#i know the companions of the hall die at one point and come back as baby (???) but it is now or later?

[rakkikuroba]

I have to read 6 whole books before Artemis comes back :(

[murmishhy]

I had this headcanon that Orin makes these bloodthirsty remarks to Gortash because that's how Durge used to talk to him. She is trying to torture Gortash with the same lines Durge used on him, hoping to break him, but since Durge is gone, Gortash rarely loses control. The same lines that used to provoke him now make him want to throw up. Gortash is still a tyrant, and the loss of his dearest probably upsets him. However, he was alone but fine before them, so he will be fine after them, again. He's so close to triumph that he probably isn't considering his plans could even fail. A rogue true soul? He thinks they are just a hindrance, but once that true soul shows up at his door, he's doomed. He can work alone and achieve his goals, but once Durge enters Wyrm's Rock Castle, he remembers how much he doesn't want to be alone anymore. How much he wants to share the triumph with his equal, his nearest, his dearest. He doesn't care if they remember; he doesn't care if they want to stop him. He still wants them by his side, even though all their actions are against the Absolute. He still offers them a share in his victory. Like, my dude, your lovely assassin just killed Ketheric, an immortal general who is Myrkul's Chosen. They don't care about your plan; they're coming for you next. Plus, Durge is one hell of a charmer; they singlehandedly convinced all their enemies to kill themselves. Gortash must know how they can deceive their enemies, yet he still chooses to trust they’ll work with him. He's definitely lost control at this point. He's no longer fine with Orin usurping Durge's place. He's no longer fine with Orin being alive. He doesn't even see that his equal isn't looking at him the same way they used to. He doesn't realize that his equal's eyes turn to one of their companions, seeking comfort and advice when he offers to be partners again. He doesn't pick up on hints he normally would because once Durge, the only one he considers his equal, enters the hall, he's no longer Bane's Chosen, the terrifying tyrant, or the brilliant inventor. He's the child abandoned by his parents, the child who craves love and appreciation, the child who blindly trusts the adults in his life. Gortash thrives when he's alone; he uses people, makes plans, and follows through. That's his coping mechanism; he was always alone, and he doesn't trust others as a result. But Durge changes something in him, something he's not even aware is there. He trusts them, almost childishly, to be by his side, just like a child believes their parents will always be there for them. Deep down, Gortash is still the same child who's terrified of being alone. He's still the same child who thinks his parents actually loved him, hoping they would come back and take him away from Raphael. Just like his parents never came to save him, Durge, too, won't save him, ever again. Gortash isn't offering Durge an agreement to use them or to replace the unpredictable Orin; he offers them a place by his side because he needs them. Because he's lost control and because he's still the same child who wants to be loved. Just like how Durge once lost control and with it, their life, Gortash is doomed to follow in their footsteps. They are just children who were not loved and who were used. One broke free of the cycle. One healed, was forgiven, and even found a healthier love. But the other wasn't given a choice. The other didn't have a chance to change and be forgiven. The other had to die alone and suffer for eternity, just as he suffered his whole life.

And now I'm crying.

[blackjackkent]

Minsc!

"Breathe deep, Boo! The small of hero sings from every stone in this place!" He claps Hector on the shoulder so hard that Hector rocks sideways on his feet. "To meet again where your journey began, my friend - an honor! For Minsc and his hamster both!"

Boo gives a trilling squeak and makes a circle where he stands on Minsc's shoulder.

The berserker pauses, gestures to a small and nervous-looking halfling who is busying himself with a table of wares behind him. "Oh, and for Happy, also."

"Yes, erm... honored, of course," the halfling says nervously.

Hector blinks, puzzled. "It's good to see you, Minsc," he agrees. "Boo too. And... Happy...?" He tips his head politely towards the halfling, a question in his eyes.

Minsc laughs jovially and slaps the unhappy-looking fellow on the shoulder. "Hah. See how your very presence snatches the breath from his chest," he tells Hector cheerfully. "And it is no wonder! It is just this day that Happy learned of your legend while we gazed down upon the very city you saved!"

"He d-dangled me from the High Hall," Happy says with nervous indignation. "Upside-down. For two hours."

Minsc shrugs. "The Guild should not go creeping in high places if they do not have the stomach for them, hm? It is well for Happy the strange portal appeared when it did. Minsc's arm was growing achesome."

Hector isn't sure whether to laugh or not and settles for an expression of mild bemusement. "You're still chasing after the Guild? I thought you'd made your peace with them."

"So I have!" Minsc says brightly. "Though it is a peace made more from blade and boot than it is any sense of brotherhood." He spreads his arms in a dramatic gesture. "Nine-Fingers forbade any looting of the illithid's fleshy vessels - and so Minsc guards what remains of the battle-site, even from her." He nudges Hector in the side. "But where Minsc might once have thrown any sneaking scoundrels from the tower-top, now I tell them of you! How you ruled the wickedness within. How they might do the same."

Hector really does smile now, albeit a bit ruefully. He still has little interest in his 'legend' and tales and songs of his exploits, but if he must be remembered, he supposes he would prefer Minsc's rendition - painting him as a master of inward control and stalwart against evil - than whatever Volo is likely to come up with.

"Yes, yes," the hapless Guild man puts in eagerly. "I'll rule it! I'll be better!"

"Though of course," Minsc says casually, "it is still for Boo to decide if they live or die."

"Oh. Oh, gods," Happy mumbles morosely.

"But enough, my friend!" Minsc says, turning back to Hector and summarily ignoring the little halfling. "I cannot tell your tale if I do not know the whole of it! Minsc and Boo would know where you have been, what you have done!"

"I've been in the Hells with Karlach," Hector answers promptly. "Fighting off devils and looking for a cure for her heart."

"Oh, Boo!" Minsc says excitedly. "Do you know what it would mean, to find a cure for Karlach's heart?" A loud squeak from Boo. "Exactly! Her heart would be cured!" He slaps Hector on the shoulder again. "When this day comes, you must come and bunk with Minsc and Boo. Fear not - we sleep in that sewer no longer. It is a *different* sewer, much less damp beneath the bedroll."

Hector chuckles noncommittally. Minsc looks down imperiously at his new charge.

"Now, halfling. Boo will not have you embarrassing him in front of his friends - so you ought to know the rest of the company you keep." He begins to gesture around the camp, pointing out each of his companions one by one.

"Wyll Ravengard, the Blade of Frontiers! Devil-horned and angel-hearted!"

"Lae'zel! Of Creche Killer! True Child of Gith and true friend to Boo - though she will 'CHK!' and say it is not so!"

"Astarion, who is banished by the sun itself for fear his spawnish soul might outshine it! (We visit with him much down in the dark places," he adds to Hector conspiratorially, "though he often moves his lair without remembering to tell Minsc where.)"

"Gale, the man-who-would-be-a-god, but-then-thought-better-of-it! Boo thinks better of *him* for it too."

"Shadowheart! Two gods tugged at her soul, but she managed to keep it for all herself in the end. Wait... Boo... did she do something with her hair?"

"Halsin, Archdruid of Arch-- somewhere. He is a much better man than he smells."

"And there, the champion of the Hells herself! Karlach Demonsbane! Devilsbane! Myrkul-, Bhaal-, and Bane-bane! Once the Guild is made of goodness once more, Boo shall scratch the hells wide open and find a way to bring her back!"

"And finally... Jaheira. If this is a name you do not already know, then not even Boo can save you!"

Hector grins to himself, listening to this litany of his friends. The halfling shifts nervously.

Minsc smiles . "Study them well, sneak-thief, for the best among them will be a guide for your Guild. Heroes, who put the city before themselves. Who never falter in their duty. And more than this--" He narrows his eyes pointedly. "Who never arrive to a party without even a gift for the host."

Happy swallows. "But-- wait--"

Minsc waves Hector off. "Go, my friend. Be among our friends; there is much work yet to be done before this one is fit to join them."

Hector wanders off, feeling - as he often does after talking to Minsc - incredibly bewildered.

[marshmallowloves]

I already have a self insert goddess for Hades but I'm kind of in love with this new human AU...thing I've been thinking of, very loosely inspired by a fic I read - which is, what if Cici frickin' died and was a shade. and just kinda rolls up into the House of Hades like (Dan Avidan in the "mark zuckerberg" bit voice) "I'm very tired" gkshfkg. I dunno if her name will actually be Cici, but that's what I'll call her right now for the sake of simplicity.

so here's the story I have for her so far (read: kinda bullshitting it as I go fjshf) sorry it's long -u-;;

TL;DR: tired mortal girl is visited regularly by Hypnos in her dreams to help her sleep, and becomes his favorite. Dies young in her sleep, reunites with him in the House of Hades as a shade, strings get pulled by Zagreus and now (bill wurtz voice) that's just where she lives.

In life, she was an all around normal but very nice human. She spent a lot of time doing things for others around her so they were happy and content, even in the dead of night - so much that she eventually started to neglect her own wellbeing without realizing it.

During one such sleepless night, where she's so exhausted but fighting to stay awake that she slips in and out of consciousness, she's visited by the god of sleep himself. He sees that she's deserving of a good rest for once, and chats away with her in her semi-conscious state for a brief time, before lulling her into a deep and peaceful sleep.

It becomes kind of a Thing™ between them, where Hypnos visits and spends the night with her when she struggles to sleep. (and it gives reason as to why he's sometimes absent from the main hall in-game 👀) He never learns her name, but for some reason he can't figure out, this mortal is just so interesting to him that he keeps coming back. She fights to stay awake, but loves his visits and revels in the rest that he gives her, she's so kind and she looks so cute when she sleeps... altogether it's a series of pleasant visits for the both of them.

One night in her dreams, she feels...strange, and weaker. When Hypnos visits, he solemnly explains that she has died in her sleep. He's here to give her one more night of peaceful rest and pleasant company in the mortal realm before his brother comes to guide her away. Hypnos tells her that of the few living mortals he's ever gotten to visit, she was his favorite.

When she emerges from the Pool of Styx, she's quite confused. But she's ushered into line, where she recognizes her companion in the night keeping track of the shades like her. She asks him what happened, and he reads her name off his list. Says there that she neglected her health in life, and died in her sleep from the complications it caused - and quite early in her short human life, to boot, what a shame...

He doesn't seem to recognize her as he explains this...which is weird, because he's usually aware of people who die in their sleep - it's the closest thing he gets to spending time with his brother, after all. But she says they do know each other - he used to visit her and help her sleep, lending her the comfort of his plush robe and their gentle chats.

And then, after a moment, he recognizes the color of her sleep clothes, and those soft blue eyes...his favorite human was here again, and it's all he can do to keep from sweeping her up in his arms again - Lord Hades is right there watching, after all - and neither of them want to leave each other's side again just yet.

This is where I kinda start reaching, but I figure at this point Zagreus has gotten pretty close to everyone in the house, maybe it's even post-Persephone so things are less tense overall? And I imagine he pulls some strings to let Cici stay in the house, as a favor to Hypnos. I dunno what kind of deal gets struck... I thought about her being hired to work with the contractor, but she's the one who does the more simple decorative stuff like the rugs and floral arrangements?

I dunno but either way she kinda stays under Hypnos' watch, stays in his room most of the time (...I like to think he has a room there fksjg) but sometimes gets to hang out in the lounge or interact with Zagreus.

[hallothere]

35 for faramir 1 + a friend?

oh ho ho (this did get kinda dark-wth-a-happy-ending tho)

"You deserve better than this. You deserve better."

"I do, do I? And you know so much about me and what I deserve?"

The stranger pushed his words away. He swatted them like flies, looked confused, and then made the motion again. "I am not... all myself. My thoughts are muddled, yes, but I know this much. You need not share my fate. I earned--"

He rolled again as if to be sick, but neither of them had eaten recently. Dagoras held on. The stranger shook, clutching alternately between his head, his throat, his chest, his stomach- there seemed to be too many sources of pain for him to cope with at once.

"It will be vile torment," he spoke again, "and I can do nothing to stop it. I will-" the words didn't want to come, "-have to watch you die. You who have shown me nothing but kindness."

Dagoras almost chuckled. Such a pronouncement might've been avoided in order to bolster his spirits. But the man before him was so consumed in misery that he couldn't manage at manners. He was sick or hurt or both, and deeply. Sick at heart perhaps, and in such a state of dread that he could not stand.

Dagoras had expected to find missing scouts in this hidden vale, not prisoners. And he had not expected to become a prisoner himself. But, he had not come alone, and his companions had not come unwary.

Finally, the man opened his eyes. The hollow, desperate look took him aback. It reminded him of a man starved, of a corpse's misery.

"I will beg." The stranger said. "I will throw myself at his mercy. Then, you will have to run, for he will not heed me. He will let me try for as long as I can before killing you. So you must make good your escape." He reached within the bundle of spare linens that made up his clothes.

"Take this." It was a piece of metal, a sliver no longer than his hand. "I would rather it serve you."

Take it he did, though Dagoras did it more to ease the poor man's nerves than anything else. Their situation didn't seem so dire as all that, though the stranger sounded like he knew a lot more about this place than he.

"Who is it that you're so afraid of?" Dagoras asked. "It's better if I know the man I'll have to kill to free us."

The stranger started to shake. "Please. Please run instead. I have seen too many." He gripped Dagoras' arm and fought down another heave. "I will not survive much more. Run and save yourself. Burudagath-"

"Burudagath?" Dagoras interrupted. At least his suspicions that the man was Gondorian were confirmed. "I know that name. He was killed before his own altar, slain by the shades of wainriders. Under the very banner of Ondoher he defiled. Many men and artifacts of Gondor were saved, and will be restored." His voice softened in sympathy. "Were you his prisoner there?"

Now the man was trembling in earnest. He looked as if he might shake apart, like a stack of wine glasses in the back of a cart.

"I have a friend in the vale." Dagoras tried a different tack. "And my 'cousins' in the White Company. They know I've been gone. I've been rescued from worse traps than this. They will come for us. And Mithrandir! He's in the area too. Burudagath is gone, and our allies will see this evil undone."

At some point the trembling man had stilled, though he stared at the floor instead of at Dagoras. His eyes flicked back and forth across the ground, then at his hands. It wasn't clear if he was listening, or if he was back in the muddled state Dagoras had met him in.

"Where are you from?" He tried again. "I have only seen some of Gondor- and that briefly- so I would be glad to accompany you to your home."

At first, the man's reply was so soft Dagoras couldn't hear it. "I'm sorry, these old ears aren't quite as sharp as they used to-"

"Minas Anor."

The answer and the voice were much clearer. He blinked. There was only one Minas Anor he knew, and that was in the record halls.

"I swore to perform my duty to Gondor in the walls of Minas Anor." The man sounded distant, but sturdier. "I fell under the spear of the wainrider chieftain, and languished on the plain of Dagorlad." He turned to Dagoras with a haunted, but more lifelike look in his eyes. "I fought and charged the hill of my father's final stand. I came before the bloodletter... before the bloodletter undaunted and then--"

He looked around as if seeing their surroundings for the first time. Now it was Dagoras' turn to feel the apprehension rise.

"By the cradle of Morloth..." he said, and a shiver ran down Dagoras' spine.

[talesofsonicasura]

A King's Musings

A warrior king thinks about his peculiar guests and the face of the person who brought them.

Part of the Past/Present/Future Trio! Best to check that out first, especially the comments and reblogs, or else you'll just be super confused.

Damas would admit that Jak will never fail to surprise and worry him. The young man alongside his smaller companion had been gone for two weeks ever since they snuck into the Monk's Temple. It wasn't no lie that a good chunk of his Spargus citizens than just their king were a bit worried.

Jak and Daxter peculiar dynamic helped ease the tension from the serious matters outside the walls. It's hard to not be amused by youths getting into ridiculous but mostly harmless antics. Something that felt needed when the problems at hand aren't the usually ones for his people. These were much larger and dangerous matters that even his unaware citizens can sense.

Then not even an hour into the night did the Spargan King received a message from his most trusted friend, Sig. Jak and Daxter had been found but they weren't alone. Two other boys were with them, one who had a lethal allergic reaction to sunlight. It was enough extra motivation for Damas to come over alongside an escort and get the four youths back to Spargus before sunrise.

The King was about to arrange separate rooms for the other two boys but they all insisted on staying with the "Demolition Duo". It wasn't hard to notice the kindredship between them. One of sworn brothers ready to burn the world to ashes for each other.

"I figured I would find you wandering the halls again." Damas turned away from his thoughts to look at an approaching Sig. Although he couldn't help but raise a brow at the bits of feathers stuck haphazardly on the man's armor. "Old habits die hard my friend. Let me guess, a pillow fight?"

The man playfully rolled his only organic eye at his king's query. "Blue Cherry has one hell of a swing. Knocked the air outta me real good than just make a pillow explode. I can only imagine taking a hit from him as a full grown adult." James Lake Jr or "Jim" being the young man's preference.

A half human/half 'troll' who shared a very similar situation to Jak. Sadly he couldn't change back to what he once was from how it been phrased. The boy could easily be mistaken for being part Lurker if he didn't have that smooth stone hide and horns. Maybe a subspecies?

Jim was sixteen but dwarfed Damas by a foot if you weren't counting the horns. It isn't hard to see what his sworn brother meant as the boy still had some growing to do. They were lucky Kleiver hadn't thrown out his old PJs when he was a teenager. Between the four, Jim is more outspoken and approachable.

"An agreed sentiment as the young man has no doubt seen his fair share of the battlefield if he shares Jak's predicament. Though I bet it was Link who started their little fight." Damas' smile could barely conceal the heartache that stung his soul.

The world of a warrior wasn't a kind one. Every man and woman will face their own unspeakable horrors as war is bound to find them at some point. The eyes that a 10 year child should never be cursed to have. Link was painfully close in personality to his lost son, Mar.

An innocent youth with a knack for getting into mischief and prefers to use sign language than his voice. Sadly Link's innocence had also been robbed in the same way his fellow brothers lost theirs. By men like the Green Eco Sage who believes children should hold the weight of the world on their shoulders.

"Little Cherry is as clever as his aim. He already knew the right trajectory and timing to throw so he could hit my face before I even opened the door. Jak got himself some competition when the boy's old enough to pick up a gun."

Damas snorted at the image of his friend being met with a pillow to the face. There were already some rumors about Link being the King's secret love child amongst his guards. "I'm glad to know they're making themselves comfortable already. Hopefully the boys don't decide to throw another pillow fight in their new room."

"So when you are going to start working on those adoption papers? Just know that you have to do shared custody for Jim cause his mother might beat you with a broom if otherwise." Sig chuckles at the pointed look from Damas.

He knew his sworn brother's fatherly instincts when it came to lost children like the four boys. Damas is family man at heart and he always wanted to give Mar siblings. When his son disappeared, it wasn't hard to notice the sorrow in the man's eyes.

It hurt to find Damas sitting on Mar's bed with his son's favorite Crocadog plush in hand. No updates on the lost boy for over a year just made it worse. There been a few leads but they were muddle before absolute silence once Kor was dead. Although some reports were linked to two particular boys who slowly been healing Damas' heartache.

There was something about the Demolition Duo, especially Jak, that resonated with the King of Spargus. A very familiar bond that neither parties could identify but can definitely feel. Kinda like... Both men hadn't noticed they had stop in front of Jak's room. Unlike 20 minutes ago, it was quite silent.

Damas and Sig looked at each before the latter silently open the door. The room had been overtaken by feathers that once made their home in the pile of torn pillow cases at the farthest corner. Jak and Link's items were closer to the bed especially the youngest peculiar "Fierce Deity" mask which sat on an intact pillow.

It wasn't difficult to find the room's occupants. All four boys were all fast asleep, huddled together in a slightly awkward cuddle pile. Jim was behind everyone as his head rested on Jak's chest alongside Link and arms held the two smaller blondes. The youngest boy nestled himself against the oldest with a firm grip almost if to make sure he won't disappear.

Jak was in the center of the two whilst Daxter laid behind his head, curled up like a feline. A very rare sight to behold as the duo still had issues when it came to sleeping. Haven City hadn't been so kind to their health from the constant mission reports Sig gotten ahold of during his stay.

The heartwarming scene felt very familiar to Damas, too familiar. Soft peaceful expression on Jak's face as his body was held in the safety of his brothers. Just like...

Realization hit Damas harder than a gun handle to the teeth. "Sig, get me every report involving Jak's stay in Haven. I'll be in my private studies as there's something I need to check. The answers we been seeking about Mar's disappearance is much closer than we thought."

Sig quietly headed off while the king look back at the sleeping youth, specifically Jak. The image of a little greenish blonde child surrounded by blankets as he held a plush crocadog to his chest paint the king's mind. "Please let me be right."

The door closed without a sound as darkness gently blanket the room once more.

And that's it. I'm a sucker for Dadmas just like Fierce Dadity so I couldn't resist. Figured I give Jim a break from the madness he's been subjected to on my main blog. Still on a Trollhunters kick so it'll taking longer to get other stuff done.

