#imagine remembering your brother's birth fondly even though it was the same day your mother left you bot abandoned

[sunlitmcgee]

hwhbh!ghostbur fawning over baby heal!tommy's tiny bitty feet is the most soul crushing thing I have written for him yet

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: A Child’s Imagination (Female!Reader x Aro Volturi)

WARNING: Character death mentions!

"What do you think? A boy or a girl?" You asked, trailing your fingers over the small bump that was your stomach, leaning back in your seat for better access. Aro leaned against the arm of the seat, smiling fondly at your stomach. "I can't say I know, Cara Mia." "Come on!" You pressed with a playful smile. "Pick one. You'll love them just as much either way." "I am inclined to say a son for reasons I was raised with that are significantly unnecessary and outdated as of this time. Although a daughter would be just as lovely." You smiled lovingly at Aro. "You'd spoil her rotten, you spoiled the twins after all." Aro smirked. "Isn't every child spoiled after several centuries of gifts?" You paused. "That's true. Although you know exactly what I'm talking about. I think that if our baby were to be a girl or a boy. You'd spoil them just as you did the twins." You said. "It's not always a bad thing." Aro smiled slightly. "And your answer, my dear?" You hummed. "A girl. I can only imagine all the battles i’d lose if it were you and our son against me. The men of our large family." You grinned and Aro chuckled. "We only do what's best." He responded before kissing the top of his head. "What would you name them?" You asked him, in sudden deep thought. "Aro, please don't tell me you're going to insist we name our baby some name that's older than dinosaurs." Your eyes widened in dread. "I need to be able to say the name!" Aro chuckled. "Well why don't you give me a name and we'll compare?" You paused. "Nate for a boy? Aiden?" "No, it looks like I'll be naming our son because those names are terrible. For a girl?" You hummed. "Charlotte? Evelyn? I'm trying to go a bit more classic for you." You giggled. "Those two are...decent." Aro said with no enthusiasm. "Meaning you aren't too fond of those either." You laughed. "Alright, what about you then? Girl and boy names." "Cleisthenes-" "I'm sorry, what?" Your tracing stopped as an incredulous look moved across your face. "I don't even know how to say what you just said never mind spell that." "It means Glory and Strength. See names in my era actually had meaning." Aro smiled slyly. "So does my era." You laughed. "We just care less about the meaning and more about if we can spell it and if we can say it. Pick again." You continued to giggle as Aro rolled his eyes. "Heliodoros." You said nothing but pressed him further. "Two girl names?" "Artemisia or... Eumelia." Aro responded. "...It appears we'll be having a lot of discussions for baby names." You giggled to yourself. 

Somehow the two of you made a deal. If a girl, you'd choose two baby names that the two of you would pick which was preferred. The same going if the baby was a boy. Then Aro would pick two names for you both to reach a decision on. When the birth arrived, the baby was a boy and Aro made the decision alone on the boys name. However it wasn't the two names he had first said. "Archelaus." Aro had told his brothers. "The people's ruler'." Caius responded with an eyebrow raised. He seemed almost impressed. "How fitting." Marcus drawled.

"Aro, it's time. You need to decide." Caius said as he hovered over you. Aro tore his eyes away from the baby, yet to be cleaned, but bundled in a towel. He looked at his son momentarily, a flash of doubt in his eyes. Yet he said nothing. Caius stared Aro down as Aro looked at you. You were seconds away from your heart stopping altogether. 

Finally Aro shook his head. Caius nodded and Aro left the room, with his newborn son in his arms. There was a sickening crack as Caius mumbled to a guard about ensuring you wouldn't suffer any longer. It was as of Caius considered that a gift. Your heart stopped and perhaps by coincidence, your son began to cry in Aro's arms. "Mio figlio." Aro cooed in a soft voice. "Everything is alright." 

Aro moved into the next room, Renata already waiting for Aro's next instruction, as always. She had always been the most rigid of the Volturi and in a constant state of internal stress whilst her face appeared void of emotion. Then again, that's what made her a good guard and one Aro trusted with his life. She was constantly on the look out for danger. "Might I ask you get him cleaned up, my dear?" Aro asked lightly and Renata nodded immediately moving forward to take the baby from Aro as gently as she could. 

When Renata moved into the closest bathroom, Aro left the room and returned to the room you had given birth in. "They didn't feel it." Caius assured Aro, who nodded in thanks. Caius stepped back, giving Aro some more room with you. Aro ran his fingers through your hair. "Thank you, my dear. Our son will be remarkable, I assure you. I have no doubt you would have been wonderful." Aro leaned in closer towards you, his head hovering over yours. "I'm sorry, my dear." Aro kissed your forehead and closed your eyes with his hand. This hadn't been the first time he had decided to sacrifice those he loved for his goals and no one really knew if it could have been the last. 

Your son didn't seem very affected by your passing. Aro figured it was that he really didn't know you when it came down to it. Although that thought was sad, you had loved your son in the end of the universe. 

Aro saw you curled up in a blanket, running your fingers along your stomach. You had always got little nudges in return. Your stomach softly nudging back at you. You had looked at your bump adoringly the whole time you were showing and when alone, always telling your unborn son how much you loved him. "I'll always love you." 

You did it more so when there was chances you wouldn't survive. So therefore it was no longer just bonding with your unborn child, it was telling him and loving him for every moment you had, in case any of those would be the last. You had hoped he'd remember you if the worst came to be- if you didn't survive the birth. 

There was a pang of sorrow in Aro’s chest. Sorrow for you and sorrow for his son. Aro had really loved you. He had no doubt and he loved his son too, appreciated the gift you had given him. The greatest gift he had ever received. Although he had planned that gift for himself. He had plans for himself, the Volturi and his son. Gaining more power, it was always the plan. Your son was a part of that plan. However you were not and in the end, whilst his love for you was strong, it wasn't enough to discard centuries of plans, reputation and centuries of work. So he let you die, but he made you were comfortable. He had Alec numb your senses, you wouldn't have known when you slipped away and you wouldn't have felt a thing. A peaceful end. Your legacy beginning as you departed from the world with Aro's love and gratitude. 

 Aro kneeled down to Klaus' level faced with answering his son just where his mother had gone. "Such matters are very difficult to tell children- to relay in words that they understand." Aro said softly as he held his son's hands in his own. "Your mother passed away and she's not coming back. She left this world with so much love for you, little one. The last thing she wanted was to say goodbye to you. However these things happen sometimes." Aro paused, searching his son's thoughts, trying to piece together if perhaps Klaus understood even a little bit. "Archelaus..." Aro said quieter, looking into his son's eyes. "Your mother isn't coming home." Aro let go of his son's hands. "She'll always be in here, with you." Aro patted his son's chest lightly, just where his heart sat beating a little faster than before. Klaus, barely looking two years old, looked away from Aro putting his thumb near his mouth as he looked around the room. Although Aro's heart would have shattered if it hadn't already stopped so very long ago. Tears ran down his son's face, his eyes moving back to his father. There was no sound, nothing. Aro couldn't bring himself to say anything, simply watching his son. He wasn't sure what exactly made his son think about you but he seemed to be growing aware of his surroundings, so much so that he is noticing people who are missing from what he remembered. Vampires couldn't cry. No tears could ever fall but to see tears run down his son's face reminded him that his son wasn't just half vampire. He was half human, half you. The human in him cried for the loss of his mother. Aro couldn't help but wonder if you'd have cried too, seeing your son try to understand why he couldn't hear his mother's voice anymore. The moment was brief and ended as quickly as it had began. He had never wondered about his mother before that day and he didn't after that day either. Almost as though Archelaus had forgotten and Aro figured that perhaps it would have been better that way. 

Aro was hoping that Archelaus would meet Renesmee Cullen and when the opportunity arose, he jumped on it. It worked well, checking in on Renesmee's progress, effort to rekindle his friendship with Carlisle and his son meets someone like him who's close to his age.  "Some friends of ours are coming for a brief visit since they're passing by." Aro said fixing Klaus' collar. "They have a little girl who is like you, half human and half vampire." Klaus looked up at his father before nodding. "Would you be willing to keep her company while she's here? I believe she'd be a wonderful friend." Aro asked. Klaus nodded. "Yes, father." 

The two children had ended up in Klaus' room. Klaus having his toy train in hand whilst Renesmee flicked a switch repeatedly to change the lanes. Whilst Klaus knew Renesmee's name, he had yet to introduce himself, giving off the impression he was a rather quiet boy who more than likely kept to himself. Then again, Aro couldn't help but consider perhaps it was due to being around someone who was close to his age. Renesmee was older but it wasn't noticeable in the childrens appearance. "When I get older, I want to travel on a train just like this one!" Renesmee said brightly. "Like the ones in Europe!" "Where would you go?" Klaus asked almost absentmindedly. "I don't know. I just like the thought of getting on a train to anywhere, going wherever I want at the time. So I promised myself that one day I would." "By yourself?" "Yeah!" She grinned. "Unless Jacob says he has to go too. He doesn't like the thought of me going anywhere alone." She looked almost disheartened and Klaus picked up on it. "I know the feeling. I overheard my father and uncles saying I may never get to leave here. At least not alone.” "Would you want to?" Renesmee tilted her head in curiosity. Klaus shrugged. "Maybe. I'd like to see what's out there, I think." Renesmee gasped. "You should come with me! When we're older! We should go together! Wherever we like!" Klaus was surprised. "Really?" "Yeah!" She grinned. "You should tell me your name if we're going to be friends!" "Friends?" Klaus repeated, surprised at how quickly the conversation had escalated. "Of course!" "My name is...a little strange." Klaus admitted. Even he knew his name was a mouthful bit then again, so was 'Renesmee'. "They like to give us strange names, don't they?" Renesmee cracked a smile. "My name was two names mashed together." She said almost bashfully. "Although, I'm mostly called Nessie." "Nessie? As in...?" Klaus tilted his head, trailing off and Renesmee nodded. "...like the monster. Although it wasn't intend as an insult." "My name is Archelaus. It means 'the people's ruler'...but in the human world and some call me Klaus for short." He responded. "What would you prefer I called you?" Renesmee asked. He lightly shrugged. "Klaus is fine." "Nice to meet you Klaus." "Likewise...Renesmee." "I don't mind if you call me Nessie." She smiled and Klaus' mouth twisted. "I'm sorry but I really can't call you that." Renesmee giggled. "That's okay."  "Can I ask you something?" Klaus asked. "Sure!" Renesmee smiled brightly. "Do your parents call you that? " She giggled at the thought. "No! My mum hates it, my dad doesn't like it but my uncle's think it's pretty funny." She paused momentarily. "Does your dad call you by your full name?" Klaus nodded. "Yes. As do my uncle's. Most of the guard call me Klaus though...unless my father and uncles are around." 

After another moment of silence, Klaus spoke up. "My father says you're gifted." Renesmee nodded. "Wanna see?" "How?" He asked. "Like this!" Renesmee cupped a hand to his cheek and he went rigid, startled by her sudden movement. 

Flashes of images rushed through his mind and he began to realise that this was Renesmee's story, showing others her abilities before himself. "Woah..." He said quietly. "Do you have a gift?" She asked. Klaus shrugged looking down. "Don't you ask your mum and dad?" "I think my father would have told me if I did but...my mother died when I was born. I can't ask her." "Oh...I'm sorry." Renesmee said sadly with a sympathetic expression. "It's okay. You know the feeling. I saw it. Your mother nearly died too." Renesmee nodded. "Yes. She was lucky. At least that's what my dad says." Klaus lightly shrugged but nodded. "Do you miss her?" Renesmee asked. "No...I mean, sometimes I do but I just think about how much I love her and that she loves me the same." 

Klaus looked up hearing the door open to be met with Jane. Klaus simply looked back down at his toy train absentmindedly. “Hello, I heard you talking about your mother.” Jane moved to stand in front of him.Klaus paused.  “Would you tell me about her?” Jane asked. "I think I see her sometimes." Klaus quietly and Jane joined him on the floor. Klaus continued to play with his toy train. "Not all the time, only when I miss her the most." Klaus added with a small smile. However Jane could see his sad eyes and understood it. Children like Klaus, children like herself and her brother, they should never have such sad eyes. Yet they did. "Would you tell me about it?" She asked. "Well, I think it's her. I look her at her and somehow I just know that it's my mother. She's always happy to see me. She has a pretty smile." Klaus added, quickly glancing at Jane who smiled slightly in response. "She does?" Klaus nodded. "I talk to her sometimes. She doesn't say much back but that's okay. I asked her once, if I could keep her." "Oh? Did she answer?" Jane asked softly. "She said I could. That she'd always be with me, even when I can't see her." Klaus was completely unaware of the sadness Jane had begun to feel. When Jane's mother died, she wasn't able to face it, being a newborn and learning to trust Aro. After a couple of years, Jane began to think about her mothers death. It reinforced how alone she was and how alone she had always been. Although now she had lost someone, making her life even more empty than it had ever been before. 

It had been Athenodora who comforted Jane and Alec as best as she could. Although all she could say was that their mother would have been relieved to know her children had survived and were safe. Klaus didn't get this same conversation, yet it seemed as though he didn't need it. He had found a way to cope on his own. Or at least, that's all Jane could hope. She couldn't help but wonder if Klaus didn't hear you say much was because he didn't really know you. It was clear ghosts didn't exist. Yet he had created someone in his head that he assumed was you and would respond in his interpretation of what you would have said rather than what you actually would have said. Perhaps that silence he received by his imaginary friend was Klaus not knowing what his mother would say and so no response would be given. "Does it make you sad sometimes?" She asked. "Not really." Klaus looked up at Jane again with a slight smile. "I know my mother loves me and that's all that matters really." 

When Caius entered the room, he entered a war zone. For once, Marcus was mentally and physically present in the room. He was angry. Not only that, angry and arguing with Aro. Both Marcus, and Aro had pitch black eyes and it didn't take long to recognise just what they were arguing about. "I don't need to sympathize to you!" Marcus snapped. "You chose this! You did this to yourself, you did it to her and you did it to your son! You decided she wouldn't be changed so I won't have any sympathy for you because I know I sure as hell did not choose my loss!" "Everything I have ever done, was for this coven!" Aro seethed through a clenched jaw. "(Y/N) would have been apart of that. Spare me your words Aro. You let her die because she didn't fit your goals. You never even consulted us, this decision, and rightly so, was on you. You knew for months where this was going and you made your choice!" Aro scoffed. "You make it sound so easy. Then again, when have you ever made a difficult decision in your life Marcus?" Aro responded icily. "I loved (Y/N) with everything I had and my decision to let her go was not easy. If you cared so much then you wouldn't have sat there for all those months knowing she'd die!" Marcus was immediately on his feet, standing feet away from Aro. "I watched that girl die. You should have been where I was standing. I told her she had a healthy son and my face was the last thing she saw and it should have been you! Furthermore, I was by her side as she gave birth because you weren't there!" Aro snarled before Caius intervened. "Enough!" Caius snapped, stepping in between the two men. "We all knew this would happen. What we didn't know was that Aro would grow attached. Now let me make myself quite clear." Caius began coldly. "(Y/N) died loved and appreciated by Aro and held many of the guards hearts. She was wonderful and she died. We all know that many women have died in childbirth in our time. She brought Archelaus into this world and passed away. Before she could suffer, I killed her. She felt nothing and wasn't alone! We cannot and will not destroy ourselves with the 'what ifs'. We all did what we did and now we live with it because that boy needs it. He is what matters now!" The situation de-escalated greatly after this but Caius continued. "Aro, I understand you are in pain and Marcus is the only one here that knows that pain. So why don't you be help one another with that pain and not use it to tear each other apart?" Marcus and Aro stared at each other before they both back down in unison. "Make me the mediator one more time and I kill you both." Caius growled. "Honestly...see the gift (Y/N) gave you both. Memories, a son and a nephew. Could you even fathom what she'd be thinking right now seeing you both like this!?" 

When night had fallen, Archelaus was taken to bed with his usual nightly routine. Renata was the one who took him to bed this particular night. The guard took turns and later Aro himself would check in on him. As usual Aro received a good report that Archelaus was in bed which left Aro a couple of free hours before he checked in. He spent those hours properly patching things up with Marcus, the two understanding each other by the time he was done. Thankfully the two were able and willing to overlook the incident. 

Aro couldn't help but frown slightly. It was in the middle of the night, the lights were off in many of the rooms down the wing where Klaus stayed. It was to help him sleep, even the lights for the hall were off. It helped the illusion that everyone was asleep at the same time he was. Even though it wasn't necessary, Aro figured it may appeal to his human side. 

However, instead of sleeping he wasn't even in that wing. Aro found his son on the floor below his room in one of the many rooms that had a TV in it. Aro figured his son was sneaking in some TV time or playing when regardless he should have been asleep in bed. However Aro stopped, before reaching the doorway, hiding in the shadows and out of sight. 

His son giggled again, arms stretched out at nothing and grinning up at something Aro couldn't see.  A excited squeal escaped his son and Aro blinked. Suddenly, his son was no longer alone. Someone lifted him into the air, spinning him before setting him down before spinning with him. That someone looking an awful lot like you. "I'll always love you." Aro heard your voice whisper with an echo. Aro blinked again and suddenly you were gone, his sons giggling dying down. It seemed he could no longer see you either, hands dropping to his sides. 

Aro moved closer unable to really pinpoint an emotion, many swirling and battling for the spotlight. His son turned to look at Aro and fully expected to get a scolding at the very least, however it never came. Aro slowly entered the room, barely making a sound and sparing a glance to the empty space you were previously in. Aro looked down at him with a soft expression. "Was that your mother?" He asked quietly. Klaus looked nervous, looking down at his hands. "It's alright Archelaus, I saw it too." Aro explained. "I miss her sometimes." Klaus finally spoke. "When I think of her, after a while, she comes to see me." "Oh?" Aro tilted his head. Klaus continued. "I mean, I know it's not really her. I like to pretend she's here and if I'm patient, she's comes to see me." "Can you show me?" Aro asked holding out his hand. 

Klaus slowly put his hand in Aro's. He was right, this wasn't the first time. He remembered what you looked like, his imagination doing the rest of the work. Whenever he found himself thinking of her, longing for her presence. She'd come to see her son. Of course it became very apparent this was simply his impression of her, Klaus' imagination building the pieces to replicate his mother as best as he could along with what he hoped she'd be like. 

"I'm sorry I got out of bed, father." Klaus said quietly. "That's alright little one." Aro said, unable to punish his son after discovering his son's gift. "We'll take you back to bed." Before leading his son away, he pulled his son into him, bending ever so slightly to hold his son closer. 

