#he's so happy to hold and be held. to guide and protect and be stable and needed

[jimmyspades]

[bloatedandalone04]

Second Nature

➪the one where hayden is not only protective over you, but the tiny person he helped make with you.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, hayden being the cutest ever, pregnancy topics, dt to the person who requested some family action a few decades ago, i finally somewhat did it

Word Count: 1.6k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Happy 43rd to the man himself

“Hayden, it’s almost twelve in the afternoon,” you gasp as you round the corner and enter the kitchen, where you find your boyfriend standing by the stove with his phone in one hand and a mug in the other. “Why did you let me sleep in that late?”

Hayden looked up from the device and quickly set the mug that read World’s Okayest Dad down. He pocketed his phone before he made it over to you in three strides. “Why didn’t you call me so I could help you down the stairs?” He ignored your question and asked his own as he guided you towards the breakfast bar. 

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand when he held it out to you and sat down on the stool, his arm wrapped securely around your middle until you were stable. “Because I’m pregnant, not ninety years old and needing an escort everywhere,” you replied and he just shook his head, pushing your hand away from the plate of bacon that was on the counter and instead giving you a piece that was overly crispy. “Gee, thanks.”

“You know that stuffs better for you,” he pointed out and ate the less cooked bacon you were reaching for a second ago. “Undercooked foods can be dangerous for the baby.”

You huff and bite down on the burnt piece of meat. “Who let you be a dad,” you muttered under your breath, unable to hold back a smile when you heard him laugh in response.

“I think we both know that was a joint effort,” he says and sets a plate of toast down in front of you. “Plus, I’m not a dad yet.”

“Yeah?” You ask, biting into it and nodding at the mug as he brought it up to his mouth. “That says otherwise, daddy.”

“And who bought it for me?”

You fail to hold back yet another smile and shake your head, leaning onto the counter. “I thought it was funny,” you defended yourself but Hayden only laughed again and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head, reaching a hand out and gently rubbing your belly.  

“You think everything is funny,” he says and sets his plate and mug down in the sink. 

“You’re not wrong,”

“I know I’m not,” came his instant reply and you wonder for what felt like the millionth time how you managed to find a guy who you got along with so well, enough to the point of actually being able to settle down and start a family with. “I’m going to go get dressed while you eat your breakfast, then I’ll come back and help you up the stairs so you can get ready, too.”

You glare at him but nod nonetheless, and that was enough for him as he left the kitchen after turning off the stove. 

Ten minutes later Hayden was helping you back up the stairs by taking most of your body weight on his. You got dressed in black leggings and a white tank top that showed off the curve of your belly, matching his casual outfit of dark jeans and a graphic tee. “Do you have the list?” He asked when you sat down on the bed so he could tie your shoes for you. 

“Yeah,” you answered and grabbed your phone from its place on your nightstand. After opening your notes app you show him the list once he is finished knotting your laces and standing in front of you. “Do you need to add anything?”

He looks over the list before taking your phone and typing something into it. He grinned down at you when he handed it back to you, the new item he added making you smile.

“Bacon?” You asked with a laugh. “We’re out already?” 

“Yes,” he answered and pulled you to your feet. “You should know that, you ate the last piece about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Haha,” you say and push him away from you, not surprised as you watched him come right back so he could escort you down the stairs and out to his car. He, of course, buckled you in and made sure the seat belt wasn’t pressing too tightly against your stomach before he moved to the driver’s side. “You’re too much.”

He grinned over at you as he backed out of the driveway. “I gotta make sure my babies are safe,” he winked and took your left hand in his right one as he began driving into town.

It was nearing one in the afternoon when you and Hayden entered the store. Your eyes were glued to your phone as you read the list, and he guided you around various shopping carts and shelves with his hands firmly on your hips. “Where to first?” He asked as he pulled you away from an elderly woman who nearly ran into you with her cart. 

Hayden gave her an apologetic smile as she scowled at you, muttering something along the lines of ‘Kids these days with their damn phones’. It was funny, because you are very clearly pregnant and very clearly not a kid, but he supposed old people think everyone under the age of forty are kids compared to them. 

“Produce,” you answered as you finally looked up, seeming to have missed that whole interaction with the lady. “We need to get you more bacon.”

“Right,” he agreed and took your hand as he led you towards the back of the store where the chilled food is. “Look, a sale. Two packs for fifteen.”

You snorted a laugh at him as he looked over all the options. “You’re such an old man,” you commented when he gave you a pointed look. “‘Look, a sale.’”

Hayden raised a brow as he placed the two packs into the basket he grabbed at the front of the store. “I’m thirty one, first of all,” he stated as if you didn’t know that, before leading you towards the bread section. “And excuse me for not wanting to pay more when I can pay less.” 

His words did not help his case and you just rolled your eyes as you grabbed a loaf of bread and tossed it his way. “Whatever you say, grandpa,” 

He caught the bag easily and dropped it in the basket as he furrowed his brows. “I thought I was daddy,” he pointed out and was continuing before you could even call him out on his choice of nickname. “Why are you getting whole wheat bread?”

“Because it’s better for you,” you answer and give his stomach a gentle slap as you walk around him. “And it’s daddy when we’re at home.”

Hayden just smirked at you and took your hand in his again as you scrolled through the list with your free one. “Barely,” he muttered and stopped in his tracks when the grocery section of the store ended and the home area started. “Baby, look.”

You glance up from your phone and find him staring at a baby onesie that says ‘Daddy’s Little Princess’. Giving him a soft smile when he turns to you, you step closer and settle against his side as he pulls his hand away from yours in order to wrap his arm around your shoulders. “Awh,”

“Can you imagine a mini us wearing that?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“No, because they’ll be wearing that one,” you say and point at one that said ‘Dad’s Little Dude’. 

Hayden scoffed as he looked down at you. “How are you so sure it’ll be a boy?” 

Shrugging, you wrap your arm around his middle and guide him away from the baby clothes. “I’m not, but there’s nothing wrong with hoping. Teenage girls are nightmares,” you murmur. “Eitherway, I’m just happy we’re starting a family.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you led him back towards the freezers. “Me too,” 

-

“What are you doing?” You hear Hayden ask from behind you. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you squeal quietly when he wraps his arms around you and pulls you off the chair. “What are you doing?” You ask and give him a pointed look once he sets you back down on the floor. 

“Saving your life,”

“Really? Because I was doing just fine before you scared me half to death just now,” you mutter and cross your arms.

Hayden shook his head and looked up at the cupboard you were searching in. “What were you doing? Seriously,”

You pointed to the top shelf. “It’s almost October. That means I can get out my Halloween mugs,”

He raises a brow at you. “Are you kidding me? Why would you risk falling off a chair for your Halloween mugs?”

“Hayden,” you say sternly and turn him to face you when he moves to look back in the cupboard. “If you keep treating me like glass, I might actually break.” 

He sighed and moved the chair out of the way. “You’re right, but I worry about you. You have to be more careful now that you’re pregnant. Next time just ask me to get them for you so I don’t have to walk in on you balancing on the edge of the barstool again,”

You hold back a laugh and watch as he moves your spooky mugs from the top shelf to the bottom one. He had to move the regular ones to the top to do so, and you appreciated his help despite your previous words. When he gives you a look after, you grin up at him. “Thank you,”

“You’re welcome,” he matched your grin and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips before pulling you towards the living room. “Now come lay with me.”

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

For the first time in years, Ser Criston Cole is not guarding his Queen. Alicent has sent him on a covert mission to retrieve her wayward daughter, who has fled from the prospect of marrying her twin brother. It was supposed to be simple, but he quickly finds that the girl he thought to be so like her elder half-sister is in fact quite different.

Author's Note: We are absolutely, uneqivicolly, without a doubt not mentioning that this was planned to be a part of my 2023 12 Days of Smuff. The muses are fickle bitches and I'm a natural procrastinator, what can I say? It's also late for the second writing event it's a part of so maybe just start expecting it at this point.

Pairing: Ser Criston Cole x Aegon's Twin!Reader (3rd person)

Warnings: accidental stimulation

This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.

This work is also part of the @hotd-bigbang House of the Dragon Ships Month for Trope Week!

My Masterlist

Ser Criston Cole held his charge close against his chest as his horse slowed, knowing her legs were likely numb after riding for half the day. Queen Alicent would not be pleased if he let her eldest daughter topple into the mud. She would not be happy that he was taking her to this decrepit little town, either, but they were still more than a full day’s travel away from King’s Landing, and the princess needed rest.

Indeed, she groaned with relief as they approached the inn, with its ramshackle walls and crooked sign. “Thank the gods,” she mumbled. “I thought you were going to make me sleep on the horse. Or in the woods.”

He had considered it. They were more likely to be discovered in a town. But it would be far easier to protect her if she was within solid—or at least, mostly solid—walls. They would be out in the open in the woods, too exposed. He would not only be looking out for men who would harm her but the beasts of the forest as well.  And if she were to somehow escape him, it would be far easier for her to hide in the forest. Far easier for her to get herself killed.

Yes, the town was better. Even if it was as seedy as Flea Bottom and as filthy as a stable. It certainly smelled like a stable.

Criston guided his horse to the side of the inn, dismounting and hitching it before he turned back to the princess. “Pull your hood tighter,” he instructed, “do not let it fall.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance, but she obeyed, pulling her hood tighter than was truly necessary, the same petulant show of dramatics Criston had come to expect of her and her twin brother. And her half-sister, he thought with a twinge.

The gods must be punishing him for that transgression for him to again be tasked with chaperoning a girl so like the one he had broken his oath for. It was well-deserved. But he was determined to bear it with as much dignity as he could muster. He stood at the horse’s side and raised his hands to the Princess’ waist.

“I can do it myself,” she snapped.

He knew she could not. Could see the tightening of her jaw as she tried to swing her leg over, only to find it would not move at all. On any other day, he would let her struggle until she wore herself out and asked for his help.

Today, however, he did not have the time. He needed to get her inside and safe as quickly as possible so they could set out all the earlier the following morning. So, he took hold of her, ignoring her yelps of protest and her fists pounding against his shoulders, and lifted her off the horse.

The moment she was on the ground, she wobbled dangerously, and the arms that had been attempting to push him away held tightly to him. He let her steady herself for a moment. “Are you able to walk?”

She glared at him but then looked down to frown at her legs. “I think so.”

“Hold to my arm and stay close.” Criston moved slowly as they rounded the corner of the building, allowing her to find her footing before they entered the inn.

The princess paused at the door, eyes narrowing as she took in the broken sign dangling from the wall. “I thought inns were supposed to be cozy.”

“Some are,” he answered, tugging at her arm to pull her forward, “not this one.”

“Can we not find one that is?”

With a sigh, he faced her, leaning down to meet her eye. “Do you wish to get back on the horse, princess?” She blanched and shook her head. “Then this is it.”

She clung to him as they entered the inn and paid the keeper a gold dragon for his best room, never allowing even a hair’s breadth between his arm and hers.

The inn’s ‘best room’ put half of Flea Bottom to shame.

The floor was crooked. The glass of the single window was spiderwebbed with a thousand tiny cracks. And the bed—the one, small bed—rested on wood blocks rather than proper legs. It was not a place where a princess should sleep. It was hardly a place where anyone should sleep. But it was already dark out, and he would not risk the princess just because he did not want to sleep in such a hovel.

“Do you need to visit the washbasin? Or the privy?” Criston asked the princess, not looking at her eyes. In his periphery, he saw her blush and shake her head. “Good. Get in bed.”

He released the princess’ arm and locked the door behind them, then shoved his dagger into the gap by the hinges as an extra precautionary measure.

When he turned back, he was surprised to see the princess had obeyed his order without protest. It was unlike her. Like her half-sister, she had always fought back against his every command. But not now. It was strange in a way he could neither understand nor explain, yet it made him want to smile.

“Where will you sleep?” she asked. He finally looked at her and found her visibly nervous—her eyes wide, darting about, and hands clutching tightly to the blanket. When he said nothing, she bit her lip and turned away.

She was afraid. Not of returning home and facing her mother or the brother she was to marry, but of the place they were in and what may happen to them. Though it was good to be afraid—it would make her more alert and aware—he could not help his desire to reassure her.

“I will sleep on the floor,” he said as he removed his cloak to bundle for his pillow. “Between you and the door.”

“Will it not be too uncomfortable?”

Criston shrugged. “I slept in more discomfort when I was a soldier.”

“But that was when you were young.”

He froze. “When I was ‘young?’ Are you suggesting that I am old?”

She blushed again, ducking her head to hide her slight smile. “I did not say that.”

Rhaenyra once smiled at him in the same way. Damn. The thought only served to make him angry, even if he knew it was not the princess’ fault that she resembled her half-sister in certain lights. He bunched up his cloak and threw it to the ground. “I am not old.”

“You were a man grown when I was born, were you not?”

She was turning it into a game, masking her own fear by taunting him. Criston knew it, and yet he took the bait. If it helped her to feel safe and sleep, he would play the fool. “I was.”

Her smile brightened. “And I am now a woman grown, about to be married. That makes you, my dear Ser Criston, old.” She was giddy and giggling as she lay on the bed and buried herself beneath the stack of threadbare quilts. “Now get in the bed. You are of no use as my protector if you are too stiff to raise your sword.”

His heart sank. Not for the commentary on his age—he would admit that her logic there was sound—but for the fact that to lay in bed with her was a dangerous thing. A temptation that echoed his lowest moment.

The gods were not punishing him. They were testing him.

Another Targaryen princess. Another innocent game. Another opportunity to break his oath and sully his honor.

“What would your future husband think?” Both a refusal and a reminder of why he had followed her halfway to Duskendale to bring her back to King’s Landing. And if she were trying to coax him, as Rhaenyra did, perhaps it would make her angry enough to abandon the effort.

As expected, her smile immediately fell, and the playfulness vanished from her eyes. “Aegon spends every night on the Street of Silk. What right has he to judge me for simply ensuring the comfort of my escort?”

Again, Criston could not fault her logic. Still, he had to argue, “He is to be your husband and king.”

“Of that, I am all too aware,” she whispered. But she did not snipe back at him. She did not smile, nor frown. All the fight seemed to leave her in a single moment, along with her energy. Sighing, she closed her eyes and turned to face the wall. “Get in the bed or do not. I no longer care.”

He did not quite know how to respond to that, to her seemingly… giving up. In all her life, he had never seen her do that. Rhaenyra certainly had never done so.

Then again, Rhaenyra was never forced to marry her fool of a twin brother.

When the betrothal had been announced, Criston had pitied her. At every event where she was forced to sit next to Aegon while he drank himself silly and groped at serving girls and ladies alike, he had pitied her. When he and Queen Alicent had happened upon her in the Grand Sept, where she begged the gods to deliver her from the marriage, he pitied her. Yet, when she fled, and the king commanded him to track her down and bring her home, he did not hesitate to obey.

For the first time since he found her trying to trade one of her earrings for a new pair of shoes in the common room of the Old Stone Bridge, he felt guilty for what he was doing.

No matter how much he pitied her and wished he could aid her in some other way, he served the king, and the king had commanded him to bring the princess home. He could not disobey, but he could give her this one small concession.

So, Criston laid on the bed beside her, atop the blankets despite the cold, and as far away as he could manage without falling off the edge. He would not be able to sleep like this, but at least the princess could.

After a while, he was sure she had fallen asleep. Until she grumbled, “You are cold, Ser Criston.”

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with, princess.”

She huffed. “I truly am not allowed to be concerned for you?”

“No, you are not.”

Once again, she fell silent.

Then, just when Criston thought she might have fallen asleep again, “Am I allowed to complain that your shivering is keeping me awake?”

Damn the girl.

Criston rearranged himself under the blankets and turned away from the princess. If she were Rhaenyra, she would likely ask that he hold her to keep her warm.

But she was not Rhaenyra, and soon, her breathing softened and steadied.

With that settled, Criston closed his eyes, even if he would not fall asleep.

Criston fell asleep.

He must have, for he found himself startling awake with a soft moan and the mortifying realization that his cock was hard.

Gods, he would never forgive himself for this. He was sharing a bed with the young princess, and he was hard. No better than a young boy after catching his first glimpse of a woman’s bare leg if he reacted like this, even with the space between them. Except…

There was no space between them.

Not anymore. The princess now lay flush against him, her back pressed to his chest, her head resting on one of his arms while her waist was safely cradled in the other, and her… rear pressed against his traitorous, treasonous, troublesome cock.

The gods truly, deeply hated him, for she was dreaming. Actively.

Every movement brought a light, teasing, agonizingly wonderful pressure. It took every bit of his will not to follow her rhythm, to not press back against her. Instinct warred with oath, and Criston was caught in the crossfire with no escape.

He could not disentangle himself from her without waking her. If she woke, she would feel him against her. Perhaps with her younger sister, he could be confident that she would not realize what it meant, but with a twin such as Aegon, he had no doubt she would know.

But if he did not, if he allowed her to continue her movements, he would soon find himself in an even more embarrassing situation that he would not be able to conceal when she woke in the morning.

That was the decision made.

Slowly removing his hand from around her waist, Criston pulled his hips as far away as he could. Only when he felt there was no chance of her feeling his predicament did he press against her shoulder and whisper, “Princess, wake up.”

He should have gotten out of the bed.

The Princess startled, spinning around to face him, draping an arm around his neck and pulling him close. She moved so fast that he could do nothing to stop her legs from entangling with his, her thigh pressing between his legs and forcing a gasping groan from him.

Her eyes grew wide as she felt his hardness against her, but when she again faced him, they changed. The violet of her eyes faded, overtaken by growing blackness, her eyelids heavy with sleep and something that heated Criston’s blood when it should chill it. Yet even as those eyes fell to his mouth, they held no trace of the mischief he had seen the last time he was so close to a Targaryen princess.

She wanted him but made no move to take him.

It only made him want to kiss her more.

But he could not do that. The gods had given him this chance at redemption and he refused to fail again.

Criston shoved the princess away and rolled out of the bed, crossing the room in two strides to rest his forehead against the rough wood of the door, willing his heart, his blood, and his cock to calm.

Voices, laughter, and music from a very poorly tuned fiddle still bled through the gaps in the doorframe. But no light came through the window, not even from the slight sliver of the moon that had begun to rise when they arrived. Night, but perhaps still early within it? The hour of the eel?

Whatever it was, it meant it would be some time yet before he could resume taking the princess back to King’s Landing.  

“Did I…” Her voice trembled slightly. Was she simply cold? Or was she hurt by him pushing her away? “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he had to take a moment to catch his breath. Perhaps he was getting old. “No. I have done you wrong, princess. I am deeply sorry.”

When they returned to the Red Keep, he would confess his sins to both the gods and his queen. She had mercy on him all those years ago, she could forgive him again, absolve him of his repeated shame.

But this was not Rhaenyra, her erstwhile friend turned stepdaughter and rival. This was her daughter, her second-born child. When she and Aegon were born, Criston had held them before their father did. He had played with them, taught them. Tried to guide them as best he could so they would not feel the absence of their father.

And now, he had come so close to defiling her.

No, his queen would not forgive him for this. He would not forgive himself.

“There is nothing to apologize for, Ser Criston.”

He turned to look at her in bewilderment. ‘Nothing to apologize for?’ According to law, he should be gelded or killed. Two times over. “Yes, there is, my princess. I have dishonored you, myself, and my oath.”

She stood, the blanket draped over her shoulders like a cloak. “No, there is not.”

“Princess – ”

“No, it was my fault!” Her uncharacteristic anger – petulance was more characteristic of her than true anger – was enough to stun him into silence. He only hoped none in the common room heard the slight outburst. But there was no pause in the din nor the truly awful fiddling. “I am the one who tried… I wanted to kiss you, but I should not have done that. I just thought…”

Even knowing that she wanted him, hearing her say it sent a strange feeling of warmth through Criston’s body. “What did you think, princess?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked steadfastly at her feet. “I thought you might want to kiss me, too.”

Gods forgive him. He had wanted to kiss her and still wanted to. But he could not tell her that for his own sake and hers. “What we want is not always possible,” he said. It felt cruel to tell her, even though she must know. It felt like crushing the hopes of the little girl he had known for so long as if it were nothing more than the hollow shell of an egg. “I have sworn an oath that forbids me from…  such things. And you are to be married.”

Her face hardened, and for a moment, Criston could see the fierceness of a Targaryen queen in her eyes as she spat, “That didn’t stop you with Rhaenyra.”

His heart turned to lead, its weight enough to pull him through the floor and the earth itself. “Whatever you heard –”

“Rhaenyra told me herself.” She sank back onto the bed, her body drawing in on herself as if she were being scolded rather than exposing the truth of his sins. “Back when she still talked to us. I believe she thought I was too young to understand or remember what she said. She did that a lot, actually.”

Her eyes grew distant, lost in the memory of a sister who was her sister no more, but her enemy. Indeed, her small, sweet smile quickly gave way to a pained grimace. “I do not remember everything she told me, but I remember that. It was a while before I truly understood it, but I remembered. I think… because it was about you.”

“I wish you did not,” he said. “Remember. It is a shame I have long sought to forget myself.”

Silence fell over them like heavy rain, interrupted only by the occasional shouting from the common room. Criston thanked the gods many times over when he was finally able to rid himself of his lust. It was, perhaps, not entirely vanished, but enough so his body finally calmed.

Pity and guilt washed in to replace it. Pity for the poor girl he cared so deeply for who wanted only the one thing he could not – would not – give. Guilt for nevertheless wanting to give it, guilt for the hapless life he was delivering her to, and guilt for the fact that it was his wrongdoings that had led her here.

“Did you love her?”

The answer came easily, instinctually. “No.”

He had never admitted to loving Rhaenyra, but he had never denied it. After all, if he had loved her, was the sin not lessened? Love was the greatest virtue of the gods, so even if it could not erase the stain on his honor and soul, could it not at least redeem him from damnation?

But he did not love Rhaenyra.

