#i planned on doing a centaur one too but i felt pressed for time

[kuinshi]

My @geraskierholidayexchange for @anythinggoesfandoms who asked for some confessions and cuddles in Kaer Morhen! I hope I did okay ;;;

[chudleycanonficfest]

Dancing

Day 32 Post 1 by @honouraryweasley12

Title: Dancing Author/Artist: honouraryweasley12 Pairing: Ron/Hermione Prompt: Masquerade Ball/Special Event Rating: M Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Smut, Language

The knock on her office door interrupted Hermione's thoughts. She'd been hunched over for several hours since lunch, studying the tiny, almost illegible text of an ancient book about Centaurs.

"Come in!"

The door creaked open and Ginny strode into the small, cramped office, waving a piece of parchment. She tossed it onto the desk, covering the page. Hermione recognized it immediately.

"Just thought I'd pop in. Are you and Ron going to this thing next week?"

She had read the invite to the Ministry event the night before, amidst a flurry of complaints from Ron.

"Yes, it's mandatory."

"Did you see the date?"

"I know, the first of March. Ron was not thrilled that we'd have to postpone his birthday celebrations."

"I can imagine." Ginny smirked, before waggling her eyebrows. "Did you have anything special planned?"

"What we do in the privacy of our bedroom—"

"Who said anything about the bedroom?" Ginny asked innocently, trying to get a rise out of her friend.

Hermione wagged a warning finger. "I know you, Ginny Weasley." She frowned. "It would be nice to do something for him on the day; he was so disappointed."

"At least it's in a nice place," Ginny remarked, referring to the estate where the event was being held. "The food will be good—that alone should please my brother."

"That's true," Hermione remarked glumly. "I'm sure it'll be fine, but I know his birthday is important to him."

"What's the big deal? He's turning twenty-three. It's not exactly a milestone."

"I know, I know. He told me once that growing up, his birthday was the only day when he felt like he was the centre of attention, so I like to make an extra special effort."

Ginny nodded. "He's not wrong, I suppose."

Hermione rolled her head from side to side, a cracking sound from her stiff neck echoing around her office.

"Looks like he's not the only one who needs some pampering."

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "I'm used to it."

"You should do something nice for yourself. Even I know you're working yourself too hard."

"Like what?"

Ginny pondered for a moment, before bouncing up in her seat. "I have an idea."

Hermione looked at her wearily. "What is it?"

The redhead nodded toward the invitation on her desk. "Did you see the part about muggle clothing being encouraged? What are you planning on wearing?"

"I don't know. I guess a gown. Maybe the one I wore to Percy's wedding last fall."

"You always wear things my mother would approve of. You're still young! How about something fun and sexy?"

Hermione scoffed. "I've seen some of the things you wear, Ginny."

She raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with what I wear?"

"You show a lot of… skin. Which is completely fine, but you don't work with these people."

"C'mon, live a little. I know my brother would still be mad about you if you were wearing a potato sack, but just imagine his reaction if you wear something a bit different."

"I don't know…"

"I promise, I won't go too crazy. It's Ron's birthday after all, wouldn't he enjoy seeing you in something less… proper?"

Hermione sighed, her willpower slipping away. "Yes, he would."

"Harry and Ron will be away this weekend taking new recruits into the field, so it's the perfect opportunity to go shopping." Ginny stood up and grabbed her invitation, before making her way to the door. "I'll meet you at yours at noon on Saturday."

"I don't see how this is treating myself."

"We'll stop at a bookshop then." The determined look on her friend's face was enough for Hermione to throw her hands up in the air.

"Fine!"

"That's the spirit." Ginny flashed her a cheeky grin and closed the door behind her.

"Weasleys," Hermione muttered to herself, before returning to her book.

~*~

Hermione stepped out of the ornate fireplace, her magically-extended clutch in hand. Ginny followed closely behind her, the two stopping to admire the tastefully decorated ballroom of the old estate house.

The brunette witch glanced around, hoping to see the familiar red hair of her love bobbing above the crowd, but was unable to spot him. She glanced at the thin silver watch on her wrist, a gift from Ron when she graduated from Hogwarts.

Ginny thrust a flute of champagne into Hermione's hand. "Will you relax? They'll be here soon. You know they have their Friday evening briefing first. Harry told me they were going to shower and change at the Ministry, then come straight here."

"I'm just nervous, that's all," Hermione replied as she nodded hello to a member of the Wizengamot who passed by, before taking a gulp of the fizzy sweet drink.

"You look great! Ron is going to go mental when he sees you."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, referring to the outfit she'd purchased with Ginny's help before downing the rest of her glass.

The result of their shopping excursion was a shimmery silver cocktail dress that hugged her curves and stopped mid-thigh. The two thin straps holding up the garment revealed her uncovered back and shoulders. All of this was set off with a pair of black heels. Her normally bushy hair tumbled down in soft waves, aided by half-a-bottle of Sleekeazy's.

Ginny nodded. "Absolutely."

A slight murmur behind them signified the arrival of one Harry Potter, his presence causing the usual stir, even years after the end of the war. He shook a few hands as he made his way over to the two of them, kissing Ginny and giving a hug to his friend.

"Wow, you look great, Hermione! I heard all about the new outfit."

"Thank you, Harry." She glanced over his shoulders, searching. "Where's Ron?"

He chuckled. "He's on his way, should be here any second."

Hermione held her breath as she spotted ginger hair towering above the crowd. She put a hand in the air and waved him over.

Ron fought his way through the guests that were starting to amass, making a beeline in their direction. Just as he was about to reach them, Ginny winked at Hermione and jumped into his path, wrapping him up in a hug and drawing his attention.

"Happy birthday, Ron!"

He patted her on the back. "Thanks, Gin."

Before letting go of the embrace, she whispered. "The dress was my present."

"What dress?" he asked as she angled him toward Harry and Hermione.

Ron's jaw dropped as he took in the outfit Hermione was wearing. She blushed at his hungry gaze, as she herself gawked at how fit he looked in his suit.

"Hey, Ron."

Harry's greeting went completely unnoticed as Ron stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Hermione's. He pulled her against him, his hand splayed across the bare skin of her back.

"You look fucking hot," he growled into her ear, causing her to shiver.

She ran her own hand up and down the back of his dark suit jacket, relishing how solid he felt. "So do you."

He teased her ear, hidden by her hair. "We'd better get on with it. The sooner we're done mingling, the sooner we can get out of here and… celebrate my birthday."

She nodded as he pulled away, her face flush. As he turned to speak to Harry, another server passed by and she grabbed drinks for the two of them, needing to calm herself down. His reaction had far exceeded her expectations.

She caught Ginny's eye, the look on her face clearing stating I told you so. Hermione shrugged and grinned, before passing Ron his glass.

The night went on as they moved from dignitary to dignitary. Every so often, she'd catch him staring down at her, his desire clear. She didn't shy away though, challenging his gaze and communicating her own wants.

The teasing went on as they mingled, her hand reaching up to play with the red locks at the back of his neck. Hermione knew Ron loved it when she did that, causing him to give her a subtle squeeze as he laughed at the joke of some minister she wasn't familiar with.

His arm had been around her waist the whole time, almost possessively. As the minister turned away, she shuddered as he ran his hand up and down her side, his feather light touch just grazing the side of her breast.

"Want to dance?"

She nodded and downed her drink, dropping the empty glass on a nearby table before he led them out to the dance floor. She smoothly slid her small clutch into his jacket pocket, before wrapping her arms around his neck.

His strong arms encircled her waist, his thumb teasing patterns across her skin. "Have I told you how much I like it when you wear stuff like this?"

Hermione grinned. "No, you haven't told me, at least not with words."

Ron smiled, his hungry look returning as one of his hands dipped lower, brushing her backside as they turned in slow circles—ignoring the music but enjoying the game. He closed the distance and pressed a kiss to her lips, dragging his teeth across her bottom lip, leaving her aching for more.

He buried his face her neck, inhaling her scent before whispering in her ear. "Want to find somewhere quiet?"

The combination of his hot breath, his arms around her, and the loosening of her inhibitions from the alcohol brought on a sense of recklessness. They had been dancing around it all night. He wanted her, and she wanted him just as much.

"Yes."

They stole away from the crowded ballroom, their hands clasped together as need drove them to find some privacy. They checked a few doors in the massive estate until they found a small parlour. Ron whipped out his wand and fired off protections.

Their lips crashed together in a matter of seconds, frantic with the desire that had been building up all evening. Ron lifted her up, mimicking their first kiss, and walked her to the far end of the room. He set her down and turned her around, breaking their heated kiss. Pinning her against a wall with his firm body, he pushed aside her hair, his mouth finding that spot on the back of her neck that he knew so well.

"Oh, yes!"

He continued downward, kissing and tasting her naked back, causing her to gasp, her ragged breathing the loudest sound in the room.

"You look so fucking sexy in this," he said, before sliding his hand up her thigh and underneath her dress.

"Yes, touch me. I want to feel your hands on me."

His large hand palmed her between her legs, causing her to moan even louder. "Fuck, I love that sound."

"More," she cried out, grinding against his fingers. She loved the feeling of him taking control and pleasuring her.

His other hand snaked up to the front of her dress, reaching for her covered breast. Having his amazing attention in two different places was sending shockwaves to her core.

She mewled as he increased the pressure, his actions becoming rougher and more primal. She loved it but wanted to feel him. Wanted to feel what she did to him.

"Are you hard for me?"

"Check for yourself," he grunted, letting go of her and turning her to face him.

He kissed her hard, his hands cupping her face as she stroked his obvious arousal through his tailored suit pants. He moaned in her mouth from the contact. She in turn threw her head back as he trailed his lips to her cheek, then down to her neck, sucking and biting. They were ravenous for each other.

Her hand flew into his hair, jerking at the ginger strands as she pleaded for more. "Ron, please."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me, quickly!" she begged, her words brazen in the elegant room. Her hand went to his zipper and tugged it down, before slipping into the opening and wanking him forcefully.

"Shit, Hermione."

"Now, Ron, please! Take me from behind!"

In one quick motion, he spun her around again and pulled roughly at her hips. He bunched the dress around her waist, exposing her delectable bum. The smack of his hand across her arse cheek echoed, leaving a pink mark on her flesh and causing Hermione to groan and push herself toward him in overheated desperation.

"Yes, more!"

He slapped her other cheek this time, eliciting another strangled groan. Her wanton reactions were too much for him as he yanked aside her soaked knickers and guided himself into her.

She moaned loudly as he entered, her cries shrill as he filled her completely.

"Yes, feels so good!"

His fingers dug into her hips as he thrust slowly at first, his grunts increasing in time with his efforts.

"Fucking take it, Hermione."

She called over her shoulder, her fingers clawing at the wall in ecstasy. "Harder, Ron! I've wanted this all night! Wanted you all night!"

He continued his pace, his groans mingling with her own. Half-leaning against the wall now, she found her most sensitive spot and began rubbing furious circles, urgently needing to get off.

"Love it when you play with your yourself," he panted as he thrust into her. "You gonna come on my cock as I fuck you?"

She nodded, his raw dirty words and relentless pounding spurring her on. Her lips were pressed into a thin firm line as she felt herself reaching her peak, crying out his name. That was enough to set him off as well, as he throbbed and spilled inside of her, burying his face in her hair as he fought to catch his breath.

She sagged against the wall, his delicious weight pressing against her as her chest heaved. After a moment, she turned to face him, seeking out his lips as they shared a lazy kiss, the taste of alcohol prevalent. They broke apart, and as they stared at each other, Hermione couldn't help but flash him a big smile.

"Enjoyed that, did you?" His deep voice rumbled.

"Mmmm, very much so. I take it you liked the dress."

He grinned. "I think that's an understatement."

They quickly cleaned themselves up and got their clothing straightened out. The effects of the champagne were still working on Hermione as she leered at him in his suit and licked her lips.

"Shall we finish our rounds and then go home? It might be your birthday, but I have one big candle to blow."

Ron laughed and shook his head. "Happy fucking birthday to me."

[wasithard]

Percy wakes up on his seventeenth birthday in his own bed.

One year ago today, he’d woken up in a room at the Plaza Hotel from a vision of the Titan Lord Kronos planning his attack on Manhattan. One year ago today, he’d woken up in the middle of a war – and that’s not even the most recent war he’s fought.

Percy wakes up on his seventeenth birthday and immediately goes back to sleep.

**

His day goes like this: waking again to blue pancakes and waffles and eating them with his mom and Paul. Having a picnic lunch with Annabeth and Grover in Central Park, then driving with them to camp for dinner and a bonfire with their friends. Roasting marshmallows and singing songs and kissing Annabeth by the fire. Getting too lost in the way the firelight tinges her grey eyes red to notice the rest of the campers gathering around them before they pick them up and throw them in the lake, just like last year. Sitting around the dying embers of the fire, remembering the friends they lost in the war that ended one year ago today, the heavy silence of that moment burying itself in the middle of his chest, sitting there like a weight. Going to bed in his cabin, Tyson snoring in the bunk above him, wishing the love he’d felt from his friends that day would be enough to silence the voices in his head yelling it should’ve been me.

**

Percy wakes up on his nineteenth birthday, three years after the war.

He wakes up and wonders if he’ll ever stop thinking of it as the anniversary of the war instead of a celebration for another year he’s lived, or another year he’s spent with Annabeth.

Annabeth, who’s living on campus in the city they almost gave their lives defending three years ago now and comes over for breakfast that morning with Sally and Paul. He’s sitting at the table with them all, laughing and grateful to have them, but wondering if he should be worried that it’s been three years and he still wakes up on August 18th with a tightness in his chest at the thought of getting another year older than his friends who will never see another day. He knows they’re in Elysium. The thought should bring him peace.

Breakfast trickles into the afternoon and he and Annabeth go for a walk in Central Park before driving up to Camp. On the way there, Percy takes a detour to a small beach he’d scouted out a few weeks before and surprises his girlfriend with a picnic on the sand. He helps her build a sandcastle that’s almost taller than he is, holding the waves back so that they can use the hard, wet sand near the shoreline to make their castle stronger.

By the time they get to Camp they both smell of salt and seaweed and his spirits are high. It makes it worse, somehow, when they have their annual memorial to those they lost three years ago that he’s had such a nice day so far. Annabeth notices his change in mood, presses a kiss to his shoulder as she entwines their fingers.

After the campers start to trickle off to bed, Chiron catches his eye and Percy follows him to the Big House. They are sitting on the balcony, crickets chirping around them and a glass of cool blue Coke in Percy’s hand when Chiron fixes him with a stare that has seen countless tragedies and asks him if he still blames himself for being alive.

It’s jarring to hear someone so bluntly say out loud the thoughts he hasn’t dared to speak for so long. He swallows, can’t bring himself to hold Chiron’s gaze so flicks his eyes down to his feet instead, the only part of his body that doesn’t feel like it’s shaking. His fingers clench around the clear glass in his hand and he watches beads of water slide down the outside of it. Chiron doesn’t speak, but the silence is heavy and Percy feels like it’ll suffocate him if he doesn’t break it.

“I don’t– ” he clears his throat. It sounds too thick. “I don’t blame myself.”

He takes a sip of his Coke, swallowing it completely. “I don’t blame myself. I just don’t understand…”

He doesn’t want to finish the sentence, doesn’t want to say the words, I don’t understand why it wasn’t me, but when his eyes meet Chiron’s again he knows the centaur understands. How many other heroes has he seen feel the same way? Does he feel the same way?

“Percy,” Chiron says, his voice steady and deep with thousands of years of wisdom and loss and hope. “You help no one by holding on to guilt that isn’t yours.”

Percy exhales roughly, running a hand through his hair. In his head, he understands this. He just doesn’t believe it. If he had been a little bit better, in any sense of the word: faster, stronger, smarter. Maybe Charles wouldn’t have gotten caught in the engine room of the Princess Andromeda. Maybe Michael wouldn’t have been caught in the earthquake Percy had caused on the Williamsburg Bridge. Maybe Clarisse could have been convinced to fight in the war earlier, so Silena wouldn’t have had to impersonate her.

“Percy.” Chiron repeats, voice firmer. “You might be a hero, but you are also a person. And all a person can ever do is their best.”

Percy closes his eyes, bows his head. Chiron continues speaking. “The gods have done wonderful things, but they have also made many, many mistakes. More and far more devastating mistakes than the ones you have made in your short life. The benefit and curse of immortality is seeing how the actions of a moment can fade over time. How they can be made up for when a similar situation arises in the future. How it is not one’s past that defines them, but how they learn from it.”

Percy doesn’t want to look up at Chiron now, because there are tears in his eyes and it’s embarrassing, frankly. But he owes it to him.

He looks up. Chiron’s gaze is as steady as before, and Percy exhales one more time, releasing air all the way down to his belly. One tear slips down the side of his face and stops at his upper lip. He licks it away, using a hand to wipe his eyes as he turns his face to the now quiet camp. He can see the volleyball court, the rock climbing wall, the smoking embers of the campfire and the beginning of the circle of cabins. He sees his home: safe, intact. Filled with his friends, the survivors. He breathes it in.

“Thanks, Chiron.” He says, turning back to the centaur who gives him a soft, understanding smile in return.

Percy finishes off his drink and leaves the empty glass on the same wooden table he saw Chiron and Dionysus playing pinochle at when he first arrived at Camp, all those years ago. He stands up, wishes Chiron goodnight and starts walking back to the cabins.

Cabin 3 stands there: dark, alone and familiar. He feels tiredness tug at his eyelids and muscles but inside he still feels too wired to lay down just yet. He heads for the beach.

Annabeth is already there. Her legs are bent in front of her, arms tucked underneath them and chin resting on her knees. He sits silently beside her and they stay there, no sound between them except the gentle crash of the waves on the shore. After a few minutes she leans her head against his shoulder and he rests his atop hers, closes his eyes.

“Do you remember when we were in the Sea of Monsters and I wanted to hear the Sirens?” Annabeth asks, voice quiet. “I would’ve killed myself on those rocks swimming to their island but you dove into the ocean and pulled me out of their range, even though I was kicking and screaming at you to stop. We were thirteen.

“And remember in Mount St. Helen’s? I know you didn’t have a plan, but you made me get out anyway. You made sure that I was safe before even thinking about how you would survive.”

He feels her weight leave his shoulder then, glances over to see her sitting up and turning towards him, crossing her legs under her. The light of the full moon washes her in an ethereal glow, and her eyes are gleaming wide and bright as they lock onto his, pinning him in place. Annabeth is always beautiful, but when she’s determined – whether in battle or in convincing her boyfriend that he doesn’t deserve the pain he inflicts on himself – she has a face that could launch a thousand ships.

“And in Rome,” she says, her voice catching. “You wouldn’t let me face Tartarus unless we could face it together. I don’t know how many times you saved my life down there…” Percy sees her eyes begin to well with tears. “When we were fighting the arai…” She closes her eyes as a few tears escape them. Percy reaches forward and wipes a few away with his thumb. She opens her eyes into his again and gives him a small smile.

“My point is,” she continues, her voice thick. “Being a demigod is a high risk life that none of us asked for. An occupational hazard of us just being alive is death by monster attack. This is the first thing we learn when we find out who we are. All the friends we’ve lost over the years…they knew that too.

“And that doesn’t mean that their deaths were ok or justified or that we can forget about them, but I think that shouldering the burden of their deaths is stopping you from remembering the beauty of their lives. And it’s stopping you from remembering all the people who haven’t died because of you. Every single person in this camp owes their life to you, either directly or indirectly. Yes, a lot of people died on this day three years ago, but even more people were saved, and you had more to do with the last thing than the first.”

Percy’s getting teary again, but he doesn’t feel embarrassed this time. Annabeth shuffles closer to him on the sand and grabs both of his hands, squeezing them tightly, bringing them up and pressing her lips against them. “Percy Jackson, you have the purest heart of anyone I have ever met. It’s glaringly obvious to anyone who knows you – except yourself, apparently. I will spend the rest of my life trying to help you see it, but until then you’re just gonna have to trust me.”

Her face changes. It goes from open and pleading to playful, one eyebrow raised and a challenge in her eyes that makes his heart skip a beat, even when the rest of his system is in emotional overwhelm.

“Do you trust me, Percy?” Annabeth asks him.

He lets out a laugh, shaky from tears, and nods, “Yes, Annabeth. I trust you with my life.”

She beams at him, sitting up on her knees to bring her face closer to his, until it’s close enough that he can feel the warmth of her breath as she speaks, her eyes still locked onto his. “Then believe me when I tell you that you deserve forgiveness. And you need to give it to yourself.”

It’s too much. Percy swallows, jaw clenched and glances down. Annabeth releases one of his hands and grabs his chin, not letting him get away that easily.

“You. Deserve. Forgiveness. More than anyone in this world.”

He’s searching her eyes, frantically almost. It feels too easy. There has to be a catch.

“Ok?” Annabeth prompts, her voice still soft but firm, uncompromising.

He opens his mouth to speak but any words get caught in the knot at the base of his throat. Tears are leaking down his face and he can’t. He can’t. It can’t be that easy. It shouldn’t be.

Annabeth exhales, removing her hand from his chin and instead running it through his hair, stopping at the back of his head and bringing it forward until their foreheads touch. She doesn’t say anything else, just sits there with him.

With him, while he closes his eyes and thinks about the Minotaur choking his mom when he was twelve. Thinks about imaging Tyson drowning in the Sea of Monsters when he was thirteen. Thinks about losing Bianca di Angelo and Zoe Nightshade later that same year. He thinks about the campers that fell in the Battle of the Labyrinth whose names he didn’t know, and the campers that fell in the Battle of Manhattan whose names he made sure he did. He thinks of a Titan and a Giant at the Doors of Death, sacrificing themselves so that he and Annabeth could get to safety.

Percy sits on a beach at nineteen years old and thinks of all the death he’s seen in such a short time, all the death that’s been haunting him for years.

A cool breeze passes by him, coming from the water. As it brushes his skin, he comes back to the warmth of his best friend’s forehead pressed against his, her hands: one clutching his, the other tangled in his hair. He feels her soft exhale of breath and thinks about how she is alive, here, with him. Against all odds. He thinks of the campers asleep in the cabins just metres away: alive, here, with him. He thinks of his mom and Paul and Rachel, his friends from Camp Jupiter, all the people he cares about who are alive, here, with him. He thinks about the fact that they outnumber the dead, and realises he’s never really thought about that before.

Percy lifts his head and looks at Annabeth. She cups one side of his face with her hand, eyes still trained on his intently.

“I love you.” He says. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

Her smile is small and bittersweet, her eyes wide grey pools of understanding.

“Me too,” is all she says.

It is enough.

[illyaana]

hi juju! can i participate in your event! can i choose kirishima from mha?

i got werewolf for the quiz

i use she/they pronouns

my mbti is infp

my sign is sagittarius

a random fact is i'm rlly liking plants rn <3

Someone landed on one of my favourite supernatural beings, didn't she?

I'll gladly do this one for you, Nepho :3 Bringing the Sagittarius energy I love, too! (since I'm also s centaur like you gehehehe) Speaking of plants; my mom has been growing a bunch of vegetables in her garden, and she recently plucked this reaaaaalllly small tomato that I keep fangirling about yes I am fangirling about a tomato

Want a drabble like this? Head to the event's main post to see how!! Here's the link for the past asks :))

"Kiri..." you said, pressing your head deeper into his collarbone, "Please don't leave."

Your hands wrapped around his waist, gripping tightly. You felt Kirishima's anger - it was so rare but it had such a dark power against you. Your wolf whimpered as they felt their mate's anger burning them.

"Why did you not tell me? Did you think I wouldn't love you just because you aren't a human?" He said, anger lacing his words, "Do you think so little of me?"

He gripped the collar of your shirt, pulling you closer to him.

"I don't fucking care if you were a human or not. I love you for who you are, Y/N - werewolf or not. It just fucking hurts that you thought that I would leave you just because you aren't a human."

"Can you blame me? All my life I've been told to keep this part of me aside. Thanks to every other person having a quirk, I thought I could easily join UA as a student and live my dream as a hero, but apparently I could never hide it."

You forced his hands off of your collar and pushed him away from you, making him hit the wall behind him.

"Every single time I see one of my pack members open up to their friends about them being a werewolf, they're either bullied, ostracized or killed. I didn't want to die, Kirishima - I want to live."

Tears began to drip from your eyes as you stared at the red-haired male before you. His shocked expression said more than his words, the anger you felt from him slowly turning into worry.

"I want to live beside you so bad, Kiri. I want to be worthy of your affection and to be your friend. I want to be your rock - pun unintended," you chuckled.

"I want to be with you so bad it hurts," you ended.

You would never dare to tell him that he was your mate - you know if you told him, he'd be with you out of sympathy. You wanted him to love you without the effects of your mate bond.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt when he had all those other flings. You stood from the side lines while he flung himself to every person he deemed his lover. It hurt when he complained about his past lovers, but it hurt more when he talked about how much he loved them - he even planned his future with a few of them with you as his consultant.

But you never said anything - it was his life to live, and he shall live it the way he wants to.

"You don't need to feel bad, Kiri - I feel it," you said as you walked towards him, "I'm not angry at you."

"I don't know why I am," he said, tearing, "You didn't do anything wrong - you did what you had to do to protect yourself. I don't know why I feel cheated by you - you didn't do anything bad at all."

"Hey, hey, hey," you said, cupping his cheeks and wiping off the stray tears dripping on his cheeks, "Relax, okay?"

He nodded as he pressed his cheeks into your hands, his eyes slowly closing to fully enjoy your warmth.

"No wonder you were always warm," he said, sniffling.

You laughed as you stared at his face.

