#how his soldiers respond to it. and how he generally carries himself

[toastingpencils37]

Ok, there's something about Ras ordering Cinder to kill the Cloud Monks that makes it feel darker than usual in Ninjago.

Of course, villains are always talking about killing the ninja, but that's just it. They're talking about killing the ninja.

And even when they talk about killing innocent people, there's something different about the way they say it and their body movements that make it feel a little less dark.

But with Ras telling Cinder to destroy the Cloud Kingdom, and by extension the Cloud Monks, he literally tells him "I said everything".

Plus, when Ras says this, for one, we see Cinder laugh and smile in a very devious way, and the Cloud Monks start whimpering in fear, unable to do anything to stop it at all, unlike other threatened characters who can somewhat fight, even if not that well.

[twstjam]

Lost Invitation (Part 2) - Respond, if you please

Sorry, I said half an hour, but blocking people took a bit longer than expected <3 Starting from now I'll be blocking everyone who likes Lost Invitation without reblogging it. If you reblog it onto a sideblog and I've blocked your main, do tell me or you might miss out on updates!!

Characters: Malleus Draconia, Meleanor Draconia, Levan Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver (brief), Sebek Zigvolt (mentioned), Yuu (mentioned) Word count: 4.6k (sorry, I got carried away writing the draconia fam lol) Summary: You're committed to helping Riddle Rosehearts and his card soldiers in a war against followers of the Jabberwock looking to usurp the rulers of Red and White. You're also in love with a stranger you met in the woods who wants you to run away with him. Whoever said that love and war weren't so different might've been onto something. In your experience, they're both equally difficult. Nobody ever said that you had to choose between one or the other though. Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Prince Malleus Draconia is not lonely.

He hasn't been since before he hatched, his mother had made sure of it. He has faded memories of dozing off to his mother's soft singing, listening to his father's long ramblings, and curling up in the safety of the right-hand general's presence.

After hatching, his mother had doted on him like any prince of the Briar Lands deserved to be. Her and Father had indulged his every whim and desire. The servants bowed and trembled before the wrath of a newly-born dragonling who, though only three feet long, snarled his grievances accompanied by licks of fire and brewing snowstorms. Lilia Vanrouge was the only one to not kneel so easily.

Malleus Draconia was a prince and a hatchling, but Lilia did not treat him as such. Lilia scolded him like he would Mother, a matured dragon, and only complimented or rewarded him when he earned it. Needless to say, he was not favored amongst the little prince's guardians… or so Lilia says as he laments on the times Malleus used to set his hair ablaze. It had enlightened Malleus as to why the general currently wears his hair so short as opposed to the portraits he'd seen, but the prince—as it is the nature of fleeting old memories—cannot vividly recall his caretaker's tales. They also struck him as incredibly odd and he concluded that as an infant he had been a foolish thing (despite his parents' insistence otherwise). After all, Lilia is his most favored caretaker. This favoritism had even led to Malleus seeking Lilia out when he had hidden himself away one day, giving the prince the honor of being the first to meet the general's adopted son.

Silver had been an enigma to him. How could a meek little human infant, a species which his mother mocked frequently for their weakness and stupidity, appeal to a hardened fae general? It was even stranger to him that Mother seemed to completely forget her disdain for humans when she saw the little bundle in Lilia's arms. Though he would never say it aloud, Malleus had felt betrayed when his mother had asked to hold the child and took him from Lilia eagerly.

This little… thing, could not even hold itself up or eat solid food, let alone seek it out itself. It was useless and weak and nothing like the fierce creature Malleus had been when he broke out of his shell. Or at least, that's what Malleus used to think.

Truly, Malleus must not have been as exceptional of an infant as his parents insist. Malleus had spent 20 years crawling, meanwhile Silver mastered walking on two legs in mere months. Instead of cawing and snarling, the child babbled and laughed, elicited smiles from those around him, made warmth swell in Malleus's chest when he called the prince's name for the first time. The boy had still been small, not even 5 years old, and yet he had been able to climb up Malleus's legs and sit on his lap when he had invited him to read with him.

Sebek exhibited similar speed in growth. Malleus had blinked, and suddenly the little halfling had risen from a screeching newt into a strong guard that rivaled his own grandfather. Sebek likes to shadow him, always quick to see to his every need and always eager to win his approval. It's overbearing at some points, but the boy is growing and learning and has come to put his loyalty to use for only matters worthy of it, learning from Lilia and Silver to not merely agree to Malleus's every breath.

The revelation for such a change brought all four of them closer. It's not rare to see the two young knights by the prince's side, the former general watching after them from not far off.

Suffice to say, Malleus Draconia is not lonely. Absolutely not.

As a matter of fact, he quite likes being alone; the peacefulness of isolation, the escape from his demanding responsibilities. He has to return to the castle at some point of course. He has duties to his kingdom, but no matter how brief, he takes the opportunity to have some time for himself. To have some time to indulge his desires instead of being Prince Malleus; to be away from the expectations of his subjects and parents and instead cater to only himself.

He never quite expected to meet someone searching for something similar. At the very least, not at the same place, and you continued to surprise him in ways he could have never imagined.

After all, who could have predicted that a revered dragon prince of the fae would fall in love with a human?

----

Perhaps to any other, days at Wild Rose Castle could be considered dull, either because of the dim lighting and black walls or the castle staff that always hurry by without a whisper of a breath and with bowed heads.

If one were to ask Malleus however, he would say that days at the castle are always hectic. It's a good day when the castle is serenely dark and gloomy, but on others…

"Your DISGRACE of an offspring is a pathetic sprite unworthy of my son! How DARE you even consider a courtship between them?!"

Lightning fills the throne room with a bright purple light. Three aristocrats yelp and scramble to avoid the strikes of lightning coming down from the ceiling. Princess Meleanor's glare is deadly as she lifts and aims her staff to bring down another volley of lightning.

"P-p-please forgive us for our transgressions, your excellency!" the patriarch weeps as his family collapses to the floor in frantic bows. From his throne, Malleus can see the family's young heir trembling with choked sobs. His mother isn't the least bit appeased, her glare hardening and her staff crackling with power.

"ENOUGH! I will not tolerate any more nonsense out your blabbering mouth! You have come into my home, insulted my son, and dirtied my floor!" Meleanor raises her staff with a furious snarl. The magic surrounding it strikes the ceiling and deflects into multiple bolts of lightning throughout the throne room. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT AND DO NOT DARKEN MY DOORSTEP EVER AGAIN!"

The nobles scramble back onto their feet and skitter out with fearful screams. The wails of Malleus's attempted suitor echo through the halls of the castle until the doors slam shut behind them.

Meleanor raises her head proudly, huffing a satisfied plume of smoke out of her nostrils. Beside the sighing Lord Levan, Lilia Vanrouge has his head in his hands.

"What nerve, to ask permission for our Malleus's hand whilst showing such disrespectful behavior!" Meleanor spins around with a flare of her cloak and seats herself on her throne, one leg crossed over the other. "I should have incinerated that child where they stood!"

"I'm quite certain your outburst had spoken the message quite clearly, my lady," Lilia says with no small amount of disapproval.

"I agree with Lilia." Malleus's mother whirls around to face him with a betrayed expression on her face. "It is no fault of theirs that I failed to give my full attention to them. They had every right to call out my rude behavior."

Meleanor scowls and tosses her head again. "If you exhibit overly courteous behavior then those stuck-up aristocrats will become too comfortable to speak ill of you. As a dragon, you must present yourself as one!"

"That courteousness is the only reason the staff does not perish within breathing distance of him," Lilia argues. Meleanor shoots him a glare but he isn't deterred. "The poor boy already has issue forming relationships. Your volcanic temper is not doing him any favors."

"I will deal with those interested in the future king of the Briar Lands and my son however I wish! In case you have forgotten, I am your princess and his mother!"

"He is 178, he is not a hatchling, Meleanor!"

"Regardless of his age I have no intention of allowing him to be mistreated or his heart to be broken."

"At the expense of others?!"

"Yes!"

"Ah, there he goes."

Meleanor straightens up from how she had been bent over to glare at the short general and they both look over at Levan. They follow his gaze and briefly see Malleus's tail slipping out of the throne room.

"Darling!" Meleanor gathers her skirt to dash after her son. As Malleus makes his escape, Lilia groans and slumps over the arm of Levan's throne. His friend pats his back in sympathy.

"You really must do something about that wife of yours," Lilia grumbles. Levan laughs nervously, but there's also fondness in his eyes.

"She is simply doing what she thinks is best for our son."

"It isn't and you know it is!" Lilia huffs, craning his neck to glare up at the lord. The corvid fae smiles sweetly and leans towards him with his elbows resting on the armrest.

"Have I told you how much cuter you look when you're angry?"

Lilia sputters, face turning vibrant red. "Be serious!"

"I am serious," Levan hums as he reaches to tuck some hair behind Lilia's ear. The other general swats his hand away and he laughs at the flustered pout on the smaller fae's face. "I pity those nobles, truly I do, but like you and I, I have a feeling our Meleanor knows that our young prince is keeping a secret. So at the end of the day, there is no harm done, hm?"

Lilia gapes and blinks at Levan in bewilderment.

"He told you?"

Levan smiles secretively, a hint of mischievousness in his eyes. He must know as much as Lilia does then, and though he is relieved to know that his friend is supportive of Malleus's feelings, he still dreads the inevitable of Meleanor discovering it for herself. Meleanor is both temperamental and viciously protective of her child, especially since his life had been threatened after she laid his egg during the human invasion centuries ago. It's quite easy to imagine her most likely reaction to her son being interested in courting a human.

"He did. He also requested assistance from me." Levan looks up and his eyes brighten. "There it is now."

Levan waves his hand. Lilia's keen ears catch the sound of beating wings and he turns around to see a window opening. A raven flies into the throne room and settles on Levan's offered arm. The bird caws a greeting to Lilia before bowing its head to the lord.

"Welcome back, my friend," Levan coos as he strokes its wing. "What news do you bring from the Rose Queendom?"

Lilia perks up at mention of the Rose Queendom and looks at the bird with interest. The familiar makes a series of clicks and squawks. Lilia isn't the most fluent in corvid speak so he waits for Levan to translate, but when he looks to his friend, the other fae's smile has turned into an ominous frown.

"…It's not good news, I'm guessing."

----

Malleus typically finds comfort in isolation. It brings him the silence he requires to think and focus on both official and personal matters. Unfortunately though, for his current predicament, his most trusted method of comfort only seems to distress him more.

The conflict between the Rose and Lily Queendoms is taking it's toll on you. It's inevitable—He sees it a lot in Father and Lilia, how their gazes would sometimes look haunted by ghosts unseen to him even when doing the most mundane tasks —but that does not mean Malleus has to like it, or that either him or you should simply allow it to wear you down.

Sometimes, when he is speaking with you, you would get a faraway look in your eyes, lost in thought. During those moments the bags beneath your eyes look more prominent, your body thinner, your skin paler. You would apologise for losing track of the conversation and Malleus would excuse it, but within his chest a pit grew deeper and deeper, filling with irrational concern for you.

The desire to hoard and care for those most cherished to him isn't a foreign feeling to Malleus. He recalls that at a young age he would nest with his parents at night and steal Lilia and his father's weapons to stop them from leaving the castle for their duties. Now, he watches over Silver while he sleeps and sits at the water's edge when Sebek practices his swimming.

It is something normal for dragons to want their loved ones happy and safe, but the way he feels it with you is incomparable. He cares for you, (which had initially surprised him, to care for a strange human) there's no doubt about it, but more than anything else he wants to be the one to care for you, to ensure your safety. To take you away and tuck you inside his wings, to gift you all the luxuries you could ever need so that you would no longer be hurt or troubled.

And the strangest thing? He desires the same thing from you as well. For you to care for him, cherish him, want him, love him. For you to take his hand and let him whisk you away to somewhere the two of you could see and speak to each other every day, where you could sit and listen contentedly to him and him to you and help him with his woes like he wishes to help you with yours.

Confiding in Lilia had been what led him to realise his feelings for you. The older fae's recollection of his parents' courtship had been… concerning, but it reassured Malleus that his desires were not unusual and that, most importantly, his beloved caretaker accepted you.

It had taken more courage to approach Lord Levan, but he should have known that his understanding father would support him wholeheartedly. At Malleus's request, his father had sent one of his ravens to the Queendom and Malleus now spends almost every waking moment anxious for its return.

Telling his mother about you is… another matter entirely.

You were right that it wouldn't be wise to bring you into his home. He loves his mother, but like him, she possesses the nature of the dragon. She is caring, excessively so, and… incredibly protective, to say the least.

And to say that Malleus is fearful of her discovering his romantic feelings for you, a human—a race she loathes with her entire being—is an understatement.

You are fearless, perhaps a little foolish, but not saneless. She will chase you off as she has many others. The incident today was only one of many.

Regardless of his mother's ill manners and your reluctance to be with him, Malleus's heart does not stop yearning and yearn he does as he sits alone in his rose garden, innocent red rose in hand, plucking each poor petal after the other as his thoughts whirl around his mind uselessly.

Perhaps he should have been more insistent. Perhaps he should have taken you back anyway. Perhaps—

"Malleus?"

The click of his mother's heels on the garden's stone path grow louder with each approaching step. Meleanor appears beneath the rose arch to the gazebo and Malleus hurriedly brushes off the petals that have gathered on his lap.

"There you are. I have been looking for you, dear." Mother smiles as she walks up the steps of the gazebo, the long train of her skirt dragging behind her. She eyes the rose petals scattered around him. "What are you doing?"

"Ah. I am picking rose petals… for tea." His mother raises an eyebrow at his reluctant tone so he quickly diverts the topic. "Am I needed somewhere, Mother?"

"No, no." Meleanor sweeps up her cloak to that it isn't trampled beneath her when she takes a seat next to him. "I was merely worried." With gentle claws, she cradles Malleus's chin and lifts his gaze to hers. "I did not scare you, did I?"

"No—" Never, he wants to say. Even if she can summon the most destructive storms and move mountains with a snap of her fingers, Malleus can never be afraid of his mother, but the churning feelings in his gut lodges the words in his throat.

Malleus pulls away from her touch, looking away before he can see her frown. "I apologise, Mother. I exhibited behavior unbecoming of a prince in front of our visitors."

Instead of reprimanding him, his mother laughs. She's always so self-assured; with her magic, with her choices. It's one of the many things he admires but also envies about his mother. If only he can reach that point of confidence in his life much sooner.

"My silly little beast. There is nothing to apologise for," his mother coos, brushing a lock of hair out of his face with a careful talon. "You did no harm. After all, you have been so distracted because you already have your eye on someone, don't you?"

Malleus turns towards his mother, wide-eyed, and her eyes glitter with excitement as she grins.

"How did you—" Malleus stops himself. How is he supposed to tread this? "…Did Father tell you?"

Meleanor's smile falls. "No, but I am hurt you chose to tell him before me."

Malleus swallows. He laces his fingers together in an effort to make himself feel less unsteady. "How do you know, then?"

"Come now, you didn't think a mother would not be able to see that her son has fallen in love, did you?" Meleanor giggles behind her claws, eyes bright with eagerness. She leans in towards her son and lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell me, tell me; what are they like? How did you meet? And most importantly: When will I meet them?"

Malleus opens his mouth and pauses. What does he tell her? Every scale on his being is restless, eager at the presented opportunity to talk about you, but certainly, he cannot tell his mother about you. About your humanity. She would, as Lilia frequently describes it, erupt. He did not need that display from earlier in the throne room to know this well.

(He grew up all his life with it after all; His mother losing her head at every slight insult or threat towards him and striking it with bolts of lightning until it runs away screaming.)

Malleus does not fear his mother, let alone resent her, but he does rather often catch himself wondering what it would be like if she were not so hot-headed.

"They are…" Malleus quickly trails off as soon as the attempt begins. He glances at his mother warily. She is giving him her full attention. The support should be encouraging, but the dread within him only increases. "You cannot meet them."

His mother reels back as if he had shocked her with electricity. Her eyes widen and then narrow. Her brows furrow and her lips pull into a displeased pout.

"Whyever not? …Are you ashamed of me?"

"What? No, of course not!"

"Embarrassed, perhaps?"

"Far from it."

"Then do you fear that I would scare them off?"

"Yes— Ah, I mean—!" Malleus screws his mouth shut and looks away again. Meleanor chuckles in amusement.

"Silly beast," she tuts. Behind him, Malleus's tail thumps agitatedly and she twines her own around it to soothe him. "I am flattered that you think so highly of me, but I assure you that any mate worthy of you will not cower so easily before me."

Malleus wraps his tail around his mother's offered one, but his expression is one of scepticism. "How do you know for certain? Do you truly have so much faith in my choice of a partner?"

"Oh, of course not! You are still just a little beast after all," Meleanor teases with a light pinch to his cheek. "What I mean is that, whoever you choose, we shall know if they are truly the correct mate for you if they remain beside you regardless of any trials."

"Oh… I see…" Malleus lowers his head. He clasps his hands tightly together. He can still remember the phantom feeling of your own hands on them, of you pulling away from him. Of him watching your retreating back after once more rejecting his offer to take you away.