“It was not love,” he declared to himself, the princess, and the gods. “I once believed it was, but in truth, it was no more than a foolish infatuation.”

That was what he was – a fool. On that night and now.

The princess’ voice was so soft Criston nearly could hardly hear it over the murmurings of the busy inn. “I do not love Aegon.”

He knew. Still, “I am sorry, princess.”

“I do not want to marry someone I do not love.” She picked absentmindedly at the skin around her nails. “And I do not want to be queen.”

But she must. It was her duty, and that was not something anyone could escape – not even a Targaryen. Criston certainly had not been able to. Yet he could not bring himself to say so. Instead, he asked, “What do you want?”

“What I want – what I was going to do before you found me,” she gave a humorless laugh. “I was going to find a ship to take me across the Narrow Sea to Lys. My great aunt Saera said she would take me in while I figured out what to do after that.”

Criston’s eyes widened at the name. “Princess Saera? The Old King’s daughter?”

She nodded, jutting her chin out in defiance of the reproach that was surely coming, even as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “I have been corresponding with her for the better part of a year.”

“In secret?” She nodded again, and his body began to feel as if it were made of molten lead.

A year. She had been planning this escape for nearly a year. It was not, as he had assumed, just an impulsive, rebellious notion but a proper plan. A plan she had risked all her hopes and dreams and happiness upon. A plan he had foiled in mere days, and with such dismissive contempt for her in his heart.

The weight of his guilt became so heavy he could not bear it, and he fell to his knees before her. Of all the sins he committed since Rhaenyra had shackled him with his white cloak, this was the worst—a step too far, even for him.

This lovely princess, a future queen, was good. Sweet and pure and full of hope in a hopeless world. When he looked at her, he no longer saw the impish young girl who so happily followed Aegon in his mischief, but the beautiful, kind woman she had grown into.

He could not condemn that woman to the misery that surely awaited her should she marry Aegon. Whether it damned his soul or cost him his life, he could not.

So, he enveloped her hands in his and gazed up at her eyes. A softer shade of violet than Rhaenyra’s, and all the more beautiful. All the sounds and smells of the awful inn faded away as he looked into those eyes. “If you would allow me, princess,” he swallowed the slight lump in his throat, torn between grief and elation at the prospect of her saying yes, “I would be honored to accompany you on your journey.”

The princess smiled, and as he basked in its radiant glow, Criston realized that what the gods offered by bringing him to her was not temptation or redemption but the chance at a new beginning. A new life. With her.

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[skyloftian-nutcase]

Breath of the Sky Ch 13 (Skyward Sword meets BotW)

Summary: When Princess Zelda goes to the Spring of Courage to pray, accompanied by her appointed knight, a giant magical cog spitting out a goddess is the last thing she expects, but it is what she gets. Meanwhile, the Spirit Maiden Zelda is trying to figure out what the heck is happening and where her missing chosen hero is.

AO3 link

Chapter 13 - The Failure

They needed to talk. They needed to plan.

Despite the overwhelming despair and uncertainty, despite the fear and pain, Zelda found herself growing motivated the longer she held the princess. She felt the fire returning, the stubborn determination that made a goddess let herself die and be reborn, the steadfastness that pushed her to seal herself away for thousands of years, the protectiveness that had led to the creation of Skyloft.

And so, after wiping the princess’ tears, Zelda had told her they were going to talk to Link. Both of them.

The champion had been easy to locate. He had been hovering outside, trying his best to look calm but easily giving away his concern with the way his eyes lingered too long on the princess, the speed at which he walked to her. Zelda had explained quickly that they needed to find her Link next, and they set about that goal quickly.

The conviction of a goddess mixed with the nervousness of a teenager, though, and Zelda fell into her habit of worrying when it concerned those she cared about… particularly Link.

“Okay,” she said as she marched ahead, nearly dragging the other two with her. “Okay. So. The plan—the plan is to seal him away. We can sort out killing him after. We can do that. We just need to figure out what’s going on with your ability to seal him away. And you—” here she turned to the champion, finger pointing with enough ferocity to be a dagger “You get to kick his ass, but I’m helping do that too because I want to punch his stupid face. I’m sure Link—my Link—uh, Cloud can help with that too, but we need to find him. This is just—this is fine. This is fine. We don’t need the Triforce yet, it’ll be okay. This is fine.”

The look exchanged between the princess and the champion implied that her ramblings were not, in fact, fine, but Zelda ignored it.

Her anxious energy began to grow frustrated as they wandered the castle. Link’s plight of constantly chasing her down was becoming extremely relatable at the moment. As they rounded yet another corner, Zelda felt relief at seeing a familiar colorful uniform with sandy blonde hair peeking out of the navy blue cap.

“Excuse me!” Zelda called, running towards the familiar guard. He genuflected when he turned and saw her. “Have you seen Link? My Link?”

“I know his location, Your Grace,” he answered. “I was actually heading his way. Would you like me to take you to him?”

Given all the information she’d been dealing with, and given all the running around she’d already done, the sheer comfort and happiness at not only hearing that someone could help her locate her husband, but that it was the one person who reminded her of Impa, made Zelda laugh and fall to her knees to be at eye level with the guard. She hugged him tightly. “Thank goodness! Thank you so much, I would love that!”

The guard stiffened under her hold, just as Impa had the first time she’d hugged her, but she didn’t care. Goddesses she needed some kind of stable rock to rely on in this place, and she didn’t have one, but this guard came close. She saw the reflection of the window ahead of her that he was looking at the princess and the champion, the former holding a hand over her mouth to cover a gasp while the latter watched the guard worriedly.

Honestly, these people. How did any society develop to be so emotionally stifled, anyway?

“I need to teach all of you that hugs are a good thing, good grief,” she chuckled as she pulled away. “But anyway, please do show us where Link is.”

The guard took a deep breath, nodding and rising. He guided them in silence, though the sights of the castle kept Zelda preoccupied – they were heading somewhere she hadn’t been yet, and though the stone walls all blended into each other to create a massive maze, she saw light from outside and grew hopeful. It seemed Link, just like her, didn’t care for being cooped up in this stone prison of sorts, as beautiful as it was.

Zelda had to admit that, though she wanted to help her people grow on the Surface, she was a child of the Sky nonetheless.

They wandered a path that seemed vaguely familiar from their expedition into the nearby large town, though the guard guided them down a road that Link and Zelda had pointedly avoided due to the place flooding with people. Eventually, they wound up near a tower farthest from the castle, overlooking a good portion of land and the town below. The sun was high in the sky now, and Zelda turned to the guard as they approached the tower.

“Is there somewhere we can get food in town?” she asked. She was well aware the castle had food too, but she… didn’t want to go back there.

“We can arrange to have lunch brought to you here, if you wish,” the guard replied. “But yes, there are many places in Castle Town where you can get food.”

Upon their arrival to the structure, the guard dismissed the two colorfully clad knights who had been standing post in the entranceway. He turned to face the group. “The Hero is inside, Your Grace. I’ll ensure no one enters.” His gaze moved beyond her, settling on the champion, and he spoke with a softer tone, “When time allows, Link, Princess Mipha wished to speak with you.”

With that, the knight moved aside to let them pass, standing guard. Zelda looked back at the other two, temporarily distracted—was there another princess? Did Princess Zelda have a sister that they hadn’t met yet? She shook her head, returning her focus to the task at hand. She could only gather so many people together at once, after all. It had taken half the day just to get to this point.

Motioning to the two behind her, she walked into the cavernous structure, hearing Link’s footsteps scraping the stone up above. They climbed a ladder to reach the upper level, the bright daylight dazzling Zelda’s eyes for a moment, and she saw the silhouette of her husband pacing back and forth, clearly agitated.

“Link,” she called with a smile, relieved they were all finally together. Her smile fell, however, at the distressed look on her husband’s face.

Link froze, facing away from her, holding himself with trembling hands. She approached him slowly, worry eating away at her already weary heart. When she was close enough to touch him, she wrapped her arms slowly around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. “What’s the matter, Dove?”

Link felt tense under her arms, but then he draped his arms over hers and squeezed her wrists lovingly, stroking her hands with his thumbs. She shifted so she could stand beside him, peeking around his arm with a curious glance. His expression was soft, enchanted by what he saw, but his eyes were dark and stormy. He glanced at her, his heavy brow relaxing a little. “We started all this.”

There was wonder and a quiet timidity to his voice, awe and disbelief and acceptance settling into him. Zelda squeezed him reassuringly, cocking her head to the side and giving him a soft smile. “Yeah. We did.”

Link let out a shaky breath, and then he let her go, looking down. Zelda’s arms fell to her sides, and she grew worried as she watched him ruminate.

His mouth became a thin line. “And I… I screwed it all up. I cursed everything, everyone. I cursed them.”

“Link,” Zelda said, caught off guard. Although the guilt was gnawing at her as well, she wasn’t entirely blaming herself in such a manner. Demise had outplayed them, and it made her angry and scared and mournful, it made her question how they could actually defeat him if she hadn’t been able to as a goddess or with the Triforce, but she’d still placed the majority of the blame on the demon king himself, not her or Link. Her husband’s worries were clearly eating him alive. He hadn’t even noticed that they weren’t alone.

“Don’t,” Link immediately hissed, growing stormy. “Don’t even try it. You did everything right, you did your part, you trusted me to finish things and I didn’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Zelda asked, putting a hand to his cheek. “Link, you defeated him. We had no way of knowing—”

“I did,” Link spat, pulling out of her reach and turning away, his hands shaking as he clenched his fists. His shoulders hunched and his entire body was so tense it was ready to snap. “He said it himself. I thought—I was such an idiot, Zelda, I—I thought—he started speaking about how his hatred would follow my spirit and your bloodline, and it sounded like the dying words of a monster, I—I didn’t realize it was a promise, a curse, that he was—I didn’t—I d-didn’t—”

Link’s body stiffened even further as shuddering gasps and hiccups interrupted his words, and he bowed his head, hugging himself. Zelda immediately rushed around him to face him fully once more, dragging him into the tightest hug she could muster, willing all of her love into it as her mind whirled.

“You had no way of knowing,” she repeated as she processed what he’d said. What promise was he speaking of? Did it even matter? “And who’s to say it was a curse right in that moment? Who’s to say it wouldn’t have happened whether he spoke it or not? Who’s to say there was any stopping it? Link, I was a goddess. I was a goddess and I couldn’t stop him. You did everything you were meant to do – you solved the puzzles, you tempered the Goddess Sword and made it into the Blade of Evil’s Bane, you traveled through time, you got the Triforce and used it to kill him. You beat him. It was Ghirahim who screwed everything up.”

Ghirahim. It was Ghirahim.

Was that truly why they were in this mess? The realization struck her as she spoke the words, because they were true – she’d exited her slumber because Demise had been killed, after all. Ghirahim was the one who sabotaged it, but Link had ensured that…

“What exactly did he say?” she asked, pulling away to look her husband in the eye.

“He said… he said his hatred never dies. That it would be born again and again, that those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero would forever be bound to this curse: an incarnation of his hatred would follow our kind forever, dooming them to darkness and bloodshed.” Link said slowly, refusing to look at her.

Zelda stared at him, dumbfounded. Why… why hadn’t he ever mentioned this before?

As if reading her mind, he stepped away from her, shaking his head and saying, “I—I thought—he was defeated, Zel, I stabbed him in the chest, I thought it was over. The amount of times Ghirahim would give some speech or another despite being defeated, the words were meaningless at that point. Just some other enemy spouting hatred while he bleeds to death. The sword… Fi told me to raise the sword, that it would absorb the remaining evil, that she would seal him away as designed. I didn’t—I didn’t realize—what did I do wrong?”

The trembling of his tone tore at her heart, and Zelda tried to walk towards him again. She couldn’t fathom why Link wouldn’t have mentioned this, but at the same time, his words made sense—and brought so many more questions to mind. How many times had he fought Ghirahim, anyway? The more she considered it, the more she realized she hadn’t really asked much about his adventure. Their time after that journey had been spent recovering and then pointedly avoiding the topic altogether.

Goddesses above, this was all a mess.

“Impa was right,” Link said suddenly, his voice no longer trembling, but so, so dark. “You were wrong. Hylia was wrong. I’m no Hero. Even Fi has decided that! She already chose a successor, after all.”

“Link,” Zelda tried to argue, immediately growing agitated. This sort of talk wasn’t going to do them any good, and she hated seeing him like this. “This isn’t—I know—”

Link’s eyes narrowed at her as if she were an enemy. The look stole her voice from her throat and made her blood freeze. She’d never seen Link this upset. “Yes, you know. Your Grace knows everything. You always did, stringing me along without ever telling me everything until it was too late to even stop you from—from—How does it feel to not have all the pieces until it’s too late? You were wrong.”

Zelda took a step back, her breath sucking in like a gasp as if she’d just been smacked. Link sighed, sensing the change in atmosphere, immediate regret flashing across his face before he finally seemed to notice the other two, who at this point were practically trying to disappear into the walls.

Link’s eyes fixed on the champion, and then he shook his head. The fight quickly drained out of him, but so did any desire to continue talking. He moved quickly towards one of the openings and leapt out of it. Zelda didn’t follow.

The champion ran across the way to peer over where Link had jumped. The princess slowly walked towards Zelda, who was still trying to catch her breath.

There was silence for a long time as the princess hovered near her, as she tried to catch her breath, as Link’s words played over and over in her head.

“Your Grace…?” The princess began hesitantly, a tenderness and shyness to her voice.

Zelda burst into tears.

You always did, stringing me along without ever telling me everything until it was too late.

Guilt sprang forth anew, revitalized by her husband’s accusations, having been squished again and again by both her and Link. It reared its ugly head, reminding her that the fact that Link had been dragged into all of this was very much her fault. Despite being the best fighter among the knights of Skyloft, Link was a softhearted young man through and through. She should have never—but—what choice did she—

Zelda continued to cry, bending over and hugging herself and falling to her knees. Her hiccups and sobs echoed in the area, lost to her own whirling mind but very much laying heavily on the other two occupants.

Link, Champion of Hyrule, felt very much out of place. But he also felt very desperate to try and help. He made his way to the goddess, crumpled on the floor, and his heart hurt to see her like that. He knelt carefully, gently resting a hand on her shoulder, desperately looking at the princess for help.

His own mind was whirling as much as everyone else’s likely was. The words that had been spat out by the Hero of Myth and Legend no longer held the same sting to them. Instead, they rang with such a heartbreaking familiarity, all the way down to the misplaced vitriol.

Zelda. He’d sounded like Zelda.

Never in his life had Link considered that if he ever met the Spirit of the Hero, it would act exactly as his dejected princess did.

He wanted nothing more than to reassure the weeping goddess that it wasn’t her fault at all, just as it wasn’t his fault that Zelda struggled to fulfill her destiny while his came easily. He wanted to tell her that the Hero just needed time and help, just as his princess did. But he was in absolutely no position to do so – he didn’t know what words he could say to reassure Hylia herself, nor could he brainstorm such a conversation with the princess as she herself was just as much a culprit of such behavior as the Hero was. Though, to her credit, she was trying to improve that, hence their budding friendship. But…

Desperate, Link looked pleadingly at Zelda, motioning to the goddess with his head. Do something.

The princess held her hands in front of her chest anxiously, one hand playing with the her wrist. “Your Grace… I… I’m sure he didn’t…”

Hylia continued to cry, not acknowledging either of them. At least she wasn’t upset that Link was touching her. He really wished he could do more.

Link thought of suggesting that they get lunch, but he had a feeling his own love for food would not help the matter. Hylia didn’t seem like the thought of a delicious meal would cheer her up.

The champion was quickly running out of ideas, just as his friend seemed equally clueless. However, Zelda finally knelt down as well, ignoring the dirt she was getting on her dress, and placed her hand on Hylia’s other shoulder. “Your Grace, I’m… I’m sorry.”

Hylia glanced up, eyes puffy, tears staining her flushed cheeks. It was… not a look Link would expect from a goddess.

He supposed he had never thought a goddess could get upset like this. He remembered her radiant smile and eagerness to befriend earlier in the day, and his heart ached even more.

He opened his mouth to speak, but still found himself choking on words. He didn’t know what he could say to help her, what would be appropriate, what would be helpful. Hylia’s gaze was fixed on the princess instead, and Link hesitantly pulled away to give the two some space. Zelda’s eyes quickly darted to his, pleading for support, but he didn’t know what to do.

Hylia stole Zelda’s attention anyway as she hiccupped and shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor again as she squeezed her eyes shut. The princess shuffled a little closer. Link stepped further away, trying to figure out how he could help, what he could do. He could at least maybe get them some food, giving Hylia and her descendant time to regain composure, and then he could help them in that regard.

Sliding down the ladder, Link continued to hesitate as he dragged his feet to the exit of the guard house. His father was surprisingly missing, despite having been standing guard, leaving Link a little disappointed. He doubted his father could give him advice on the matter, but it would have been nice to at least see him. Instead, Link fumbled to follow through on his decision, feeling like it wasn’t helpful but not knowing what else to do.

���Oh, Link! There you are!”

Startled, Link turned to see his friend, Mipha, approaching, looking relieved. She smiled, red scales glowing in the noon sun, and Link felt like he was drowning in the ocean and just finally saw a lighthouse guiding him.

Link strode up to her immediately, hands gesturing frantically with words he couldn’t piece together, and his friend quickly noticed his distress. “Link, what’s wrong?”

“He—she—” Link spat out, his chest about to burst, trying desperately to hold the words in but unable to do so. He wasn’t sure this was appropriate to share, but by the goddesses he needed to say something. “He’s just like Zelda.”

The words flew out of his mouth like an arrow released from a bow, and he nearly collapsed onto the nearest bench, overwhelmed and exhausted at holding it in for so long, at the sheer relief that nearly drowned him and screamed he doesn’t actually hate me. Mipha slowly sat beside him, watching him hesitantly. He shook his head, leaning over until his face was buried in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well…” Mipha said slowly. “You… could start by telling me what you mean.”

Oh. He supposed she needed context.

“The Hero,” he started slowly. “He… feels bad about himself. Like… like the princess. But he… and Hylia… he made… she’s crying, and I…”

Mipha jumped a little. “Hylia’s crying?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Link shook his head. “Mipha, what am I supposed to do?”

“Why is she crying?” Mipha asked.

“She—he—” Link stopped himself and took a breath to reorganize his thoughts. “The Hero. He… he got upset. Really upset. Like… remember when I… when I mentioned… I mean, you kind of dragged it out of me, but…”

Mipha, bless her, remained patient, knowing how Link could struggle to express himself. He’d barely spoken to anyone these last few months, but he’d finally started opening back up to his friend, even if it was just a little. She was the only one who knew that Zelda had yelled at Link in their first weeks together, although the other Champions had clearly sensed the tension.

“He got angry at her,” Link explained slowly. “He got angry. He’s… he said he was a failure, that he wasn’t worthy of being the Hero of Legend. Mipha, it’s… he sounded just like Zelda. But he… he got angry at Hylia about it, and now she’s crying.”

“Oh, my,” Mipha said softly, hand over her mouth. “I… didn’t realize a goddess could cry. That’s… awful.”

“It is awful,” Link agreed, the words spilling out of him now as his emotions mixed with them. “Mipha, what do I do? How do you cheer up a goddess?”

His friend was quiet for a long time, ruminating the matter. “Well… I suppose the same way you cheer anyone up. She cries just like the rest of us… perhaps she just needs kindness like the rest of us too.”

Link thought about the words, remembering all the rituals they did for the goddess. But then he remembered once, when he was very little, when he’d offered flowers to the goddess statue in Hateno, to the warmth that had filled his heart and soul when he’d done so, to the smile that always pulled at his lips whenever he saw silent princesses ever since.

Silent Princess. Zelda’s favorite flower. It always put a smile on the princess’ face too.

Link’s eyes lingered on the one garden that had tried to cultivate the flower, the only one that had succeeded so far, though herbalists hardly called it a success as only one or two flowers grew from the entire batch, and one was wilting already.

Filled with relief and hope, Link dragged Mipha into a hug. “Thank you.”

His friend was stiff under his embrace, and he felt her heart fluttering against his chest. Suddenly, the embrace felt too intimate, too personal, too close, and Link felt his own cheeks blush as he quickly pulled away. Before either party could speak, he hastily made his way to the flower bed, fingers reaching for the healthier of the two specimens.

“Link, wait, isn’t that endangered—”

The silent princess yielded easily to his fingers as he pointedly ignored how the tips of his ears burned, but as he reoriented to his original excitement, he stared at the beautiful, delicate blue-and-white petals with determination.

He turned and smiled at Mipha, nodding in gratitude, before rushing back to the guard house. By the time he reached the top, Hylia’s sobs had evened out, though she was still crumped on the ground. Zelda was on the floor beside her, arm halfway across her shoulders in a hesitant but heartfelt hug. Link took a steadying breath and walked towards the pair, kneeling in front of them. When the two looked up at him, he offered the flower quietly, eyes trying to convey everything his mouth refused to speak.

Hylia stared at him a moment before her gaze lingered on the flower. She reached out slowly, carefully taking the plant from his grasp and turning it in her own calloused fingers.

Her eyes watered, but a smile pulled at her trembling lips. The heaviness of the air seemed to dissipate, and Link smiled back at her.

“It’ll be all right,” he finally said softly.

“We’re here for you,” Zelda added on, growing bolder. “Just as you are for us, Your Grace. I… I may not… I may not have my powers, but I…”

The princess sighed shakily and continued, “I will still do my duty, and I will support you just as you’re trying to do for us.”

Hylia let out another sob, brow pulling together, but the way her face glowed, the way her cheeks puffed and lips pulled conveyed it for the emotional, relieved laugh that it was.

XXX

Abel supposed it was time to break protocol.

He ignored the anxious words warding him away from his goal as he walked down the stone path towards the city. He could practically hear the drill sergeants from his youth telling him to listen to superiors at all costs, to respect those in charge, to fulfill his duty and never question those above his station.