"Call it a blessing, I guess."

[lobster-tales]

Dancing

Day 14 of @marichatmay. This fic is available here on AO3. 

Summary: Chat Noir crashes a wedding and waltzes with the girl serving cake. Also this is a song fic: the tune is If My Heart Was a House by Owl City

Chat Noir had escaped hundreds of times, just never from a wedding.

Stealth missions taught him how to weave through the crowd, away from the dancefloor. Behind him, a little girl’s voice called his name. Originally, he had promised Manon one dance, but that was seven songs ago, and he had finally managed to break free.

Chat Noir fled into the sculpture garden and ducked behind the hedges, skirting around the Musee Rodin. The building was small in comparison to some of the other art museums in Paris. Because of this, the wedding was hosted instead on the structure’s south lawn.

He arrived at the silent north facade of the building and pulled on one of the doors, ecstatic to find it unlocked. He slipped inside the museum, slumping against the door as he caught his breath.

While the outside of the museum was alight, the inside was still and moody, sculptures and paintings lining the walls. The noise from the party was audible but muffled, echoing strangely off the tile. Kinda creepy, he thought, rising to his feet. The eyes of the statues seemed to all be looking at him.

Chat Noir moved past the artworks, casting each one a wary look. He turned to enter the next room and froze.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood there with her back to him. Chat Noir saw her at the cake table earlier, serving the pastries from her parents bakery. When did she leave the party? he wondered. Come to think of it, she’s the only one here who didn’t ask for a picture with me.

She faced a bronze statue of a man, his muscled arm raised to push back his cropped hair, the other hand suspended beside him. Seizing the opportunity, Chat Noir crept forward. He reached out and gently tapped her shoulder.

“AH!” Marinette whipped around, grabbing his wrist, her other hand raised to punch him. She tensed, staring into Chat Noir’s green eyes. “Chat Noir?”

“Good reflexes, princess.”

She scoffed and released him. “Well, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that! One of these days you could end up with a black eye.”

“I’ve had worse,” he shrugged, standing beside her. He placed his thumb and index finger on his chin, considering the statue. “I see you’re a fan of the male physique,” he said coyly, referring to the sculpture’s nudity.

Just as he hoped, her face flushed pink. “No!” She looked away, embarrassed. “I’m just a fan of… art.”

“Riiiiight, art.” Chat Noir moved in front of the sculpture, turning to Marinette and mimicking the statue’s pose. “Alas,” he said dramatically. “I sold all my clothes to pay the barber, and now he’s cut my hair too short.”

She fought back a laugh, her giggles echoing in the empty room. “Stop that!” she said, swiping at him.

Chat Noir broke character with a smile. “You know, I missed you at the reception.”

Anger flickered across her eyes, disappearing before he could wonder what it meant. “Seems I was the only one.”

“Eh, I’m used to fans.” The sentiment was true: his secret identity, Adrien Agreste, was a model. But no one could know that, he realized, and said quickly, “Y-you know, being a superhero and all.”

“Yes, it must be so hard for you,” she mused. “Everyone fawning over you wherever you go.”

“Well, not everyone. My lady doesn’t.”

“Good for her,” Marinette said with a smirk. “One less person to stroke your ego.”

And neither do you, he thought, but brushed the idea away. “I’m a man of the people. If the citizens of Paris want to snap a few pictures with their favorite superhero, who am I to say no?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, are you crashing the wedding or were you actually invited?”

“I just happened upon it,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “I tried to stay hidden, but Manon found me out.”

“... So you saw when I..?”

“Showed up late?” He grinned. “Hard to miss.” He remembered Marinette dashing through the party, skidding to a stop in front of Nadja and her new wife. Marinette had apologized profusely, but the brides only responded with reassuring smiles. Anyone that was acquainted with Marinette knew her tardiness was unavoidable. Even Chat Noir had come to expect it from her.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Marinette faced him, her fists clenched.

He raised his hands. “No need to get defensive, princess. Manon was the only one who got upset.” Chat Noir chuckled. “She really wanted that cake.”

Marinette pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “I know. She’s been asking about it for days.”

“Seeing as it’s from your parents' bakery, I don’t blame her.” He watched as she turned away. “So are you a guest or are you working?”

Marinette drifted into a different room. “Both. Neither. When Nadja ordered the cake, I offered to serve it.”

“That’s nice of you,” he said, following.

“Well, she is my best customer.”

“Right, the babysitting.” Chat Noir paused at a sculpture of a centaur. “Manon’s a sweet kid. At least, when she’s not hungry.”

Marinette chuckled. “Let me guess; she’s still looking for you?”

“How did you know?” Chat Noir peered out the window. Manon had returned to the dancefloor, laughing as she danced with her new stepmother. “Actually, it looks like she gave up. Guess we’re both wrong.”

“Guess so.” Marinette stopped to stare at a painting. The light from the party wafted in, illuminating her in a soft glow. Chat Noir felt a flutter in his heart just looking at her, but forced the feeling away. He was in love with Ladybug, and besides, his duty as a superhero meant no dating.

Still, she looked so beautiful. He noticed now that Marinette was not wearing her usual jacket and pants. Her dress was a soft pink, with short puffed sleeves and a bow in the center of her chest. The waist clung to her, fabric spilling out around her thighs. She looked like a fairytale. Or a wedding guest, he thought dumbly.

“I like your dress,” he said.

She kept her eyes on the painting, but smiled shyly. “Thanks. I made it.”

Of course she did. Classic Marinette, overflowing with talent. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks,” she said again.

They admired the sculptures in silence, until she asked, “Doesn’t your… costume thingie have a timer or something?”

He looked at the ring on his hand. I still have time. “Yeah, but the battle today was pretty easy. By the time I got there, Ladybug had already done most of the work. I didn’t even use my cataclysm.”

Marinette searched his face. “That’s good.”

“Right? She’s pretty incredible.” He sighed dreamily. “Milady always has a plan; she’s a master strategist. Not to mention she’s beautiful and daring and kind and-” Chat Noir caught her looking at him with a funny expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, averting her gaze. “You’re just… sweet.”

His shoulders slumped. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m a hopeless romantic. Someone as amazing as Ladybug could never be with someone like me.”

They entered the next room. In the center stood a marble statue with an embracing couple. The man’s hand rested on her hip while her arm linked around his neck, both seated and leaning into each other. Marinette and Chat Noir stared at the statue, enraptured.

“Maybe… it’s not you,” Marinette said quietly. “Maybe it’s just that… love is hard.”

“Yeah,” Chat Noir murmured. “Maybe.”

They exchanged glances, then looked away quickly. In this room, the party music came through clearer. A beat pounded as the crowd whooped outside.

Marinette cleared her throat. “I should probably get back to the party.”

“Oh yeah? Gotta go bust a move on the dancefloor?” He did the robot poorly, and she laughed.

“As if! I’ve got two left feet.”

“What a coincidence,” he quipped. “I’ve got two right ones.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure you do.” Marinette took a step towards the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to plant myself on the edge and do my best wallflower impression.”

“You’re really not going to dance?”

The sincerity in his voice shocked her, and she stopped to consider him. “So everyone can watch me fall on my face? No thanks.”

“Oh come on,” he groaned. “You know how many songs I danced to? And my partner was three feet shorter than me!”

“You got yourself into that mess,” she giggled.

Chat Noir extended his hand towards her. “What if I ask nicely?”

Marinette glared at him. “Still not happening.”

“Please? Just one song.” He smirked. “No one can see you in here, princess.”

She pressed her lips together. Chat Noir did have a point, and the song was upbeat. Marinette decided she could suffer a few moments of awkward shuffling for her friend.

Marinette took his hand wordlessly, preparing herself for a weak shimmy. Just as she stepped towards him, the song changed. The beat disappeared, replaced by a smooth piano melody.

“Nope!” Marinette leaned away, but Chat Noir pulled her close to him. She was surprised at how gentle yet forceful he was, but convinced herself that his quiet strength was part of the super suit.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he grinned, guiding her right hand to his left shoulder. This close, he caught a whiff of her perfume. He stared at her for a moment, caught off guard by the floral scents. The smell reminded him of rose petals.

She shot him a quizzical look, jerking him from his stupor. “S-sorry, just… follow my lead,” he said.

Marinette stiffened as he placed his hand on her waist. Her mind raced as she thought of an excuse. “Th- this song is so slow, though. We won’t be able to dance to it.”

“It’s not slow. It’s just in 6/8 time,” he explained.

Her blank stare reminded him that he was wearing a mask. “Th-that is, it’s um…” Oh, whatever. “It’s not 1… 2… 1… 2… It’s actually, 1 (2 3) 2 (2 3). There’s smaller beats in between, and a full measure has 6 total.”

Marinette’s confusion fell away to awe. “Chat Noir, a musician.”

“Among other things,” he said, taking the chance to wink. “I’m a man of many talents, princess.”

She rolled her eyes again. “So how are we supposed to dance to it?”

“It’s a waltz. Here,” he said, backing away to look down at her feet. “Take a step back with your left foot. Now take your right and step to the side, so your feet are shoulder width apart. Next, bring your left foot next to the right.”

Marinette obeyed clumsily as he continued, “This is a box step waltz, so you’re basically making two triangles, and the triangles make a square. You’re going to repeat the motion, but backwards. So step forward with your right foot, left to the side - shoulder width apart - and…”

She instinctively brought her right foot to meet her left and he said, “Yes, just like that!”

Spurred on by his enthusiasm, Marinette tried again, alone. She stumbled a few times, stepping with the wrong foot. At one point, her legs crossed and she began to fall, but Chat Noir caught her. He helped her stand, taking her hand in his and placing the other on her waist once again. “Here, it’ll help if I lead you.”

They began to dance, slowly at first. Chat Noir was patient with her, guiding her feet with his own as he whispered, “1, 2, 3, 2, 2, 3...” Just as they established a steady rhythm, the song faded.

“Oh,” Marinette said, disappointment leaking into her tone. “I guess it’s over.”

Her sadness struck him, and he asked, “Wanna do another? Now that you’ve got the hang of it?”

She nodded shyly in response, positioning her hands once more.

The next song started with a low synth sound, no tempo discernible yet. The artist’s voice broke through, accompanied by the crisp beat of a hi-hat cymbal.

“You’re the sky that I fell through And I remember the view, whenever I’m holding you”

The song was faster than the last, but Chat Noir and Marinette adapted quickly. His muttered counts fell away, though his mouth still shaped the numbers with each step. Marinette watched his concentration, relaxing in his arms. She had never seen Chat Noir so focused on anything, and the change was welcome.

“The sun hung from a string Looking down on the world As it warms over everything

Chills run down my spine”

He twirled her spontaneously. Marinette gasped and fell to the side, but he helped her recover by pulling her close again.

“As our fingers entwine”

Chat Noir placed his gloved fingers between her bare ones.

“And your sighs harmonize with mine”

Within seconds, they fell back into the rhythm.

“Unmistakably I can still feel your heart Beat fast when you dance with me”

Marinette felt her pulse racing. She pretended it was just from the dancing, the fast movement.

"We got older and I should've known (Do you feel alive?) That I feel colder when I walk alone (Oh, but you'll survive)”

“Here,” he said softly. “Let’s try this.”

“So I may as well ditch my dismay”

Chat Noir pulled away and crossed his right wrist with hers, tucking his other hand behind his back. Their feet slowed from the fast triplet, circling each other on the two main beats.

“Bomb’s away”

As the artist drew out the last word, Chat Noir nodded at her. They switched, crossing left wrists and circling each other the opposite way.

“Bomb’s away”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“No,” she lied with a smirk.

He smiled and said, “Big steps now.” Wordlessly, they fell into the waltz again as the chorus started. This time, Marinette stepped farther back with her left foot, then right. Chat Noir turned her to the right as she brought her feet together. She then moved her right foot forward, the left passing, then she turned her body once more to bring them beside each other.

“Circle me and the needle moves gracefully Back and forth If my heart was a compass, you'd be north”

They continued to move in a square around the marble statue. Marinette knew she should be stumbling, falling all over herself. For some reason, though, her steps were confident. Chat Noir kept her steady and secure.

“Risk it all, 'cause I'll catch you if you fall Wherever you go If my heart was a house, you'd be home”

As the chorus receded, they fell into a small box step again, one that saw them through the second verse. Marinette laughed breathlessly, her eyes shining. “Sorry, I’m getting dizzy.”

“Me too,” Chat Noir said with a grin.

“It makes me smile because you said it best I would clearly feel blessed If the sun rose up from the west"

Marinette felt too comfortable in the silence, and invited conversation by asking, “Where did you learn to dance?”

“It was actually part of the hero curriculum.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, so there’s a curriculum?”

“Of course.” A playful flicker crossed his eyes. “My lady got higher grades than me in every class, except ballroom dancing.”

“I see. Even so, I must be a pretty clumsy dance partner compared to Ladybug.” Marinette chuckled.

Chat Noir fell silent, his expression suddenly very serious as the verse ended.

“Flower-bomb perfume All my clothes smell like you 'Cause your favorite shade is navy blue”

For the next part of the song, Marinette held tight with one hand and outstretched the other. She turned into him as Chat Noir took her other hand, twirling her in his arms.

“I walk slowly when I'm on my own”

Within the closeness, he said, “You’re not clumsy, Marinette.”

“(Do you feel alive?)”

She tensed as she repeated the motion, pulling away from him, then returning to spin beside him.

“Yeah, but frankly, I still feel alone”

This time, he held her in his arms for a longer moment. “In fact, you’re the best dance partner I’ve ever had.”

"(Oh, but you'll survive)"

She managed a gulp as they waltzed the small box step once more. Marinette looked away, not wanting to meet his soft gaze.

“So I may as well ditch my dismay”

They crossed wrists again and glided around each other.

“Bombs away”

When she moved to switch wrists, Chat Noir instead reached his hand around her waist. Marinette jumped slightly, her hand going to his neck on impulse. They held each other close as they circled once more.

“Bombs away”

They positioned themselves for the waltz as the chorus started to build. Just as the drums intensified, the sound fell away into a mellow synth. Both of them froze, relaxing when the artist sang once more. They grinned sheepishly at each other. Chat Noir’s cat-like eyes were luminescent in the darkened room. Marinette’s reflected the glow of the party lights outside.

“Circle me and the needle moves gracefully"

Both became acutely aware of his hand on her waist. He shifted his grip, the motion sending a shiver up Marinette’s spine. Her lips parted slightly, and Chat Noir wondered if they had always been that pink.

"Back and forth, if my heart was a compass you’d be north."

Marinette stiffened in preparation to dance, snapping Chat Noir out of his reverie. As the music crashed into passion again, they resumed their waltz around the room. There was no hesitation in their movement, nothing awkward or uncoordinated. The sculpture of the lovers sat at the center of their path, marble lips pressed against each other. The statue’s intimacy paled in comparison to their dance.

“Risk it all, 'cause I'll catch you if you fall Wherever you go If my heart was a house you’d be home”

The dancers broke from the routine at the same moment. They became a series of twirls and spins, Marinette’s dress flaring out with the movement. Chat Noir never looked away from her, and when she finished her final twirl, he placed his right hand on her waist and reached under her knee with the left. The light pressure of his fingers asked silently, and Marinette granted his request by lifting her knee to his grasp, her arm secured around his shoulder.

“If my heart was a house you’d be home”

He held her as they spun, their faces centimeters apart. Slowly, he set her down, and they resumed their waltz as the song played out it’s final notes. Sensing the end, Chat Noir placed both hands on her waist. Marinette let herself be dipped, stretching out one hand gracefully.

When she stood, they held each other’s hands, breathless. The song transitioned into an upbeat anthem, the wedding guests cheering from outside the museum. Despite the noise, Chat Noir and Marinette heard nothing, only the pounding of their hearts. Well that, and…

Beep beep beep!

Chat Noir winced, glancing at the ring on his hand.

“You’re going to transform soon,” Marinette said. She spoke with an unnerving certainty, but Chat Noir had no time to reflect on it.

“Yes.” He stared at her. Her back was to the window, the light illuminating the fabric of her dress. Chat Noir committed the sight to memory, before lifting her hand in his own and pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Merci, princesse.”

With that, he retreated to the shadows, slipped through the door, and melted into the night.

[thegoodgayshit]

Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Twenty Seven: I Decide Now’s a Good Time to Call in Backup

“That’s my sword,” Luz whispered, turning to look at Amity with wide eyes. “That’s my sword and your shield! Why are my sword and your shield outside Belos’ cave?”

“This wasn’t always Belos’ cave,” said a low voice from behind them. Luz jumped, turning to face Nessos, who was watching the entrance with sad, wistful eyes.

“For centuries, this cave was the entrance to Mount Pelion, where the best and the bravest Greek heroes would come to seek out the centaurs for training. But long before that… it was sacred ground. The place that held the wedding of Peleus and his wife Thetis. This mountain is named after him because in a way he almost founded it. All the history of the centaurs and this land leads back to him.”

“And Belos kicked the centaurs out,” Luz said slowly, her eyebrows knitting together.

“It was a valiant fight, we didn’t roll over and cower,” Nessos retorted, and Luz put her hands up, her eyes widening in alarm.

“I didn’t say that!”

“Come now, Nessos,” Pholos murmured, his eyes set on Luz with the same wistfulness. “You know her intentions. Belos took advantage of us.”

“What do you mean?” Amity asked, her mouth set in a frown.

“Demigods have a strength on this mountain unmatched to any other land,” Nessos explained his tail swishing anxiously as he glanced over at Achilles and Theseus. “Centaurs are strong on their own, but compared to a demigod here, we are outmatched. Even on his own, Belos was able to drive us out.”

“So we’re doomed,” Willow mumbled, adjusting the glasses on her face. Luz shook her head, clenching her fists.

“No, we’re not. They might be demigods, but so are we. We’ll be able to push them out and the centaurs can return to the cave.”

“She is right,” Pholos said, nodding approvingly, “but you also have another advantage, one that they will not be expecting.”

He reached down and pointed at Luz’s ring and Amity’s bracelet. “These are the keys to Mount Pelion. They will guide you to complete your quest, and protect you from any enemies, demigod or not.”

Luz looked down, her hand hovering over the ring. “They will?”

Pholos watched Luz for a moment, and it felt like he was reading her whole soul. Eventually, he smiled.

“Even celestial bronze has memories embedded in their core. The blade you have is not cursed, Luz. Sometimes, when we don’t understand something, it is easy to look past a blessing.”

Luz thought on that for a moment, before Gus tapped her shoulder urgently.

“Uh, guys, if we want to get in that cave, we better move.”

He was right, Achilles and Theseus seemed to get over whatever conversation they were having, and instead turned and headed back into the cave, the hilt of their sheathed weapons glinting as the light hit them for the last time.

“Augustus is right,” Nessos said, pushing them forward. “You must go. There is no time left to spare.”

Luz’s friends nodded, beginning to walk out of the forest and towards the cave. Luz hesitated, looking back at Pholos. There was a silent question in her eyes, which the centaur replied too with a simple nod.

Taking a breath, Luz and her friends left the centaurs and headed up the path to the cave, doing their best to walk quietly and not alert the retreating figures of Achilles and Theseus that they were there.

They crept up behind the statues, and Gus leaned forward checking that nobody had seen them. Achilles and Theseus had headed down the cavern, their muffled voices bouncing off the cave walls. Luz wanted to pay attention to what they were saying… it was probably important. But her heart was pounding so loudly she could feel it rising up to her ears, and couldn’t focus on anything but that.

Eventually, Gus must have decided it was clear to move. He nodded, and together they began to sneak inside, careful to stick to the edges of the open door as it headed downhill towards the room.

The cavern was much longer and much darker than it had been in Luz’s dreams. It seemed to sink deeper and deeper, and without much light besides the flicker of torches hanging on the wall, she could barely see two feet in front of her face.

Suddenly, Gus stopped, and Luz had to catch herself so she didn’t slam into him. Amity grabbed her shoulders, and the four of them pressed against a nook on the wall, shielding their bodies. There was a wave of light that passed them, and Luz realized why they stopped.

They had reached some kind of armory. It was a separate tunnel that stretches away from the main cavern, and it was packed with revived demigods.

Theseus and Achilles were there, and though Achilles went without armor, Theseus had put on a bronze chest plate not dissimilar to the ones Luz used at camp. Behind Achilles, Luz recognized Orpheus, who was holding a bow and scowling as he talked to another demigod next to him. Thankfully, his lyre was nowhere to be seen. There was a handful of other demigods Luz had never seen, but considering most of them were wielding a weapon, Luz knew they were in trouble.

Gus was breathing so heavily near Luz’s leg that she was certain he was going to give them away.

“Gus, you need to relax,” Willow whispered, and the son of Athena shook his head.

“Do you know who some of those demigods are? That’s Hector and Actaeon, and… Holy Zeus… is that Meleager? How are we going to outmatch these guys?”

“The centaurs said we’ll have an advantage,” Amity insisted, keeping her voice low. Her body was right behind Luz’s, and her breath was so close to her ear it felt like she was shouting.

“We’re outnumbered twelve to four,” Willow said, and while she wasn’t nearly as panicked as Gus, Luz could tell she didn’t like the odds of the fight. “And these won’t be easy wins. These are demigods who have been around for thousands and thousands of years.”

Doubt swirled in Luz’s belly. She didn’t want to lead her friends into a death trap, but right now she didn’t know what other choices she had. If they went back, surely someone would see them. If they charged, they would be outnumbered in seconds.

Amity seemed decently confident that the centaurs had been right about their weapons. Luz didn’t know how exactly Aletheia would help in a three on one situation, but she didn’t want to rely on it. Luz didn’t know if that was just because she was still reeling from finding out Amity was keeping something from her, but even if that was the case, this was a situation she knew they wouldn’t be able to get out of alone.

They needed backup.

Backup… Luz’s face suddenly split into a grin. Around her neck, the bronze whistle seemed to burn against her skin.

“I have a plan,” she said, and though she couldn’t see them squished into the darkness of this nook, all three of her friends moved, their heads turning towards her. “Get your weapons ready.”

When she told them what her idea was, Willow and Gus didn’t seem too enthusiastic.

“Not that I don’t trust you Luz, but how do we even know this is going to work?” Willow asked, and Luz shrugged her shoulders.

“We don’t, but we’re stuck here either way. We have to try.”

“This is a suicide mission,” Gus mumbled, but nevertheless, his hand hovered over his spear. “Ok, I’m ready.”

“Me too,” Willow said, though she didn’t look happy about it.

Luz turned her head to Amity, who was watching the three of them quietly. “Amity? What do you think?”

Luz couldn’t see her, but she felt her shaky exhale against her face. “I think I’m owed a rematch with Achilles. I’m in, no matter what the plan is.”

That sinking feeling in Luz’s gut returned. Amity was never this reckless, she never liked charging in without a well thought out plan.

Luz decided that Pholos had been right. Amity was definitely keeping something from them.

Pushing away her doubt, Luz did her best to focus on the mission. “Alright, as long as we stick together, everything is going to be fine. Are you guys ready?”

There was the briefest movement, hopefully of a head nod, and Luz pushed herself off the wall and stepped out into the light. She drew her weapon, which shifted into her sword, and there was a startled yelp that came from the revived demigods as Luz and her friends stepped out together, weapons and shields drawn, staring them down.

“Hey everybody,” Luz said, doing her best to sound intimidating. “Do you mind pointing us in the direction of Hestia?”

Theseus and Achilles spared them a look of surprise, before Theseus’s expression turned murderous and Achilles grinned, rubbing his hands together like he had been waiting for a fight.

“Daughter of Hermes, you’ve finally arrived,” Achilles chuckled, drawing a wicked-looking spear from off his back. Around them, the other demigods drew their own blades, hovering behind them and waiting for their orders. “I’ve been waiting to see if you’re a worthy enough opponent to challenge me. I can only spar with Theseus here for so long.”

Amity clutched her sword, stepping forward. “Enough, Achilles. I want a rematch.”

“Very well, daughter of Aphrodite,” Achilles said with a shrug, his huge muscles rippling under the tank top as he did. “I will make sure you don’t get away from me this time. I hope you have a coin for the ferryman.”

Theseus scoffed, drawing his own xiphos. “Blunt as always, aren’t we Achilles?” His gaze flickered back to Luz. “I must admit I’m surprised you’re here. I knew you slew the Minotaur, but I thought my sow might be a more worthy challenge.”

“Enough, Theseus,” Orpheus interrupted, gripping a bow tightly between his fingers. “I want this one. She broke my lyre!”

Theseus sighed, rolling his eyes. “We’re all better off without it, Orpheus. I swear to the Emperor, you only know how to play three good riffs.”

“Take that back!”

Luz lowered her sword, looking to her friends in confusion. Were they just going to bicker this whole time?

“If you don’t mind?” One of the demigods shouted from the back, gesturing to Luz and her friends. “We should deal with them before the Emperor knows they’re here.”

“Gods, you know how to take the fun out of everything,” Achilles retorted, rolling his shoulders. “It’s no wonder I killed you back in Troy.”

“Hector makes a good point,” Theseus shrugged, gesturing to the Luz and her friends. The revived demigods sneered, stepping closer and closer to them. “So, Luz Noceda. Which one of us would you like to be killed by?”

“None of you are killing us today, Theo,” she insisted, and Luz reached under her shirt, pulling out the bronze whistle.

She prayed to every god she could think of. Please let this work. Please.  

She pressed it against her lips and blew. It made a shrill keening sound, and around her, everybody winced. The whistle shattered between her hands, the pieces scattering to the mountain floor.

Of course, nothing happened.