"Darling?" His mother places her hands on his and the memory fades away. "Is something the matter?"

"I… I want you to meet them, truly I do, but…" Your face flashes before his eyes again, with it your shy smile and your voice whispering,

"Someday."

Malleus gathers his resolve and faces his mother. "Not anytime soon, I fear."

His mother pouts again. "Oh, come now—!"

"I don't think they would fear you." There's no way to know for certain until you actually meet her, but it is something he's fairly confident in. "It is that… they are currently occupied and will not be able to make time to come to our lands in the near future."

Meleanor's eyes light up with newfound interest. "Oh? They are not of the Briar Fae?"

Malleus bites his lip anxiously. "Er, no. They are—"

A bird sings overhead. The two dragons on the gazebo lift their heads and see a silver-haired knight walk through the rose arch.

"Lady Meleanor, Lord Malleus." Silver dips into a quick bow and rises again. "I apologise for interrupting."

"Oh, Silver! What a pleasant surprise. Have you finished your training today? Come, come. It has been too long since we last spoke." Meleanor beckons to the young knight to sit next to her.

"Er, if I recall correctly, we spoke just this morning—!"

Meleanor doesn't let him hesitate for long. She crooks her finger and wisps of purple magic tug on his uniform until he's standing on the gazebo.

"I apologise profusely, my lady," Silver stammers as her magic fades off of his clothes. "But I'm afraid I cannot stay long, my father requests to see Lord Malleus—"

"Does he!" Meleanor's eyebrows are arched, her expression devious in a way both boys know does not hold good intentions for their respective fathers. "How fortunate, I was hoping to speak to him about Malleus."

"Mother—"

"Lady Meleanor—"

Before either boy could get a word in, magic begins to swirl around the princess's fingers and she chants, "Come, my eyes and ears, my wings and feet."

Magic swirls and shimmers around her. Beneath her feet, her shadow ripples, and a raven bursts out of it with a frantic caw.

"Now why are you in such a hurry?" Meleanor tuts, easily catching the bird out of the air before it could fly off. The bird squawks and flaps its one wing that hadn't managed to be caught in her hand. She directs a firm gaze on it and it freezes, letting a pathetic noise out of its beak. Malleus winces in sympathy.

"Where is my Right?" Meleanor looks down at her shadow, displeased, but quickly smiles again when she turns to Silver. "Give me a hand, dear."

With them pointing downwards, Meleanor pinches together the thumb and forefinger of her free hand. She makes a pulling motion and a squealing bat emerges out of Silver's shadow. It manages to escape the princess's grasp on it but only briefly before she catches it by its legs.

The bat squeaks and screams, no doubt profanities blasphemous when directed at the crown princess, but she is unfazed. Silver looks down at the poor creature apologetically as it clings to his uniform in an attempt to shake off the dragoness's claws.

"What is the matter with you? Stop behaving so childishly. Look, your son is being much more mature than you, how embarrassing." Meleanor forces the bat to let go of the boy and holds it upside down, continuing to be unfazed as it claws at her lace gloves angrily. "You should know better than to ignore a summons from your mistress."

She shakes the bat in a not-so-gentle manner and the animal grows in size and changes shape until Lilia is hanging by the ankles. The raven does the same, but Meleanor lets Levan go so he can perch on her arm more comfortably.

"—the matter with you! You absolutely insane princess!" Lilia yells once he's finally taken his two-legged form again.

"Yes, you're very adorable, dear," Meleanor says dismissively with a pinch to his nose. Lilia hisses at her, but despite his complaints there's no real heat to them and he calms down quickly. "Now, my loves, when were the two of you going to tell me that a secret someone has caught our Malleus's interest?"

"I sincerely apologise, darling," Levan says mournfully, and any amount of aggression in his wife's expression fades away when he pecks a kiss on her cheek. "but it was not our secret to tell."

"Alright, I suppose I can forgive that. I'm sorry, dears." Meleanor looks at her son and husband fondly but scowls when she turns to Lilia. "Not you."

Lilia sticks his tongue out at her without remorse. With difficulty, he twists around to address Silver. "You've found Malleus! Well done, my boy."

"Thank… you, Father."

"What is it that you wished to speak to me about?" Malleus asks, tilting his head in an effort to meet Lilia's eyes. The bat fae exchanges a look with the prince's father and then glances at the princess holding him captive.

"Perhaps we should wait until later—"

"Wonderful, since I wished to speak to both of you about a different matter." Meleanor's expression turns into a deceptively sweet one that immediately has Lilia's face souring. "My loves, would you tell Malleus that you also desperately wish to meet this secret potential mate of his?"

She flutters her eyelashes for good measure. Malleus sighs and shakes his head.

"Mother…"

"I know what you said, but perhaps with encouragement from all three of us we can twist a few rules…"

"Actually, my love, what we wish to discuss concerns this… person." Meleanor raises an inquisitive eyebrow at her husband sitting on her arm.

"What?" All eyes turn to Malleus. The prince suddenly rises from his seat, pupils thinned to slits. Leftover rose petals scatter to his feet. "Has something happened to them?"

"I apologise, Malleus, but Lilia is right." Levan casts a quick look towards Meleanor and Malleus understands immediately.

Meleanor looks frustratedly between her son and husband, unhappy at being the only one uninformed. "Now what is this about? Why are you so reluctant to speak of this person within my presence?"

Lilia purses his lips, determined to not say a thing, meanwhile Levan looks towards his son again meaningfully.

Malleus takes a breath.

"It is what I have been meaning to tell you. Mother…" Malleus glances at Silver standing to the side, at attention. "Silver is a human."

Meleanor blinks. She looks at Silver, back at Malleus, and then bursts into laughter.

"But of course he is, silly beast!"

Malleus attempts to continue, but she doesn't stop laughing like it's the most hilarious joke she's heard in a century. He looks to his father helplessly. Levan gives him an encouraging smile but the doubt that twitches the edges of his lips isn't very reassuring. Meanwhile, Lilia sighs exasperatedly and Silver frowns in confusion.

"Well, Mother…" Meleanor keeps laughing and the longer the seconds tick by the more his confidence falters. Perhaps… If he says it now, she won't hear and she can remain in ignorant bliss. "This person I am in love with is a human as well."

The laughter stops so abruptly that the deadly silence sounds as loud as a crash of thunder.

"What."

[ivnxrori]

When Sun and Moon meet - S2

Zuko x Fem!WaterBender!Reader Enemies to Lovers

As one of the Princesses of the Northern Water tribe, you were blessed with a gift by the moon. However you were permitted to be allowed to use the gift at all costs. From many hidden waterbending usages, the aftermath of the avatar visiting the Northern Tribe had led to your beginning journey, hiding yourself as a water bender as a princess from the Northern water tribe

Warnings: Fighting, arguing

Masterlist

҉ * ‧͙ ⋆ ⁺ ༓ ☾ Chapter 7 - Refreshing Tea

“Have you heard of that tea-house? All of a sudden their tea has been the best in Ba Sing Se!” One of the men said. “Oh then I must try it out! I have been craving tea recently," the woman responded with a laugh. I wasn't the biggest fan of tea outside of the northern water tribe. The only tea that exists was Spirit Oasis Tea which was only used for meditating in the Spirit Oasis to the Moon spirit. Ironic that the water tribe doesn't have a variety of drinks. “Uhm ma’am” I snapped out of me zoning out. I have been doing that more recently. “Sorry…” I said sheepishly as I handed him water tribe money. “You must be hearing about the new tea at the tea-house, I haven't had the time to go there but man I really want to. Sadly I'm constantly stuck at work.” The worker complained. Maybe I should check out the new tea area. “Water tribe money? Wow I haven't seen this currency in a while” The store owner said as I packed up my groceries for today. “Sorry, that's all I'm able to carry” Internally praying he accepts the pay. “Money is money” He shrugs and I let out a sigh of relief. “Have a nice day” he waved off while I smiled in gratefulness, taking Aku by the lead.

  ҉   ☾

Aku and I managed to get there, the sky was dark and the moon was slowly rising up. I really like the night sky because that's the only time I get to see Yue again. I smiled and parked Aku near the entrance. “Stay here buddy” I consoled before going into the tea-house. Once I walked there were still a lot of people, only one table was empty. Is the tea here really that good? Or this is the only tea-house here. I'm here to find out anyway. I was able to sit down at the empty table after making my order, which was just…tea. My mind wanders off thinking my father and Yue would have loved tea, not just specifically from here but in general. “Here’s your tea” a boy said, placing down the cup on the wooden table. I smiled softly “thank you” looking up at him, the realization hitting me. He has a very familiar scar on the left side of his face, it was none other than Zuko himself. Both of our eyes widened from the realization of who each other was. He totally figured out who I was. I immediately got up in fear, preparing to run away however it was prevented by Zuko himself. He grabbed my wrist, softer than I expected. “What are you doing here?” He whispered which made me irritated. “What are you doing here!?” I hissed. I didn't even get my answer due to an interruption made by…Jet?! 

“These two are firebenders!” Jet yelled out, holding two of his swords. How did he figure that out? Did he fight with them? “I saw the old man heating his tea,” Jet continued to yell. “He works at a tea shop,” one of the soldiers defended. He made eye contact with me, I freaked out internally thinking what was he going to do. “He is attacking this girl right here!” He pointed the sword at Zuko and I. We both looked down still seeing Zuko’s hand wrapped around my wrist. Due to this we quickly pulled back, I blushed in embarrassment. “N-No! The tea was too hot so he pulled my hand away before I could get burnt” I explained, my voice going a pitch higher than I wanted it to be. I don't know why I defended Zuko, but he didnt do anything bad to me at that moment. Zuko said absolutely nothing, way to go Zuko. “Drop your swords boy, nice and easy” The soldiers got up but Jet didn't care. “You have to defend yourself, then everyone will know. Go ahead! Show them what you can do.”  Zuko took the sword of one of the soldier’s “You want a show? I'll give you a show!” I grabbed my cub and tea before Zuko moved the table with his leg. I honestly couldn't be bothered with this situation. It doesn't include me and I wasnt that close with either of them to care. I tried taking a sip of the tea made, which was surprisingly still warm and I was even more surprised that it tasted really good. No wonder everyone wants to come here, and father would love this!

I continued drinking until I realized Aku was still outside. I went outside near the door frame to see a crowd of people surrounding Zuko and Jet, who were on opposite sides. “It's true sir, we saw the whole thing, this crazy kid attacked the finest tea maker in this city.” One of the soldiers said, making the old guy blush. Jet's eyes meet mine again making me flinch and look away. “Y/N do you trust me?” He says out loud making all the eyes go on me. My eyes widened and I looked down in embarrassment. What should I say? It's not like me saying anything would make much of a difference, unless if I took my hood down I would be able to use my princess card. “Stop bringing the young lady into this, can't you see she is scared” One of the women said, shielding me. Slowly everyone was defending me. I looked at Jet one last time before turning away. I'm sorry Jet, the person you shouldn't trust is me. He looked at me painfully before getting taken away from the guards. Jet continued spouting out words which slowly went faint and slowly everyone in the circle disappeared. “Some kinda friend you are” I turned around and saw Zuko. “He was not my friend,” I sneered. “Why did you defend me anyways, your the one that actually saw me fire bend”

“I didnt even defend you, I was trying to keep attention away from me” “Did it work?” “What is your problem? Isn't it more beneficial for you than it is for me?” I spat in annoyance. 

“Calm down you two” The old man said, calming the both of us down. “How did both of you recognize me?” I asked worriedly, holding the hood closer to my face. “Your face is quite recognizable once you've seen it, Princess Y/N. Now how about some tea, it will be on the house.” The old man whispered the second part which made me breathily sigh. “I'm good for the day” I glared at both Zuko and the old man. I go outside to take Aku and leave.

“Sorry Aku, i'm just going to go for a little walk okay?” I patted Aku on the head before I left. I was never allowed to go out at sundown before so I wanted to see what it was like. I stretched my arms over my head before seeing a kid and an adult. The adult had the kids' ball, taunting him. Really? How immature are these adults? “Hey, let the kids have some fun” I stated, defending the kid who turned towards me. His eyes were bloodshot red, tears were streaming down his face. “Hah, what are you gonna do? Hit me?” The guy taunted, shaking the ball. “I might just do that” I get water out of my water pouch, slapping them. “Ow” the guy hissed and let go of the ball “you will regret this!” he yelled running away. I grab the ball and gently hand it to the boy. “You need to be careful at night, who knows what could happen” I wiped the tears that were on his cheeks. He sniffed in response, grabbing a ball. Shakily saying “T-Thank you kind lady” He looked down. I smile softly “No problem, now where are your friends?” I looked around to see no one. “They all left once the scary man came” He sniffled. I patted his head sweetly. “Let's get you home little guy” I smiled as he grabbed my hand.

“Say thank you to the kind lady, who knows what we would do without her” The mom patted his back, ushering him to thank me. “Thank you!” He smiled. Both the mother and the son waved in delight. I waved them back and turned around, away from the house. I should probably go home by now, I'm feeling a bit tired. I yawned in my hand, till I heard something. I turned around quickly, searching for anything but there was nothing. Huh…I guess I'm just hearing things. Then I felt a grasp around my wrist. I immediately flick it away, using my water bending to hit them back. “Who's there?” I said out loud. “I told you, you will regret this” the guy from before said, chuckling evilly. The same guy who stole a kids ball. This time he had two additional accomplices. “Please you're so immature” I laughed mockingly which heated him up furthermore. Before he could strike, a figure barged in, striking them with two blades. My eyes widened at the scene and I quickly took out the figure behind me, whacking him down. I turned around to check out the scene again. I got a better look of the figure who held two swords, wore a blue mask and an all black outfit. “Just who…are you?” I raised my brows, moving closer. Just as I was about to get close enough, he ran, taking the three guys with him. That was awfully weird, man I really need to get home now…

<- Back - Next ->

a/n: Sorry for the late post WOOO Managed to post it on time!! So yeah! Thats literally it LMAO have a nice day and take care fo yourself!!

--

Taglist: @luvkvni @katovano @karmaswitch @someonesmember @velvet-spider @sh3sa1dwhat @nerdisthenewcool @meiraloves2dmen @fqnfics101 @iluvme547 @leaderwon @yukihatesreoyo @heart4hees @4l3x1s @kkissaku @corpsebridenightamare @newjellis @fatkish

[erstwhilesparrow]

hey does it ever make you kind of crazy that post-reunion, c!owen introduces himself to us as owen agarci? agarci as in the name of the demon he shot in the chest during his trial? we know that's not c!owen's real last name -- he tells us so right then and there -- but i think it matters that of the last names he could have chosen for his lie, he took this one. his last name might have been the only thing he still carried with him of his family, of his past before the attack, and he refuses to use it or admit to it.

because it is an introduction, y'know? his narration, after the reunion, is a way of remaking himself in our eyes -- he is not the person we thought he was, so he needs to introduce himself again. and here, the thing he claims as his originating point, as the moment from his past he wants to carry around with him in something so fundamental as his name, is the moment he first killed a demon. this is the most important piece of his past. this, he is telling us, is where he comes from.

i think a lot about how we never actually see owen's parents. i don't even think we get their names? we get their voices in flashbacks over shots of empty fields and unpopulated streets. there is a kind of blankness to owen's past, or to what owen will reveal to us of his past, that forces us to take on faith that he is telling the truth when he talks about his own history. there is no one who could say otherwise; all the people who might have known him before he was a soldier and then a general are almost certainly dead.

it grants owen a fascinating degree of control over his own history. of course he can remake himself in this way, of course he can tell any story he wants of himself in this way; there's no one left to dispute his claims. in a way, he is his own origin -- as he tells us the story of his life, he is also creating that story. he came out of those woods with nothing but a bow on his back, no history, no one still living who could call to him by name. whatever life he lived before that point doesn't matter -- the thing that fundamentally made him the person who walked into town and demanded to join the army wasn't the life he lived with his parents, it was the violence he'd been exposed to and the violence he'd discovered himself willing and able to engage in. or so his story goes.

do you think when he woke up at the bottom of that elevator, memories wiped, nothing left to him of his past, there was some strange sense that he had done this before? do you think he rose up toward the light of the clearing above, empty-handed and alive, his entire life before this point a history waiting for him to tell it, and wondered why it felt familiar?

or maybe it's that he's refusing us. because following his turn during reunion, there's almost a sense that he has tighter control of the camera now. he addresses his 'voices' nearly antagonistically, wishing we/they would go away, responding and talking to us/them in a way that feels harsher than how he's addressed chat in the past. he's frustrated with us/them: why are you still here, i thought i was done with you. he accuses us/them of only pretending to care, of lingering not so much out of concern or any desire to do something as out of some morbid curiosity. there's a degree of access to him that we seem to have lost. it's as if he's finally certain that there is an audience, and what he's willing to show us shifts.

there's something really lovely and horrifying about a lot of the more scripted sections of owen's pov after the reunion. how it shows us things only he knows (the knife in his hotbar for much of his dinner conversation with guts, the beat where he grabs his backpack and reaches for a weapon when it seems like ayngel is about to recognize him, the interaction with puddy in the second clearing when he visits with krow), but we are nevertheless shut out of his interiority as he starts talking less to others, starts favouring third-person camera shots and narration where he gets to step out of the moment and talk to us directly. you can even think about the 'scripted by owengejuicetv' segments after each kill as signalling this: he has such visible direct control of the story we get to know now. he is the one who gets to tell this story, who gets to move the pieces on the board. here's what happened, he says to us. this is how it went. this is what i do and who i am and here are the parts that mattered. do you ever think about how rasbi's ending wasn't streamed from her pov? do you ever think about how the only witnesses to rasbi's death were rasbi herself, and owen?

