#it seems like they just stand outside the gate and unnerve people until I return

[bees-tes-blog]

I wonder what my pawns get up to when they're waiting for me outside the duke's palace

[crystalgirl259]

How to Train Your Dragonblood 3: The Dragonblood Alpha Ch4

"Ground all dragonbloods!" Cliff shouted at the top of his lungs as he ran through the underground stone corridor to the hanger. Jay and Kai were trailing after the chief as he ran ahead, bellowing orders to anyone who would listen. Cole and Ed were also following them, also concerned about Cliff's fear. The others were following Cliff's orders and locking down the island, even though some of the dragonbloods weren't happy about it. They hated being controlled and ordered around, especially after all those years of being enslaved by that monster at the nest.

Unfortunately, as they were living on Cliff's island, they had to live by his rules.

As soon as Jay confirmed Iron Baron's name, it was like Cliff suddenly became a completely different person. One not seen by his family or anyone in Ninjago. As he was growing up, Jay had seen his father in chief mode, father mode, over-protective mode, and sometimes he could just be an insensitive and condescending jerk. This Cliff was very different, however. He looked downright terrified as he ran around the hanger, and it was very unnerving for Jay to see.

"What?! Why?" Jay cried in shock, but Cliff ignored his son.

"Seal the gates! Lower the storm doors!" He shouted as they entered a bigger cavern. Jay tried to keep up while Kai followed him, just as bewildered.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait, wait, what is happening?" The brunette asked as everyone rushed around.

"Come on, you heard the man, lock it down!" Ed echoed around the underground cave with dragonbloods and humans milling around as the group climbed down the stairs, one-half alert and the other half confused. People began to pull down levers and the gate that led outside slowly closed.

"No dragonblood or man sets foot off this island until I give the word!" Cliff bellowed and dragonbloods and humans start running around in near panic at their Chief's sudden alarm. Cliff ignored the stairs and jumped down the platform along with Kai and Ed.

"Wait, all this because some weird guy you knew is stirring up troubles on some faraway land?" Jay asked in shock. He had never seen his father run from anything in his life. Without warning, Cliff suddenly got into his son's face, a look of fear, anger, and determination plastered on his face.

"Because Iron Baron is a madman, without conscience or mercy, and if he's built a dragonblood army... Gods help us all!" He muttered in horror before he started to scream orders at his men again as he paced around. Jay wasn't discouraged by this and caught up to him, cutting off his path. Ed had to give the kid some points for audacity. He had always known the lad had it in him to stand up to his own father.

"Let's ride back out there," Jay suggested, trying to be positive. "We'll follow those trappers to Iron Baron and talk some sense into him."

"No! We fortify the island!" Cliff insisted.

"It's our duty to keep the peace!" Jay argued.

"Peace is over, Jay! I must prepare you for war."

"War!?" Kai exclaimed in shock. He could tell Cliff was scared of the Iron Baron, so was Kai, but the brunette didn't expect it to go so far.

"Dad, if this Iron Baron is coming for the dragonbloods, we can't wait around for him to get here! Let's go find him and change his mind!" Jay pushed, but the chief was too stubborn to listen.

"No, some minds won't be changed, Jay; Ninjago is what you need to worry about! A Chief protects his own!" He snapped at the young man before turning back to the panicking humans and dragonbloods running around the hanger. "Secure the stables! Latch every stall!" He ordered as he ran ahead, leaving Jay and Kai alone in the middle of the hanger. As he left, Jay looked at Kai and gave his hotheaded boyfriend a comforting look, sensing his unease.

The Fire Dragonblood then went and gently touched his arm, already knowing he was up to something from his determined look.

"Jay, don't!" He tried to reason with his boyfriend, but Jay was just as stubborn as his father.

"I have to baby, you know that." He replied as he leaned down for a quick peck on Kai's cheek and that was all it took to convince Kai into transforming into his dragon form. Cliff saw the flash of Kai's transformation, but before he could turn around completely, Jay was already on top of Kai's dragon form and then they were in the air and swooping underneath the closing hanger gate. The couple tried to find a way out as the windows and other openings of the cave were closing off.

Luckily, they managed to get into the open air before the last gate was closed.

As the Chief and Ed watch him go, another dragon swooped down behind them and takes after them. When they saw what was happening, Pixal also transformed and she and Zane chased after the pair. Zane frowned as the gate slowly rose and the light was blocked but in the last second, he and Zane were out right before the entrance was locked. Cliff sighed and shook his head as he watched his son and Zane fly off into the distance...

****************

As the sun began to set, a ship was sailing in the icy sea near some huge cliffs. At the front of the ship stood Clutch Powers, watching the horizon before he walked back on the deck where his men were working and pulling ropes. They all had to keep their eyes peeled. With this wind, they would reach Iron Baron by daybreak so they had to fill up the ship with dragonbloods and quick. It was no time to be picky. Not with riders showing up to rescue their targets almost every night.

He just couldn't understand how anyone could like those flying, murderous, monsters.

As Clutch examined his maps, trying to pinpoint the most recent dragonblood sightings with their route, one of the sailors looked in the sky, and Clutch noticed that and followed his gaze. Everyone was watched the two dragonbloods appeared in the distance and flew towards them. Clutch brightened up at the sight of two healthy-looking targets.

"Get them, lads! Take them down! He ordered as he aimed the crossbow with a satisfied smirk. It was wiped off, however, when he realized who the dragonbloods were. The same riders and dragonbloods that they had met earlier that day. As the men around him yelled and prepared themselves for capture while Clutch frowned and pulled the machine.

"You're not getting away this time!" He shouted at the riders.

"Jaybird, please tell me you have a plan at least." Kai gulped mentally as they flew closer to the ship. The ginger-haired man didn't say anything to his boyfriend, however. He wasn't confident enough to even look at him. "YOU DON'T HAVE A PLAN!?" He roared, catching Zane and Pixal's attention.

"Is everything alright?" Zane asked in worry, but Jay gave him a comforting smile.

"Yeah, we're good, Kai's just being paranoid as per usual." He reassured as he petted the Fire Dragonblood's head. Kai only snorted in disbelief, but before he could respond, Clutch started firing net at them. The launched nets were gracefully avoided and Kai got closer to the ship until he could leap on the deck with Pixal following seconds after. Jay removed his helmet while Zane spun his large shurikens and Clutch takes out his blade.

"And here I was worried I may turn up empty-handed," Clutch smirked as he prepared for the riders to make the first strike.

"Nope! It's your lucky day, we're here to give up." Jay chirped as he held out a hand for Zane to put down his weapon and for Pixal and Kai to return to their human forms, which they all did. The hunters and Clutch were shocked to see the dragonbloods transform into humans. They knew dragonbloods could do this, but they rarely saw this. When they all finally registered Jay's words, everyone blinked in shock. Even Kai and Pixal were confused, and Kai practically shared a mind with him.

What was his human boyfriend up to?

Zane looked at him like he was crazy as Jay put his arms up in surrender. Everybody else was too busy gawking to even remember to pick up their fallen jaws. Clutch also almost dropped his knife as he raised a confused eyebrow. Jay and Zane walked away from their dragonbloods and Jay leaned down to take a net.

"That's one Fire Dragonblood, one Ice Dragonblood, and two of the finest riders from the sunny island of Ninjago; that ought to make the boss happy, right?" He smirked as he suddenly threw the net over his three friends all froze in shock. Kai really hoped Jay did have a plan or else the human would be sleeping outside for a week. Mutters of insane and worried rumbles flew in the air around them. Pixal mentally begging the crazy boy who apparently was willing to sell them to a bunch of hunters to explain himself faster or she would happily freeze him right where he stood.

Jay said nothing to his friends as he pushed Zane's shurikens into Clutch's hands, who was still rooted to the spot and watching Jay in disbelief. He backed off when Kai bared his fangs at him to follow.

Jay then shoved out of the way the weapons of the dumbstruck crew while Zane, Kai, and Pixal finally got the net off. They all climbed down in a cage built below the ship while the men are still watching.

"What are you doing Jaybird?" Kai hissed at his boyfriend as Jay followed after him, pulling down the barred opening. This only made Kai more worried as he was a bit lost by his boyfriend's actions. They were among enemies yet the boy and Zane were not aggressive. Granted he somehow doubted Jay would ever intentionally be aggressive. He just didn't seem to carry that type of intimidating aura like his fellow humans. He was also concerned that he willingly entered a cage.

He whined in his throat at Jay's confusing gestures that made a dragonblood as mighty as he behaves like a mother watching its hatchling from falling out of the sky.

For the life of him, Kai just couldn't understand his human, boyfriend, rider sometimes.

"Kai, just relax." Jay pleaded as he turned back to the hunters. "Dragonbloods don't really care for cramped spaces, but they won't be any trouble." He promised, but this had a very opposite effect to what he was hoping for. The people suddenly pointed all of their weapons at the Fire Dragonblood, making Kai jump in fright as he transformed, eyes like needles and back arched like a cat. Pixal quickly followed his lead, also feeling incredibly threatened.

She had spent many long and grueling months locked up in a cage in the arena back in Ninjago, so this was all brought back some very painful memories.

Zane seemed to sense this and gently rubbed her head to help her relax. It worked, but only a little bit. Kai lowered his body to the ground and growled. Jay resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he poked his head through the bars. Clutch stared at him with a flat look. Beside him, a hooded man fidgeted with his weapon. After a short staring contest, Clutch rolled his eyes to the sky when a sword sticks out of the cage. The crew jumps back when it lit up in flames.

Jay popped out again, hitting his head as if reprimanding himself for not remembering.

"Can't have armed prisoners." He smiled as he gave the sword to a man while down below Ka, Zane, and Pixal watched everything unfold with trepidation.

"How is this a plan?" Kai mentally glared at the back of his head. But Jay was more focused on the trappers and gaining their trust.

"Just what every dragonblood trapper needs." He smiled as the men inspected the device he made curiously. One end coated the blade in saliva from Kai's dragon form and the other sprayed gas from Tox. As the men looked at the weapon, they accidentally activated the gas. They desperately tried to shut it off, and Clutch stepped away while another man clicked the lighter by mistake. Jay ducked below as an explosion rocked the deck. The two men that caused the explosion were covered in soot and coughing.

A spark was floating around and glided into the cage.

Without thinking, Kai and Pixal leaped onto their back legs and played with it, trying to be the first to catch it with their paws. Jay almost squealed at the sight and Zane smiled. Despite being intelligent, powerful creatures, dragonbloods were still animals deep down. Jay would even use light reflecting off his knife to make a little dot for Kai to chase like a cat. When he finally regained his senses and the spark faded, Kai moaned and covered his face with a paw.

He hated it when he acted cute when he was supposed to be daunting and remarkable.

He always told Jay and anyone that he was a fearless creature, not some cuddly toy. Having enough of the show, Clutch stomped to the men and grabbed the sword before he turned to Jay.

"What game are you playing?" He demanded.

"Eh, no game, ee just want to meet the Iron Baron." He shrugged innocently.

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to change his mind about dragonbloods." He replied, looking more serious than Clutch had thought the small man was capable of and the crew started to laugh. Zane sighed in disagreement but said nothing.

"Some minds cannot be changed, Jaybird, you really have to understand that." Kai mentally mumbled with a tired thought when Jay caught his eye he shook his head and that visibly hit the ginger-haired man judging by his surprised look. The teen was silent as he stared back until he finally gathered his thoughts.

"Well, you changed yours, so did my Dad and all of Ninjago." He shot back just as determined but a tad more subdued, and Kai looked away. Zane and Pixal shared a look, knowing that the couple were having a private talk, and were feeling very uncomfortable at being in the middle. When he knew he had won their short argument, Jay slowly climbed out of the cage and was joined by Zane and the two dragonbloods. The trappers raised their weapons but waited for Clutch's command.

"He can be very persuasive," Zane added, trying to help his friend.

"Once you gain their loyalty there is nothing a dragonblood won't do for you." Jay smiled as he scratched the Fire Dragonblood's ear fondly, demonstrating their close bond and showing Kai he wasn't upset with him. But Clutch was still not convinced.

"You won't be changing any minds around here." He snorted.

"I can change yours right here, right now." He promised as he reached for Kai's flying gear, pulling a lever that spread the prosthetic tailfin.

"You sure about this Jaybird?" Kai asked nervously, but his boyfriend sent him as much love and reassurance as he could through their link. Once he was sure Kai would be alright, Jay turned back to Clutch.

"May I?" He asked as he extended his hand for Clutch to take. Only he didn't get the chance to do anything because all of a sudden, a dark green shape moved across the ship and snatched him away. Another dragonblood flew by and ripped the sails. Within seconds, the trapper's ship was surrounded by a few dragonbloods. The sailors tried to stay on their feet as Clutch glanced around at the sky for the assailants. Fearing for his boyfriend, Kai leaped onto the mast and sails growling loudly, until he stopped when he saw they were the other riders from Ninjago.

He was relieved to see Jay in Morro's claws.

"Put me down! Harumi, what are you doing?!" Jay screeched as he struggled in the Wind Dragonblood's claws, but Harumi and Morro had to suddenly duck with everyone else as the trappers started firing nets at them. As most of the riders managed to dodge the nets, Dareth and Tox weren't as fast and one of the nets wrapped around them. They would have fallen into the icy sea if Rocky hadn't caught them in the air. The Earth Dragonblood hovered in place as Cole climbed down and cut the net away with a knife, freeing the pair.

While they were all distracted, Jay finally managed to push his legs up and released himself from Morro's grip.

As he fell headfirst he looped his hands through the bands around his legs and unfolded his wings. On the deck, Zane rushed Clutch and pushed him away from the catapult, but the net was still fired. Luckily, Jay avoided it as he glided back down to the ship. He grabbed a rope from a sail and slid down on the deck. Kai jumped beside him as he took off the wings and nuzzled the human affectionately. He would have transformed and hugged Jay, but he still didn't feel safe enough to do that yet.

"What are you guys doing here?!"

"We're here to rescue you!

"We don't need to be rescued!

"Enough!" A voice suddenly boomed and a large dragonblood made of metal landed behind a sail, with Cliff Gordon as the rider and Ed as a back passenger. This was Karloff, a large Metal Dragonblood. A couple of years ago, Jay finally convinced his father to partner up with a dragonblood like almost everyone else in Ninjago. After many failed attempts to connect with a dragonblood, Cliff met Karloff in a local tavern and the two of them hit it off right away.

They were now regular drink buddies and partnered up whenever Cliff needed a dragonblood.

Karloff roared in agreement with his rider and Jay turned just as the Chief hopped down with a thud on the floor.

"Well, you just picked the wrong ship!" Clutch sneered as he gestured angrily at them. Cliff just heaved a sigh in frustration. Before the lead trapper could say another word, the chief grabbed his face without a word and pushed him away, being in no mood to deal with other people with attitude problems. He slid down and as he tried to stand, Zane hit him in the head, knocking him back down. Before he could get up again, Pixal suddenly pinned Clutch down, her icy breath leaving bits of frost in his face and hair.

Clutch was smart enough to stop struggling.

"Does anybody else want to try anything?" Cliff growled and the crew reluctantly lowered their weapons. They may be skilled in the art of Dragonblood hunting, but they weren't stupid enough to take on eight different Dragonbloods and nine humans. "That's what I figured." Cliff huffed and turned to glare at Jay. "You, saddle up; we're going home."

"No." Jay snapped. It was so blunt that Cliff almost fell over. That ungrateful, idiotic son of his! What had he done to deserve so much grief from his family? First Libber and now Jay? It must have come from her side of the family, no doubt about it.

"Of all the irresponsible–"

"I'm trying to protect our dragonbloods and stop a war! How is that irresponsible?!"

"BECAUSE WAR IS WHAT HE WANTS, SON!" Cliff shouted louder than he had in his life. The exasperation in his voice had Jay freeze and Cliff realized he had to explain. With a heavy sigh, he began to tell the story of Iron Baron. "Years ago there was a great gathering of chieftains to discuss the dragonblood scourge we all faced." He started and Ed gripped his friend's arm tightly. The Chief was rubbing his eyes and frowning. Ed had a feeling that by the end of this his friend would have aged decades.

Who could have thought that something so old and gone would surge from the folds of the past and haunt him so much?

As Cliff recounted his encounter with the Iron Baron, his mind flashed to the past. A younger Cliff looked around at the other chiefs sitting on high chairs as a pale, hunched figure was stepping in their middle.

"Into our midst came a stranger from a strange land, covered in scars and draped in a cloak of dragon skin; he carried no weapon and spoke softly, saying that he, Iron Baron was a man of the people devoted to free mankind from the tyranny of dragonbloods." He said as he remembered the man speaking to the chiefs and Cliff leaned down in his chair, scratching his chin as he listened with the others. "He claimed that he alone could control all the dragonbloods and that he alone can keep us safe if, we chose to bow down and follow him." He sighed sadly as the sound of the other chiefs laughing rowdily at the man's boldness still ringing in his ears.

In the present day, the teens all started laughing too, Dareth and Plundar the loudest.

Ronin was laughing so loud that he had to wipe a tear from his eye.

"Yeah, we all laughed too; until he wrapped himself in his cloak and cried out: Then see how well you do without me." Cliff shuddered at the memory. "Then the rooftops of the meeting hall suddenly burst into flames and from it armies of dragonbloods descended, burning everything to the ground!" He hissed angrily before it melted into a look of sorrow and regret. "I... was the only one to escape." He muttered and everyone on the deck fell silent at the confession.

Jay still wasn't convinced, however, and everyone could see it.

"Men who kill without reason cannot be reasoned with." Cliff tried to convince him, but as usual, his son was stubborn.

"Maybe, but I'm still going to try." Jay insisted as he walked away. Clutch followed Jay with his gaze as the younger man Jay hopped onto the Fire Dragonblood, just as surprised as the chief. "This is what I'm good at, and if I could change your mind, then I can change his too." He added, sounding sincere but determined at the same time. Ed smiled at his apprentice's courage while the Chief shook his head. With one thought from Jay, Kai took off and Cole runs over to Rocky to follow.

"Let's go!" He ordered to the other riders, but Cliff grabbed his arm.

"No, lead the others back to Ninjago; I've had enough mutiny for one day." He growled as he stepped away from the Earth Dragonblood and his rider. Down with Clutch, Pixal still had him pinned to the deck until Zane managed to pull her off. As quickly as they had appeared, the riders all flew from the trappers' boat, with Ed and Cliff chasing after Jay and Kai and the others heading back to Ninjago. Clutch couldn't move from the deck, too shocked and confused by what just happened...

[vexing-imogen]

the persistence of 6/?

read from beginning | read on ao3

Vex doesn’t intend on leaving the manor grounds, not at first. She’s in a new city, despite having lived here for several years, and getting herself lost would only serve to panic everyone, and would be rather humiliating to boot. But, even with Trinket at her side, the garden that was so inviting last night has become unbearable. Oppressive.

She’s suffocating. So while she knows that leaving is probably a bad idea, she can’t bring herself to stay.

She stands, using Trinket’s shoulder for leverage, then scratches him behind the ears. “Let’s go for a walk, buddy.”

It’s still early enough that the streets are near deserted. The few people Vex does pass as she wanders give her a wave or a nod and go about their business. She deliberately avoids the streets that will take her back to the town square and those unnerving statues. There’s a castle on a hilltop to the north, so she sets off in that direction, her interest piqued.

She loses track of time while walking, and eventually she stops to take a break by a wrought iron gate. A faded signpost pointing to the right reads “To the Zenith and the Greyfield”. A raven caws, and she feels a pull in her chest, as if her subconscious is telling her that the answers she need lie at the end of this path.

Trinket makes a mournful noise as she walks through the gate and starts down the path, but he follows dutifully, glancing about for anything untoward. It is kind of creepy, she will admit. They pass a temple first, large and very old. The Zenith, if she had to guess. The sun shines through the stained glass window as she passes, bathing her in warm, colored light, and she places her hand to her heart and bows without thinking. A chill runs down her spine, but she shakes it off and keeps going.

The Greyfield is a cemetery, she finds. The eerie silence is only broken by the occasional raven’s cry. And if she’d thought the city was overpopulated with ravens, it’s nothing compared to this. The main group of them seem to be clustered around a mausoleum on the far end of the field, and her curiosity outweighs any fear she might be feeling.

There’s no name carved into the stone, no indication of it belonging to anyone in particular. The door is open, and she ventures inside. The air is cold and stale, and she realizes that someone has set this place up as a shrine of some kind. There’s an altar laid out in the center of the room, adorned with ravens feathers, small white flowers, and a bowl of some dark liquid. She dips a couple fingers in it. It’s cold and viscous and is most definitely blood.

She stares at her fingers, at the blood that drips from them onto the marble floor, an uneasy pit settling in her stomach. “What the fuck is this place?”

“Creepy, isn’t it?”

Vex shrieks and spins around, her heart racing in her chest. Keyleth is there in the doorway, regarding the mausoleum with disdain.

“Sorry,” she says, wincing. “I promise this place isn’t actually as bad as it looks.”

Vex takes a couple of deep breaths. “What is it?”

“A temple to the Raven Queen,” Keyleth says, and Vex doesn’t miss the bitterness in her voice, or the way she refuses to actually step into the space. “Percy had this repurposed for Vax, so he’d have a place to worship while he was in Whitestone.”

She doesn’t miss the way Keyleth hesitates before saying her brother’s name.

“You love him, don’t you?” she asks. “Vax.”

The way Keyleth’s eyes widen is all the answer she needs, but she nods after a moment. “It, uh, didn’t exactly work out, but...yeah.”

“Didn’t work out,” Vex repeats. “Did it have anything to do with Her?” She nods towards the shrine.

Keyleth laughs, wipes away a tear. “Yeah, you could say that.” She sighs. “It’s...complicated. He had to go. To serve Her. And I couldn’t follow.”

Vex hugs Keyleth tight. “I’m sorry, darling. I can kick his ass for you the next time I see him, if you’d like.”

Keyleth shrinks back out of Vex’s embrace. “That won’t be necessary. It’s fine, really. I’ve...made my peace with it.”

Liar she thinks, but she doesn’t push. “I guess we should probably go back, shouldn’t we?”

Keyleth takes her hand as they walk through the cemetery. “How are you feeling?”

She sighs, tries to ignore the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Lost,” she says finally. “Have you ever...had a word caught on the tip of your tongue, and you know you should know it, and you know that once you hear it you’ll remember, and you’ll feel so fucking stupid for ever forgetting it?”

Keyleth nods.

“That’s what this feels like,” she continues. “Except it’s not just one word, it’s five years of my life, and I don’t know if I’ll ever actually remember.”

“We’ll figure this out, Vex,” Keyleth says, squeezing her hand. “There’s a solution out there, I know there is, we just have to find it.” She stops them, cups Vex’s face in her hands. “I promise you, we will fix this.”

Vex sniffles, looks away from her friend’s earnest gaze. “That’s what you all said yesterday.”

=============================================================

Percy feels like he’s going mad with worry. Sure, Vex is more than capable of taking care of herself, and Keyleth had done a quick scry before going off to find her, and assured him that she was fine. But he’s still tense and anxious, and he’s going to wear a groove in the floorboards if he doesn’t stop pacing soon.

They’d all been so confident in Pike, in her healing abilities, that none of them had been prepared for the spell to not work. Except for Vex he thinks. She’d accepted defeat so easily, seemed to have almost been expecting it, and that’s what has him truly scared. He’s never witnessed Vex give up quite so fast, and he doesn’t know what it means.

For him. For her. For them...

A knock on the doorframe jolts him out of his thoughts. Scanlan is standing there with a sad smile. “Hey. I managed to calm Pike down,” he starts. “She should be coming back soon enough. I think she was going to have a little chat with Sarenrae. How’s Vex?”

Percy shrugs. “Not sure,” he admits. “She took off just after you and Pike left. Didn’t say where she was going. Keyleth had to scry to find out where she’d gone.”

Scanlan nods, taps his foot nervously. “I had an idea,” he says. “And obviously we’d have to run it by Vex, and if you guys say ‘no’ I’ll never bring it up again-”

“Scanlan.” Percy cuts off his rambling. “What was your idea?”

The gnome sighs. “If, for whatever reason, there’s absolutely no way to restore Vex’s memories, I thought I could maybe use Modify Memory on her. To give her a highlight reel of the last few years. It would take some time, and I can’t give her everything, but she’d have something back. The important stuff, at least.”

Percy’s so overwhelmed with emotion, he does the first thing that comes to his mind. He hugs Scanlan.

“Can you really do that, Scanlan?”

Percy’s head snaps up. Vex is standing just beyond the doorway with Keyleth and Pike. He doesn’t want to jinx anything, but she looks almost hopeful.

“I can,” Scanlan says, turning to face her. “But only with your consent. And you’d have to trust that we wouldn’t give you any false or altered memories.”

She mulls it over for a minute. “I’ll have to think it over,” she says. “But, no matter what, it’s an incredibly sweet offer, Scanlan.”

“It might not even be necessary,” Pike says, stepping forward. “I spoke with Sarenrae, for a while, and she told me what we have to do to get Vex’s memories restored.”

“That’s great, Pike,” Keyleth says. “What do we have to do?”

Pike sighs. “Well, the reason my spell didn’t work is because Sarenrae doesn’t have dominion over memories. The Raven Queen does,” she explains. “I’ve been able to restore memories before because the effect was smaller, in Percy and Grog’s case, or it was a physical ailment, like the Gith we met in Pandemonium. What happened to Vex was bigger, and magical. It’s not something Sarenrae or I can fix.”

“But the Raven Queen can?” Percy guesses.

“Yes.” Pike looks up at Vex. “If you’re willing to try, I already got in touch with the Raven Queen’s temple in Vasselheim. We can go as early as tomorrow, and hopefully they can cure you.”

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Percy says. “But the choice is yours, dearest.”

Vex looks uncertain until her attention is caught by something outside. Percy follows her gaze to Vesper, playing in the garden with Rika. He looks back to Vex, and she nods once, firmly. “I suppose there’s no harm in trying.”

=============================================================

Her dreams that night are horrific. There’s no visual, just pitch darkness, but the voices are as clear as day. And they’re all awful.

The first is her brother, and she can almost feel him grasping her hand. Do not go far from me. If we are out of earshot, you are too far from me. Do not go far from me.

Her own tearful response. Do you think this is what mother saw before she died?

The next is a voice she doesn’t recognize, but it sends chills down her spine, sickly and oozing. Sweet, broken Vex’ahlia... a question, from her What would you ask in return? him again Your heart.

My heart is someone else’s.

Scanlan calling for her from across a battlefield. Her sobbing, casting healing spells uselessly into an unresponsive body. I’m not leaving Percy!

A cold room, a colder feeling in her chest. Desperate to do something, anything. But I don’t want to be here if you’re not. Whitestone still needs you, darling. I still need you here.

Grog’s voice, loud. Angry. Devastated. FIX HIM!

Then herself again. Having a conversation with someone, but the replies are static.

I feel like she’s taking part of me away.

I don’t know how to live.

Please. I love you. I don’t accept this.

I’m going to find you.

And, finally, on a maddening loop.

Where’s Vax?

Where’s Vax?

Where’s Vax?

Where’s Vax?

She wakes from her nightmares with a scream, thrashing against the confines of her blanket. Her foot connects with something, and Percy grunts.

“Vex’ahlia.” His hands on her shoulders ground her. “It’s alright, dear, you’re alright. It was just a dream.”

She catches his hand as it’s running through her hair. “Percy.” She stares at him, tears flowing, the weight of the truth threatening to crush her. “I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“You have to promise you’ll tell me the truth,” she says. “Swear to me that you won’t lie to me.”

She sees the realization dawn in his eyes, but he nods. “I swear, Vex. I swear on our wedding vows that I will not lie to you.”

“Is my brother dead?”

[drxwsyni]

Healing (pt.1/3)

Yandere Chisaki Kai/Overhaul x quirkless!f!Reader

Part 2︱Part 3

a/n: please do not read this piece if themes of poor mental health are upsetting to you. i am in no way attempting to romanticize these issues, having dealt with them in the past and knowing all too well how serious it is. i have never endorsed the harmful actions of people in my work and never will. please take care of yourselves and read at your own discretion. also this is a repost because it disappeared from the tags for some reason?

warnings: mental health problems, injury

4.2k words

_____

This is for your own good, he said.

The world is a disease ridden place, and remaining in it has left you broken.

You weren’t broken, you were fine. Sure, handling the pressures of simply existing as a result of being born without a quirk were tasking. People had not exactly been kind to you growing up, and that may have affected your health significantly. But you were handling it just fine.

While you couldn’t disagree with the fact that people did seem to enjoy using you, whatever had developed as a result of him discovering this reality wasn’t better in the slightest.

He said you needed time to heal, both physically and mentally. You could trust him, he was the only person who saw how faultless your existence was.

At some point you felt like you deserved to be mistreated by everyone around you, given how common of an occurrence it was. So when the yakuza leader came to you himself, going on about how unfairly you’d been handled all your life, it was hard not to trust him.

Now, you realize just how big of a mistake doing so was.

To be fair, he did live up to his promises. Kai said he wanted to help you heal, and what better way to do that than to move in with him. He had all the necessary equipment, and more than enough money to provide for you during your rehabilitation process.

However, he failed to mention the lengths he was willing to go to ensure your ‘good health’. Thinking you would stay with him until you got better, and then go back to living on your own once any pre existing issues had been taken care of slowly started to become an unattainable dream.

Upon arrival at the yakuza’s base, Kai instructed that it’d be in your best interest to not leave the premises. There was plenty of courtyard space for fresh air, and anything you needed would be picked up for you. Your room had been spacious enough, luxurious almost. Aside from the underground network of facilities, you were permitted to have free range of the base. The only condition was that you kept an escort with you at all times. Generally, these terms didn’t seem too bad.

It wasn’t until you sat down in his office to go through the rest of your new living plan that you realized just how committed he was to seeing your health improve.

Everything was planned to a T. When you’d wake up, take medication, bathe, eat, go to bed. He had taken into account any intolerances or allergies and developed a comprehensive meal program that catered to them. The most important element was the checkups scheduled twice a week to monitor your physical health.

While you didn’t enjoy the idea of being examined so regularly, you couldn’t argue that you’d neglected many problems over your lifetime. Sure, blood tests and vaccine administered supplements weren’t fun. But for the sake of rehabilitation you supposed that it was just another necessary evil.

What was concerning was his policy on electronic devices, specifically for recreational use. According to him, having a phone would only hinder the process, and therefore it wasn’t something you needed.

“Should you require anything you need only to ask either myself or a subordinate. Seeming as you should always have an escort there will be no issue with the matter of not being able to contact anyone.”

Kai truly had everything covered, and with how reassuring he was it became hard to see any flaws in the plan.

And so you took up residence in the leader’s base, grateful for the opportunity to live without being weighed down by society's corrupt expectations.

_____

The first few weeks went fairly smoothly, using the time to learn the layout of the establishment. Not that you could ever get lost, with one of his subordinates trailing you in case you required assistance. You quite enjoyed the company of Chisaki’s underlings, along with that of the man himself.

Every day you’d spend time in the courtyard, or go for a walk along the path against the inside edges of the base. Oftentimes Kurono would accompany you, and the two of you would make small talk over menial subjects. Later on you’d return to Kai’s office where you’d sit on the sofa positioned to the side of the room, reading a novel he’d selected while he worked at his desk.

Generally, your experience went fairly smoothly. The distance you’d put between yourself and the reality outside those tall concrete walls had done a lot of good. However, not everything can be solved with simply removing yourself entirely from a bad situation.

