#i'm always hearing from people who left new england and came back who go 'oh youll come back someday :)'

[crimeronan]

god i still really do hate this place. i've been staying with my mom in a small familiar city which has been wonderful, i've loved it. but right now i'm driving through my rural hometown and the level of nauseous malevolence i feel is like. Astonishing. it doesn't even make sense because rural oregon looks exactly the same aside from having different species of trees and i LOVE it. sometimes a sickness and a rot just lives inside a specific geographical point, i guess. you root yourself to it. i can't wait until i'm done seeing my dad and can go back to the little baby city with the parent i actually like. holy Shit.

[libbystcwart]

MERRY CHRISTMAS...

the holidays linger like bad perfume / you can run, but only so far / i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave / but if it's okay with you, it's okay with me

I wasn't sure if I should get you a present but since you came all the way to Merrock, I thought I should at least give you something. Coming up with a gift was even harder, but I decided to give you the letters I wrote to you that you never got, either because I was too afraid to send them or because they came back in the mail. And I wasn't sure how to get this to you since I don't know where you live, but a friend of mine in town said they could get in touch with you, so I hope that it made its way to you.

@lincolnandrewscott

WRITTEN A FEW MONTHS AFTER SHE LEFT.

Dear Lincoln,

My Ma came out to Boston to attempt at helping me deal with everything. She is having me see the school counselor at MassArt. Mrs. Browne suggested that if I didn’t want to ‘formally journal’ that writing letters to people I have strong feelings to share with would also help me. You were always the easiest to talk to about anything, so here we are.

Being a child of Southern Georgia is really not working out for me here in Boston and I’ve only been here like five months. It’s so BUSY here, so LOUD, you know? The food’s weird, too, but if I said that out loud around people here I really would never make friends. Thomasville was so chill, and I could go to our secret hiding place whenever I wanted. I miss it. I miss a lot about home. But there was a reason I left. I'll save my reasoning for another time, though.

I miss you. I want you to know that. Not a single day goes by where I don't think of you. The other day I was going through a box - because I haven’t fully unpacked yet, I’m moving as slow as humanly possible so that maybe this mistake will erase itself or something - and I found that jewelry box you made me in wood shop. It was just a stupid jewelry box, but I cried for almost two hours.

I don’t know how to DO this, Linc. I’m so far away from what’s familiar to me. I don’t have you to talk to anymore. I know I'm the one that left, but if there's one thing I tell you in this letter that's close to a reason, it's that I felt like I had to get the hell out of Thomasville otherwise I would be suffocating myself in a town I couldn't handle anymore. I have to live with this weight of losing the babies we had and dealing with the grief. I can’t talk to my parents. I don’t WANT to talk to my parents. I feel hollowed out. I feel like I can’t even fucking feel ANYTHING. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I feel like a whole part of me is missing. I’m twenty three years old and I feel like an alien in my own skin. My body doesn’t even feel like a body anymore. It’s just this SHELL of something that used to have a heart and soul in it and now there’s just... There’s NOTHING, Linc. There’s nothing.

What am I supposed to do with nothing?

From, Libby.

WRITTEN A YEAR AFTER SHE LEFT.

Oh God, if you could see me now. What I’ve become. I wish I could say that it’d make you proud, but I know it wouldn’t. Disappointment would be an understatement, I think. I can almost hear your voice in my head, saying my name in that stern, serious tone. Libby, stop that, you know better.

I live in Boston now, did I tell you that already? I can't remember. I don't really talk to a lot of people, the girls I'm rooming with probably think I'm a lone-wolf. I don't really allow for myself to get close to many people these days. After everything that happened leading me to New England, I kind of just decided sullen was the way to go when I first enrolled at MassArt. I have three, maybe four friends that I've made any kind of regularity in talking to. I kind of kept people at arm’s distance - friends, family, professors who wanted to check on me, whatever. I’m still working on that, and it’s been a couple months that I’ve been in the city now. Moving into this place, going to school, it was kind of a real new leaf for me? I know I shouldn't have left like that. But being here has really helped my process of dealing with everything that happened to me. To us. Maybe it’s because I’m finally away from the town we called home for so long. Maybe it’s because of the people I’ve met here and how different they are. I don't know.

Tonight, I sobbed for the first time about everything to someone. It was a stranger at a bar. A box of emotions I usually keep tightly duct taped sealed got ripped open and dumped on someone's shoulder at 1:30 in the morning, which was not the best first impression. It was because a song that I used to sing with you came on and I couldn't hold it in any longer. Cliche as it really fucking is, I don’t usually let people in these days. Not since I moved here. Not since everything that happened. But it felt really good in the moment? It felt like a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding this whole time finally got to be let out. And I know that’s a normal feeling, I know people are supposed to talk about the things that are effecting them emotionally, that it helps. I’m just so used to having to rely on myself, and keep things to myself - whether it's because of shame or guilt or because it’s buried behind a focus on something else. So it’s easier not to talk about it. It’s easier to just be this one way and have that be it.

Our kids, I want to know what they would've turned out like. What their personalities would've been, how their sibling relationship would've been, what their voices would sound like. God, can you believe we never got that chance? Honestly, more than anything, I want to stop thinking about it all.

At this point I’m not sure what I’m saying. It’s nearing four in the morning, and I’ve done a lot of crying and a lot of reflecting tonight, and everything about me is so passed exhausted, it’s not even funny. I guess ultimately what my point is is that I want to update you on my life. I'm not the same person you fell in love with, I'm becoming someone else and I'm not sure if I like it or not.

What are you supposed to do when your life feels like this? When you feel both emotionally and physically sick all the time? When you don’t have anyone on your side to understand you or to help you?

Mrs. Browne told me there’s books for grieving mothers. Like a damn book is going to take away this damn hole in my chest, this chokehold around my throat, this churning in my stomach. I wish I had listened to you, Linc. I think that’s what I realize now. I’m not sure, but I think whatever we could’ve done together would’ve been better than this, would’ve felt better than this. And you’d be with me. And I know “could’ve beens” are useless. There’s only what is and what isn’t. No amount of wishing or imagining the one thing that could change everything will actually give me what could’ve been. Because it’s not real, never was, and never will be. It’s just a romanticized idea of a perfect world where everything was where it should've been.

I don’t ever really expect you to read this. If I were you, I don’t think I would. I know you most likely hate me and I know that nothing I say over a snail-mail letter is going to do much to change that. Not after everything that I did. Even if you don’t, that’s okay. Just writing this stuff down is helping. I just want you to know that you deserve so fucking much, and I hope that you know that.

Love, Libby.

ANOTHER LETTER WRITTEN A FEW YEARS AFTER SHE LEFT.

I wrote you this letter before, but I threw it away. I mean, like, I really threw it away. I wrote it, ripped it into pieces, and threw it away in a McDonald’s trashcan. As if throwing away ripped up pieces of a letter in a trashcan in the fast food place still had some weird chance of getting back to you. Because I really panicked, okay? Because that letter said some shit that once it’s out there, it’s out there. There’s no taking back words and feelings like that. If I’m honest there’s no real point to this, I’ve just had a lot going on up in my head lately.

I'm not sure why I'm not calling you or flying back to Thomasville to tell you this in person, but something in me can't seem to do it. We had a good run, didn’t we? To tell you the truth, I’m not sure anymore. When it comes to you, I’m not sure of anything anymore. Before I left, I could feel you slipping away, and maybe that was all in my head. But I started letting go first. Which is wild to me since I know I don’t move on or let go easily. Trust me, I know. It’s excessive how long I hold onto a friendship that isn’t working or an object that I don't have any use for anymore. But you were anything but small.

Even when we were little kids, I loved you. Yes, even then. It was stupid and crazy and fast, but the conversations flowed easily and I never wanted to stop hearing your voice. Each thing you said, each part of you that opened up, I treasured. I didn’t know what I meant to you back then, but I knew you were meant to be in my life.

Do you remember when I was first pregnant? God, I was a few months along then and so, so damn emotional. We skipped school and slept in, you woke me up with blueberry pancakes and I cried. I cried over blueberry pancakes. And then threw up about forty seconds later. Pregnancy, right? You got rid of the pancakes and cleaned me up and let me cry on you for twenty minutes before I finally got it out of my system. And I remember specifically, that you said, “I hate this shirt, anyways.” I went from crying to laughing so fast, I didn’t even know what hit me. But that was the kind of thing you were good at. You could always make me smile. Even when someone had ruined my mood after lunch. Even when I’d done poorly on a test and was belittling myself for it. Even when I was freaking out and having a fit over what I looked like and how I wasn’t pretty enough to date you (which let's for a second acknowledge the stupidity of THAT). You were always the sun for me, you brightened up everything, Linc.

I want to thank you. For being the best partner, for being the best father, for being the best friend you could've been.

You’ll always be my first real love, the one that pulled me kicking and screaming through my angsty high school years and the first person that I planned a life with. I made a hell of a lot of mistakes from beginning to end and that’s stuff I’ll have to carry with me forever. Mistakes help teach you lessons, though, and I’ve learned plenty of them. Because of the lessons learned, I’m ten times happier than I’ve ever been in my life. I moved to a little town called Merrock, got a job working as an antique picker at the coolest little thrift store I’ve ever seen, I have the best friends I’ve probably ever had, and I’ve got some amazing pets to keep my company.

After all these years, I think I’ve finally come to terms with things. No, not everything. But THINGS. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my life as it stands - struggling with trying to find a career in interior design but unable to give it up because of my passion, living so far away from Georgia, talking to the people of Merrock on a regular basis, wishing that things would get better but knowing that they just won’t - is just the way that things are going to go from here on out. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I have to remain a certain level of numb, a certain level of guarded, because of that. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I loved you and I broke your heart, but I also broke my own heart, too. I’ve come to terms with the fact that there’s probably no way of fixing that, I’ve just got to live with it.

But most of all, I’ve come to terms with the fact that the choices I made at the age of twenty three after all of our losses, those were the right choices. I don’t have to be happy with them. I don’t have to enjoy them. I don’t have to feel relieved or proud of them. I’m allowed to hurt, I’m allowed to feel what I feel, think what I think, wonder what I wonder. Staying in Thomasville - in that little house with you with all the memories - wouldn't have been right. No matter how much that may have hurt the both of us. In fact, I think that’s part of why it hurts.

It sounds like I'm doing okay without you, but I think the truth is that I kind of am. I truly hope that you’re happy. I hope to God or whoever’s out there that you didn’t spend two years at the bottom of any bottle you could find like I did. I hope that every door you used to dream about opens up to you. And I hope that you find someone who has the same dreams that you do, and that they treat you a million times better than I ever did.

I’m not gonna write you anymore. Because I think I’ve also come to terms with the fact that whether these letters to you are really to you or not, they’re not helping. They’re hurting more than they’re helping. And I’ve done enough things to hurt myself without intention, I should probably stop doing it intentionally, too.

I hope you're living an amazing life, Linc. I mean it.

I didn’t expect the last words I had for you to be so freeing.

Always yours, Libby.

LETTERS THAT WERE WRITTEN BUT WERE NEVER SENT. (in no particular order)

I've tried calling and texting a couple times, but I don't know if I had the right number. I know I didn’t leave things on the greatest of terms, but it was an emotional time and people do stupid things they don’t mean when they get like that, right? I know, in reality, it was my fault that we don't talk and you've become a ghost that's in my past, and I feel guilty about that. I should've tried to make things work, to be the wife you needed. You were grieving, too, and needed me just as much as I needed you.

I've been thinking about the reasons why I left you. And I think it's a lot because I just couldn't be in Thomasville any longer but I truly think it's because I realized that I've never felt more comfortable around anyone than when I’m with you, or I guess when I was with you. Is that weird? That’s probably weird. Ignore that. I don’t know. I just didn’t feel the need to hide anything when we were together and it’s weird because I was so used to faking a smile, but around you I could've been crying or something and you wouldn’t have judged me or forced me to talk about what’s wrong. I didn’t need to hide anything. I could've told you things that I couldn't tell anyone else and that genuinely scared me. I think it scared me just because I’ve never felt so vulnerable. But I think it was a good vulnerability, though? I was so used to keeping all of my secrets under lock and key, and I was sure if I didn’t have you in my life I would've probably just combust from all the secrecy and thoughts running throughout my brain. But all of those emotions you managed to make me feel, I think those were the reasons why I left you. I think if I told you everything I was feeling, it would've been too much for you to handle. This all makes it sound like I was trying to put the weight of my world on your shoulders now, and I do think that was what I was trying to do. And I didn't want to do that to you. I know we said for better or for worse, but my worse was something you didn't need. I just… I just thought that this would be a good opportunity to tell you how much I'm sorry for how everything went down. I'm so, so sorry that I wasn't who you needed me to be, and I hope I can tell you this someday. I’m sorry I haven’t reached out to you myself. Words will never be enough to explain how much I miss you. It doesn’t come often these days, but when it does, it overwhelms me. It’s like visiting the sea and the times I do visit, the waves are rather strong. And it amplifies the space you left in my heart. I miss you and I miss hearing your voice.

Ah, there it is, the familiar ache in my heart.

I miss you. Maybe I believe in a world that will let us meet again through an instance that we both never expected. Maybe, all throughout these years, the world has been planning for a funny reunion. I’d like that, something mundane yet funny. I can picture many scenarios of how it would unfold, but there’s one thing that is present in all of them, it would be our laughter followed by a tight hug. Maybe. One day. Someday. For the meantime, I send my well wishes through the stars. I hope the world has been giving you the happiness that you deserve.

Love, Libby.

•

How are you?

It's been months since I last wrote to you. Maybe because I have been pondering about the path I want to take. The kind of person I want to be. Or maybe I have been trying my best to run away from vulnerability lately. And I know how the thought of writing to you makes me soft, and open, and emotional of some sort. But here I am, being a little more brave by each passing day.

The sky is clear tonight, unlike the clouded heart that has been accompanying me the past days. My days have been weary and dreary with the constant knocks of loneliness on my door. But it’s okay, I’m okay. I am slowly relearning how to take baby steps again, and reacquainting myself with the feeling of losing my sight, forcing me to feel myself out of the darkness. I’m alright. I’ll do better.

How about you? Is the world treating you well? Did you see your favorite sunrise or maybe had your favorite cup of coffee? You know, I always wonder about you and how this world works, or would work, for us to look at the same sunrise as we both untangle ourselves from a good night’s sleep. I don’t have the exact answer for that nor a vague idea on how everything would unfold, but know that I’m here. Waiting. Making repairs in my humble home. I think I’ve let myself realize what I want. And it’s you. It’s been you for as long as I can remember. And I consider that I would like it quite a bit if you came back into my life, the idea I have of you being back in my life being real rather than a fever dream fueled by my mind. I just wish to the stars that by the time our paths cross again, I have enough warmth to welcome you into my arms. I know you’re still worth it, that we’re still worth it, I will hold on. I hope you still have love for me. Maybe. For the meantime, I’ll continue to look at the night sky and wonder how your night is unfolding.

Sincerely, Libby.

•

Linc, I really think I’ve let you go. I know it took me long enough. But all the love in my stupid little heart isn’t for you anymore. Some of it still is, of course. A part of me will always love a part of you, or what I wanted you to be, or all of you. I like it that way. I loved you so strongly, and I don’t want to lose that love I am capable of. We’ll always be something, you and me. I’m not clamoring for a definition anymore. I do miss you, and I do love you.

A few nights ago, I had one of the best nights of my life. It was silly. Time spent with new friends, reuniting with old ones. A night full of laughter and happy tears and smiling at old pictures, rolling on the floor of my living room shaking with laughter because I was so full of joy I couldn’t hold it in.

And I didn’t want to share it with you. Don’t get me wrong, I want you to feel that much joy always. I want you happy, or at least working towards it. I’m just thinking of all the times I felt something so strongly, and yet all I could think of was how much I wanted to share it with you.

I texted you in tears immediately after one of my biggest disappointments because you could make me smile through that just by being you.

I was crushed under the weight of too much anxiety and your kindness lifted me out.

I was flush with the joy of a new role and your pride made me stronger.

I graduated from high school and one of the congratulatory hugs was from you, one of the best hugs you've ever given me.

I was full of loss and regret and your strength inspired me to keep going.

I don’t think I was ever able to put into words what you meant to me while I was with you. Maybe one day you’ll go through your pictures and smile at the memories, like I am now. Maybe you’ve forgotten and they’re just mine to carry. That’s okay. I’ll keep them safe for both of us.

I didn’t realize until today, I still haven’t told you about that joy I felt that night. I didn’t think I could be happy without you. These days, I can think of you without it hurting. A part of me still wants you. But I don’t need you. And that’s for the best.

And I really do hope you’re happy now. All your demons at bay, your bright future in sight. Everything I wanted for you and everything you deserved with you or in arms reach. You are so unique, more than you maybe even realize. You are so funny and you make so many people smile on a daily basis. You are so, so loved by those around you. You are a well of incredible, endless creativity and enthusiasm. I adored your enthusiasm, and I think you really do deserve the entire world. You are a true star that shines, even in a sea of darkness. Your friendship, your love did mean everything to me, it’s so hard to find someone who just knew you so purely and so beautifully. You have so much value, not only in your talents and your brilliant mind, but also in your heart. Every day should really be filled with recognition of just how amazing you are.

I am healing. I hope you are too.

Yours truly, Libby.

[jointimeandspace]

Soft smut and adoration! ❤

Remembrance

December 8, 1954

It was near midnight when Alcina and her boys had just finished their last set and eveyone was gearing up to go home. Being a singer worked quite well for her career, but with Porphyria running rampant in her system she knew she had to retire soon: only a year or two left.

The gramophone was blaring and she was making out a few autogrpahs to send to some of her fans; there was a knock on her door.

"Hey, Alci! There's someone here to see ya!"

Alcina looked at her manager through her mirror.

"Oh, William who could it possibly be? I'm sure everyone is absolutely exhausted and I.... oh?"

That's when she saw her: a tiny thing, only 5'2. The presence in the girl's staure, however, filled the room. Her energy was radiant and stong, and it simply bowled Alcina over.

"This is Macy," William said with a wink.

"She was absolutely excited to meet you. I told her you wouldn't mind."

"Oh, y-yes of course. Thank you!"

William tipped his hat and soon left the two of them alone.

"Hi, Miss D! I'm so sorry to interrupt you while you were turning in for the night. I know you hear this all the time, but I'm a huge fan. When I found out that this was your last show before going on tour to England, I caught a plane and came over as soon as I could score tickets."

She turned around to get a better look, carefully drinking the girl in. Macy was quite a stunner, and that was Alcina's biggest weakness.

"Where are you from, darling? You look like you've never even set foot in a bar before, let alone a giant city?"

"Well," Macy started off, "I know this is very...um...cliché, I think that's how people say it, but I'm just a farm girl. I'm from Kansas, of course." Macy laughed.

Alcina stood up from her vanity and went over to her bar to pour herself a drink. She chuckled as she took a swig of the hard whiskey that filled her glass. She liked Macy-she was a sweet little farm girl far away from home, and far too blind of the hard city life that was staring in front of her.

"You don't drink do you sweetheart? You look like a little babydoll," Alcina cooed with a hint of flirtation in her silky voice.

"I get that a lot, Miss D! I'm actually 27. I suppose that is the curse of being 5'2. But yes, I do drink, but on very special occasions."

"Well, you've come all this way to New York to see me. I say that's rather special indeed. "

Alcina handed a glass back to Macy as she raised hers in the air.

"A toast: to a very promising tour... and my luck for meeting a very...gorgeous girl."

Macy blushed as she chugged back the hard liquor. She could feel Alcina's eyes on her, seducing her, inviting her to come and play.

"Thank you, Miss D! Um, I guess I should be on my way...let you get ready for your tour.."

"Stay awhile, sweetie! It does get quite lonely sometimes after these sets. And while I enjoy the company of my band, I find that women are the best company."

Alcina sat down on the plush sofa by the bar and opened her robe. She was naked, and Macy's heart dropped in her stomach. She knew that Miss D was curvy, but she was practically witnessing Venus herself. Plush thighs, a soft, kissable tummy, those beautiful stretch marks, and her perfectly trimmed hair on her most intimate area.

Alcina beckoned Macy over with her long slender finger, almost putting her in trance. She could not believe this moment was happening. Growing up on a farm was strict enough, but exploring her desires and preferences had always been frowned upon. When she started listening to Miss D, her perspective changed and she was getting bolder in what she wanted and how she wanted to be treated. She was rebelling as she no longer conformed to the bland Kansas farm life that she so desperately grew to hate.

Nevertheless, seducing, and being seduced by Miss D felt like a dream. She was ready for whatever Alcina had to offer.

"I can't send you away darling, not without a parting gift. On your knees!"

Without hesitation, Macy dropped and crawled on the floor like an entranced, hungry animal searching for sustenance. Alcina put her finger under Macy's chin, bringing her to look up into her eyes.

"So pretty, and innocent. Have you done this before, my love?"

"N-no, Miss D! But I've often wondered."

"Hmmm," Alcina chuckeled," Show me what you can do, baby! I know you'll be such a good girl for me."

"Yes," Macy gulped out. Her eyes were filled with stars and her tongue was begging to taste Alcina most desperately.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

Alcina's eyes rolled to the back of her head. To see this pretty thing on her knees, practically pleading was such a turn on to her. She knew she had a lot to prepare for her trip, but how could she deny a fan? After all, Macy traveled thousands of miles to get there. She leaned in and gave Macy a kiss on the forehead. Macy's breath hitched in her throat. Those lips: so plump and soft.

"Thank you, pet! Such a good, sweet girl you are. I hope your stamina is plentiful-you're in for a real treat."

[cherriesfineline]

Au Pair – Chapter I

It's finally here – I'm sorry this took so long, this past few weeks have been a mess but here it is, our first chapter for the Au Pair series; I kinda hate this, ngl- I always hate first chapters, a lot of introductory info and bla bla but yeah.

In the weird case you happen to enjoy this and want to be added into the taglist (starting next chapter) you can request it here.

Feedback, likes or reblogs are so, so appreciated! I'm very much new to the whole writing world so yeah it'd be really helpful to hear your thoughts about this <3

Love you all, have a wonderful week beauties!

Warnings: none specifically for this chapter – age gap.

WC: 6.6k

Masterlist

Y/N was tired, to say the least.

And it wasn’t the tiredness she used to feel after a long work shift at her previous job -where her boss was an old, grumpy lady with horrible manners- or the exhaustion felt after spending hours crying due to a fight with her mother. No, this was different. It was a tiredness she couldn’t get rid of; a tiredness no lavender smelling bath or hours upon hours of sleep could amend.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her brain shifted in such a drastic way. Y/N could easily recognize and admit her life had never been an exciting one; a memorable one. Ever since she was a little girl it all seemed to fly by; graduations, birthdays, friendships – nothing ever seemed to leave an impact and nothing ever seemed as exciting as everyone else put it to be. She knew she struggled with allowing herself to enjoy things, but this far her life had been pretty average.

Maybe it was the fact that she was 22 years old and never been in a real relationship what skyrocketed her fear of dying alone. Now, she knew it might seem exaggerated – 22 years wasn’t a long life at all, but the pungent emptiness she’d been feeling felt like her inevitable destiny – like that’s how life was supposed to be for her.

England felt different, though. But in all honesty, her emotions hadn’t had switched into completely different ones like she’d expected to happen when she applied for this job as an Au Pair all the way back in February.

With a steaming hot cup of coffee between her cold hands, she sat down next to Coco (a very soft grey Scottish Fold) on the giant couch of her new home, scratching in between his tiny ears earning a low purr in response. Coco had become one of her closest friends so far, along with Anya, a three year old girl with cute blonde locks and a laugh so contagious it made the muscles on your cheeks ache after a long playdate.

Maybe moving away wasn’t the smartest choice. It actually might be one of the stupidest choices she had ever made, actually – moving all the way across the globe when she cried herself to sleep most nights due to her loneliness overcoming her (almost inexistent) self-awareness. Y/N liked to believe she had a wide understanding of her emotions, but it was a blatant lie.

At least she was distracted for most of the day – taking care of two kids and looking after a teenager wasn’t an easy task. It required a lot of mental presence; but by the time she was in bed at night, it all hit back again. She thought maybe this is how life is supposed to be for her, lonely – maybe it was not her brain playing her tricks but her brain making her see how her life truly was.

It’d been two weeks since the Lockehold family picked Y/N up from the airport, and on one side getting physically adjusted to this new life hadn't been as rough as she thought it’d be. She did have it easy, if she had to admit – a big room in a giant, beautiful home and a car to her disposal. Emotionally, on the other side, life was still the same.

She knew the moment she heard heels hitting the cold marble staircase Bella was on her way down with Ivy, the eldest of the three sisters, following close behind, complaining about a hangout she was apparently going to miss because they “are expecting a guest” as Bella announced, meaning neither of her parents could drive her. That’s how Y/N found herself sitting in her (borrowed) blue Jeep Renegade driving Ivy to her friend Lily’s house – who lived in the same rich, over-the-top neighborhood as her guest family, which meant the ride to and back was no longer than twenty minutes. During those minutes together, though, Y/N could physically feel the irritation running through Ivy’s blood because first, she still wasn’t too fond of Y/N because she is 16 and doesn’t need a babysitter -her words, not Y/N’s- and second, Y/N is still not accustomed to driving on the other side of the road.

Technically, Y/N had the weekends off. Living with the same people who employed her gladly didn’t mean working 24/7, but she hoped she could earn a couple of points in her favor if she took her free time to drive her around.

After a short conversation between the two (where Ivy refused to save Y/N’s number in case an emergency came up because she could always call her dad), Y/N dropped her off and drove back to the Lockehold’s. What caught her off guard, was the sight of someone in the driveway at the house next door getting suitcases out of the trunk of a black cab – there hadn’t been any movement in the old Victorian mansion since she’d moved in next door. A man, definitely very tall, dressed in a dark suit is all Y/N could decipher since it was already dark outside and she had to strictly concentrate on not switching to the opposite side of the road out of habit.

Alex was coming down the stairs when Y/N locked the front door – Bella’s husband was a very handsome man for his age, probably anyone could admit it. He was kind of scary sometimes, but was a true sweetheart on the inside; he’s in his mid-40’s and it was clear as day his family meant everything to him, he even treated Y/N like his own daughter, always making sure she’s comfortable and inviting her to most family hangouts – even though Y/N declined pretty often to allow them to have quality time as a family (and because being too socially involved drained her, but they needn’t have to know that)

“You wanna join us for dinner? We have a guest tonight. A family friend.”

“Oh, no, I'm good, you guys enjoy yourselves. I’ll say hello, though.” Y/N replied with a smile; and as before mentioned, even though she had the weekends to herself, they still loved to insist on her joining them for fancy dinners and whatnot. The Lockehold’s loved being hostesses, loved having people around (from what Y/N learned this past two weeks) but she really wanted -and needed- some time for herself after being with them the entire week, and even though she loved hanging out with them, she just wasn’t in the mood tonight.

“You sure? Bella made homemade pasta, from scratch. Her specialty.” Mouthwatering, Y/N thought. Bella was such an amazing cook, and even though she worked hours upon hours every day, she still came to her husband and kids in time to make dinner every night, not missing a single day.

“Sounds delicious, but I think I’ll pass, I’m just really tired.” And before anyone could make another comment, the loud bell ringing through the main floor of the house startled Y/N as it’s louder than ordinary – and sounded kind of old and creepy, in her opinion. By the time the constant thud in her chest lowered to a normal speed, she could recognize Bella’s voice in the foyer, meaning she was the one who received their guest, with a deep voice following after saying 'thank you for having me'.

"He's here!" Alex clasped his hands together, a wide smile appearing in his face. Y/N followed him into the living room where Bella was already chatting animatedly with a man; tall and with broad shoulders (but not excessively; just the right amount) his figure was leaning slightly forward as he listened to Bella rambling about all the 'good things he had missed while he was away'. His hands were clasped on his back and when he lifted his head, he made direct eye contact with Y/N without even having to search for her eyes. His brown curls were perfectly placed on top of his head looking extremely soft, and when he ran his hand through it Y/N couldn’t help but swallow harshly. He undoubtedly looked like someone who belonged in Hollywood next to a young Leo DiCaprio and he was definitely older than Y/N – probably already in his 30's, she guessed, but ageing like the finest wine. He had the softest looking wrinkles in the corners of his eyes – those eyes, forest green; reminded Y/N of what used to be home for her. His intense gaze held a lot of emotion, a lot of thought, unlike his face, that appeared stiff and cold, with a slight crease between his brows. His pink, heart-shaped lips were pressed in a line, a cute mole adorning one side of his chin.

"Harry! It's so good to see you, we've missed you." Alex's excitement forced him to drift his gaze away from Y/N, leaving her like a heated teenager salivating for him. Y/N honestly thought he might had left her speechless and most likely with increasing probabilities to make a fool out of herself if someone needed her to talk, as she was certain she wouldn't be able to formulate any coherent sentences.

Harry. It totally suited him, Y/N repeated his name a couple of times inside her head to check on its pronunciation. Alex reached him and pulled him in a big hug, patting each other's back, and Harry's lips broke into a huge smile making a line of pearly white teeth appear. And dimples. God, he had dimples.

This is how I die, Y/N thought.

"So good to see you, Alex." If sex was a sound, his voice would definitely be it.

"Your skin is glowing, Harry. Italy always does you wonders." Bella gushed. And she was right – his skin had this beautiful golden undertone, but it looked natural and radiant, almost like the sun itself kissed and caressed his skin with the softest touches. Alex snapped Y/N into reality when he turned to face her and grabbed her hand to pull her closer to them, starting a long introduction no one was paying much attention to, explaining how he’d missed her arrival, like he even cared, and how she was the Au Pair they’d all been talking about ever since February. It wasn’t until Alex mentioned something about Y/N and Harry probably seeing each other a lot she was suddenly interested in what was actually going on.

“He owns the school the girl’s attend.” Alex directed towards her. Now, Y/N assumed the moment she laid eyes on him he was probably rich – who wears a suit to a Sunday dinner with friends? Rich people are weird, that’s something we can all agree on; but owning a school which’s monthly fees per kid were worth three of her salaries? That was quite unexpected.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry." Y/N offered him her hand, trying to sound as casual as possible, even if her skin felt like it was burning under his intense gaze and her eyes were definitely betraying her.

"The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N." He shook her hand. His strong hold sent shivers down her spine; the cold rings making a big contrast against the heat his hand radiated and she couldn't help but fantasize about how his touch would feel in some other places.

The sudden embarrassment feeling hot against her cheeks made her turn around impossibly faster, feeling guilty at the dirty thoughts consuming her brain while around her bosses – and in front of him. Making a beeline straight to her room, announcing she was calling it a night, she sent Harry a quick -but quite charming- smile, and couldn’t help but soften at the sound of Anya running down the stairs yelling an excited ‘Harryyyy’ once she was past the kitchen.

She knew she got lucky with her commodities – an entire studio-like apartment past the main kitchen of the house, where the servant’s area used to be located a handful of decades ago; but she cussed in a whisper when she remembered half way through her making of a sandwich (four hours after she’d retreated to her bedroom and because she decided on skipping dinner that night, not having enough energy to cook) that her lazy ass still hadn’t bought mayonnaise. Her small kitchen had enough space to hold her snacks, along with some ingredients to make a few meals, since she only had to worry about food on the weekends. Reluctantly, she took the small plate holding her sandwich and made her way towards the main kitchen. There was no way in hell she’d eat a sandwich with no mayo – never in a million years, too dry to go down her throat.

I guess they won't mind if I grab just enough to put on my sandwich, she thought. The house was quiet, everyone probably already in bed, therefore she almost pissed herself when she found Harry sitting in one of the kitchen stools, looking down at his phone with an annoyed expression adorning his face. Almost as if he could sense someone was in the same room, he looked up to find Y/N standing at the kitchen threshold, his face abandoning any sort of emotion.

"Hey."

"Hi." Y/N walked towards the fridge on the far right of the kitchen, opposite from where she came in. "Sorry, I thought no one was here."

"Don't worry, just waiting for Bella and Alex to come back down to have some tea, they're putting the girls to sleep. Would you like to join us?" He offered. And honestly, she'd love to say yes and just listen to him talk with that deep, melodic voice, but her stomach was really hating her right now.

"I'm good, just grabbing some mayo. Thank you, though." She declined with a small smile.

"Next time." He sounded more demanding than suggesting, which slightly baffled Y/N. "Can I ask where you are from?" He asked respectfully.

"A small town in the Argentine Patagonia." Y/N replied with her back facing him as she busied herself with the mayonnaise container.

"Never been to Argentina. Or anywhere in South America, actually." And when Y/N turned around, sandwich in hand ready to go back to her room, their eyes met across the kitchen and she felt the heat creeping up her neck for the second time that night. Y/N wondered how his gaze was always this intense – she wasn’t a fan of how they’d barely exchanged a few words and somehow she felt so exposed.