[phr3ia]

Resonance (Jiyan x Fem!Reader x Calcharo) [Chapter 2 : Fake]

[Jinzhou]

You are seated comfortably in your office, your fingers tapping restlessly on the table as you read through the documents before you. There's a certain Mercenary Group causing trouble around Huang Long known as the Ghost Hounds. "Hmmmmm." your eyes shifted from paper to paper. It was evident how visibly angry you looked at the moment.

You are well-acquainted with this notorious group, particularly with their leader, Calcharo. "This guy..." you muttered, staring at his image on the screen, your teeth gritted in anger as you unknowingly gripped the documents in your hands. You have been investigating him for three years now, but you always struggle to locate his whereabouts due to the group frequently changing locations.

"Zhi Yu." you called, prompting your personal assistant to rush towards you. "Yes, Madam Secretary?!" he nervously responded, sensing your fury. For you, enough is enough. Calcharo has pushed you to your limit.

"Could you provide me with all the information we have on the Ghost Hounds and their leader?" You couldn't bear it any longer. This group had been abusing their power, even resorting to killing innocent citizens of Huang Long. While you understood the nature of mercenaries, you couldn't stand idly by if they continued to harm the innocent. "Okay. Fuck this! I'm going to hunt down this group myself." With a forceful slam of your hand on the table, you rose abruptly from your chair and grabbed your coat.

"M-Madam Secretary! Where are you going?!" Zhi Yu asked, well aware of your impulsiveness. As the Secretary of Justice, you needed to be as safe as possible. "Don't say a word of this to anyone, especially not to the General." you ordered, fixing a stern gaze on your assistant. "B-But Madam Secretary! You can't take action like this without a direct order from the Magistrate!"

Ignoring his protests, you continued towards the door. "I'll do my best to return before midnight." You stated before shutting the door behind you.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

[Desorock Highland...]

Jiyan clashed with waves of Tacet Discord with his broadblade, slicing through the air with grace and might. He was ready and cunning, anticipating their moves. His eyes, though carrying a hint of fatigue, were sharp and focused throughout the battle.

He had overexerted himself in his battles, to the point where Jiyan could barely hear the battle's sounds over the ringing in his ears. His arm ached with every swing of his sword. His heart thudded in his chest as he heaved for breath. He was close to Overclocking, but he shoved that realization to the back of his mind.

"Major Yue Xiu requesting immediate evacuation at Desorock Highland. I have discovered a nest of TDs hiding in a secret cave. I cannot seem to shake them. Aid is needed ASAP." Jiyan transmitted before making a hasty retreat, the exhaustion now difficult to ignore.

He stabilized his breathing as he marched back to the safety of the position they held. His eyes scanned the battlefield before his gaze fell on his trusted Lieutenant, Qiang. He relayed the information as Qiang readied more soldiers. He then tended to his most important duty: To lead by example.

The General wasn't always a man of many words in front of his soldiers, but he could roar against the TDs, and his army respected and followed his lead.

The day's triumph belonged to them.

With the sun setting, Jiyan gave the necessary orders to secure the area before he retreated to rest.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You headed to the Port City of Guixu, as this was the last lead you had on the Ghost Hounds. Despite the presence of Tacet Discords roaming around, you chose to maintain a low profile to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention if there were indeed any Mercenaries in the vicinity.

Quietly, you entered the abandoned building and meticulously inspected each floor. Upon entering each room, you found nothing but traces of leftover food. "So they were really here." you mumbled under your breath as you continued to investigate the area.

You ventured back outside and wandered around until you reached a corner where you spotted a few members of the Ghost Hounds engaged in conversation. You crouched down, intending to approach them stealthily. "Hahaha! Did you see the looks on those villagers' faces? They didn't think twice about handing over all their food supply!" exclaimed the male mercenary, grinning as he rummaged through his bag.

"Is this how the Ghost Hounds operates? Exploiting the vulnerable?" You seethed inwardly as you listened. You were about to circle around to find a better position to attack when one of the mercenaries, who was urinating, caught sight of you. You locked eyes with him for a few seconds, but before the man could react, you had accidentally activated your Resonance Liberation Skill, triggering a massive explosion in the area.

The man in front of you was charred to a crisp, but the others managed to shield themselves from the sudden attack. The explosion also caught the attention of the Tacet Discords, drawing them towards your location.

"Shit!" you hissed, seeing the countless of TDs heading your way. You couldn't believe you  momentarily lost control. You had no choice but to fight them off while ensuring the Mercenaries wouldn't seize this opportunity to escape. "Let's go!" exclaimed one of them, prompting the others to flee alongside him. "Not on my watch!" you grinned, excitement gleaming in your eyes as you sprinted at incredible speed, flames trailing behind your feet.

You unsheathed your broadsword, poised to strike the fleeing criminals, when suddenly an Inferno Rider appeared in front of you. "An Overlord class?!" Your eyes widened in shock. You realized the challenge ahead, knowing that you shared the same element. The Overlord Tacet Discord standing before you possessed a strong resistance to fire.

One of the Mercenaries made a rash move despite the looming threat. "Don't move! That's not a Tacet Discord you want to provoke!"you warned. You couldn't afford to lose all of them. You needed them alive. With a single casualty from the accidental release of your skill earlier, you couldn't risk making the same mistake again.

Despite your warning, the man defiantly moved, and in just a single swing of the Riders's blade, he was burned into ashes.

Your eyes darted around, as you strategized to devise the best plan to defeat the TD before you.

"Wanna make it out of here alive?" you asked, locking eyes with the frightened Mercenaries beside you. "I need your cooperation to execute my plan." You added. "And why should we trust you?" one of them questioned, skeptical of your proposal. "Because you have no other choice." your expression conveyed the seriousness of your words.

Upon hearing your plan, the Mercenaries swiftly diverted the attention of the Inferno Rider, granting you the chance to charge up your skill. You allowed yourself to be engulfed by your own flames, the intense heat causing the concrete beneath your feet to slowly melt. You moved with lightning speed, disappearing and reappearing in front of the Inferno Rider, delivering a powerful punch infused with flames on your knuckles. However, the TD quickly recovered and launched its attack, which you swiftly countered. Your movements resembled a graceful dance, exuding elegance and precision.

While you may not possess the same strength as Jiyan, but you can stand your ground like a true soldier. You shielded the Mercenaries from the Rider's deadly blade by blocking its attack. The force was so strong that you could feel your strength waning. You persevered, knowing Jiyan would have done the same. You exerted more force on your blade, pushing until the Rider's blade pierced its own skin.

As it screamed in agony and stopped its movements, one of them cautiously asked, "Is it over?" But before you could respond, the Rider erupted in flames, prompting you to swiftly move out of the way. The intense heat emanating from the TD made the Mercenaries feel as though their skin was being scorched. You glanced at the them with concern, but in an instant, as you shifted your gaze, the Rider stood before you, face to face, ready to strike you with its blade.

Your eyes widened in shock, knowing you had little time to react.

Just as the blade was about to reach you, a sudden bolt of lightning struck from out of nowhere, intercepting the attack. And the next thing you knew, the Leader of the Ghost Hounds, Calcharo, appeared in front of you, his blade blocking the the Inferno Rider.

With a few clashing of swords and a single activation of his Liberation Skill, the Tacet Discord dissipated as if it had never existed.

"C-Calcharo!" the Mercenaries muttered, their voices tinged with fear.

Calcharo scanned the faces of the Mercenaries as they let out mutters of his name, their fear was a bitter addition to his satisfaction. He didn't expect these FAKES to be a threat, it was more of an insult to his pride as the Leader of the Ghost Hounds.

"Hold your tongue."

Calcharo aimed his blade at one of the fake Mercenaries but fixed his gaze at you, who remained calm and composed. If there was one person who intrigued him in this dingy place, it was you. You could have been anybody, a soldier, a bystander, a Mercenary, or an innocent. Yet, the sight of you standing in the midst of this chaos held his attention.

He stepped closer, his sword now pressed against your throat, leaving you in a position where you could either step back or yield to him.

"I'd like to know why a high ranking officer from Jinzhou is here, surrounded by rats."

His voice carried a serious tone. He wasn't one to judge, but this situation called for an explanation. The fake mercenaries around him shuffled on their feet, eyes cast downward, some showed signs of fear, others defiance.  

"Care to share your story, officer?"

Calcharo remained vigilant, ready to strike in an instant, but for now, he wanted answers from the officer in front of him.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

End Of Chapter 2 🌹...

[unpredictable-probabilities]

General Gadling and the Night Vessels || Chapter 2: Dancing Around Secrets

Summary:

In an effort to distance himself from his growing feelings of conflict about a certain pirate captain, Hob attends a nobleman's gala far from the village.

But then he runs into a familiar face, and what was meant to be a reprieve was now an endeavour to seek answers through sweet-laced words and veiled intentions.

Word Count: 4,436

Notes:

For Sandmanniversary 2024 | Prompt: Secrets

[Read on AO3]

———

Hob stepped through the wide doorway of Fawney Rig, the sounds of chatter and soft violin music reaching his ears.

He was supposed to assign a few soldiers to this party, tasked to wear civilian clothing that would blend in with the upper class, on standby if ever something were to go awry. He decided to join those soldiers, who had now dispersed among the crowd.

He was commended for volunteering in what was a common and menial assignment despite being a general, and he had responded with a polite nod and some words that he didn’t even remember anymore.

A waiter carrying a tray of drinks passed by, and after asking which one didn’t have alcohol, Hob took a glass and sipped from it before walking deeper into the party.

It had been a week since the pirates attacked the docks, and still there was no sign of The Corinthian being rescued. The pirate had befriended his fellow prisoners—common thieves and thugs—and seemed quite comfortable, the easy smile often on his face. Hob hadn’t spoken to him again after that first time when he told the pirate that his captain was alive and free. Hob knew that The Corinthian had a suspicion that he had something to do with the pirate captain’s freedom, and it was not something Hob wanted to discuss. Even so, Hob had grown restless, certain that the rest of the crew would launch a rescue attempt but not knowing when.

So when the opportunity presented itself, he took an assignment that would put him somewhere else, leaving Officer Hector in charge of the jail. Hob could rely on that man to keep watch over the prisoners without fearing that he would mistreat or torture information out of them, and more importantly, Officer Hector would have no problem leading the soldiers in capturing Dream and his crew.

Dream. That really was how Hob was referring to the pirate captain now in the privacy of his mind. ‘Nightmare King’ still felt wrong, after everything Hob learned of him.

And it was this very conflict that put him here in the estate of Roderick Burgess, keeping watch over a party instead of the very real threat of the pirate crew.

It was cowardly, but it was also the only option Hob had thought to take in order not to compromise the capture of the notorious pirate captain. No matter what that man did to help Hob, he had still broken the law by having his crew set fire to a ship. And some paperwork had been stolen from the governor’s house that same night, which led the officers to believe that the explosion at the docks was merely a distraction.

The pirate captain needed to be imprisoned. That was that. And Hob might only get in the way. It would be better for him to keep taking assignments elsewhere until the attempt to rescue The Corinthian happened, regardless of its success.

“Officer Gadling!” a woman’s voice caught his attention.

Hob turned to see Lady Constantine waving him over; she was with two noblemen and one lady, standing around in a loose circle. He nodded a polite greeting and made his way over. Some conversation should take his mind off his worries.

“I heard you’re a general now,” Lady Constantine said playfully when Hob reached their group, settling between the two noblemen. “Seems only yesterday you were just a guard at my birthday parties. You have my congratulations.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Hob replied with a polite smile. “I’m newly appointed, and can only hope to be as good a general as my predecessors.”

“Hm. Though hopefully not as bad as some of them,” Lady Constantine laughed demurely, and before Hob could ask what she meant, the conversation moved forward. “Oh, but I’m forgetting my manners. General Gadling, this is Lord Morpheus Oneiros,” she held up a palm to the nobleman standing to Hob’s right. “He is here as my guest. And of course you’ve already met Lord Westmore and Lady Drisdall,” she gestured to the man on Hob’s left and the woman on her right.

Hob gave them a nod, and turned to look at the nobleman beside him; a flash of familiarity crossed his mind, though he couldn’t place it.

“Good day, General Gadling,” Lord Oneiros’ voice was surprisingly deep and soft. He was holding a glass of drink like the rest of them, and his midnight hair was neatly tied back with a black ribbon.

“An honour to meet you, Lord Oneiros,” Hob said respectfully. He had probably seen the nobleman in some event or other on which he had kept watch back then. Lord Oneiros had a fair face and soft yet angular features that would have turned Hob’s head had they met when they were younger, before being an officer compelled Hob to keep any attraction to other men to himself.

“What business does a general have doing a common soldier’s task?” Lord Oneiros asked curiously, taking him out of his musings. “Is there a particular danger we must be wary of?” he looked around the room.

A panicked murmur began to rise among the nobles.

“No, my lord,” Hob hurriedly said. “I simply wished to personally keep an eye on my men. As a new general, it would not do if one of the soldiers under my command took a misstep and I was not there to immediately remedy it.” He didn’t expect his presence to be questioned at all, but it seemed like Lord Oneiros was more knowledgeable than other nobles.

The group relaxed, and Lady Constantine seemed bemused at their reaction.

“Shouldn’t you be keeping watch at the jailhouse?” Lord Westmore said nervously. “My cousin who’s an officer there said that the Night Vessels might rescue their crew member.”

“Oh my,” Lady Drisdall put a hand to her chest. “Should the village be evacuated? Who knows what sort of atrocities those pirates might do!”

“Indeed,” Lord Oneiros nodded. “Those devils must be drawn and quartered simply for all the worries they cause our noble ladies,” he gave a charming smile to Lady Drisdall, who averted her eyes shyly and covered the lower half of her face with a fan.

Hob nearly bit his tongue in his endeavour to hold back some choice words. “To call them devils might be an overstatement, don’t you think, my lord?”

Lord Oneiros raised an eyebrow. “Is it? Aren’t all pirates a stain on society? Our world would be perfect if not for them,” he nonchalantly took a sip of his drink.

Lord Westmore nodded. “Precisely. Filthy arsonists and murderers,” he said with distaste.

Lady Constantine remained quiet, looking at the nobles with amusement on her features, as if she were watching a play that was quite entertaining.

Hob was far from entertained, but he kept himself composed. “I can’t speak about all pirates, but as for the Night Vessels, I don’t believe there is enough evidence to call them murderers,” he said curtly. He had investigated as much as he could about them for the past week, and most of what he found were contradicting anecdotes that seemed more like rumours rather than evidence.

“Bold words for a general,” Lord Oneiros looked at him curiously. “Some might say it is dishonourable for a man of your position to speak thusly.”

“Is it not more dishonourable to label people as devils and murderers with no proof to speak of?” Hob said evenly.

Lady Constantine chuckled. “Enough of this dreary talk. We are here to celebrate Lord Burgess’ achievements, are we not?”

“Quite!” Lady Drisdall spoke up, now enthused by the new subject of conversation. “Establishing a winery in the middle of his own taverns and inns? Truly brilliant.”

Lord Westmore nodded. “And to think, less than a year ago that strip of land was infested with beggars and peddlers.”

“It is admirable how he managed to turn such an eyesore into the thriving business it is now,” Lord Oneiros agreed.

Hob remembered that operation the previous year, hundreds of families and food vendors displaced just so Lord Burgess could expand his establishments. Hob had risen through the ranks enough already by that point that he wasn’t one of the soldiers assigned to disperse them, and he didn’t even know about it until it was done. But he couldn't believe what he heard and wanted to see it for himself, and so he had been there for the aftermath.

What was once a marketplace full of life and colours had turned into broken stalls and discarded belongings as the former inhabitants were forcibly removed. Hob had seen a few of them picking through the wreckage, trying to save what they could. Standing there in his uniform, he had received a mixture of resentful glares and frightened looks. He still didn't know which was worse.

The nobles continued to talk about the brilliance of Lord Burgess while Hob finished his drink and wished he weren’t on duty so he could actually have something alcoholic. He waved a waiter over to place his empty glass on the tray and began to think of a polite excuse to leave the group.

A pained grunt sounded to his right, and Hob instinctively turned to see Lord Oneiros leaning away from the waiter—now apologising profusely—who seemed to have accidentally hit his shoulder with the tray.

Hob was about to ask if the nobleman was alright, and then their eyes met.

Hob’s breath caught in his throat.

Lord Oneiros’ blue eyes were narrowed in pain and glistening with a thin sheen of unshed tears. And suddenly Hob was somewhere else.