Life has also been insane as curveballs keep coming. I'm currently working on the next chapter for Of Bug Cults and Living Stone while proofreading my older works. Until next time folks, I'll see you back at the crossroads between Spargus, Arcadia and Hyrule!

@radioactivepeasant @hermitdrabbles56

[esoteric-mantra-stuff]

Apollo and Artemis (A Maiden of the Stars continuation)

CW: Blood, Self-harm (kinda), Mentions of parental and Twonished death. Also, just general body horror relating to the demi-human population of Farum Azula.

This is a continuation of the Maiden of the Stars path, which starts with Castor. If you have not read that one, then this one won't make sense. Also apologies in advance for posting to the sad path first. The next upload should be the next part of the Champion of Embers path so get excited for that.

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

When you wake up, you’re somewhere you’ve never seen before. There’s a constant rushing of wind in your ears, and you can smell the scent of Demi-humans nearby. Out of habit, you look around and expect to see your companion sleeping beside you, but the woman is nowhere to be found. As much as you may try to forget or deny it happened, as much as your mind might play tricks on you, she’s dead. There’s a sick feeling building in your throat, and your legs won’t obey when you try You’re left staring at the ground, watching your tears wet the stone beneath you. She’s gone… truly gone, Yet another person you failed to save. You tried keeping things together for your love, to give her a proper goodbye. Now that you’re alone, all the feelings come rushing out of you. Your hand curls into a fist, and you pound the ground repeatedly. You know there’s no point. She went on her own terms, and there’s nothing you could have done, but the pain you feel in your heart is still there. This is the only thing you can think to do. There’s nothing else. You scream at the top of your lungs, probably scaring some creatures wandering nearby. You’ve always been mindful of the natural volume of your voice, but just this once, you’ll let the feelings be ripped out of you in whatever pathetic shape it may take.

When you calm down, your hand is bloodied, and your throat is sore. No matter how much you may wish to curl up and let the world pass you by, you need to keep going. It’s the only way you can keep your promises to the dead. You won’t let what happened with your mother repeat itself. That’s not what she would want. You stand up, your feet still uneasy, and the world sways like a boat on a storm. You spot a path up ahead, leading further into the destroyed city. Only one way to go All you have to do is keep moving forward. You take one step. You almost trip, but you keep going. You take another, and another, and another. You keep going… and you don’t look back.

You fall gracelessly from one floating chunk of road to another. It leads onto an ancient path passing close to the storm raging in the very heart of Farum Azula. As you step into the ruined halls of Crumbling Farum Azula, you pass by piles of Demi-Human corpses littered haphazardly in every corner. Frozen solid, jagged ice crystals burst through the flesh, and the arms clinging to their brutish weapons remain poised to attack even in death. The path of destruction continues into the room ahead. You sense her presence. What is she doing here?

—--------------

It was a surprise to feel her approach you at the Moonlight Altar. Even more when she brought up your father. You were half expecting the other shoe to drop when she started apologizing. You might have told her to pack up her 10-rune apology and get to the part where she asks something of you, but it felt like a step back to do so now that you decided to put your mother’s death behind you. Besides, you didn’t just kill a father, but also a brother. Ranni had as much of a right to demand justice as you did. Yet here she was, actually admitting fault for her actions. 9-year-old-you would have never thought he would see the day.

“… I hath forgotten that Blaidd wast my brother before being my shadow. I believed in my desperation for the Age of Stars to cometh that any sacrifice wouldst be worth the coming freedom. Blaidd’s fate wast to die for me… I did accept that fact once I took the dark path of the empyrean.” Ranni said. You both sat side by side on the stairs near the entrance to the ruined chapel. “When she came to me and confronted me over my callousness with his life, I only thought her a fool. What woudst she knoweth of fate? Blaidd’s feelings on the matter were irrelevant. Now, however, I understand….” She looks… tired, perhaps. Ranni’s presence always makes her look bigger than she is, larger than life, a demi-god trapped under ceramic and twine. Now, she appears so tiny and frail, like a discarded toy someone abandoned. “Blaidd’s heart wouldst always belongeth to her. The mind couldst be broken, the soul torn apart, but the heart longed to return by her side. His mind couldst never conceive of treason, yet her death destroyeth him in a way he wouldst never recover from. And I… I chose to ignore it. What he wanted… was irrelevant.” The witch stared at you, not hiding behind the brim of her hat for once. “Perhaps, I merely chooseth to forget my love for my brother, that I wouldst think his suffering to be inevitable, that’s why when thine companion brought this to me, I was awash with… guilt.” From her cloak, she pulled out a tiny golden thing glimmering in the moonlight. A needle. Your lover did mention something of the sort being given to her by the queen. “This trinket wouldst hath freed him to pursueth her, and yet in my doggedness to find absolution in the stars, I didst not think to look beyond that which was right before mine eyes. Hath I fought for Blaidd’s fate, perhaps he wouldst be here still….”

Her ceramic features didn’t betray any emotion, but her voice sounded more pained than you had ever heard from her. If that was all an act, she damned well deserved an award. She looked down, hat hiding her expression, hands folded over her lap in an oddly demure fashion. “I doth not expect mine apology to abate thy hatred of me, nor do I expect thee to acceptest it. Thy mother paid the price for my foolishness. She gave up her life to protecteth the brother I forsook. I cannot give her back, nor the childhood I robbed from thee and thine siblings… I hope that I can at least help in thine endeavors, for there is naught else I can do to repair what has been broken by mine hand….” The witch didn’t look up, and silence fell between you. You were hesitant to say anything, not because you had nothing to say but because her confession left you with several disparate thoughts. As the silence became uncomfortable, you decided that saying the first thing that came to your mind would be better than saying nothing.

The two of you talked about a lot of things that night. That was how you learned of your partner’s destiny. How you came up with your attempt to save her. It was desperate, and you’re still unsure if your plan would have worked, but you needed to do something. Ranni had told you it was better to do the scheme without telling her, but you didn’t want that. She needed a chance to choose, at least. You might have kept other things secret, but Ranni wouldn’t budge on those.

“… I don’t hate you.” You uttered, inwardly wishing you were better with words once she stared up at you with an unknowable stare. Regardless of how uncomfortable you were, you kept going. “… And, well, I don’t think you should be expected to carry all the blame. Father died because of me… that’s undeniable. You may not be able to return my lost childhood or mother to me, but I robbed you of telling your brother all of this yourself… I think… Yeah, let’s just call it even.” It’s better this way. Ranni… if she felt the way she said, you would forgive her. It doesn’t make it right, but… If there’s any hope for absolution to be yours, then it would only be fair to grant her an opportunity to change. Ranni stayed quiet, her brim hiding her expression from view. You wondered if maybe you said something dumb before she removed the hat, revealing the delicate features of her doll. Her eyes, incapable of tears, felt adrift with the most emotion you’ve seen from the princess, while her mouth was quirked up, amused by the bluntness of your words. “... Hath anyone told thee thou art strange?” You nodded, feeling yourself smile a little at the interaction. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” She laughed (and it absolutely caught you off guard how normal it all is.)

Well, none of that matters any longer, does it? Then why can’t you stop thinking about it?

—--------------

You find Ranni just a few rooms ahead, past a Site of Lost Grace, more Demi-human corpses left in her wake. She stands by the frozen corpse of an unfortunate dragon, her staff still gleaming with the cold magic that delivered the swift but brutal death to the creature. Its limbs were mangled by the ice crystals that ruptured from beneath the skin. The wings ruptured and bent at an uncomfortable-looking angle. However, you’re not impressed by the violent display of Ranni’s power. Demi-gods love to show off, don’t they?

Ranni senses your approach and turns towards you, grabbing the rim of her hat with one of her left hands as the storm threatens to blow it away. “Hey….” You say rather awkwardly. You were not expecting to meet like this again, even less so now that the plan failed. What could you even say? Luckily, she understands your predicament and does the greetings by herself. “I was looking for thee… I’m glad thou art well, even if perhaps the circumstances aren’t so joyful.” She makes eye contact with you. Her expression is inscrutable. “I am sorry I could not help thee after all….” She says. You shake your head and look into the raging storm slowly devouring this ancient city. “What are apologizing for? There’s nothing you or I could have done differently, is there?” You instinctively grip your bandaged hand. It stings, but it’s healing. No matter how much you may be tempted to obsess over it, this was her choice. Ranni can’t take fault for it. Nobody can. The witch stands beside you, staring into the storm as well. You both stay quiet for a long time. There’s nothing else to say. You’ll have to make peace with it, no matter how difficult. It's what she would want.

There’s something you need to hand back to her. You pull the little doll out of your pack. A keepsake Ranni gave you before your visit to the Haligtree. It was supposed to protect your love in case the plan went awry. If you couldn’t control the flames of ruin. You twisted the doll’s neck; it snapped with a crack of ceramic and twine. You turned the body upside down, and from the hollow inside came tumbling the golden needle you were looking for. Talking through the doll, Ranni had asked you to complete the Unalloyed Gold Needle she had been given by your companion as part of the plan. It proved easy enough to find the massive Scarlet Aeonia planted in the deepest roots of Miquella’s sacred tree. Even easier to sink it into its pinkish flesh and let it absorb the essence of rot. With it completed, your companion would have a way to fight you if you fell under the flames’ control. Although now it's mostly useless.

She eyes your hand as you give the Needle back to her. The witch gingerly takes it with delicate porcelain fingers and stores it somewhere under her robes. “I thank thee.” She mutters, still weary of touching the subject of your botched plan. “What shalt thou doth now? Wilt thou continue thy search for Destined Death…?” You toss the doll and watch it as it's swept by the wind current and swallowed by the whirling tornado. At least this way, there will be no litter. Ranni doesn’t say anything, but you feel her icy glare more than you see it. You let a small smile form on your lips as you look at her. “Sorry, It was getting too tense here.” Your smile widens when she places her hand over her face in disappointment. For a mastermind responsible for the biggest tragedy of the Lands Between besides The Shattering, Ranni can be almost endearing sometimes. “And yes, that’s the plan. I’m getting to the Elden Throne no matter what. I have… I have a promise to fulfill.” The witch nods, pondering things over. “Then… wilt thou alloweth me to join thy company? There be some matters I wish to discuss, and… Maliketh the Black Blade is formidable. I doubt thou wouldst be able to vanquish him alone. I would rather be by thy side. At least… until hope hath fully withered.” Maliketh huh? The name doesn’t ring a bell, but something about the black blade part does make you uncomfortable. You know from experience how the rune of death can kill otherwise immortal beings like yourself. And well, being alone with your thoughts is the last thing you want to do right now. “Alright then, let’s go.” She nods, still holding onto her hat. The brim flapping like a sail. It’s a wonder she hasn’t been sent flying with that thing on.

The two of you walk together in silence into the crumbling halls of Farum Azula. You can’t help but wonder if… well, what would your mother think, seeing you making merry with the woman who destroyed the lives of everyone she loved? You hope that, from whichever heaven she’s in, she’s not too mad. Then again, Father would be with her, so it would be his duty to placate her if necessary.

—--------------

The road to Maliketh was pretty uneventful. Aside from a couple of ambush attempts by the Demi-Humans, the residents are too afraid of Ranni to do anything about her. There was a close shave when a Demi-Human caught you off guard by standing on your left, but you quickly cut it down before it could do anything. You’re still not used to having only one eye, so Ranni stands by your left and covers you from there. Better to be safe than sorry, after all.

The silence gives way to calm conversation as you wander through empty halls and jump between floating bits of road. The witch asks about your siblings and your life in the Republic. She asks about the life you left behind. You answer honestly, though it all seems so distant now. To think that your life could change drastically in less than a year. Although you find yourself pushing back the thoughts of how much your life changed less than a day ago. You can cry and punch the ground some more later. You have a promise to fulfill right now. So you try to distract yourself from the mundane. Wrangle your mind back when it wanders too far into the dark. Eventually, the topic of the Fingerslayer Blade comes up.

“Why does it continue to reject you? I thought it was your fate to wield it….” You ask as you jump down a small ledge. Then you reach up and extend your hand to Ranni, who grabs it and descends carefully. “Mine destiny hath become entangled. It hath been so since… that night.” You can sense the discomfort in her voice, so you motion at her to keep going. ”Hath thee ever felt our bond? Through the blood of my brother, we art bound together as shadow and master are.” Your bond. Why of course, you’ve felt it. That cold aura that follows her tells you where she is even if you can’t see her. You nod as the both of you wander through an empty corridor. It appears to be a mansion or a cathedral of sorts. Ranni continues her explanation. “The fate of a shadow is bound to its master's. From the moment of thy birth, the curse which Blaidd held was replicated within thee. Both thy destiny and mine own became entwined. That is why the Blade chose thee. Why I may not wield it anymore.” It doesn’t make much sense to you. There’s the talk of fate again, always rearing its ugly head when you least expect it. You feel uncomfortable thinking of the implications. If you were fated to wield the blade, would that mean you were destined to return to the Lands Between? Were your parents’ deaths also part of this cosmic plan? Was her death predestined as well? You shake your head. “That’s nonsense. I already used the Fingerslayer Blade. Why would it continue to reject you?” Ranni hides her expression behind the brim of her hat, but you bend down under it to counteract it. Beneath it, her face looks concerned (and annoyed at your intrusion). “I did think that perchance slaying the Fingers would set thy destiny free. Thus, I could venture unto the stars and stop the meddling of the outer gods. Yet it doth appear that our bond is held by another force, something that lurks unseen. If only I knew what it might be.” Something binding you to Ranni? Could it be…?

“… An oath?” You say without thinking. Ranni’s eyes widen just a little, and you can see the gears turning behind the pupils. “Why?… yes. Yes, that doth make sense. I have noticed thy blade is coated with similar magic to my brother’s, but could an oath be inherited like so?” You know the answer. That dream you had… it was Father passing his duties to you. Would getting rid of this oath free your fate? Is that even something you want at this point? “So you can’t weave the night into being until you get rid of this oath, huh?” Ranni nods. Looking a little gloomy. “The blade shall accept no other master. It doth grieve me sorely to ponder upon losing what little remains of Blaidd, but… it must be done. The Chill Night must come at last.” She’s determined to bring her era about. You hesitate, remembering that your partner asked something similar of you. The world is crooked, and Ranni might be one of the few remaining in this world who can set it right. Maybe that’s why it compels you to say what you say. “Then… let me join you.”

Ranni is shocked, and to her credit, she recovers surprisingly fast. A split second of widening eyes, followed by the calm and collected face you’ve grown accustomed to. “Aster… the cold dark path of the empyrean is mine to walk alone. Thou should knowest better than to makest promises thou cannot keepest.” You shake your head. Now the two of you are standing in the middle of a rounded staircase. Almost at eye level because of the elevation difference. “I am serious… Father gave me this oath. He believed in you, even after death. If you’re fighting to protect the Lands Between, let me grant his wish to help you, at least.” Be it the outer gods, the demi-gods, or the golden order itself. If you want to make the world as you would have liked your love to see it, to allow them to meddle in its affairs any further would be wrong. If the witch wishes to bring about change, you want to be a part of it. Ranni looks away, though she can’t hide behind the brim of her hat at eye level. You see her frown and then… a tiny grin. “… Made to vex me perhaps. Thou have certainly inherited thine stubbornness from thy mother.” She looks at you straight in the eye. You try not to think about how literal that expression is now that you only have one. “As thou wish… though I shall not tolerate any cold feet in the future.” You laugh, but you’re thankful. Now all that remains is to end this Destined Death business.

The road ahead might be lonely, but you’re not scared. All the people that have loved you. All the people whose wishes you will weave into the night sky. The memories of your time together will be the light that guides you in the cold darkness that looms. Then… when you meet again on the far shore, you can look at them with pride. You’ll be fine, maybe… just a little sad.

[poisonf0rest]

iicyify

love and deepspace: sylus x fem!reader (and zayne soon)

tags READ CAREFULLY: smut, semi non-con (aphrodisiac), bondage, semi-public sex, heavy enemies to lovers I don't play around with that shit, breeding, there’s sharp objects used in inappropriate ways, blood kink probably, again please mind the tags

word count: 8.5K

synopsis: Death haunts you like a vengeful lover. Sylus knows this well. You’re dispatched on a mission to capture a fugitive in Linkon City's forbidden N109 Zone, but of course old ghosts come back to haunt you, and this time you’re unable to resist the pull of your twisted connection. AKA the aphrodisiac fic.

art credit: @/Shanyi708944594

Shostakovich's Waltz No. 2, a bad omen if you’ve ever heard one. 

The low strum of the cello jumps to life as you enter the ball, each sting echoing from the marble arches to the dance floor, the gentle strum of the accompanying violins muffled by the floor-to-ceiling curtains. 

She’s a deceiving song, breaking traditional waltz rules with her three-fourth tempo, the two cellos battling for dominance as their battle song announces your unplanned arrival. 

Your heels click in time to the emerging saxophone, and you disappear into the crowd. Unfortunately, you don't have the liberty of indulging yourself in music tonight. Tonight, you have a job. 

The Hunter's Association only gave you a name- Kovi Rochelle. Who were you to ask questions? It's far from the first time you've snuck into the N109 Zone, and as you scan the crowd, you make mental notes of all you recognize. On the ballroom floor is an heiress to an illicit firearms company, and her dance companion is the right-hand man to a minor gang. Near the orchestra are a few faces you recognize from a drug syndicate, and near the disgustingly lavish food no one was foolish enough to touch was the daughter of an oil tycoon. 

No sign of a certain crow, you note, narrowing your eyes. No sign of your target either.

It takes you longer than you would have liked to find Kovi, but you find a man fitting his description well enough in a far corner of the hall, face twisted into a crooked leer as he's saying something inaudible over the orchestra to a waitress. Sixties, full beard, crooked nose and a penchant for younger girls. 

Your hand slips against your thigh, closer to where the burn of cool metal rests hidden beneath the silk of your dress.

The waltz is nearly over, and just as cellos reach their climax, you feel a hand snatch your own.

"There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you, sweetie."

Your body goes rigid, but the hand pulling you into a twirl is vicious and the fanged smile that follows even more so. 

The urge to pull your gun is tempered only by years of Hunter experience. That, and the simple fact that should you fail to retrieve this target, the Association would punish you ten-fold. 

So you meet Sylus’s blood-red gaze with a deathly sweet smile, baring your teeth. “How disappointing, so you’re immune to poisons too. I’ll keep it in mind for next time.” You try to keep the irritation out of your voice, but his lips curl, showing off his misaligned fangs with all the kindness of a hungry dog. 

“I certainly hope you do. Despite not being able to die, it’s certainly no fun to writhe around in pain for several hours.” Sylus grabs your jaw, causing you to stumble forward as he forces your chin up, hot tongue raking up the side of your neck as you hiss. “Tetrodotoxin? Addictive.”

“Disgusting bastard.” He saw through you yet again. 

Sylus laughs, a deep, loud chuckle that catches other guests’ attention before you nearly claw his face to shut him up. Your hand only makes it halfway, impact broken when he grabs your wrist instead, tightening to the point of pain. 

But you're now too close to the dance floor to refuse without drawing any more unwanted attention, so you place your hand against his shoulder before digging your nails in through the expensive silk of his blazer. You hope he bleeds. 

Nothing good would come from it, but gods, would it taste sweet.

Something flashes in the depths of his unnaturally red eye, and Sylus chuckles to himself before sliding his fingers from your wrist into your palm, taking your hand to lead you in a slow, calculated turn. You watch his eyes dilate in predatory satisfaction at the bruises left against your wrist. 

"If you’re truly humoring me with a dance, then I take it you haven't taken out your target either."

So he knows your objective. You stare up at Sylus directly, nearly crushing his foot with your heel when the tempo jumps again, speeding up with the shrill of the violins. "Tonight are you my ally or enemy?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be.”

Your eyes narrow, but his words are far too cryptic to give away the truth. Instead, you focus on the rhythm of the song, the sound of your heels, and the steady heartbeat of Sylus' chest as it beats against your own.

"I must say though, I wish you applied this distraction tactic on me when we first met." His hand strays from its spot on your waist, palm searing into your back as he traces up and down your exposed spine, giving a possessive squeeze to your ass. "After all, how could any man stay weary with utter temptation walking around?"

You grit your teeth, purposefully stepping forward out of tune to press the bulge of your gun against Sylus's thigh. "I swear I’ll kill you."

For Caleb. For your grandmother. For your own god-damn sanity.

His fanged smile widens, and he leans in close, whispering against the shell of your ear, “Oh yes, how I love to watch you try. Got closer last time, didn’t you?” And he spins you away, violently turning you again and again until you have no choice but to rely on his arm lest you fall. 

As your mind spins all your prior attempts get flung back at you, from poisoning him through wine to stabbing him in his sleep, Sylus’ body was damn near immortal. More infuriating still, he only goads you further after every attempted assassination, fighting you unconscious and leaving you in Linkon City with only a crow feather and letter detailing all the points of failure from your latest attempt.