"You should. It's beautiful." She almost, almost, choked on her own words and when she looked down at her fuzzy pink socks and back to him to try and calm her growing nerves down, he surprised her when she caught him looking up and down her body – in any other case she definitely would’ve felt creeped out, but there was something about him, the fact that he definitely didn’t do it with the intention of her catching him (she noticed how he shifted uncomfortably on his seat after the exchange) and how he simply added a “I’m sure it is," afterwards, she knew she was fucked right then and there – she wanted him looking at her. Was that something bad?

But then – then she remembered how she was wearing her soft cotton pajamas, and she began wondering if he was just laughing internally at her outfit instead of checking her out like she initially thought. And just like a save from heaven, Bella and Alex appeared in the kitchen discussing who was picking Ivy up from her friend's house. "Hi Y/N, still awake?"

"Yeah, got hungry. Stole a bit of mayo, hope you don't mind." She shyly held the plate up.

"Please, this is your house too." Alex waved her off.

"Thanks. Gonna go back now." Y/N pointed towards the small hallway that led to her room. "Goodnight." Turning her body to walk away, she caught Harry's eyes, again, still staring at her, but decided on simply walking away, breaking eye contact, making that small interaction their last one for the night.

&

The following week consisted of Anya and Y/N playing lots of fun games, trying to get a word out of Charlie and Ivy ignoring her for the most part. Her relationship with each of them was completely different, each trusting her at their own peace, getting used to having a stranger around. Anya seemed the only one openly excited to hang out with Y/N every day, and even though she could tell Charlie didn't exactly mind her presence, she still hadn't talked to her as much as she'd like her to.

"What are you up to, Charlie?" Y/N asked the seven year old as she sat next to her in the big playroom they had on the main floor. Charlie kept her gaze locked on her drawing with a handful of crayons on her right hand as she drew with her left. "You're left handed? That's so cool!" Bella had mentioned some time ago that Charlie had a really hard time letting people in, Y/N knew it'd take some time for her to see her as a friend -like she wanted her to- rather than someone who gets paid to hang out with her, but Bella confessed Charlie was actually really excited to meet Y/N, which felt like a small relief, knowing she actually wanted her there – unlike Ivy. Charlie spoke only when necessary and struggled with making friends but her psych pedagogue said she's just really shy and that ‘once she breaks out of her shell, she's unstoppable’. "I love the birds you drew here." Y/N pointed at some small birds sitting in a tree branch.

"Bluebirds." She murmured.

Getting a single word from her was considered progress, in Y/N’s opinion, but that’s all she got for the entire afternoon – even after constantly sending comments her way while playing with Anya so Charlie wouldn’t feel left out, not a single word came out of her mouth. Anya mentioned Harry at some point while talking about her favorite doll (which Harry had gifted her for her 3rd birthday) and the flash of captivating green eyes almost blinded her internally (she couldn’t deny she’d thought about Harry every once in a while this past week)

And it wasn’t until later that same day, after spending a long while sitting alone in a nearby park, she got the chance to see him again – even if he had scared her (almost) to death, she couldn’t help but feel an annoying flutter in her stomach.

She would like to say she loved her long walks during the most unreasonable times at night, but her reasoning behind her late night needs of distraction didn’t exactly thrill her. It was during the quietest and most peaceful times of the day when her mind seemed to speed faster than ever before; the sleepless nights and brain-wrecking thinking of how alone and empty she actually felt, along with the laziness and reluctance when it came to things that used to make her happy weighed her down like carrying a sack of potatoes on her back.

As she was walking past her neighbor's house (the one where she had seen that man with the suitcases last week) she noticed someone sitting on the large porch. Weird, she thought. She hadn't noticed any movement in the house since that night a week ago, to the point she even considered it being empty again. The silhouette seemed oddly familiar though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

"Y/N." She slightly jumped as she heard them call for her, in a strong and deep accent. Was that...

"Harry?" She asked befuddled. Did he live there? She watched as he stood up from his sitting position on the outdoor couch and walked across his front yard to take a closer look at him stopping at the bottom of the short staircase that leads to the porch. "What are you doing up so late?" And then something clicked in her brain – he was probably the man she saw that night, with his suitcases. It made sense, how he probably got home from vacation the same day he had dinner at the Lockehold's – the same day Bella mentioned something about him being in Italy

"Can't sleep." He simply replied, with a small sigh. He then nodded to the seat behind him, and Y/N could physically feel her brain going a thousand miles per minute. She sat on the far left of the couch as he retook his seat on the right, "what are you doing up so late?" He repeated her question.

And Y/N repeated his answer. "Can't sleep."

So they sat in silence, what felt like hours barely being a few seconds. "Didn't know you lived next door." Y/N took the time to take in his side profile - sharp and long nose, the tip curving slightly downwards when he spoke the next line.

"Never mentioned it." He replied apathetically. The unexpected switch in his tone made her immediately shut up, and even though it confused Y/N as to why he would want her joining him if he didn't want to talk, she was dreading going back to her room alone to drown in her thoughts again. She'd take uncomfortable company over being alone when her head got like this, it helped her get distracted; overthinking this situation instead of the same scenarios that constantly lived in her head.

They again sat in silence for a while, this time for longer than a few minutes, and even though it was slightly uncomfortable, there was an unspoken understanding between them. He just wanted company, and so did she. This time, however, it was him who tried for conversation. "Why did you choose England for your Au Pair program?"

"I was actually convinced I was going to choose France," Y/N shared with a soft tone, "but when I met the girls in one of my interviews I just knew I had to come here. Anya was so excited about meeting me, she thought it was already settled." She ended with a small smile on her lips. The memory of Anya smiling happily at her through the computer screen even when she hadn't had met her yet warming her heart.

It was true, the fact that she’d chosen England because of the girls. She wanted to learn French – she knew her way around the English language pretty well; but the French family whom interviewed her didn’t come close to the Lockehold’s at all – she thought maybe the experience of living in a whole different continent with a wonderful family was better than choosing a place because of the language – the experience was being experienced either way.

"Anya is a very special kid. They all are." Harry declared, the left corner of his mouth turning upwards in a small half smile.

Y/N nodded slowly before asking, "How long have you known them?" She could recall Alex saying he was a family friend – but she had no other information about him besides that.

"A while." The small conversation went for a long while, he shared the real reason as to why he was awake so late, explaining how he has struggled with falling asleep ever since he was young, but besides that comment, he kept his life very private; not sharing much information about himself during their chat, and every time Y/N reciprocated a question, he would either answer vaguely or didn't answer at all, changing the subject with another question. "It's really late" He commented, Y/N’s phone reading 1:08am.

"Yeah, I should probably go to bed." She lifted her head to look at him, who was already searching for her eyes. Y/N cleared her throat when a few moments passed by, again, with no one speaking a word. She wondered what could possibly be going through his head at the time, but he nodded, got up and said, "I'll see you around, Y/N." Her name flowed so nicely out of his lips it made her knees get weak. Locking herself in her bedroom (after entering it by the door at the side of the house – which leaded straight to her room) she laid in bed trying to understand why they’d just hang out in his front porch way past midnight when they clearly didn’t know each other very well – or at all, better said.

&

First day of classes came by in a heartbeat. The first Monday of September Y/N found herself getting up earlier than she was accustomed to, since the girl's sleeping schedule was different during the summer. 6:15am read her alarm when she lazily threw the soft covers off her body. A quick shower and minimal makeup application later, she stood naked next to her bed checking the weather app, as to know how to prepare the girl's clothes.

After putting a soft pink sweater on and a pair of flared jeans, Y/N left the warmth of her room to wake the girls up. Going for Charlie first (since she didn't need any help changing into her uniform and Ivy used her own alarm) she didn't give Y/N any work at all, waking up immediately after softly calling her name once. Picking her uniform from her closet and leaving it for her to change, Y/N left Charlie’s room to walk towards the next door.

"Morning, Anya." She whispered as she brushed some of her hair out of her face. Anya’s little nose scrunched up and a soft whimper left her mouth as she switched positions, now laying on her side, "gotta wake up, love." Y/N shook her arm softly, and she finally opened her eyes, a tired smile creeping up her face as she noticed it was Y/N sitting next to her. Y/N left her to rub the tiredness off her eyes while she picked her clothes (since her daycare was at the same school her older sister's attended -Harry's school, Y/N couldn't help but think- her uniform consisted of only a white t-shirt with the school logo along with any pair of bottoms she chose for the day.

After picking up her cute small rain boots and help her get dressed up, Y/N did a cute hairstyle on her with the small butterfly hair clips she chose, and went back to Charlie's room to do her hair, Anya coming along.

They arrived at their school; a big, period-like brick building with hundreds of students roaming around and a beautiful fountain at the front – which actually made Y/N’s childhood look like a big joke; the school she had attended was located in the middle of the mountains in a remote field.

"I'll be here at two thirty. Good luck, girls, I'll see you later." Ivy walked away sending a 'mhm' her way to let her know she heard her, and Charlie offered a small smile along with a wave and walked away like her sister. Y/N took Anya off her car seat and helped her get out of the car, her tiny backpack sitting on Y/N’s right shoulder as she grabbed the hand Anya offered her.

"Mommy said I have the penguins' classroom!" She said with excitement as they walked through the doors at the right wing of the building.

"That's so cool! I love penguins, let's search for the door which has penguins on it, shall we?" Y/N suggested even though she could clearly see their door at the end of the hallway.

"Yes! This one has elephants," she pointed at the door they were passing, "look, butterflies!"

"Like your hairclips!" Y/N exclaimed, and she giggled nodding her head. "Ah! Look what we found..." Y/N pointed at the next door.

"Penguins!" She skipped towards the door, dragging Y/N along. They entered the big and colorful classroom where they found some kids crying in their parent’s arms, others being as excited as Anya.

"Hi there! Anya, am I correct?" A woman who appeared to be around Y/N’s age came up to them, scrunching down to be on Anya’s eye level. She nodded frantically, excitement dripping from her smile. "My name is Miss Pia, I'm going to be your teacher this year." She introduced herself, Anya gave her an even bigger smile and slyly asked if she could go meet her classmates, to which Miss Pia agreed, asking her to first hang her small backpack in the rack at the back of the room, taking it from my hands and running excitedly to do it.

"You must be Y/N, then?" Miss Pia asked, getting back up to her feet. She was short with blonde curly hair sitting high in a ponytail, rosy cheeks and a cute teacher apron on top of her regular clothes.

"I am." Y/N offered her hand.

"The administration office said we would be having an Au Pair this year, they always give us a heads up with situations like these." She explained, and Y/N nodded as she continued, "we have the parents, nannies or in this case, Au Pairs," they both laughed," stay for the introduction, you can leave afterwards."

"Perfect, I'll sit at the back with the rest of the parents." Y/N ended up staying for about half an hour, smiling at Anya every time she turned to search for her when something exciting seemed to be happening. She won't be needing any adaptation, as Miss Pia said, and she was dismissed right before they had their first trip to the playground outside, taking advantage of the fact that it hadn't started raining yet.

Right when Y/N was walking out of the building, she spotted Harry at the main entrance, reading something on his phone. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath, and he looked even more handsome in the daylight. She made her way towards him, walking up the marble stairs (marble stairs! In a school?), and when he noticed her, he put his phone away and slowly (and trying to be as discrete as possible – which he failed to, again) looked up and down her body. Something about him giving her his full attention made her insides burn, and she couldn’t help but bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.

"Hi." She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to look at his eyes; they definitely looked a lot lighter now that there was natural light surrounding them.

"Hi." He repeated, "Dropped the girl's off?" He motioned towards the building with his head.

"Yes, just left Anya’s classroom." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Miss Pia?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes. She's nice, looks like she knows what she's doing." Y/N shrugged. She didn't exactly know her enough to have a conversation about her – and she most definitely couldn’t be one to talk, since she herself didn’t know what she was doing half of the time. “How’s the first day back been so far?” He got cut off from his next comment by his phone, and the small crease between his eyebrows grew deeper, which didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. "I'll leave you to it." She announced, but his eyes found hers again, and it was almost like he was asking for her to not leave him to it, but Y/N didn’t trust her instincts, not with him – not when he made her so nervous her brain couldn’t process things around him, and she was scared of misreading his expressions; he was hard to read. Not like she was expert at reading people but he was frustratingly confusing.

&

They didn't see each other again until a week later on a Tuesday evening – the same day Charlie, Anya and her decided to go for a walk and treat themselves with ice cream from a cute shop across from (what had come to be) her favorite park, Harry and Y/N found each other's eyes across his front garden, just like that night, but this time it was easy for her to recognize him as she could see his face clear and glowing from the sunset shine. His eyes were glued to her until the fence that divided their houses blocked his view, and again, Y/N wondered what could be going through his head.

It wasn’t until after dinner, past her work hours, she decided to leave the house through the door on her room with the sparking curiosity to test if she would run into Harry. Stopping on the sidewalk in front of his house, she noticed he was not sitting outside, and even though that's exactly what she had expected -he was not going to sit there for hours and hours, right?- There still was a small feeling of disappointment that rushed through her, and when she snapped back into reality, it was too late to stop herself as she knocked on his front door.

And Y/N didn’t know where to hide – not like hiding would be less embarrassing but God she did hate herself that moment. The embarrassment running through her veins was painful and made her lightheaded – she knew she had trouble sometimes with not thinking things through, but this was beyond her. He barely knew her. And suddenly his door was wide open.

"Y/N?" Of course she was not lucky enough for him to be asleep and not hearing her knock – life would’ve been too in her favor for that to happen. Of course he was very awake with a half drank cup of tea in his hand and the softest looking pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. "Are you ok? You look really pale." His voice was calm, probably the softest it'd ever been in her presence. At least he doesn't sound mad, Y/N thought.

Harry wanted to be confused, but he was more curious than anything else. For some reason, he felt very intrigued by Y/N – how she seemed confident but insanely insecure at the same time; it reminded him of himself, if he had to be honest. He just learned how to hide the latter.

"Uh, yeah- um, I was-" she nervously turned around halfway to look behind her and back at him again. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity and Y/N really tried her hardest not to step over her words. "I was about to go for a walk, uh, I was wondering if you'd like to join me?" Stupid. So, so stupid, Y/N thought.

"No, I'm good." He replied, finding oh-so-amusing the way her eyes gave her embarrassment away – he was having fun, watching her like a lost puppy trying to think through her next words.

Her mind was, of course, over speeding. She now felt even more embarrassed. Of course he doesn't want to go for a walk, Y/N conscience spoke to her, it's a Tuesday night and he's probably tired and I'm his friends' Au Pair – he probably thinks I'm this young and annoying girl who has a stupid crush and- "would you like to join me?" He interrupted her self-beating up raising his cup and she noticed the half smile adorning his face, almost like he could tell the wheels in her brain were fast-moving.

"Wouldn't want to interrupt-"

"You're not. I wouldn't have invited you in if you were. C'mon in, now. It's kinda cold out here." He disappeared inside of his house, leaving her on his porch with an open mouth and a blank brain. After closing the door behind her and taking her black vans off, she turned on her left as she guessed that was the way Harry went – and she knew she’d guessed correctly when she stepped into a big open-plan concept living room with a giant kitchen on the far back, Harry standing with his back towards her preparing her tea, "sugar?"

"No, thank you." She sat in one of the stools at the kitchen island as she took the scene in front of her. Her very cute (and much older), very hot neighbor Harry, in sweatpants and a very thin white shirt, a small patch of skin showing on his hip, making her tea. His shoulders were broad and she could see his back muscles moving as he poured steaming hot water into the cup, the little curls on his neck so inviting, if only she could run her hand through his soft looking hair just once-

"There you go. Cardamom." He snapped her out of her (probably inappropriate) thoughts, and she thanked him as she grabbed the cup from where he placed it; he stayed in his position standing in front of her on the other side of the island, with his forearms against the cold marble, sipping on his own mug, thinking about how strange it felt to have someone he wasn’t close with sitting in his kitchen after so long. "Why are you up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I figured. I couldn't either, looks like we both have a bit of sleeping issues, huh?" He sounded playful, but tired. Y/N knew exactly how it felt, being so tired but not being able to peacefully go to bed and get some needed rest.

"I remember you mentioning it before, I figured I'd check if you were up. Walking helps me relax, thought maybe you'd enjoy it too." OK, that wasn't entirely true but her reasoning to be there was quite similar – to check if he was up so they could, maybe, share a quiet night like that one a few weeks ago. None of them understood why they found such comfort in each other’s company – none of them felt like they needed to try too hard.

At some point during their conversation they moved to the couch, where they laid with a wide gap between their bodies. "Elton John's was definitely an interesting read. Lots of crazy anecdotes, you should read it."

"Probably not as good as Keith's, but I'll give it a go." He let a dimpled smile creep into his face, turning his head to look at her from across the couch and the annoying turn her stomach made obliged her to return it, just as bright as his. Finding out their music taste was quite similar made Y/N’s insides all warm and fuzzy, he showed her his vinyl collection (which was quite large) and ranted about how the modern industry was missing a rock star with some of that unexplainable essence old rock bands have – to which she respond saying maybe that something that makes them special was the fact that they were old bands... added to the fact that even though she was an old music lover, modern pop was her guilty pleasure.

Their third teacups were long forgotten on the modern coffee table by the time he noticed Y/N’s eyes were slowly beginning to close and he, as last time, said, "it's really late." And Y/N only nodded and tiredly got up from her position, with him following close behind.

"Goodnight, Harry. Thank you for having me even though I came unannounced." She shyly said, her actions still making her embarrassed even though it had already been a couple of hours.

"My pleasure. We should- do this again," He coughed into his hand, and uncomfortably continued, "I enjoy your company." That sentence alone made her heart explode with a thousand emotions, because even though they barely knew each other and it clearly pained him to admit he enjoyed having her around, his presence made her calm but anxious in a peculiar mixture of emotions. All she did in return was gift him a big smile, face hot of embarrassment (a nice kind of embarrassment, that feeling when you just want to smile really big and tightly hug whoever is making you feel that way) and slowly pushed herself up on her tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Bye." He said lastly, and closed his front door with red cheeks and dimples on display.

- Joey.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Unexpected Places (Pt. 10 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 2.7 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

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A Lot To Celebrate

You're not a poet, and you surely weren't born with literary talents. But if that's something you learned after coming to Kattegat, is that you can feel. And you feel it, the distance, the days that don't seem to pass by. Aslaug takes you to everything she has to do, alongside Helga, Torvi, and some other women. The weather is quite nice, and you're not cold all the time. Kattegat is a completely different place, but you do find ways to enjoy it. The town is empty, less loud than it used to be. And it doesn't help when Ivar's absence hits.

It usually happens in the morning, or the evening. When you wake up, with nobody lying next to you, and right before falling asleep. You miss Hvitserk too, and even Ubbe. Bjorn... Not really.

Aslaug started talking about marriage after a while, making you blush so hard you feel like you'll burst into flames. You haven't spoken to Ivar about it, and you don't want to take things too fast. But secretly, you enjoy making plans, and you even give some ideas of what you'd like. The celebration is quite different here, and you can actually have a say in what you want and what you don't.

You start getting impatient when the winds start blowing colder, a sign that summer is passing. And you can't even begin to describe your happiness when the news arrive of the boats returning. The town bursts into life, and you decide to pick up some flowers in the woods to make yourself a crown. Helga comes with you, happy her husband is coming back. Searching through the forest, you put the flowers you like on a basket, holding the bar of your dress out of the way as you climb a small slope.

“What do we have here?” The voice doesn't belong to Helga, that's obvious, and it makes you turn around, freezing when you find two men standing some feet away.

Looking at the sides, you see Helga, way too far among the threes, oblivious to your company. “What do you want?” You ask, fingers holding the basket a little tighter. “The warriors are returning from England.”

“We know.” The tallest says, walking over you. “We were heading to Kattegat but now that we found a pretty girl like you...” He smiles, and his friend circles around you, making it impossible for you to run. “...We thought we could use a little distraction.”

“(Y/N)?” Helga calls, and you look her way. She comes running, grabbing your arm when she reaches you.

“One for each.” The one standing behind you says. “That's an improvement.”

“If you touch any of us, Ivar the Boneless will know.” You speak fast, holding Helga's hand.

At the mention of Ivar, the one before you steps back, squinting his eyes. “Ivar isn't here.”

“He's on the boats about to arrive.” You explain, trying to keep your voice steady. “I belong to him now, and I'm sure you know Ivar is very possessive of the things he owns.” Pulling Helga with you, you start walking.

“Are we going to let them go?”

“I won't piss Ivar off.”

“We'd be done with both of them and far away from Kattegat before he even gets here.”

“Run.” Helga whispers and you both set in motion.

You're not sure if they're following you or not, but you don't stop until you're back in town. The basket and the flowers were left behind, you're not sure where, but it doesn't matter. Once you're surrounded by people again, you try to catch your breaths.

“Are you alright?” You ask, running a hand through your hair.

“Yes. You did right back there. Talking about Ivar.”

“It wouldn't stop the other one.” Taking a deep breath, you start walking again. “It doesn't matter. Not now. They're almost here.”

“You tell Ivar about that. They'll probably come to Kattegat.”

“I will.” But not now. As you walk to the deck, the first boats are already here, and you're immediately looking for Ivar.

The fear from moments before vanishes when you finally spot his boat, sailing way too slowly for your taste. When it finally stops, you push some people out of the way, unable to just stand there and wait. When you see him, you get the same feeling you had on the first time those blue eyes met yours. Smiling, you watch as two men help him out of the boat, putting him on the ground. You're not sure why he's not with the clutch but you don't care. Kneeling, you sit on your legs as Ivar crawls over you. Your heart is trying to beat its way out of your chest it seems, and you feel relieved to see he's not wounded.

“Hi.” He says, a funny smile on his lips.

“Been a while.” Ivar settles down, hands resting on his lap.

“Sorry if I'm not standing, princess, but–”

Grabbing the collar of his leather vest, you pull him into a kiss. Standing, crawling, it doesn't matter. Ivar is back, alive and well, and you'll have him all winter.

“Do you have to do that here?” A very annoyed Ubbe complains, making you pull away and laugh.

“Hello, Ubbe.” You stand up, giving him a quick hug. “It's good to have you back.”

“It's good to be back.” He smiles, walking away, and greeting some people.

“Hvitserk?” You ask Ivar, at the same moment you see him coming your way with his father.

“I'm still here,” Ivar complains when you step away a little to hug Hvitserk and Ragnar, welcoming them back.

”Don't be jealous.” You tell him, keeping his pace as he crawls through the deck. “Let's get you cleaned up. You have some blood on your clothes that I know it's not yours.”

Ivar simply giggles, and that's all the answer you need.

Ragnar's house is very, very loud tonight. You hear them from inside your bedroom as you dress up for the biggest feast they have here. To celebrate those who came back alive and to honor those who didn't. Once you're ready, in a new, beautiful dress, you sneak your way to the main hall, but you stay behind the leather-like curtains, a few feet away from Ragnar. He glances at you, smiling.

“Ivar isn't here yet.” He says, and you raise your eyebrows.

“What makes you think I'm looking for him?” Shrugging your shoulders, you're happy he's too far to see your blushing cheeks.

“I know a lovebird when I see one.” He mutters, giggling.

“Fine, old man.” Rolling your eyes, you step back, waving at Ragnar before turning on your heels and heading for Ivar's bedroom.

The halls are empty, obviously, and your footsteps echo. You're not sure why Ivar isn't at the feast yet, so you softly knock on his door instead of just pushing it open.

“Who's it?”

“Me.” You answer, wondering what's about with his angry tone. “Can I come in?”

“I'm bathing.”

“And?” Your brain is somehow slower than your body because you only process what Ivar said when you're already inside. “Oh.” You mutter, seeing Ivar in a huge tub. Pushing the door close, you clear your throat. “Sorry... I can leave if you want.”

“No, I...” Stuttering, Ivar settles down again, his back at you. “There are just some things you don't have to see.”

“Like your legs?” You decide to just say it, noticing, even though he's looking away, that he nods. Slowly, you make your way to where he is, and you can't help but notice his tub is like three times the size of yours. For the legs, probably. The closer you get, the more restless Ivar gets, as if he's trying to hide himself. “Your hair is dripping.” You whisper, stopping behind him. “The floor is all wet.”

“They'll clean it up after.” He snaps, turning his head to look at you. “You don't have to–”

“To see you?” Walking around the tub, you just look. You know why they call him Boneless now, but you were expecting something far, far worse. Slowly, you raise your stare until you meet his eyes again.

Ivar expects you to leave. You can see it in his eyes. He expects you to leave and be with someone else. Probably, Bjorn, you think. But no. You don't want anyone else, and you need to show him that.

Taking a deep breath, you pull the skirts of your dress up to your thighs, stepping inside the tub. “What are you doing?” Ivar asks, a low chuckle escaping his lips. As you lower yourself, the water spills out, and you pity whoever will have to clean this up.

“This tub is huge. It fits two.” You answer, settling down, straddling his hips. A smile breaks through his lips, and you feel your heart warming up. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sigh. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” Ivar brings a hand to caress your cheek, and you close your eyes.

“And I need you to know that I don't want anyone else.” Whispering, you place a lingering kiss on his lips. “I want you, Ivar. Crippled and everything, I love...” Your voice fades as you realize the word you just said. Biting your lip, you clear your throat. There's no reason to hide it, it's true. And he has to know. “I love you.”

“Marry me.”

Whatever you were going to say next, it gets stuck in your throat. You can't help but wonder if you heard him right, and then, you just expect him to laugh, to say it was a joke. But Ivar just stares at you with a serious face. “A-are you for real?” You stutter, looking for any signs of doubt on his face.

“I am.” He nods, his thumb caressing your lower lip. “I want you to be my wife.”

Smiling, you pull him into a kiss, fast and passionate, that leaves both of you breathless in no time, forcing you to pull away. “Yes, I want to be your wife.” You tell him, unable to keep the smile from your face.

“Then buy a new, pretty dress, and make a flower crown for the wedding.”

“Well, I was going to make a flower crown to welcome you back but...” Helga did say you should tell Ivar, but you don't want to ruin the moment, it just happened that the conversation flowed this way.

“What?” He inquires, already aware something is wrong.

“I went to the woods with Helga when we heard the boats were coming to pick up some flowers but these two men showed up and surrounded me.” You speak in a low voice, not really pleased on remembering it. “When I said I was with you one of them backed off immediately, but the other said they could be done with both Helga and I before you got here. So we ran.”

Ivar's expression changes and you get now why people fear him. It feels like he could burn those men alive by just thinking about them. “Are they here?” He asks, voice clouded by fury.

“They said they'd be coming to Kattegat so probably yes.”

“Then let's get out of this tub and join the feast.” Ivar kisses you on the lips before holding your waist and pushing you up.

It's not like you could stop him, so you just do as he says. Your dress is ruined, so you go back to your room to put on a dry one. Half an hour later, you're entering the main hall, hand in hand. Ivar gives you a look that you already know what means. He wants to know if they are here, so leaving him standing by the thrones, you walk around, eyes scanning through the people. You're about to give up, thinking they had the decency not to show up when you eye Helga, and she tilts her head to the side. And there they are, chatting, unaware of the rage that will rain upon them.

Turning around, you find Ivar's eyes set on you. Feeling brave, you walk over to the two man, with their backs at you, touching both their shoulders. They stop suddenly, curiously looking at who's behind them. But when they see you, their expression change, as if they've just seen a ghost.

“Hello again.” It's everything you get to say before some men, ordered by Ivar, come to take them away as they desperately try to fight, saying they're sorry. But it's a little too late for that.

“Now that the trash was removed...” Ivar raises his voice, and a silence falls on the hall. Making your way over him, you blush a little, taking his hand. “...I want to announce that Princess (Y/N) and I are getting married.” The hall bursts into cheer as people raise their cups and celebrate.

Aslaug comes to hug you and her son, a smile that means she already knew this was coming. Ragnar comes next, then Helga, Floki, Torvi. Hvitserk comes running, hugging, and spinning you around, a bright smile on his lips. Ubbe does the same, telling his brother something you couldn't hear. Bjorn only nods from a distance before walking away. You're so happy now that it hurts to see him so bad. Sighing, you grab Ivar's arm.

“I'll go speak with your brother. I'm sure the news didn't sit well with him.” You know about the growing jealousy between the two brothers, but everyone will have to learn to deal with it. Nobody is going anywhere, and the best you can do is try to make things work out.

Ivar gives you a look, not happy about it, but sighs and nods. “He'll try to convince you to marry him instead.”

“Then he'll lose his time.” Placing a kiss on his lips, you smile and go where you saw Bjorn walking to. You find him outside, drinking what's left of his cup before letting it fall to the ground. Pulling your cloak tighter, you slowly approach him. “I'm not the only princess out there, you know it, right?”

Bjorn turns around suddenly, furrowing his eyebrows. “Came to make me feel better?”

“I came to tell say that you don't love me, Bjorn.” Walking over him, you stop when you're closer. “You love the idea of the prophecy being fulfilled.”

“Don't act as if you know me.”

“I may not know you, but I know this.” Raising your voice a little, you take a deep breath. “Maybe the Seer wasn't talking about me.” You don't believe their Seer or the things he says, but if it's to make Bjorn feel better, to put some sense into his head, you don't mind bringing him up. And, you did learn a lot about their culture, and you know how things work here. “If it was, I wouldn't have fallen for Ivar.” Friendly, you touch his arm. “I assure you who the Seer saw wasn't me, so don't waste the time you could use finding love. This... This is what was supposed to happen, Bjorn. And what's supposed to happen to you will come, I know it.”

Despite the nod, you don't think he's convinced. “You're very beautiful.” Bjorn says in a low voice, and you blush, looking down and muttering a ‘thank you’. “I never thought anyone would really love Ivar, and to know someone looking like this chose him over me.” He giggles. “It's insane.”

“Well, thanks for the compliment. But it's not about choosing him over you. And it's not about him being a crippled and you having normal legs. It's about the heart.” Shrugging your shoulders, you see when Bjorn looks at something behind you, and you know who it is. “The heart is a wild creature, Bjorn, it loves who is loves and... Mine loves Ivar.” Giving him a small smile, you step back. “Yours will find someone too.” Turning around, your smile grows bigger when you see Ivar, walking over him and taking his hand on yours. “Let's go back in there. We have a lot to celebrate.”

×

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @midnightmystic @readsalot73 @xvxcarolinexvx @momowhoo @fangfoxy @msrawog @walkingonshunshine @alytavzla @anotherfan07 @heavenly1927 @msrawog @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

[xuyaa]

Age gaps

Ahh... I dread this but I'll speak anyway. I keep seeing people have a problem with big age gap couple in fandom. Now before your nostrils all fluff up let me say this, if you can't have an open mind or too fragile for my input please take your leave. This would be wasted on you.

About age gap on fandoms couple (canon or crack) I personally have no problem as long as both parties consent (without child grooming or forced relationship aspect) and considered legal at the start of their relationship and the legality here is not referring to our modern standard but on the couple's world and time. I'll try to explain but it might get long and boring but if you're still okay, continue.

I'll give an example, during the age of samurai if the situation permits like Uesugi Kenshin they can join battle at age 13 and there are still other examples of other famous child samurai. We call it child now because time change but during that time they were considered an adult once they enter battlefield. Why? They already trained years prior to kill and to protect their lord. Example of this in anime would be Himura Kenshin from Rurouni Kenshin. His first marriage was when he's around 16 and that was an acceptable age at that era since he was considered adult at age 14. So even though I find it icky if modern day teenager marry at that age, I can understand Kenshin's situation. If I'm still okay reading about him killing people around at even younger age I'm not gonna complain about him wanting to marry (although it's not that simple white and black for him).

You get what I'm trying to say?

More example of the acceptable norms in past era. During certain era in certain place like for example Victorian England and prior, 14 year old boys and 12 year old girls are passable for marriage depends on whether the family want it or not as it's more political than anything else. Same in China for example during the Manchurian Dynasty 14 year old girl is considered adult enough for marriage. And usually the age of the husband is always older by few years up to few decades (officials and emperor). But of course over time all of the above would change. Not by much maybe? Depend on the country I say.

Still we can't just hold the old days custom and norms on our modern day standard that would be akin to the present you calling your two or three year-old self a moron for defecating and not wiping your own ass. Or like when you do something stupid at your young age (pick whatever stupid situation that you have take as a lesson. Done?). You just didn't know better back then but now you do and from your failure you learn, although it would be better if you learn from other's lesson but I say pain is an effective lesson for oneself. Would you rather have that memories of your lesson be removed or ignored? I wouldn't. I don't know if I might do the stupid thing again just to find out whether I can or not. Same as this this whole age gap, young age marriage in the past and present in some customs thing. Don't erase the fact, don't gloss it over because people have and can still learn from them. My grandma married at young age and I came to be as the result of her choice.

