint was practically overpowering.

Finally, Fingon said, “Alright. I’m going to wash my hands, then I’ll help you find a more comfortable position to sleep in.”

Turgon rolled onto his back, and Fingon helped him point his feet away from the edge of the bed and towards the foot.

“That good? You’re not putting pressure on anywhere sore?”

“No, nothing hurts like this.”

“Good. Then one last thing and I’ll let you sleep.” Fingon climbed into the bed until he was above Turgon and kissed him on the lips. Fingon began stroking his hands down his brother’s bare sides, avoiding the healing cuts.

“Fingon, I just want to sleep.”

“Not quite yet,” Fingon said as he caressed Turgon’s nipple.

“Please.”

Fingon stilled his hands, but didn’t let go. “You know that’s a bad idea. You just had a terrible time, so we need to show your body that sex can be good. Otherwise you’ll be terrified and flinching the next time one of the princes wants you. Then Celegorm will say you’re acting like a scared rabbit and decide to exhaust you so much you can’t flinch, or Caranthir will tie you up, or Maglor will blindfold you so you can’t be scared of things if you can’t see them coming. And we’ll end up right here again in two weeks.”

Turgon let out a shaky sigh. “You’ll be gentle?”

“As light as a feather.” Fingon kissed Turgon again. He resumed stroking Turgon’s chest, circling his nipples with a touch barely firm enough not to tickle. He ran his fingers down Turgon’s sides, drawing them inward when he got to the hips.

Turgon flinched when Fingon reached his cock.

“Hey, eyes open, it’s just me.” Fingon leaned back so Turgon could see his face, then planted a kiss on his brother’s cheek. “Does it hurt?” Fingon kept his hand in place.

“No, it just feels - odd. Your hands are really warm.”

“That’s just the cream on our cock making them feel so, but I’m glad.” Fingon kissed Turgon on the lips again, then began trailing kiss down his neck. When he got to Turgon’s chest he placed a kiss on one nipple, then the other.

Fingon kissed a meandering path down Turgon’s body, lifting one hand to continue petting Turgon’s nipples. He licked into Turgon’s navel, kissing the rim with loving attention. Turgon was too sore for any touch to his hole to be pleasurable, but Fingon made sure his brother could imagine in detail what he wished to do.

When Fingon kissed the tip of Turgon’s cock, which he had so carefully tended to not an hour before, Turgon let out a low moan. Fingon didn’t move to take it in his mouth though, instead placing kisses all along the shaft. The minty taste of the medicated cream was incongruous, but not unpleasant.

It took a while with such light touches, but Turgon eventually reached his peak. Fingon made sure to cover his brother’s cock with his hand, to keep any come from getting on the cuts and needing to be washed off.

Fingon kissed Turgon one more time, then went in the bathroom to wash his hands and take care of his own erection.

He pulled up the covers on Turgon’s bed when he was done. “Good night.”

“Good night. Oh, can you tell Dad not to worry if I miss breakfast?”

“Sure.”

[politicalpadme]

Pas De Deux, a Jedi Dance Academy AU (Part 7 of 7)

AO3 | First Position  | Second Position | Third Position | Fourth Position | Fifth Position | Jeté

It was the moment. The moment his whole life had been building towards.

Anakin took a deep breath, clenched and unclenched his fists. He felt the heat of the lights on his brow, caught sight of Boba upstage right, poised to shoot down the ramp and start the show. The boy's face was scrunched up with focus. Boba was the wildest of his students but also the most driven. He reminded Anakin of himself. They both had something to prove. The music began. Anakin and Boba both counted the beats to the entrance, the stage was dark except for the "moonlight" that allowed Boba to see the ramp. On cue he let go of the board and dropped onto the stage, the sound of the wheels careening toward the center nearly as loud as the orchestra. Artoo flipped a switch and a thousand twinkling lights danced as Boba completed a turn, kicked off his board and into a jump. The audience gasped audibly. As seven more boys on boards took the stage Anakin allowed himself a smile.

"Did you see, Mom? Did you see how high I got? I bet I could jump over a whale." Anakin had never seen a whale, but people took boats out to see them from the dock five blocks over and he was sure they were big.