All the revived demigods laughed, and Luz felt her heart sink. Next to her, her friends all clutched their weapons, ready for a charge.

“What was that supposed to do? Deafen us?” Theseus said through laughs. He cleared a tear away from his eye, and then lifted his sword to the air. “Enough of this. Kill them!”

There was a roar as the revived demigods charged, and Luz tensed, ready for the swords and spears to inevitably crash into her. She closed her eyes, ready for death, and next to her, her friends all pressed together, weapons pointed.

But she never felt the blades hit her.

There was a booming crash, and Luz and her friends were thrown backward, skidding across the floor. In front of them, the demigods shrieked, and there was another huge boom. The smell of ozone split through the armory, and Luz heard a familiar whoop of delight.

Luz shakily got to her feet and looked, not believing her eyes.

Eda, Lilith, and King were standing there, weapons drawn, and had blasted Theseus back with a bolt of lightning. Around them, the revived demigods watched nervously, gripping their weapons tightly.

Eda turned her head, her gold eyes meeting Luz’s with that signature toothy grin. “Hey, kid! About time you let us have some fun.”

“Eda!” Luz exclaimed, getting to her feet. Next to her, her friends stood up relief splitting over their faces.

“No time for pleasantries! We can talk after,” she said, spinning her spear in her hand. Luz watched as it shifted into a sword.

“I love shadow travel!” King squealed in delight, crouching at Eda’s side. “Luz, you’ve gotta try it with me sometime.”

“I have… so many questions,” Luz mumbled. She turned to her other friends and saw just how relieved they were to have backup. She nodded to them, gripping her own sword.

“You guys ready?”

“Always,” Willow said, as Gus and Amity nodded. Luz didn’t even need to give any kind of speech to get them ready. They were all grinning, looking ready for battle than Luz had ever seen them.

They could do this.

“What are you all waiting for?” Theseus screeched from where he’d been knocked down. He stood up on one knee, pointing to Luz and her friends. “They’re still outnumbered! Get them!”

The demigods seemed to remember that little fact and split into a roar, charging towards them. Luz jumped into action as one charged at her, deflecting their blade and shoving them hard with her shoulder, sending them spinning into Eda, who slashed against their helmet. There were sounds of metal clanging against metal as the armory split into a battlefield.

Luz watched as Willow and Gus deflected swipe after swipe. With one push of his spear, Gus sent a demigod sailing into a weapons rack, hitting the ground with a thud. Lilith and Eda were shoulder to shoulder, deflecting the swings of at least four different demigods, and managing just fine. King ran between their legs, taking huge bites out of whoever was stupid enough to forget he was there. Next to her Amity was charging at Achilles, and met the first blow of his spear with her new shield.

As Luz took on a demigod with her own sword, she kept a watchful eye whenever she got the chance. Amity had been doing fine, but then Achilles grew frustrated and swiped with the back of his hand. Amity yelped as she got smacked, stumbling backward and towards a group of demigods who had been waiting for her. Luz slammed the hilt of her sword down on the demigod she was dueling, leaping towards Amity and deflecting one of the stabs the first demigod made.

“Watch your back!” Luz exclaimed, and Amity spun around, quickly recovering.

“Thanks!” She replied as she swung, pushing one demigod so far back he stumbled into another one.

They were able to deflect a few more swipes, but it was becoming clear that despite their backup, Luz and her friends were clearly outnumbered. Their circle was closing in, and soon, they would be completely outmatched once again. She shared a quick look with Amity and saw that eyes had that same recognition in them. Amity bit her lip and nodded to her, and Luz felt a newfound strength enter her. She would not let Theseus and his bullies hurt her friends.

With a roar, she swung at the next demigod and managed to clip the top of his helmet. He went sailing backward, knocking into the demigod behind him and they both hit a weapons rack, collapsing to the ground. Luz blinked, that should have been near impossible. She hadn’t hit him that hard.

Next to her, Amity pushed against one with her shield, and his feet were actually knocked off the ground. Luz’s eyes widened as Amity turned to look at her, equally shocked.

“What was that?”

“Your sword!” Amity gasped, looking at it.

Luz looked down in awe. Aletheia was glowing a faint bronzy color, and as Luz held it out towards Dikē, the shield also started to hum, glinting in the torchlight of the cave. The longer Luz looked at it, the more strength she felt flow into her body. She… she felt unstoppable. Like the whole mountain could come crashing down and Luz could hold it up with her bare hands. When Luz looked back at Amity she gasped. Her eyes… they weren’t gold anymore. They were that same bronzy glow as the weapons.

“Peleus’ weapons!” Amity exclaimed, looking just as refreshed as Luz was feeling. “Pholos was right!”

But they didn’t have time to sit there and awe over what they’d just discovered. When Luz turned her head, Gus had been knocked into by a demigod, and he barely managed to avoid getting skewered as he rolled. Eda and Lilith were getting backed into a corner, and they would soon be overtaken if they didn’t get help.

Down the end of the mountain path, there was another roar. Footsteps were thundering down the mountain, and Luz knew that the demigod's reinforcements were on the way.

“We need more backup!” Amity yelled, knocking another demigod flat against the ground.

“Where are we going to get more backup!” Luz retorted as the one Achilles was arguing with earlier saw an opening and charged at her. She blocked his first swing, going for the untraditional route of punching him in the throat. “I don’t have any more bronze whistles!”

“I have an idea, but it’s actually crazy! There’s no guarantee it’s going to work!” Amity said, kicking Hector in the side and sending him reeling into the wall of the armory.

“Seems on-brand for us,” Luz said with a shrug, and Amity nodded, flipping her sword around and pointing it towards the ground.

“Cover for me! I only saw dad do this once, and if it works, it’s going to take a lot out of me!”

“On it!” Luz said, already blocking another demigod from getting any closer.

Amity took a deep breath, closing her eyes and raising the hilt of her sword. “Grandfather Ares, I offer you my sword and the blessing of Peleus. Arm me with soldiers made of mountain and stone!”

With a grunt of effort, she pushed down the blade right against the mountain floor. Luz’s jaw dropped. It should have just deflected right off the hard stone, but instead, the xiphos sunk a foot and a half into it, like it was cutting through layers of paper. Amity dropped to one knee, and the mountain began to tremble. Out of the floor began to rise about two dozen of these… creatures. They were dark grey, and about six feet tall.

There were shouts of alarm from Belos’ men as the creatures seemed to solidify and take shape, immediately rallying behind Amity and charging, swiping demigods left and right, and roaring this sound that would have sent any sane person running.

Gus, out of breath, stumbled next to me, followed by Willow as they took a protective stance behind them. Amity exhaled, removing her sword from the ground, and stood. Luz had to catch her on the way up and steady her. The bronzy glow in her eyes was still there, but it occasionally flickered in and out.

“Are you alright?” Luz asked, biting her lip. She had been right, whatever she had done clearly took a lot out of her.

“I’ll be okay,” Amity said, as Gus and Willow watched her in awe.

“Amity, how did you do that?” Gus exclaimed in awe. Now that the creatures were helping, the demigods had more to deal with than usual. Even Eda and Lilith had the pressure taken off, now swinging a lot more artistically, like they were enjoying themselves. “You just summoned Ares’ Abominations!”

“He’s my grandfather,” she said with a shrug. “I thought it might work, so I gave it a try. I guess he likes me.”

“Are you okay to keep fighting?” Luz asked, and Amity nodded, already clutching her sword.

“Definitely.”

There was a sudden deep rumbling from the mountain, and it was so strong it nearly knocked Luz and her friends off their feet. Luz tightened her grip on Amity, and when the tremors subsided, they looked to one another in terror.

“Let’s hope that was from the summoning,” Amity mumbled, and Luz couldn’t help but agree.

The four of them threw themselves back into the fight. Amity with her abominations at her side went straight for Achilles, charging into him with such a fury that Luz wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. Gus and Willow were battling around her, so she figured for the moment Amity was probably going to be fine.

Luz peered towards Eda and Lilith and saw Eda scrapping with three demigods, including Theseus. She was holding them off, but judging by the clench in her jaw Luz knew she could probably use some help.

She broke into her best battle cry, running towards Theseus and leaping, clinging to his back and making him stumble. He spun in a circle, knocking one of his own demigods over in the process.

“Augh! Get off me!” He roared, and Luz clutched tighter to his back as Eda stabbed. He cried out in pain and collapsed, and Luz rolled off him, hitting him in the head with the hilt of her blade so hard he was knocked unconscious.

“Nice kid!” Eda yelled, and Luz turned towards her and grinned.

“Thanks! It’s my signature move,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

“Luz, you have to go find Hestia!” Lilith said from next to her, while she stabbed her spear towards a demigod. “That tremor was proof enough, we’re running out of time!”

“We’ll hold the demigods here,” Eda added, smiling reassuringly. The second wave of Belos’ reinforcements had arrived, but they were clashing with abominations the second they got in. Luz realized that now was her chance. She could hurry and run down the rest of the cavern, and there was a decent chance nobody would notice.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“With little Blights abominations on our side? Absolutely,” Eda insisted, gesturing to the rest of the armory, which was currently being torn to bits by the abominations.

King took another bite out of the leg of a demigod. “We will be victorious! But not if this mountain falls on us first.”

Luz hesitated. She didn’t want to leave her friends, but she knew that they were right. If she left, she could find Hestia and end this right now.

Sparing one last glance around the battlefield, she watched as Amity roared, swinging at Achilles and knocking him flat on his back. Willow and Gus took out two more demigods in a synchronized double strike, and next to her, Eda and Lilith were clashing their weapons together, the level of ozone in the room slowly rising.

They would be fine. Luz had a job to do.

So she turned tail and fled, racing down the mountain caverns and towards the caged goddess of the hearth.

[naferty]

do you possibly know any marvel fluff fanfics without smut?