Aro had always wondered how his son dealt with topic of his mother although could never bring himself to venture into his son's thoughts for you. However, he held comfort in knowing that his son had found peace and comfort to cope with your passing. He had no doubt that his son would have questions about why you weren't saved when he grew up but he could live with that. He could live with the spare time, your son had unknowingly given him.

[whatisthiscontentyouspeakof]

A Cold Days Night that Changes Everything

A03 | Previous | Next

Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Express

Harry ran his hands through Vulpa’s hair, detangling it and spreading the curls out into a bigger poof of hair then it normally was. Professor McGonagall had taken them to the train that would take them to Hogwarts early in the day, before any of the other students arrived as a way not to overwhelm them. Neither he nor his sisters mentioned that they were prepared their whole lives for when they would leave Azkaban and end up in a whole new world falloff stimuli and thus weren’t as easily overwhelmed as the adults thought they'd be. 

Harry had to admit, even if it was just himself, that he was enamoured by the bright bright red that the Hogwarts Express was mainly coloured and a part of him debated using his limited Metamorphmagus abilities to colour his hair the same red colour but ultimately decided against it, knowing it would bring him too much unwanted attention. The inside of the train was mainly neutral colours that Harry was most familiar with, with pops of colour representing the four house even spread throughout the compartments, mainly in the hallway between the different cabins. The seats were plush and soft and comfortable, covered in a faded medium pale blue fabric that was similar to the colour of the sky on some of the less stormy days in Azkaban, bringing Harry a sense of comfort he hadn’t expected. 

Vulpa and Delphi had settled down across from each other, pulling down the table attached to the wall and quickly set up a chess game, a favourite of Vulpa’s and started trying to out maneuver each other. Harry had a few books he wanted to read, mainly about different gaps he had in his education that had happened in the magical world in the last ten years, but for now was content to play with his sisters hair. 

Draco and Narcissa Malfoy had been helping them catch up, educating them on law changes that their parents and uncles hadn’t been free to know about and teach them, and who they’d be going to school with that was of importance. Lucius Malfoy had mainly just interacted with them to make sure they were presentable, buying them clothing and bringing in a tailor to make sure their clothing fit and had room to grow since they were still growing. He had tried to get Harry to replace his glasses with ones that were more fashionable but Harry had refused, liking the idea that his glasses were the same circular shape that his birth fathers had been, even if they were oversized, and he also hadn’t wanted to give up his first piece of successful transfiguration that he had down when he was seven. 

The first students started trickling in around 9:30, mostly older students with badges on their clothing, some of whom where in robes and some in Muggle clothing. Harry realized that they were probably different house prefects and had arrived early so they could help out other student, probably focusing on first years and making sure everyone made it on the train fine. 

By 10:30 the platform was starting to fill up with students all trying to get around each other, putting their baggage on the train and say good-bye to their family. There were also a number of students, all of whom Harry considered to be quiet inconsiderate, forming groups with their friends, catching up on what they had done over the summer. They were acting as if they wouldn’t be sitting together on the train, or about to spend the next several months living together before going home for winter break. He had noticed several smaller kids, likely first years, getting trapped behind some of these groups or trying to squeeze by to get on the train and not being able to. 

Ten minutes before the train as set to leave the station, most the students started to board the train, saying their final goodbyes and making sure they had all their belongings. Harry was grateful that any of his and his sisters stuff were already at Hogwarts in the private chamber they were going to share, though of course Harry would have a place in whatever house he was sorted in. It seemed like such a hassle to move around with a large chest and any other personal belongings. Why didn’t people shrink their luggage down to a more manageable size? A majority fo the students would have at least one magical parent if they weren’t old enough to do magic outside of school. It didn’t make sense to him.

Minutes before the train was set to leave, a large group of red heads made their way through the platform from the Muggle entrance. There was only one adult in the group of red heads, a plump woman who was herding what appeared to be her four sons towards the train, her hand grasping her daughter, which judging by the grumpy sad look on her face, she wasn’t yet old enough to be attending Hogwarts. The eldest of the children had a badge on his outfit, another prefect and likely the last to arrive, how irresponsible. He instantly moved away from his family, dragging his chest behind him. The next boys in age, a set of twins judging by appearance, left not long after, abandoning their youngest brother and sister to their mothers attention. 

The mother was interesting, fusing over her two youngest children in a way that Bellatrix never did. Curios to see how else she different, after all Harry knew people out in the world didn’t consider Bellatrix to be a good mom even if he and his sisters thought differently, Harry lowered the compartments window just enough to hear what was happening on the platform. 

“Ron, you’ve got something on your nose.” The mother reached out and grabbed the boy who had tried to jerk out of the way, and began rubbing the end of his nose. The entire motion was strange to Harry who grew up surrounded by dirt and filth and general lack of cleanliness that no one bother trying to clean off any weird marks or dirt spots, it was pointless after all.

“Mum- geroff,” The boy said, his voice whiny as he wiggled free from his mothers tight grasp.

“Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie? said one fo the twins, whom had rejoined his family.

“Shut up,” Ron hissed. At least that was familiar to Harry. Some days ‘shut up’ was a favourite saying of his family members. 

“Where’s Percy?” The mother demanded.

“He’s coming now.” The same twin said.

The oldest became striding into sight, walking with a confidence and a grace that his other family members lacked. He had changed into his school robes at some point, transferring his prefect badge over, the red and gold badge, identifying him as a Gryffindor, standing out more on the black fabric of the robes then his ratty warm toned clothing that he’d been wearing before.

“Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said. “I’m up front, the pRefects have got two compartments to themselves-“

“Oh, are you a Prefect, Percy?” said the other twin, with mock surprise. “You should have said something, we had no idea.”

“Hang on,” the other twin added on, “I think I remember him saying something about it. Once-“

“Or twice-“

“A minutes-“

‘All summer-“

“Oh, shut up,” said Prefect Percy of Gryffindor. Harry couldn’t help but agree with him. These red headed twins came off as people who spoke like this often, which Harry found annoying. Then again, his sisters only ever did it when they were trying to be annoying which may be why he found it so annoying.

“how come Percy gets new robes, anyway?” said one of the twins.

“Because he’s a Prefect,” said their mother fondly. Harry thought nothing of the show of favouritism, his dad being the only person he knew who treated he and the girls equally all the time instead of treating them depending on how they were acting that day and if they did anything exceptionally well. “All right, dear, well, have a good term-send me an owl when you get there.”

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned her attention to the twins, looking reading to start scolding them. Harry and the girls had had enough of those in their lives, mainly about visiting prisoners in other wings or getting too close to where guards were stationed, to know the look.

“Now, you two-this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you’ve-you’ve blown up a toilet or-“

“Blown up a toilet? We’ve never blown up a toilet.”

“Great idea though, thanks, Mum.”

Harry felt like his dad may enjoy hearing a few stories about what these kids got up to at school. He had a feeling it was a lot like what his dad, this birth father and their friends got up to. 

“It’s not funny. And look after Ron.”

“Don’t worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us.”

“Shut up,” Ron said again, glaring at his twin brothers, almost tall enough to look them right in the eye.

A loud noise sounded. If Harry had been raised by anyone else or raised anywhere else, he might have been startled, as it was, he realized the sound was that of the trains horn and memorized the sound for future reference. The girls chess pieces startled before complaining about the sound, causing Vulpa to laugh and Dephi and him to smile. 

“Hurry up!” the mother outside yelled, causing all three boys to clamber on to the train, turning to lean out for her to kiss them goodbye and their younger sister began to cry.

“Don’t, Ginny, we’ll send you loads of owls.” One of the twins commented.

“We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat.” The other twin said.

“George!”

“Only joking, Mum.”

The train started to move and Harry found himself distracted from the red haired family at he looked at his own. So far since leaving Azkaban the three them had travelled by boat, though they’d been unconscious, by carriage and by floo. They had never travelled by train before and Harry found himself enjoying all the new experiences, though he couldn’t help but make sure that his sisters were both fine. They were just as prepared mentally for the outside world as he had been, but there was only so much their imagination and the descriptions their family had given them could provide and there was the chance that all the new experiences became too much. If they were to be overwhelmed, it would be best for it to happen in privacy then around those who could one day turn into enemies. 

Both the girls looked up from their chess game to look out the window and the landscape passing them by. At first it was clusters of houses that flashed past the window, before they started to flicker out, appearing less and less as they headed towards the Scottish countryside. 

It was an hour into the ride before a student tried to interrupt them. The door to their compartment rattled as someone tried to open the door. Harry glanced at his sisters, who both instantly laid down to pretend to sleep as a tactic to prevent anyone from guessing at how young them were. Pleased that they were convincing enough, Harry went to the door, reaching out with his magic, before opening the door as if it was never locked to begin with.

“Malfoy,” he said pleasantly as he saw Draco Malfoy standing before him with a group of other students behind him. 

“Black,” Malfoy greeted back at him, one fo the few people who didn’t stumble over his preferred last name. “May I introduce you to some of our year mates?”

Harry studied him and his friends before stepping aside with a hum, letting Malfoy and his friends in and letting his sisters know they could sit back up and stop pretending to be asleep. Vulpa moved from her side of the compartment to sit beside Delphi as Harry took her spot, allowing the other students to sit down.

Harry studied the other children as they made themselves comfortable, knowing his sisters were doing the same. Two of Malfoy’s friends were male like him, while the other was female. 

The girl was tiny, almost as tall as Harry himself, who was aware that he was short for his age, Azkaban not having provided him with enough nutrition to grow as big and tall as his peers. She had deep brown pin straight hair that was cut straight across at chin level and across her forehead, not a single hair out of place or messy. Her cheeks still held some baby fat, rounding it out a bit, but the general shape seemed to be more oval then round. She had dark browns eyes that verged on black at stared back at him almost defiantly, her thin pink lips pressed together in a scowl, obviously not pleased to no longer being in her carriage and in Harry’s.

The two boys that had joined Malfoy, sitting on either side of the boy in question, were large, larger then any other child Harry had met, their build making it questionable whether they were overweight or muscular. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry could see Delphi eyeing the one closet to her with interest, as if debating different ways to experiment on the other child and see how the kids build altered how his body reacted compared to her and the rest of her siblings tiny frames. 

“Blacks,” Malfoy said, leading the introduction once everyone was settled. “these are my companions,” he gestured towards the girl, “Pansy Parkinson of the Most Ancient and Noble house of Parkinson. Her brother, Heir Parkinson, graduated last year.” Harry nodded politely at the girl who nodded back, her scowl softening to something not quiet a scowl. His sisters didn’t bother doing or saying anything knowing that the second they did, attention would undeniably be put on them and it would be best to get introduction over with first so they knew who they were dealing with.

Malfoy guested towards the boy to his left, the one closest to the girls. “This is heir Vincent Crabbe, of the ancient house of Crabbe. He and his family have been assets to the Malfoy house for generations.” Harry realized that that meant that Crabbe was under the Malfoy’s family protection and as Harry and his sisters would be staying with the Malfoy’s int eh summer,  it would be best if they looked out for him as well. 

Crabbe, as Harry had already noticed, was quiet large, slighter shorter then the other large boy and defiantly rounder. His dark brown hair was cut close to his head, leaving it looking like a giant sphere then anything else. He had brown eyes that had a mean looking squint to them, though that was mostly the fat in his cheeks pushing up agains his eyes then him actually trying to look threatening at the moment. Tiny scars littered across his knuckles, barely noticeable but suggesting that the boy was already used to the odd fist fight. 

Malfoy gestured to the last boy. “This is heir Gregory Goyle of the ancient house of Goyle. like the Crabbe family, he and his family have been assets to the Malfoy house for generations.” Much like with the other two, Harry nodded politely as he studied the last boy. 

Goyle was the largest boy in the compartment, taller then Crabbe, though just as thick and large otherwise. His face was more rectangular then round and his hair was a lighter brown, one that one could even refer to as a dark blond in the right lighting. His eyes were a lighter brown with specs of green in them and his hair, while short, had a curl to it. While he didn’t look overly angry or intimidating the way Crabbe naturally looked, Harry knew that they boy was likely a lot meaner then Crabbe when push came to shove. 

Malfoy turned towards his companions. “Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson, may I introduce you to my new companions and foster siblings, Hardwin, Vulpecula and Cassiopeia Black. Hardwin Black will be joining us as first years while the Black twins will be staying at Hogwarts until as family to Hardwin, but won’t be joining us as students for another two years.”

“Merry meet,” they all muttered as introductions were done and conversation could start. 

Delphi spoke up first. “As there are three of us Blacks, I am fine with being refereed to as Cassiopeia to try and avoid confusion.” she said politely but firmly. “Do not mistake it as me being overly familiar or allowing you to do so, I prefer my middle name over my first.”

The other children nodded at what his sister said, understanding that she was still to be treated in a formal respect and wasn’t inviting any of them in for friendship. 

Vulpa, not one to go far without her sister, even in conversations, decided to add her two knuts. “As I do prefer to go by first name, I can’t say the same to help alleviate confusion, but I am will to go by Little Black if it makes things easier when all of us are together or I am just with my brother, otherwise just Black will be fine.”

Again the other children agreed easily enough. Before any of them could give out any name preference a toad jumped through the tiny opening that Malfoy’s friends left in the compartments door. 

There was silence as everyone stared at the toad before Vulpa spoke. “Trevor!”  she said happily, getting up and picking the toad up.

The second the name left his sisters lips, Harry realized she was right. The toad was the one Neville Longbottom’s great uncle got him for getting acceptance into Hogwarts. Neville hadn’t been able to bring the toad to St. Mugo’s to show them but he did bring a photo of him receiving the toad that his grandmother had taken so that he could show them what a toad looked like.

“Trevor?” Malfoy asked, looking at the toad with a slight look of disgust on his face. 

Harry hummed in confirmation but it was Vulpa who spoke up, generally being the most talkative out of the three of them. “We met heir Longbottom during out short stay at St. Mugo’s. His great uncle Algie Longbottom bought him for him as a gift for Hogwarts.”

“Why? It’s useless. It’s not like it’s a magical breed.” Malfoy commented, the look of disgust still on his face. 

He wasn’t wrong. Toads had no used in the magical world in this day and age. Normal toads like Trevor were really only good to experiment on or as a potion ingredient. Magical breeds like the dragon toad could light tiny fires but so could a simple spell. The most useful breed of toad was the Giant Purple toad but even then most people passed on raising them unless they are a potioneer. Harry and the twins had to listen to Neville go on about different toads when he announced that he got one, going on about how everyone was going to make fun of him for it, but Harry had a feeling that Neville was still happy about having received Trevor. 

As if summed by his thoughts there was a timid knock on the door. Harry flicked his hand to the side connecting to his magic and forcing the door open without anyone having to get up. Neville Longbottom stood at the compartments doorway looking nervous and unsure as what to do now.

“Are you looking for Trevor?” Vulpa asked, holding said toad up for the other boy to see.

The boy nodded smiling with relief as Vulpa passed the toad off to him. 

Harry made a little hum noise as to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone, this is heir Neville Longbottom of the Most Ancient and Most Noble house of Longbottom.” he said. “Neville, this is heir Draco Malfoy, of Most Ancient and Most Noble, heir Vincent Crabbe of ancient, heir Gregory Goyle of ancient and Pansy Parkinson of Most Ancient and Noble houses.”

“Merry Meet,” Neville said awkwardly as the others repeated it back to him just as unsure. Seemed like dark families and light families didn’t know how to interact with each other. 

“Are you going to sit?” Delphi asked softly, speaking for the first time since the others had joined besides her polite ‘Merry Meet’ earlier. 

Neville looked unsure but eventually he sat down nervously. There was a moment of silence before Vulpa, sweet, smart, awkward silence breaking Vulpa spoke up. “So who here plays chess?”

Next

[angstmongertina]

One More Sleep

Title taken from the song by Leona Lewis of the same name.

Hey, @line-artsy-draws, here’s your Secret Santa gift! Thanks for your patience in answering all of my questions! I hope it’s in character for Helena and that you like it! :)

Edit because I forgot to mention: I am not an alpha backer and therefore hand-waved everything between the end of the extended demo and when this takes place, several months after the Summit ends.

Of the many concepts that Princess Helena had learned about the kingdom of Jiyel in her lessons, its culture and society featured heavily, particularly in the ways that differed from her home. After all, neighboring kingdoms though they might have been, they shared no small number of disagreements, from everything as fundamental as their beliefs to who could make a better cup of tea.

One of the most notable was the difference in religion, or lack thereof. Their duty came from the veneration of their elders, from the emphasis that the Crown placed on education and talent. Focused as they were on knowledge and the logical, they believed in no God, lacked the holidays celebrating His glory.

Lacked Christmas.

Oh, it was true that the holiday’s service was always long and incredibly dull, with what seemed like the endless number of prayers and sermons, not to mention the eyes of the entire kingdom watching her for proper behavior, comparing her to Constance. She knew that, knew she was expected to be dutiful and pious and proper, but…

But the hymns and carols were gentle and beautiful, performed by the best singers in the kingdom. Her mother’s soft alto would join in, quietly harmonizing with Father’s rich baritone and Constance’s sweet soprano. Even after her sister left for the Summit and then her new life as the Crown Princess of Corval, she thought she could still hear Constance’s voice during the services, as if echoing from a memory.

And afterwards… Afterwards, they would gather for more personal celebrations. Mother would sit between them, weaving tales like she used to when they were young, elegant hands painting pictures as vividly as her art tutor’s brushes would. Presents filled her room, stacks of novels and jewelry and other little things that were not necessary, not appropriate, for dutiful young princesses but could, on this day of His son’s birth, be indulged. Even Father would put aside his work, taking a few hours from his busy life being a proper leader of Arland to be simply a father, kind and thoughtful and funny in ways that she was not accustomed to seeing, but treasured with every fiber of her being.

Those traditions, those moments of escape from being the proper second princess of Arland, were perhaps more foreign to Jiyel, were harder to explain, than all of the other traditions combined. The warmth and the cheer and the love… Those couldn’t be found in books, in studies of Arlish religion and traditions.

Of course, from childhood, she knew that she would be sent to the Summit, that she would leave the traditions and customs of her youth behind, that she would travel to whatever kingdom would provide the best match for Arland. But to know was different than to experience, and as fall slowly morphed into winter at her new home in Jiyel, she couldn’t help but find herself thinking of the past.