Have you ever seen high schooler called Robert D Jr handsome? I've seen it recently on youtube. They call him very handsome and another video talked about cool and handsome senior male models. I've scrolled through the comments and no one seems offended that these high school girls simping for male old enough to be their granddad. These girls called them daddy and commenting how hot they are and the comments either agree or saying the girls reactions are cute. Huh... reverse the situation if these old models commenting female korean idol for example and calling them cute or hot what would people think? "creepy" "pedobear" even though senior female might think the same lines, heck maybe even we think the same lines. See the double standard people use? Maybe not everyone, but the loud ones are there. They're so loud I don't even know if they're majority or minority. I have celebrity crush too when I was young and as it happen, he's my father's age and to be frank, I would not mind an older partner if said partner is compatible and emotionaly mature. My sister is 17 years younger than her husband and they turn out well because her husband is matured enough to understand her ups and downs emotion back when they're dating, even before. Are all men mature emotionally as they became older then? No, just as not all oranges is sweet. My sister is 10 years my senior but she's more bratty than I am sometimes. Is it wrong of my bro in law to be with my sis?

Oh you're just trying to defend pedophilia anywayヽ(`Д´)ﾉ.

No stupid, I'm trying to make you think. I don't accept pedophilia, shotacon or lolicon. My sis is old enough to be called spinster when they go out. Anyway, when you follow a certain series, try to see it from their era and custom's perspective. Some era is okay with 16 year old marrying. Some tribes in Asia allow marriage between cousins while others and the majority of the world frown upon them. That's just how they see and do things. For me as long as both side consent without pressure and not in the case of 'parents sending their child for marriage without their input' thing I'm okay to leave that alone, I'm pretty much sure we're on the same page there. I hope.

So, just as when you come to another country, you adhere to their rules and norms or you have no right to complain if they deport you out for not learning beforehand and breaking their rules. Or when you have a guest come to your home and they suddenly start demanding you to do stuff their way, you should kick them out if not slapping their face. Or if you want to be kind, explain how you do things in your home and hoping they would understand and respect it.

I'm jumping around but see what I'm trying to say? I'll get to another anime example.

In Naruto for instance, they became genin at 12 and killing people left and right. People are okay with that right? Yeah well, since it was soo popular I suppose... besides it's pretty glossed over in both manga and anime. But the same people that's okay with children killing left and right, would they be okay if suddenly the mangaka put in story about one of the chara going on seduction mission? If it's carried out well as in the chara being bamf, maybe no problem. But if things went south for the chara? I'm sure there will be outrage, especially if that's a female chara or worse if it's one of the main like Sakura. See? People hold the characters, the series and the mangaka to their own convenient double standards. Back to the age gap when shipping, I pick Naruto as example because apparently Sakura was just so shippable that people actually ship her with Kakashi and even Madara and she makes easy example. Don't ask me why she's shipped with Madara and I don't ship any of the two with Sakura. Anyway, if Sakura is mature enough to choose to kill as a teenager (and don't give me crap about Sakura never killing on screen. Their line of work involves lots of death and she's been through war) she's mature enough to decide her romantic partner even if it's suddenly Orochimaru(ㆆ_ㆆ) (did they even exist?). You can say her taste is terrible because he's an asshole but don't say it's gross cause the age difference because apparently Orochimaru can just rejuvenated to new body and be as good as a babe (I wish I could too). Anyway saying it's about age on these kind of chara is just straight up lie on people's part. Another example I can think of atm is snk. I've seen people against pairing the 104th with the veterans because of age gap. Now I'm not trying to be rude, but hear me if you please. The whole 104th are trained child soldiers and they're killing titans and even humans. You're all okay with that? If you still follow the series far enough and liking it maybe you enjoy seeing the action sequence, drama and intrigue? The fact that you still come back to the series after this long proves that you're still okay with all the gores and blood spilled with all the glorious child soldier most of all. They become soldier because of circumstances you say? I'm glad you think so too! Although I must point out, the 104th did CHOOSE to be soldiers (just as Naruto and co choose to be ninja). They could be farmers or thugs for all we know. All the soldiers in snk choose their occupation, thay all trained and decide to join the Survey Corps, in fact the only one that join reluctantly in the first place is the former thug although he continues in the end. That aside, their circumstances certainly are different than us don't they? They don't even know a car and blip exist before Marley... They must have a whole lot of different mindset and norms than ours too for a civilization whose life are about survival against titans that's 100 years behind than other civilization in their world. Ever think of that?

Seeing modern day teenage in romantic lights are indeed hard as I'm sure the majority can't even survive without their gadget and parents' money. I certainly can't at that age. Immature. Even those in their twenties and thirties are immature these days. But now when one of those child soldier who have a whole lot of different mindset and maturity level is being shipped with older chara, you're against it. Okay. Maybe it's indeed easier for you to see 15 year olds regardless of their profession to commit act of violence and even kill than to love... (does that sounds okay to you?)

...I'm not saying killing mindlessly is alright because it is NOT. But that would need a whole lot different threads and time to spare and maybe someone else can do it or already done it before me.

But here's the good thing, even when the ship starts when they grow and at the modern legal age of 18 and 19, or even far above like centuries, it's still not okay for some people to ship them. I don't mind if it's your preference and you don't go disturbing other's corner when they don't even enforce their ship as words of god and even acknowledging that 'yes, maybe it's not canon and just our bits of fun' but sometimes it got to the point of belittling those who do ship age gap couple and treat them like a criminal in need of help or wishing them death. Seriously? Yes. People are that immature.

If you don't like a ship because you think your own is better, fine. Do your thing in your corner but don't go to other people's corner just to talk shit without even knowing why they ship what they ship. Most of this ship is just in our head in the end, and even if your ship is canon it does not make you any greater in real life.

I can't think of anything else to say now, but thanks for reading with open mind. ◝(⑅•ᴗ•⑅)◜..°♡

Now before anyone waste their time typing out comments, I refer to my first paragraph. Here's some imaginary flower for you all🌷

Apparently I'm not clear enough so I fix my wording. I'm here not defending minor and old people relationship but age gap couple who happen to be aged up to acceptable age despite their profession. Here's some choco🍫

[thecandywrites]

Blood For Gold Part 11

Woo, so while I'm in a mad rush to clean my house in preparation for new windows TOMORROW. While I've been cleaning, this story WENT OFF in my head and I was, in a mad dash to get it all down on my breaks. Oh the storm is a- brewin! And if you don't at least want to scandolously and in an outrage and a gasp- yell 'You bitch!' at the end of the chapter, I will have failed you. Becuase I was yelling that writing it.

Thank you to @kriskukko for letting me borrow her regency era orc art and to @punkhorse96 for your amazing feedback. Hehehe.

Blood For Gold

Part 11

“So what can you tell me about Charlotte?” Zax pressed as he helped pick out jewelry for you to wear for dinner among your jewelry that had been brought from your home and that had just recently been given to you, looking for more of your Kilan style pieces.

“I’ve only known her for a couple of days, she’s very nice, so far at least.” You answered.

“And what can you tell me about Jane?” Ocearian posed as he finished getting dressed himself, smoothing out his clothes and appraising how he looked in the full mirror as all three of your brothers converged in your room while their own rooms were getting prepared.

“Oh don’t you start anything with her. She’s a very sweet, kind, but very innocent girl. In England women are kept purposefully naive and ill informed and powerless and are practically property of their fathers, brothers and then husbands. Her parents are monsters. More vicious than any wolf or viper that would make the most stone cold dragonborn moura in the Qing Dynasty or every devil in hell consider returning to a path of righteousness to the Creator. They are very abusive to her, mentally, emotionally and physically and the only reason it’s not sexually too is because her virginity is considered sacred. They hurt her to control me when I had to live with them at Broadcove when they found they could not hurt me all the ways they wanted to. English custom and culture demands that she is never to be left alone with any man for any reason except her own father, who is the most dangerous of all. All she has to keep her from ruination and disgrace is her own innocence and honor and virginity which all dangles precariously by a thread. Her parents hate me. They despise me and have made my life worse than any hell in existence since I came here and it is only because I have leverage and blackmail on them that I’m surviving them so far.” You revealed adamantly.

“Oooh, blackmail? What kind of blackmail?” Axal asked as he came over and practically sat in your lap at your vanity in the room before he touched up your makeup again from his vantage point.

“Spill, I need it. All of it.” Axal insisted.

“Ramsey has five mistresses and several illegitimate heirs and his favorite mistress is Audrey Rogers at The Red Velvet Rope which is a moura whorehouse here in London Towne that he goes to on a weekly basis.” You informed him.

“No not on him, I mean that does make things fun for me, but on the Morrigans.” Axal prompted.

“No, I’m not playing my ace just yet. Not unless I need to.” You shook your head no.

“So it’s an ace. That means it’s very solid proof.” Axal grinned triumphantly.

“It is and it’s substantial.” You allowed.

“Ace of spades then.” Axal surmised.

“Ace of spades.” You confirmed to Axal before turning to Ocearian again.

“But Jane is way too sweet and innocent for anyone to mess with her and I will go down swinging to protect her, she’s the closest thing to a real friend I’ve had since I came here. All my other friends in the last year I had to pay to be so. Jane suffers enough from the hands of her parents, she deserves better than anyone trying to toy with her.” You insisted again.

“I would never toy with her! She’s divine. And there’s mutual attraction, genuine mutual attraction.” Ocearian insisted as you resigned yourself with a sigh because you could see his feelings in his eyes.

“Then court her properly, according to English culture and customs because nothing else will do. But again, her parents will shoot you down. She is their pawn and they are not about to let her go to Dorierra of all places, they probably want her to stay on the English Empire side, not anywhere else. She has a little brother who is to inherit everything and even if her parents were to be struck by lightning tonight, he would then have say in everything and he’s been brainwashed by his parents to hate me too and hate all mouras in turn.” You warned him.

“Even with your ace of spades? They wouldn’t reconsider?” Axal prodded.

“No. And it’s because of that ace of spades that they probably never will either.” You answered.

“Is the ace of spades also the reason you’re a shakan now?” Axal asked as your brothers paused to hear your answer.

“...yes and no, it’s very complicated.” You reluctantly answered before you noticed the time.

“Come on, we need to finish getting ready and go down to dinner.” You told them, not wanting to talk about it any further.

Demsey’s jaw fell to the floor when you and your brothers came to dinner just a few moments later than everyone else, all of you wearing color coordinated and matching outfits as you were clearly dressed in a style he had never really seen before as he barely noticed that Calla and Bennie and their brothers had done the same, choosing to don the style they were most comfortable in of their own cultures and quarters.

You had a little top on, that barely covered your breasts but your middle was bared as was your back but you were wearing a sheer shawl and to see your gold moura marks on such intimate parts of your person, he still couldn’t help but remember Aurdra Draft’s marks. But he was sure that yours were even more luxurious and numerous than hers had been and your skirt was very poofy and full but the embroidery and the fabrics used as well as the clearly moura ethnic jewelry, had you looking like a foreign princess yourself and had himself ready and willing to pledge himself to you and follow you to the ends of the world and forgetting every rule of decorum as he couldn't help but stare longingly and desirous as he dared and one coy look and smile from you and he swooned as he practically elbowed his way to sit next to you at the table which delighted you that he would do so.

“Oh Father, since we are expecting Audra’s family the day after tomorrow, in only three days, the Midnight Peacock has it’s Volto Masqurade, I thought we should all go and attend.” Ramsey insisted to his father.

“Oh absolutely.” Gregori agreed.

“Also, it was suggested we have an official Kamoba battle.” Ramsey added as Axal let his pinky graze the outside of Ramsey's thigh and grinned when Ramsey subtly squirmed but clearly had a physical reaction to his advance before Ramsey reached under the table and grabbed Axal's knee and tried to give it a warning grip but all that accomplished was Axal becoming emboldened even more.

“Oh that sounds magnificent, Darling you must agree to such a request.” Yalin urged Gregori as she uncharacteristically sat to his immediate left while Ramsey sat to his immediate right.

“It has been a very long time since the palace of Windsor has seen a Kamoba battle, we will have to do all we can for a proper one.” Gregori readily agreed.

“What’s Kamoba?” Demsey asked curiously.

“It’s a mix of several games. Do you have a game where it’s like- capture the flag of an opposing team?” You answered from your place next to Demsey since Axal had taken your former place as you sat next to Yalin per her request as Zax was sitting on the other side of Axal and Charlotte sitting next to him as the two were immediately taken with each other as Jane sat on the other side of Charlotte with Ocearian on the other side of her as Jane as Rian was practically fawning over her and she was with him as well, as shy and reserved as she was but you were worried for her because you knew that the moment her parents would reappear, she’d be stripped from him and it was almost cruel to let anything to blossom between them, as natural as it seemed to be.

But you yourself would be lying if you didn’t enjoy Demsey sitting so close to you. Before it was always across from him. He still smelled good, like fresh, clean laundry and his own spicy personal musk filling your nose and making your feminine folds squish with essence of desire. You of course partially blamed yourself for perhaps projecting your preference for Demsey Draft onto the good Duke and tried to reason with yourself that they were probably two very different people, one was a harlot in a whorehouse and the other was an upstanding Duke of nobility and besides a similarity in looks and voice, probably shared little else in common. But the message didn’t seem to reach your body from your brain because your body was reacting to him the same way it had reacted to Demsey Draft.

Also from this proximate distance, Demsey could smell your luxurious and alluring perfume and your scent in general which was still sending him into a tizzy. He could feel the heat roll off of you in waves and feel your full skirts brush against his leg as he wanted nothing more than to reach down and hold your hand under the table, or better yet, dig his nose into you and find all the sources of those amazing scents. You smelled both clean yet perfumed and decadent and opulent, alluring and divine and if he could bottle this scent, he would, in heartbeat. But he would never sell such a treasure, he would hoard it forever.

“Oh yes of course, it was a favorite of mine as a child,” Demsey nodded.

“Well it’s like that, only it’s also fencing, but the swords and other weapons are superheated so that once you spit oil onto them, so that you more or less breathe fire onto them, then you fight with flaming weapons. But you have to wear special leather armor that’s meant to keep you cool so you don’t burn up or drop from heat exhaustion. Also the Kamoba battle arena is an obstacle course with anywhere from three, to five to seven capture points, or beacons as they’re usually called, and once you capture them, you ignite the charge and they explode into flames and color, like a firework, with colored smoke. And you can either fight one on one or in teams of equal number or even among the sexes, women against the men.”

“But that is never fair because women usually win, like 9 times out of 10.” Axal praised from his spot across from you as he appraised how affected Demsey was by you. You weren’t even really trying that hard to ensnare him and Demsey was clearly already smitten, if you just put out just a bit more effort, you’d have him right where you would want him.

“What?” Demsey asked, not thinking he had heard that right.

“Moura women are fiercer competitors, usually quicker, stealthier and frankly better in every way because women communicate much better with each other and work better together and coordinate beautifully and while the men are usually fighting and arguing with each other about who takes the lead, who does what, while the women have already figured that out and are onto the second or even third or fourth beacon by that point.” Axal explained.

“And nothing will show a moura’s colors better than a round of Kamoba, you’ll see even the sweetest, gentlest moura, show a fierceness and ruthlessness and competitiveness usually only reserved for gladiators but within the Kamoba arena, even the most battle hardened veteran is not match for a moura woman agent. I remember watching Yalin fight Kamoba with.. Oh I forget her name, it was something viper, desert viper of some kind, Yalin had been nothing but sweet to me, but her ruthlessness in that arena sealed the deal for me.” Gregori praised as Yalin giggled gleefully at the praise.

"Loreiris," Yalin supplied.

"Loreiris Amaharas? The Saharan Viper?" You asked, knowing that name well as your brothers also inclined their ears to hear that name.

"Yes, the very one." Yalin Confirmed.

"That's my grandmother on my mother’s side." You revealed before your brothers confirmed that.

"Is it? Oh I didn't realize! How is she?" Yalin asked.

"Still teaching Kamoba. She is a master, I have seen her take on teams of 15 all by herself, she’s usually only armed with a boomerang, a bow and a sword, the fastest round in the records was won by her, less than three minutes." Axal proudly informed them.

"Oh there's no way I'd win a match against her now then." Yalin giggled.

“And Audra is her greatest pupil yet.” Axal praised.

“Really? Oh I knew there was a reason I instantly loved you.” Yalin cooed to you proudly as you blushed bashfully, knowing that in England, women were rather forbidden from taking up the martial arts as you worried about Demsey being put off by such a thing since he was very proper.

But on the contrary, Demsey was now fantasizing about you in full armor swinging a flaming sword and suddenly every fantasy with a battle maiden in his own orcish culture was becoming fulfilled, all he needed was to put your face in his mind’s eye and he was ready to just fall to your feet and propose. However highly improper that would be.

“I have not held a sword in two years, I don’t think my skills have kept that well.” You allowed.

“Oh it’s like riding a griffin, you never really forget.” Yalin waived off.

“And of course it’s always fun to gamble on the teams. I made Yalin’s bride price for the bet I made on her, really I went with my brother to the stables for him to pick out his queen among the favorites and being the third younger brother to the future king, they only allowed me to have the generalley bride price, which the generalley brides are fine but I was on the hunt for extraordinary and low and behold here is Yalin, with her sisters, all of which were in the imbraturi class which is the imperial class that usually only reserved for emperors and kings and the like, which is of course Yalin was in that one so I bet the whole sum on her since she was already set to duel with the Saharan Viper that if she won, and I won the bet, that I would use those winnings to buy her outright, which is of course what happened and betting on you my dear has always been my best investment of my life and one that I will always repeat.” Gregori praised as you sat there in adoration because clearly they loved each other dearly, Gregori and Yalin were proof that the system could lead to happiness and satisfaction in everything while Ramsey felt ill as he looked at you. Because he couldn’t and didn’t feel the same about you. You were a last resort, his last chance at saving grace and you kept yourself withdrawn from him while Axal on the other hand was threatening to unnerve him completely. The way Axal was dressed, had him wanting to rip his clothes off and find the source of that cologne with his mouth into every crook and cranny on Axal and really show Axal not to start anything he wasn’t ready and willing to finish as Ramsey’s touch had only stroked up Axal’s thigh to try to pay back to Axal what Axal was currently doing to him and to feel the thick, heavy bulge along his thigh, made him weak and his pucker was practically winking in anticipation.

“Oh stop. How do you know I didn’t beg Loreiris to lose on purpose to me just so that you could take me home? I was and still am madly in love with you, I was desperate to leave with you one way or another.” Yalin waived off bashfully.

“Because such a thing is one against the rules and would have resulted in an automatic forfeit and two against the code of honor. I’m sure your love for him gave you the fuel and all the power you needed to win.” Axal flattered which got Yalin to preen proudly.

“Well I suppose you’re right, of course one can’t forget the verbal component because while you’re fighting each other with flaming swords, you’re also supposed to be battling wits and trash talk and insult each other in the most artful of ways of course, all while set to music so that your words and actions compliment everything else. There is no greater spectacle than a Kamoba battle, but it will take a few days to prepare such an arena.” Yalin said.

“So wait, it’s capture the flag, but with fencing, but the swords are on fire, while on an obstacle course and the “flags” are fireworks that you have to set off, all while battling with wits all set to music?” Demsey asked as he counted each component on a finger and almost running out of fingers.

“Also while wearing another full body leather suit to save you from the flames but each person or each team rather, depending on what kind of flame oil is used, will leave a mark. So it’s usually black versus white. So one side will wear black leather, the other white. But whenever you get struck, there will be a mark, and depending on the kind of oil and the kind of pigment used, you could get any number of colors marked on you and depending on where you get those marks, it’s points. And usually when playing in teams, there will usually be an archer on either side which sends burning arrows at you from across the arena.” You informed him.

“My head is spinning just thinking about it, how in the world do you manage it all? I’m overwhelmed just thinking about it, I can’t imagine how overwhelmed I would be trying to play.” Demsey confessed which you found comforting that he would be so modest and humble in his own abilities.

“Well that’s why it’s the Dorierran national sport and why the Dorierran army has never seen a complete defeat, because if the games are that intense, imagine how intense we would be on the battlefield or much less any other place where performance is key.” Axal practically purred as you blushed at Axal’s implication because you could also see Axal practically clawing up Ramsey’s leg as he said it and Ramsey blushed and squirmed ever so slightly and you wanted to shake your head by how hard and fast Axal was onslaughting Ramsey and appreciated that Demsey was much more subtle and appreciated subtlety in turn. You had come to realize and appreciate how perhaps Lady Kate Whiteale was maybe a little to forward, a little too direct and insistent. Men did like to chase, not necessarily liked to be chased. But Ramsey was surprising you because he was giving Axal that look. That look that said ‘keep it up and I promise you, I’ll torture you with bliss’ look and Axal was giving him an equally heated look.

In your early stable days, you would have discerned that Ramsey would have wanted such an approach and two years ago, you wouldn’t have hesitated in giving it to him, hell even a full year ago, you would have been desperate to do so. But now, you were happy to be more reserved, more thoughtful, more watchful and discerning.

“Really?” Demsey asked in surprise.

“Oh yes. There was only a handful of times the Dorierran armies were somewhat defeated on the battlefield, defending Dorierra and it’s walls but when they met the walls, the whole country can be boobytrapped and it’s the Dorierran women who defeated those armies that had tried to overcome the soldier men and the walls in turn. Moura men can rise and fall, but it’s the women who are the backbone of society and run the country as well as they do. Dorierra is very much a matriarchal society. Whereas here it’s clearly patriarchal. There is no soldier, warrior, gladiator alike more devastating than a moura mother protecting her child.” Axal explained.

“Well, yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Demsey had to agree.

After dinner, Axal and Ramsey practically disappeared while the rest of you retired to the gardens to get an evening stroll in, where Axal and Ramsey’s absence didn’t appear to be noticed by anyone before you asked Amara to go with you to tour the gardens and chose a far corner near the front door where you noticed a discrete carriage was pulled up before you noticed Axal and Ramsey depart from the house, both of them wearing rather unremarkable clothes in the English style as you realized that Axal must be wearing Ramsey’s English clothes because Axal didn’t have any English clothes to speak of, so that they would blend in with any crowd on a busy street, both of them practically giggling giddily as you asked Amara to hang back while Ramsey looked almost like a deer caught in the headlights when he noticed you approaching as his cheeks flushed cherry before Axal said something to him and Ramsey got in the carriage so that Axal left his side to meet you half way.

“Where are you to off to?” You asked Axal as Ramsey was getting anxious as Axal left his side to join yours while Amara stood back as well, to give you and your brother privacy.

“To the Red Velvet Rope to meet Audrey myself.” Axal grinned.

“Oh, well in that case, have fun, actually…” You paused.

“I have a susceptibility there, you must protect me in this respect, I need to know how much that could affect me.” You murmured to him, with a pleading look.

“Of course, anything, what’s his name?” Axal asked.

“Demsey Draft, he looks and sounds almost exactly like Duke Demsey Voyambi, you can’t miss him. But oh is he exquisite, but in English society, it’s technically forbidden.” You praised.

“Consider it done,” Axal kissed your cheeks and winked and left your side to rejoin Ramsey as you did the same with Amara.

“Where are they off to?” Amara asked.

“Oh they’re going out, Axal wanted to see London and Ramsey’s giving him a mini tour apparently, I asked Axal to try to get to know the real Ramsey for me. Because surely with four brothers, who they are when they are with friends or doing whatever it is they do in gentlemen’s clubs is not who they tend to be when they’re around their families.” You explained.

“Of course. You want to see what Ramsey is really like, because you do not think that the person he shows you is the real him?” Amara surmised.

“Exactly. Men especially in English society seem to have a different facet of themselves, one for business, one for socializing, one for family, one for friends. Just like we do I suppose. But I must confess that I pulled you aside for something rather serious. I have so few friends and even fewer people I trust to have their confidence and discretion.” You began.

“Please, count me as one of them, what do you need?” Amara asked. Eager to do whatever she could to help.

“In only a day or two, my family is coming here. And while I’m happy to see them, I don’t trust that the reason for their visit is to purely reunite with me. I have reason to believe that they’ve been invited to come to pressure me and coerce me into accepting a possible proposal from the Dauphin. And I want and need you to know right now, that I will not willingly accept such a thing. We are mismatched and the Dauphin and this castle, while a loving home for Ramsey, would be a gilded cage for me. You see how Yalin and Gregori love each other unconditionally, and I know Ramsey wishes for the same for himself. But I do not care for Ramsey, I have no attraction to him or desire for him, let alone any appetite for him, even if he were the Crown Prince of England, it would not sway me to either have, or find or make up any kind of attraction or affection for him, and I can not bear to enter into another loveless marriage. Broadcove was my prison while I was there. And I do not wish for any other place, even a palace such as this to be my next one. I would rather be penniless and living in a hut on a mountain top but happily married rather than be a Dauphine of Windsor but have no respect for myself or love in my life.” You professed.

“Of course. I have far too many friends who have done nothing but find the richest suitor so that they can live a comfortable life, but there is no peace, or kindness or affection in their comfortable homes. Very few are lucky enough to find love and material comfort, and many have to choose one over the other.” Amara sympathized.

“So if I need to flee from a possible marriage to Ramsey, would you help me?” You asked.

“I would, in a heartbeat. Tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it. I’d even consider going with you if Kate Whiteale’s brother John, who I loathe almost as much as I do Kate were to try to insist on his own addresses to me. I know this sounds crazy but if Storren were to ask me to follow him back to Dorierra, I would probably do it.” Amara confessed.

“Except if you do that, you’d be going to Dorierra as a servant to another moura woman. You could be anything from a laundress, to a cook to a farmer or...any number of things. Because Storren is only a chef in the kitchens back in Dorierra.” You tried to gently caution her.

“I would rather farm vegetables and be happy than be a duchess and unhappy.” Amara insisted herself.

“I’m happy we agree then. Your brother Demsey has offered to assist me if such a measure needs to be taken. But I can not be seen going to his room, nor he- mine without a benign reason, even if it is to keep anything there that would indicate that I would flee, I can’t keep such things in my room, or in the rooms of my siblings. Because they will tell my parents who then will tell Gregori and Yalin, much less the stables or the royal family, but you can not say anything to Storren, because he would most likely report it to Bennie who I wouldn’t put it past her to use that against me and against your family because moura brothers are sadly information pumps for their sisters, as you will see that Axal is for me with Ramsey and I don’t want you to suffer from knowing this and if you told Storren, or anyone else, I would be done for. Ramsey already is trying to entangle my griffin Heavencrest with Charlico and is having them stall together so they will become a true mated pair. If I were to try to fly her away, Charlico would either alarm the stable that Heavencrest was leaving or try to leave with us and I would be seen as stealing Charlico and a bounty would be put on my head and Charlico’s price would skyrocket, so much so that there would be no way for me to pay it, with anything other than my marriage hand or my life. I am trying to talk Axal into getting Ramsey to sell me Charlico so that if I need to flee, I can flee with both of them. But I don’t think Ramsey, let alone Gregori and Yalin would agree to it because it’s just another tie for them to keep me here. But I would rather deal with a heartbroken Heavencrest rather than being in another gilded cage.” You murmured.

“I understand, so how can I help exactly?” Amara asked.

“No one would think anything if I gifted you a trunk full of “gifts”, and no one would think twice about Demsey going to your room and simply moving those “gifts” or putting things from your room to his and if I disguise my fleeing things in a trunk of other gifts, that your brother would then move to his room and no one would think anything of Demsey moving things to the stables, because he is a gentleman and a guest and if he wanted to go for an evening ride, no one would stop him, whereas I would never get even that far without alarming at least the servants.” You proposed.

“Oh of course.” Amara readily agreed.

“And your brother has also offered that if I need to flee, if I send word to him of where I’ve ended up, he’s offered to send me the rest of my belongings. But legally giving him access to any of that is nigh impossible, that is why I want to name you my heir and successor, should I have to flee, I would formally give up all ownership to everything. But I can name you my heir as close friend and confidant. And it would be accepted by the English courts since you are a duchess and of nobility and once you have ownership of my property, can I trust you to return it to me wherever I find myself? Could I count on you for this?” You asked her.

“Absolutely, what do I need to sign?” Amara asked.

“I will write something up tonight and I will give you a trunk full of gifts as well for doing this huge favor for me. But the second trunk will be for my possible fleeing.” You proposed before you hugged each other.

“I wish I was as brave as you, willing to give up a Dauphin, knowing you would be wealthy but unhappy.” Amara murmured.

“And I wish I was like you, knowing what you want immediately upon being introduced to it and not holding back from trying to obtain it.” You offered.

“However, before you decide to follow Storren back to Dorierra, has he explained to you how Dorierra works? And why Dorierra is called ‘The Stables’?” You asked her.

“Uh, not, not really. We haven’t discussed anything like that yet.” Amara confessed.

“Forgive me for being forward, but do you know how sex, conception and thus babies, are made?” You asked.

“Of course I do, my mother has instructed me about such things.” Amara assured you.

“Well then you’re the first non married Englishwoman I’ve met who knows such things then. But there is more you need to know then. Before you get too attached to Storren, you should know that Dorierra has the name- The Stables- for a reason. Every moura wife who lives in Dorierra, is a broodmare, and every moura man is a stud. I’m sure you’ve noticed how it is only Axal and myself that look like true siblings, and that’s because Rian and Zax are only my half brothers. While my parents are married, it is the stables who dictates who has sex with you on any given moment of any given day and the stables has the business of conceiving down to a flawless science, to the point that women know they are pregnant within five days of missing the first day of their courses and they can pinpoint exactly what day and probably the time of conception because it’s all recorded.” You began.

“Every month, the conceive week is spent having sex at least three to five times a day, once upon first waking up and then after every meal and then again right before sleep, where if your husband is not who the stud is, he is removed from the house and sent to sleep somewhere else, usually across the country so there is no chance that his own seed will take root that month, and it is repeated each month and depending on how valuable the genetics that are passed down to possible offspring, either the whole week is spent with the intended stud or the week can be seperated by halves, thirds or fifths, where you have five different studs having sex with you at least five times a day for a week, most moura women pray for pregnancy so that their cunnies don’t get rubbed raw by such vigorous activities, the best studs can cum within a minute so that the woman doesn’t have to endure too much but usually the female orgasm is reserved for the last sex session before bed to promote better sleep for her.” You explained as Amara’s eyebrows practically went up into her hair line in surprise.

“Only when a moura mother is pregnant, is she allowed to enjoy only her husband for the duration of the pregnancy but while she is pregnant and no longer subject to spending her days and nights with others, her husband is still a stud and he will still spend most days and nights either working secularly for the stables or sexually for the stables, so prepare yourself that because you would be a forign wife and therefore, not subject to the stables way yourself and Storren could enjoy your own fidelity, Storren would never be able to give you the same. His genetics are too precious and the reason why moura men are rarely ever allowed to leave Dorierra is to preserve them for moura wives exclusively. Right now the stables are working on creating a pastel version paradise orcs and robin’s eggs orcs out of the current paradise orcs and Storren already has several children by several different ladies, it’s just in the culture there, but the only protection is that mouras are immune to sexually transmitted diseases, but I would fear for you because you have no such protection in your body, and Storren would have to use the very harshest soaps that are made to cleanse the male genatalia to keep from passing anything over to their wives and it’s always used on moura studs when their wives are pregnant to ensure the safety and health of the baby.” You warned her as she looked shocked and almost alarmed, if not a little gutted.

“It is why I wanted to leave Dorierra, because seeing my house father, because there is a distinction between house father and heir father, being sent away from the love of his life for a week every month when she was not pregnant was very distressing but it is just the way it is for moura mothers in Dorierra, and the entire country would collapse because Dorierra needs all the moura brides it can create to sell on the world market like any other broodmare or heffer at an auction.” You furthered as she seemed to take that into account.

“But it’s not like moura brides fare much better. Depending on where you end up, you could be in a harem, sharing a sultan or a shah or sheik with hundreds or maybe even a thousand other women. But in Europa, even a queen rarely has a king all to herself, usually there will always be other mistresses but having to share him with a handful is better than sharing your husband with tens or hundreds of thousands of others at Dorierra. It’s why my own desire for my complete fidelity and the complete fidelity in a mate makes no sense, not to any moura or any other from Dorierra, even here in England, there are whorehouses, and courtesans and mistresses a plenty. But it is why I agreed to marry Edward, because never in his life had he ever had a mistress and he never once used a whorehouse. But moving forward, I don’t know if I could expect the same for anyone else, but my mother blames that on all the fairytales I’m so fond of as a child because a moura- there is supposed to be little to no emotional attachment between lovers, it’s all supposed to be business, but I don’t have the heart or the stomach for such business. I was crushed when I was a little girl and realized why all these men who were not my house father were coming to see my mother and why I didn’t look anything like my house father. And my hier father is one of the most popular studs in Dorierra, he can cum in about two to three pumps and while he’s a charmer and a flatterer and I like to believe that he has some kind of fatherly affection for me, he was more proud of the high bride price I brought in rather than anything else. He has thousands of children and not once has he tried to address me by my name, it’s always pet names, like dearest or darling or sweetheart. Dorierra is probably oversaturated by his genetics, but one can’t argue with these results.” You explained as you looked at the gold moura feather marks on your arms pointedly as Amara did the same, looking at them in a whole new light now.