He could hear his heart telling him to do otherwise, his mind set in stone in his path, his beloved wife encouraging him to keep walking forward.

The Hero of Myth and Legend sat on the wall dividing the castle from Castle Town. Abel leaned against the stone beside him, staring out as the sun began to descend from its zenith.

The Hero glanced at him, startled, and moved to get up, but Abel ordered immediately, “Stay put.”

Oh, how his decades of training balked at ordering such a figure around. But mostly, it felt familiar, like when he was talking to his son. Perhaps the fact that they shared a name and a destiny helped.

The Hero slowly resumed his previous posture, bolstering Abel’s confidence on the matter. Now the captain of the guard just had to figure out what to say.

He’d honestly tried not to listen to the conversations in the guard tower. It wasn’t his business – his son, the princess, the goddess, and the mythical hero were all far above him in importance. Although he would always cherish Link, he respected the role his boy had to play, and he wasn’t going to interfere or be so immature as to eavesdrop on important discussions.

It was hard not to hear it, though, when the Immortal Hero was shouting.

Words of a curse, of a demon king, of blame and failure and guilt – they’d all spilled down into Abel’s ears as easily as rain. And it was hard to get them out of his head once heard.

Abel once again found himself wondering what the benefit was in having heroes so young. He still had plenty of strength and endurance in him at the ripe age of thirty-seven, and he didn’t have the emotional issues he’d had when hew as a teenager. Experience was as good a weapon as any.

Not to mention it assisted in cutting through drama and getting to the heart of the matter.

Of course, it still didn’t prepare Abel for such a conversation. It hadn’t prepared him for any of the conversations he’d had with his son once Hyrule had noticed a Hero had arisen. The words the Hero had hissed rang in his ears once more, thoughts of demon kings hunting down his son buzzing before he pushed them away. His son had been preparing for years had the support of all of Hyrule, and Abel would double his efforts in protecting the castle. This one, on the other hand, was a soldier in an eternal war, and Abel and even Link were simply another battlefield on which he had to fight. It seemed he was only just realizing that too, which was... odd and... heartbreaking.

He really had no frame of reference for this person, young and ancient, magical and so unbelievably normal. But he could speak to what he’d seen, and… he dearly hoped it was enough. He hoped it was enough and would be taken in the right spirit. The fact that the—the boy had listened was a promising start, after all.

“I don’t understand what it could possibly be like, being created by the goddess Hylia for the sole purpose of fighting off a demon king,” Abel started honestly, bluntly. “You look as Hylian as anyone else.”

The Ancient One glanced at him, tired and hurting and confused all at once. “I… I don’t know what that is.”

He didn’t know what a Hylian was? Abel supposed he wouldn’t. He was created to fight. Yet he was just like any other teenager. It still made no sense to the captain, but… a boy was a boy. Abel motioned towards the boy’s ears, small and curved like leaves, unique and honestly a little cute. It had always been said that Hylians’ ears were the way they were to better help them hear the goddess – perhaps his were shaped so differently so only he could hear her whispers, so only he could be privileged to her song. It… honestly made Abel’s skin crawl a little. He wished the Hero didn’t look so young – the thought of a child being molded to fight and married off to the goddess… it felt…

Abel didn’t dare say the sacrilegious word, but the ill feeling in his stomach lingered nonetheless. He tried to remind himself that this strange figure was ancient and not actually a teenager, even if he seemed to act like one.

“Your ears,” he commented. “They’re as Hylian as anyone else’s.”

The Hero instinctively reached up to touch his own ears, staring at Abel with wide, genuinely curious eyes now. The traces of guilt and sorrow were fading away in wake of his bemusement, and in that moment he really, truly looked like a kid.

Abel swallowed, trying to get to his point. “You’re… different, perhaps, but you still seem pretty Hylian to me, if you’ll pardon my ignorance on the matter. And if that is the case… then it seems such pressure that you’re putting on yourself is unrealistic.”

Hylia’s Chosen stiffened, though he didn’t comment.

“Calamity Ganon is a scourge that has plagued this land for millennia,” Abel said carefully. “And each time it has come, it has taken all of Hyrule to fight it. Though the Spirit of the Hero and the power of the Goddess are required to vanquish it, they have never fought alone. It seems… unreasonable to expect any different of yourself.”

The Hero bit his lip, his hands falling to his lap as he looked down. “But I was supposed to.”

“Did you defeat him?” Abel asked.

The Hero glanced at him, and though he held guilt in his gaze, he nodded.

“So you defeated him alone, which no one has ever accomplished before or since then,” Abel pointed out. “Yet you blame yourself for his return? If you fought him before and won, this should be easy, should it not?”

“But I—”

“But what?” Abel pressed on. “You can’t change that he’s here. Only that you’re here to stop him. Are you going to fight him or not?”

The Hero stared at him for a long while, eyes growing weary. Abel recognized the look, the exhaustion of war, the scars hidden within. He faced the boy fully.

“You won’t be alone this time,” he told him firmly. “Link will fight alongside you, as well as all the Champions, the guardians, and Hyrule’s army.”

“Sounds rather like I’m not needed,” the Hero said softly, a sad smile pulling at his lips.

“I am not one to waste resources,” Abel replied perhaps a bit too curtly, but he was tired of the adolescent’s moping. This was what the ancient child had been created for, after all, was it not? “You defeated Calamity Ganon long before any army ever could be raised against him. If you fight alongside our forces, if you support Link, then it makes the likelihood of actually killing it all the higher.”

Hylia’s Chosen perked up at the idea given to him, though he still looked a bit uncertain.

“Will you fight alongside Link?” Abel prompted. “Will you help him? Or are you going to drown in your sorrows instead while the rest of Hyrule tries to fight?”

“I’m the only one who can,” the Hero muttered, eyes darkening once more, shoulders set in resignation. “That’s what he said. That’s… what they always say. It’s my destiny.”

Abel waited, unsure what to say to such a remark. The ancient one’s words held a pain and exhaustion to them, but also a bite, and the captain of the guard was suddenly reminded that he was a nobody speaking to a legend.

The Hero of Myth and Legend stared out at Hyrule, sitting up straighter. “I won’t let him destroy this place. I won’t let him hurt Link, or Zelda. Or the princess. I promise.”

“I thank you for your protection,” Abel said genuinely with a bow of his head, catching the Hero’s attention.

“But I…” the Hero continued hesitantly. “I shouldn��t have said what I did. She’s… I know I upset her.”

Abel hadn’t heard Hylia’s reply to any of the words the Hero had said, but he supposed accusing her of being wrong would be upsetting. She seemed too kind to get angry, though, and the hurt on the magical boy’s face implied it as well.

Well.��This was certainly a topic he could relate to. He was rather short tempered compared to others, after all. “We’re not perfect, Hero. We will say things that hurt those we love. What matters is that we apologize for them.”

Hylia’s Chosen watched him with a look so eerily similar to Link’s own when his son had been younger—so eager for wisdom from his father, so desperate for guidance—that it almost made Abel falter. Then the boy sighed and nodded in agreement.

Abel smiled as best he could. “Now, I believe Her Grace is waiting for you, great Hero. And if I may be so bold as to say… as a married man, I advise you be quick – our wives don’t like to wait for long.”

The smile that broke out on the Hero’s face was unexpectedly soft and sweet, his eyes glittering as if he was coming back to life, and the Immortal One leapt off the wall, much to Abel’s shock. The captain reached out hastily before seeing the Hero deploy some sort of paraglider, and he sighed heavily, realizing that now he had yet another hero who was going to give him heart attacks on a regular basis.

Oh, how he wished he could hold his son in that moment. But duty called, and he had strayed from it for long enough.

XXX

Admittedly, despite how his heart warmed at the thought of being with Zelda again, Link felt guilt crushing him the closer he got back to the structure he’d run from.

He knew what he’d said was hurtful. He’d chosen his words very particularly so that they would sting. He hadn’t wanted Zelda’s reassurances because he’d known they’d be empty, and suddenly hurt and resentment that had been long forgotten and shoved into the dark recesses of his mind had snarled into the light.

Link was ashamed to even get near his beloved. But he’d be damned if he didn’t own up to it.

And he missed her. He missed her smile, he missed her warmth, he missed her embrace. He was drowning and he wanted nothing more than to hold on to her. He supposed after what he’d said earlier it was a selfish thought at this point, but… if there was one constant in his life, no matter the storm, it had always been her.

He wasn’t going to be the one to lose her again. He wasn’t going to be the one to push her away.

The walk felt like it took an eternity, even though it was only a few minutes. Link hesitantly stared at the ladder leading up to the top, and then he climbed it, steeling himself.

When he got to the top, he found only a couple guards.

Link didn’t bother to speak with them, sliding down once more, and nearly jumped out of his skin as he was met with one of the stranger looking people from the festival. Their skin was red and shimmering, eyes nearly the same shade of amber as the crystal that had held Zelda in a trance for millennia. Their fingers were delicate but held sharp claws, and a blue sash was the only clothing they wore, though their body was adorned in glimmering jewelry.

“Hello, Hero,” the person said in a soft, feminine tone.

Wait, he’d seen her before. She had been sparring with the new Hero that morning.

“Do you—do you know where Zelda is?” he asked quickly, nearly laughing at the irony of such a question given his history with it.

“The princess is with Her Grace and Sir Link,” the woman answered. “They decided to head out into Hyrule Field, I believe. They were going to pick up lunch on the way.”

Hyrule Field? “Where’s that?”

The woman pointed back to the direction where he’d just come from. “It’s just beyond Castle Town. If I were them, I would go to the Sacred Grounds. It’s a pleasant place for a picnic. It’s close to the center of Hyrule Field, you can’t miss it. Would you… like me to take you there?”

Out of a nearly gone habit, Link nearly said no, as if he would find it on his map and could dowse for Zelda beyond that. Goddess. He shook his head, and then hastily said, “Yes, please.”

The strange looking woman—girl? Woman??—smiled and asked him to walk with her. Link tried to ignore the people staring at them as they progressed, feeling the number of eyes on them grow as they entered the big town he and Zelda had explored a few nights ago.

The joy of that exploration felt so far away now. He felt so empty, so unbelievably alone. But the guard had promised he wasn’t, and he…

He just wanted to go home. But it was just like his original journey, wasn’t it? He hadn’t wanted the weight of the world on his shoulders then. He’d just wanted to find Zelda. Headmaster Gaepora had said that the destiny of the world was his to bear, and his alone. No one could know.

Just as now, it was his destiny to fight Demise once more. But… the guard had said it himself.

Link wasn’t alone. Even if he deserved to be, after somehow managing to mess this up.

He would be alone if he continued to push everyone away, though, and he knew it. He remembered just after the world had nearly ended, remembered how isolated he was, and how Zelda had been the only one who could reach him in those dark moments.

Link hardly noticed that they’d reached the fields, hardly noticed that the woman he was with kept glancing at him to make sure he was okay. She seemed to understand he didn’t want to talk and was somehow blessedly fine with it, making the occasional remark about the weather or anything else to ensure it didn’t get too awkwardly quiet.

The awkwardness did linger, though, when Link realized he didn’t know her name. When she stopped and pointed straight ahead, he said, “Thank you… I… didn’t get your name.”

The woman’s eyes widened, suddenly embarrassed. “O-oh! I’m—I’m so very sorry, I—my name is Mipha, Princess of the Zora. I beg your pardon for my lack of manners!”

Another princess? Link stared at her, curious, but then smiled. “Thank you, Mipha.”

The woman’s shame faded, and she nodded, heading back towards Castle Town. Link took a fortifying breath and walked towards the Sacred Grounds. The trees hid some of the area and his approach, allowing him to see the new Hero sitting on the ground alongside Zellie and his wife. His successor was eating away cheerily, garnering a chuckle from Zellie, and Zelda… picked at her food quietly. She smiled when acknowledged, but didn’t seem to have much of an appetite.

Link wanted to kick himself. He also kind of wished the other two weren’t there.

Miraculously, Zelda alone seemed to notice his approach. She paused from holding her food, watching him with a little trepidation. Her eyebrows wrinkled together, and the hurt and worry on her face made Link want to melt into the earth. Zellie seemed to notice something was up, but before she could speak, Zelda rose and walked slowly in his direction.

She paused just out of his reach, and the pair watched each other quietly. A wind stirred between them, trying to push Link away, and he nearly gave in to it, shaking like a leaf.

“Link…?” Zelda called quietly, almost timidly.

Link wasn’t sure if it was the stress of everything catching up to him again, or if it was the way his own wife was scared to approach him as if he were shatter or explode on her… all he knew was that he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately said, shaking his head, taking a frightened step away. “I’m sorry, Zelda, I’m sorry I’m sorry—”

Zelda’s eyes widened, and she immediately covered the ground between them, nearly tackling him in a hug, carrying him with strong but trembling arms, easing him down to the earth as the world spun around him. He couldn’t get anything else out aside from apologies that stumbled over each other, words only stopping when he hiccupped or gasped for air, his tears endlessly staining her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, tightening her hug.

“No it’s not!” Link sobbed. “None of it is, I’m so sorry, I’m—”

Again and again the apologies came forth until he’d exhausted himself, until he found himself clinging to her with as much desperation as he had when she’d awoken from her trance months ago.

He heard Zelda take a shaky breath, her exhale tickling his ear. “I am too.”

The words were raw, the sentiment so genuine it ached. Link didn’t have the emotional energy to reply, couldn’t defend her after trying so many times to reassure her and then eating his own words due to his outburst. He had nothing left to offer except himself, broken and worthless and idiotic as he was, and he just held her all the more.

The sun shone brightly on the pair as the other two slowly rose and watched in silence.

[chika-the-terrible]

Hoofbeats

It was late. Everybody on the property had gone to bed and the dogs were let out for the night, just like any other. Jacob knew this because he had been studying the habits of the owners for weeks now. The dogs would be hard to get around but once he got to the stables, everything would be okay. It wasn’t like a dog could really stand up to a horse…unless it was a pack of vicious mongrels. Thankfully, these dogs were more pampered than predatory.

Jacob quietly made his way closer. He was careful not to move into the tall grass because of the likely noise and so tried to stick to the dirt path. He was highly visible this way but much less likely to make noise, which was to his advantage. And he knew the dirt path led straight to the stables, making the situation even better. It was like these blokes were asking to get their horses stolen.

Jacob eased the stable door open. To his relief, it didn’t creak, silently swinging open at his urging. Inside he could hear the soft breathing of sleeping horses. To the side was all the tackle and gear needed for the horses and Jacob took a bitless bridle, as well as a leading rope. He glanced in all the stalls, looking for his target. He paused when he came across an old, gray stallion. The urge to touch the sleeping horse’s face was strong but he refrained from it, feeling his heart squeeze with regret. As much as he wanted to get all the horses out of here, he could only take a few. It would be too risky to take them all.

Jacob continued to the back of the stables and found his target: a beautiful roan-colored mare, along with her three-month-old foal. The baby blinked at him, still awake, and neighed softly. Jacob couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face.

“Good night to you too, lad.” Jacob murmured as the mare stirred awake. She immediately put herself between him and the young foal once she realized what was going on and he didn’t blame her. She was probably still quite protective at this point. That would be to his advantage. But first, he had to get the mare to trust him.

“Easy.” Jacob cooed, holding out his hand for her to sniff. He also kept both of his hands in her sight and moved slowly. It would do him no good to startle her. The mare sniffed his hands and the bridle he held before snorting and he took it as a sign that he was allowed to touch her. Jacob’s touch was gentle as he ran his hands through her mane. He looped the bridle over his arm before taking a hand to rub her face. He could tell she was enjoying the attention and it made him equal parts happy and angry.

From his observations, the people who owned these horses didn’t exactly care a lot about them. They didn’t feed the majestic creatures enough, for one thing, and Jacob could feel the scars on the mare’s shoulder. It was why he had gone out of his way to go a little vigilante tonight. While Jacob wouldn’t be able to take the horses for himself, a good friend had promised to take care of the horses properly. It was why he was here tonight, to make sure at least some lives could be saved from their terrible fate here. Hopefully he could do a little damage again later and save some more horses. For now, the mare and foal would have to do.

“Okay, easy girl.” Jacob carefully brought the bridle up and began sliding it over the mare’s face. She wasn’t jerking away from his hold, which was good. Once the bridle was secure, Jacob attached the rope to it and rubbed her neck. Now he just had to guide her to safety and her foal should follow. He clicked his tongue at her and she moved with him, as did the foal. They trotted out of the stables and made their way down the dirt road.

This was where it would become dangerous. If the dogs heard them, the mongrels would bark and draw attention, and Jacob knew the horses didn’t exactly react well to loud noises. And he couldn’t try to ride the mare to safety, they would be too fast and leave the foal behind. They had to stay quiet and slow. Jacob hated it.

“C’mon, guys, c’mon!” He hissed quietly. The mare threw her head with a quiet whinny and Jacob flinched. Thankfully, the dogs didn’t seem to wake. They kept moving. As they drew closer to the front gate, Jacob grew more and more relieved. It seemed they would get out of here scot-free. As much as he was one for chaos, this was not the time or place for it. And once the three of them were past the gate, the tension in Jacob’s body eased. He rubbed the mare’s neck with a grateful smile.

“Well, this was one of my better robberies, I’ll admit.” he said. She neighed back and he chuckled, “You said it, girl.”

The foal, who had been surprisingly quiet, whinnied and butted against him. Jacob almost stumbled at the action and gave the baby a look.

“Who do you think you are, a bull?” The foal whinnied again. Jacob shook his head, muttering, “Silly horse,” and kept moving.

—————————

The drop-off point wasn’t far. Jacob’s contact was waiting for them and he smiled at the horses.

“I don’t suppose you could have put a saddle on her, could you?” asked the man.

“Too risky, you know that.” Jacob said, “But they’ll be in good hands, right?”

“Absolutely.” The man smiled, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Thank you.” Jacob turned and rubbed the mare one last time before handing off the rope. As glad as he was for their safety, his heart was heavy. He loved horses and he wish he could keep them all.

“It’s for the best.” said the man, reading Jacob’s mind.

“I know, I know…” Jacob clenched his free hand and sighed. He turned and didn’t look back after that. He wouldn’t leave if he did.

—————————

Jacob paused. There was a horse tied up outside the inn where he slept and worked. It wasn’t one of the horses of the stables, so maybe a midnight rider? Not an unusual sight, but there was something about it that made him pause. It had been a long time since he had used his senses properly but they hadn’t steered him wrong yet.

Jacob rubbed the horse on his way in and was glad to see it was in good health. He made his way to his quarters, which he shared with a maid named Susie, and felt the prickle of his hair standing up on the back of his neck. He was being watched. Frowning, Jacob blinked and activated his second sight. He could see through walls with the ability. It also helped with seeing people in the darkness. Turning, he frowned as he spotted a woman in the shadows, bathed in gold, and he rolled his eyes.

“Hullo, sister.” Jacob grumbled, “Took you long enough. What, has Father sent you?”

“If you hadn’t run away from home, you would know that Father died years ago.” Evie spoke, revealing herself. Jacob paused. A ache settled in his chest but it wasn’t anything major. There was little love left for a man who didn’t see the real him. Jacob shrugged.

“Been a long time since I cared ‘bout him.” Jacob glanced around, “And where is Susie?”

“She got a letter from her family and went to visit.” said Evie. The woman crossed her arms, “I need your help.”

“Yeah, no.” Jacob shook his head, “I left because I wanted to get away from that shite. I’m not getting back into it.”

“It’s important, Jacob. I wouldn’t ask you for help if I didn’t need it.”

“Then why do you need me? Can’t you handle it?” he sneered. She was always better and followed their father’s words. She was the one he loved, and Jacob would be lying if he said he didn’t resent that.

“No, I can’t.” said Evie, and Jacob paused. It was rare when she admitted that she was wrong.

“Must be pretty serious, then.” he mused. Jacob shook his head, “But I’m not an assassin anymore. I can’t do any of that fancy shite and I don’t even have a blade.”

“No problem.” Evie threw something at him. He grabbed it out of the air and realized it was a hidden blade gauntlet. She added, “I saw what you did tonight, too. I think you’re still an assassin, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“Says you.” Jacob muttered.

“Your stealth hasn’t waned.” Evie pointed out, “And we’re going to need that with where we’re going.”

“Back to Croydon, I presume?” Evie’s eyes twinkled in response.

“Not Croydon. London.” Jacob raised an eyebrow.

“Did George approve this?”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ and grinned, “Just the two of us, together again.”

“Unless we kill each other first.” Jacob said, “Doesn’t mean I’m going with you.”

“Why not? Aren’t you still one for adventure?”

“Maybe a little,” Jacob admitted, “But you’re gonna have to give me a good reason to team up with you this time.” Evie was quiet. He could see the gears turning in her head. He wondered what she would be able to come up with, since there was little that would interest him in London.

“What about the transportation?” Evie finally asked. She tapped her fingers, “Aren’t you concerned about the condition of the horses in such a big city?”

“…Bloody hell, FINE. You got me.” Jacob rolled his eyes.

“We’ll leave tomorrow.” Evie turned, “I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah.” He muttered, watching her leave, “You’ll see.”