Shmi smiled and agreed, "It was a very big jump." She grasped his hand and pressed his palm. "Did you feel it here?"

"In my fingers?"

"In your whole body. Fingers to toes."

Anakin frowned. "I dunno. What's that feel like?"

His mother knelt and met his eyes, piercing blue, like the waves and the sky. "Do you remember the thunder storm three days ago?" He nodded. It had rained all day. They spent a few hours in the library and another couple in an internet cafe. But at night they were huddled in the sandstone outcropping they called home. It provided a spectacular view of the lightning hitting the water. "When the thunder sounded and the sky lit up, did you feel it?"

Anakin closed his eyes and tried to picture the storm. The rough waves and the splashing rain and the lightning that seemed to shoot straight down from the stars. He remembered the weight of the air and how his face was wet from rain and spray both. He remembered how the rumbling thunder seemed to come from everywhere. He looked up to meet his mother's eyes. "I think so. Yes."

"That same energy is in you." She touched a finger to his heart.

The audience applauded as the boys scampered off the stage. Anakin clenched his fists one last time, raised up on the balls of his feet, and met Ahsoka's gaze across the stage. The lighting shifted from stars to a kind of technological latticework to represent the robot stronghold. Artoo designed all the effects from her own drawings. No one had ever allowed her to play the way Anakin did and she'd taken full advantage. The music swelled and Anakin stepped on stage, Ahsoka in sync across the way. They crept towards each other in circles, their bodies low and eyes alert. As the music picked up lights suddenly shot across the stage and they mimicked dodging blasts. The duo met in the center and the dance morphed into something more intricate as they stepped and out of each other's space. The lights changed again, Anakin and Ahsoka hit a button on their wrists and shafts of blue light burst forth. They continued the dance, leaping and spinning and lifting in a frenzy of play battle.

"I don't think they like me." He tried to say it with a scowl — who cared what a bunch of Jedi Academy losers think of anything! But the truth is Anakin cared. He wanted them to like him. He wanted to belong.

Qui-Gon patted his shoulder. "They don't know you. Give it time."

"I'm trying." He looked away and rubbed an eye with his fist. He was lonely and he didn't know how to talk to the other students or their teachers. "I don't know the right words."

"What words?"

"Like 'pirouette en dedans.'" Anakin rubbed his eye again but it wasn't working. He felt the tears welling up. "I know how to do it but I don't know the words."

Qui-Gon gave him a measured look. "Do you like your teacher?"

"Obi-Wan?" The social worker nodded. "I guess. He's nice to me."

"He was my student once."

"Really?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon's eyes twinkled. "He knows all the words but he's still learning how to set them free. I'm hoping you will help him."

Anakin frowned. "I don't understand."

Qui-Gon straitened. "Pirouette en dedans." Anakin's frown deepened but he stepped back and performed a spin turned inward. His teacher's teacher nodded. "You can learn the vocabulary. They will refine your technique. But you were born a dancer."

Anakin threw his leg back and dropped down as Ahsoka spun around him, the blue lights shooting from both her wrists cut across the stage, now bathed only in low light, the "robots" defeated. Finally Ahsoka turned into her final pose and the stage went dark.

Applause filled the auditorium but Anakin barely heard it. He returned to his place in the wings and focused on his breathing. The quiet rumble of the music for his dance with Padmé began. He lifted his eyes to watch her entrance as the strings launched the haunting melody. Her movements were quiet and small compared to what came before, but no less driven. And so beautiful his heart ached. The orchestra grew louder cueing Anakin to join the dance. His hand snaked around her waist and they danced as one.

"Anakin, something's happened." Obi-Wan kept talking but Anakin didn't remember the words. He remembered the sorrow in his voice and the softness. He remembered the sound of the rain still falling outside and the damp smell of the basement. He remembered digging his nails into the palm of his hands. He remembered the terrible knowledge that it was all his fault. It was four days before his sixteenth birthday. They were coming to see him.

The whole Academy mourned Qui-Gon. He was one of their own. Yoda's student and Obi-Wan's teacher before he left ballet behind to work in the community. The memorial was packed and the ceremony long. Anakin stood quietly beside his mentor.