Although your living quarters were comfortable and welcoming, there was something unfamiliar about it that was off putting. To combat this, you decided a quick trip home to pick up a few belongings couldn’t hurt.

It’d only taken you roughly twenty-five minutes to travel back on foot to your small, cheap little single floor house on the edge of town. Another ten to gather some items, and then you walked back to the base. However, upon returning you’d come to understand how badly you’d messed up.

It was early in the morning before you’d left, and there were no examinations scheduled either. Not wanting to bother anyone with your needs, you had left the base alone without notifying Chisaki.

That was your first mistake.

He was waiting for you at the front entrance, arms crossed with an aggravated look on his face, although it was hard to read given the mask hiding a good half of his facial features. But if that didn’t give away his anger, then the death grip he placed on your forearm as he dragged you to your designated bedroom did.

He practically threw you inside the room, slamming the doors behind him. He only took a second to compose himself before speaking. “I thought I made it very clear that you were not to leave the premises, let alone by yourself.”

You knew Chisaki was quite the stern man, seeing first hand once or twice with how he treated his subordinates. But this was new, he’d never gotten mad at you, let alone get physically aggressive.

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal, I was just grabbing some things to make my room a little more comfortable.”

“Did I not tell you that whatever you needed would be picked up for you?”

His demeanour suggested that the question was not rhetorical. “You did, I know. I just didn’t want to bother Kurono or anyone else to go with me so early.”

Something about your open concern for others seemed to pacify his rage, letting out a sigh before moving to sit on the short couch next to him. Leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees, Kai responded. “Staying inside the base is a crucial part to your healing, I can’t let you leave knowing the danger you’d be putting yourself in without protection. You should refrain from doing something so reckless moving forward.”

You moved from your standing position to sit down next to him, of course keeping a respectable distance knowing his abhorrence to bacteria, and generally people as well. “I’m sorry for making you worry, I was just a bit homesick is all.”

The yakuza turned his head to look at you, brows furrowed in a somewhat inquisitive manner. His amber eyes pierced through yours, seemingly searching for answers to questions that couldn’t be asked. “I hope you’re aware of how important someone like yourself is to my cause. Those without quirks are growing increasingly rare, and it’s causing more issues than the world can keep up with.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I believe it goes without saying that I’d be deeply upset if anything were to happen to you. Normally I couldn’t be bothered with such a thing… but you’re the exception.”

Chisaki stood up and walked toward the bedroom door before facing you again. “Take a bath and then return to my office with your book. Kurono will be waiting outside your door to escort you.”

You watched him leave the room, waiting for the door to completely shut before letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding all this time.

Whatever that was, you never wanted to encounter it again. Maybe, you thought, I’d be better off getting out of here sooner rather than later.

_____

After the first incident occurred you presumed things would return to normal, but of course that would be too convenient. It seemed that there was now a slight increase in security around the base. The development was immediate, making it hard to miss. Any exits leading outside―those literally outside, say to the courtyard―and gates to exit the compound were guarded by one of Chisaki’s underlings.

On top of that, he had one of his men stationed outside your bedroom 24/7, whether you needed an escort or not. He never bothered to notify you of this change in particular. It only came to your attention after hearing the verbal exchange of two men outside your door, doing what you assumed was rotating shifts.

It was unnerving, to say the least. The incident had been minor as far as you perceived it, but the unspoken changes around you demonstrated otherwise.

Aside from that, you thankfully regarded the steady improvement to your health. Your energy had returned significantly, likely thanks to the mandatory eight hours of sleep. The daily walks had eliminated the general weakness and lack of stamina you experienced. Even your face took on a warm glow, eye-bags almost non existent and blemishes quickly fading.

It would seem that your departure from this temporary rehabilitation would come sooner than you expected.

Yet the more your condition improved, the stricter Kai became with your routine. Not only that, but he also seemed to be growing more comfortable having you near him.

Now, with any normal person this familiarness would only be expected. But you knew better, and a voice deep in the back of your mind was telling you that this new predicament wouldn’t end well.

_____

The next incident seemed to be the thing that set him off, solidifying your future.

It had been roughly a month and a half since you accepted being cared for at the yakuza’s compound. By now the problems which put you in this situation were almost entirely taken care of, but that didn’t stop Kai from enforcing his rules more than ever.

Frankly, the repetitive, unwavering routine you’d been following was starting to create its own problems within your health―you were going a bit stir crazy.

After the last warning, you’d be lying if you said the main thing keeping you from leaving was fear for how Chisaki would react. Now however, it’d been too long since you experienced the real world, and even if it was only for an hour, you desperately needed to go outside the walls of the compound.

You took the issue to Kai during the time you spent reading in his office. He was going to have to let you do this, staying cooped up any longer wouldn’t be good for you and even he couldn’t ignore that reality.

After what felt like an endless back and forth discussion, seemingly getting nowhere on either side, you started to believe that he really didn’t think the situation was an actual problem.

But you knew he had a soft spot for you, and eventually the man did cave to your request.

Accompanied by one of his more trusted subordinates, you were allowed to leave the base for two hours. You took this much appreciated freedom to do some window shopping here and there, at one point stopping to buy latte―of course not before fighting with your escort over how Kai would disapprove of you doing so, the caffeine apparently being bad for you.

You were nearing the end of your time limit, and still you remained unsatisfied with what felt like an all too brief reintroduction to society.

Pushing your luck, you headed to the center of the downtown area, hoping the bustling life and bright colours would be enough to satiate your need for external stimulation.

Before you had left the compound that day, Kai had stopped you for a moment at the front entrance. The statement was quick―he advised you to stay out of any heavy populated areas. According to him it posed too high of a risk to your safety, and you should heed his words if you knew what was good for you.

However, now that you were out and getting a taste of everything you didn’t even realize you were missing, those warnings were the last thing to concern you. Oh, how foolish you were to even believe there was nothing wrong with going against him for a second.

You heard the destruction before you felt it. The cause of it was unidentifiable, as before you could steal a glance from the source of exploding brick and concrete next to you, an unseen force sent you flying across the pavement and out onto the road. Thankfully traffic immediately came to a halt once onlookers realized the situation, effectively preventing you from being run over. But that did little to console you as painfully, you comprehended your now significantly injured state.

Giving your body a once over, it was clear that the force that threw you away from the building was from the blast of air pressure likely due to an explosion. The damages weren’t too severe, but you were still now sporting a throbbing headache, and what appeared to be a sprained ankle. Aside from that, only developing bruises remained as evidence of the violent event as far as you could tell in your shock induced state.

Understanding you had to get yourself away from the violent, still ongoing conflict, you feebly attempted to stand up. It was a good effort, and if it weren’t for the head injury that was proving to be much more serious, you most likely would’ve been able to get away.

But luck was never on your side to begin with, and only a few seconds went by before black spots appeared in front of your vision. A moment later and you were out cold.

_____

A hospital room was what you expected, what anyone would expect after being nearly blown to pieces.

Pulling yourself out of unconsciousness to assess exactly where you were was a trying task, but the fear growing in the pit of your stomach served as more than enough motivation.

You remembered being downtown. An explosion. Pain. Then darkness. Taking in your surroundings, you identified the room to be that which you sat through examination after examination in the yakuza’s base.

But Kai was nowhere to be seen, and that only made the feeling of distress worse.

You had no idea how you got there, figuring the likely outcome would be you in the care of an actual doctor. Except that wasn’t the case, and instead you were laying on a bed, wearing clothing that you did not have on before blacking out.

It appeared to be a fairly loose but comfortable sleeveless knee length dress, with a long sleeve sweater overtop of it, both shaded with a pale light blue. In the midst of examining your new outfit, your eyes laid upon a heart monitoring device lightly clipped to your index finger.

Amidst the sudden realization of your current predicament, you failed to notice the steady increase in your heartbeat. But Kai hadn’t.

At that moment one of the two doors of the room, the other attached to a bathroom, swiftly opened. Chisaki stood in the doorway for a moment, seemingly evaluating your now awakened form for a moment before entering, closing the door behind him.

You questioned him before he even had the chance to come near you. “What the hell am I doing here? Why aren’t I in a hospital?” He approached you as you spoke, taking a seat on a wheeled stool next to your bed.

Unfortunately you couldn’t control the shaking in your voice, and it served as a clear indication to the man at just how uneasy you’d grown with the situation.

“My subordinate alerted me of the attack after he found you unconscious. You were brought back here amidst the fighting so I could tend to your injuries, which fortunately are not life threatening.” He spoke in a calm and consistent tone, pausing momentarily before continuing. “There was no need to bring you to a hospital when I’m more than capable of taking care of you.”

Not life threatening? You looked over your body, assessing the damage for yourself. It appeared that you had injured your ankle, as it was now wrapped in some form of brace. Along with that were bandages woven around your knees, and more that you could feel constricting your upper arms where you landed on. Lastly was the dull pain in the back of your head, bringing you back to the moments before blacking out when you experienced a similar sensation.

“I think I should still go see a professional, no offense of course. It’s just I’d feel more comfortable with an expert opinion on the whole thing.” You truly didn’t want to set him off, not after what happened the last time you went against his advice. However, this was not something you could just take lying down, despite the fact that you were literally lying down in bed at the moment.

“I’m going to have to insist that you remain here, it’s the best option for your recovery which may I remind you has not been completed as of yet, and will only be delayed due to this. Not to mention that in your state excessive movement to bring you to a hospital would not only be quite difficult to manage but further damaging to your body as well.”

If it weren’t for the unsettling, stone cold stare he was giving you as he spoke, you would’ve likely retorted with a defense. Yet under that gaze you felt it was impossible to remain strong willed. You’d let him have his way for now, there being only so much time remaining in which his care was necessary.

With that you agreed to his concerns, and perhaps if he wasn’t wearing that obnoxiously large mask you would’ve seen the smirk of satisfaction appear across his face.

_____

Later that day Kai returned with your dinner, a task he normally left for his subordinates to complete. He set down the tray atop the sliding overbed table, a clipboard in his other hand. Sitting down on the rolling stool next to your bed, he began talking, you listening in silence as you ate.

“I hope you don’t mind but I took a blood sample while you were asleep in case your injuries were more severe than outwardly observable.” He flipped through a few pages on the clipboard before continuing. “It would seem that the supplements are steadily improving your overall condition. It’ll still take some time for certain levels to reach a normal amount for someone of your physique, but this is still good news nonetheless.”

You hummed in response, not wanting to be rude by talking with your mouth full. Chisaki moved to place the clipboard on the counter to your left before facing you again.

“I’m sure by now you’ve taken note of the change in your attire from that prior to being injured.”

You stopped chewing, looking worriedly in his direction. You hadn’t forgotten about this reality, it was more like you chose to ignore it for the time being, hoping nothing would come of it between the two of you.

“You should know that I had one of my female underlings do this for me, the fact of the matter being your clothing was partially destroyed from the explosion and was therefore prohibiting necessary medical attention.”

The pulsing of your heartbeat quickened, having an idea of where this conversation was headed, much to your apprehension. You stared down at the meal in front of you to avoid eye contact at all costs.

“I was able to properly tend to your wounds, but I’m sure you understand when I say that I couldn’t help but notice certain… remnants. Those of past trauma, along with others I didn’t directly observe, those that my subordinate notified me of.”

It was obvious that to access the bruises and cuts sustained from being thrown across the pavement, Chisaki would inevitably see parts of your body that you were all too familiar with just a few years ago.

Things had gotten better since then, they really had. You would never even think about using those same coping methods anymore. But that didn’t change the fact that those memories weren’t something that could just fade overnight, nor would the physical damage they left behind.

It was the last thing you wanted to discuss with Kai right now. He already knew, albeit vaguely, that you used to struggle with your mental health. Not that you weren’t still struggling, it was just now you had healthier ways of handling it. The only thing you could do now was deter him from pressing you further on the matter.

“Listen Kai, I know what you’re referring to, and I understand why you’d be concerned. It’s just… you don’t need to bother with it. I’m better now, at least in that regard. I get that you want to help me, and you have, but this isn’t something you need to worry about. I’ve already taken care of it, I promise.”

Glancing up at him after finishing, you saw more emotion than you’d ever thought someone like himself would be capable of. Although to most it would be insignificant, his intense stare coupled with the furrowed eyebrows, looking as if he truly wanted to comfort you in that moment was reassuring.

He exhaled loudly before responding. “That’s fine, (y/n).” You watched as he removed those white gloves that he seemed to wear like a second skin, placing them on the counter. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you during that time. Someone like you should have never been subjected to such treatment, and if I had known you back then I would’ve made sure such an occurrence never took place to begin with.”

Now this was… jarringly out of character.

If there was ever a red flag that you missed before, the ensuing events would surely be enough to make it blatantly obvious what exactly was going on.

Wide-eyed and dinner long forgotten, you followed the movement of his hands as they went to gently hold that of your left.

The yakuza waited for what felt like an eternity before carrying on, doing what you could only assume was anticipating the disgust of coming into contact in such a way with you, absent of his constant protective articles.

But the aversion never came.

“All I can do now is ensure you’re never dealt the same treatment again.”

Another moment of silence, stillness.

He gave your hand a small squeeze before releasing his hold, standing up and retrieving his gloves. You were too dumbfounded by the events that just unfolded to respond, so you continued to sit in silence while Kai gathered his belongings.

“Finish your dinner, Kurono will come later and turn off the heart monitor for you to get ready for bed.” He finished pulling on the gloves, picking up the clipboard once he was done and headed towards the only exit of the room.

“You’ll be remaining in this room while your injuries heal. I’ll keep one of my men posted outside if you need anything.” Kai placed a hand on the doorknob, pausing before looking back in your direction.

“Also, you should know that an alarm will go off if you remove the heart monitoring clip on your finger. There’s a button on the side of the bed you can press if you need assistance turning the machine off, say if you need to get up. Otherwise please leave it as it is.”

At that moment he left the examination room, the door closing with a heavy metallic thud that reverberated off the walls.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach was subtle, almost overshadowed by the persisting hunger from abandoning your dinner. But you knew it well to be fear.

A fear that you only suspected would grow the longer you remained in the confines of Chisaki’s compound, the confines of his so-called ‘care.’

(End of Part 1)

[love-dreams]

pairing: hoshi x fem!reader

content: based off of the netflix show, the queen’s gambit, with different character names (check the masterlist!) - please note the original time period means lots of racism and sexism; adoption; drug misuse; anxiety and stress

wc: 5,897

note: this took awhile to finish, but i have a feeling that this will turn out to be a trilogy! hoshi and y/n finally are crossing paths next chapter :)) please let me know if you’d like to be tagged! HAPPY NEW YEARS YALL

recap: (Y/N) is a genius prodigy chess player who learned from Mr. Jihoon Lee, the orphanage janitor. The orphanage, Methuen, feeds the girls tranquilizers that help (Y/N) hallucinate chess moves. This allows her to “play inside her head.” At the end of the last chapter, (Y/N) had broken into the cafeteria’s storage and overdosed on drugs.

the queen’s gambit masterlist: 1 2 

Soapy water dripped off the mop’s wool locks to the cold, cement floor, leaving a bubbly wet trail on the floor. You cautiously avoided the reflected areas.

“Mr. Lee?” you meekly greeted. Your voice was low and hesitant as you inched toward his stout, hunched over figure. He kept on mopping, seemingly paying no attention to you. “I can’t play chess anymore. Kim said so.”

He paused for a moment, turning his head toward her. His cold eyes raked over your figure, but Mr. Lee still didn’t respond, choosing instead to return his attention back to cleaning the floor. 

Your chest tightened in remorse from your actions, but eventually, you took the hint and walked back to the moving train of students, disappearing into the masses. 

That would be the last time you and Mr. Lee ever spoke. 

Soonyoung remembered when he first played against the country’s champion. 

His name was Yoon Jeonghan. 

At the time, Soonyoung was still in high school, and Jeonghan was twice his age. He still looked as young as Soonyoung did, though, he noted sullenly. His younger step-brother, Chan, idolized Jeonghan, and for good measure. He was the undefeated champion for three consecutive years.

They played at the eye of a hurricane of onlookers. Reporters weren’t allowed to take photos, in fear of disturbing the duo chess players, but Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard the shutters snapping anyway.

The rush of blood to his head would have drowned out anything else. 

The first time Soonyoung played Jeonghan, he lost. Quite terribly, he remembers, but Chan assures him it was a close game. 

All he could remember was Jeonghan’s poise. His confidence. It radiated from him and into the fingers that moved his pieces. His intellect was far superior to Soonyoung’s at the time, honed by years of experience and studying. To Soonyoung, it felt like playing in front of a god, someone who was on a completely different level.

It was awe-inspiring.

Soonyoung played him two more times in two years. And then he won him in the third. 

In the middle of the day, seemingly out of nowhere, Mr. Jun interrupted your class, calling for you to follow him. Everyone in the classroom, including the teacher, stared at you expectantly. 

It’s not like you had any other choice.

Your heart rate gathered speed as Mr. Jun motioned for you at the doorway of the office. You cautiously ambled through the narrow hallway until you caught sight of two other people. One male, and one female. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Park, this is (Y/N)!” You had never heard the Headmaster’s voice sound so friendly. You almost reeled back in shock at her change in tone and demeanor. What a joke... you thought darkly.

The two adults turned to face her. “Yes, (Y/N) is thirteen years old,” Headmaster Kim paused for affirmation glaring straight into your eyes.

“Actually, I’m fiftee-” you trailed off, seeing the expression on Kim’s face. You cleared your throat to cough over your previous sentence, straightening up your back. “Yes, I’m thirteen. I’m thirteen years old.”

Kim smiled and the foreign scene caused you to shiver. If you found Headmaster Kim’s punishments scary before, you found her act of friendliness simply unnerving. “(Y/N) is at the top of her class in English, reading, and geography. She also assists with the local chapel.” You nodded along. “(Y/N) truly is the model Methuen girl.” 

You let your face be effortlessly played by your puppet master, painting on an innocent smile and crossing your hands formally. The woman, Mrs. Park, had a bright smile on her face that made you feel automatically welcomed and safe. The man, on the other hand, refused to even look at you. He had a newspaper outstretched in front of him, and his aura was just as cold as Headmaster Kim’s. 

The two opposites puzzled you, but you tried to keep your thoughts from showing on your face. You let your eyes take small peeks down at the couple as you continued to stand trough their talking. 

After what seemed like hours of negotiations and paperwork being passed from one person to another, Headmaster Kim finally let you go. You waited patiently outside the office, saying small greetings to the students passing you in the hallway. Just as you were trying to figure out what to make of the couple, the Headmaster, followed by the duo exited the office. 

You watched as they walked straight through the doors and to the car parked on the driveway in astonishment before noticing the tall figure walking toward her. 

Suddenly, you realized that the hall outside the cafeteria was deserted, except for you. Everyone else was inside, enjoying themselves.

Headmaster Kim bent down slightly so her face was closer to yours. You withheld the urge to flee on sight and retch in front of her.

“You should go pack.”

“You know it’s highly irregular for someone to be armed with a knife regularly, you know?”

“I have it for self-defense.”

“Against who?”

“Anyone.”

“You’re crazy, Soons. That’s not a legitimate answer.”

He shrugged. “I like control, like on the chess board. Having this knife with me is part of that, I guess.”

“So you’re a control freak.”

Soonyoung laughed, touching your shoulder gently. “I guess I am.”

That night was the same as all the ones before it. The sky was dark and so was the room. It felt too quiet to you, like there was an absence of something. The other Methuen girls hadn’t finished with class yet, but Kim had dismissed you early from school, not that you were complaining about that. 

It might’ve been the one nice thing she’d done for you.

You found Ruth in her adjacent bed, lying on her side. From the way she was acting, you’d guess that she hadn’t gone to class all day.

You set your open suitcase on the wrinkled bed sheets and started to fold all of your clothes with moderate care. You packed your shirts, your skirts, and of course, your chess books. The latter being the most important possession you ever owned. 

You ran a fingertip down the old spine of the book lovingly, creasing over any parts that were starting to jut out. You did this to every single book, running your own hands over the letters imprinted onto the leather

Slowly, the stack of books shrank until one last book was sitting on your bed. Your heart erupted into anxiety as you started to shuffle through your stacked clothes, opening all the drawers in the small bedside table.

“Have you seen my book?” you asked impatiently, panic slowly dripping into your voice.

Ruth cracked open one brown, chocolate eye, huffing as she pushed herself up. “Which book, cracker? You’ve got a dozen of ‘em.”

Your fists clenched in stress. “Modern Chess Openings, have you seen it?” you clipped, short and curt.

“Now don’t you go accusing me,” Ruth snipped back in annoyance. “I ain’t got any use for no book like that.” You sighed in defeat, letting your hands go loose. “Plus,” Ruth added. “You don’t need a book to play anyway.”

Your eyes dropped in shame to the ground, diverting your gaze. Your heart felt heavy all of a sudden: guilty. You hesitantly seated yourself beside Ruth’s still figure, letting your hand rest on top of your friend’s hip. 

“You know, I’m sorry.”

Ruth scoffed, but you could hear the raw huskiness of her voice. “Sorry for what?”

“That nobody wanted to adopt you,” you replied. 

Your friend didn’t respond for a few moments. 

“No one wants to adopt a black kid as old as me anyway,” Ruth finally said. 

“If you ever have kids, do you think they’d have to learn chess?”

“Well, I already have a kid and he plays just fine! Not as good as me, I guess, but he’s alright.”

Chan looked over his hamburger, cheeks slightly rounded as he chewed. “Wait, who is it?”

“I think you mean ‘who is he,’ right?”

Chan rolled his eyes and swallowed. “Yes.”

Soonyoung winked and rummaged through his coat pocket. “I think I have a picture of him somewhere...”

Chan craned his neck and body to see the small, pixelated picture on his cell phone.

“Oh, screw you, Soons. I’m not a damn kid.”

Soonyoung laughed, letting his voice roll over his vocal chords. He winked once more for good measure, feeling very pleased over Chan’s reaction.

“That, you are, kid brother.”

It was your first time riding in a car since you were nine years old, driving to the high school to play your first tournament of chess. You couldn’t help your fascination with the scenery outside of the black gates. Green strips of landscape flew by in a blur and color exploded in your retinas.

It was breathtakingly beautiful. So much so that you didn’t even have the capacity to respond to it. 

As the car entered the suburban neighborhood, you took time to study each individual house’s features: the window shapes, door colors, everything. You saw kids on front porches with their parents, people were everywhere. Unlike Methuen, the women wore colorful skirts and they were all different. 

When Mr. Park finally pulled up to the driveway, the whole situation’s magnitude hadn’t settled on your shoulders yet. Mrs. Park exited the car first, closing the door behind her and opening the door for you. She’s nice to do that for you, you thought. 

You followed Mrs. Park into the house, eyes scanning everything around you in pure fascination. 

It was when you were in the front living room of the house that you felt out of place with your dreary Methuen uniform. The windows were decorated with lace drapes so only a few bars of golden sunlight were shining on a muted primary rug that sat underneath a grand piano. 

“Well? Home sweet home,” said Mrs. Park breathlessly. She did a small twirl in the living room with her arms outstretched. You felt the small inklings of a smile.

Mr. Park cleared his throat behind you, startling you. Sensing his prickly displeasure, you moved aside hurriedly as the man walked past both women to a velvet maroon arm-chair. 

Jimin was a practical man, you could tell. He wore glasses when reading and a tie with his suit. He never seemed to take particular interest in being welcoming or loving to you unlike Chaeyoung. He seemed cold and disconnected to his wife and you and his stares were often condescending. You didn’t fear Jimin like Headmaster Kim, but you definitely didn’t like him as much as Chaeyoung.

“Ah,” Mrs. Park nodded. She clapped her hands together. “(Y/N), we should get you acquainted with your room!” 

Chaeyoung quickly whisked you away from the living room, guiding you up the carpeted stairs. You tentatively grabbed your suitcase, sending one last curious glance at Jimin before following Chaeyoung upstairs. 

Upstairs had more than one bedroom, much to your amazement. Methuen never had walls in between bedrooms. Chaeyoung kept walking down the hallway until stopping at the very last open doorway.

She gestured toward the inside as you moved to stand by her side. Your neck craned as you peered over the edge of the door frame. 

“You have no idea how hard it is to find good chestnut furniture,” commented Mrs. Park from the doorway. 

You took small, shy steps into the interior of the room. Then, you whipped around to face Mrs. Park. “Is this.. Is this all for me?” 

“Why of course!” Chaeyoung replied. “I should leave you alone for now. If you need any help, just call!”

Your heart swelled as she stood in the bedroom alone. The room was entirely covered in pink. Your bed covers were pink and on top, there was a light pink veil covering it. The carpets were fluffy salmon-colored. You set her suitcase down near the doorway before flinging your body onto the bed, bouncing upward slightly.

You laughed in amazement, scrunching your eyes in disbelief. You had a family, you had her own room. It was like life was repaying every loss you ever had, like something had finally gone your way. 

“You’re leaving for two weeks?”

Chaeyoung’s voice woke you up from your sleep. You looked out the window to see the married couple out on the driveway. Chaeyoung seemed to just have gotten up as well, dressed only in her nightgown and dyed hair still unruly. Jimin was in his normal attire and it seemed like they were in some sort of argument. You decided to eavesdrop a little, pressing your face to the glass pane.

“Yes. I’ve got some business in the Midwest, apparently. I could be there for weeks. Maybe a month.” Jimin got into the car promptly, shutting the door in front of Chaeyoung.

“Do you have to take the car?” Chaeyoung desperately asked.

“How the hell would I get anywhere without a car? You’re a terrible driver anyway.”

“You could get a rental,” she suggested.

“I’m taking the car with me, Chaeyoung.” He started the engine. “Remember what the doctor said?” His head turned to look his wife up and down. “Some exercise will do you good.” 

Then, the engine rumbled to life, carrying the car and Mr. Park away from the house. Mrs. Park physically sighed before slipping out of your sight. 

As you got dressed, there was a different sound replacing the cold voice of Mr. Park: the melancholy melody of an instrument. You let your feet drop on each stair step, your ears savoring the beautiful tune. A head of dyed hair appeared over the staircase railing and the piano. You held your breath, sitting down gently on the carpeted stairs.

“Stop staring over there, you’re making me nervous.” 

Chaeyoung’s voice cut through the piano’s noise. You broke out of your trance. You quickly walked down the stairs and into the living room normally. 

“You play beautifully.”

Chaeyoung’s lips upturned for a moment, but dropped soon after. The smile did not reach her eyes. Instead, it seemed broken and hollow, a deep sadness filling the woman. 

“I used to want to become a professional pianist.” Her fingers twitched into movement and music flowed from the belly of the piano. “But I had terrible stage fright, not the best for an aspiring professional,” she laughed dryly. You stood stationery, transfixed with Alma. “And then I got pregnant.”

“You had a child?” You blurted out, too shocked to even think through your question.

Chaeyoung’s finger slipped and dissonance jarred the entire piece into chaos. This time, she did not continue. Her eyes were downcast and her misery spread throughout the room. “We did,” she answered. 

You felt your throat close up. Maybe life just had a grudge with you after all. There was obviously conflict between Chaeyoung and Jimin and now you were in the middle of it.

Suddenly, Chaeyoung lifted herself and the same melancholy smile was directed toward you. “Would you like some tuna casserole? We have some left over.”

You shook her head, adamantly. The recent tsunami of new information was making you nauseous. “I’m good.”

“Do you want me to walk you to school?” she tried again.

“I think I’ll be alright,” you answered curtly. Chaeyoung sighed but didn’t force herself upon you. You had never been the most sociable person and you had no intention of creating more trouble for yourself. 

The school was a short walk away from home. Along the way there, the few straggler students walking on the sidewalk grew into an entire flock. Noise erupted from the open doors of the school building and you vaguely felt the hints of deja vu from her first encounter with outside students. 

During your free block, you got to work inspecting the school’s library. 

Your head turned left and right while watching some of the other students hurrying around in the room. There were sounds of giggling laughter between shelves and the light rustling of paper pages. Then, your attention turned toward the librarian in front of you.

“Do you have any books on chess?” you rushed out, uncomfortable in the swarms of people.

She looked up at you through her rounded glasses. The librarian slowly took them off to study you. “Sorry?”

You tapped your foot impatiently, feeling all sorts of embarrassed and shy. “Books on chess.”

“I don’t believe we do,” she pondered. “Oh! But if we do have any, they’ll be at the back shelf over there.” Your body instinctively started to move toward the direction she pointed, desperate to get out of this awkward situation. “There should be some books on Xu Minghao too.”

That name caught your ear. 

“Who’s that?” 

The librarian smiled, but looked at you quizzically. “Why he’s a grandmaster, of course.”

“What’s a grandmaster?” 

“A very, very good chess player.”

“(Y/N), would you be a dear and run down to the local pharmacy? I need to fulfill a prescription.” 

You automatically stood up from your bed and walked a few steps to the adjacent bedroom. Chaeyoung looked awful with her dry, dirty hair and blotchy red features.

She sniffled a little bit before reaching to her bedside table. “Here’s a note.”

Her hands were weak and skin and fat clung to the bones of her arm. You nodded with sympathy and carefully slipped the note from in between Chaeyoung’s frail fingers. 

You left the Park house shortly, hurrying down the street toward the town center. There were a few people there along with cars bustling down the road. Spotting the pharmacy’s sign over the store, you quickly crossed the street towards it. The door bell jingled as you stepped into the store.

Catching the owner’s attention, you slid the prescription note over the counter, tapping your fingers on the wood as he disappeared behind a shelf. 

You then took the liberty to look around the store while he was gone. You rotated your body until you found something on the side of the brick wall. 

“TIMES: CHESS MASTERS”

“And this is it,” he muttered. A small pill bottle was sitting on top of the wooden counter. You grabbed it, pocketing it in your dress. Your eyes were still fixated on the magazine. 

Reaching to grab it, a gruff voice suddenly stopped you.

“Hey.” It was the store owner. “Buying only,” he said, pointing to the sign above the magazine holders. Then, he turned his back onto you.

You nodded and on your way out, reached for a newspaper beside the magazine. You dropped a few coins onto the counter and strode with long confident paces.

The red outline of the magazine peeked from the pages of the newspaper.

“I think I might start giving you allowance.”

“Hm?” You murmured over the pages of the Times magazine. 

“An allowance,” Chaeyoung repeated. “It’s good for young girls like you to start learning how to manage your finances.” 

You blinked up at her. “Okay.” You rose from your spot and hurried up the staircase. “Can I go buy a chess board then? I think I might want to attend a tournament this weekend and I need to practice.”

Chaeyoung scrunched her brow, she was displeased. “I don’t want to discourage you from social events, but don’t you think there are better opportunities for girls like you to meet new friends? Like dance classes or something,” she suggested.

You sighed and looked down at Mrs. Park from the railing. “What did you do to socialize when you were my age?” 

You didn’t wait for her response and ran into your room. Hope fluttered in your chest as you opened the magazine again. 

“KENTUCKY CHAMPIONSHIP THIS WEEKEND. 10$ ADMISSION FEE.”

“I’ll be there,” you murmured to yourself. You rolled over onto your back to stare at the two green speckled pills on your bedside table. You swallowed them and waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

Nothing was happening. 

Finally, you jumped up on your bed and ripped off the pink canopy. Huffing in frustration, you threw the remaining, scratchy fabric onto the ground. You let your head rest on your pillow as transcendence settled over your body.

Familiar shapes soon began to fade into reality onto the ceiling.