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 01 / all for us

summary: you wake up in a room that seems to be made specifically for you. as it turns out, it is made for you. you find that out when levi ackerman and erwin smith come in to the room and admit you aren’t allowed to leave. how are the first few days?

word count: +2.0k

warnings/notes: cursing, mentions of drugging, mentions of kidnapping, slight manipulation, abuse, violence, and starvation

YOU never thought that you would end up as a canary. a pretty yellow bird with dark dull eyes as you sat in a cage, a trap.

it all started when you met him. the devil incarnate. erwin smith.

he was charismatic young man, sitting at the age of 35 as he held the title of a prosecutor in court. you find it ironic, he puts vile criminals into jail but overlooks himself, the most vile of them all.

he met you at a café. the coffee beans were grinding in the machine at the counter, you remember how you relished in the smell.

when he first caught sight of you, you were scribbling on notebook paper with a nice black ballpoint pen. the gold framing of the pen shined in the light as you twirled it between your fingers. you looked slightly frazzled, but also at ease; something erwin was not used to seeing. you had white earbuds with the slight appearance of brown on the cords in your ears, hooked up to a laptop that you would occasionally glance at.

erwin thought you were a beauty.

you remember how he sat across from you, smoothly initiating a conversation with you. he was delighted to find out that you were a pianist along with a violinist, he loves classical music. you explained to him that you were struggling to create a song for your performance the next week, that all the music notes were just starting to contort into doodles.

when he helped you, that's when you felt grateful. you remember how he mentioned his partner, levi ackerman, and his own enjoyment of the piano. he asked for your number along with the venue where you would be performing.

you gave him the information easily, seemingly ecstatic about someone coming to your performance.

the next week after your performance, you met levi. he was curt and blunt, his difference from erwin had almost given you whiplash. luckily, you learned to adapt and you even would quip back at him playfully. it managed to make him smile, just a little. you enjoyed his company just as much as you did erwin's, something the two of them were happy about.

it wasn't until weeks later of hanging around them that it all went downhill. you went drinking with the two of them, easily complying to levi's request to drink more and more of your alcoholic beverage. it was the last drink that had you realizing that no other drink you had ever had was salty like this. you collapsed shortly after.

you remember waking up in a room, decorated to accommodate you and your interests. there was a white bookshelf that had gold framing splayed onto it with a vast selection of novels. there were three soft and plush chairs by the bookshelf with a soft rug underneath. a small coffee table sat in the middle of the rug.

there was a large bay window with a gorgeous view of a colorful and bio-diverse garden. cushions and throw pillows were placed onto the windowsill, another place for you to sit. the bed you'd awoken in was a queen, heavy cotton sheets messily spread across the bed. around the the room and even on the ceiling were soft yellow lights disguised as vines. directly across from the bed was a vanity and above that hung a nice flat screen TV. the night stands beside your bed held lamps and small knick knacks that you could entertain yourself with.

there were three doors. one to the left of your bed, one to the right of your bed, and one to the right of your television. you found out later that the one by your television was a small bathroom with nothing but a toilet and sink. the door to your right side of the bed was a walk-in closet that was decorated in clothing you'd never be able to afford.

you remember how after that, levi and erwin barged in as you panicked and started to pace around the room. you remember defying them, cursing them, hitting them, kicking them, and even spitting at them.

with a silent look from levi, erwin's distraught face turned slightly sad. his eyes were misty as he shuffled himself outside of the room. when levi's knee came into contact with your face, you realized why. especially whenever the gushing of blood dripped out of your nose and his voice screamed that none of this was their fault, but your's instead.

but now, levi was once again punishing you. you hadn't meant to do it. you hadn't meant to slap erwin. while you had a panic attack, your muscles thrashed without your command and you ended up slapping erwin across his face. you were secretly satisfied when you saw the pained look he gave you, but it immediately turned to dread whenever levi's rough hands pulled at your hair.

he's kicking you once again, and he occasionally accompanies it with a harsh slap.

"i didn't mean to, i didn't mean to!!!" your sobs sound so broken as you land on your side from levi kicking you.

levi ignores you, forcing you to stare at erwin, who sits at the door of your bed with that same neutral look sprinkled with pain.

"please!!!" you plead as you squeeze your eyes shut, "please, i didn't mean to!! i didn't meant to hit him!!"

levi stops his assaults, staring at your cowering form from above. the collar around your neck connected with chains clang against each other as you wearily raise your head.

erwin and levi are expecting a small whimper of pleas, but instead they watch as you slam your head against the hardwood floor. it has you reeling but even so, you continue. you're slipping into another violent mental breakdown, head banging against the floor as your other hand punches at your hipbone continuously.

your teeth are gritted as you start banging your ankle against the ground.

within seconds, levi and erwin are moving you onto your bed and holding down your thrashing limbs. they're murmuring sweet nothings to you, a hand on your forehead holding your head down against the pillow. you sob out again, entering the stage of hyperventilation and wails. erwin is crying along with you while levi just reminds you to breathe.

levi's hands are pressing your's on his chest and over his heart. his heartbeat guides you into stable breathing. when you've calmed down, you enter the shutdown stage.

"there we go," erwin praises and strokes a thumb against your cheekbone, "back to breathing."

levi stares at his boyfriend, who’s muttering something in your ear, but turns his attention back to you whenever you let out a small grunt.

"she wants to watch a movie," erwin says, pressing kisses to your cheek.

"any movie in particular? if not, i'll put on scooby doo; i remember you saying that it comforted you once," he grumbles while he turns on the television.

you don't answer, unsurprisingly, and levi puts on 'what's new, scooby doo?' for you. levi lays back next to you, cuddling into your warm and unmoving body.

it takes two episodes of watching the show for you to start letting out small, yet forced, giggles at some parts of the show. it takes two more for you to be able to speak again.

"food," that's all you said.

erwin shakes his head and wags a finger, "how do you ask properly?"

"can i have some food, please," you sound so tired.

the two men nod and leave your room to get you a meal. you sit up quietly and look down to your hands. they always left your hands untouched, seemingly trying to protect them from the abuse that levi would put onto you.

"stupid, fucking stupid," you spat, "this is their fault, not mine. their fault, their fault, their fault."

you drill the words into your head, but are soon interrupted whenever erwin enters the room with a tray of food.

"you're even sitting up now," he acknowledges while he puts the tray on the bed in front of you.

you thank him quietly and try to ignore the large hand stroking your hair.

"i love you," he doesn't. you don't do this to those you love. zeke never did this to you.

erwin frowns at your silence, hand now tilting your face to look at him. instead of love, your eyes were filled to the brim with hatred.

"you'll come to love us soon enough," he has no ounce of emotion on his face as his finger softly rubs against your skin.

"i doubt it," you mumble and force your face out of his hand. you just want to eat.

when you look down at the tray, you notice the absence of forks and knives. it has your stomach dropping.

"i'm feeding you," erwin says, fork between his long fingers, "we can't trust you with knives just yet."

erwin stabs the fork into cut up chicken breast on your plate, holding it up to your chapped lips. you stare at the food, had it been drugged?

"i don't want to be fed."

"that's too bad. you're being fed anyway, we can't trust you with forks either just yet," he grabs ahold of your jaw and forces your head to turn towards him.

his thumb and index finger squeeze your cheeks, forcing your mouth open with ease. you jerk away at the food suddenly being forced down your throat, hacking as if you were trying to get it up.

"let me chew first," you cough, handing reaching to touch gently at your adam's apple.

erwin doesn’t respond, opting to put another piece of the food onto the fork. he holds it out towards you, patiently waiting for you to stop choking and to eat again. you clear your throat, the idea of willingly letting erwin feed you makes you sick. you don't want to submit.

"i won't eat anything if you don't let me use the fork myself," you feel a headache coming on, fingers now pressing against your temples.

"then i guess you just won't eat," he says with a hint of sadness, taking the tray back into his hands.

you're so hungry. and the smell of the grilled chicken breast with a side of mashed potatoes isn't helping. you don't want to submit. you can't submit, you won't survive.

"guess that's settled then," you flop back down onto your back.

it wasn't the answer or reaction that erwin was expecting, judging by his widened eyes and stiff posture. he relaxes as he shakes his head in disapproval, walking out of the room and locking the door behind him.

you stare blankly at the ceiling while trying to ignore the growling of your stomach. your head hurts from the lack of food, another thing you're trying to ignore.

you turn on your side, but immediately cry out in pain. levi's earlier assault was starting to form bruises on your body, and the idea that you couldn't even curl into a ball made you want to cry. you hiss when you shuffle back onto your back, ignoring the searing pain that shoots through your ribs and sides.

your eyelids feel heavy after you settle down for a while, finally able to ignore all of the pain you've endured.

————

when you wake up, it's raining. there's not much natural light coming into your room, which you're okay with.

a pang of pain shoots through your head when you sit up, hands immediately grabbing at your hair and nails digging into your scalp. the tugging of your hair made your headache a little more bearable even if it was for a second.

the sound of your stomach growling and chains clinking echos through the quiet room, causing you to look down at your stomach. the chains are cold against your skin, tiny shivers spreading across your stomach.

you sigh and get yourself out of the bed. you walk to your bathroom, peeing with your face buried in your hands on the toilet. you ignore the fluorescent lights, which make your head hurt worse, and wash your hands aggressively.

you look up in the mirror as you do so, but you wish you hadn't. your eyes were puffy from the tears you shed yesterday and there's now a bruise on your swollen cheek from levi's smacking. you hold back the urge to punch the mirror, instead wiping your hands off with a towel and chucking it at the wall. you slam the door behind you and start to walk pass the three chairs meant for you, erwin, and levi. a wave of dizziness has you stopping and holding onto it, eyes instinctively squeezing shut.

when it passes, you grab a book and a throw blanket that's sat on top of one of the chairs. you settle onto the cushions of the bay window, taking a moment to stare at the rain falling.

you open the book, 'perks of being a wallflower', and find yourself lost in the words.

it's when levi comes in with a tray of food that you realize an hour or so has passed. he looks shocked to see you sitting and reading in silence, checking his watch as if he were making sure he didn't wake up late.

"got you food since erwin had to go to work. it's belgium waffles with some fruit and bacon on the side," he sits down next to your, now, curled up legs and puts the tray on the opposite side of him.

you wince at the mention of food and at curling your legs close. it doesn't go unnoticed.

"maybe if you didn't act out you wouldn't be in so much pain now," he says, holding out a piece of the waffle and a hand under to make sure the syrup doesn't drip onto the blanket.

"i'm not going to be fed. i'm not a child," you stare at the food.

"you're going to starve to death if you don't eat. quit being stubborn and fucking eat. i don't feel like cleaning up a body," he snarls and you resist the urge to kick his hand away.

"if you let me feed myself, i'll eat. then, you won't have to worry about digging me a hole."

"you haven't earned that privilege. we feed you for now."

"then i guess i don't eat," your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare at him.

"you're stupid. you'll end up dying."

"rather die than be fed like a child."

"you've got some pride. maybe i can beat it out of you," he drops the fork onto the plate.

"if you beat me anymore then you might actually have to worry about a body," you avert your eyes back to your book.

"if it's what needs to be done," he crosses his arms, "speaking of bodies, your's reeks."

"i don't have a shower in my bathroom, i can't help you with that issue," you shrug and flip the page.

"you can."

"i'm not letting you bathe me either. i'm not stupid. if you're feeding me then you're obviously going to be bathing me."

he chuckles a little at your defiance, but you know it's forced. you can smell the frustration on his body and your ego inflates knowing that you're the one who got him to be like that.

"when you decide you want to live, knock at the door and call for me," he grabs the tray and leaves the room, once again locking the door behind him.

"i can wait eight more days before i die."

[hxwkslove]

Escapade (Hawks x reader)

cw: mentions of nightmares

Restless

You were having a rough time sleeping, constantly moving around and changing positions in your shared bed. You struggled with nightmares, and the fear of them happening again strikes a feeling into your heart that causes your anxiety level to rise higher than normal.

Nighttime is scary, especially alone. It’s the time where all the shadows in the house morph into terrifying creatures.

Lucky for you, Keigo was able to gauge how you were feeling with ease. He felt you constantly moving around and assumed something was wrong.

“Are you feeling okay?” barely a whisper from his lips as he turned to hold your hands in his.

You were quiet for a little, still high off adrenaline that would not stop rushing through you.

“Yeah, just having a hard time sleeping, I’m terrified of nightmares happening again.” you laugh softly as you fidgeted with his hands.

There was a small silence while he was thinking.

“I have an idea,” he gently guided your face to look into your eyes.

His eyes remind you of honey, sweet and addicting once you get one glance. You’re addicted.

“I can call my sidekicks to take over tomorrow and we can go out. I don’t think you’re planning to go to sleep tonight, yeah?” he chuckled at you, low and baritone from lack of use.

He reminds you of space. Eyes so breathtaking that they could not possibly be of this world. Beautiful expressions, with such a relaxed smile you could drown in. A personality that is like the stars, warm, welcoming and so, so lovely. You could never get enough of him, so addicted like you could never get enough of. A feeling of wanting to know more about him, what his motives are, what he’s like with different emotions, but one thing is for certain. You love him with all your being and had so much of your heart to give to him.

You apologize for zoning out.

“That sounds great to me, what do you have in mind?” relief flooded your lungs, happy that you no longer have to have your mind plagued with thoughts of terrifying nightmares.

He puts his forehead on yours and smiles brighter than the sun.

You hope it never dims.

“We could go to the convenience store and get snacks and afterwards we could go to the park or the beach! Or I could take you and we could sit on the top of a tall building and look at the stars together!” he excitedly rambles as his hands fidget with yours and he looks deep into your eyes.

You smile.

“Let’s do it all! We have so much time Keigo!” you hasten to get out of the bed, nightmares temporarily forgotten with thoughts of spending time with your favorite person swirled in your mind.

“Well, someone’s excited!” He gets up after you and goes to get some clothes as well.

You guys stand next to each other at the beach and stare at the moonlight’s reflection in the water. Both of you were holding hands as you leaned into his warm body.

Keigo rants about his agency and rambles about how Tokoyami’s progress is improving.

You love listening to him talk about nothing, yet everything at the same time.

You smile and squeeze his hand as a confirmation that you’re listening to what he’s saying.

He pauses for a moment and looks at you.

“Sorry for being chatty, I’m just really proud of the kid. He’s doing so well.” he sheepishly smiled.

“Oh, no it’s okay babe, I love listening to you talk. I’m proud of him too. I bet you’re teaching him really well, I have faith in you.” you hold his face and lean in to give him a soft kiss, which caught him off guard.

“We should all go out together someday! I would love to meet him. He sounds so great.” you smile real big at the thought of Keigo animatedly teaching a stoic teenager.

.

“Yes, I would love that Dove! I kinda talk about you a lot and I think poor Tokoyami has been subjected to it all.” He huffs out a bit embarrassed.

“But it’s not my fault I love you so much! And you’re too cute for your own good. How am I supposed to keep quiet?” He whines as he juts out his bottom lip in a cute pout

You laugh loudly. What did you do to deserve this angel of a man, you’ll never know but will be eternally grateful for.

He joins you in your laughter, which is very contagious, and thinks about how Tokoyami would absolutely enjoy your company.

As your laughter settles a bit, you open the candy that you and Keigo grabbed from the convenience store and start munching on it.

You talk about your job to Keigo, the bakery you and your friend co-own is gaining business, which makes you excited to meet more customers.

(Maybe Keigo had something to do with that but you’ll never know.)

You love your job, it’s your passion, and you are so happy with how far you have come with life with a stable job.

You continue telling Keigo about how a customer ordered a few dozen pastries, and you had naively thought that they were going to eat it all themself, but then they clarified it was for their coworkers. Which made you very embarrassed but is a funny story to tell.

“Babe, I don’t even know why I thought they would eat them all!” You grab your stomach and try not to laugh out the candy in your mouth.

He laughs with you and doubles over, finding your assumption hilarious.

God, everything was perfect about him. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Listening to his laugh was heavenly. It’s deep and soft that leaves a fuzzy feeling in the pit of your tummy and a flush to your face.

You stare at him in admiration and then a feeling of a rush of love going through your body, of pure adoration and caring.. So you do the most reasonable thing that came to mind.

You attack him.

Jumping on him and attacking his face and neck with kisses filled with the most love in your heart.

The kisses made blood rush to his head and his wings puffed up. He laughed some more and grabbed your waist to steady you and keep you close, hoping this bliss and stream of kisses would last forever.

As your kisses got softer and more gentle, you held his face and looked at him.

You would give him the world, the stars, anything he wanted, you would make sure he would get.

He hummed as you both got lost in each other’s eyes.

“I love you Dove, I hope I helped you feel a little better,” he murmured as he pressed a loving kiss to your lips.

“I love you so much, Keigo!” you say to his face and then turn to the stars above.

“I love Keigo so much! Do you hear that? I love love love love him!” You shout at the sky as loud as you can and it listens.

You look back down at the man below you and you smile with your heart swelled with feeling, nightmares long forgotten as you give him another loving kiss.

You pull away as you grab his hands and sit next to him, leaning into his warmth.

“We should go get more sweets! Let’s go to the top of a building, I want to know what it feels like being so high up! I bet you’re used to it though, huh love.” you turn to him and continue “I bet the view from up there is insane right?”

He hums, focused on your words and your body near him.

“It is something I’m familiar with, but I would love to experience it with you. The stars look amazing from a tall building. Sometimes if I had night patrol, I would just go fly up and look at the sky. It listens to you and it’s comforting even though it’s so vast.” he looked up and silently thanked the universe for listening and for giving you to him.

You nod eagerly in agreement.

“The sky is so cool! It protects the earth, and at night we can look at lights in the dark. It’s really reassuring.”

You stand up and grab his hand, guiding him to another convenience store to get more sweets.

Something you noticed while you were looking at the mini cakes is that Keigo constantly kept near you, with a hand on your lower back or around your waist. Maybe it was just an intuition to keep near to, to reassure himself and to reassure you.

No complaints, though. You smile to yourself as you think fondly of how he cares for you.

Your legs dangle off a tall building as you stare at the lights of the city. It’s freeing but terrifying at the same time.

You lean closer to your love and grab his waist to steady yourself.

He keeps his arm around your waist, firmly to ground you.

“Oh my god, how do you do this so often babe?” you cling to him and try to bury yourself in his shoulder.

He holds onto you tighter.

“We don’t have to stay here, we could go somewhere else if you want to.” concern glints in his eyes as he softens, looking at you staying as close to him as you can.

“No! I just was not expecting it to be this high up.” you eagerly say to him as you turn to the view.

He nodded in acknowledgement and squeezed your waist to confirm that he was listening.

The city was breathtaking at night. The lights everywhere, it seemed, were still on, never sleeping. The buildings look like tiny Lego blocks from your high perspective. Sometimes you never realized how in each lit up room there was a person, with their own life, their own choices that matter just as much as yours. This was a reminder that everyone is the same, with their own life, their own decisions to make, and with relationships of their own. Their own Keigo, someone that brought comfort and loved them.

“I love life.” you start, still staring at the lights.

“Life is so good, it blessed me with you, babe. I have so many good things in my life and I am so grateful. I have you, my friends, the bakery, and I hope that everyone that lives with each of those lights has things similar to this. I hope that life treats them as well as it treats me.”

You tear up a bit.

“Even though I get nightmares regularly, there’s no good in this world without a bit

of bad. But I’m so grateful for what I have. Thank you for being here for me, Keigo.”

You look at him as if he held the world and the stars in his hands and smiled.

“I love you so much, I could never imagine this world without you in it.”

You hear his voice, slow and careful.

“God damn it, I could never see myself without you.” he choked up a bit.

“You taught me how to love, how to see the light in the world. If you weren’t here, I don’t know what I would do with myself. Maybe tear up everything with my bare hands.”

He laughed dryly

“It hurts so much to see you wake up from night terrors Dove, I only wish I could rid you of them. They trouble you and it hurts to see you get sad and afraid of resting because of those.”

Grabbing your face, he turned to you and leaned in to look at your eyes.

“I will do anything to help you with it, name it and I will provide. I want to help.” a determined tone broke through his choked voice.

“You already do so much for me Love, I could never thank you enough for spending time with me at night and sleeping with me. That rids me of it most times and I could never ask for more. Maybe I should get some melatonin.” You say thoughtfully.

“Of course, anything to help. We should get some tomorrow.”

Perfect timing for a yawn to break out as you lean into him.

“That sounds like a plan babe, sounds real nice. Thank you.”

You fall asleep on him as the sun peaks through. Pushing away the dark with the warmth of the sun.

Reminds you of Keigo. Pushing all the nightmares and scary things away with his presence alone.

Fully dozed off, Keigo smiles at you and gently carries you back home into your bed. Happy that you were able to sleep. He tucked you into your bed, changed and went to join you. He held you close to him, close to his heart, where you would always stay, safely tucked away and joined you in slumber.

You sleepily arose to a warm arm around you and peaceful breathing, smiling and pushing his hair out of his face and giving a soft kiss to his forehead you cuddled back into him and went back to sleep.

You would never want to be anywhere else.

[some-dr-writings]

Kazuichi, Rantaro, and Kokichi x Blind Reader:

Kazuichi Soda:

·       One word, overprotective.

·       You were his partner and he adored you, which meant he’d constantly fret and fuss over you. he wasn’t worried about you doing things on your own, it was more so the thought of people taking advantage of you. What if you got lost, asked a stranger for help and they lead you astray without your knowing it? What if you were paying for something and the cashier had you pay more that you should have? What if you were crossing the street and someone ran a red light, and you didn’t realize till it was too late? What if people bullied you for not being able to see? Kazuichi knew from personal experience that people could be rather mean, and he didn’t want someone he loved to have to go through the same thing. It’d just be too cruel.

·       Whenever he could Kazuichi would practically be glued to your side, making sure you could want for nothing and he’d be the perfect boyfriend who could provide you the world on a silver platter and more. Even when he messed up or got a bit too obsessed with you, he’d keep trying to please you! He just wanted to make sure you were happy.

·       You being blind did have some perks. It was an excuse to hold your hand when walking around, Kazuichi saying it was to guide you, when he just wanted the tender touch. He could hold you close from in coming danger like when a person on their bike was zipping a little too closely by for his comfort. This was more so for his sake. The world could be dangerous and intolerant of a person like you, so having you close, knowing you were safe placed his heart at ease.