Shmi's burial was much simpler. Just Anakin and Obi-Wan and the family who'd hired her as a housekeeper. Qui-Gon probably arranged that, too, but Anakin never asked. The Lars were kind. They considered Shmi family and Anakin was comforted she was happy. But he didn't know them and he wasn't sure he was ready to know who Shmi had been without him. Everything was awkward.

Anakin fell into a depression. He had trouble sleeping, he barely ate. He'd never been a great student but his grades plummeted, even metal shop, which he loved. And worst, he wasn't dancing. He went through the steps, with precision, but no heart. He couldn't give it up — it was all he had now — but he couldn't connect. He couldn't feel the lightning. And he couldn't cry.

A month and a half after his birthday he threw a brick through the window of the community center Qui-Gon founded. The glass shattered, littered the sidewalk and one shard lodged above his right eye. It stung. Anakin pressed his hand over the glass, pushing it deeper into his skin. The pain was the first thing he remembered feeling in weeks. Tears sprung into his eyes, his vision blurred and he dropped to the ground, too exhausted to stay standing.

"Are you okay, son?"

Anakin blinked at the officer peering at him with kind eyes. He shook his head and growled, "I'm not your son." He wasn't anybody's son.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan's worried visage appeared next to the stranger.

"They called you?" Anakin wondered how long he'd been sitting here. The sun was low in the sky.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Are you all right?"

"My head hurts."

His mentor tsked, and addressed the officer. "I'm taking him to the hospital." They started arguing, something about protocol and paramedics on their way. Anakin wasn't listening. He was looking at the way the broken glass glittered in the sunset. But Obi-Wan must have prevailed because now he was lifting him up off the ground. "Don't worry. We'll figure this all out."

Anakin was silent for the trip to the emergency room. He responded to the nurse's questions with one word answers. Obi-Wan hovered like a mother hen. "Will it leave a scar?" he asked the doctor.

"Most likely."

Obi-Wan tsked again. Anakin didn't care.

Stitched and cleaned and bandaged, he was released. Obi-Wan drove him back to school and watched him take two painkillers. "I'll come see you in the morning." He pressed Anakin's shoulders and started toward the door. The boy looked up suddenly, eyes bright, and he reached out to grasp his mentor's arm.

"Obi-Wan?"

"I'm here."

Anakin nodded, and swallowed, and started to sob. He fell forward into Obi-Wan's waiting embrace and cried.

When all the tears were spent, Anakin slept for three days. On the fourth he woke at dawn, went for a run and then headed to the empty practice hall. He grasped the barre, imagined sand beneath his feet and launched into a warm up routine. Obi-Wan arrived ten minutes before class time and watched from the door.

"How are you feeling?"

Anakin glanced over. "Better." He stepped into the center of the room and faced the mirror. "I'm ready." Obi-Wan nodded and motioned for music to begin. Anakin lifted his arms.

And he danced.

The music swelled to its final crescendo and Anakin lifted Padmé up over his head, to the stars. The music ended, the lights fell and everything was silent. Anakin lowered Padmé and grasped her hand. He was shaking, sweating, his heart pounding. The lights came up, he and Padmé lowered their heads and the applause finally began. It was thunderous.

The lobby was crowded with well-wishers. Sponsors and family — Anakin waved to Pooja — and representatives from every company he'd ever heard of.

"Well done, sir."

"Brilliant work, young man."

"I've never seen anything like it."

"And you, young Skywalker, we will watch your career with great interest."

Anakin wasn't exactly sure all of the comments were entirely praise, but enough were that it didn't matter.

“Ms. Kryze?”

“Yes?” She stood with the practiced posture of a former ballerina, her feet at rest in third position. Tall, quite attractive, and styled impeccably, while she’d seemed approachable from his perch backstage, now Anakin found himself oddly intimidated.

“I’m Anakin—”

“Skywalker,” she finished with a wide smile, and extended a hand. “Your dance was quite something. Extraordinary, really, the innovation.”

Anakin frowned. “Thank you?” That all sounded good, but Anakin had trouble reading her, and worried he was missing a tinge of sarcasm.