The address on the magazine was a high school. People were bustling everywhere in the forum. You quickly found the registration table and walked towards it, careful not to bump into anyone along the way.

Two young-looking men were conversing when you walked up.

“Excuse me,” you said. 

They looked up at you. When they noticed your gender, they immediately smirked, clearly sleazy about a woman being in front of them. One of them leaned forward towards you. 

“Lost your way, lady?” 

You internally groaned at his condescending tone, wanting nothing but to walk straight out of the building. You let out a breath of annoyance.

“I’m here for the chess tournament?”

The two males glance at each other. 

“Well, do you have a ranking?” 

This time, the other man spoke. They looked like twins with their nearly identical outfits and slicked back, brown hair.

You shook your head. “This is the first tournament I’ve joined.”

Twin #1 scoffed and shook his head. “Then you’ll join the beginners bracket.”

What? 

“But I’m not a beginner.”

Twin #2 chimed in, his voice firm and unyielding. “Doesn’t matter, no ranking means you’re start as a beginner.”

Cooling yourself down, you started to think. “How long does it take for me to get a ranking?” you inquired.

“3-6 months,” Twin #2 answered.

Then, the perfect idea settled into your head. You started rummaging through your bag for the spare change. 

“Put me in the open then.”

“What?” sputtered Twin #1. “Are you crazy? There are professional players in that open. Lee Chan is going to be playing.”

“Who’s Lee Chan?” You ignored them and finally fished out the ten dollar bill. 

The both looked at each other again, sharing some kind of secret message in between them. 

Twin #1 sighed. “Do you have a clock?”

A clock? 

“No,” you answered faithfully.

“We have a clock sharing system. If you don’t have a clock, your partner will have one for you.” 

You nodded in response, still confused about what a clock was supposed to be doing in chess.

Twin #2 slid a sheet of paper to you. “Here’s your first round.”

You took it and promptly left the desk, feeling relieved that it was over.

“So.. do they usually put the girls together like this?”

“Huh?” 

There was another girl sitting in front of you. The only one, as far as you could tell. She had pretty curled brown hair and she introduced herself as Oh Seunghee. 

“I don’t know, are they supposed to put the girls together like this?” 

You looked around the empty gym filled with tables of chess players. You were seated right next to the coffee station.

“Well, they’re not supposed to,” she responded. 

Seunghee had an innocent smile and pretty, dainty fingers. 

“The chessboard is a battlefield,” Mr. Lee’s words rang through your head. “Naivety gets you killed.”

You nodded and looked over at the wooden framed clock to your right. “So, how does that work?”

“Oh, right!” Seunghee clapped her hands together excitedly. “So, once you make a move, I hit the button up there and your time starts to count down. Once the red flag falls, your time is up and you lose.”

“Seems simple,” you murmured. “And this thing?” You tapped the sheet of paper you got from the registration desk. 

“To track your moves. Afterwards, you circle the winner.”

You nodded and picked up the pencil to write your name in. “So I can start your clock now, right?”

Seunghee waved her hands, “Go ahead!”

You carefully clicked the metal button down, testing it. Immediately, the clock started ticking off the seconds. 

Seunghee moved her pawn forward and leaned on her clasped hands. Her big brown eyes stared at you with a hint of mischief. You nodded awkwardly at her gawking.

“Um, aren’t you supposed to hit the clock?”

“Oh, yes! Sorry. It’s just.. I’ve never played against a girl before.”

Your steps up were fast, the adrenaline rush from the chess game creating the perfect haze for you. You missed this. 

When you got to the top, you turned a sharp corner to the registration desk. The two sleazy men were still there. 

“What do I do with this?” 

You waved around the heavy card paper for dramatics. 

The twins looked around together. 

“That fast?” 

“Mhm.” You didn’t felt the need to verbally respond to the sleazeballs. 

“Just put it into the basket,” they sighed. 

Having nothing to do, you went back downstairs. Your eyes scanned over the empty tables and chairs that held only a few scarce players, a complete change from a couple minutes ago. 

Noticing a crowd, you walked closer towards a divider that had a sign reading, “QUIET PLEASE.”

You weaved your way through sweaty backs and chests until you could somewhat make out what was in the middle of all the commotion.

A chess game. 

In the middle was a table with two chairs and two players. Two male players, you noted. The setting seemed to be no different than any of the other games that played around you, making you wonder why this one attracted such a crowd.

You nudged someone close to you. “Who are those people?”

The man looked down at you in amusement mixed in with surprise. “That’s Lee Chan, the current state championship holder. And that’s Park Jisung, a rising chess player. Jisung’s the best of his town and his university.”

You nodded. Lee Chan.. you had heard that name before. At the registration desk.

“Is he a grandmaster?” you pointed abruptly. 

Chan’s eyes narrowed at you. “Sorry, could you quiet down over there?” 

You flushed with embarrassment and gauged the man’s reaction as well. He had a small small on his face when he glanced down at you as well. 

He leaned closer to you to whisper, ““Not yet. He’s working towards it though.”

“I want to play against him.”

“Not everyone can play him. You need to win all of your rounds and so does he.”

You remembered the book you’d checked out from the library. Then you remembered the Times magazine and Mr. Choi. And of course, Mr. Lee.

A grandmaster...

“You want to play Lee Chan?”

The twins had names: Hyunjin and Jinyuh. They reminded you of the high school players you beat during your time of at the orphanage. 

You nodded, not understanding why Jinyuh seemed so flabbergasted. “Is there anything wrong?”

Hyunjin scoffed, “You know you’d have to win all of your rounds in order to do that right?”

You remained nonchalant. “And I will.”

“No you won’t,” Jinyuh cut in. “You’d have to go through Joshua!”

“Forget Joshua,” Hyunjin chuckled humorlessly. “Your next round is Seungkwan and he’s way underestimated. He’s the captain of his college chess team and his team hasn’t lost a single tournament this year!”

You let out a sigh and grabbed the score card, leaving the twins speechless. Your pace was brisk as you walked toward the designated table for your round. Being doubted constantly was starting to get onto your nerves.

You tapped your fingers impatiently on the wooden table before a familiar face made you halt your motion.

“So I guess I’m your next round.”

It was the man from before. The one who was with you when Lee Chan was playing. This was Seungkwan?

“Um, yeah, I guess so,” you stuttered out. 

His smile was just as mischievous as before, however, this time it had a streak of competitiveness. 

Seungkwan adjusted his cuff sleeves and settled into his chair. His brief case rested next to him, leaning against the legs of his chair. 

He motioned for you to start his clock and you did. Leaning over slightly to push the rusty metal button down. 

The game was on.

The clock was still ticking down the time. There were roughly twenty tables set out around you, all of which were holding chess games. 

You didn’t waste time trying to count the tables exactly though. The man in front of you was providing enough entertainment. 

Seungkwan’s brows furrowed as he studied the board, cautiously making a move and hitting the clock.

Your hand moved automatically, pushing a chess piece toward its designated position in your mind. Seungkwan huffed. You grinned.

“Jesus, (Y/N), you’re humiliating my rook.” 

“He won’t have to suffer for much longer,” you murmured. 

Seungkwan’s eyebrow arched up as if coaxing you to tell him your strategy. You shook your head and motioned for him to return his move.

He sighed and slowly, slowly, tipped the white crown of his king to the board. 

“Alright, you got me there, (Y/N). I lose.”

You blinked. He forfeited? 

All of a sudden, a rush of deja vu hit you. You were reminded of one of the first games you had played with Mr. Lee. How ironic, you thought. Now I’m on the other side of the board.

Seungkwan extended a hand out to you. You daintily shook his hand, feeling shy from his act of sportsmanship. 

He bowed slightly and picked up his briefcase. “I wish you luck on your next rounds, (Y/N).” Seungkwan winked and then left in a blink. 

You followed him toward the cork board announcing all the pairings. You watched in satisfaction as your name went from the bottom of the board, to the top. 

It was getting slightly tiring playing four consecutive chess matches, but as you walked up the stairs toward registration, you figured that it was all worth it to see the look of pure shock on Hyunjin and Jinyuh’s faces. 

You stared at them expectantly, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited for your next pairing to be announced.

“You’re done,” Jinyuh sputtered. 

Your brow raised. You had won all your games, how was that possible? “What do you mean?”

“The games are done for today. The finals are tomorrow,” Hyunjin said. 

You nodded, satisfied with today’s results. “Thank you,” you replied and walked out of the forum, feeling even more confident when you realized that everyone’s eyes in the room were on you.

The clock ticked away as your fingers tapped against the table. Your eyes were everywhere in search, looking at every person standing around the chess board. Lee Chan was not here yet. 

You let out a sigh and kept tapping away. The empty chair in front of you taunted you. Your gaze kept darting to the clock mounted on the wall, the red seconds hand traveling in rotations. 

“Sorry about that,” Chan huffed. 

You turned your heads toward him, your gaze sharp and burning. If he was bothered by it, he didn’t show it.

Chan shuffled in his chair for a few seconds before leaning in on his elbows. “Ready?” he asked, a grin on his face.

You let out a small scoff and leaned to start his clock. 

It was a long game and long made you stressed. You weren’t used to this level of competition and it was starting to get to your head. It was harder to predict Lee Chan’s moves and counter them, almost like your eyesight was fogging up and blurring. 

“Excuse me,” you gasped out before racing towards the bathroom. The crowd parted like the sea when you moved. 

You splashed water all over your face before reaching into your pocket for your reassurance. Your tranquility. Your fingers fumbled with the pill bottle before tipping it forward. Pills tumbled into the palm of your hand. 

You dumped all of them back in except for one and swallowed the green pill without a second thought. You let out a relieved pant and let your breathing stead. 

As you slowly raised your head at the mirror, you stared at the reflection, memorizing each flutter of movement on the bathroom ceiling. 

When you exited the bathroom doors, your sight was back, zeroing in on the chess board. You sat down in the chair and moved your piece swiftly. 

Chan’s brows raised in concentration as he leaned further in. 

The next few moves were all just as swift as the first one. Your strategy was played with no hesitation and as the end game drew near, Chan was starting to catch up.

Unfortunately, his pieces were still too behind.

“You see it don’t you?” you murmured, staring at him with widened eyes. 

Chan was sweating now. He kept shifting in his seat and breathing heavily. “I can get out of this.”

“No you can’t. If you avoid my bishop, I’ll just take with the r-”

“Move!” Chan spit out. 

You sighed, rolling your eyes, but complied. 

The game played on into the end game. As you closed in on the king, you were two steps away from it. Your heart sped up in giddiness, feeling the sweetness of adrenaline on your tongue. 

Chan’s voice broke through the illusion.

“Draw?” he whispered. 

Your heart stopped. A draw? Your eyes whirled to the bystanders around you, some of which were now muttering underneath their breath. Your eyes rested on the familiar face of Seungkwan. His eyes were swirling with a mischievous mirth.

“No,” he mouthed at you, shaking his head.

You nodded, a smile returning to your face. “No way.”

Chan huffed, bracing himself against the table. He threw down his king.

The crowd erupted into applause as Chan walked away from the board. 

You had won the state championship.

“So, I heard you lost your… whatever tournament that was.”

Chan sighs, “It was the state championship, damn it. What the hell are you doing here?”

Soonyoung grins and leans back in his chair. “C’mon, Chan. We’re family, remember? Don’t big brothers check up on their siblings’ interests and stuff?”

Chan glances up at him bemusedly. “Is chess the only interesting thing you ask about?”

“Hm,” Soonyoung pondered. “I don’t know about you, but it sure is for me. Say, what was her name? I think I saw it in the newspaper somewhere…”

“(Y/N) (L/N),” Chan grits. It was an embarrassing defeat on his part and celebrating his loss with the country’s champion wasn’t helping. Smirking, Chan decides to take a little bit of petty revenge. “I think she might beat you.”

“Oh ho!” This caught Soonyoung’s attention. “The girl who beat you?” He immediately sits up straighter, his eyes ablaze with competition. “Hm, is she coming to Vegas?” 

“Probably.” 

“Well then, we’ll just have to see. All in due time, right?”

Chan chuckles, “She might not go, though. You never know. And if she does go, I hope she beats your ass. Jeonghan’s always saying you got it coming.”

Soonyoung lets out a dry chuckle. “Now I’m intrigued by this mystery lady. However,” he pauses and contemplates his next words. 

Chan looks up at him suspiciously, “However, what?”

Soonyoung grinned. 

“I don’t plan on losing my title just yet.”

Chess was a game of delicacy. Like a pyramid of stacked cards, there was a method and a strategy to complete it. Missing a step meant a pile of lost cards on the table.  

“You were too caught up with double pawns last game. You’ll win this one, (Y/N). You have to.”

previous part: here

next part: here (unavailable) 

tag list: @haotheheckk​ @gryffindor-jun​

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - The Delta Paradox. Chapter 1: Deceit

Rumor is the outbreak spreading like fire around the world is somehow Dr. Morbius’ fault: people turned into monsters after getting bitten by the ones already ravaged beyond the irreversible mutation. The last news broadcasted four months ago suggested not all creatures are mindless beasts, a few might still remember who they are and The Joker is about to find out if the story is true.

“Dad…” you whisper and point at the box on the shelves. “I found some peas.”

The Joker turns around and silently walks your way, signaling you to fill up your backpack while he patiently waits for his turn.

The King of Gotham and his 23 year old daughter are scavenging the convenience store on Halsey Street for supplies: food was running low and they had to come out of the bunker in order to acquire basic necessities.

It’s hard to see in the darkness with the tiniest flashlight since they can’t risk being detected.

“Did you find water?” you mumble under your breath.

“No.”

“Dammit, we only have six bottles left,” you sigh, upset at his disclosure. “Should we raid the mall too?”

The Joker covers your mouth, carefully listening.

You can’t discern much until an unnerving screech echoes in the air followed by others in the next second.

“Ssstttt,” J removes the restrain and you clutch to his arm, scared to death.

“Dad…”, you gulp at the commotion happening in the distance: the creatures are probably hunting and you are not willing to become the prey.

“What do we do?” you barely utter and The Clown shakes his head, worried.

“Let’s use the sewers entrance by the dumpster to make it passed the dangerous radius; it’s still open from last time we were here.”

“Ok…” Y/N quietly agrees.

J adds the rest of the containers to his rucksack and lifts it up when he accidentally knocks off a light bulb: the fragile glass shatters to pieces and the two of you stare at each other terrified for a few moments.

The turmoil outside immediately intensifies as The Joker urges:

“Run!”

The panicked Y/N follows her father and she can’t even hear what he’s saying over the deafening roars that seem to come from above the building. Suddenly, the mad man turns and gives you a violent push against the loading dock exit; it’s so unexpected you stumble and before you have the possibility to process what’s going on, J locks it.

“Dad?!” your eyes pop at the small, broken window just to distinguish him backing away. “Dad?!” you start crying. “What are you doing?! Let me in!” The Princess pleads with her parent.

The Joker bites his lip, conflicted at his desire to survive no matter the cost: even if the price to pay is his own daughter.

“Daddy?!” Y/N sobs, petrified at his behavior. “Please?...”

“Better you than me,” he grumbles and runs in the opposite direction, covering his ears when your screams reach him. J rushes out of the shop and drops in the sewer, three monsters already on his trail attempting to grab him; yet they fail because thankfully these beasts are so much larger than the humans they used to be: they can’t fit through the narrow gap The Joker used.

Your father keeps navigating the convoluted catacombs in the darkness while the dim flashlight fails to warn him of the obstacle floating in front of him. He staggers on the dead dog and plunges in the disgusting waters, instantly resurfacing after the initial shock of how bad it stinks. J crawls to near the concrete wall, panting up a storm succeeding the whole ordeal and it hits him: Y/N didn’t pursue.

How could she? The Clown sacrificed his daughter in order to save himself and her agony still resonate in his mind. She was brutally ambushed without any chance of escaping her fate: The Joker made sure of that when he forced her out of the mini-market.

The same daughter that came back for him at the Penthouse when it was clear things are going downhill - no other gang member ever returned; the same daughter that accompanied him in their perilous searching trips as it all went to shit; the same daughter that took care of him when he got sick in the bunker and risked her life in order to bring her father antibiotics; the same daughter that was the only family he had left on this God forsaken planet.

And now she’s gone.

The Joker is all alone like he was always meant to be: nothing can withstand his poison.

**************

8 Months Later

The King of Gotham sneaks in the blackness with precious cargo: tonight was a lucky one. He found soda, crackers and peanuts at a vending machine inside the mall. The road to the bunker is not a short one and he has to be alert; food is scarce and each time he has to venture further and further to find needed items which is why he’s still roaming at this late hour.

Surprisingly calm atmosphere in this neighborhood; J saw a lot of creatures on McCormick Avenue and then an infested Main Boulevard made him backtrack and take this path. It was the correct call because his progress has been steady: moving in shadows has developed into a skillful talent.

He abruptly stops noticing movement blocking his route West of 5th Street. The Joker had no idea it’s swarming with the infected also.

J barely notices something splattering at his feet and freezes: it’s difficult to discern what it is but he has a vague concept. He looks up only to see one of the winged scouts landing on the broken light pole whilst drooling and sniffing the air. The Joker’s body is stiff, his senses sharpened to the maximum: what is he supposed to do? Try to leave? That’s an enormous risk and motion could unleash a chain reaction among the beasts if the one above identifies the helpless individual. Stay? The threat would be equally menacing.

The high pitch snarl belched by the demon’s throat makes him inhale in fear: was he spotted? Or is this merely a power display from the crazed predator?

The Joker feels there’s something behind him and before he can act a sharp pain in his forearm makes him yell. Another bite in his leg makes him lose balance and he collapses to the ground, unable to defend himself from the hoard. The burning sensation is taking over completely: the creatures tear his flesh apart and he passes out without having the strength to shout for help anymore.

*************

The Clown opens his eyes and rapidly blinks since the sunlight is hard to endure.

“Ugh…” he groans and rolls on his side on the concrete pavement.

Everything hurts, including the brain: it’s as if someone drilled holes and he can’t concentrate or form thoughts.

He aims to lift his torso off the walkway unsure why it’s strenuous to accomplish such a simple task; J doesn’t register the reason why is the different anatomy he now has: scaly, gray skin, long, distorted arms with sharp claws, inverted knees and membranous toes. The wings certainly don’t add to his ability to sport the same agility he was blessed with while still a person.

He finally manages to gather himself up, surprised to experience an odd sensation: The Joker is so much taller after his mutation and everything crushes down once the hideous reflection shown in the partially broken glass belonging to “Macy’s” department store glares back at him.

“Ahhh!” J blurs out alongside an uncanny roar emerging from his transmuted vocal cords. The frantic sound gets the attention of beasts in his vicinity, then they ignore him because he’s one of them.

“Fuck…” he mumbles in disbelief at their reaction, grateful they didn’t attack.  

The Joker’s raspy breath scores big with a creature nearby though.

Apparently a female due to her red orbs, she’s approaching the former human with a certain restrain.

The Joker would love to bail: unless he can control the horror of what’s happening to him in a few moments, he might get out of there in one piece.

The curious monster is inches away and J had nothing better to do than articulate:

��… Do you… understand me?”

“Grrrrrrr…” the female sneers, unraveling her fangs.

“Y/N… is that…is that you?” The Joker tosses the question out there for the lack of a better plan.

No answer, just a low howl that makes a few males digging in rubble unhappy: why is the group’s favorite displaying interest in the newcomer?

They shriek and emerge more and more agitated, drawing the attention of others in the proximity. The displeased attitude seems to elevate the mood in a negative direction to the point of having a large flock landing on the same street too.

“Crap…” The Joker assesses his situation and it’s not good. “Shoo!” he gently gives the female a nudge and she coos as her distorted fingers touch his grotesque face. Nevertheless, her gesture unlocks the gates of hell: the female’s keen dart towards the unfortunate Clown with the sole purpose of finishing him off. Competition is not tolerated from a rookie and that’s how The Joker is perceived by the mindless crowd--a threat to the hierarchy.

A loud, eerie scream covering all others makes the murderous bunch halt in their tracks: a humongous female leading the group that arrived moments ago is making them retreat. She keeps shoving them and growling while followed by a huge specimen: definitely The Alpha Male with his yellow eyes and dominant figure that don’t allow disobedience.

The party showing The Joker affection gives up on her advances as you stand in front of your father, not necessarily excited about the encounter.

“Dad?...” you smell the air out of habit.

“… … Y… Y/N?... …” The Joker stammers at the inexplicable revelation. “You… You’re alive??!!”

“If you consider this being alive.”

“Delta, we have to go soon!” one of your fighters announces. “They might snap again!”

Your parent is baffled and you bother to enlighten him a bit:

“I’m part of a coven made of turned humans still self-aware. You’re lucky we flew by and saw you. I felt you were born but I didn’t know it was you until I sniffed you. I wished I knew so I won’t waste my time!!!!” the bitter statement brings to life past memories. “Let’s go!” you raise your voice.

“We’re not taking him with us?!” The Alpha Male inquires, baffled. “He’s self -aware!”

“Trust me, we don’t need someone like him amidst us!” you spread your wings and prepare to fly.

“Y/N… “ The Joker gulps. “Can I come?... Please?... I don’t want to die here.”

Y/N ignores his plea and angrily replies:

“Better you than me!”

How can he justify his behavior in these circumstances? It’s impossible to request forgiveness when you’re at an obvious loss regarding your daughter.

“I’m sorry I did what I did, ok… Pumpkin?”

“I am NOT your Pumpkin!! I am Delta!!!” Y/N mutters.

“Huh?” the clueless King inquires and your obvious disapproval suggests you hate where the conversation is headed.

“Delta is more valuable than any of us and we must protect her at all costs until we find Morbius,” one of your companions gives away details you don’t care your father knowing about. “She can do incredible…”

“Enough!!” you cut him off. “We’re leaving!”

“What… what things?...” The Joker attempts to distract you from the imminent departure.  

“None of your business!” you float in the air, the other 40 sets of wings following you while he is left behind with the horde that made him an outcast: brainless monsters already clustering around once more in order to punish his transgression.

“Hey!!!” The Alpha Male glides on top of The Joker. “Delta said you can come!”

“Really?” hope flourishes in his heart.

“Hurry up before they shred you to pieces!”

“I don’t know how to fly!” J shouts.

“Don’t be an idiot! Move your shoulder blades!”

Your father would normally go ballistic at such affront but he actually ignores the disrespectful sentence due to the insane events leading to today’s reunion.

What other choice does he have besides taking advantage of this unique opportunity?

The Joker clumsily bumps into a trash bin and finally ascends towards the blue skies trying to keep up with the flock.

His daughter might be a mystery now but one thing is undeniable: he would rather suffer a thousand deaths before abandoning her again.

 Also read: Masterlist

https://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho

[whitewolfandthefox]

Call of the Wild Part 5

Summary: Geralt tells you more of the actual reason he was in the forest near your home. You receive an unexpected visitor who bears some unnerving news.

Words: 5.2k

Series Masterlist (updated Saturdays)

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A/N. Here’s the next part, hope you enjoy! Like always, comments and love are appreciated, helps me stay motivated to keep writing. Likes and reblogs are always welcome, especially reblogs! Thank you to the darling @riviawitch3r who has been essential in the process. Enjoy babes!

The Catalyst

He has been trapping and murdering shapeshifters.

You felt your world stop at those words, the calmness that had manifested in you from the day shattering as fear took hold once more. You had known this revelation would make your life difficult, but you hadn’t imagined the level of danger that that one sentence identified.

You stayed where you sat, staring at Geralt as he looked back at the floor. A shiver ran through your body before you whined, slinking over to where he sat. Absently, he reached down and hooked his hand underneath your middle, lifting you to sit on the seat next to him. He left his hand in your fur, encouraging you to nuzzle against him, trying to draw comfort from the contact.

Geralt suddenly broke the silence. “Shapeshifters are a rare breed; not much is known about our kind. People, especially mages, have tried to study us and learn more but we guard our secrets fiercely. Most outsiders trying to learn about us don’t have good intentions. We have been finding murdered shapeshifters, and it looks like they’ve been used for experimentation and study.”

You felt sick, ears pulling back to tuck against your skull. “That’s why I was here in the first place; I had tracked the deaths to another village on the edge of this forest. We think it's a small group of people led by a sorcerer. We’re not sure why they are studying us, just that they have been taking shapeshifters at an alarming rate. My pack and I are investigating this; that’s who the letter is from. Yennefer, a mage in my pack, discovered new deaths yesterday and needs me to look into it. She thinks she's found where this group has been doing their experimentation.”

You whined lowly in the back of your throat, causing Geralt to look down at you. He stroked your head softly, before asking. “Can you change back?”

Closing your eyes as you focused, you drew the power up from below, allowing it to wash over you. When you opened your eyes again, you were sitting on the couch as Geralt observed you. You swayed as exhaustion surged through you, before righting yourself and looking up at Geralt expectantly. His lips quirked at the corners. “You are getting better at this.”

You shook your head to rid yourself of the phantom feeling of a muzzle. “It still feels weird, although I am not as drained.” You turned to face the man next to you. “Are you sure you have to go?”

He paused, searching for something in your face. Seeming to find it, he nodded, saying “I do. If I don’t look into this, no one else will and our kind will continue to be murdered.”

He lifted a hand to brush a strand of your hair out of your face. You caught his hand, bringing it to your mouth to press a kiss against his palm, causing him to start. “I just worry. If so many have died, what's to say they won’t hurt you too?”

His eyes flashed, “Are you worried about me, little fox?”

You hesitated, as the feelings you had been ignoring bubbled back up. You had no idea where they were coming from, you hadn’t even known this man for a week and yet there was an undeniable connection between the two of you. Looking down, you whispered, “I am. I don’t know why, but there is some feeling telling me something is going to go wrong.” You glanced up at him with fear in your eyes. “I have been having dreams.”

“Dreams?” he asked sharply, “of what?”

“They have just been flashes,” you shook your head. ”Different animals, a dark castle. Blood, pain, a feeling like I’m running from something. Geralt, it scares me.”

He laced his fingers with yours. “You don’t have to be scared, little fox. Our community is very protective of each other. Any shapeshifter you find will help you, if that’s what you’re worried about. That being said, a shapeshifters instincts are one of their best weapons. Listen to them; if you are worried about something, be wary of your surroundings.” 

Unable to find the words to describe your feelings of fear, you just nodded your head and gave his hand a light squeeze.

Hesitantly, he glanced away before looking back over at you, “You could come with me.” You turned your head sharply, shocked at his offer. “Join my pack, run with me. We could keep you safe.”

You were silent, turning your gaze to look out the window. “It’s not safe for lone shapeshifters; too often we are discovered, turned on by friends and family, betrayed by those we thought we could trust. They don’t understand what we are.”

“Not here. My people won’t abandon me. My home, my life, is here in this village, Geralt. I grew up here, have watched the children grow up here. I was there when some of them were born. I can’t just up and leave. People need me.” You were certain of this, not meeting his gaze as you looked off into the distance, towards the little village you had made your home for most of your life. “As much as I would love to join you, I can’t leave this behind.”

“I don’t need an answer now, little fox.” A hand reached under your chin, lifting your face so you met his golden eyes. “It is a dangerous world for our kind, and I only think of your safety when I ask. Somehow, secrets get out and people turn against us. I have seen it time and time again. Friends turn against you and drive you out, betraying you though you help them.” 

His eyes were haunted as he spoke, memories flickering across the surface. He refocused on you. “I would also like for you to be near me,” he rumbled, “to have you close, be able to hold you at night. Think about it, my little fox, and answer me when I return. You can meet the rest of my pack, and maybe that will help you with your decision.” 

Turning away from you, he stood and searched through his saddlebags before coming up with the dagger that you had stolen from him earlier. He handed it to you without a word, closing your fingers around it when you tried to refuse it. “Please, for me.” Looking into his eyes, seeing the fear for you in them, you finally relented, grasping the dagger in its sheath and letting your arm drop to your side. You followed him as he gathered his belongings and headed out the door, slinging them over his mount, stopping in the doorway to watch him.

Geralt tugged on the straps of his saddle, making sure everything was secure before he returned to where you stood, arms wrapped around your middle, posture defeated. He gently swept a piece of hair back from your face, gazing softly into your eyes. “Don’t fear for me little fox, I have lived a long time and faced more dangerous people than this.” 

As you gazed into his golden eyes, you felt slightly more assured that the man you had come to care for would be safe. The emotions you had been suppressing came back full force, astounding you at the strength of feelings you had for him. Seeming to sense this, Geralt leaned down, hesitating just slightly before he brushed his lips against your forehead, pulling back to lean your foreheads together briefly before lifting his head once more. 

With that, he turned and mounted Roach, glancing back at you standing in your doorway as he passed through the gates. “I shall only be a few days; my pack is not far from here. I will be back in no time. Think of my offer, Y/N, don’t just brush it aside.” You lifted your hand in farewell, watching him until he disappeared between the trees, before going into your house and dropping into a chair, your mind whirling at his last request.

Go with him? How could I, my village needs me. I am the only healer, people would suffer without me. They would never cast me out, my people know me.

He said he wanted me near him.

Pushing the dangerous thoughts from your head, you headed back inside. Entering your workroom, you began cleaning the materials left over from Geralt’s treatment. As you gathered the bandages you had cut off of him, you caught a whiff of his scent, musky and earthy, and your eyes filled with tears. He had just left, and already you were missing your presence. Shaking yourself, you dumped the used bandages and materials into your disposal bin before heading to your kitchen. You puttered there for a while, making yourself dinner and then cleaning up, ignoring the feelings that bubbled up in your chest at seeing the extra set of dishes you had unthinkingly pulled out.

Thoughts and doubts whirled through your head. You wanted to go with Geralt, but your life was here. How could you just up and leave? Your parents were buried here, your friends lived in town.

You stood abruptly and paced towards your gate, heading to the forest. You needed to go for a walk, that always helped clear your head. Wandering through the forest, you allowed the scents and sounds to soothe you, stripping away your anxiety and your stress. You walked faster, and faster, until you were running, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with it, trees flying past you as you sprinted.

When you felt the power swell within you, you didn’t deny it. Instead, you allowed your magic to surge through you, your body dropping forwards as you continued running, only now on four legs instead of two. Your vision became sharper, the smells stronger. You could hear the heartbeat of some small rodent in the trees. Veering off the path, you raced towards the sound, relishing in the exhilaration that accompanied your chase. You pounced, missing when the animal darted into a small hole in the base of a tree. Slowing, you snuffled around the edge.

You froze at the sound of something large stepping on a branch, lifting your head and searching for where it came from. Your tail bushed, fur standing on end as you listened for footsteps, a heartbeat, anything that would identify the large predator that your senses were trying to warn you of. You dropped low to the ground, crawling into the ferns, feeling like there were eyes burning into your skin.

You stayed there for what felt like hours, listening for any movement that might give their position away. Slowly relaxing, you shook yourself. Silly, you scolded, just because Geralt said there was a sorcerer out there doesn’t mean you are always in immediate danger.

Taking off again, you wandered through the forest, watching the birds fly high above you. The urge to snap and pounce at them crept up on you, forcing you up the base of a tree into its branches.

You explored for what felt like hours, climbing trees, crawling through the underbrush, chasing rodents. The sun was below the horizon and the moon just peaking over the treeline when you finally trotted back to your house. You shifted back before locking your door and heading to your bathroom, stripping down to wash yourself.

You flopped into bed, exhausted from everything that had happened that day. You were still unsure, but your mind was quieter now, letting you succumb to sleep quickly.