I am going to assume you’re looking for Stony fluff fanfics with a dash of the occasional winteriron and stuckony because that’s really all I read. Here are some! 

~~~

Sweet on You by MiniRaven It’s the 1940’s and Tony is working as a Donut Doll for the Red Cross. His job is to go around to various military bases and offer comfort food and conversation to homesick soldiers. He’s come to expect a lot of things in this job, but he doesn’t expect to fall in love with Captain America, the hottest most awkward soldier Tony has ever met.

The Little Glass Screwdriver by ann2who When Prince Steven is forced to find himself a bride, true love gets in the way. As the night of the grand ball unfolds, the prince meets a mysterious knight who might just change his entire life in a way he could have never imagined.

From the Inside by RiaRose He was a mess, and the others were noticing. Steve definitely knew something was up. He was the one who rubbed Tony's back when he threw up, the one that put heating pads over his stomach when the pain got to be too much, and the one that gave him gentle reminders when he knew Tony didn't remember something.He held him at night and felt the pounds as they eroded away from Tony's body, did his best to soothe the pressure that bloated his belly with soft circular motions, watched as his skin became pale, and coaxed him through the heart palpitations.But nothing he or anyone else said could convince Tony to just see a damn doctor.

Love's old song will be new by gottalovev Tony's plan for the evening was to have a drink with Rhodes before starting a new adventure. He wasn't counting on a gorgeous soldier catching his eye.

The Future is Now by Pearl_Unplanned After a villain's failed 'time machine' is used on Tony and Steve, it leaves them both far older than anyone had been expecting. Tony, unsurprisingly, is having trouble coping with it, especially since there's a chance it might be permanent. Steve, on the other hand, tries to make the best of the situation.

Home by Saber_Wing Desperately, he reached back and grasped for the carving knives on the block behind him, because damned if he was going down without a fight. Then the bilgesnipe's razor sharp teeth clamped down harder on Tony's leg, and this time, he heard something crack. All rational thought fled with it.Tony's vision went white. He thought he might have screamed, but he couldn't be sure.Oh god, it hurt. Fuck, fuck, fuck-Thor really should learn to keep Bilgey in his room.

The Problem With Communication by itsallAvengers Steve is terrible at flirting, but when he finally picks up the courage to talk to the adorable barista who makes his drinks, he finds himself hitting a small snag:That being, Tony is deaf. He doesn't know what Steve is saying.But never say Steve Rogers does not rise to a challenge.

Moonlight And Love Songs by IndigoNight In which Tony is old, cranky, and jealous. But luckily, Steve knows exactly what to do.

Dancing With Your Ghost by LunaStories Tony never thought he'd be here, getting his wings groomed by Captain America of all people. It was too intimate, but Steve had offered and he was too weak to resist.

the perfect blend by downeylove, kayytx Tired of the stress and pressure that comes with being the CEO of a global tech conglomerate, Tony hands over control of Stark Industries to Pepper and decides to open a cafe in Brooklyn.Then an exhausted high school teacher named Steve walks into his life looking for coffee and doesn’t make any effort to leave. Not that Tony’s complaining.

Maybe with enough duct tape by Bill_Longbow This was a stupid plan, so very, very stupid, but given the choice he would rather face one disappointed Steve than a horde of disappointed Carbonells.Even though Tony forgot to mention he broke up with his boyfriend and Rhodey refuses to dye his hair it might all work out in the end.

Pastoral Symphony by Neverever Weary centaur Steve is on his way home and makes camp where faun Tony is planning to build a wind-powered wine press. 

Anniversary by Amethystina (Bucky/Tony) Tony is well aware of his lousy track record when it comes to remembering and celebrating important dates, and he certainly doesn't blame Pepper for dumping him partly because of that reason. He's determined to do better, though, now that he and Bucky have started dating. Bucky is never going to have to feel forgotten or ignored.It therefore comes as a bit of a surprise when their one-year anniversary rolls around and Tony seems to be the only one who remembers the occasion. While Tony supposes that he deserves to be at the other end of the equation for once, he doesn't really know how to react.He never thought that Bucky — romantic, thoughtful, and considerate Bucky — would ever forget their anniversary.

Happily Ever After by panna_acida (stuckony, a/b/o, mpreg) Day off, a magic word, a magic day. It wasn’t an everyday occurance, but the few times it did happened, was the best to just be dads, husbands and relax. Fortunately for Steve and Bucky that was one of these days. 

Tentacle Monsters are Usually Bigger by MountainRose (platonic Steve/Tony) Steve and his Avengers find a 'biological sample' held captive in a Hydra lab; It's surprisingly chatty.

Benign by usedupshiver (platonic Bucky/Tony, there is a little smut but not between them and it’s towards the end, easily avoidable)  Having a Hydra-made tentacle monster on the loose in Avengers Tower should not be quite this... cuddly? 

[mymovingfingerwrites]

bear it well, sons of adam / bear it well, daughters of eve

Historians often debated, years after grass began to grow among the stone thrones at Cair Paravel, the origin of the epithets given to the great kings and queens by their people. As the nymphs grew silent and animals forgot how words tasted in their mouths, the trail began to grow cold.

(Of course, it would be more accurate to say that historians of the type to devote themselves to this question were uniformly more curious about Susan the Gentle, about Lucy the Valiant. Edmund and Peter both passed into legend without question.)

There are some for whom gentleness comes easy. These are the people who remember birthdays, who can smile with understanding when a friend lashes out in hurt, who absorb other's tears into a warm hug. Lucy was one such person: bright and cheerful and kind more often than not. She spent nights nestled in the downy grass beneath the dryads' trees and days curled into the warm fur of the great dogs who were her guards. She forgave easily and loved quickly.

Yet her people did not name her gentle. Lucy was gentle but she did not use that gentleness as strength.

Susan was valiant. She led her army into battle as capably as Edmund and Peter, though more reluctantly; she rode in front of her troops and stared down death when it beckoned cruelly. She flirted with princes from around the world and laughingly dared them to be upset when she turned them down. She was not always brave—she had learned caution at an early age, watching her mother smile tightly in public, learning how the burden of responsibility settles into one's shoulders and never lifts—but she was courageous and determined all her days.

And yet she was called gentle.

What Susan learned that Lucy did not was how to wield gentleness as a weapon. She learned that when one's first instinct is to retreat (flee) from uncertainty or snap a clever (cutting) insult or to chide with motherly (condescending) concern, challenging that instinct into something gentle is akin to using fire to melt sand into glass. The grit remains, smoothed into a clear and cohesive front.

Let us make no mistake: she did not learn this quickly.

Ruling for Susan was, at first, like being an older sister to a great many new people, with the exception that they actually listened to her. She arranged matters in her chambers just as she liked; she grabbed at scraps of history and maths classes half-remembered and confidently melded them into a policy approach; she dictated that vegetables must be served at every meal; she chose a companion in a beautiful grey horse with brilliant eyes and drew pictures of her steed carefully labeled with curlicue letterings. The centaurs that bowed to her, the mermaids that giggled over her lush but tangled dark hair, the beavers that advised her on the structural stability of her growing castle were little more than real and complex make-believe, a version of the toys and stories she'd haughtily abandoned for her version of adolescent maturity.

Let us remember: Susan was merely twelve.

Within time, however, it would become apparent to her that she could not rely on pretend solutions to real problems. She learned that it was indeed like being an older sister to a great many people, and that she actually had to care for these people, and protect them from harm. Lucy, all of nine years old, was beloved by her subjects—but hardly expected to make any decisions.

(Susan and Peter had many discussions, late at night, when a giggling Lucy returned from a day at the beach, when Edmund took umbrage at a small slight. Being a king or queen of Narnia meant only that they had a great legacy to live into, not that they already knew how to live. These two older siblings worried and they planned and they secretly wished for their parents far more than Lucy or Edmund, who were perfectly used to deferring to their siblings when their parents were absent).

Susan went through a phase where she resented Lucy, the ease in which her little sister ran laughing through the world while Susan, concerned, trailed behind her righting her wrongs. Everyone loved Lucy, and Susan felt invisible, pressed into the margins of the songs sung of Queen Lucy’s enchanting giggle. (Lucy got to see Aslan first; she got to find Narnia and discover dancing trees and befriend a lovely faun. Susan was not allowed into war but she played no role in peace either. There was only room for one dazzling girl in this story and she was not her). Of course, it is hard to say whether Lucy required or needed Susan to watch over her with careful eyes, but Susan took up that mantle of responsibility nevertheless––as she always would.

It was Lucy, not Edmund, that bore the brunt of Susan's stress: accusations in the great dining hall that felt at times suffocating to both sisters, past deeds brandished triumphantly as weapons. Look at what I do for you. (Look what you cannot do for yourself). Edmund had quite enough of being a burden to his family; he was largely quiet and watchful, his primary vice a deep seated insecurity that manifested in a rivalry with Peter the older boy tried desperately not to encourage. It was Lucy, not Edmund, who bore this treatment with flashing eyes but a muzzled mouth. She was already gentle, remember. Lucy had not yet learned to be valiant, to stand up for her place in this world.

It was Peter who called Susan out on her slight cruelty, who took her riding and looked at her honestly and said what she secretly longed to hear: I cannot do this without you, but what you are doing does not help any of us. That was always Peter's strength: knowing how to use honesty and valor as weapons to bring others to his side; understanding how people wish to be seen and turning his clear and steadying gaze on them; making his companions feel both humbled and empowered.

Susan found as she grew that it became easier for her to do her duty and not feel resentful. She still mothered but she did so out of genuine care rather than obligation, and her advice and caution fell more smoothly on ears not blistered by admonition. She found she enjoyed casting her eyes over the reports of the day, searching for pockets of opportunity or scenting threats in the air like a hound. The strings of her bow stung her fingers but she found something like peace in the practice hall, pulling arrow after arrow out of her quiver until she could hit the center of the target every time. Here was something she could control; here she need not grab for artificial power, nor feel insecure. She at first avoided contests––uncertain in her own ability––and then cherished them––enjoyed the thrill of victory––before she learned there was no satisfaction to be gained in besting someone publicly.

Susan carried that grace and control with her as she began to age into her crown. She found trusted advisors in centaurs, mermaids, beavers, observing and leveraging the differences in each perspective. She learned to listen before she spoke—and to speak with confidence when she needed. She took Lucy with her on visits to faraway lands to satisfy her sister’s urge for adventure and left Edmund in control of her castle to give him a chance to lead away from Peter. She alone heard Peter's voice heavy with self-doubt and despair and learned to turn her sharp tongue in a new direction, soothing his heavy burdens. She found that she was listened to when she was calm and in control, that hysterics were as disruptive as a tremble in her fingers directing her arrow to the left of its target, that when she spoke she could make people feel strong and brave and noble, even her enemies.

Lucy watched her sister smile at a hostile king until the other man faltered, unsure of his own antagonism. She watched Susan lean forward in the pause, her eyes alight with the joy of the hunt, and thank the king for his concerns with a voice as clear and smooth as a river under moonlight. She watched as she asked after his grievances with the friendly, concerned voice she used to ask Lucy about the scrapes on her knees, and she watched as the king preened under the warm glow of understanding and attention.

What Lucy saw in these interactions was not gentleness. She did not know until many years later that Susan learned to be both genuine and strategic, to yield and be firm. What she saw in those moments was the way that the king flicked his eyes over Susan's lithe, delicate figure derisively but somehow came to the conclusion regardless that her big sister was someone to be trusted. She saw femininity and she longed for it in her own way.

Lucy tried it too: the forward lean, the sweet smile, the warm concern. She carefully curled her hair and patted soft rouge on her cheeks. Tell me what troubles you, she mouthed to herself.

Her efforts got her gentle pats on the head and an effusion of praise. Peter complimented her in the exact same tone he once used to enquire after her time in a wardrobe. Edmund eyed her lipstick and then tugged one of her carefully twisted curls. Susan preened a bit at the attention and walked with her shoulders thrown back. Nevermind that Lucy was approaching thirteen, that her face was losing the round edge to her cheeks, that her legs were gangly but strong, that she was the age that they had been when they stepped into their roles as leaders.

Lucy looked at the rosy glow in her sister's cheeks, the red of her lips, the gentle curve of her hair and then furiously wiped her face and looked instead to Edmund.

(Lucy and Edmund had always been similar: the sprites of the family, mischief baked into the laxity afforded to them as the younger siblings. They played at games longer than Susan or Peter, and felt, acutely in a way they could not explain, that as long as their family was going to treat them as infantile, they could continue to be so without fear).

Lucy had not minded when Susan took over her castle. Lucy had never wanted to rule; she had not the wild, desperate edge that Susan tried to conceal. Susan had realized at an early age that she would be denied power and struggled between excelling at the lines of authority left open to her and rebelling against their limitations. Lucy always had dominion over her life and her dreams and her feelings and therefore did not need to assert her control. She reveled in the ever-changing world, how the leaves changed colors, how the wind danced over her cheeks. She sought adventure eagerly, even in this magic world which in itself was a journey. She never let her siblings forget, when they questioned her drive to always explore: she had found Narnia first. She would not let them doubt her again.

But there was a new feeling welling up inside her, and Edmund felt it too.

They wanted respect.

Susan and Peter were given respect automatically; they settled into their roles as High King (and what should have been High Queen) with apparent ease. They struggled to make decisions but they accepted the ability to make decisions as their due.

Edmund—questioned and distrusted—and Lucy—coddled and protected—had to fight for that same respect.

Edmund became just because everyone expected the opposite. Some people grow on confounding expectations. (Some people call that being powered by spite). He enjoyed the pause when he would say something in a council and nobody could find a reason to discount it, the awkward beat when everyone looked at him and thought traitor before they thought king but nevertheless agreed with his ideas. He enjoyed it because the alternative was to feel weak and ashamed and avoid living the rest of his life. As time went on he found that pursuing logic and reason and fairness had its own rewards outside merely being right. He was the first to receive his name and he wore it proudly and without doubt.

Lucy wanted to confound expectations, too—but she did not want to leave behind the part of herself that was wild and fey and sweet and playful. (The lesson that she did not learn for many years was that this wanting for her true self was in itself valiant). In the meantime she tried to be good at war, but she did not enjoy it; she fell naturally into healing, but everyone seemed to think it a foregone conclusion that Lucy be skilled at care. She was the best at peace, but Narnia, luckily for its still-young rulers, was good at peace too.

But then she took agency over her crown and learned not everyone knew peace. Some of the dryads who taught her their dances were sick with fear of those who seek to defile purity. Some of the dogs who guarded her with their lives had brothers and sisters that were small and weak and considered to be without value in their part of the land.

It was easier for Lucy to be valiant for others, to rise to her diminutive height and demand justice. She was not always logical like Edmund nor persuasive like Susan, nor did her authority precede her like it did Peter.

(Peter felt often dragged by this authority as often as he did protected. He was the last to be named, and he felt somewhere inside as if they named him magnificent because they weren't quite sure what else he was but that he ought to have a title like the rest. Peter believed he was High King merely because he was the eldest, but what he failed to realize was this type of attitude was part of what made him magnificent, that the instinctive and automatic way that he assumed the position of leader and protector was what gave him his authority, that his subjects did not think less of him for disliking killing or seeking advice but rather thought more of him for his vulnerabilities. Poor Peter, lonely in his perch, his greatest censure his own sense of duty).

What Lucy could be was ferocious: to speak with passion, to argue her point vehemently, to force her opponent with a combination of emotional impact and blunt force to consider her words. When she clutched her dagger in her hand she did not feel as though she could kill but she felt as though she could wound, could draw a long and staggering line in skin and point to where the blood began to swell at the seams. Even Susan could not condescend to Lucy when she rode into the hall on the backs of centaurs and demanded they be given dominion over their own lands.

Theirs was a story of aging. That was what the legends failed to mention, what historians could not see. They remembered Peter the Magnificent in hushed, respectful whispers, impressed with the quiet majesty of this golden king without recalling specific details of his innumerable accomplishments, save the thrilling tales of his many battles. They learned only of Susan the Gentle through letters left by her suitors, through ballads of her many feasts, of memories of the twang of her bow and the clear call of her horn. They knew Edmund the Just from the decrees he left behind, his careful comments on laws and precedents, on the way his clear and level thinking carried far into the realm. They heard Lucy the Valiant heralded during dances, saw pictures of her golden hair and emerald dresses, visited libraries in towns she helped to build and heard of her compassion in stories passed down.

They see the siblings as they were when they left: bronzed and strong and athletic like old Roman gods, leaning into the hunt with the immortality of youth. Theirs were the golden years, and time passed differently for them, as though decades were packed into one human year. They grew from twelve to twenty and in many ways beyond, but let us not forget where they started.

And where they ended.

Those in Narnia viewed it as a partial triumph: the kings and queen of old returning to take their rightful place as rulers over a strange and magic land. Aslan roared and shook his blazing mane and Peter stood straight and proud and Edmund looked ahead with clear eyes and Lucy smiled a quiet but mischievous smile. They mourned Susan, their gentle queen, lost to the harsh realities of the other world. They did not mention her, lest they remind their golden monarchs of their loss, but she soon became a cautionary tale for girls reckless and wild. And though her siblings never forgot her, they too began to believe that it was somehow Susan's fault that she was not with them in the everlasting glow of their continuing reign at the end of the world. Red lipstick and nylons paled in comparison to water that sparkled like rare gems and creatures who breathed fire and wrote ballads and battles of clashing swords and ruby-red blood.

(As if being a woman meant only nylons and lipstick. As if they were not armour of their own, as if Susan did not fight her own battles. As if Susan was not a woman in a multitude of ways, as if makeup was not code for sex and clothes code for vanity. As if Susan was not their sister and they should not have believed the worst of her).

All of the Pevensie children struggled to return to their world, their majesty stripped and replaced by the confinement of their gangly adolescent limbs. Years passed quickly and they found themselves achieving a quarter of their growth in twice as much time. They tried, of course: taking riding and archery and fencing, stepping in between bullies and the tormented in schoolyard fights, studying history of their old-new world, bending their skills in diplomacy and economics and war and peace to fit the narrow constraints of what they were allowed to do as human children, not the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve that once afforded them four stone thrones and four golden crowns. They failed, of course. Their parents eyed them worriedly and their friends struggled to accept them into the fold and no Earth horse could run with the grace of a Narnia steed.

Susan struggled alongside the rest. Returning to Narnia felt like absolution and vindication, and her and Peter's banishment felt like punishment.

The difference between Susan and Peter was that gentleness did not come easy to Susan, but majesty came easily to Peter.

Peter mourned the loss of his authority without realizing that he still wore it emblazoned around his forearms and shoulders. His essays were clearly written and compelling, his peers feared and respected him, and people unconsciously moved out of the way when he moved with easy grace through a room. He could have commanded many things: a sports team, a company, a town, a country. When he returned to being only an older brother, he found his siblings no longer needed him to do so. In this new-old world he floundered, unable to carve a space for himself. Peter would always be able to rise to the occasion, but he must have a call to answer, a throne to fill.

Susan, meanwhile, was different. She had worked to be gentle; she had made the conscious effort to be kind. She had practiced smiles in the mirror and she had analyzed the efficacy of her tactics long after she had the chance to employ them. When she landed back in her preteen self, awkward and shapeless, she was not afraid to stand naked in front of the mirror, examining a body that felt alien.

She worked at this, too.

She found gentleness meant less when you were twelve and people had a preconceived notion of what being twelve meant. She found her smiles were considered to be bland and vacuous instead of mysterious and warm. Her empathy was considered her duty and her understanding was her burden.

And so she learned to be fierce again, to wear her clothes tucked jauntily, to tie up her hair so people had to confront the brightness of her eyes. She channeled her diplomacy into writing and pretended writing letters to the editor of the school newspaper was the same thing as sending weekly missives to her compatriots. While Peter walked around in a daze and Edmund and Lucy bent their heads together and whispered their plans for their inevitable return to the land of magic, Susan turned on her heel and walked away.

She befriended girls who were shockingly pretty and learned that boys in this life were no different than the princes who once fought tournaments for the honor of her company at a feast. She befriended girls who were much less pretty but nevertheless lovely and found that many girls cared less about each other's looks than she had been led to believe. She found she liked being friends with girls, that she became part of a community, that even an enemy would pass her a menstrual pad if she made the wide-eyed sign across the classroom. They were all, in many ways, bonded against the invisible enemy that loomed much greater and more insidious.

(Girls like Lucy who did not recognize the threat of this shapeless enemy were not inducted neatly into this sisterhood. Girls that knew the enemy existed but conquered it through their own ways were too often excluded. Susan felt a brief burn of satisfaction, sometimes, when bright fey Lucy played by herself after school. At other times she felt impossibly sad).

She liked being friends with boys, too. Many of them respected her sharp mind and her sharp tongue and her athleticism and her quick competitive spirit. Many too admired the neat pull of her shirt and the swish of her skirt and her shapely upper arms, toned from archery. She flirted with them and refused to feel guilty about it, and just like the kings of old, many of them bore her no grudge when she bored of them, finding it impossible to be angry with her easy smile.

(Some did, of course. Some of these she conquered with her old gentleness. Others, girls and boys alike, she stepped away from with some of her old caution, feeling the icy chill of their gaze on her back. Even queens of Narnia have enemies).

And so when the worst possible thing happened, Susan was able to fight for herself.

She'd had years of it by now. She had picked herself up after many setbacks, chosen herself in many decisions, fought to be a queen in a court that recognized few matriarchs. She had made her peace with the world she chose and even when war ripped a painful gash in the fabric of her every day she wiped away her tears, slid into her stockings, and began to carefully stitch up the edges of her life.

In this second—third, fourth—life Susan found gentleness much later. It took her many years after her siblings died to finally step into that old skin and feel it welcome her like an old friend. Now when she spoke with empathy people listened instead of dismissed. She once again learned to wield her emotions like a sword, to choose from her arsenal of tools and aim like an arrow, to be intentional with her grace and kindness. Peter and Edmund and Lucy were gone, but in a way they'd been gone for years. Part of them was always in Narnia, dreaming about those cold, stone thrones. Susan alone felt (guiltily) like there were parts of this world that she preferred to that one. She liked that here she could be sharp-tongued and glittering and hard at the same time that she could be gentle. She liked that she could reinvent herself without the weight of the entire world watching. She liked that she had to fight for what she was given, that she knew every ounce of respect was earned, that nobody had to bow when she entered a room. She enjoyed the cinema, and traveling, and reading novels, and kissing boys. She loved university and was feared (and admired) inside and outside the classroom.

And though she pretended, she never truly forgot Narnia. (Susan was not perfect; it hurt her deeply to be excluded and she refused to admit she remembered what she was being prevented from accessing). She did not forget how the land built steel into her spine and wove velvet into her tongue, did not forget the wonder of animals that could speak, did not forget the beauty of the wide brimming hills and the crash of the endless ocean. She remembered the joy of forging alliances, the way crumbly desserts tasted salty sweet on jewel encrusted plates, how the golden light of dusk blanketed the entire world in softness. She excelled at chess all her life, taught at fourteen with solid gold pieces in the courtyard of her castle. Most of all she held the all-consuming sadness when Aslan lay his weary head on the Stone Table to sacrifice himself for her little brother, the exultant joy when he returned, the absolution his deep eyes brought, the inner peace he commanded with every word.

But Susan also remembered the censorious look in Aslan's eye, the harsh tone in his growl when he informed her she had failed a test she had not known she was taking. (It is worth remembering that she did not want to follow the lamppost back to England, that she felt deep inside her that something was wrong, that she knew that they were not invincible). She remembered how she had to be queen before she was ready, how she was not invited into battle automatically until she had already proven herself several times over. She remembered the sigh of relief that her subjects gave when she was pronounced gentle, as if it washed away the memory of her earlier tantrums and cloying attempts at care. She remembered hearing ballads of her beauty and feeling rather as if she wanted to shear her head bald and dare those same kings to ask for her hand in marriage. 

 She never stopped searching for magic in her life but she stopped searching for Narnia. She felt as though she would return only if invited to; she did not want to fall accidentally into a world that did not want her. She opened no cupboard doors. She created her own magic, and her own delight, and made her own sacrifices. 

And one day Susan opened her eyes and she saw her siblings and she felt something like sadness and something like peace and something like determination. She felt that she had lived twenty years in this world and died one hundred years old in another her siblings had never known. She had seen cars and aeroplanes and war both with swords and machine guns. She knew how to use the Internet. She led marches and protests and watched with dismay as the hills of her sweet England shuddered and sprouted steel buildings. She no longer wanted to be Susan the Gentle, gentle though she may be.

Susan did not know quite what she wanted to be yet, but she locked eyes with Aslan behind Peter's shoulder and what passed between them was something like a promise.

[missnmikaelson-main]

A Year to Eternity? Chapter 9

Previously on A Year to Eternity…

‘It’s 2:48 in the morning’… ‘I stole something… it glowed from my backpack’…

‘There is nothing else, Elijah’… ‘Are you seeing this’…

~oOo~

“You found it like this when you locked up?” Alaric leaned over the display, mindful of his hand placement to avoid the glass shards. “None of the wards were breached?”

“Who could have pulled this off?” Dorian tipped the lantern. Light caught on various surfaces, showing the jagged breaks in the case.

“Technically one of the twins could have,” he muttered. “Do you remember when Josie let the kids out of detention? Wendy, Diego and Jade.”

“I remember the aftermath, but I didn’t know Josie let them out.” Dorian whispered. “You think one of your daughters did this?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Why would they?”

Hope silently squeezed Landon’s hand as she came to terms with her half backed plan to replace the knife and clean up the mess coming to a screeching halt.

“They could have siphoned away the wards,” Dorian rubbed the back of his neck. “Someone else could have broken the case.”

“But why that knife and who?”

“Whoever did it has to still be on campus. The gates only opened twice today when you and Caroline left and came back.”

Landon shifted. His invisible knee caught a book. He watched it fall in slow motion, scrambling even slower to catch it.

The thud echoed in the dark.

Two beams of light hit them in the face; they shut their eyes against the blinding yellow.

“Who’s there?” Alaric called. “Show yourself now and I might go easy on detention.”

“I think we’re caught,” Landon whispered. He let go of her hand to black the light.

“Landon?” Dorian lowered his flashlight.

He glanced down, realizing he was visible. Hope popped into existence beside him.

“I told you not to let go of my hand,” she hissed.

“Hope?” Alaric turned his light away. He released a sigh and shook his head. “What is it with teenagers? You have a single room and you’re sneaking into the library.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t give them ideas, Ric,” Dorian smirked. “Don’t want her dad killing you.”

~oOo~

“There’s got to be a hundred books here,” she breathed, surveying the display with wonder.

Her fingers implored her to trace the spines of each book in the glass case; she found her will powerless to stop the action. Some fit in the palm of her hand, those were ones that would have fit in the pocket of her snuggest jeans. Others were thicker than her thigh and the height of her torso. For every book written in English there were a dozen more in languages she had never heard of.

Bits of spine crumbled under her touch, leaving a fine dust of gold and silver on her skin.

She picked a tiny volume and gently turned the thin pages, spying the fine lines of her fingerprint through the paper. The outline of her finger through the translucent pages made the already indecipherable language impossible.

“Impressed?” Kol smirked, pulling book after book free.

“No,” she denied, plopping down with one of the English books. “Two hundred and I’d be impressed, but one hundred and I’m just ‘meh’,” she held a hand flat over the floor, tipping it from side to side while miming a bored expression.

Kol sauntered over and rearranged the throw pillows to join her on the crimson fainting couch.

“This isn’t my entire collection, love. There are several dozen more littering as many homes across the world.”

“And you just left them there?” She shifted, pressing her thigh closer to his warm leg.

“I didn’t have much choice in the matter when my father caught up to us,” he shrugged, watching her flip pages from the corner of his eye. “It’s one of the reasons I spent so many centuries on my own.”

She balanced the book on her knees and tipped her head up, tracing the curve of his brow with her eyes.

“You went back.”

“Nik and Elijah could have rotted away at the bottom of the deepest ocean for all I cared, but I never could refuse Rebekah and would inevitably return when she called. Had Nik ever bothered taking the dagger out of Finn I suspect he would have done the same.”

“Finn?” Her eyes widened, voice rising in pitch. “The same Finn who colluded with Esther to kill all of you? That Finn?”

“You knew him after he spent an unknown number of centuries dagger and aware of it,” he tilted his head, fingers absently drawing patterns on the page. “He woke up angry and he stayed angry. I have often wondered how history would have altered if he had lived that millennium with us.”

“If you start asking what if you’ll never stop,” she warned, covering his hand with hers, “and eternity is a long time to torture yourself with those types of questions. I don’t think I could handle that hanging over my head.”

She turned her focus back to the thick lines of ink. At first glance she had taken the words for English.

“I can’t read this?”

“It’s Old English.” Kol chuckled, lifting the leather volume. “This is the account of a twelfth century witch who was, quite frankly, mad.”

“You’re calling someone crazy,” she laughed, tilting her head to the side. “What makes her ‘mad’?”

“Well,” he flipped pages and traced a faded line of ink, “she writes, quite earnestly I might add, about the scourge of the sky.”

“What’s that supposed to be?” She bit down her grin.

“When I was growing up they were referred to in the saga’s as Ormr, lohikäärme, or dreki…”

“I have no doubt you could give me a list of names from every country,” she snorted, cutting him off, “probably in languages that haven’t been spoken in centuries, but what would I call it?”

He laughed softly.

“You would call it a dragon.”

~oOo~

The shape swooped low, circling the lake. A leathery wing trailed through the water. It moved closer, sharpening the impossible image, landing surprisingly light on the dock.

Scales covered every inch of the massive body from horned head to spiked tail and across both wings.

“Niklaus,” Elijah watched the beast.

Beneath the throat came the distinct glow of fire, spreading up to illuminate the eyes. The great mouth yawned open, sending flames towards them in a slow motion spiral.

He felt the lick of heat a second before the adrenaline coursed through his veins.

He dove out of the path; Klaus sprang in the opposite direction.

He hit the ground hard. The flames unfurled inches above his shoulder and collided with the house. The fire burned through the siding. Wood crackled and warped. The flames spread faster than his panic and in any other situation he might have found that impressive, but a single thought occupied his mind.

He raced into the house.

Acrid smoke filled his lungs.

~oOo~

“Dragons?” Bonnie couldn’t help but laugh.

“Mmhmm,” Kol’s eyes sparkled as he flipped through the pages. “She wrote of entire villages destroyed in fire and a beast nearly impossible to kill unless stabbed in the soft spot.”

“Well,” she shook her head, “assuming you’re not pulling my leg then she’s crazy.”

“I would never pull your leg.”

Bonnie laughed and inclined her head towards the book.

“Why’d you keep it?”

“Because, despite her psychotic leanings, she created several powerful spells,” he hummed. “I’ve also made a habit of collecting the odd.”

“Odd?” Bonnie quirked an eyebrow. One hand waved in the general direction of the stocked shelf. “How many more of those deal with the far-fetched?”

“All of them,” he tilted his head. “Between every useful spell is a fantastic account about a creature of myth. Some are written like this one where the author truly believed what they wrote, and others read as a recounting of tales passed along; although those are few. I have references to kitsune and oni, griffons and unicorns, dryads, naiads, centaurs…”

“A never-ending list?”

“At least one per grimoire,” Kol nodded, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Some have more. One day I might compile that information. I have nothing but time.”

“Is that your eternity project?” She teased, excited over the prospect of such a book.

“No, that would be soaking up all of the knowledge in the world. Is that too high a goal?”

~oOo~

“Elena,” he burst into the bedroom.

Serena screamed; the sound resided somewhere between terror and pain. Elena cradled her looking dazed and panicked.

Caroline spun to face him and immediately raised her shirt to her mouth as the smoke drifted in.

Klaus shoved his shoulders, pushing him further into the room so he could slam the door.

“What’s going on?” Elena coughed. Serena wiggled in her arms, sweat drenched her pyjamas.

“Why is the house on fire?” Caroline moved to the door. Klaus’ hands held her back. “Klaus?”

“The stairs are out of the question.”

“What does that mean?” Elena moved, given Elijah space to open her window.

“It means they’re gone.”

Caroline ran at vampire speed, slamming drawers and flinging open the closet. By the time Elijah broke the glass and hopped onto the sloped roof she had a large duffle slung over her shoulder.

“Give her here.”

Elena passed her baby to Elijah without hesitation. Then she climbed onto the roof. Caroline followed a moment later with Klaus.

The arms that scooped her up were definitely masculine.

She locked her hands around Klaus’ neck, shutting her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the ground coming.

“The school’s closer.”

Elena nodded in what she thought was Elijah’s direction, but the sudden silence told her he was already gone with Serena.

“Hold tight, love.”

She tucked her head in and swallowed the urge to be sick as the world sped by in a blur that she refused to watch. When he stopped, the horrific sound of home burning was gone.

Klaus set her lightly on the entry floor.

Caroline’s eyes darted between them, unsure who to question first. She decided on him.

“What just happened?”

“A dragon set Elena’s house on fire…”

“A what?” Caroline’s voice rose in pitch.

“Where’s Elijah?” Elena spun, uninterested at the moment. She shouted his name.

Klaus caught the reply. “He’s in the kitchen.”

Elena ran with the pair on her heels.

“Dragon?” Caroline gripped his arm. “Did we step into Game of Thrones?”

“I know how it sounds, but…” Klaus trailed off when he stepped into the kitchen and found his daughter, Landon, Alaric and the librarian crowded around Elijah with varying degrees of wonder on their faces. Elena’s sharp elbows proved to be the only thing capable of parting the assembly. “Why is everyone watching the baby have a bath? Why is she having a bath?”

Hope looked up first, but no sound left her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he heard Elijah murmur, pressed close to Elena’s ear. “I didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” her voice sounded thick with tears. She dipped and pressed a lingering kiss to her baby’s head. “She’s okay.” Her hands took over the hold.

“The marks are fading.”

Klaus circled the island as Caroline dropped the bag.

Elijah pulled the tap free and shifted to a gentle stream of water that he let trickle over the baby’s belly; the girl grunted and blinked, glowing blue eyes focused solely on her mother’s face.

“Her eyes,” Klaus breathed. His hand curled around Hope’s elbow.

“Her feet,” Hope blinked, nodding to the sink.

“Can you all back up?” Elena snapped. Her throat burned from the brief smoke inhalation. “She’s my baby, not a circus sideshow.”

Caroline stepped in when the others moved back and peered around Elijah’s side. She delicately cleared her throat.

“Elena…” Serena squealed, “… please don’t take this in the ‘gawking at a circus freak’ way, but have you noticed her neck?”

She ground her teeth. “What are you talking about?”

Caroline took the tap from Elijah and carefully directed the water so it hit skin, but avoided the ears. She understood if they hadn’t noticed; the hands and eyes were distracting, but in the folds of her neck three fine blue lines glowed, seeming to split the skin.

“She’s something else,” Elijah pressed a hand to Elena’s back, grateful when she made no mention of how he trembled. “It appears you stand corrected brother.”

“I stood corrected at the dragon,” Klaus grumbled.

“Dragon?” Landon gaped, looking to a shocked Hope. “There are dragons?”

~oOo~

“You do have nothing but time,” Bonnie glanced towards the shelf, shifting on the cushions. “I have a question.”

“Okay,” he turned giving her his full attention.

“This had bugged me for years since I first heard the term,” her fingers danced over the plump cushion near his elbow. “Why do they call it a fainting couch?”

“There were used when doctor’s made house calls, treating hysteria,” he wiggled his eyebrows, a playful smirk on his lips. “The couch provided maximum comfort during procedures.”

She flushed, vividly recalling the film she had watched years before with her friends.

“You’re making that up,” she rolled her eyes.

“I am not,” he gasped, manoeuvring her so she sat comfortably in the corner. He grinned when she bent her knee for balance. “The poor ‘disease’ required weekly manual massage that would last for hours,” he breathed against the shell of her ear, eliciting a shiver. The heady scent of desire permeated the air and drew him closer.

He couldn’t resist a taste and allowed his tongue to trace her ear. He nipped with blunt teeth, mindful of her earring.

She gasped, bringing her hand to his sleeve.

“Th-that doesn’t explain ‘fainting’,” her nails dug into his bicep.

He pulled back and met her eyes, blown wide with the lust he could smell.

“The procedure, lasting for hours as it often did, could leave women feeling faint for a time.” He ran a finger over her hip in the lightest pressure that sent goosebumps spiralling across her skin. “Shall I demonstrate?”

“Will it take hours?” She bit her bottom lip.

“I should think not,” he popped the button on her jeans and pulled the zipper, slipping his fingers beneath the edge of bright white lace. “I have far more skill than those charlatans.”

Her head fell back with a moan, coaxed forth by the dexterous fingers massage. He took advantage of her exposed throat to lay kiss after open-mouthed kiss on her skin. His free hand slid under her shirt and up until his thumb made contact with her hard nipple.

“D-doctors did this?” She strained, attempting to roll her hips.

“Heavens no,” he nipped her bottom lip. “Anything beyond clitoral massage would have been highly improper.”

He pushed two fingers inside.

“Then this doesn’t count as a demonstration,” she moaned. He swallowed most of the sound with a kiss, muffling the whimper brought out by the pressure of his palm. Her muscles trembled, pulled taut to the edge of release fast by the shallow thrust of his fingers.

“I never claimed to be proper,” he chuckled, nose skimming her throat. “My, my; you are close little witch. Has it been so long since someone touched you?”

She might have been mortified by her whimper if not for the cresting pleasure. Her walls fluttered, spasming around his fingers. When he told her to come she was surprised at her body’s ability to obey, and for a long moment she slumped, only vaguely aware of the slick release coating her underwear.

She watched through lidded eyes as he cleaned first one finger then the other with his tongue.

“Divine,” he hummed, “truly, darling. I would love a second taste if you don’t mind.”

His fingers skimmed the inch of exposed skin between jeans and top.

She should have been satisfied, satiated, but her body craved more of him, so she lifted her hips’ the material dragged over her legs before being discarded on the floor with her shoes.

He knelt between her legs, but she stopped him with one hand on his collar.

“If I’m losing clothes then so are you,” she tugged.

Kol chuckled, but leaned back to pull off his shirt.

“As you wish.”

~oOo~

The Boarding School kitchen had long since descended into the chaos that only half a dozen overlapping voices and a screaming baby could achieve.

Klaus had leapt off the topic of dragons and fire in favour of grilling his teenage daughter on her reasons for being out in the middle of the night.

Caroline seemed torn between the tragedy at her best friend’s house, her wandering students and the vandalism in the library. She fired question after question before anyone could finish with an answer. Not that anyone would have heard anyway.

Hope kept trying to explain what had happened with interjections from Landon.

Dorian examined the dagger and talked about something that drowned under the other voices.

Alaric’s attention split down the middle somewhere between dragons and babies with glowing eyes.

Elena bounced on the balls of her feet. She longed to scream at them all to shut up, but Serena hated the noise, and she refused to add to it. She felt her adrenaline die; with its departure her heart faltered.

“My house is on fire,” she breathed.

“Yes,” Elijah nodded, reaching a hand to brush sweat damp hair behind her ear.

“A dragon set my house on fire,” she cradled Serena’s head. Tears shimmered in her eyes when she thought of the last of her family heirlooms. All of her pictures had been in the lake house; insurance would let her rebuild without touching on her savings, but it wouldn’t replace her memories. At least every picture of Serena had been backed up.

Everyone’s arguing voices faded as Elijah folded both of them into the circle of his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder and took a shaking breath. A faint aroma of smoke clung to him, but the overwhelming feeling of security dwarfed the reminder.

“I used to be so much better at this.” Serena quieted in her arms. “Compartmentalizing.”

“You don’t need to,” his hand smoothed through her hair as he kissed the top of her head.

With a jolt she realized that the other voices had not just faded they had disappeared. When she turned her head, she found everyone watching them.

“Are we done shouting?” She straightened up and swiped at her eyes. Her fingers smoothed wide circles over Serena’s purple sweater.

Before anybody could answer her, a roar sounded from outside.

Elijah stiffened.

Klaus grabbed Hope and Landon when they made for the window behind Caroline and Alaric who pushed in next to Dorian.

Elena wasn’t sure what to make of the sight. The dragon, something she thought she would never see nor say, shrank; it’s wings and body folded in until all that remained was a woman with dark skin peeking out beneath a soot stained gown.

She appeared, for all intents and purposes, human. But then again, so did everyone in the room.

Her eyes smouldered with live fire, wrecking her camouflage.

It/She kept a fixed gaze on the dagger in Dorian’s hand as the sun rose behind her back. It’s/Her mouth gaped.

Hope pulled free and ran towards the pantry. She returned seconds later with a box of salt and a tin of tea. She muttered a spell as she drew a circle around the tea; a wall of fire spread high three feet beyond the window.

From upstairs came the distant sound of screaming. Downstairs cried echoed. 

“Ric, sound off for a lockdown and be ready to evacuate. Nobody leaves the school except through the tunnels.” Caroline rocked back on her heels, jumping into the roll of problem solving headmistress. The bark of orders reminded Elena of the Miss Mystic Falls float and Matt’s crushed arm. “Hope, how long will that spell last?”

“Twenty minutes… if we’re lucky.” Her eyes flickered to the crude protection spell.

“Twenty minutes,” she muttered, eyes flickering between the Original brothers. “Either of you know how to slay a dragon?”

“Until a few hours ago we were unaware of their existence,” Klaus shook his head.

“Naturally,” she sighed. “Ric, go, take Hope and Landon. Dorian hit the books and if you haven’t found anything in fifteen minutes evacuate. Elena, take the baby and get the hell out of here.” Her voice grew sharp when nobody appeared to listen, barking in a tone that left no room for argument.

“Move!” Caroline grabbed Klaus’ sleeve when everyone else hurried to listen. A sharp look kept Elijah in the room. “Do either of you have any ideas?”

“I’d offer to rip out the beast’s heart, but I don’t think I’ll get close enough.” Klaus looked out the window where said beast was shifting again.

“A death curse might do the trick,” Elijah frowned. He felt overcome with the sudden sense that his heart resided outside his body and was racing rapidly along the hall.

“We don’t keep black magic on campus, and even if we had it there’s not a witch strong enough to use one without Bonnie.” Caroline shook her head.

At the library door Alaric parted ways with Elena after asking if she remembered the way; he left her with the teens and moved to the office.

Elena adjusted her hold. Her eyes snapped to Hope as she moved for the stairs.

“That’s not the right way,” she cocked an eyebrow.

“I have an idea,” Hope called back, taking off at the same moment Alaric came over the loud-speaker. “I won’t be long.”

Landon shrugged apologetically and followed before Elena could stop either of them.

~oOo~

@elejahforever @elejah-wonderland @naughtynecromancer @ethanjwillis @cry-btch@geekofmanyfandoms@morsmornte@xanderling@bellemorte180@iw1shiknew@blndbandt@petrova-banz @bulldozed88@njeancastro316

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- FIGHT AND FLIGHT

Remus wasn't fooled, he'd been watching over Harry's shoulder for just this. His eyes burned with every word that wasn't the fatal blow of Sirius' death, and still was just as much relieved they had another few moments to cling to that hope. He snapped forward and pried the book away from Harry, even as he tried to cling to it in protest.