Satine’s expression softened, subtly. “I mean it,” she assured him.

“Thank you,” he repeated, with a smile. “I was hoping… I’d like to invite you to dinner.” Her eyes widened with confusion and a touch of panic. “With my partners,” he rushed to explain. “And my mentor.”

The panic faded but the confusion remained. “I’ve very little say in who is invited to join our company…”

“Oh! No!” Anakin flailed. “It’s not a—” A bribe? He wouldn’t know where to begin. “It’s nothing to do with that. It’s my—”

“Anakin, I told you to leave her alone.”

Satine and Anakin turned in unison, Anakin embarrassed, Satine surprised. Obi-Wan stood behind and between them, arms crossed, expression grumpy — but in his eyes was a vague, regretful, longing.

“Obi-Wan!” said Satine.

He wanted to apologize, for Anakin, for anything, but he stumbled over his tongue and barely managed her name. “Satine…”

“Master—” said Anakin.

Satine blinked. “He’s your teacher,” she realized.

Anakin nodded. “Since I was nine. And he’s never once told me stories of his time in school.”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan objected, but his student ignored him.

“I was hoping you might fill in some gaps,” he finished, with a wide smile and twinkling eyes. Satine raised an eyebrow; the boy was entirely too charming for his own good. She glanced at her old classmate, friend, dance partner, and lover. She’d seen him now and then over the years — ballet is a small world — but never said much more than pleasantries, nor held a gaze longer than a minute. Now, he looked trapped. Afraid she’d say yes, but possibly equally afraid she’d say no. She flashed him a smile. The one he returned was tentative, but genuine.

Satine turned to Anakin, watching with a studious silence. “I would be delighted.”

He grinned. "Great!" He caught sight of Padmé, watching from behind a pillar. "Excuse me." Anakin ran to Padmé, picked her up into his arms and spun her around.

"Oh Ani! I know you'll have so many offers."

He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "I wouldn’t have any without you."

"Don’t be silly," Padmé laughed.

"I mean it." She quieted at his serious tone and met his eyes. "Not just you, lots of people." Mom, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Plo Koon, the skater boys, Ahsoka, Artoo, Threepio, even Master Yoda. "But you're special." She smiled with flushed cheeks. "I love you, Padmé."

She reached a hand up to touch his cheek. "I love you, Anakin."

The showcase closed the season, and completed their training, but it wasn't the end. This was only part of the story.

[iraklismytridis]

The Abundance of Your Inner Clarity

Loving blessings extend from my being as I come forth emitting the inner most vibrations of clarity of my being. Clarity is the truth of the Creator in action. Each soul can access and has the ability to deliver forth the clarity of the Creator. Each soul can embody the clarity of the Creator because it is the essence of your being, there is simply a need to understand and connect with this sacred energy that describes the truth of the Creator. When you access the Creator’s clarity within your being, so you become the truth of the Creator in action. Clarity is seeing, sensing and acknowledging an inspirational pathway which brings forth enlightenment and illumination that encourages you to feel you can easily take the most appropriate action that is required. The presence of clarity is soothing, cleansing and activating to your physical body and energy bodies, thus dissolving blockages and stagnant energy that may be hindering you in any way. Clarity awakens your entire being, refreshes your systems and allows you to realise the truth within your being. You begin to explore all that you are, recognise the guidance flowing through your being and access the courage to take the necessary steps to be love and the divine in action.

Clarity = Enlightenment

Enlightenment is, in fact, your connection to your inner frequencies of clarity.

Many people believe that once they access enlightenment, then they will experience clarity, therefore understanding the guidance, wisdom and love of the Creator and delivering it forth. In truth enlightenment dawns when you access and embody your inner clarity. A pure and simple intention of awakening and embodying your inner clarity would allow you to feel enlightened.

‘I now connect with the core of my inner clarity, drawing the clarity of the Creator into the depths of my entire being. I choose to experience a continuous link with my inner clarity, enjoying these sacred frequencies pulsating throughout my being. May my inner clarity influence my entire being in magical, beautiful and healing ways. As I access and become familiar with my inner clarity, so I am the truth of the Creator in action, being divinely inspired and guided. It is through the sacred vibrations of clarity that I experience all that I imagine enlightenment to be and more. It is with clarity that I act and react as the divine upon the Earth. Thank you.’