**~*~*~*~**

A shadowy figure looked furtively over its shoulder as it slipped into a dark alleyway. A glowing circle appeared in the air, before another form stepped out. “She’s one of them.”

A small bag changed hands, a clinking sound ringing through the air as the second figure stepped back through the portal, the first turning and heading back down the alleyway, glancing into the street before slipping away in the shadows.

**~*~*~*~**

The clearing was calm when Geralt rode in, stopping and dismounting from Roach before tying her to a tree. He could see Yennefer’s tent set up on the far side, with the remains of a campfire in the middle surrounded by logs. It was there that he found Jaskier, sitting and quietly strumming his lute while singing softly to a mostly grown lion cub who was dozing on the ground next to him. Jaskier nodded to him as he passed, continuing to play the instrument in his hands. The lion lifted its head, blinking blearily at the man and yawning, revealing its sharp teeth. Geralt dropped a hand on its head and continued on his way, the lion putting its head back down and peering at Jaskier.

Approaching the tent, he ducked underneath the flap as he entered. He spotted Yennefer across the larger than normal space, striding towards her to join her at the table. She glanced up at him and greeted him with a tight, closed-lip smile before looking back down at the map in front of her. Geralt looked down, seeing the small ‘x’s laid out across the nation. He glared at the new batch closest to where they were staying.

“He got another three?” he rumbled, glancing over at the woman next to him. She nodded sharply. “We know he is still in the area though, they disappeared less than a fortnight ago.”

Geralt hummed, shifting his feet. “We need to find him; there have been too many deaths. Too many shapeshifters gone. It’s not safe for our people.”

Yennefer shot him a sharp glance, “You’ve never much cared to get involved before, Geralt, what changed your mind? Speaking of which, where have you been? You said you would be back yesterday.” 

He glared at her. “I was detained by an unexpected occurrence.”

“And what would that be? You don’t typically get laid up for that long.” At his silence, she sniffed the air, her eyes widening at the smell. “Were you injured, Geralt? I can smell herbs and insectoid oil.”

Geralt caught her hands as she went to look him over for injuries, “I was injured, Yenn, but not anymore. I met another shapeshifter, a healer. She treated me, I’m fine now.” She pulled her hands back, satisfied with that answer.

“Where is she?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where is she?” Yennefer repeated, “It’s not like you to leave lone shapeshifters by themselves. You normally take them back to our community.”

Geralt stared hard at her, “Who said anything about a lone shapeshifter?

“You said her, not them. Normally you say the pack took you in. So again I ask, where is she? Especially with this sorcerer running around, it  is dangerous for our kind to be out on their own.” Yennefer ran her fingers over the map absently as she continued to look at Geralt, waiting for an answer.

Tense, Geralt turned away from her, looking back at the map on the table. “she wasn’t sure if she wanted to leave or not. I’m going to return in a few days to get her answer.

Sensing that this mystery woman was a touchy subject for the witcher, Yennefer changed the subject as she shared what new information she had discovered. “All of his kills have radiated out from this spot,” she tapped a spot near where they were camped. “I think that this is where he must be basing his research. Tomorrow we should pack up and head that way, see if we can find anything there.”

Geralt hummed his agreement before turning and stalking out of the tent, heading back to where Roach was to unsaddle her and get settled for the night.

**~*~*~*~**

A dark castle, terror, running through the forest. You had to get away, he was going to kill you. Geralt! Help me! A wolf’s golden eyes staring at you before turning and walking away, followed by a lion. A raven, swooping through the air.  Torches, pitchforks, an angry crowd yelling as you desperately scrambled away. You couldn’t breathe. Please, someone! Help!

Pain

Burning

Fear

You woke with a violent start, shooting up to a sitting position, gasping for air. The dreams were back again, you had had them two nights in a row now, ever since Geralt had left. You sat there, trying to control your breathing. As it slowed, you glanced outside. The sun was high in the sky now; you had slept late, past noon.

Shaking yourself, you emerged from your cocoon of blankets, dressing yourself and heading for the kitchen to eat a late lunch. As you finished and were cleaning the dishes, you became aware of footsteps approaching your door. Drying your hands, you set your cloth to the side and headed to the door, hearing your visitor knock on your way there.

Opening the door, you were greeted with the sight of your friend Kiala. You grinned at her before your face fell at her expression. “Is everything ok? Am I needed in the village?”

Her eyes quickly searched the yard before she turned to you, face pinched, mouth set in a hard line. “Y/N, can I come in?”

“Of course,” you stepped back from the entranceway to let her into your house, sweeping the trees around your house for anything out of the ordinary before closing the door. You led her to the couch where you both sat.

“What is it, Kiala? What has happened?” She burst into tears. Startled, you reached for her hands, drawing them into your lap. “What is it? What is wrong? Is someone hurt? Kiala, please, speak to me.”

“They are coming to kill you,” she sobbed. You froze at her words, “Vissen saw you in the forest. He said you were a witch, that you had magical powers and have enslaved the town. That you could turn into a great beast, he saw you kill animals in the forest. They are coming to drive you out or kill you, I didn’t wait to hear what they decided.”

Betrayal. 

Fear.

Kiala continued babbling, unaware of your reaction. “You’re not a witch, are you? You’ve been in this town since you were a little girl! You were there when I gave birth, how could they think this? Tell me it's not true, tell me they’ve lost their minds.”

Your thoughts whirled, Geralt's words coming to mind. Somehow, secrets get out and people turn against us. I have seen it time and time again. Friends turn against you and drive you out, betraying you though you help them. His face had been sad when he spoke, as if he knew this would happen.

Kiala had fallen silent, noticing your distraction. She squeezed your hands gently, staring at your face. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t meet her gaze. “Not in the way that he has been describing it.” You felt her pull her hands away, the motion striking at your heart. You could smell something bitter in the air, slowly growing stronger the longer the two of you sat.

You lifted your head, eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t know, I swear.” Standing abruptly, you took two steps away from the couch, arms wrapped around your middle, shoulders hunched as if to ward off an incoming blow. You glanced at her, the tears starting to spill over.

Seeing your pain, Kiala reached a hand towards you, catching herself at the last second. “You didn’t know what?”

Turning slowly, you stared at a spot over Kiala’s head, refusing to meet her eyes. “I have the ability to heal, not just with potions. I only found out two days ago, when I came across an injured man in the forest. I didn’t know! I can’t use spells, cast curses, I can only heal! And I don’t even know how to use that power!” You didn’t mention your shapeshifting abilities, too afraid of what your friend would think.

Kiala stood from the couch, cautiously approaching you. When you didn’t move, she wrapped her arms around you, bringing your head to rest on her shoulder. You burst into tears, gripping her shift in your hands, your whole body shuddering as you sobbed at the feeling of heartbreak and betrayal. She shushed you, swaying back and forth to soothe you as if you were a child.

As your breathing calmed, she pulled back to regard you. “What else is there?”

You stared at her, your expression shuttering so as not to reveal your emotions. She smiled gently, “Y/N, you are one of my oldest friends. That’s not everything. Vissen mentioned you turned into a beast as well. Now, I don’t know that I believe that, but it’s not just healing that you can do.”

Your grip on her clothes tightened as you put your head back on her shoulder, breath shuddering out of you as you tried to suppress another sob. “It's a fox.” You felt her shift beneath you but she didn’t say anything at your words. “I have the ability to shapeshift, but I change into a fox, not a beast! And I wouldn’t hurt anyone, I haven’t killed anything! I would never, I’m a healer! I help preserve life, not take it!”

Again, you burst into tears. Kiala’s hand came up to rest in your hair as she walked the two of you backwards to sit back down on your couch. She held you as you cried, comforting you, providing silent support.

Cried out, you slowly released yourself from her embrace, looking up to meet her eyes with a sad smile. “They won’t believe me, will they?”

Kiala hesitated, before shaking her head. “I don’t know, love. Vissen has whipped them all into a frenzy. They are coming tonight; to do what, I don’t know.”

“Then I have to leave.” You looked around the room in sadness. You loved your little home, it was all you needed in life. You had grown up in this home, helped your first patient here. Your parents had built this house when they first arrived at the village. You could feel your heart shattering at the prospect of leaving it behind.

“Where will you go?” Kiala’s voice broke through your reverie. A moment of panic rushed through you at the thought of having nowhere to go. You could come with me, Geralt’s voice spoke in your head.

“You remember how I told you about healing a man and that’s how I discovered my magic?” At her nod, you continued. “He is one of my kind as well, another shapeshifter. He offered for me to run with him. I think I will go find him.”

“But how will you know where he is?” As she voiced this thought, you faltered. How would you find him?

“He said he would come back for me in a few days. I will hide in the forest until he gets here.” As you spoke, a sense of sureness filled you, comforting you that the decision you were making was the right one. You glanced out the window; the sun was setting. You needed to get going quickly if they were coming to your house tonight.

Kiala seemed to sense your unease, offering you a sad smile as she stood, pulling you up and into a hug. “Be careful,” she whispered in your ear, “I will try and delay them as long as I can.

You drew back, grabbing your friend’s upper arms in panic. “No! You mustn’t do that, they will only think you are in league with me. I will be fine. But go now, before anyone sees you visiting me.” You drew her back in for another embrace, both of you crying into each other’s shoulders at the prospect of separating. Finally, you drew back and ushered her out your door, wishing her a safe journey home.

After locking your door you stood in the middle of the room, feeling waves of emotions wash over you. Betrayal, panic, heartbreak were just some of the feelings whirling through you. You collapsed to your knees, letting out a scream before breaking down into sobs.

**~*~*~*~**

“There’s a beast in our village! It has been living amongst us, feeding off of us. How are we to know it hasn’t already enslaved us, forced us to do its bidding?”

Vissen paced in front of the crowd of villagers, a torch grasped in his hand. The villagers in front of him murmured, shifting amongst themselves, some gripping various makeshift weapons.

“It's probably replaced our children with it’s own demonic offspring! A beast like that knows nothing other than slaughtering and fighting. I saw it with my own two eyes! It was running through the forest, killing animals left and right! How long until it comes for our livestock? Our homes? We have to drive it out now, before it can do any more damage! Before it can get to our children!”

At this, the villagers started yelling, catcalling, “Kill the beast!” “It can’t stay here!” “We need to protect our children!”

Vissen jumped up onto a nearby cart, lifting his torch high. “To the forest! We'll kill it tonight!” he roared, turning and leading the way up the road to your house.

**~*~*~*~**

You had been packing the last of your things when you heard shouting outside of your house, coming up the path to your gate. You steeled yourself, preparing to try to reason with the people one last time. These were your friends, your family, you couldn’t believe that they had turned on you so quickly. 

Opening the door gently, you stepped outside before blanching at the crowd - no, mob - that stood outside your gate. Upon seeing you, they all froze in place. You stared at them, at the weapons in their hands, and felt your heart break a little more. Kiala is right, they have turned on me. 

There was a commotion in the crowd before Vissen pushed himself to the front. He spat on the ground by your yard, “Well, bitch? What have you to say for yourself?”

Shocked at his words, you recoiled into yourself. “What have I ever done, Vissen? Any of you, why are you doing this? What do you believe that you come with your torches and your swords?”

 The crowd shuffled, falling silent before a shout came from the back.

“You’re a witch! You’ve enslaved our children!”

A chorus of agreement followed those words.

“You’re a beast, you’ll kill us all in our sleep!”

You frantically looked around, searching for a friendly face, for someone that you knew who might be able to help you. You found none, only seeing the smirk on Vissen’s face that slowly grew as the crowd got louder.

You never saw who threw the first rock, but you instinctively ducked out of the way, hearing the window next to you smash. The crowd surged forward as you turned to run, darting for the back of your house to try to escape into the forest.

You didn’t make it three steps before you felt a rock strike you between your shoulder blades, forcing a cry from your throat as you stumbled and fell to the ground. Immediately the mob was on you, hands pulling your hair, striking your arms, shouting curses at you.

Heart beating fast, you curled into a ball as you tucked your arms above your head to try to protect yourself. Tears streaming down your face, you again cried out as you felt a foot connect with your ribs.

The pain forced you deep within yourself, reaching blindly for that warm well of power, it calling and reaching back to you. You dove into it, coating yourself in a feeling of comfort as a wave of warmth surged over you.

When you opened your eyes, the villagers had drawn back from you, the moment of silence broken when Vissen stepped forward.

“See? I told you, she turns into a beast!” he howled, bending down to pick up another rock, slinging at you as he straightened. You whimpered, dancing to the side to avoid the projectile before turning and racing for the woods as you heard the mob come to life behind you.

You could hear the villagers calling for someone to grab you, to hurt you, to kill you. You could feel your heart breaking in your chest, betrayal washing over you, but you forced yourself to continue running, ignoring the pain from where you had been struck.

You dashed through the underbrush, finding a tree with lower branches, digging your claws into the bark, racing up the trunk and onto a branch. Hearing the mob searching through the forest, you lowered yourself to your belly, creeping along the branch to where it passed another one, leading to a taller tree. You crawled over to the junction of a branch and the trunk, just big enough to hold your body.

You collapsed into the space, curling your tail tight around yourself with your ears pressed against your head, shaking as you could hear the villagers running through the trees and shouting to each other.

Finally safe, you allowed yourself to break, the feeling of heartbreak and betrayal washing over you. Geralt was right, they never would have accepted me as I am. They turned so fast, didn’t listen to a word I had to say. Me, who birthed their children, cared for them when they were sick. Me, someone who did all I could to help them and heal them when they were in pain.

The exhaustion finally beat the fear, pulling your mind beneath its blanket of darkness as you fell unconscious, finally succumbing to the pain of your various injuries.

**~*~*~*~**

You lay there until the stars were high in the night sky. Heaving yourself into a sitting position, you forced yourself to take stock of your situation. You needed to return to your house to gather what you could. You crept closer to the trunk, slowly descending as you listened for any sign that the mob was still near before taking off towards your home, staying low in the underbrush to avoid detection.

Reaching your house, you shifted back to your human form, staggering at the change, still not used to the difference between forms. Going into your room, you changed out of your dress into a pair of trousers and a tunic that you normally wore for travelling. 

Gathering your most essential belongings you dropped them on your couch before going in search of a bag. As you packed, you glanced at the dagger that Geralt had given to you before strapping it to your waist. You froze at the sound of a door creaking, slowly dragging the dagger from the sheathy you had just placed at your side.

You felt a cloth cover your mouth as a strong arm went around your waist, a bitter smell overcoming your sense. You struggled, kicking at the body behind you as you tried to bite the hand covering your mouth. You reached down into yourself, racing towards that well of power, almost reaching it before you felt your body falling as the world went dark.

**~*~*~*~**

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[dragonanddirewolf]

Future

At dawn, silence embraced Winterfell.

Jon walked the great hall. Embers still flickered in the fireplace, and horns greased with mead laid strewn across the tables, reminding him that the night’s events did unfold. Soldiers did cry. Ladies did cheer. It was not his imagination - the war for the North was won.

Yet, as the hall now stretched before him devoid of people, the emptiness between the cold stone walls seemed to grab him tighter than winter itself managed. This did not feel like a place for a feast, he thought, rather a mausoleum.

War kills men, that was no secret. Jon grew up with tales of conquerors, and no one conquers without bloodshed, that he knew. But this had not been a battle. It had been a slaughter. Worse, he thought, as he fixed his gaze on the oak doors ahead of him, his pace quickening. Worse, he never even knew the names of most who fell in the field. They were strangers, fighting on strange lands for strange families whose banners meant nothing to them.

The quicker he walked, the more he felt the walls close in on him. As if invisible hands stretched from them, the spirits of those left behind, their fingers closing tightly around his throat and hands and ankles, dragging him backwards. Demanding a feast of their own.

Then, sunlight - Jon pushed the doors open and stepped outside. The bright light blinded him and he closed his eyes to the breeze, the cold on his cheeks. As he breathed in, his head seemed to clear, and he finally allowed a faint smile at the brightening sky.

“I gather you couldn’t sleep either,” Daenerys spoke.

Jon lowered his gaze to find her standing in the courtyard. “Your Grace,” he greeted, which earned him a slight smile. “I didn’t expect to find anyone awake at this hour.”

“Do you not rise with the sun in the North?” she asked.

“Forgive me, I cannot tell if you mean to tease.”

“Perhaps that’s exactly how I wanted it,” Daenerys replied.

Dressed in black, she perfectly contrasted the snow. Her silver hair framed her pale face, cascading in braids down across her shoulders, leading his gaze to the slight glimmer in between her locks. As he joined her side, his eyes narrowed, trying to pinpoint the source of the sparkle, until Daenerys silently held up a lock for him to inspect.

There, a silver bell nested.

“Dothraki custom,” she explained. “A bell for a victory.”

“It suits you,” he said, feeling dumb the moment the words left his lips, but she smiled gracefully.

“I know to most I am some foreigner bringing chaos, but I know my past, and I respect tradition.”

“Some may say your tradition is the exact chaos they fear,” Jon spoke as they started to walk the courtyard. Their steps were slow, he noted. Almost as if time no longer existed. There was no hurry.

“Tell me, my Lord, should a Northern man find himself in Vaes Dothrak, would you call it chaos if he asked to keep his blade? Tradition to one is a source of humour to another. But to liken it with chaos? That’s deceptive.” Daenerys let her lock fall, the silver bell once again disappearing to nothing but a glimmer in the morning light.

Like a star, Jon thought, caught up in her hair, unable to disappear in the sky.

“You could not sleep,” Daenerys returned to her earlier question.

Jon watched his hands. He had left his gloves inside, so he could feel the cold creep across his skin, bite at his knuckles, redden his fingertips. He clenched his hands to fists and then opened them again, catching a lonely flake of snow. “I think too much.”

“Some men think too little. I find that is a greater issue.”

“I fear-” Jon took in a deep breath as he watched the flake melt in the heat from his palm, “that I might have led us astray. ”

Daenerys was watching him with care. He didn’t have to look at her to know that those glimmering, violet eyes were following his every move.

He tried to twist his face into a neutral position. “I mean,” he continued as she did not speak, “you should not be here.”

“You asked me earlier if I was teasing,” Daenerys said. “Now, I must ask you - how should I take your words?”

“Forgive me,” Jon said. It seemed it was all he did these days - beg forgiveness. From his sisters, from his friends, now from Daenerys. “I meant no offence. The war, this was a war of the North. I realise that we could not have won without you, without your army. But it was not your war to win.”

Daenerys let out a sigh. “A perfect world would have no wars.”

“I thought that myself, but I don’t think such a world exists.”

“Only because some men think too little,” she replied and offered him her hand.

Jon watched it, then her. Her face too, he noted, had been laid in perfectly neutral folds. It unnerved him. He did not want to play games. So he took her hand, closed his fingers around hers, and turned to face her.

“My Grace,” he spoke as they stopped. They had reached the main gate. Behind them were the safety of Winterfell and its sleeping occupants. Before them, the great vastness of slowly melting ice. “My Grace, I grew up with a sword. I dreamt of battles since I could walk. I have always wanted to lead men to honour. Not death - honour, and glory. I believe in fighting for what is right. War is inevitable.”

“War is a tool,” Daenerys retorted. She too closed her fingers around his, squeezing them so tight he could no longer feel the cold. “A tool that should be used for the greater good. So that when my war ends, peace begins. So that when your sisters have children, those children will not know of war as anything but stories.” She reached up and touched his cheek, and he felt his eyes close and lips quiver lightly. He could not help but to lean in to her touch. “Stories inspire us to become their heroes. I want new stories. Stories of glory and honour, yes, but not death.”

“You speak well,” Jon whispered and smiled.

“I will tell you this, my Lord,” Daenerys said and stepped close.

With his eyes still closed, Jon could feel her heat, the roughness of her dress, her breath caressing his skin as she spoke: “I used to love red. I have dreamt of going home, and home to me had a red door. For years, I remembered the red door of my childhood. I thought of it and I felt peace.”

Jon blinked his eyes open, expecting to see a dreamy smile on her face, but instead he was met with eyes dark with sadness. It froze him in place. He could not even try to speak.

“But last night, as I laid in bed alone, I tried to imagine the door. But I found no peace. Instead, I saw the red drag down the sides of the wood and colour the streets, dripping like the blood of my khalasar.” Tears slipped from her eyes. They started running down her cheeks, and Jon wanted so badly to wipe them away. “In the end, my door had melted, and behind it was nothing. That is the story I shall carry. But it shall not be the story of the future.”

Jon slowly grabbed Daenerys hand and led it from his cheek to his lips. He pressed a kiss to each of her knuckles before holding it tightly to his chest.

“If that is the future you will build,” Jon said, “that is a future I want to be part of.”

Daenerys smiled through her tears, and she allowed Jon to wrap his arms around her and drag her closer. As close as they could be, sheltering each other from the cold of the vastland ahead of them.

“Good men are gone,” Jon said, “but a great woman still stands.”

“So let it be,” Daenerys said, “one last war. Then no more.”

As he kissed her forehead, her nose and then her lips, Jon silently mouthed:

“Then no more. Just us.”

[shegoesbyarose]

𝚁𝚄𝙽 ⟨⟨𝐒.𝐑.⟩⟩

warnings: angst, strong suicidal themes | words: twoK | pairing: au billionaire steve rogers x black!oc //not proofread//

The crisp leaves crunched under the bottom of his $300 sneakers, various colors obliterated with each heavy footstep of the 6’2” 240lb CEO. Equally expensive headphones that he’d received in a gift bag at a party thrown by Harold Steinbrenner a few years back, filled his ears with a playlist off Spotify that claimed to be calming.

Bullshit.

Almost 45 minutes into his walk and he still felt the same amount of anxiety that plagued him as soon as he stepped foot out of his gated home.

Striking, blue eyes focused on the sidewalk that he walked on as he made a mental note of his surroundings, realizing that he’d once again passed that old tree that simply refused to die for the sixth time. Or maybe the 7th. He’d maybe, just maybe, lost count.

It ranked rather low on the list of things that consumed the young billionaire’s mind these days.

Steve Rogers continued to walk, momentarily thinking about pulling his phone out of his pocket but eventually deciding against it as he knew it would prematurely end his walk. He’d placed it on Do Not Disturb for a reason.

Reaching an intersection, Steve opted to deviate from his typical path by taking a shortcut through a small wooded area, increasing the number of leaves and greenery he smothered in the midst of his walk.

After exiting the grassy area, he stepped back onto the sidewalk, making a couple hundred steps when he reached an old bridge that dwellers of the small but affluent town rarely used anymore given a newly constructed bridge not even a mile away.

However, the forgotten bridge wasn’t what captured the majority of his attention, it was the person on the bridge that stopped him, the first thing to interrupt his continuous movement.

A body, hunched over slightly, sat on the old, rusted railing of the bridge that was a good hundred feet over a manmade lake. For a second, he contemplated continuing to walk, moving past the person without so much as a small hello.

And then he looked closer. He saw how suspiciously close the person was to the edge of the railing, their body leaning closer to the water that streamed below as opposed to the cushion of the sidewalk.

He didn’t want to believe what his gut was telling him. He really didn’t, but the moment his feet brought him close enough for the person to realize that they weren’t alone, and cloudy brown eyes met his blue ones…..he just knew.

It was a woman, Steve immediately noticing the dampness and redness around her eye area, the quivering of her full lip, the sounds of her sniffles, and the way her right hand immediately lifted from the metal to rest on her stomach.

“What do you want?”

Steve’s eyes moved to the sway of her legs, the movement indicating that she was readying to jump.

And not onto the sidewalk.

“Hey.” He instinctively lifted his hands in a surrender gesture. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I wouldn’t feel it anyway.”

He wasn’t sure why, but the quiet chuckle that proceeded her reply….it made him wince. Still, he continued as he realized his initial guess was most definitely accurate.

He eyed her closely, noticing that her right hand remained planted on her abdomen. “What’s your name?”

Her head turned back to the water. “It doesn’t matter.”

He swallowed, trying his hardest not to expose how unnerved he was by this whole thing. He’d gone out for a walk to clear his head and had somehow walked onto a potential, harrowing tragedy.

“Sure it do-“

“13.”

“Excuse me?”

She lifted her chin, her eyes closing in slightly. “13 people have walked by me since I got up here.” She looked back at him, a fresh set of tears rolling down her face. “You’re the first to approach me.”

He frowned. “Good thing I did.”

She laughed softly, and Steve had never in his life heard such an ironic contradiction. There was nothing even remotely comical about her laugh or even the acrid smile that graced her face.

“It doesn’t make a difference.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Again, she looked over at him, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Please, just….go away.”

Taking a determined breath, he also managed to inch closer to her, stopping when he saw her eyes dart to his shoes. “I can’t do that.” As she rolled her light brown eyes, Steve was allowed a better view of the stranger. He took in the large jacket that covered her upper body, seeing that it was unzipped and finally realizing why she hadn’t moved her right hand.

“You’re pregnant…..”

Again, a laugh. “Just when you thought I couldn’t get any more selfish, huh?” Steve vehemently shook his head and prepared to object when she continued. “You can save your judgment. I’ve heard it all already.”

“Why would I judge you?” He asked quietly, not thinking about his next statement until it left his mouth. “I don’t even know your name.”

“When has that ever stopped anyone?” She posed the question in a way that alluded to it being rhetorical. Still, he responded.

“When has that ever made it right?”

“Seldom few things are right,” she quietly countered. “My life included.”

“You don’t-“

“Would you just leave me alone, please!” She snapped, raising her voice until it cracked and she looked away.  “I just want to be alone.”

He remained unmoving. “No one wants to be alone.”

“No, they don’t, but no one ever notices until it’s too late,” she barked back bitterly, Steve recognizing that he was venturing into the fragile territory. “Everyone always talks about how they lit up a room as soon as they walked in it, but no one ever talks about when that light starts to flicker when it’s about to go out.” A beat. “Until it’s too late.”

“That doesn’t make that right either,” he gently responded, inching forward ever so slightly when he noticed her move away, still, her hand not moving. “But you know that, don’t you…..”

“Why should I give you something when you’ve given me nothing?”

For some reason, he felt like her question had more than one meaning and multiple recipients.

“Steve,” he supplied. “Steve Rogers.”

She was quiet, eying him over warily. “You look like a Steve.” She cut her eyes, avoiding his intense gaze. “Brooklynn.” He stilled and bit back a smile, something she noticed. “What?”

“That’s where I’m from.”

She continued to watch him with skepticism. “How did you end up here?”

Steve was thoroughly surprised that she seemed genuinely unaware as to just who he was, and that was something that he actually enjoyed. Everywhere he went, he was met with the smiles and often faux friendliness people who only saw a potential investor instead of, well, a person.

Brooklynn clenched her jaw and turned away. “Please, just go.”

“You asked me a question.”

“And now I’m asking you to leave.”

He didn’t even flinch. “I can’t do that.”

“God.” Her eyes shut as she tilted her head back, Steve watching as she foolishly tried to hold back her tears. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been involved in something so important in my entire life.”

He noticed the pause before she spoke. “There’s nothing important about me.”

“I don’t believe that eit-“

“Why do you think I’m here!” She shouted, eyes narrowing and jaw trembling from the strain of trying to hold it all together. Physically and emotionally. “I have nothing to offer the world! I am nothing! I’m doing everyone a favor!” She looked down at her stomach, her hand moving in slow, circular motions. “Especially her.”

He focused in on the only positive part of her decree. “It’s a girl?” She said nothing. “I bet she’ll have your eyes.”

“You know what she will have?” Again, her gaze returned to the water. “Peace.” She sniffled and tearfully delivered. “That’s the only good thing I have to give her.”

“No, no.” Steve shook his head and wondered why he hadn’t pulled his phone out to call 911 even though something told him doing so would only cause her to finish what she’d come there for. “There’s so much you have to give her, Brooklynn. To give to the world. To give to yourself.”

“Oh, really?” She snapped, once again raising her voice with piqued rage and pain. “I have no money! I lost my job! I was evicted because I couldn’t afford my rent! My mother wants nothing to do with me because of my baby even though it was her husband who did this to me! And I-“ She broke down in a sob when she brought her left hand to her face. It was a bit of a blur after that, but next thing Steve knew, he had her in his arms, tugging and securing her into his embrace.

“Let me go! Get off me!” She screamed, legs flailing as he pulled her off the railing forcing her to stand before her legs started to give, forcing her down, Steve going with her. “Get off of me!” She continued to fight him as Steve managed to subdue her with one arm while reaching for his phone to make the call.

“Yes. I need an ambulance—“

“No! She screamed with more emotion than rage as Steve continued his request and a brief description, recognizing when her hits started to let up, the anger in her voice also dying down. “No, no, no,” Steve’s responses to the dispatcher stopped as he paid closer attention to the way she sobbed into his chest.

Though he’d never been in such a position, basic humanity drove him as he tightened his embrace around her, whispering encouraging words into her ear while wondering just what exactly he’d just involved himself in.

———

Steve stood outside the hospital room, his eyes focused on the sleeping woman whose wrist was bound as she slept peacefully despite the chaos that had proceeded her visit. He hadn’t let her out of his sights, sans when she was taken in the back for evaluation.

“When you said you needed time to yourself, this isn’t what exactly I pictured you doing.”

The CEO turned his head to look over at the man with a chart in his hand, arms crossed, and a grim expression on his face.

“How is she?”

Thor sighed, the doctor joining his childhood friend as the two looked through the thick glass. Physically, fine. She and the baby are healthy. Again, physically.”

Hearing that both Brooklynn and her child were alright relieved him of a thin layer of his concern. “Tell me about her.”

Thor exhaled deeply. “You know, I can’t-“

“Thor.”

The blonde shook his head. If it were anyone else, he’d have called security, but this wasn’t just anyone. And Steve had in fact saved this woman’s life. “Brooklynn Dove Hawkins. 26. 4 months and two weeks pregnant. When we put her name in the system, an emergency contact popped up. It was her mother. We reached out.”

“And?”

Thor frowned. “Told us to remove her name from the list and to never call her again.

Steve froze. “Are you serious?” Thor nodded sadly. “No wonder she….” He stopped himself. “How long does she have to stay here?”

“Until I release her, which I won’t do until I am confident that she’s no longer a risk to herself or the child,” Thor responded firmly. Friend or no friend, he still had a duty and an oath to fulfill. “Steve—“

“She’s staying with me when she gets out.”

“What?” Thor’s eyes widened slightly. “Rogers, you don’t even know this woman-“

“And?” Steve countered. “She needs help, Thor.”

“Yes, extensive. Medical for the baby, psychological for herself-“

“Get me the best psychiatrist you know so we can get her an appointment. An OB-GYN too. What else-“

“Rogers—“

“And as soon as she can, I want her moved to a private room.”

Thor paused. “You’re serious about this.” The Norwegian native released another sigh. He didn’t know why he was so surprised. As long as he’d known Steve, the man was never able to turn away from someone in need. This, however, this woman was a total stranger, and yet his friend seemed determined to help her as much as he could.

“Steve....” He stepped closer to the businessman. “If this is about Sharon-”

As Brooklynn’s eyes started to flutter open, Steve slapped his friend on the arm, welcoming the interruption. “Get on it.”

Before Thor could reply, Steve entered the room and carefully approached Brooklynn’s bed.

Running his hands over his face, Thor ran his hands over his face and decided to give the two a few minutes before he went in there, walking down the hall to make a few calls. 

“Hi.”

Steve spoke quietly, watching how Brooklynn took a few seconds to look around the room, most likely taking time to take in her surroundings, the last few hours playing back in her head. 

“Great,” she whispered and bit her lip. “More bills I can’t afford.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he quickly dismissed. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Brooklynn chuckled bitterly and shook her head. “Yeah, right.”