Lyon, as quick and observant as he was, caught on without any comment on her part, though if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, anyone who had been paying attention likely would have, given her preoccupation. And her beloved—even just the thought of that was enough to make her heart leap in her chest—was certainly more than attentive to her every possible desire, as though returning to the privacy of his estate also granted him the privacy to express himself.

He brought it up much the same way he did most things, plain and direct, his eyes full of the emotion that the rest of the world somehow missed, warm and thoughtful and caring, so very deeply caring. In it, she could sense his gentleness, his sincerity, his desire to do whatever she wished to feel comfortable.

But it was not something she could put into words, her sudden painful longing for company and warmth and love of the kind that her family’s Arlish Christmases brought, that nostalgia for years past. And so, she could only smile, a pleasant, polite quirk of the lips, and elude the question with promises of books on the subject before changing the topic to something more innocuous, safer for herself and her suddenly tenuous control over her emotions.

She did not notice the knowing look in his eyes, nor the way he disappeared to his study a short while later, every movement and expression full of determination.

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

The day that, at least in Arland, would be called Christmas dawned over her new home in soft silver and powdery white. As if remembering the years long past, she awoke early, before the sun had fully cleared the tree line. Beside her, Lyon slumbered on, no doubt exhausted from his retiring sometime after she had already fallen asleep. For a moment, she studied his face, peaceful and still, warm affection flooding her chest, before the Siren song of Christmas became too hard to resist and she slid carefully out from under the covers, making her way to the window.

Outside, the landscape was muted and calm, fat snowflakes filling the air, covering the trees and grass in beautiful white. The grounds were untouched, pristine, and she stared out into the grounds, nearly pressing her face against the thick glass.

If she squinted, she could almost picture two young girls from her distant memory, heavy shawls and thick scarves wrapped around immaculate hairstyles and expensive dresses, both to keep warm and to disguise, giggling and dancing among the falling flakes. How long had it been since her carefree days with Constance, since she had felt the cold breeze on her cheeks, seen the gasping laughs of stolen freedom from lessons and etiquette and formality?

She wondered what her neighbors and servants, and perhaps more importantly, her husband, would think if they saw her rushing outside into the frigid air right then and there with no regard for her position or propriety.

As if drawn by her thoughts, she shivered, the chill of the room finally seeping into her awareness and the realization that she wore only her nightgown. She shook her head, mentally scolding herself in a voice that sounded strangely similar to her old nurse’s, and turned…

Only to be greeted by a thick blanket wrapping around her shoulders and the fondly amused gaze of her beloved.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning!” She blinked, torn between concern and joy at his strangely normal hour, though joy won out and she beamed at him. “You’re up early.”

“Am I?” Something resembling mischief flashed across his face, so quickly that she might have imagined it. Instead, he squinted vaguely outside before scowling, though she couldn’t be sure if it was due to the early hour or the lack of his usual spectacles. “I suppose I am. Though perhaps not up too early, if you already are. Besides,” and there, there was that glint of mischief again, “that is the custom, is it not? For Christmas?”

She found herself blinking again, long enough that he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yes?”

“But… But I thought you don’t celebrate Christmas in Jiyel.”

He shrugged, looking for all the world as though he was telling her that the sun rose in the east or that the sky was blue. Or, at least he would have if not for the slight tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jiyel doesn’t. But you do.”

“Oh!” She drew a deep breath, tilting her head back to meet his bright gaze, and, unable to resist the urge, stretched up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “So what now? There isn’t any church to visit for the Christmas service.”

At that, the slight quirk of his lips blossomed into a full smirk. “As of this morning, that may no longer be the case. In fact…” He glanced out the window again, as though checking the time. “If we hurry, we might have time to see it before the guests arrive.”

When his words filtered into her consciousness, she froze, halfway to the dressing room. “What?”

He actually laughed. “Guests. Your mother and brother should arrive later this morning, though your father was unable to leave Arland and sends his regrets. I believe Princess Constance’s departure was somewhat delayed, but she, with Prince Zarad accompanying her, should be here tonight. Prince Lisle and Princess Penelope should also arrive this evening, along with Princess Cordelia.”

After a moment of silence, he paused, worry flickering across his face, and the sight of him bending down to reach her eye-level was almost enough to make her giggle. “Helena? Are you all right?”

She smiled, brushing the wetness off of her cheeks as subtly as she could. “I’m fine. Wonderful, even. Though…” She paused, tapping her chin as though deep in thought. “I’d be better if we were outside.”

He chuckled. “Naturally.”

It wasn’t until they were warmly dressed and making their way across the snow-covered grounds, her arm looped firmly around his, that she brought it up again, her voice almost muffled by the scarf around her face.

“So… my family except for Father, Prince Zarad, Princess Penelope, Prince Lisle, and Princess Cordelia. Is that everyone coming?”

“I believe Princess Cordelia mentioned attempting to reach Lord Clarmont as well, though when last she wrote, she was not certain whether the weather would cooperate.”

“That is quite a crowd.” She hesitated as they passed over a rougher patch and felt his hold tighten in careful support. “How long did it take to plan?”

A faint frown, of concentration rather than displeasure, crossed his face. “Perhaps a few months? It took some time, with the construction and especially the letters.”

“But you dislike crowds.”

“But it makes you happy.” Her breath hitched as he stepped closer, a gloved hand reaching to cup her cheek. “Merry Christmas, Helena.”

With the gently falling snow around them, his soft smile was the most tender thing she had ever seen and she leaned in, stopping a hairsbreadth away. “Merry Christmas, Lyon.”

[estelwenadia]

WangXian's “We catch the same bus home and I always fall asleep, but you always wake me up at my stop” AU

Part 4:

Jiang Yanli felt her hand was once again sandwiched between two feverish palms.

But the warmth felt different somehow.

"Shijie..."

A-Xian?

There was a long, long pause, and then she heard some sniffles. Poor A-Xian must be holding back his tears.

"I'm so happy to see you again, Shijie," There was a grin in A-Xian's voice, but Jiang Yanli could imagine it tremble. "I thought I would never see you again."

A-Xian still tried to smile despite the pain he must have felt. Jiang Yanli wished she could open her eyes. Hug both of her brothers tight. Tell them that she was doing fine. Cook for them their favourite soup.

If only she could move...

"I don't know what Doctor Lan has been telling Jiang Cheng, until he agreed to finally let me see you," A-Xian continued quietly. "I thought he hated me so much. I mean, he has every right to."

Oh, A-Xian, A-Cheng would never hate you.

"I can still remember that particular day I was brought home by Uncle Jiang. Jiang Cheng had puppies. Because of me, Jiang Cheng had to give his puppies away. He liked me even less after that, and it got worse when Uncle Jiang wanted me to sleep in Jiang Cheng's room."

Jiang Yanli remembered that particular day, all too fondly.

A-Xian chuckled, but he sounded sad. "Thanks to Shijie, we made up after that. For awhile. But I still don't think he likes me very much..."

A-Xian...

"But I know you love me, and that's all that matters!" A-Xian said firmly. "That's why you have to get better, okay? We are hopeless without you."

There was another pause, another sniffle and an awkward laughter.

When A-Xian spoke again, it was as if there was no trace of sadness in his voice. In its place was happiness and excitement. As much as Jiang Yanli was glad to hear him happy again, she wished A-Xian was more open to express his pain, not just whip it away behind carefree smiles and careless laughter.

But her A-Xian had always been like that - smiling despite trying times, no matter how much pain he was in.

"By the way, Shijie, have you heard of Lan Zhan? He's your Doctor Lan's younger brother and he is the most beautiful person I have ever seen! He takes the same bus as me every night and be sure to wake me up just before I reach my stop! He is such a gentleman! And to think he is my regular customer in the café I work in! It is such a coincidence, right?"

Lan Zhan... Lan Wangji?

Is he the same Lan Zhan who you liked to tease back then when we were in school? You loved talking about him all the time. To think that you would meet him again after so many years...

But something still didn't add up.

Oh, A-Xian, don't tell me you have forgotten about him ever since both of you graduated from school and went your separate ways?

"But it is strange, though..." A-Xian was saying. Jiang Yanli could hear the frown in his voice. "I feel as if I've met him before... He seems familiar, somehow... But for the life of me I just couldn't remember! I can't believe that my memory is terrible! Maybe I should ask him..."

Oh, A-Xian...

A-Xian went on and on about his admiration for Lan Zhan, his obvious (to her) and oblivious (to him) crush on the younger Lan sibling, and Jiang Yanli allowed herself to float adrift in the darkness.

At least now, the darkness wasn't so oppressive anymore.

It was welcoming and warm, just like the lull of A-Xian's voice.

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

"Go home, Wei Wuxian. I'll take over from here."

A-Cheng?

"Nooooo," A-Xian whined. "I wanna spend more time with Shijie! And you are just in time! I was about to tell Shijie about the last time you were drunk and..."

"No, stop!"

A-Cheng, drunk? Jiang Yanli thought in amusement.

"You confessed to Doctor Lan that you like him!" A-Xian finished triumphantly, laughing merrily when A-Cheng yelled A-Xian's birth name in absolute mortification.

"It's all lies, Shijie!" A-Cheng pleaded. "Don't believe a word Wei Wuxian said! Dammit, Wei Wuxian! You promised!"

"I did nothing of that sort!" A-Xian answered cheerfully.

"Shijie, I'll have you know, that I found Wei Wuxian's sketchbook filled with drawings of Lan Wangji," A-Cheng told her desperately, earning a indignant yelp from A-Xian.

Really, A-Xian?

"Jiang Wanyin! You!"

Their antics reminded her of the times when they were younger.

Her entire being hummed with contentment.

"My, my, what a lively atmosphere we have today," a gentle voice drifted into the room.

A simultaneous greeting of "Doctor Lan..." followed by a not-so-subtle hiss from A-Cheng, "Quit it, Wei Wuxian!"

"Doctor Lan," A-Xian began earnestly, with a teasing lilt in his voice, completely ignoring A-Cheng, "Jiang Cheng here is very single and from what Lan Zhan had told me, you are very single too. Don't worry. You have my blessing."

Desperate to divert attention from himself, A-Cheng hurriedly said, "Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian hasn't gone home to rest since he finished his work today. Please bring him home. And ask him to show you his sketchbook!"

"Jiang Wanyin! That's not fair!"

Jiang Yanli could imagine A-Cheng childishly sticking his tongue out at A-Xian.

"Tit for tat, Wei Wuxian. Turnabout's fair play, pal. Too bad. Now get lost!"

"Wei Ying."

That voice must be Lan Wangji's.

"I'm coming, Lan Zhan! Shijie, wait for me, okay? I'll definitely be back! Jiang Cheng can't hog you all to himself!"

"Just go, Wei Wuxian." A-Cheng sighed in exasperation.

"Good night, Shijie! Wet dreams, Jiang Cheng! Come, Lan Zhan, let's go! Are we going to ride in your car or do we take bus together?"

"Bus."

Then A-Xian's chattering voice faded away together with their fading footsteps.

There was a long silence in the room Jiang Yanli wondered if A-Cheng and Doctor Lan had left too.

"Young Master Jiang, are you not heading back?" Doctor Lan Xichen asked.

A slight pause. "Just a little while longer."

"Your sister has been responding positively to tests ever since Young Master Wei has been coming by," Doctor Lan offered. "You have nothing to worry about. She will wake up in a matter of time."

There was a sharp intake of air, followed by a husky, "Is that so...?"

"Mn," Doctor Lan assured. "Would you like to return home now? I can send you home. My shift just ended."

"Uh, you don't have to, Doctor Lan," A-Cheng sounded flustered, much to Jiang Yanli's amusement. "I can go home on my own."

"It is of no consequence," Jiang Yanli could hear the smile in Doctor Lan's voice. "I can fetch Wangji after that too."

"Well, if you say so..." A-Cheng reluctantly agreed. "Shijie, I will be going home first, okay? I will come again tomorrow."

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

Familiar voices through her consciousness.

Voices she had not heard in a long time.

A-Xuan? A-Ling?

Her brothers' voices abruptly stopped, and each greeted her husband tightly. "Jin ZiXuan."

A-Cheng addressed her son with a curt "Jin Ling."

But it was soon broken by A-Xian's delighted squeal of "Jin Rulan! Oh my, look at how you have grown! But you are still so chubby and adorable!"

"I'm not chubby and I'm not cute!" came A-Ling's cross comeback. "And stop calling me Rulan! Let go of me! I'm here to see Mother!"

A-Xian chuckled, and there was a sound of someone's hair being ruffled affectionately. "Go see your Mother, Rulan. Doctor Lan said that your Mother will wake up anytime soon!"

Jiang Yanli heard a gasp. "Really?"

Smaller hands covered her own. "Mother..."

A-Ling...

"Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng."

It was A-Xuan's voice this time.

"What?" Twin spontaneous responses.

Jiang Yanli wanted to laugh. What was that they called themselves back when they were younger? Oh, that's right. Twin Heroes of Yunmeng.

"You don't have to pay for A-Li's hospital expenses anymore. I have it covered. Everything that has been paid for previously will be refunded to your various accounts respectively."

"We don't need your money." A-Xian's voice was steely.

"A-Li is my wife."

"She is our Shijie."

"And she is my Mother!" A-Ling's voice broke into their conversation before it could escalate into an argument. "Please stop fighting."

Well done, A-Ling.

Jiang Yanli focused her energy to wiggle her fingers under A-Ling's hands.

She thought she must have succeeded, because A-Ling gasped, "I think Mother moved! I felt her her hand move!"

She heard a clamour of footsteps, and then excited chorus of her name.

Jiang Yanli, you are the daughter of the Jiang Household. Attempt the Impossible. Open your eyes now! You have been asleep long enough.

She fought her eyes open.

"Her eyes are twitching!

She blinked. At first, the darkness struggled to stay, but it eventually gave way to pure brightness, then the brightness gradually faded away to reveal the relieved, teary faces of her loved ones.

"Shijie!" "A-Li!" "Mother!"

Jiang Yanli broke into a wan smile.

"I'm home."

[theprodigypenguin]

Memory, Memory

Pairings: minor Jeddy

Rating: G

Warnings/Content: sad :’) angst

Notes: Just a May 2nd anniversary fic I started writing last night at 10pm because it was necessary. Enjoy!

Ao3 Link

Fic and Authors Note Under Cut:

There was a heavy humid feeling in the air around Teddy, the scent of rain on the wind and clouds blotching the sky, but it seemed to be akin to a crime that sections of baby blue could still be seen between the grey of the rain clouds. The weather was cold as the day was cresting past noon, temperatures dropping from the sixties to the high fifties, perfect weather for Teddy to slip on an uncharacteristic sweater.

It was an article of clothing he almost never wore, something he kept folded and tucked into a box he hid under his bed, pulling it out only when he felt at his worst. The color was faded tawny and gray, the sleeves worn and pulled until they're were irreparably stretched out, patches on the elbows and material heavy Welsh wool that fought away the biting chill in the air. Despite the cold, the buttons were undone, but there was a familiar black and yellow scarf wrapped around Teddy's neck, pulled over his chin and hiding his lips from view.

The stone bench he'd sat himself on was even colder than the air around him, but he had no intention of moving as he shoved his hands into the pockets of the sweater. He almost never wore it, never really had to wash it because of that fact, and that was both a blessing and a curse, because it smelt heavy of moth balls and dust, but also held a lingering scent of something that Teddy couldn't quite place.

Something familiar, something he knew for sure he must know. The scent of the earth, of birch bark and leaves, rainfall and the bittersweet of chocolate. It made Teddy squint against stinging eyes and bury his face deeper into the scarf around his neck, trying to breathe in a different scent as he rolled old wrappers around in his pockets, scraps of paper and candy foils that no one had bothered to throw out in over twenty years.

Twenty-one, Teddy reminded himself, it's been twenty-one years.

Somewhere miles away, a brilliant family was hosting a birthday party for a girl named after victory. A family adorned with dominant redheads would be setting out a birthday cake and preparing a large supper to celebrate her twenty years of life. She'd open presents, hug her father and mother, spend time with her sister and brother and their cousins, all her aunts and uncles and friends.

Halfway through the night she may look up, search for blue hair, ask where Teddy is, and maybe the room will get quiet, but someone will make a joke, tease her about her crush, and the night will continue as if Teddy hadn't been remembered at all.

He used to celebrate with them, he used to have fun with them, but the older he got, the meaning of this day started to change. Suddenly he couldn't fake a smile and enjoy himself, he couldn't even pretend he was having a good time. So he stopped trying. The meaning of this day was different to him after all. For them, this day symbolized victory, it symbolized the loss of a loved one and the birth of another. It symbolized the true fluidity of life, how one death always lead to new life.

For Teddy, this day symbolized the empty ache in his chest that had been growing bigger and deeper since the moment he looked from Victoire, Bill, and Fleur and up at Andromeda, asking why he didn't have a mum and dad like Victoire did.

He supposed she wanted to tell him when he was older, but she answered him the best she could considering he'd been six at the time, confused as she explained his mum and dad had to go away. Teddy didn't get why, for the longest time, and it took Harry sitting down with him for the reality and truth to finally settle in.

Teddy didn't cry when he was told his parents were dead. He never knew them, so what he felt wasn't pain exactly. More like an echo that settled in his bones, that feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when you haven't eaten, that sensation that something was so clearly missing. The pain of it all didn't start to seep into the rest of his body until he was a teenager.

Hormones and angst, struggles and identity, through it all the only thing he felt was this anger he hid behind a smile. For a long time he wouldn't talk about his parents, and when Harry tried to bring them up, Teddy would be the one to change the subject, because he didn't want to talk about them. Why should he? They left him.

The professors would talk about them sometimes, they would smile fondly and say he looked like them as if it was a compliment intended to make him smile. All he felt from those words was weight, heaviness he tried to heave from his shoulders by changing his hair blue and his eyes pink. Even then the weight found its way back to him in the form of laughter and a statement of: "You look just like your mother!"

He hated it. For the longest time he hated it. He hated hearing stories, he hated hearing their names, hated when people told him he looked like his parents. Yet he kept smiling, kept laughing, kept agreeing. Teddy didn't cope. He didn't deal with the emotional toxins roiling in his bloodstream and poisoning every inch of him. Until he snapped at sixteen, completely losing it.

Looking back he was grateful it had been with Harry and not his grandmother, who probably would have gotten even more upset with him for the bitter, hateful words that spewed from his mouth, his vision blurred by burning tears and his throat raw from his screams. Harry must have cast a silencing charm around the room to keep others from hearing, merely standing and giving Teddy the opportunity to be angry, to cry and scream and curse, until he'd worn himself ragged and his angry red hair faded to a tawny brown, his screams regressing to hiccups as the tears covered his cheeks.