Dangling off a rooftop on a cold night. Staring into the blue eyes of the man holding him by the arm, warm blood trickling down his sleeve as the pirate captain kept his grip despite his injury. The gunshot wound on his left shoulder.

Hob’s gaze flickered over to the nobleman’s own left shoulder, the one that had just been hit by the tray. It was covered in layers of fabric and there was no blood to be seen, of course. Hob’s nerves were just too frayed and he had let his imagination run wild.

He looked back at Lord Oneiros.

Panic was clear on the nobleman’s face as he met Hob’s eyes, and he had tensed up as if preparing to run.

No. It wouldn't be possible… It couldn't be…

Hob felt dread growing in the pit of his stomach, making his muscles tense and his hands cold. In his efforts to get as far from the pirate captain as his duties would allow, he had brought them face to face.

Dream…

In an instant, Lord Oneiros—Dream—visibly relaxed and blinked his tears away, the tension seeping from his shoulders. He turned to the waiter and brushed him off, putting a stop to the scolding that Lady Drisdall and Lord Westmore were nagging the poor lad with. The waiter took the other nobles’ empty glasses as well and hastily walked away.

“Are you hurt, my lord?” Lady Drisdall asked in concern, practically stepping on Lady Constantine’s toes as she walked over to Dream. She reached out a gloved hand to his shoulder, but Dream caught it before she could touch, and gently turned her hand over to press a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“I am well, my lady, thank you,” Dream said with a smile before letting her hand go.

Lady Drisdall turned positively scarlet before stumbling back to where she’d been standing.

Hob’s heart was thudding in his chest, and he stared at Dream as it dawned on him what the pirate-turned-nobleman was doing.

Of course he wouldn’t run away; he had no reason to do so. If Hob were to say right now that Lord Morpheus Oneiros was the Nightmare King from the wanted posters, who would believe him? Even in the highly unlikely event that he would be able to force Dream to bare his shoulder to show the gunshot wound, Dream could just lie about where he had gotten it. Whoever he truly was, he still currently had a nobleman’s status, and he was here as a guest of Lady Constantine, a well-known and respected woman among their class. Hob had no evidence to support such a wild claim, and it would be his word against a nobleman’s.

“General Gadling, is something the matter?” Lord Westmore asked with a frown. “You look uneasy. That lad isn’t a threat, is he?” he looked warily at the waiter now walking towards the kitchens.

“No, my lord,” Hob said as he schooled his features into a more relaxed expression. “It’s not the lad I’m worried about,” he said evenly, giving Dream a subtly pointed look.

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about at all on a lovely day like this,” Dream responded. “Especially not with you wonderful officers around.”

There was a twinkle in his eyes that Hob wanted to believe was malicious. But it seemed more like the pirate captain was being playful.

Very well. Hob could play.

“I thank you for your faith in us, my lord,” Hob smiled, meeting Dream’s gaze. “You have my word that I shall protect you from any pirates that might show up today.”

“Is there a chance of that happening?” Lady Constantine asked curiously. “What business could pirates have here, so far from the seas?”

“I ask myself the same question, my lady,” Hob said. He actually had a great deal of questions fighting for attention in his mind right now.

“Have you personally encountered any of these lowlives, General?” Lady Drisdall asked before calling another waiter carrying drinks and insisting they all take one.

They each took a glass, and Hob noted that Dream also picked a drink that didn’t have alcohol. The pirate captain wanted to keep his wits about him. That was to be expected.

“I have, my lady. Once,” Hob said as the waiter walked away.

Lady Drisdall gasped dramatically, and the other nobles exchanged intrigued glances as well. “Oh my! Were you hurt?”

“Not by much, he wasn’t nearly as strong as he thought,” Hob quipped, and he noticed the upward twitch on the corner of Dream’s mouth.

“You are fortunate to have come out of that encounter in one piece,” Lady Constantine seemed impressed. “I’ve heard pirates could be rather violent.”

“Did you capture him?” Lord Westmore asked in fascination.

“Ah, I’m afraid not,” Hob made an effort to sound regretful. “He escaped.”

“He escaped,” Dream repeated the words thoughtfully, staring at Hob with a curious look. “Is that what happened?”

The words were innocent enough, but Hob heard the underlying question. And for the first time, he considered the possibility that that encounter bothered the pirate captain too. As much as Hob wanted to understand why a pirate would save his life, perhaps Dream also wanted to know why a general would let him run free.

“Honestly, I…” Hob began, meeting Dream’s eyes.

A strong grip saving him from the fall. Hands that had previously fought him pulling him up to safety despite the stream of blood. The pistol cold against his own palm as he pointed it at the figure stumbling away. Him lowering the weapon. Blue eyes staring into his before disappearing in the night.

“I’m not entirely sure what happened,” Hob said sincerely, still looking at Dream, who returned his gaze with equal intensity.

“Ooh!” Lady Drisdall suddenly cooed, looking at the musicians. “A dance!”

Sure enough, the violin music had changed to indicate that guests may now occupy the dance floor if they wished.

“Will you dance with me, Lord Oneiros?” Lady Drisdall batted her eyelashes.

“Lady Drisdall!” Lord Westmore looked aghast. “A woman asking a man to dance? Have you no shame?”

“It’s quite alright, Lord Westmore,” Dream said. “I was about to ask the fair lady, anyway,” he smiled and held out his hand, which Lady Drisdall took immediately.

They began to walk towards the dance floor, and Hob had a split-second to make a decision.

“Lady Constantine, would you do me the honour of having this dance with me?” Hob bowed and held out his hand.

“Why, of course, General,” Lady Constantine smiled and took his hand.

They took their places at the dance floor, the men lined up on one side facing the ladies on the other. Hob had been quick enough to be able to position himself right next to Dream and make it look natural. He had let the pirate captain go once, he would not let the man out of his sight so easily this time. Dream had tensed up, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge his presence.

The violins slowed, before picking up the tempo again to indicate the start of the dance. The men bowed, the ladies curtsied, and they all stepped forward to meet in the middle before turning and swapping places.

“I didn’t take you for a dancer, General,” Dream said as they stayed in step with the dance and wove along with the ladies down the line.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Hob matched the playful tone. “Lord Oneiros.”

“It would seem so.”

“And yet you helped me. When you had no obligation to,” Hob said as soon as Lady Constantine was out of earshot. He knew it was a risk, making a direct reference to what happened that night and breaking the charade they had been playing. But he would argue that Dream broke it first, when he asked what really happened.

“You helped one of mine,” Dream said evenly. “And I always settle my debts.”

The choreography separated them for a time, which gave Hob time to think about what Dream said. Hob helped one of his? When?

Officer Marsh forced The Corinthian to his knees.

“Where's your captain?” he bellowed and backhanded the pirate's face hard enough that blood swelled from his lip.

“Hey!” Hob roughly pulled the officer away. “What do you think you're doing?”

Hob blinked himself back to the present. Was that what Dream meant? It seemed such a small thing compared to the pirate captain allowing himself to bleed more and risk capture just to pull Hob back to safety.

“One might argue that you have repaid too much, my lord,” Hob said when he crossed paths with Dream again. “The reward might not fit the deed, so to speak.”

They took the hands of their partners for a few steps before weaving through the lines once more. When they returned to the middle, Hob heard Dream’s voice before he realised that the dance had taken them back to each other.

“I disagree,” Dream rumbled softly. “Regardless, I was able to promptly go home that evening. A different officer might have been more inclined to keep my company for longer.”

“Perhaps I just wasn’t interested in your company, my lord.”

A chuckle sounded beside him, and Hob made the mistake of looking right at Dream.

His blue eyes that looked straight ahead to the ladies were bright with mirth, and his rosy lips were turned up in what was possibly the first genuine smile Hob had seen from him. Not meant to be playful nor charm anyone, merely a true reaction.

Hob found himself staring until the steps took them away from each other again.

The rest of the dance passed by without either of them speaking another word, though Hob was always aware whenever they stood close.

***

Morpheus finally managed to extricate himself from the gaggle of gossipping nobles that had surrounded him after the dance. Gadling was nowhere in sight, and he took that chance to slip out into the gardens.

He took a much needed breath of fresh air. It was nearly sunset now, and the air was cool and bracing. Everyone was still inside partaking in the never-ending flow of food and alcohol, and it should be easy enough to slip over the walls unnoticed. He stuck to the shadows as he quietly made his way across the yard.

They already had a plan to rescue Corin, but Lucienne had pointed out that after the theft on the governor’s house, the upper class in the village were now more paranoid and alert. The bounties on their heads had increased even more, enough to tempt even well-off families. They needed to know whether people with more resources were now joining the hunt, or if certain noble families had privately hired people to capture the infamous Night Vessels for the clout it would bring them.

Morpheus volunteered to investigate among the elites, and since everyone on his crew hated undercover assignments which required them to dress in stuffy clothing and endure gossip, no one protested. Morpheus found it unnecessary to mention that he wished to go far from the village to get his mind straight.

When that officer was about to beat Corin bloody to get information, Morpheus had almost revealed himself. He knew that Corin would sooner die than reveal the crew’s secrets, and he was not about to risk it. Morpheus had one foot out of the shadows, then General Gadling stepped in and prevented any more beatings.

Morpheus didn’t plan to save him. He just heard the roof crumble, a cry of surprise, and the next thing he knew, he was grabbing the man by the arm. He might have let go, when he had returned to his senses and almost convinced himself that a fall from that height probably wouldn’t kill a man of that build. But then Gadling met his gaze.

Those brown eyes held no hate nor resentment, two things which Morpheus had grown to expect in the faces of men in uniform. There was only surprise, and worry, when the general realised that Morpheus was bleeding. Worry? From a general to the Nightmare King?

Then Gadling let him go. He had his gun trained on him and he merely lowered it. Gadling could have fired at his leg, that still would have evened out their debts. A life spared for a life saved. And the general would capture the pirate. That was the story that should have made sense for Gadling. And yet…

Morpheus came here as Johanna’s guest to get as far away from the general as much as he could; he didn’t need all the confusion in the midst of their rescue plan. What bitter irony this day had in store for him.

He headed to the part of the wall with the most overgrown vines, but before he could reach it, a figure stepped out from behind a tree and blocked his path.

Morpheus halted, his eyes immediately searching for weapons and finding none. The general was in civilian garb, after all. The guns would be hidden.

“Interested in my company now, General?” Morpheus said to the man standing no more than three feet from him, fighting the urge to draw his daggers.

“I’m interested in answers,” Gadling said, though his eyes still held no anger. “Why are you really here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Morpheus said.

At first he worried that the general somehow knew he would be there, which would have meant the entire plan of the crew could have been leaked. Gadling still wouldn't have known what he looked like, so he said some choice remarks about pirates in an attempt to provoke the general into revealing that he was there to capture the Nightmare King, but Gadling actually defended the Night Vessels. Morpheus blamed his surprise about that as to why his guard had been lowered and he didn't manage to avoid the hit to his injured shoulder.

“I already answered that, and what I said was the truth. I'm here for my job.”

Morpheus narrowed his eyes. One didn't go very far into piracy without knowing how to detect falsehood. The general had tensed up at the question being returned, and his demeanour became significantly more guarded. Perhaps he had been telling the truth, but not the entirety of it.

Very well. The general could keep his secrets. But first Morpheus had to make sure that those secrets didn't endanger his crew.

“And part of your job is to capture the Nightmare King, is it not?” Morpheus tilted his head slightly to the side.

For a moment, Gadling just stared at him. “Do you intend any harm upon those people?” he nodded towards the party.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow at that aversion to his question. “Tonight, I leave them as I found them. Alive, inebriated, and entirely full of themselves.”

“And who is Lord Morpheus Oneiros?”

“You must let me keep some secrets, General,” Morpheus said coyly.

Gadling took a step forward, and Morpheus drew a dagger from his sleeve and flung it.

The blade whistled past the general's head and embedded itself into the bark of the tree.

Morpheus used the distraction to close the distance between them and grabbed the general by the lapels of his coat. He spun them so that they were hidden in the tree's shadow, Gadling’s back against the trunk.

In the next heartbeat, Morpheus had drawn his second dagger and was pointing it at the general's throat. He was about to warn him to stay away—

“Dream, I just want to understand.” There was a hint of fear in Gadling’s eyes but his voice was steady. “Who are you, really? Why is there such a hefty bounty on your head when I can't find a single solid evidence of a crime that would justify it?”

“What did you say?” Morpheus breathed, more than a little taken aback

“Who are you? What's really going on—”

“What did you call me?” Morpheus tightened his grip on the general's lapels even as he retracted the blade an inch.

Gadling held his gaze for a few heartbeats, and continued to do so when he spoke. “Dream,” he said quietly. “I heard The Corinthian call you that.”

When he was telling me to run away, Morpheus remembered.

“And you presume you can do the same?” Morpheus said with a quiet edge to his voice.

“It feels more right than…” Gadling swallowed. “It just feels right.”

“Stay away from us, General Gadling,” Morpheus hissed before roughly letting him go.

He quickly retrieved his first dagger from the tree, hid both back in his sleeves, then scaled the wall and jumped down the other side without looking back.

Only his crew called him by that name. The family he found and swore to protect.

And he would never be family with the likes of soldiers.

———

<- (Chapter 1)

(Sandmanniversary 2024 Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[kalixora]

It is what it is

Price x (f)reader

Part 2

ALEXIA! Play Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood

@tapioca-marzipanpan

@do-leannan

@yooforia

Summary: You weren't seen as a high-ranking solider, and you were stuck in a position you didn't want, directly by General Shepard's side. You get a call one day about a new opportunity that will help you.

. Reader is presumed female

Note: I've never played any of the games, so please excuse any inaccuracies. Due to the use of Google Translate, any languages displayed may potentially be incorrect.

There will be explicit sexual content, as well as instances of harassment, cursing, and drug usage.

Callsign: Hound

You had to confess that getting back together with Price and Gaz excited you. Heck, even meeting Soap and Ghost made you happy even though you didn't really know them yet. You settled into your new room more quickly than you had anticipated. Thank goodness, there is still time before lights out.

You sat on your bed, unable to suppress your excitement. This was how peace felt, and you hadn't felt it in a long time. There were no prying eyes on you now. Now that you were able to breathe, you huffed and sat back down on your bed. You stretched your hands to the ceiling. This is something you can get used to every night.

A soft knock came on your door. You raised your head and shouted a quick come in. The door opened to reveal Price, who appeared to be holding something behind his back as he opened the door more to make himself more visible to you.

"Got a minute to spare Hound?"

You sat up and patted the spot on your bed next to you with a smile. Price entered your room and closed the door behind him with his foot so you couldn't see what he was carrying behind his back. He approached your bed and sat alongside you. He was close enough that if he stretched his legs, they would touch yours.

Price cleared his throat before revealing what he was hiding behind his back: a plushie, a dog plushie. You gazed at him for a bit before taking it from him with a chuckle. "What is this for?"

"Well, I figured you can grab this and keep it close if you ever experience nightmares," Price said with a faint smile as he turned away from you a bit.

He genuinely thought about you...

"Thank you John, I love it already, but what if you have nightmares?"

Price chuckled, "I doubt I'll be needing it."

You smiled at Price, and there they were once more—those butterflies. You can briefly detect a change in Price's eyes when he turned to face you, but it just lasted a split second if you were lucky enough to notice it. You placed the plush on your lap.

"What made you pick me?" You inquired. "With all due respect Captain-"

"Had to find people I trusted, and you are someone I trust with my life," Price hummed.

He trusted you, and you trusted him. So, what made you respond the way you did when he touched you? A reflex, perhaps? It was only a polite, welcome gesture… so why? Why do you feel both unsafe and secure at the same time? You were safe, safe with everyone, safe with John...

"I trust you as well, John," you said, exhaling. "With everything…"

Price chuckled a little before asking, "With anything, soldier?" in a softer tone.

"Yes sir."

Price gave you a nod and a little smile as he rose up and shifted your bed. He opened your door before closing it gave you a last look then a salute, "Have a goodnight Y/N, sleep tight yea."

You adjusted yourself onto your bed, letting out a sigh as you closed your eyes soon heading off to sleep.

. . .

Price stared through your file, a grim expression on his face, rereading it over and over, oblivious to Ghost's presence.

"Something the matter Captain?"

Price's eyes never leaving the paper as he answered with gruff hum. Ghost tilted his head slightly confused by the captains response.

"This doesn't seem right..." Price muttered. "You'd think the signs would be there eh..."

"Price."

"Yeah Ghost I hear ya."

Ghost pointed at the file in Price's hands, "That Hound's?"

"Yeah… ever get a gut feeling something's wrong but can't put a bloody finger on it?" Price inquired, lowering the file and closing it.

"Every day, sir," Ghost responded. "Something wrong with the file?"

"Take a go at it, either I'm losing it or there's something else going on," Price said as he slid the file forward.

Ghost took the file and scanned it, his eyes immediately falling on the name Shepard. It was your last name.

Ghost looked at Price then back at the file.

"How long have they-"

Price cut Ghost off, "Look at the other paper."

Ghost slid the first paper, then the second; it was an older picture of you, one in which you appeared younger, as seen by the form of your face. He looked up your surname, it was L/N.