He frowned. “I’m serious.”

Brooklynn looked over at him, studying his face, his eyes, the confused way that he was looking at her. “Why would you do that?”

Steve grew quiet and walked over to the seat near the hospital bed when he noticed that she tried to move away. Ignoring her resistance, he took a seat and clasped his hands together. “Listen.....Brooklynn.”

“You need help, and I can provide you with that help.”

“And in return?”

“Nothing,” he affirmed. “I-I have a pretty large house, 8,000 sq. ft.. My younger sister, Nat, she’s around your age, she stays with me. So does Peggy, a live-in maid-”

“You have a live-in maid?” Brooklynn interrupted. “What do you do?”

He chuckled. “Not much these days.” When she continued to eye him with confusion, he continued. “What I’m saying is that it wouldn’t just be you and me, there are other people in the house.” 

Her gaze softened. “What?”

“You can take the time you need to get on your feet and whatever else you need-”

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was quiet and soft, the softest Steve heard since they’d met in the strangest of circumstances. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to know you to want to help you.”

And for the face time that day, Steve saw the faintest hint of a smile on her face. “That’s not a very good reason.”

He shrugged and quipped a brow. “It’s been a long day.”

She mirrored his eyebrow quirk and motioned to her wrists to which he sheepishly muttered a quiet, “sorry.”

Brooklynn was quiet again, eyes focused on her stomach, her eyes watering as she whispered. “Are you serious?”

He nodded softly. “Yes.”

Again, a brief silence fell over the small hospital room, Steve wondering only for a brief second if he was making the right decision. He knew he was doing what he needed to do, what was right.

“Okay.”

His eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

She avoided his gaze and asked. “Your sister lives with you, yeah?”

He shook his head. “And Peggy.”

“The maid.”

“You catch on fast.”

Steve was warmed at the sight of her small smile when she spoke again. “Thank you......Steve.”

The billionaire nodded and dropped his head before matching her smile. “You’re welcome, Brooklynn.”

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Limerence [M] ︳02

Pairing: Zuko x OC

Genre: Romance, mainly fluff with future smut, and if you squint hard enough - you’ll find some angst.

Rating: SFW

Words: 4300+ (Chapters will be longer as we go along - trust me).

Notes: As noted before - I plan on re-writing chapters one and two in the future (or after I’m done writing the series), the content will be the same, just written ‘better’. Thanks for the likes and reposts my awesome buns <3

Masterlist ︳01 ︳ 03

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

Limerence: (English/n.) the state of being infatuated with another person.

The moment their eyes locked they knew - the flames within him twisted while the water within her turned. It was a connection, a connection that would lead to love, adventure, and drama.

Cheiloproclitic

(English/adj.) Being attracted to a person’s lips.

~ Fire Lord Zuko ~

            “Smile - it's the key to unlocking people’s hearts, Zuko.” Uncle Iroh said with a great smile on his face, his hands placed in front of him. I looked at him and scoffed, “What hearts do you think I'll be unlocking during my visit Uncle?”

            We stood at the edge of the pier. It was early in the morning, the sun starting to rise and cast a vibrant range of reds and yellows along the water. Everyone was set to depart for our journey to the Southern Water Tribe, well, expect me.

            I stood on the dock with Uncle Iroh as the guards and servants stood off to the side, waiting at the ramp for my departure. Uncle Iroh chuckled, shaking his head at my refusal to 'unlock people's hearts'. “It’s an old saying I heard long ago, but I have good feelings about this trip. I feel like you’ll return as a different man.” A tiny smile flickered across my lips as I crossed my arms across my chest, “That’s the point, a nice vacation. Spend some time with old friends.”

            I was genuinely excited about the trip but also apprehensive.

            The notion of leaving the kingdom for a bit was not unnerving to me; I was leaving the Nation in good hands. Instead, it has been a while since I could relax, and I wondered if I could even handle such a simple task anymore. Suddenly political meetings seemed more straightforward than kicking back and letting the sun soak in my skin…or cold in this case.

             “You left the Nation in good hands, and maybe when you come back I'll have a new holiday set in place, Oolong Tea Appreciation Day…” Uncle Iroh mused.

            I let out a sigh, “Something tells me you aren’t joking…”

            Uncle Iroh must have heard as he let out a hearty laugh, his hand falling upon my shoulder. My eyes widen, completely caught off guard. The sudden contact was foreign, and for split second, I found myself as stiff as a board. I never realized how isolating being Fire Lord was until moments like these, moments of affection. Uncle Iroh noticed, his playfulness disappearing, a look of sympathy erupting as he gave my shoulder a soft squeeze, “I'm proud of you Zuko. Now go and enjoy yourself…”

            Without thinking twice, I reached over and hugged him, something I haven’t done in a while. I could feel the smile Uncle Iroh held as he hugged me back instantly. Not a single word was spoken between us as the hug itself spoke plenty already.

            Slowly we parted, and with that I walked towards the ship, ready for my long voyage. Standing at the ramp, I turned around one last time, Uncle Iroh waving gleefully.

            “Fire Lord Zuko, permission to depart?” A guard spoke from behind me.

            I waved to Uncle Iroh, bidding him my final farewell, before I noticed a figure standing off in the distance, near the main gates. Long black hair, half buns, red robes that were too long…Mai. My shoulders tensed as I could feel her piercing glare from inside the ship. My waving hand dropped to my side once again, my lips pressing together tightly, forming a thin line on my face. The last time we spoke was our argument.

            “Permission granted,”

            The guard huffed, beginning to raise the ramp. Although the ramp raised speedily, it didn’t seem fast enough - feeling the lingering glare from Mai.

            “Fire Lord Zuko, may I offer you some tea?”

            I turned around to see a petite maid standing next to me. My forehead scrunched up; she seemed familiar as if I had just seen her… “You were the maid who offered me tea in my office after Countess Mai left, correct?”

            Her eyes widen, most likely amazed I remembered her. “Yes, Fire Lord Zuko.” She stuttered out. I couldn’t exactly be upset at her evident shock. There were many servants present at the kingdom; it was at times difficult to remember faces let alone names. But unlike my infamous father, I did treat my servants with some respect and insured they were given a safe place to rest for themselves and their families. I couldn’t stop the cold shiver that ran up my spine remembering how cruel Fire Lord Ozai and my lovely sister, Azula, were to them.

            “What’s your name?”

            “Lia, Fire Lord Zuko.”

            “Are you new?” I asked.

            “Yes, Fire Lord Zuko…that day I offered you tea was my first day…” She softly spoke. I was stunned; she’s pretty courageous to offer me tea on her first day. “I see…” I muttered, but the wheels in my head were turning. Lia was nice, offered and gave me some amazing tea, and she didn’t seem like such a traditional maid. She may be my ticket to relaxation…“How would you like to be my personal maid during my stay at the Southern Water Tribe?”

            Lia looked taken aback by request. It was a bold request, and a considerable jump given her current position. But she seemed like the type who wouldn’t follow my every damn move during my vacation, something the more senior servants would do. I could actually relax, let loose, not worry if someone is watching me from the sidelines. 

            “I would love too, Fire Lord Zuko. But I would need to get it approved by the head-”

            “When you grab my tea, tea of your choice, bring it to my study with any paperwork that I would need to fill out,” I spoke quickly. Lia nodded her head, looking rattled as she nervously patted her hands against her dress, “Yes Fire Lord Zuko, I will leave to get everything set.” I nodded, “Thank you, Lia.” I turned around – Lia standing there alone in shock, couldn’t blame her. She went from a simple tea maid to Fire Lord`s personal maid in seconds; all because she makes some great tea.

            I let out a huff as I began walking to my office, ready to start reviewing Earth Nation paperwork regarding the United Republic of Nations. My hand anxiously ran through my hair; I couldn’t possibly have that much work left to complete…Two guards opened the large metal doors to my study as I walked in, documents and papers already stacked up on the wooden desk at the center of the room. I groaned, annoyed. These piles never seem to fucking disappear. Maybe I could just ‘accidentally’ burn a pile or two…

            I plopped myself upon my chair, defeated. This is why I needed a vacation – time to myself. Time to just relax and not spend hours on end scribbling my damn signature. Another week and half of sailing Zuko. That’s it, then you can relax. I reached in my study drawer to grab ink and pens, but a canvas stopped my movements, preventing me from grabbing my tools.

            It was a small painting, primarily painted with different hues of blues and whites. I raised it and smiled softly; it was a family portrait of Katara, Sokka, Hakoda, and Aang. It was a gift Aang had brought to me during one of his visits, and I kept it in my office as a random souvenir. It was at last year’s Winter Solstice festival, but the more I let my eyes gaze around the painting, I couldn’t help but notice another figure standing beside Sokka…Ying Yue.

             I heard countless stories from Sokka and Aang about her.

            She was mixed ethnicity: Fire and Water Nation, and from what I grasped she was a bender. Probably a Firebender…only a Firebender would have golden eyes that shined as brightly as hers. But before I realized, I was staring at the painting longer than I had attended, wholly fixated on Ying Yue. She was beautiful; like Fire Nation royalty. Her long black hair cascaded well beyond her hips and she bore such an innocent smile that reached her eyes. The royal blues against her milky skin made her look like a delicate flower: a Hydrangea.

            I put the picture back in the drawer, ready to get to work. As curious as I was to know about this mysterious Ying Yue, I was smarter than to trust a painting when it came to her appearance. The painter could have easily made Ying Yue look like a goddess. But…what if she did look like that…

            ‘Smile - it's the key to unlocking people’s hearts, Zuko.’

             I shook my head and scoffed, “as if I'll be unlocking any hearts…”

            Day after day, I worked away on paperwork in this forsaken office. Days became nights after sailing so aimlessly, and soon, the days became nothing more but a blur. That was why when Lia woke me up and told me that we were due to arrive in another hour I was surprised.

            Everyone on the ship was vigorously preparing for anchoring. The guards and servants seemed eager to get off the boat, and I could empathize with them, it was beginning to get stuffy, and the thought of walking on land was something I was starting to miss. I'm beginning to understand Toph’s love for Earth.

            That led me to where I was now — standing tall and proud at the end of the ramp in my uniform. Guards and servants were dressed a tad bit more formal than usual, their heads up high as they carefully lined behind me, “Fire Lord Zuko, permission to drop ramp?” a guard shouted. I sucked in a deep breath, excited that the moment has finally come. On the other side of this door was my friends, and a break from my responsibilities.

            “Permission granted.”

            I could hear the masses from outside of the vessel, not surprised that my arrival had attracted a crowd. The last time I came here, I tried to capture the Avatar. I chuckled to myself and watched in a daze as the ramp lowered. A smile snuck its way upon my face as I began feeling the cold air entering into the ship, a strange feeling against my warm skin. The sunlight shined and illuminated the boat the further the ramp was dropped, and I could begin seeing crowds of people from either side of the ramp.

            With a final thud, the ramp dropped, and I was astonished at how different and modern everything has become since I last came. The landscape was unquestionably striking, the sun illuminating the endless fields of snow and ice and highlighting the magnificent structures that were built in place of the huts that once stood. But I quickly redirected my gaze to the small group of people eagerly awaiting in front of me.

            Team Avatar stood together, Hakoda and Aang standing at the front with large smiles as they watched me approach them. I beamed, my boots scrunching over the thin layer of snow as I eagerly walked forward. I could feel the heavy boots of my guards following suit, the feeling of snow melting on my skin feeling wonderful, I could get used to this. My gaze fell over everyone, but I caught myself slightly tripping over my feet when I spotted her.

            My breath hitched as I took in what I was seeing.

            She stood delicately beside Sokka as she wore a stunning red dress, a Fire Nation dress. The dress hugged her body like a glove - accentuating curves that could make any man or woman go mad with lust. Her black hair was tied up with well ornate Bu Yao, small pieces of hair loosely framing her face. Her skin glistened under the sunlight, reminding me of the pearls fishers find during their voyages. Despite the distance, I could still make out her soft, delicate features: golden eyes that could make a man stop dead in his tracks. That can’t be her…she’s gorgeous, beyond gorgeous.

            I quickly shifted my gaze elsewhere, awkward teenage Zuko starting to bubble out at the sight of a beautiful woman. You’re Fire Lord you dumbass, act like one. Entirely taken aback by her beauty, a beauty that was memorizing - tantalizing to the eye, I hadn’t noticed how close I was to the group. Aang’s facial hair had begun to grow in from the last time I saw him, but it had been some time since I last saw Hakoda. He had aged, a few wrinkles beginning to form around his eyes and lips, but he still stood tall, and it was clear he was in charge of everything.

            “Fire Lord Zuko, I hope the journey here was smooth?” Hakoda spoke, his hand outstretched before me, which I grabbed as we shook hands. “Hakoda- it was rather quick, faster than I realized,” He grinned, pleased to hear, “It’s great to have you here.” I moved over to Aang; his hands pressed together in front of his chest as he took a deep bow. I mimicked his movements and held my bow as long and as deep as his.

            “Someone fell in love…”

            The distinct sounds of hushed voices and some chuckles coming from behind Aang caught my attention, my ears perking up at the sounds. The laughs and whispers all too familiar, Toph and Sokka. I began to straighten out, letting my eyes wander to the left of me. Sokka and Toph were suppressing massive grins on their faces, and as if Toph had felt my gaze upon her she placed her hand over her heart, moving her hand up and down while pointing in front of her.

            I cocked a brow upwards, trying to understand what she was trying to hint at, looking at where she pointed. Why is she pointing at her? Her cheeks were flushed a bright red, seemingly flustered about something.

            No, it can’t be…

            I quickly faced Aang, “It's a pleasure to have you here Fire Lord Zuko.” Aang said, his voice sounding different from the frequent informal conversations we shared. I nodded, “Thank you for letting me stay,” I spoke as I gazed back at Hakoda. But from the corner of my eyes, I could still see Toph grinning madly, entertained about something. I moved to greet Katara, she smiled as she excitedly greeted me. 

            Is Toph trying to hint at what I think she is…?

            I moved onto Sokka as he gave me a quick bow before shaking my hand, “I’m happy to see you again Fire Lord Zuko.” He said with a smile. I smiled back but quickly raised a brow and eyed her. Sokka seemed to have gotten the hint because a devilish grin painted his face. He stood beside me, and before I knew it, I was standing directly in front of her, “Fire Lord Zuko, I would love to introduce to you my adopted sister, Ying Yue Jiang.”

            All of my assumptions were true; she was Ying Yue. As I looked at her up-close I realized that I was right, the painting indeed didn’t do justice regarding her appearance.

            The painter only captured what seemed to be a sliver of the beauty she held.

            Judging by the looks Toph gave me, and the way Sokka emphasized the word love, I think…I got it. She was totally checking me out, did she think I was attractive?

            Her golden eyes meet mine as she gave me a shy smile, “It's a pleasure to meet you Fire Lord Zuko.” Her voice was honeyed, so sweet; I found myself craving to hear it once more. But the faint blush that painted her cheeks didn’t disappear, instead intensified the longer I stood in front of her.

            A large coy smirk played along my lips, realizing how much fun I could have with a bit of teasing if I were right about her infatuation - which was not one-sided granted. Although a part of teenage Zuko awkwardness wanted to pop out again, another side wanted to have fun: to see how fun-to-tease she was as Sokka and Aang spoke about to me.

            Without thinking twice, I knew what I had to do.

            Before Ying Yue could process what was happening, I went down on one knee and gently grabbed her hand. Her skin was soft to the touch; not even the most exquisite silk could compare. Ever so slowly, I pecked her hand. I could feel her heartbeat beating erratically, and mouth slightly open ajar in shock as my fingers played along with her wrist. A proud grin erupting from me; she totally likes me.

            Slowly inching away, my lips still hovering over her hand I spoke, “The pleasure is all mine, Ying Yue Jiang.”

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

            The moment the main doors closed Sokka and Zuko exchanged a huge hug, “Oh man, I can’t believe you’re actually here!” Sokka exclaimed. Zuko grinned, “Trust me, you owe me one. The amount of paperwork I had to do to get here…I deserve a vacation.” Aang had his arm wrapped around Katara, who laughed ecstatically, “Zuko, it’s been so long! Who is watching the Fire Nation in your place? How is your mom and little Kiyi?” Katara spewed, throwing question after question.

            I stood back as the gang surrounded Zuko, flooding him with inquiries while I tried to gain my composure. He kissed my hand! My hand was still tingling, and I could still feel the heat from his soft pink lips. Not once during their stories did they tell me he was a tease, I knew he was sarcastic but not so…so…

            Sokka wrapped an arm around Zuko, completely ignoring the flooding array of questions Katara sprung towards him. “Hey Zuko, I have a bone to pick with you. What was up with that kiss?” Sokka said with a grin. Zuko smirked devilishly, making it hard to believe those lips were the same lips that were on my hand just a few moments ago. Zuko smugly shrugged his shoulders causing Sokka’s arm to slip off, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t kiss anyone.” He spoke confidently.

            I could feel someone suddenly grip my hand and raise it, “Maybe this is a reminder!” Toph shouted, a grin plastered upon her face. I blushed, why me? “That’s my sister you kissed!” Sokka shouted protectively. Zuko laughed, and before I could even bud-into the conversation, I could see Zuko slowly making his way towards me, “Sorry Ying Yue, I just had to make sure I gave a good first impression.”

            I crossed my arms and pouted, “A warning would have been nice…” I grumbled - still embarrassed by the events. Zuko grinned cheekily, stretching out his hand in front of me, “Hi, my name is Zuko, Fire Lord of the Fire Nation. A pleasure to meet you.” I was surprised, but soon realized what he was doing. With a smile, I grabbed his hand, “Hi Zuko, my name is Ying Yue Jiang, the adopted daughter of Hakoda.”

            With a tight squeeze, Zuko slowly let go, but I could still spot the hint of mischievousness twinkling in his eyes, “You don’t want to kiss my hand?” This asshole. My eyes widen, and without thinking twice, I smacked his arm - hard. Zuko yelped, surprised by my outburst, “You guys told me she was sweet, not abusive!” He shouted. I blushed, flustered by everything. I didn’t think he was going to tease me, let alone tease me as much as he did. “Serves you right!” I huffed.

            Aang laughed in the background, Suki speaking up, “Hey Sokka, don’t kids tease each other when they have a crush on each other?” This time it was Zuko’s turn to look stunned, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly, did he have a crush on me?

            “What does that mean?” I asked, “Does Fire Lord Zuko have a crush on me?” I teased out, mimicking the same tone he had. Zuko looked taken about at my outburst, and Toph gasped, “The Princess is fighting back!” I crossed my arms and was about to speak before a booming voice interrupted.

            “Lunch is almost ready! Ying Yue, do you mind showing Fire Lord Zuko his room to change? It's near yours and Sokka’s.” Dad spoke with a soft smile. I quickly nodded my head, “O-oh, of course...” I muttered under my breath.

            Dad nodded, waving his hands around and pointing the way to the dining hall, “The rest of you can make your way to the dining hall. I asked Kima to show Fire Lord Zuko’s maid, Lia I believe, the way to his room, so you should bump into them. Your items should already be inside the bedroom.” Zuko nodded, “Thank you so much Hakoda.” Dad smiled and waved us off before beginning to walk off to the dining hall.

            Zuko looked at me, suddenly raising his arm; I lifted at a brow at him. He couldn’t seriously be thinking…“Well Princess, are you going to show me the way or not?” He said as he cocked his head at his arm. I huffed and linked my arm grudgingly with his. Although the blush on my cheeks gave away my unspoken delight to connect arms with him, I could feel his muscles as we linked arms, don’t you dare start drooling Yue. I could hear Toph and Suki giggling like school girls as we walked off, me leading the way. Can they be any more embarrassing?

            It was not till we were out of sight Zuko finally spoke up, “I seriously do apologize if I took you off guard with the kiss on your hand. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable…” Zuko mumbled. I looked up at his face as he looked straight ahead, and I couldn’t help but notice how shy he was now that we were alone. I shook my head, “It's fine… Although I think Sokka may hurt you in your sleep, so keep an eye open tonight.” I said with a giggle.

            Zuko looked over at me and laughed. I could spot the twinkle in his eyes as he laughed, a cute dimple appearing ever so slightly if you looked carefully on the right of his face when he smiled. His smile was just spectacular; so sincere and always seemed to reach his eyes. Zuko gave me a searching look, and that was when I realized I was staring for a bit too long. I quickly looked in front of me and hoped he did not notice the faint blush reappearing, gosh my cheeks are going to be permanently flushed if this keeps up!

            “I think I can deal with a Sokka if it means getting to know you,” Zuko said gently. My eyes widen, did I hear right? I raised my brow at him, and he grinned, “I’m curious about you, I’ve heard many stories about you whenever they came to visit me.”

            “I guess that makes two of us; I was super curious to meet you,” I said back.

            “Hopefully I met your expectations,” Zuko said playfully – oh, he’s sly alright. But before I could respond, I noticed we were already in the bedroom hallway, “Oh-! That door over there is yours! Across from you is Sokka’s and my room is the door right beside yours.” I said enthusiastically as I began dragging him behind me. Zuko gasped, surprised at my strength, as I quickly pulled him. His door was slightly ajar, and I swiftly pushed the grand white doors to his room, revealing some of his luggage already set in place.

            “The rooms on this side of the house have a beautiful view of the sea. In the night you can see the Southern lights reflecting on the water, and it’s simply breathtaking.” I gushed.

            Zuko looked at me and smiled, letting me ramble on. “Sometimes during the night I sneak off to the edge of that cliff over there-” I spoke as I pointed through the floor to ceiling windows, “from there you can see the whole town light up! And the way the stars twinkle above, gosh. It’s just…stunning.” Zuko chuckled as he looked at me, “You have to take me there some time…” He said softly. I looked at him and noticed our position. We looked like lovers, linking arms as we looked out the windows.

            I couldn’t help but look at those pink pouty lips of his; his tongue running along his bottom lip. It took me a minute to realize that we were both looking at each other’s mouths, his head slowly moving down towards mine. My heart throbbed loudly in my ears, my hands getting clammy, oh my gosh, he is going to kiss me! What do I do?! Instinctively I closed my eyes, and I could feel his hot breath on my cheeks...and a gust of wind hit the side of my cheek, what the-

            I opened my eyes surprised, only to see Zuko grinning, “Sorry Princess, you had something on your face, had to blow it away.”

            My face heated up, I’m an absolute idiot. Before I could utter out a word, the sound of footsteps caught my attention. Kima waltzing in with another unfamiliar maid at that exact moment. “Miss, I didn’t expect to see you here- Fire Lord Zuko.” She quickly froze and gave a low bow. The young lady beside her did the same, wearing contrasting colours of red and gold. Kima stood up and gave me a confused look as I stood awkwardly, my arm still linked with Zuko’s.

            As if he could tell, Zuko leaned over once again in my ear and chuckled, “Oh Princess, you're too cute when teased.”

Copyright © 2019 Mystic-Kitten, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

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[forthelulzy]

Heaven By Violence: Chapter 6

When there's nowhere else to run Is there room for one more son One more son If you can hold on, if you can hold on Hold on — “All These Things That I've Done”, The Killers

To put it mildly, Dorian Pavus is up to his well-groomed mustache in it.

He knows. The Elder One knows by now that they ran, knows exactly who betrayed him. Well, never let it be said he is a coward. He was never on their side. Felix and Gereon Alexius are dead, having outlived their usefulness. There is nothing for him now but warning the Inquisition.

The south is bloody cold, but Dorian can’t feel it now. The horse’s sides are heaving; it will collapse any moment. He reaches down and presses his palm to the beast’s flesh. A burst of light and Haste takes hold; the horse whinnies in fright but keeps going, the snowy countryside turning into little more than a blur. Thank goodness there aren’t any trees nearby—

The horse drops out from under him and he’s flying, head over heels in a bundle of robes. He doesn’t have time to make a peep before he’s tumbling down, rocks jabbing into his sides. Tacere yelps somewhere, and the horse screams. It feels a frightfully long time before he hits the bottom of the hill. He lands in a pile of snow, at least. Small victories.

He stares up at the sky for a moment, the sky that now only contains traces of the Breach that has been there for months. Green clouds swirl around the area where the hole to the Fade used to be. The Herald — and her templars — closed the Breach an hour or two ago, while the two of them were running. Yes. He was running.

Tacere’s pointed face blocks out the sky above. Those amber eyes reflect any amount of light in the dark. They almost seem to glow now.

“Come on,” he hisses in his strong Orlesian accent, uncharacteristically grim. “Haven’s that way. We can make it ahead of the army if we get moving.”

Dorian takes the offered hand and the elf helps him up. The horse is to his left, all four legs broken and throat cut. The wound steams in the cold, but the beast is already dead. Tacere’s work.

His ankle twists unnaturally and he stumbles with a curse. He knows only enough healing to take the worst of the pain away, and he bites down hard on his lip as he follows Tacere into the darkness, heading towards the light in the distance. Haven must be celebrating the Herald’s victory. They won’t be for long.

***

“Why exactly are you here?” he had demanded the day he met Tacere in Redcliffe. The rogue had materialized one day in the tavern and acted like he’d always been there. It would fool most people but not Dorian, who had used the same trick himself when forced to interact with the locals. He avoided them in case Alexius caught on, but a few cases demanded it.

“Darling!” Tacere had said, and if he had a scarf he would have fluttered it in shock. “I am here for the same reasons you are. Mostly.”

Neither of them had been in Redcliffe for long, but already Dorian knew he would have to leave, warn the fledgling Inquisition. Word was the Herald of Andraste had ignored the mages’ plight and gone directly to the templars, who didn’t even want her help. But he felt it his duty to at least let her know about the Venatori and the Elder One behind them.

“Oh, really? And what might these other reasons be, hmm?”

Tacere had smirked, which then grew into a wide grin. “Oh, just looking for someone.” The words were innocent but the grin was not. “Why so suspicious, mon chéri? I could ask you why you’re here, but I won’t because I already know.” He winked and slipped away, fading into the shadows before Dorian could hunt him down and force him to explain what that meant. Now they are crashing through the forest (why is there suddenly a forest?), within fireball distance of Haven, and he still doesn’t know what Tacere wants. He would have thought murder or espionage, but he doesn’t want to suspect the elf of something he will probably be accused of as a ‘Vint’. Dorian can feel the army behind him, the impending doom. He loves dramatics, but this is ridiculous.

Tacere has broken through the treeline up ahead, and a moment later Dorian does as well, emerging onto a well-trod path. The elf looks back at him, then his eyes are drawn to something above Dorian’s head and the look on his face really doesn’t belong there, it just doesn’t—

“Run!” Tacere seizes him by the arm and then they are sprinting for the gates of Haven. A sprawling camp is set up outside, but everyone must be celebrating within the village. Or maybe not — a watch-bell rings somewhere, and shouts of alarm reach Dorian’s ears even through the blood pumping furiously to keep him at pace with Tacere. The elf is not injured, but he is shorter, and that is the only reason Dorian isn’t left behind in the snow.

They reach the gates and Dorian fully intends to ram into them, making a suitably dramatic entrance, but the doors hold tight and both of them bounce off, Dorian landing on his back — the slush seeps into his robes in an instant — and Tacere doing a rather impressive roll to pop up a few paces away.

He scrambles up, muttering a curse. “If someone could open these, I’d appreciate it!” There is no response from Haven, and he turns to stare at his rogue acquaintance. “Now wha—”

He’s talking to the Venatori sneaking up on him, apparently, and he squeaks and dives out of the way before the zealot’s sword comes down. He conjures a fireball; the Venatori drops without a sound but for the crackling of his burning clothes. Dorian grimaces — the smell — and looks for Tacere. Time for another plan.

The vanguard is upon them, and the elf is currently weaving around no less than six of them, dodging blows and sliding his daggers into flesh with wild abandon. Dorian could swear the little elf is laughing. He picks off the ones on the edges of the fight; though Tacere is in his element and doing just fine, and Dorian is a bit unnerved by the bloodthirsty way he teases the Venatori, he would be remiss not to try to help.

He doesn’t hear the doors open behind him, doesn’t realize the templars have come out to investigate until his magic cuts off and he is seized by a full-body spasm. He collapses, frothing at the mouth, and twitches as his vision fades and returns, fades and returns. Was that… a smite? He’s never been smited before — how dare they!

Gradually regaining control of his limbs, he pushes himself up, gets his face out of the slush and spits out pink-tinged foam. His whole body aches, like he’s run out his mana over and over for hours. His head spins, but at least they haven’t killed him yet. He can be grateful for that, if nothing else.

“Dorian? Dorian!” Tacere’s lilt echoes over the sudden silence, and then the elf is kneeling beside him. He’s drenched in blood, hands covered in the stuff reaching out to Dorian’s face, and the mage pulls away. Tacere drops his hands. “What the fuck did you do?” This is directed at whoever is standing behind Dorian, but the mage doesn’t turn to look. He’s having trouble keeping his stomach from crawling up through his mouth, thank you. At least he didn’t piss himself.

“Fletcher, help the townsfolk get to the Chantry. We will have words later,” growls a man. Fereldan, from the accent. A clank of armor as someone leaves.

Then a woman’s voice — at least he thinks it’s a woman, but it is very deep — says, “Tac? What in the world are you doing here?”

Tacere smiles through the blood and ichor on his face, and it reaches his eyes for the first time Dorian has seen. “Ree-Ree! Sorry, love, but there’s no time. Dorian and I came to warn you. The rebel mages were taken over by a Tevinter group called the Venatori. They’re under… well. He’s up there.” Tacere points back the way they came, to where two shadowy figures stand on an outcropping. The army streams down the valley on either side.

“The Elder One,” he supplies in an embarrassingly unsteady voice, since Tacere is being coy with his information. “The other is Calpernia, who commands the Venatori at the Elder One’s behest.” He struggles up, letting Tacere and the Fereldan man help him, and leans on his staff. “Fine, I’m fine. Exhausted, but— it is supposed to come back, isn’t it?”

The Fereldan nods, opens his mouth to say something. But then the woman Tacere called ‘Ree-Ree’ — and she can only be the fabled Herald of Andraste, Irene Trevelyan — barks, “Cullen, get everyone out here. We have to use the trebuchets, stop as many of them as we can. Tac, you and Dorian get up to the Chantry. You can— oh, shit.”

“What? What is it, Herald?” Cullen says, even as he motions to the people gathered just inside the gates to come out and fight. They rally at his command, charging out of the village. Most of them haven’t had time to put on armor, but they will give their lives for this cause.

Irene shakes her head, looking at Tacere. “Julien,” she breathes. “He’s in the infirmary. He won’t be able to move on his own.”

“On it, love,” the rogue says, and salutes. He tugs Dorian towards the doors to Haven. “Come on, we’ve got more heroics to do.”

***

Tacere leaves Dorian in the Chantry and runs off to find Julien — whoever that is — but Dorian can’t stand the looks the people already gathered there are giving him. He feels impotent, even with his mana slowly returning and the dizziness gone. He has to help. The Venatori haven’t breached the walls, so everyone is either on the front lines outside or huddled inside the Chantry. He still looks for stragglers. Not that they’ll listen to him, but if he can save someone—

He’s near what appears to be a tavern, light still spilling out from the open doors. Everyone left in a hurry. He draws even with the building, watching the walls — the battle does not sound good out there — and stops short.