Deducing the worst of it was over, Harry had approached cautiously, as if coming up on a feral beast, slowly encompassing Teddy into a hug and letting the teen cry into his shoulder.

"You're allowed to be angry," Harry had said. "I was too. It isn't fair what happened and never will be. It isn't fair that they're not here for you, and I am so sorry… so sorry I can't be them. I cannot replace them, but I don't want to." He pulled away to hold Teddy by his face, not laughing at the snot dripping from his nose or his red face. "Your parents were amazing, good, brave people, Teddy. They loved you so much, and I wish you could have seen it in person. They fought a war to ensure that you and countless others would not have to suffer like they did. So you wouldn't have to grown up in a war. They fought to protect you from a mad woman dead set on pruning the half-bloods from her family tree. Every breath they took, it was so you could live a better life than them. You're allowed to be angry they're gone, but you can't be angry forever. Get mad, then let it go, so you can remember how much they loved you, and not how much they've missed."

Harry understood, and maybe that was why Teddy was able to calm down.

"Does it stop hurting?" Teddy asked, and Harry gave him a sad look.

"It still hurts," Harry had answered. "I take the pain differently now though. I change it into pride." Teddy watched him with wide eyes as he tapped the button on his chest, the Auror badge. "Whenever it hurts I consider where I am, what I've been through, how much I accomplished, and I imagine how proud my parents must be of me."

Teddy's shoulder slumped heavily, sniffing. "You're an Auror though. I'm just stupid. I haven't done anything they'd be proud of. I'm not like you."

"That's not true," Harry chided. "They'd be proud of everything you've accomplished, even the little things. They'd be proud of your O.W.L. scores, and they'd be proud you became a Prefect. They'd be proud of you being a Hufflepuff and for generally obeying the rules, and in fact they'd probably be proud of the rules you'd broken as well." He'd squeezed Teddy's shoulder firmly. "It's a bizarre thing, to miss people you've never met, but it's not shameful. Don't dwell forever, and learn to live on how you want. That's what they would be proud of."

Teddy sniffed against the cold air, lifting a hand to pull his scarf over his nose, trying to fight the chill and blaming his watery eyes on the weather. Certainly they weren't from staring pointlessly at a lifeless headstone for the past hour. He didn't know why he did this, it wasn't like anything would have changed from how it was last year. The cold gray of the marble was the same, simple and almost plain compared to the other headstones in the cemetery, but people always said Remus Lupin was a very simple man. He wasn't outgoing or eccentric, he was quiet and classic, gave off a kind of peaceful energy that made people relax around him. The grave seemed to represent that softness, that simplicity that matched the simplicity of a man who had to be simple as a necessity.

His eyes bore into the stone so long he was surprised he hadn't created furrows in it, looking between his father and mother's names, at the pretty bouquet of flowers lying on its side in the grass in front of it, placed there earlier in the day by Andromeda.

Teddy tried to swallow a few breaths before managing to open his mouth and speak. "Hey mum," he greeted, trying not to feel like an idiot. "Hey da… I just wanted to come by, say hello. I'm sorry I haven't come by since… last year. Busy." He took another breath, blinking a few times. "Not much has changed in a year. Broke up with Vic, that's Bill's daughter, you know Bill. I guess I was just too busy, didn't have much time for her, or for friends I suppose. You'd probably be disappointed in me, huh dad? Friendship was really important to you. It's offensive of me to take advantage of my capability to make friends when you struggled with it, with people in general… when the friends you loved were lost one after the other. I'm really sorry, dad… if I'm disappointing you. Or you, mum. I'm trying really hard." He reached back to his chest, but there was no inner pocket in his sweater, so no badge to show off. "I joined the Aurors. Not because you were in it, mum, a lot of people have asked if I'm following you but I'm really not. I just… wanted to give my life meaning. You both died to protect this world, our world, what better way to honor that sacrifice than to protect it in your stead?"

He had to stop, his voice growing high and desperate, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths to calm himself down until he could speak normally again, reopening his eyes to stare at the names on the headstone.

"Uncle King used to say it always surprised him, and still does sometimes, that you fought in the war, dad. You especially. You died for a community that shamed you and asked for nothing in return. I guess because of James Potter and Sirius Black, and because of mum; you fought because you were loyal and wanted to protect your family. Not because you owed anything to these nasty people who hated you pointlessly and saw you as less because you were sick. You completely disregarded them and you still fought. I want to be like that too. Make you proud. I want to protect the people I love like you did, to find something for dying for. I wanna-"

"That's bloody daft ya nutty tosser!"

Teddy jerked upright on the bench and turned sharply at the waist with wide eyes, watching as fifteen year old James Sirius Potter hopped up to stand on the bench beside him, hands shoved into a jean jacket and a Gryffindor scarf hanging unevenly around his neck.

"Jamie what the- How did you get here?" Teddy craned his head over his shoulder to look around the cemetery, expecting to see Harry or Ginny, but James seemed to be alone. "Don't tell me you apparated?"

"Course I didn't, but it's not illegal to use the Knight Bus."

"You took the Knight Bus? Does Harry know?"

"What's he gonna do? Ground me?" James pulled his hands from his pockets and waved them. "Oh no I'm so scared I don't wanna be grounded."

Teddy rolled his eyes and tilted his head with a sigh before focusing back on James. "What are you doing here?"

"Come find you," James answered in a sentence that seemed bizarrely incomplete and broken.

"How did you know I was here?"

James looked down at him. "Bugger, Ted, where else would you be? You always come here."

Teddy was torn between demanding who told him and wondering silently how anyone would even known. Teddy normally just up and vanished around the same time every year, it wasn't like he left a note telling people where he was going. Was he just that predictable.

"You're predictable, Teddy."

Ah.

"What are you doing here? Did you just leave during the party?"

"They were playing a silly game, everyone was blindfolded so I snuck out. Al saw me, he was brooding in the corner as usual, but I told him he could borrow the cloak for a week at school if he shut up about it. Jogged to town and had a neighbor summon the bus, then came here." He hopped off the bench before Teddy could ask anything else, crouching down in front of the Lupin's grave and reaching out to brush away dirt that had gotten stuck to it. "I've never been here before, can you believe that? I've visited my grandma and grandpa tons of times, but I've never come here."

He stuck his hand out towards the stone as if in greeting, and Teddy was left watching silently as the teen introduced himself. "'Ello, we haven't met yet, but I'm James Sirius Potter! You both knew my old man, and my granddad too! That's who I was named after of course. Oh." He stood up, started searching his pockets. "Hold on, I brought something."

"Jamie," Teddy sighed, shoulders sagging and elbows on his knees, hands folded loosely. "You should go home. It's late."

"I'm not going to leave you here alone, idiot."

"What's wrong with it?" Teddy asked. "I'm used to spending time here alone."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean you have to like it." James pulled out a small pellet the size of a tic tac. "And it also doesn't mean you have to be alone. I'm sure you like talking one on one with them, but if you're by yourself for too long, especially in a cemetery, then you'll start hallucinating. Watch this."

He broke the pellet between his fingers, holding his hand out to show off the way it extended into a full bouquet of peonies and gladiolus.

"This is cool right? One of uncle's new creations for the shop, a pocket bouquet for those times you forget to buy your girlfriend or your wife some flowers on your anniversary. Or," he crouched down and laid the flowers out beside the first bouquet, "in case you pass by a grave and want to spice some things up, add some color."

"So you're an interior designer now?" Teddy asked, hoping James hadn't noticed the shake of his voice.

"We're outside, Teddy." He teased. "You're really bad at making jokes when you're sad."

"I'm not really…"

"Hey, come on." James sat down next to Teddy on the bench and held his arms wide towards him. "Come here, I give great hugs."

"Albus says differently," Teddy argued, but inexplicably leaned towards James and laid his head against his shoulder as warm tears cut down his cold cheeks.

He felt pathetic on an entirely new level, letting a fifteen year old comfort him like this, but so long as no one else found out then the humiliation probably wouldn't be that bad.

"You know it's okay, right? Crying? And it's okay to miss your mum and dad." James pet Teddy's hair. "I know I don't really get it, but I also know parents are important. Dad still looks sad sometimes when he looks at the picture of his parents, he keeps it on his bedside table and looks at it every morning, and he's super old now. I think you'll probably always miss them, but that's okay. That just proves your human."

Teddy winced at his words, wondering in irritation why some kid was telling him that. Clearly someone had to tell him, but why this dumb kid.

"Oh, and you know, that bull you were spouting before I walked up, about wanting someone to die for, you're an idiot."

Teddy tried to pull away. "My dad-"

"Your dad didn't die because he wanted to, you know. He didn't meet your mum and go ah yes, a woman I will die for. People don't work like that." He reached up and flicked Teddy's forehead. "You wanna make them proud, find a reason to live. Don't be stupid about it." Teddy just rubbed his forehead, pouting as James turned to face forward and unceremoniously flopped against Teddy's shoulder. "You smell nice by the way."

Teddy dropped his hand onto his lap and stared at the collection of colors from the flowers now decorating his parents graves. He blinked a few times when he realized that agonizing emptiness wasn't hurting as much as it had been before, slowly lying his head on top of James' and sighing.

"You should go home now," he chided, and James shrugged.

"Nah, I'll stay. We can go home when you're ready, okay?"

Teddy swallowed the knot in his throat and nodded. "Sure," he agreed, feeling feathers beat around his chest at the use of the word we. "Sounds fine."

This was nice. Things didn't feel as lonely, wasn't as cold, and Teddy considered maybe bringing someone along with him next year when he came to visit. Maybe he'd even bring James. Probably James. If he didn't, James would likely come on his own. Best avoid that so they wouldn't get in trouble for James running off and Teddy going along with it. Yeah, that would be nice.

~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Author’s Note: I felt it was necessary to put an author’s note at the end here, this way if no one wants to read it you guys don’t have to. One of the reasons I love Teddy so much is because a part of me really connects with him and empathizes with him. A lot of times when I read about Teddy thinking of his parents, he never goes through a phase of hating them, and in the books Harry doesn’t really go through that phase either. I guess there’s that one part where he’s angry at his dad for being a fuckboy, but that was different, and one may argue there wasn’t enough time to get angry and no reason to, buuuut you’re wrong.

I never got to meet my dad, and he died before I could get the chance, and when I was younger I went through this phase where I was just angry at him for leaving me, abandoning me, because I was a kid and I didn’t understand. Getting angry and being upset because you don’t have what other people have, you don’t have the same family as so many people, is normal.

I’m twenty-two now (well I will be next Wednesday) and I’m not mad anymore, but I still feel sad sometimes, I still cry if it gets really bad, I still feel empty when I look at pictures of my dad and mourn for the relationship I won’t ever be able to have with him, or with my mom, and that’s normal, and I wanted to put my personal anger and growth into this memorial fic as an ode to the kids out there who were ever angry at their parents for dying.

You’re not alone and it’s valid to be angry with them. Just don’t be angry for ever. Things get better, things start to hurt less, and that hollowing pain in your chest will turn into another strength you can utilize into a living a life that would make them proud.

Happy 21st Anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts!

[incandescent-eden]

Claire [Part 3]

Desc: Claire reminisces with Cecil ( @sinnabon-cosplay ‘s OC) and meets up with Anthony, who has romantic notions of the 1700s.

Word Count: 1281

TW/CW: N/A

“I was with Friedrich there,” Claire reminisced, pointing at the point on the bridge where Anthony was excitedly snapping pictures. She waved halfheartedly as Anthony waved his arm at them excitedly. “We were just walking. But then Maman came to get me. And I met you.”

“Do you miss Friedrich?” Cecil asked, almost like he was afraid to know the answer.

“Oh god no,” Claire smiled slightly. “It was over two hundred years ago. I honestly haven’t thought about him in a while. Just… being back here. Reminds me that he’s gone. And Maman and Thomas and Papa… it’s weird to think about, to be honest.”

“Did you regret meeting me?”

Claire did not look at Cecil. “My life ended that day,” she finally replied, deliberately ignoring his question. “Not literally. That took a few more months. But you diagnosed me with consumption. That… that was like a death sentence.”

“It was a death sentence.” Cecil clasped his hands together, staring at his slender, interlocked fingers. “I -”

“Don’t!” Claire interjected quickly. “It was the 1700s. There was no vaccine, no medicine. Nothing you could do.”

Cecil opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it again.

Claire giggled, feeling the tense moment pass. “Even you can’t argue with that, Cecil.”

Cecil harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest, but the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

Sighing deeply, Claire looked back at the bridge, fondly this time.

Suddenly, Anthony popped up in front of them, prompting Claire to scream in surprise. “Don’t! Do that!” she angrily hissed at Anthony, still trying to catch her breath and regain her composure.

Anthony stuck out his tongue. “Sorry, I didn’t think you were off in Claire-land,” he grinned, waving his hand in circles near his temple. He looked over and noticed the somber expression that had not quite faded from Cecil’s face. “Whoa, what are you two so mopey about?” he asked, interest clear on his face. There was concern in his voice, though, in his defense.

“It’s nothing, Anthony,” Claire reassured him in the same soothing tone she had often used with her mother and younger brother. “If you’re done, why don’t we go back inside? We can escape the heat a bit,” she fanned herself with one hand as she purposefully lead Anthony away from the topic of her conversation with Cecil. It really was hot, the kind of heat where even a light cotton shirt was plastered to one’s back, and the sun was so blindingly bright that the world seemed to shimmer and wave in front of one’s sight.

Well meaning but easily distracted Anthony delightedly agreed. “Yeah! I wanna see the ballroom!” He did not wait for his companions, but rather grabbed Cecil’s and Claire’s hands and tugged until they got up. “Last one there has to buy the others ice cream!” he challenged.

Claire and Cecil exchanged a glance.

Claire dashed off. “Sorry, Cece!” she called out behind her. Cecil cursed as he ran to catch up.

Anthony was waiting for both Claire and Cecil, his hands on his hips, at the entrance of the ballroom. Behind him, other tourists were milling about, examining the plaques on the walls that told the history of the ballroom. Some bought souvenirs from the little kiosks set up in the corners of the ballroom while others marveled at the crystal chandelier, or the intricate wallpaper. A little blond girl with lopsided pigtails chased an even smaller boy with a red toy truck - presumably her brother - around the room, the two having broken free from their mother’s grip as the young woman watched them in exasperation.

“Can’t you just imagine it?” Anthony asked, doing a slow turn with his arms out in a mock waltz. “The music! And the ballgowns!”

“And the stench,” Claire muttered, her eyes fixed on the center of the ballroom where the little boy she had previously seen was now struggling to reclaim his truck from his older sister’s hands. She thought she could vaguely smell the heavy perfume and powders the ladies would use to cover up the smell of all the rarely washed bodies of even the nobles mingling with the wine that they served, and the harsh scent of charred meat.

“I can,” Cecil replied, smiling at Anthony. “Although, your form is… horribly wrong,” he teased.

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Not all of us have lived through the eighteenth century and can remember a ball from three hundred years ago, right, Claire?” he joked.

But Claire shook her head sadly and whispered, “I can, too.”

Realizing his blunder, Anthony rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Gee, Claire, I forgot, I’m sorry, I - ”

Claire shook her head again. “It’s okay,” she reassured him. “It was a long time ago.”

It seemed even to herself that she was lying. In truth, it was a long time ago - over two centuries, in fact. Yet something about being here, back at the manor, made her ache with longing, not knowing quite for what she was longing. She paused at every door they opened; she swore she could feel her family on the other side - perhaps Maman would be dressing, or Thomas would be reciting verses as Papa quizzed him.

Perhaps if she waited long enough before entering, if she closed her eyes and waited, then when she opened them again, when she finally entered, it would be 1753 and she would run into the room in her gown with its heavy petticoats and her hair freshly curled and her hands perfumed, and Maman would scold her for running, her stern brow furrowed, because running in with her skirts and limbs flapping about did not befit a lady of Claire’s station, and Papa would be going over his accounts, squinting as his sight had slowly been leaving him in the past few years, but would look up and smile as she gave him a kiss on the cheek, and Thomas would crinkle his nose and puff out his pink cheeks as she ruffled his long blond hair and teased him about the way he smelled although he really did not smell at all, and she would think to herself oh how sad it was that Matthieu and Henriette were not still alive to enjoy this moment on such a lovely day with her, but they would be a mere passing thought in her head because they had passed away over five years ago, and it was a long time ago, and it truly would have been a long time ago in her heart.

But each time, when Claire opened her eyes, there, in the beloved rooms she had known since her birth, were strangers walking around, dressed in modern clothes from the twenty first century and examining everything like it was new and foreign and not just part of their usual lives because for them, unlike for Claire, this place was a vacation, a tourist stop to check off the list and from which to remember a few facts and take a few pictures and then return home and gush about it to their friends before promptly forgetting the Pontrose Manor as they returned to their daily lives.

Claire had no such luxury of forgetting. Every room she passed, she could not help but remember. She was a ghost, trapped on the wrong side of death, haunting the dead instead of the living.

The little boy had reclaimed his truck. The girl had undone one of her braids and was now placidly walking alongside her mother who tethered one child on each hand.

Can you imagine it? Anthony had asked.

Claire could.

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[best-left-hook-jones]

All Flowers Keep the Light (2/6)

France, 1967. After a hurried wedding due to the birth of her son, Emma and her new husband, Neal Cassidy, move to the quiet French countryside for a fresh start. With Neal working late at the psychiatric hospital next door, it is left to Emma to find her own way to settle in to her new life. Desperate to find a way to pass the time, and to find meaning in her life outside of being a mother, Emma takes it upon herself to revive the facility’s neglected greenhouse. But when a handsome blued eyed patient offers to help her look after the plants, everything in Emma’s world changes.

Rated: M for mature themes, brief violence, and smut (not that bad, but I cover my bases). Beta’d by the phenomenal @wellhellotragic. Updates on Mondays!

Tagging: @hollyethecurious, @kmomof4, @captainswanandclintasha, @meremere94, @rouhn, @mcbrideannemgt, @fradditonce, @thesheriffandherdeputy,  @followbatb, and anyone else that would like to be tagged :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

AO3

Chapter 2: Two

It was not as though Emma had expected him to be there again. After all, it wasn’t something they had agreed upon, and it wasn’t as though he didn’t have other things to do. He was a patient, she reminded herself on her walk over, which meant strict schedules of medication and supervision and God knew what else. Still, she couldn’t beat down the hope that swelled in her chest at the thought of his schedule possibly aligning with hers. It was a feeling that only seemed to bubble over into relief when she entered the glass room an hour later and found him waiting for her.