“But Demsey has never used a whorehouse, at least to my knowledge, he is above such things as is Tzane, Sierge on the other hand, not so much. And my father would never do my mother the dishonor of having any other than her in their marriage bed, while it is true that in the past, orcs were seen to be very promiscuous, now in modern times, we’ve thankfully left that behind, at least in polite society.” Amara insisted.

“Well, keep it to yourself, but that’s probably why I prefer Demsey to Ramsey then.” You hinted which made her happy but you could tell that your word of warning had shaken her a bit.

“I don’t wish to scare you off of Storren, I really don’t, he’s perfectly wonderful and he would treat his future wife like she was a goddess and he’s capable of such things, house wives and house husbands have emotional fidelity, and his figurative heart would be yours and only yours for life should that relationship go in that direction but I feel you should know the whole truth about Dorierra and its culture, if you ever want to make it your home.” You felt compelled to try to clarify.

“Oh, don’t apologize, I thank you very much for telling me. In polite society, we don’t really talk about such things and when I hear about Dorierra referred to as ‘the stables’ I think most of us didn’t have an inkling that it was like that for the whole country, just the moura bride part but it seems the whole country is consumed by it. But as a friend, if you hadn’t told me, I think it would be in a rude awakening if I were to follow him home and get hit with that out of nowhere because Storren hasn’t even hinted at such things, should I tell my sisters about it?” Amara asked.

“If you feel there is a chance for them to form any kind of serious attachment, yes. I think such things are usually assumed. Because native Dorierrans, assume everyone else knows about it because Dorierra has that title, that it’s already implied and I think most don’t realize it’s the whole country, not just a tiny part of it.” You advised.

“But please don’t tell Demsey, or any of my other brothers, or especially my parents. Brothers can be so overprotective, at least English ones, they would demand that we stop all comradery or friendly conversation between us because they are all lovely and we’re just now becoming acquainted and barely even friends and I would hate for this to come between our friendship just because it’s a very stark distinction between cultures and Dauphin and Dauphine did say to keep an open mind. But I fear they would yank us away from them and they would do that just in an effort to protect us but it would be a kneejerk- overreaction, because Dorierran culture would most likely be seen as obscene by them.” Amara pleaded with you.

“Of course, I would think your brothers probably already assume the truth. English women, not so much and I would hate for any of your siblings, male or female alike to be deceived by ignorance.” You reasoned.

“Precisely.” Amara nodded.

“Come, you can help me pack for an escape now if you wish and pick out your presents yourself.” You offered her before the two of you went back into the house.

Meanwhile Benny was halfway through giving Sierge a blowjob, timing her strokes with every piece of dirt he offered on his brother.

“And..and uh, he...he’s used The Red Velvet Rope, it’s a moura whorehouse, at least twice now, he ahhh.” Sierge hissed lowly as he gritted his teeth in pleasure and gripped the armrests of the garden chair tucked neatly away inside the tall hedged with a vice like grip as the sweat of his brow beaded on his forehead with the strain not to make any other noises because every moan and keen he let loose, she stopped and pulled off and every time he stopped speaking she did the same and it was the most gloriously frustrating thing he’d ever endured, to be tortured by pleasure like this and his own pleasure chased away any guilt he had about telling Demsey’s secrets.

“He has gone there twice since he met Audra on the train a few weeks ago, he went there in search of a double for her, because he has been attracted to her since he laid eyes on her.” Sierge managed as Bennie masterfully stroked and fondled his testicles through his ballsack while her nose was buried into the thick forest of hair at the base of his dick as her breath in that area practically alighted with delight since even there, he was sweating.

“And. oh, oh ah, and, um, he found her, someone who looks remarkably like her there, according to him, even her voice was similar enough to induce a fantasy that he was fucking the real Audra and she even has the same nickname as Audra, only her name is Audra Draft,” Sierge panted as his butt cheeks were clenched so tight as he felt like she was sucking his soul out through his dick.

“And have you met her?” Bennie quickly asked before she got back to task.

“No, I’ve, oh, ah, I’ve, gods, I’ve tried, but she’s probably booked solid, the only one close there is an Audrey Rogers who works there, but she’s brunette and married to a minotaur that works there, he goes by “Draft” though. But he’s either not related or not affiliated with Audra Draft. Unless the Draft is an assumed name. Which is possible.” Sierge managed before Bennie decided that he had given her enough, for now before she doubled her efforts and in two minutes flat, he was emptying his extra large load down her throat as his eyes were screwed shut so he didn’t see how Bennie was rolling her eyes and almost glaring resentfully at his manhood for just the practically incessant pumping, it was practically a torrent of cum. He was such a sweaty, hairy thing and just like any other man she had ever manipulated in her life. Claiming to be a “gentleman” but when push came shove or kiss to suck rather, just like all the others, willing to sell out his own family for his own pleasure. No more honor than the average man and nothing remarkable at all in her opinion. And he was barely able to hold out for several minutes and that was her going torturously slow for the sake of pumping information, if she had gotten right to it and kept at it, he wouldn’t last two minutes. He wouldn’t really know how to please a woman at all, all he had ever wanted was his own needs and desires sated, no matter the expense. Typical. But at least she was getting somewhere with him. Calla was moving at a snail's pace and practically twitterpated with Tzane, it was like she was a lovesick school girl still, which didn’t make sense because they were the same age, had the same training, either that or Calla was playing ‘perfectly innocent’ to get his guard down. But still, not the real moura agent she was supposed to be, and not the real moura agent Bennie was.

“Is there any chance that the woman he met there was the real Sultana Audravienne?” Bennie asked once she popped off and appraised her work. Sierge was a sweaty, indisposed mess and she gauged that it would take him no less than half an hour to come back into himself. She practically sucked the soul from him. One of her easiest blows yet before she got up and straightened up.

“Not a chance in hell. No lady worth any kind of nobility would be caught dead in a whorehouse. Plus she’s been in mourning for count Edward Morrigan, the Morrigans would bury her alive if she ever did anything to tarnish the “Morrigan family honor”. And the way Demsey and Amara carry on, they practically tried already.” Sierge said as he managed to get set straight but his whole body felt spent and tired while his head was in those blessed clouds, he was in pure ecstasy, that was the greatest blow of his life.

Bennie giggled.

“Why is that so funny?”

“Audravienne? The Saharan Viper’s greatest protege to date, who if she had stayed in the stables would have been named The Golden Saharan Viper and been the top competitor in the world of Kamoba which is if ballet met the bloodiest, fiercest war ever who is as lethal as she is beautiful, the top bride in all of the Dorierran stables, the top fighter and performer in the stables, who’s more physically fit than any racehorse, who had perfect marks in almost every single category they test for including agentry which means if she wanted to be a damn spy, she could be, who is the gold standard still in the stables, being a victim of anyone? No. Audravienne is the most lethal, devastating and the epitome of the perfect moura bride. She is no victim to anyone, not unless she got way too soft way too fast. She had the potential to bring down empires. And you’re telling me, an aged couple from England? With no royal ties, got the better hand of her? No. Impossible. You know why? Because Audravienne, physically, has rarely ever seen defeat physically and if they tried to abuse her physically she could kill everyone in the house, maids and all and make it look like the plague, if they tried to poison her even, she is immune to every disease and every poison in the world, she’s a master at poisons even. You could line all of the poisons up in the world in shot glasses and she’d shoot them all like whiskey and she’d be able to tell you which was which and tell you exactly how you managed to get all of them and while she’d be drunk off her ass by the end of it she would do it perfectly without a single mistake. Audravienne’s other grandmother, The Jade Empress, who held the last Sultanate state in her iron grip, practically wrote the book on how to manipulate everyone around you to do your bidding with pleasure and do it with the thinking that it was their own idea to begin with and Audravienne excelled at it. She is no one’s victim. Now, would I put it past her to play the victim to your brother if he’s the savior type, is he?” Bennie asked as she sat down on the bench next to him.

“He is. Painfully so.” Sierge realized.

“Then there you go. She’s been working him for weeks, playing the damsel in distress type and getting thirty thousand pounds a year to do it, she’s already confided in me that she has blackmail on the Morrigans and that’s why they’re paying her double what Edward awarded her in his will, she may have even played a helpless damsel to them and let her believe that they can hurt her. But if I’m sure about anything, is that Demsey may only see what Audra lets him see. But now that you know the truth, watch them, if his attachment to her is dangerous in your opinion, you can make him see the facts and the light now won’t you? When we get a proper Kamoba battle, everyone will see Audra’s true colors everyone always does with Komoba. And if your brother Demsey is the proper English gentleman type, he should be put off because no gentleman wants to marry an agent and no orc wants to marry a warrior greater than himself in a world where such things are shunned and frowned upon. And as far as I can tell, then it’ll be done, Demsey will lose interest, Audra will come to her senses, go to Ramsey and you and I can continue naturally then won’t we?” Bennie offered. “As, natural as can be.” Sierge grinned triumphantly.

“Well if you think of anything else “useful” it will be rewarded even more so than this.” Bennie winked as Sierge looked like he was about to explode from delight and lust.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure to be seen somewhere else, wouldn’t want to infringe upon your honor or mine.” Bennie cooed before she got up and strutted away.

“And?” Yalin and Gregori asked as Bennie turned the corner.

“Well Demsey is rather boring, but he still has the fatal flaw every man seems to have, and once Audra becomes aware of it, she’ll come to and see sense. Nothing to worry about and nothing too complicated. No damage to be undone there. Just a passing fancy and Sierge will now be a barrier on Demsey’s end.” Bennie reported.

“Excellent.” Gregori praised.

“You have something.” Yalin gestured to her chin before Bennie wiped at her chin to see a drop of cum had escaped the corner of her mouth, she had thought she had gotten it before but this one was missed.

“Thank you, good night, I have a thread I need to tie.” Bennie excused herself from their presence.

“It’s a shame she’s an orc. If she was anything else, Ramsey should be going after her, she is of the right mind.” Gregori offered to Yalin.

“It’s because she’s an orc that she’s gotten that far with the Voyambis. Besides, let Ramsey have his fun for now with Axal, once we have that Komoba battle, Ramsey will see the light and come to his senses too. Demsey will be disenfranchised, Audra’s little play of damsel in distress will be over and things will go as they need to.” Yalin allowed as they watched Bennie’s frame shrink and vanish into the gardens.

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.7k

Warnings: swearing, angst, drunk, motion of death

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 2 Part 4

Part 3

In less than ten minutes, we had pulled up to Liam's house. Liam paid for the taxi too. I kind of argued this time, but he pointed out he asked me to his house. I didn't get too stubborn about it.

Liam was living in a four-story terrace house, recently renovated by the looks of it. It was painted white with black wrought iron lacework, and it was beautiful. The front door and windows were painted black. It appeared to be the twin of the house that shared its wall.

We entered through the dining room, and I realised it was actually the two houses renovated together. The inside was modern with original heritage touches. The floors were light timber, and the walls were white. The ceilings had plaster and cornice so beautifully ornate that restoration must have taken ages. The room had an imposing black marble fireplace and a deep brown, almost black wooden dining table set on a grey shag rug in the room's centre. A huge abstract painting of bright pinks, greens and grey hung on the wall.

"Wow, this must have cost a mint!" I quickly covered my mouth. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me."

"It's ok. I was pleasantly surprised by the house too. The studio got the house for me I...." Liam was interrupted by a massive dog bounding into the room.

Liam got down and roughhoused with the dog for a bit. Wow, he was a monster! I'd seen a picture of Cole before that "Will" had sent me, but I wasn't quite prepared for how big he was. He was almost completely black with some brown above his eyes and ears. His paws were brown too, and his belly was grey. He wasn't any particular breed, apparently a rescue dog. I thought of my bull terrier cross cattle dog at home. This dog would eat him for breakfast, and Perrin wasn't small.

Cole's pink tongue lolled, and he panted as Liam moved from side to side. Cole imitated Liam's actions jumping about. He barked a couple of times as he got excited by the play. The noise reverberated through the quiet house.

"Shhh, Cole, people are sleeping." Liam softly admonished. Then his voice became stern. "Sit," he ordered before patting him. Liam looked at me and said, "Lana, this is Cole. Cole, Lana."

"Hi, Cole. You're much bigger in person." I could hear the slight tremor in my voice. Liam must have sensed I was nervous and came over to stand near me. Cole padded over and sniffed at me. Gingerly, I put my hand by my side and let him approach me. Cole nuzzled my hand, and I gave him a pat on the side of his neck. I let out a sigh of relief.

"I was worried he wouldn't like me. I love dogs but always get nervous around new ones." Liam put his head to the side, asking a silent question. "I had a dingo go me one time, and I've never really gotten over it." I squatted down and gave Cole more pats. "I think this guy is ok, though."

"Yeah, he's a good boy. How is Perrin, by the way?"

"He's ok." I sighed, "he's just old. The poor little guy can't get onto my bed anymore and sleeps in my lounge room now. I kinda miss it, but I have slept a bit better."

Liam gave Cole some more pats and told him to go sit. "Come on. I'll make you a tea or coffee if you'd like." I agreed a coffee would be perfect right now. I needed something to sober me up.

I sat at the kitchen bench while Liam made coffees. Cole sat by my stool, and I patted his head while watching Liam. Liam had kicked off his shoes and was walking around in his bare feet. It was amazing to see him so much more relaxed here than while we were out. He really did appear to enjoy being at home.

As Liam made our coffee, he moved with a grace that surprised me. His movements seemed economical and rigid but hinted at the power beneath them. He seemed coiled and ready to explode at any moment. It was like he was dancing the pasodoble, his body moving to an invisible beat. Images of Strictly Ballroom came into my mind, and I found myself humming Love is in the Air. I was drunker than I thought.

When Liam was done, he led me over to his large L shaped lounge, and I sat. Liam flopped down next to me, casually laying back and popped his feet up on the coffee table. Cole sat on a mat that was clearly his.

I sipped my coffee, not knowing what else to do. Suddenly the quiet between Liam and I felt awkward.

Liam and I spoke at the same time, "What.." "So..."

We both laughed. Liam indicated I should proceed. "Well, I was going to ask what brought you out to Sydney, for real, not the Will answer."

"A new project. I'm going to be filming a television show." Liam proceeded to tell me about his project, working with some people from Netflix on a fantasy/sci-fi series adaptation. He was so animated when telling me that it was obvious that he loved his job.

It would be his first television series and was to be more romance heavy than anything he had done in years. Liam explained that he is filming here because the story was written and developed in Australia. "If it works out, I'll probably be based out of Australia for the next few years. I'll go home to England for a few months during breaks, maybe do some small film roles. It's hard with Cole, though, because every trip into Australia means 10 days quarantine for him."

"Oh yeah, and you don't want a Pistol and Boo situation." Liam looked confused, and I explained about Amber Heard and Johnny Depp smuggling their dogs into Australia.

"I thought you said you don't follow celebrity gossip."

"I don't, but that was big news, hilarious really. It was on every bit of media in Australia, and then they had to make this cringe video apology. I almost felt bad for them." Then I yawned, suddenly all the alcohol had lost its buzz, and I was just tired. "The coffee doesn't seem to be doing its job. What time is it?"

Liam looked at his watch, "11.30."

"Yeah, it's late. I should get home. I don't want to turn into a pumpkin." I cringed. Fuck.

"You don't have to go. You could stay here." I raised my eyebrows. "I do have more than one bed if that's what you want." Liam leaned over to me and placed a hand on my cheek, rubbing his thumb against my skin.

I looked at my nearly empty coffee mug. I swirled the dregs around the bottom as if it were tea leaves, and they would tell me what to do. "I don't want to go home yet, but I don't want to go too fast, either."

"That's ok."

I didn't move. I wanted to stay. Ten years ago, I would have stayed, but Andy's face flashed into my thoughts. I knew it was ridiculous. Andy had been gone for over three years now. But every time I even contemplated being with someone, I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Liam was waiting for an answer, but I didn't know what to tell him. 'It's not you, it's me' is such a tired cliche, but sometimes it's true.

"Lana, it's ok. If you want to go home, that's absolutely fine. I'll even call you an Uber."

I felt my eyes sting, and I looked away from Liam. My bloody traitorous tear ducts giving me away. I shouldn't have drunk so much. Alcohol always makes me emotional.

"Fuck." I swore under my breath. I angrily wiped at my eyes, thankful I had used waterproof mascara. My eyeliner was a different story, though, and black streaked my fingers. I asked Liam where his bathroom was, and I got up, only half listening to his directions. I found it quickly. It was only through the doorway into a little enclave with a powder room, stairs and a lift. What kind of bloody house has a lift?

I closed the door and sat on the toilet seat. I knew enough not to try to stop the tears, so I just let them go. Bloody hell, Andy. Why did he fucking have to leave me? Why the fuck did you have to fucking die. Goddammit. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I do this to Andy? I wanted to scream, to punch something, to throw something. I needed another cigarette. Fuck you, Andy. Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck Liam.

As I always did when I thought of Andy, I remembered the last time I saw him. His sweet face looked down at me as he kissed me goodbye. His deep brown hair fell like a curtain around us, hiding our kiss from the world. Cheekily I had slipped my tongue into his mouth, and he had groaned as he pulled away. He told me to save it for when he got back and would be as quick as he could be. I had thanked him for filling in for me. He winked and said to thank him later. Then he left.

When I was able to, I started to take deep breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I could feel the tightness in my chest slowly ease. Breathing became more comfortable, and the tears stopped. I looked at my hands, and I was able to release the fists I was making. My nails hadn't broken the skin this time, but small red crescents remained etched into my palms.

I waited a few minutes longer to make sure the moment had passed. It wasn't Andy's fault he died, and I knew that. It's also not my fault that I wanted someone to love again. Sleeping with someone other than Andy felt like crossing the Rubicon, no going back.

The fact was there is no going back, no Andy to go back to, even if I wanted. In my head, it still felt like a betrayal. But it wasn't. And Liam wasn't just anybody. He was a guy I had spent weeks talking to, getting to know, and although he looks different, he is still acting as I had expected. I saw a potential future here. Did I really want to let my past ruin it?

I cleared my throat and stood up, preparing myself to see the horror that looked back at me. Ugh, it wasn't great. My eyeliner had given me panda eyes, and the tears had created streaks down my cheeks.

Getting a tissue and blew my nose, and decided there was nothing else for it, I washed my makeup off my face. I avoided washing my eye makeup off though, that was a mess I just didn't have the products for, so I just wiped under my eyes and cleaned it up. I binned my tissues, washed my hands, took a few more deep breaths and prepared myself to face Liam.

I opened the door and walked straight into something solid that made me bounce back into the bathroom like a tennis ball. Hands caught me before I hit the floor, and I found myself in Liam's arms.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" He asked.

"No," I was flustered again. I spent all that time calming down to just be in a state two seconds later. "I just didn't expect you to be outside the door. Jesus, you're like a brick shit house."

Liam didn't laugh. "I was worried about you."

"I'm fine," I lied.

Liam didn't look convinced. He let me go and ran a hand through his hair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not right now."

Liam nodded. "I'll get you that Uber." He pulled his phone out.

That's it then. All in all, it wasn't the worst date I'd been on since Andy died. Actually, it was probably the best. Liam, at least, was a guy I was attracted to and didn't appear to be a man child. He seemed to like me, even when I cried over another man. Although I doubt Liam knew that's why I was crying. I had told him I was married before and he had died, but that was only once and a long time ago, and we hadn't discussed it again.

The tears had done their job, and a calmness came over me now. I had said goodbye to Andy, and I was ready to take that last step to move on. That was why I started to date again; to open my heart, I was ready.

I put my hand on Liam's wrist, "if you still want me to, I'd like to stay."

"Are you sure? I probably shouldn't have asked in the first place. I let my other head think for me." Though I laughed at his candid admission, Liam's face was serious. "I'm not joking. I want you, and I didn't think about how you must be feeling. The whole fake profile thing must still be weighing on your mind. And all of the other problems that go along with being with me. You should have more time to think about it."

And my dead husband, let's not forget that. I didn't say that out loud, thank God. "I will have time to think about it. But right now, I want..." Shit. I've gone shy again. Just fucking tell him you want him too! "I mean, can't we just have a bit of a cuddle and a snog?"

Liam's lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile, "a cuddle and a snog?"

I nodded.

Smiling, Liam put his phone back in his pocket. "I think I can arrange that."

Without further warning, Liam grabbed my wrists in one hand and pinned them to the wall above my head. His other hand snaked around my waist, holding me to him, his hips rolling into mine. His eyes were fierce and focused on mine. I  closed my eyes, the sensations too much, and my breath quickened.

I heard Liam say through gritted teeth, "It's taken everything I had not to do this to you since I saw you at the bar. I wanted to take you then and there." His voice seemed to ease, the words coming easier for him. "You don't know how much I've wanted to touch you. To know you are real." Then he whispered, "and you are. Real. You're as beautiful tonight as you were in your pictures."

I opened my eyes and found Liam staring at me, and his intensity was nearly frightening. He pulled me tighter against himself, his fingertips digging into me while he crushed me against his body. I felt his hardness against my hip, and I couldn't stop myself from rubbing against it. This time Liam closed his eyes, and I felt the rush of blood to my centre.

Liam opened his eyes, desire naked on his face, "Kiss me," he said.

I met his soft and warm lips. I felt Liam's groan rumble in his vast chest, and kissing him again, my lips scraped against his whiskers. Liam kissed me back now. His tongue pushed past my lips, and found mine. His tongue playfully danced in my mouth. Liam's hand left my arse and started to feel my hips, my waist and then my breasts. He cupped them and gently squeezed. My breath caught as his hand skimmed past my nipple. His palm created friction against the lace of my bra, and tingles radiated through my body.

His lips left mine and went to my neck. He kissed and sucked at me, moving down to the top of my breasts. I heard him take a deep breath into my chest as his cheeks rubbed against my skin. His kisses became harder against my chest and moved back up to my neck, his teeth nipping at me as he went. Even though he had me captured, I wriggled against him, my hips moved uncontrollably, my breath uneven and weak.

Liam pulled away, still firmly gripping one of my hands. "Come with me." Liam led me to the lift.

"Where are we going?"

"To my bedroom." I pulled against him, forcing him to stop. "Sweetheart, I promise I won't fuck you until you ask."

My legs turned to jelly. I wanted to fall to my knees and beg despite my reservations. I nodded and followed Liam into the lift.

Part 4

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Coming back' : new chapter of "Redemption of a Spirit in a Cold War" out !

Chapter Summary :

After evading the CIA team charged to bring her to Adler, Bell decided to take some times to think before going back to fullfill her most important goal......

Words : +3900

To read it on AO3, click here !

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

Well, I'm back on the loose again. I've just spent more than 3 days having every of my moves, speech and choices controlled by multiple CIA teams tasked to lead me to West-Berlin and I was once again free from them. At first, I thought that they will bring me to safety in one of their hideout in the city but I didn't have in mind that it was going to be the same place I was 3 years ago.....well, I should have think of that at the moment when I was given from Belikov to the CIA and when I put my feets inside that plane before I left Moscow.

Since I've killed 2 Perseus agents back in Moscow, it served as a good reason for Belikov that I needed to be extracted very fast but I think that it indeed attract attention from Adler himself since he was the one who wanted me to be brought to him by his team with what I heard from the CIA team I have just disposed of. Hopefully for me and bad for him, he was unaware that he was me, 'Bell' that succeeded to take care of 3 high-trained CIA agents inside one of their cars and get away from the scene before problems happen to me.

Before I left the scene, I decided that it was better to take some of their money with me because the rest of my money I had left from the Soviet Union wasn't going to help me a lot around and also disposing of their guns inside a manhole cover. Once it was done, I left quickly the alley with only one goal : go back at the E9 Safehouse and find Park. But, I couldn't go right now to that place. After what happened, Adler and the others in West-Berlin is going to be alerted that one of their teams got a little problem on their way meaning that I had to lay low for the day.

I needed to go at the safehouse in the start of the evening, awaiting for the right moment and Adler's suspicions to get low too. I knew exactly where the safehouse was located and how I could infiltrate myself inside but first, let's discover what changed in the world in 3 years. Even out of the Soviet Union, I couldn't have any chances to see what was happening in the world in terms of everything so when I was able to buy some meds with the stolen to heal that cut I had on my cheek and some painkillers for my arm still hurting like a rock, I decided to go buy a newspaper and something to eat too.

Once I had bought that newspaper and eat something, I preferred to continue to walk around the city until I could find a perfect place to read it as I didn't want to read it while walking, fearing to enter into someone. I then realized that I was just near the Tiergarten park just at a few hundred meters from the Wall and I decided it was a perfect place to rest and profit from the calm while no one...I hope.....will not disturb in my reading....and maybe also if I either take a nap or having one of my memories back.

I found a empty bench away from the others sight deep inside the park and it was the place for me to settle in for the afternoon before I could go to the safehouse. I sit on the bench and I start to read the news : the Iran-Irak war is still going on in the Middle-East since it started in 1980, there's some disaggrement about the British budget rebate between the European Economic Community and the British Governement leaded by....oh, Margaret Thatcher is still in power....Incredible....I don't know how she is in terms of politics but it's new to see a woman in lead of the United Kingdom.

Then, I could find something talking about what the CIA was saying when I heard them : that foiled operation that happened in Afghanistan leaded by the CIA and the MI6. Apparently, it was saying that it was a complete slaughter for the troops supported by the West and there were only a few survivors that got out. All of these were Perseus work but the newspapers were talking about a Soviet attack, knowing that Perseus prefer to do his dirty work in the shadow.

After that, there were things talking about the releases of movies and some hit songs but nothing so much important that could have helped me know more about what happening in the world. I put the newspaper in my backpack, keeping it in case before I started to realize that I have now nothing to do.....apart from having a rest for the moment or trying to find something about my old life. The second option was better even if I risk to be disturbed by someone else. I installed myself well in the bench and closing my eyes trying to think.....

The first thing I could see when I opened my eyes was seeing me sitting on an bench, looking at the Moskova in Moscow and then, at some fireworks getting shot in the skies above the Kremlin. At my left side on that bench, there were Zasha with me, also looking with me at the fireworks. Our looks in our face was sort of happy but each one of us were like hiding something.

"Happy New Year 1979 !" Zasha said to me with a lazy voice

"A new year for our lifes, great." I told them with the same voice, I pulled one of my arms on the bench top at my right, getting comfortable on it. "Like every year since 4 years, gonna be the same thing we're gonna do each year : decrypting, encrypting, do some missions for Perseus and repeat again." I added, rolling my eyes

"Even you is kinda tired of doing the same thing each day." Zasha looked at me with an raised eyebrow

"Yeah, I would have like something else in my life." I responded to them "I just wanted to be an normal person living an normal life with someone at my side everyday."

"But something is avoiding you to do it." They told me, guessing my next words as I nodded.

"Perseus." I said with an cracked voice.

"I know, it must be hard for you to saw that you didn't have a choice to follow him." They looked at me with an grin on their face before looking away "I need to tell you something about our work."

"Go on, tell me." I said with an smile.

"I....I never wanted to work with Perseus." At hearing this, I looked at them but not in anger, more curious. "I took the job because I had no choice."

"For your brother, Dedov ?" I asked them. They nodded.

"I lost my parents when I was 11 and then 17, leaving me to take care of Dedov on my own. I took the job because I knew that it could help me and Dedov to stabilize our situation." They replied, their voice filled by emotions by saying that.

"I know about Dedov, how did he see the situation ?" I asked a second question. Their grin disappeared to have a sad look.

"Even if the job help me, when I came back each day from work, he can see that work is difficult for me but I'm doing this for him." They responded "If one day, I can help him achieve his dream."

"Which is ?"

"He want to go either to Harvard in the US or to Oxford in England, away from the Soviet Union and Perseus." They said, giving to me a small grin again. But then, I was the one to become sad.

"You know....." I started to said "I never believed in Perseus ideas." At hearing this, Zasha looked at me surprised.

"Really ?" They asked, stunned.

"He maybe raised me as his daughter along with Freya but I was never really behind him, approving each of his decisions." I first respond before taking a breath "Some part of me want to flee too but by staying here, I can help my friends in needs and protect the innocents from his brutality."

"I always thought that you were loyal...." They started to said before I cut them silently,

"Loyal to my goals, not to his ones." I admitted, looking at Zasha "After what happened to me in my early days, I'm doing everything in my power to save the innocents. I'm not an brutal killer, I kill only those who harm my friends." I put my hand on their shoulder "My friends.....is for me, my real family I never had."

"Me ? You saw me like family ?" They said, amazed and I nodded

"Freya, you and my few friends....is my family, Perseus was never a father to me." I then removed my right hand from the bench to put it on my legs.

"Can I say that....I see you like a sister now ?" They asked with a laugh, I nodded.

"You can !" I replied, laughing before with my right hand, I put it inside my pocket to grab something : a envelope. "Something for you." I handed it over to Zasha.

"What's this ?" They took it in their hands before looking at me, discovering the weight of the envelope. "Don't tell me that...." They opened the envelope, discovering moneys in it.

"It's something for you, Zed." I smiled at them "To help you and your brother !" I was surprised when they put their arms around me for a hug but I reciprocated the gesture.

"Thanks you, Yirina !" They said, moved by my actions, tears started to fall on my face and I was happy to help them,

"I'll do everything for my friends !"

I wasn't an monster at all while I was an Perseus agent ! That memory gave me something that helped me feel better as I could feel some tears on my face. I saw my friends as the family I never had and I'm still am. The people I remember in the safehouse were like a second family for me but not everyone of course. I was so helpful to Zasha and their brother I just discovered right now. Right now, I just wanted to hope that they're safe somewhere not in Russia and maybe that Dedov did achieve his dream. However even with that, I was still in needs to find more and to redeem myself more further.

When I opened my eyes back into the real world, I realized that....oh fuck, already ? Did I dream of that memory for hours ? It was already the evening of the day but it was the perfect time for me to get on walk. Before I do that, I decided to write the past two memories in my book I did have today and once it was done, I've got everything packed up again in my backpack and I got up, ready to go to the safehouse....and find Park again if it is possible.

I walked back on my steps, taking the same path I used to get to the park and I even passed the alley where I left the CIA team in that car. I took a quick look at the scene : there were nothing else anymore : no more car and no CIA team as the day has passed very quickly for me, there were still tire brands showing where the car has gone before crashing down on the wall at the end of the alley. Well, it's better to stay on my way as I could recognize some people who was there when they saw me leave that alley earlier.

The night fell on the German city as I was getting close to the safehouse located inside the Grunwald forest at the outskirts of West-Berlin. A perfect place for the CIA to hide but not so perfect.....because I remembered exactly where it was. I walked inside the forest with some things inside my mind : I remember that there were some CIA agents walking around disguised as normal civilians to protect the place and that I needed to watch out for them because it could be anyone.

However, bad luck with them : I could easily pass their little patrols before I arrived behind the safehouse unguarded. The place didn't changed at lot in 3 years but then, I started to hear some noises inside of it, meaning that they were people inside. I needed to get an viewpoint on the inside as I remember that they were a part of the ceilling with windows. I found a pipe which I used to climb on top of the safehouse without making any noises at all....thanks because I thought that the pipe was going to crash on the ground with me on it.

I made it out alive from that pipe as I get discreetly next to the part of the rooftop where I could see in the inside...Yeap, didn't changed at all ! Same desk positions, the dashboard with more things on it. I could discover the CIA team I disposed off wearing bandages and dressings. There were here entirely but in bad shape and then.....I could see him....Russell Adler standing in front of the dashboard, smoking....I was feeling my rage getting up inside my body as his sight. I wanted to act but I need self-control.

"So...." Adler started, looking angry "Three high-trained CIA agents are neutralized by an unknown russian woman in their car and she succeeded to got away !" He wasn't happy at all. "Can you explain to me again how did this happens ?" He looked at Walter

"Like we said to you, sir." Walter firstly said "I saw her unbuckling her seatbelt and then, she nudged me, getting me unconscious before attacking Terry."

"She tried to strangle me as I tried to shoot her." Terry continued after hearing his name "But my gun fired during our struggle and it hit Sawyer in the hand, causing him to crash the car and allowing that girl to get away."

"Do you realize that she stole your guns and your money ?" Adler asked in desesperation "That's the biggest humiliation you can have !" He added, blowing smoke out of his mouth, spreading his arms to the ground "Did you know who was that girl ?"