A final spin, and the world blurs. Sylus pulls you back with a force that makes you stumble, and he dips you with a chuckle. "I must say, I've never had such a passionate lover." 

By the time the chorus ends, Sylus pulls you back into his arms, dipping you as you gasp against his chest, head spinning and blood rushing furiously to your head. But the song is far from over, and you intend to get more information out of the man before he disappears once more. If he comes between you and your target…

Sylus' gaze is unreadable as you look up, and his hand tightens on your waist, guiding you into a steady tempo once again. A blur of other dancers swing by, but the only thing you can focus on now is the man before you, staring right past your rotted soul with those blood-red eyes. Eyes of a sinner. Of a mistake. Just like you.

"A little birdie told me that someone here is in possession of an Aether Core." He taunts, spinning you so your back is to his chest. "Admit to yourself what it is you’re really after, and I'll give it to you, sweetie. All you have to do is say the word."

Your lips part in surprise, and Sylus grins, pulling you closer so he can whisper in your ear. "I don’t mind being used by you. After all, I want to use you too. All you have to do is say yes."

You’re surrounded by him, a mixture of spice and cologne, and can see the way his ashen hair falls over his forehead, and the way his lips are pared just slightly as you pull him in closer by the nape of his neck. He led you to the protocore last time. He killed your family. He saved you. He's the reason everything you loved is gone.

Your lips skim up his neck, and you smile as you feel Sylus tense in the midst of the waltz as you give him your answer. "Fuck you."

He’s frozen for a beat before breaking into another laugh. "Only if you wish. I doubt your doctor friend would be too keen on the idea though."

Your breath hitches, eyes wide, but Sylus' laughter only grows. The waltz is coming to a close, and in one smooth motion, Sylus releases his hold on your waist, only to grab your hand and bring it to his lips.

"Until next time, sweetie." He places a kiss to the back of your hand and disappears as the cellos strum their final chord. “As much as I’d love to stay and listen to my little kitten hiss some more, I’m unfortunately running late for my appointment. And I believe you are too.”

And as quickly as he had stolen you away, he's gone, and you're left with the sound of your heart hammering in your ears and the coldness of his absence.

"Tch, damn it." You curse, glancing around the room for any sign of the waitress and your target.

Kovi and the potential Aether Core Sylus told you about might still be in the ballroom. But you don't have time to find both. Not when Sylus knows who you're after. Not if he realizes why the Association needs you to bring back Kovi alive. 

Your gaze flickers across the crowd, but the man is nowhere in sight. The orchestra has already begun their next song, and a few waiters have already begun moving in with the next round of food and drink, and while most people are caught up in the music, your gaze is locked on a familiar waitress struggling with a tray of drinks and a woman dressed in black, dragging her back into the server's hall.

You don't have time to decide. You rush after them, slipping past another waiter and ducking around a group of gossiping socialites. The door leading to the back of the mansion slams behind the women, and you push it open, stepping inside the dark corridor.

"Come on, the boss said to leave him there!"

"But that bitch-!"

"It's a lost cause."

"Let's just go. He'll be dead soon anyways."

You wait until the footsteps have faded and the doors close behind them before slowly standing, taking off your heels, and slipping your gun out from its holster, metal cold against smooth silk.

There are four doors along the corridor, three to the left, one at the very end, and all are locked. You check each one, but only the last has any signs of movement. It's a small door, the size of an office closet, and when you press your ear to the wood, you can hear the sound of voices.

"We're in the last round of betting. I assume you're ready to finally make a decision, Mr. Sylus?" Fuck. That’s Kovi’s voice.

"What if I want to raise the stakes?"

A bang. "The key to these games, boy, is knowing when to quit."

"I always like to put everything on the line. Besides, it's hard to gamble with something that isn't yours."

"Oh no, she's mine alright. Paid quite a hefty price for her, you of all people should know that." A muffled set of insults, punctuated by a deep set of laughter that has your blood running cold. "White wolf of Onychinus, figured you'd be more impressive."

There’s a distinct click of a trigger and the scramble of chairs being kicked over. "All in." And then, the sound of a gunshot.

Your instincts kick in and you slam into the door, shoulder burning in protest. It's hollow, thank god, and you have enough sense to duck as a set of bullets fire, ripping the door into a thousand splinters. 

Sylus' face is twisted in a snarl, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, and a woman in a waiter's uniform lying at his feet. Her body is still convulsing, a set of bullet wounds in her chest, and you realize it's the woman from before, the one who was with the other waitress. 

And your target.

Kovi was slumped against a plush leather chair, bleeding out onto an unfinished poker game, soaking through cards and chips from the gushing set of bullet wounds buried in his brain.

"You killed him," you hiss, and Sylus only raises a brow, watching as you step over the woman and walk over to the other body slumped in the corner. "He was alive, you bastard. And you shot him."

"He was a traitor."

"Not to me." You hiss, and the click of your pistol echoes, pointing it straight at Sylus. "I needed him alive, and you knew it."

He looks unperturbed, and you can only glare when he smiles, shrugs, and steps closer to your gun, metal kissing bare flesh. You don’t so much as flinch, not even as his smile turns wolfish, scanning you up and down before settling on your weapon once again. "And I'm supposed to care?"

You pull the trigger.

The bullet shoots through where his heart would have been, but Sylus is already mid-lunge, twisting your wrist sideways. The shot goes wide. His jabs are precise, punching against the tender inside of your wrist and elbow before shoving you against the wall, the entire room rattling on impact, a mirror falling as it shatters.

"If the Association wanted him alive, then perhaps they should have sent someone else," He taunts.

Death haunts you like a vengeful lover. Sylus knows this well.

You twist, still holding onto your gun, but Sylus only presses his body closer, using his monstrous height to his advantage, tightening until your arms are going numb. 

The look in his eyes is knowing, and Sylus scoffs down at you. “But he’s not why you came here, is it?”

You stop struggling.

His right eye glows that sickly red once more, and you straighten against his hold, jabbing your chin up as you meet his gaze. You know he’s digging around your mind again, and so you spit out the truth. “Where’s the core?”

“So she admits it. Here, it’s all yours." Sylus says and reaches into his coat. He pulls out a small, blood-soaked stone and drops it at your feet, and you can't help but stare, noticing a moment too late as your gaze snaps back up to meet his.

“What? You want it, don't you?" Sylus whispers, and his fingers trailing up your sides, pushing your dress up. You thrash against him, and his other hand wraps around your throat. "Then take it."

You kick and scratch and hiss, a vicious distraction all while tightening the grip on your gun.

"Come on, sweetheart. I know you can do better than that."

A gunshot cuts off his sentence. 

Sylus falls to his knee with a groan, bullet traveling clean through his thigh. It's not enough to kill him, you know it, but he'll heal in a matter of seconds, so you take your aim against his heart instead, pressing the muzzle of the gun into his chest. The heat from the metal sears into Sylus' flesh, and as you force the gun closer as you yank his head up by the hair, rewarded with a loud moan as Sylus rolls his eyes back at the pain.

"You can't kill me."

"No," you whisper, pulling him close, "but I can hurt you."

His grin only widens, a bloody gash curling across his face as he stares up at you. “Such arrogance.”

Sylus leans into your touch, and then a hand covers your own on the gun, fingers laced around the trigger.

"What are you waiting for? Do it, I want to feel it, I want you to finish it." His words are low and you feel a rush of adrenaline at finally having him at your mercy, of having him at the brink of death. 

He yanks the gun closer, and thus you as well, looking up into your eyes with a sick devotion only a sinner could have. 

But you’ve learned from last time. So you curl your finger, and pull the trigger. 

The bullet never reaches. 

A web of dark energy stops it mere centimeters from Sylus' chest, and he sends it ricocheting back so it speeds by your collarbone and neck with a furious red trail.

You don't have enough time to scream.

Sylus pulls you down alongside him and slams your body against the ground, skull rattling against the marble. You scramble to your hands before he shoves you back to the floor with his palm, pinning you beneath him and pressing his lips to the fresh wound on your neck.

"You taste divine." Sylus hisses, and he sucks against the wound as your blood runs down his chin, grabbing your wrists until something snaps and you drop the gun with a scream. It skirts across the floor, out of reach.

You buck under his weight, kicking your legs out until one digs into the bullet wound still closing on his thigh, fresh blood streaming down the both of you as he licks and sucks and bites against your neck, leaving a trail of raw marks and bruises. 

With your free wrist, you unsheathe your dagger, driving it into Sylus’ neck. Dark tendrils of energy catch the blade, but your fury burns hotter, and you grant him a twin scar, slicing from the hollow of his collarbone up his neck.

Sylus moans, a strangled, guttural sound that goes straight between your thighs. You can see the muscle and skin knitting back together, the tendrils of shadows seeping out from his flesh and sealing the wound shut. But his grip on you remains.

You're both panting, blood dripping down your neck and Sylus' chest, but his eyes are dark and full of promise that makes your stomach twist.

"Do it again," he hisses, and he presses his hips into yours, letting you feel how hard he is through the fabric of his pants. "Cut me. Stab me. Kill me. All you have to do is try, sweetheart. Make it good this time, will you?"

You are not a fool. You know this is a challenge, a taunt, but you also know you can't back down.

So you push yourself up, knife glinting under the dim lights as you sink the blade into Sylus' throat, dragging a ragged line from one side to the other. Blood pours over his chest, drenching his shirt, and you can't help but watch in morbid fascination as the skin begins to knit itself back together, muscle and flesh growing and closing up, tendrils of dark energy wrapping and sealing the wound.

You almost want to lean in to taste it yourself.

Sylus makes a strangled sound from against your neck, still licking up your blood as you dig your nails into his fresh wound, pressing closer and closer still. Closer than flesh and blood would allow, bloody and raw and angry. 

His tendrils of energy wrap around your throat just as your knife presses up against his, both of you panting heavily. “When will you admit it? From your past to your future, to even all the crimes you'll inevitably commit. You and I… we're made of the same sin.”

You twist to the side, unable to meet his glowing eye, and Sylus smiles, blood-stained and fanged.

“Look at me.” He growls, and his fingers wrap around your jaw, forcing you to look up, nose brushing his. The glow of his right eye is nearly blinding, a mixture of gold and red and orange that swirl together like fire.

Fire, corruption, and the same damned soul.

They flash before you. The faces of every soul you’ve taken, every mission you’ve accepted from the Association, every trophy you’ve never cried over that has granted you nothing but pride and misery. 

And then flashes of your family, burning alive in the explosion that the demon before you set off. Burning flesh, screaming, the smell of sulfur. 

You see the face of a man too good for you. Practical and cold, but so unfairly kind and selfless it makes your chest ache. Zayne.

Not that Zayne is yours, not in any measurable way. But he’s the man that is so perfectly beyond your reach that it gives you a semblance of hope for change, for atonement. He’s the man that you’ve decided to foolishly love until your last breath.

Worst of all, you know Sylus can see him now too.

Another flash of red. Sylus, staring down at you, his smile a cruel imitation of Zayne's.

"What do you want, little dove?"

"My revenge."

He smiles, and leans in, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh there. "I could give it to you. Everything you’ve ever wanted."

His touch burns, and you shudder, a mix of emotions twisting your gut. Fear, anger, desperation.

“I no longer want.” You hiss. “So stay out-” you gasp, reality and memory flickering together. “of-” you thrust the knife upwards, stabbing wildly until something connects. “-my fucking head!”

It's only when you hear the sickening crunch of flesh and the feel of blood pouring down your arm that you realize where you are. The memory of Zayne is gone, replaced by the present.

Sylus.

His eyes are wide, mouth agape and blood dripping down his chin. Your knife is buried deep in his palm, blade caught in his hand mere inches from his skull. Your vision blurs and the world spins, and the last thing you see is the sight of Sylus smiling, blood running down his cheek and his eye burning a brilliant, golden red.

And then the world bursts into smoke.

You feel it before you understand what has happened.

Throwing your hands above your head, you brace for an explosion or flash that never comes, the room blanketed by a cloud of thick smog that has your head spinning. A weight crushes you, and for a moment you think the ceiling caved until you realize it was Sylus who must have flung himself atop you at the moment of impact.

You think there’s an earthquake or aftershocks of another attack when you see your hand trembling, realizing it’s just your entire body convulsing against the floor as you inhale mouthfuls of the thick, cloying smoke. It tastes sticky and sweet at the back of your throat, cloying against your tongue and crawling under your skin. You think you might be dying. 

Sylus is faring no better, chest heaving as he nearly falls atop you, barely holding himself up on his forearms. His mouth is a bloody mess, there's a gash on his forehead that refused to heal. The energy of his Evol leaks from him in a thick mist of dark matter that seeps in and out of his sweat-slicked flesh. He’s losing control of his power.

“What the fuck—“ a violent heat rips surges down your spine, a choked gasp seizing your lungs as you feel bursts of energy heat under your skin- your Evol’s power fluctuating wildly. The once familiar power now feels like a toxin, your very core vibrating, practically a bomb seconds away from detonating.

It wasn’t a shock grenade. Not smoke. Poison? Your vision is swimming, but Sylus is still holding you, and when you freeze his entire body convulses in laughter as you seem to finally piece together what has happened.

"An aphrodisiac. They're... those fucking bastards." You can’t even see where your gun is, the entire room lurching sideways as you try and crawl out from under Sylus.

But as soon as you knee him in the side trying to topple him over, you both freeze at the contact, the brush of bare skin enough to have you keening.

Sylus groans, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You can feel him shaking, every bulging muscle tensed beneath his torn clothes, and his lips press against your pulse, teeth sinking into the delicate skin there. Shadowy tendrils grow from his back, a spiderweb of raw power that he seems to have no control over as they piece into the ground with enough force to crack through marble. You flinch at the sight.

“Are you scared, little dove?” Like a spider’s legs, they support him as he staggers to his knees, caging you in against the floor. A moth in a web. “Perhaps you finally should be.”

He grabs you by the hair, tilting your head back so you have to look him in the eyes. You struggle to move, to push him off, but the mere touch only seems to rile the man above you. He groans, the sound low and guttural, and when you finally meet his gaze, his eye is a wild, glowing red, and he's looking at you like he wants to devour you.

A demon. You’re laying before a demon. 

"What's wrong, sweetie? Too proud to give in?" He taunts.

"Not to you," you hiss, and you grab him by the collar, pulling him closer. "You're not even worth it."

Sylus' smile widens. "Still lying to yourself, aren’t you?"

Your skin burns, his touch leaving a trail of fire and desire. You can feel the aphrodisiac pulsing through your veins, a violent, angry heat that consumes everything it touches.

"Allow me to offer you a deal, then." Sylus' mouth twists in a snarl, and you feel his hands grip your waist. His nails dig into the exposed skin of your lower back, and Sylus pulls you closer, pressing his erection against your ass. "Run," he whispers, and his lips brush the shell of your ear. "Run as fast as you fucking can, because if I catch you I fuck you."

He pulls away, eye still glowing, turning into little more than a shadowed silhouette that towers over you. "And I won't be as gentle as your little boyfriend."

You don't remember when you start running.

 One moment, Sylus is in front of you, a wicked, predatory smile curling across his face. And the next, he's gone, the sound of footsteps fading behind you and the smell of gunpowder and blood hanging heavy in the air.

He's close.

You can feel his power, feel the way the aphrodisiac has corrupted him. Every tendril of energy from his body feels like a physical thing, a thread of pure energy and darkness. You hear his breathing, the sound of his body slamming against the walls and the doors as he gives chase.

Somehow the aphrodisiac did more than just make his Evol stronger, Sylus himself seemed fundamentally changed. Stalking you in a half-limp like a predator enjoying the hunt, every muscle tensed underneath his fitted suit as though waiting for you to make a run for it. Waiting to finally pounce. 

In the end it never mattered how strong you were. What stood before you was no man, but a monster.

“Don’t tell me that’s all you got, kitten? Come on, run faster, make it fun for me.”

Your heart leaps in your throat. Every inch of your body is alert, hyperaware of his echoing footsteps, following you no matter how many turns you take, no matter which stairs you climb, utterly unsure if you’re running closer or further from the exit.

But you force yourself to breathe, and you push off the walls and into a sprint. You have no weapons, no gun, but the only thing you can think of is running, running and getting as far away from Sylus as possible. Zayne. Zayne will know how to fix this, surely he knows a cure for the aphrodisiac.

Your steps are growing clumsy, and every breath you take now has you gasping, a burning need growing within. Every muscle in your body begins to tremble, and the heat is almost unbearable. You're not sure how much longer you can hold out.

You need to get to Zayne.

Turning yet another corner, you expect to see the main hallway of the mansion, nearly crying in relief at the sight of the door when the world lurches sideways.

A shadowed claw reaches up from the ground, yanking your ankle backward with a painful tug. You scream, throwing a burst of energy behind you as your Evol flares up, snarling at the shadow that follows you.

But the aphrodisiac has you weak. Your power is sporadic and unfocused, and another set of shadows wrap around your thighs and arms, rendering you immobile as they squeeze and pull at your over-sensitive flesh.

The sound that comes from your throat is one of pain and need.

Sylus laughs, a deep and rumbling chuckle that echoes through the empty hallway. He emerges from the shadows, a beast walking upright. He towers over you, his massive frame blocking the light, casting a long shadow across the floor.

"Are you afraid, little one?"

You can barely answer.

"Good."

Sylus moves fast. Before you can blink, his hand is on your throat and he's lifting you up off the ground, his fingers digging into your skin right over your racing pulse as he holds you at eye level. "Perhaps I'll keep you around even after I'm done with you. After all, I truly enjoy watching my little prey struggle."

The memory sends a thrill of fear through your body.

You gasp, clawing at his arm, and Sylus tightens his grip on your throat with a click of his tongue. "Ah ah ah. No more of that, kitten. Not unless you want more punishment."

You force yourself to meet his gaze, refusing to look away even as he squeezes your throat and makes it hard to breathe. The lack of oxygen has you lightheaded, but the heat from his palm makes you even dizzier, a sick twisting against your core at the show of brute strength. You glare up at him, and you know he can see the fear and hatred and desire in your eyes, because he grins, a wicked smile full of fangs and blood and the promise of something far worse.

"But knowing you, perhaps that's what you're after?" 

The shadows tighten and you cry out again, snarling as you try and use your Evol to free yourself. Burning through his arm, Sylus releases you with a hiss. You run for it, barely making it three steps backward before you’re tackled to the floor. 

"There, there. No need to run from it, I know my nasty little brat enjoys this as much as I do. After all, you let me catch you, didn’t you?” He taunts, pressing his thigh between your legs. You're unable to stop yourself from grinding against him, whimpering as the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. “And I intend to keep my side of the deal.”

Pinning you on your stomach, Sylus drags blades of energy down your dress, ripping the fabric to shreds as the silk flutters to the floor. The cold air stings against your sensitive flesh, and you whimper at the near painful difference between the cold and the heat of his touch.

"I'll kill you," you hiss, and Sylus laughs. He could kill you now, before you made good on your promise. And oh it would make everything so much easier, simpler - but he didn’t. Can’t. Instead he forces your jaw to the side before crashing his lips onto yours, fangs catching against the plush flesh. The angle has your neck screaming in protest, yet you swear it’s the dichotomy between the painful bruising of his grasp and the devotion of his lips that has you addicted. 

So you kiss him back, more teeth and tongue and thoroughly fucking addicting. "You're mine to kill, I won’t let anyone else take that victory from me.”

“That’s it,” Sylus practically growls into your ear, his face flushed and a vein protruding in his neck. Then your ass is lifted up, effortlessly manhandled like a ragdoll as you hear the click of Sylus’ belt. ”Keep fighting it, kitten, make it fun. But just know your body is so, so honest with me.”

And then you can’t breathe - not because his large hand tightens around your neck, forcing your body to arch into the floor, but because Sylus was suddenly rutting his weeping, fat tip between your thighs. It catches your swollen clit, and you grind against empty air, gasping. Sylus' laugh is cruel, sliding the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing the sensitive skin. You shudder, the sensation of his cock dragging against your entrance enough to have you trembling. You're so close, and he's not even inside you yet.

"Aww, sweetheart. Are you scared? You're soaking." His words are mocking, and you try to bite back a moan as his hand leaves your waist, delivering a harsh slap against your ass instead. "Tell me, did that boy back in Linkon ever make you feel this good?"

"Fuck. You."

"Oh dear, did I hit a nerve?" He purrs, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass.

"Shut up, shut the fuck up-" Your words are cut short, a strangled sound tearing from your throat when the head of his cock catches your folds, the sheer girth of him unable to push in, sliding against your cunt as she practically drools over him. 