Killian was dressed in the same pale coloured outfit he had worn the day before, though Emma thought it looked like someone had attempted to brush his dark locks into something a bit more presentable. By the way a missed stray piece stuck up wildly in the back, Emma guessed it had been his own doing.

She hadn’t even realised she was grinning like a fool until he gave her a strange look.

“What?” He asked, the corners of his own lips turning up.

“Nothing,” she lied, letting out a long breath to settle her nerves. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

He quirked a dark eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” she replied innocently, shucking her jacket and tossing it on the workbench. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. It would be a shame for you to shirk your new duties as my assistant on the first day.”  

“Well, then, by all means,” he teased back. “Lead the way.”

They each chose a side of the room, sneaking glances at each other like schoolchildren as they raced to see how quickly each other could finish their pots. Try as she might, Emma’s hands never seemed to be quite as skilled as his, and he was nearly always a pot ahead of her, his fingers running through roots and soil as if he had been born with technique. If he had been, he was keeping mum about it.

With a bit of prodding, Emma managed to get a decent glimpse at his background, though she was sure that he was omitting just as much as he was telling. He had grown up in the northern provinces, he explained, and had become somewhat known as the local scoundrel of his home town. His father had abandoned the family when he had been an infant, never to be seen or heard from again. His mother had raised him and his brother, Liam, until she had passed away from illness when Killian was thirteen. He spoke fondly of his mother. She had owned the patisserie on the main street, and he recalled in vivid detail the time as a young boy when he had accidentally set fire to one of the ovens in his attempt to recreate one of her famous apple tarts. Emma was in stitches when he explained how he’d tried in vain to save the mini pastries, even as his mother had doused the flames with buckets of water. Emma made a verbal note to bring him her own special recipe one day, a promise which made his eyes light up in excitement.

By the time they finished their first set of pots, they were both covered in dirt and sweat, laughing and judging each other for the mess they had made in their sprint to outdo each other. Killian laughed at her insinuation that he had somehow managed to cheat, and Emma thought she had never heard a sound quite as charming in her life. She hadn’t known the man that long, but something told her that he did not often laugh as much as he did with her, and Emma felt victorious at having pulled one out of him.

He wasn’t a patient to her, no matter how much the hospital issued clothes dictated otherwise. How could he be, when his eyes were so clear and his wit as sharp as his mind? She hadn’t asked him what he had done to end up in the asylum, what malady plagued him when she wasn’t around, and truthfully, she didn’t know how she could even broach the subject. He hadn’t brought it up either, and every time he caught her eyes flicker to the ragged scar tissue that encircled his left wrist - surely from where a leather restraint had once rubbed his tender skin raw - he seemed to stiffen and roll down the cuffs of his sleeves to hide it from her.

And, truth be told, Emma was certain that she wasn’t just another worker at the facility to him, either. He had never been awkward around her, but even so he seemed to relax further and further into his role as her assistant. They flitted around each other as they worked, their rhythm like a well oiled machine. He shared simple stories with ease, complaining of the meals at the facility and expressing his wish for some “bloody decent food, already”. He nearly began salivating when she opened up her bag to reveal the pastry and fruit she had brought for him, and she had to playfully remind him not to try to swallow them whole. As it was, he finished off the small meal in record time, moaning almost sinfully as he finished each bite. She would recall that sound later - a blush colouring her cheeks - when she laid her house keys down next to the ceramic bowl of fresh apples that Tink had fetched from the market as a surprise.

They only grew closer over the next few days as their routine became even more fine tuned. Emma woke up early each morning and made her way over to the greenhouse, where Killian was always waiting, their work tables already set. After the success she had had with the first treat, Emma had taken to packing a second lunch to give her assistant, whose eyes never ceased to widen in amazement at the gesture. She’d teased him about it once, but he’d simply shrugged. “You can’t take anything for granted,” he’d explained, “especially in a place like this.”

He asked plenty of questions about her life outside of the facility, something she had anticipated but somehow had failed to prepare for all the same. She fielded his curiosity as best as she could, giving vague answers to questions that normally would be considered harmless. But of course, with someone with Emma’s past, no question was entirely harmless. Killian seemed to sense her hesitation when he asked about her family and her upbringing, and a slight sadness filled his blue eyes. But given the holes in his own personal history, Emma was certain he understood her need to keep private things private, and he never pushed. It was a welcome relief; most people never learned to reign in their questioning, and it usually resulted in Emma pulling away. And she didn’t want a reason to pull away from him.

This fall morning, as they worked together to prepare the greenhouse for the end of autumn, Killian had chosen to direct his questioning elsewhere. Well, everywhere, really. Having not seen a newspaper or magazine in what appeared to be years, he wanted to know everything that had happened in the world recently. The trees outside the windows filling with vibrant colour, signalling the change of the earth around him, and Killian was adamant that he would not go another year without learning something of the outside world. Politics, celebrity scandals, natural disasters. Then he wanted to know every song that was playing on the radio - every song that she liked. She’d had to think about that one, but settled on a small handful of tunes that she had heard over the kitchen radio while preparing dinner the night before. She’d listed the names, but Killian had only stared blankly. Of course, she hadn’t expected him to know them.

“Would you sing them for me?”

The question caught her off guard and she turned to raise her eyebrows at him. “Not in a million years.”

“How am I supposed to truly know the song if you don’t sing it for me?” He argued, leaning against the table top to watch her as he so often did.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Use your imagination!”

She might have let things go at that, if she hadn’t made the fatal mistake of glancing up at him again. Killian’s blue eyes had gone wide as a puppy dog’s, his bottom lip jutting out just so. He looked sad and pitiful, and somehow still absolutely gorgeous. A dirty trick, to be sure.

She caved.

His face had shown no signs of recognition when she’d mentioned Francoise Hardy, so she chose the rectify that first. She began with La Fin De L’Été, given the changing seasons outside and the fact that it was slow and she happened to remember the words.  

She fixed her eyes on her work as she sang, hoping desperately that he couldn’t see her quickly reddening cheeks. It wasn’t that she considered herself necessarily a poor singer, but she had certainly never had an audience before.  The only person she had sang for in years was Henry, and he was hardly a harsh critic. But by the way the greenhouse had fallen dead silent, she knew that Killian was listening intently. More words turned into vague hums as her nerves creeped into her voice.

She nearly jumped when she felt a soft hand on her arm, her words stopping suddenly. Emma finally met his eyes - he looked almost awestruck. Just as Emma began to think she might melt into a puddle under his gaze, Killian offered her his hand and lead her away from the workbench. He stopped at a relatively clear spot on the floor, motioning her closer as he placed his free hand on her hip. Caught up to his intent, Emma placed a hand on his shoulder and took up the song again, her voice steadier as they began to sway to the melody.  

As it turned out, Killian was a terrible dancer. Even with the slow pace, his feet struggled to keep up with the rest of his body. Emma couldn’t help but giggle as he pinched her toes under his feet for the second time in nearly as many seconds, but he only made a face at her. The rest of the song passed in a haze as they moved together across the tile floor. Emma was sure Killian could hear her heart racing in her chest, and she had to remind herself to breathe as he released her only long enough to gently twirl her in his arms.

“Though I love life,

And I believe it is beautiful,

I can love the rain,

As much as the sun,

Day and night,

Dream under all the skies,”

She wasn’t sure what compelled her to pick the next song, but the words began to flow from her mouth before she could stop them. Just as the one before, the song was slow and graceful, the melody sweet and mournful.

“But there are nights,

Where it is not enough,

And they are all the nights,

Where I think of you,”

She felt him stiffen in her arms, his breathing close against her ear as he listened. He didn’t pull away, didn’t ask her to stop. He just listened. So she continued.

“While I like very much,

Everything, as everything is mysterious to me,

The city and the times,

Noise and light,

Trees, flowers, wind,

Infinity and the sea,”

His eyes had closed at the words, his face soft as the song pulled him into memories that she was not privy to. She felt his grip on her waist tighten a fraction as he bowed his head against hers. It was only a song. Words written by someone else, likely for someone else. It shouldn’t have meant anything to the pair as they swayed in spot, their foreheads touching, soothing hands grounding each other to the earth.

“But there are evenings,

Where I do not think of them,

And they are the nights,

Where I hurt you,”   

Emma closed her eyes then, not wanting to see the emotion that would surely flicker across his face at the words. She didn’t need to look far to see how much he had been hurt in his life, how he continued to be confined like a caged bird in the facility owned by her husband. He might not have known how much his fate rested in the hands of the man she returned to at night, but Emma did, and the guilt was almost enough to make her choke on the rest of the song.

It was almost unthinkable that she would return home at night to a warm bed and he would be confined to his rooms once more. Emma might not have been a doctor, but she couldn’t see any reason for him being at Baudelaire. He was as clever, kind, and witty as anyone she had ever met outside of the facility’s walls. Someone as handsome and caring as Killian wouldn’t have any trouble finding a wife, perhaps having some children, and growing old in the comfort in a home of his own choosing. He deserved to relax by a roaring hearth with a thick book and a mug of hot coffee just as much as she did. She ached for her friend and for all of all the simple comforts he was being deprived of.

Not ‘friend’, a more salacious part of her mind whispered.

No one yearned for the company of a ‘friend’ the way she did with Killian. And no ‘friend’ would return her doe-eyed looks with the depth of affection he did. It wasn’t his fault, either. There was no way for him to know that she was already betrothed to another, and truthfully, selfishly, she didn’t want him to know. For the first time in a long time, Emma was happy. She slept well in the hours after her son had been put down for the night, felt less lonely in the early mornings before Neal awoke.

Perhaps in another life, Emma could have met Killian under other circumstances, and they might have both found happiness sooner. Perhaps together.

She pushed the thought aside.

It was a breach of trust, one that she knew might be nearly unforgivable, but she had to know what it was that kept him here.

So it was a week later when Emma finally swallowed down the guilt and voices that screamed at her to let it go and cornered the brunette receptionist during her lunch break. She had spoken to her a few times and had learned that the young French woman was the eyes and ears of Baudelaire. She knew every nook and cranny of the entire facility, as well as the patient records of every individual registered there. Whatever it was that Killian thought was too terrible to share with her, Ruby would know.

“How have you been liking it here so far?”

“It’s lovely,” Emma answered simply, not keen on sharing the truth about her thoughts on the place. It wouldn’t do much good to tell the woman how much she despised every hour that she spent in the little cottage after Henry had been put to bed. Being alone with her thoughts had never been something she was good at, and Neal never seemed to fill in the silence with anything but thin words and frustrated demands. It was during those times that she missed her safe haven the most. When she missed him.

“The nurses told me you’ve made a friend,” Ruby mentioned suddenly, her eyes full of mischief. Of course. Ruby knew everything. Well, at least it would make Emma’s job easier.

“Yes, Killian Jones. He helps me in the greenhouse some days.”

“Every day,” Ruby corrected, sipping her coffee.

“Is there a reason he shouldn’t?” It was as open ended of a question as she could manage, hoping that Ruby would take the opportunity to share.  She didn’t disappoint.

“No, I suppose not,” she admitted. “As far as I can tell, he’s not dangerous.”

Emma’s mouth turned down in confusion. “As far as you can tell?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know why he’s here. I do know he’s been here for years though. The old director overhauled the entire staff a few years back, and when the new girls were brought in he was here.”

That was curious. Emma had known that Killian had been in the institution for a while - the long healed over scars were proof of that - but she hadn’t expected his reputation to be blank. Surely someone who had been confined for so long had a reason for being there.

“Anyways, he’s lucky to have you,” Ruby continued, interrupting her thoughts. “You’re good for him, I think.”

Emma blushed. “I’m sure that’s not true. He’s a friendly man. I’m sure he gets along with everyone well.”

Ruby shrugged. “Wouldn’t know, to be honest. He’s been in solitary until last week.”

“What?”

Ruby hummed, taking another sip of her coffee.

“I think you’re the first real person he’s spoken to in years. We got a transfer of a new patient from the city recently and we needed the room, so Jones was released into the general rooms.” Ruby wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Awful man, the new one. None of the nurses want to go near him. I had to convince Anna to go in and change his sheets yesterday, and that was only after I promised that he would be off with doctor Whale during that time.”

Emma barely listened as the receptionist rambled on about the new patient - a man by the name of Walsh. The sordid details of the grotesque behaviours that had landed him at Baudelaire were not half as astonishing as the information she had just come to learn, and Emma struggled to manage more than a polite nod or hum when she thought appropriate.

Killian had been in solitary? It didn’t make sense. Emma thought back to every conversation she had ever had with him, remembering how softly he had handled every flower, and the sense of calm that seemed to wash over the room whenever he entered. Emma was sure there wasn’t a cruel bone in the man’s entire body, let alone a darkness that warranted hours of dark, damp solitude. It wasn’t fair. There had to be something she was missing.

Ruby was halfway through explaining something about a new male nurse who had been hired when Emma interrupted, unable to help herself.

“Is he on any medication?”

Ruby’s eyes widened in confusion. “Who? Walsh? I doubt it. Though I wouldn’t complain if someone put a bit of something in his next batch of coffee, the ass-”

“No. Killian.”

A look of understanding crossed the receptionist's face. “Oh. Well, technically, yes. But…” Ruby chewed on the inside of her cheek as she considered something, her eyes searching the blonds’. “He is supposed to be, yes, but I happen to know that he hasn’t been taking them.”

“He’s not been taking them?”

“I know the nurse that is assigned to him, and she told me she found one of the tablets half-dissolved in the sink after her round. I don’t think she told anyone but me.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?”

Ruby shrugged. “She only told me yesterday, and I have a feeling that he’s been doing it for a while. He doesn’t have the same look about him that everyone else here does. Like he’s..”

“Hollow,” Emma finished for her.

She knew the look. Every patient she had come across, as fleeting as her encounters had been, had given her the same stony look, as if they weren’t quite sure where they were. She had always looked away, not wanting to see the pain behind their eyes. Even their shadows seemed a bit darker than everyone else’s, as if they too carried baggage unseen to the world. Emma was no doctor, but sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if the doctors weren’t a bit too eager to pump medication into their patients at the first instant of trouble. She had seen in the paper how the doctors in the big cities had been advocating for behavioural therapies and more forgiving treatments, but those practices had not yet reached the outer circles of society.  

Emma had no way to be sure, but something told her that Ruby had read the same article, and was using her silence to instigate her own little medical revolution within the facility. A clever woman indeed.

Ruby finished up the last of her coffee, giving Emma a quick hug before disappearing back inside. Emma felt better having talked to her, even if she hadn’t learned as much as she would have liked. The receptionist was easily making her way up the list of friends she could count on in the facility, and she felt all the luckier to have her.

Still, it seemed that the only way that she was going to learn anything about Killian Jones would be to ask him herself. She paced that night, trying to find the right way to ask that wouldn’t send him disappearing behind his walls. By the time the grandfather clock tolled at midnight, she still had nothing, and instead fell into a restless sleep.

[imagine-loki]

A Warrior’s Life

TITLE: A Warrior’s Life

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Ninety-Seven

AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Viking Loki coming to your village, raiding, and pillaging, before deciding there is something about you that intrigues him and deciding to take you back to Asgard with him. There, you are forced to learn a new life and language, and though you hate what has happened to you, you learn that Loki is not as bad as you think.

RATING: Mature

Maebh sat against the wall, Danu asleep in a small bed next to her as she thought of just how much time has passed since they had arrived. The small raven had lost the last of its grey downy plumage and was now sporting dark adult feathers.The baby in her was now pressing against her cervix telling her that would be born any day. She also knew it would only be a matter of days before UíNeill and his party would arrive, meaning whatever was coming, was coming soon, whether she wanted to it to or not. She looks at her daughter in terror, too frightened to think of what it was that UíNeill wanted with her. As she petted the raven, who long seems to have been tamed, she found herself thinking about Asgard, her home, your loving husband, and her wonderful children, all of whom she knew she would never see again. Part of her had hoped that Loki would come and rescue them, but she was not a fool, they would need to have the means, and the knowledge to find her and her daughter. She could only wait for what would be certain death. Much to her own surprise, Maebh found she did not fear it. What she feared was what would be the fate of her children stuck on Midgard.

She looked at the door having heard the footsteps outside ceasing as they came to it. She found herself smirking, having taken great pleasure and terrifying the Lord Conor to within an inch of his life by mentioning time again about demons, unholiness and Hell. It gave her a slight momentary laugh to see him squirm and reach for his crucifix every time she made such references, knowing it terrified him. Part of her did it to concern him and to make him tell her more in his mannerisms of what she needed to know, but the other part, the practical part, did it because she knew that when the time came for someone to put a sword in her, if she left it that they did not fear her, there was a high chance that they would give her a slow and painful death, if they thought her to be dangerous and unholy, they would simply cut off her head so to kill her as quickly as possible.

Conor’s guards eyed her carefully as he walked into the room, their weapons drawn. ‘I think it is safe to say that I am too heavily pregnant to even attempt to get up to you idiots to fight.’ She stated as she put her arm around her sleeping daughter.

‘It has not arrived yet.’ He growled.

‘I do not have right to tell it to, my job is to carry it and birth it when it is ready.’ she sighed.

‘You are too calm for one set to die.’ He growled angrily.

‘We all die sooner or later, the only difference really is acknowledging and accepting such. I made my peace with my death a long time ago, far longer than you could imagine.’

Conor stared at her in terror at her honest answer. ‘And your God?’

She grinned as though mad and allowed him to see her honesty even more. ‘I have no God.’

‘After this life?’

‘I will rot as all dead things rot, same as a flower, a cow or even you, and the world will go on, the children I have bore will have their own families and I will be remembered through them, you will be part of my story, though not as my killer, it is not my time, not yet.’ She grinned. ‘We all have our time, mine will be after yours, wait and see.’

‘You seem confident.’

‘My husband once told me his time came, I told him it had not, he lives still. His brother I delivered his life via his death before.’

‘You speak like one who thinks they have the authority of God.’

‘I have more, for I actually exist.’ She smirked. ‘Run, your darling wife will be missing you, what an odd name for this realm, Gwen, I bet your mistress was none too pleased with you taking a foreign wife, Sinead is far more Irish than her, but she comes with support and money, you needed that after your ventures north went awry. Poor Sinead was only a merchant’s daughter from the other side of the Laighin.’