"Well, we didn't see her face since she was using bandages to cover it." Sawyer said, holding his wounded hand "We tried to saw it while she was asleep but she was very cautious towards us."

"Yeah, the other team tried too but they didn't succeed either to do it." Terry exclaimed as Adler decided to move to get closer to him "Hey, it's not our fault if...." Then, Terry was directly slapped by Adler himself, surprising the others....and me, looking at the scene silently.

"It's your fault that we have now another problem to deal with." Adler poked at Terry, looking at him furiously "Now, we have maybe an Perseus agent in the wild in West-Berlin as we're trying to recover from our operation in Afghanistan." He got back, still looking at his team "You had just one fucking job to do !"

Shit....it was almost the trigger phrase that could have make me passing out in that rooftop but it was close. When I heard this, I cover my ears as I was starting to feel like something ringing in my ears....like a bell. I could feel my face going white from that and I realized that I was able to control myself to not pass out but not my envy to get it done with Adler. I took the M1911 I have hidden under my jacket and somehow, I was going to prepare myself to aim at him, ready to finish him until......

"You pulled quite an stunt today !" An feminine voice could be heard inside the safehouse and I realized that.....Park, it was her. Seeing after all these times.....shit, it was so strange. She had longer hair than before : a ponytail. "Every MI6 agents in the city is talking about what happened !"

"Oh shit, not her !" Terry whispered and I heard him well as Park arrived to get next to Adler.

"I thought it was just routine for you." She said, looking at the team with crossed arms and a smirk on her face

"Miss, we couldn't expect that from her." Sawyer tried to explain with an sorry look "She was very evasive in her answers and we tried to know more about her, we just thought that she didn't wanted to talk because of the shock she got."

"He's right, we only wanted......"

"Wait a minute !" Terry cut Walter straight before leaning from the table he was on "I remember something well from that russian." He pointed at Park "She had an picture of you !" He exclaimed, causing her to step back. Damnit, he remembered my picture !

"Me ?" She said, shocked

"Yes, I'm not fucking blind." Terry replied "She had a perfect picture of you with your stupid smile on it !" He added, showing to her his anger and making me angry too. He moved to face her and Park was clenching her fists.

"Better for you to use another tone with me....dick !" She told him, biting her bottom lip

"Or what ?" He spreaded his arms "You're gonna do what you did to Hank ?" He smirked at her.....Please, Park, do something !......until in only one second, he make the biggest mistake of his life by spreading his legs too...allowing Park to kick him violently in the nuts with her knee....fuck yeah !

"How did you like that, you miserable twat ?" She replied in anger as Terry fall on the ground, holding his private parts with difficulty as his friends arrived to help him

"Ok, that's enough." Adler walked to get between Park and the team, he was rather angry with the team than with Park "You three are coming with me."

"But....."

"There is not but ! " Adler cut Sawyer straight "Help this fool to get up, we're going back to Langley." The two complied and helped Terry get up before walking outside the safehouse, leaving Park and Adler alone. "Can you just control yourself, for sake ?" He asked her

"I'm not someone to have problems with." She responded, still angry

"I know that since years." He added before looking at outside "I will get these fools back to Langley and I will return with Sims, Woods and maybe Mason if it's possible."

"Leaving me in charge of the place ?" Park said and he nodded

"We're back tomorrow night and we will focus on that woman who escaped them." He blew the  smoke of his cigarette away from her "She might be useful for us if we can capture her."

"Then, we have no choice." Park put her hands on her waist before the two walked next to the garage door, Adler stepping outside as she stayed inside. "Have a good flight to the US."

"Goodbye, Park." He told her before walking away from the safehouse, laziness in his voice. Park walked next to the door control panel where she closed the door.

"Bloody hell !" She exclaimed as the door was fully closed before she started to walk back to the same office she had.

At this moment, I withdrawed from the windows to look at the sky. I wasn't believing it at all : I saw Park after 3 longs years spent inside a hospital bed in Moscow. I saw her with my eyes again and she was still looking beautiful but looking more angrier & changed. It was so hard for me right now to see her in that state. I know that she was believing in me but my 'death' did have an effect on her. I can fix that mistake by seeing her but am I really ready for this ?

I just saw Adler in real this time and I was so troubled about what I needed to do right now. I was mixed between seeing Park and getting an revenge on Adler by shooting him. I needed to make the first choice. I didn't came back in that place because I discover that Perseus was still around, making his evil plans but I did all of this because I'm so in love with Park that I needed to see her again, that was the first thing I said when I left that hospital : I will do everything for her.

I let some 5 longs minutes before I decided to get down on the ground level, determined to do what I needed to do. I used the same pipe to get down before I walked to the unguarded back door of the safehouse. When I put my hand on the door handle, I knew that I couldn't go back : I was now back inside the fight against Perseus.....and now back with Park. Without any hesitation, I opened the door silently and I walked inside the safehouse, closing the door behind me.

Park wasn't looking at all, her heads was inside her arms who was on her desk....she....she was crying but she did hear me arrive.

"You forgot something, Adler ?" She said in a broke voice and by hearing that voice, I was overtaken by the emotions and because of it, I fell on my knees in the middle of the safehouse, holding back my owns tears, awaiting for her to look at me but that moment never came, I had to do something.

"I....I'm sorry about everything." I broke the silence, saying a part of the letter she left for me back at that hotel in Moscow. "And....I hope you will be able to forgive.....because right now, you have a big place inside my heart." When I was done, tears started to fall down on my face and at this moment, I could see Park looking at me on my knees, her eyes filled with tears.

"B-Be-Bell ?" She said, looking at me, stunned and.....shocked to me, she got up from her seat, walking slowly.

"I'm sorry....about everything." I looked down, wanting to hide my tears with no effect at all "You have a big place inside my heart." I repeated again before she get on ker knee too in front of me.

"It's.....it's you !" She whispered, tears coming down at her side before putting one of her hands on my right cheek "You're here !" She grinned, filled with emotions before I do the same and put my hand on her left cheek. My arms were shaking at touching her again after 3 years.

"Park....I....." I whispered but I was so much lost in my words, starting to cry. Then, at the same time, we both started to put our arms around each other and we were both crying in each other shoulder.

After 3 years, I was now back with Park again.....back in her arms and she was back in mine. I thought that it was just a big dream but everything was so real for me. It was real, she was really there, hugging me and we were very close to each other. I was happy and so troubled after all these times. It's been 6 days since I was now back alive and what I wanted to do first was done : I was back with Park again ! We were so shocked to see each other and we were so relieved to see each other again.

"I....came....back !"

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Thirty-Five Part One

Chapter Thirty-Five Part Two: The Seige of Wessex England

Word Count 4.9k

Warnings: mentions of blood and death, angst

The Morning Of~

Ivar did not sleep well, he figures that he only got two hours of sleep. But still, his head is in the right place and he is more than prepared to give you the justice today that you so rightfully deserve. Is he concerned, yes. Is there a possibility that they could be going into a trap, yes. Is he worried for your safety, most definitely. Nonetheless, today must be done for the wellbeing of all of your futures. A future cannot be guaranteed until your father's head is on a spike. So there he is, in bed with you tangled up in his limbs. He is focusing on every perfections and imperfections of you. Oh how he loves you. 

You begin to toss and turn while he massages yours skin with his fingertips. His rough yet soft skin gives you the best chills of satisfaction. You begin to hum, making Ivar smirk proudly.

Ivar "Princess.." he whispered.

"Hmm?"

Ivar "We have to get out of bed." The way he was touching you, made you forget completely that today was the day of the siege. And your stomach began to turn into knots almost instantly at the thought of seeing your father. So you rise up from your place in Ivar's arms and plant your head in your palms. The warm fur blankets cover your bare chest but your back is fully exposed to your husband. So he takes it upon himself to rub your back for you. 

Ivar "I know babe.."

"I completely forgot. How could I forget, it's my battle?"

Ivar "Your mind blocked out the thought. It is not a bad thing, my love." You sigh, "But we have to get out of bed."

"Yeah..yes of course." You begin to move but Ivar grabs your arm closest to him and pulls you to him. He rises from his pillow and grabs your cheeks to kiss your lips for a good moment. His kiss is like heaven on earth. 

"I don't want that to be our last kis-"

Ivar "Hey, do not think such a thing. Do you understand me?" You nod with tears in your eyes, "We will live to see another day, my love. Alright? Do not worry."

You sniffle, "Do you wish to hear something crazy?"

Ivar "What type of crazy, hmm?"

"I am officially 4 months.."

Ivar smiles, "That is...wonderful my love."

"I should start to feel her move..even kick!"

Ivar "Oh my sweet, that is wonderful news."

"I can't wait to feel her little feet. She has grown so much over the last few days."

Ivar "She certainly has, our little warrior." You lean into Ivar's side as he holds you and your belly. This moment is special for multiple reasons: today marks not only your strong will to overthrow your father but it is also the day that starts the next chapter of your pregnancy, Ivar is getting to share this moment with you and you feel so lucky to be his wife. 

"I love you, Ivar Lothbrok."

Ivar "And I love you Y/L." Soon after, Ivar got out of bed and got his armor on and left yours and his chamber room.

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

The next one to come in while you are getting your armor on is Hvitserk. Ivar wanted the armor to be underneath your black dress, that way you are even more protected. When you see Hvitserk, he looks like he has been crying all night long.

Hvitserk "Hey." His voice is rough and coarse. You find yourself not being able to speak, due to your throat burning and the tears that fill up in your eyelids. He notices your sudden change in behavior and walks up to you and just holds you firmly in his arms. 

"I am so scared, Hvitserk."

Hvitserk "I know, I know."

"I can-can't lose you..I can't lose any of you!" You start hyperventilating.

Hvitserk "Hey, hey, Y/n..you have to breathe, c'mon..breathe in...and out. In...and out." You do as he tells you and your breathing begins to steady itself. "Good. Now you listen to me, I have a reason to fight. I have a reason to live. So what I need you to do, is fight with everything that you have and live..do you hear me?" You nod, "Because you are what is keeping me alive..you and our daughter. So I need you to stay strong and turn your fear into power. I know how strong you are, and I know how powerful you are. So do not let him win, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Hvitserk "I love you, do you hear me?"

"I love you Hvitserk." He leans down and kisses your lips quickly, before your maidens came back in to help you further with your armor.

"My queen, we must finish."

"Y-yes of course." You say as you wipe away your tears and pick your head back up. 

Hvitserk "I'll leave you be to get finished, and hey, you make her as safe as possible, y'here?"

"Of course. That is my duty." He nods and walks out the door. You try to pound into your head everything you can possibly think of that will power you, give you the strength you need to face your father. 

"I am going to place an extra layer of armor over your belly, my queen."

"Hmm? Oh thank you sweetheart. That is kind of you." She nods as she places an extra layer. You have to admit, it feels good to be wearing armor again. It makes you feel a sense of dignity and honor to be a warrior and a queen. 

When you walk out of your chambers, there is no one in your home. Everyone is out, preparing to leave Kattegat and head to Wessex. You are almost proud to see your people come together and fight for you and for your justice. That is, until Rollo comes into the house.

Rollo "Ah, my queen!"

"Hello Rollo."

Rollo "I must say, you look incredible but where is your armor? Are you-"

"Yes, I am fighting. Ivar insisted on the armor being inside of my clothing for more protection."

Rollo "Huh..I have never heard of such a thing."

"I think it is brilliant. Now shouldn't you be with your men, Rollo?"

Rollo "My men are all in order, my queen."

"Good, that is good isn't it?"

Rollo "Oh yes."

"And my husband is.."

Rollo "With his brother's."

"...and where are his brothers?"

Rollo "By the tents...by the ships." You nod and walk away from him. He really gets under your skin, not as much as your father used too, but deep enough to enrage you fairly quickly. "Oh and my queen!" You stop just a few inches out of the door, "May the gods be with you." You smirked and left the house. You do not know if he meant that as an insult or if he was sincere. No matter, you know that the gods are with you and your people. You can feel their strong presence. 

…

You look around and find Ubbe with Torvi at first. She is holding little Ragnar in her arms as her daughter clings to Ubbe's hip. She must be so worried for her father's return to Kattegat. 

Torvi "When are you leaving?"

Ubbe "As soon as we can. I promise to make it back to you and the children."

Torvi nods, "I love you." 

Ubbe "So much." He kissed her and watched her walk away, finding you walking towards them. Torvi stops in her tracks when she spots you. You can tell that she is holding back tears as you get closer and closer to your dearest friend.

Torvi "Oh my queen."

"You don't have to call me that-"

Torvi "Oh but I do..uhh." she sighs.

"What."

Torvi sniffled and bursted into tears, "You should not have to fight as pregnant as you are..!" You walk closer to her and cup her cheeks.

"I am not fighting at nine months, Torvi. I have to fight my own battle.."

Torvi nods, "I know. I am so very proud of you Y/n. You are a strong and courageous women and shield maiden. I am so lucky to call you my friend." You cry then and pull her into your arms for a warm embrace. Little Ragnar starts to cry, from seeing his mother so sad you can imagine. 

Torvi "Oh shh shh-"

"Go on, go inside and get your kids warm. I will see you tonight."

Torvi "I better."

"You will, I love you."

Torvi "I love you back-"

"Are you fighting!?" Her daughter screamed as she grabbed my hand. You kneel down and get down to her level so that you can look at her fully as you speak to the little girl.

"Why yes I am."

"Why!? You are queen!" She stammered.

"And that is why I am fighting. A queen has many duties, little one. And one of those duties is to fight alongside the king."

"Will you be back?" Ubbe has joined his wife's side and listens to his daughter's cries and fears.

"Of course I will. I would not want to leave Kattegat without a queen."

"You are the best one.."

"I'm sorry?"

"Best queen...ma'am." You look up at Ubbe who is fighting back tears of his own. 

"Thank you, beautiful. You make me so proud to be your queen. Now go on, go with your mother and get warm." Torvi takes her hand and leads her to the house as Ubbe pulls you in his arms. 

Ubbe grunts, "I have never felt less Viking before in my entire life.."

"Why do you say that?"

Ubbe snickers, "Because I have never cried as much as I have been since the death of my parents, princess." You listen, "I want you to know that I am so happy to be your brother...even though it is not by blood, I am still your brother and I will always protect you."

"Thank you Ubbe, that means so much to me." He nods and leads you towards Ivar and Hvitserk, who are sitting on a stump, sharpening their swords.

Ivar "There you are." 

"How is our army?"

Ivar "They are ready, my love. We were all just waiting for you."

Hvitserk "Should we all..um..take a moment before we head out?"

Ivar "What are you talking about?"

Hvitserk "I mean a moment of us all being together..we are going to be separated on the field-"

Ubbe "Yes," he clears his throat, "that sounds like a good idea brother." Ivar pulls you into his side, Hvitserk next to you and Ubbe next to Ivar, then you all stand together and have a moment of silence before the chaos. The calm before the storm, some might say.

Ivar "I uhm, I know I've never said it to you..my brother's. But I love you, believe it or not, I do. And I am sorry for not saying it enough or at all before now but just know that I do.."

Ubbe takes his shoulder and places his head upon his, "And we love you, little brother." Hvitserk kisses your hair before grabbing his sword and walking aboard one of the ships. Ubbe swiftly does the same and then Ivar looks at you for a second before connecting his lips to yours.

Ivar "I love you."

"I love you."

Ivar "Forever."

"And always. I will be flying above you.."

Ivar "Good, go on." You walk towards your three beasts and get upon Ryuu. Ivar does not command the ships to leave until he sees Ryuu begin to fly. As soon as him and his army, along with Rollo and his army, started sailing, his fury began and all he saw was red. That bastard king of England's reign will come to an end on this day, Ivar will make certain of that.

...

As you fly above your husband's ship, you see how large your army is in full perspective. You can't help but look at everyone and smile in absolute disbelief that this battle can be won. Then you look up at the sky and through the clouds and whisper to yourself, "I'm going to make you proud mother, I promise. Be with me. Be with me. Be with me." Neith looks over at you as she flies parallel to you. She talks to you with her eyes and says, 'she is mother, she is with us always.'

"Yes she is, baby. Now..let's go avenge her!" 

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

Mid-day~

When your home comes into view, your expectations were that you would tremble with fear, that you would want to call off this attack. But no, your first thought is to burn it all to the ground. Leave no one alive. See the kingdom of Wessex be nothing but a pile of ash. Maybe that is what you will do, if you feel like it is necessary.

When Ivar see's the kingdom, he asks himself, 'where are you hiding?' He searches every corner that he can get his eyes on but he sees no one. Not even a civilian, why?

Hvitserk "Where is-"

Ivar "I don't know."

Ubbe "We could be going into a trap, brothers…"

Ivar clenches his jaw, "If so, we will push right through them. If anyone dies today, it is the bastard who calls himself king." Ivar ends up commanding Rollo to go ahead of them in case it is indeed a trap, he does not want his warriors to get the blunt of the attack. You make your dragons hover above your warriors ships to wait it out. And that is something caught your eye: two large slingshots being pulled close to the gates. 

"Ivar!" He looks up at you, "Now!" He looks at you for a second longer and then looks forward and sees an army coming out of every entrance. 

Ivar "Forward!" You didn't take a moment to think before you fly towards the enemy. You didn't have to command your dragons to fire at the weaponry that your father was attempting to fire, they did it themselves.

You have taught them well. As your dragon's burn every inch of the ground, along with some warriors, you search the castle's borders in search of your best friend. That is until you hear the screams of two thousand warriors, drawing their swords for a war that they would not win. Ivar's mind is scattered. He sees his uncle's warriors getting slaughtered at the entrance, his wife in the air, and his brother's killing warriors who have reached the boat.

He makes a quick decision to get him and his men off of the ships and onto land: that way, they are stable enough to kill the way that they have been trained. You see your husband and his brother's get off the ship and onto the land. All at the same time you see your father holding onto your best friend by her throat. You witness too many things all at once, first it makes you terrified,

but then it enrages you and all you see is red and fire. You command Ryuu to fire your father's surroundings but leave him and your friend unscathed. 

"My daughter!! Welcome home!!" He hollered from the ground. 

"Let her go!"

"Why would I do such a thing? How could I be so clumsy? She betrayed me!"

"And you betrayed your daughter! All of those years of torment, when all you had to do was be a loving father..a loving king!"

"It is better to be feared than loved Y/n!"

Thyra "Long live the queen!" And before you could speak, he took out his sword and slit your best friend's throat right before your eyes. You scream out in pain as you watch her fall to the ground, choking on her own blood before she soon joins Valhalla. Eldr flies down to the ground, takes your father in his mouth and flings him over the castle. If he survives the fall and the puncture wounds from your son's teeth, then you will get the chance to make him suffer for everything he has put you through. Your friend's death sealed his fate. He will suffer an agonizing death. Ivar hears your screams, he hears your whimpers but he does not know why you are screaming. There is a hill blocking his view of what you are hovering over. His mind races and makes the decision to wall his way over to you. White Hair stays close to Ivar, killing everyone that comes in contact with Ivar. But you see, Ivar is a king and he knows how to fight. He knows how to kill in one strike, and he does just that. 

Ryuu lands and you get off of him, walking towards your friend's body. You hold her head in your lap and mourn her for what feels like hours. And repeat aloud, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I am so sorry, I'm sorry I couldn't save you!" You feel a hand over your shoulder and you quickly take out your dagger to strike the man who has a hold of you, but before you pierce his skin, you realize it is not the enemy, it is your husband. 

Ivar "My love, it's me hey..it's me!" You drop your dagger and fall into your husband's lap. He holds you for a moment before White Hair tells you that you have to move to somewhere safe. 

Ivar "In the castle, go!" Once you are inside, you fall to the floor in grief. "You couldn't save her, my love."

"I promised her, Ivar. When we were kids, I promised her that I would always protect her!" You said out of breath.

Ivar "And you did just that, Y/n. Up until now, you did protect her. It was her time to join the gods. There is nothing that could have stopped that."

"I want his head.on.a.spike." 

Ivar chuckles, "Oh his head will be displayed as a monument for the people of Wessex. I will make sure of that, now we must go out there and fight. Are you with me?"

"Always."

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

Hvitserk is in his own zone. He is killing left and right. He feels like he is unstoppable. He has never killed so many men in all of his life. And that is being said when he has been in more battles than he can count with his fingers. But he has a mission, and that mission involves you. Therefore, he takes it very personally. 

Ubbe "Where is Ivar?" He yelled when he realized that he had lost him in the midst of battle.

Hvitserk "More importantly, where is the queen?!" Ubbe looks up and finds your dragon's circling over the castle, so he puts two and two together and figures that you have to be close by. 

Ubbe "The castle, let's go!"

They kill as they walk, not stopping for anything. They have to get to you, you have to be protected. When he finds you, you are fighting multiple men at once and so is Ivar. White Hair is battling his own men and he is struggling. 

Hvitserk "Help White Hair, I'll help Y/n!" He screamed. Ubbe does just that, helping White Hair off the bloodied ground and back on his feet. While Hvitserk butchers your warriors who would just not give up. Once they are dead, Ivar looks over at his brother and thanks him with his eyes. 

"Thyra is dead." 

Hvitserk "She-"

"My father killed her." You move your head and gesture for Hvitserk to look behind you, where her body still lays. Once he saw her, he apologizes for your loss. 

"He will die today, I am not leaving Wessex until I have him in my grasp."

Ubbe "WHERE IS THE KING?!" He hollered in a grizzley voice. You try to answer but a warrior comes up and knocks you to the ground with his shield. Everyone is caught off guard and your boys immediately kill and decapitate the warrior that knocked you off your feet. You fall so hard that you bump your head, and your vision goes blurry. You look around and make out your boys killing that warrior, but what they are doing is very unclear. You look up and see your dragon's fire down at the warriors who are attempting to burn down your ships. Dirt is being flung onto your face and your eyes struggle to stay open. 

When your eyes finally reopen, you see Hvitserk carrying you into the castle. When he places you down, you see Ivar dragging your father's body into the castle. Ubbe, Rollo, White Hair and Rollo's personal guard are at the door, blocking anyone from coming in. 

"How long was I out?"

Hvitserk "Long enough for Ivar to find the bastard and get him here."

Ivar "Honey, are you alright? Does anything hurt?"

"I'm going to have a little lump from the fall but I am alright. Is the battle over?"

Ivar smiles, "They have surrendered, my queen." Your emotions overflow in your head, making you cry out tears of joy and victory. That is until you see your father, clinging to life and bleeding on the marble floors of this kingdom. You get up and walk over to the man and kneel before him. 

"Look at me, old man." He does not, "LOOK AT ME!" He jolts and looks up at his daughter. "Just answer me one thing. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you kill Thyra? Wh-why her?"

He coughs up blood as he laughs, "She made me do it."

"All she did was be my friend. And all you did was kill an innocent woman."

"I .. I am sorry, little one."

"Sorry, SORRY?" You take out your dagger and hold it to his chest. "You are not sorry. You are NEVER sorry. You are only saying what I want you to hear..so I spare your life. Isn't that right dad?"

"I have given you life. HAVE I NOT? I have given you the gift of magical creatures. HAVE I NOT?!" You take a step back from him and begin to tremble. 

"You have given me those things father, that is true. But you have taken more things than you have given." He scuffs, "Do you not remember what you did to me as a child?"

"What thing's-"

"I was just a child," you choked on your tears, "I was just a little girl and you treated me like a grown woman!" Hvitserk holds onto the small of your back in attempts to comfort you. "I almost died, Father!"

"I wouldn't have let you died, stupid girl." He coughed, "You were far more valuable to me alive then dead." Ivar takes a few steps forward and lowers his torso so that he can look the man in the eyes. 

Ivar "You watch your mouth," he growled, "before I remove your tongue." He spat. 

"How does it feel to lose your kingdom to your daughter, hmm?" You said with your head held high. 

He snickers, "Who said that I didn't let you win, little one?" 

Ivar "My love, if you do not kill him, I will. I have had enough of his mouth."

"You think I am weak? You think I cannot kill him myself?"

Ivar "No, no not at all. I admire your strength. But allowing him to talk, allows him to slither his way back into your head." You know that he is right. So you pull your three men aside while Rollo and his men watch over the king. 

"I think that we should prolong his death. He is already dying. Eldr's teeth pierced through his armor. You can hear his breathing starting to fade-"

Hvitserk "What are you saying?"

"I am saying...I want his death to be as horrific and agonizing as possible, for what he did to me and my family."

Ivar "So what would you say we do?"

"Bring him back with us, place him in the cave that your guards put me in when I first arrived. Ivar, if we starve him, remove his clothing so he feels the bitterness of winter on his skin...his death will be long and painful. He will beg for mercy." 

Ubbe "He would beg for mercy.."

Hvitserk "And the cold will prolong his death. He will freeze from the inside if we do this."

Ivar "Good. And I will spend some quality time with my father-in-law..make sure he is enjoying his stay." He smirked. You know that Ivar meant that he would torture the man, and you love the sound of that. Sickening as it sounds for a daughter to say that about her father, if anyone deserves torture, its your father. "I am proud of you, my beautiful wife." He kisses your forehead before turning to White Hair. 

Ivar "Prepare a ship! He is coming with us."

"No! No, no! Just kill me, PLEASE! Y/n, please!" He pleaded.

"Oh don't worry father, you will. Just not how you would like. Or should I say, how you would demand to die." You lean down to your father once more, "You are going to love Kattegat father, especially where you will be staying. It is just like the dungeon you and king Harald placed me in to wither away and die. Take him!" He begged and pleaded, he even apologized multiple times before White Hair placed him in the boat. 

When you walk out of the doors, your best friend's body is still on the ground by the front entrance. 

"I will bring her with me as well. I wish to give her the proper burial."

Hvitserk "Which ship do you wish for her to be on, princess?"

"Not a ship. Neith will bring her home. Just help me get her up there..please." He nods. Him and Ubbe swiftly got her on Neith's back and she flew off into the horizon. When you get out of the castle with Ivar by your side, you hear your name being chanted. You look up at Ivar with a confused look on your face, but all he has on his face is a pure, soft smile. 

"They are thanking you, my love. You saved them from their ruler." Before you know it, the people of Wessex are before you and kneeling in praise. Among them, you spot Thyra's mother. Shs is bowing to you herself with just gratitude that it takes you aback. You walk towards her, take her hand in yours and beg for her to rise. 

"Thank you for saving this kingdom, my sweet girl."

"I..I don't know what to say. I couldn't save your daught-" 

"You have saved her life in more ways than one, Y/n. She loved you more than you could have ever known. Do not blame yourself for this tragedy. Because she was ready to move on to the next life." You burst into tears and she pulled you into a warm embrace as she cried with you. When she pulls back, she cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead. 

"Thank you for saving this kingdom."

"I um..my dragon is taking her back to Kattegat, that is my husband and I's kingdom..I wish to give her a proper burial. You are more than welcome to join us, I know that she would want for you to be there." She nods and smiles.

"I would like that very much. Thank you. Thank you so much." You nod and turn around and find your husband standing close by, talking to the people. You introduce her to Ivar and explain to him that she will be joining them for the ceremony. 

Ivar "You are more than welcome into our home miss-"

"Helga."

Ivar "Helga. Such a beautiful name."

Helga "Thank you kindly."

Ivar "This is my brother Ubbe, he will show you to our ships. We will join you shortly." 

Ubbe "This way." She nods and takes Ubbe's arm. When she walked off with him, Ivar took your hand and rubbed it softly. Your bodies are splattered with blood but neither of you care.

"I can't believe she thanked me even though she lost her daughter today.."

Ivar "She knows that even though she lost her daughter, she gained a safe kingdom today."

"But who is to rule? My mother did not bare a son and I rule with you.."

Ivar "We will figure it out, my sweet. But right now, let's go home." You agreed and got into the ship with Ivar and Hvitserk while you let your two dragon's fly above. Today was a success. The kingdom of Wessex is technically under your rule. But you still have unfinished business to take care of. And that is your father. But sure enough, he will pay for what he has done and then you will finally be able to rest. 

Ivar "Come here, my love. Rest now. You have done your duty as queen and shield maiden. Close your eyes," you rest your head on his shoulder, "I've got you. We will wake you when we are home. I love you."

"Love you." You mumbled. You did not realize how exhausted you were until your adrenaline died down and you were in Ivar's arms. Hvitserk sits down in front of you two and breathed out in relief that the battle was won and that they were all together and heading back to Kattegat. 

@hvitserkmarcosource @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @a-mess-of-fandoms @heavenly1927 @saldelys @conaionaru @readsalot73 @herestherealproblem

[saiilorstars]

Next Stop, Everywhere

Chapter 13:  The Shakespeare Code

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Female OC x 10th Doctor

(Minerva’s face claim: Victoria Camacho)

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Chapter summary: The Doctor and Minerva and take Martha to meet the one and only Shakespeare...and a couple of witches too.

// Story Masterlist //

"But how do you travel in time? What makes it go!?" Martha was questioning as the TARDIS shook in its violent ways as was the usual.

The Doctor, trying to 'pilot', actually jumped on the console. "Oh, let's take the fun and mystery out of everything. Martha, you don't wanna know. It just does now hold on tight!"

"Hey, she's asking some very good questions that - AH!" The TARDIS had shaken far too violently that it threw all of us down.

Once the TARDIS came to a stop, the only sound in the room was our collective jagged breathing.

"Blimey!" Martha sat upright with a laugh. She looked terrified yet fascinated - the perfect combination for someone aboard the TARDIS. "Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"

"Yes, and I failed it," the Doctor casually answered as he got up. He strode for the doors, licking up his trench coat on the way.

"Shocker!" I called to him while I helped Martha stand up. "How hard is it to drive a box?"

"Oi, it's a lot harder than you think," he threw me a sharp look as he fixed his coat.

"Aha...''

"Now make the most of it, Martha. You get one trip and one trip only," he explained once Martha and I joined him at the doors.

"I don't think she needs a reminder," I said serious, really not liking the way he said that. I knew he didn't want a replacement for Rose but did he really have to remind Martha about this one-trip deal? Martha wasn't at fault for the unfortunate ending of Rose.

"Where are we?" Martha asked as soon as we stepped out.

We were in an Elizabethan street in the dark night. People were off and about in their errands in the old street, not even realizing we'd literally came out of a box.

"Oh you're kidding me!" Martha gasped, "You're so kidding me!"

"We're really not," I chuckled at her. Her eyes looked ready to pop from her eyes. I wondered of this is what I (and Rose) looked like to the Doctor when we took our first trip.

"We actually time traveled! Where are we? No, sorry-" Martha shook her head, unaware that she was rambling too fast to properly understand her questions. "I gotta get used to this whole new language! When are we?"

"Hey, she sounds just like you now," I nudged the Doctor.

"Ha, ha," he rolled his eyes. He suddenly pulled Martha back as man above dumped out something from a bucket.

"Mind the loo!" the man yelled.

I stared in disgust, "Apparently we're somewhere before the invention of a toilet."

"I've seen worse. I've worked the late night shift at AE," Martha shrugged, not at all perturbed.

We smiled and continued to walk. However, she lingered behind a bit.

"But are we safe?" she made us turn around, "Can we move around and stuff?"

"Of course we can. Why do you ask?" the Doctor seemed somewhat confused as he looked back to the woman.

"It's like in the films. You step on a butterfly; you change the future of the human race," Martha looked around, genuinely worried.

I chuckled, "Then don't step on butterflies!"

"What have butterflies ever done to you?" the Doctor said and continued walking.

"What if, I don't know, what if I kill my grandfather?"

"You planning to?"

"No!"

"Well, then," the Doctor smiled, amused.

"This is London," Martha finally walked.

"This seems about late 1500s, right?" I asked, glancing about.

"1599 to be exact," the Doctor corrected.

"Not that far off," I said proudly, "I'm getting better at it."

"Oh, but hold on," Martha began once more, "Am I alright? I'm not gonna get carted off as a slave, am I?"

I turned around, frowning at such an idea, "Martha!"

"What?" she chuckled lightly, "Who do you think they're gonna take? The brunette with jade eyes and pop perfect peach-colored skin..." she signed, holding up her hand, "Or me?"

"They'd have to take us both of us," I moved beside her, "Because I wouldn't let anyone take my friend. And in any case, he's not even human," I gestured to the Doctor.

"Elizabethan England is not so different from your time," he explained, "Look, they even got recycling."

"So you two just...time travel?" she asked, glancing between us.

"Yup," the Martian and I answered.

"...together?"

"Okay, see, that right there," I pointed as I left her and moved up to the Doctor. We both shared an agreeing nod then turned to Martha. "Why does everyone ask that in that tone?"

"Mhm," the Doctor hummed in agreement.

"I don't get it."

"Do you think it has something to do with us?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, "How we interact? Or...I don't know," I scratched my head.