"I don't get it…" Ghost inquired as he examined both documents.

"Me either, mate," Price sneered as Ghost handed him your file back. "You'd think I'd notice something so obvious as that the first time."

Ghost hummed, "Maybe it was an off duty decision."

"No, no, Hound has a family, parents and siblings, this would've come up," Price grumbled, carefully examining the two documents.

"Disappointed you weren't invited to the wedding, Captain?" Ghost commented.

"Far from it," Price sneered. "This doesn't sit right with me, not in the slightest."

"Are you gonna to ask her about it?”

Price shook his head, “No.” 

The way you tensed when he touched you said more than words could. Something happened to you. You were a tough nut to crack, based on the situations you, Gaz, and him had been through.

Kate told him to find out what’s going on through you while she started digging into Shepard. He trusted you, as well as you trusted him, that he knew for sure. Should he wait for you to tell him? Or should he just be straightforward with you?

“Fuckin Hell,” he mumbled under his breath. “God, Y/N what’s going on with you…” 

… 

“Morning Hound, how’d you sleep?” Gaz called out to you from the mess hall. You approached him and gave him a little wave. He was the only one at the table.

There were a couple other people in the mess hall who smiled at you before going about their business.

"Good morning, Gaz," you replied. "Where is everyone?"

"In the training room, Soap wanted to confront one of the novices while Ghost monitors," Gaz shrugged.

You raised your brow, “Right…”

Gaz simply smiled at you. It was a gentle one, able to melt a frozen heart. Although it appeared as though he was gazing through you, you can tell that he was still taking in the reality that you were in fact here, in front of him.

“You okay?”

"Yes, it's bloody brilliant to see you alive and well, it's been so long I nearly forgot what you looked like," Gaz chuckles. "You haven't changed a lot."

You sat across from Gaz, smugly smiling. “Really? Kindly elucidate."

"You still look absolutely stunning," Gaz remarked.

"Pft, you're just saying that," you scoff.

"No, it's true, you still look beautiful, maybe not as good as me, but-"

"Oh really," you said, covering your mouth and laughing.

“Y/N…” 

“Yeah?” 

"We really missed you, and I'm happy you're here," Gaz replied softly.

"I'm glad too," you said while grinning at him.

Gaz missed you. And so did Price. They never forgot about you, you were still dear to their hearts. It hasn’t been a solid 24 hours and they’ve already made you feel warm and fuzzy. They made you welcomed, made you feel safe. Although trust comes a long way, and it isn’t given it’s earned, Soap and Ghost have to earn that trust as you need to earn their trust as well. 

“What were you doin all this time? Like I mentioned yesterday all I heard was that you were doing solo missions.” 

“… the higher up’s like the work I do I guess…” 

Shepard liked the work you did too. A little to much...

“Pretty face does equal elegant work,” Gaz mused. 

"Oh hush you," you giggled. "But yes, I've been doing a lot of solo assignments, took it a day at a time."

"Have you spoken to your family since then?"

A tsunami-like sensation of dread rushed over you. It felt like a spear right through your heart. Shepard killed your parent …  They were taken from you. Not metaphorically or rhetorically or poetically or theoretically or any other fancy way, they were gone. Straight up.

"Hound?"

"No Gaz, I haven't spoken to them… gosh, I don't even remember the last time I spoke to them," you shook your head, sighing.

"Hey, it's alright, it's been awhile for me too," Gaz said softly. "I'm sure Price or Laswell can arrange something for you."

"I don't know-"

Gaz opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it; you looked at him then turned your head to see Ghost approaching the two of you, Soap jogging straight behind him. While catching up to him, Soap had a stupid smile on his face.

"Mornin' Hound, Mornin' Gaz," Soap said as he sat down next to you. You raised your brow at him, greeting him and then Ghost.

"How was the match?" Gaz asked.

Ghost shook his head while Soap grinned. "I wiped the floor with those little fuckers."

"You don't say," Gaz hummed.

"So... anyone up for a match?" Soap asked looking between you and Gaz. Gaz shook his head, "Hard pass."

Soap turned to you, "How about it Hound? Want a go at it?"

"Eh, I don't know..." you hummed.

"Oh come on, it'd be great practice, plus captain says you're a big deal, I wanna see for myself," Soap says, elbowing you slightly.

"I'd tear you apart Soap."

"Oh! Well then come on," Soap says standing up jogging lightly on his feet. "Let's see what you got Hound."

As you stood up from the table, you exhaled a trembling breath. As soon as Gaz got to his feet, he hurried up to you and put his hand on your shoulder while turning to face you. You felt your body stiffen up again, and your gaze rested on his hand, and you hastily shrugged off before giving Gaz a faint smile and trailing after Soap, while Gaz followed behind.

As you reached the training area, you noticed a few other people engaging in their own individual training and competitive matches. You noticed the large ring in the center of the room, where Soap cheerfully walked inside and signaled for you to join him.

You entered the ring looking at Soap, "You sure you wanna do this?"

"Bring it, show me why they call you Hound."

"They call me Hound because I'm good at finding people… but alright," you scoffed.

Soap and you both took a position. You both circled each other until Soap made the fourth move, approaching you and throwing a punch, which you blocked and returned.

The others in the room stopped what they were doing to watch you and Soap, and out of the corner of your eye, you observed them. You also got sight of a man wearing a bucket hat enter the room. Price had came.

Soap had landed a hit on the side of your stomach, so you grunted and elbowed him back, raising your leg up to knee him in the stomach and sending an elbow to his back. You kicked the back of the calf, causing him to stumble slightly but soon recover and throw another fist your way.

"Good shit Hound."

As soon as you heard what Price was saying, a cozy sensation returned to your tummy. For a brief instant, you almost lost focus on what you were doing. But what would his voice sound like in a low whisper…in your ear?

"Shepard knows how to pick em." You overheard someone say. Every single one of the butterflies in your stomach started to burn. You had Soap trapped down with his arm in your hand before you realized it. You lightly stepped on his back. Shepard. Fucking Shepard. Because of him, you're still here. You can't avoid his name no matter where you go. Worse than his presence was his name.

"Ah- okay- okay Uncle!"

You walked out of the ring, past Gaz and Price, after dropping Soap's arm in a huff. Gaz gave Soap a puzzled look, and Price followed you.

"Hound."

As you were ready to enter your room, you paused in your tacks and sighed, turning on your heel.

"My office, now."

You followed Price back into his office, closing the door behind you. His office had a bar-like odor. "Yes sir?"

"You wanna tell me what's goin' on in that head of yours?" Price asked you as he reclined against his desk, arms crossed and head cocked.

"I'm sorry?"

Price hummed, "I've known you long enough to know that look in your way Hound."

"What look sir?"

"Lost."

"I'm fine Captain, just got heated in the moment," you said with a smile.

Price locked his gaze on you, scanning you up and down. It sent shivers up and down your spine. You needed to leave immediately, you needed to think.

"May I go now?"

"What's the rush?" Price asked his voice sounding stern.

You shook your head, "My family...I- I haven't checked in on them."

"Homesick?"

You nodded, "Very."

As you approached, Price sighed and gave you a faint smile. "Understandable; if you'd like, I can work something out for you, yeah?"

"Thank you sir," you said.

"You can leave now," Price remarked, motioning to the door. He observed you exit the space as swiftly as you entered.

"What's goin' on with you kid..."

[midnight-ranger-general-jiyan]

Evening wind sighed over the curling and rising fields. Tattered armor and weapons lay scattered about, adding onto the chaos of the dry grass and dying flora. The remnants of battle left a lingering bitter smell in the air and a moan of pain sounded over the grass that rippled with the wind. One step, then another, the soldier with his arm hung heavy over the woman's neck is about to collapse but his feet move, possesing a mind of their own. One foot in front of another, he's sure he's about to collapse. How long has it been since the battle began or ended? Where was he? Last thing he remembers is the blinding pain that sent him tumbling, and his comrades and the General getting lost amidst the swarm of TDs, and the next moment he sees this...horned woman towering over him with the light beating at her back like a broken halo. He was dreaming, he told himself, already dead. But then her strong grip found it's way onto him, helping him rise. She doesn't speak to him, she doesn't feel the need to, and in an oddly comforting way he's thankful for that as talking would require too much strength. His feet take more steps, one foot in front of the other. His weight and balance hanging onto her like a lifeline.

"We're close.." She spoke, but by the time the wounded and exhausted soldiers manages to raise his head they've already taken several more steps ahead. She spoke softly to him, mild tone thick with indifference as she paused in her step to let him catch a breath. Had she not found him, he would've died amidst rock and torched grass. But he makes note to thank her later. Looking up he can see through blurry eyes the sight of men walking about the camp, but they were still not spotted themselves. "Just a little more.. You'll get proper medical care there, I'm certain" Jien said, nudging the soldier with the arm that was around his back. Her tail flicks behind her, stirring the grass.

@shards-of-the-lost 🐲

(first time doing this so please feel free to correct me if I've made any errors 🙏😔)

Jiyan stood at the crest of the hill, the sun casting long shadows over the battlefield below. His broadblade gleamed with the remnants of the day’s slaughter, and his spear was an extension of his will. The wind, his constant companion, whipped around him, carrying the scent of blood and the moans of the dying. In the distance, the swarm of TDs—a grotesque, relentless horde—surged like a living nightmare.

With a deep breath, Jiyan summoned his inner strength, feeling the aero energy hum through his veins. He raised his spear to the sky, calling forth the spirit of the teal loong. The air shimmered and twisted, forming the ethereal shape of a dragon, its scales a brilliant, pulsating blue-green.

He plunged into the fray, the loong at his side. His broadblade cleaved through the nearest TD, the creature’s ichor spraying across the dry grass. The loong struck out with its claws and teeth, tearing through the mass of enemies with a grace and power that mirrored Jiyan’s own movements. They fought as one, man and spirit, each bolstering the other’s strength. Jiyan’s spear whirled in a deadly dance, impaling TDs with precision and speed. He could feel the wind responding to his will, sharp gusts slicing through the air and disrupting the enemy’s formations. The loong, too, manipulated the currents, creating vortices that pulled TDs off their feet and hurled them into the sky.

Time lost all meaning in the chaos. Jiyan fought with a single-minded ferocity, every muscle in his body burning with exertion. His mind was a razor’s edge, focused solely on the task at hand. But the TDs were endless, their numbers seeming to multiply with every kill.

....

.

.

.

Jiyan stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving with exertion. The battlefield was eerily silent, the only sounds the rustling of the grass and the distant cries of the wounded. He wiped the sweat and blood from his brow, his eyes scanning the horizon. The TDs were vanquished, but the true cost of the battle was yet to be revealed.

His duty now was to his men. He sheathed his blade and set off across the field, his heart heavy with dread. The dry grass crunched beneath his boots as he moved from body to body, checking for signs of life. Some he found were beyond help, their lifeless eyes staring blankly at the sky. Others clung to life, their wounds grievous but not mortal. These he marked for the medics, offering what comfort he could.

Jiyan’s eyes locked onto a lone figure struggling to rise, supported by a woman with horns curving elegantly from her head. The soldier’s uniform marked him as one of Jiyan’s own, his face a mask of pain. Without a moment's hesitation, Jiyan rushed towards them to offer assistance.

[altocat]

What if Lucrecia had been allowed to help raise Sephiroth on the one condition that it was inside Shinra and all the same plans for him to be a soldier were set in place? How do you think that would have looked, particularly if she had agreed?

I think Lucrecia was always due for some sort of breakdown. It was steadily building since Grimoire's death. Then you had Vincent's condition, her deteriorating relationship with Hojo, her freaky Jenova visions, general instability, etc.

I don't think she would have liked seeing what Shinra was doing to her son. She might have been more relaxed in the early years with Gast present. But the second the soldier stuff started, Lucrecia would have been unhappy and distressed, constantly clashing with Hojo until he has "no choice" but to restrict her privileges, possibly holding her son in a "hostage" situation of sorts to get her to comply.

As for Sephiroth, I think he initially would be happier and more put together to have his mother be present in his life, or to at least know about her. But there would be that unhappy understanding that his mother is getting progressively more and more anxious and depressed. He's too young to understand why though. If anything, he thinks becoming a soldier is the best way to make her proud, despite the fact that it's making her miserable. Lucrecia comes to worry about her son constantly, trying to put in as much love and affection as possible, but gradually deteriorating the more Hojo makes life harder for her. He will NOT have her interfere. She can either comply and see her son fairly regularly or he will have Sephiroth taken away. Doesn't help that Lucrecia herself undergoes occasional testing since her newfound Jenova-influenced invincibility is discovered. Hojo very happily and readily runs experiments on his own wife, sometimes even with Sephiroth in full view. Sephiroth is conflicted and frightened at this, but unsure where to turn. He's more emotive and principled with his mother in his life, but also even more confused and conflicted.

It isn't until his teenaged years, right before deployment that he finally makes his choice. Conspiring with the Cetra Ifalna, he helps her, Aerith, and Lucrecia escape Shinra, killing the guards and tearing through the building with them to freedom. But this comes at a great cost. Ifalna is shot and killed and Lucrecia...well Lucrecia never mentally recovers from the experience. Freedom or no, the weight of everything, the experiments, the guilt, the unrelenting trauma finally breaks her. Sephiroth is left to care for both her and Aerith on the streets, eventually stumbling into Elmyra, who takes them all in. He spends most of his adult years lonely and frustrated as he cares for his broken mother and surrogate sister. He comes to care for Elmyra as well, but she's more of an aunt figure than anything else. Sephiroth never forgives Shinra for the damage done to his mother, and is forced to grow up even faster than ever in order to carry the burden of trauma and guilt. He blames himself for not escaping sooner, for allowing his mother to undergo the same torture at Hojo's hands, for not being strong enough to save Ifalna, for being born in the first place to cause Lucrecia so much pain.

And thus, while Sephiroth has his mother with him, and a kind of "family" of sorts, he still feels unhappy and trapped beneath the weight of his responsibilities. He's ever paranoid of Shinra finding them, growing more and more restless and exhausted inside the older he gets. The empty look in Lucrecia's maddened eyes only reminds him that despite everything, he's more alone than ever. She won't respond. She won't touch him. She can barely feed or clean herself.

He has a mother. But only just that. Nothing more.

[a-bucket-of-trash]

Bonds Like Tree’s Roots- Kelvin x Female Reader – P13

P12

Tags: smut nsfw (uwu)

Almost without stopping kissing you, Kelvin carried you slowly, in his arms, to your room, gently laying you down on your bed and, for a moment, he stood still, not knowing what to do. He was nervous like few times in his life.

"If you don't want to do it today, that's fine, honey" You smiled at him from the bed "I'm not going to get mad"

"What? No!" He was startled "It's just... It seems silly... But I'm nervous..."

"Me too, a little" You laughed barely, sitting up.

But your nerves were much less than your desire to sleep with him, so you slowly undressed, seeing him standing, nailed to the ground, without moving other than to fix his eyes on each piece of skin that you were leaving exposed, turning on mora as there were fewer and fewer clothes. But he didn't move, not once were you naked.

“Kel…” You covered yourself a bit, embarrassed. “Gosh… Would you… prefer me to get dressed again? I know I'm not… you know.” You looked away, thinking your appearance wasn't getting him excited enough.

He didn't say anything, but he undressed as if his clothes were on fire, to stay naked, once again static, looking at you.

Your eyes wandered over his sensual body, while you felt your cheeks light up. If dressed he looked good, naked even more. The muscles he was gaining in the gym perfectly framed his figure and his generous masculine attributes. And his body was telling you what he hadn't been able to say verbally about how much he liked to see you, how much he wanted to feel you.

He sigh, as if he convinced himself that it was all real, slowly climbing onto the bed, approaching you like a wolf about to attack.

"Excuse me" He whispered, close "You look too beautiful, I thought I was dreaming"

“Silly…” You smiled softly, lying down with him “I love you, honey…”

"I love you too, my pretty," He purr, smiling sweetly. "You have no idea how much"

Hugging him, skin to skin, felt strange, like the first sip of a future addiction, which was sealed as soon as you started to kiss him, sparing no desire. It was obvious that he had now let go of the reins of his sanity, you felt it in his thirsty mouth, in his daring tongue, in the constant anxious grunts he gave, in his hands memorizing every curve and fold of your body, while your own hands did the same to him.

"God... You have me crazy, my life" The ex-soldier growled, kissing your neck eagerly, lying on top of you better.

"Please…" You moaned softly, stroking broadly his firm butt.

“Begging? So soon?" He smiled, his hand gently rubbing one of your breasts.

"It's your fault..." You saw his eyes, noticing how he positioned himself "Mister attractive"

"Shhhh" He smiled softly, settling in better, finding his way, easily entering the depths of your soul "Yeehaa" He purred, content "Finally..."

"O-oh..." You pushed his waist a little with your hands.

"Does it hurt or something?" He paid attention to you before if he wants to move.

“No, no… It's perfect…” You saw his firm arms on either side of your head to keep him from completely imprisoning you, his eyes locked on yours.

"Good..." He whispered, his pelvis beginning to move, slowly and deeply "T-this is a thousand times b-better... than any of my f-fantasies... wow..."