"No, you guys shouldn't-"

"And you think you should?" Remus demanded as he matched Harry's glare. It felt like they were playing a real life version of Snape's task from so many days ago. Which was the deadly part of this? Who would it be, forced to say the words of what truly did their family in? Letting Harry get through it all by himself though would not be tolerated by a single one, and now surrounded on all sides as they all were, it would be the only chance they had to live through it.

Harry very reluctantly handed it over, and at once began pressing a trembling hand to his scar. Now he had nothing to occupy his hands, but knew their torturous pain of only having to listen as at any moment, the vision could overtake Harry again...

Harry had no clue if Hermione even had a plan as he followed just behind her and in front of Umbridge's wand. He didn't even dare ask her, for Umbridge was literally breathing on their necks.

Sirius still wished someone would offer speculation, a joke, anything! He kept hoping that somehow, any moment now, he'd drop in front of Harry with the magical story of his escape, he'd been the one to put Voldemort back in his place.

Hermione led them down past the Great Hall where the din of voices were chatting over dinner,

James made a little squeak noise. He could feel the time pressing into them in here, turning them more petrified by the second as they were forced to listen to this, and it had been even longer in Harry's time, how much longer did Sirius have!?

  it seemed incredible to him there were people twenty feet away just laughing about the exams being over without a real care in the world.

Lily had been shaking nonstop for quite some time, but that caused yet another tremor for a wholly other reason. If only her sacrifice had meant something more. She felt as if she'd only bought her son a spare few years, but he just kept suffering a life that no one should ever have to live through.

Hermione was walking swiftly out onto the grounds. Umbridge asked if it was in Hagrid's place?

Hermione scathingly said he'd have accidentally set it off.

"Play to her own idiocies," Remus muttered absently, his mind really not at all on this as he felt they were only getting further away from the help Sirius so needed. Hermione should have led her down to Snape's office, maybe he'd have done something useful for once in his life and stunned this troll bogie for them and then explained the plan of how to help Sirius!

Umbridge agreed at once, the half-breed oaf, then she laughed.

Harry had the urge to turn around and seize her by the throat, but resisted.

"I don't know how," Sirius said honestly.

His scar was still paining him through all this, but it did not yet burn white-hot as he knew it would for a kill.

Sirius wanted to shake off their concern again, but it was getting harder by the moment as his own chest restricted painfully. What he would give for Harry to never have known that pain, but he didn't seem able to find that hope as easily as his friends Harry would find some way out of this for him. After all, when Voldemort wanted you dead...and even James hadn't been able to fight him off...

Umbridge impatiently asked where it was, a touch of uncertainty in her for the first time as Hermione kept walking right towards the Forbidden Forest.

"Does she only just now wonder if she's being played?" Sirius tried desperately for that chipper tone at her idiocy, but it still came out more chilling as Harry shivered, he could still hear Sirius' screams of pain.

Hermione gestured in here of course, where students couldn't come across it. Umbridge was clearly more apprehensive now, but insisted they stay ahead of her.

Harry asked could they at least have her wand if they were going first.

"If she were that stupid, killing her would hold almost no fun," James said deadpan.

Umbridge said no at once, the Ministry put a higher value on her life than his.

"Which really goes to show the Ministry's priorities, oh, no wait, we already knew they respected dung more than anything," Lily muttered.

Harry tried to catch Hermione's eye again, trying to convey waltzing into the Forest unarmed may be the stupidest thing they'd done yet.

Remus suddenly had their attention far more than anything yet. The Marauders couldn't help it, if they'd been concocting some kind of plan, they'd have initiated it somewhere in here too, an area they honestly claimed to know better than even the castle. The intrigue finally brought them off of Sirius for even a second, what was Hermione up to?

She however took no notice of him, ploughing through the thickest bushes without care, and Umbridge's shorter legs were having trouble keeping pace.

Lily honestly wondered if that could be the plan, Umbridge certainly didn't know her way well enough, she could get lost.

After ripping her robes in bramble she demanded how far in it was.

Hermione said very, with confidence that Harry didn't have. Hermione wasn't on the path leading them to Grawp,

James lost any train of thought he might have cobbled together. If Hermione did have any idea in mind, it may well have been just that, in hopes Grawp would take care of their splinter and they could get back the real problem. Either she was lost or- he couldn't think past anything but wishing more than ever this future would never come.

but the one he followed three years ago to the lair of Aragog.

"Uhoh," Remus muttered, now convinced whatever plan she may have was now nonexistent and she was scrambling as desperately as them for a way out of this.

Harry tried to warn her of this, asking if she was sure they were going the right way, but she gave him the same steely answer and ignored him as she stepped with wholly unnecessary amounts of noise while Umbridge tripped right over a tree and fell. Neither of them paused to help her up.

"There's no way I'd consider you a person if you did," James stated.

Harry instead took her moment of distraction to hiss at Hermione to keep it down, but Hermione said she wanted to be heard.

That caught them all off guard, Harry blinking slowly as he tried to get his eyes to adjust to this. He still felt more than anything that feeling for what Sirius was going through, it was impossible to erase, but he could distantly recognize something new trying to trump that, some new fear coupled with something long overdue...

They kept going until the canopy overhead took away all light, and Harry had that feeling he was being watched by unseen eyes.

The boys had felt that way many times in the forest, and though it wasn't always a bad thing, it certainly wasn't something they wanted Harry to be experiencing right now! It was only another delay, another few lines they'd have to hear of Sirius not being safe.

The next time Umbridge demanded how much farther, she was cut off by an arrow thudding into a tree just above her head.

Lily startled so bad her wand was pointed at Remus before she'd even recognized the motion. Between Sirius a breath away from not having a future in that thing and now Harry being drug around the most dangerous place for him to be wandless, she was far past her wits end with anything else to do but curse the next thing that came too close.

Remus only paused for a moment to watch her before going back to reading, unable to concentrate long enough to even check if she stowed it away. Normally the sight would have terrified him from someone so genuinely formidable, especially her in this situation, but if she wanted to take this from him when he didn't have his answer for Sirius yet she'd have to try harder than that.

They were not alone, out of nowhere the sound of hooves surrounded them on all sides, and Umbridge kept Harry in front of her as if a human shield.

Sirius' face twisted in disgust, his hands still itching to crack her head in. His godson was trying to risk his life for him, and that soiled cat litter was using him to cover her own disgusting flesh!

Harry watched the binding in Remus' hands crack dangerously, they all flashed with murder again and he worried it would be far too long before they passed off of that. As pent up and stressed as they were for Sirius and now him, it seemed a miracle if Umbridge didn't enact another break away from this place more every line. Yet that same detached part of him pleasantly informed, while giving him another sock to his temple he had no need for with the rest of his pain, that hopefully something was going to come of this. Not good, that emotion was impossible to grasp right now, but something not bad.

He got himself free of her grasp just as the fifty centaurs came into view, bows drawn and all pointed at the three of them.

James made that noise again, and Sirius desperately put his arm around his best mate. It was the only thing holding him together now, realizing that Harry and Sirius truly were both in life threatening situations, and he couldn't do anything for either of them! This all somehow grew successively worse every single day, he was literally being torn in two for his family. There was no sign of his ghost coming back this time to offer anyone anything!

They remained very still as they were surrounded, Harry ignoring Umbridge's little whimpers of terror and instead spotting Hermione's triumphant smile.

"This was her plan!" Lily shrieked, and Remus actually did recoil in fear from her now, from this life somehow Harry survived and honestly none of them had a clue how at this point. "To make the centaurs angry!"

"I, can actually see this one, a bit," Sirius whispered, his eyes still too wide but certainly there was something in his voice now holding to that. "She knows exactly how Umbridge is going to treat these guys, and they're going to go ballistic, maybe kill her if we're lucky. Yet those two are still young, innocent the centaurs have said themselves, so if they play this right, they'll walk right back out of there without her."

"I, well yes but she-" Lily still failed to truly put her heart into this even if she could see the logic. She was sick with worry for one of her boys already, but in all fairness it's not like she'd come up with an alternative, she was still reeling from what was going on with Sirius. Hermione's level headedness may be their saving grace as she tried to wave Remus on without full blown panicking.

Magorian stepped forward, and Umbridge pointed her trembling wand at him.

Remus scoffed low in his throat in disgust, easily imagining such a pathetic response from something able to fight back against her. A braver person than her would have cowed in front of a herd of angry centaurs, but after all she'd done to Harry and too many innocent children, whatever happened to her next because of this would be so sweetly deserved even Umbridge's voice couldn't manage it.

Umbridge declared herself as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, Headmistress, and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts.

"She is no such thing!" Sirius vowed, he'd never view her as anything more than a lower life form than the mice Mrs. Norris spat out for not being edible enough.

Magorian was not impressed by her Ministry status.

Umbridge was though, trying to steady her voice as she recited their laws that under the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, an attack by half-breeds such as them on a human-

"Now she's done it," James said distantly, though he'd never been less invested in Umbridge in his life. If this had been going on any other time than when Sirius needed him...

Hermione told her not to call them that, but it went unheard as many centaurs around them roared in outrage for the slur.

"Trying to distance herself, a very good idea right now," Remus muttered, his fingers tapping restlessly against the book as he still recognized how dangerous this was for Harry. Just being a human in her presence right now was a danger, no matter their age.

Umbridge cared nothing, still going on loudly that they fell under the category of near- human intelligence-

"That's right, keep insulting them," Sirius never thought he would be encouraging Umbridge to do anything, but this was a better distraction from his own problem than he ever would have hoped to ask for. "I've always wanted to hear of dismemberment by centaurs."

but even her voice failed as Magorian shouted they considered that a great insult, their intelligence far outsripped hers!

A grey centaur demanded what she was doing in their Forest?

Umbridge was now shaking with as much fright as indignation.

"I never would have thought she could really be this dense," Lily hissed. As foul as they'd all found her, they never would have thought she'd be this stupid. Even the lowest life form must realize by now who was the dominant one in this environment.

She reminded them they only lived here because the Ministry permitted it.

"Dead." James said flatly, every single part of him praying that was the only death of this one.

An arrow flew so close to her it caught a few strands of her hair before again leveling out in a tree, now with a wild neigh echoing from all sides that left Harry unnerved.

"Now I know where your mind still is if unnerving is all you're getting from this," Remus shifted uneasily, still all to fearful Harry and Hermione would be caught in the crossfire any second, and yet hardly wanting to flip back any moment and hear of what Voldemort was doing to Sirius. This was a true torture in itself.

Umbridge shrieked at them, then shot the spell Incarcerous at the nearest one.

"Oh no, I was wrong," James conceded. "Now she's dead."

"And here we are, not even able to enjoy it," Remus muttered, his hand always on the next page, never wanting to keep going until the precious words arrived Sirius had escaped.

Ropes flew from her wand and encircled him, she'd gone too far. The centaurs rushed her in a rage, Harry recognizing Bane to be the one to lift her right off the ground with one arm and lear at her. Umbridge's wand fell, and Harry's heart gave a tiny leap of hope as he reached for it, but a hoof smashed it in half.

"Honestly I don't think it was worth it," Sirius grumbled in disgust. Harry would get his wand back, no need to degrade himself into using that tarnished wood once used by a frog thicker than any pondscum.

She was dragged away kicking and screaming, her pleas meaning nothing as she vanished into the distant forest.

Remus vaguely recalled a few myths he'd heard of what centaurus did when they really wanted you dead, and honestly if even a portion of them were true he'd have felt genuine fear under any other circumstances, but now he was just wishing this had all been done in the beginning to her.

Harry rubbed at his scar, not on his forehead, but the back of his hand, his eyes actually burning hatefully for someone other than Voldemort or himself for just a moment. Umbridge's screams and pleas for help had meant nothing to him then or now.

"Was she really begging you to actually help her?" James honestly couldn't believe that one, even the Dursley's wouldn't really be so stupid!

"Yes," Harry said, his right hand clenched into a hard fist, "but I didn't bother of course, after all, I must not tell lies."*

Sirius grinned crazily at Harry, patting his knee with far too much enthusiasm for this. It all fit together rather well in his mind, he'd take on Voldemort all over again if he could get these set of circumstances to happen to Umbridge any day, they couldn't have set up a better revenge if they'd tried!

The others did not agree, but none could deny either they weren't just a bit grimly pleased something had been worth it in all this mayhem and heartbreak, though it would mean nothing if the one most important to them didn't make it through.

Screaming non-stop, her voice grew fainter and fainter until it could no longer be heard over the trampling of hooves still surrounding them.

"Not good," Lily hissed, chanting that under her breath now as she removed her nails from James and let them dig into her own palm instead, the fear twisting her innards relieving nothing. She couldn't erase the idea Harry was still in the middle of all this.

James reached over and put her hands right back inside his, the only thing stilling the shaking, he didn't care the little pinpricks of her fear pushing into him instead, it was yet another reminder, a way to distance himself from seeing this happening to Harry on one level and still seeing Sirius just beyond that in a position he'd die before allowing himself to stay in at Voldemort's feet.

Harry was yanked by another centaur grabbing the back of his neck, the centaurs now demanding what should be done with them.

One pointed out they did not hurt foals, but another reminded they'd been the ones to bring her here.

"Shit!" Lily yelped, startling in place all over again. The centaurs had been watching the whole time, they knew Hermione's hadn't been a complete ruse!

"This could still work in their favor," Remus tried desperately to placate. "She had them at wand point this whole time, if they play this right they could pin it all on Umbridge forcing them to go in there."

The one holding Harry even pointed out they weren't so young, this one was nearing manhood with a hard shake to Harry.

"There's a compliment somewhere in there," James managed softly as he watched his son, his own age, that sting always present in the back of his mind he'd never truly seen him grow up, that these centaurs had seen his son at more stages of his life than he had.

Hermione pleaded they were nothing like her, they didn't care for the Ministry, they'd only come in here so they could drive her off.

"Gah, she was doing so good for a moment!" Remus found a new shade of pale all his own in fear for that line.

"How did she manage to say the worst possible thing," Sirius groaned miserably, now realizing their earlier fears had been preemptive, Hermione may have earned herself a death sentence along with Umbridge for that one alone.

Harry at once knew she'd said the wrong thing, as the one holding her stamped his feet in fury, telling Ronan they were no better than the rest of their kind with their arrogance!

"Don't ever let them meet Sirius or they'll know that's true." Lily tried to say that in her normal voice she always spoke to him with, it was easier on her heart for just a second to look him in the eyes and as always give a poke at him.

Sirius responded as always, flashing her a grin, but it was still lost on the others, as Lily only managed to remind them they'd give anything for Sirius to be in this with Harry rather than where he was.

Demanding of her she just expected them to do their work like obedient ponies?

Hermione pleaded she'd only been hoping they'd help, but she was going from bad to worse.

"I fear we've reached past the point where words help," James managed to get out, no longer able to support his own weight and would have long since fallen over if he wasn't already down. He could feel he was about to be reduced to tears any moment now, because even looking at Harry and knowing he made it out alive, he still hadn't stopped rubbing his scar this whole time. This still wasn't the biggest fear of his night, and there was only one thing worse than fearing for Hermione's life right now.

The centaur holding Harry reared up in outrage, actually taking Harry's feet off the ground for a moment as he shouted in anger they would not permit these ones to leave, boasting about the centaurs doing their bidding!

Sirius hadn't thought it possible to be more frightened for Harry than he was moments ago, still knowing his pup could slip back into Voldemort's mind any moment when this fight between them ended, but somehow he'd certainly found a way to go past that into another level of fear. What did those centaurs do to him before someone came along to the rescue!

It seemed decided they'd join the woman!

Lily retched, one hand finally leaving her husbands now to tangle with Harry's as well, fingers twisted so tight nothing could have pulled them from her.

Centaurs were an ancient race who would not let this stand, they were superior, they-

Whatever else they were went unheard.

James spluttered something that might have been relief for this finally being cut off, though this only meant his worry for Sirius went right back up to the top now that Harry was free. 

Suddenly the two were dropped, all hands back on weapons as a new rumbling shook the forest.

"A proper warrior," Remus muttered without surprise, the centaurs were clearly trained to recognize threat over arrogance, something Umbridge was now being taught.

Harry hurried so he was crouched over Hermione protectively as Grawp poked his face in.

"You said what now?" Sirius squeaked.

"I-" Remus' voice failed as he couldn't repeat that one. According to Harry they hadn't been anywhere near where Grawp was tied up, so how was he, why...

Harry grew impatient with their surprise even as he felt his own pitiful relief for the save he didn't feel he deserved. He was almost angry for the rescue, like he knew he'd deserved to stay in that forest and the centaurs punishment would still be better than the rest of this memory. He couldn't just let himself sit around with that or he'd explode, but Harry's trying to keep going only spurred Remus back into fully grasping this. He certainly hadn't forgotten as his knee stayed tight pressed to Sirius, that stupid annoying voice of his always near the back of his ear, and he filed whatever emotions he had for anything else away for later.

He gazed down, unimpressed at the herd as his dull eyes traveled over them as if searching for something he'd dropped, there were broken ropes trailing his ankles.

Sirius was still making some noise with his throat like he was trying to attempt speech. They'd hardly forgotten about Grawp, but this never would have crossed anyone's mind! How had he even gotten loose? A giant was actually walking freely around their forest! He could no longer decide if it was fear, or indignation keeping him listening.

Clearly not finding what he was looking for, he said Hagger.

Remus couldn't help but falter from surprise again. He didn't know any words in Giant, but he honestly didn't feel that's what Grawp wanted either, that didn't exactly sound like he was asking for directions back to his mountain now he'd gotten himself free.

The centaurs remained tight in their fighting stance as Grawp repeated this with insistence.

Lily covered her mouth in surprise, wondering at that all of a sudden, and how he hadn't been able to say Hermione's name quite right either, but surely he wouldn't...

Grawp stooped, looking more closely than ever, still saying Hagger.

Hermione gasped as she whispered to Harry he was trying to say Hagrid.

"But, why would he?" James demanded, feeling woozy from too many things going on, and now he could add his son being crushed by a giant again to that list even if it was by accident.

"I think he actually grew to care for Hagrid," Lily hummed, so constantly near tears of late from her eyes constantly flickering to Sirius this almost set her off again.

"I, wow, I did not see that coming," Remus muttered, though admittedly touched for Hagrid, imagining the big guys face if he'd seen his brother now.

Grawp spotted them among the sea of colors, and rumbled Hermy in recognition.

"Now we know Hermione was right," Sirius blinked spastically, though a laugh was still too far gone for him.

"Bless Hagrid," Lily said with a hard catch in her throat, she couldn't imagine what would have happened to her Hare Bear if their game keeper wasn't the way he was.

Hermione shook in surprise as Grawp demanded where Hagger was.

"We all want Hagrid back," Harry muttered, he'd actually stopped rubbing at his head for a moment to gaze at the book with longing before turning wretched eyes to Sirius. There were a lot of things in his life he wished he'd had back, Grawp should consider himself lucky Hagrid really was just, inconvenienced right now.

Unsatisfied with her lack of answer, Grawp's hand reached out for Hermione, and Harry tensed ready for a fight, prepared to bite, kick or do anything he could to keep him off of her.

They all twitched with unease, that fight or flight instinct wanting to kick in here more every moment, none were crazy enough to think they could fight off a giant. Even with the confidence now Grawp wouldn't really do them harm, it was not a pleasant thing to be thinking of Harry so casually tossed over Group's shoulders when he realized he'd caught the wrong person.

He didn't get that far, he'd shoved a centaur right off it's feet and batted him away trying to reach for her, and this was what they'd been waiting on, as fifty arrows were shot right into Grawps face.

Lily gasped, the urge to vomit becoming more every moment. Now she could easily imagine this horrific scene, and both sides so furious, and their son still caught in the middle of it all.

Grawp roared, bringing his hands up to take the shafts out, but only digging the points in deeper. He began thundering around chasing the centaurs, who all scattered and fled.

Harry and Hermione were left, shaking with fright as Hermione whispered if he'd kill them all.

Harry said he wouldn't be too fussed if so.

"I, can not, believe that just happened," Sirius shook his head slowly. How did Harry's life keep getting crazier by the hour!? They still hadn't even gotten to the part where Harry was going to go kamikaze up to the Ministry for him!

He was not paying attention to anything around him anymore, as his scar gave another twinge of pain and a thrill of terror possessed him as he realized how much time they'd wasted.

James wasn't sure how many times his heart could stop beating before he keeled over, but he was sure he was close by now. He could feel that time too, like Sirius' heartbeats were even now being numbered!

They were even further than before from rescuing Sirius, and Harry turned with fury on Hermione for this, demanding what now?

"Ah Harry, don't take it out on her," Sirius said. He felt so faint, getting a first hand account of his own death, not able to tell Harry for one moment what he was doing was wrong for trying to stop it, but at the same time there was almost a relief, a calmness in him Harry had never put himself in danger for his sake, again.

"Thought that was my line," Harry muttered, his eyes still holding a dead look that continued to horrify them more than anything, as if nothing he'd yet done had even made a difference, Sirius' fate was already sealed. They couldn't believe that though, they wouldn't!

Hermione reminded they'd go back to the castle, and Harry shouted at her by the time they managed that Sirius would already be dead, kicking at a tree in temper.

Remus felt a hollow laugh, watching that reaction alone, afraid to look at Harry and see his eyes again. If that was the worst reaction Harry had, this whole ordeal really could be bearable, please let that be the worst thing Harry do!

Hermione insisted it was the only thing, they couldn't do anything without their wands and they still didn't have a way to get to the Ministry.

A voice behind them agreed they'd just been wondering that. They turned to find their friends they'd left in Umbridge's office coming towards them, all looking worse for wear as if having been in a fight, but also looking quite pleased with themselves.

"Well, at least someone's been productive," Harry seethed hatefully, never having felt more useless in his life than he did in this moment, still wishing he'd chased Grawp down or those centaurs. He couldn't understand where his mind was coming from with this, it just couldn't be true there really was no out for Sirius, he must be misunderstanding something!

Harry asked how they'd gotten away, and Ron explained they'd all let off some stunners at once, a disarming charm on one, and Neville did quite the Impedimenta jinx. Ginny's was the best, she did a Bat Bogey Hex on Malfoy, he was still covered with the things when they'd left.

There was some long lost part of James he couldn't find right now where he and his friends should have been laughing at that, congratulating little Ginny and how far she'd come.

"I think Harry more meant how'd they got their wands back," Sirius said, clearly finding this the most interesting thing to think about right now no matter how much anyone else disagreed.

"I'm wondering if it was Luna," Lily offered, still fighting off the urge to keep screaming now that the kids were back to just trying to figure out what to do, at least before they'd felt the movement! "Her complacency, could have caused a sneak attack, got their wands away to start this."

"Prongs, I really can see why you fell for such a devious woman, concocting that idea. I'm sorry I didn't appreciate that more in school." Sirius told him pleasantly.

James shook his head from side to side with that tight feeling still restricting his heart from truly smiling back, but Sirius could always drag him back to this world no matter how lost in thought he'd get. "Guess I should be rather glad, don't need you pining after her as well, she had enough blokes doing that."

Lily swatted them both good naturedly while Sirius rolled his eyes.

Ron concluded they'd seen them heading into the Forest from the office so they'd followed.

"And they just managed to find them in that great big-"

"Shh," Lily shushed Sirius before he could interrupt again, she was going to go ballistic if she didn't hear of Harry on the move soon, they could feel now more than ever Sirius was running out of whatever time he had.

Ron asked what they'd done with Umbridge, and Harry briefly explained the centaurs and Grawp. Luna asked who Grawp was, and Ron informed Hagrid's little brother.

"Great, now we're all caught up!" James said through gritted teeth, this had been the longest hour of his life, and he never would have thought anything could trump the moment Peter had betrayed him, and he'd never hoped something else would!

Harry testily cut in Sirius was still alive for now, but they had to come up with a solution before that changed. They all fell silent, all clearly growing scared of this insurmountable problem.

"Go back to the school!" Remus seemed aghast that wasn't Harry's first thought. "Make damn sure Snape got the message! Hell, Umbridge's fireplace is open now! Go back and use that!" He stopped quickly though, as his practically shouting these things was doing nothing but making Harry more miserable by the second. They could all feel how much he was blaming himself for this, and Remus would never want to feel as if he were making that worse. He honestly believed he wouldn't have been any more clear headed in the moment, more than likely standing around and panicking just like Harry in trying to understand what he could do to help, so he just kept himself going, any answer would be better than watching the poor kid beat himself up over this.

Luna said they'd fly as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

'Oh yes, running off to get brooms is the most logical thing,' Remus couldn't help that mocking thought which he firmly kept to himself as it was no more helpful than last time, he just wanted to be on the move already even with his Padfoot right here by his side.

Harry irritably said that was no help, Ron was the only one who had a broom that wasn't being guarded. Ginny pointed out she had one-

Harry corrected that wasn't the point, she was too-

Ginny said fiercely she was three years older than him when he'd first faced Voldemort.

"She's got you there though," Sirius managed a real chuckle.

"She's going to get herself killed!" Harry hissed, somehow his panic climbing even worse than before and he hadn't thought that was possible, but now the reality his friends were in danger  really was pushing him farther than ever. His temple gave an extra hard throb, he could feel that pain and panic climbing every second, soon he wouldn't be able to tell past from present and he'd go darting out of this place himself to go rescue a Sirius right next to him.

Neville jumped in to remind they'd been in the DA to fight Voldemort, or had that all been some game?

"I think Neville really deserves something there," Lily said softly as she watched Harry bury his face in his hands with resignation. "He has the least understanding of what's going on, he doesn't even know who Sirius is. Even if he has put the name to the one in the papers, that makes this all the more unbelievable of the lad."

"Yeah, great, he's a bloody saint," Harry got out around a tight throat, pushing his glasses off his face for a moment to rub at bloodshot eyes, but quickly fixing that so he would never have to stop looking at Sirius for a moment longer than he had to. His mother was right, they all were, he was more grateful and longing in his life for the worst moment in his life just for those friends he no longer had at his side even with his family he had now.

Harry exchanged a look with Ron, both thinking the same. If they'd been able to pick members from the DA, it would not have been these three.

"Who would you have picked?" Sirius scrutinized that one oddly. "Cho? Zacharia? Collin? I never heard better options than the ones you've got."

"They're the ones asking to be there," James agreed, blinking fast to try and push that cursed vision from Harry's mind out of his for just one moment, it wasn't working.

Harry was still trembling worse than ever, wanting to go and save Sirius already, but now feeling as if he understood that anger at himself, if any of his friends got hurt because they'd gone with him...

Harry said through gritted teeth none of this mattered as they still didn't have a way to get there, though Luna cut in to simply again remind they were going to fly.

"She can keep saying that all she likes, it doesn't mean an Occarumpent is going to appear!" Remus ground out.

He hardly noticed the odd looks he was being given and jerked his head back up to glare at Sirius as he interrupted to ask what that even was.

"An occamy and an erumpent, keep up Sirius."

Sirius raised his hands in surrender, he hadn't been expecting Moony to be mocking Luna's weird creature ideas right now.

Ron said it must be nice if she could sprout wings at will, but none of them did!

Luna reminded there were other ways to fly, and Ron demanded if she was going to summon a Kacky Snorgle to her?

Luna corrected Crumple-Horned Snorkacks couldn't fly,

"Yes, because that was the part she caught on," Remus rolled his eyes heavily, feeling the pressure more than anyone he'd wasted all of his breath on things that weren't getting Sirius away from danger.

but they could, and Hagrid had said they were very good at finding places.

Harry turned to see Luna gesturing at two Thestrals looking on at them curiously from the shadows.

"Oh," they all muttered in genuine surprise. Only one of their members had been able to see those things in their day, and for the first time they wondered how often he'd seen those in the Forest without even mentioning it to them. This still held nothing to their honest thought this was the most ridiculous and long winded way Harry could use to get there! Yet berating him over it would do nothing but make them all feel even worse, they just wished someone other than Luna had offered up an idea, which was more than likely where Moony's ire with her currently was.

Harry went towards them at once with glee, and he watched them toss their reptilian heads wondering how he'd ever found them ugly.

"You can still find things ugly and useful," Lily said primly with a sideways look at Sirius, who openly ignored that one, there were some things even he wouldn't joke about, and now wasn't the time for those kinds of jokes on her part.

Ron was looking slightly to the left of where the Thestral now was, confirming it was those mad horse things you couldn't see unless you'd seen someone snuff it.

"Lest Ron's as lovely as ever," Lily muttered, more for herself that time as Sirius' eyes did brighten with humor at that one.

Hermione asked how many there were, and when he said two, she said they needed at least three.

"She could just ride on the back of one of the boys, they're tough things," James grumped, if this was how they were going to travel, he wanted this to be done with!

Luna corrected six, and Harry snapped fine, but unless they found more Thestrals this was still-

Ginny pointed out more would come, squinting more above where the Thestral was,

"Credit for trying?" Remus said snippily, well aware he was clutching the last page of his chapter and only more problems had been added to this already paralyzing situation!

as Harry and Hermione were still covered in droplets of Grawp's blood from when he'd been shot in the face, the two reeked of it and that's probably what had drawn these here in the first place.

"Why does Ginny know that?" Sirius muttered in surprise, she wouldn't have had this lesson yet.

"Luna clearly knows a lot about them, maybe she's had a chat with Hagrid about them and told Ginny about them," James forced himself to look Sirius in the face as the two sat around and just discussed something for a moment, even though both faces were more sickly pale than any full moon had ever done to them. They should have had the most practice worrying about their friends, and yet nothing could prepare them for what this all felt like.

Harry tried to seize the idea he and Ron would go ahead then, and Hermione could stay back to attract more- but Hermione protested this at once, and Luna said it wasn't necessary as she spotted six more arriving, noting they must really stink.

"No more picking on her either Moony, I like her," Sirius muttered, an actual smile trying to twist away his grimace for his situation for the girls bluntness.

"Well that seems to leave only you, I'm sure I'll have plenty more to complain of," Remus huffed.

Harry snapped fine, time to get on then.

Remus gave a tense sigh, somehow his hands fisting harder than ever as he eyed Lily who was now watching him expectantly. Another one down, and it hadn't happened yet. Maybe, if they just kept getting through more of these, it wouldn't at all...

HPHPHPHP

*No one should deny movie Harry's zinger really was brilliant and I regret nothing putting it in here.

[lukecastellandeservedbetter]

12. The Mom Interlude

a/n: this is a different pace, a different sort of fic. But I think it’s important, y’know? The action will pick up next fic. 

Read the others!: Masterlist

Sally was baking. 

Again. 

She had given all the cookies from before to Leo and Luke. Not that she minded. Paul was off at a teachers convention this weekend, which left her alone in the apartment. 

The apartment itself was not very big. It had limited square footage, and had to be kept in a particular order. It didn’t take very long for the place to seem cluttered and messy. The couch made it a little difficult to navigate through the living room with the new coffee table, and she had to be careful when she was taking the laundry to the rooms because the hallway was narrow, and if she moved the wrong way with the basket in her arms, the pictures could be knocked off the wall. In the kitchen, she had mastered the art of cleaning as she went when she cooked or baked anything, as well as the skill of stacking dishes. The table usually doubled as a desk for various degrees of homework, so they had a little shelf area that was always strewn with papers. It had been a stretch when Paul moved in with Sally and Percy, and Sally had to do some real rearranging in order to accommodate Luke. Sometimes, she felt like she was going to go crazy, living with so many people in such close quarters. 

With Percy and Luke gone, the apartment felt too big now. 

Sally was washing dishes, a little lost in thought while she waited for the timer on the last batch of chocolate chip cookies. 

She may have been wary about allowing the young man who spent nearly four years trying to kill her son to move in with them, but when she actually met Luke, she saw what Percy had meant when he had Iris-Messaged to ask her if it would be okay. 

Luke just needs someone who cares about him. 

Percy had given Sally the basic rundown about Luke, and his behaviour. What happened to Thalia, what happened with his mom, how long he had been at camp, his quest. From what Sally could tell, Luke had just been a kid who was angry and upset and manipulated by someone who had thousands of years to figure out how to get people to do what he wants. 

It hadn’t taken very long for Luke to feel like a second son. He was respectful, quiet, and a hard worker. He insisted on paying Sally back for the clothes and monthly transit pass she had purchased for him. Sometimes, she found Percy at the table with Luke, quietly explaining something to the older demigod. On those nights, she would be brutally reminded that Luke had run away at such a young age, he didn’t understand a lot of school concepts. And Percy might not be the most diligent student, but he was patient when he explained them. 

She smiled at the memory of Luke and Percy realizing that geometry could be used for swordplay and battle strategies. They must’ve sat there for an hour, a real feat for two demigods with ADHD and Dyslexia, mapping out ten different strategies together. 

The timer went and Sally shut off the water, drying her hands and put on her oven mitts, pulling the cookies out of the oven when the buzzer sounded. 

She shut the oven door and rushed over, just in case it was Percy, or Luke, or even Annabeth or Rachel, just, anyone with more information. Luke hadn’t given her a time frame, he merely told her soon. 

She pressed the speak button. “Hello?” She said quickly, trying not to sound excited. 

“Uh, hi, sorry, is this the Jackson residence?” An unfamiliar woman’s voice came through the speaker. 

Sally furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s Blofis actually, may I ask who is speaking?” She said slowly, glancing over at the celestial bronze sword Luke and Percy had insisted they leave with her and Paul in case of emergencies.  

“Oh, sorry, I must’ve got the wrong address from Chiron, I’m so sorry,” The woman apologized profusely. 

“Chiron?” Sally repeated, an image of the kind centaur flashed through her mind. “From Long Island?” She asked, still a little uneasy. 

“From Camp, yes,” The woman answered, a little more quiet. “He told me I could find my son here.” 

“Son?” Sally was bewildered at the statement. 

“Yes, my son, Luke. My name is May Castellan.” The woman told her. 

Sally stared at the receiver for a moment. May Castellan? How had she managed to get all the way here? From what Percy had told her, Luke’s mom was nearly incoherent in Connecticut, having been driven out of her mind by the curse on the Oracle of Delphi. 

“Hello, are you still there?” The woman claiming to be May Castellan spoke up again. 

“Yes, yes, sorry. Let me buzz you in.” Sally was pulled out of her reeling mind and buzzed her in, putting on a pot of coffee. 

It was quiet. And awkward. The two women sat at the table, coffees in hand and cookies on the table as the seconds ticked by. 

“So… you’re Luke’s mom then,” Sally said, looking down at the picture May had brought as proof of a young Luke and her. 

She almost didn’t recognize it as Luke, without the scar, but his eyes were the same, and his blonde hair. 

It was enough proof for her. 

“Yes, is he here?” She asked curiously. 

“I, uh, no, he isn’t.” Sally told her. “He’s off on a quest.” 

“A quest?” May repeated, leaning back in her chair. 

Sally nodded. “He’s going to save my son, Percy, and bring him home.” She explained. 

May was quiet for a moment. “And how long is that going to take?” She asked. 

Sally sighed. “I don’t know,” She admitted. “Luke told me they would be back soon. That’s all I know.” 

“When were you talking to Luke?” May asked, perking up a little bit. 

“Last night,” She told her honestly. “He stopped in with another camper and-”

“He was here?” May demanded, standing up. “Then he shouldn’t be far away, right? Is there a way to contact him? Can you bring him back, just for a minute?” She asked frantically. 

“May,” Sally stood up, gently taking her hand and sitting her down again. “Demigods can’t use phones, it attracts monsters. And we can’t Iris-message them, we can only accept.” 

“Maybe you can’t, but I-” 

“Have the sight?” Sally guessed. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

May got quiet and sipped her coffee, eyeing the cookies. “Luke likes chocolate chip cookies.” She mumbled. “I always burnt them.” 

Sally watched the woman worriedly. “May, I don’t mean to be rude, but the last I heard, you were under a curse from the Oracle. How did you get here?” 

May sighed, like she had been expecting this question. “One day I woke up. There were sandwiches and cookies and juice boxes all over the kitchen. I… it’s murky. Time kind of just, blended together. I have a couple memories, one of Luke coming home, except he was older. He looked like his dad.” She paused. “And then his dad did show up, and he caught me up on a lot of it. He said Luke was safe. And put me in contact with Chiron.” She sighed, swirling the coffee in her mug. “Luke hates me, doesn’t he?” 

“We’ll be safe, don’t worry mom.” 

It echoed in Sally’s mind. She sighed and took one of the cookies off the plate. “I don’t think he does,” She told her softly. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but if you were under the curse, I’m not sure Luke knows the real you enough to hate you.” 

May took a shaky breath and looked back down at her coffee. “I thought if I took on the Oracle, it would be easier on him. I could be in his world more.” 

Sally’s heart ached for the woman in front of her. “I know.” She whispered. “Why don’t you leave your number with me? When Luke comes home, I’ll have him give you a call. Or maybe we could drive out to Connecticut?” Sally offered. “He was studying for his learners permit before all of this, it might be good practice for him.” 

May nodded slowly and stood, collecting her jacket. “Thank you Sally, for… everything. For this. For looking after my boy. For accepting him into your home. For giving him a chance.” She said as she wrote her number on the paper Sally had placed in front of her. “If you talk to him… can you tell him I’m sorry. And I miss him. And I love him.” She begged. 

Sally nodded with a kind smile, walking May to the door. “Have a safe drive home May,” Sally told her. 

May nodded and shook her hand before heading out of the apartment and down the hall. 

Sally closed the door and took a seat in the chair Percy had occupied when he and Luke were reviewing the battle plans and sipped her coffee, staring at the chair across from her, eating another cookie thoughtlessly before her shoulders slumped forward. 

And Sally cried for the boys whom she missed very much, and wished she could hug them one more time. 

[craftypeaceturtle]

Sanders Sides Fic Rec

As a heads up! It’ll be very obvious that I prefer Virgil angst and so there will be a definite bias. Just a heads up! All of these will be on AO3 because... it’s the best haha! Also, I’ve only just noticed that a lot of these aren’t necessarily shippy but hey ho! Anyway, here we go! 

*

What Students Teach- mt_reade, 4,000 words.

Hello! My name is Thomas Sanders, and I just finished my first year as a teacher.

I taught a grade one class this year, at a relatively small school. I’ve known that I wanted to be a teacher since I was young, and babysat for the first time. I just love kids so much, and I remembered how much my teachers had an influence on me growing up. I wanted to be able to do that for others. I’ve known for a long time that teaching is the right job for me.

But, what I didn’t know, is that the teaching goes both ways, and the lessons that my students have taught me this year are more valuable than any of the things that I taught them. I’m writing this now to share with anyone who reads this, just precious few of the things that my students teach me.

(I came across this recently but I just love how simple and sweet this idea is! I love how they characterised all the sides in the perspective of children, especially Remus. I feel like it would be easy to write as absolutely ridiculous but he feels still realistic while still being very much Remus!).

*

I'll Stay Awake (cause the dark's not taking prisoners tonight) - starlocked, 2,000 words, Anxceitmus

Virgil doesn't get to meet his soulmates each night. No, he has nightmares. His roommate decides to stage an intervention.

(I just love this take on the soulmate idea of meeting up in your dreams. I also like that it was no one’s true fault. It would’ve been easy to say that it was all Deceit’s and Remus’ fault for being terrifying but it’s more nuanced than that! There’s not a lot of shippy-ness but it’s still a soulmate au so there we go!)

*

(don’t) take this the wrong way- delimeful, unfinished, 7,000 words.

Local shark mer Roman finds a tiny mermaid tangled up in a net in his territory, and enlists his siren friend Patton's help to find a way to free the little guy. Unfortunately for Logan, they end up 'borrowing' a human to assist them in untangling the net. Virgil just wants to get out of this nightmare of a situation.

(Maybe I’m just a sucker for merpeople aus, but this is such a good story immediately. Instantly engaging and I’m keeping an eye on it for any new updates. I may also just be a sucker for misunderstandings which is the main conflict so far haha!)

*

Centaur AU- KieraElieson, unfinished, 10,000 words

Thomas is hired as a centaur groom very abruptly, and is just a little bit lost, but trying his best.

However, when you think of centaurs more as people with animal-like bodies, and everyone else thinks of them as animals with human-like bodies, disagreements are bound to come up.

(So far it’s pretty much setting up the context and characters but it’s done so effectively! The trauma of the characters is handled so well, hinted at and clearly effecting their behaviour, but not so obvious that you immediately know what’s happened to them. Despite being tagged as ambiguous time period, you don’t even really question when the story is set! It quickly grabs your attention and you focus on the story more than any tiny ambiguous details.)

*

No Longer Alone- Amydiddle, 3,000 words

Anxiety has been living in the basement of Thomas' mind space for almost two years now. A place were all the host's darkness resides. The small side has learned how to take care of himself and how to avoid the sides whenever he goes upstairs.

Tonight's midnight food run goes a bit differently.

(I am so weak for stories about how all the sides formed and first interacted! I think I just fell in love with this concept! Simple but such an interesting fun read!)

*

The Worst Thing in the World- Arwriter, 6,000 words

Everyone knows Virgil needs to be handled a little differently. He might not like it, but that’s the way it is, and living with the light sides won’t change that. After all, it’s common sense.

Right?

(The first part in a slowly expanding series, the entire series is sooo good so if you like this one then definitely continue reading! It’s such a well written look into their lives, how they handle conflicts and grief. I love Virgil angst where the others get a look into his previous life, no matter how small and sad that look is.)

*

tales of reverie- cattonsanders, 40,000 words, offscreen Logince. 

Roman loves to read bedtime stories to his kids (even if Virgil says he’s grown out of them), but soon Patton and Virgil discover that the story book their dad has been reading to them is actually a portal to the very kingdom they’ve been told about- not only that, but their dad is the prince!

What else will they find as they venture deeper into this new world they’ve found themselves in, and what other, much darker secrets are being kept from them?

(SUCH A CREATIVE IDEA! I love how the plot always kept me guessing but never in a way that felt cheap or misplaced. Characters were introduced and you were left piecing it all together to figure out if they were trustworthy, which is what the main characters are also doing! Will always recommend)

*

Caught Red Handed- Wholesomereader, 20,000 words

Virgil doesn't like his dad, runs away, and 'accidentally' steals from a local bakery.

Then, the owner of said bakery hires him.

He's in so much shit.

(I love how this is paced and written out. There’s a lot of themes and relationships being built but it still feels easy to keep track of everything and nothing feels swept to the side or neglected.)

*

Slither Into Your Heart- Jungle321jungle, 6,000 words, unfinished, Anxceit

Deceit didn’t bother to knock as he slammed the door open and glared down to where Remus sat on his bed polishing his morning star. 

“What did you do?” Deceit hissed. 

Remus gave him a large smile as he looked him up or down, “Do you have the snakes just up there or are they down below too?”

If asked by Patton later, Deceit most definitely did not try to strangle the other side in that moment. Not all.