·       When it was just you and him when no one was around though… He completely dropped being protective and just treated you like he would anyone else. He was just relaxed. He’d show you whatever he was working on at the moment, taking your hand and leading you around the gears, pipes, chains and such he wanted you to ‘see’ in particular. He’d show you funny videos, mostly pieces of standup comedy acts since visuals were not often a big part of those. He was so unguarded in these times. He’d even help you to cook or whatever else you wanted, not making a big deal of it. It was something you wanted to do, but he didn’t go over the top like he would when others were around. When alone he was calm.

·       He did realize his overprotective tendencies could be a bit much and he did try t pull back on it when you asked him too, he just wanted to do his best for you.

    Rantaro Amami:

·       Admittedly when Rantaro first met you he didn’t realize you were blind. He knew you were blind but it wasn’t a ‘thing’ for him, it was just a part of you. Perhaps it was just his over all relaxed and laid-back nature, perhaps it was being the big brother of so many siblings he was used to how varied humans could be all having their own quirks being blind seemed like nothing special or different.

·       He never gave you special treatment, he just treated you like he would any other person. He didn’t fret over if something would be difficult for you, he knew you could handle yourself, and if you asked for help, he just helped. He was still conscience of some difficulties you might have so sometimes he’d take the initiative and tell you when the crosswalk lights had changed and the like.

·       He did always insist you hold his hand, a lot, whether it be in public or not even if you had a walking stick or guide dog. It was less for your sake than his. He already managed to lose all his little sisters, he was determined to not lose you too.

·       When it came to you, for him at least touch and hands were special. It was the closest thing you had to seeing after all. He’d happily indulge in letting you touch his face, and in return he wanted to touch yours. Should he ever go blind, he wanted to be able to recognize you in every way possible, not just your voice.

·       If you were comfortable with it, he’d take you along on his search for all his sisters. You could be very helpful. Even if you couldn’t see, your other senses were heightened to an extent, especially your hearing. Often, you’d hear or notice things Rantaro couldn’t due to sight being so prevalent to him, in a way blinding him from his other senses.

·       Whatever come what may, life was rather peaceful and stable with the man. You were but his precious partner, the person he was going to protect and keep close in every way, no matter what.

    Kokichi Oma:

·       Of all people, you, his partner was the one he loved pranking most. He was forced to think differently for you, unable to rely on vision being apart of it. You also were more sensitive to things others often overlooked like the weight of objects, or sound, that made pulling off successful pranks especially difficult, and he LOVED the challenge!

·       You were always able to recognize Kokichi instantly whenever he was even a little nearby. It was his voice. It always fluctuated, never the same for too long. It could be dark and eerie, childish and bubbly, annoying and loud. But whenever he was around you, this was kicked up into the extremes, if it wasn’t already. You could already read his mood, you had the be able too from people’s voice alone, but Kokichi just made it so easy, even when he was lying.

·       Kokichi was also extremely touchy. He always held your hand or hugged your arm. He’d excitedly drag you about with a cheery tone in his voice. He loved giving you hugs, nuzzling into you. He’d place your hand on his face, telling you to feel how soft his puffy, baby cheeks were. He also insisted that you feel his lips, or to trace his closed eyes to know how big and adorable they were! He was very insistent on this. And every time you did this, you found the corners of his lips were curled up. He’d also ask you to run a hand through his hair to brush it out. Soon you were so familiar with his face you could just reach over and pinch his nose when he just refused to stop annoying yourself or others, without even the need to search for it. And every time you did, he had the biggest smile, even when he screamed that you were being cruel.

·       Kokichi had you take part in his scheming of pranks your perspective of day to day life was skewed from his so he learn much and was able to improve his skills, almost making the aftermath and setup untraceable to most. Obviously you had also joined D.I.C.E. They had exercises where everyone was blindfolded and had to avoid the pranks Kokichi had laid about as an exercise which always more so into a game of them purposefully trying to trip a trap and you having to save them all in time. Though this the members were able to understand you even a little bit better and knew how to help you, like not changing the layout of the hideout so you could get used to it and such.

·       You were Kokichi’s partner, he wanted to understand you and you to understand him better than anyone other person, and so, that’s what he did, day by day trying to understand you and your world better and incorporate it into his own, so there was no separation between you.

[butterfliesinmyguts]

Forever

summary: armin and you reminisce under the moonlight.

warning: 18+ smut, fluff, a little violence, and extreme lovely lovely-I couldn’t help myself it’s armin!

my fingertips massage armins golden locks, earning a moan against my lips. his grip on my hips tightened bring me closer to him. I pulled apart, getting a good look at the warm tinted boy. armin had this sheepish smile on his face, giggling he pecked my lips.

I’m in love, I never would have thought in this world I could feel so happy. Especially when joining the survey troops, I wasn’t even expecting to live long enough to even make myself known. I remember my expedition, I throw up before I even had my gear on. 

as soon as the gates opened, my ears began to ring. everyone knows what happens to the survey troops- I knew, I wanted to die to protect my people but why was it so scary even when I came to terms with this. I watched everyone's horses push and push towards the open field. it was beautiful, “ ten meter! l/n flare!” I choked, what- which one is it- my fingertips dug deep in my bag- fuck fuck no please. a loud CLAP brought back my hearing. the soft rumbling from the horse, the screams from my comrades, looking towards the smoke it was Armin, he blew the flare for me.

He watched me, as tears begin to fall from my face, I can’t do this- I can’t. “ y/n!”My eyes burned in fear, but Armin's eyes soothe them. “ you can do this! don’t get in your head about it, you got this, breath!” I turned to look towards the ten-meter, his words repeating in my head. as the titan ran towards our fleet grabbing a comrade, I had to do something- I can’t just let him die! standing up on my horse shoving off and springing towards the titans hand. “Ahh! Please! Help Me” using the ODM gear I blasted through the titan's arm grabbing him, blood sprayed everywhere as I aimed toward my horse. “ thank you..” I looked towards Armin, who had a grin planted on his face.

that grin was followed by my first real friends and finally a reason to keep pushing. hope, I couldn’t believe he had hope in me.

“ what are you giggle for?” pecking his lips again, I pulled back pushing his hair to the side. armin’s big wide eyes hung low but shined so bright in the moonlight. I watched him blush, pulling me in closer to him. “ I’m happy I met you..” avoiding his eyes, my fingers danced along his collarbone. armin fingers tips guided my chin towards him, offering me a chance to say what’s on my mind. “ I wish we could stay like this, no worries- just us against this tree- you know what I mean?”

Armin was bright, he was everything pure in this world. giving me a smile he nodded“ we can stay” lips pushed against mine, “ forever?” I breathed, connecting our lips once’s again. My palms pulling armin’s face to follow the moments of mine, earring a nod from him. “forever y/n”

our kisses were slowly, taking in each other as if nothing else mattered. this was vital for us, we always had to take our time with each other. everything was moving so fast around us, from the missions to training. we made sure to go slow.

my hands wandered around from the top of armin's head to his lower body whilst exploring his body, I was met with his toned chest. I wanted more, I need him against me. “take this off..” muttering while I pulled his shirt over his head, following with me pulling my shirt off discarding them in the grass. my neck was attacked by his soft puffy lips. “ you wanna do this right here?”

“ your the one who pulled off my shirt..” deeply chuckling, his voice vibrated through my chest. looking around, all I saw was an open field. we decided to venture out a little, but I could still see the glowing lights attached to the stable. 

lazily, while resting my head on his shoulder facing his neck, my lips pushed against his favorite spot along his neck.

“ yeah you right we shouldn’t..” a whimper fell, while looking up at his face my hands cupped his cock. feeling a twitch under my palm, I massage him deeper. armin’s grip tighten around me, and his cock throbbed in my hand - all for me.

“I wanna be inside y/n..” he pleaded- grinning I quickly pulled his cock out, rubbing the tip with my thumb as I discarded my pants.

Armins hands met me collecting juices, “ oh!” I yelped, watching his digits enter his mouth cleaning off my wetness.“ for me?” He questions innocently. “ who else dummy?” Armin blushed gripping his cock lining himself up with me.

sinking on to him, I opened my chest and head towards the sky. “ oh armin!” I moaned, I allowed myself to adjust to him- but I always love the feeling of him inside of me. It was the closing we could ever get.

armin’s mouth found my chest, as I gripped his hair and began to move. I felt his mouth leave sweet marks all around my shoulders and my breast. sliding up and down, armins head fell back and rested on the tree. I watched in pure happiness as his mouth hung open and his eyes rolled back into his head eventually closing tight. “ oh y/n”

I loved making him feel good, it boosts my confidence, even more, when I heard “ y/n you're so- ugh special to me” my lips molded against his mouth as I bounced faster, wanting more praise from him. “ please- I wanna make this last”

I pulled away, meeting armins eyes. panting trying to catch my breath I stopped. armin’s heavy hands moved all over my body until they came to my face with a long hard kiss, it was desperate. “I wanna make this moment last forever..” nodding my hips slowly grinded against him.

Armin’s hand on my back, guiding me. I felt a smirk against his lips when two fingers started rubbing my clit. knowing how that makes me feel, jerking up trying to pull away but armin’s palms slammed me back down on him. my head fell in pleasure, as my body heated up -was near my ending.

squeezing myself trying to hold and make this all last longer- armin lifted his knees droving his hips into mine, his huffs and my slickness covering his cock was all I heard. black stops filled my vison has I held on to him.

my body shook against armin’s as his digits made hearts on my clit my legs began to shake. “ keep going..” I moaned, earning kisses all along my body from him as he continued his motions. my face loosens as I tried to catch up with my buzzing nerves that tingled my body.

my pussy begun to futtered against him, “ armin please I’m not going to last..” that was just more motivation for him to continue- gasping my eyes looked up to the sky as I orgasmed

covering my mouth, armin's hips rolled against mine. “ shush!” I whimpered at the overstimulation, “ wow your so pretty like this...” crying against his palm I fell back- using the shafts of his legs to hold me up, trying to calm myself down. riding out my high while kissing his palm he removed his and giggled. “ I just watched you die and come back...”

catching my breath, my cheeks heated up in embarrassment - two can play that game. my hips started rotating against him making him shut up-leaning my body against his as I threw my hips armin's bottom lips were in his teeth as he tried to hold back. “ I want you to let go for me armin..” a grunt left his lips- “please show me how much you need me “ and that’s when he lost it. The pretty moan left his mouth, and I could swear he cussed. “ shit arminn” hugging me tight, armin shoved himself whole inside me and came. I could feel him pulsing inside me, as his hand lifted me all the way to the top of his cockand right back down bottoming out inside me. gasping I felt him release completely inside me.

I lied there on top of him for a while, taking it all in. for all I know, this could be the last time we’d them together like this. my hand soothes his back as armin's breathing got back to normal- pecking his lips I fell beside him.

lying there against the grass. my eyes focused on the stars, my heart was so warm. content was the feeling, armins lips came to the forehead, “y/n” I hummed to tired to speak

“you're my forever.”

-

author notes : thank you for reading! please give me tips and advice so I can improve my writing! anything is appreciated! this is my first writing so please be gentle :)

[trashbunnywrites]

Fix you hisoka x reader

Tw: hisoka

Many people wanted a part 2 so here it is ^^

Part one

:readmore:

When you try your best, but you don't succeed

When you get what you want but not what you need

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse

The smell of bleach and blood covered your nose. The empty white walls glared at you. Something woke you, what was it again ? Putting your hand on your baby in confusion trying to remember why you were here in the first place. The feel of the rough sheets and empty stomach made you jump.

“MY BABY”

You screamed in a hopeless cry. You’re alone here , does that mean you lost your baby ?

Your body screamed in pain , but the pain your chest was stronger. Pulling all the cords off of you as you jumped , looking for you baby.

Your legs screamed in protest as you collapsed, how long have you been here ?

“MY BABY. GIVE ME MY BABY”

Screamed of grief echoed as running was heard. You were a sobbing mess. What happened while you were out ? The baby was early but they have to be okay.

“Ma’am please calm down your baby is fine.”

A gentle yet firm hand tried holding you up from the floor. You were inconsolable, if the baby was fine then where are they ?

Being pulled up by firm hands like a princess. They tears blur your vision. Being lowered to the bed as your carrier held your face firmly facing him. Wait , you know him ?

“She’s okay , you have a healthy baby girl and she’s near the nurse went to get her”

“..... k …. kastro?”

And the tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something, you can't replace

When you love someone, but it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

You’ve never thought you’ll be the happiest you ever were by hearing a child cry. Breaking eye contact with him and landing your eyes on the small bundle in the nurse’s arms.

Once placed in your arms , you hugged her close as your tears slowly returned. Her crying stupid as her golden eyes looked at you in curiosity.

You felt yourself giggle as you touched her with your thumb. She looked like him , but she was yours. That curious loving look. She’s perfect.

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard the strongest female fighter was carrying that bastards child”

“Hmmmm”

You were too focused on the Angel in your hands to actually care about what he was saying. Her sweet precious face. Smiling at her , her chubby cheeks raised as she smiled back at you. Kissing her face feeling an intense love for this little creature.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t know about her , if he did he would’ve been here wanting to train her so he can fight and kill her later.”

Every single cell in your body froze. Looking up at him in wide eyes as you hugged your little princess close to you. Activating your aura as a warning.

“Calm down , I didn’t mean anything by it.”

He quickly dismissed waving his hand.

“I want to kill that pretentious bastard and I need your help. I’m assuming you’d want him dead as well”

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Rehabilitation was hard , everything in your body screamed in rejection but you didn’t stop. When you returned home , all you wanted to do was lay down and sleep but you didn’t.

Everything in you wanted to protect your baby girl. Your new purpose in life. She made your day brighter , her sweet smile , musically laugh , and even her loud cries.

Magie was her name , which means magic in German. Hisoka called himself the magician and magie was his best work to ever exist.

On weekends you and kastro train over and over again. You were rusty and he needed someone he can trust to perfect his new hatsu. One he’s sure to take down hisoka. He was strong but needed help on other aspects like conjuring.

You weren’t sure he’d succeed so you practiced your own new hatsu. You know kastro wants to take down hisoka , but you can’t trust him with this. As much as you wanted to , you couldn’t. It’s your own way of protecting yourself and magie from him. You’re not taking chances.

Even if he was warming his way into your heart , magie will always be your number 1.

And high up above or down below

When you're too in love to let it go

But if you never try, you'll never know

Just what you're worth

Returning to your former glory and even beyond that , was the result of all the training you did. The months of hard work and sparring with kastro made the time move quick. He was a stable in your life now.

Training and returning home together , spending time since you both live in heaven’s arena. Him helping with magie and cuddling after exhausting yourselves. it was perfect.

Your status was unknown and you were too much of a coward to ask. You liked this , you were happy.

Standing near kastro as he was preparing to finally have his fight with hisoka , your hand clinched at his robes as his name was called. He looked at you Questionably.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Your eyes cashed down as you heard him chuckles. Fingers raising your face to his as soft lips pressed against your own in a chaste kiss.

“When I return let’s have dinner , my treat”

He winked as your cheeks felt warm. Walking away you had to stop yourself from dragging him back. What’s with this need to make him stay ?

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Your screams got lost in the audience cheers. No no no no no no no ! This can’t be happening !

Seeing kastro lose his cool as hisoka exposed his trick and getting punched in the chin , made you run towards the front.

What can you do ? You had no idea but the needs to be closer to him was strong. To somehow help him. The audience were crowding the front but you fought your way.

Your heart erupted in anguish seeing the man you just had feelings for fall in front of your eyes.

“You’ll die in a frenzy dance”

The smug sultry voice of the redhead echoed in your mind. Why is he ruining your life again ?! He walked away as the medics went to carry your close to be lover body away.

Returning to your home was painful , the sight of magie made everything feel a little better. You’re not alone , you have your child. Your precious adorable baby girl.

carrying her and singing , as your tears fell and heart broke. She was everything you needed. Even if you lose anymore , as long as she’s with you you’re okay.

Tears stream down your face

When you lose something, you cannot replace

Tears stream down your face and I

Tears stream down your face

I promise you, I will learn from my mistakes

Tears stream down your face and I

Fighting was all you ever did. You were good at it. Thanks to kastro you became even better. Being known as someone who raised from the ashes made your story even more poetic.

Too many challengers came and went , as you stood on the top with other floor masters. It was exhausting and satisfying.

Walking away as the people cheered , you raised your head high. You’re a fighter , a survivor , and you refuse to lose anymore.

“Such a sweet tasty thing , how come we never talked before ❤️?”

The voice of your nightmare made you turn around. A similar face to your child yet so different. The face you used to love so much before and now you feel nothing.

“What do you want ?”

He walked towards you as you kept your ground and maintained eye contact. You refuse to bend again.

“My such a scary look ♦️ have we been together before ? You look so familiar ♠️ “

“Do you need anything ?”

“Dinner would be nice ❤️”

How dare he ? You were enraged. How dare he forgets about you after leaving you like that , kills your lover , and asks you out like nothing happened ?!

“You can always eat shit asshole”

You said between gritted teeths as you gave him your back. You felt him activating his aura as you did to yours. You felt him throwing his bungee gum at you.

“What the …? ♠️ “

You heard his confused voice , as his aura fell instead of sticking to you.

“You like it ? It’s my new hatsu I call it, stiff hate : saffola oil it has properties of water and oil”

Your voice was dripping with sarcasm and mocking as his face went through the five stages of grief in front of you.

Walking away laughing loudly as he unleashed his bloodlust. It felt so good you couldn’t help yourself. The amount of times you dreamt of this moment. You rendered his hatsu useless and he knew it.

He can attempt to fight you , but you refuse to accept anything to do with him. You have a child to protect and as much as you’d love to punch him you can’t.

Magie is your priority.

A shadowed figure appeared while you were enjoying your victory blocking your view.

Who ?

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

“Can you autograph my book?”

You looked at the gentleman in front of you. He was holding a suspicious looking book , with a hand imprint on it.

You felt a presence near when you talked to hisoka , was that him ?

Grabbing his pen and autographing the pages refusing to touch the cover. You saw his face as his brows knit trying to get you to hold the book , something is wrong with that book after all.

Handing back his pen you smiled at him as he looked at you with a fake smile of his own.

“You were really amazing out there ! I heard you can defeat hisoka’s special magic. Is that true ?”

“You saw me do it, stop pretending you’re a fan. Also , next time you want to act like a normal audience member dress as one”

You pointed at his black on black leather outfit that made you think of your teenage emo phase. His hair was slicked back and a weird tattoo on his face. Did he honestly think you’ll be fooled by his words when he looked like that ?

He chuckled as his grey eyes assisted you with intelligence.

“Many fell for it , but I guess you’re a lot smarter than them. I’m staying here for a fight soon , I hope it’s not the last time we run into each other. I’d hate to lose a chance with a pretty and smart lady like you”

You felt yourself laugh , wow is he hitting on you ? What’s with you and attracting all sorts of weirdos ?

“Kill that clown for me and I’ll gladly marry you if you want let alone seeing each other”

You said laughing. Something in his eyes darkened as he smiled wider.

“It’s a promise.”

[twoidiotwriters1]

Post-credits scene II (Iron)

Words: 1,931

Chapter 11  Chapter 12

Masterlist

2011

Part of the deal to train Lily is for an agent to be aware that each aspect is carried out according to the directions of S.H.I.E.L.D. The little girl, hearing this, did her best to make that agent just be Natasha. Although she did not imagine what she was waiting for her.

The thump of her body against the ground is not so loud, but that doesn’t mean it was less painful.

"If this had been real, you would be dead,” says Nat looking at the girl.

"I can't feel my body,” she complains she dramatically.

"Time's up," says Tony arriving at his new home gym. He approaches the ring. “Come on, Kid. It's movie time.”

"I can’t, I’m dead.”

Nat laughs, Tony watches her.

"I know you and Fury are trying to turn my daughter into James Bond, but even I think this is too much."

“We’re not trying to turn her into nothing. This is just for her to be prepared."

“Whatever," replies Tony, Lily is slowly exiting the ring. "C'mon, spykid.”

After a bath, Happy, Pepper, Tony and Lily get ready in front of the TV to see the next Star Wars movie.

"Have fun!" Nat yells as she walks out of the room.

“Wait!" says Lily getting up from the couch. She runs to the redhead. “Don't you want to see the movie with us? We have popcorn.”

"Honey, I think Natasha has things to do," says Pepper.

Lily looks at Nat with a pout. She laughs.

"Which movie?"

"The return of the jedi.”

"Star Wars?"

Lily nods.

“You'll stay?"

“Sure."

Lily takes her hand and guides her to the individual chair, hands her a blanket, and goes back to her place.

"Why doesn't it surprise me that the Starks are geeks?"

"Hey!" Tony exclaims. "I'm just trying to teach my daughter culture,” He excuses himself when he sees Nat's mocking smile.

From that moment on, movie night has been held twice a month and Natasha is always invited, regardless of whether it is training day or not.

***

"I'm not sure about this," says Lily shivering on the edge of the pool. She has floaties on each arm.

"Easy, I'll be with you,” affirms Happy.

Lily's heart is pounding, she can hear it. She had never been near a pool before.

She slowly sits on the shore and tucks her legs in, feeling the warm water.

“We'll go little by little,” says Happy taking her hands. He pulls and she falls into the water.

"No!" She squeals clinging to the man's body.

"Lily, calm down, I won't let you go, I promise…”

"Class is over,” She says.

"We haven't even started!”

"I see that we’ve progressed,” says Nat walking towards them.

"C'mon, Smarty. Don't you want to show Nat how great you are?" Happy tries to cheer her up.

"I'm not a little girl anymore,” She complains, moving away a little. "And I don't need to prove anything to anyone," She frowns.

"Well said," Nat adds.

“Okay," says Happy defensively.

Lily nods, but then she remembers where she is. She squeals and hugs Happy again, making him laugh. The abrupt movement makes her a little dizzy.

"C'mon, Lils. The floaties will help,” encourages Nat.

"I don't think it's a good idea," She answers, blinking. Her vision begins to blur.

"Trust a little," continues Happy.