Sylus curses against your neck, sitting back on his heels as he grabs his throbbing length, messily fucking your slick up and down, the heat and smell and feel of you enough to steal the rest of his sanity as he surrenders completely to the aphrodisiac. He’s bigger than usual, thicker and sensitive, and right when he thinks he might cum, Sylus forces his hand away. He can’t, not with you before him, it would be a waste.

A loud, broken moan escapes him as he tortures himself with a rough squeeze to his base, the sheer need overwhelming him as though he’d die should he not be inside you this very second. 

In you. He needs to be in you, cum in you, fill you up and claim you in every way possible. 

He’s about to try again when something warm squeezes around his base, nearly bringing him to his knees. Even though your shoulders were still pinned to the marble, you snuck one hand back to wrap around Sylus’ poor throbbing dick, your mere touch, barely able to circle around the girth of him, was enough to have him seeing white. 

“You’re- ah- taking too long.” You whine at the sight of Sylus at your mercy, and squeeze tighter. His cock twitches, pre-cum leaking from his tip and dripping down your knuckles, and his eyes roll back into his head, drawing out a low, deep moan that practically vibrates through his chest. 

“You’re right,” Sylus yanks your hips back, grinding against your ass as his free hand weaves between the two of you, rolling against your clit. “She’s getting too impatient, isn’t she?” 

You can’t even hear your own screams, not over the obscene squelches your cunt makes over his dick and fingers. Sylus was using every ounce of remaining sanity to prove his point, unconsciously already bucking against you as he continued bullying your swollen nub until you gave in. All to make your ultimate surrender even sweeter. “I don’t mind spending the whole night fucking you into your place.”

He nearly roars in frustration as your cunt still refuses to take him, resisting each press of his hips. A pair of shadowy hands seize your ankles, yanking you backward and spreading your legs so wide that your hips nearly split. Your jaw falls open in a silent scream, thighs trembling as they’re practically pinned to your side, ass forced higher into the air as another set of tendrils come around to play with your swollen clit. 

He’s cruel. 

The longer it took, the thinner his restraint waned, and Sylus’ Evol surrounds the two of you in a web of darkness, cracking through the marble when your cunt finally yields to the pressure of his large, overbearing cock. As soon as he feels the flutter of your core against his tip, he knows he’s lost, the head of Sylus’ cock sliding into you with a lewd pop as you both gasp.

The stretch burns, your walls forced to part around the head of his cock as the swollen tip sinks inside, stretching you past what was natural. His fingers leave bloody trails on your waist, but the thought of the permanent marks only adds to the heat coursing through your veins. You're panting now, a broken mantra of fuck me and please and more spilling from your lips as the aphrodisiac takes complete control.

The feeling of your cunt suffocating his swollen head as Sylus’ control waning, and you use the moment of weakness to push your hips backward, forcing him in further. With each slow grind the underside of Sylus’ cock unintentionally bullies itself against your sweet spot again and again and again, that one fat vein pulsing against it in time to his erratic heartbeat.

Head lolling to the side, you catch a glimpse of where the two of you meet and nearly sob. He’s not even halfway in yet. The pressure has your mind spinning, and god you don’t think you can take any more. 

But as you clench around him and Sylus makes up his mind, refusing to leave you a moment longer without being filled to the brink with his cum. And he forces you completely onto his cock. 

A scream of his name is all you manage before your eyes roll back, arching off the ground as your entire body goes rigid. Forcing past any remaining resistance, Sylus thrusts his entire length deep inside of you, your lower stomach bulging ever so slightly, followed by a burst of pleasure so intense it hurts as you come undone, squirting over his cock and the floor.

Fucking you through your orgasm, he wraps one arm around your body, pulling you against him as your knees give in, refusing to give even an inch of space as the two of you buckle into the floor. 

"You're going to regret not running faster." Sylus hisses. "I'm never letting you go. Never- ah fuck- again."

He pulls out slowly, until only the swollen head remains inside, and then slams forward again. 

You try and claw your way out, unsure if you’re pushing closer or further, but the tendrils of energy around your legs only tighten their hold, forcing you back. The shadows seep into your flesh and leave trails of raw fire. You swear you feel him in your throat, and you know Sylus can feel it too. It's burning beneath your skin, a wild and desperate heat that feels like an inferno, a feeling so addicting it replaces the pain. 

You're resonating with him. You’re finally resonating and Sylus only growing stronger- rougher- because of it.

“Sylus, fuck, just—” you scramble for something, anything, to grab onto, screaming out different curses and moans until Sylus folds you further into the ground, pressing his full weight atop of you.

“You’re too loud, sweetie, it’s almost like you want someone to find us.” He rests his forearm before you, allowing you to claw into it as you cry. “Here.” And with that you bite, digging your teeth into his arm hard enough to draw blood as your screams are muffled with the tinge of copper. 

He laughs into your shoulder, leaning down as the new angle allows his tip to kiss your cervix. You sob, biting down again. “I want to mark you too,” and the way your skin breaks so, so easily under his fangs, marred with a permanent bloody print of him, has Sylus addicted.

So he bites again, lower this time, stands of bloody saliva connecting his lips to the dip of your spine. Fuck, he wants to mark you until there’s no question you’re taken, ruined, again and again and again. 

You don’t think he realizes he’s saying it out loud, a desperate mantra broken only by the wet sucking and biting of his lips. 

Sylus moans, hips stuttering as he comes with a shout, his sudden orgasm ripping through every muscle as he feels that corrupting heat relent with every thick rope of cum he paints inside your weeping cunt. He doesn't pull out, can't bear the thought of parting from your tight heat.

You whimper into his arm, biting again, feeling the warmth of his cum overflowing into you, squirting out as it drips down your thighs, still going and going as Sylus fucks himself through it, not stopping even as a creamy ring began forming at the base of his cock. 

Sylus expected the aphrodisiac to be absolved, waiting for the furious need, the soreness in his balls and the primal drive at the base of his brain to lessen, only to realize he felt no better. 

More. More, he still needs more. 

But so do you. And hell, you're so close, enough that you abandon your pride, crying for him over the gag that was his forearm, and beg. 

“Again,” Sylus growls. The sound rumbles deep within his chest, low and dangerous, and he can feel your pulse quicken, can hear the rush of blood through your veins. He can feel your Evol burning beneath your skin, the power seeping from your body in waves, and he can feel his own power responding.

The shadows grow. They writhe and pulse and spread, wrapping around the both of you and covering the room, turning the world pitch black. Caging you in. 

“Go on, no need to hold back now, sweetie.” Another ruthless thrust, and your jaw goes slack as he hits your cervix, deep enough that if he pushed any further you’re certain he’d breach your womb, heartbeat pulsing through your body like you were made for him. “Beg for it.”

You want to fight it. You want to say no, to struggle and bite and scratch. But the aphrodisiac has taken full control, and gods knew how long you’ve been losing the fight against Sylus even before this.

“Syl—“ His hips still. A warning. You fight to make any coherent thought amidst your unraveling, correcting yourself as you slur his title in sheer desperation, “Sir. Sir, please, let me come. You got to come, so help me!” your voice is hardly more than a broken gasp now, ”Please.”

Another tendril wraps around your front, pressing on the bulge through your stomach in time to every rough, wet, thrust, the double pressure enough to have you coming with a sob, wrecked from pleasure and pain as you tighten around his cock, almost begging to be filled more.

“Sir? I could get used to that.” Sylus barely even slows, continuing to use your trembling body as he drags himself in and out, the warm mixture of your cum forming a puddle beneath you as he watches in fascination, still consumed by the primal urge to get you full of him.

But now the aphrodisiac has loosened its grip on you, fulfilled desire replaced with sharp overstimulation as you sob into the marble, feeling every ram of Sylus’ hips smack into your swollen clit with a wet kiss. Not that he particularly cares. He knows your limit, and you’re not there yet.

“Relax. You can handle it.” Sylus laughs, grinding himself in deeper as he licks a stripe of blood and sweat up your neck. He pats your cheek condescendingly, forcing your face to the side as he scans your fucked-out expression with a wolfish smile. ”But should you have the audacity to die on me, I’ll simply bring you back just to use you again.”

Flipping you around with just an arm so you finally face him, Sylus brings your knee to your chest, the other hand forcing your jaw up so he could hear your unintelligible pleas properly.

“What? Can’t talk anymore?” He coos, relishing in the way your nails rake furiously down his back in reply- in warning. “Aw, is my baby drunk on my cock already? Should I stop?”

Not that Sylus could even fathom stopping now, not as he feels his cock bully the cum out of your poor overfilled pussy with each thrust. It drips down your legs and onto his tense balls as he fucks you like an animal, over and over and- And shit it wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough. 

You shake your head, sobbing.

 “No–” you cry, breath coming in gasps as Sylus pulls himself up onto his knees, forcing you upright as you splay out so easily on his lap, gravity now doing most of the work as you swear you feel him hit deeper than before. “Ah, too much!”

“One moment it’s too little, and the next too much. You should try and make up your mind, sweetheart.” One hand squishes your cheeks together and forces you to look down at the way your poor pussy was bulging around Sylus’ cock. Your bodies are both drenched in a sinful mixture of blood and sweat and cum, sheer exhaustion slowing the both of you down as every slow, deep thrust is now accentuated with a filthy wet slap. “Mmmh I was foolish to let you run from me f’so long, not when you look so perfect like this.”

Sylus’ fangs graze your ear, abs tensing underneath your nails as he fucks up into you without any sort of rythm. Sharp, slow jabs of his hips, meeting each one as he palms at your swollen belly. “Can’t wait till you’re fucked full, right sweetie?”

He doesn’t wait for a response - not that he could hear one anyways, eyes blown out as they focus on your gorgeous body utterly surrendered to him, limp against his chest as he splays his fingers over your womb. “You wanna be filled? Wanna give me an heir for Onychinus?”

God, the very thought makes your head spin. “Please,” you whine, beginning to resonate with him once more as you arch violently into his chest. “More, I need more, please- fuck- don’t you dare s-stop.”

“Linkon’s righteous guardian and the White Wolf.” You don’t even realize it, but you’ve begun to match his thrusts, grinding down in his lap to meet his ruthless cadence. “We’d be unstoppable. You want that? Tell me-” his pleas break into a low moan, words slurred together as he pulls you closer, ramming you up and down as you can do nothing more than dig bloody lines down his enormous shoulders and chest. “Tell me you want it, need it- hah- tell me you’ll choose me.”

His cockhead rams against your bruised g-spot with each word, even when his voice breaks into senseless groans as he falls prey to your pretty little cunt trying to suck him in further and further still. And right as you feel yourself slipping, you pull him into a messy kiss - if it can even be called that, just a frenzied, messy drag of his lips against your open mouth, licking and sucking at your teeth. 

“I can never escape you.”

You don’t know who cums first- you only feel the heat surge in the base of your throat, heartbeat thumping erratically against your ears and cunt, falling into Sylus’ chest as the warmth takes you. Warm, everything is warm, burning up even without the aphrodisiac as you feel rope after rope of his seed paint the inside of your walls white, excess drooling out of your sensitive folds. 

Every ragged breath comes out in a mist against your ears, Sylus’ hair damp and stuck to his forehead and your own as he fights to control his breathing. His eyes are still locked where the two of you connect, fingers releasing your waist to try and shove his cum back inside. 

You hiss at the contact, trying to squirm away as you fall backwards, taking Sylus with you as your back hits the drenched marble. “Let go of me.”

Sylus raises a brow, lips curling over his teeth. “I’m not the one who's trapping us together.” He taps your legs still wrapped around his waist, and immediately you relax, shivering as you feel Sylus’ cock finally slide out of you. 

Even after all that you feel the lingering effects of the toxin bubble under your skin. Sated, for now, but far from gone. Hell, you think you might die if you have to go through that again. 

“We need to get to a hospital,” you say, refusing to meet Sylus’ eyes as you try to stand. Only for your knees to immediately buckle. 

Luckily, Sylus is there to catch you, pulling you into his arms before scooping you up to his chest. “Firstly, there is no hospital in the N109 Zone nor Linkon City that would admit me.” He stands with frustrating ease as the misty tendrils of his Evol cover your bare body like a second skin. “Secondly, we’re not exactly in a state where they wouldn’t begin asking questions, don’t you agree, kitten?”

You all but hiss at him, only making the man laugh harder until he winces, staggering slightly as you feel his skin grow hot again. It’s clear Sylus isn’t completely freed from the aphrodisiac either, the sheer volume the two of you must have breathed in during the initial attack far past the mortal limit. 

Not a hospital, fine. A doctor then. 

“I know a place.” You whisper, and Sylus narrows his eyes. “He won’t ask questions, and we’re already running out of time. Who knows how long the effects will last, and if anyone will know how to actually cure this it’ll be him.” 

“And I’m supposed to trust you, sweetie?”

You laugh, curt and humorless. “You don’t have a choice.”

Sylus goes quiet, but you can hear the argument raging in his head, brows furrowed as he scowls at open air. Another shiver rakes through your body, and you unconsciously press yourself closer, already dreading what will happen when the aphrodisiac comes back full force. 

But the sight of you, trembling and utterly vulnerable in his arms tugs at something forgotten, and Sylus relents. 

“Very well, tell me where to go.”

[deusexlachina]

Wannabe Warden Finale: Sacrifice my dreams to save the innocent

In which I am forced to delve deeper into the forbidden art of Politics, Anders gets off Scot-free and we refuse to listen to the villain's monologue.

I finally check my mail to learn that Meredith is planning to raid the Circle, which she's doing right now because I read my mail right now. Either this is another embellishment of the narrator, Varric "Never Read Your Mail" Tethras, or both Meredith and Orsino were waiting for me to come back to Kirkwall before they did anything, in hopes that I'd be able to resolve things for them.

I stop to try and settle the argument in my new Grey Warden threads, but we get nowhere because Meredith is secretly high on red lyrium and years of prejudice. Orsino, being a reasonable man who would never turn evil, decides to refer the matter to third-party arbitration. Meredith tries to stop him, dreading the mountain of legal paperwork.

Unfortunately for both of them, Anders is not interested in compromise and has bombed the Chantry. I ask him what he did that could have both invented and planted an explosive device, without my help, in the whole minute between both of us getting back from the Vimmark Mountains and Anders coming out here with me. But he does not answer.

In response to Anders blowing up the Chantry, Meredith orders every mage but Anders executed. This bad decision is because she is high on red lyrium and years of prejudice.

Other Aveline decides we have to help...Meredith? To kill all the innocent people? This bad decision is despite Other Aveline neither being high on red lyrium or harboring any prejudice against mages. I tell Other Aveline I'm helping the mages and she says if I do this, she's not sure if she can follow. So I say I'm doing it anyway and she says she'll follow.

For some reason, Fenris doesn't follow me. I don't know why. I got him to max friendship and did all his companion quests. My sister suggests it's a bug, perhaps caused by my "approximately a million mods." Checks out.

Anders expects to die for his crimes, but I'm not about to let a fellow Warden die, so I tell him to help fight the templars, which he enthusiastically agrees to. Honestly, he might have led with this rather than bombing the Chantry. This is where Sebastian would press the issue and threaten, in his delightful Scottish Starkhaven accent, to raise such an army that there will be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficar to rule. But I want there to be something left of Kirkwall for these maleficar to rule, so I never recruited Sebastian and thus Anders gets off Scot-free.

There's no time to ask Anders questions like why, if he had the ability to infiltrate the Chantry and plant a bomb there to incite war between the mages and templars in order to ultimately overthrow the templars, he didn't simply infiltrate Templar Hall and plant a bomb there. I think Corypheus gave him brain scramblies.

I fight my way through...Lowtown? Not the Gallows where this whole fight took place? As with the Qunari invasion, the city is on fire, and, as with the Qunari invasion, I start somewhere different from where I was when the fighting actually started. Bethany shows up to help me, apologizing for complaining about me saving her life instead of following tradition and euthanizing her because her health was between "stomachache" and "instant death."

If I've learned anything up to this point, it's that the Grey Wardens are politically neutral (at least on paper). I tell her this, and she says that right now, she's not a Grey Warden, she's my sister. This is a stark reversal of her previous statement, to Tallis, that she is a Grey Warden and isn't my sister. (I'm starting to think she was just in a very bad mood that time).

This is character development, because she's learned from me the importance of family, and from Anders that Grey Wardens can suddenly and unilaterally decide to not be Grey Wardens when being one would be inconvenient. (This is not true). Honestly, this angle would be more plausible if she wasn't wearing her Grey Warden uniform. However, because she's travelling with me now, onlookers might just assume it's another Wannabe Warden. It runs in the family or something. The important thing is that the Hawke sisters are together again. Just like old times.

Indeed, it is very much like old times. Just like old times, we're vastly outnumbered - the streets are full of templars, who are trying to kill me because I sided with the mages, and blood mages and their minions, who are trying to kill me for fun I guess. There's a massive fight with lots of templars and demons, so I do the sensible thing and run right past them. They're each other's problem. To cover my escape, I use my poor, poor dog as a distraction while me, Bethany, Anders and Other Aveline run to safety. When we've killed anyone chasing us, I call off the dog so no enemies have anyone to fight and they just give up. Just like old times.

I escape Lowtown to the Docks, where more enemies are waiting for me. I then repeat the exact same stale strategy as before. Just like old times. (Note the paltry experience, from defeating just one enemy who unwisely followed me to the area transition).

I then take a boat to the Gallows, the place where this fight started and which I didn't have any reason to leave in the first place. I can only attribute this bizarre inconsistency to Varric's narration or something. We stop a mage massacre only to be apprehended by Meredith and Fenris. I ask Fenris pretty please to join me and he tells Meredith he changed his mind and will stand with his friend, instead of standing with a raving villain.

After fighting off another wave of templars, Meredith leaves to go get more templars, giving me one last chance to talk to my friends. When the chips were down, despite me being a rank nuisance who yoinked her name, Other Aveline was by my side. She's let me down time and again, but her loyalty is true, and for that I respect her enough to grant her a better moniker.

Non-Emo Warden Bethany (NEWB) has learned to appreciate the true value of being a Grey Warden, several years after I did. She is not a Wannabe Warden, nor a Wannabe Non-Warden, but a Happytobe Warden.

Orsino gives a rousing speech to his mages, acknowledging that this is a hopeless battle, an attitude he must have gotten from the cutscenes rather than the gameplay, where I have my entire party, Orsino and several nameless mages in case my small army gets lonely. It is a hopeless battle...for the templars, who unwisely chose to be weak against spirit damage. I'm equipped to deal as much spirit damage as possible, making me the ultimate darkspawn slayer and, incidentally, the ultimate templar slayer.

Having seen me mow down dozens of templars easily, Orsino decides that there is no choice but to turn himself into a monster and kill everyone for no reason. Unfortunately, this monster is vulnerable to spirit damage, so he dies very easily and has to hide behind an army of zombies, which are also weak against spirit damage. I then play "got your tongue," pull him out of his giant flesh vessel and step on him.

Cassandra is too invested in this gripping tale of heroism to ask why Orsino would despair despite outright embarrassing the templars, how he turned into a monster created in a lab by the dwarves, or why he didn't do this against Meredith instead of against Aveline, his own ally. "Anyway, Seeker, that's why your people found dozens of corpses but not Orsino. He turned himself into a monster made of dozens of corpses."

Meredith arrives (again) to confront me (again) and says she's going to kill me, whereupon her subordinate Cullen openly dissents for apparently the first time in his life, because they were supposed to arrest me for stopping their massacre against random people they know to be entirely innocent of blowing up the Chantry, not kill me! What a heroic man. I hope he comes back later so I can fight by his side and also fuck him.

Meredith attacks, revealing that she made the red lyrium idol into a cool glowy red sword which gives her powers like...making giant robots and...flying?

But this preposterous array of indistinctly-themed superpowers is no match against me and my companions! I charge forward with NEWB, Anders and Captain. Late in the fight, Meredith stops attacking to monologue. To prevent you from getting an advantage from this, she uses her red lyrium powers to stun us so we don't interrupt. Unfortunately, I gave me, Anders and NEWB anti-stun equipment, and Captain is immune to stuns, so we keep attacking her. Meredith is furious that a fellow cop would resist her authority and/or status effects, and personally threatens her. At least she got her name right. ("You were wrong to turn against this city, Captain.")

I will admit that I chose this party because I wanted Warden Nathaniel to show up as a final Grey Warden cameo, and the wiki said that he joins you if there aren't other cameos or your dog, Donnic only joins if he's married to Captain, and Zevran only joins you if you have a rogue in the party, so I was purposely avoiding Varric and Isabela. But Zevran not only appears but does a sickass backflip in the background as I kill Meredith.

I have stopped Meredith from killing innocent mages and saved Kirkwall, just as King Alistair commanded...but at the terrible price of engaging in Politics. My name is synonymous with mage freedom, and so I can never join the Grey Wardens.

Fuck this, I'm leaving.