~~~~

Also known as:

Deceit is turned into a Gorgon.  And the new annoying little snakes on his head seem to have an annoying obsession with Virgil.

(Amazing idea, amazing writing, sweet scenes and just! It’s just a nice read! I love how they write Deceit to be this cool tough persona but also named all his new snakes!)

*

Wings of Anxiety- ShadeCrawler, 7,000 words

Virgil normally kept his wings pressed tight against his back. He never let them out to stretch when he was outside his room. Yes, they got sore after a little while and yes, it rustled his feathers to the point that it took forever to groom them.

But, he couldn’t take them out. He just couldn’t. Dark Sides didn’t have wings. Only Light Sides did.

(Love me some Virgil angst, add in some wings and I’m in! I also love this idea that Virgil was supposed to be a light side all along but circumstances weren’t as fair. Strong self hatred to make a compelling story! Just yes!)

*

This isn’t what I wanted, but I’ll take it- Simpleton_Cat, 17,000 words, unfinished.

Thomas didn't think he would ever get pets, much less a cat. But here he was, having four cats, Logan, Patton, Roman, and Remus. And then Remus (God, please exorcise the demon that is most definitely in his cat body) brings home two more and then suddenly he's back at the Vet.

Or in other words: Everyone is a cat and Thomas is their owner.

(Again, such a cool idea! I love how this new context for the characters allow for so many new ideas and characterisations. I love Deceit and Virgil’s relationship and how that has shaped, especially how Deceit’s link to lying is written!)

*

Changing Tides- LadyoftheWoods, 6,000 words.

Virgil ends up overboard of his father's boat during a storm, and expects to drown in the sea. Instead he is rescued by merpeople, in more ways than one.

(Virgil angst plus merpeople- well hello! I love the slowly forming family relationship between the characters. I also love how Virgil reacts to finding out merpeople exist, feels genuine but not too drawn out.)

*

A Fanciful Dream- AceDetective, 20,000 words, Prinxiety 

Virgil could say with certainty that he was no prince. Found by King Thomas’ chef, lost and with no memory of who he was, Virgil spent his childhood running errands in the halls of the castle. When a young King visits and claims Virgil is his brother, Virgil must determine if this is truth or a young King’s hopeful dream.

(While this is very fast paced, everything feels justified and well explained. The confusion between both Virgil and his brother feels so genuine and well written. The quiet slow reaching out makes sense for the both of them!)

*

Ten Things- LostyK, 30,000 words, unfinished, Anxceit, Royality

When Roman Prince learns that Patton Foster isn’t allowed to date until his older brother, Virgil, is, Roman is crushed. Roman’s twin brother Remus, however, comes up with a plan: find someone who is willing to date Virgil.

And who better to ask than Janus Verona, who according to rumours is willing to do anything for the right price?

(This is one where I kept a close eye to see if it updates, while a silly idea, it’s so well  written! I love how Deceit is written as slowly caring and falling in love while still maintaining his persona, just like Virgil! I also love how Virgil is characterised as his usual anxious self but a bit more persona based like before accepting anxiety) 

*

You Can Picani Family You Want- DramaticGarbage, 20,000 words, Analogical, Royality.

Emile finds himself in charge of two small boys who need somewhere to go. It’s going to be a learning curve for everyone.

(If you love found family stuff then this is it! It’s a series of oneshots about different parts in their lives but I love the themes and how the characters progress through each moment. It’s so sweet and rewarding. Plus it has big boi Roman which is always a plus!)

*

Fatherly Sides- Bright_Sea, 60,000 words, Moceit

There are good and bad days when it comes to being a father. Deceit and Patton learn all about it while raising their four boys.

(Similar to the one above, lots of found family sweet moments all connected by the larger plots and themes. The angst of the larger plot is given the seriousness and gravity that it deserves. I love how trauma is talked about and dealt with in a healthy manner. Everything feels so genuine and realistic!)

*

Colors- Badgermole, 49,000 words (21 works), Logicality.

A collection of stories where Logan is a young Virgil's dad. Virgil happens to be autistic and has a fascination with colors. Unless otherwise stated: Virgil is aged around early elementary school age with Roman 2 years older.

(Again, with the sweet family moments with minimal angst! I don’t have autism so I can't say whether it’s realistic or not but it’s very well written and covers a lot of autistic themes and everyday life. Actually, read pretty much everything by badgermole as their writing is so good and they tackle a lot of disabled issues!)

*

Powerless- patentpending, 187,000 words, Logicality, Prinxiety.

“People like us,” Logan had once remarked to Virgil. “Are statistical anomalies.”

(Almost)  Everyone in the world has powers.  As for those who don’t, well, they’re such a small part of the population - only 0.04% - why would anyone care about them?

Ever since he realized what people mean when they call him Powerless, Virgil Sanders has tried to fight back against the system that oppresses people like him, Patton, and Logan.  When Patton’s bakery is targeted in a hate crime, he finally snaps.  With the help of a mysterious sponsor, Virgil becomes a villain, ready to remake a broken society.  The only thing standing in his way is the world’s most Powerful (and infuriatingly charming) superhero: The Prince, who is hiding the fact that his gilded life isn’t as perfect as it may seem.

(So well written! While fast paced, everything feels so well balanced. Main characters and their plots balanced with new OCs that don’t feel too much and justified in being there. The plot kept me guessing while still feeling justified and interesting.)

*

Grounded- InstantFire, 18,000 words

No matter your age, punishments are no fun. Despite being no fun, would you be willing to do anything to avoid said punishment?

(I don't know what it is about this piece but it's just sooo good! I’ve reread it so many times, it just won’t leave my mind! I love how it’s carefully written where we don’t quite exactly know what the misunderstanding is until it’s stated out loud for all the characters. Maybe I just have a weakness for Virgil angst and misunderstandings but so worth a read!)

*

Snow Day- RandomSlasher, 8,000 words

Every year, the sides go to Roman’s realm and spend a few days enjoying the snow. Well…most of the sides. Set pre-Accepting Anxiety.

(SOOOO GOOD! The found family is so well written. Actually, while this is the only mention of Random Slasher because I don’t want this to be too long, read everything and anything by Random Slasher. So well written with some amazing ideas.)

*

Looking for the Light- OreoButter, 30,000 words

Remus, Deceit and Virgil Dark are Brothers. They had an awful home and now are in the foster system. After being passed from family to family they finally end up with Thomas. Remus is gross, Deceit is a compulsive lier and Virgil has crippling anxiety. Virgil will do anything to protect his brothers, at any cost. The family of three will have to face trial and the truth as they search for the light.