Perfect was little, it felt exquisite enough that your brain was already starting to shut down even though he had basically just started.

Kelvin smiled slightly, watching you roll your eyes, your hands running along the length of his back. It was a pat to his ego and, at the same time, it made him happy to know that he was satisfying you properly.

"It's e-even hard for me to go slow with you, l-love" He murmured between moans, speeding up just a little, listening to you respond with the same noises "I love you..."

“Do it slow later… p-please…” You begged “Kel… Honey… P-please…”

"No, no," He purred, keeping his speed steady and deep, "Enjoy me..."

“Kel…”

"I love you... I love you so much..." He groaned, also rolling his eyes "F-fuck..."

For a long time he maintained that speed, that rhythm that traveled between satisfactory and insufficient, causing almost more cravings than it appeased, until he began to accelerate. Now you really were on another planet, and he could tell easily by the way you moaned, your own body moving towards him, anticipating each thrust.

"Yeah..." He moaned, fascinated by seeing you the way he saw you "Look at you... God, you're fucking erotic!" He speed up even more “You drive me crazy!”

You couldn't say anything except “more”. It was the only thing you repeated, over and over again.

"I want to feel you..." He lay down completely on top of you, hugging you tightly, holding you, non-stop thrusting "Make me deaf, love..."

“KEL!” You hugged him tightly, despairing. "KELVIN!"

“Yes…c-call me…” He groaned, rolling his eyes, feeling your body squeezing into his utter masculinity, forcing him to moan your name over and over again.

He could barely stand it while he listened to you give those screams that sounded so passionately exquisite in his ears, with your fingers clinging to his back. He trembled, his erratic movements still making you groan, growling like a beast for several seconds, slowing slowly, panting, sweating.

He lay still, trying to recover, listening to you giggle softly, agitated to the max.

"S-shit." You laughed, gasping, "Whoa."

"Uh-huh" He giggled too, looking at you slightly "Are you a-also… a giggly?"

“Only when it's…f-fantastic”

"Same" He hugged you again, kissing your cheek a dozen times, between giggles "Oh... that was good..."

"Yes..." You smiled, caressing his back broadly, burying your fingers in his hair "I really needed it..."

"Don't get too comfortable..." He purred, caressing your thigh lecherously "I want more."

"Go ahead, soldier." You laughed.

He got up, only to get out of bed, grabbing your ankles and pulling you so you were near the edge of the bed.

"I think I'm hornier than before" He stood, accommodating your waist a little, holding your legs so that they rest on his torso, your ankles on each side of his head "You are too beautiful, I need to see you better"

"Well..." You looked at him, while placing a pillow behind your head "I have a very nice view too"

"Trust me, it looks better on my side" He grabbed himself, going back in "Honey...I'm a little e-enraged...can I do it hard?"

“Please, yes…” You licked your lips anxiously “As long as I can walk tomorrow, do what you want.”

"Oh no, you calm down... I'll take good care of you" He kissed both of your ankles.

He was going to do it, but not before satisfying himself completely. This time he was fast and firm, clinging to your waist as if his life depended on it, his own waist crashing into you, his screams in chorus with yours, controlling you, making sure that your body didn't slip away from him, that your movements out of control did not stop him.

By the time he finished, there was no giggling, just gasping with dry throats, muscles a little fatigued, skin covered in sweat, your voice muffled, pleasantly complaining, sprawled on the bed, your legs still held by his big hands, your brain completely off, traveling between hormones, fatigue and pleasure.

Kelvin smiled, between breaths, seeing you. You were his dream come true.

P14

Me:

[the-baschet]

#30 - Amity

Hardly any words exchanged between him and the inquisitors when they snatched him from his holding cell. They walked him down the frozen streets of Foundation toward The Arc of the Worthy... across the Steps of Faith. Where were they leading him? As they made passage down the aged bridge, the deep gnashes carved into the stonework from dragon general Vishap, the Warrior of Light, and countless surviving and fallen countrymen stole his attention. Mattisaux set his brow in furls.

They mean to kill me quietly.

A muted bloodthirst warmed his chest though he showed neither ire nor unrest. In silence they journeyed through the Gates of Judgement and toward Camp Dragonhead. Fledgling adventurers ill-prepared for the piercing cold, merchants bundling up while making their profits from those hapless fools, and soldiers stationed there for the day roamed the settlement. It was not often Mattisaux made his way for the central regions of Coerthas; there was no real sentiment holding him there, but he knew his way around like any other soldier.

Like how the robed men lead him north toward Witchdrop, an expected destination until they marched well past it.

By then the winds picked up and whipped graupel in their faces, some lifting a hand to shield from the sour turn of the weather. The air smelled sharp, angry perhaps; it matched Mattisaux’s attitude about the entire endeavor though he never minded how the frost bit into his exposed flesh. The broken silhouette of Steel Vigil loamed ahead, another memorable landmark that could possibly hold a spat for his survival. But they turned eastward, facing the mouth of an oncoming blizzard before his skin truly prickled to the chill.

“The Weeping Saint...?” Mattisaux’s voice startled one of the younger inquisitors, his being the only voice heard over the last bell or so, though he quickly looked down to his feet. An unknown guilt to Mattisaux bit the lad’s lip while the others paid no mind to the musings, continuing forward and shoving the man ahead if they had to.

That they wanted to do away with him so far out of reach ran his mind through idea after idea.

Why here? A chimera’s domain. Is there another one somehow?

“Here we are.” They stopped just before the entrance, the timid inquisitor handing Mattisaux his weapon while the others backed far away. “May Halone shine Her grace on you, Ser.” Then in hushed tones, he added, “This is cruel. Pray, how sorry I am.” The lad offered a remorseful frown.

Mattisaux grasped his sword and looked forward into the yawning void of the cave. “If you had any spine at all, you would not be here ushering me to my death.”

The Hyuran man paused in shame before speaking. “...You are correct, but know that a past comrade lies in wait. I must tell you that much.”

The news did little to surprise Mattisaux; he gained more enemies after the Calamity, it was an expectation at this point since turning himself in. “Away with you lest you carry this trial with me. They are watching.” He took a willful step forward. “No man has bested me and I do not intend to fall to a coward.”

A dejected sigh whined from the inquisitor, opening his mouth to respond but ultimately chose to dash away, whimpering in a strange fear. Mattisaux did not have the time to wonder in confusion nor dwell on how awkwardly the inquisitor carried himself. From within the depths of the den, a dissonant chorus bellowed and hurried stamps shook the earth. His opponent was not only a man this time.

[thatboreddrake]

Dragonhearted, part three

“Commander. Report?”

O’Neill stepped back from the telescope. “Hardly more than a platoon of Cleanrots, sire. They appear to have set up some sort of defensive formation. No sign of the Redmanes.”

Godrick his chin, for what stubble he had could hardly be called a beard. “And what of the Severed Usurper?”

O’Neill grimaced a bit at the name. If she was anywhere within earshot, they would be unlikely to last an hour. “She appears to be incapacitated. I spotted one of the knights carrying her away from the battlefield.”

Godrick drew himself up in the saddle, a smug grin painting his face. “Well then, what say we have a little chat with her, eh?”

Not for the first time, O’Neill was thankful for his helmet’s faceplate as it hid his contempt. “At once, my liege. Shall I have the army follow us?”

After thinking for a bit, Godrick responded. “No, I do not believe that is necessary. You did say she was incapacitated, yes?”

Without waiting for a response from his commander, the young lord spurred his horse into a light trot down the hill. O’Neill sighed and then turned to the troops behind him.

“Hold here and await further orders. Only advance if you hear the trumpet. Custodes, with me.”

At that, a squad of soldiers stepped forward to join him. While the majority of Godrick’s forces concealed their faces with massive red hoods, the Custodes stood proud amidst the croud. They stood head and shoulder above their fellows and carried gleaming greatswords and halberds. They fell into formation behind their commander and began advancing down the hill to join with Lord Godrick. O’Neill and his Custodes arrived just as Godrick was beginning to address the retreating Cleanrot Knight.

“Hail, Malenia! Severed harpy of the Hennatree! How goes your most glorious conquest?”

Finlay paused and looked up at Godrick. “Lord Godrick. We have no quarrel with you or your lands. Allow us to pass through to the Haligtree, and we can maintain amicable relations.”

Godrick was taken aback by the Cleanrot’s boldness. “It would seem to me that you are in no position to dictate terms, you infectious worm. Why should I allow a plague-ridden force to march through my own lands?”

Finlay laid Malenia on the ground against a rock and stood to her full height. “You had no problem with our passage when we stood 600 strong. Our diminished numbers should no doubt reduce the likelihood of contagion. Please, my lady is very ill, and I must return her to the Haligtree.”

Godrick scoffed. “Ill?! Has she not been ill from the day she was born?! Why, if I didn’t know any better, I would think this an excuse to get close and attempt to take the land that is mine by birthright!”

Finlay glowered up at Godrick. “I would not say such things if I were you. My men are fighting to contain a newfound infestation, not to claim your land.”

Godrick spat on the ground at Finlay’s foot. “You talk big, but I know what this is. This is an ill-advised attempt to claim Caelid from General Radahn, but you couldn’t defeat him, could you? Your “Lady” chose to salt the earth with her accursed rot rather than accept defeat! No doubt your Looooord gave the order himself. Who would’ve thought the young heretic would be so vindic…”

“Heed my words. I am Malenia. Blade of Miquella. I will not see my Lord’s name slandered. And I have NEVER known defeat.”

The blood drained from Godrick’s face as Malenia gripped the rock behind her and heaved herself to her feet. Finlay reached out a hand to stabilize her, but Malenia waved her away. Before Godrick had time to react, a leg of unalloyed gold slammed into his head and knocked him off his horse. He looked up with abject terror at the blind swordswoman who stood over him.

Malenia looked at him with a look of utter contempt. “I will not kill you, graceless regent. Not for your sake, but for the sake of your grieving mother. But you will not escape unscathed. You will feel suffer as I have suffered.”

Godrick attempted to stand and run away, but he had scarcely taken a step before he lost his right leg at the knee.

“When I was born, the rot already writhed within me. I cannot recall a time when I did not feel the pain. I lost my legs when I was 9 years old.”

As she finished speaking, Malenia lashed out with her katana and cleanly sliced Godrick’s left leg off.

“My brother sacrificed countless hours seeking to cure my disease, but it was all for nought. I lost my arm at age 12, right when I was beginning to study the blade.”

Once more, the blade flashed quicker than the eye could track, and Godrick’s right arm dropped to the ground with a cry of pain.

“I lost my eyes at 15, but I will not take those from you. If nothing else, I can think of no greater misery than being forced to gaze upon your form when I looked in the mirror.”

As this happened, O’Neill and his Custodes stood to the side, not moving an inch. When Malenia finished speaking, she nearly lost her footing. Finlay stepped beside her to support her right side. She glared at the soldiers, and they wordlessly stepped forward to retrieve their recently crippled lord. They silently bandaged Godrick’s wounds, stopping the blood flow as best they could. As confident and haughty as Godrick was before, he was equally miserable now and dissolved into a mess of sobbing. Finlay once more lifted Malenia onto her back and continued the long trek back to the Haligtree.

 As O’Neill carried his lord back to the lines, Godrick looked up at his commander with a look of pure spite. “Commander. I want you to destroy the remainder of the Cleanrot Knights. I will have vengeance for this slight upon my honor.”

A bit of humor crept into O’Neill’s tone. “Wouldn’t you rather attempt to defeat the one who so humiliated you?”

Terror once more struck Godrick’s visage. “No, Commander, that will not be necessary. Clearly the Redmanes have been wiped out, and thus defeating the Cleanrots will secure my position as lord of both Limgrave and Caelid. THAT, will suffice.”

[four-loose-screws]

FE7 Novelization Translation - Chapter 10 Section 3

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———————————

Chapter 10: New Resolve (Section 3)

Just as preparations to leave for Ostia had begun, one of Eliwood's retainers approached him.

"Lord Eliwood…  Have you recovered?"

"Marcus… I'm fine. I made you worry, didn't I?"

At his lord's response, Marcus shook his head and said, "About Lord Elbert… I took it upon myself to send a messenger straight away to Lady Elenora."

"...Understood. Thank you, Marcus. That was very thoughtful of you."

"...I thought it was best for her to know as soon as possible. That the marquess was… a noble man… until the very end."

Eliwood felt his chest become tight.

He'd promised to his mother that he would bring his father home no matter what, but in the end, he was unable to do so, which would result in causing her even more grief.

Just as Eliwood pictured his mother sobbing in his head, he heard a powerful woman's voice say, "Lord Eliwood! General Marcus!"

"Ah! Milord, that's Isadora, isn’t it?!" 

Eliwood turned towards the source of the voice, and there saw Isadora, the one woman among Pherae's elite knights.

She drew near on her white horse, then jumped down in front of them with a look of relief on her beautiful face. "Our paths have finally crossed! I'm so happy to see you safe…"

"Isadora, what are you doing here? …No! Did something happen to Mother…?"

While they were on their journey, Isadora was ordered to lead the Knights of Pherae, and more importantly, serve as his mother's guard while she was alone.

With Isadora here, even that thought was not at all strange to have.

If his father, then his mother… 

Picking up on the dark possibility Eliwood was imagining, Isadora responded, "Please do not worry. Lady Elenora is doing quite well. Even yesterday, when she received word of Lord Elbert’s death… her voice did not crack once, she simply… listened closely to the entire report."

"...Mother…" He pictured his mother acting brave, and his eyes began to tear up.

"Then, she immediately ordered me to go to Lord Eliwood, and serve at his side."

"But doing so will leave the castle inadequately guarded…"

"Lord Eliwood… Please understand your mother's heart. Now that Lord Elbert cannot come back, all that she has supporting her heart is your return home. ‘Please carry on your father’s will.’ That is what she told me to tell you."

He understood his mother's feelings so much that it hurt. With his father gone, when he thought about the fact that he was the only person who could inherit Pherae, it became obvious that she would prioritize her son's safety over her own. 

But as her son, Eliwood could not help but worry about his mother, alone in their home country.

Knowing how Eliwood felt, Marcus made a proposal. "...Perhaps we should ask Marquess Ostia if he can lend some soldiers to defend Castle Pherae?"

"...That's a good idea. More so than mine… that should serve to put my mother's heart at ease."

"It is words like those that make you the Lord Eliwood I know.” Isadora said.

Eliwood turned to face her. "We have no understanding of where our fight is headed. …Are you prepared to accept that, Isadora?"

"Yes Sir! I will protect you until the very end of my life!" She said in a confident voice with neither a hint of indecision nor hesitation. 

Her response conveyed to Eliwood how dependable she would be, and he nodded. 

Then, he looked at Marcus, who was standing beside him. "Marcus, I have something to ask of you."

"Yes, Milord! Whatever you need."

Eliwood said in response to his swift reply, "I want you to… send my father to Pherae."

He could not leave his father’s body where they were. He originally intended to take his father back to Pherae himself, but now, he had to figure out Nergal’s whereabouts as quickly as possible. That was his father’s dying wish, and as such, his mother's will for him to follow.

He didn't want to entrust his father to anyone else.

"This is something I can request of you, as the person who served my father for so long. No… You are the only person I can make this request to."

He was not the only person grieving his father’s death. Marcus, the man who'd served his father for many long years, was as well. He wanted to consider the feelings of the retainer who served him with the utmost loyalty from the very bottom of his heart.

Sensing how Eliwood felt, Marcus began to weep inside his heart. "...Your words are more than I deserve. I, Marcus, will safely bring him home. …Lowen, are you here?!" He humbly accepted the responsibility, then called for his student.

"Yes, Sir! I am here, Sir!"

"Follow Isadora's orders and protect Lord Eliwood while I am gone. Understood?"

"Yes Sir! I intend to do my very best to live up to your expectations!"

Marcus watched Lowen reply with a salute, then nodded before immediately beginning preparations to transport Elbert’s body.

☆

Inside a dark, gloomy room, Nergal was sitting in an armchair.

He was in peak physical condition despite his age. He could cast countless powerful ancient dark magic spells thought lost to time. 

If his foe was human, then no matter who he fought, he was unlikely to lose.

If his opponent was indeed human, that is…

However, he was not trying to fight humans, but a being that far surpassed humans… dragons.

With his body wounded and the quintessence he utilized insufficient, the risk was far too high for him to take.

Because of that, now, he would need a lot of time. Time to heal his wounds and gather a large amount of quintessence within his body…

Nergal, who wanted to conduct the ceremony again straight away, loathed being in a situation like this, backed into a corner.

His negative emotions coiled around his chest, and his bloodshot eyes glared into empty space. The intense pain coursing through him screamed with his resentment, and his blood boiled as it flowed through his body.

But Nergal did not show the anger within his heart on the outside, instead calling out the names of his underlings in an unfeeling tone. "Sonya. Limstella."

"You called, Lord Nergal?"

Two figures answered his call, and used a teleportation circle to appear before him.

The first was his underling like that of an unfeeling doll… Limstella.

And this new figure who showed herself, a woman named Sonya, gave an impression that was the exact opposite of Limstella's. 