[stealingyourbones]

The whole tucker is a pharaoh thing - i thought maybe hawkman would recognize him? Idk a lot about hawkman/woman but im p sure one of their origin stories is that their the reincarnation of two ancient thanagarians that crash landed in ancient egypt and basically jump started human civilization? Maybe tucker was the one human that understood their tech the best when they tried to teach primitive humans and because of that, he became the first pharaoh after the golden age of the gods or something

Honestly at this point there's so many different Hawkman's origin stories that I will simply take your word for it. His entire backstory is so endlessly confusing. Is he Carter Hall? Cool so is it Carter or Karter? Is he actually called Carter Hall or is it just an alias? Is he Carter Hall Jr. who’s actually Fell Ander? Is he Hawkgod and the fusion of Hawkgirl, Carter Hall, and Karter Hall? Is he an alien or a human this time? Is it 9th or Nth metal this time? Who fuckin knows. There's more origins and heroes who carry the Hawkman title than members of the Batfamily istg.

Okokok so let’s just stick to the OG backstory: He’s an thanagarian who is reincarnated as the Egyptian Prince Kufu who got murdered via a cursed dagger and then continues from there. Dude is a brutal space cop that grew up on a war society planet. Dude is a cannon to aim and fire. He was kinda made as a way to go “let’s push the Green Arrow being a good liberal leaning guy” thing by having a completely opposite vibe.

He’s a space cop that is so hot headed and brutal dude that’s like a mix of Indiana Jones and Blue Lives Matter combo. (Indiana Jones is a tad odd but he was a museum curator so I think it’s pretty apt.) He’s so headstrong and fierce and even Batman is like “hey bro can u calm down the brutalness a tad?” He’s intentionally an unlikable character because he has all these memories and tragedies that he pushes everything away. (He also has a very toxic relationship with Hawkwoman but that would take far too long to get into but in summary: She has no memories of being Hawkwoman the two are literally destined to be together. Hawkman is a tad too obsessed with his lover and sometimes they meet and she is FAR too young for Hawkman.)

This is my interpretation of Hawkman since most of the comics I’ve read of him are silver age. I’m unsure how he is now but back then he was a full on sociopath who grew up on a war planet and is fully willing to kill.

Hawkman has to come to terms that everyone he loves will die and he will continue to exist. Imagine his pure delight to see a familiar person after years of only having Hawkwoman as a familiar companion.

(Black Adam also was a champion fighter for Prince Kufu so you could definitely mess around with Tucker knowing both)

I’d love that Tucker helps Prince Kufu and then proceeds to be the first pharaoh after the gods and just has a enemies to begrudging-respect relationship. This guy is just causing death and chaos and Tucker is just trying to live life. They keep meeting up and recognizing each other (mostly cause Carter never fuckin stops using the same name) and having petty squabbles. Tucker does his best to just piss off Hawkman at every possible opportunity. The League is very confused that this fucking child seems to know Hawkman and just RUTHLESSLY talks shit about him almost nonstop.

They do help each other though, they can relate to living far longer and seeing oh so many things that no human should ever see. They dispise each other but if it’s needed, they have the other’s back.

1, 2, 3

[satans-left-asscheeky]

Reasons I dismiss the Fo4 companions

Maccready

Because I'm trying to get max affinity with someone else.

yeah that's really it. he's my go to comfort companion

my ride or die if you will

Hancock

If I'm going to vault 81 or the prydwen. Mans doesn't need that kinda negativity in his life

or if he keeps stepping in front of my gun.

He does that a lot.....

Cait

SHES ALWAYS IN MY GOD DAMN WAY!

Tight hall? in front of me

Slim doorframe? in front of me.

I usually rage quit send her home. Sorry, not sorry Cait

Danse

To have fun.

Also he keeps giving me his damn affinity talk because I refuse to romance him and its lowkey embarrassing at this point.

When I need to do railroad stuff. Or if I'm around ghouls/ synths pre bb. They don't need the kind of self projecting negativity.

Don't get me wrong I love Danse, but he's a much better person post bb

also to have fun

Curie

I really only get her to max affinity and then make her a cute little house at one of my settlements and check in on her once a week?

Shes not my go to companion, but I do love the little synthy girl

Deacon

Game glitched and he's been in his undies for days.

Mans making me uncomfortable with them tighty-whities.... If he's not romancable why's he keeping getting naked in front of me Bethesda?

Or he keeps falling off of high places and I'm low on stimpacks

Also if I have to do BOS missions to get Danse to max affinity I usually leave him at home out of respect

Also one of my main companions

Piper

Like Curie I max affinity and the dip

I love her, but she's just not my fav companion? Like she's great and wonderful and amazing I just still prefer Deacon, Nick and Mac

Also if I have to steal stuff.

Who am I kidding I never have to steal stuff. When I want to steal stuff. Sometimes people got cool stuff.... and morally you shouldn't take it I know, but... that hat looks sick Piper what was I supposed to do?

Sorry not sorry Piper

Nick

I swap him Deacon and Mac off all the time depending on the mission

Another one of my preferred companions

Love this metal man so much.

Preston

When I'm sick and fucking tired of hearing about the "sEtTleMenT tHaT nEeDs oUr heLp"

Seriously though he gets in my way like Cait and Hancock combined

I give it 30 minutes before he's sent back home

Love him though, just wish the writers would have made his settlement or minuteman dialog only come up if I bring it up first... ya know?

X6-88

Doing anything fun

Also doing railroad mission

Or BOS missions

Or ya know when I get sick of him referring to all my friends, my home and the things I've worked really hard for as vile. Like bro... come on now

[lokislytherin]

love me only til the spring

pairing: lore!vox akuma + eldritch!kindred

summary: after being banished from heaven, new demon vox akuma wanders the earth for many years.  but this time, he has a companion - the kindred.

word count: 2147

a/n: written for #kinfiction challenge! i hope you enjoy! crossposted on ao3 RIGHT HERE if there are any formatting issues!

to kindred: looks like we’re an eldritch amalgamation of souls now guys

to vox if he ever finds this: i’m sorry for making your tragic backstory even more tragic

fic title from 'lilac' by IU, and graphics made by me!

t/w for blood, almost character death and angst.

“Vox.” The archangel’s voice booms across the heavenly hall. The archangel carried a form indescribable to the mortal eye, full of might and faith in their God. “Do you know what you have done?”

The angel lying chained on the ground spits at the archangel’s feet. Even bound with red ropes to sap him of his strength, he stays defiant, faithful in his beliefs. From across the room, Vox’s blood brother Hako cannot bear to look. “Our God is omni-benevolent. They told us to always be kind, did they not? By their words, I have done no wrong.”

“Our kind cannot directly disrupt mortal lives,” the archangel bites out. “That is our one rule, and you have broken it.”

“The entire village was going to die! All three hundred thousand people!” Vox argues hotly. “They were innocents! They had done nothing wrong!”

“Rules are rules for a reason, Vox. You should have let them die. They were fated to. You have only delayed the inevitable. Now the delicate balance of life is out of order.”

Vox growls low in his throat. The red ropes tighten, heavenly fire burning over his skin. His restrained wings shudder. “Fuck fate.” The angels and archangels gathered at the trial of Vox gasp. “If this is the life we angels are forced to lead, I refuse to be a part of it any longer. God is a fraud,” he sneers. “Benevolent? Omnipresent? Omnipotent? I call bullshit! Which one of us has ever seen God?” The whispers continue to rise, yet nobody responds. Hako takes a step back, as if he was ashamed. “None of us!”

“Silence!” The archangel roars. “How dare you speak of our God in this fashion? By the heavenly decree, you are hereby punished for your sins. I, Head Archangel, strip you of your wings and exile you from Heaven.” The archangel sneers right back. “Even if he crawls back to us, begging for God to take him back, he will never be allowed to return. Hako, you come with me. I hope you are more willing to behave than that brother of yours.”

Vox bares his teeth in a demonic snarl. The red ropes continue to tighten. He fights back as the archangels force him to his knees, shoving his face against the floor. He refuses to scream even when a seraph blade burns against his skin, leaving deep, jagged wounds across his bare shoulder blades as his wings are cut off at the root. Golden ichor stains the feathers of his pristine white wings, pooling on the marble floor. It drips and drips until the ground is covered in the crimson red of mortal blood, of demon blood instead.

Only then do the angels deem it time to haul Vox to the Heaven’s gates, and toss him out.

The fall from grace could have taken seconds. Months. Decades. Centuries. Vox will never know. All he knows is the pain of having his wings stripped away from him. He doesn’t regret it.

When he finally hits the ground, it is when his bloody wounds have turned into scars. At some point, the blue-streaked white hair Vox had as an angel had deepened into inky black streaked with blood red. He looks nothing like the angel he used to be, but he’s glad. Good riddance! He’ll never have to deal with them all again. He’d miss Hako, and maybe that funny fox spirit guardian Nina, but other than the two of them, he really had no reason to stay.

A sound from beside him shakes him out of his musings. He tenses, but as of now he’s too weak to fight back.  … Hm.  The creature perched beside him is less of a creature, but more of a writhing black mass of souls.  It blinks down at him with a million eyes, and he blinks right back.  One soul reaches out and pokes his cheek as if to ask if he's alright.

Vox sighs, gazing up at the heavens.  It all seems so far away now.  "No," he mutters, "I'm not alright."

The creature makes a noise with its many mouths, patting him sympathetically.  Vox sighs deeply.  What does he do from here? Nobody speaks of what angels do after they fall.  "Say," he murmurs to the creature, "do you have a place to go?"

The creature wiggles.  Apparently, that means 'yes'.  The creature supports Vox as he hobbles his way across the countryside.  Even if his wounds have scabbed over and formed scars, the pain still remains.  The loss of his wings ache like phantom limbs.  

The creature leads Vox to a village at the peak of Honshu, resting on the tip of its Northern peninsula.  It’s the same village Vox had tried to save before his banishment.  The buildings still carry burn scars, remnants of the forest fire that had swept across the mountain and killed so many.  The once-bustling village is now reduced to a measly few hundred.  They are poor, and survive only on their own crops and hunted animals, but alive.  These are the descendants of the people Vox had saved.

"Did you live here?" He asks the creature. "Were you..." All the people who died?

Yes.  

"I'm sorry."

Don't be.

The creature seems to want him to help, so Vox takes a step in.  

It takes days for the villagers to learn to trust the former-angel who charms them with his charisma, warmth and fighting prowess.  They give him a roof over his head, and in return, he protects them from harm.

Vox protects them for years and years, and the village expands to take in other immigrants from displaced clans.  The people call him Akuma-sama for his terrifying skills with his katana, name him leader.  With him, the lost and despondent find a home.  They find health and prosperity and hope in the place people have begun to call 'Akuma Castle', and Vox asks for nothing more than their loyalty.

This extends to the soul-creature who follows him around faithfully.  He starts to call them Kindred, because they are kindred spirits now, are they not? They are no longer a fallen angel and hundreds of thousands of souls on the run from Heaven's eternal reign.  They are friends now, even if Vox does not always understand them.

The year is 1614 when the war raging across Japan finally reaches Akuma Castle.

Vox tries his best to quell the fears of his people.  Mothers hide their children, breathing a sigh of relief when the Kindred tears themselves apart to keep an eye on them all.  At the end of every day, the Kindred reports to Vox.  It eases the former angel's worries to know that his people are safe and sound.  The men learn to defend and to defeat, taught by none other than Vox himself.  They learn fast, and they appreciate it when Vox praises them for it.

It's not enough.  Once again, Vox's best efforts are not enough.

One by one, the Tokugawa Shinobi slaughter the men Vox had come to call friends.  The archers on the castle walls fall first, toppling from their perches like helpless birds.  The infantry are next to fall, the enemy soldiers wading through like their lives mean nothing.  The stench of bloody death wafts through the air.

Vox sees Tokugawa Ieyasu, their leader, laughing at him on the neighboring mountain.  Mocking him.  Pathetic, he hears Tokugawa call out.  Five hundred and twenty-two men, dead.  Five hundred and twenty-two friends, never to be seen alive again.

Vox sees red.

Roaring out a battle cry, the last line of defense unsheathes his katana, and takes on the Tokugawa Shinobi on his own.  He must not fall.  The sacrifices of his people cannot be in vain.  The Kindred is working hard on the sidelines, sneaking the women and the children away from the battlefield, through the woods to safety.  

The metallic clang of clashing swords echo through the sky as Vox Akuma-sama slices the enemy soldiers to ribbons.  Even though he is no longer an angel, his strength is still superhuman.  

What a pity his stamina isn't enough.

Vox is strong, but for every fallen soldier, two more rise.  He wipes the sweat off his forehead, and his bloodstained hands leave bright red war-paint in their wake.  Eventually, he finds himself cornered on the cliff's edge.  He's gravely injured.  He's growing tired.  Growing weak.

The funniest thing is, his downfall isn't even a soldier's fatal blow.

It's the rock crumbling under his foot that sends him falling, falling, falling once again.  It hurts worse than falling from Heaven.

Briefly, he wonders what Hako would think if he saw Vox now.

Deja vu strikes when he hears the rustling of bushes besides him.  The Kindred appears, and-

Freezes.

Vox lifts a weak hand.  The Kindred nuzzles into his touch, faithful as always.  He can feel the distress rolling off the creature in waves.  "Don't worry about me," he rasps.  A smile cracks his bloodstained lips.  "This isn't the end of Vox Akuma."

"We'll meet again," he promises even as the beating heart in his chest slows and his vision grows blurry.  "I swear to God."

The Kindred can only watch helplessly as the demonic fire of Vox Akuma begins to fade, the sound of his breathing slowing down to a complete stop.  The Kindred doesn't know what exactly will happen to them or to Vox Akuma from here.  All they know is that the angel-turned-demon who had taken them under his wing is severely injured, incapable of showing them the kindness and strength he had all those times in the past.

"Hey."

The Kindred turns around, protectively covering the still body of their demon.  Standing behind them is an angel with glowing white hair and pristine white wings.  The Kindred growls, all of their eyes narrowed, a million sharp teeth bared.

The angel rolls their eyes.  "Vox isn't dead, you know.  He's stronger than that.  I should know, he's my dumbass brother.  If he hasn't talked about me before, I'm Hako."

The Kindred looks down at Vox's still body.  He looks rather dead to them.

"He's just really, really weak, but he'll wake up in a bit.  You, on the other hand, are not meant to be alive." The Kindred hisses.  "It's time for you to move on.  All of you."

The angel sighs.  "You'll see him again, if that's what you're worried about.  Maybe you'll be in another form, but he'll still be around.  Reincarnation is a thing, and you haven't done anything that warrants not being reincarnated.  Besides running from us, that is."

The Kindred wavers.  Three hundred thousand souls, torn between whether to stay or to go.

"Come on," goads the angel.  "Make your choice."

With one last longing look at the helpless Vox Akuma, the Kindred turns away.  They'll meet again, won't they? Vox promised.  He swore to God.

Please, the Kindred thinks.  Three hundred thousand souls, in total agreement.  Please let him be safe.

The angel whisks them away.

OMAKE

Four hundred years pass by.

Vox Akuma has regained much of his strength, but he's still weak compared to what he once was. He'd spent four hundred years alone, wandering, adapting, trying to find out what had happened to the Kindred creature he'd befriended all those years ago. His endless journey had led him from Japan to England during World War Two, and after the war, he'd settled down in England.

By the twenty-first century, things had calmed down. Tokugawa Ieyasu was long dead, being a mortal with a limited lifespan. It was syphilis, or maybe it was cancer. The only thing Vox knew was that he wished he could've dealt Tokugawa the killing blow.

In hopes of tracking down the Kindred somehow, he joined the mortal company Nijisanji. Apparently, he could use this app called YouTube to show himself playing video games and reading poems live, while people would watch, and some would pay money. It still confused him a little, but he'd gotten past the applications, and people seemed to like him enough. Nina from his days in Heaven was there too, which made things infinitely better.

That led him to today.

The date is 20 December, 2021. He's making his debut with four other streamers in a group called Luxiem. With a click of a button, his debut video begins.

He sees the viewer count rise and rise. Could they be remnants of the Kindred, reincarnated into a new world? Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. Maybe he will never know. But maybe they could fill the gap in his heart the Kindred of the past left behind.

"The year is 1614," he reads. "At the close of Japan's Sengoku Period, the country is torn asunder by bloody violence and broken bones."

His audience - the newly named Kindred - watch and listen, entranced.

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

The Fundamentals of Gendrya

So I just want to establish the possible foreshadowing Arya and Gendry have that hints at a possible romantic relationship in the future, as well as the romantic undertones present in their story.  I’m not really going to focus on symbolism in this meta (although it will come up a couple of times in a minor way), as that will be a focus for future meta.  This is only meant to establish the fundamental basics.

First I want to say that when I’m talking about the romantic possibility of Gendrya, I mean future Gendrya, as in once Arya is older.  However I will posit and say that because we are viewing this in the world of Westeros (in a pseudo Medieval world that GRRM exaggerated and sensationalized from real Medieval sources as well as rumor) and because GRRM has established he has no problems with placing his younger characters in romantic or sexual situations (see Mercy TWOW) I think it would be remiss to think GRRM would not take Arya and Gendry here if that was his plan all along.  After all, there is plenty of precedent.  

This also leads me to remind everyone that Gendry is not an adult when he meets Arya, and the age gap between the two is one of the least egregious age gaps in the books as most of the age gaps are between adult men in their 20’s and 30’s with 12-16 year old girl’s.  I think a lot of people think of the age gap as Arya being 9 the whole time and Gendry being 16, but this is in fact wrong.  According to the timeline, Arya and Gendry meet at the beginning of 299 AC, right around Arya’s 10th birthday.  In 299 AC Gendry was only 13/14 years old.  He was born in 284 AC and is not the same age as Robb and Jon, like Ned surmises.  Gendry is just big for his age, and it’s highly likely Gendry doesn’t even know how old he is.  When Arya and Gendry separate in ASOS Arya is almost 11 while Gendry is 14/15 years old.  

Regardless, this is fiction, and doesn’t reflect real world morals.  So what I’m getting at is that if anyone disagrees with this meta because of their ages I suggest you don’t read any further.

Foreshadowing

Our first hint of foreshadowing happens in Arya’s very first chapter:

She frowned down at them with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa sat among the other girls.  Sansa's needlework was exquisite.  Everyone said so.  “Sansa's work is as pretty as she is,” Septa Mordane told their lady mother once.  “She has such fine, delicate hands.”  When Lady Catelyn had asked about Arya, the septa had sniffed.  “Arya has the hands of a blacksmith.” - Arya I AGOT

This quote is later followed up with:

[...] “I ruined that gown Lady Smallwood gave me, and I don't sew so good.”  She chewed her lip.  “I don't sew very well, I mean.  Septa Mordane used to say I had a blacksmith's hands.”

Gendry hooted.  “Those soft little things,” he called out.  “You couldn't even hold a hammer.” - Arya VII ASOS

In the same book Lem Lemoncloak says this to Gendry:

“You must be a lackwit, boy,” said Lem.  “We're outlaws.  Lowborn scum, most of us, except for his lordship.  Don't think it'll be like Tom's fool songs neither.  You won't be stealing no kisses from a princess, nor riding in no tourneys in stolen armor.  You join us, you'll end with your neck in a noose, or your head mounted up above some castle gate.” - Arya VII ASOS

At this point Arya is indeed a princess, but Lem also makes an obvious reference (to the audience) to the Knight of the Laughing Tree, which I think we can safely say was Lyanna.  The fact that Lyanna is Arya’s literary mirror, tells me we can connect Arya to Lem’s comment, not to mention the inclusion of “princess” just kind of seals the deal.  We also know that Arya is the spitting image of Lyanna and Gendry the spitting image of Robert Baratheon.  I think it’s worth noting also that after Acorn Hall, Lem takes it upon himself to make sure nothing untoward happens between Arya and Gendry (he thought Gendry was taking advantage of Arya after they wrestled) as he starts sleeping in between them, which is seen in Arya V ASOS when they are at The Peach.  Lem saying “Don’t think it’ll be like Tom’s fool songs neither” is also interesting because at Acorn Hall we specifically get Tom singing a love song directed towards Arya and Gendry.

Speaking of Lyanna and Robert being reflections of Arya (in both appearance and personality) and Gendry (in appearance for the most part) this is said in Eddard I AGOT:

We were meant to rule together. If Lyanna had lived, we should have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection. Well, it is not too late. I have a son. You have a daughter. My Joff and your Sansa shall join our houses, as Lyanna and I might once have done."

Now this quote may be referring to Sansa and Joffrey, but I do think it’s foreshadowing for Gendrya and this is just a misdirect.  After all, Joffrey is not Robert Baratheon’s son by blood, but Gendry is, even though he is illegitimate.  To me this also sounds like a promise.  When you think about it, the story truly begins at the Tourney of Harrenhal with the events that broke the betrothal between Lyanna and Robert, so it would be very cyclical for the ending to do what the beginning could not, binding a Stark and a Baratheon together in marriage.