(I absolutely love found family if you couldn’t guess already! But I love how they wrote the sibling relationship between the dark sides, feels so genuine and justified. There is shipping but it feels more like a side plot so!)

*

Sightless- riverblujay, 9,000 words

Virgil is blind. It's not a big deal though, right? But he hides it, because if the other sides knew they would push him away again. And besides, he's pretty good at faking being sighted...

And the other sides are also more observant than he realizes.

(Again, this is another fic that I keep returning to! Also, I’m not blind or have any partial sight so I can't so whether this is realistic but the conflict and comfort feels so genuine and justified.)

*

The Black Hole Group Chat- Greenninjagal, 26,000 words, LAMP.

Cat_feelings: [I just have a lot of feelings for you Logan]

Anxi_Tea: [platonic?]

Cat_feelings: [does it matter?]

Anxi_Tea: [you’ve known him for twenty five minutes.]

*** aka a text fic where Logan texts the wrong number and everything goes downhill from there.

(I know text fics can be a little hit or miss but the chemistry feels so real and fun. The characters are still very much themselves, a lot of text fics can feel out of character. I also adore the fact that Virgil is mute so the fic has a reason for why the group chat is used despite them all meeting in person. So good, will always recommend!)

*

April Fool’s- feduphufflepuff, 5,000 words

This is Virgil's first April Fool's Day with the FamILY, and he has no idea what to expect.

(Love me some Virgil angst and misunderstandings so here ya go! The found family vibes and the comfort and just ah! So good, just go read!)

*

[narniafics3]

A King Or A Boy (Part 1)

Time seemed to slow as Peter watched the minotaur drop under the weight of gate. His heart paused as a painful reality set in. His soldiers were pressing against the gate, trying in vain to find a way out. Peter’s mind raced to find a solution. It became clear there was none. He looked to the other side of the castle drawbridge and locked eyes with Susan. Her head lowered just slightly but it was enough. There was nothing they could do.

Peter looked back at his soliders, a desperate plan forming in his head. There had to be a way to fix this. As if reading his thoughts, the drawbridge began to shudder beneath him.

“Peter! The bridge!” 

It was Caspian’s voice. He had to choose. He looked back at Susan, but she wasn’t looking at him. He couldn’t abandon his men. He had brought them here and leaving them would be the ultimate betrayal. Peter had almost begun to dismount when one of the centaurs made eye contact with him. The steely gaze was communication enough. Peter shook his head, he would not leave. The centaur looked to Glenstorm who nodded. One by one all of the Narnians turned to face the Telmarines for one last offensive. 

A groan from the bridge snapped Peter out of his trance. His mind screaming at him, he kicked his steed forward knowing he might already be too late to cross. It felt like an eternity as they jumped over the raising structure. Then with a sharp jolt, they landed on the other side. 

They had lost and Peter had left his men to die. 

                                                                ~

It was a sizable trek back to Aslan’s How, but for Peter it didn’t feel nearly long enough. The entire party was quiet, nothing except the bare necessities were spoken. Susan had tried talking to him once they had gotten far from the castle, but he had brushed her off. Edmund just walked next him, probably feeling as guilty as his older brother although he had no reason to in Peter’s opinion. And Caspian, well, Peter couldn’t tell how he felt. Mainly because they were both avoiding each other like the plague. 

The sun had just peeked from over the trees when they reached Aslan’s How. He could hear a horn in the distance, heralding their arrival. Peter closed his eyes and winced at the sound, knowing that the silence he had been clinging to for most of the trip was about to end. His feet hit the stone steps, but he avoided looking where the remains of the Stone Table lay. He couldn’t think about Aslan without the guilt killing him. He was in such a hurry to get inside that he didn’t notice Lucy running up to him until the last second. 

She stopped just in front of him, he couldn’t look at her. 

“What happened?” She asked softly.

Her voice only held compassion and concern but it sent Peter over the edge. He needed someone else to share this guilt or he’d just end it right there.

“Ask him.” Peter sent the briefest of glares to Caspian who was only a few steps behind him.

Susan’s disapproving tone was the first to respond, “Peter.”

“Me?” Caspian echoed, disbelief dripping from his words, “You could have called it off, there was still time.” 

“There wasn’t thanks to you,” Peter turned to him, barely able to keep his voice even, “if you’d kept to the plan, those soldiers might be alive right now.” He turned to continue inside but Caspian stopped him.

“And if you had just stayed here like I suggested, they definitely would be!” Caspian glared at him.

“You called us, remember?” Peter knew this was getting out of control but right now he needed something to lash out at.

 “My first mistake.” Was Caspian’s bitter reply.

Any restraint Peter had was gone, he was itching for a fight and this might just do the trick, “No, your first mistake was thinking you could ever lead these people.” Again he turned away but this time he was hoping that Caspian would take the bait. And take it he did.

“Hey!” 

Peter whipped his head around, a little shocked at the ferocity of Caspian’s tone.

“I was not the one who abandoned Narnia.” Caspian taunted.

If he hadn’t been angry before, Peter definitely was now. He moved up into Caspian’s face and pointed a finger harshly at him, “You invaded Narnia!” Caspian tried to move past him, but it was too late for that now, “You have no more rights here than Miraz does.”

Caspian shoved him to the side, but Peter wasn’t done. 

“You, him, your father! Narnia’s better off without the lot of you!” 

There was a quick moment were no one moved but that moment was broken by Caspian yelling in violent anger and drawing his sword. Peter, anticipating the response, had his drawn to meet him.

Much to Peter’s disappointment, before either of them could attempt to strike a blow, Edmund’s shout interrupted.

“Stop it!” 

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

hi hi hi, please can i prompt something a lil bit angsty (because i do adore my angst). the first serious fight that theo x draco x hermione have, and maybe how they make up after? thank you.

I loved loved LOVED this prompt, and I’m sorry it took me so long to get round to it. If it’s any consolation, it’s nearly 4k words long...?

Featuring: Draco being the grandiose nobleman he was brought up to be, Theo unthinkingly going along with it, one EXTREMELY tired Hermione who is absolutely not up for surprises or grand, showy, romantic gestures, Hagrid, Fang, Firenze the centaur, and a dollop of fluff to wash the fleeting angst and misunderstandings down.

Hope you enjoy it!

___

After the longest week, with barely a moment to catch her breath, burning the candle at both ends, all Hermione wanted to do on Saturday was sleep, read up on a few more things for an upcoming Ancient Studies test, perhaps lounge in the boys’ room down in the Dungeons, and perhaps convince one of them to give her a massage. Simple, humble plans, every last one of them.  

But the universe, apparently, had other ideas, given that it had seen fit to make the busiest week of term so far culminate not in an ordinary weekend, but in Valentine’s Day.  

Wizarding and Muggle alike the world was awash with pink hearts and red roses, and Hermione wanted nothing to do with it. She never had, and she knew that both boys were unfortunately prone to grand displays of affection, and that made her anxious and snappy. She’d spent most of the previous week - in the cumulative half hour that she’d actually spent in their company - trying to hint and suggest heavily that she had no interest in grand surprises and romantic endeavours. The most romantic thing someone could do for her was respect her wishes, after all.  

Quite deliberately, she’d not made any concrete plans to see the boys that Saturday, helped by the fact that Draco had an extensive Quidditch training session scheduled and Theo had some work to catch up, but after she’d woken at her usual time anyway, and had lain there for an hour, praying for sleep that wasn’t going to return, she got up. Her mother had always said that if you can’t rest, do something productive.  

The Great Hall teemed with excitable younger years, one or two unfortunate howlers, and a plethora of Exploding Envelopes filled with glittering confetti hearts from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and she turned around and left before even bothering to step inside. It wasn’t that she hated the sentiments behind Valentine’s at all, but honestly, it just felt rather cheap and the thought of it all simply… exhausted her further.  

Without pausing or returning to the Tower, she made the split-second decision just to bolt out into the grounds and found herself eventually at Hagrid’s hut. He was outside chopping wood and Fang was busy sneakily lapping tea out of the bucket-sized mug that Hagrid had set on a spare stump. The enormous hound looked up suddenly as she caught him in the act, but then gave a low, baying woof of welcome.  

��‘Allo, ‘Ermione,” Hagrid said with a grunt and a little puzzled frown as he straightened from his work. “Good te see yeh. What brings yeh down ‘ere at this time o’ day?”

She shrugged. “Got any jobs I can help with?” she asked instead and he raised an eyebrow and chuckled.  

“Don’t see yeh swinging this around…” the half-giant laughed, hefting the axe that looked like it weighed five times what she did.  

“Preferably not,” she said. “Though I’m not opposed to using magic to get it done.”

“I think I’ve got a few jobs we can do together,” he said. “Fang? Let’s go see Uncle Firenze, eh?” 

They spent the day in the Forbidden Forest with the centaurs, a rare opportunity that Hermione relished, gathering wild mushrooms that only grew in the very depths of the forest and bringing them back carefully in a covered basket for the potions storeroom, among other rare ingredients. She also spent a long time walking with Firenze, the pale centaur quizzing her about the state of the wider wizarding world now, and she in turn asking him questions about the more rigorous sides of the art of divination. The three of them, four if you counted Fang snuffling about in the undergrowth, ate a packed lunch of cheese sandwiches which Hagrid drew out of his top pocket, only slightly misshapen and squashed, and afterwards Firenze showed them some rare, early-spring berries that tasted like pomegranate but had the texture of blueberries.  

At last, her physical exhaustion matched her mental tiredness, and by the time they returned to Hagrid’s hut an hour from sunset, grubby and a little sweaty, she felt fit to fall over.  

“Thank you, Hagrid,” she said, pushing a strand of her ‘witch of the wilds’ hair out of her face, only for it to spring back again. It was so big at that point that a hippogriff chick could probably have nested atop it in perfect comfort. “I needed the distraction.”

He bowed in quiet understanding. “Any time, ‘Ermione. Yeh know that.”

She blessed him silently for not asking any more, and with a nod and a final pat on Fang’s head, she turned her steps towards the castle with no more thoughts in her head than for a long soak in a bath and an early night.  

Again, the universe apparently had other ideas.  

Pacing the entrance hall like his caged namesake, she found Draco looking breathtakingly smart in a set of charcoal grey dress robes and shiny black Oxfords. When he looked up and spotted her, his face did something complicated, the final expression settling on relief, and he came over to her in two quick strides.  

“Where the hell have you been?” he barked, scowling. “Look at the state of you!”

“Out and about in the forest,” she said tersely, hackles rising at his tone. “I didn’t know I needed to report my whereabouts to you, Draco…”

“You —” he began but he broke off and took a breath. “You don’t. Of course you don’t. But I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Theo too. He’s gone to Gryffindor Tower to ask for you again. You weren’t in the library and no one has seen you all day.”

“Why?” she asked. “It’s not like we made plans…”

Draco went still at that, his cheeks first paling and then flushing.  

“Did we?” she pressed, hand on hip, now quite certain that they had not. “Oh god, Draco, don’t tell me you’ve got something dramatic planned for Valentine’s, and you haven’t told me because you wanted to surprise me?” She pinched the brow of her nose. “Please… I told you how I feel about that kind of thing…”

When he spoke again, his voice was cold, defensive, even haughty. “Actually, yes, I do. I wanted to do something nice for you today, and I’d appreciate it if you went and washed the thestral shit off your skin and the twigs from your hair, and changed into something nice. I know you know how to dress up, Granger.”

The frayed end of her metaphorical tether slithered into sight and vanished utterly, and she gasped, “You’d ‘appreciate it’, Draco? Well, you know what I’d have appreciated? Being asked!”

“I’m asking you now,” he said petulantly.  

“No you’re not!” she shrilled back at him. “You’re demanding. This is the classic, old Draco - ‘Go and change, Granger’, ‘dress up nicely, Granger’.”

Draco balked visibly but ground his jaw. “I’m sorry,” he snarled, sounding more frustrated that contrite. “But we’re going to miss our booking, and I’d really like to make it. Please… will you go and change?”

She nearly said yes. Damn her, but she nearly said yes.  

Even after the week from hell, with tutoring sessions and tests and homework and prefect’s patrols, she nearly said yes.

But this time, Hermione Granger was going to stand up for herself.  

“No, Draco, I won’t. I’m exhausted, and all I wanted from today was to relax, have a bit of time to myself, and spend the evening in the bath and then in bed. If you’d told me instead of just assuming I’d go along with whatever grand gesture you’re pulling out of your arse, then maybe I’d think differently. But you don’t just get to order me around like I’m some pureblood debutante to decorate your arm for the evening, Draco. Goodnight.”

And with that, she stormed up the stairs, leaving an astonished and fuming Draco at the bottom, his face revolving through a series of expressions and colours.  

She passed Theo on his way back down and he almost didn’t spot her as he scuttled down the staircase looking equally and devastatingly handsome as Draco had. “Hermione?” he asked, skidding to an ungainly stop and having to grab the banister to support himself as she charged past him.  

“Ask Draco,” she said over her shoulder. “But whatever it is, I’m not going. You two should go and indulge your penchant for lavish evenings on each other.”

“Fuck. I knew it,” she heard him hiss, but to his credit, he didn’t follow her either.

Hermione fumed all evening, and even the bath did nothing to calm her down. Despite her agitation, however, she did sleep soundly, the exertions of the day robbing her brain of the ability to over think itself into ever tighter and tighter circles. Sometimes she could see how far Draco had changed in what would be a year this May, but other times he defaulted to his pureblood upbringing; to the son of a nobleman, used to having people do his bidding without question. She tried to be patient, but at times like this, it irked her more than she would have thought possible.  

The fact that this was their first major falling out - sure, they’d had little misunderstandings and had snapped at each other before now - was also a major contributing factor to the free-floating stress and anxiety coursing through her. What if he never learned to ask instead of demand? Was that the kind of person she wanted to spend her life with? And Theo had been Draco’s boyfriend before he’d been hers. Would he always just go along with what Malfoy wanted? Doubts chased each other like kneazles and bats in her brain when she woke in the early dawn, until she thought she might go mad.  

Malfoy really had been a wonderful boyfriend so far, but he was undeniably prone to bouts of showy, melodramatic romanticism. Her mind conjured images of the diamond necklace he’d gifted her for Yule, and the staggeringly expensive watch he’d gifted Theo, and she struggled to brush them away. He’d come a long way, and he’d changed a lot, but some things took their time, and she doubted whether other things would ever change.

When she stepped out of the Fat Lady’s portrait the next morning, she ground to a halt and almost walked straight back into the tower before the portrait could swing shut. She didn’t, however. She held her ground and stared at Draco who was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, looking like he’d been there all night. The charcoal grey robes were the same, if dishevelled, the shirt open at the collar. Merlin, he really had been camped out there all night.  

He levered himself to his feet and stared at her sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he blurted before she could open her mouth. “Hermione, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t listening to you at all, and I should have asked, and I never should have just… presumed like that. I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

She stared at him. “So you know why I’m angry.”

“I didn’t ask,” he said immediately. “And I didn’t respect you. I knew that what I was doing wasn’t the right way to treat you, to show you… but I wilfully ignored that and went ahead with it anyway. I was a giant ass and I’m sorry I hurt you.”

His handsome face looked ashen and wan, his eyes pink behind the silver of his irises. He also carried the sleepless smudges of a night spent in a draughty corridor beneath his eyes.  

Looking around, she asked, “Where’s Theo?”

“Hiding,” Draco said bashfully. “And brooding. It’s awful. Sitting here on the floor all night was actually preferable to being around him.”

Fighting a smirk at his humour, she asked, “Did the two of you go last night?” Wherever it was they’d planned to take her.  

Draco’s brows dipped into a deep scowl. “Without you? Of course not.”

At that, she did twitch her lips. “Go and change out of last night’s robes, Draco,” she said gently, well aware that that was one of the things Draco had said to her, sparking the argument off in the first place. “And take a shower while you’re at it.”  

“Hermione —” he began, taking an aborted step towards her, but he swallowed thickly and nodded. “I’ve said what I wanted to say,” he added dejectedly, and turned away to walk down the corridor with his head held in a distinctly un-Malfoy bow.  

Before he’d gone two steps, she reached out and latched her fingers around his wrist. “I’ll see you in the Great Hall in a bit for some breakfast, ok?”

With eyes wide and achingly vulnerable, Draco tried out a little smile on his worried lips. It didn’t stick, but at least it had been there. “Ok. Thank you.”

She rolled her eyes as he walked off, hands in his pockets. “Such drama,” she said as she turned to find the Fat Lady watching their exchange with avid interest.  

The Fat Lady popped another chocolate into her mouth as if it were cinema popcorn, and giggled. “Young love,” she crooned. “I’ll enjoy telling Violet all about this later on! You mark my words. You know,” the portrait added thoughtfully as Hermione started to walk away too, and the witch halted immediately.  

“Know what?” she asked, warily.  

After another chocolate and a quick giggle, the Fat Lady said, “He tried every trick he could think of to get me to let him in. I know very well who he is to you, but I very nearly had to leave my painting in frustration. He kept it up until at least two in the morning.”

“When Draco sets his sights on something, he’s very difficult to dissuade,” Hermione agreed. “Thank you for not letting him in. I wouldn’t have welcomed his presence last night. I was still too angry with him.”

The Fat Lady looked horrified and said, “As if I’d let someone in that wasn’t supposed to be here!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hermione said. “But thank you all the same.”

With a soft ‘harrumph’ around another praline, the Fat Lady nodded.  

Theo was already in the hall when she entered, and she spotted him almost immediately. He was stirring his ceramic tankard of coffee listlessly with his spoon and staring into it like it held the secrets of the universe.  

“Drama queens, the both of you,” she muttered fondly to herself under her breath. Ignoring the Gryffindor table, she turned her steps towards the Slytherin one.  

Her presence there was now not such a surprise that most people ignored her approach without comment, effectively giving her the chance to sneak up on the lone Slytherin, sliding into the space on his right before he’d even realised she was there.  

“Morning,” she said in a low voice, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The spoon clattered against the mug and coffee slopped over the sides as his fingers released it unbidden.  

“Hermione,” he breathed.  

His whole face was a question, and she laughed. “Yes, I’ve spoken to Draco, and yes, he’s still got his pretty face and both his bollocks.”

“What about his cock?” Theo joked reflexively, nervously.  

“You’ll have to find out later, won’t you?” she deadpanned without looking at him, reaching out to pour herself a mug of tea from a nearby pot.  

After a pause, in which Theo vanished the spilled coffee that had pooled around the base of his own mug, he asked, “So… how badly did we fuck up yesterday?”

She took a sip of her tea and added a splash more milk before responding. “Not going to lie, I was really annoyed with both of you for just assuming I’d be ok with being whisked off to wherever without a moment’s warning. I hate surprises, and you both know it.”

“Yeah…” Theo admitted.  

“So what were you thinking?” she almost shrilled. “That it’d be different if it came from you? That I’ll magically stop hating surprises just because they’re from you two?”

Theo half-shrugged, half-twitched, and said, “Kind of… Look, Hermione, I’m not trying to excuse us - we didn’t listen to you, and that’s the bottom line - but…” he broke off and ground his jaw for a moment.

“Just spit it out, Theo,” she said, turning and resting her elbow on the table to regard him properly.  

“We were raised in a different world from you, ok? From most witches and wizards actually. Purebloods like us are expected to behave in certain… coded ways with the women we’re… courting.”

“‘Courting’?” she snorted, unable to help herself.  

Adopting a sycophantic, over the top manner, he gestured and said, “Wooing, of whom we are seeking the favour, ingratiating ourselves… making our intentions known…”

“Shut up, you pompous prick,” she laughed and his face cracked into a tentative smile.  

He was clearly relieved to find laughter in her reaction, not anger. “So…” he continued in a more normal tone, returning his hands to the table and running his thumbnail along the grain in the wood, eyes downcast. “So… there are certain behaviours we kind of default to, and… honestly, there are certain behaviours that the women in our circles also expect of us. Big, showy, romantic gestures being one of them. You should consider yourself lucky you didn’t wake up to a room full of messenger owls all hooting imperiously and bearing enormous bunches of the rarest roses on earth or something…”

“I suppose I should,” she said, beginning to see it now from their point of view.  

“A pureblood wizard is expected to show that he can take care of the witch he intends to —” he cut off and swallowed, freckles briefly disappearing behind a rising flush. “—to court. That there’s nothing on earth he couldn't provide for her at the drop of a hat. I think we just… we just wanted to show you that we’re serious, but… we may have underestimated the calibre of the witch we’re dealing with here…”

“Maybe just a little bit,” she said dryly, and then sighed. “Did Draco really spend all night outside Gryffindor Tower?”

“Yup.”

“Big, showy, romantic gestures, huh?” she said, plucking a croissant off a nearby platter and tearing one end off. “I’m half expecting him to come in here with a single white rose in his hand,” she scoffed, looking up to find that Theo eyes were now fixed on a point just behind her. Draco had apparently arrived then.  

She saw his pale hand reaching down to the table out of the corner of her eye and when he picked up a silver spoon, she closed her eyes and laughed softly to herself. A tingle of magic nearby told her what he was doing, and sure enough, when she turned around to look up at him from her seat, Draco stood there with a single, transfigured white rose in his right hand.  

“Unbelievable,” she said, rolling her eyes again.  

Silently, Draco held it out to her and she took it. It smelled like summer evenings and she exhaled.  

“Apology accepted, Draco,” she said, glancing around. “Now sit down. You’re causing a scene.”

He slid onto the bench on her right and stared at the empty plate in front of him for a moment, hands resting elegantly on either side of it.  

She reached out and placed her palm over his, feeling the slight twitch beneath as their skin made contact. Hermione squeezed his long fingers until he looked up at her, his eyes shining and his face wracked with a complex mixture of emotions that she had no hope of deciphering.  

“Theo and I talked,” she said. “And he may have pointed out to me a certain ‘difference in upbringing’ that went some way towards explaining why you went to the lengths you did yesterday.”

“I still —” Draco began but she cut him off.  

“We’ve established already that you could have opened your lugholes a little sooner, but I feel like we’ve also moved on from that. It came from a place of love and good intention, and as such, I’d like to propose a compromise.”

At that, Theo and Draco both gave her their absolute and undivided attention and curiosity.  

Stifling a smirk, she said, “I don’t know what it is you had planned for yesterday, and frankly at this point, I don’t ever want to know. But how about we go into Hogsmeade next weekend and have dinner together. I’ll know it’s coming and what to expect, and you two can argue over who foots the bill if you want to make it a romantic gesture. Or we can split it three ways.”

“Absolutely not,” Draco said instantly and something hot flared inside her at that. “I meant splitting the payment three ways,” he added bashfully, seeing where her mind had gone instead.  

At that, the tension shattered and she tipped her head back and laughed, gripping his hand for support as she leaned almost perilously far back. Theo put his hand between her shoulder blades just in case, and half the Slytherin table began to stare at them.  

Theo leaned in close and said in her ear, “You’re causing a scene, dear Hermione.”

She squeezed Draco’s hand and let out a long, slow sigh as the laughter faded. “What am I going to do with you two?” she said, shaking her head.  

“Be patient…?” Draco all but begged, mumbling into his coffee. Where Theo took his black, Draco piled cream and sugar into his until it was barely recognisable as coffee in the first place. She smirked fondly to herself as she contemplated his ridiculously sweet tooth, and wondered if, with his penchant for apples, he also liked sour sweets. Perhaps she’d get Harry to owl her some Haribo to try out on him.  

“Hermione?” he asked, looking up at her. His skin was so pale it was like marble in the soft light of the Great Hall, and he looked eerily like the statue of a saint at a shrine in that moment, all hope and tentative expectation.  

For her answer, Hermione slid her left hand into Theo’s, and then reached up and took Draco’s chin in her right hand, turning him by his sharp and now-just-perfectly-pointed chin. His eyes were wide, gleaming, silver mirrors, fixed unyieldingly on her own.  

Hermione held him there between thumb and forefinger, and as she pressed a searing kiss against his pale lips, she felt Theo’s grip tighten on her left hand.

___

If you enjoyed, please reblog and share! I’m new to the fandom on here and appreciate all the help I can get!

___

writing masterlist | Ao3

[usual-day-dreamer]

Let Me Touch Your Fire (Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader) Chapter Eight

MASTERLIST

Dustin grabbed your arm and harshly pulled you back inside closing the gate.

"Ouch!" You exclaimed touching your arm as you glared at your brother.

"Are you insane!?" He exclaimed "They could've barged in any moment!"

"Jeez! Sorry" you said, "It's just... they are gone" tears fell down again "And it's my fault! I could've done something! Helped them close the door, Steve, he pushed me and Robin, oh Robin I hope she's okay, what if they kill them before we get help? Oh god I don't know what do anymore I just-"

Dustin grabbed your shoulders tightly and shook "Calm down!" he exclaimed not letting go of your shoulders "No one's going to die, you hear me? We'll come up with something! You need to be calm so we can get the shit outta here"

You stared at him speechless "I know you are worried, I am too, but we need to stick together and come up with a plan to save them before it's too late"

You nodded and he finally let you go.

"For now, let's crawl around and find and exit" Dustin started, and Erica followed, with you behind both kids.

Footsteps above you echoed around the vents as you crawled around, trying to keep the tears and negative thoughts away. You could hear Erica and Dustin talking and you tried to listen to their conversation to keep you distracted but it was harder with every passing second.

You found yourselves stuck, Dustin was trying to open a panel to stop the moving fan so you could continue moving, you felt more relaxed now as you heard Dustin talking to Erica about what happened with the Demodogs.

"By 'we' you are including Lucas?" Erica sounded unconvinced and you smiled breathing a little loudly through your nose.