Lily sighs and loosens her grip on him. Little by little Happy takes her away to know how to use her arms and legs. She holds onto the shore while Happy swims to show her his movements.

She sighs, shakes her head trying to focus her gaze, thinking that it was her nerves that caused that.

"Your turn,” says Happy.

Lily gets into the position and with awkward movements begins to swim slowly, she smiles.

"I'm doing it!" She squeals. Nat and Happy celebrate behind her, but her excitement ends as their voices grow farther and farther away until they are replaced by a high-pitched, piercing beep.

She gasps and stops. This time, she feels a pressure in her chest, which started with a strong heartbeat, now it seems that her heart is getting weaker.

"I don't feel good," She whispers. Her eyelids weigh down on her and she loses her vision fast. Her weakened body slips away.

"Lily?" shouts Happy when he sees her still in the middle of the pool.

Nat frowns and walks to the other side, she kneels when she’s in front of Lily.

"Lils?" She calls her.

Both adults panic when the girl stops moving. Natasha jumped into the water to help her, Happy swims towards them. The redhead takes Lily and climbs her up, neither wasting time to get her out of it.

The door of the mansion is open, Tony runs to see Natasha trying to make the girl react.

"What the heck happened?" Tony demands kneeling on the other side.

"She was swimming and suddenly she didn't move,” explains Happy, upset.

"Jarvis," says Tony.

“Apparently her body had a reaction against the water, sir. Her pulse is stable now, but I register a drastic change in molecular compounds,” reports Jarvis.

Lily slowly opens her eyes.

"Kid?" Tony calls. She turns to see him. She inhales deeply and exhales trying to speak. He leans in to hear her better.

"I can't move,” She whispers.

"What?" Happy asks.

"Do you put any other chemicals in the pool?" Nat asks.

“No, and that doesn't make sense. You would also have some reaction,” He answers confused.

He takes Lily in his arms, the four enter the mansion.

Thanks to Tony's technology and intelligence -with the help of S.H.I.E.L.D.- They discover that Lily cannot be in large amounts of water. The pool, the sea, she can't even spend a long time in a tub.

"I told you it was not a good idea,” says Lily taking the mug of hot chocolate that Happy gives her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it was going to be so bad," He says. He sits on another bench next to her.

"Don't worry, I didn't know it either,” She adjusts the blanket that surrounds her.

They both drink chocolate, waiting for Pepper to finish scolding and asking Tony a thousand things. Ever since she found out what happened, she hasn't stopped yelling at Tony and hugging Lily.

***

"Fix your eyes on the mannequin," Nat says behind the girl.

Now both are in a special room of S.H.I.E.L.D, something similar to a shooting range, the difference is in the fire extinguishers in the back.

“Now," Continues the redhead. "Imagine flame in your hands, feel it, do not stop the tickling.”

Lily sighs and obeys. A soft flame spreads in the palms of her hands.

"Don't limit yourself, nothing bad will happen," She assures.

The flame increases in size.

"Concentrate and launch it towards your goal.”

Lily takes her time. She pushes the invasive thoughts away from her. As if it were baseball, she throws the fire at the mannequin. The projectile hits the target's chest directly. The girl smiles satisfied, she turns to her left, meeting Nat's smile.

“Again."

**

"I was thinking.”

"I hear you,” answers Nat.

“The guns are supposed to have a spark. They can produce fire.”

“Correct."

“So, do you think I can stop the bullet from coming out? As soon as the spark is produced, make the bullet explode?"

Nat frowns.

“We could try, with certain measures, but not for now. What made you think that?"

“You’ve told me that this is all to defend myself,” She shrugs. “Many times someone will try to hurt me with a simple gun. I did some research on the structure of one and came across that."

“It’s good to learn things about your enemy.”

"How do you know who your enemy is?" She looks right into her eyes. “You've told me that I should not trust anyone except my family, but how do I know that someone is my enemy and who wants to be my friend?"

Nat sighs.

“For now, I can help you with that and I know Tony will too. It's not easy, Lils. That's why I told you not to trust anyone. It’s complicated, but you should always be aware of who tries to enter your life. We will not always be with you, so you must keep an eye out.”

The girl nods, processing.

"C'mon, just one exercise and you can take your break.”

“Finally!"

***

Outside the facility, Natasha looks closely at the girl.

“I saw the video in a workshop where you made something similar to a shield. I want you to do it again,” demands Nat from the other side of the glass.

“But I don't know how I did it."

"What did you think when it happened?"

“Well, the armor was going to explode near me. I thought: I don't want to die!"

The agents monitoring the exercise and Nat laugh.

"That works. Think that again. We have practiced, now I want you to imagine fire as protection.”

"That makes no sense. The fire only hurts,” replies Lily.

“Fire also serves as survival, light, warmth, and protection. Imagine a shield, remember what you told me about that night.”

“Good," the girl sighs.

She closes her eyes, remembers the orange particles around her, the thin layer that protected her from the big explosion.

"Good girl,” says Nat.

Lily opens her eyes. The shield surrounds her, almost touching her skin, but it doesn't last long.

“Again."

***

“Kid, come to the workshop. I have a surprise for you,” says Tony from the intercom in Lily's room.

"Did you make me an armor?" She sits on her bed quickly.

“Nice try, but no."

She follows his voice and enters the workshop.

“What's the surprise?"

“This," says Tony standing up from the chair. In his hands he shows a black suit, similar to what surfers or divers wear. She frowns without understanding. Tony rolls his eyes. “I designed it to withstand high temperatures. I could see the expense on my card when replacing a half of your clothes.”

"They were accidents,” She defends.

“Well, they won't happen anymore. Try it on,” He says, holding out the suit. She goes to the bathroom and in minutes she comes back. She caresses the soft, flexible material. “How is it?"

"It's comfortable,” She says moving.

"Are you trying to burn it?"

She looks at him in surprise.

“You sure?"

“You're supposed to have it under control now, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah,” She answers nervously.

"Just try to burn the sleeve.”

Lily concentrates, makes a small flame and puts it on the opposite sleeve. She waits a few seconds and then pulls it away from her. The material of the suit resists.

“It’s a good start. I did several tests, I guess in time we’ll know for sure. I’ll ask the super agents to do more.”

"Do I have to use it all the time?"

"If you don't want to burn your clothes, yes.���

“Fine,” She looks towards her desk. "What are you doing?"

“Investigating," He answers returning to his seat. She follows him.

Desktop screens display many pages and reports along with some photos of a WWII soldier.

"Who is he?"

“Steve Rogers. Captain America. Fury gave me some files on a possible team."

“But he was in the war. Why do you want him now?” She asks without taking her eyes off the files.

Tony watches her, he knows that face. He knows that won't be her only question.

"Sit down, Flower. It's time for a lesson.”

Taglist:

@silenthappyplace​​​​ @yourbonesareinmybody​​​ @aylauwuuniverse    @skittles-skittles​​​ @hufflepuffzutara​​​ @poetryislife0715 @21bruhs​​​ @heavenlymistakes​​​ @my-love-of-books​​​ @dielgonacoffee​

[ibijau]

part 11 of the Nomad Nie AU // On AO3

As winter settles in, Lan Xichen and Huaisang hear concerning news coming from the other Nie camp.

Huaisang and Lan Xichen, both usually early risers, ended up oversleeping the next morning, and didn't stir until Meng Yao called them from outside, asking if they were alright. 

“Don’t wanna get up today,” Huaisang grumbled in a low voice, nuzzling against Lan Xichen’s chest. “Tell him to go away. We’re staying here today.”

It was a tempting suggestion, certainly, but Lan Xichen still told Meng Yao that everything was fine, and they just needed a little time to get ready. This earned him a betrayed glare from Nie Huaisang.

“What happened to wanting to be taken seriously as a responsible adult?” Lan Xichen teased him.

“Boring,” Huaisang yawned. “I don’t care anymore. Just want to stay here and make love all day.”

Lan Xichen laughed, and though the proposition was quite attractive, he still extricated himself from his husband’s embrace and started getting ready for the day. Huaisang complained at length, calling Lan Xichen cruel and unfeeling, but in the end he also washed quickly and got dressed.

“You’ll pay for this,” Huaisang said as they left the ger, pretending to be cross. He would have been more believable if he hadn’t immediately stolen a kiss from Lan Xichen, before heading off to see if Zonghui needed his help with anything. Lan Xichen’s eyes followed him a moment before finally turned to acknowledge Meng Yao, nodding at him.

Meng Yao didn’t return the greeting, nor react in any way. His entire attention was on Lan Xichen’s neck, his expression tight, almost pained. Lan Xichen first thought that, having dressed a little quickly and while distracted, he might not have been as neat as he preferred to be. Indeed, when he brought his hand up, he found his collar to be completely crooked, exposing far more skin than would have been proper. It wouldn't be so bad, except… 

Last night, Lan Xichen had been very careful with his husband, trying not to leave any marks on him since they would take so long to disappear. Huaisang had had no such qualms, kissing, biting, and sucking at every bit of skin he could reach. Lan Xichen had felt no reason to complain at that moment and still wouldn't, except for Meng Yao looking at him as if he were bleeding to death rather than marked by a few loving bruises. 

"I guess Huaisang got his way after all," Meng Yao said, his tone so severe that it dampened Lan Xichen's joy. 

Embarrassed to have accidentally put on display the signs of his marital activities, Lan Xichen silently nodded while trying to put more order to his clothes. At least only Meng Yao had seen him, who was his friend. If it had been one of the Nie, he would have been teased to death for sure. They were rather more relaxed with joking about these things than Lan Xichen preferred. 

“So in the end, the Khan was the only thing protecting you,” Meng Yao noted with a slight grimace of disgust.

“He certainly was in the way,” Lan Xichen mused, blushing again as he looked away. Even though things were getting better with his brother-in-law, he was in no hurry to see him come back. Privacy was a very nice thing to have. Lan Xichen then looked back at Meng Yao and noticed his friend’s horrified look. He felt first ashamed for even discussing such things at all, then upset about feeling ashamed. “You know, we are married,” he pointed out to Meng Yao, trying not to be hurt that his friend was apparently the sort to be disgusted by intimacy between men. “Of course something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. I hope you don’t think less of me for it.”

“Of course not! Lan gongzi, we are friends, no matter what!” Meng Yao exclaimed, reaching for his hands and squeezing them gently. “And I understand, in this situation… it can’t be avoided. Even someone like Huaisang has needs.”

Lan Xichen nodded, his face burning as he thought that Huaisang definitely wasn’t the only one with needs. If they hadn't had other obligations, he would have enthusiastically taken Huaisang’s offer to stay the day in bed. He kept that thought to himself, and quickly changed the subject. Meng Yao still looked worried for a while, and only reluctantly let go of his hands. They went on about their business for the rest of the morning without mentioning this again, but Lan Xichen thought he could feel the disappointment and pity of his friend the entire time. 

After a brief lunch, Lan Xichen ended up spending the afternoon with Zonghui and those of the young men who hadn't left with Mingjue. He was becoming rather proficient with a blade, he liked to think. Not quite yet to the level of the nomads, and he wouldn't get there for a while longer, but Zonghui thought he had potential and insisted that he start carrying his sword around everywhere he went, like the rest of them. 

"In case you want to play with wolves again," a boy remarked, triggering a few laughs. 

Lan Xichen accepted the sword with perhaps more gratefulness that such a blade deserved, when Zonghui himself conceded it was of inferior quality and the only thing he could spare at the moment. Lan Xichen was in an emotional sort of mood, and so felt touched by that mark of acceptance from the Nie. 

After a while, Huaisang and Meng Yao came to watch them train, chatting together like old friends. It comforted Lan Xichen a little to see that whatever Meng Yao’s opinion was toward men who cut their sleeves, at least he wasn’t letting it damage his friendships. Of course Meng Yao still looked uncomfortable when Lan Xichen and Huaisang retired for the night, but he was clearly making an effort, and that was what mattered.

-

The days that followed were peaceful enough. Lan Xichen kept busy helping around while there was light, then returned to the ger when it got dark again to enjoy his husband’s company. With nothing but moonlight to illuminate the ger, Lan Xichen found it difficult to give the painting lessons he so wanted to share with Huaisang. The most they could do was for Huaisang to practice holding an empty brush by pretending to trace shapes on paper so he could get used to the gesture. Lan Xichen thought he had some skill for this sort of things, but of course it was difficult to know when they were both hesitant to waste what little ink and paper they had. Besides, those lessons always ended up rather short lived, because when Lan Xichen pressed himself against Huaisang’s back to hold his wrist and guide him, brushwork soon became the last thing on their mind.

Lan Xichen told himself that they were just trying to make the best of things before Mingjue returned and they had to return to their previous lack of intimacy. It was a perfectly valid excuse to behave a little lasciviously… though even when they learned that Mingjue might be gone all winter, it didn’t quite calm down their ardour.

The news came one afternoon. Lan Xichen was checking on the cattle when a rider arrived from the other camp, and thus missed the messenger entirely. Huaisang had to share the news with him that evening, when the man had already left again to let the Khan know his family had been informed he would remain absent. By then, a certain gloom at fallen upon the entire camp, and not without reason.

To everyone’s shock and surprise, Wen riders had been spotted coming worryingly close to the other camp, which was situated closer to the border with their territory. Since that camp was only used in that season, and the Wen had never yet dared break the winter truce, that unfortunate location had never been considered a problem before. Now though, the Khan had some real fear the camp might be attacked as soon as the weather improved in early spring, or even during the cold of winter itself, should the Wen spit on all their traditions.

“Would they really?” Lan Xichen asked his husband that night when they were alone in the ger, hiding together under heavy furs. For the first time since Nie Mingjue had left, neither of them was in the mood to make love, but Huaisang still asked to be held close, and that was something Lan Xichen would never have refused him, least of all when he too felt worried.

Huaisang shrugged. “Ruohan is a dangerous man,” he said. "His sons are hungry for power, and so is he. Maybe they would really fall that low. I spoke with Zonghui," he added with a deep, weary sigh. "He says next year, we will probably move the other camp somewhere safer."

"You don't seem happy about that." 

"I'm not. It's difficult to find a good spot," Huaisang explained. "It needs good grass, stable ground, decent weather, and all this close to our camp. Mingjue will be busy with that all summer, unless we can inflict them a strong enough defeat that they stay hidden a year or two." 

Unsure what to say, Lan Xichen pressed a kiss to his husband’s forehead. He had never seen war outside of history books. But of course, his life with the Nie had been full of new experiences, and he knew raids were part of the ordinary for them.

The idea of a war terrified him. He didn’t think he’d be forced to take part in a raid, not even if his skill with a blade improved, but staying behind with Huaisang wouldn’t be without risk either. They could be attacked, and would have to defend themselves. Lan Xichen might have to find out if he was the sort of person who could kill others, something he would surely never have wondered about himself if he’d stayed home. Worse still, he thought he already knew the answer. If someone threatened Huaisang, or even Meng Yao…

Lan Xichen shivered at the thought. Huaisang felt it, and pressed himself harder against him, holding him close.

“It’ll be fine,” Huaisang claimed with absolute confidence. “Mingjue is a great warrior. He’ll protect us all. He’ll protect the other camp until the snows melt, and then in spring he will call the other clans, tell them about the Wen, and we’ll deal with them for good.”

Lan Xichen smiled at his husband’s assurance, but remained so anxious that he barely slept that night.

In the days after learning of the threats against the other camp, everyone acted a little more nervously. Zonghui made every young men and women prepare for battle, in case they should be urgently called to help their relatives, or if the Wen decided to be particularly foolish and attack this place instead. Everyone thought it unlikely, since they were so far from Wen territories, but unlikely didn't mean impossible. The herds were kept under closer surveillance than usual as well, especially after one night, a few horses disappeared. There was some worry about wolves for a while, or thieves, but thankfully the horses eventually returned, all except Meng Yao’s own mount. The young man was quite distraught about that turn of event, and even asked to be allowed to go look for it, but Zonghui refused. The Khan would never have accepted to let Meng Yao ride out alone, and they couldn’t spare anyone to go with him.

“This spring, I’ll pick another horse for you,” Huaisang promised Meng Yao to comfort him. “A strong but gentle one, perfect for you!”

Meng Yao smiled sadly at those words, as if doubting such a thing would happen. Lan Xichen thought that perhaps his friend believed the Khan would refuse him such a privilege, since he was always ready to expect the worst from Mingjue… but if Huaisang had started proving he was trustworthy, surely the same could be accomplished for Meng Yao, Lan Xichen decided.

Perhaps one day they would all four of them get along and be on friendly terms.

In the midst of so much danger, Lan Xichen found comfort in that hopeful thought.

-

Lan Xichen woke with a start. It was dark inside the ger, and it took him a moment to notice a silhouette hovering above him, hands on his shoulders. It couldn’t be Huaisang, he felt the weight of his husband’s head on his chest, and no one else had any right to be inside their home in the middle of the night. Lan Xichen opened his mouth, ready to shout for help, but a hand pressed hard against his lips to silence him.

“Lan gongzi, it’s me,” a familiar voice urgently whispered. “I need to talk to you, but we have to be quiet.”

Having heard his voice, Lan Xichen started to recognise Meng Yao in that silhouette. He nodded slowly, and Meng Yao removed his hand.

“Can’t it wait until morning?” Lan Xichen yawned.

“No, there’d be too much risk of being heard. Please, Lan gongzi. You know I wouldn’t bother you at this hour unless it’s important.”

Lan Xichen nodded again. Meng Yao was always considerate of those around him, trying to avoid causing any disturbance for fear it would finally ruin what little goodwill the Nie still held for him. If he was there, it had to be important.

“I’ll wait for you outside, please hurry,” Meng Yao begged before leaving the ger.

Much as Lan Xichen tried to hurry, it was not easy to get out. Huaisang didn’t wake up, but it was a near thing when his living pillow started moving, and it took Lan Xichen great effort to extricate himself from his husband’s embrace. Even when he managed, Huaisang whined weakly at the loss of warmth and started blindly reaching out for him in his sleep. If not for Meng Yao waiting outside, Lan Xichen would just have laid down again and pulled his husband in his arms. Instead, he hurriedly dressed up and joined his friend outside, hoping there was a good reason for this.

With only a few days left to the new moon there was little light outside, yet even like this Lan Xichen, finally starting to wake up, could only notice how anxious Meng Yao looked. His friend made them both sit in the snow, in the ger's doorway, and kept glancing around, as if fearing to be discovered.

“Did something happen?” Lan Xichen asked with a yawn he couldn’t quite refrain.

“It’s less something that has happened,” Meng Yao explained, “and more something that is about to happen. I know for sure, now that they sent back the horses like agreed. And I hesitated so much to tell you… but in the end, I thought you might need the time to prepare.”

“Prepare for what?”

Meng Yao wringed his hands and glanced first behind himself, inside the ger where Huaisang still slept, then over Lan Xichen’s shoulders toward the rest of the silent camp.

“Lan gongzi, you’re a practical man, just like me,” Meng Yao said with a weak smile. “We’ve both done our best to survive here, of course, but… surely you must long for home as much as I do? You must wish you could go back and put everything the Nie did to you behind you?”

“I’m…”

“Maybe you even want revenge for what you’ve been made to suffer?” Meng Yao insisted, taking Lan Xichen’s hands in his. “I thought my situation was bad, but then what they did to you, forcing you to submit to a brat like Huaisang… I swear, I would have stabbed him in the throat for tainting your honour like this, night after night, if only it wouldn’t have ruined everything else!”

Feeling completely awake now, Lan Xichen shivered from more than the cold. To hear dear, kind, sweet Meng Yao speak so viciously of killing Huaisang was a shock, yet Lan Xichen forced himself not to react, wondering how much it would take for that sudden hatred to turn against him. 

“What’s ‘everything else’?” he asked, as calmly as he could, while pulling his hands away from meng Yao's. 

Meng Yao grimaced, his eyes darting around before he leaned closer.

“Lan gongzi, our ordeal will soon be over,” he confided in a whisper. “I made a deal with the Wen a while ago, when the Khan’s anger made me try to run for my life. I happened upon their king, and found an ally in him.  We agreed that I was to warn them when there would be a good opportunity to attack, using certain signals we came up with. I’d hoped to push Huaisang to rebel so the Nie would be weakened, but he’s just too stupid to stand against his brother’s tyrany and I was starting to get hopeless when you arrived and changed everything. If you hadn’t helped me… I would never have been able to convince Huaisang to be more reliable, it was a stroke of genius. The Khan would never have divided his forces so much before, and now he won’t be here when this camp is attacked. He's going to lose half his people when the Wen strike en masse!”

Lan Xichen’s heart sped inside his chest. It took every bit of self control he had not to shout at what his friend, their friend, was telling him.

“A very bold plan, Meng gongzi,” he whispered. “And the Wen are to take us home when they’re done dealing with the Nie, I assume?”

Meng Yao nodded, a cruel smile of triumph deforming his usually mild face.

“I’ve been promised that we will be taken back to the border, and those barbarians hold their promises to be sacred” Meng Yao explained, as if not remembering that the winter truce was also meant to be sacred. “Then it’ll just be a matter of contacting my father. He’ll be delighted when I tell him that the nomads are in disarray! He is great friend with a general who is a personal friend of the emperor. Once they're all weakened by infighting, the imperial troops can swoop in, those nomads will all be destroyed before next winter, and nobody will have to fear anything when travelling.”

“You’re doing all this for your father?” Lan Xichen mumbled.

“He will recognise me if I manage this,” Meng Yao feverishly confirmed, beaming at the thought. “He told me as much before leaving me here. And I have managed it now, or will soon, all thanks to you. You have my eternal gratitude, Lan gongzi.”

Half a day earlier, Lan Xichen would have smiled at a declaration of gratitude, and reminded Meng Yao that they were friends, that it was only natural for them to help each other. Now though, realising in what danger the Nie clan was, and being told he would bear his share of the blame in the bloodbath that was to come, Lan Xichen felt nothing but disgust for the man he had so recently called his dearest friend. All he wanted was to get as much information as possible on this coming attack, and wake Huaisang to warn him of the danger. 