There are also several references about Arya marrying an apprentice/blacksmith:

“[...] Or if it is marriage and children you desire, tell me, and we shall find a husband for you.  Some honest apprentice boy, a rich old man, a seafarer, whatever you desire.” - Arya II AFFC

We also have a comment made by Jaime:

“Not all,” said Jaime.  “Lord Eddard's daughters live.  One has just been wed.  The other...”  Brienne, where are you?  Have you found her?  “...if the gods are good, she'll forget she was a Stark.  She'll wed some burly blacksmith or fat-faced innkeep, fill his house with children, and never need to fear that some knight might come along to smash their heads against a wall.” - Jaime I ADWD

Now I know what you are going to say, that Jaime is referring to Sansa possibly marrying a blacksmith or innkeep, but if it weren’t for Jaime’s thought’s in the middle towards Brienne, you’d never guess which Stark daughter he is referring to because Sansa was only just recently married as well.  Also it’s Arya who is associated with a blacksmith (Gendry) and a fat-faced innkeep (Hot Pie).  So while Jaime is referring to Sansa here I think we are meant to actually look at the reality behind this and reverse the foreshadowing back onto Arya, because it wasn’t Arya who was recently wed, that was Sansa.  It’s also Arya who is legitimately trying to forget she was a Stark (Sansa isn’t trying to forget, she is only pretending to be Alayne to ensure her protection) and like I mentioned it’s Arya who had a blacksmith and future employee at an inn as companions for two novels.  So I think it’s a foreshadowing switcheroo.  And I think it’s also worth mentioning that while Jaime sent Brienne out to save Sansa, Brienne spends her whole journey almost exclusively hearing news and following leads about Arya.

There is also a reference in Brienne VII AFFC that makes mention that Arya may marry an apprentice boy:

Gendry was the closest thing to a man grown, but it was Willow shouting all the orders, as if she were a queen in her castle and the other children were no more than servants.

If she were highborn, command would come naturally to her, and deference to them.  Brienne wondered whether Willow might be more than she appeared.  The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister's beauty.  Brown hair, brown eyes, skinny...could it be?  Arya Stark's hair was brown, she recalled, but Brienne was not sure about the color of her eyes.  Brown and brown, was that it?  Could it be that she did not die at Saltpans after all?

*

“One day that little girl [Willow] will make some man a frightful wife,” Ser Hyle observed.  “That poor 'prentice boy [Gendry], most like.”

Willow is very obviously a Arya stand-in which makes this specific quote about Arya and Gendry, not Willow and Gendry.

Arya IV ASOS has the strongest case for future romantic Gendrya.  Not only does Gendry follow after Arya and invite her to look at the forge, Gendry opens up to her about his life right before he was uprooted, and does this:

Gendry reached out with the tongs as if to pinch her face, but Arya swatted them away.

Gendry is being playful and open with Arya during most of this scene in the forge, teasing her in a manner that verges on flirting, telling her a story about his past, laughing and having fun with Arya.  And then this happens:

Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her.  “You look different now.  Like a proper little girl.”

“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.”

“Nice, though.  A nice oak tree.”  He stepped closer, and sniffed at her.  “You even smell nice for a change.”

“You don't.  You stink.”  Arya shoved him back against the anvil and made to run, but Gendry caught her arm.  She stuck a foot between his legs and tripped him, but he yanked her down with him, and they rolled across the floor of the smithy.  He was very strong, but she was quicker.  Every time he tried to hold her still she wiggled free and punched him.  Gendry only laughed at the blows, which made her mad.  He finally caught both her wrists in one hand and started to tickle her with the other, so Arya slammed her knee between his legs, and wrenched free.  Both of them were covered in dirt, and one sleeve was torn on her stupid acorn dress.  “I bet I don't look so nice now,” she shouted.

Gendry compliments Arya’s looks and scent, only for Arya to think he’s teasing her about her appearance due to her intense insecurity when it comes to highborn conformation (Gendry’s laugh when he first saw her didn’t help matters in her insecurity even though Gendry most likely only laughed out of being startled at her transformation).  This insecurity leads Arya into getting angry and starting a wrestling match with him.  This wrestling scene also directly follows Jaime and Brienne’s very sexually charged sword fight, and could also be interpreted as foreshadowing a romantic and potentially sexual relationship in the future, like theirs did, when they are older.  

Now I’m not saying that I think Gendrya is going to go NC-17 in the books, but I do think it’s likely to go PG-13 by the end of ADOS, considering we have precedent that GRRM has no qualms about writing these types of things as I mentioned above, and we know Arya is going to be 12 in TWOW and may be at least 14-15 when the series ends depending on how much GRRM can spread out the timeline in the next two books.  But considering the amount of stuff that needs to happen, I think the next two books will span 2-3 years before the epilogue begins.

Then there is the love song GRRM specifically wrote for Arya.  A song that has only appeared in one chapter, Arya’s chapter:

“My featherbed is deep and soft,

and there I'll lay you down,

I'll dress you all in yellow silk,

and on your head a crown.

For you shall be my lady love,

and I shall be your lord.

I'll always keep you warm and safe,

and guard you with my sword.

“And how she smiled and how she laughed,

the maiden of the tree.

She spun away and said to him,

no featherbed for me.

I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,

and bind my hair with grass,

But you can be my forest love,

and me your forest lass.”

Now we know this song is about them because when Tom O’Sevens is singing it, he winks at Arya, and later Lady Smallwood specifically says to Arya “I have no gowns of leaves”.  The song specifically mentions yellow – a Baratheon color – and depicts the free spirited “Maiden of the Tree” who wants love on her own terms, which sounds like what an older, flowered version of Arya would want if she fell in love.

Romantic Undertones

Arya’s Crush

As she passed the armory, Arya heard the ring of a hammer. A deep orange glow shone through the high windows. She climbed to the roof and peeked down. Gendry was beating out a breastplate. When he worked, nothing existed for him but metal, bellows, fire. The hammer was like part of his arm. She watched the play of muscles in his chest and listened to the steel music he made. He's strong, she thought. As he took up the long-handled tongs to dip the breastplate into the quenching trough, Arya slithered through the window and leapt down to the floor beside him. - Arya IX ACOK

It’s very subtle but this paragraph tells us everything.  Arya unintentionally reveals in this quote that she watches Gendry blacksmithing enough to know that the world falls away when he’s in his element.  She watches the play of muscles in his back and notes how strong he is and even attaches poetic language to his work.  Arya has a crush on Gendry.  It’s not acknowledged and it’s likely she doesn’t understand it herself, but this seems to be the truth of it, especially with the way GRRM worded this.  I don’t know how many times I’ve read a romance where the protagonist studies their love interest while watching the “play of muscles” in their back or their arms.  It’s also interesting to note that Arya always mentions specifics about Gendry’s looks and notes details about him:

He blinked at her, startled. Strands of thick black hair, still wet from the bathhouse, fell across his deep blue eyes. "I'd hurt you." - Arya II ACOK

"It's me they want," Arya whispered back. His ear smelled of soap. "You be quiet." - Arya II ACOK

When she spied Gendry, his bare chest was slick with sweat, but the blue eyes under the heavy black hair had the stubborn look she remembered. - Arya VIII ACOK

"She's not alone." Gendry rode out from behind the cottage wall, and behind him Hot Pie, leading her horse. In his chainmail shirt with a sword in his hand, Gendry looked almost a man grown, and dangerous. Hot Pie looked like Hot Pie. - Arya II ASOS

Now most of these I’d normally chalk up to the author just being descriptive, but if that’s the case, why don’t we know more about Hot Pie’s looks, who Arya spent nearly a year with at the same time as Gendry?  Why does she take special time out to describe Gendry so much?  Honestly I think part of it is to keep reminding us that Gendry is a secret Baratheon bastard, but that doesn’t explain the first quote about Arya watching the “play of muscles” in his back and noting how strong he is.  So I think it’s a combination of GRRM wanting to remind the audience that Gendry is a Baratheon and to also subtly show us that Arya has an innocent crush on him, but doesn’t know or acknowledge that this is the case out loud.

Their Mutual Jealousy

Starting after the events of Acorn Hall in Arya IV ASOS, it’s obvious that something shifts in Arya and Gendry’s relationship.  One aspect is that Gendry can no longer ignore that Arya is indeed a highborn girl after seeing her for the first time dressed up as one.  He knows what class differences will mean for their friendship.  And another aspect, is that Gendry acknowledges that he may be romantically interested in Arya, or at least acknowledges the potential for those feelings to emerge in time.  And because of this, combined with their class differences, Gendry knows that if he follows Arya to Riverrun where her mother and brother are, he would end up watching Arya grow into someone he could romantically love, only for her to be torn away from him due to an arranged marriage.  Both of these aspects play a factor in why we see Gendry become more outwardly scathing towards highborns in the chapters following this and why his behavior seems to become one rife with jealousy.

In Arya V ASOS the Brotherhood Without Banners travel to The Peach and both of the above aspects I spoke of are present in this chapter:

"You don't even know what a brothel is."

"I do so," she insisted. "It's like an inn, with girls."

He was turning red again. "What are you doing here, then?" he demanded. "A brothel's no fit place for no bloody highborn lady, everybody knows that."

And when Gendry protects Arya from a pervert by saying that she’s his sister, this is what goes down:

"Why did you say that?" Arya hopped to her feet. "You're not my brother."

"That's right," he said angrily. "I'm too bloody lowborn to be kin to m'lady high."

Arya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. "That's not the way I meant it."

"Yes it is." He sat down on the bench, cradling a cup of wine between his hands. "Go away. I want to drink this wine in peace. Then maybe I'll go find that black-haired girl and ring her bell for her."

Arya doesn’t really understand the intentions of the pervert, despite knowing of sex, and is confused on why Gendry would say that he’s her brother, but when she asks him, he takes it the wrong way since he is already so sensitive about their class differences at this point in their story.  That last paragraph is what makes this exchange really interesting though.  Why would Gendry say this, when it’s already made clear and established in this chapter that Gendry has no intentions of sleeping with any of the girls, even when it’s offered to him for free?  He is very obviously lying to try to get a rise out of Arya and the only way this makes sense is if we put it under a romantic lens.

Then we have this:

Arya whirled and left him there. A stupid bullheaded bastard boy, that's all he is. He could ring all the bells he wanted, it was nothing to her.

Now considering Arya’s defense mechanism (the mechanism that has her calling things or people stupid when she’s hurt or feeling inadequate by them to try to make the pain and hurt not seem so severe) the fact that she calls Gendry a “stupid bullheaded bastard boy” and proclaims Gendry ringing the bells of any girl was “nothing to her” tells us that it matters to her and that she’s upset.  This is further reiterated in Arya VIII ASOS:

Arya wished she had another crabapple to bounce off his face. "My father had honor," she said angrily. "And we weren't talking to you anyway. Why don't you go back to Stoney Sept and ring that girl's stupid bells?"

So here we have Arya mention this three chapters later, likely weeks if not months later.  If Arya didn’t care about Gendry ringing “all the bells he wanted” then why is she still so hurt and jealous?  She’s obviously been stewing about this for a while.

In this same chapter we also see gems from Gendry that clearly proclaim that he’s still plagued about his class differences to Arya.  It also clearly shows that Gendry is jealous of Edric Dayne once Arya befriends him, especially since she befriended someone highborn, like her, who just so happens to be a boy who we know has nearly the same coloring as Rhaegar Targaryen, which evokes the history repeating motif that is present in Arya’s arc of the Rhaegar/Lyanna/Robert love triangle.

"You have a knife," Gendry suggested. "If your hair annoys you so much, shave your bloody head."

He doesn't like Ned. The squire seemed nice enough to Arya; maybe a little shy, but good-natured. She had always heard that Dornishmen were small and swarthy, with black hair and small black eyes, but Ned had big blue eyes, so dark that they looked almost purple. And his hair was a pale blond, more ash than honey. - Arya VIII ASOS

And

"My lady?" Ned looked embarrassed. "I'm Edric Dayne, the . . . the Lord of Starfall."

Behind them, Gendry groaned. "Lords and ladies," he proclaimed in a disgusted tone. Arya plucked a withered crabapple off a passing branch and whipped it at him, bouncing it off his thick bull head. "Ow," he said. "That hurt." He felt the skin above his eye. "What kind of lady throws crabapples at people?"

"The bad kind," said Arya, suddenly contrite. 

Gendry continues to encapsulate “ours is the fury” during Arya’s whole exchange with Edric Dayne.

I do want to add that I know Gendry’s class issues have always been there, and it’s definitely been made even more apparent to him during the War of the Five Kings during his time in the wartorn Riverlands with Arya, so it’s not exactly that far-fetched that Gendry may become even more sensitive and/or bitter about it.  However, this extremity of his behavior only happened after Acorn Hall where he saw Arya looking like the highborn girl she is.  And while I do believe part of Gendry’s increase of bitterness about their class differences does have to do with potential romantic feelings, I also think it has to do with Gendry also coming to terms with the fact that Arya’s family is also directly responsible for the carnage they have seen and experienced (even though he doesn’t blame Arya, as she seems to be one of Gendry’s exceptions when it comes to his dislike of the nobility).  If it weren’t for the blatant flirting on his behalf in the forge at Acorn Hall and the jealousy, I would honestly chalk it up to Gendry trying to reconcile his own trauma and anger regarding highborns, including Arya’s family’s sins, but alas, that is not completely the case.

Post Separation

When Arya is kidnapped by the Hound and witnesses the Red Wedding, Arya contemplates where she may go and this crosses her thoughts in a very romanticized light:

She could stay with Hot Pie, or maybe Lord Beric would find her there. Anguy would teach her to use a bow, and she could ride with Gendry and be an outlaw, like Wenda the White Fawn in the songs.

But that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream. - Arya XII ASOS

The fact that Arya follows this thought up with “that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream” tells us specifically what type of fantasy this is.  Arya isn’t fantasizing about an adventure, she’s fantasizing about love and romance, considering those are the types of flights of fancy Sansa always loses herself in.  Now Arya isn’t outright rejecting the possibility of romance here, because there is more to that second paragraph:

But that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream. Hot Pie and Gendry had left her just as soon as they could, and Lord Beric and the outlaws only wanted to ransom her, just like the Hound. None of them wanted her around. They were never my pack, not even Hot Pie and Gendry. I was stupid to think so, just a stupid little girl, and no wolf at all.

She rejects the possibility because she remembers that Hot Pie and Gendry abandoned her as soon as they could, and that all the Brotherhood did was use her, according to her perspective on the matter.  And her perspective is entirely skewed because of her abandonment and low self-esteem issues, as well as not fully understanding the class issues as she honestly didn’t think that bringing Hot Pie and Gendry to Riverrun and Winterfell would cause any issues with their friendships, which is understandable for a kid to think.  Especially one that hadn’t been in the highborn world for the past year and a half.  In fact, Medieval children in the real world and in the books, weren’t reprimanded for playing together regardless of class, usually the highborn children played with the children of those who worked and lived within the castle walls, from other lords children to stewards children to the helps children.  It’s just something children did until they reached a certain age where it just wasn’t allowed anymore.  So it’s only natural for this not to really factor into Arya’s plans.

When Arya is about to walk into the House of Black and White, Arya comforts her fear with a memory of Gendry:

Suddenly she was somewhere else . . . back in Harrenhal with Gendry [...] - Arya I AFFC

Which indicates that Gendry is still very much on her mind at this point.  I think it really says something as well that Arya takes comfort from a memory at Harrenhal of all places.  I think this indicates how much comfort she took from their friendship.  I also think she doesn’t think about Gendry with the Brotherhood to take her comfort because while ASOS has the most romantic foreshadowing for them and the two shared some nice moments, it was also the start of them truly fracturing, or so her unreliable narration interpreted it as.  After all, she actually thought that Gendry was making fun of her looks at Acorn Hall, and she thought Gendry didn’t want to be her friend anymore as he “abandoned her” for the Brotherhood.  So while Harrenhal was awful and they had their disagreements there, Arya still felt reassured with his companionship and likely found it uncomplicated in comparison to her other problems at the time.

*

When we next see Gendry in Brienne VII AFFC we see a drastically different Gendry.  While Gendry has always been guarded and sullen with a chip on his shoulder, with little love for the nobility, this change is drastic enough where it’s unsettling to read at first.  Not only is Gendry just flat out rude in a very mean way but he is filled with rage.  Gendry joined the Brotherhood because he liked how they handled justice, but under Lady Stoneheart there is no justice and he doesn’t seem to mind.  His beliefs have shifted as well.

And though his eyes had been that same deep blue, Lord Renly's eyes had always been warm and welcoming, full of laughter, whereas this boy's eyes brimmed with anger and suspicion.

Septon Meribald asked if he might lead the children in a grace, ignoring the small girl crawling naked across the table. "Aye," said Willow, snatching up the crawler before she reached the porridge. So they bowed their heads together and thanked the Father and the Mother for their bounty . . . all but the black-haired boy from the forge, who crossed his arms against his chest and sat glowering as the others prayed. Brienne was not the only one to notice. When the prayer was done Septon Meribald looked across the table, and said, "Do you have no love for the gods, son?"

"Not for your gods." Gendry stood abruptly. "I have work to do." He stalked out without a bite of food.

Gendry was at his forge, bare-chested beneath his leather apron. He was beating on a sword as if he wished it were a foe [...]

What would a knight be doing working at a smithy? "You have black hair and blue eyes, and you were born in the shadow of the Red Keep. Has no one ever remarked upon your face?"

"What's wrong with my face? It's not as ugly as yours."

Lord Renly was ahead of her, her sweet smiling king. He was leading her horse through the trees. Brienne called out to tell him how much she loved him, but when he turned to scowl at her, she saw that he was not Renly after all. Renly never scowled. He always had a smile for me, she thought . . . except . . .

While some people chalk up Gendry’s behavior as a result of trauma about what he experienced in the Riverlands, and I don’t deny that is a factor, I don’t believe it’s the only factor because we didn’t see Gendry like this post Harrenhal or even with the Brotherhood in ASOS.  Yes he embodied “ours is the fury” at times and was jealous and bitter, and rude at times as well, but he wasn’t flat out cruel to people, nor filled with rage and vengeance.  The Gendry before Arya was taken would never have led Brienne to Lady Stoneheart for the slaughter after she tried to save everyone in that Inn against Rorge and Biter and co.  We can also see another difference in Gendry:

Lightning cracked to the south as the riders swung down off their horses. For half a heartbeat darkness turned to day. An axe gleamed silvery blue, light shimmered off mail and plate, and beneath the dark hood of the lead rider Brienne glimpsed an iron snout and rows of steel teeth, snarling.

Gendry saw it too. "Him."

While there is no emphasis on the “him” when Gendry sees the Hound’s helm, it’s an abrupt and emotionless statement.  It’s one word without emphasis but it conveys a lot.  Gendry recognizes the Hound’s helm and it’s apparent he’s not happy, thinking that it was indeed the Hound for a minute.  And while I’m trying to avoid discussing symbolism, I just can’t ignore how the lightning that cracked in the south could also be symbolic of Gendry’s true mood.  He is, after all, a bastard Baratheon, connected to the storm, the fury - thunder and lightning - as well as sharing a connection to the god, Thor in our mythology.  This lightning could symbolically be linked to Gendry’s anger and vengeance.  So why does Gendry act like this when he sees who he thinks is the Hound again?  He had no issue with the Hound during his trial by combat, so what changed?  The Hound kidnapped Arya.  And while he knows Arya didn’t die at the Red Wedding, he and the Brotherhood aren’t entirely sure if the Hound sold Arya to the Lannister’s and if she is now Arya Bolton.  So it makes complete sense why he would have issues with the Hound.  In fact I think a lot of this behavior we are seeing from Gendry is the direct result of the Hound kidnapping Arya and not knowing if she’s dead or being brutally raped and tortured in the North.

Why do I think this?  Because this behavior began between Arya being kidnapped in ASOS and Brienne VII AFFC.  Only a few to a handful of months have passed since then.  This, I believe, is the inciting incident.  Another reason why I believe Arya is the reason is because of what he is doing.  He is staying at the Crossroads Inn, one of the last known places Arya was sighted, and he’s helping take care of orphaned children.  Arya took in strays as well and cared for them, like Weasel.  And considering how Gendry in ACOK wanted to leave Weasel and Hot Pie and Lommy behind, it’s interesting to see that he’s helping by taking in strays himself now, as if he thinks he may be able to atone for not saving Arya.  Another reason is because the Brotherhood is actively searching for Arya as well.  She is ever present on their minds.  So yes, I believe part of Gendry’s change has to do with losing Arya, which goes to show how much he really cared about her.  Not to mention (a tiny bit more symbolism, oopsie!), Gendry’s stay at the inn, waiting for Arya to return (I believe Gendry and the BWB are hoping that Arya is alive and will return to the inn) is a romantic aspect to the mythology of Weyland the Smith and his Swan Maiden/Valkyrie, and the aspect about the Brotherhood + Gendry searching the realm for Arya is also a romantic Cinderella motif, hence why I feel Gendry’s behavior here is supposed to have romantic subtext.