"Of course," Dustin looked at Erica for a moment and went back to the task at hand

"So, all that shit you told me, Lucas was there?"

Dustin nodded

"Really? My brother? Lucas Sinclair?"

"Yes!" Dustin's voice was louder now, your smile widened. You remembered how Lucas was always the most fearful of the group, you guessed that hadn't changed thanks to Erica's doubt, but you believed Dustin, if he said Lucas was there, then Lucas was there.

"I don't believe you" she finally said, and you giggled.

"Wait, so you believe everything about El and the gate, and the Demodogs and the Mind Flayer, but you question your brother's involvement?"

It was hilarious, really, how could Erica believe that sci-fi story and not his brother's involvement was beyond you, but at least it made you laugh while everything else around you seemed to fall apart in chaos.

"That's correct" she said with a nod.

"Makes total sense" to your surprise Dustin agreed, your suspicions were true after all, he was still the same fearful kid as all those years ago.

"Do you need help with that?" you asked, your voice barely audible and a little raspy.

"No" he said, and you shrugged, letting him continue. Erica was having none of that though.

"Well, it's taking a while so-" she said

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock" Dustin looked annoyed as hell.

"All right, so if we don't find a more efficient method to stop these fans, we are never gonna find help and your ice cream buddies are screwed"

Your breath hitched and you looked at Dustin, fear flooding your eyes, what if she was right? He noticed but said nothing turning his attention to Erica once again.

"Yeah, with that attitude, they are"

"I'm just being realistic. I mean, we've made it about point-three miles in nine hours. Then we had to walk three hours down that tunnel, so I'd estimate ten miles back to the elevator, which should take us approximately twelve-and-a-half days"

Dustin and you exchanged surprised looks and looked back at Erica.

"Did you just do all that in your head?" you said with an incredulous tone.

"I'm good with numbers" she answered.

"Holy shit" Dustin exclaimed "You are nerd"

"What?"

"You... are... a... nerd"

"Okay" Erica said "You better take that back nerd"

"Can't put the truth back in the box" you said with a shrug and a playful smile appeared on your face as she stared at you wide eyed.

"But it's not the truth" she argued.

"Let's examine the facts, shall we?" Dustin said "Fact one: you are a math whiz, apparently"

"That was a pretty straightforward equation"

"Fact number two" Dustin ignored her and continued "You're a political junkie"

You remembered her speech at Scoops, Dustin was right.

"Just because I do not agree with Communism as an ideology-"

"Fact number three: you love My Little Pony" Dustin grabbed Erica's backpack.

"And what does that have to do with this?" she grabbed her backpack and placed it beside her.

"Ah, let's go back to the ponies' last adventure, okay?" You kept silent, eager to see where this conversation was going "The evil centaur team and Tirek turns Applejack into a dragon at Midnight castle, and then Megan and the other ponies have to use Moochick's magic to defeat his rainbow of darkness, saving them from a lifetime of enslavement"

You snickered; Erica's face was priceless.

"All the pink of the world cannot disguise the irrefutable fact that centaurs and castles and dragons and magic are all standard nerd tropes. So, My Little Pony, is, in fact, nerdy and you, Erica, are a nerd"

"And how do you know so much about My Little Pony?" she asked placing her hand under her chin.

"Because, I'm..." Dustin finally grabbed the panel's small door "A nerd" he finished and pulled at the cables making the fan stop completely.

"Let's go, nerd" you moved and looked back at Erica as she glared at Dustin for his comment. You smiled.

"Show off" you whispered at Dustin and he smirked at you, crawling ahead to lead the group once again.

*

Steve groaned as he received another punch. How come every time weird shit happened again, he always got beaten somehow? First Jonathan, then Billy and now some Russian soldier? Just when he thought he had finally won his first fight...

"That one stung" he gasped for air as he looked up again.

"Who do you work for?"

"For the millionth time, I work at Scoops Ahoy!" his voice sounded desperate as he gasped for air, repeating the name of the company that hired him. However, the officer did not seem to believe any word that left his lips.

Another punch, but this time on his stomach. He grunted in pain "What the hell?! Look at my outfit!" he exclaimed, he was out of ideas "Do you think I wear this for fun or something? You think I'm a spy in a sailor's uniform?" Maybe he shouldn't have said the last part, but he didn't care anymore, his head was spinning, and his body and face ached like hell. Another punch, same place, he closed his eyes and grunted.

"How did you get in?"

"I already told you" he said between gaps "My delivery didn't come and my friends and I thought that it was left at the loading dock, so we went in the room, and then it turned into an elevator, and then... and then we dropped and then, next thing we know, I open my eyes, and we're in this... wonderful facility. I swear to God, nobody knows about it, nobody saw us. You could just let us go, all right? We are not gonna tell anyone about this, we promise. Shit happens, life goes on. And, uh... ice- ice cream. Everyone loves ice cream, right? I don't if you have Russian ice cream or if that is considered gelato. But whatever you want, seriously. USS Butterscotch, you gotta try it"

The officer looked at him, he felt those eyes bury into his soul as he finished, almost trembling with fear.

The soldiers in the room laughed with the officer, Steve laughed nervously with them.

Maybe they finally believed him, and now, they were gonna let them go and they'd just forget about this and he'd be able to continue his normal life.

His hopes died when the officer asked again: "Who do you work for?"

He pleaded and the last thing he felt, were hard knuckles against his cheekbone before everything went black.

The soldiers dragged Steve to another room. Throwing him inside.

Two more soldiers were dragging Robin too. She was struggling and screaming, telling them to let her go, but they threw her inside anyway. She landed painfully on her back next to Steve. She quickly sat up, calling Steve's name only to find he was unconscious. She tried to wake him up as the door opened. She looked up; eyes full of anger.

"What did you do to him?" she said.

The officer slapped her across the face, and she fell back again with a grunt. She whimpered as the same soldiers that dragged her inside picked her up again. "Don't touch me!"

They sat her down harshly and she grunted again, her back pressed against Steve's.

"Steve, wake up" she tried again "Steve!"

They tied them up, Robin trashed around trying to break free.

The officer walked towards Steve and pulled his head up by his hair.

"Don't touch him!" she said.

He clicked his tongue and let Steve go; his head fell.

"Steve! Can you hear me?"

He walked around them, "I think your friend need a doctor" his voice thick with a Russian accent, Robin's stomach churned. He stopped in front of her, her angry stare never leaving his frame "Good thing we have the best ones here" The officer laughed and looked at the soldiers, they laughed with him and Robin snapped, spitting across his face.

He pulled out a handkerchief and washed the spit away, glaring daggers at Robin, she glared back.

"You are going to regret that little bitch"

Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them down, breathing heavily as the officer said something in Russian and walked away, the soldiers behind him.

"Bastards" she followed them with her gaze "Let us out of here!" she kept screaming and the door closed loudly, leaving her alone with Steve unconscious against her back.

*

Dustin pulled aside the gate and you stood up looking around. You looked around the room, it was full of the green goo the elevator transported.

The three of you stepped outside and continued to look around. You watched Dustin walk away and walked behind him next to Erica, you smiled as you saw a small red car in front of you.

"Do you even know how to drive?" Erica asked as Dustin grabbed the steering wheel

"How hard can it be? Max did it" Dustin sat inside, ready to drive.

"What the hell Dustin? I'm driving" you said standing next to him, crossing your arms across your chest frowning.

Dustin ignored you completely "Aw, come on" you looked over his shoulder to see that the key was missing, obviously.

"You seriously thought they were going to leave the key there?" Erica said.

"There's gotta be a spare somewhere" Dustin answered looking around the car. Erica sighed and walked away. You watched her look around and decided to help Dustin with the missing key.

"Dustin?"

"Yeah?" he answered, not looking away, he stepped out to keep looking for a key.

"How big did you say the Demogorgon was?"

"Nine feet or so, why?" he turned to look at the table next to the car. Erica did not answer, and you kept looking, Dustin doing the same.

"Found them" Dustin said and you looked up with a smile.

"Great!" you said a frown replacing your smile as you noticed that Erica was missing.

"Erica?" Dustin and you said in unison and jumped when an electric sound answered you. You looked towards Dustin and found Erica holding weapon.

"What the hell is that?" Dustin asked and you tried to steady your heartbeat placing your hand on your chest and closing your eyes, taking deep breaths.

"A deadly weapon" she answered, "Could be useful" She turned it on again and Dustin jumped back in surprise.

Erica had a point.

"For what?" Dustin asked and looked at you.

"We could help our friends" she said.

"Thought you were more realistic than that, nerd"

She rolled her eyes and walked away "We don't even know where they are, and even if we knew, there are probably a million guards there with weapons way deadlier than that"

Erica got inside the car, Dustin followed her as he talked "The best we can do for them is to get out of here and find help"

Dustin had a point too, but what if something bad happens to them while you try to escape?

He sat on the driver’s seat, you cleared your throat and raised an eyebrow, he huffed and gave you keys, making more room for you "Just trust me on this one okay?" he said as you sat down and started the car.

You wanted to trust him, you really did, but your instinct was telling you something else.

*

Steve felt calm, it has been a while since he last felt like that before. He opened his eyes slowly, a hand softly playing with his hair and he hummed, he tried to sit up, but his body ached, he hissed.

"Easy there tiger" a voice said, and he met E/C eyes and a warm smile "Y/N?"

"Come on, dingus" her palm was against his cheek and he leaned into her touch, not really feeling anything. A scream echoed around, you looked away from him and pulled your hand away, standing up, his head fell against the blanket underneath him.

"You have to go" you said, the wind moving your hair around as he watched you.

"What?" he asked, trying to move again, his body didn't respond. You started walking away and he screamed your name.

"Open your eyes Steve" he heard you whisper, and you were gone, the screams got louder, and his head ached.

Robin could hear her screams echoing, her throat was sore, but she kept screaming, hoping someone would come in and saved them.

"Would you stop yelling?" she heard Steve's voice and relaxed immediately. She looked his way and then up at the ceiling.

"Steve! Oh my god" she panted and called his name again. "Are you okay?" she asked when he didn't reply.

"My ears are ringing, and I can't really breathe. My eye feels like it's about to pop out of my skull, but apart from that I'm doing pretty good" his voice was raspy, he really sounded like shit.

"Well, the good news is that they are calling you a doctor" she chuckled, trying to lighten up the somber mood. Steve looked up.

"Is this his workplace? Because I love the vibe" he answered and Robin chuckled again, glad Steve was conscious and joking around with her.

"You see that table over there to your right?" Steve looked at the wrong direction "Your other right" Robin corrected, and Steve looked "You see those scissors?"

"Uh-huh"

"Maybe if we move at the same time, we'll be able to get over there and maybe I can kick the table and knock them into your lap"

"And I could cut the binds" Steve said

"Yeah, and then we'll get out of here"

"Gotcha, we can do that"

"Yeah, I can't believe it! Those morons just left the scissors there" Steve's voice sounded more awake, and even a little happy.

"Total morons" Robin agreed with a laugh "Okay, on the count of three we are gonna hop"

"Okay, okay, I gotcha"

"One, two, three" they moved. Relief washed over them, Robin's plan started smoothly and hopefully will end just like that. They counted together and moved again.

"This is gonna work!" Robin exclaimed, a huge smile on her lips

"We're almost there. Ready?" They counted together again but when they moved the chair slipped and they fell on the floor, both groaned in pain. Robin laughed softly.

"It's okay, it's okay" Steve tried to look at her "Don't cry" Robin giggled louder and Steve frowned "Are you laughing?" he asked

"I'm sorry! I just, I can't believe I'm going to die in a secret Russian base with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington"

"We're not gonna die, we're gonna get out of here, okay?" Steve ignored the nickname and focused instead of thinking about a new plan.

"Do you remember, those school band concerts to gain extra points?" Robin's voice made him stop thinking.

"What?"

"The charity concerts, that's what us band dweebs called them" Robin looked towards Steve, a fond smile on her face as she remember her younger years at school "We organized them every year so the kids that needed extra points would have a chance to pass. You'd always go, with your friends"

Steve kept quiet.

"I played in the band; I'd always watch you take your usual seat every single year. Mister cool... the King of Hawkins himself. Do you even remember me? Or her?" her tone was sad when she finished the sentence and Steve wondered who the other girl was, she was talking about. He kept quiet, guilt spreading through his body.

She chuckled softly "Of course you don't. You were a real asshole, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know"

"But it didn't matter that you were an ass. I was still obsessed with you" she admitted "Us losers, we just wanted to feel accepted, normal..."

"If it makes you feel better, everything that everyone says, what you should or care about, Its total bullshit. But I guess you gotta mess up before to figure things out"

"I hope so" she said "I feel like my whole life has been one big error"

Steve laughed "Yep"

"At least it can't get any more messed up than this" she smiled, maybe if they got out, she'd have a second chance and she'd finally be able to make everything right.

They laughed.

"I wish I had known you before" He said "I'd have passed all my classes and maybe I'd be on my way to college instead of being trapped here"

"And I'd have no idea that a Russian base was underneath this and I'd be slinging ice cream with some other idiot" Both teens chuckled, Robin's eyes stung, and she blinked away the tears.

"It was fun while it lasted"

"It was"

Buzzing sounds filled the room and the door was open again. Steve and Robin looked towards the sound rapidly. The officer looked down at them

"Where were you two going?" his voice sounded almost playful and he clicked his tongue in a scolding manner. The other soldiers placed them up again.

"Try telling the truth this time. That'll make your visit with the doctor less painful" The officer moved the hair out of Steve's eyes and then grabbed his chin. He winced in pain and the officer chuckled, his gaze moved towards the doctor and he nodded. The doctor moved towards them and Steve panicked.

"Wait a second. Hold on" his pleas were ignored again, he looked at the syringe the doctor was holding, his heart racing "What the hell is that thing?"

"It will help you talk" the answer was simple; the doctor grabbed his hair and pulled his head, so his neck was exposed. Steve screamed when he felt the syringe pierce the skin on his neck.

The Russian guys were gone just as fast as they arrived. They have been alone for a few minutes.

"Honestly, I don't feel anything" Steve broke the silence, his tongue touching his lips "Do you?"

"I guess I... I feel fine" Robin answered

"I kinda feel good" Steve admitted, and they laughed.

"Wanna know a secret? I like it too" they continued laughing. The door opened again, and the officer stepped inside with the doctor trailing behind him. Steve's gaze moved between the doctor and the officer.

"Would now be a good time to say that I don't like doctors?" Robin said shaking her head, she watched the doctor place knifes and other materials that were obviously for torture.

"Let's try this again" Steve nodded, "Who do you work for?"

"Scoops" he chuckled "Scoops Ahoy" Robin chuckled too, the officer glared at them.

"How did you find us?"

"By accident"

The officer looked at the doctor and said something in Russian. Robin watched him grab some tweezers. He walked towards Steve and grabbed his fingers. Steve panicked again

"No! Wait!" he screamed.

"There was a code! We heard a code!" Robin's voice made them stop.

"What code?" The officer walked in front of her, she repeated the code and exclaimed how they found the signal with cerebro, a mocking tone and a smile.

"And now people know you are here"

"Who knows?" the officer was angry

"Uhm, Dustin knows and Y/N" Steve said.

"Hey, Steve" he ignored her

"Yeah, Dustin and Y/N Henderson"

"Ugh! Steve"

"Henderson" the officer repeated "Are they brothers? The curly haired boy and an older girl with H/C?"

"Curly haired. Great hair and his sister is just so beautiful" he answered

"Where are they?"

"They're long gone asshole. And they are probably calling Hopper and he's probably calling his cop friends" he laughed "They're gonna come in here and kick your asses back to Russia"

"Is that so?" he said with a smirk

"Yeah" Robin and Steve laughed, the officer and the doctor laughed darkly.

Alarms blared around the facility and everyone looked towards the door. Their laughing stop, the officer looked at Steve and he shrugged his shoulder with a triumphant smile.

Everyone was yelling in Russian outside as the officer walked away. Dustin opened the door and yelled, using the weapon against the doctor. He fell unconscious on the floor. You rushed towards Steve and Robin, starting to untie them.

"Hendersons!" they screamed happily at you. You kept untying them and Dustin quickly helped you "Crazy, I was just talking about you" tears blurred your vision as you met Steve's gaze, his face was a mess, you looked rapidly at Robin and calmed down a little as you noticed she was fine, not a single bruise or cut on her face. Dustin nudged you and you pushed your thoughts aside to help Dustin. You wanted to say something, but the lump in your throat made the task completely impossible, Dustin saw your struggle and talked.

"Get ready to run" he said and pulled the strain harder, breaking it. It fell to the ground and you held your bread.

It was time for step two.

[ificouldhelpyouforget]

Pureheart: Part 4 (Caspian x Reader)

MASTERLIST

A/N: SURPRISE! I may or may not be listening to the Prince Caspian soundtrack while typing this part up. This album always gets me into a rhythm. I’ll be putting this out as fast as I can! Thanks for all the support thus far! All of you inspire me to keep this going. I apologize for obvious errors I’m in too much pain to look over the time I post this.

Summary: The Kings and Queens of Old arrive at the How.

Rating: T because of the scary thought of death brought on by Peter’s genius plan to take the castle.

Words: 1.9k (yeah, this was shorter one)

Tags: @anverli @drinix @gollyderek @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @the-blind-assassin-12 @thisisparadisemylove

Let me know if you want to be tagged or not!

A centaur came to you the following morning to check over your wound. You weren't quite ready for the day. You barely had yourself dressed – not that it mattered because you had to undress so your wound could be cleaned. Once she finished, you thanked her and finished getting ready.

Your first instinct was to find Caspian, but your horrifying attempt to tease him the night before halted you. You wanted nothing more than to forget it ever happened. Sadly, you lost too much sleep over it to simply push it out of your mind. You just hoped Caspian forgot. Sighing, you sought out Trufflehunter.

Avoiding Caspian didn't last long. He found you to tell you it was time to leave. He shifted his gaze away from you a few times but didn't mention your bad jokes. You were grateful. You had to admit that you felt gleeful to see Caspian was just as embarrassed if not more so. You'd need to put calling him king – your king no less – in your repertoire meant strictly for teasing him.

The walk to the How – as the Narnians called it – was longer than you expected, but beautiful. Most of it was through the forest, the sun filtering through the leaves in beams. When it opened up into a field of grassy hills, you paused. It was picturesque.

"That's it," Trufflehunter said. "That's Aslan's How."

A structure stood in the middle of the field with a few trees surrounding it. Vines and ivy grew up the walls of it and over the chunks of missing stone. The How didn't look like much to you, but it was better than having no coverage at all.

In front of it stood an odd formation of stone. Pillars still stood and there looked to be a floor of stone between them, but it was impossible to tell what once stood there.

As ancient as the How was, it was the most beautiful building you'd ever seen. It had character, a history to it. You wanted to know everything about its past.

Everyone walked inside to start preparations. Caspian and Glenstorm gave out tasks for everyone while you walked forward in the large room lit by flames.

In the center stood a cracked table, the Stone Table you heard about in Caspian's letters. On the wall directly behind it was a carving of Aslan's face. You couldn't take your eyes off of it. You were drawn to Him, to the Stone Table. You pressed your palm on the top of the table.

"Y/N."

You jerked your hand away and looked at Caspian who walked up to you. "What do you need?"

A guilty look came on his face. "You to stay here and help the Narnians who arrive throughout the day."

"Stay here? Where are you going?"

"Back to the Dancing Lawn. We're going to look for more help and hopefully the Kings and Queens if the horn worked as it should have."

"The reason I'm staying here doesn't have anything to do with my shoulder does it?"

"It's part of it."

You hardened your stare. "I'm perfectly capable of going with you. You can't protect me from everything, Caspian."

"I'm not saying you are unable to help. I want you to rest and staying here is the best idea for your shoulder. I would rather have you healthy for whatever Miraz has in store for us." Caspian sighed. "Please stay and help out here. Please."

It was difficult to concede, but you did for Caspian's sake. What he said was true. You would be of little help in the end if you couldn't heal up. Biting your tongue and staying put would be beneficial no matter how much you hated it.

"Thank you, Y/N," Caspian said, squeezing your good shoulder before leaving with Glenstorm, a minotaur, and a few other Narnians.

You did your task well while the prince was gone. Every new face that wandered into the How was given a role suited to their abilities. Some made weapons while others gathered food. There were plenty of things to be done and you made sure they were.

When new allies paused their arrivals, you checked your shoulder. As irritated as you were to be left behind, Caspian was still right. Your shoulder would not hold up if you had to fight at the Dancing Lawn. Caspian was always better at looking out for yourself than you were.

A horn alerted you mid-afternoon. You followed a group of centaurs outside, walking ahead while they lined up on both sides of the walkway. The Kings and Queens were back.

Four new people walked beside Caspian up the hill to the How: a tall blond male, a shorter dark-haired male, a female with chestnut brown hair, and the shortest of them was a young female with golden-brown hair. They looked so regal and much younger than you expected.

All five stopped near where you were standing. Caspian looked at you, something off in his eyes, while the centaurs raised their swords to create an archway into the How. The Kings and Queens started walking. Caspian didn't move.

You went to him, looping your arm through his. He was troubled and it bothered you. Once he decided to walk forward, you went with him. Your hold stayed firm to tell him you were going to be there.

Something gave you the impression he felt obsolete next to the Kings and Queens. Maybe it was the way he looked down when they walked forward or maybe it was the reason for the darkness that settled in his stares toward them, particularly the blond king, Peter. Maybe it was how wrong the discussion of what to do next went between the two males.

"It's only a matter of time. Miraz's men and war machines are on their way. That means those same men aren't protecting the castle." Peter's gaze crossed over the many gathered around the Stone Table.

"What do you propose we do, Sire?" Reepicheep asked.

Caspian and Peter spoke at the same time and stared at each other. Caspian backed down, bowing his head slightly. Your gaze fell on your friend and you watched him hide his irritation. His dark eyes shifted toward you.

"Our only hope is to strike them before they strike us."

Caspian looked back at Peter. "No one has ever taken that castle."

"There's always a first time."

The air swirled with tension.

The dwarf that came with the Kings and Queens, Trumpkin, spoke up. "We'll have the element of surprise."

Caspian was exhausted and frustrated. He didn't hide it well. "But we have the advantage here."

"If we dig in, we could probably hold them off indefinitely," Susan, the brunette, said.

Caspian's attention fell on her and stayed longer than you were expecting. It didn't appear she noticed.

"I, for one, feel safer underground," said Trufflehunter.

Peter stepped closer to Caspian, taking the prince's attention off of his sister. You took a step forward in case the tension broke. "Look, I appreciate what you've done here, but this isn't a fortress. It's a tomb."

"Yes, and if the Telmarines are smart, they'll just starve us out," the younger brother, Edmund, said.

The squirrel from the night before said something about nuts, which caused Reepicheep to snap at him. Then the mouse looked to Peter. "I think you know where I stand on this, Sire."

Your gut churned horribly. The whole situation felt wrong. Something bad was going to happen. "We shouldn't do this." All eyes went to you. "The Telmarines... Miraz... You can’t treat them like your enemies before. His is cunning and his people are loyal to him. They were willing to kill Caspian to give Miraz power... to give his newborn son power. Taking the castle will be detrimental to you and the rest of us." You hold your arms out at your sides. "I'm not okay with you putting any Narnian in harm's way."

"Then stay here and keep the ones who don't come safe," Peter said.

Clenching your fists, you glared at the High King. "You're making a terrible mistake, Your Majesty." With that, you left the room before something treasonous came out of your mouth.

You took refuge on the ledge outside the How. The breeze was soothing and muted the dread growing in the pit of your stomach.

What Peter suggested was idiotic. There was no easy way into the castle and if they did get in, it would be harder to get out. Narnians would die – you felt that in your bones. Caspian could be one of them because there was no way he'd sit back and wait for the Pevensies to do it. It frightened you. Losing Caspian wasn't something you were willing to do again. You closed your eyes and begged Aslan to keep him safe, to keep all of them safe.

"Y/N."

You jumped and turned to see a concerned Caspian walking out onto the ledge. "I didn't hear you coming."

"Sorry." He sat down next to you. His eyes scanned the horizon. "There's going to be a large group of us attacking the castle tonight. We're going to kill Miraz in hopes of stopping a war before it begins. We leave at nightfall."

"People... Narnians are going to die tonight, Caspian. I can feel it. You know that castle better than anyone and you know if you make it in, you might not make it out."

"I know... I know. I don't have power here."

You shook your head with a sad smile. "Oh, Caspian. You have so much power here. Peter was High King in their time. You are going to be king in ours. The Narnians gathered because of you. Don't let Peter control this task you've taken on for Narnia. He's here to help you. Instead, he's taking you on a suicide mission."

"What if I'm not meant to be king?"

"You were made to be a leader, to bring Narnians and Telmarines together. Who knows what other kingdoms you'll affect and gain for Narnia! You might not see it yet, but you're supposed to be a king."

Caspian sighed but didn't respond for a few minutes. "Please stay here tonight."

"I don't want to see a slaughter, Caspian. I'll stay with Lucy." You took his hand and held it tightly. "Come back here. Please. Come back alive or all of this was for nothing."

He pulled you into his arms and buried his face in your uninjured shoulder. Caspian nodded against you and your lip quivered.

Caspian pulled away and immediately wiped away the tears falling from your eyes. "Don't do that, Y/N. Please. I'll do everything I can to come back here."

"I-I... I can't lose you again."

The same moment his hand went to the back of your neck, he leaned forward to press a kiss into your hair. You had to tuck your lips between your teeth to stifle the sob that threatened to come out.

"You won't lose me."

If only you could believe it.