He sees the lantern first, overturned on a table. Then he sees the flames, merrily eating the alcohol-soaked surface and making their way towards the walls and floor. The wooden walls and floor. Then, and only then, does he see the woman, frantically scooping bottles into her arms from behind the bar. She hasn’t seen the fire. (He doesn’t want to think about her possibly having seen it and deciding to ‘rescue’ the inventory anyway; he has enough to weep over in regards to the intelligence of the average denizen of Thedas.)

“What are you doing?” he shouts, and she whirls around, bottles slipping from her arms to shatter at her feet. “Get out of there!”

She gasps and edges around the bar, away from him, towards the fire. He’s about to shout again when the flames make the leap, consuming a banner on the wall and spreading to the thatch roof in a matter of seconds.

“Kaffas!” Dorian launches himself towards the woman — or where the woman had been, as the tavern has filled with choking smoke — and reaches out, finding her flailing arm. He tugs her towards the door, out of the path of a falling beam, which crashes down right where she had been standing. The heat is overwhelming, the smoke clogs his lungs and renders him blind as his eyes water. He’s wanted to return to blessed warmth every day since he arrived in Ferelden, but this is not what he meant.

It is pure, dumb luck that he manages to stumble out the door with the woman in tow, as he can’t see it. He releases his death grip on her arm and collapses again in the snow, coughing up bile. He’s done his part, and could happily live the rest of his life never diving into another burning building ever again. The smite’s lingering effects don’t help.

Still coughing, but with rather less disgusting results, he unhooks his staff and uses it to haul himself up. He finds the woman behind him, watching the tavern burn with a hand on her mouth and no care for the heat radiating off the doomed building, or the sparks leaping off to fizzle in the snow. She turns around slowly. “You… what do you want?”

It takes a lot of willpower not to sneer; his father would sneer, and Dorian Pavus is not his father. It is that thought that makes him say, as gently as he can, “Get to the Chantry. Everyone is gathering there.” He half expects her to think it a trap, but something comes over her face then, some steely determination, and she nods at him before taking off up the hill at a sprint.

Dorian sighs. Well, he never did think it was going to be easy. He turns back to the hunt.

Just over the walls, a flaming rock hurtles toward the mountain pass the Venatori are undoubtedly still swarming over like so many ants, cracking against the steep slopes. A moment later the side of the mountain breaks off, starting an avalanche that will bury the main part of the horde. A cheer rises from the front lines, the sound faint to his ears but still bolstering his spirits. They could win this.

That, of course, is when the archdemon appears.

***

The Chantry man — and Dorian really must get his name at some point — stumbles towards the doors, waving in the last of the front lines. It’s just Irene, Cullen, and a few people he vaguely recognizes as being there at the gates, including four soldiers in the Inquisition uniform. Nine total of the dozens who defended Haven.

“A fucking archdemon, Cassandra,” Irene spits out, tugging at her hair. Her face is flushed from battle, her greatsword still covered in gore. A fresh cut slices across her temple, dripping blood down her cheek. She turns around mid-stride to continue talking to the stern-faced woman behind her, but stops in her tracks when she spots the Chantry man. “Chancellor Roderick, are you…?”

The Chancellor wobbles and keels over. Dorian is the closest, so he hooks an arm around him and drags the man to the side. “He bravely stood against a Venatori. For me.”

Irene blinks.

“Briefly,” Roderick gasps. “I am no… templar…”

Irene gapes.

“Herald!” Cullen turns from where he’s been holding a whispered conference with a woman in purple — a stylish outfit, Dorian thinks absently — and shakes his head with finality. “We can’t hold out much longer. That thing more than makes up for those you managed to kill with the avalanches.”

“No demands, no communication at all,” the woman says, soft Orlesian lilt ringing out in the suddenly-silent Chantry. “Whatever they want, they aren’t telling us.”

Dorian settles a panting Roderick into a chair. “It was the same with the mages. This Elder One just swept in and took them. It’s marched all this way for your Herald, too.” That was what he had gathered in Redcliffe, anyway, before he and Tacere had to flee.

Tacere. Where is he, anyway?

“I don’t care if it wants me, I’m not letting it destroy Haven,” Irene snaps.

“If I knew how to prevent that, I would not keep such information to myself,” Dorian says. Whether or not they believe him, he has to get that out. But Irene seems inclined to trust him, which is decidedly strange. “And the landslide went so well, too.”

“The landslide…” Irene repeats. Dorian enjoys watching the gears turn in her head — she is so bad at hiding it. “Cullen, there’s one left, right?”

“Yes.” Cullen sighs, looks around the Chantry, at the wounded and wondering. “We could turn the last one to the mountains above us. You saw — we’re overrun. The only choice left is whether to be spiteful in how we go down.” His voice is low, but Dorian doubts the onlookers are oblivious to the decision being made for them.

Dorian can see his point — he also saw the archdemon — but Cullen is making last stands too quickly for his liking. He’s seen this behavior before, in the cornered. “That’s unacceptable,” he says mildly, leaving Roderick’s side to confront them. “I did not ride double with that elf just for you to drop rocks on my head. You have no idea how clingy he is.”

Irene startles at the mention of Tacere, but Cullen speaks before she can. “Are you suggesting we let them kill us?”

“Suicide — dying at all — shouldn’t be the first resort! Kaffas, man, you’re thinking like a blood mage!”

Cullen doesn’t just flinch at the jab, he recoils. The triumph he feels at a particularly clever jibe is quickly overtaken by guilt at the stricken look on the other man’s face.

“There is a way.” A pained voice cuts through the tension, and Dorian turns around to find Roderick struggling to sit up in the chair he’s slumped over in. He goes to help automatically, easing the Chancellor upright. “The summer path, behind the Chantry. I made the pilgrimage… she… Andraste must have shown me just for this moment. So I could tell… you. Herald…” With a sudden burst of energy, he stands up, sways on the spot, and doubles over. Blood leaks from his lips. He wraps the Chancellor’s arm around his shoulders and whispers, “Hold on, dear man. You need to show us the path, remember?”

Roderick nods.

“Go,” Irene orders. “Everyone, go.”

Cullen pales. “But Herald, how will you—”

She half-grins, half-snarls. While not many things frighten Dorian anymore, this does. This woman is a force to be reckoned with. “Don’t worry. I’ll make him work for it.”

Then she is gone, bursting out the doors with a roar. Alone. A few of the gathered people step forward as if to follow, but the woman in purple waves them down. Roderick shuffles towards the back of the Chantry, Dorian supporting him but letting him lead. Cullen remains, staring at the doors, and as they pass Dorian hears him whisper, as if in prayer, “Let that thing hear you, Irene.”

***

It has been hours since Solas sent up the signal flare as they left the treeline and looked back at Haven. Hours since the trebuchet launched and the village was buried with the Herald in it. Hours of trudging through the wind-whipped snow in no discernible direction, though the sun has risen on a new day.

Hours since Dorian realized that Tacere had been right behind him for some time, face flushed not from the wind but from excitement. He had one hand on the side of a bronto, one of three some intrepid person managed to get out of Haven, and strapped into the beast’s saddle — along with supplies — was a man swaddled in so many blankets he was probably suffocating at that very moment. “Dori, love, meet Jule,” Tacere had said with a laugh, patting the fellow’s thigh. He was unconscious, and Dorian wondered how Tac had managed to get him up there. “He’s Irene’s brother.”

“Brother from another mother. He was always kind to her, even when he joined the templars and she didn’t. Funny that he would live longer.”

“Hush, Cole darling.”

Hmm. Dorian remembers this Cole’s words but not their voice. He can still recall Tacere’s. Strange. The more he thinks about it the worse his head feels, and Dorian quickly decides it’s not important. They’ve made camp now: a haphazard collection of tents and a central firepit. The storm has stopped, for now. Cullen and the purple woman — Leliana — have set up guard rotations and scouting operations for the area, but they, like everyone else, are going through the motions.

The Herald is dead.

Worse, the Elder One is alive. Dorian saw it for himself: the archdemon flying away as the avalanche swept into Haven. Everyone saw.

He sits and watches Roderick cling to life in the makeshift infirmary. The Chancellor is stubborn as well as brave. The Inquisition’s days are numbered, too, but they seem content to lie down and let death come early. Roderick is only lucid a fraction of the time, but when he is, he whispers his faith into the air, and it reaches Dorian’s ears. It’s not the Chant, though that comes too. It is when the dying man says that he must stay alive to witness the Herald’s return, that he has to look away.

A whistle sounds from back the way they came. Dorian looks up in time to see a streak of blue light shoot up into the sky and burst, lightning shooting out in all directions. It dissipates before it gets anywhere, but the thunderous bang echoes through the mountains.

Instantly the camp is on alert. Dorian leaps up too, dashing for the firepit. The advisors are there, barking orders, and he skids to a stop in front of Leliana. She seems the most sympathetic. “I know that magic! It’s Tevinter in origin, but used to signal rescues.”

“Rescues?” Leliana repeats, sharp eyes flicking towards where the flare disappeared.

“Yes. Purely cosmetic, designed to draw attention without setting anything on fire.”

“It’s Irene,” Tacere says, appearing behind him. “And a friend.” The rogue is grinning, hands tucked into his armor. “We should probably go find ‘em. Takes a lot to get him to admit he needs help.”

“How do you—” Cullen starts, but Tacere is already zipping off with a giggle. Cullen and Cassandra exchange looks; Cassandra makes a disgusted noise and runs after Tacere. A hopeful smile — that he’s probably not even aware he’s making — spreads across Cullen’s face, and then he is following too. Dorian throws up his hands and rounds out the search party; someone has to keep an eye on these idiots.

***

No more flares come, but after a few minutes dashing through the snow, Dorian spies a faint green light ahead. It can’t be a rift, there weren’t any on the way up. Cullen and Cassandra slow down when they see it, but Tacere speeds up, laughing with abandon. They lose sight of him around a sharp bend in the slot-like mountain pass.

Dorian draws level with the Commander and the Seeker, and unhooks his staff. Anything that makes Tac happy is probably a day-ruiner at the least.

They turn the corner and nearly run straight into the most powerful ward unaided by blood magic that Dorian has ever seen, a bubble that looks more like green-tinted glass than a magical barrier.

And surrounding the ward is a pack of over a dozen wolves. Thin and mangy, drooling from their desperation, they circle their prey.

Cullen and Cassandra have their swords drawn in a blink, while Dorian throws a hasty barrier over them. Tacere — where is that blasted rogue? — Tacere has disappeared, but Dorian wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still around somewhere. A figure is barely visible in the center of the ward, and Dorian only sees him when he shifts slightly and calls out, voice muffled, “Who’s there?”

Cassandra opens her mouth to answer, but then the first wolf spots them and lets out a growl. The others turn as one, eyes glinting in the pale light of the ward.

Dorian lobs a fireball straight at the closest wolf. It leaps back, but not fast enough to avoid the fire catching on its legs, and the rest of the pack spreads out as it howls in agony. They don’t run, however, and he curses. Normally, any amount of fire is enough to scare wolves away, even when they have the advantage of numbers. Something is wrong.

The pack splits, circling, and Cullen and Cassandra move to put Dorian between them. For a few seconds all is still, then something ripples through the pack. A signal.

A whip-thin wolf leaps straight for Dorian, and he steps back only to feel another behind him, snapping at his robes. He turns to keep his back to Cullen’s, lightning arcing from his hands to either side. Smoke from burning fur chokes the air.

Cullen bellows a war cry, bashing one in the snout with his shield. Cassandra’s sword flashes, face set in a snarl of her own. Wolves crowd their legs, biting anything they can. Dorian kicks one latched onto Cullen’s forearm, and it drops with a yelp, only to be caught by the Commander’s sword. Cullen nods at him and spares a glance at his dented bracer before launching himself back into the fray.

“Mon chéri!” Tac trills, and Dorian glances up. One wolf has hung back, lingering by the ward. The leader. This one is huge, larger than the others by far, and even across the battlefield Doian can see that its eyes are no normal color, but red as fresh blood. A crimson sheen shimmers over its fur.

It’s possessed.

And then it’s not, as Tac reappears from stealth above it, mid-leap, and drives his dagger into the back of its skull.

It crumples, and as the red dims in its eyes the remaining wolves each shudder and cry out, coming back to their senses. They flee down the mountain, toward Haven’s smoking ruins, like the wrath of the Maker is upon them.

“Was that thing… possessed by a demon?” Cassandra asks. “How?”

The mystery man inside the ward, who Dorian had quite forgotten about, answers. “Lots of weird things have been happening of late, haven’t you noticed?” He pauses. “Now, who are you?” Dorian squints through the barrier, but can’t make out anything beyond a fuzzy outline of someone who is either very short or kneeling.

Cassandra scowls and opens her mouth to reply.

“Ah, mon trésor! I’ve brought help!” Tacere calls, tugging his dagger out of the alpha wolf’s head.

“Tac?” the man asks, voice a mix of revolted and unsurprised. “Of course it is.” The ward contracts, the mana sustaining it petering out, then pops as the energy cuts off entirely. The man — a thin, sharp-boned, and decidedly unfashionable Tevinter mage in brown traveling leathers, carrying a staff that is little more than an oversized stick — is kneeling over Irene, who lies still as death on the snow. His ink-dark hair is long, held in a ponytail at the base of his neck. Icy blue eyes flick towards them, narrowing suspiciously.

Dorian feels he should know him, but he is only barely familiar.

“My darling, my love! These are members of the esteemed Inquisition,” Tacere trills after a beat, clapping his hands and skipping over. The mage rolls his eyes but shifts back, letting Cassandra approach — though she does so carefully, watching his hands — and bend to examine the fallen Herald.

Dorian and Cullen drift closer as well, and that is when the mage looks up and sees the Commander. He tenses, nostrils flaring. At that moment, Dorian is very glad looks can’t kill, or Cullen would be dead on the spot. And that would be a waste. Cullen stops short, brows drawing down when he notices the open hostility on the part of the as-yet-unnamed mage.

“Do you… know each other?” Dorian says at last, when the staring contest — confused memory-searching by one party, simmering rage by the other — has dragged on far too long.

“I don’t—” Cullen starts.

“Of course you don’t,” the mage scoffs. He turns to Cassandra, who is gathering Irene in her arms. “Tac and I are old… acquaintances. Extended family.” Cullen starts forward to help Cassandra, but the mage leaps to his feet and points at him. He stops. “You,” the mage snarls, “are Knight-Captain Cullen Stanton Rutherford of the Gallows, the templar who stood by while Meredith stole the souls of innocent mages and looked the other way while Hawke gave us all a bad name. Now do you remember?”

Cullen opens his mouth and closes it again several times, and a strange wave of outrage washes over Dorian. For his fellow Tevinter mage, yes, but mostly for Cullen — and Dorian has no idea why he feels the need to protect the Commander of the Inquisition like a kicked puppy. “Now now,” he interjects, “we can all gleefully unearth each others’ sordid pasts later. Our dear Herald doesn’t look well.”

That would be an understatement. As Cassandra carries Irene past them, intent on the camp, Dorian realizes the situation is a great deal worse than he thought. Irene’s face is bloodless, her nose has a blue tinge, and there’s a scrape on her right cheek ringed with frost. Purple bruises in the shape of unnaturally long fingers decorate her left wrist, where the mark flickers dully. Something sundered her chestplate, too, and the hole’s edges are blackened, burnt by magefire. But she is alive, or Cassandra would not be so determined. She is alive.

Cullen looks at her and discards whatever he had decided to say, charging ahead toward the camp without a word. Cassandra follows, a great deal slower from her burden, but she still leaves the rest of them in the dust. Or rather, snow.

Some of the tension dissipates. Some.

Dorian glances back just as his fellow mage Fade-steps to his side. The spell is notoriously difficult to master, but his technique is precise, controlled. It jogs his memory, but he has to be sure.

“Ah, hello,” he says, keeping his tone light. “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

[thotful-writing]

Sinners at Eden’s Gate (2)

John Seed x Reader

Description: Things had calmed between you and John, no longer torturing you for fun, he took Joseph’s advice and tried to be patient with you. Your relationship turned to more domestication, but John struggled with his own demons.

Warnings: Slight smut, angst, sexual tension

A few days had gone by, John set you up in your own room. You still couldn’t sleep for worrying about your situation, what was going to happen if you continued to refuse them, what’s going to happen between you and John?  He often kept his distance from you, hesitant to be alone or close to you. You both knew it couldn’t continue like this though, you were pretty much living together. One night you had finally managed to fall asleep, but your dreams were plagued with horrendous images of death and destruction. You woke up instantly, sweating, your breathing heavy, you were scared and needed to reach out to the only other person around, John. You slid out of your bed and tiptoed down the hall to his room, you lightly knocked on his door, but there was no response. You opened the door and entered the room quietly, approaching the bed where he lay, silent and peaceful.

“John?” You whispered but received no response, you moved closer to him.

“John, can I stay in here for a little while?” You whispered close to his ear.

Finally, he stirred, “Why?” He asked still half asleep.

“I-I had a terrible dream and I just don’t want to be alone right now. Just for a bit, please?”

“Alright, just for a bit. Once you’ve calmed down you go back to your room. And stay on your side of the bed.” He moved over pulling the covers back for you to join him.

You climbed in beside him, scooting underneath the covers, the bed was warm from his body heat. You were still hesitant about him, but he was all you had for human interaction. You planned to lie there until you felt better, but accidentally fell asleep. John shifted in his sleep, groaning as he stretched, but he was limited in how much he could move. You had wrapped yourself around him in your sleep, arms across his waist, legs thrown across his. As he tried to move you nuzzled your head against his bare chest, sighing a little. He wasn’t sure what to do, he didn’t want to wake you, but being this close to you was unnerving. Luckily, he didn’t have to decide, you groggily opened your eyes and peered up at him, your pulse quickened as you laid on his broad chest looking up into his blue eyes, neither of you moving.

“Morning.” He finally broke the silence, his eyes grazing over your body curled against him.

“Morning. I-I didn’t mean to fall asleep, it was just so warm and comfortable.”

“What was your dream about?”

“I saw people dying, a lot of people, and there were explosions and darkness.” You neglected to reveal the other part of the dream, where you saw John standing, reaching out to you, offering you salvation.

You stared up at him, his eyes full of hope, you wanted to believe he was kind and caring somewhere inside. You slowly began to untangle yourself from him, but he grabbed your thigh and stopped you before you could move though.

He rolled onto his side, draping your leg across his hip as he moved closer to you. He grabbed your waist pulling you closer, his lips traced over yours, not quite touching, but close, you felt each breath he took in and exhaled against your lips. You were tired of waiting, you pressed your lips to his, his tongue lapping at your bottom lip, he pulled you closer, pressing you against his chest, this kiss was filled with much more passion than your first. His arms held you still as he rolled you onto your back, settling himself between your legs, which you gladly opened, welcoming him. Every voice in your head told you this was wrong, that you should hate him, but your body responded differently. He deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing between your lips, intertwining with your own. He rolled his hips against your center, eliciting a moan from you as you felt his growing erection. You bit down on his bottom lip, he groaned in response and grabbed at your hips. You lifted your hips and ground them against him, you could feel the wetness between your legs increasing.

“John?” You heard Joseph coming up the stairs, stopping your movements.

“Every. Fucking. Time.” John growled, jumping up from the bed he threw on a shirt and left the room, catching Joseph in the hallway before he reached his room.

You weren’t sure if you should hide or stay there, you decided not to move so you didn’t make any sound. You listened intensely, trying to hear what they were saying.

“Brother, still in bed this late in the morning?”

“I didn’t sleep well. What can I help you with, Joseph?” John answered quickly.

“I want you to bring our guest to service this morning. It will help in her confession.”

“I’ll wake her and make sure she’s there.”

Joseph thanked John for his commitment and help and took his leave. John returned to you sitting up in his bed.

“Get up, we’re going to service this morning. Joseph wants you there.” He walked to his closet and pulled out some clothes.

“Can I refuse?”

John shot you a look without saying a word, meaning you needed to do as you’re told and not cause any issues. You climbed out of the bed and headed towards the door.

“This will not happen again.” He said as he buttoned his shirt.

“I know.” You said before leaving, rolling your eyes, both of you knew damn well it would.

You weren’t sure what it was that made you throw out all of your preconceived notions about him, all of the bad things he’d done no longer scared or worried you, you felt calm with him now, happy even, happier than you’d been in a long time. You went to your room and pulled out a nice sundress, figuring it would be better than pants and a t-shirt. You weren’t sure where the clothes came from, or whose they were, but John said they were for you, giving no more information. You finished dressing and made your way downstairs, John was waiting for you at the bottom. He watched you carefully as you descended the stairs, he liked how the dress hugged your curves, and how you bounced slightly with each step down.

“Do you like it?” You asked when you finally reached the bottom, standing in front of him as he stared at you.

“Y-Yeah, you… You look…” For a man full of words he suddenly had none.

You felt a blush creep over your cheeks as he continued eyeing you up and down, you suddenly felt shy under his gaze.

“We better get going, we don’t want to be late.” John motioned for you to follow.

You arrived at the church, there were Peggies everywhere, filing in, staring at you by John’s side. He kept his arm on your middle back, as if he was protecting you, showing others that you were his. John guided you to a pew in the back sitting beside you. Your heart raced as you thought about where you were, in the center of enemy territory. If only the other liberators could see you now, all cozied up with John the Baptist, awaiting a sermon by The Father.

“Where are her restraints?” Jacob stopped and looked down at you.

“She’s not going to try anything. She’s a sinner, not stupid.” John said glancing at you.

Jacob scoffed and walked up to the front of the church, once everyone was settled Joseph entered, being as charismatic as ever, welcoming everyone and thanking them for joining him this morning. At first his sermon was a bit culty with a hint of apocalyptic undertone, talking about how the world will end soon and that God is not pleased with mankind, but then he zeroed in on sins.

“We all sin, my children, every one of us. This world is filled with vices meant to break us, to bend us into selfish, mindless men, who corrupt and poison this Earth.” He paced around the front of the church.

His gaze settled on you and John in the back, “These vices can be disguised as possessions, power, even people. We must protect ourselves, our beliefs, from falling prey to them. These vices lead us to sin, they feed on our souls, destroying them. Lust… my children, can sneak up on you. It can cloud your minds, taint your souls, and lead you into further temptations. Be careful in the pleasures of the flesh, for they will be your undoing.”

You shifted in your seat, glancing up at John who kept his gaze forward. You looked down at your hand beside him, noticing that he had been touching your fingers lightly the entire time. You turned your attention back to Joseph, watching him speak passionately about his beliefs, his convictions, he really was a great public speaker, able to rally the masses. His main goal seemed to be saving people, offering them salvation to bring them to Eden’s Gate after the end of the world, his methods were flawed, but his intentions were honest. You wondered if John believed the same, if he was as committed as you had previously thought. Here he was during his brother’s sermon playing with your fingers, touching you. He said nothing more would happen, but his actions say differently. You looked over at Jacob, who’s eyes were glued to you, watching your every move, you knew he couldn’t see your hands, but you moved them into your lap anyways, he scared you, much more so than John did now. He was closed off, his eyes were dark, unyielding, never letting on anything other than anger and aggression. At the sudden absence of your hand John looked over at you questioningly, he saw your eyes were fixed on Jacob and his on you as well. Your body was tense as you sat there, Jacob looked as though he was ready to murder you right there.

“Do you want to leave?” John leaned over whispering into your ear.

You looked into his eyes and nodded your head, he could see your unease. He stood up and grabbed your arm, guiding you out of the pew and through the door. His brothers noticing your actions but saying nothing. Once you were outside you felt like you could breath normally again, you don’t know why Jacob makes you fearful, the way he looks at you and talks about you. John said nothing until you arrived back at his ranch.

“Are you alright?” He said as you entered the house.

“Yes, it’s just… Jacob. I get an uneasy feeling about him, I don’t know what it is about him.” You paced around the living room.

“He can be a bit… intense. But he won’t harm you, not as long as Joseph commands him not to.”

“And what happens if Joseph commands him to?” You stopped pacing, staring up at him.

“He wouldn’t. Not without cause.”

Joseph was angry John had taken you from the church, but John defended you saying it was a little overwhelming for you to be there so soon after you had been captured, that you needed more time to adjust and confess. Your time with John had turned more domestic than torturer and victim. You had a routine that you had fallen into, you would spend most days together, John asking you to say ‘Yes’ and you refusing. You sat at the counter, eating breakfast one morning, John sitting across from you.

“Say ‘Yes’.” John said between mouthfuls.

“No.” You responded, continuing to eat.

John was trying to give you time, instead of torturing you into submission, they wanted you to join of your own volition. You began to enjoy certain moments with him, you didn’t feel like you needed to fill the silence with idle chit chat, you felt calm and at home with him, you couldn’t explain it, he was supposed to be the enemy. One day John sat on the couch reading, you at the other end flipping through a book.

“Say ‘Yes’.” He said, mindlessly, going through the motions.

Instead of your usual answer you decided to change things, “Why?”

“Because.” He responded, as if he knew you didn’t care how he responded.

“That’s not a real answer. I really want to know why, why did you say ‘Yes’?” You put your book down, looking at him.

He immediately closed his book and placed it on the table next to him, his gaze turning to you as you waited for him to speak.

“Joseph saved me, he pulled me from the depths of my own corruption. I used drugs and sex to fill holes in my life, I lied and cheated to get to the top. Not only that but I was never truly myself, I wasn’t John Seed, I was an imposter, a fraud, John Duncan. I was a lawyer, a damn good one.”

“That explains why you’re so good at persuading and getting information out of people.”

“I exploited people to get the things I wanted with no regard for anyone but myself. When Joseph found me, I was close to drowning in my own power and greed. I fear my soul would have been lost had he not found me when he did.”

You sat on the couch a few feet from John, hanging on his every word as if they were the last you’d ever hear him speak. His pain, his past, you didn’t know any of this, he had suffered and struggled through life, Joseph brought him from the brink, that’s why he has absolute loyalty to him. You moved down the couch towards him, taking his hand in yours and holding it softly. You wanted to comfort him but weren’t sure how or if he’d even let you. John looked at you for a moment, glancing down at your hand wrapped around his, before pulling away from you.

“That’s why I said ‘Yes’.” Suddenly he stood and left the room without another word, leaving you there.

You didn’t see him for the rest of the night, he went down to the cellar and never returned. It was late, you waited as long as you could before sleep got the best of you. You went up to your room, planning on sleeping for only a little while, but you fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.

“Wake up.” You heard John’s voice from above you.

You yawned and opened your eyes groggily, he looked awful, covered in sweat, eyes dark.

“What’s going on?” You sat up in the bed.

“Come with me. Now.” He demanded.

You were hesitant to go with him, he didn’t want to wait any longer, he grabbed your arm and pulled you from the bed. You stumbled behind him as he pulled you with him, down the stairs, through the living room, finally stopping at the metal door you knew too well. You pulled back from him.

“John?” You searched his eyes for answers, but he gave none.

He grabbed your arm again and opened the door, pulling you in with him. He dragged you down the steps, you would have fallen had he not had a firm grip on you. He pushed you into that room, that room where you first met the Seed brothers, where John cut and tortured you. You were panicking at this point, he must have grown tired of you, annoyed you hadn’t joined them yet, he was surely bringing you here to continue his torture. John closed the door behind him and began removing his belt hurriedly.

“Hands.” He commanded, you held your hands out to him, shaking, waiting for him to bind them again.

Instead he placed the belt in one hand and the knife he used to slice your skin with in the other. He moved past you and sat in the chair you’d suffered in only days before.

“Tie my hands.” He held his hands behind him.

You were hesitant, “What?” You looked at him confused.

“Tie my hands. Now.”

You obliged and moved behind him, securing his hands with the belt, making sure it was tight enough to keep him from moving. You stepped back in front of him, awaiting further instructions. You stared at him, he looked broken, torn inside, struggling.

“I need to confess my sins. You’re the only one around.”

“But- but I can’t… I don’t even know what that means.” You shook your head in disbelief.

“I am going to confess my sins to you, and you’re going to carve them into my body, one by one, over the ones that are already there. Unbutton my shirt.”

You stood silent, trembling, trying to wrap your head around his request. You couldn’t really do it, could you? This was an opportunity though, the first step to ending all of this insanity, if you killed John here and now you would surely cause some problems for Joseph. You held the knife in your hand for a moment, finally making a decision. You approached John and began unbuttoning his shirt, opening it to expose his many scars and tattoos that covered his toned chest. Your hands shook as you continued until you were finished.

“C-Confess your sins.” You stumbled over the words, feeling a pain building in your chest.

“I am guilty of several sins. I-I have experienced lust, for you, for your touch, to hear you moan my name in ecstasy. I have envied any man who came before me and has lain his hands upon your soft skin. I have pride in the fact that you are with me, having you in my home. I have felt wrath against those who wish to harm you, filled with anger at the thought. I have indulged in sloth, not doing my job as I am told, I have been lazy in bringing you to Eden’s Gate. You… You are my sin.” He hung his head low, closing his eyes as he finished his confession.

His confession left you speechless, you held the knife in your hand, so ready to slit his throat before, but now… now you didn’t know what to do. His eyes filled with guilt, with pain, he was truly suffering because of you… because of his feelings for you. You moved towards him slowly, bringing the knife up to the scar on his chest that read ‘sloth’, you pressed the knife against it, John closed his eyes waiting for you to reopen his mark. You knew you were going against everything you thought, everything you had been taught about John, but you couldn’t help it, you dropped the knife to the floor. You moved to straddle John’s lap, running your hands through his hair. His eyes snapped open, his perfect blue eyes staring up at you, vulnerable and open.

“We can’t.” He whispered.

“I’m a sinner, John, I need to show you my sins.” You nuzzled your face against his neck, eliciting a low groan from him, oh how he loved hearing you say his name, he was still restrained so it wasn’t like he could stop you even if he wanted to.

You leaned back in his lap, running your hands up his chest, running your fingers over his tattoos, wanting to ask him about each one, but waiting until another time. You pressed your lips to his, he was hesitant to kiss you back, but couldn’t resist you. He pulled on his restraints, leaning into your kiss. Your hands roamed over his body, finally getting to touch him wherever you please, John Seed was at your disposal completely. You moved one of your hands down his body, between the two of you, finally stopping at the growing bulge in his pants, running your hand over it as it hardened beneath your touch. John moved his hips up to greet your hand, he pulled his restraints again, wanting… needing to touch you.

“Let me touch you.” It wasn’t a command, he was asking you.

You leaned forward, pressing your breasts up to his face as you reached behind him, his beard rubbing roughly against your chest, finally you undid the belt from around his wrists, freeing him. He immediately wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you against him as his lips found yours once more. His kiss was needy, as if he would die without the breath from your lungs. His hands touched and kneaded your body, squeezing at your hips. He pulled back from the kiss, his eyes no longer filled with guilt but with need for you. He began to trail kisses from your jaw, down your neck, to the top of your breasts, you leaned your head back, reveling in his gentle treatment of your body, loving the way his lips and beard felt against your skin.

“John… ” You moaned, needing him more than you thought possible.

He wasted no time, his hand moving from your hip down to your thighs. He pushed the large shirt you were wearing up, exposing your panties to him. A wicked grin spread across his face, he leaned down and grabbed the knife from the floor, using it to cut your panties from you, leaving you open for him. He dropped the knife and your torn underwear to the floor. His hands skimmed over your thighs, teasing you, avoiding touching you where you wanted it most. You squirmed against him, trying to coax him into touching you. Finally, his hand trailed up between your legs, sliding against your slickness that had already built up. You moaned at his touch, his fingers soft and rough at the same time as they rubbed against you. He teased you a few more times before easing two fingers into your center, a low groan vibrated from his throat at the feeling of your tightness around his fingers. His other had moved up your body, roughly grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling it.