“Do you know when they will attack?” Lan Xichen asked, trying to sound uncaring but unable to keep his voice from trembling.

“The agreement was I would send a group of horses running toward them,” Meng Yao explained, “and they would return all of them save my own to signify they’re ready to attack on the night of the next new moon. That way, they’re less likely to be spotted. I’m thinking we could offer ourselves for watch duty anyway. Huaisang and Zonghui trust you enough for this, it’ll be easy to…”

Before Meng Yao could finish that thought, Huaisang jumped out of the ger holding a metal ladle which he swung at the back of Meng Yao’s head with enough force for him to collapse. Lan Xichen stared a moment at the motionless body of his friend, shocked by the speed of that attack, by the bloody indent on his skull when he’d never known Huaisang to be capable of violence. When he turned his eyes to Huaisang, Lan Xichen found his husband glaring at him, the ladle stained with blood already raised again, ready to strike another time if necessary.

“It was all a lie then?” Huaisang hissed, tears glistening on his cheeks as he waved the ladle in threat. “All this time, you were just lying to kill Mingjue and me?”

[eldritcharchive]

Reviving a Wilted Flower

Relationships: Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana)

Characters: The Devil, Asra (The Arcana), The Magician - Character, Apprentice (The Arcana), Muriel (The Arcana)

Tags: Lucio Route - Reversed Ending (The Arcana), Muriel Route (The Arcana), Past Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Mentioned Apprentice/Lucio, Nonbinary Apprentice (The Arcana), Male Pronouns for Asra (The Arcana). Trials, Alternate Universe, in the sense that Asra is seeing other routes, Jealousy

Summary: The Magician shows Asra a few potential consequences of his actions before setting the terms to resurrect Safflower, Asra's beloved apprentice. What he sees is not pleasant and dredges up the worst parts of his soul.

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

"You are certain?"

Asra scowled - he'd been asked this question many times, and the answer was always the same. That, and he'd told The Magician this already, in no uncertain terms.

"Yes, gods, why does everyone doubt me?" Asra growled. "Safflower… their life is worth everything; I'm willing to pay the price."

"It's not that I doubt you, little magician," the Fox said slowly, "it's just that this decision. It affects them drastically and they are not exactly here to agree to your terms."

Asra quirked his brow. "My… terms? But…"

"You have hopes, do you not?" The Magician said with a smirk, chuckling when Asra's face turned a bright red. "But their life is theirs alone. And they will not remember a time before tonight. Can you live with who they might become?"

"What do you mean?"

The Fox sighed. "Perhaps it will be best to show you," he said softly, "there are… other paths you and your Safflower have taken."

The world around them shifted - they no longer sat at Lucio's table, but stood in a blood red desert. The air was hot, bitterly dry, and Asra found himself gasping, bringing large gulps of acrid air into his lungs. The Devil's realm. The Magician stood beside him, and curled his hand around Asra's.

"Stay with me - The Devil would not dare harm me, but you?" The Magician sighed. "Well. You'll see."

Asra found himself pulled along - he wasn't sure what to expect, really, but is Saff was *here*... that didn't bode well. The stroll was long; longer, Asra suspected, than The Magician expected. They passed the same patch of dunes for a third time when the Fox growled, trapping Asra's hand in a death-grip.

"Gods damned… I'm here for a visit alone," he hissed into the empty space. "A trial for this magician."

" A trial, you say? Intriguing." The Devil's voice rang in Asra's head, different now from the one he was used to hearing during readings. This sounded more… more like…

The Devil appeared before them, draped in sheer, black silks that flared out around their legs in an ankle-length skirt. Their red eyes stared down at Asra with a spark of unbridled glee.

"S-Saff?" Asra felt his face go cold as the Devil grinned.

"Oh, this is delightful ," The Devil - Safflower - said, a grin ripping itself across their face. They hooked a finger under Asra's chin forcing him to meet their eyes. "You have no idea what you're doing, do you, little Asra? Not unlike my little magician, though he carries far more regrets." Asra swallowed; his fingers shook against the Magician's palm. Safflower released his face and stood - horns erupted from their temple adding a good half-foot to their height, with a smaller pair framing their face.

"What happened?"

The Devil barked a laugh. "Oh, if only I hadn't sent Lucio out on something important . He'd enjoy this."

Asra bristled. Lucio?

Safflower tsk ed. "This was my doing. My choice, Asra, and mine alone. It saved the realms, which I'm told was the point." They scoffed, rolling their eyes at the idea. An awkward silence fell upon the three before Safflower grinned and knelt to Asra's eye level. When he glared back at them, they laughed low and deep.

"Oh, that face. So determined ," Safflower said, tone suffused with condescension. "I was weak , too weak to protect any of you. Everyone was right to call me Fool. " They sneered and gestured to the world around them. "But look - the realms are stable and everyone lived. And yet those achievements go tragically underappreciated."

The Magician cleared his throat and Safflower turned their gaze to Asra's guide. They grinned before turning back to Asra.

"I hope you find everything to your liking," The Devil jeered before vanishing. Asra shuddered. " I hope you don't come to regret your choices, little Asra."

Visions flashed in Asra's mind - Lucio commanding armies of vicious demons, conquering nations under the flag of The Devil. Oh, they stayed in their realm but there was no question they leveraged every connection in their power to make things worse. Vesuvia was in ruins, and the token resistance was run by Julian, Asra, Muriel and the few allies they could find.

It was wretched, and yet Asra ached most for Safflower. There must have been no other choice. Still…

" Lucio? " He muttered, incredulous. The Magician shrugged.

"In this universe, Safflower tried everything to save the world, only to die in the process," he said. Asra blanched at the thought. "The only chance they had, the realms had, was to merge with the devil. Lucio was the only one who could go through with making that happen."

Asra scoffed. "Figures he'd be so short sighted," he said under his breath. Again, the Magician shrugged.

"It did save the world, in a sense," he said solemnly. "And somehow, they're still better than our Devil." Asra was sure he wasn't supposed to hear that, but he scowled anyway. The Magician raised an eyebrow. "Simply an observation. Now."

The Magician snapped and the world shifted once more, swirling around the two mages until they stood in a familiar forest. Or, sort of familiar - this was definitely the forest near Vesuvia but it was… warmer. More welcoming.

Asra let go of The Magician's hand and narrowed his eyes at him. "What," he demanded, "was that meant to tell me?"

The Magician blinked. "I told you," he said softly, "you and Saffron have walked many paths. That… is the end of one of them. If you go through with this deal, they could make choices that lead to… well. The destruction of what you know as Safflower. And Vesuvia."

Asra huffed, folding his arms in front of his chest and clawing at his forearms. His guide looked at him expectantly.

"If that… if that is what they chose, I…" Asra paused. The destruction of Vesuvia for one life? Still… that Saff was far from guaranteed. And if it truly was their decision, who was Asra to stand in their way. "I would still go through with it, even if we end up… there."

"Right, well, I want to show you another path before we shake on it," the Major Arcana said. "Come." He walked confidently through the forest, the trees bending away from the Magician as he moved. Asra hesitantly followed, taking note of the differences around him - no protective charms hung from the branches around them, despite being so near…

"Muriel!"

The Magician stopped at the edge of the clearing near Muriel's hut, holding up a hand in front of Asra. They weren't to interact with this universe, clearly. Asra's eyes settled on Safflower, standing in the doorway of Muriel's hut. They looked… well, alive. Their freckled, fawn-brown skin flushed a warm coral in the warm sun, their unnatural orange eyes bright with laughter. Saff was draped in a luxurious red shawl (definitely Nadia's doing) over his usual embroidered blue tunic.

Muriel broke through the trees opposite Asra and the Arcana. He looked… good . He was dressed - dressed! - in a clean linen shirt and brilliant, embroidered green jacket with colorful belts cinched at his waist. He carried a few rolled tapestries on his shoulder and a basket of baked goods from… from the market. In Vesuvia. Safflower smiled brightly, a heartening sight compared to the twisted glee of The Devil. Muriel smiled back. A warmth wormed its way into Asra's chest - his best friend and his apprentice were happy. Why was this part of the trial?

Muriel set the tapestries and basket of food down on a bench outside of the hut. (It looked… larger, now that Asra focused on it.) Saff held out their arms and Muriel gathered them up against his chest and squeezed.

"Missed you," Muriel murmured into Safflower's soft brown hair. Saff chuckled.

"Missed you, too," they said, smiling up at Muriel before leaning up and…

Oh.

The kiss is chaste and sweet and, for a moment, Asra felt light. He'd never imagined he'd see Muriel this happy. But when the Magician's curious eye landed on Asra, the witch felt something truly dark stirring in him.

Mine, it shrieked, and clutched at Asra's chest.

Safflower's expression shifted, and they looked toward the edge of the forest.

"What is it?" Muriel asked, his brow furrowed as he followed Safflower's sight line. He hand hovered over a quarterstaff strapped to his back. Saff sighed.

"It's nothing. I felt… I thought I felt Asra out there," they said. "But it's passed."

"I just saw Asra in town," Muriel grumbled, reluctantly leaving his quarterstaff at his back. "He's fine."

Safflower smiled. "Good. We should go see him later," they said with a firm nod. "Now, tell me about your visit south." They snagged the basket of baked goods and ushered Muriel inside, tapestries, quarterstaff, fine clothes and all, leaving their audience in the subtle silence of the forest.

Asra warred with himself. He was overjoyed; he felt like he was going to be violently ill. The person he loved most in this world and his only close friend were very much in love - he could feel it radiating through the forest around them. Muriel shared his home with them. And still there beat a darkness in his chest, it's rhythm of mine, mine, mine hissed between his ribs.

The Magician looked at Asra expectantly; they were sat once again at Lucio's table. Asra coughed and swallowed around his gross jealousy.

"What are the terms?" He asked, voice unwavering. The Magician smiled.

"To bring them back, I require half of your heart," he said plainly before glancing upwards for a moment, lost in thought. Asra could be patient, at least, he told himself he could. His bouncing leg said otherwise. "And your word they will be free to choose their own path."

Asra hummed, thinking of the black tendrils of jealousy that ripped into him. It was ugly, that envy, those possessive claws - was that what drove him to this? His desire to possess Saff?

No . Asra thought back to his conversation with Eyre, his convictions. He loved Safflower with his whole being - and he would accept how Safflower felt. About him and the others. They wouldn't be his Safflower if he forced them into a particular shape, just to suit his fancy. He would wrestle with his demons on his own, and he would win. Eventually.

Asra sighed and held out his hand. "You have a deal, Magician."

The Fox smiled, and Asra lost consciousness.

[earthfluuke]

welcome to part 3! i’m very excited about this one, so i hope you all enjoy it! 

just a reminder: i based some parts of the nymphs off of the nymphs from greek mythology, but for the most part, they are whatever i made them up to be.

parts: 1 / 2 / 2.5 / 3

Sarawat has the entire town fooled, but Earn is smarter. She knows her best friend, knows when there’s something he’s hiding. Finding resources and deciding if the land is stable enough to move in on doesn’t take this long. Weeks have gone by; enough is enough.

It should surprise her to find Sarawat entangled with a boy adorned in flowers, eyes taking over his face when he catches a glimpse of her. And it should surprise her even more when she finds herself chasing after them when they dart down the opposite side of the hill to the banks of the river. But neither can compare to the slack jaw, awe struck shock she feels when she sees her.

Ankle deep in the water, the girl stands proud. Back straight, arms stretched to her sides, her palms lay flat, fingers spread with the threat of forming another wave. Her brown eyes hold fear when they bore into Sarawat but morph to protective when they flicker to the flower-draped boy. Sun light reflects off the pink and gold scales that outline her cheeks and round over the curve of her temple.

To anyone else who happened to be blessed by her presence would consider her mystical, magical, otherworldly. But the only word that comes to Earn’s mind is beautiful.

Everything around her – Sarawat, the flower boy, the forest in front of them and the field behind – disappears, and there’s nowhere to look but at her. Her desire to go forward is just as strong as her need to pull herself back. Potential of scaring her off keeps her grounded, and all she can do is watch her through the hazy, golden halo her mind – or is it her heart? – has set around her.

Sarawat breaks her free. Hands shaking her arms, he begs her, pleads her, to keep what she’s seen to herself, to not under any circumstances tell anyone else in town, to please, for him.

“Who is she?” she hears herself asking between his cries. She looks over his shoulder towards the girl. She’s calmer now, at ease, as she takes the boy’s – the one she can only assume belongs to Sarawat – hands into her own. Her softened features send Earn’s heart into double time.

“I don’t know,” Sarawat answers quickly before he goes back to his frenzy. “But, Earn. Please. For me. For him. Tine; his name is Tine. Please don’t tell anyone about this. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just please. Please.”

She finally looks to her best friend, and she cannot remember a time he’s looked more serious, more scared. His fingers dig into her, but they shake at the same time. This boy must be special, if he can turn Sarawat to this.

“I won’t tell,” she finally swears and accepts the bone crushing hug she’s pulled into.

…

A condition comes with her promise. Not because she needs anything to maintain her secrecy but rather because she’s desperate.

She follows after Sarawat and parts ways with him at the apple tree. Canvas in her satchel, easel strung over her back, she sets her makeshift studio out along the banks of the river. Cups of paint circled around her, she picks out a brush and loses herself to her art.

She starts with the bases – the pale blue sky, the dark green grass, the teal river she shades to appear crystal. Fluffs of clouds and sharp tree branches follow. Final touches in the forms of a cluster of cattails growing at the edges of the river and the lily pads floating atop it near complete the painting. But there’s one thing missing.

Every so often, she lifts up her brush to glance at the river, pay close attention to it to catch bright eyes or mirrored scales. Luck comes to her just as the sun sets. When she goes to switch brushes, she spots her, the girl from the river, the beautiful mystery, the one thing missing from her painting.

Eyes peeking over the surface of the water, they watch her. She doesn’t raise up any further, but Earn has what she’s come for. It’s a rush job to add her into the painting, but she can’t contain her excitement.

She tip-toes towards the river as to not scare her. She bends, bends, bends over until the tip of her nose is a mere breath from the girl’s forehead. Only then does she duck away, quick movement startling Earn face first into the river.

She watches from beneath the water as the girl disappears downstream. The current that follows her carries one word to her ear: Pear.

…

Her mistake isn’t one she intends to make again, and it comes with consequences. For the next week, there is no sign of Pear. Earn remains optimistic, continues to believe that she will return when she once again feels safe. But by the seventh day, she’s beginning to grow discouraged.

She waits until the sky turns a golden orange, pink sprouting out from the setting sun, to add it to her painting. It’s the same scene she’s been painting for days, but this one is brighter, a burst of color against the familiar neutrals she now paints like they are second nature.

Sudden water droplets drip onto her pant leg, and her head is whipping to the side before she can stop herself. She’s met with a cheek covered in pink and gold scales, and now that she’s close enough, she takes note of how they also dip down her neck.

Pear isn’t looking at her, gaze instead set on her painting. Earn doesn’t dare move, barely lets herself breathe, as she steps closer. Her foot – also covered in scales that dissolve up over the outside of her calf – hits a cup filled with pink paint.

Picking it up, she dips in a webbed finger. It comes out the same color as the paint, the same color as her scales, and in one last surge of curiosity, she presses it to the very center of the canvas.

She looks both surprised and terrified to see that she’s left her mark on something that isn’t hers. Taking a step back, she’s ready to bolt within seconds. But Earn doesn’t give her the chance.

Quickly covering her own finger in red paint, she places her fingerprint next to the one Pear left. Turning to her, Earn offers her a soft smile, one that reaches her eyes and tells her everything is just fine. Pear returns it, and she feels a small flame warm her heart.

It only grows when she dips her finger back into the paint and decorates the entire frame. By the time she’s filled half the canvas, she motions to Earn’s hand. Too afraid to make the wrong move and send her hiding back in the depths of the river, she stays still. With an unsatisfied huff, Pear takes it upon herself to lift her hand and press her paint covered finger back onto the painting.

The feel of her hand wrapping around her wrist engulfs Earn’s chest with fire, and she burns. Her insides are impossibly hot from a single touch, and it worries her to think of what anything more could do to her.

She cools herself down by littering red fingerprints in the spaces between Pear’s pink ones. By the time they’re done, the image beneath is unrecognizable. And yet it’s the most wonderful painting Earn has ever made.

…

“You look happy,” Sarawat comments as they journey back to town.

“Maybe I am,” she says, readjusting the canvas in her arms. Stroking over the raised bits of paint, only just dry, she hugs it close to her. The distance between her and Pear dulls the flame in her chest, but it sparks at the thought of having this small piece of her. “I don’t think I really knew what happy was until today.”

…

Two canvases are heavy, but the extra weight is a small price to pay for her to see Pear waiting for her in the grass beside the river.

Setting up the extra easel, Earn gifts her with her own set of brushes. Lips pursed and eyebrows arched, she holds the brushes in the flat of her palm, running a tip through the bristles and watching them bounce back in intrigue. This innocent curiosity along with the tiny gasp she gives all but melts Earn into the ground below.

It’s trying to get the brushes to fit between the webbing in Pear’s fingers, but their attempts are finally met with success. “You can paint whatever you like,” Earn tells her, timid and gentle, nerves of scaring Pear away still bubbled high in her stomach. “There are lots of colors to choose from, see?”

Uncapping each cup, she offers Pear the pink. Familiarity hits her, and her smile outshines the sun. She’s off from there, and Earn should be as well. But each time she turns to her canvas, she’s drawn to the one beauty her art can never replicate.

Pear’s strokes are calculated, careful. And yet her wrist bends just so, loose and at ease, languid lines bleeding over the page. She’s very much the river she resides in; the calm stream flows freely, quiet and serene. But then there’s a wave, a crash against the banks, whenever she makes a mistake. Suddenly, she’ll still, wait, and Earn prepares for the flood that never comes. She breathes deep, exhales slow, and returns to tranquility.

The end product isn’t much more than a collection of lines with the occasional stray fingerprint. But it’s Pear, and for that, it is everything.

…

“What shall we paint today?” Earn asks, back to Pear as she adjusts the canvas along the ridge of the easel. Having watched Earn’s creations, Pear had become less keen on the abstract of her lines and wanted something more realistic. They’d begun with flowers, moved up to small frogs that politely sat still when Pear asked them to, advanced with the forest of trees on the opposite side of the river. Any mistake Pear makes is met with kind reassurance, a helping hand atop hers that guides the brush the correct way, a smile that she eventually returns.

Brushing off her hands on her pants, she turns to meet a held out hand. She accepts it easily, because of course she does. It fits nicely in her own, even around the webbing, and she dares a stroke of her thumb over the scales that cover her knuckles. They’re cool and smooth and unlike anything else she’s ever felt.

There’s a light tug, a shake of her arm, and it calls Earn’s attention upwards, to Pear’s pretty face and desperate eyes. They’re endless, large enough to hold oceans, captivate Earn to the point of no return. Only when Pear squeezes her hand does she break away to ask, “You want to paint me?”

The nod she gives is shy but firm. She’s head set despite her concerns, and Earn is in no position to deny her. She allows her to position her how she wants, tries and ultimately fails to keep her breath even when Pear pushes her every which way until she’s satisfied.

Behind the easel, she’s focused, pinched brows and scrunched nose taking over her features. Earn truly does her very best to maintain her far off gaze, but she cannot help but be magnetized back to Pear. Art is creating art before her; not staring is futile.

Time passes too slow and yet too fast, and Pear is shifting from foot to foot with her bottom lip between her teeth. Seeing her brush set aside, Earn gets up and circles around to the opposite side of the canvas.

Altogether, it’s a messy attempt. Edges are jagged, colors blur together. But there are lighter brown highlights that show the sun reflecting off her hair and curved lines etched into the center of her lips. Small details that Earn has only mentioned in passing decorate her portrait, and it sets her ablaze once more. The hopeful glances Pear gives her, hands clasped together in front of her chest, do little to extinguish it. This girl will char her to a pile of ash, but if her way to go is by the slope of her smile and the hesitant flush to her cheeks, then by all means, take her.

“It’s lovely,” she says. Her shoulders sag in relief, and Earn takes the opportunity to grab her hands once more. “I’ll have to find a frame for it. It’ll look so nice in my room.”

Smile widening across her cheeks, Pear pulls herself closer, giggling high and sweet, jingling bells sounding through her ears and heart. Earn lets their arms drop, dangle between them as her head tips forward. There’s still a space between them, but it’s enough. Especially when Pear doesn’t back away.

…

Guitar strings strum behind them, and they draw Pear from her canvas. Gaze up the hill, she’s distracted long enough for Earn to notice.

Setting down her brush, she swivels to look up towards the apple tree, towards where the notes are drifting from. “You want to listen to the music?” she asks. “We can; I’m sure Wat wouldn’t mind a bigger audience.”

She’s tugged backwards just as she moves forward. Both of her wrists are caught, and suddenly she’s being swung around the field, twirled around and around and around. It’s dizzying, and her vision kaleidoscopes; she can make out colors, patterns, but not much else. Catching a flash of Pear’s face, her wide smile, she’s serenaded by the giggles she gives as they fall into an unled dance.

Time passes, the song changes, but they still move together – in, out, back, forth. And then she’s falling, crashing into the shallow end of the river, water beneath her and Pear atop. She catches her by the shoulders, holds her up, and when the shock wears off, she realizes this is the closest they’ve been.

It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. She wants to stay, try for more, test the figurative and literal water with her. But there are boundaries, hurdles, stepping stones they have yet to get past, over, around; barreling forward head on will only get her hurt.

She’s held down as she goes to sit up, and she dares a glance. Wide eyes are hard to read, but at the very corner, small enough to miss, there is that ferocity Earn saw the very first day she’d spotted her. There is fear and pause, but along with that is passion, the very thing that keeps her strong and steady.