Martha raised a hand, as if to be picked on for the correct answer, "I don't know, it's just a bit...odd, that's all."

The Doctor and I shared a glance, before I spoke to Martha, "What is? The time travel, or the man and woman's friendship? If I were you, I'd go with the time travel."

"Humans," the Doctor shook his head, earning a whack from me.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Martha gestured with her hands, "I should be focusing on the whole time travel business. But cut me some slack," she walked up to us, "A couple of hours ago I thought you," she pointed to me, "were a school volunteer and you," she pointed to the Doctor, "were just a patient."

"Well I was, but then he," I gestured to the alien, "stuck his nose into my school work and found the hospital which apparently had plasma coils."

"Excuse me, I did not stick my nose into your work," the Doctor said defensively.

"Yeah, then what we're you doing reading my English journal?"

"...I got curious," he mumbled.

"And then I'm the one that causes trouble!"

"Leonardo Da Vinci," he spat, having the audacity to even be irritated.

" Oh, we're on that page, are we Martian?"

"What happened with Leonardo Da Vinci!? What? What?" Martha, excitedly, asked.

"Martha, there's one thing you have to know if you're going to travel with the Doctor. It's okay for all the women to fall for him but god forbid that one man falls for you."

"That's not true!" the Doctor was quick to yell.

"The painter had a crush on me," I explained, ignoring the Martian for the moment, "He wanted to paint me but the idiot over here ruined it and now the painter hates us...well, him more than me. There was a lot of running around that city."

"He was twice your age!"

"Says the man that's 903 years old!"

"You're 903 years old?" Martha blinked, staring at him in awe.

He looked between us, lost for words for either cause until, "Yes, but...Minerva!"

"Those women were what, 25? Maybe 30?" I raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk on my face as I knew I had won.

"So I get protective of my friends, is that a crime?"

"Well he's got you there," Martha nodded.

"Yes, okay," I agreed, "But, there is a difference between protective and overprotective. And you," I pointed to the Doctor, "have surpassed that difference."

He opened his mouth to retaliate when Martha's hand covered his, which I took as an advantage and opened my mouth to continue...when her other hand covered mine, "Are we just going to argue all night?" she asked, looking between us, "Because I'd really like to see something in this trip."

The Doctor pushed her hand down and nodded, "Yeah, of course we are," he turned and walked ahead.

"Sorry," I linked arms with her and followed the Doctor, "We tend to do that a lot, lately."

"No worries, you should see my brother and sister when they get started," she shook her head.

"If I'm right, we're just down the river by Southwark right next to..." the Doctor pulled us towards the corner of the street and turned us to find a...building? "Oh, yes, the Globe Theatre!" He exclaimed, "Brand new. Just opened. Though, strictly speaking, it's not a globe ; it's tetradecagon-14 sides-containing the man himself."

My mouth fell slightly open, "Do you mean Shakespeare is in there?"

"Oh yes!"

"Oh my god..." Martha looked as if she had just won the lottery, "He's really in there!"

"Would you ladies accompany me to the theatre?" he held out his arms for us.

Martha and I linked arms with him, "We'd love to!" I answered.

"Martha, you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare when you get home," he said as we walked for the theater.

"Then I could get sectioned!" she exclaimed then laughed.

~0~

I don't think I've ever been so excited for a play. But it was just so amazing...and written by Shakespeare! I loved his plays! And it was mighty surprising that the Doctor managed to get through the entire play quietly. Usually he'd make remarks about whatever play we were seeing - I still hadn't forgiven him for ruining Othello - but this time, his lips were sealed.

"That's amazing! Just amazing," Martha praised when the play had finished and the actors were taking their bows. "It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah?"

"London never changes," the Doctor replied.

"Forget that, I wanna see Shakespeare!" I exclaimed, frantically searching for the man.

"Me too!" cried Martha, "Author! Author!" she chanted with her fist in the air, "Do people shout that? Do they shout 'Author'?"

A man beside us picked up her chant and soon, the whole audience picked it up.

"I guess they do now," I laughed, joining in on the chant as well.

And finally, the man of the hour emerged on stage, taking his bows and blowing kisses.

"It's Shakespeare!" I exclaimed, beaming, "It's really him!"

"Now there's a genius! The genius!" the Doctor said, "The most human Human that's ever been. Now we're gonna hear him speak. He always choose a the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words.

"Shut your big fat mouths!" Shakespeare yelled, sending the audience into laughter.

"Oh, well..." the Doctor frowned, disappointed.

I smiled, "Well they do say never meet your heroes."

"And yet, you're here," he reminded.

"I said I love the man's work, I never said he was my hero," I countered.

"You have excellent taste!" Shakespeare continued, "I'll give you that. I know what you're all saying. 'Loves Labor's Lost', that's a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops! Will the boys get the girls? Well don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon. All in good time. You don't rush a genius," he took another bow and suddenly stood right back up, almost like a jerked up, "When? Tomorrow night. Come tomorrow night for my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it 'Loves Labor's Won'!"

As we exited the theater, I felt somewhat confused with Shakespeare's words. As far as I could remember, nobody in the present knew about the play he announced for tomorrow. "Uh, Doctor, I don't know if I'm right or not but...I don't really recall that new play 'Loves Labor's Won'. And I've read most of his plays..."

"It's the lost play. It doesn't exist," the Doctor replied, "It's in rumors. It's mentioned in list of his plays but never ever turns up. No one knows why."

"We could tape it," Martha suddenly said, "Sell it when we get home and make a mint."

The Doctor flatly looked at her, "No."

"That would be bad?" she asked, slowly getting it.

"Yeah."

"Um, so how come this play disappeared?" I asked, bringing their attention back.

"Well..." the Doctor looked between Martha and I, "I was just gonna give Martha a quick little trip in the TARDIS but I suppose we could stay a little longer."

I smiled at Martha, "Meaning we get to meet Shakespeare upfront."

~0~

"Hello!" the Doctor led us into the room that held the one and only, Shakespeare, "We're not interrupting, are we?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no. Who let you in? No autographs," Shakespeare was too engrossed in his writing to look up yet. "No, you can't have yourself sketched with me. And please don't ask where I get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove-" He finally raised his head to give us the time of day. "Hey, nonny nonny. Sit right down here next to me," he gestured to Martha, his eyes gleaming at her, "And you two," he looked to the two men beside him, "Get sewing on them costumes. Off you go."

"Come on, lads. I think our William's found his new muse," a woman with a tray led the others out.

"Sweet lady," Shakespeare motioned for Martha to sit down. Martha smiled sheepishly and sat across his desk.

"I love your work," I walked up to his desk and plopped down beside Martha, "It's brilliant!"

He smiled, "And another sweet."

I smiled brighter, "Oh...thank you...you're very kind."

"Such unusual clothes," he observed both of us, "So...fitted."

Martha and I looked each other, examining our outfits. They were pretty normal for our time but perhaps not for the current era.

I wore a black, long-sleeved shirt tucked under a yellow and black plaid skirt with tights underneath and black flats. Martha, on the other hand, wore her party outfit that consisted of jeans, her brilliant red jacket, and a blouse underneath, with boots. Wise girl...

The Doctor moved up and held out his psychic paper to Shakespeare, "I'm sir Doctor of TARDIS and these are my companions, Minerva Souza and Martha Jones."

Shakespeare observed the paper for a moment then looked up, "Interesting, that bit of paper. It's blank."

"Oh, that's...very impressive," the Doctor blinked, looking to the paper, "That proves it. Absolute genius."

Martha took the psychic paper from the Doctor and studied it. She frowned at it seconds. "No. It says so right there. Sir Doctor, Minerva Souza, Martha Jones. It says so."

"And I say it's blank," Shakespeare smiled at her.

The Doctor took back the psychic paper, "Psychic paper. Um, long story," he frowned, glancing at me, "Oh I hate starting from scratch."

"I think it's nice," I countered, smiling at Martha, "It's refreshing to have another friend with us."

"Psychic," Shakespeare tested the word, "Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you? More's the point, who is your delicious blackamoor lady?"

Martha's eyes widened, "What did you say?"

"Oops...isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A queen of Afric?"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Martha looked away.

"Maybe you should stop," I chuckled, "We're not from around here."

"They're from a far off land," the Doctor explained, "Freedonia."

"Excuse me!" a man barged into the room, "This is abominable behavior. A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script. As master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed."

"Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it 'round, Lynley," Shakespeare waved him off.

Lynley looked indignant, "I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script, now!"

"I can't."

"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled."

"It's all go, 'round here, isn't it?" I remarked.

"I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, Love Labor's Won' will never be played," and with that, Lynley walked off.

"Mystery solved I guess," Martha resolved.

"I find that hard to believe," I muttered, walking for the doors.

"What?" the Doctor followed me.

I peered out into the corridor, "You're telling me 'Love's Labor's Won' is lost because of an angry boss? Please..." I scoffed.

"And why couldn't it be?"

"Have things ever gone so easy for us?" I whispered, making sure Martha or Shakespeare wouldn't hear.

He thought, already knowing the answer, "Well..."

Before he fully answered, there was a scream coming from the outside.

"There you go!" I exclaimed before running towards the scream.

We ran out into the street and saw Lynley on the ground, spitting out water.

"It's that Lynley bloke!" Martha exclaimed.

"What's wrong with him?" I frowned.

"Leave it to men, I'm a doctor," the Doctor ran for Lynley.

"Yeah, well I'm a doctor too!" Martha rushed after him, "Near enough."

With nothing to do to help, I watched over the two "doctors" that were examining Lynley. The Doctor stood around him and looked about in the street, like he was searching for something.

"Gotta get the heart going. Mr. Lynley, can you hear me?" Martha asked, "You're gonna be alright," she prepared to start mouth-to-mouth but water started pouring out from Lynley 's mouth.

"What is that?" My eyes widened in alarm.

The Doctor knelt beside Martha, "I've never seen a death like it. His lungs are full of water, he drowned and then...I don't know...like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow."

"Miss?" I called to the women of the inn. "What was your name?"

"Dolly Bailey, ma'am."

"Dolly, this man died of natural cause to the heart," I said the first words to come to mind, "Can we have some sort of officer or authority take him away?"

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded.

"I'll do it ma'am!" a young brunette girl offered and ran to do the task.

"Why did you tell them that?" Martha demanded from me, slightly irritated.

"No, she did the right thing," the Doctor nodded, "This lot still have got one foot in the Dark Ages. If we tell them the truth, they'll panic and think it was witchcraft."

"Okay, what was it then?"

"Witchcraft."

~0~

"I've got a room, Sir Doctor," Dolly Bailey smiled, "I'm afraid there's only one, however. Is that alright?"

"Just fine," the Doctor assured.

She nodded and left, leaving the Doctor, Martha, Shakespeare and myself to walk walked down the inn's corridors.

"Poor Lynley. So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?" Shakespeare looked at Martha, still bewildered.

"Where a woman can do what she likes," Martha nodded proudly, making me chuckle.

"So then, what are you?" the man moved onto me.

"Oh, I'm...more of free traveling girl," I said slowly, hoping that made sense.

"Ah..." he still eyed me, like he was just noticing something, "And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so old?"

"I do a lot of reading," the Doctor shrugged.

"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do. But you," he directed himself to Martha again, "You look at him like you're surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me. And then Miss Souza, you look at her and notice such grief in her eyes."

"That's um...that's not true," I forced a dim smile.

"I don't mistake that grief because it's the same one I share, though I assume you're not a mother..."

"God no!" I shook my head, disliking the course in which this conversation was heading for.

"Martha, why don't you take Minerva and see that room, yeah?" the Doctor suggested, already moving me ahead.

"Sure," Martha nodded and we left for that room, "That Shakespeare, huh?" she shook her head with a smile of disapproval.

"Not liking the admirer?" I joked, hoping to forget the man's words fast.

"He's...different," she laughed softly, "Really twice my age now, huh?" she chuckled.

I opened the door to our room, "You're lucky the Doctor's not on your case about it. Still, not every woman can say, 'Shakespeare likes me!'"

"Hm, not very five star," she looked around.

It was a fairly small room with one bed that seemed rather old and two night stands on either side of it. There was a wooden table in the front of the only window with legs that were ready to snap at any moment. The dresser set on the opposite side seemed alright, but I wouldn't trust that my clothes wouldn't have wooden bits if I hung them there.

I headed for the bed, jumping for it and landing on my back, "I've seen worse!"

"You have?"

I nodded as I scooted up to one of the pillows and laid my head down. "I've been on the road and sometimes...there's no motels."

"Really?" she walked up to the foot of the bed.

"Sometimes, I'd settle for the great outdoors."

"Weren't you scared?"

"You wouldn't believe how beautiful the night is when you spend it outside. My favorite place so far is this desert I spent a night in. It was...different," I smiled. I wouldn't tell her that it had been the same night I witnessed a a strange man coming out of the box of wonders after seemingly crasremembering the strange man I had seen with a box of wonders like the Doctor's.

Then again, now that I was well informed, I knew that it was the same TARDIS and it was the same man, just one regeneration later. I gotta say, now that I knew it had been a future Doctor I'd seen, I wished I could've gotten closer to see how he looked. I was only granted a small glimpse of him; he wore bow ties and had nice hair. I wish I could see him again.

But the thing that made me the happiest about that day was the fact that he had called my name out. He wanted to get back to me and that meant we still traveled together. After two regenerations we still traveled together. And on the slight chance we didn't, he was still going back for me...

"You spent a night in the desert?" Martha's eyes widened, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Who did?" the Doctor walked in.

"Minerva!"

"Really?"

"Mhm," I nodded, propping my elbows on the bed and sitting up, "Something else you don't know, it was that same desert where I saw you."

"Um...I don't suppose any of you have a toothbrush?" Martha looked between us, the thought just striking her.

"Oh, wait," the Doctor patted his pockets and pulled out a brush, "Contains Venusian spearmint."

"Oh, thanks," she took it from him, "So, who's going where? There's only one bed."

I turned to the side, snuggling into the pillow, "You two can figure it out. I'm taking this side of the bed. In any case, we could just throw the Doctor to the floor."

"Hm, or we can just throw Minerva on the floor," I heard him mutter.

"No, because then Minerva will hurt you."

"Don't worry you menace, I don't mind the floor," he assured, the sarcasm just dripping from his tongue.

"You should think I'm a menace," I warned with a smirk.

"Um, I'm gonna go and use this," Martha said, assuming she meant the brush, "And, I don't really mind where I end up," I heard her footsteps then the door shut.

A moment later, the bed shuffled. I turned to the other side and saw the Doctor laying down with his hands behind his head.

"What are you doing?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I figured if I'm not gonna sleep here, I should at least get to feel how comfortable it is."

"I was only joking, Doctor. I'll be fine anywhere," I said, moving to sit up.

"No, don't worry about it," he stopped me. I laid back on the pillow, watching him in his thoughts, "I'm sorry for what Shakespeare said to you."

" Huh? Why are you sorry? Wait, what's there to be sorry about in the first place?" I frowned, severely confused.

"And I'm sorry for being so protective of you because you're right, I am overprotective," he shifted to his side, leaving us face to face, "I shouldn't be but I am."

"You know, Shakespeare is like twice the age Martha is, why haven't you acted the same?"

"Because I don't know her and frankly, as rude as it may sound, I don't care," he admitted, and it did sound rude but I awaited for him to explain himself before I snapped at him, "Minerva, I feel like you've been hurt enough and I took it upon myself to make sure that nothing and no one hurts you again."

That damn Martian always manages to escape that scold, doesn't he? I had to smile at him. "That's very sweet of you but I'm okay now. I've got a really good friend with me that makes me happy. Plus, I'm pretty sure Da Vinci wouldn't have hurt me. He just wanted to paint me."

He leaned closer and whispered, "Twice your age and never gonna happen."

"903 and alien," I reminded, "What would those women say, hm?"

"Nothing because they'd be too focused on my looks!"

I laughed, "And the ego rises to incredible levels! Focus on the problem at hand instead!"

"Yeah alright," he said and I assumed the only reason he moved on was to avoid bickering with me. Smart move. "Well, for starters, there is such a thing as psychic energy but a human couldn't channel it like that. Not without a generator the size of a Taunton and I think we've have spotted that."

"Maybe it's not human then," I offered the only logical reason.

"We're missing something, Minerva. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it."

"I...I don't know," I mumbled, feeling slightly lost in his eyes after he'd shifted closer. I never realized how deeply brown his eyes were. He always moved too fast for me to notice anything about his physical features on a deeper level. "Perhaps-"

"Rose would know," he said, oblivious to what I was thinking. Of course he'd be. "She'd say exactly the right thing."

Even though I tried hiding it, I had to frown, "Was she the only one who would said 'exactly the right thing'?"

"She'd definitely have the right words to calm to my ego," he chuckled, "She'd know what to do next."

"Only one, huh," I turned away from him, very irritated. Nice to know my input mattered to him, "Goodnight."

It doesn't even matter if Rose is stuck in another dimension. All my clever ideas, my words and ways would never suffice in comparison to Rose's. I would still and probably always be second best for him.

~0~

It was the middle of the night when we heard a shout from outside. I jumped out of bed and the Doctor already half way to the door. Martha and I quickly ran after him and entered Shakespeare's room to see Dolly Bailey on the floor, unconscious. Martha ran to the window while the Doctor ran to the woman.

"Her heart gave out. She died of fright," he looked up.

"She's dead?" I blinked, glancing to Shakespeare who was just waking up on his desk.

"Minerva? Doctor?" Martha called from the window.

"What is it?" I walked towards her.

"What did you see?" the Doctor asked.

"A witch."

"Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey," Shakespeare sighed, making us turn to him, "She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place. We all ran like rats. But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit."

"Rage, rage, against the dying of the light," the Doctor walked back to the desk.

"I might use that."

"You can't. It's someone else's.."

"You know," I began thinking, looking straight to Shakespeare, "Lynley and Dolly both died the same day and they were both connected to you. That's a bit strange."

"Are you accusing me?" He quickly jumped on it with alarm.

"No," I shook my head, "It's just strange."

"Yeah, and I saw a witch out there," Martha pointed, "And you've written about witches."

"I have? When was that?" Shakespeare asked, confused.

"Not, not quite yet," the Doctor whispered to Martha,

"Peter Streete spoke of witches," Shakespeare announced.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe."

"The Architect. Hold on," the Doctor smiled, "The architect! The Globe! Come on!"

~0~

"What exactly are we doing?" Martha inquired once we were near the stage.

I took a seat on the edge of the stage, letting my legs dangle below, "Not exactly sure, but I'm guessing we're about to find out.

"Why are we here?" Shakespeare asked, "I do not understand."

The Doctor had brought us to the Globe Theater with no explanation whatsoever. We watched from the stage as he looked round and round. It was his thought process only it was on speed. He was striding from one place to another, mumbling things under his breath.

"Is he ever going to talk to us?" Martha asked me after a few minutes passed by.

"It's just his way," I whispered. We watched for a bit more until he finally started asking questions out loud.

"The columns there, right?" he began, "14 sides. I've always wondered but I never asked...tell me, Will, why 14 sides?"

"It was the shape Peter Street thought best, that's all. Said it carried the sound well," Shakespeare responded.

"Why does that ring a bell? 14..."

"There are 14 lines a sonnet," Martha offered.

"So there is. Good point. Words and shapes following the same design. 14 lines, 14 sides, 14 facets...oh my head. Tetradecagon...think, think, think! Words, letter, numbers, lines!"

"This is just a theater!" Shakespeare exclaimed.

"Now hold on," I raised a finger, "A theater could hold much power if the right words are said. Capture the moment and capture the audience," the Doctor pointed to me, agreeing. I smiled, proudly.

"It's like your police box!" Martha exclaimed, "Small wooden box with all that power inside."

"Did I mention I like both of you?" he stopped pacing, "Tell you what, though. Peter Street would know. Can I talk to him?"

"You won't get an answer," Shakespeare shook his head, "A month after finish this place...he lost his mind."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled."

"Well, where is he now?" the Doctor asked.

"Bedlam."

"What's Bedlam?" Martha questioned.

"Hospital. It's the madhouse."

"Well I'll tell you one thing," I hopped off the stage, "Suddenly he's not looking so mad now, is he?"

"We need to go there. Let's go," the Doctor walked for the exit.

"Wait! I'm coming with you. I want to witness this at first hand!" Shakespeare cried, rushing to follow us. When he caught up, he wasted no time in flirting around with Martha.

"Do you really think Peter will talk to us?" I asked the Doctor, giving Martha and Shakespeare an occasional look back. Martha seemed very much entertained, although not very approving.

"It's like you said," the Doctor replied, "He might not be that mad."

"I was only suggesting..."

"But you're usually right."

"I am, aren't I?" I smiled.

"Whoah, Nelly!" we heard Martha, "I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country!"

"But Martha, this is Town," Shakespeare reasoned.

"Okay, come on, we can all have a good flirt later," the Doctor looked back.

"Is that a promise, Doctor?" Shakespeare smirked.

"Oh, 57 academics just punched the air," the Doctor frowned as I laughed softly, "Now move!"

~0~

This building was horrible. We passed what seemed like an endless amount of cells with patients who were nowhere near any humane care. All the screams and cries from the 'patients' were so heartbreaking. At least to me anyways because others...well...

"Does my lord, Doctor, wish some entertainment while he waits?" the jailer guiding us asked, "I'd whip these madmen. They'll put on a good show for ya!"

"No, I don't!" the Doctor snapped.

"Wait here, my lords, while I make him decent for the ladies," the jailer went off.

"This place is disgusting," I spat, "And I'm not talking smell-wise. How could people actually whip these, 'patients'-" I put my fingers in quotation marks, "-to entertain the public?" I shot look at Shakespeare, "You put your friend in here?"

"Oh, and it's all so different in Freedonia?" he raised an eye brow.

"But you're clever!" Martha exclaimed, "Do you honestly think this place is any good?"

"I've been mad. I've lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose."

"Mad in what way?" I asked, fairly intrigued.

"You lost your son," the Doctor said softly.

"My only boy," Shakespeare looked down, "The Black Death took him. I wasn't even there."

"We didn't know," Martha shook her head, "Sorry."

"It made me question everything. The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be...oh, that's quite good."

"You should write it down," I pointed, smiling.

"Hm," he considered it, "A bit pretentious?"

"This way, my lord!" the jailer called us.

We walked up to the cell and waited for it to be unlocked, "They can be dangerous, my lord. Don't know their own strength." the jailer opened it up.

"I think it helps if you don't whip them!" the Doctor said, fairly annoyed, "Now get out!"

"That's Peter?" I pointed to the man sitting against the wall, his legs in front of his chest and head covered with his arms.

"He's the same as he was. You'll get nothing out of him," Shakespeare said, staying back.

"Peter?" the Doctor slowly approached him, even placing his hand over Peter's shoulder, "Peter?" Peter looked up, completely silent. The Doctor placed his fingertips on the sides of Peter's temples, "Peter, I'm the Doctor. Go into the past, one year ago. Let your mind go back, back to when everything was fine and shining. Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A winter's tale. Let go. Listen. That's it, just let go," Peter lied down on his cot, "Tell me the story, Peter. Tell me about the witches."

"Witches spoke to Peter. In the night, they whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. Their design! The 14 walls; always 14. When the work was done..." Peter laughed, "They sapped poor Peter's wits."

"Where did Peter see the witches? Where in the city?" the Doctor crouched beside him, "Peter, tell me. You've got to tell me where were they?"

"All Hallows Street."

"Too many words," an old lady suddenly appeared beside the Doctor. Quickly, he moved back to where we were.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded.

"Just one touch of the heart," she ignored me, laying her hand on Peter's chest.

"No!" the Doctor yelled.

But Peter shrieked and died in less than a second.

"Witch! I'm seeing a witch!" Shakespeare cried.

"Oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals," the woman turned around.

"Let us out! Let us out!" Martha turned to the door, struggling to open it.

"I don't think that's gonna work," I said, looking back, "We're in a madhouse. Everyone wants to get out."

"Who will die first, hm?" the woman pointed at us.

"Well, if you're looking for volunteers," the Doctor walked towards her without a moment's thought.

"Doctor don't! Don't you dare!" I yelled at him but he kept going. Of course he would!

"No mortal has power over me," the woman laughed, wickedly.

"Oh but there's a power in words. If I can find the right one...if I can just know you..." the Doctor stopped a few inches away from the old woman.

"None on Earth has knowledge of us," the woman assured.

"Then it's a good thing I'm here! Now think, think, think...Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy...ah, 14! That's it! 14! The 14 stars of the Rexel planetary configuration! Creature, I name you Carrionite!"

And just like that, she disappeared, crying out.

"What did you do?" I asked, confused just like everyone else was.

"I named her. The power of a name. That's old magic," he turned around with his usual grin on his face.

"But there's no such thing as magic," Martha stated.

"Well it's just a different sort of science. You lot, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead."

"Use words for what?" Shakespeare asked.

"The end of the world."

"We should go," Martha said, "I don't think I want to spend another minute here."

When the jailer hurried on back and let us out, we walked with a hasty speed.

"I never wanna come back here," I muttered, almost shuddering.

"Hopefully, we won't," the Doctor said. I smacked him without even looking at him and took pleasure when he cried in pain. "What was that for!?" he frowned.

"For scaring me out of my wits!"

"Wha - I wasn't gonna actually die..."

"But I didn't know that! Next time, a little warning would be nice."

"Alright, sorry. "

"So what about these Carrionites?" Martha questioned, moving beside us, "What are they?"

"The Carrionites disappeared way back at the dawn of the universe," the Doctor explained, "Nobody was sure if they were real or legend."

"Well, I'm going for real," Shakespeare nodded.

"But what do they want now?" I asked.

"A new empire on Earth. A world of bones and blood and witchcraft."

"But how?" Martha asked, not sure if to herself or for us.

"I'm looking at the man with the words," the Doctor looked straight at Shakespeare.

"But I've done nothing!" he cried, indignantly.

"What were you doing last night when the Carrionite was in the room?" I asked, suddenly thinking.

"Finishing the play."

"What happens on the last page?" the Doctor questioned.

"The boys get the girls. They have a bit of a dance. It's all as funny and thought provoking as usual, except those last few lines..." he paused, "Funny thing is, I don't actually remember writing them."

"That's it. They used you. They gave you the final words. Like a spell, like a code. 'Love's Labor Won', it's a weapon!" the Doctor exclaimed, "The right combinations of words, spoken at the right place with the shape of the Globe as an energy converter! The play's the thing! And yes, you can have that."

Shakespeare smiled, amused. "Very well."

We returned to Shakespeare's room and grabbed a map of the town. They placed it on the desk and began studying it for the street that Peter has given us.

"There it is," Martha pointed, "But...what now?"

"We're gonna track them down," the Doctor said, glancing to Shakespeare, "Will, you get to the Globe. Whatever you do, stop that play!"

"I'll do it!" he shook the Doctor's hand, "All these years I've been the cleverest man around. Next to you, I know nothing."

"Now don't complain," I smiled.

"I'm not. It's marvelous. Good luck, Doctor!"

"Good luck, Shakespeare," the Doctor replied, motioning for Martha and I to head for the door, "Once more unto the breach!"

"I like that. Wait a minute...that's one of mine!" Shakespeare exclaimed.

I chuckled, "I think you just made his day."

"Oh, c'mon!" the Doctor rushed out.

~0~

As we approached All Hallows Street, we looked around at the houses but found ourselves lost for which one it could be.

"This might take a little longer," I frowned, peering into a corner.

"Sorry, but there's something I think I'm missing here," Martha stopped walking, "Last time I remember, the world didn't end in 1599. I'm still here. And so is Minerva."

"Oh, how to explain the mechanics of the infinite temporal flux?" the Doctor threw his head back, thinking for a moment, "Oh! I know! 'Back to the Future'! It's just like that!"

"The film?"

"No, the novelization. Yes, the film!" he snapped, "Marty McFly goes back and changes history."

"And he starts fading away..." Martha whispered, 'Oh my God, are we gonna fade?"

"You two and the entire future of the human race. It ends right now in 1599 if we don't stop it."

"Oh great, and I had so many plans," I frowned.

"We need to find that house," the Doctor looked around, "But which one?"

Suddenly, a door to a house ahead of us opened up.

"I...think we found it..." I pointed a shaky finger at the house. Witches. These were actual witches we were going to go face off...

We headed for the house and as soon as we entered we found a familiar brunette woman standing across from us. It was the same young woman that had been there when Shakespeare's boss had died.

"I take it we're expected," the Doctor looked at the woman."

"Oh, I think Death has been waiting for you a very long time," she smiled, almost taunting him.

"Right then, it's my turn," Martha stepped forth, "I know how to do this. I name thee, Carrionite!" she pointed to the girl but she remained standing, "What did I do wrong? Was it the finger?"

"The power of a name works only once. Observe," the girl pointed at Martha, "I gaze upon this bag of bones and now I name thee Martha Jones."

Martha fell to the ground in that instant. I almost lost it and rushed to her side. "Martha!" I glared up at the girl who couldn't be more smug. "What did you do?"

"Only sleeping, alas. Curious, the name has less impact. She's somehow out of her time. And as for you," She now pointed at me, "For the one that called herself Joy-"

"We have done enough of this," the Doctor cut her off, "What are you doing here?"

The girl, scowling at being cut off, turned to him with a pointing finger, "Well, I guess you'll be next. Now you, Sir Doctor." She paused, seeming confused, "Oh...fascinating. With you, there is no name. Why would a man hide his title in such despair? Oh, but look. There's still one word with the power that aches."

"The naming won't work on me."

"But your heart grows cold. The north wind blows and carries down the distant..." she leaned closer, a smirk playing on her lips, "Rose."

That set him off. He angrily marched up to her, "Oh, big mistake 'cause that name keeps me fighting! The Carrionites vanished!"

"The Eternals found the right word to banish us into deep darkness."

"And how did you escape?"

"New words. New and glittering from a mind like no other."

"Shakespeare," I whispered in realization.

"His son perished. The grief of a genius."

"Of course, when someone you love dies, your words become powerful," I mumbled.

"Spoken by one that knows the pain," she remarked, making me quiet down immediately.

"Shut up," I muttered, keeping Martha's head off the ground.

"Behold, the one who could not forgive and lost a certain...Liv."

My eyes shot up, and I assumed the anger I felt flourish through my body was the same one that the Doctor felt when the stupid witch brought up Rose. "Shut up!" I jumped up to my feet. ""You better shut your mouth before I shut it for you!"

The Doctor grabbed my arm, pulling me back to his side. "What is that?"

"It's nothing," I tried charging for the girl but he had a good hold on my arm.

"Uh, yeah, definitely nothing. How many of you are there?" he demanded from the girl.

"Start with your name so that I know who I'll hurt," I spat.

She glared, "Just the three. I am Lilith. But the play shall restore the rest. Then the human race will be purged as pestilence. And from this world we will lead the universe back to the old ways of blood and magic."

"Hmm...busy schedule...but first you gotta get past me," the Doctor met her face to face.

"Oh, that should be a pleasure considering my enemy has such a handsome shape," she smirked, running her fingers along his face.

I glared, and when I caught myself I shook my head of it. What was that!?

"Now, that's one form of magic that's definitely not gonna work on me," he said, serious, and to his credit he only seemed irritated she was touching him.

"Oh, we'll see," she pulled a lock of his hair and backed away to the window.

"What did you do!?" he quickly flung his hands to his head.

"Souvenir!"

"Well, give it back!" He rushed after her but she flew out through the window, levitating herself outside.

"Now that's just cheating," he stopped at the windowsill.

I knelt down to Martha, seeing she was waking up again, "Martha? Are you alright now?" I sat her up, "Martha?" I looked back to the pair across from us.

All I saw was the Doctor letting out a shrill cry before falling to the floor. Quickly, I moved to his side, Martha right behind me.

"Oh my god!" I exclaimed, laying him on his back with the help of Martha, "Martha?"

"I've got it!" she listened to his heartbeat, "Hold on, mister." She sat him up, "Two hearts?"

"You're making a habit of this," he moved to stand. When he did, he nearly fell again if Martha and I hadn't caught him, "I've only got one heart working! How do you people cope?" he looked between us.

"'Cause we're not aliens!" I exclaimed, "We're just that good!"

He rolled his eyes, "I've got to get the other one started. Hit me! Hit me on the chest!" Martha did as told, "Ah! Other side!" This time, I hit him, "On the back! On the back!" Martha went again. "Left a bit!" she moved to the left, "Ah, lovely," we let him go and he stood perfectly, "There we go! Ba-da-boom! Well, what are you standing there for?" he looked between us, "Come on! The Globe!"

And we ran again. We were running down the street when he made a turn that we had not made before. I stopped running, out of breath, "We're going the wrong way!" I yelled.

"No, we're not!" he continued. I rolled my eyes and waited just a moment. He ran back and passed me, "We're going the wrong way!"