‘How do you think you know such things!’ he shrieked in terror, waking Danu. ‘I will see your throat slit for this, Witch!’ he declared, leaving the room again, the lock closing on the other side.

‘Mother?’

‘Get some sleep, it is a long time yet until you eat again.’ She kissed her daughter’s head and sat back, waiting for whatever would come, hoping her plan to ensure a swift death came to pass.

*

Another week passed, in total they had been stuck in the room for five weeks, but neither Maebh nor Danu had been counting. She spent hours every day talking to her daughter, telling her everything about her childhood, and how she and Loki had returned to this land to exact her revenge on her uncle. When Danu asked how it came to pass that she and her father met, Maebh paused for a moment.

‘You are not old enough yet.’

‘That man wants to hurt you, if you do not live, you will never get to tell me.’ Danu pointed out.

‘Then your father will tell you.’ The raven flew onto her shoulder. ‘You have grown considerably in our time here.’ She smiled, looking fondly at the creature.

‘What about the baby?’

‘It is ready to be born, it will be here very soon.’ Maebh looked to her stomach.

‘Do you miss Liulf?’

‘So much.’

‘I do too. I miss him. I miss everyone.’

‘I know darling.’ She held Danu against her as the little girl finally vocalised the emotions and thoughts she had been holding in. ‘I know.’

During the night, Maebh felt the contractions start, she inhaled deeply as they ached and forced herself to stay quiet, she did not need to wake her daughter or alert the guards she was certain were outside the door. She rested between the cramping pains and readied herself for whatever would come.

By morning, she knew it would be at least another hour or so before she would need to push. Danu seemed to realise something was amiss, but having been only a toddler herself when Liulf was born, she had no idea that her mother was in labour. When usually the breakfast would come, three men entered, two of whom held weapons, the last, two ropes.

‘Of all days.’ Maebh sighed, looking to the ceiling before getting to her feet, the man put the rope, fashioned like a noose, around her neck and tightened it so she could not flee before tugging on it to get her to walk. She felt her body go through another contraction as she walked, but she did nothing but walk on and pretend nothing, holding Danu to her as she did.

‘Mother, your belly is hard.’

‘I know Darling.’ She whispered.

They made their way to a hall, the one that she had seen in passing their first day and in it, there were armed men everywhere, all in their finery and looking at her as she walked in, filthy and heavily pregnant. At the top of the hall was Conor, looking at her in terror, and another man, it did not take any effort to assume who he was, his clothes were of the finest materials and he held his head high with the arrogance only a man of great power could ever thing to have. ‘So, this is her. Maebh of Ulaidh.’ She said nothing back, giving him the most disgusted glare she could muster. ‘It would serve you well to answer your King.’

‘I would, but he is not here.’ She retorted, ‘I am in the presence of pretenders and sellouts, and their leader, the spineless fool.’ All present were silent at her scathing and insulting tone.

‘How dare you speak to the High King of Midgard in such a manner you filthy heathen.’ A man came to her, his sword drawn.

‘If you do not get that out of my face right now, you will be sitting on the hilt of it before the day is done, the blade speared through your shit filled corpse.’ She spat, her anger causing him to stumble backwards slightly.

‘You would do well to hold your temper now, it may be all that saves that child, or children of yours from your fate.’ She looked back at UíNeill. ‘We are going to have a little chat, and you may yet save them.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Get the heathens out of Ulaidh.’

‘I have not the authority, I am not King of Asgard.’

‘But yet you call yourself Queen of Ulaidh?’

‘I am currently in a compromised position, my orders cannot be obeyed. The King of Ulaidh will not surrender it without my safe return, and considering you will not let me go, that will not happen. Plus he is named after the God of Lies, so I would have little doubt he would go back on such words.’

‘Heathens words could never be trusted.’ Conor growled.

‘I found the word of those who call themselves holy to be the least trustworthy, personally.’

‘I take offence to that,’ Conor stated.

‘I take offence to you, what is your point, I will not rescind my statement any more than your mother will rescind you.’

‘You are acting very brave for one facing death.’ UíNeill commented.

‘I do not fear death.’

‘Do you fear your children's deaths though, that is the question?’

‘I cannot give you what you want, not that I would anyway.’

‘Not even for her life?’ He indicated to Danu.

‘I am compromised, they would not leave, that is our way.’ She explained slowly.

‘“Our”, you speak as one of them, yet you are not one of them truly, are you?’

‘I speak that tongue, wear those clothes, eat that food, carry those that would be the warriors of that realm, I was not born there, but I am of there.’ She stated, gritting her teeth as another contraction hit her. ‘What are your plans for me, why not just kill me now and get it over with?’

‘What makes you think I want you dead?’

Maebh scoffed, ‘Well your attacks on me would be considered something of a giveaway. So why not just do it?’

‘You are with child.’

‘And that would concern you?’

‘I am an honourable man.’ Maebh scoffed. ‘I do not hurt the innocent.’

‘Of course not, just old women, farmhands, royal families sitting down to dinner.’ Maebh retorted.

‘Cathal gave your mother a choice, she chose to decline him, had she accepted his offer, she would have been safe, you and your siblings, she chose to risk you all.’

‘Yes, how dare a wife remain loyal to her husband.’ Maebh stated in a deadpan voice.

‘As you do yours, I assume?’

Maebh gave him a very confused look. ‘That goes without saying. You cannot think me so flakey as to turn on my own husband, the father of my children?’

‘You turned on us, why not turn on him now and save yourself?’

‘I do not fear death, I welcome it like an old friend.’ She smiled. UíNeill and the lords present all looked at her fearfully. ‘In life, the only certainty is death, so embrace it and then you will learn to embrace life, for then you realise it is the only chance you have to live.’

‘You speak of a heathen god?’

‘There are many Gods for many people.’

‘There is only one God!’ Conor declared.

‘There is no God.’ Maebh repeated as she had before. Those in the room stared at her in horror at her words.

‘Do you see the madness she states?’ Conor looked to UíNeill who studied her closely.

‘You truly believe this?’

‘Yes.’ She stated plainly.

‘And the child?’

‘She has her father’s Gods.’

‘So she is a heathen and not a believer in the one true faith?’

Maebh laughed. ‘Out of curiosity, humour me for a moment and inform me as to what makes you think yours is the “One True Faith”?’

‘What makes you think it is not?’

‘There are fates far older before word was even written and before your beloved saviour was ever spoken of.’

‘They were wrong.’

‘Perhaps it is you that is wrong, but I have seldom met a man who would admit such.’ She had to force her breathing to remain steady as she felt another contraction, the baby’s head beginning to press against the cervix, she hoped it would not cause her waters to break. So what of my daughter?’

‘You will not give us back our lands?’

‘They were never yours, they were mine.’

‘They are Midgardian, and of such, they are ours by right and by blood.’ The men around cheered in agreement.

‘You gave up your rights when you used force and backhandedness to usurp the king of Ulaidh for personal gain.’ Maebh stated, she bit the inside of her cheeks as another contraction hit, the force of which it pushed down on her told her she had, at most, three contractions more before it would finally be too much and she would begin to feel the urges to push. ‘This is going in circles, I will not yield, you will have me dead, so what will happen my children?’

‘As soon as that one arrives, it will be taken and brought to Mide.’ UíNeill stated. ‘It will be raised on the one true fate and depending on its gender, be given a role according to that, your daughter….she will be taken and given to my grandson.’ He sneered, causing Maebh to inhale deeply in terror. ‘Yes, she will be taught the language you know, she will be baptised into God’s church and the evil you have allowed in her life will be taken out, so that she can be saved. God will save her, through my kindness.’ He acted as though it was some great gift he was bestowing on her daughter. Maebh wanted to baulk, scream and weep, but she held it in, she needed to think strategy, she had to protect Danu and the baby and get them away from such a fate and home to their father.

‘My king, I beg you, think wisely on this decision, the child she carries is a demon, it is not of this world, she says things that only one with links to the devil himself could know and the child has only been revealed within her time here, she did not bear child when she came.’

‘I know you fear the devil, Lord Conor, as any good man should, but she is toying with you. She is trying to get you to fear her, she is said to be somewhat good at that.’ UíNeill placated.

Maebh for her part felt the pressure becoming too much, after four previous pregnancies, she knew her body’s signs enough to know she would not be able to wait any longer. ‘You seem so certain.’

UíNeill looked at her perplexed. ‘You are not some being above us.’

‘Are you so sure? I have stood in front of you for how long now, a half an hour, more?’

‘About that.’

‘And have I been in anyway odd, other than my lack of undying obsession with your pathetic God?’ She scoffed at such words.

Though unimpressed, UíNeill shook his head. ‘Only as odd as I would expect a heathen’s whore to be.’

‘I get called a whore a lot by Midgardian men and every man who ever called me such did not live to rest his head on his pillow that night after, for I have always removed it from his shoulders. But there is time for that later.’ She sighed. ‘I need to get ready for my afternoon.’

‘You seem as though you have something planned.’ Conor stated boldly.

‘Well, I have decided I grow tired of this game. I have all I sought to know from you, so I will be moving things along now.’

‘What things?’ UíNeill looked at her suspiciously.

‘Well I did say that I would have this baby before you came, but I decided I would hold on, wondering what would happen, but now I know everything, I think it safe to say I need to get on with birthing it.’

‘A woman cannot just decide to birth and then birth, you know well that is not how it is.’ UíNeill scoffed.

‘Really?’ Maebh grinned as she felt the next contraction started. ‘I beg to differ.’

‘On what grounds?’

Her response was to smile and look down, her waters beginning to drench the ground under her. ‘I think that is answer enough, is it not? Anything else only I am going to need about an hour to do this, you understand of course?’

[the-master-cylinder]

SUMMARY Anglers from the fishing village of Noyo, California catch what appears to be a monster. The young son of one of the anglers falls into the water and something unseen drags him under the surface. Another angler prepares a flare gun but he slips and accidentally fires it into the deck, which is soaked with gasoline dropped earlier by the boy. The vessel bursts into flames and explodes; everybody aboard is killed. Jim Hill (McClure) and his wife Carol witness the explosion. Later, Jim and Carol’s dog goes missing and the pair finds its dismembered corpse on the nearby beach.

The following day, teenagers Jerry Potter (Meegan King) and Peggy Larson (Lynn Schiller) go for a swim at the beach. Jerry is abruptly pulled under the water. Peggy believes it is a prank until she discovers his mutilated corpse. Peggy screams and tries to reach the beach but a monstrous figure drags her across the sand. The humanoid creature tears off her bikini and rapes her.

That night, two more teenagers are camping on the same beach. Billy (David Strassman) is about to have sex with his girlfriend, Becky (Lisa Glaser) when another humanoid monster claws its way inside, kills him and chases Becky onto the beach. She outruns her assailant but then runs into the arms of yet another monster, which throws her to the sand and rapes her. More attacks follow; not all of them successful, but few witnesses survive to tell the public about the incidents; only Peggy is found alive, though severely traumatized. Jim’s brother is also attacked, prompting Jim to take a personal interest in the matter.

A company called Canco has announced plans to build a huge cannery near Noyo. The murderous, sex-hungry mutations are apparently the result of Canco’s experiments with a growth hormone they had earlier administered to salmon. The salmon escaped from Canco’s laboratory into the ocean during a storm and were eaten by large fish that then mutated into the brutal, depraved humanoids that have begun to terrorize the village.

By the time Jim and Canco scientist Dr. Susan Drake (Turkel) have deduced what is occurring, the village’s annual festival has begun. At the festival, many humanoids appear, murdering the men and raping every woman they can grab. Jim devises a plan to stop the humanoids by pumping gasoline into the bay and setting it on fire, cutting off the humanoids’ way of retreat. Meanwhile, Carol is attacked at home by two of the creatures, but manages to kill them before Jim arrives.

The morning after the festival, normality seems to have returned to the village. Jim asks the sheriff about Dr. Drake. The sheriff mumbles that she went back to the lab, where she is coaching a pregnant Peggy, who has survived her sexual assault. Peggy is about to give birth when her monstrous offspring bursts from her womb, with Peggy screaming at the screeching baby.

PRODUCTION The 1980 release from Roger Corman’s New World Pictures has become infamous (and popular) for its mutant/beach bunny interaction and its shocking climactic variation on Alien’s chestburster. And amazingly enough, the notorious feature was directed by a woman! Although she has done many movies, Barbara Peeters knows what her legacy is. “I’m the mother of the Humanoids from the Deep,” she laughs. “No matter what I do, that damn movie haunts my ass!”

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The Iowa-born Peeters is a founding mother of the modern B-movie. While women were denied directing gigs at major studios, the dynamic Peeters was helming drive-in fare with feminist messages. Before Humanoids from the Deep, she did the girlbiker flick Bury Me an Angel (1972) and the sex comedies Summer School Teachers (1975). “It didn’t matter if it was a prison, biker or horror flick, because I would always manage to get my thinking in somewhere, even if it was just a comment,” she recalls. “When I did Humanoids, though, I was not a horror fan. I literally did it because I needed a job. As a kid, I thought Creature from the Black Lagoon was the scariest movie ever made. I looked at it before I started, and used whatever worked!”

Peeters recalls that she came onto Humanoids late; all of Corman’s boys turned it down, even Joe Dante and Roger finally offered it to me. Of course, I took it. After all, how many girl directors got offered a movie in those days?” She also faced a personal crisis: “I had been diagnosed with cancer, so it was important I show the industry I could still work.

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“It was a rough shoot,” she continues. “I believe that’s why the guys turned it down! No sleep, shooting all night on water. I worked in a wetsuit, which is funny because I can’t swim. We put the camera on a barge, got our wide shots. When it was time to shoot close-ups, the tide came in! It was a constant battle with the elements; the water was so choppy, we gave $5 to the first person to throw up. We found the location in June: Fort Bragg. When we went back to shoot, it was Thanksgiving, so the girls froze! I walked into ocean blowholes to find caves for our monsters.”

“I remember freezing,” says Turkel. “If you look at the boat scenes, I’m wearing a swimsuit while Doug’s in a sweater. I loved doing the monster autopsy, because I got to wear a nice warm lab coat!”

Actress/model Turkel had previously appeared in films like 1977’s thriller The Cassandra Crossing and the 1979 sci-fi actioner Ravagers (1979), while McClure was a ’50s cowboy star who had starred in ’70s cheese such as At the Earth’s Core, The Land That Time Forgot and Warlords of Atlantis. He once claimed Humanoids had a different title when he agreed to star in it.

“That’s true,” Turkel says. “When I got the script, it was called Beneath the Darkness, an interesting horror-thriller like Alien. Imagine how I felt when they changed it! Friends teased me when TV ads announced ‘Humanoids from the Deep, starring Ann Turkel!’”

As for veteran actor Morrow, “I loved him,” Peeters says. “I admired him in The Blackboard Jungle. His daughter visited during the shoot and hung out on set. Nice family; he died two years later. But we knew from the shoot that Vic was the clumsiest man on two feet. He never did his own stunts; Vic couldn’t walk and chew gum—he was the first one to tell you that. He really struggled in our fight scenes, and Doug McClure got Vic through those. Doug was a stuntman who could do anything; we choreographed our parking-lot brawl around him. We kept Vic in back, although he got to kick a guy in the stomach—he liked that!”

McClure, however, “was a funny drunk,” Peeters fondly recalls. “We had to ration his booze through the day. I had a PA keep an eye on him. We had to let him have a beer every couple of hours, because he was an alcoholic, and Vic was right there with him! Vic got cranky on booze and Doug got cranky sober, so we had to monitor them and make sure one got enough and neither got too much.”

Turkel “was nice,” Peeters says. “We probably should have done a nude scene with Ann-she was gorgeous! She was a Ford model in New York before she became an actress and married Richard Harris. She looked great in a swimsuit, too.” And the actress soldiered on through Humanoids even as she was going through an upsetting drama in real life. “Richard told Ann he was divorcing her right in the middle of filming. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated that,” Peeters says sarcastically. “God bless her; Annie fell apart for 24 hours and then pulled herself together and did it. We were very tight; she’s a sweet girl.”

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“That was difficult,” Turkel admits, “but I wasn’t gonna let it affect my performance with all Barbara was going through, I wanted to help her as much as I could.”

The mutant fishmen show a complete lack of political correctness throughout Humanoids. Besides reckless sexual behavior, they also bump off children and dogs! “I didn’t mind killing the kid, murdering men and raping women, but I couldn’t bear to see dogs dead,” Peeters says cheerfully. “I left the set when the dogs were lying on the dock. They weren’t really dead, of course, but as a dog lover, I couldn’t bear to see them like that.”

SPECIAL EFFECTS The Humanoids are impressive brutes, equal parts Alien and ’50s critters like The Gill Man. With their exposed brains, mouths full of serrated teeth and nubby tails, they’re truly disturbing, resembling H.P. Lovecraft’s Deep Ones and sharing their lust for human women.

“On set, we called them ‘Noids,’” Peeters reveals. “When I read the script, I got to the part where it said, ‘Thousands and thousands of Humanoids emerge from the ocean…’ I asked Roger, ‘How are you planning on doing that?’ and he said ‘That’s your job!’ I believe we had two full bodied Humanoids, and the others were parts. I would hide how few we had with a flash of an arm, with one really close-up and another running way in the background. Sometimes I used mirrors! For the finale, I had Humanoids on a merry-go-round with mirrors, so I had the same one run back and forth in front of it. That meant you would see him in the foreground, but also see his reflection and think you were seeing two. We used pieces to create a third and another half in frame choking someone, so you got the sense that there was an army of Humanoids. It was a mathematical problem; I felt like Jesus with the loaves and fishes.

“Those monsters were invented by Rob Bottin, who we called “Robin’ back then,” the director recalls of the artist who would soon break out with his landmark work on The Howling and The Thing. “Robin was still a young boy

very serious about his monsters! Everything with him was dramatic and passionate. He broke down crying one day, I don’t remember why, but I thought, “Oh my God!’ It reminded me how young he was. Rob had a great team of guys, talented and hard-working. [Stuntman] Diamond Farnsworth was my ‘Noid who took the most abuse; he was terrific. I loved my ‘Noids.”

“I actually played a Humanoid,” Bottin laughs. “Several of my guys did also. I had the crew come to my place in El Monte, rather than go all the way down to Corman’s studio in Venice about 40 miles away, so we could do an effect in my garage. I thought I was smart, but I didn’t realize that while I was showing them the gag in my garage, Roger had them move my furniture onto the front lawn to shoot a scene in my living room!” As for working in the Pacific in a bulky Humanoid suit, “I kept telling the crew to be on the lookout for a hapless drowning whale-it would have to be me!”