That passion drives her forward. Hand cupping the side of her head, Earn fits her fingers below her ear, threads them through her hair. Chin tipping up, still not daring a full lurch, her eyes flicker to Pear’s lips and there’s an intense want, an unquenchable need.

Patience dwindling, fire growing, she inches further. And that seems to be enough. Fists in her shirt collar, eyes on hers until they finally shut, Pear closes the gap Earn is too afraid to.

Every sense bursts to life at once. Scents of damp grass, river water with a touch of floral; sounds of dragonflies buzzing by and a familiar tune taught to her by the elders in the village floating from the top of the hill; touches of brown tendrils brushing across her cheeks as their heads tilt, soft skin and hard scales contrasting beneath her palms; tastes of apples and finally and yes; and the sight of the most beautiful girl, most beautiful creature, most beautiful anything that graces this very earth flushing pink and dipping her head when they pull apart.

Her fluster doesn’t deter her far. She lets herself be held, and Earn’s heart, spirit, soul soars far from her body. No more spaces between, no more hesitations. She pulls her back, waits for the slow sigh Pear gives against her lips before she deepens.

The fire roars on, and slowly the embers turn to ash.

…

Her return is met with a tangle of limbs and lips against her ear. Stepping back to steady herself, her hands come to rest upon the curve of Pear’s spine, fingers dancing up and down the ridges.

“Hello,” she breathes through a laugh, tilting up her chin when Pear nudges beneath it. “I’m sorry I haven’t come for a few days; my parents needed my help around the house. But I snuck a few of the tarts my mother made into my bag. Will that make up for it?”

Pear doesn’t go for her bag, for the treats. She instead goes for her mouth, bleeds relief and happiness and I missed you into it. Hands pressing against her waist, pushing their torsos closer, she turns to her jaw, her cheek, her nose, to brush all of her emotions there as well.

Earn lets her, soaks in every second. Only when she pulls back, gives a satisfied giggle, does she return the affection. Butterfly kisses flutter about her skin, followed by the whispers of longing and the promise of it will never happen again.

It has only been a few days, but the effect is strong. Paint brushes untouched, canvases downturned, her inspiration had fallen from her, dropped over a cliff into the abyss. Here – grass blades tickling her ankles, the coolness of scales beneath her fingertips, her beautiful nymph in her arms – her imagination bursts to life; it spills back into her. And as she rests her forehead against Pear’s temple, she cannot help but think the muse never left. It has only been waiting for her to return to it, for now it resides here. In this meadow, by the lake, with Pear.

…

Knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder. Not even a breath of air can pass between them, not with how close they’re sitting. Pear’s forearm pressing heat into hers, they look out towards the water. Sun shining down, the ripples crystalize under the light.

Earn turns to the nymph at her side. She’s blinded by the reflection of her scales and wonder of how someone like her – so astonishingly, mind-bogglingly perfect – can exist; and alongside that, how she has the pleasure of existing with her.

Fingers finding the root of a long stem beside her, she plucks upwards. A water lily – jasmine pearl, white petals fading to purple – fills her palm, and she goes to tuck it behind Pear’s ear.

Reaching to touch it, eyes questioning as they look to her, Pear doesn’t even realize how very fitting the scene is. The flower is her twin: a delicate, gorgeous bloom that captivates anyone who stumbles upon it, making it impossible to look anywhere else. It’s breathtaking. It’s stunning. It’s her.

“I can’t make you a flower crown,” she admits. Pushing back some of her hair that dares to fall over the flower, she offers her a smile. “But you deserve to get flowers as beautiful as you are from someone who loves you.”

Distance closing, she whispers, breath fanning against Pear’s lips, “And I’d like to be that someone.”

Earn sees a smile stretch across her face before her eyes shut fully and their lips come together. There are so many things to feel all at once. Love, desire, a raging fire. But more than anything else, happiness spreads through her, bursting wide like the flower behind Pear’s ear. Happiness, she thinks as their hands come to hold each other. This is it.

[calboniferous]

Duality

Chapter 8 – Bant

Bant watched from a passenger seat as Master Koon brought the ship out of hyperspace and Garen, having talked his way into the co-pilot’s seat, hailed Naboo air traffic control.

Naboo from space was a truly beautiful world of verdant greens and sweeping blue. At this distance it was nigh impossible to tell that the planet had been party to a violent invasion and occupation. The only indication to these events was the glittering metallic cloud which was all that remained of the Trade Federation control ship.

However, descending over Theed favoured the Jedi with a clear view of the destruction. Bant’s heart ached in sympathy for what she saw.

The graceful pillars and red-tiled rooves of the city’s buildings were marked with carbon scoring characteristic of blasterfire and many of the buildings were reduced to rubble. Tents were tucked between broken columns and piles of debris littered the streets. And, pale grey in the wan morning sunlight, smoke still rose in parts of the city and climbed high into the sky in the absence of wind.

They landed in the main hangar of the Theed Royal Palace. While a number of the starfighter bays were glaringly empty, one of the ships had been decorated with roughly cut strips of red fabric and had ‘The Skywalker’ painted boldly across the fuselage. Bant hazarded a guess that it was the victory ship. The brief sent by the Naboo had summarised the battle and the Masters’ force presences went sharp and icy at the line “young Anakin Skywalker flew a Royal Starfighter to great efficacy and secured victory with his destruction of the control ship”.

No, Plo “Finder to a third of the creche” Koon and Vokara “mother nexu” Che were not happy that a nine-year-old was on a battlefield. After that episode, Bant decided she never wanted to witness ‘scary quiet’ Master Koon again thank you very much. And, in the interest of doing so, she made a mental note to strong-arm the young pilot into a mind healers’ office at the next opportunity.

Serene masks firmly in place, the Jedi descended the ramp before the whine of the engines shutting down faded and they were a small party of Nabooians approched. Bant immediately singled out the clean lines of the Healer’s uniform.

An elderly human man draped in plum velvet stepped forwards and opened his arms wide in greeting. “Ah, welcome, Masters Jedi, welcome! News of your arrival was a surprise, but we are glad of your presence nonetheless; indeed, we owe your kin a great debt although— “

Master Che gave no acknowledgement to the man and interrupted his filibuster, passing him to meet the mirialan healer. “Healer Renada,”

“Master Che,” they said, waving a hand for the Jedi to follow “he’s this way.”

The human man—a politician, Bant deduced from his impractical garb—sputtered as the Jedi swept past without so much as a hitch in their gate, his mouth gaping like those deep-sea fish from Mon Cala. If circumstances hadn’t been so grim, Bant might’ve found it funny. As it was, she was preoccupied with following their guide who, thankfully, kept up a brisque pace.

Bant didn’t have to guess which room Obi-Wan was in, feeling his muted presence through their creche bond. Unconscious, then. Still, the echoes of pain and flashes of light she could sense meant that he wasn’t shielding his end of the bond.

They pushed through the door.

Skin waxy in the blue glow of the monitors at his bedside, Obi-Wan was terribly still. There was a bacta patch on his cheek and white gauze peeked out from underneath the hospital gown. Worse, the mournful lament of a kyber crystal came from the crate on the floor where the silver-and-black hilt of Master Jinn’s lightsabre rested among folds of freshly laundered tunics.

Master Che laid a hand on his forehead and Bant rested her own on his shoulder, feeling the feverish warmth under her palm.

This close, it was impossible to miss the emotions radiating unchecked from Obi-Wan and Bant realised that his shields weren’t lowered, they were broken.

“Master Che,” she said,

“I feel it. Plo, shield us.” her mentor ordered and a moment later, Bant felt the force quiet as the kel dor master wrapped heavy shields around the two healers and Obi-Wan. Preferably, they would have had a team of healers to protect the patient’s vulnerable mind but they made do with what they had. And, Master Koon was no slouch when it came to his control of the force.

“Bant, with me,” Master Che said and, closing her eyes, Bant sunk into the force.

Delving into the force like this was difficult to describe to anyone who wasn’t force sensitive but, if asked, Bant would say that it was like diving into the sea.

The cool weight rushed over her skin and closed over her head, the sudden weightlessness and the pressure of the world around her were old friends. Bubbles trailed from her as she dived, the last vestiges of the physical world

The roar of the force in her ears muted the noise of surface reality but the moving parts of the galaxy are louder than ever. Sound travels faster through water

The sea was calm. A great seawall held back the powerful surge of the open ocean. Quieter, but no less present.

Down here the water was brighter and more tangible around her. Bant could feel the water in the spaces between all things, flowing, pushing, pressing through those crevasses and chasms. Cause and effect. A current rolled up from the sea floor, lifting glittering grains of sand up into the water column, and far above Bant’s head a wave crested.

Breathtaking.

From her earliest memories, Bant thought entering the force felt like coming home. She is not here to drift aimlessly on the current, though, and there is red in the water.

Obi-Wan’s presence ached under her hands. Floating like a strange, pale bloom in the endless blue. His lifeforce flickered weakly as water flowed through his lungs and blood flowed out though Bant could feel that what little strength he had was used to try and hold his wounds closed.  

Reaching out to his mind, Bant surveyed the damage. The tear in his mind was undoubtably from a Split and she could see the remains of his bond with Qui-Gon. Bant hadn’t been on the team of healers that dealt with Master Sifo-Dyas’ Split but she had spoken to some of them. She’d listened to their accounts; she’d studied relentlessly and she knew what needed to be done.

Master Che was steady beside her, guiding and holding Obi-Wan’s mind still as Bant cut the mangled mess of the bond free. Unconscious though he was, Obi-Wan’s subconscious mind still tried to twist and pull away from the pain.

I’m sorry Obi-Wan, I’m so, so sorry Bant thought as she brought the clean edges of the wound together and began to close it, stitch by metaphysical stitch. He flinched with every suture.

Healing like this was invasive. A last resort. For Obi-Wan, Bant knew there was no other course of action. The damaged remains of the bond were vulnerable and would never heal properly. Even if it eventually scarred over, it would continue to cause Obi-Wan pain and be a weakness in his shields for the rest of his life. It needed to be removed.

Knowing all this didn’t make it any easier for Bant to do. Stitching skin, suturing the mind. Both involved inflicting a little more injury to bind the wound shut.

Hours have passed by the time Bant and Master Che have closed Obi-Wan’s psychic wounds and painstakingly constructed temporary shields in his mind. Emerging from her trance-like state, Bant blinked her eyes to clear the spots from her vision and stretched her stiff limbs.  

“Well?” Garen said, seated at the foot of the bed on one of the hard, white chairs.

Bant gave him a thin smile. “Alive. We won’t know if there will be any lasting effects at this stage but he’s not at risk of dying right now.”

Relief coloured Garen’s force signature and he closed his eyes for a long moment.

“Padawan Eerin is right,” Master Che said, lekku curling as she too stood and stretched, “Obi-Wan will heal. Now, you two— ah, thank you, Plo,” she broke off to accept a cup of water from the other Master, “Much better. You two need to stay close to him. That much force exposure all at once is comparable to trying to hold up the whole Tranquillity Spire all day. So, Padawan Eerin what is the effect of this and what would you prescribe?”

Never a respite from medical pop quiz around Master Che.

Bant gathered her thoughts before answering, “Severe force exhaustion which in turn means he won’t be able to use the force until his connection heals further. When he wakes he’ll be under orders not to try until he’s been cleared.”

“Good,”

“And,” Bant continued, “since he can’t use that sense and doesn’t have Master Jinn’s bond, that means he’ll feel isolated in the force. Garen and I need to keep him company.”

Master Che gave her a look of approval

“Full marks, Padawan,” then, to the rest of the room, “Excuse me while I confer with Healer Renada.”

She exited to the room in search of the mirialan. No longer needing to hold up shields around Obi-Wan, Master Plo retreated to a corner and settled cross-legged on the floor to meditate.

Garen’s eyes flicked from the kel dor to Bant and back, questioning.

“Don’t mind me, young ones, chatter all you want,” Master Plo said, a moment later taking the deep, even breaths characteristic of meditation.

Garen moved his chair to sit next to Bant at Obi-Wan’s shoulder. He leaned his head on her shoulder and Bant rested her head on top of his.

“Thanks, Bant,”

She nudged his boot, “It’s Obi-Wan,”

That was all the explanation in the world to the both of them. Cradling one of Obi-Wan’s hands between two of her own, his stable pulse under her finger kept time as afternoon turned to night.

“We should message the others,” Bant said, who-knows-how-long later and Garen resurfaced from his light doze against her.

“Quin’s going to be mad,”

Bant hummed in agreement. “Reeft should be back in-temple today or tomorrow Coruscant time—whenever that is in Naboo time. They’ll have each other in hand,” Bant squinted and re-evaluated her words, “Reeft will have Quin in hand.”

“Better give him good warning, then,” Garen unstuck himself from where he’d been plastered to Bant and pulled out his com, beginning to type a message to their group chat. For all that they joked about him, Quinlan did have a good grasp on his emotions—he needed to in order to be an effective shadow—but when he was safe and off duty, he could express himself more freely.

Message sent, Garen settled back against Bant, sighing softly. By virtue of healer training, it was nearly inevitable that Bant would be a Padawan for longer than her crechémates. And, as Jedi rank was often equated to maturity by outsiders, her Knighted peers were often assumed to be older that her. Wiser. But among themselves, it was Bant who took that elder role.

With two of her four pseudo-siblings sleeping safely near her, Bant settled in to watch over them and guard their dreams.

[thefools-journey]

The Tarot in Love

AKA QUICK TAROT META

So. Apparently a lot of Arcana fans don’t understand or know the connection between the LIs and their tarot cards. This will be a quick primer on said tarot cards and how they influence the LI routes. It’s important to note that most cards have multiple domains and influences. The type of reading, the question posed, and the other cards within the reading will determine which domain or influence is being accessed.

Before we start, note that every single LI begins their route on the Reversed Path. A Reversed Card in this game means that the card’s energy is stuck and something is preventing its full expression.

ASRA THE MAGICIAN

The Magician’s main domains circle Action. The Magician knows what he wants and goes after it, damn the consequences. If he is committed and willing, he makes miracles happen. He is the kinetic energy to the High Priestess’ potential energy. As the MC says in the prologue when they pull this card (for Nadia), this card signals that the time to act is now. 

Asra begins his route full of inaction. Sure, he seems like he is on the go and doing things but in reality, he is paralyzed. He has allowed his ties to Muriel and Nadia decay in favor of the MC. He hasn’t acted on vital information only he knows. He has lost his purpose, his drive, for knowledge, for love, etc. Some of this is down to his caregiver role with the MC - Asra cannot act or do much of anything in that quarter without risking the MC's health. Most of it is down to the year from hell ™ where Asra learned just how far he will go and just how powerful and ruthless he can be for those he loves. The year from hell ™ demonstrates exactly what the Magician is made to do. Asra scared himself really badly here. So he starts the route in a sort of limbo. Key to his Upright ending is widening his world, making the Magician understand that what he fights for is not just himself, his narrow goals, and loves but something much bigger.

NADIA THE HIGH PRIESTESS

The High Priestess deals in a few interlocking domains. She guards the boundaries between the mundane and the mysterious. She is the great potential waiting to be unlocked. Arguably, she is magic itself. She is the inner voice, that gut feeling, that intuition you cannot explain but know is right. She asks you to trust that part of yourself.

Nadia's route is arguably the best balanced in terms of the magical and mundane storylines. This is no accident. This balance is fundamental to the High Priestess' domain. When her route begins, Nadia trusts no one, not even herself. Thanks to missing nine years’ worth of memories, she understandably feels adrift. She has no idea what is going on and who to trust. Nadia’s only real tethers, and they are tenuous ones, are to Portia and the MC, the latter of whom she hopes can somehow help her. The year from hell ™ even if she no longer remembers it, also played a large role in starting her down the Reversed path. More than once, Nadia admits to withdrawing, emotionally, physically, and mentally, from the outside world as a way to cope. This was not a strategic or necessary withdrawal as her Birthday memory makes clear: together with Asra and Julian, the three of them could have held together and figured out a path forward. It wouldn’t have been easy, of course. But the very real danger in Nadia’s route is her belief that she and she alone must make things right, which goes against the High Priestess’ ways. The High Priestess sees potential in all around her. If Nadia turns away from that part of her which begs her listen and reach out, she is truly lost. Nadia’s Upright Ending requires her to find balance between what she can know and what she must simply have faith in, to be the boundary between the known and unknown. It requires her to learn how to trust not only others but herself again.

MURIEL THE HERMIT

The Hermit is searching for something. Not something from the outer world but something from within. Some mystery needs solving, some understanding needs creating, a higher call needs answering. He turns inward for answers, though he will seek or receive guidance from trusted sources. Through his search, he will create a still center, a solid, unbreakable foundation to call upon in times of high action and stress. Through this struggle, the Hermit can become that guide for others, focusing and directing their own journeys.

Muriel's route is the most fascinating and difficult of the routes because the Hermit's journey is by definition an internal one. Want to know why his route is so wrapped up in taking him out of his every day world and forcing him to discover his past? That’s why; it is a way of externalizing the very internal struggle for validation and focus the Hermit embodies. When his route begins, Muriel very literally has withdrawn from the world. And not just any world, but a world craving his experience and expertise. Of all the characters, Muriel has the most information on what is happening and why, above and beyond even Asra. Muriel holds the keys to so many happy endings and yet, he has chosen to be forgotten and isolated. As with Nadia, this retreat was not a strategic one but one borne of fear. Muriel has the knowledge and allies to handle the challenges which he faces. What he lacks and what he is building in his route is the internal fortitude, the stable foundation necessary to not only survive the challenges which come for him but to thrive and defeat them. The genius of this route’s Upright Ending is that the MC is building this fortitude right alongside Muriel, guiding him and being guided in turn. The MC protects Muriel, guiding him back into the larger world with a caring hand and back to rely on. In turn, Muriel answers the higher calling within himself to face the Devil. He solidifies his foundational revelations and becomes a guide in turn towards the Devil’s defeat. Make no mistake, when the foundation is as rock hard as that pair will be, the fiercest storm is no match.

JULIAN THE HANGED MAN

The Hanged Man is a card of waiting, potentiality, and knowing surrender. Some say it is a card of martyrdom but really it’s a card about sacrificing and letting go, winning through stepping back and allowing things to happen to you. The Hanged Man suspends action, waiting for some unknown or a revelation. Through the paradox of stepping back or surrendering, the Hanged Man finds what he needs to achieve victory. When you see the Hanged Man in a general reading, it’s asking you whether the actions you’re taking are having the opposite effect that you intended. It asks you to let go and step back. 

Julian begins his route like he begins most things: with a dramatic flair just before he faceplants. Julian is flailing every which way with no rhyme or reason. Because he has lost so much control over his life, he tightens his grip on what little he can control. He leads the MC on, then unceremoniously drops them before they can drop him or be hurt. He has taken the entire world and all its consequences on his shoulders. Julian feels out of control and unable to slow down, process, and wait. Most of his restless catastrophizing stems from the year from hell ™- he watched countless thousands die, failed to stop it, and woke up with no memory and a murderer’s brand on his hand. It’s only when he begins to let go, to allow people to make their own decisions and minds towards him that things start to turn around for him. His Upright Ending rewards players who reinforce the Hanged Man’ lessons: you cannot control everything, nor should you try, and sometimes it’s doing what feels wrong (in his case, letting others help him shoulder his burdens, just try to count how many times he says something along the line of ‘it’s wrong for others to want to help me’) that leads to victory.

LUCIO THE DEVIL

The Devil is a card about power and control, who and what has it in your life. This can manifest in a myriad of ways, from feeling out of control to obsessing over things and people to actively controlling others. The Devil is usually a warning card, a sign that something or someone has an unhealthy hold over you (or that you have an unhealthy hold over someone). The Devil also deals in materialism and the obsession with status. Again, this goes back to the power and control domains. Some interpretations also add ignorance to the Devil’s domain, which can also be traced back to his control domain. If you are unaware of something, you cannot take control of it. The Devil asks you to reevaluate and reassess what and who you allow to have power in your life. It asks you to retake responsibility for your own destiny.

Lucio begins his route as a literal shade of a man, a shell of his former self, unable to interact with the world he so slavishly desires. This is the debt he has accumulated through a lifetime of irresponsibility, an obsession with instant gratification, and a desperate need to be seen by others as powerful, desirable, and control. In his quest to become the most powerful man on the planet, he has instead wound up with nothing, completely ignorant as to the cause of his circumstances. This is why he is stuck as the Devil's least favorite whipping boy. If Lucio had taken responsibility and come clean, even back when he was dying, he could have avoided the worst of his problems. As it stands, he is still dodging responsibility, allowing his obsessions to dominate his life, and ensuring his mistakes continue to compound against him. That is why getting him to own up and regain control of himself is key to his Upright Ending. It sounds cruel but that hard, grinding self reflection is the only way he stands a chance of fully, utterly breaking his chains.

PORTIA THE STAR

The Star is a card of peace, hope, clarity, and truth. It is that small light in the dark, asking you to endure the night. It tells you that you have the tools to do so. Keep your hope, find your peace, and hold to your truth. The end of your journey is in sight. It is a card of seeing and knowing, not action.

I already wrote a huge meta on Portia's route and how her status as the Star impacts it. Portia begins her route hurting from and hoarding secrets. She wants to find the truth but has given up almost all hope of uncovering it. Despite knowing the costs of keeping people in the dark, Portia continues doing so, a silent observer too paralyzed and overwhelmed to act on the truths she knows. The most obvious demonstration of this is her dealings with Nadia. Portia has worked with her for months but hasn't told her about Julian, her literacy, and her invitation. Telling Nadia these truths would solve several of Portia's problems but she can't bring herself to do it due to fear. Her route is all about truths, exposing them or hiding them. Key to her Upright ending is getting her to act on her truths and bring them to light. Knowing the truth isn’t enough if you aren’t willing to act on it.

-Telos