"You don't say?" I sarcastically gasped and rushed after him.

We stopped in front of the theater which held a red glow shinning up to the sky, Inside, the audience was screaming and scrambling to get out.

"What now?" Martha exclaimed.

"Back door!" the Doctor ordered, and we rushed again.

We ran in through the backstage and found Shakespeare rubbing his head.

"Stop the play! I think that was it," the Doctor rushed up to him, "Yeah, I said, 'Stop the play'!"

"I hit my head!"

"Yeah, don't rub it, you'll go bald," the Doctor muttered. He turned at the sound of the screams that were growing louder, "I think that's my cue!" he ran to the stage.

"Not much of a people person right now, is he?" Martha asked, going to help Shakespeare.

I sighed, "He's a bit busy."

We both helped Shakespeare onto the stage where all the chaos was centered.

"Come on, Will! History needs you!" the Doctor grabbed him.

"But what can I do?" Shakespeare asked, helpless.

"Reverse it!"

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"The shape of the Globe gives words power, but you're the wordsmith, the one true genius. The only man clever enough to do it!"

"But what words? I have none ready!"

"You're William Shakespeare!" I reminded, "You always have the right words."

"But these Carrionite phrases, they need such precision!" he shook his head, "I'm not sure if I can do this..."

"Trust yourself," I smiled, "Your words are perfect."

"You think so?"

I nodded, "Didn't I say? I loved all your work."

He smiled, looking out to the audience and sky, "Close up this den of hateful, dire decay! Decomposition of your witches' plot! You thieve my brains, consider me your toy. My doting Doctor tells me I am not! Foul Caionite spectres, cease your show! Between the points..." he glanced at the Doctor.

"7-6-1-3-9-0!" the Doctor yelled.

"7-6-1-3-9-0!" And banished like a tinker's cuss, I saw to thee..." He looked to the Doctor for help again.

"Expelliarmus!" Martha suddenly shouted.

"Expelliarmus!" the Doctor joined.

"Expelliarmus!" I yelled afterwards.

"Expelliarmus!" Shakespeare finished it off.

"The deep darkness! They are consumed! Ahh!" Lilith screamed as she and the rest of her kind were sucked up into the cloud...but along with them went every script and copy of the play.

"The play..." I said, sadly, my curiosity of its words getting the best of me.

When the audience saw everything gone, they erupted into applauds and cheers. The Doctor took a bow, as if he were part of the play. The rest of the actors returned and also took their bows.

"They think it was all special effects," Martha looked around.

"Your effect is special indeed," Shakespeare glanced at her.

"Oh Shakespeare," I shook my head, "So many words and so not the right ones..."

~0~

"Okay, I just drank something and it tasted really good...but I don't know what it was," I plopped down in one of the theater's audience seat. Martha and Shakespeare laughed, both sitting on the edge of the stage, "I mean it. Perhaps the Doctor is right...I shouldn't drink everything offered to me."

"Good props store back there! I'm not sure about this though..." the Doctor walked onto the stage wearing a ruff collar and a skull in hand, "Reminds me of a Sycorax. Whaddya think Minerva?"

"Kind of," I shrugged.

"Sycorax. Nice word. I'll have that off you as well," Shakespeare said.

"Copyright it," I joked, earning back a smile from the Martian.

"How's your head?" He walked over to the pair.

"Still aching," Shakespeare sighed.

"Here, I got you this," the Doctor removed his collar and placed it around Shakespeare's neck, "Neck brace. Wear that for a few days till it's better."

I smiled, "Although, it does suit you. Might wanna keep it."

"What about the play?" Martha asked.

"Gone. I looked all over, every single copy of Love Labor's Won went up in the sky," the Doctor shrugged.

"My lost masterpiece," Shakespeare frowned.

"You could write it up again," Martha offered.

"Better not. There's still power in those words," the Doctor pointed, "Maybe it should best stay forgotten."

"I've got new ideas," Shakespeare announced, smiling, "Perhaps it's time I wrote about fathers and sons. In memory of my boy; my precious Hamnet."

"Hamnet?" I repeated.

"That's him."

"Hamnet?" I raised an eye brow.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," I held up my hands in defense, leaning back on my seat, "Nothing..."

"Anyways, time we were off. I've got a nice attic in the TARDIS where this lot can scream for all eternity," the Doctor held up the Carrionites' crystal, "And we've gotta take Martha back to Freedonia..."

My smile slightly faded. I didn't really like the idea of that.

"You mean travel on through time and space," Shakespeare corrected.

"You what?" the Doctor blinked, definitely not expecting that.

"You're from another world like the Carrionites and Martha and Minerva are from the future. It's not hard to work out."

The Doctor remained in place, dumbfounded, "That's...incredible. You are incredible."

"We're alike in many ways, Doctor. Martha, let me say goodbye to you in a new verse," he took Martha's hand, "A sonnet for my Dark Lady. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate-"

"Will! Will!" one of the actors ran in, "You'll never believe it! She's here! She's turned up!"

"We're talk of the town!" another actor exclaimed, 'She heart about last night! She wants us to perform it again!"

"Who?" I asked.

"Her Majesty! She's here!"

And then, Queen Elizabeth I herself walked in! My mouth nearly hit the ground from excitement.

"Oh my god!" I cried happily, almost jumping my place. The Doctor held a hand out for me to take and get on stage. "Doctor, it's her! It's a Queen! She's a Queen! She's Queen Elizabeth!"

"I know!" the Doctor exclaimed and I dared to think we were sharing the same stupid grins on our faces. I'd have to ask Martha later on. "Queen Elizabeth I!"

However, when the Queen looked at us both her entire face fell into a deep fury. "Doctor!"

She, on the other hand, did not look so pleased to see him, "Doctor!"

"What?" the Doctor asked, slightly taken back.

"Uh...she looks mad. Doctor she looks mad - why?" I grabbed his arm, shaking him a bit until he shoved my hand off.

"Minerva, quit that!"

"Minerva?" the Queen suddenly glared at me now. "You're Minerva?"

"...I'm afraid to answer..." I admitted and might have grabbed onto the Doctor's arm again, this time out of fear. She looked infuriated with us - the both of us! I've never even met the woman!

"My sworn enemies!" she raged as loud as the wind would carry her voice.

"What!?" the Doctor blinked.

"What is she-"

"Off with their heads!"

"WAIT-" I exclaimed in utter shock but Elizabeth seemed like she'd already decided this a long time ago.

"Off with their heads!"

"Uuh...should we maybe run?" Martha called from below.

"M-Martha makes a good point, Doctor..." I pulled back a step but Elizabeth seemed to have found yet another reason to be angry.

"Martha Jones!?"

Martha froze like a deer caught in headlights.

"She just started traveling with us! Doctor! What did you do!?" I turn on the Time Lord fast, having half a mind to throw him to the Queen so Martha and I could make a run for it. (We'd eventually come back for him with the TARDIS...)

"RUN!" Martha had the good sense to yell at us.

"Right, argue later! C'mon!" I grabbed the Doctor's hand and ran us down the stage, leaving Martha to follow us.

"Stop that pernicious travelers!" We heard Elizabeth yell from behind.

"What just happened!?" Martha was probably scared but she was laughing like she couldn't believe it...and truthfully neither could we.

"No idea! We've never even met her!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"She sure seems to know all of us, though! Way to go you idiot!"

"She called your name too, let's not forget! How do I know it wasn't your fault!?"

"Because it's never my fault!"

"Oh!"

"You guys are hilarious!" Martha said as we reached the TARDIS.

We anxiously waited for the Doctor to unlock it. Elizabeth's guards were incredibly fast.

"You think maybe we could just talk - AH!" I ducked down the moment I saw an incoming arrow. It hit the TARDIS instead but it wasn't the last one coming for us.

"IN!" the Doctor grabbed my arm and shoved me inside. He quickly ran inside and closed the doors, making a hasty sprint towards the console. "Off we go then!"

"What is it that we supposedly did to her!?" Martha continued to laugh as we took off.

"I suppose whatever it was he hasn't done it yet," I shook my head, catching a smell from my hair that hadn't been there five minutes ago, "Oh..." I grabbed a strand of it and sniffed it, "Okay, no more drinking things."

"Told you," the Doctor smirked.

"I asked you to come with me! I don't know my way around drinks," I reminded, "But you wanted to play dress up on the stage."

"I was not playing dress up."

"Mhm," I turned around and headed for the corridors, "Anyways, if you two don't mind, I'm going for a shower. Doctor, if you mind, I'm going to raid the wardrobe again."

"This place has a wardrobe?" Martha asked, sounding shocked, "Really?'

"Comes in handy when you don't have clothes," I shrugged, "Reminds me, I'm gonna need to go back to Earth soon. I have so many things to do. I haven't even turned in my volunteering proof! I don't want to fall behind again."

"Sure," the Doctor said, oddly quietly despite the spectacle that had just happened to us.

"See you in a bit," I waved and rushed off.

[failing-to-write-again]

Germany x Ireland!Reader: Snow Storms and Confessions

Ok so the plan was to post another scenario and write two more yesterday. But Tumblr did an oopsie and deleted everything.

Every cloud has a silver lining however, my friend sent me this gem of a find and all I could think about afterwards was this story. I was going to write them as scenarios but I found it difficult to imagine situations for the other characters.

So here's a different story. A one shot...goody.

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

*Ireland's POV*

I sat there cold and alone in the Russian airport terminal. My flight cancelled due to the violent snow storm outside and no hotel room to go to. All the other countries had already left, the usual flights to Ireland weren't available. Just one at 10pm when a blizzard was due. Russia didn't exactly give a direct response when I brought it up...

*flash back*

"Little Ireland! You are feisty small one, you're lack of fear is amusing."

"I'm not being feisty I just want to know why there's none of the usual planes to my country. I don't want to end up caught in the blizzard"

"Она умнее, чем выглядит...I don't involve myself petty plane issues. Perhaps this is fate, you believe in a lot of those magical fairy tales no?"

she's smarter then she looks

"Она также говорит по-русски. Что ты прячешь?"

she also speaks Russian. What are you hiding?

*flash forward to present*

Just before I could pry, Germany got the meeting started and I was left to get to my seat and ponder over Russia's behaviour. He's a strange study for sure.

Germany was as well. We became properly acquainted in the early 1900s only labelling ourselves as friends around the 70s when I joined the early version of the EU (then EEC). He definitely is a layered character, and even though he is sweet once I became closer with him, he seems to still be hiding aspects of his personality. But enough about that I'm cold and have to figure out where I'll sleep tonight.

"Ireland? Vhat are jou doing here?"

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive...

"Hey Germy, my flight got cancelled and it was the only one available, my hotel booking also ran out so I'm just sorta stuck here haha."

A rather enjoyable shade of red spread across his face at the mention of the nickname. I'd do anything to see those little cracks in his tightly woven character. Anything to see the little smiles or chuckles, the crush I'd developed over years of friendship pushing me to.

"V...Vell mein flight vas cancelled as vell...vould you like to share a hotel room vith me? I still have an extra day."

Panic.

"I wouldn't be against it, but you probably would like to not share a room so I understand if you don't want to and everything. Thanks for the offer though"

"Nein it's fine I don't mind ve're friends ja? It's ok!"

The air is so fucking uncomfortable. Big brother France is looking on in disappointed from Paris. I just know it. After a few more rounds of pitiful back and forth we agreed we both were ok with sharing a room and set off, chittering throughout the walk.

*[insert timeskip joke] Germany's POV*

Ireland was in the bathroom getting ready for bed as I sat mentally preparing to sleep beside her.

At some point my feelings of friendship began to be replaced with... love as Italy put it. I thought I was ill whenever my heart would flutter like a manly butterfly near her. After voicing my concerns to my brother and Italy, bruder proceeded to have a laughing fit. Italy took the time to gush about love long enough for me to come to the conclusion I was in it.

Ireland. She's not perfect by any means and we've had our fair share of arguments and disagreements. Though we always manage to work then out. Would it be the same if we were dating? I would be living in a dream if that was true...

The door opened and in she came. In the shorts she wore for sleep her false leg was on full display. I remember helping her make it, replacing the standard wooden one for a metal one with upgrades bring added whenever we visited eachother or were together in our free time from longer summits. The leg, essentially fully functional due to her use of spells and my use of metal. Light blue swirls, famous for their use in her history giving off a slight hum in the dark room, dancing up and down the metal limb. Gott she was an angel.

"That meeting left me a wreck." She stifled a yawn, lowering herself slowly to the bed beside me. The blue began to fade slowly as she stopped using magic, bleeding up her leg until disappearing once it reached the end of the metal at her upper thigh. "How does it vork?" I lowly hummed.

"The magic I use to move the leg? It's a weird mix of electricity and telekinesis. I use the electricity to stimulate the metal wires and pistons you put into it and use the telekinesis to make it move in a more natural way. I just wish it didn't glow, it makes it impossible to hide"

Hide? Why hide it? It's beautiful...is it inappropriate to say that out loud? I settle on a less invasive response.

"Why hide it? The blue looks like the tattoo you always joke about getting?"

She went quiet did I go to far? No she always said when I went too far same as I always did if our discussions on my...past got too vivid...She continued.

"When I lost my leg, I lost a part of myself. The image of the country who would fight anyone to be free, that had the confidence of countries ten times her size, it was gone. I kept up the act in letters and statements acting like the leg didn't phase me...Then I got to finally see my siblings again. None of them were allowed near me after one of my attempts for freeedom out of fear I'd help them escape or convince England to go rogue against his boss. They watched me struggle to do anything, they watched me have to ask for help to move, they watched me weak. It's been hard adjusting...then..."

She took a deep breath and looked up. Something she often did when trying not to cry. I gently lay a hand on her back and put on the calmest voice I could.

"Then vhat? Take jour time, I know it's difficult, but please tell me vhat happened?"

"I met someone. They helped me without even realising it. They slowly built up my confidence in myself, taught me how to laugh and smile like I used to. Obviously my family helped but the help from this person stuck with me more I suppose. He built me up, tried to help when he didn't have to."

He. My world slowly shattered and fell around me. So she has somebody else. Someone better. Someone who can show her all the love they probably expect being raised by someone like France and England.

"Oh...vill jou tell me more about him?"

She let a slow smile spread across her face.

"He's kind and sweet but covers it over with a stiff outer shell. He has many talents...so many talents. He's amazing really, but one thing in particular is what I think made me fall for him."

"Vhat vas it? That he did"

I was probing. I was pushing too far into her private life. If she never spoke about him in all our years of friendship, she had a reason not to. She's a damn ex-spy and rebel leader she knows how much to trust people. But...I didn't care. I wanted to know. Needed to. I had loved her for years only for her to slip away the moment I had started working to con-

"He built me a new leg. Then he called it pretty and sleek and said he liked the blue the magic made on it."

Oh...this was...not what I expected. I was the one who built the leg...she knows that...she...she...

"Ireland I..."

I slowly pulled her gently, she was straddling me so I could look into her eyes.

"Do jou really. But vhat I've done. How could jou?"

"Fall for a lovable human being? It's rather simple. I'm just hoping you'll give this amputee a chance."

She looked at me hopefully through her eye lashes. At that moment I realised why us Germans aren't seen as great romantics. We're better at doing, not speaking. So do I did.

I kissed her. Pouring every piece of emotion I felt for her, because of her into it. Desperately trying to show her how much I cared regardless of how bad I'd be at saying it. And it was bliss. My pulse was racing faster then any of my, no Germany's, F1 cars.

She was with me, not my country, not my people, ME. And I'm going to be selfish.

Her soft warm lips, pushing against my colder ones. Tasting like that brand of chocolate she loves mixed with the minty taste of toothpaste. Her arms, laying around me neck, playing with the hairs on the back of my head. My arms, pulling her closer filling every gap between us I could find. I was in heaven, kissing an angel, and I wasn't going to give it up for anything. The entire world could be damned so long as she was in my arms. Everything Italy, France, Spain, Bruder, and all the other countries preached about love suddenly clicked. I loved her. I never wanted to leave her side. I wanted to be her hero, her Ritter (knight), her lover.

And by the way she was kissing back she wanted to be mine.

*POV switch*

HOLY FUCKING SHIT HE'S KISSING ME!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT I'M KISSING HIM!

AAAHHHHHHHH!!!

I barely thought of anything else, all I could focus on was getting drunk off his kisses. He was kissing me like the world was ending and I loved it.

At some point it went from me in his lap to beneath him on the bed, staring into icy blue eyes.

"vell..." He drawled "ve have a hotel room, a snow storm. no ozher countries on zhis floor, or anyvone for that matter until tomorrow. and a very horny country. vhat do jou suppose ve do Ms.Ireland?"

I spoke before my mind could think. "Well Mr.Germany. A second, equally as horny country is beneath you so the real question is...Was wirst du dagegen tun?

What are you going to do about it?

Snap.

"Ich heiße nicht deutschland Ich heiße ludvig" he growls out. Responds very well to German if the kisses are any proof.

My name isn't Germany. My name is Ludwig

I leant up to whisper in his ear..."Es ist gut zu wissen, was ich später schreien werde. Ich bin (Y/N)."

It's good to know what I'll be screaming later. I'm (Y/N).

I hear a growl before my hands are held above my head with kisses attacking my neck...If this was Russia's plan for only having only one flight home then he's getting cookies next meeting.

*both POV*

Thank God/Gott for snow storms.

[alysmarylin]

The war is over, my love is not

The second part of a fic about Crowley and Aziraphale during World War II, the first part is here (sorry, don't know how to insert proper links):

In this fic Aziraphale and Crowley meet for the first time since 1941 among ruins of Berlin. I'm a Russian myself and I entertained a thought that Crowley made friends with Soviet soldiers.

Aziraphale could smell the scent of Death in the air. He'd been on Earth since the very beginning of time, and he'd seen just as many deaths as anyone could. But it was different there, in ruins of Berlin, where bodies piled up among rocks and metal and ragged cloth. He knew, reasonably, that if the world was about to end, he'd be notified. It wasn't a horseman on a paled mare whose name was Death, not yet - it was nothing but works of Man. And yet, if felt like the end of the world. He was an angel, but even he started to fear that God wasn't there anymore.

Aziraphale came there by the end of April, out of his own will, wishing to help as many souls reach Heaven as he could. He filled those dying of despair and dread with hope and forgiveness, he eased the pain of children he couldn't save, he gave heartbroken mothers' souls respite, he healed festered wounds of those whose flesh was torn apart and rotting.

He wished he could've ended it all, long before it came to that, but one angel couldn't stop the madness of a Mankind, and God... God was silent.

"Animals don't kill each other with clever machines, angel, only humans do that" - he heard Crowley's words inside his head. Oh, to think he believed the guilliotine was the worst they could do... Crowley always turned out to be right. Aziraphale would get angry at him, but in the end, he'd always be right. Last time he saw Crowley, in 1941, they both thought they've already seen butchery and unmatched atrocities. That was before Auschwitz. He wondered, what Crowley would've said about Auschwitz. He wondered where Crowley was.

"Maybe I should've told him".

He often wondered if it was his love for Crowley that kept him going for past 4 years. He'd seen a lot of things that made it hard to still love humanity, or trust God with his ineffable plan. But his will to see Crowley once again - to take him for a long walk or to a dinner out, or just to look at him from afar, made it all worth surviving. Even what he'd seen in Poland. One could never forget those kinds of things...

His eyes filled with tears, despite his best efforts. If only tears of angel could heal the humanity, or just one single human soul.

He walked further from the ruins towards the street, when he hears a sudden noise that broke the silence. Aziraphale stopped.

That was a tank driving down the street, men speaking and laughing in some foreign language. Russians? Might be. It was a time for their victory, after all. It was their time to celebrate and laugh, before they come back to their ravished homes to cry once again.

Suddenly, the tank stopped and one man took off and walked down the street. Other men waved him goodbye as they moved forward.

The man seemed healthy enough to walk, and as far as Aziraphale could see, there was no blood on his face or his clothes. He was dressed in grey or dusty black, and his clothes seemed ragged and dirty, but so was everything else - there was nothing but dirt and blood and ashes around them. The man was walking towards him. His face was covered in dirt as well. And then, as sun came out from the clouds and lighted the entire street, the man's hair shone with flaming red tounges of fire underneath all the filth that covered it.

"A redhead", Aziraphale thought. "It's well past time I stopped shivering at every readheaded man I see". But he couldn't help it. He couldn't take that picture out of his head. And then he heard man's voice.

- You really don't change, angel. All that wreckage around and you're all in white.

He didn't want to believe his ears or eyes. He had already been mistaken for a couple of times before, and that bitter realisation had always been way more painful than no hope at all.

But it was unmistakenly Crowley, thinner than ever, in ragged clothes, white teeth shining like angel's wing, as he was grinning mischovously. His red hair was a huge mess, he was covered in dust, but he still managed to wear dark glasses in all this poorest state of affaies.

- Show me your eyes. - Aziraphale mumbled. - I want to know I'm not hallucinating.

- They shouldn't be surprised to see snaky-eyed lad after what they've done themselves, angel. - Crowley took his glasses off, but then put them back within a moment. - But I still prefer my privacy.

- Oh, Crowley! - Aziraphale grabbed him in his arms, unable to hold tears anymore. - I'm so glad to see you. I've seen such horror, I've.... I've been here since April, and I was in Poland before that, and I almost lost my faith...

- Come on, don't be like that. - Crowley gently pushed him away. - I can't blame you for your tears, though. There were things that could make Satan himself tremble. But it's not demonic work, of that I can assure you.

- I know. Works of Man. Our Lord's most beloved creation. - Aziraphale was well past the point when he blamed Hell for human atrocities.

- Well, I guess it's almost over now. - Crowley gently put his arm on angel's shoulder. - I was planning to go home soon enough.

- Home?

- London, not Hell. You wanna go with me?

Aziraphale felt bad for feeling so much joy amidst such destruction, and yet he couldn't help but smile.

- I do. I haven't been there in a while. The place I lived in was destroyed. My bookshop, though - I hope it's alright.

- I'll have to find myself a new place. Maybe you could give me some advice, I haven't been to England since I left in 1941. I left my Bentley in Paris, in some reliable hands. Well, I hope they're reliable. I have to believe car's fine, or else I won't forgive myself.

- I bet there's not a scratch on it. - Aziraphale smiled. He told himself he'd use all his powers if something happened to Crowley's car. - We can drive home together, if you wish.

- I don't think it's safe, angel. We'd better meet in London. At least there IS London to meet in. - Crowley smiled.

They walked past ruins, as sun was setting down.

- Those soldiers, - Aziraphale asked - That dropped you off... You spoke their language? You speak Russian?

- Why act all surprised? - Crowley sounded a bit offended. - I speak a number of languages, I've been there for a while, you know. Not that I'm fluent or anything, but I made it clear I'm not a German, for a start.

- Have you been there? On Eastern front? - One thing Aziraphale knew of Eastern front, is that young boys came back all white-haired from there, if they were lucky, or unlucky enough to survive it.

- For a while. I've been to a number of places. Not that I want to recall it now, when all this is over.

They reached the crossroads, and Crowley stopped.

- You're here to help people find their final peace, aren't you? - Crowley asked.

- I am. And you? I wonder if Hell still has any work to do, given the...

- I'll just make sure right people will make it to Hell. - Crowley smirked. - That's about all I can do now.

- I hope I'll be back in London by September. If my bookshop is still there, I'll be waiting for you to come. If not...

- I'll find you anyway, mr. Fell. Such a neat surname you made yourself - Fell. But you didn't fall, it's me who fell, no? - Crowley asked teasingly.

- I was never as good as you at making up names, Anthony J. - Aziraphale replied - If you're so good at searching for people, then I'll see you soon.

- Bye, angel. See you.

Crowley turned around and started walking down the street, his tall figure looking completely black in setting sun. Before Aziraphale could make himself start walking away, Crowley suddenly turned around and shouted:

- I told you we'd win!

, before disappearing completely.

He was right, Aziraphale thought. The nightmare of war was almost over. He was daydreaming of them, meeting once again in London, when he saw a tank driving down the street in his direction.

"It way be foolish of me, but..."

He took a bunch of flowers from inside his jacket - a miracle too minor to be noted - and threw it to the soldiers sitting on the tank. He didn't understand what they said - unlike Crowley, he didn't know a word in Russian - but they smiled at him, and Aziraphale laughed himself, for the first time in 6 years.

[goldishlock]

Emerald Seas Chapter 7 (Pirates of the Caribbean Fanfiction)

A seamstress was measuring Kate's sizes while she stared at herself in the large mirror. It was the day of the ceremony and the ball. Her father made sure she'd be wearing the finest clothes and had already shipped some of the best fabrics from London. Every time her father brought her a gift from her hometown she felt sentimental, missing the city of her birth. The people, the markets and even the rainy days. Just so much of her childhood left back there. And her mother's grave, one of the reasons that made everything that came to her from England feel special, even the smallest and most impeccable things. Her hands reached for the silk and Kate couldn't help herself but to stuck her nose between the fabric. Like she could smell the English air or her mother's scent. The fabric smelled like roses, the scent that reminded her of her mother. She still missed her very much every day.

Katherina woke from her daydreaming as the seamstress took a few steps back to behold her creation as she finished. She took Kate by her small shoulders and made her look into the mirror again. Kate beheld her own reflection, she was wearing the most beautiful gown she'd ever seen. It was a silken green dress with a gorgeous corset with pretty stitched flowers all around the front of her waist. Her hair was tied up but one single curl was left out and curled in front of her shoulder. A beautiful but modest crystal necklace decorated her thin long neck. Once finished Kate moved down the stairs, where her father was waiting for her in the hallway of the mansion. He looked at her with a grand smile. The servant handed Kate her bergère hat, an ivory lace ribbon tied behind her red curls made it secure. It would protect her pale complexion from the burning Caribbean sun at the ceremony outside.

'You look most beautiful my dear' Lord Florence offered her his arm and they made way to the carriage waiting for them outside.

Moments later Kate and Lord Florence made their way to Fort Augusta at the front of the island of Nassau, where the ceremony would take place. Her father was surprisingly quiet about this special day, as he called it himself. Normally he wouldn't stop talking about her next suitor, he'd ramble on about these gentlemen and their amiable qualities. But today was different, almost like he was hiding something. He had only spoken of how Lord Ashwood, her father's closest friend and business companion whom he shared his Company with, was the one that by chance arranged the East India Company's new director's ceremony to be held here, on the island of Nassau. Kate knew her father was searching for new allies and the East India Trading Company was, of course, a great one to be working with, especially since the Company was moving its headquarters to the Caribbean. But Kate was surprised her father was the one that stayed in the background, as if his name was something that could work against him, he was being too secretive about this alliance. Even though her head was full of questions Kate held to the promise she made with herself not to interfere with these suitors before meeting them, and to her surprise, her father seemed rather content with that.

Soon they arrived. The fort was surrounded by many guards, making sure no one uninvited was to enter. Getting out of the carriage while being escorted by her father she had to block the sun from blinding her with her hand. Kate remembered the tremendous fort from when she was younger, it always made her think back to the time when she tried to sneak in when it was almost dark, just to see the sunset from of the high walls of the fort. Holding back a laugh remembering the times her father caught her.

Kate quickly removed her amused sight while almost smirking as the wife of her father's companion, Lady Ashwood watched her in surprise.

'Are you well my dear?' her always concerned tone whispered quickly but soft as she moved her hand down Kate's forehead. Lady Ashwood had always been sort of a mother to Kate, but she always seemed nervous and overanxious about everything. Kate didn't like the way she'd still behave as if she was a little girl.

'I am very well Milady, thank you for your concern' Kate spoke politely, feeling as if she had spoken that line to her already a million times. Kate discovered both her father and Lord Ashwood smiling brightly.

'You should be proud Charles, of the woman she has become. I'm sure he will admire her just as much as we all do, Lord..' just before Lord Ashwood could finish his line Lord Florence slapped his hand onto the back of Lord Ashwood's shoulder as in a friendly gesture and turned him away from their conversation. Kate noticed her father behaving rather unusual and she wondered what was going on as he was whispering with Lord Ashwood a few steps away from her place in the courtyard.

Ignoring Lady Ashwood still going on about her concerns Kate's eyes went through the courtyard of the fort. Her eyes caught an unfamiliar sight as she noticed large light blue flags waving in the wind, carrying a logo with the letters EICo. The drums started playing as a sign the ceremony was to begin. Kate noticed nerves that she had tried to hide, but they had made her stomach turn for some time now. Her curiosity arose as well and she caught herself standing on her toes to see who was about to enter the fort, the line of the naval officers was waiting. But it was hard to see and she couldn't block the sunlight from her sight. Suddenly she felt her arm being pulled and she noticed Lady Ashwood dragged her along to a less crowded place. Her large body made it impossible for Kate to keep standing and before she knew it she was placed just behind her father and Lord Ashwood proudly watching. From their place inside the inlet of the fort, the crowd down below almost looked like small ants from where they were standing.

'I've heard he's a very headstrong and determined man' Lord Ashwood spoke as he raised his thick small figure upon his toes to see. Kate felt the nerves race through her body as she heard him speak. It almost felt like she didn't want to hear anything they had to say about this man, it was not making it any better. Kate felt the heat of the sun touch her skin. Lady Ashwood quickly raised a fan, as she always seemed to carry one with her, to Kate's face. She accepted it gladly, hoping she wouldn't notice her nerves.

'Oh Katherina change of plans my dear, after the ceremony we will meet him at once' Kate watched at her father in surprise who hadn't even bothered to look over his shoulder to his daughter almost fainting now.

'But.. I thought we would meet him tonight, at the ball?' Kate stumbled over her words. She didn't want to meet him so soon. It always felt a lot less formal when being introduced to someone at a ball, she had planned it all out. But now her father once again had a change of mind.

'Katherina, don't be so stubborn' Lord Florence spoke without looking at her, staring into the courtyard of the fort without giving her a single glance.

'I've heard he is very picky with women ' Lord Ashwood was known to be very fond of rumors and gossip. Both men still staring into the courtyard didn't look back at Kate what so ever. Her chest was falling and raising and she didn't know if it was the weather that made her breath heavily or everything her ears wanted to block. She wasn't sure if she could handle this meeting so soon. Her small fan was moving hard to get some fresh air, but it was all in vain. The humidity made it impossible to catch some fresh air. Feeling her waist tighten within her corset. She was used to wearing corsets but suddenly felt ill. It might have been the heat of mid-summer but she knew it was the tension she could not handle any longer.

The drums now played a fast rhythm as the ceremony began. Kate couldn't see the figure entering the courtyard what so ever, her blurry vision was blocking her sight together with the bright sun. It was then she decided to ignore her father's wishes. Kate took the hem of her dress and as soon as Lady Ashwood was distracted by some of the noble women starting a conversation with her Kate saw her chance to get away.

Kate made her way through the halls of the fort trying to escape the burning sun. Lifting her dress as high as possible she tried to prevent herself from tripping, her heels echoed on the cobblestones. Some of the redcoats marching along watched her in question, seeing a young woman making her way through the empty halls alone while the party was inside the fort must have been a strange sight, but luckily they did not interfere.

Once reaching the back entrance Kate opened the large iron doors, she remembered from sneaking in at night, at the backside of the fort with all her strength. It was quiet and she could hear the crowd applause in the distance and music started playing again. Kate could smell the salt air of the ocean and once she reached outside of the fort completely she walked right in onto the beach. The fresh air of the ocean entered her nostrils. On her face was a permanent smirk and she felt quite rebellious. Removing her shoes and stockings without thinking of what formality was going on inside or if anyone could see her from up the fort she made way to the water. She lifted her dress again and her toes touched the cold sea. A soft sigh escaped her lips by the touch of refreshing water. This was just what she needed. Not thinking about what her father would be saying once she would return. This was her moment now.

After spending all afternoon on the beach Kate noticed the dusk setting in already. Time had flown by. She figured the ceremony would be ending by now and decided to head back to the fort. Sneaking around the brick walls of the fort like she was some sort of criminal, trying not to get caught. Holding her shoes and stocking in one hand, her bare feet on the hot cobblestones made her move quickly. In the distance, she saw their carriage and made her way to it. The servant looked surprised to see her alone but bowed his head and helped her into the carriage. Kate moved down onto the soft couch of the carriage and suddenly looked straight into the eyes of Lady Ashwood, she and her husband would accompany them to the ball. Kate smiled faintly as she quickly returned her stockings and heels. Before she could explain herself Lord Florence and Lord Ashwood entered the carriage as well.

'There you are my dear, where have you been?' Lord Florence spoke rather quickly. Kate opened her mouth once again but soon got interrupted by Lady Ashwood.

'My poor Katherina couldn't handle the sun any longer, with her pale skin. I decided to take her back for some shading' Lady Ashwood lied. Kate felt her jaw drop but quickly closed her mouth which made her teeth collapse. Kate innocently watched both her father and Lord Ashwood and shrugged her shoulders without saying a word.