Fellow Humanoid Steve Johnson, who also went on to an illustrious FX career, remembers that being an undersea mutant was no picnic. “Those suits were impossible to get into and out of,” he says. “Once you put on that costume, you were in it for the night. As a Humanoid, you had a tail made up of a series of hinges, so you could not sit down because that tail was incredibly uncomfortable. They also had extended arms, made by Chris Walas. We covered them with hemp fiber as seaweed, to hide the foam and joints, because nothing was finished! We were shooting all night, and making stuff up as we shot.

“Barbara Peeters thought I was the best Humanoid when it came to taking hits,” Johnson proudly continues. “Any time a Humanoid was shot, that was usually me all squibbed up. I raped one of the girls and doubled a male victim after he was mauled, because he didn’t want to wear all the prosthetics when his face is ripped off.” “Steve was great—a hardworking Humanoid, bless his heart,” Peeters adds.

“I had two great joys making the film,” Johnson says. “In one, a Humanoid gets a crowbar in the brain. Since I made the head, I said I would do it, because everyone else was afraid to; we had one head, so it had to be one take. I was nervous, but I knew where and how hard to hit it.

“Then I saw the funniest thing I have seen in my entire career: Bottin, in full Humanoid suit, with those ridiculously long arm extensions. Once you were suited up, you couldn’t even stand without help! With his tail on, he couldn’t sit, and he had those extensions he couldn’t take off, so he could not do anything with his hands—and they wouldn’t get to the shot. That always happens on movie sets, but he had been suited up for three hours as we filmed on a dock.

“Finally, Rob just blew up-screaming and yelling at the entire production team while wearing this Humanoid suit!” Johnson laughs. “He was gesturing with these big arms, wearing the monster head-it was the funniest thing I have ever seen.”

Also part of the Humanoids monster crew was Kenny Myers, “I was a makeup artist for Rob, but I did a bit of everything, including taking care of the guys in the suits,” he recalls. “I think my name is misspelled in the credits! I helped sew together the original Humanoid suit, which took eight hours, and we actually sewed the guy into the outfit, because the pieces hadn’t been assembled yet. Shawn McEnroe and I sewed all these rubber pieces on by hand.

“Rob, Steve and their crew had just finished Tanya’s Island, and were completely burned out,” Myers continues. “The guys were walking zombies, so Rob brought me in for fresh blood. We never got a Humanoids script, so we never knew what was coming at us until the day before. Things like the dead dog on the beach? We literally threw clay onto a board and sculpted it! We used foam and hair to make that dog; almost everything was done in a day.”

How did Humanoids from the Deep come about?

Roger Corman: Much like with Piranha, someone had brought me the screenplay for Humanoids- I can’t remember who—and I had it rewritten and we made it simply because I liked the story. It was unusual, actually, that both pictures came from outside sources, because more often than not, all the ideas for our films came from me.

Humanoids is full of sex, nudity and sexual violence. Having a woman Barbara Peeters, direct it was unusual. Did you hire a woman because the subject matter was potentially volatile?

Roger Corman: No, I brought Barbara on board because she was a good director.

Did you tangle with the ratings board at all with this film?

Roger Corman: On Humanoids, we stayed within the boundaries of the R rating, and had no problem getting it. If I remember correctly, we had to cut very little, if any. thing. When I talked to Barbara about the movie PIRANHA initially, I told her that the premise was very simple: the Humanoids rape the women and they kill the men. And she said, “OK, got it,’ and that’s what she did!

Being a Humanoid victim was not easy, according to actor Greg Travis, who plays KFISH DJ Mike Michaels at the film’s end. “It was my first movie I was 19, and a Humanoid rips my chest off,” says Travis. “I’m with my girl sidekick, Miss Salmon (Linda Shayne), as the monsters attack. I’m caught between a Humanoid and Miss Salmon, so he kills me. They put a prosthetic across my chest, so when he claws me, my chest falls off, blood squirts and I spasm.

“The monsters were creepy, though they were never quite as scary up close as they are on film because of lighting,” Travis notes. “Linda was uptight because she had to get topless. I was gonna do a hand move pretending to touch her chest like a dial, but she got bent out of shape and wouldn’t do it. I did get to put a K-FISH sticker on a girl’s butt, though.”

The actor recalls that a good deal of improv went into the experience: “There was a DJ in the script, but I ad-libbed most of my dialogue. As I was a stand-up comic, they liked what I did. My roommate David Strassman was also in it, with his dummy, Chuck Wood. He’s the ventriloquist with the girl. He plays Vegas now. We always laugh about being killed by Humanoids from the Deep!

“We did pickup shots all night in Malibu,” he continues. “I bought a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken on my way down. The crew laughed at me: “You don’t need that; we have craft services bringing a big dinner!’ But their truck couldn’t find the location, so my chicken was all they had.

They loved me, man. Especially Rob Bottin, he and I ate KFC all night.” In the midst of the mayhem, Peeters includes a disturbing moment where a Humanoid pulls a little girl away for mating purposes. “I liked that because it was unsettling,” she says. “There’s another shot of people screaming and running around a crying baby. I got that from Sam Peckinpah, who said, ‘You don’t realize you’re in danger until you see children in danger.'”

Her favorite scene, however, “is when McClure’s wife, played by Cindy Weintraub, is home alone with their baby. You see a shadow on the wall as Humanoids attack. You can never get a baby to cry on cue, but he started screaming on his own. I thought that sequence was scary, as the monster hand comes through the door. You go ‘Oh shit!’ as Cindy grabs the knife. That low angle of the hand really worked. We also did a cool close-up across the room-you see the fire and a slow pan across the Fisher Stereo to Cindy. We included that shot because Fisher said if I did it, I could have the unit. I always loved freebies!”

In Humanoids’ crowd-pleasing climax, Dr. Drake discovers that Humanoid rape victim Peggy (Lynn Theel) is pregnant. She suddenly realizes this isn’t a normal pregnancy (first clue: Peggy got pregnant in a day!), and the poor girl’s stomach explodes as she gives birth to a baby creature. “We shot the monster birth at a community hospital in Fort Bragg,” Peeters recalls.

“Rob made it all happen; it was an elaborate scene he pulled off. One guy pumped blood while another Kenny—was under the table pushing the baby through; it was hilarious. Annie saying, ‘Push, dear, push!’ to get the little Humanoid out was like a Saturday Night Live sketch.”

“Oh, that was so funny,” Turkel adds. “Here I am, a scientist, and all I do to help is say, ‘Push, Peggy, push!’ It was a very messy scene, too.”

“That monster baby is one of my all-time favorites,” Myers says. “I was under the table, Lynn was pregnant on it and this is where it got insane. I had this pregnant appliance on her, and I was between her legs with a pump, making her belly jump. Lynn started giggling-Kenny? You’re tickling my thighs!’ My head bobbed up between her legs, the most obscene-looking thing you’ve ever seen. Nobody could stop laughing during this dramatic scene! Lynn had the hotel room across from us effects guys, and was a doll. A Playboy Playmate, nicest girl you’d ever meet; even sang me ‘Happy Birthday,’ ” Myers says fondly.

“Oh, Lynn was a trouper,” Peeters says. “I felt bad, because we put her through a lot. In the scene where we find her in the kelp bed, Lynn turned blue from hypothermia! The ‘Noids went into freezing water with wetsuits underneath, but poor Lynn was just in a bikini, dying out there.”

Peeters wasn’t responsible for the film’s worst moments of misogynist monster mayhem. After Humanoids wrapped, Corman had Battle Beyond the Stars director Jimmy T. Murakami punch up the sex and violence. “Roger put in a couple of nude-women scenes to spark up the movie,” Peeters explains. “He added the Salmon Queen being ravaged to the ending we shot, the tent attack and the rape of Peggy on the beach-shot on a dark and grainy film stock that didn’t match ours. When Peggy’s attacked, I only shot her screaming, with her hands clawing the sand as the Humanoid drags her away. You saw the monster’s hand on her leg, that’s it—you didn’t see anything else because it was too early! You don’t know what happened to her. Later, in the ‘Noids’ nest, you find her naked in the kelp bed and think, ‘Oh my God-at least she’s alive!’ I don’t really think we needed the shot of the Humanoid humping her, though I have no problem with nudity; I just thought it took the terror out and changed the whole tone.

“Roger decided to have ‘one of the boys’ do those scenes,” she continues. “When Ann and I went to the screening, we saw them for the first time, with no idea they had been added. I was furious, because I had put in so much energy and went through hell to make the film. Seeing this stuff, with no attempt to integrate it? Ugh! It pissed Ann off, and she was much more vocal about it than me.”

“I really was,” Turkel says. “That’s why I went public, it wasn’t the film I made. I did it because Richard (Harris) pointed out to me that Peter O’Toole had the same thing happen with Caligula, when they added [pornographic] stuff after he shot his scenes. I complained to SAG and People magazine.”

For her part, Peeters “wanted my name taken off, because it wasn’t the movie I made—and they misspelled my name on half the posters anyway! I appeared in the LA Times disowning Humanoids as it opened.” She adds that, as in her previous features, she had hoped to imbue Humanoids with a feminist message. “That’s what Ann and I were making: a horror movie from a feminine point of view. We felt we could make a scary film based on man’s obsessive desire to f**k with nature, the feminine side. The Humanoids were payback for corporate greed—it’s always the young, the old and the women who pay these bills. We did it within the horror formula. That’s the movie we made, then we saw what the boys did to it; the crass puppet and big-tittied Salmon Queen were creations of pimply dorks jacking off to a trite, worn-around-the-edges dick fantasy. That’s not what Ann or I wanted our names on. If there’s any message in Humanoids, it’s feminine survival in a male-dominated world; it ain’t easy out here, baby!”

Peeters recovered from cancer to become a respected director. “I now run Platinum Productions; I want to make films for senior citizens, an ignored market,” she says. “I’m working on mature comedies where I want everyone on the crew to be 50 and older, including the leads.” She caught Humanoids on TV recently, “and you know what? It’s a fun little thing,” Peeters says. “Overseas, it was called Monster, like the Charlize Theron movie. I laugh every time somebody says, ‘Monster won the Oscar’!”

SCORE/SOUNDTRACK

CAST/CREW Directed Barbara Peeters Jimmy T. Murakami (uncredited)

Produced Martin B. Cohen Roger Corman (executive)

Screenplay Frederick James Story by Frank Arnold Martin B. Cohen

Doug McClure as Jim Hill Ann Turkel as Dr. Susan Drake Vic Morrow as Hank Slattery Cindy Weintraub as Carol Hill Anthony Pena as Johnny Eagle Denise Galik as Linda Beale Lynn Schiller as Peggy Larson Meegan King as Jerry Potter Breck Costin as Tommy Hill

Rob Bottin   … humanoids creator & designer Roger George … special effects Chris Walas  … special effects Karoly Balazs    … makeup artist: second unit (as Charles T. Balazs) Steve Johnson    … special makeup effects assistant Marla Manalis    … hair stylist / makeup artist Shawn McEnroe    … special makeup effects assistant Kenny Myers  … special makeup effects assistant (as Ken Myers) Margaret Prentice … special effects makeup (uncredited)

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY Starlog#296 Fangoria#265

Humanoids from the Deep (1980) Retrospective SUMMARY Anglers from the fishing village of Noyo, California catch what appears to be a monster. The young son of one of the anglers falls into the water and something unseen drags him under the surface.

[josselinkohl]

I have a terrible fic idea.

It’s omegaverse and Auguste-is-alive. The concept is that Laurent is an omega and in addition he is sick. He refuses to mate with any alphas and his heats are coming more and more frequently and they have reached the point now where they are near constant and ever worsening. He’s feverish and delirious and becoming weaker and Paschal does not think that he will live much longer if they do not do something.

Auguste is very worried for Laurent so Auguste and Paschal decide that they must arrange for Laurent to mate with a suitable alpha. Paschal thinks that if he becomes pregnant his heat-sickness will cease. Auguste is concerned not only about Laurent’s health, but also, Laurent isn’t married, and any child that he has will be a bastard, and Vere is not kind to bastards, nor to their parents. So Auguste wants to give the child to the father, whoever that is, and he wants the father to treat it well, which rules out any other Veretians. A Veretian father would consider the child a bastard and deny it or neglect it and Auguste is not willing for that to happen.

Auguste knows that Akielons do not have the same prejudices, so he decides that an Akielon must be the father. He’s met Damen before, and they got along backslappingly well, and there is a convenient upcoming tournament of sports or martial arts or whatever between the Veretians and the Akielons so Auguste uses this as his opportunity. He arranges for Laurent to be conveyed to the border in a litter, since Laurent is still not very well, and then Auguste goes to talk to Damen alone.

Damen is sort of hesitant at first. But he remembers little Laurent from the last tournament fondly, and Auguste is a friend and obviously worried out of his mind and Damen wants to help. And Damen doesn’t like the idea of someone else mistreating Laurent or not caring for the child. Auguste is making an emotional appeal and saying things like, “Your brother is a bastard so I know you would raise the child well in Akielos!” and Paschal is there and pointing out that if Laurent goes through three or four more heats he might die from heat sickness.

Damen agrees to see Laurent. Laurent is mostly delirious. He is tied up with soft restraints because Paschal and Auguste were trying to keep him from hurting himself or escaping to find alphas. Damen can smell him even as they are approaching the room. Damen has had omega slaves who have gone into heat before, but nothing has ever smelled like this.

Laurent can smell Damen approaching as well, and Laurent sort of stills and his eyes focus on Damen. Auguste is excited because this is more lucid than Laurent has been the last few days. Damen just goes over to Laurent and immediately starts removing all of his restraints.

Laurent just watches him and usually Laurent throws a fit about anyone coming even remotely near him so Auguste is holding his breath.

Damen says, "My name is Damianos."

Laurent says, "I know who you are, Damianos."

Damen says, "Do you want to--"

Laurent says, "Yes," and basically lunges at Damen. Auguste and Paschal back out of the room awkwardly.

Damen leaves a day later. Paschal reports that Laurent is sleeping calmly and Auguste thinks everything is well. He’s so relieved. Except that after a couple of days of being well--good, even, better than Laurent has been in months--Laurent begins to get a fever.

Auguste demands Paschal tell him what is happening, and Paschal is tending Laurent and Paschal says he’s going into heat again.

They have a whispered argument in Laurent’s bedchamber. Auguste is like, “But we! Damen!” and Paschal is calmly pointing out that omegas do not become pregnant every time they are knotted.

But this is especially bad. Auguste had gone to great pains to bring Laurent to the tournament, but they are supposed to leave the next day and he’d made arrangements for afterward, also. By this point Laurent was already supposed to be pregnant and Auguste was going to sneak him off to Aquitart and hide him there until the child was born and then sneak the child off to Akielos and return Laurent home.

But now Laurent is still not pregnant and still obviously unwell and also his delirious ramblings are now completely about Damen. So Auguste carries delirious Laurent and sneaks him carefully to the Akielon side of the camp and has to be careful to avoid any alphas and he finally finds Damen’s tent and goes inside.

Damen is immediately worried about Laurent. Auguste says, “You have to take him with you.”

Damen’s eyes widen. He’s can’t just show up back at home with a Veretian prince. Nikandros will be upset and Damen was already worried about how he was going to explain the arrival of his bastard to his father but he thought he had nine months to figure that out.

Laurent is sort of desperately reaching for Damen.

Auguste is still arguing. “What if it does not work again tonight? I can’t care for him--he needs to go with you.”

So Damen agrees to take Laurent back to Akielos with him.

Nikandros is very skeptical as predicted, but everything sort of works out because while their second heat together still does not result in a child, the third heat -- which takes place when they are on the ship back toward Ios -- does. Then the other alphas in the Akielon party can smell that Laurent is pregnant, and it’s more understandable why Damen would take an omega pregnant with his child along with them.

So now Laurent is recovering from heat sickness and he finds himself on a ship headed to Akielos of all places and he’s pregnant with the prince of Akielos’s child? He’s kind of annoyed with Auguste about all of this. Damen is all tender and fussing and Laurent is annoyed about that also.

Laurent himself isn’t sure how he feels about bastards. On the one hand, he remembers how terrible it was while he was sick. That was awful. He hated it. He would have done almost anything for it to end. This is much better. He feels excellent. And hungry. Very hungry. And also horny though he ignores that and glares at Damen and eats extra instead.

But the point is he feels good and if he were off at Aquitart as they had planned everything would be excellent.

But instead he’s in Ios. And Damen is blind to half of what’s going on in his own court. Damen keeps talking about the child and how well he will treat it. And how Akielons do not care about bastardy. But Laurent can see how things are. Kastor may live at court but he isn’t inheriting and he isn’t pleased about that. Theomedes clearly favors his natural born son even if Damen doesn’t recognize that.

Meanwhile Damen and Laurent are starting to get to know each other a bit and maybe bond a little.

Kastor sees Laurent and Laurent’s child as another threat between him and the throne he  covets so he’s not fond of Laurent. Theomedes tolerates Laurent in a chauvinistic “oh my son is so virile, ha, ha” kind of way. Damen fusses whenever Laurent tries to do anything, even if it’s like walk in the orchard.

“You might trip on a stick,” Damen objects, and Laurent threatens to beat Damen with the same stick he’s so worried about.

Everyone still has their worries.

Laurent is frightened of leaving the child, and also that Damen is going to end up murdered by his half brother.

Damen has fallen for Laurent and does not want him to leave.

Theomedes is starting to worry about how far gone Damen is about this omega.

Kastor is plotting ways to kill Laurent and the child.

Auguste is worried about Laurent and writing concerned letters.

Paschal is worried because he thinks Laurent is unfortunately likely to relapse into heat sickness shortly after he stops nursing, and if he doesn’t nurse because he leaves the child in Akielos and returns to Vere he might sicken again very rapidly.

Eventually Damen and Laurent get into a giant fight and Laurent runs away from Ios. Damen goes after him and finds him a few days later in a cave and Damen apologizes and tells Laurent how worried he was and how desperate and Laurent is coaxed into confessing his own fears, which are that the child will not be treated as well as Damen’s real children someday and also that Kastor is going to kill the child and Damen too for good measure.

Damen says, “I have an idea of how to solve that.”

Laurent says, “Kill Kastor first?”

That was not what Damen was thinking. Damen was thinking that they should get married. Because then the child will be legitimate and they can raise it together and it can be Damen’s heir.