“Confess to me, little sinner.” He growled against your neck, fingers moving in and out of you, his thumb tapping on that little bundle of nerves making you buck your hips against his hand.

You were close, you could feel it, you clenched around John’s fingers, writhing in his lap as your nails dug into his shoulders. He picked up the pace with his fingers, adding another one, he wanted to feel you come, he wanted to hear you screaming his name.

“John…Please…” You whined, begging for him, you needed more.

John pulled your face down to his, pressing his forehead to yours, staring deeply into your lust filled eyes, he was rock hard knowing you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

“Mm, little sinner… come for me.” He whispered against your lips.

His words were your undoing, you came hard and loud, screaming his name, your body shaking as your release pulsated through your body, wave after wave, built up for so long. Your breathing began to normalize as you still held your head pressed to his, shifting as he removed his fingers from you. You moved back looking into his eyes, he seemed so relaxed, holding you in his lap.

“Does that count as a confession?” You smiled at him.

“Not quite. I think we have more work to do, but let’s finish it upstairs.” A grin spreading across his face.

You climbed off his lap as he stood up. You could see the outline in his pants of the effect you had on him, he’d definitely have to go slow if he was going to try and fit all the way in. You headed out the door and up the stairs, John following behind you, getting a peak under your shirt as you stepped up. Once you reached the top and stepped out of the door you waited for John. You watched him ascending the stairs, admiring just how handsome he was, how happy you were in this moment. He reached the top step and closed the door behind him, his hand grazing over your lower back as he guided you towards the bedroom. Before you could take 2 steps the front door burst open. You looked back at John, panicked, worried it was the Resistance. Before you saw anyone, you knew immediately, you could feel it, it wasn’t the Resistance, it was Jacob.

“What’s the meaning of this?” John stepped in front of you.

“Has she confessed her sins to you, little brother?” Jacob looked right at you as you tried to hide behind John.

“She… No, not yet, but she’s close.”

“Times up then.” Jacob stormed past John, grabbing your arm.

You pulled, struggled, trying to get out of his grasp. John watched as he dragged you across the floor, kicking.

“John! John!” You screamed, begging for him to save you, but he could do nothing but watch as you cried out for him.

[crazycatladyk]

Savior (Solea Hawke - Ch 2)

Chapter 1

Waking up was like trying to swim with weights on her ankle. That is to say, it was exhausting.  Solea neared the surface of consciousness a few times, floating at the edge where light filtered brightly and she could hear the faint voices of people around her but then the weights pulled her back down as her body fell victim to fatigue.

During the times she was lost in the lightless depths, the Fade conjured up memories of her family, dreams that for once, she had no control of.  She dreamt of sitting in her father’s lap as a small child, her clumsy infant fingers tracing the lines of lyrium that marked his tan skin.  She looked up at him in wide eyed wonder and he smiled warmly back at her, eyes bright with emotion.

It had been a favorite pastime of hers as a child, she’d tug insistently at his shirt until he took it off so she could trace his markings, marvel at them.  She’d always been fascinated by them.  It was only much later in her life that she learnt that she was the only one besides her mom that he willingly let do so and why.

She dreamt of the night her parents sent her out of Kirkwall and to the Dalish clan outside the city walls.  She remembered stumbling through the dark alleyways of the city, following behind Merrill and clinging to Varric’s coat sleeve as she cried.  She’d wanted to wail her anguish for all the city to hear. It was their fault she couldn’t be a normal kid, their fault she couldn’t grow up with her parents, their fault for shoving her mother onto a pedestal, making her both Champion and a target.

Despite her violent rage at the city and sorrow for her fate, Solea kept dutifully quiet.  Don’t be heard, don’t be seen, you must be invisible, a passing shadow to others.  This was the mantra she’d been raised on and she knew better to raise attention to herself.  No one could know she existed, it was safer that way, for everyone.  By the time, they caught sight of the first aravel, her eyes were dry and her face blank.

What followed that was a stream of various snapshots of her life growing up. Days spent with Varric out in the forest, challenging each other to archery contests.  Nights spent dueling her mother by torchlight or studying with Keeper Marethari about the ways of the Dalish and magic.  Laughing wildly as her father tossed her on his shoulders and ran around while she clung to his shock white hair. Though happy, the memories were tinged with the sour taste of her guilt at disobeying her parents and leaving.

When she finally broke free of the surface, Solea lurched upwards, gasping for air.  A loud clattering noise drew her attention to an elvish woman who was frozen and staring at her with terror in her eyes and a broken box at her feet. Frantically, Solea looked down at herself but she wasn’t glowing.  

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” The young woman stuttered.

“It’s fine, but where exactly am I? What happened?” Solea cast her gaze about the small cabin as she spoke but found no clues to tell her where she was.

Instead of answering, the woman threw herself at the ground, prostrating herself submissively as she pleaded, “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” When she got no response to this, the elf continued on hastily. “You’re back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.  It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!”

Solea’s growing dread that the woman’s deference meant they’d discovered who her parents were was diminished against the news about her mark.  She peered down at her hand, thankfully still covered in a glove, and cast her magic carefully out. Probing gently she discovered that her mark had indeed ceased creeping up her arm.  The pain had stopped as well, she realized with relief, recalling the journey to the Breach.

The closer they’d gotten to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the harder she had to focus on staying in control.  Solea felt the weakness of the Veil as they neared the epicenter of the chaos, felt the barrier separating worlds grow paper thin. The temptation to just slip through and disappear pulled at the lines of her body and she had to keep most of her attention on fighting the urge, which severely crippled her fighting abilities.

The good news was when she finally stepped into the Temple interior, that temptation disappeared. The bad news was that it only happened because her mark had erupted into flashing white hot pain as the magic within responded to her proximity to the Breach.  She could feel the mark spreading as the magic fought against her for more space on her body.

Then, she’d tried to close the rift at the Breach and that, that had made the previous pain feel irrelevant.  It had felt like every cell in her arm was splitting apart and she thought her arm might actually tear apart.  Even the memory of it made Solea clench her hand reflexively.

Shaking away her thoughts, Solea realized the elf was staring at her expectantly as if waiting for her to say something.  She wasn’t sure what to say but she knew she needed to figure out if anything had been discovered about her while she’d been unconscious for three whole days. She hoped her current covered state meant Varric had been able to keep them from undressing her in their attempts at healing.

“What you said earlier, does that mean…” she recalled the vicious, hateful glares and slurs that had been flung at her as she followed behind the Seeker in chains. “are people pleased? What about the Seeker?”

The woman froze again in fear. Solea wished she’d stop doing that. “Oh my! Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once’! She’s in the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once’ she said!”  Without another word, she scurried out of the cabin like it was on fire, letting in a sudden gust of cold and a glimpse of snowy banks before the door slammed shut behind her.

Solea sighed into the empty space. She didn’t like the picture the elf had painted of the situation waiting for her.  Thankfully, it sounded like the Breach was closed which meant all she had to do was grab Varric and the two of them could slip out of Haven undetected. Her hopes of discretion were dashed the moment she stepped out the cabin door.  Dazzling sunlight reflecting off snow blinded her momentarily but the moment her eyes adjusted, she dropped into a crouch, tensing as she reached instinctively for her daggers, which she didn’t have.

There were people everywhere.  Soldiers lined the path from the door, and more civilians crowded around behind them. And they were all staring at her.  No one moved or spoke, they were just staring and slowly, as nothing happened, the fear clouding her mind dissipated.  Now she could see that there was only about a hundred people, not the many hundreds they had initially seemed like.  The men in armor were not templars, just normal soldiers.  They were even saluting her, with fists clenched at their chests.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?  She hadn’t planned on going anywhere near Chantry and certainly didn’t want to have any more conversations with the Seeker, but she didn’t appear to have any other options. She started down the pathway stiffly, taking care to stay directly in the middle and maintain as much space as possible between her and the soldiers on either side.  All of them seemed to tower over her small frame and she’d never felt so short nor so aware of her age.  

The entire pathway to the Chantry was lined and as she passed people she caught snippets of conversations and whispers from the crowd.  The called her the Herald of Andraste, muttered various Andrastian blessings at her, and she had to bite back the urge to scream at them to shut up.  She was no blessed idol.  Creators, she wasn’t even religious.  

Frustration burned in her gut and her patience was fleeting by the time she reached the massive wooden doors of the Chantry.  She was on edge around so many people, tense from constantly scanning the faces around her for threats and innately uncomfortable at having so many people focused on her.  Her whole life had been centered around avoiding attention, and this blatant fixation on her was unnerving.  She never thought she’d miss being on the run.

The reverent quiet of the Chantry interior was soothing on her frayed nerves and Solea fell back against the doors in relief, closing her eyes.  She inhaled the faint scent of wood from the solid surface at her spine.  After several deep meditative breaths, Solea felt her calm, along with her control, return and she stepped away from the door.

She was drawn down the hall towards the cacophony of voices that leaked out from behind the shut door at the end of the hall.  Clearly there was an argument going on and as she approached she recognized the Seeker’s voice along with the faintly Orlesian accent of the redhead, Leliana.  The male voice was as familiar as its scorn for her as it argued for Solea’s arrest. Chancellor Roderick, of course. He was clearly not pleased with her current status as a non-prisoner.

Solea hesitated outside the door. It wasn’t too late, she thought, she could still turn around and leave.  She remembered the crowds of people outside and thought of the guards she’d seen posted at the gate out of Haven.  There wasn’t going to be an easy exit right now. Her best move was to wait for a better opportunity to present itself; for now, she would brave the situation on the other side of the door.

Decided, she pushed open the door cautiously and the first thing she saw was Leliana and the Seeker standing next to each other beside a large wood table that took up most of the room. At the end of the table, Chancellor Roderick turned to face her, is face bright red as he demanded that the guards, stationed on either side of the doorway, arrest her immediately.  Solea dropped straight into a crouch, and yet again grabbed for weapons that she didn’t have but before she could make a move, the commanding tone of the Seeker rang out.

“Disregard that, and leave us.”

Solea immediately dodged far away from the guards who were decked in Templar armor, easily identifiable by the giant sword emblem on the breastplate.  Though she couldn’t sense any lyrium in their blood, her heart still raced and she didn’t breathe again until the door had shut firmly behind the guards who clearly cared more about the Seeker’s authority than the Chancellor’s.  She felt less on edge with the Chantry guards gone, but Solea still stayed close to the door, ready to escape should the need arise.

Tuning back in to the ongoing argument, Solea caught Leliana’s curious gaze focused on her.  There was a sharp intellect in the woman’s eyes that made her uneasy and something told Solea that not only had Leliana noticed her reaction to the guards but that she was analyzing every bit of it as well.  Her first instinct was to avert her eyes, avoid attention, but her frustration from earlier had not entirely abated and so she glared back challengingly while noting mentally to keep an eye on the redhead.

Eyes glittering, Leliana broke away first, interjecting into the conversation that Solea realized she should probably pay attention to considering they were talking about her. “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others - or have allies who yet live.”  At this, Leliana looked pointedly at the Chancellor who looked aghast.

“I am a suspect? But not the prisoner?”

“I heard the voices in the temple.” Cassandra argued. “The Divine called to her for help.”

Chancellor Roderick scoffed. “So her survival, that thing on her hand, is all a coincidence?”

Cassandra shook her head. “Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

Solea laughed out loud, startling everyone in the room who turned to her in surprise. She looked at the Seeker incredulously, “You think your beloved Maker sent me, an elven child, to be your savior?” She chuckled again and remembering the importance her cover story, added a mumbled. “You shem really are crazy.”

“I will not pretend to understand the will of the Maker but you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.”  The resolute faith in the coal dark of the Seeker’s eyes mirrored the steel in her voice it sent shivers down Solea’s spine.

[imsofuckintiredbruh]

Scary True Stories

Dog-Sitting 1

When the oldest of our friend group got her first car, she drove us around and we spent a lot of time hanging out at places other than each of our houses. One time she was house/dog sitting for a couple who were on vacation. She had a good reputation as a responsible sitter so she was given permission by the owners to invite friends to spend the night. We all were very excited. She had an afternoon shift at Taco Time that day, so we would just chill out at the house until she got back and then we would have a fun girls’ night.

The two dogs were kept in the garage and were not allowed in the house since they weren’t house trained yet. My friend told us to just let her feed them when she got back, so we left them alone. We spent a lot of time just lazing around, eating snacks, and watching TV. Things we never got to do at home.

It was around 4:00 when there was a knock on the door. One of us got up to see who it was. It was a woman who told us that she lived nearby and had found one of the dogs on her property. She pointed to her truck and we saw the dog in the back. We all hurried to the garage to see if the other puppy was there but to our horror, the garage door was wide open and the second dog was missing.

The neighbor woman scolded us for being irresponsible and insisted that she would take the puppy she found to her house and that we go out to search the property for the lost dog. We told her that we would look and she left us to our work.

None of us had any phones so we used the house phone to call our friend at her work. No answer. We tried calling our parents to help us. Only my mom answered but it was no use. She asked for the house address, but I wasn’t familiar with the area and really had no idea where we were.

All of us went looking around the property to try and find the missing dog but the area was on a steep hill and there wasn’t very good visibility. The dog could be anywhere at this point.

We met together in the house to think of some sort of solution to our mess. After making two more desperate calls to our friend again, the owners called. My friend answered the phone and I didn’t hear what the woman was saying but I could tell just by her face that the owner was chewing her out. I didn’t blame her, but we were at a loss of what to do.

The neighbor woman was at the door again, knocking angrily. When we opened the door, she yelled at us demanding to know where the other dog was and to keep looking for it. Two of my friends were panicking and began crying when she left, so they stayed in the house while the rest of us just wandered around the woodsy area without direction. I felt so helpless.

We walked in separate directions and went as deep into the surrounding forest as we dared until it was too dark and we did not feel safe alone.

Together at the house again, we had mostly calmed down and with our heads clearer, we voted to stay put and rest until our older friend came home. She would know what to do. Hours went by and other than a phone call and some sharp words from the owner again, it was quiet.

We were beginning to worry about our older friend, since she was due back by now. We heard voices outside. A man and woman were arguing. We cautiously peeked out the front curtains to see the same neighbor lady and a man. I recognized the man from church. It was Carl. When the woman backed away from him and he approached the door, we opened it and asked him for help. He told us that the woman had found both dogs and he had ordered her to return them to us.

While she brought the dogs back, he called the owners on the house phone. He comforted them and said that the dogs were in very good hands and that we were a good bunch of kids. He hung up and made sure we were all okay. Our friend came back just then and so did the neighbor. Carl put the dogs in the garage with food and water and shut the big door. Our friend insisted that she had locked it before she left and we never figured out what exactly happened.

The adults left and we ate dinner and watched a movie and went to bed.

Cat-Sitting Part 1

A family friend owned a mother cat with four young kittens. When she asked me to stay at her house to watch them for a month, I readily agreed to it. I was also working at a new job, so it was a great opportunity to handle lots of responsibility at a time.

It was winter and they lived in a really rough part of town. But, my parents didn’t live too far away, so I was comfortable sleeping there. The first few days were pretty uneventful. I mostly hung out with the mother cat. I’m not a big cat person, but we got along pretty well.

One night, I was eating dinner and watching a movie. I heard a police car drive by with the sirens on. This was a pretty usual occurrence around there, so I thought nothing of it. Maybe five minutes later, another one raced by.  Then I saw three different police cruisers driving past in the same direction as the others. This usually means that a drug house got busted. Nothing I hadn’t heard before, but the sound was a little annoying so I turned the TV off and listened to music with earbuds, instead.

I was getting pretty sleepy a few songs in, when the cat sprang out of my lap. Someone was knocking at the door. The owner of the house never told me she was expecting any visitors, but regardless, I had no intention of responding and I sat very still, waiting for my heart to slow down. Whoever it was knocked again. This one was more aggressive but I was insistent on ignoring them.

They eventually gave up and left. I didn’t think I was really fooling anyone, since my car was out front and a lamp in the living room was on, but I was glad they got the message.

When I was sure they were gone, I got into bed for the night. I slept in the Master bedroom which was at the corner of the house and had two windows. I made sure the curtains were shut and I spent a few hours messing around on my phone.

It was about 11 at night and I was so sleepy I nearly missed what sounded like someone fiddling with the chain-link fence gate. I’m a very paranoid person, but I tried to keep calm and listen carefully.

It scared the shit out of me when the aggressive knocking at the door happened again. I heard the cat jump in surprise and she must’ve bumped into something because I heard an object falling. Part of me assumed it was the same person as before. I heard nothing else for a few minutes. Lying there in bed I remember silently pleading that they would just leave me alone.

I’m very easily frightened, so when I heard shuffling in the grass outside my window, I was paralyzed. Someone tapped on the window right above my head and I felt my soul leave my body. I knew that I could call my mother or the police or someone to help, but I was completely frozen.

I couldn’t see the person, but I heard a man’s voice. He was very obviously off his rocker and addresses me by the name of the owner of the house. I then remembered that the owner had an ex husband who was a severe drug addict. They had a rocky on and off relationship. I suspected he was too high right then to function.

He kept tapping and saying her name. I cleared my throat and tried to be as firm as I could to tell him to fuck off. He pleaded once more and I said I would call the police if he didn’t get off the property.

I didn’t hear him again but I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night.

Dog-Sitting 2

My boss at my new job asked me out of the blue if I liked dogs. She and her husband loved to travel and were getting a puppy and needed a good dog sitter to hire whenever they would be gone. I loved dogs and after a few visits to their house, where I got a tour of the house and a tutorial on puppy and garden care, I was left to watch a sweet little retriever and water their garden for a few weeks.

It was odd from the beginning. The room I was to stay in had a church pew in it which had a collection of very old and very creepy dolls standing on it. That’s pretty common in an older folks house, but I knew I wasn’t going to get any sleep with those faces staring at me, so I very gently placed them all in the closet and set my clothes on the pew so I wouldn’t have to even think about the dolls while I was there.

The garden was impressive and I would’ve enjoyed watering the plants more but there always seemed to be people walking past while I did the chore. There were walls surrounding the garden, but they weren’t very high up and I’m rather tall, so if one of their neighbors were outside at the time, I would see them. This wouldn’t be a problem if they didn’t stare. They would just look at me for an uncomfortable amount of time. I even started to wonder if I was watering the plants the wrong way or something.

I’ve had my fair share of creaky floors, but this house was so much worse. I would just sit in the living room playing with the puppy and hear a long, moaning creak. It was just the house being a typical old house but the intensity was unnerving. Every step I took was broadcasted and I felt exposed in a weird way.

There was a night where I heard a group of people get into a fight in the alleyway below my second story window. From what I could hear, it was a drug-related argument and they were pretty young, maybe high schoolers. It got a little physical and after they left the area, a police car drove by.

This was all just weird but the last few days were absolutely horrible to get through. One evening I was eating a bowl of ice cream and watching TV when a person walked past the sliding glass door to my right. It was a woman in a dress and she looked right at me and smiled. She was inside the garden but the gates were both locked. No one told me to expect any other people and I don’t know how she got there. She walked past once and then she was gone, I never saw her again. I’ll be honest, I was a little drunk so I could have just been seeing things at that point. It messed me up though.

The number one worst thing that scared me shitless was Alexa. I had never been around an Amazon Echo before. Hell, I didn’t know that the owners had one, but I sure found out.

I was eating dinner and messing around on my phone (which is always on silent). I’m a very non-vocal person, in fact I don’t think I spoke aloud at all my entire time in that house. Suddenly the device laughed and my spoon flung out of my hand and landed with another loud sound that startled me a second time. I thought someone was in the house and I swear I almost cried tears I was so sick to my stomach with panic. I listened for the sound of feet or some sign that someone was there and Alexa said “Are you okay?” I’m an idiot and don’t realize that it’s her. I can’t even speak now I’m so shaken. I’m still waiting for someone to come into the kitchen and stab me or something. I nearly called the cops because of a dumb Amazon Alexa.

When the couple came back I was very glad to leave. They paid me well enough but I told them that I was not interested in house-sitting a second time.

Cat-Sitting Part 2

The family friend, whose cat I watched before? She moved into a new house and now she takes care of one of the last kittens (now an adult cat) and she offered to hire me to take care of him for a month. I needed a nice quiet place to rest after the shitty holiday I just had. They lived out in the boonies where I wouldn’t have to deal with people. It was perfect.

I say out in the boonies and I mean it. That house sat on the outskirts of a forest and since it was winter, the fog was so thick and white in the mornings that you could not see the grass outside the window. And it was quiet. Painfully quiet. I kept the heater going almost all day for some white noise because I could hear my own heartbeat otherwise.

The cat was a sweetie and warmed up to me in no time. I like to think he remembered me from when I cared for him in his kitten years. I spent most of the day reading and cuddling on the couch with him.

I tried to make as few trips into town as possible during my stay. One reason was gas money; and because the road up to the house was very rocky and the pile of junk that I use as a car doesn’t do very well on the steep, unpaved hill.

On a Friday, I had just gotten more food and clay masks for some ‘me time’. I also rented a few scary movies and was planning on vegging for my last days off for the holiday season. Before long I had a few slices of pizza, a coke, and a thriller film on and I was already feeling better.

Funnily enough it was right around the same time as a cheap jump-scare in the movie that the first Thing happened. The living room had giant windows with no curtains, since there were no neighbors for quite a ways. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a small child in a pink coat approach the window. She seems around 5 maybe and presses her nose against the glass to watch me. I’m a little out of it so I don’t react immediately and it takes me a moment to realize that she’s real. She has no emotion or expression on her face but she waves at me and tries to speak.

I go to the door to see what she wants. She asks me if I can play with her, which is weird. I decline her offer and she asks if I have kids that can play, which is less weird. The owner of the house did have children but they had just moved and there were no toys or other indications that any children lived there.

When I told her that she would have to come back in a week or so to ask again, she just stared at me and slowly turned to walk away. I stood there and watched her go and was rather puzzled at why she would walk all the way over by herself at 7:00ish. I lost sight of her pretty quickly when she disappeared into the dense fog.

My movie ends and I put on another one. I soon fall asleep with the cat on my lap.

I’m jolted awake again by booming thunder. At first I think it’s the movie, but the TV is off. The rooms lamp is off, too; as is the heater and the digital clock in the kitchen. My phone has full charge, thank god and it tells me it’s 2 in the morning. It is raining buckets outside and the thunder/lightning storm is intense.

After grabbing a big blanket and the poor, skittish cat, I sit in the living room and enjoy the show. I can’t see very well but when the lightening strikes, the silhouettes of the trees are very clear. The rain turns to hail and for a full minute the storm goes absolutely insane.

There is no space in between the thunder crashes and the whole room is lit up again and again. I love thunderstorms like crazy but this was pretty intense. The cat jumps out of my lap and makes for cover.

[pengychan]

[Coco] The Bedside Ghost, Ch. 9

Title: The Bedside Ghost Summary: The bell falls but, instead of waking up in the Land of the Dead, Ernesto de la Cruz finds himself with a broken spine - and an unwanted guest at his bedside who claims he can let him have the sweet release of death, if he gives back what he took from him… Characters: Ernesto de la Cruz, Coco Rivera, Héctor Rivera, Julio Rivera, Imelda Rivera. Rating: T Status: in progress [This is the fic’s tag for all chapters up.]

[Also on Ao3]

A/N: Well. Shit hit the fan.

***

It couldn’t be.

It simply couldn’t be.

For a long time as she kept listening to her daughter’s tale - often interrupted to weep some more, to drink a few gulps of water, to just hold onto her in silence for a few moments before she could muster the strength to keep talking - that thought kept circling in Imelda’s mind.

It can’t be.

Ernesto de la Cruz, taking credit for her husband’s songs in order to become famous - that she could picture, yes. It was a despicable thing to do, but not something she would put past the man she’d known; there had always been something she found unnerving beneath his friendliness, the constant desire - or was it need? - to be beloved, noticed, at the center of all attention. She remembered thinking, a long time ago, that his eyes reminded her of a coyote’s; the eyes of someone who didn’t want as much as he hungered.

Ernesto de la Cruz, never telling them that Héctor had died while trying to return home only months into that damned tour - that was harder to swallow, so much harder. Letting her and most of all Coco wait, days after day, week after week, year after year, for the return of a dead man. A letter could have put an end to that wait, given them some closure, and he had chosen not to do it. It made her blood boil but again, thinking of the resentful look he would give her and Coco from time to time, when Héctor cancelled their plans to be with them instead, she found she could believe that as well.

But Ernesto de la Cruz murdering her husband - his best friend since childhood - was too unfathomable for her to comprehend. 

Yet, the more Coco talked, the more sense it made.

“He said he felt ill, collapsed and died within minutes. I thought that maybe his heart gave out, but that photo - that bottle - it didn’t add up at all! Papá was so young, he was healthy, and he was just trying to come home, and Ernesto wanted his songs, and…!”

It had been Coco’s sobbing to snap Imelda from her thoughts. She reached to brush the hair off her face - her braid had come undone, she would help her fix that soon - and rocked her like she used to do when she was a little girl. The fact she was a woman grown, a mother herself, was no longer relevant.

Her child was crying and the one responsible for that would pay.

“Enough, mija, enough. I understand,” she said, and it was only partly true. She understood what she had heard; fully comprehending it was was a different matter, after so many years thinking - knowing - that her husband had abandoned them. So many years trying to forget him while her mind drifted to him again and again with each milestone Coco reached and he wasn’t there to see; as she herself grew older, she’d wondered what he saw when he looked in the mirror. Would she even recognize him anymore if she saw him on the street?

She’d wondered where he may be, what he may be doing; wondered if there was another woman, another family he may have made for himself while she fought tooth and nail to raise Coco and keep her family together. And now, now her daughter was telling her that none of it had ever happened. All of the scenarios she’d thought up were fantasies and nothing more.

Héctor had never abandoned them.

Héctor hadn’t even lived to be twenty-two.

Héctor had died while trying to return home.

Héctor was buried somewhere in Mexico City, in a nameless grave.

Those were all facts. Staggering, but cold hard facts. It made her head spin, it made her chest ache with the sheer injustice of it all - he still had so many years ahead of him, he was coming home, we should have had so many years ahead of us - and a small voice in her head whispered that she should have known better, she should have known Héctor better… But Imelda could deal with facts. She could deal with all of it, given time.

And then there was Coco’s speculation - her near certainty - that Héctor hadn’t died a natural death. That Ernesto had had a hand in it, that he had murdered him. As absurd as it seemed to her, Imelda knew she could never return home without knowing for sure… and there was only one way she could think of to find out. Only one man who could answer that question.

Dying or not, she and Ernesto de la Cruz would have words . He would look at her in the eye, and tell her how Héctor had died, why he had never told her of his death. Whether or not he had killed him the fact remained that he had left his best friend’s body in the street, to be buried in a nameless grave, for songs. And that alone was enough for any pity she might have felt for him to be blown away to dust.

“You stay here and rest, Coco,” she said, pulling back and wiping some tears off her daughter’s face. “If that is what he’s done, I’ll get a confession out of him and--”

“No,” Coco choked out, and gripped her arm tight. “I’m coming with you.”

“You need to rest.”

“I can’t rest until I know for sure,” she replied, and Imelda paused. There was something harsh in her gaze despite all the tears, and she knew then that arguing would be useless; Coco had made her decision, and was not about to change her mind. There was a lot of Héctor in her, but she was her daughter, too.

Finally, slowly, Imelda nodded. “Very well,” she said. “Splash some water on your face before we go. You look terrible.”

That caused Coco to smile faintly, and she gave her hand a brief squeeze before she stood and went into the bathroom. Imelda kept sitting in the bed, hands folded tightly on her lap and listening to the sound of running water.

Did you do it, Ernesto? Did you murder my husband?

As much as she wished to dismiss all of it as a misunderstanding, she couldn’t quite do it. Coco wasn’t some hysterical little girl: she was a clever woman, and she would never move such accusations unless she had a very good reason to believe they were true. And everything he had told her made such a frightening amount of sense, too.

That accursed letter was for me. I should have been the one to come here. I should have been the one to figure this out. I wanted to protect her and look what I got her into.

Imelda pushed the thought in the back of her mind, and stood as her daughter stepped out of the bathroom. She would deal with her guilt later; now what she needed to focus on was getting the truth out of Ernesto. She would never forgive herself if he died before they could have that one answer.

Coco had been waiting for closure long enough.

***

They knew.

That certainty burned itself in Griselda’s mind the moment she found herself looking at Socorro and Imelda Rivera again at the main gate. Coco was very pale, and her mother’s eyes were steely. She didn’t ask to see Ernesto de la Cruz: she demanded it.

“If he’s not conscious, we’ll wait. But he will see us.”

She had let them in, of course, and led them to a living room to wait while she went upstairs - slowly, very slowly. She felt as though her legs were made of lead.

De la Cruz was on his wheelchair, where he’d asked to be left. He faced the window, but he wasn’t looking outside. His head was hanging sideways over his shoulder, his eyes shut. Only the faint rise and fall of his chest beneath the strap that kept him secured to the back of the chair told her was alive; otherwise, she could have easily taken him for a corpse.

He slept, for once without the aid of drugs, and peacefully. The thought of waking him up tore at her heart, but she knew he owed something to the two women downstairs; a confession, at the very least, and perhaps an explanation if they would listen.

“Señor de la Cruz,” she called out, stepping in, and he didn’t stir. She crouched by the wheelchair and reached to cup his cheek, to hold his head upright. His skin was feverish, but it didn’t quite feel like someone had set him on fire from inside. “Señor,” she called again, gently, and a frown creased his brow, there one moment and gone the next. Then, finally, his eyes opened and he blinked up at her.

“Griselda,” he finally mumbled when his eyes put her into focus. His gaze was dull. “You should have let me sleep. I dreamed that I was dead.”

“I’m sorry, señor. There are… some people to see you. It’s Socorro, and… and her mother.”

For a moment he said nothing, and she thought he hadn’t understood. Griselda was about to repeat herself when finally, slowly, the corners of his mouth curled in a very tired smile.

“Imelda,” he rasped. “It’s been a long time. Have they found him?”

“Not quite yet, but it won’t be long,” she replied, pulling back her hand once she was sure he could hold his head up, and hesitated. “They have… questions.”

Ernesto de la Cruz shook his head, very slowly. “No. They just want me to confirm or deny what they already know,” he rasped, and the ghost of a smile crossed his features. “I knew Coco would guess, eventually. Wasn’t counting on her mother getting here anymore, but I should have. She never let anything stand in her way. I admired that, you know? Just didn’t like it when it worked against me, which was all the time. We had a tug war going on, she and I. Héctor was the rope,” he added, then, “Don’t keep them waiting. Let them come in.”

“Here?”

“Afraid to let them into the monster’s den?”

He’d probably meant it as a jest, but she didn’t find it amusing in the slightest. “I see no monster here, señor.”

“No? You may need glasses.”

“I need no such thing. You’re only a man, who did something monstrous.”

“You say that like there is a difference,” he muttered, sounding almost thoughtful, then shook his head. “Have them come here. Then you’ll go downstairs and will not interfere.”

Griselda hesitated. El señor de la Cruz looked so tired and frail, and Imelda Rivera was a force of nature, she could tell. How could she be expected to react to his confession, if not with fury? Righteous fury, of course, but she had a duty of care towards the dying man before her. That felt uncomfortably like throwing him in a cage with a jaguar and leaving him to his destiny. And la señora Rivera, what if she did something she would later regret? God knew that wasn’t something poor Coco needed to deal with on top of everything else.