Her hair was black, and her eyes were gold. But those were the only similarities they shared. Everything else about her was starkly different.

She had an ample bosom, a tiny waist, and wide hips… And wore a thin black dress over her stunning body, which had a plunging neckline and a large slit up the leg, further accentuating her sensuality. 

"My wounds have still not healed. It will likely take time for me to regain my strength. Marquess Pherae caused this damage to my body, and he is dead. So I will take his son's death as compensation. …Sonya."

Sonya, upon being called, took one step forward.

"You use Brendan to get the Black Fang to move. And not the underlings you've utilized until now, but the Four Fangs."

"Hee hee, leave it to me. I shall present your enemy's head directly to you." Sonya parted her lips, red as blood, to say, then vanished.

"Limstella. You will gather quintessence for me. For these wounds to heal… I require time and quintessence."

As he looked back at the expressionless Limstella looking at him, he continued, “You are the strongest of all the morphs I have created… Kill anyone with power."

"As you wish…" Limstella answered with a voice as devoid of emotion as the expression on their face, then disappeared into the darkness.

[fairhopeman]

𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧

On April 8, 1865, General Ulysses S. Grant was having a hard night.

His army had been harrying Confederate General Robert E. Lee's for days, and Grant knew it was only a question of time before Lee had to surrender. The people in the Virginia countryside were starving, and Lee's army was melting away. Just that morning a Confederate colonel had thrown himself on Grant's mercy after realizing that he was the only man in his entire regiment who had not already abandoned the cause. But while Grant had twice asked Lee to surrender, Lee still insisted his men could fight on.

So, on the night of April 8, Grant retired to bed in a Virginia farmhouse, dirty, tired, and miserable with a migraine. He spent the night "bathing my feet in hot water and mustard, and putting mustard plasters on my wrists and the back part of my neck, hoping to be cured by morning." It didn't work. When morning came, Grant pulled on his clothes from the day before and rode out to the head of his column with his head throbbing.

As he rode, an escort arrived with a note from Lee requesting an interview for the purpose of surrendering his Army of Northern Virginia. "When the officer reached me I was still suffering with the sick headache," Grant recalled, "but the instant I saw the contents of the note I was cured."

The two men met in the home of Wilmer McLean in the village of Appomattox Court House, Virginia. Lee had dressed grandly for the occasion in a brand new general's uniform carrying a dress sword; Grant wore simply the "rough garb" of a private with the shoulder straps of a lieutenant general.

But the images of the wealthy, noble South and the humble North hid a very different reality. As soon as the papers were signed, Lee told Grant his men were starving and asked if the Union general could provide the Confederates with rations. Grant didn't hesitate. "Certainly," he responded, before asking how many men needed food. He took Lee's answer—"about twenty-five thousand"—in stride, telling the general that "he could have...all the provisions wanted."

By spring 1865, the Confederates who had ridden off to war four years before boasting that their wealthy aristocrats would beat the North's moneygrubbing shopkeepers in a single battle were broken and starving, while, backed by a booming industrial economy, the Union army could provide rations for twenty-five thousand men on a moment's notice.

The Civil War was won not by the dashing sons of wealthy planters, but by men like Grant, who dragged himself out of his blankets and pulled a dirty soldier's uniform over his pounding head on an April morning because he knew he had to get up and get to work.

—

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟖, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐗 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍

[fingons-rad-harp]

Failed Escape - Ária and Arathorn

Whumptober Masterlist

General Masterlist

Ária slit the guard’s throat quietly, lowering him to the ground without making a sound. Arathorn picked up his weapon, and they continued. 

They had made it down to what they thought was the third floor of the fortress when the alarm was sounded.

They abandoned subtlety and sprinted, killing anything that stood in their way in a mad dash for freedom.

Ária could hear orcs behind them, guards and soldiers and torturers and slaves. Adrenaline and sheer desperation gave her the strength to push forward, all her pain forgotten in the background of her mind as she ran.

They slew the guards at the doors and burst outside, and Ária took her first breath of fresh air in what felt like an eternity. 

The forest was just as dark as the fortress, trees blocking the sky so she couldn’t tell if it was day or night. The shadow still choked the land, turning the branches into twisting, gnarled shapes that looked like monsters in the dim light, and she knew they were not yet free.

She heard the doors open again, a horde of snarling orcs and wargs pursuing them. She grabbed Arathorn’s arm and pulled him along, holding his hand tightly so they did not get separated. 

She had only taken a few more steps when he was yanked out of her grip. He called out her name, and she turned to look. He was being dragged by his ankle, his stomach to the ground. He pushed himself up, twisting and slashing at his captor. He ripped a gash through their torso, spraying himself with blood, and the orc lost its grip on him. 

He scrambled backwards, and when he managed to stand he looked her in the eye where she stood frozen to the spot. “Go!” he shouted, and turned to fight the rest of the orcs chasing them.

In seconds, he was surrounded, and as she dashed back towards him she was tackled by a wolf, its jaws closing around her middle. She cried out in pain and went limp with despair as they were roughly carried back into the fortress, Morvartë’s amused expression waiting for them back in their cell.

“What exactly was your plan for if you actually managed to escape?” she asked, a smile playing on her lips. “You would have been devoured by spiders within the day.”

Ária didn’t respond, but privately she thought that getting eaten would be a preferable fate. Arathorn seethed next to her.

Morvartë turned to leave. “My master has more urgent matters to attend to at the moment, but be assured that he is less than impressed with you.” She grinned, a cruel spark in her eyes. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

She left them alone, and Arathorn took a breath to speak, glaring at the floor. “You should have left me,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ária said. 

He snapped his gaze to hers, his expression furious. “You could have made it.”

“Whatever happens to you happens to me,” she argued. “I am not leaving you to do this alone.”

“Fuck off with that,” he snarled. “You had a chance and you threw it away.”

Ária was silent, her throat tight. She wanted to get angry but she couldn’t, despair hanging heavy on her shoulders. 

She likely wouldn’t have made it, she thought. The Enemy had more agents throughout the wood; it was how they were captured in the first place. She would have had to travel miles through dense shadowed forest with no supplies, badly injured, with no idea which direction was the correct one. And even if she had managed to get out of Taur-e-Ndaedelos, there were few civilisations in Rhovanion, especially not this far south where Dol Guldur spread evil and sickness throughout the land.

She probably would have been recaptured anyway. They knew escape was nearly impossible before they had tried it.

But she didn’t say any of that, only sat quietly until Arathorn said, “You would be just as angry with me if our positions were reversed.”

That was true, but Ária was nothing if not stubborn. “That is different.”

He snorted. “And how is it different?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “It is my duty to protect you.” And what a miserable job she had done of it. 

“The hell it is,” he growled, and she couldn’t help it—she flinched. 

Arathorn sighed, all the fight going out of him. “I am old, Ária,” he said. “Even before this, I had… maybe a decade left. I do not need you to protect me anymore.”

She couldn’t protect him anymore. He was her best friend, her brother, and every day he was hurt and she could do nothing about it. 

Being here with him was her punishment for not being able to protect him.

“Whatever happens to you happens to me,” she whispered again.

@whumptober-archive @jurassicobsessor @caldargreencloak @jhelenivarsimae

[bethanythebogwitch]

Digimon fanfic chapter 7 draft

Link to published chapters on Ao3

Andrew was feeling exceptionally pleased with himself as the view of the D-Brigade’s mobile command center came into view. Of the seven Cargodramon returning from the excavation site, Andrew and his partner Green were in the one that had the severed claw of Machinedramon strapped to its undercarriage. He didn’t trust anyone else to monitor the artifact they had fought a small war to get. His Cargodramon was surrounded by the others in a formation designed to protect the artifact and himself against attack, though very few Digimon would be foolish enough to attack seven Ultimate-level Digimon even if they weren’t with the famed D-Brigade. 

The fleet made touchdown outside of the command center, with the exception of Andrew’s Cardogramon, which hovered in place long enough for the soldiers from the other crafts to unstrap the claw from its undercarriage and carry it out of the way. Andrew finally stepped out and ordered the claw taken to storage and kept under guard. A Sealsdramon approached from the command center.

“The General requests your presence,” it said in its kind’s typical monotone whisper.

“Good, I was just about to go see him,” Andrew responded. “Take me to him.”

The Sealsdramon wordlessly turned and led Andrew not into the mobile command center as he expected, but around it to a cave hidden behind some shrubbery. “The general is within,” it said.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, but he and Green entered the cave to find a mass of machinery and vats of liquid that were being serviced by the D-Brigade’s engineers. General Tankdramon was watching their activity, but turned to face Andrew when he entered the cave. 

“It’s done,” Andrew said, smugly. “The data remnant of Machinedramon is ours.”

“Excellent,” responded the General. “Phase one of the stratagem is done. Phase two will be commenced immediately.”

Andrew smiled. He could almost see his utopia, the new world he would make where cruelty, incompetence, and injustice would never be tolerated and everything would work as it should. Soon, nothing would stand in his way, not even his idiot brother and former friend. Daniel had his chance to turn back, but clearly he had chosen otherwise. Though it brought Andrew no joy, he knew that Daniel and Clark had to be eliminated. 

“What is all this anyway?” Andrew asked, gesturing toward the machinery that filled the cavern. 

“That is why I had you meet me here,” Replied the General. “Seize them and confiscate his Digivice.”

Before Andrew could respond, a metal hand snatched his Digivice off of his belt and shoved him to the ground. Next to him, Green was forced to the ground as well, his arms twisted behind his back by a Sealsdramon.

“What the hell are you doing?” Andrew screamed in rage at his captors. “I am your client! The D-Brigade answers to me!”

“I beg your pardon, but you are not the D-Brigade’s client. I am.”

A new Digimon had entered the cave and Andrew had to twist his head to see it. He had never encountered this species before. It looked like a goat, but stood upright and had large, white hands and a pair of bat-like wings emerging from the shoulders. Something buried deep in Andrew’s neck seemed to respond to its presence, emitting a sickly, warm sensation. 

“You mustn't blame the General for deceiving you into believing this whole exercise was your idea,” continued the Digimon. “That was entirely my idea and it took quite a bit of effort on my part to convince him to go along with the plan. He was quite reluctant to form a false contract with you. The D-Brigade do pride themselves on their reputation of loyalty to their clients after all.”

“Who the hell are you?” spat Andrew.

“Ah, of course, how rude of me not to make proper introductions. You may call me Mephistomon, and I am the one who has been pulling your strings, puppet. I needed a human for my plan and the General recommended you from a past adventure. Once you were here, it was a simple matter of implanting you and your partner with my special Dark Spores and allowing them to germinate within you, corrupting you with darkness as the Spores grew in power. Now that you have retrieved the data remnant of Machinedramon I only need to retrieve that which I have given you and your part in all this will be over.”

Mephistomon pulled out a device that looked ominously like an excessively large syringe and stepped over Green. It pushed the type of the syringe into Green's neck, ignoring his jolt of pain. Pulling back the plunger caused a small object to pop into the glass body of Mephistomon’s tool. It was a small ball, no larger than a thumbnail, black in color and covered in spikes. Green grunted in pain, but managed to hold back a scream. His eyes were angry and his teeth bared, but as soon as the object, the Dark Spore, emerged from his neck, Green’s expression changed to one of confusion and horror. 

Andrew wasn’t concerned about the state his partner was in. He was too busy being furious. How dare these insects betray me! This was my plan! My victory! I WILL get my revenge!

“I’ll kill all of you,” he said, his voice as cold as ice. “I’ll kill you and when you come back, I’ll kill you again. I’ll make you pay for this.”

“I hardly see how that will be possible,” replied Mephistomon, decidedly unimpressed. The glass body of the tool popped out, revealing itself to be a vial that contained the small, black object. Mephisotom hummed to itself as it placed another empty vial in the syringe and turned to Andrew. “I suggest you hold very still for this. You humans are so very fragile compared to Digimon. If you move too much I could cause quite a bit of damage to your nervous system. And we don’t want you dead quite yet.”

Whatever Andrew wanted to say in response was cut off by the pain of the metal syringe piercing the back of his neck. Ice-cold pain shot down his spine and through his nerves. He forced down a scream of pain. He refused to give his enemies the satisfaction of hearing him scream. But soon he would hear them scream, he would-

Mephistomon pulled back on the plunger and suddenly everything changed. Andrew lost his concentration and let out a yelp of pain as clarity flooded into his mind. The pain lessened as Mephistomon removed the syringe from his neck, but the physical pain was not what hurt Andrew the most. In the moment the Dark Spore was removed Andrew experienced clarity, his mind wiped free of the Spore’s influence. In that moment, Andrew realized what he had become.

I- I’m a monster.

“Two Dark Spores, ready to bloom,” Mephistomon’s voice sounded awed at what he held in his hand. “Exactly what we need for phase two. As for you two,” He looked down at Andrew and Green. “I leave you in the care of the General.”

“Attach them to the machinery,” ordered General Tankdramon. “They will serve as batteries. We will drain the energy produced by the DigiDestined/Digimon bond to Digivolve the troops.”

“Andrew!” yelled Green. As he said then, Andrew’s Digivice, still clutched in the claws of one of the Sealsdramon, began to glow.

Dracomon Digivolve to… Coredramon! Coredramon Digivolve to… Groundramon!

Mephistomon, Tankdramon, and the Sealsdramon were thrown backwards by the explosive growth of Green as part of the cave collapsed. General Tankdramon angrily shoved his way out of a pile of boulders and shouted at the engineers to inspect the Digivolution machine for damage, then turned to the client. Mephistomon was looking at the cave entrance, which was now considerably larger. Just outside of the cave, a massive tunnel had been opened in the ground. The human and his partner were gone. 

“My scouts will track them down,” declared. The general, hiding his anger. 

“I suggest you do so quickly,” Mephistomon was still maintaining its image of false politeness. “If your forces cannot capture them, kill them. Digivolving the Brigade would be useful, but not necessary for the plan. As for me, I will begin phase two. With both artifacts in our possession and the Dark Spores to fuse them, we will soon be unstoppable.”

Miles away and hours later, Green placed Andrew on the ground and de-Digivolved. He had emerged from the tunnel he dug a while back and moved over land. It would be foolish to give the D-Brigade’s scouts a direct line to them. 

“We can’t stay long,” Green said. “I’m too tired to stay Digivolved and they’ll find us if we stay.”

Andrew slumped against a tree, his eyes empty. 

“Andrew?”

“Just let them,” he said.

“What are you saying? They’ll kill us or turn us into batteries.”

“I know that!” Android shouted. “Don’t you get it? I don’t deserve to get away! I- I killed so many-” His voice choked off, unable to finish his sentence. 

“That wasn’t really you, was it? It was that thing, the Dark Spore. When it was taken out of me, It was like I was suddenly a different person. No, it was like I was back to being me after I changed.”

Andrew shook his head. “Those things I did and thought, they weren’t that different from what I normally think, just way more extreme. Those thoughts, I think they were already inside me. I think the Spore just showed me who I am.”

“I don’t believe that,” shouted Green. “I know you! I know you would never do those things normally. You can’t blame yourself for what happened because that wasn’t you!”

“What about you, what happened to you?” Asked his partner. 

Green thought back, and the memories made him shudder. “I just wanted to do what you said no matter what. I didn't care about who I was hurting, just as long as I obeyed you.”

There was a pause before Andrew asked “Do you think you can live knowing that? Because I don’t know if I can live with what I did.”

Green gasped, then his eyes narrowed and he delivered a kick right to Andrew’s shin. 

“Ow!” Andrew gasped as the sharp claws on Green’s foot left pinpricks in his skin.

“Don’t say that!” Green yelled. “Don’t ever say that! I won’t let you just lay down and die! I’ll drag you out of here if I have to!”

“As you should.”

Green and Andrew looked up to see that a lion clad in obsidian armor had somehow snuck up on them

Who are you?” Green said as he moved in between Andrew and the visitor. 

“My name is JagerLoweemon, and I am here to help.”

---------

Three children walked through the desert, carrying their Digimon partners. Clark was in the lead while Daniel and Keiko followed, whispering to each other and eyeing the older boy. 

“I guess I owe you an explanation.” The sound of Clark’s voice startled the other two. It was the first thing he had said since the battle earlier.

Daniel responded first. “Yeah, that would be good.”

“If Tsukaimon were awake she’d say it’s the least you owe us,” Keiko added. 

Clark took a deep breath, then began.

“Back when Andrew and I were brought to the Digital World, he got his partner right away, but I didn't. All I got was a Digivice that didn’t do anything. I thought I didn’t belong here and Gennai, er, Benjamin made a mistake bringing me. It wasn’t until we met up with the D-Brigade that I met my partner.” He looked down at the sleeping, bomb-shaped Digimon in his arms.

“Your partner was in the D-Brigade?” Daniel asked.

Clark nodded. “I was surprised too. Commandramon 1G1 was one of the members of the Brigade we were working with. My Digivice activated when we first met, but neither of us were interested in being partners. He couldn’t imagine being loyal to anyone but the Brigade and I… well, I have issues with militaries.”

A familiar scene shot through Clark’s head. One of him and a crowd gazing at a coffin draped in the American flag. 