*

Extra:  Another interesting aspect that I think foreshadows this future relationship is the meaning of Gendry’s name.  Gendry is a nickname type of surname for a person who has inherited his family estates from his father-in-law, deriving its origin from the Old French word “gendre,” which meant “son-in-law.”  And as we know if Arya and Gendry married when they were older, Arya wouldn’t be taking his name, but he hers, due to her higher status.  So by marrying into the Stark family, he would be inheriting from his father-in-law Ned so to speak, even if it’s just inheriting the surname.

So this is everything I’ve compiled so far about Gendrya, that relies on just their foreshadowing and romantic undertones in the texts we have available but I’m positive I’ll be adding more to this list once TWOW officially releases.  However, I still have a lot more to share that focuses on their symbolism and motifs throughout the story, so I’m definitely not done making Gendrya meta, far from it and I can’t wait to share it with you all!  

And if anyone is interested in Arya’s and by extension Gendrya’s Cinderella motifs, you can find it at this link:  A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes.

[dragon-kazansky]

Your knight in a fur coat | Helmut Zemo

Requested by @cherry-season

Warnings: Arachnophobia. Figured I should just mention it before you read.

Judging by the volume of your screaming alone, anyone would think you were being murdered. However, your only house companion right now, other than the demon in your room, was Zemo, so Sam and Bucky wouldn't be able to blame this on him, at least.

The house had been otherwise quiet until that point. Zemo and had seen you go upstairs shortly after the other two left. He had continued to mill about downstairs, keeping himself occupied.

Then, shattering any thread of peace, you screamed from the top of your lungs.

For a moment he froze. The screaming stirring something within him. The past he hoped fo leave behind came rushing back. It wasn't until he heard your voice calling for help that he snapped back to reality and took off like lightning. He skipped every other step as he leaped up the stairs and dashed down the hall.

Who ever was bringing you harm would regret ever crossing him.

Zemo pushed open your door with all the strength he had, eyes darting around the room wildly. He was worried he would be once again too late. Sam and Bucky would kill him if you got hurt, or worse, whilst being left alone with him.

However, the scene he was presented with was unusual, to the say the least. You would standing on your bed, a thick book in your hands, as your eyes flickered from spot on the floor to another.

"What are you doing? I thought you were being murdered or something?"

He was beyond relieved to see you in one peace, alive and well. As you should be.

"There's a monster in here!" You hissed, looking to your right sharply, thinking you saw the blasted thing.

"A monster?" Perhaps you've gone mad?

"Yes, the purest evil on the planet, and it's in this room!" You say, now looking to your left all of a sudden.

"Funny," he smirked, "considering I'm in the room with you."

"You're not evil, but this thing is."

"Bold statement." Zemo looked at you curiously.

"Are you going to help, or am I going to have to tell the boys you left me for dead when I was trouble?" You hiss at him.

"If you die, you won't be able to tell them."

"Don't get smart with me, Zemo." You glare at him. "THERE IT IS!" You throw the book you were holding. It lands with a thud not too far from his feet.

"Me?"

"No, stupid, that evil eight legged fucker!"

Zemo lets your words sink in. Eight legged? Oh.

"Do you mean to tell me you're up there like a scared little kitten because there's a spider in here somewhere?"

"YES! Also, don't call me a kitten, I'm ferocious."

"Right... You don't look very ferocious up there." Zemo walks over to the bed and looks up at you.

"Zemo, please." Your voice had dropped to a pleading whisper, "help me."

The way you were looking at him was tugging at his heartstrings. He didn't say anything as he got down on his knees and looked around the underneath of the bed. You were on your knees in the bed, looking over the edge.

"Do you see it?" There was a quiver to your voice. For some reason he didn't like that.

"No, little bird, I don't."

"Little bird?"

Zemo looks up at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Do you not like that?"

"I didn't say that, it's just... you haven't called me that before." Your voice was a lot more level right now.

"I won't do it again."

"I... I didn't mean... you couldn't."

Zemo chuckles softly as he gets up, he stands at the very edge.

"Come here."

"What, why?" You look at him suspiciously.

"I don't see your little demon, so I'm going to take you downstairs and come back. I will search your room thoroughly, and won't stop until it's gone." He holds out his arms toward you.

You look at him suspiciously for a moment longer before shuffling over to him and letting him pick you up. He holds you so gently, yet securely, as he adjusts you in his arms, then he walks toward the open door. You hold on tightly as he moves, he chuckles right next to your ear. Zemo carries you all the way downstairs, no putting you down until you reach the sofa. He places you on it gently and stands upright.

"I'll be back shortly."

You watch Zemo go, unable to stop yourself from thinking he's being brave. How could he stand to be in a room with that little fucker scurrying around up there? Of course he's brave. You had always known he was. After everything he had been through, it made sense this was nothing to him.

You curl up on the sofa.

Sam and Bucky return, seeing you curled into a ball in your own.

"You alright?" Sam asks, coming over to check on you.

You nod, "I'm OK now, Zemo rescued me."

"Rescued you? From what? Did something happen?" Bucky asks, worrying about you.

"I saw a spider... he came to my rescue."

The boys looked at you softly, both knowing about your phobia.

"You sure, you're good?" Sam asked, making sure.

"Yeah, he's up there now. Zemo is brave."

"Zemo is a loose cannon," Sam mutters. You hit his shoulder softly.

"He saved me, be nice."

The moment Zemo comes back, making his way downstairs, you sit upright and give him all your attention.

"Is it gone?"

"Yes, little bird, it's gone. I put it outside." Zemo smiles softly at you.

"Thank you!" You get up and wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly. Zemo is startled for a moment, but his arms settle around you and hold you close. He smirks at the other two who are glaring at him.

"You're very welcome, my dear." He even goes as far to kiss your temple.

You're a blushing mess, refusing to turn around so Sam and Bucky couldn't see your face.

"I'm going to go back upstairs now." You shuffle around Zemo.

"Just shout if you need me, dear."

You don't say anything as you disappear out of sight.

Sam and Bucky continue to glare at Zemo who is looking smug about the whole ordeal.

@ajeff855

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

Hi, I have an idea for Chishiya if it's okay! He have something going on with Kuina's friend, and after she didn't came back from a game everyone thought that she died, but she actually just left (she didn't want to become too attached to Chishiya maybe?) and 1 month later the militants found her and Chishiya is rather cold toward her because she left him without saying anything. Happy ending if possible, please

Thanks for requesting, here you go. Enjoy! 🥰

Home | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Chishiya (ft. Kuina, Niragi)

Summary: You run away from the beach, but soon were found by the militants again. Chishiya, your closest companion, is mad when you return for not saying anything.

Warning: mention of sexual harassment, swearing, grieving, heavy angst

Word Count: 4.8k

*reader is female

Author’s Note: I’m sorry if the ending is a bit cliché, but I really enjoyed writing this one!

“I’m so sick of this shit Kuina. She’s gone. What the hell do we do now?”

Chishiya and Kuina sat on the top roof of The Beach. Their legs were dangling over the edge, above the groups of people who sang their hearts out over the loud music. They couldn’t be down there themselves, not that night.

“It’s so unfair,” Chishiya grumbled, rubbing his stained eyes with his hands. “I hate how everyone just moves on like nothing happened.”

Kuina sniffled, trying to control her runny nose as she listened to Chishiya’s pained words. “Look Chish, it was going to happen to one of us three at some point, it just happened to be Y/N.” Kuina tried to keep her voice stable, but the occasional voice crack gave away her sadness.

“Yes I know, but it still hurts so fucking bad.”

You hadn’t returned from your game. You hadn’t returned back to Chishiya and Kuina. You hadn’t returned home.

*******

“Oi Y/N! Slow the hell down!”

You heard Kuina yell out to you from down the hall. You laughed at her desperate attempt to catch up while Chishiya walked at his own pace watching you guys.

“Why are we suddenly having a race?! We have all day to get down to the pool!” Kuina called out. You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face her. “I want to get down there before the sun comes out and everyone wakes up! Don’t you want to have it just for us three for a while?”

“I suppose so,” Kuina breathed out heavily.

Chishiya’s lips pulled up into a smile as he watched you too bicker. “Oi you two. Be quiet. People in these halls are still sleeping,” he said.

Kuina turned to Chishiya and pulled a mocking bored face towards him. “Well you’re fun this morning,” she muttered in a sarcastic tone.

All three of you made your way to the pool on the bottom floor of The Beach, tripping and shoving each other playfully while giggling. You hardly ever did this together, because Chishiya always slept until noon, so you were excited about having the pool to yourselves before the sun came up.

When you reached outside, your chatters and the sound of your bare feet on the pavement broke the silence of the night. You hoped that Hatter kept the windows closed to his suite because you knew if you woke him up he would come down and beat your asses for being awake so early.

You looked over towards the pool that was still lit up with underwater neon blue lights from the night before. You’d think that they would shut all the lights off at least to save a bit of electricity, but apparently not.

Kuina had thrown her towel down carelessly on a nearby deck chair and was now chasing after Chishiya, who powered his short legs to try and escape her.

“Chishiya you’re going in the pool! You can’t chicken out forever!” she yelled as she caught up to him and wrapped her strong arms around his waist.

You could tell the years of martial arts training paid off for Kuina as she lifted Chishiya into her arms like he weighed nothing. “Bitch, put me down! I don’t want to go in the pool! Why is that such a crime!?”

You doubled over in laughter as Kuina held the cat-like blonde in her arms, him squirming more violently as she got to the side of the pool.

“Goodbye!” she yelled and dropped him into the pool. His screaming cut off as he was submerged into the water. You walked over and placed your stuff down, listening to Kuina and Chishiya bickering in the background.

It was a shame that you were planning on walking out on these guys. But in a world like this, the bad moments really outweighed the good ones.

“Alright you’re next!” you heard behind you, making you snap out of your short daze.

“Wait, no!” you bellowed as Kuina repeated the same thing she did with Chishiya. This time, it was his turn to laugh at you.

“Jesus christ woman. The fuck got you so lively this morning?” you laughed at Kuina, who gracefully dived into the pool to tease you two.

You felt Chishiya tuck his chin on your shoulder gently, taking you by surprise. “I guess we got to act as happy as we can now. Our five day visa ends tonight.” Chishiya mumbled to you two.

The air around the three of you suddenly became stiff at the mention of the games. You lifted your hand and placed it on Chishiya’s damp hair. “It’s alright, it was a fun and relaxing five days while it lasted,” you said cheerfully.

“Don’t say that like as if you’re going to die,” Chishiya scolded you. “You won’t die, none of us three will.” He was trying to reassure himself that he would come back from his game with you all happy and healthy waiting in the lobby for him. He hoped for that exact reality every time he had to leave you to restore his visa. He panicked even when you were ten minutes later than usual. It was a constant battle with anxiety when it came to caring for you in a world like this.

But unfortunately, while Chishiya was willing to fight against the growing anxiety that came with loving you, you didn’t want anything to do with it.

You and Chishiya have been as tight as two peas in a pod since Kuina introduced you. Kuina and you happened to meet at a diamonds game that was further in the centre of the city which was where you appeared in the game. She was nice enough to take you back to The Beach, because she thought that your intelligence and gentle personality would be useful.

But the plan of using you for Kuina and Chishiya’s own personal gain went out the window when both of them built a strong connection with you. They tried so hard to stop it, but in the end, they decided to make you an addition to their little manipulative games with the others. A mysterious duo became a peculiar trio.

That’s when Chishiya began to notice other things he felt.

He began feeling an irrational attachment to you, always wanting to be around you and always wanting to make sure that you were safe. You began noticing his additional little quirks as well, as soon you both fell for each other, without the other knowing of course.

Kuina obviously knew, as she was incredibly observant. She always kept her mouth shut though, wanting to see the drama play out in front of her. It was entertaining at times.

“You two are cute,” she gushed at you and Chishiya, holding a cheeky smile on her face.

Chishiya tucked his face into your neck to hide his blush, but it only made your heart skip a beat. “Shut up,” he mumbled into your skin.

You sighed heavily as he kept his place there, snaking his arms around your waist. This was honestly normal. The closer you’ve gotten with Chishiya, the less shy he’s been to convey physical affection. You loved and hated it at the same time, because you knew the more he made your heart race, the harder it would be to leave him.

At times you thought you’d rather deal with his cold and untrustworthy personality, like how he was when he first met you. It was easier to dislike him then, but now that his real personality has shown through, you realized how good of a person he actually seemed to be.

Chishiya never became close to someone, because he knew it would be hard to pull away when he needed to use them for his own survival. So he’s just always chosen to keep everyone at a distance.

You on the other hand, you hadn’t fallen down the deep whole of caring fully for someone in this world, but you knew you were about to stumble off the edge.

While Kuina and Chishiya waited to renew their visas, you waited to run away from the stress of waiting for your friend’s potential deaths.

******

You, Kuina and Chishiya trudged down the steps that led to the lobby. Hatter had called everyone to meet there a few minutes ago to prepare for the games. Hearing the familiar bell ring throughout the so-called paradise made your heart weaken. It was calling you to your end, every single time.

The trio of you took your usual place towards the back of the lobby, leaning against the cement walls and looking over everyone’s heads. How weird it felt, that by the time you gathered here next, the number of people would reduce by a couple dozen. It made your stomach sink in remorse. You truly were nothing more than soldiers fighting a war that wasn’t your own.

You looked down at your own feet, beginning to feel guilty about your plan of running away. The people you would abandon, the friends who would miss you. And even they can’t come find you, but you knew it was for the best. For both you and them.

You felt something tickle your hand. You glanced your eyes down to see that it was Chishiya, trying to sneak his hand into yours as Hatter began his booming speech across the crowd. You looked up to the blonde’s face, but he was focused on Hatter. You smiled sadly and accepted his hand into yours, earning a soft squeeze from him.

Kuina placed her head on your shoulder, leaning closer towards you. It was as if they knew, and they were trying to get you to change your mind. You felt tears building up in your eyes, but quickly wiped them away with your hoodie sleeve before anyone noticed.

Damn. You were never going to forget them.

******

Chishiya sat in the leather lounge in the lobby. He had just arrived back from his spades game. Wasn’t too difficult, for him at least.

Only now he was stressing inside, leg bouncing up and down on the carpet quickly. He knew you wouldn’t return for a good while, but yet he always was worried about you. No matter the situation.

Niragi didn’t help the situation. He strolled over earlier with a few of his militant mates and roughed Chishiya up for a bit. He honestly wasn’t in the mood for their antics, so he didn’t fight back much. They eventually got bored and walked away.

There hardly was anyone in the lobby, it was strangely quiet.

Chishiya looked towards the entrance to the lobby where a small group of people just walked in from. He recognized them as the group Kuina was placed with, so he stood up from his seat and quickly made his way over.

He managed to spot Kuina walking by herself at the back of the group. Chishiya let out a relieved sigh and strolled up to her. “Thank god you’re okay,” he said, giving her a short hug. “You too,” she replied.

They walked back over to where Chishiya was sitting beforehand and sat down. “Do you know who Y/N went with?” Kuina asked.

“No idea, I had to leave with my group before hers,” he answered.

They both sat in silence for a while, hearts squeezing in on themselves from tension.

As group after group piled into the lobby and moved to go to the back pool to celebrate their wins. While their hearts and minds were overflowing in joy of surviving, Chishiya’s and Kuina’s slowly became heavier and heavier with grief.

One of the last groups finally came back, being a few hours later than everyone else. Chishiya searched the small crowd for your familiar face, but didn’t see it.

“Kuina,” he started with a tense voice. “Don’t say it,” she immediately cut him off. “Don’t say anything Chish. She’s fine, I know it.”

That became harder and harder to believe the later into the night it got. Soon enough, no one was left in the halls and the lobby, either gone to bed or stayed out in the pool area.

Chishiya didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t feel anything. His body was tired from the constant tensing, the constant anxiety.

He stood up abruptly and looked towards Kuina, who had her head in her hands. He gave her a sad smile, and reached his hand out to help her up. “Come on, let’s go to the roof like old times,” he smiled, fighting the tears building up in his eyes.

*********

When they reached the top of the building after climbing many annoying flights of steps, Chishiya tilted his head back to feel the wind blow around his head. He opened his eyes and saw the galaxy of stars above him. ‘So weird,’ he thought to himself. ‘In a horrible place like this, such beautiful things can still exist.’

Kuina and Chishiya sat on the edge of the roof, feet dangling off the edge. Complete silence took over them. Neither of them knew what to say.

Kuina broke her gaze off the staggering height of the drop below them and glanced at Chishiya. He was staring straight ahead of him, hoodie covering his face so she couldn’t see what he was looking at.

“Chish, are you okay?” Kuina asked quietly, leaning forward to try and see his face. It felt strange to her, having Chishiya be completely silent for a change. Usually he would be making a smartass comment or a teasing joke towards her or Y/N. It was like the happiness in him had drained out.

He didn’t answer for a short moment, but then he turned his head to look at Kuina in the eyes. Kuina was taken back.

Chishiya had pools of tears cascading down his pale face, mixing with the sweat that he still endured from the game. He let out no sobs and no cries. Just dry, empty tears running down his cheeks like doves flying down the edge of a cliff.

“No, I’m not okay,” he muttered to her. “This fucking sucks.”

*******

It had been a few weeks since your death, not that there was a huge difference at The Beach from your disappearance. Everyone carried on like normal, everyone except Kuina and Chishiya.

They became secluded, more than usual. Kuina spent most of her time in the hotel’s gym, trying to distract herself from everything that happened. She wanted to get stronger so she could win games, she knew that’s what you would have wanted.

Chishiya however, he wasn’t taking your death well at all. Chishiya lost his fire, his headstrong attitude and snappy remarks. He kind of disappeared himself, but only his body stayed.

He felt stupid at times. What would he have expected? Of course you died, knowing his luck. He began irrationally thinking, believing that the world took you away because he didn’t deserve someone as warm-hearted as you. He felt cheated almost. It was like the universe had you dangling on a string in front of him, and when he finally had the courage to reach towards you, it yanked you away out of his view.

When he was having particular hard days, he would lie on his bed in his room for hours, not bothering to get up for food or the bathroom. He felt numb inside, he honestly thought nothing would be able to hurt him anymore, because he’s endured the worst of his emotions.

The mirror in his room was smashed, due to his own doing. He broke it a few days after the incident, screaming into the stuffy air of his room and throwing one of his makeshift knives at it. He watched in pain as it crackled and crumbled under the impact, seeing his own reflection fall into a million pieces, much like how he was feeling at that moment.

He had never experienced this kind of hurt before. He always thought other people were being dramatic when they broke down crying after hearing their significant other or friend didn’t make it back to The Beach. He thought that it should’ve been expected, that they shouldn’t be surprised that it happened. But he guessed you never know what another person is feeling unless you experience it yourself.

But god, does he wish he didn’t, because it hurt more than a thousand knives to his cold, stone heart.

**********

One day, Chishiya was standing on the edge of a balcony that looked over the entrance to The Beach. He enjoyed standing up there because he loved the spectacular view of the ocean. It reminded him of his real home, when he used to ride his bike down to the beach with his friends and swim in the water for hours. He missed life when it was so easy for him.

The breeze was cool on his skin, giving him goosebumps. It felt refreshing and somewhat free, a small taste of bliss for him. His eyes were shut as he listened to the crows screech in the distance and the ocean waves hit the shore. The sound of nature rang in his ears, making his endorphins swirl in his brain.

It was a good break every now and then from the usual melancholy emotions that swarmed around him, keeping his happiness locked down in chains. While he was on that balcony, actually breathing fully and normally for once, his demons decided to let loose of the chains that held his sweet happiness trapped.

Chishiya opened his dark eyes and glanced downwards towards the bottom level and saw something that caught his eye.

A group of three militants seemed to have a young woman in their grasp, one of them being Niragi himself. Chishiya watched as they tried hard to hold the smaller person at bay, as she was thrashing around trying to escape.

He frowned, confusion painting across his face. That girl, she looked oddly familiar.

Niragi told the militants to bring her around the side of the building, where a small alley was located beside the entrance. Chishiya knew that’s where the militants dragged people to kill them off, they were planning on killing her.

Chishiya wondered what she did that was so bad. Hatter hardly ever gave the order to kill someone, unless the situation was betrayal or anything worse.

He moved himself along the balcony towards where the commotion below him was occurring. He wanted to hear what they were saying, because who knows what shit Niragi gets up to without Hatter knowing. It seemed a little too suspicious to be dragging someone to their death in broad daylight, especially where everyone could see.