'I hope you feel better now my dear' Lord Florence spoke smiling softly. It seemed that Kate managed to get away with her spontaneous adventure and she watched Lady Ashwood gratefully as she winked at her when the carriage started moving.

It didn't take long for them to arrive and once close to the mansion, on walking distance from the fort, it was clear there was a grand party going on inside. Kate felt a spark of excitement, watching from the small window of the carriage her hand had moved the fabric of the curtain aside to look at all the people dressed beautifully, making their way into the party. She was forgetting about the suitor for just a moment.

Welcomed by servants at the entrance Kate was guided by Lord Ashwood that rambled on about the history of this building for what felt like the hundredth time. The servants took her coat and hat. Lord Florence escorting Lady Ashwood inside was surrounded by some noblemen and women already. Lady Ashwood was laughing loud together with some of the wives of the other Lords whom just arrived. Kate had to admit, her father was a charming man and always knew how to get the attention of the ladies, and not only the single women. Kate had more than often remarked her father why he wouldn't remarry or at least try and meet some of the willing bachelorettes. He always managed to explain how his love for her mother had never died. His answers were sort on the matter but to Kate's amusement, he always joked about how she was enough 'women' in his life.

Kate managed to let Lord Ashwood go of her arm once he engaged himself into one of the conversations. Her eyes moved through the large hall where the music from inside was heard already. Lifting the hem of her green silken dress Kate tiptoed through the crowd. Not being tall at all she always had a hard time searching through the crowd of people.

'Katie!' shrieked an enthusiastic voice that echoed through the hallway and made a few heads turn. Kate watched a tall dark haired girl, wearing a large violet dress making her way as her long arms embraced her shorter figure.

'Emma' Kate spoke up and watched her smiling as she released her. Moving down to her heels from standing on her toes Kate met with her large white teeth and grey staring eyes.

'I'm so happy you are here. This will be an extraordinary night!' Emma spoke not being able to wipe away the grin on her face. She was one of Kate's closest friends and always brightened her day with her big smile and always cheerful personality. She was with her family, her four sisters and parents. Kate had always admired her large family and sometimes wished she had at least one sister, let alone four. Emma always said she would love to trade all of them for at least half the fortune of Kate's family. The grass is always greener on the other side, as they say.

'You look amazing. On a mission?' Emma's cheeky smile made Kate laugh.

'You know I'm not the one on a mission' Kate pointed to her father behind her in the hall further away, still surrounded by the other noblemen and women. Kate noticed her father looking for her and as Emma chuckled once again Kate signed her to enter the ballroom. Emma agreed and her voice let out a high pitched sound when she had taken Kate's wrist and pulled her through the crowd. They made their way through the grand hall, the decorations were astonishing to behold. But their jaws dropped once they entered the main ballroom. It was decorated perfectly in a tasteful way, some balls were too much and kitschy, but this time Kate liked the splendor and beauty. The atmosphere was pleasant. They made their way down the large staircase in the middle of the ballroom.

There was loud joyful music playing, as the formal part of the ball had not begun yet. Kate enjoyed this part of the evening the most, no one cared who was who and danced with anyone they could find. As a young woman, you ought to be careful as a lot of bold men would take this time of the evening to ask to court you or even worse, but Kate and Emma always laughed at this. They blamed it on the lot of wine and brandy that was already spilled in the early hours of the ball.

Emma pushed Kate towards the dancefloor gently, but Emma's over excitement sometimes got them in trouble. Kate almost lost balance and tripped forward over the skirt of her dress. Two strong arms caught her mid-air. Emma had let out a scream but laughed when Kate was standing tall again, helped by the gentleman who caught her.

'Lieutenant Greitzer?!' Emma called out his name and he made sure Kate was standing on her feet again.

'Ladies, what a pleasure to meet you here this evening' Kate smiled and recognized their friend she had not seen in a long time. He was wearing a blue and yellow marine uniform that made his tall appearance even taller.

'Care for a dance Miss Florence? Now that you already threw yourself into my arms' Lieutenant Greitzer joked and offered her his hand. Kate laughed softly and nodded. Emma soon had found herself a dancing partner as well, she never failed at that with her quick but charming tongue, they were standing in line for her. The joyful music continued and Kate had taken the hand of Lieutenant Greitzer to guide her to the dancefloor.

'I see you've made yourself quite a life?' Kate was curious about his adventures at sea, the last time she had seen him he was much younger and was being sent away by his father, to find himself a job at sea.

'I did Katherina. They have given me an opportunity that I simply could not resist' Lieutenant Greitzer spoke proudly while the corners of his mouth rose. He guided her into the beginning of the dance.

'They being who?' Kate did not recognize his uniform, it was much different from the Royal Navy ones.

'The East India Trading Company, I got promoted to Lieutenant some weeks ago' Kate recalled Emma indeed calling him Lieutenant. She bowed her head in a teasing manner.

'Well Lieutenant, it's an honor to have this dance with you' Kate smiled at her old friend after chuckling softly.

Emma moved next to them together with her dancing partner so she was close enough to start a conversation while dancing. Kate was impressed how she managed to stay close in between their movement, without accidentally crashing into each other.

'Katherina, have you seen the East India Company's new Lord yet?' Emma twirled around her partner with her hands held high, the gentleman's eyes couldn't leave Emma's happy radiation, there was a big smile on his face and Kate couldn't hold back a grin, but soon her eyes shifted to Emma when she asked.

'No I did not, we haven't been introduced yet and I'm quite alright with that' Kate spoke quickly as she watched Emma's surprised look.

'Besides these ceremonies are getting quite dull once you've attended what feels like hundreds' Kate spoke to Emma with a loud voice, trying to get above the joyful music. She got reminded of her little escape this afternoon.

'But Kate you must know who you will be meeting later. After all, he might be your future husband' Emma's face stared at her when the dance allowed them next to each other.

'My father decided that we should meet him right after the ceremony, even though he promised it would be tonight. I simply couldn't yet Emma' Kate looked at her friend with worried eyes.

'It will be alright my Katie. And besides, if you haven't met him yet, it might be love at first sight. How romantic!' Emma exaggerated with a dramatic tone in her voice, closing her eyes like she was picturing it in her mind. Kate rolled her eyes in amusement.

'I've heard he is very handsome! Oh if only I could marry a Lord' Emma threw her hand dramatically upon her forehead. The officer she was dancing with looked up at her offended and Kate had to hold herself from bursting out in laughter at his face.

'Well, you can have him' Kate spoke sarcastically at Emma daydreaming.

'He is doing a great job at running the Company so far' Lieutenant Greitzer interfered the ladies conversation and Kate had forgotten it was his boss they were speaking of.

'Well good for him' Kate spoke stubbornly at her friend. She quickly removed her annoyed face as she realized she had become emotionless and prejudice when it came to meeting new men. But she truly felt it wasn't the right way to meet someone you might spend the rest of your life with.

Kate squeezed Greitzer's arm just before releasing him after the dance had ended and they bowed to each other to end it formally.

'Come, I'm in need of the good company of a glass of fine wine. Besides, I can't feel my toes' Emma pulled Kate away from Lieutenant Greitzer and Kate's lips mumbled a thank you his way, he smiled and bowed his head when the ladies moved along, away from the dance floor.

Reaching through the crowd to the part of the ballroom where people were having conversations instead of dancing Emma paused their pursuit and pulled a servant at his sleeve, he apologized fast and moved his tray filled with glasses of wine to the ladies.

'Let's make a toast. To find ourselves some true love tonight' Emma lifted her glass to Kate's whose face was holding back a laugh and the sound of the crystal glass filled the room as suddenly the joyful music replaced itself for a slower and harmonious music. The ladies looked each other and understood it was the host of the evening who had arrived. This was the time everything formal started again and Kate's eyes suddenly noticed Lord Florence standing at the large stairs that were attached to the hall they had entered through earlier. He was obviously looking for his daughter that had run off once again. He seemed quite nervous, something Kate hadn't seen yet.

'I can't wait for the dancing to start again later this evening' Emma remarked the formal music. Her energetic mood had switched to a more calm one like the music had. Later in the night, most people would start dancing again as the business and most formal part of the evening would be over.

'I hope you will catch a dance with the Lord' Emma pushed her shoulder against Kate's gently and she let out a soft chuckle. Kate rolled her eyes, after that signing Emma that her father was looking for her and she needed to leave.

'I will see you later sweet Kate. Keep your head up. If you don't like him it will be alright. You only have to dance with him once for formality' Emma wished her luck and kissed her cheek softly, something she always did when they parted, to show her affection for her friend. Kate lifted the skirt of her dress and made her way to Lord Florence now asking around for her.

'Ah, my dear! I've been searching for you all over' Lord Florence offered her his arm. Kate smiled weakly and felt her nerves return to her stomach. It was the time she would meet the next suitor, and that made her nervous. But it also had to do something with the fact she remembered Lord Ashwood's words, how this Lord was a confident, headstrong and determined man. Kate wondered how she was going to shake him off once he liked her.

'Now, Katherina I want you to listen clearly' Lord Florence escorted her toward one of the inlets of the ballroom where the highest, richest and most powerful men were enjoying their evening. Kate saw Lord Ashwood in conversation with some of the East India Company's men. He must have been among them, but their backs towards her and the great distance made it impossible to see their faces.

'He doesn't know we, as in you and I, are present at this ball or that we will address him' Kate winded her eyes. And there it was, she had known there was something dubious going on here and her father was hiding something. This Lord didn't even know Lord Florence was present. Kate wondered if it was one of her father's rivals that he needed to make it up to only for the profit of his Company. She wanted to open her mouth and ask but as he had taken her to the side and laid his finger upon her lips before she could speak.

'Hush, let me finish. I know this is all very unusual. But this Lord does not go in on marriage proposals' Lord Florence tried to bring out his words carefully. Kate was swallowing loudly, her breathing started to quicken. She was certain now, her father was going to marry her off to one of his business enemies as some sort of peace offer. Her cheeks started to turn reddish.

'Unusual? You are trying to match this man without him even wanting to. What if you'll anger him? You'll shame me!' Kate wanted to shout but didn't want anyone to hear their discussion. She didn't understand why he wanted to embraces her so much. This man had to be insanely rich or extremely powerful for her father to push her into this, it seemed almost desperate. Kate worried he had finally gone insane from all the attempts of marrying her off.

'I have my reasons for it Katherina and it will soon all be clear to you' Lord Florence almost had to drag her towards the group of men talking as soon as he hooked his elbow into hers. Kate tried to act like she didn't get forced, determined not to look like a foolish woman, but she realized her father would probably do the job for her.

They strolled towards the backs of the men discussing business, enjoying their drinks and occasionally laughing. Even though from the outside Kate looked like the confident woman always presented herself as, on the inside she felt like a little girl being dragged along by her father. Her heartbeat was rising and she felt the air get stuck in her lungs.

Before reaching the group of men her father stopped her and signed he wanted to speak to the men first. Of course, Kate thought as she rolled her eyes. He needed to beg for forgiveness first if he indeed was his rival.

Her father stood tall and ignored his daughter almost fainting from the tension, leaving her behind for a moment. Kate grabbed her fan moving it quickly before her face to get some air and hide her heavily blushing cheeks. Her sight was becoming vague. Kate had never felt this way before and she wouldn't be surprised if she'd faint within the minute. Her legs were shaking underneath her skirt.

Her father entered the conversation. Next to him what must have been the Lord, wearing a white wig, one curl on both sides, with a slightly short figure turned his head, noticing his arrival. Lord Florence and the man were exchanging words and he moved a few steps back like he was surprised by his sudden arrival. It indeed was obvious they'd met before and the Lord didn't seem very happy with his arrival. That or he was just very surprised by her father's insane forced proposal.

Kate decided she couldn't wait any longer and wanted this torture to be over quickly. She placed her fan on the table, trying to pull it together. It took a lot to take the first steps toward the men. Her chest was rising and falling as the air got stuck in her throat. Walking towards the men she tried to do it as gracefully as possible, still trying not to faint, she refused to be embarrassed that way.

Kate almost reaching them could hear them talking. One of the voices caught her attention and seemed so familiar. Lord Florence's sight moved to Kate's direction while still talking. It was clear Lord Florence was surprised Kate ignored him asking her to wait and as Kate almost arrived right behind the Lord he quickly started introducing her. As Lord Florence had laid his eyes on his daughter, still almost fainting, the man did too. His head turned to her so she could finally see him, now standing face to face.

'Lord Cutler Beckett, my daughter, Katherina Florence. You have met before' Lord Florence spoke. Kate taking the last few steps suddenly came to a halt when hearing her father's words and she almost stopped breathing. Looking into the blue-grayish eyes she had met years ago, the only eyes she ever truly trusted, loved and missed. Even though she had pushed these feelings away a long time ago. It all came back to her within seconds. Like the nerves couldn't be worse they now rushed through her body.

'Katherina..' Cutler's face looked even more surprised than hers and he stepped into her direction but keeping an appropriate distance as he seemed in shock. He gazed into her eyes with his jaw dropped, but had closed it when speaking her name carefully, like he was afraid to break it.

'Cutler..' Kate had to push his name from her lips, she had been too heartbroken to speak it for years. She felt weak on her legs again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

Calling him by only his first name must have looked strange to the other people present in this conversation and not proper according to the right ways to introduce yourself, but Kate was forgetting about everyone and everything around them in the room. It was quiet for some time. The other noblemen looked confused about what happened but did not interfere.

Cutler didn't say a word and made the impression he wanted to reach for Kate's hands, that were placed upon the lower part of her corset, her bosom rising and falling even quicker as her lungs reached for air, her body frozen. But Cutler came out of his trans and coughed once. His face turning to the other men.

'Gentlemen, will you excuse us?' Cutler sounded strict towards the other men, but they nodded politely. Kate didn't realize what happened and it wouldn't take long before it turned black before her eyes. After he spoke Cutler suddenly presented her his arm in a comforting way without saying anything, she took it without hesitance, still in shock. He started walking, away from the gentlemen, quickly like he was in a hurry. Still, in silence, he guided her toward the gardens outside in a rather fast phase. Kate could hardly breathe and if she wasn't going to have fresh air or remove her corset soon, as she randomly asked herself whether the maid had tightened it to tightly, she'd lose consciousness. Her feet followed Cutler's quickly as he helped her outside. Some people had turned their heads to them while they made way outside. Kate heard a woman say something that sounded like 'did he finally court someone?'. But she was far to busy to not stop breathing.

At one point Cutler moved behind Kate to get them safely through the busy crowd, his hand reached for her waist and pushed her gently into the right direction as some people were too distracted to move out of their way. Kate's heartbeat was drumming in her ears.

Once reaching the large doors opened by the servants Kate, once outside, took a large breath feeling her lungs getting filled with fresh air to prevent her sight from going black. After a few seconds, Kate returned her calm breathing and realized what had happened as she watched two concerned familiar eyes that hadn't changed stare at her. Cutler had noticed she almost became unwell and, while no one else did, he made sure she was alright by taking her outside quickly. Ignoring all the formality rules to make sure she was alright. As she remembered he was putting her well being above anything else.

'Are you alright?' Cutler reached for her arm and took it softly, making her sit down on one of the stones benches alongside the rose fields. Kate didn't know if his touch was making her almost losing her conscious any better, but she was much better than a few minutes ago.

'I apologize for my hasty actions. I wanted to escort you out into the fresh air as soon as possible' Cutler's voice sounded so familiar, but was much deeper and more formal. Kate suddenly felt happy they were alone. With her calm breathing in the background her eyes traveled across his face, a face she had wondered about a thousand times if she'd ever see it again. He was wearing a beautiful uniform and a powdered white wig. Cutler wasn't a boy anymore but a grown man, still very handsome, even more than she could remember. Her heartbeat raised when her eyes finished their journey and ended at his again, staring back in silence.

[sunflwrsjustdied]

Chapter 2 - The Phone Call.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Disclaimer: I did not write this story as a way to fetishize children having children. It is not about that. I wrote this story because I wondered what it would be like if Harry had a son, who also became a celebrity during Harry’s career. In order for the age of Harry’s sons to fit the career timeline I had to lower the age of Harry. I do not believe that children having children is a good thing nor do I try to fetishize it. I understand that this topic may be disturbing or disgusting to some people. If you do not like the idea of this story, then you don’t need to read it.

[Harry Styles sitting next to Ben Andrews (Lux’s cousin]

October.28.2012 London, England

•Harry• "Hello, Benjamin." Noah greeted Lux's cousin, Ben looked up shyly before mumbling a hi and then looking down.

"You're quite intimidating." I chuckled, seeing he made Ben, who was talking to everyone go quiet. He had the same effect on the hostess.

"Good." He mumbled, sitting down in the seat, he loved that feeling. No one wanting to talk to him out fear. Just a 9-year-old boy who made everyone terrified and thrived off of it.

I never understood why, but there were many people who got highly intimidated of him. For years people told me that 'the way he stands screams danger'.

He's been like this ever since primary school, daycare even. A real tough guy that got every girl attracted to him, even if they were just 4-years-old.

His first fight was at 2-years-old, it started off as a yelling match, until Noah threw punches at the boy who was a year older then him, all over a simple wooden block. The fight result in Noah getting a "red card" from his disturbed daycare teacher and a 3-year-old with a bloody lip.

If someone were to come between him and his persona, something so powerful will arise in him. He'll curse at them, throw things, anything to show them who they've messed with.

That made Noah who he was.

It showed how much he needed to like and trust you in order for vulnerability to show. Some people called him mysterious after this trait.

What a great combination, mysterious and dangerous. Described the 142 centimeter boy perfectly.

I never encouraged, nor discouraged his hunger for being persuaded that way. But it was never an act either, it was truly how Noah was, he's always been like that and he always will be.

I may not understand other peoples perspectives of him, but I could see where they were coming from in a way.

He was the most stereotypical boy you could ever meet. He looks at every girl, he runs around without a shirt on, he swears, he fights, he played every sport he could think of when he was younger. His most favourite sport of all time being baseball, followed by ice hockey. And he played both from when he was a toddler until he was 7. Anything boys "typically did" he did it all because it was the way of his personality.

Noah took a seat in-between Tom and I, he rested his elbow on the table and ran his hand throw his hair, I noticed his eyes would glance over at Ben with almost a look of jealousy in his eyes.

Oh.

Ben was sitting to the left of me. Ever since Noah was a baby, he always sat to the left of me at restaurants. Everyone in our family knew it and consciously never sat there, but a 4-year-old boy wouldn't know that.

"Noah!" Lux giggled, pointing to him trying to get out of Lou's lap, Lou gave Noah a look asking if she could go to him. Noah nodded and Lux ran over to him.

"Hello Luxie," Noah smiled lifting her into his lap.

Everyone talked waiting for the waitress.

She came eventually, but when she got to Noah, she stuttered, almost taken aback. "Wow, you're eyes are so blue. Oh God, I'm sorry. I've just never seen that before, " she said mesmerized.

"Thanks," Noah stared directly into her eyes, on purpose. "Sorry, um what can I get you?" "Fish and chips please."

• • •

"Dad, hide me please," Noah whispered, panic in his voice. "What, Why?" Harry frowned confused by his sons actions, "That waitress, I know her, now hide me! Don't draw attention."

"Who, her?" Tom nodded to the woman who was walking over to the table, specifically right behind Noah's chair.

Noah nodded, sinking in his chair and cover the side of his face.

"Hello, Noah." She smiled, her British accent was thick, "How's it going?"

"It's going great," Noah swallowed hard, his knee starting to bounce up and down.

"My daughter's still waiting on that call from you," She said, "And I'm still waiting for my phone to get fixed Lucy," Noah said with gritted teeth.

"It's been almost 2 months, how long can it take?" Lucy raised her eyebrow.

"As long as it needs to be fixed again." Noah replied, jaw clentched.

"Here's her number again, just in case you forget it," She immediately took out her pen and pad, writing on it fast, and handing it to him.

"Never- never in my life have I seen someone try to get their daughter to date someone so bad," Noah grunted, taking the paper and shook his head,

"Some parents want what's best for their children Noah, and I see that your are. Or to you, I'm a bad mother for that right?" Lucy frowned at Noah, trying to make him feel bad.

"We're nine- That's not even- I don't even remember her name Lucy." Noah sighed trying to argue but giving up, "It's Sabrina, Sabrina McCullen." Lucy smiled knowing she was breaking Noah to say yes.

"Just give my daughter a chance, she's a model too, maybe that'll somewhat change your mind." Noah's eyes did perk up hearing the information, "I told you, when the phones fixed," he smiled fake and widely, "Now have a nice day."

"We'll be waiting," Lucy walked off, and that's when Noah groaned, slouching down in his seat, about to crumple the paper.

"Keep it son, you'll need it." Noah looked up to his father with discomfort in his eyes, before putting it in his pocket.

"Who was that?" Tom asked, "I met her here a few months ago and a few times after that, she wouldn't shut up about how her daughter was my age and that we should date."

"She gave me her daughters number, so I told her my phone was broken and when it got fixed then I'd give her call."

"But Noah, your phone works perfectly, why haven't you?" Harry questioned, earning a glare from Noah, "Not what she thinks is it? If she knew that, she would probably try to get mine and I don't want that."

"Just call her, you never know," Harry suggested, "Yeah, if she's anything like her mother, I'll know for sure," Noah shook his head sighing.

"I'm surprised, I've never known my son to give up a chance with a girl," Harry chuckled, "Well almost every girl I don't meet through her annoying mother."

"Wait, are you saying, Noah is scared of someone? The Noah Styles, scared of someone?" Lou said in a some what genuinely shocked voice, earning an eye roll from Noah.

"No, I'm not scared of her, it's called avoiding someone you don't have an interest in someone."

A phone then started to ring at the table, "Oh Noah, it can't be yours. Yours is broken." Lucy said walking with the drinks our table ordered prior to our last order, along with another waitress.

Noah took in a deep breathe through his nose and let it out the same way, a look of annoyance on his features as he looked at a smirking Tom.

"I'm sorry, I need to take this." John apologized, looking at his phone and excusing himself and walking away from the table.

"You see what I mean," Noah said through gritted teeth, after she left, "Imagine having to see and hear that every time you visit your girlfriend."

"God I can hear it now. 'I'm the one who put you two together'. Probably trying to use my modelling career to make her daughter famous." Noah

"Then if you're not scared why don't you tell her that? Say you're not interested." Tom asked, intrigued, "Because I'm not that much of an asshole." Noah responded bluntly, "Hey, watch it," Harry scolded, knowing there was a much younger child sitting next to me and he nodded to him.

You'd think Harry would scold his son for swearing in general but boy did he give up on that a long time ago.

"It's fine, Harry," Dean, Lux's uncle and Ben's father laughed, "He's heard worse."

"But Noah, give her a chance, so what? Like you said you're just nine. It's not it will be long term and you're going to get married next week." Dean said, "Well to Lucy is it!" Noah grunted, "Aw, come on Noah. You never know," I smirked, "I'll think about it." Noah mumbled.

"Now can we please take about something else? God knows she listening or spiked my drink." Noah groaned, "Yes," Tom said and began talking to him about football.

•Harry• I saw John walk towards my chair, "Harry, I need to talk to you," John said quietly into my ear, I nodded "Sure," and followed him to the foyer.

"That was a call from a director, it was for Noah." He said to me, his demeanour serious.

I nodded, listening. "The director wants to meet him, and maybe cast him for a lead role. This is very important for Noah and his career," He explained. "But we both don't want to schedule a meeting unless you, Rose, or both of you give permission for it to happen."

"So Harry, would he be allowed to go to the audition?" He asked, "Well of course," I told him, without hesitation, "If it's something he'll want to do." Who I was kidding, Noah loved acting, and his first lead role in a movie would be amazing.

"Schedule it right now." I told him

"They said we could pick the date, but within now or next month. No later." "Where?" "New York." "Ok, ask if they're available for November 12."

"We'll be there around that time, and then we're leaving the next day. That's a good time to do it." John nodded and began to call the director back, telling him the details as well as listening to the directors.

After saying goodbye, he hung up the phone, "It's settled then. New York City, November 12. I'll talk to Noah later."

We both walked back to the table.

• • •

Dinner was finished, everyone was either talking or on their phones. Noah chose to be on his phone, what a mistake that was.

Lucy walked by the table, "So Noah," Noah jumped in his seat, startled by her sudden presence behind him, "Guess you got that phone fixed?" Noah swore he could just scream and yell at her, he was about to, so close to, until-

"It's actually my phone," Tom looked at her, grabbing the white iPhone 4S from Noah's hand, Lucy huffed and walked away.

"Oh my God, thank you. I was close to strangling her,"

• • •

It was late. Harry and Noah had just got home.

Noah was in room, emptying his pants pockets, and pulled out the stupid piece of paper. throwing it on the bed.

After brushing his teeth, Noah sat on his bed, picking up his phone and the paper. He sighed, looking in-between both objects. Fighting himself if he should just call her or not. Noah sighed going into his contacts and putting her name and number into his phone.

"Maybe one day," he mumbled tossing the note into his nightstand drawer.

[graaaaceeliz]

BruceBat and Clark-man

I put up (finally) a second chapter of my fic where Bruce and Clark have made a Thing out of their resemblances to Batman and Superman. I'm linking chapter one, but it isn't entirely necessary to read it to understand the principle behind chapter two.

Chapter Two: Where have all the good men gone? (<1500 words)

Days like this were the best, thought Bruce. He’d never admit to that aloud, nobody wants to tempt the fates, but it was true. His children filled the home with noise and joy (and arguments and temper, but who was he to complain?) and Alfred’s eyes glimmered with theirs, whilst Bruce laughed more than he had since he was a troubled teenager with an adrenaline issue and the absolute chaos of Tony and Lex as his brothers. The rift between Lex and Clark saddened him, because they should have all been together, united against threats to Earth. They had plenty of those. But he was a united front with LexCorp most of the time, and people knew that Batman and Superman had as close a shield-bond as had existed. The Bats themselves were a clan, a colony, symbols of the end for evil and of hope for good. He couldn’t have ever dreamed this.

Clark nudged his shoulder into his. “Good day, huh? And I am coming with you to the dance tonight. I don’t want to go home just yet,” he trailed off slightly as his eyes glazed over. “B, I will be right back.” Bruce sighed. He truly sympathised with families linked to the emergency services. Alfred’s friend had called from England last night, and they’d sat around the kitchen table with the phone on loudspeaker as she talked about the mountains and the sea and the surprisingly good winter, which had led onto the topic of emergency responses and various light tales of their exploits. Bruce had missed her, actually, because she’d been around a lot when he was a kid (hardly any older than Tony, she’d introduced him as her baby brother in New York a few times in clubs) but he had only seen her three times since he became Batman. Jason’s funeral, when he came back to life, and seven months ago when she finally got out of MI-whatever. He didn’t know. Wasn’t sure he wanted to – she was quite possibly an assassin.

A sudden swish of the air to his left indicated Clark’s return. He seemed a bit flustered, collar crumpled and hair tossed by the impossible speeds he achieved when it was necessary. Bruce turned to him, wondering vaguely what that had been about. He hadn’t been gone long enough to have saved the planet, barely long enough to save a kitten. Bruce was well aware of how long it could take to save a world. It usually involved violence, subterfuge, and injuries. And payouts. And payoffs. Besides the point. Clark gradually quietened under Bruce’s steady patient gaze, as everyone eventually did. It was so human, for Clark to be soothed by his trusted brother, for Bruce to feel the urge to punch whatever upset Clark so. They were neither of them human as most imagined them to be. Grudges could be held for eternity.

“I went to a group of firefighters. There was a big fire a couple of days ago, remember I told you about it? The one in Boston that they told to me leave to them and go save those boys in the cave in Madagascar. That one. Well, they called for me, because they wanted to show me the exhibition they made. It’s about us, Bruce. The League, other known heroes, the Avengers too. And ordinary people. Doctors, nurses, grandparents, big sisters, teachers. Local heroes. And – Bruce, the exhibition is as large as the one we’re going to tonight at the Gallery. Heroes. Ordinary, brilliant humans, who save people.”

Bruce grunted into the warm evening light, keeping a close eye on the wrestling match between Damian and Tim that was getting dangerously close to his prize roses. He looked out to the pale blue sky, “You cried.”

“....Yeah. I couldn’t help it.”

“Quick back.”

Clark smiled slightly. “I want to show you,” he murmured, “it’s so full of wonderful people.”

Bruce quirked a smile. That would be good. Perhaps he should suggest that as the next exhibit in the Gallery or maybe the Precinct – local heroes. Hopefully it would boost the city’s morale without the necessity of drugs or alcohol. He’d make sure Jim got recognised. But going with Clark to this special one also sounded good. “Tomorrow.”

Clark smiled.

*~°~*~°~*

“Mr Wayne! Over here! Is this your friend? A reporter! Oh my!”

Hello, I’m Clark. A smile as innocent as a child’s. Hello Clark. I’m Bruce.

“Hello, Pietr. Bruce and I would like to talk to the curator of the museum, so we’ll have to talk at a later date.”

Sorry, but Superman and I have things to do, Señor Domingo. Adiós. What kind of a name is Lord Sunday? A stupid one.

“Well handled, Clark.”

“Eh. I hate the act you put on, so I’m trying to avoid it. Is that the curator?”

“Hm.”

Clark, that’s him, isn’t it? Yeah. Oh good, we can all go home soon. Shut up, I’m sarcastic all the time. A Hm can be sarcastic.

“Excuse me, Mr Hammerstein! Excuse me, ma’am, sir, excuse us, thanks. Mr Hammerstein, Mr Wayne and I- oh for goodness’ sake. Bruce! Come on, I need to interview some visiting rich folk and if you take all night I won’t get it done. Thank you. Anyways, Mr Hammerstein, we have an exhibit idea...”

*~°~*~°~*

“Please, call me Brucie.”

“Okay, Brucie. Now, we all saw the last time you pretended to be Batman. Tonight I heard that you have a friend who looks like Superman – oh, the crowd are excited tonight!”

“Haha, it seems so. Clark and myself do bear a resemblance to the famous heroes, yes. It gets pointed out to us periodically.”

We’re supposed to be undercover! We’re in our suits! What, so we pretend to be Brucie and Clark in our actual suits in an attempt to infiltrate Lex’s party?? That’s insane, Clark, absolutely insane. What – well, yeah, it might work... Lex won’t call us out on it, no.

“I have heard that at one of Lex Luthor’s famed Metropolis Galas you did an act?”

“Well, not an act, no. I had had rather a lot to drink, shall we say, but I was dressed up as Batman.”

“And yourself, Mr Kent is it? Yes – you make a strikingly good Superman. I’ve heard that you’re known in your office at Perry White’s Metropolis ‘paper for your impressions. Any chance the pair of you would do an act for us tonight?”

We have to go along with it just pretend, Clark, call it an act and just pretend like I do with Brucie, won’t be easy but you have to try Clark we have to try

“I’m afraid Brucie and I would rather not. However, we would like to talk some about our new venture, the Gotham branch of which is named: Where have all the good men gone? As you may recognise, we’ve taken the name from Bonnie Tyler’s song I Need a Hero. We’re aiming to put together an exhibition here in Gotham about our unrecognised street-level heroes. My nomination is the guy who does late night door duties on the hotel building I have often stayed at not far from here. He prevents people accessing the tower when they don’t have appropriate ID, opens the foyer to those waiting for taxis home, and has interrupted no less than five incidents in the last six months at the cost of his health. So here’s to you, doorman.”

There will always be hope as long as one man or child or woman is willing to stand up painpainpain and say no there will always be hope and that’s why I do this I am bringing hope despite blood and I refuse to give up and you are hope you embody it we are hope so don’t give up ignore the pain we get up it hurts so much but we get up

“My personal nominee is Jim Gordon. He’s always been supportive of my family and myself, has dedicated his life to cleaning up the police force and has really given hope to the youth of Gotham. The nomination process will be described in an interview tomorrow night, which will also be published in local papers. We would love for you all to nominate an unrecognised person who you see as a hero. Of course, our costumed vigilantes each get a photo in the exhibit, so there’s no need to nominate them unless you have a particular inspiring story.”

“All proceeds will go to soup kitchens and hostels, to help people get off the streets. Next month we hope to launch the Metropolis branch of the campaign, named in honour of our own superhero: Where are all the gods? It will run off exactly the same principle, with people nominating personal heroes. The Waynes and myself hope to establish skills centres in both of our cities to help people get off the streets and into jobs, and to teach transferable skills to as many people as possible. But please, please partake in this I Need a Hero campaign. The more we raise, the more people we can help.”

“Certainly the most admirable project I have had the joy of hearing about in several years. Well, folks, remember what these two have said to us tonight. Thank you both for agreeing to this conversation.”

“It’s been a real pleasure.”