“Did you eventually work things out?” asked Keiko. 

“Yeah, eventually, but not before I almost got both of us killed,” Clark said. “I didn’t fit in with our group. Andrew was our leader, he had the partner that could Digivolve. The Brigade did a lot of the heavy lifting. And then there was me, the human with a partner he couldn’t even get along with, let alone Digivolve. So I tried to leave, and Commandramon followed me.”

-------

“What are you doing?”

Clark turned to see Commandramon 1G1, his alleged partner, had spotted him.

“I’m leaving,” he said. “Leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that,” responded Commandramon. “You are under the D-Brigade’s protection. And my partner.” 

Clark turned and walked away. Commandramon followed him into the woods. “How long are you going to follow me?” demanded Clark.

“Until you return,” said Commandramon. 

“Look, this isn’t working out. We don’t get along. I’m useless. So why not just leave me alone?” The last word practically came out as a shout. 

“I don’t think you’re useless.”

Clark snorted. “Andrew’s the leader. He’s the one with a partner he gets along with and can actually Digivolve. I’m just dead weight.”

“Clark-”

“Don’t try to deny it. I can’t do anything helpful. I can’t even-”

“CLARK GET DOWN!”

Clark suddenly found himself being shoved from behind, sending him crashing to the dusty ground of the forest path. He rolled over to see Commandramon on his back, his arms holding open the jaws of a Digimon that looked like a stretched-out red wolf whose legs were covered in belts. Commandramon clearly couldn’t reach for a weapon without the jaws snapping shut on him and his muscles were straining to keep them open. 

Clark scrambled to his feet. “Commandramon! W-what do I do?”

Commandramon grunted in exertion, then spoke. “Run back to camp. Get help.”

“I-I can’t just leave you,” Clark protested. He was no fighter, but the boy could tell that Commandramon’s strength would give out before that. 

“It’s the only chance! You were ready to leave before, so go now!” Commandramon shouted back. Clark swallowed, then ran past Commandramon and the other Digimon, back in the direction of camp. 

He would never make it in time. Commandramon knew this was an unwinnable position, but at least his partner may get to safety before becoming the attacking Fangmon’s next meal. Commandramon closed his eyes.

I hope that in my next life I may prove to be of greater use to the D-Brigade. And maybe, just maybe, I can meet Clark again.

The Fangmon grunted in pain and Commandramon’s eyes shot open. A rock had hit the beast Digimon in the eye. Commandramon looked over to see Clark standing in the forest path, preparing to throw another rock. 

“What are you doing?” Demanded Commandramon as fear washed over him.

“I told you I can’t just leave,” said Clark. His voice wavered and he shook, but despite the fear he stood strong and threw the rock.

The rock hit Fangmon and suddenly the pressure on Commandramon’s arms vanished. In a split second, the Fangmon released Commandramon and turned to leap at Clark, its mouth slavering and claws extended. Clark dropped his remaining rock and raised him arms in a futile effort to protect himself as Commandramon screamed “CLARK!”

Commandramon Digivolve to… Sealsdramon!

A metal arm grabbed the Fangmon’s tail and pulled, hurling the Digimon away from Clark. Where Commandramon had stood was a larger dinosaur Digimon, fully encased in metal and with lens-like eyes and a pair of shoulder-mounted knife holsters. 

“Commandramon? Is that you?” asked Clark.

Sealsdramon nodded. “It’s Sealsdramon now. You came back for me, now it’s my turn to protect you.” The cyborg Digimon then turned to the Fangmon, who had regained its footing and was snarling at the pair of partners. “I will deal with this.”

The Fangmon roared in challenge, then charged. Sealsdramon drew a knife from one of its twin holsters and ducked under its leap, slashing upwards and leaving a deep cut in Fangmon’s belly. Fangmon howled in pain, but landed on its feet and whirled around to face Sealsdramon again. 

“Blast Coffin!” A burst of red energy shot out of Fangmon’s maw. Sealsdramon moved with a swiftness and nimbleness that seemed unfitting for his metal body, dodging around the attack and closing the distance with the wolf. 

“Death Behind,” Fangmon’s eyes widened as Sealsdramon leapt onto its back and drove a knife through the base of its head. The wolf Digimon didn’t even have time to make a noise before exploding into raw data and disappearing. 

Sealsdramon reverted back to Commandramon as Clark ran over. “I told you, Clark, you aren’t useless. Just like the D-Brigade, we are stronger when we work together.”

“I guess you’re right,” replied Clark. “Man, you took that thing down in no time!”

Commandramon nodded. “Are you ready to return to camp? You have proven you have a place here.”

Clark nodded. “Let’s go.”

----------

“That’s so nice,” said Keiko, “I’m glad you ended up getting along.”

Clark nodded. “It was nice. I could finally help out now that me and Commandramon could work together. We got our crests and everything. Then me, Andrew, our partners, and the D-Brigade attacked Gigadramon’s army. In the end it was me and Andrew and Commandramon and Green versus a souped-up Gigadramon. And we won. Gigadramon was deleted and his army was scattered,” Clark sighed. “And that’s where it went wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Daniel.

Clark’s face fell. “Gennai’s contract with the D-Brigade said they would work with us until Gigadramon was defeated. Once we won, Commandramon had to make a choice. Stay with the D-Brigade or stay with me.”

“That’s horrible!” Gasped Keiko.

“It wasn’t easy for him, but he went back to the Brigade,” said Clark. “The D-Brigade are raised on loyalty to each other. Asking one to leave is like asking a fish to climb a tree. Plus, if Commandramon did leave the Brigade, they probably would have killed him. So in the end, he left me. The Brigade wouldn’t let me stay around, so we went our separate ways. Andrew went back to the human world, but I had nothing for me back there. I convinced Gennai to let me stay here and help him out with stuff.” He paused. “I guess I thought if I stayed here I might get another chance to meet Commandramon. Didn’t really go the way I’d hoped it would.”

“You know what?” Daniel said. “I think it’ll work out. I don’t know why he attacked us, but there was definitely something off about him in that form. Now that you two are together, you can find out what happened and make sure it never does again. Just like how I’m going to get Andrew and Green back. We’ll make it work out.”

Clark started to say something, then stopped and thought for a minute. He finally spoke up. “I was going to say I don’t know if it would work out like that. But I think you might be right. I’ve been alone for too long. I always thought the worst would happen. But now that me and Commandramon are together again, I think you’re right. It will work out if we work for it.”

“That’s the spirit!” Said Daniel, with Keiko nodding along. 

“Thanks, guys,’ responded Clark. “Now we have a ways to go and need to get moving. I’m not going soft on you just because of this,” and with that, he increased his pace.

The other two humans groaned, but followed him.

----------

Metal-clad paws pounded against stone and sand as JagerLoweemon ran through the desert, Green and Andrew on his back. They had been moving for hours now, but the lion Digimon showed no signs of stopping or tiring out. 

“You’re sure you're taking us to Daniel and Clark?” asked Green once again.

“No,” said JagerLoweemon, “I did not ask their names but this group matches your description and are the only humans in the Digital World that I am aware of.”

“I’m just surprised you’d met them is all. The odds of you meeting them and us is.. I don’t even know.” 

“It is not so strange,” replied the lion. “I was searching for ones afflicted with darkness to offer aid. I could sense the presence of darkness in the two of you, but did not dare approach while you remained with the D-Brigade. When the source of darkness, the Dark Spores, were removed from you, I followed your path.”

“If you tracked us, the D-Brigade will definitely be able to track us,” Green realized.

“Indeed. That is one of the reasons I am taking you to the group of DigiDestined I met. You will need their help when the D-Brigade comes for you. The other reason is that one of the humans is going through something very similar to your partner.”

Andrew muttered something indistinct and did not look convinced. Green looked back at his partner sadly for a second. It hurt, not being able to help him. Instead, the little dragon looked forward again and continued the conversation. 

“And you know where they are?”

“Not precisely,” admitted JagerLoweemon, “but I know where they are going. The Subroutine Jungle. I am hoping to intercept their path.”

That got Andrew to look up from his brooding. The Subroutine Jungle? Home of Baihumon? What on earth are Daniel and Clark going there for?

JagerLoweemon crested a ridge, then stopped and sniffed the air. He made a satisfied noise. “Luck is on our side. I have the scent of a Dark Spore. They are not far.”

-----

As the sun sunk below the horizon, Clark, Daniel, and Keiko set up camp in a flat clearing between several large peaks and relayed the day’s revelations to their awake but still tired and weak partners. Blue was willing to accept Commandramon as a friend, though Tsukaimon remained wary and kept an eye on the newcomer’s baby form. 

“Lay off him, Tsukaimon,” Keiko scolded. “Even if he wanted to hurt us still he can’t exactly do it like this.”

“I don’t think either of us blame her, honestly,” replied Clark. “No offense, Commandramon, but as soon as you can talk again we really do need an explanation.”

Somehow, the three-eyed bomb managed to look sheepish. 

The Digimon present suddenly perked up. “Something’s coming,” said Tsukaimon.

“Fast,” added Blue. 

Clark swore. “Hide, all of you.”

“Too late, It’s here,” said Blue.

Into the clearing skidded a mass of black and gold metal. Most of the team present reacted in shock at what they saw.

“JagerLoweemon?” “Green?” “Andrew?!”

Green jumped down from JagerLoweemon’s back and gave Andrew’s leg a tug, getting the human to do the same. The two of them stood there awkwardly for a moment, before Green spoke up.

“I, uh, don’t really know what to say,” he admitted, “but we need your help. And… we’re sorry.”

Everyone started talking at once, the questions overlapping into an unintelligible mess of noise. Why are you here, what happened, are you still evil, why are you with them, is this the JagerLoweemon you were talking about…

The din was finally broken by JagerLoweemon roaring, startling everybody into silence. 

“I can confirm that the source of darkness within these two is gone,” he said, “Now they need your help. Ask your questions of each other. I will go keep watch. We may have been followed.” With that, JagerLoweemon leapt up, jumping between the peaks surrounding the clearing until he reached the top of the tallest one. 

“So it really was a Dark Spore that made you act like that,” Daniel half asked and half exclaimed. “But you’re back now, right? You’re better?”

“Yeah,” Andrew said, his voice weak and shaky, “We’re back. But we aren’t staying.”

“What?” Exclaimed everyone present, including Green. 

“What are you talking about, of course we’re staying!” Shouted Green.

“How?” asked Andrew. “How can we stay? After what we did. What I did. I can’t even face Daniel and Clark like this.” Indeed, he couldn’t meet his brother or friend’s eyes.

“But… You’re better now,” Daniel seemed to be trying to convince himself along with his brother. The Andrew that stood before him seemed almost as alien as the one under the Dark Spore’s influence. Andrew was confident and always read to jump in. This one seemed defeated, like a husk of his former self. 

“Those things you did, they felt right at the time, didn’t they? Like something you would do normally?”

Andrew looked up in shock at the girl, the one traveling with Daniel and Clark whose name he didn’t know. He hadn’t given her a second thought after seeing her at the Caps Lock Crater, and yet somehow she had just summed up his experience perfectly.

“H-how?” He asked.

“Because I went through the same thing,” she said, much to his shock. 

“JagerLoweemon said someone here went through the same thing as us! This must be her!” Green said.

“My name is Keiko,” she said. “My Dark Spore made me arrogant and cruel. It made me think of other people as insects. And it seemed so natural. I was turned into the worst version of myself and I never even noticed. But the important part is that I got better. Heck, I know people who had it way worse than me, and they got better too. 

Andrew was tearing up. He managed to choke out one word. “How?”

“I can help you with that,” Keiko said, “but in the end only you can make yourself better.”

“But I’ll help!” Daniel butted in. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you. And Green too.”

“Yeah!” Said Blue, “You got my help!”

“And me,” added Clark. 

Andrew dropped to his knees as tears poured down his face. “Thank you,” he choked out. “Thank you all so much.”

Before anyone could say anything else, JagerLoweemon landed in the clearing, having left the peak. 

“The D-Brigade is coming, three Cargodramon. I do not know if they know our precise location.” 

“Those Cargodramon are probably full of soldiers,” Clark added. “This is bad. Can any of you Digivolve to Ultimate?”

“I can,” said Green. “I’ve had time to rest.”

“We got our asses kicked earlier today,” said Tsukaimon. “I honestly don’t know if I can get there.”

“Then we need to sneak attack them before they can overwhelm us,” Clark stated. “JagerLoweemon, can you help?”

“I will do what I can, but I cannot face three Ultimates on my own,” said the lion. 

“Come on, Blue, we have to try, right?” Daniel held out his crest as his partner nodded. 

Dracomon Digivolve to… Coredramon! Coredramon Digivolve to… Nope, can’t do it.

Blue collapsed on the ground in his Coredramon form. “Sorry, guys, this is as far as I can go.”

“Here, let me try,” Said Tsukaimon. 

Tsukaimon Digivolve to… Oh come on!

Tsukaimon didn’t even manage to get to her Champion form before collapsing. 

“You did get beat up worse than me,” Blue tried to assuage Tsukaimon’s frustration. Naturally, it didn’t work. 

“Then it is up to the two of us,” said JagerLoweemon.

“I’m not good at fighting flying enemies,” Green added.

“Then I will try to knock them out of the sky.” With that, JagerLoweemon leapt back up to the clifftops. 

“Come on, Andrew, I’ll need more space than this to Digivolve.” Green walked out of the clearing and the other humans and Digimon followed him. 

The sound of Cargodramon engines were clearly audible by the time Green found enough space to fit his Ultimate level form. 

“Alright, Andrew, let’s do this!” Green. Andrew Nodded and held out his crest.

Dracomon Digivolve to… Dracomon!

“Uhh, Green, it didn’t work,” said Blue. 

Green looked down at himself to see he had not Digivolved. “Huh? What happened?”

“Andrew,” said Clark, “Your heart’s not in it, is it?”

Andrew was breathing heavily. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can help. What if we just make things worse?”

From above came the sound of an explosion. With a horrible whining noise, a Cargodramon fell from the sky and crashed somewhere out of sight with a thunderous explosion. Sounds of gunfire started up as the remaining two Cargodramon began firing their miniguns. 

“Come on, Andrew!” shouted Green. “JagerLoweemon is up there risking his life for us! We need to help!”

“I know!” Yelled Andrew. “I’m trying but I can’t! I’m- I’m scared!” He started to say something else, but suddenly found Clark’s hand in front of his face. Clutched between his fingers was a crest marked with three interlocking yellow circles. 

“Do you remember when we got these?” Clark asked. “Mine is the crest of loyalty. What’s yours?”

“The crest of duty,” answered Andrew. 

“That’s right,” said Clark. “You always said you want to make the world a better place. Well, part of that is making up for your mistakes. You got your mind messed with by the Dark Spore, you did awful things. Now pick up after yourself. Make amends.”

“That’s right,” Daniel added. “You’re the one who told me you need to fix your mistakes. I believe in you, Andrew.”

Andrew took a deep breath, then nodded. “You’re right. I need to make up for what I did. Starting with saving our lives right now.” His crest began to glow, releasing a deep green light. “You ready, Green?”

“Heck yeah, Andrew! And I have an idea. Blue, want to help out?”

Blue nodded. “Tell me what to do.”

-----

“Schwarz Donner!” JagerLoweemon spat a burst of black energy at one of the Cargodramon, but it rose in the air to avoid the attack. JagerLoweemon had taken out one of the D-Brigade Digimon in a sneak attack, but the other two were proving very difficult to fight. Now aware of his presence, the two remaining Cargodramon were systematically hunting him as he leapt from peak to peak. Their teamwork was impeccable. They provided cover for each other and attacked from different directions with their guns and onboard crew to keep the lion on the move and deny him the chance to strike. JagerLoweemon ducked behind a rock that was quickly obliterated by gunfire. As he leapt to the next bit of cover, he saw something. A blue Coredramon flying into the sky holding a Dracomon in its arms. 

What in the Digital World are they doing? Thought JagerLoweemon. A second later, he got his answer when the Coredramon flew over the two Cargodramon and dropped his payload. 

Dracomon Digivolve to… Coredramon! Coredramon Digivolve to… Groundramon!

In the blink of an eye, a behemoth appeared above the two D-Brigade Digimon, its incredible bulk plummeting toward them.

“Scrapless Claw!” Each of Groundramon’s massive wing arms grabbed onto one of the two Cargodramon before they could react. Now pulled downward by the dragon’s momentum, each of them were crushed against the sides of the cliffs, ground to scrap with the crew inside crushed into raw data. Before hitting the ground, Groundramon de-Digivolved back to Dracomon just in time to be caught by the blue Coredramon. 

JagerLoweemon followed the two down to the ground, where they were reuniting with the humans. 

“That was either the most brilliant or most reckless thing I have ever seen. Probably both.”

“Yeah,” said the one called Clark. “They’re good at that.”

“Thanks, everyone,” said Andrew. “I really needed that. I think I’m ready to start working on myself now.”

“And we’ll be here to help you,” said Daniel. “All of us.”

“And we’re going to start,” Clark said, “By getting you some sleep.”

Yes, JagerLoweemon thought to himself, these two are in good hands.