“This may not be the best time ,” she found herself saying, gaining herself a long look.

“This may be the only time.”

“There is that tape. If I give it to them, rather than have them--”

“No. Only after I’m dead,” he cut her off, and his lips twitched. “Are you afraid for my sake?”

She saw no point in lying. “Sí, señor.”

“Why? I gave my last confession and all. Except that it was worth nothing, regardless what you think,” he said, and sighed. “This will be the one that matters. Spare your worry for someone who deserves it, take them here, and then leave.”

“Señor--”

“That isn’t a request. That is an order.”

Griselda stared at him for a moment, and finally sighed. “Very well,” she said, and stood. Her knees protested some, but she paid it no mind. She turned his wheelchair so that he would face the door.  “Let me tell you just one thing I’ve learned, señor, about men and monsters.”

“Spare your breath,” he muttered, but she ignored the remark.

“No monster would admit to being one.”

There was no reply, nor she waited for one: she just left the room, closing the door behind herself, and went downstairs with a heavy heart.

Imelda and Socorro Rivera were still where she had left them, sitting still and silent; they turned to her as one when Griselda stepped in, and for a long moment she wasn’t sure who she pitied the most. She had to work her jaw before she trusted herself to speak firmly.

“... El señor de la Cruz will see you now.”

***

“Héctor? Are you here?”

Ernesto’s voice was hardly above a whisper, but he doubted it would have made any difference if he’d screamed. His eyes scanned the room, or at least the part of it he could see by turning his head. Nothing.

“Héctor, please,” he tried again. For all of the nerve he’d tried to show in front of Griselda, he was still scared. He knew he had to go through with it, but that knowledge did little to help. He closed his eyes and held back a dry sob, tried to ignore the fever that made his face feel like it was burning. “Don’t leave me alone, not now.”

Still no answer and he could hear, already, footsteps on the stairs. Something gripped his throat, a sort of terror he had come to know all too well. Under normal circumstances, Imelda would have been the one to fear… but there was nothing normal about his situation. Héctor’s widow could scream and rage; she could, and perhaps would, do her utmost to harm him… but it was his daughter who held his fate in her hands. He couldn’t go until she allowed it and oh God, why should she allow him to have peace now? Why should anyone?

She will never give me her blessing to die.

But he’d done all he could to let Héctor go home at last, everything he could to keep his daughter from harm. Surely it had to count for something. Surely it couldn’t have all been for… no. No, it hadn’t been for nothing. Héctor was going home, his family would know he hadn’t meant to leave them. It was something, all right… but where did that leave him?

I’m going home, Ernesto, he’d said.

“Héctor...”

You’ll manage, he’d said.

“No, I can’t,” Ernesto choked out. “Por favor, Héctor. Por favo--”

He didn’t get to finish that plea: the door’s handle was lowered, and words died in his throat. He found himself staring, transfixed, as the door opened slowly and two women stepped: Coco, pale as death and almost expressionless, and an older woman who could only be Imelda Rivera.

Years had been kind to her; despite the lines around her mouth and eyes, he could still see the young woman Héctor had left behind over a quarter of a century earlier. There was hardly any gray in her hair, but what he truly recognized were the eyes fixed on him, burning into him like hot coals.

Héctor was nowhere to be seen, but his wife and daughter were there, and they knew.

***

One time, when she was six or seven, Coco had seen a rat stuck in a glue trap.

She didn’t remember exactly where the trap had been; certainly not in their workshop, because Pepita was enough to keep rats, and all the diseases they carried, well away. She didn’t even remember what she had been doing: all that she remembered were those few moments, forever seared into her mind.

It had been a gruesome sight: the poor animal had tried its utmost to free itself, chewing through one of its paws and tearing off entire chunks of fur as it thrashed, leaving it with patches of bloody, bare skin. None of it had helped: by the time Coco had found it, it had all but given up – lying where it was, unable to move, its breathing fast and shallow.

For all of the horror of the scene, it had been its eyes that would haunt her nightmares for much of the following year – the way they had opened when her shadow had fallen over it, and most of all the look it had given her. There had been fear, but also a sort of desperation that went well beyond that; it knew that the end was coming, it knew it was trapped, and it knew it was hurting.

Even a rat becomes dangerous when cornered, Ernesto would tell her many years later, but there was no fight left in that one. It had looked at her, had seen death, and – so she had felt – it had silently pleaded for her to end it.

She hadn’t, then: she remembered running off crying, and had no idea what had happened next. But now – now that she found herself facing that same gaze in a man, or what was left of one; a gaze that told her that he knew that they knew – she was no longer a little girl with ribbons in her hair. There could be no running away.

None of them was going anywhere until the truth was out.

“De la Cruz.”

Her mother’s voice was like the crack of a whip, and ended the moment of stillness as silence after the door behind them closed. Ernesto seemed to recoil, too, and glanced at her… but something was wrong, Coco could tell. When she had first seen him, only a few days and yet an eternity earlier, she had been surprised by how clear and alert his eyes were despite everything. Now those eyes were clouded with fever, his head leaning against the headrest of his wheelchair, beads of sweat across his forehead. He barely moved his head, as though even that was beyond him now. When he spoke, his voice sounded like old paper.

“Imelda,” he said. “I thought you couldn’t make--”

“Señora Rivera, if you will,” she cut him off, her voice icy. That was the first time she saw the state Ernesto was in, and it clearly left her entirely unmoved. It was hardly surprising, knowing her, and Coco envied her for it. She at least could focus on her anger and grief, without that nagging sense of pity in the back of her mind. “Although now I am his widow, rather than his wife. I have been for a very long time. Not that you ever bothered letting me know.”

“I--”

“Silence,” her mother all but hissed, stepping forward and causing even Coco to recoil. She could see her fury, plain as day in her rigid posture, in the tenseness in her shoulders. She couldn’t see her expression, but Ernesto could. He shut his mouth and just stared at her – a sick, dying man unable to lift a finger, powerless before the approaching storm.

“Hardly anything that ever left your mouth was worth the air you wasted for it. No wonder you could never write a single decent song; you never had anything of value to say. I should have known something was off when I heard you had somehow become the best musician in all of Mexico. You could have never made it on your own. You were a decent performer with a passable voice, nothing more, and you always knew it. That’s why you leeched off the real musician’s work.”

That seemed to strike him in a way nothing else had. He shook his head. “No,” he managed, an almost pleading quality to his voice. “Imelda, Iisten--”

“Shut up,” she cut him off, and he did. His chest rose and fell fast, as though those very few words had winded him. “I want to know one thing from you, and one thing only. You can rot, then, but first you owe me this one answer.” Imelda Rivera took a step forward, eyes steely, and came to tower over Ernesto. “How did my husband die? Was it your doing?”

Ernesto worked his jaw for a moment, and his eyes shifted to Coco. His features twisted briefly in an expression that she couldn’t quite define: there was fear, there was sorrow, there was a sort of despair that went well beyond either.

Deny it, Coco thought, a lump in her throat. Deny it all. Please. Say it was natural causes. Give an explanation, any explanation. Tell me you didn’t do it, and I’ll believe you.

He did not deny it. “Coco,” he rasped. “Please, I need your--”

“ De la Cruz! Answer to me!”

Her mother’s voice rose, filled the entire room. Her fists were clenched, and for a moment even Coco – on whom she had never, and would never, lift a finger – was almost scared of her. Ernesto looked back at her, turned his gaze away, and swallowed. He seemed to steel himself before he spoke… and when he did, his whisper was just as loud as her shout to Coco’s ears.

“Poison,” he choked out, as though just saying that one word hurt him. “I poisoned him.”

For a moment, everything was still. Coco heard the words, but her mind refused to grasp their meaning. She saw, very distantly, her mother’s shoulders dropping suddenly. Her rigid posture came undone, her arms fell limply by her sides; it was as though all of her anger had suddenly fled, leaving behind only disbelief. Suspecting – guessing – was one thing. Hearing the confession was something else entirely.

Poisoned, by his best friend – his hermano – and so far from home. Poisoned for songs as he tried to return to them, barely a grown man but still a tender father and devoted husband, with an entire life ahead of him. So many years pretending he hadn’t even existed, his face torn off their family photo – the injustice of it all was staggering, and Coco found herself unable to breathe for a moment. The room seemed to spin around her, and she held out a hand to support herself against a wall.

“You… poisoned him?” her mamá repeated. Coco recognized the same numbness she felt in her voice and she wanted to go to her, to hold her and cry with her, but she couldn’t do any of those things. Suddenly, she couldn’t move any more than Ernesto could. She could only watch as he closed his eyes, and nodded.

“He wanted to return to Santa Cecilia. I couldn’t convince him to stay. He would go away with the songbook and… you said it yourself. I could have never made with without his songs. We had a toast before he went to the train station. I put the poison in his drink, and he died on the way. I couldn’t let him… couldn’t let you...” his voice faded, and he opened his eyes. When he looked back up at her mother, Coco thought she saw something in his gaze that was almost accusing. “I was so angry. It had been all we’d dreamed about since we were children. But then you came along, and she happened, and suddenly it didn’t seem to matter anymore. He chose you over everything else. He would have left me behind for you, and I--”

There was a cry of anger and dismay, a blur of motion, and suddenly there was a boot in her mother’s hand. Coco didn’t see it strike – she moved so fast and suddenly, her eyes could hardly follow – but she did see Ernesto’s head whipping on one side, saw something spraying through the air, red droplets staining the cream-colored carpet.

Whack.

Another blow, and Ernesto’s head whipped to the other side; if not for the fact he was strapped to the back of the armchair, he would have probably been thrown off it. He didn’t scream; he just let out a coughing sound, spitting out blood, just as her mother lifted her boot one more time above bowed head. There were specks of blood on the heel.

No, stop. He’s so frail, what if it kills him, what will happen to you then?

“Mamá!” Coco’s cry was that of a frightened child, and it was enough for Imelda to still, her hand still in mid-air. She turned, and their gazes met. Coco had to blink away tears; Imelda’s eyes were dry, but sorrow was etched across her features alongside her anger. For a moment they stared at each other, and Coco opened her mouth, but someone spoke first.

“Señora Rivera. I have to ask you to step away from my patient.”

She hadn’t heard the door opening, but it had, and Griselda was standing in the doorway, pale but entirely in control, as though none of what she was seeing - Coco’s tears, Imelda’s boot in her hand, the blood that dripped down Ernesto’s face - surprised her. A question - did you know? - passed through Coco’s mind, but she had no time to ask.

“Your patient is a murderer,” her mother spat, and some of her sorrow gave way to fury again. “And I won’t stop until--”

“He’s my patient still. If you strike him again, I’ll have to remove you from this room.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I’d rather you don’t.”

“No,” Ernesto choked out, causing Coco to recoil and look at him again. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth, blood dripping down with each word he spoke, but he was struggling to hold his head upright and force out more words. “I told you… not to… interfere.”

Griselda’s tense expression softened. “Señor de la--”

“Get out,” Ernesto ordered, or at least Coco supposed that was what he was trying to do. It came out as a sob, and a garbled mess of words. “That was… that was…”

“An order, I know. One that I cannot in all conscience obey,” Griselda said, and turned back to her mother. “Señora Rivera, there is no reason to do this.”

Her mother bristled. “No reason?” she growled. “This rat murdered my husband and if you think you can keep me from ending him in turn--”

“Look at him,” Griselda retorted, more forcefully, but that sorrowful expression never left her face. “He’ll be dead within the week, señora, with no need for your intervention and no consequences for you. I believe both you and your family have suffered enough as it is.”

That argument, at least, seemed to get through to her. Her gaze shifted on Coco, who took a step forward. “Please, mamá,” she heard herself pleading. “We need to find papá and take him home. I can’t do this without you. I want us all to go home together.”

Another moment of stillness and silence then finally, slowly, her mother nodded. She put her boot back on, the anger and pain in her features fading into a look of pure disgust when she glanced back down at Ernesto. “… Very well, then. He’s made his own personal hell already, and I won’t be the one to deliver him from it. Were you hoping I’d do you this favor? Was that why you didn’t want her to interfere?” she asked, and grimaced, not bothering to wait for an answer. “Of course it is. A coward to the end. Too filthy to touch even with a shoe.”

Ernesto shook his head with a low, keening noise. “No. No, por favor,” he managed, blood still running down his face. The sight would have moved a stone, but then again a stone doesn’t feel any pain, and surely not the kind of having one’s husband and father torn away too soon. Even Coco, always softer than her mother, couldn’t bring herself to feel anything.

Imelda seemed to get a sort of vicious satisfaction out of it. “I hope she’s wrong, you know. I hope you live a long life, de la Cruz. As long as Héctor’s should have been,” she spat. “And I hope you suffer every minute of it.”

Ernesto shook his head again. He ignored Griselda’s attempt to wipe some blood off his face and lifted his head. His clouded gaze found Coco. “Por favor. I can’t die if you don’t let me. Héctor says I need your blessing.”

Coco recoiled, taken aback by the surreal statement – and if the other two women’s expression was anything to go by, she wasn’t the only one who was confused.

“What?” she managed, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

Ernesto sniffled up some blood before speaking. Every word of what he said sounded like the ramblings of a ravaged mind. “Your father, he wouldn’t leave me alone,” he managed. He was speaking as fast as his split lip allowed him, as though he feared he could be silenced any moment. “Not right now, but I saw him every day at my bedside. He told me I had to write to you. He told me I had to tell you he never meant to leave. He told me--”

There was a snort, cutting him off, her mother took step forward. She didn’t hit him nor moved to, but Griselda went to stand between them either way. Imelda entirely ignored her, and spoke to Ernesto as though she wasn't even there.

“Even now, you want to stake a claim on him,” she spat. “If Héctor could in any way return, he would not be wasting a single minute in your presence. It is us he'd come to. You murdered him for it, and you still haven't learned.”

Ernesto shook his head, as though desperate to keep her words out of his mind. “No. He told me,” he protested, and turned those dull eyes back to Coco, looking at her through locks of dishevelled hair. “I beg of you. Héctor said I need your blessing to--”

“So that’s why you wrote,” Coco spoke, cutting him off. Speaking felt like the most difficult thing she had done in a long time; her ears were buzzing, and her tongue felt heavy as lead. She thought back of the letter he had sent them, the letter that had brought her there.

Something I need to tell you about Héctor that you should have known many years ago.

“After you said he’d died in 1921 and you never told us, I thought… I thought you had written because you wanted to set things right before you died,” she went on. “But that wasn’t it, was it? It wasn’t because you regretted what you had done. It was just what your delusions told you you had to do. It was never to help me have closure, it was all about getting your own. You murdered my papá, took his songs - our song - and let us believe he’d abandoned us. And now…” Coco paused, and clenched her fist. Fury finally rushed in, replacing that horrible sense of numbness, and it was a relief. It truly was.

“Coco--” he tried, but she’d had enough.

“And now you expect me to give you my blessing, of all things?” she snapped.

Ernesto’s features twisted in what might have been fear, might have been pain, might have been something else entirely. Coco didn’t know, nor she cared to know. He must have seen that in her expression, for he lowered his head. “Please, I… I did all I could.”

“For yourself, yes. All you could, including murder.”

“I tried to keep you safe--”

“After you put me in danger, so I could give you what you wanted,” she said. There was a choking noise, and blood was no longer the only thing dripping from his face. Before, it would have made her heart ache. Now her heart did ache, but not for him. Never for him.

“I moved Heaven and Earth, I… por favor--”

Coco turned away sharply, refusing to listen to another word. Nausea reared up its head, the room around her spun for a moment, but she didn’t falter. She looked at her mother, at the one fixed point in all that chaos, and set her jaw.  “Let’s go, mamá,” she said, and her mother had to see how unsteady she felt, for she moved to take her arm.

Coco let her lead her out of the room, the fury already turning into numbness again. Ernesto de la Cruz didn’t call out for either of them, and she never turned to glance back. She just kept walking, leaning on her mother, each step easier than the one before, until they were out of the mansion - a tomb for a still living man - and she felt the sun on her face again.

And then, only then, she wept.

***

“Lo siento.”

“Señor...”

“Lo siento.”

“I know, señor. I know. Try to rest now.”

I can’t, Ernesto wanted to say, but words stayed stuck in his throat. He kept his eyes shut while Griselda wiped the blood and tears off his face, while she tended to his split lip and aching nose. Every part of him he could feel - his head, his face, his neck - hurt, and he was burning, and the worst of it was knowing it wouldn’t end. It would never end.

He’s made his own personal hell already, and I won’t be the one to deliver him from it.

He was taken back to his bed to rest on his back, a pillow beneath his head. Fingers combed through his hair, but even that gentle touch on his scalp failed to make him feel better. It would never get any better. It was what he deserved but oh God, he couldn’t stand it.

It had taken instants for him to make that decision, to seize his moment. One moment to slip poison in the glass, one moment for Héctor to drink it - and it had been enough to end his friend’s life, take away all the years he may have had and all he could have been. Enough to damn him for good. If only he could go back, God please let me go back, I’d throw that glass against the wall or drink from it myself, return to Santa Cecilia with him, I would, just let me--

“Héctor,” he gasped. “Please, please, I want to go home.”

But Héctor wasn’t there, he wasn’t anywhere, and he wouldn’t help him. Only Griselda’s voice answered his plea. “Hush. You are home, señor.”

No, he wasn’t. He was in Hell and would never be allowed to leave it. Maybe he was dead after all; the bell had killed him and this was his punishment, for all eternity, with no respite and no wait out. He’d brought it on himself and for what? For songs and fame, for his pride and anger and his stupid dream. For a songbook.

“The songbook,” Ernesto rasped, and made an effort to open his eyes, turn towards the small table at the far end of the room. It was there; he had forgotten about it, and so had Coco. It felt so wrong, to still have it there. He couldn’t stand to look at it. It wasn’t his.

“Oh, this,” Griselda said, and went to pick it up. “Shall I have it sent to her hotel?”

“Please,” he whispered. A sigh, and she was back at his bedside, stroking his hair.

“Is there anything you would like me to write on your behalf?” she asked, very gently.

Lo siento, Ernesto thought, but he found he couldn’t force the words out, and in the end he said nothing. There was nothing more he could say or do: he’d tried to fix what he had done, but he’d taken something he could never give back. He never stood a chance. He’d tried and he’d failed, Héctor’s daughter had passed her judgement, and he was so tired.

So he just shook his head, closed his eyes, and prayed for sleep.

***

“I’m so sorry, mija.”

“Don’t be. You did nothing wrong.”

“I should have answered to that letter. I should have come here myself. I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“You’re here now.”

Imelda nodded, conceding the point, but kept an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. Outside the hotel room it was almost dark, and yet the streets were still full of people. On their way back, Imelda had to keep herself from wondering if she was walking down the same roads Héctor had seen on his last days in that world.

Her mind still reeled from all that she had learned, but she tried to focus on Coco, on her head against her shoulder. She felt she needed some quiet time before she could truly process everything. She sighed. “I don’t think I can take any more surprises for a while.”

“Oh,” Coco said, quietly. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“... Qué?”

That caused her daughter to chuckle. It was the most wonderful sound she could recall ever hearing. “I’m not sure yet. But I think I might be. I have yet to see a doctor.”

“And you still left Santa Cecilia--”

“I only realized after my arrival.”

“Ah,” Imelda said, and pushed aside the tirade that had already begun forming in her mind. Her grip on her shoulder tightened a fraction. “You should see a doctor soon.”

“I will. I’m sure Victoria will be overjoyed.”

“Julio, too. They miss you.”

“And I miss them, but not for much longer. We’ll both-- we’ll all be home soon,” Coco said, and sighed. “I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. Coming here on my own… I told myself I needed some distance, but I think I was only trying to prove a point.”

“You are stubborn, yes. I do wonder where you get it from.”

That caused Coco to laugh. “It’s a mystery we may never solve.”

“And that is something your father would have said,” Imelda said, her voice quiet. It was the first time she brought up a similarity between them in front of her, and a brief silence stretched out between them. In the end, it was Coco to break it.

“Will you tell me more about him, now? I... don’t want what Ernesto told me to be the only tales I have of him.”

Ernesto. The thought of that snake made Imelda’s fists clench, but she forced herself to breathe deeply. She didn’t want to think about him; he could live to be a hundred, he could die that very same night, and she wouldn’t care. There would be  time for anger, but not now.

Now, it was time for some remembrance. It was time to let herself, and her daughter, grieve.

“Of course,” she said, and smiled faintly. “When I first saw him, it was from afar in the plaza. I believe I was fourteen; he was a year younger. He had this old guitar made out of scraps…”

She talked and talked and talked about him, well into the night and then until morning. For the few years they had spent together, there was so much to tell her. So many memories that had been locked away in her heart, and that now left her mouth in a constant stream, as though a dam had been broken. She talked and Coco listened, hanging to her every word, asking questions, weeping, laughing.

They were far from home, but Héctor - the Héctor she’d known, who’d still been an idiota for leaving but had loved them both so very much and had tried to come home - was there with them again, and she felt it was almost the same thing.

***

Victoria was confused by the newcomer.

She didn’t like being confused, generally: it made her feel very small and stupid. But she supposed it was all right this time, because the adults were also very confused - both her papá and the man with the suitcase standing in their yard while warily eyeing Pepita, who kept hissing at him from up on the gate. He’d introduced himself as Armando Abascal, and he was wearing a suit that had to be very, very expensive. He looked amazingly out of place.

“I told you, my wife is not here. She left for Mexico City last week, señor Abascal.”

“I was led to believe she had returned three days ago.”

“That can’t be,” Victoria pointed out, still half-hidden behind her papá’s leg. Not that she was scared of that stranger, of course, but one could never be too careful. Pepita didn’t like him, and so neither did she. “If mamá had left three days ago, she would be here already. It’s not like she would go anywhere else. Right, papá?”

“Absolutely,” her papá agreed with a nod, putting a hand on her head. Reassured, Victoria looked back at the man at the gate. He glanced down at her, and he suddenly looked… not scared, but uncomfortable, and he quickly looked back up at her father.

“Perhaps I was given wrong information. That being the case, I can book a room at the inn and wait for a while longer. I would like to speak to her as soon as she’s available.”

“You’re welcome to do so, but… may I ask what this is about?”

“I’d like to discuss with her an agreement over the rights and royalties of her father’s songs.”

“Rights? Songs? What are you…?”

Oh, Victoria thought, her grandmother would flip if she heard that. She shook her head. “No songs,” she said. “Abuela doesn’t want music here. That’s why her husband left and never came back. For music, I mean, not because she didn’t want it. She did before. Not anymore.”

The uncomfortable expression was there again, and this time the man reached to fix his tie as though it was suddenly too tight around his neck. “I… I understand,” he said. “Does your abuela happen to be home? Perhaps I could talk to her first--”

“Mamá Imelda has left for Mexico City, too,” her papá said, cutting him off. He was frowning, clearly worried… but, Victoria reasoned, he was often worried and usually for no good reason. So everything was fine, right? “She went to find Socorro.”

The man blinked. “So I got all the way here, and they are both in Mexico City?”

“Supposedly,” her papá said. It was a word Victoria had learned just last week, and suddenly she didn’t like it anymore, not when spoken in that uncertain tone. “We have yet to receive another phone call, but as per the last one we had… are you all right, señor?”

Armando Abascal put down his suitcase, rubbed his temples, and groaned loudly.

“... I think I need a drink.”

***

When the phone rang - and unpleasant sound that made her happy they did not have one of those devil machines in the house - it startled Imelda awake, and the first thing she saw was the window. She could tell, from the position of the sun, that it was late morning; it had been a very long time since she had slept that long, and it took her a moment to remember why.

We talked all night about him. Right until dawn.

Something in her chest clenched and she sat up with a groan, rubbing her eyes, barely aware that the noise had stopped, and that Coco was talking… until she called out for her.

“Mamá,” she called, and her voice sounded so small it caused Imelda to turn in sudden alarm, perfectly awake at once. Coco was staring at her, the receiver in her hand, her still reddened eyes wide.

Imelda knew what she was about to say one moment before she spoke again, almost in a whisper.

“They have found him.”

***

[Back to Chapter 8]

[On to Chapter 10]

[alixxxxcat21]

Amor Culebras

Welcome To Mexico

*I do not own the characters and thus this a work of fiction*

The RV jerked to a stop. I heard Seth ask why.

"We're here," said the father.

Richie sat up and seemed OK. I wasn't sure how long that would last. He adjusted glasses and then looked at me. I saw his eyes get glassy again.

Shit, I thought.

Seth wondered back to us and patted his brother on the back, "Almost there."

"Yes, yes we are," he said but didn't sound like the same Richie talking.

I didn't think he going to do anything but I also was the only one in a position to keep him from killing everyone. There was a limited amount of time between then and now. It would also be the perfect time to have someone do something stupid again.

Richie walked to the front of the RV. Seth gave him back his gun.

Fucking great, I thought.

I gave Richie ten minutes, tops, before the killing demons mission played through his head again.

"We need to get rid of them," Richie said.

I knew I would be of no use now. I sat back and left it to Seth.

"WE need to cross, we can't show our pretty faces to gate guards remember?" Seth said.

Richie ignored and pointed the gun at Kate and Scott. Kate looked terrified and Scott looked at me, pissed.

"I told you," Scott scoffed.

"You want to be the first with your brains splattered?" Richie asked.

He put the gun to Scott's head. I really don't know what possessed me to stand up and walk over to Richie. The movement made him direct the gun at me. I swear I had a death wish or something. I kept my hands up to keep him from pulling the trigger.

"Sacrificing yourself for demons. You must be with them," Richie said.

"Richie, listen to me, put the gun down. We can't cross with dead bodies," said Seth.

"They're going to kill us, Seth," he repeated.

"Richie, I don't have a weapon. I can't hurt you. Neither do the kids," I said calmly. "Please just put the gun down. You won't be able to complete your mission of meeting her if you don't get across the border safely."

He was struggling to come to grips with that. I looked at Scott and I knew, once again, he was going to do something stupid.

He rose and tried to get the gun from Richie. Seth came from behind and put his gun to the back of his head.

"You really want to die, don't you?" Seth asked.

Richie turned and looked over his shoulder at Scott. Then he elbowed him in the gut.

"Sit down, Bruce Lee," Richie said.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Scott was almost back in the seat when the RV rolled forward hitting the car in front of us. I fell forward. Richie's strong arm caught me and he collided with the edge of the wall behind us. He grunted loudly.

"What the hell happened?" Seth asked the father.

"I took my foot off the break," he said.

"Are you trying to kill your kids?" Seth asked.

"I didn't do it on purpose," he said looking back towards the cars.

"Go," ordered Seth.

I looked up at Richie. He was giving me a crooked smile.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Fine, now," he said.

I looked down, "You can let me go now."

He chuckled again and released his arm from around me. I swore he was going to try to cop a feel of my ass, but he didn't. I was very thankful for that. I was sure my reaction would be about the same as the last, just angrier. I went and sat near Kate. She smiled nervously at me.

I saw their father outside knockout the guy whose car we just hit. I was a little surprised because now he was bringing him on board with the help of Seth.

“Great, who’s going to drive his car forward?” asked Seth.

“I’ll do it,” said Kate.

“No, Kate-Cakes, you’re no good at lying,” said the father.

“Then maybe you should do it,” said Kate sounding very accusatory.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked.

“I can do it,” Scott said.

“He’ll rat if he gets caught,” said Richie. “We need to take care of them right now.”

“Richie,” I said turning to face him. “How are four dead bodies going to help us?”

I glared at him. He seemed almost happy about how angry I was. That only made it worse.

“Then no one can rat us out,” he said grinning like a cat.

“And you won’t cross the border,” I said walking right up to him.

Two could play this game.

“Our Precious Gem, here has a point,” said Seth. “ Or did you forget about how your trigger happiness got us here? We have our faces plastered all over the state of Texas, brother.”

Richie was still looking down at me. He seemed to understand that he was not going to win this. He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them he looked at me. It wasn’t an evil look, but it unnerved me.

“Kid, don’t screw this up,” said Seth.

His father and he left the RV and after a brief conversation, Scott got in the mans' car. The father returned and sat back in the driver's seat. I went to sit down again. Richie grabbed my arm gently. I turned to give an evil glare.

“Not so fast, Eme,” he said. "You get to keep playing doctor."

If I could have killed him with a glare I would have done it right then. He thought I was just making things up to save everyone.

Fucking asshole, I thought.

We were headed to the back. I really was started to get sick of the condescending way he was treating me.

"I'm not playing doctor," I said quietly.

"Really? And why exactly should I believe that?" asked Richie.

"For the same reason you kissed me in the bathroom at the hotel: you wanted to," I said.

For once he actually didn't have anything to say to that. And that simple fact made him clench his very perfect jaw. If he wanted to play war with of the mind with me I would make it so either he admitted the truth of what I said or you didn't, either way, I would win. Because he would have to prove what I said was wrong. And considering that he used the same line to gain the upper hand I was going to use it against him.

He stayed silent and then decided staring me down wasn't going to work. He walked back to the front. I turned to see Scott getting escorted out of the car and almost started screaming. This kid really couldn't get this whole "keep your mouth shut" part through his head.

"See," said Richie.

"Not now," said Seth.

Richie made a beeline for me, gun aimed directly between my eyes. At this point, I was at a loss for how to fix this. I just looked Richie.

"The guard is on her way here," said that father.

Seth grabbed his brother's shoulder and beckoned Kate to come over.

"We need to hide, now," he said. "Richie, you're not going to shoot anyone. Period."

I raised an eyebrow at Richie.

"Richie, we can't be rich if we're in prison," his brother said.

That got Richie to put the gun down and I turned toward the bathroom/closet area. Somehow all four of us crammed into the closet space. Unfortunately, Richie placed himself in front of me. Keeping me against the wall while he stood over me.

I, in any other situation, would be very ok with this. Right now I needed the crazy bastard as far away from me as possible. I could hear the muffled conversation of the guard and the father. The Richie turned around and started his "we need to kill all people" speech again. Seth was well past the point of understanding and decide an elbow to his face would be good. He went out cold leaving me to catch his full weight without crushing my face in the process.

I heard the guard say she was going to board and check things out. Seth cocked the revolver and positioned himself to get ready to do whatever it took to keep us hidden. There was some movement. And the door of the RV opened. The closed and we heard the muffled conversation. I was holding my breath and trying to handle Richie's weight against me.

After the footsteps got closer I thought for sure we were going to be discovered. That's when the RV door opened again and it seemed that the person ordered the guard to go check something else out. We heard her leave and the other person walked right to where we hiding and opened the door the female guard had just been about to open and opened it. I almost screamed, but the guard said something about a guy named Carlos and keeping a deal.

He also seemed to be in on whatever Seth and Richie were a part of. He said we were clear to go. He left and Seth helped get Richie off me and into a chair. Once we all took a second to breathe, Seth sat in the driver's seat and waited for the light to turn green for us to pull forward. That's when we heard shots near the main border building. They were very quickly forgotten because Seth hit the gas as the light turned green. I fell back into Richie's lap. Luckily he was still unconscious.

I was about the get up when the guy who was dragged on the RV woke up.

"Where's my car?" He asked dazed.

Seth pulled over and gave him a wad of cash and let him off the RV. Then pulled away. I sighed and completely forgot I was sitting in Richie's lap until I went to sit back. I went to get up and I heard Seth click his tongue. I looked at him.

"Stay put," he said.

I looked at him incredulously. He had to be kidding me.

"You can stay put for a little bit, we're almost there," he said.

I swore I would find a way to get payback for this. Plus Richie was bound to use this to his advantage later once he woke up.