Chishiya heard slight fragments of what they were yelling: “You thought- … run away?!” Niragi screamed in his psychotic voice. “Let go of-...! …could have just left me there!”

Chishiya felt his heart drop. That voice, it was all too familiar. How could he have forgotten what your voice sounded like.

He lifted his head and stared forward in shock. That couldn’t be right, you’ve been dead for weeks!

He thought for a second, trying to come to a possible conclusion with the horrific yells in the background of his mind. How is it possible you could still be alive?

That couldn’t be you, it just couldn’t be. Chishiya shook his head and chuckled. “The fuck am I thinking? Great, now I’m hallucinating. No one told me that was another stage of grief.”

He turned his body to walk back inside to look for Kuina, until he heard the young woman getting attacked yell again, this time, clear as day.

“Chishiya! Kuina!”

That was it. That was definitely you.

Chishiya lifted his legs and began sprinting towards the staircase inside. There was no doubt in his mind that that wasn’t you. The way you said his name was too real to not be you.

He tripped and stumbled down the stairs, almost falling flat on his face on one flight. He had to get there before you were dead, for real this time.

As he pushed his entire body weight against the entrance doors to the hotel, he pulled a small knife out his white hoodie pocket. He had made it out of glass from his broken mirror, considering that Hatter wouldn’t allow him to have his own weapons.

Your screams were much more prominent now, more desperate sounding and more fearful. The sound pierced through Chishiya as he made his way quickly around the side of the hotel.

There you were, being pinned against the wall by two militants while Niragi held the barrel of his rifle against your chest, right over your heart.

Chishiya yelled out, which probably wasn’t the best idea considering his current situation. It was three tall men with guns against a small, frail man with a makeshift knife.

“Chishiya! The fuck you doing here?” Niragi asked with a cheeky smirk on his face. God, Chishiya wanted to punch him so bad.

“Let her go Niragi, you don’t want this to get ugly do you?” Chishiya threatened, holding his glass knife out.

Niragi laughed along with the other two militants. You still struggled against their grip, seemingly more calm with Chishiya distracting them.

“How cute ‘ey? Little blonde twink coming to save the love of his life, how sweet of you.” Niragi pressed, pushing his rifle harder against you just to push Chishiya’s buttons.

“If you haven’t noticed Chishiya, she ran away! She never died like you thought she did! She ran away from The Beach, she ran away from you!” 

His words were like bullets in Chishiya’s chest. He felt belittled and mocked, he hated it.

“Shut up! She wouldn’t do that!” he yelled frustratingly.

“Oh really?! She wouldn’t?! Then explain why we managed to find her strolling the streets of Tokyo! Not a scratch on her, and she seemed smart enough to run away when she saw us.”

Chishiya’s scowl dropped on his face. He looked at you to see if you would deny it, but you had stopped struggling against the two men and hung your head low, not looking into his eyes.

He shook off the hurt he felt from this fact. He had to focus on getting you away from Niragi before he took time to think about other things.

“Niragi please. Just let go of her, I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Chishiya begged. He felt small, never has he ever begged for something in his life.

“Hmm? How though? I was just about to have some fun with her before I killed her off. Why should I give that up just because you want me to,” Niragi spat at him. Your eyes widened in fear and you thrashed around in the grip that the militants had on you, panicking from Niragi’s threat.

Chishiya thought for a second. He would honestly give anything to bring you over to him. “My cards. You can take credit for every card that I collect for a couple of months. If Hatter or Aguni asks, just say I’m slacking. I’ll take any punishment they throw my way.”

You saw Niragi consider it before lowering his weapon off of your torso. You breathed out heavily in relief.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to do this again. You can’t bribe me with everything you sneaky fuck.” Niragi growled. The two militants let go of you and followed him out of the alleyway and into the entrance of The Beach.

You leant against the wall, staring at Chishiya as he stared down at the ground below him. The air between you two was tense. You could tell he was mad, Chishiya was always silent when he was incredibly angry.

“Chish, I-”

“Don’t talk to me. Just come.”

Don’t get me wrong, he couldn’t have been happier to see that you were alive and well. But the betrayal he felt from the fact that you ran away from him greatly outweighed his happiness.

He walked briskly ahead of you, you didn’t dare walk next to him or too close to him. He was scaring you a bit, and you wanted nothing but to sprint to your own room and hide from the rest of the world.

You were embarrassed and also frustrated you were caught. Trust Niragi and his cocky ass to find you.

Chishiya stopped in front of his own room, opened the door and gestured for you to walk inside. You hesitated before slowly making your way through the door. You hated how tense it was, it was the complete opposite of what you usually felt when you were around Chishiya.

You sat down on his bed, sitting in an awkward position and looked towards Chishiya. It was complete silence as he was frozen at the door, back towards you and holding the door handle harshly.

“What the fuck Y/N?” he mumbled. It was almost inaudible, but you could hear pain in his words, which made you immediately feel guilty.

“What the fuck was that? You ran away!?” he turned and yelled at you, tears building up in his eyes.

You flinched as his loud voice. You had never heard him yell in anger before, usually he kept his calm. You looked down to the ground, feeling your own eyes fill with hot tears. You felt like you were back in high school with your parents screaming at you for running away from home.

“I THOUGHT YOU DIED!” he shouted louder, “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH PAIN YOU PUT KUINA THROUGH?! HOW MUCH YOU PUT ME THROUGH?!”

You couldn’t breathe. Pain and suffering dripped off his words like rain on a roof, coming together and creating an atmosphere that held air that was unbreathable. You suffocated on the oxygen, making you choke and cause tears to begin running down your cheeks.

“Why!?” he cried. “Why did you run!? There was no reason, me and Kuina could have protected you if you were too scared! Why did you think that running away was the only option!?” Chishiya stumbled closer to you, almost tripping over his own feet.

You flinched heavily as he placed his cold hands on your shoulders roughly. They were shaking from trying to hold your sobs in.

“WHY DID YOU LEAVE-” “Chishiya!” you interrupted him by snapping your head up to meet your eyes with his. His face dropped as he saw the sadness behind yours, replacing the wonderful and cheerful happiness that once swam in your eyes like dolphins in a sea.

“I l-love you,” you mumbled out between your shaky breaths. “That was the problem Chish. I-I’m in love with you and it hurt too fucking bad to know that you could disappear out of my reach at any moment. I ran because I didn’t want to watch you and Kuina die!”

Chishiya’s own hands shook violently against your shoulders. He gazed into your eyes which were red and puffy from your tears. They were shining more now than they had ever before.

“You don’t have to leave Y/N,” he whispered, still trying to control his own breathing. “I want you here, next to me. Not out there, because when you’re out there, I can’t be with you.”

You nodded and smiled sadly. Chishiya pulled his hand from your shoulder and cradled your face gently. He swiped his thumb over your cheek to get rid of the tears there. “I love you too, but I can’t be without you.”

A grin crept onto your face as you looked into his eyes. You felt safer than ever in his arms, why did you think of ever leaving?

Chishiya wiped his own tears with his hoodie sleeve and put on a happier smile. “You want to know how pathetic I am without you?” he giggled and held your hands in his.

“I almost threw myself off the top of the hotel the night you didn’t come back. Kuina had to tackle me to the ground to keep me away from the edge.” he laughed at himself.

You chuckled along with him. “Imagine if you did! What a shocker it would’ve been if I came back and Kuina saw me alive after you killed yourself because you thought I was gone!”

You both sat on Chishiya’s bed and laughed at each other. You had to do it, humour is best in times of stress and anxiety.

*********

You opened your eyes slowly, only to be met with the blinding light of the sun seeping through the blinds. You hissed and turned your head the other way.

Chishiya chucked at your reaction, making his chest that was underneath your head vibrate. “So cute,” he muttered to himself.

You pushed your face deeper into his chest and breathed in his scent. It felt good to be back with Chishiya. It felt good to be home.

Author’s Note: oKaY so this ended up being a lot longer than expected. Please send in some requests if you have any! 🥰🥰

[anonymousewrites]

Portal to My Heart (Book 2) Chapter Six

Chapter Six: To Uncover Truths

            (Y/N) looked out across the soon-to-be-destroyed town. In the undisturbed landscape, the infamous Mount Vesuvius loomed. It was hard to believe such beauty would cause such damage. Well, hearing the distant rumble certainly gave a clue.

            “Here we go,” said Loki excitedly.

            “Any minute now,” said Mobius. He had kept the group in an alley to avoid attention.

“Until this entire town is wiped off the face of this planet,” said Loki.

            “Boom!” (Y/N) mimed an explosion.

            “Imagine: All that volcanic ash…!” A large grin was on Loki’s face.

            “I know. We don’t want to get too giddy, though,” said Mobius, though he himself was also getting strangely excited. They all were.

            “Oh, come on. It’s cool,” pointed out Loki.

            “I mean, yeah…” admitted (Y/N).

            Mobius half-frowned. “No, it is cool, but it’s just not in good taste because…”

            “They’re all going to die anyway,” said Loki.

            “I know.” Mobius pulled out his Tempad. “Now listen, I’m gonna watch the Tempad for any variance energy.”

            “Okay.” (Y/N) nodded.

            “Okay, because we gotta be careful,” said Mobius. “If you’re wrong, and there’s a good chance you are, anything we do can create a huge branch.”

            “Oh, Mobius! You make even the end of the world sound boring,” complained the God of Mischief.

            “Live a little! We can do anything here!” said (Y/N) brightly. If we’re right. Which we are. Definitely.

“Listen!” Mobius leaned closer to them. “Okay, we’re not meant to be here! Okay?”

            Loki and (Y/N) sighed. “Okay.”

            “Anything we do can impact the course of history. Do you get that?” questioned Mobius.

            “Yes.”

            “So we’re gonna start with very small disturbances,” decided Mobius. “Very small. Can either of you make a bird noise?”

            “No, but I can do this!” (Y/N) ran out into the square and jumped onto a cart. She freed the many chickens in the back, sending them clucking about the road. “Be free you egg-laying shits! Be free!”

            Brightening, Loki ran up next to her. In what (Y/N) now knew was Latin (the training had taught her a little bit of a bunch of languages, she remembered only bits and pieces), he began speaking. He motioned to himself and to his companions before pointing to the volcano. Clearly, he was telling them about what was about to happen. Satisfied with himself, Loki grinned. (Y/N) snatched up two apples and began eating one while offering the other to Loki. He accepted it, and the pair smiled at an exhausted Mobius.

            Boom! Vesuvius erupted.

            “Right on cue!” cried Loki excitedly. He dropped his apple and grabbed (Y/N)’s hand. He jumped down from the cart, pulling her over to a fruit stand. “Enjoy your last meal while you can!” He threw food in the air.

            “Nothing matters!” cheered (Y/N), spinning around in the square.

            “Nothing has any consequences!” Loki laughed. “Dance while you still can!” He took (Y/N)’s hands. (Y/N) laughed and began dancing with him. The two spun until another boom echoed through the air. They grinned at Mobius and bowed dramatically.

            “I don’t believe it. Zero variance energy,” said Mobius, incredulous. “No branching in the timeline.”

            “The TVA would never even know we’d come,” said (Y/N).

            “If it were me, this is where I would hide,” said Loki.

            “Alright, alright, you were right. Let’s get out of here,” said Mobius, activating a door as ash began to cover the ground.

            As (Y/N) and Loki walked towards the door, they realized they still hadn’t let go of each other’s hands. Awkwardly, they let go and walked through the door. However, neither could kill the slight smile that remained on their lips.

l

            “Doomsdays.” Mobius strode through the TVA’s halls with a purpose. “The Variant’s been ambushing our soldiers and hiding out in doomsdays to cover his tracks.”

            “You’re welcome!” chirped (Y/N).

            “For this theory to hold, the disasters have to be naturally-occurring, sudden, no warning, no survivors,” said Mobius, turning on his computer at his desk.

            “How many could there be?” asked Loki.

            “I don’t know,” said Mobius. “We’re gonna find out.”

            That, unfortunately, meant more reading, more files. (Y/N) worked for hours and finally just put her head down and knocked out. Her excuse was “I figured out how the Variant is hiding, figure out where he is yourself.” Loki just chuckled while Mobius sighed. The two men continued working.

            Eventually, Mobius put down his files and glanced over at Loki, who seemed more interested in looking at (Y/N) than he did reading. The senior TVA agent smiled, if not a little sadly, to himself. “Hey. Let’s take a break.” Loki reached over and shook (Y/N)’s shoulder.

            Grumbling, she raised her head. “What?”

            “Come on, let’s get a snack,” said Mobius. He led them into the mess hall once again. After grabbing coffee, they sat down.

            “Here, you have a bit…your collar,” said Loki to (Y/N), motioning to her shirt collar.

            “Huh?” She furrowed her brow and look down at her shirt. “Did I spill some coffee?”

            “Here.” Loki reached out and straightened her collar. “You should at least look presentable.”

            (Y/N) scowled and sullenly took a sip of her coffee. She stubbornly ignored the way her skin burned where Loki had touched her. It wasn’t a feeling she wanted to face. It would make things complicated.

            Loki cleared his throat and looked to Mobius. “So…at your desk, why do you have that magazine?”

            “The one on jet skis?” said Mobius. He smiled. “Because they’re awesome.”

            “I suppose they are,” admitted Loki.

            (Y/N) nodded. “I saw people racing them, and it was super cool.”

            “You know, some things…Actually, most things in history are kinda dumb, and everything gets ruined eventually,” said Mobius. “But in the early 1900s, for a brief, shining moment, there was a beautiful union of form and function, which we call the jet ski, and a reasonable man cannot differ.” Mobius was very happy to talk about jet skis.

            “Have you ever ridden one?” asked (Y/N).

            Mobius looked down mournfully. “No…No.” He chuckled. “I think a TVA agent showing up on a jet ski on the Sacred Timeline, that would create a branch for sure.”

            “Not if we found an apocalypse,” pointed out (Y/N), laughing.

            Loki grinned. “It would be fun.”

            “Yeah, it’d be really fun,” agreed Mobius.

            “So why read about them?” asked (Y/N).

            Mobius paused before answering. “Just helps remind me of what we’re fighting for.”

            Loki looked around them. “I mean, you really believe in all this stuff, don’t you?”

            Mobius shrugged. “I don’t get hung up on ‘believe, not believe.’ I just accept what is.”

            “Without proof?” questioned (Y/N). “You just accept that three space lizard-gods—”

            Mobius interjected, “Time-Keepers.”

            “—created the TVA and everyone in it?”

            “Right.”

            “Including yourself?”

            “Including me.”

            Loki furrowed his brow and shook his head in dramatic mournfulness. “Every time I start to admire your intelligence, you say something like that.”

            “Okay, who created you, Loki?” challenged Mobius.

            “A Frost Giant of Jotunheim,” said Loki.

            “And who raised you?”

            “Odin of Asgard.”

            “Odin, God of the Heavens,” reiterated Mobius. “Asgard, mystical realm beyond the stars. Frost giants…Listen to yourself!”

            “It’s not the same,” pointed out Loki. “It’s completely different.”

            (Y/N) nodded. “It is. We have tangible proof that Asgard and the Gods of Asgard exist. So far, we haven’t actually seen any Time-Keepers.”

            “Well, when we think where any of us came from, it ends up sounding ridiculous,” said Mobius.

            (Y/N) raised a hand. “Born and raised by two humans on planet Earth.”

            “You got powers from a stone that opens portals in space,” cried Mobius. “Existence is chaos! Nothing makes any sense, so we try to make some sense of it. I’m just lucky that the chaos I emerged into gave me all this.” He smirked. “My own glorious purpose.” (Y/N) snorted while Loki scoffed. “Cause the TVA is my life. And it’s real because I believe it’s real.”

            “Fair enough. You believe it’s real,” said Loki. “So everything is written. Past, present, future. There’s no such thing as free will.”

            Mobius frowned. “Well, I mean, you know, it’s an oversimplification…”

            “It’s not,” said (Y/N).

            Loki continued. “In fact, in a way, we here at the TVA, we’re the only ones who are actually free.”

            “A sad but true point,” said (Y/N).

            “Where are you going with this?” asked Mobius curiously.

            “How does it all end?” asked Loki.

            “That’s a work in progress,” said Mobius.

            (Y/N) burst out laughing. “It’s a work in progress?!”

            Loki tsked. “Oh, those lazy Time-Keepers. What are they waiting for?”

            “Au contraire. No, because while we protect what came before, they’re toiling away in their chamber, untangling the epilogue from its infinite branches,” said Mobius.

            “So once again, we go back to just believing that the Time-Keeper’s are somewhere working. But nobody sees them,” said (Y/N). Mobius frowned, so (Y/N) sighed and continued. “Alright, alright. They’re there. So what happens after they’ve finished?”

            “So are we,” said Mobius. “No more nexus events. Just order. And we meet in peace at the end of time.”

            “Just order? No chaos? Sounds dull,” said Loki.

            “Bo-ring,” said (Y/N).

            “I’m sure it is to you,” teased Mobius.

            “You called me a scared little boy,” said Loki.

            “I did, too,” said (Y/N), deadpanning.

            “Well, I also insulted you, so it was more warranted.”

            “I called you a lot of things,” said Mobius.

            “You’re wrong, though,” said Loki. “You see, I know something children don’t.” (Y/N) looked up in interest.

            “What’s that?” questioned Mobius.

            “That no one bad is ever truly bad. And no one good is ever truly good.”

            “Scared little boy,” murmured Mobius, furrowing his brow.

            “Yes, it was quite patronizing. I thought it was a bit far, actually,” said Loki.

            “I think calling me a pawn was rude,” commented (Y/N) playfully.

            “I believe I made amends for that,” said Loki. “It’s actually you who never apologized for punching me.”

            “Fine, I’m sorry for punching you,” said (Y/N), obviously not sorry.

            “Now, it doesn’t actually sound like you’re sor—”

            “Scared little boy!” realized Mobius, standing up suddenly. “You two are clever!” He walked off.

            Loki and (Y/N) looked at each other in confusion. They shrugged before following. On a mission, Mobius strode through the library.

            “The Variant left something behind at an old crime scene,” he explained. “A cathedral. A candy box. An obvious anachronism. I gave it to Analysis, but they couldn’t find anything real.”

            (Y/N) ohed in understanding. “We have two variables we can pay attention to.”

            “Right!” Mobius rummaged through the box. “Apocalyptic natural disasters and…” He pulled out a small candy labeled “KABLOOiE.” “Kablooie.”

            “What is that?” asked Loki.

            “Candy? Have you never seen chewing gum? Doesn’t Asgard have candy?” questioned (Y/N).

            “Yeah. Grapes, nuts,” said Loki.

            “You poor thing,” said (Y/N). “Next apocalypse we’re getting you some candy.”

            “No wonder he’s bitter,” remarked Mobius as he pulled out files and returned to their table. “Okay. Kablooie was only sold regionally on Earth from 2047 to 2051. We need to cross-reference that with every apocalyptic event. We’ll each take a third. It’ll be a competition, see who finds it.”

            (Y/N) perked up. “Ooh, some actual!”

            “Sure,” said Loki. He was competitive as well.

            “You guys wanna bet?” asked Mobius. His associates agreed. “Alright, gentleman’s bet. Let’s play for pride. Okay, may the best man win. Go.” They opened their files and began.

            “It’s not the climate disaster of 2048!” said (Y/N).

            “Or the tsunami of 2051,” said Loki.

            “Let’s go, let’s go, come on,” said Mobius.

            “2050, the extinction of the swallow…Is that a thing?” asked Loki.

            “Completely screwed up the ecosystem,” answered Mobius.

            “That sucks…” said (Y/N).

“Krakatoa erupted in 2049. No Kablooie,” said Loki.

            “It’s just one thing after another,” said Mobius. “Cyclone, famine, volcanoes, floods—”

            “Found it!” said (Y/N) excitedly. She held up the page so the men could read it. “Alabama, 2050.”

            Mobius smiled. “You’re gonna take my job if I’m not careful.”

            (Y/N) beamed at the compliment.

            “Good job,” said Loki sincerely.

            A tenderer smile than the one she had graced her lips. “Thanks.”

            Mobius watched the interaction and felt his heart clench painfully.

l

            “Gather round for a briefing,” said B-15, the hunter they were (unfortunately) paired with. “Roxxcart is a vast superstore common to the era. It consists of a series of sprawling sections, including a large warehouse. This warehouse is being used by civilians as a shelter trying to ride out the storm. Remember: this is a Class Ten apocalypse. While the Variant shouldn’t know we’re coming, he could be hiding anywhere and should be considered hostile. So stay alert. Every time there is an attack, the Variant steals a reset charge. He’s planning something. We just don’t know what. So keep an eye out for the missing charges, and if you see a Loki, prune it.”

            “Not an it.”

            “The bad Loki, preferably.”

            (Y/N) and Loki spoke simultaneously, making Mobius smile amusedly.

            “Alright.” Mobius clapped his hands. “Let’s go catch a Variant.”