Laurent is surprised. He had not thought of marriage. He supposes he’d assumed that Damen would make a political marriage of some sort, and of course none of this had been arranged about a relationship, it had always just been about the child.

Damen thinks this should not be that surprising. Laurent is a prince also. He is the mother of Damen's child. This is only natural.

Laurent agrees to marry Damen.

Nikandros just rolls his eyes. Kastor is seething. Theomedes tolerates all of this because at least the omega has proven he's fertile and now Theomedes can have lots of grandchildren.

Paschal thinks this is good because Laurent can stay with the child and stave off heat sickness and if he is married he does not have to make other arrangements for when the child is weaned and the sickness might strike again. Laurent writes to Auguste who is surprised but kind of a romantic and okay with it.

They go off to the Kingsmeet for a traditional Akielon royal wedding. Laurent is giant. Everyone wonders if he will make it through the wedding before giving birth.

Laurent does make it through the wedding, though shortly afterward he and Damen retreat to the summer palace with Paschal and almost as soon as they are there Laurent does go into labor.  Damen feels like he couldn't be happier even though Laurent is absolutely vicious while in labor. But afterward he also is content. He can't imagine leaving the baby with Damen, or letting someone take it away from him. They name the baby Leon.

Auguste visits and gives Prince Leon lots of gifts. Theomedes likes his grandson very much and thinks Laurent should have at least seven more. Kastor still seethes but Laurent keeps him in line. And Nikandros continues to roll his eyes a lot.

the end.

[imagine-loki]

A Warrior’s Life

TITLE: A Warrior’s Life

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Eighty-Nine

AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Viking Loki coming to your village, raiding, and pillaging, before deciding there is something about you that intrigues him and deciding to take you back to Asgard with him. There, you are forced to learn a new life and language, and though you hate what has happened to you, you learn that Loki is not as bad as you think.

RATING: Mature

Loki looked at his wife as she tended to their children. Cleaning their wounds and giving them words of love and pride for their strength and will to fight. She cleaned Danu’s face and gave her a cold wet rag to stop her lip swelling any further. ‘Mother...would he really have stopped me having babies?’

‘Yes, darling.’ she stated, heartbroken that her daughter could have something so natural ripped away from her so brutally. ‘I would never allow that. We would never let them do that to you.’

Kushtrim came over then, looking worriedly at his sister. Maebh looked at him before pulling him to her and kissing his forehead. ‘Hello, my brave boy.’

‘Mother, what happened you? Why were you gone but here?’

‘I do not know.’ she admitted. ‘I cannot understand it myself, all I know is I saw you and...Liulf so ill, after that, I cannot recall much, only that Liulf is gone. But you are here, so strong.’ There was a silence around her at the mention of their youngest brother. Her children not knowing what to say or do. ‘Not talking about him makes it seem like he was never here. He was, he was part of our lives, he was your brother, he will always be your brother.’ her twins nodded. Turning, she saw Loki standing nearby. ‘Vali?’

‘Mother is tending to him.’ he turned to the other two. ‘You both have earned a treat.’ excited, they rushed past their father as their mother rose to her feet again. He walked over to her and wrapped his hands around her. ‘You came back to me.’

‘I never realised I left.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Tired, confused, relieved beyond all measure. How long was I not myself?’

‘A while.’

‘I can see.’ She looked down at her stomach. ‘How resilient can one little creature be?’

‘You are its mother, the answer to that is unattainable.’ Loki smiled.

Maebh took a moment to look at her husband. He had aged somewhat in the time of her lament. His face seemed almost fatigued, she could not remember when the lines on his forehead and near his eyes etched permanently into his skin. She looked into his eyes, they were wearier than she had ever seen. ‘Loki.’ She barely whispered the word. Her eyes filled with her sadness. She had fallen into a darkness, she did not remember but moments from it, she recalled anger to the husband she loved so dearly, and his heartbroken anger in return, she recalled him forcing food into her mouth to eat, and him cleaning her injured shoulder. She also remembered pushing him away, not wanting his touch on her. She did not recall when they had returned to their own home and were no longer staying in the old home of Thor’s, she did not recall when Kushtrim was free to return to them, the last thing she recalled was saying her goodbyes to Liulf, kissing his little forehead and telling him she loved him, she could not even recall his pyre in flames. Looking at Loki, she realised all that had been while she roamed the darkness of her mind, he had continued on, he had kept their family going. ‘I abandoned you.’ The tightness in her voice portrayed her remorse.

Loki shook his head, taking her hands in his. ‘No, No my beautiful Maebh, you got lost, your body remained, but you were lost for a while, you came back though, you returned to ùs, when you were most needed, you were here, as you always are.’ he smiled lovingly. ‘But Norns, how I have missed you.’ Tears of joy in his eyes. ‘I have missed you, my deadly, beautiful love. I have missed you so much.’ he leant down and kissed her, which she returned. ‘You came back to me.’ His relief was on the verge of overwhelming him as he pressed his forehead and nose to hers, his eyes closed.

‘I am here, as is apparently our child.’ she looked down. ‘This was one serious surprise.’ she laughed. Loki smiled fondly at her stomach, placing his hand on it. ‘I...I remember you forcing me to eat, begging me to look after it.’

‘A father is supposed to protect his children,’ Loki winced painfully. ‘I cannot fail again.’

‘Loki, you did not fail Liulf, we...it hurts, it will never cease to hurt that we no longer have him, that he is not here with us, but as I said to Danu and Kushtrim, we must not forget him, that is a disservice to him. None could have protected him. I feel the guilt too, but they would have died in Vanaheim if they had come with us, we could not have protected them there, and the enemy here was not one we could put a sword through.’ she looked at the blood stains in their yard. ‘Or the one that took Liulf at least, that one we did put swords through.’

‘I was not here.’

‘You were in the village, looking after our people.’

‘But had you not awoken...you, the child in you, Dan...our little Danu.’ He shook. ‘My little girl.’ Loki felt nauseous, his little girl, his image, he knew to protect their sister, his sons would have died to do so. It was only because Maebh returned to her true self that they stepped back, that they were saved, and even at that, they were vicious. He realised then the manner his children were being raised. They were loved beyond words, taught kindness, understanding and all manners of education, but behind it, they were ruthless, they would slaughter when required. He knew deep down, that as he aged, they would protect their home, their own families, and in their old age, him and Maebh.

‘It does not bear thinking about. What if I had remained in the cottage the day you came to my home? What if I had killed you before Thor came? What if he had not heeded your words to not harm me? What if Odin did not allow you have me? If the knife had lacerated you in another area? If I died birthing Vali? Can you not see, these are all scenarios that could have been, yet do not exist, we cannot dwell too greatly on them, if we do, we will go mad.’ she explained. ‘Liulf is no longer with us, we can either accept it and mourn him or remain as I was, not truly alive. Loki, I cannot remember our son returning to us, I cannot recall our baby beginning to move in me.’ she was scared to admit it. The last time I truly remember, my shoulder hurt incredibly and your face was marred, now I feel as though I merely slept oddly on my shoulder and you look as you did before. That was not living.’

‘You were a ghost, a shell. As Kushtrim stated, you were here in body, but your mind gone. I was so scared...I thought you were lost, and mother, she was worried you would not think to birth the baby.’

‘I cannot say, I do not know.’ she admitted. ‘But I am myself again now, and I am going to protect our children, as well as find out why UíNeill is coming this far, it is a brave yet stupid move.’ She stated.

Loki looked at her. ‘What needs doing, my love?’

‘We need the heads of the dead men, in a barrel, sent to Vanaheim, with a message to those allied to Midgard.’

‘The message bring, not that the barrel of heads is not clear enough?’

‘I and Asgard, will slice the head of each and every bastard that comes to our land again, daring to hurt our children. In fact, send their manhoods too. That will make them realise what we stand for. I want them to know I did it, I want them to know my wrath.’ she hissed.

Loki nodded. ‘You and your blood.’

‘Our blood. I did not create these little warriors alone, as you like to remind me, you are under the impression you did the difficult part of the task.’ she smiled.

‘I put them there if you recall.’ He smiled lovingly.

‘I am worried for Nafi, for them all really, I worry that UíNeill has mind to harm them.’

‘If what those men said is true, they do not know of the alliance, they will be safe, Heimdall and the others were due there later this week regardless, I have little doubt that has been moved forward now.’

‘Good, we need to make sure they are well armed.’ Loki nodded. ‘Sif?’

‘What of her?’

‘Did she...?’

‘Sif is alive, she tended to Kushtrim until he recovered, she was allowed leave but refused to do so without him.’ Loki explained.

‘I owe her so much.’

‘You would have done the same.’

‘Of course, in a heartbeat. Is it ended?’

‘That we know of.’

‘Good.’ She nodded, looking down, ‘Oh hello.’

Loki’s hand immediately went back to her stomach, a small nudge against his finger a moment later. He smiled as he felt his youngest child make its presence known. He had not felt it before then. ‘It is strong.’

‘Any prediction?’

‘Another boy I think, it sits like the others, you?’

‘I agree, poor Danu, forever the only girl you have sired.’

‘And what a daughter to have sired. Her aim has improved I see.’

‘She tends to train daily or did when I paid heed. She will be a formidable woman.’

Loki put his arms around her, kissing her neck. ‘She will never be mistreated by a man, not with you as a mother.’

‘He would be the brave, dead idiot. She will not stand for it, her brothers will not, nor shall I, I doubt you would either. We would bay for his blood.’

‘Evidently, there will be a line.’ Loki smiled back.

[imagine-loki]

A Warrior’s Life

TITLE: A Warrior’s Life

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Forty AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Viking Loki coming to your village, raiding, and pillaging, before deciding there is something about you that intrigues him and deciding to take you back to Asgard with him. There, you are forced to learn a new life and language, and though you hate what has happened to you, you learn that Loki is not as bad as you think.

RATING: Mature

The feast was a pleasant affair, as was the entertainment and music the brothers agreed as they sat at the head table with the new Svartalfheim king and his wife, Queen Æbbe. The young king spoke with both brothers throughout.

“So far I have only been blessed with a daughter, but my wonderful queen is due to birth before the snow falls, I pray for a son, but a safe birth is all you can ever truly ask for.” Ásvaldr smiled genuinely as he spoke. “And what of you gentlemen, from what I hear Prince Thor, you have children.”

The Kings knowledge of Thor’s family did not escape the brothers’ noticed. “Indeed I have three. The eldest a daughter, followed by two sons, one of which was born not two full moons before our departure.” Thor answered cautiously.

Ásvaldr looked slightly taken back. “I apologise for taking you from your new child, had I known…”

Thor raised his hand to silence him. “You could not have known. I rather be able to tell him of the peace negotiated in my absence at a time he will not remember, than to be there now and for you and I to face each other in a battlefield and risk never returning to him and his siblings.”

“Very true, I would feel the same.” Ásvaldr concurred. “And what of you Prince Loki?” the king asked, looking to the younger prince.

“I have a son who has started his warrior training, and my wife will birth in the near future.” Loki kept his voice neutral; he did not wish to reveal just how close Maebh was to having the child.

“Goodness.” Æthelric, one of Ásvaldr’s advisors commented. “With the busy lives you Asgardian’s lead with raiding and farming, I am shocked at both princes would have time enough to have both of your wives birth within a year.”

“Will she be alright in your absence?” Ásvaldr enquired.

“I would think so, she is quite a woman.” Thor chuckled.

Ásvaldr looked between the brothers, noting their smiles. “My wife is somewhat of a formidable little creature.” Loki explained fondly thinking of Maebh. “She should be fine, it is her first child, but I have great faith in her, she will have no issues.”

“So your son is not the son of your wife?” Æbbe asked. Loki shook his head. “Does that not cause tensions with her?”

“Not at all, she adores him greatly and has cared for him since the moment she met him.”

“Dare I ask what became of his mother?” Æthelric probed.

“My first wife was sent to fulfil what can only be described as her vocation in a brothel.” Loki replied nonchalantly, earning a laugh from Thor. He knew that Ásvaldr's and his advisors would assess his response to see if he was weak. He could see that Aslaug’s fate struck some fear into them.

“I was led to believe that Asgard was a Valhalla of sorts, and yet a prince of the realm just openly admitted that not only do brothels exist, but he sent his wife to one.” Commented Æthelric. The brothers simultaneously came to the conclusion that he was Ásvaldr’s chief advisor.

“Brothels will exist whether or not a crown permits them. We acknowledge their existence and in exchange for ensuring that the women have some safety, the kingdom is paid handsomely.” Thor stated matter-of-factly, chuckling at the impressed look on Ásvaldr’s face.

“It is genius; I would be a fool to think such does not occur on my lands, it makes more sense to avail of it as a money earner than to spend money prosecuting those who practise it.” The young king admitted. “There is clearly much we can learn from Asgard.”

“And indeed, I have no doubt there is much that Asgard can learn from your way of life also.” Loki added.

The rest of the evening continued with small talk, and at close to midnight, the brothers followed their host’s example and made for their sleeping quarters, knowing that the following day would be tiring as each side would lay out their requests and test the boundaries of the other.

Loki settled into the bed thinking of all that needed to be done. He thought of how to best deal with the clearly cunning Æthelric and to charm Ásvaldr into accepting what Asgard would have to offer. He turned to his side and sighed. Where usually lay his young beautiful wife was only cold emptiness. He yearned to return home and hold her and their child in his arms again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thor and Loki sat along with Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg across from Ásvaldr, Æthelric, and two others, Dagfinnr and Erlendr. “This is a momentous day for our lands, a way at last to finally put an end to war, and pave the way for a new and glorious alliance that will hopefully benefit both our domains.” The king stated in Æsir, the Asgardians smiled and nodded in agreement.

Thor stood. “We thank you for your gracious hospitality King Ásvaldr, and for your brave attempt to end the fighting between our lands, we have little doubt that you have had opposition from within even your own council.”

Loki looked to each of the advisors as Ásvaldr translated Thor's words. He knew his brother had selected them carefully so that both he and Loki could gauge the reactions of each man, and as expected, their reactions, and in one case the severe lack of, gave the princes more information on the men in front of them than anything they could have ever said.

Overall the first day, though exhausting, showed little results, King Ásvaldr explained what he required of Asgard to cease their raiding of Svartalfheim and the prevention of any more of his citizens being used as thralls. Though Thor and Loki had discussed much with Odin, the decided not to reveal all they would permit at once.

For a further week both sides discussed at length what was required of them for their respective lands with no let up. As Thor and Loki suspected Ásvaldr attempted to be difficult for no reason other than to show he could be, but only in certain aspects, and in doing so telling the Æsir what really mattered for Svartalfheim.

“We noticed that you require better tools to farm with.” Thor commented one afternoon as both sides had began to argue once again over the pettiest of things.

“Had you? What makes you say that?” Æthelric snapped. “What makes you think Asgardian tools are superior to ours?”

“Well firstly, we get our ore from Vanaheim, which of course we all know, has the most superior of metals, we control one of the best areas for such there. We also have deals struck with Alfheim, which is renowned for craftsmanship.” Loki replied.

“We have great ties with most every realm.” Thor declared. “Let us share our ties with you.” He offered.

Ásvaldr looked to his advisors, who when told what the princes were saying nodded. “Very well, and what will we have to do for such?”

The talks on tools, food and farm issues went on until long past midnight, but finally, deals were beginning to be struck. Loki collapsed onto the pelts that covered the bed exhausted. Without even changing out of his day attire or getting under the pelts, he fell asleep, dreaming of tending to his farm, his son aiding him as he relayed his days training to him as they worked, and of his beautiful, child heavy wife, smiling as she sat close by listening, rubbing her stomach where she had just felt his child kick within her.

The next morning Loki reluctantly arose and clenched his jaw in irritation. He knew the talks would take time, but they were taking too long. There had to be some way to get Ásvaldr to stop playing games and yet save face. He changed his clothes, barely paying attention as he tried to think of a way to hurry on proceedings without compromising Asgard’s power.

The day continued much like the day before, but after a while, another stalemate was reached. “Surely there can be no peace between our lands so long as many of our kinsmen are thralls in Asgard.” Erlendr had stated.

“Svartalfheim too has some of our citizens, we are aware of the attacks on the farthest outreaches of our realm; we know it is Æsir women that occupy many of your brothels and Æsir men that you have used to build much of the dwelling in this realm.” Hogun stated.

“Well then, a plain and straight forward exchange is all that is required surely.” Suggested Loki.

“Will many of the Æsir not be angered at the loss of their free labour?” Dagfinnr queried.

“To lose their thrall or to lose their lives will be their choices.” Thor stated coldly. “We are brokering a peace; we cannot let it crumble for the sake of a few thralls. Besides, we have other areas to harvest thralls from.” He added nonchalantly.

“How so? You have agreements with Vanaheim, Alfheim, even in some respects Jötunheim, and now you wish to make them with us, so unless you are planning on starting war with one that is at present an ally.” Æthelric commented.

“We can get them from Midgard.” Thor stated matter-of-factly. Stunned silence met his answer.

“Midgard?” Ásvaldr repeated stunned.

“Aye Midgard, we have substantial lands there now, and we plan on taking more in the future.” Fandral smiled.

When the Æsir’s words were translated, the Svartalfheim party began to pay very close attention. “How did you secure lands there? The Midgardian’s are a fiercely vicious, if not small race.” Erlendr asked.

“With very little difficulty in the end it must be said. Indeed they are a fierce race, but like all others, their strength lay in none others knowing how to combat them, and in turn, that too was their greatest weakness when their methods were rendered obsolete.” Loki smiled, though all present could see a slight menace within it.

“So you defeated them using their own warfare, I must admit, that is very impressive.” Ásvaldr acknowledged, his men nodding in agreement. “Very well, any Æsir that are not on this land of their own free will shall be released, and we expect the same of you, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“We would very much like to obtain Midgardian craftsmen if possible, if it is true what is said regarding their building, I hear they are fortresses of stone like none seen before.” Ásvaldr seemed almost scared of the answer he would receive.

“It is true what is said, and they are magnificent dwellings, inside and out.” Volstagg confirmed.

“You have seen them, from within?” Erlendr asked in awe.

“Every man that is sitting across from you has spent his past two summers in Midgard, and each man here has battled there, shedding much blood, and has had some of his shed in return and we have returned home both times victorious.” Thor declared.

Awe filled the faces of the men opposite as Thor's words were translated. Loki could not help but bask in their disbelief. Their coveting of the great resources of Asgard and what Asgard had the power to obtain with ease meant that they were somewhat blinded and were easier to manipulate into agreeing to terms more swiftly, aiding in the Æsir returning home faster.