Many souls seek clarity, wishing to understand their presence on the Earth, their purpose and meaning and yet many remain unclear, confused and distracted. When you access your inner clarity, you allow yourself to access the core of your being and the vibration that is all knowing. You bring the truth of your core to the surface to interact within your reality while becoming very centred and grounded in your truth; who you are.

Perceiving Your World

You may feel that the way you interact with and perceive your world is inbuilt within you as who you are. This is false, within you are a variety of levels of interaction and perception that you could embody. The way you see, sense and acknowledge the world you live in could dramatically change if you were willing and ready to allow it to. Many souls upon the Earth are perceiving from the surface of their being; this means drawing from information they have received from the outer world since birth. You have the ability to perceive, create and interact from the core of clarity, meaning from a space within you which is grounded, centred, understands you in your entirety and is a transmission of the Creator. Imagine viewing the world around you from your core inner space of clarity; there would be a deep sense of simplicity and transparency. Everything would be open and available to y ou, flowing with beauty. It is this inner core of clarity which is breathtakingly grounded and centred, that I, Master Sananda, wish to encourage you to connect into. It is this focus that will heal, enlighten and bring forth remembrance.

When being taught this valuable lesson as a child in my lifetime as Master Jesus, I realised that when I was connected to my inner clarity, I felt safe, an inner strength and warmth, a sense of my own power and capabilities, inspired to be of service and a deep acceptance of myself. This was for me the experience of my inner clarity and how it manifested within my being. I discovered that if I focused on the warm powerful glow of energy within my being, melting into its ever-expanding energy I would link with my inner clarity, feeling it pulsating and flowing throughout my being with such truth.

Take time to allow yourself to imagine, sense or acknowledge how the presence of your inner clarity feels within your being when you focus upon connecting. Realise that clarity isn’t an outcome, rather it is an energy within your essence, that is so sacred. Clarity is an embodiment and a centring within your being which promotes experiences of divine action and simplicity.

When you seek clarity, you only enhance your focus upon the vagueness, clutter, chaos and confusion that you may be experiencing within your being and reality. You are focusing upon your lack and your disconnection with the core of your being. When you realise that clarity is already present within your being and simply requires you to focus upon its presence, breathing it into your being and reality, you embody clarity and focus upon the abundance of your being instead. If you are experiencing vagueness, clutter, chaos and confusion, then you are focused on the lack of clarity and it would be appropriate to ground more fully into your inner clarity.

Exercise to Ground into the Abundance of Your Inner Clarity

As you take the focus of your mind inwards, allow yourself to imagine a seed that is charged with energy, so much so it is as if it is on fire. It is creating such a glow, warmth and a powerful presence within you. The fire may be any colour. The seed represents the core of your being.

Invite the seed to activate its inner clarity and for this energy to overflow into the area around the seed. Feel, sense or acknowledge the beauty of your inner clarity. Recognise how it instantly lovingly impacts your being.

Your inner clarity allows the seed to be planted deep within your being, melting into the energy and source which created the seed and the core of your being. It is as if your core as the seed is returning to its creator, joining as one. You could imagine the creator as a tree or the essence of everything, whatever feels appropriate to you.

Within your core and the source of your core is an abundance of clarity, a frequency which can be described as a colour, sound, vibration and sensation. Allow yourself to feel, sense or acknowledge the abundance of clarity, let your self bathe in clarity as you filter this sacred energy into your entire being and reality. Observe any shifts or transformations which take place within your being, observe the divine in action flowing through you.

Hold this focus for some time, until you feel that you are becoming familiar with the energy in whichever way is appropriate for you.

The more you focus on your inner clarity the more you will notice your true and natural embodiment of the clarity and how it positivity transforms your perception of your world. You will notice a new sensation of observing from the truth within rather than observing from the surface of your being. It is this experience that will allow you to feel as if you are accessing enlightenment.

Know that you are a being of clarity and your world is a place of clarity, this was intended by the Creator.

Allow me to guide you in recognising your self as a master of clarity,