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entishramblings · 4 years

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The Essence of Arda [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: whoA okay so this fic took me on a whole ass adventure. I kinda just let the story go where it wanted to and ya know I’m kinda happy with how it turned out. Also, “(h/c)” means hair color...there is something I included but I wanted to make sure you guys could still see yourself as the character so yeah! Another also...I’m sorry....this was requested literally so long ago.

Request: @sokkasdarling — heyhey im gonna request smth cus i LOVE U AND UR WRITING HHHH okay so how about a jealous legolas fic where he thinks the reader and aragorn have a lil thing going on but they're just really great friends and she actually likes legolas very much?? please and thank you<3333

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N) and Legolas’s paths cross in an unexpected way and the two develop feelings for each other. However, Legolas is unsure and gets jealous bc of the way Aragorn and (Y/N) interact.

Word Count: 3,661 (sorry I got a little carried away)

Warnings: angst, fluff, cuteness, jealousy, the tiniest amount of nudity

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST | AO3

Legolas had met many wandering souls throughout his travels of middle earth—weathered, withered, and warped humans in particular, for the elements and loneliness seemed to affect them more so. Elves, on the other hand, were bound to nature. It was where their hearts rested and their spirits thrived; therefore, the desperation of the empty lands of Arda did not affect him. However, that didn’t mean he did not wish for company. So, on that account, Legolas made his way north towards the Dundain, in hopes to see his good friend Aragorn once more.

It was there, in the northern wilderness, where he met the most riveting and thought-provoking individual. The intriguing nature that compelled his attention was that she was so unlike the other humans he ventured upon, specifically because she wasn’t exactly human.

The first time he had met (Y/N) was when her sharp canine teeth were at his throat.

A (h/c) she-wolf had launched herself at him with an unhinged jaw and barring teeth. The nimble creature had been so swift that he, even as an elf, did not have time to react. The wolf had pinned him down with a viscous expression—laughing at his surprise. Legolas was only quick enough to pull a knife from his belt once he was already knocked down upon the mud. However, he hesitated just before he was going to strike the blade into the beasts’ belly.

As intimidated as he was, something in those vibrant earthy eyes made him halt. Was it the deep churning of the sea? The fresh breath of the sky? The moisture of the leaves? The pooling of sun-kissed honey? The thickness of clay-like soil? Legolas was unsure why exactly, but those eyes reflected the essence of Arda—they reflected it right back into his soul. And here was his miscalculation, for the natural instincts of a wolf would not suspend for its prey—well, not without a familiar voice calling out....?

“(Y/N), NO!”

The creature froze. She reluctantly backed off of his form but she did not let her guard down. Instead, she circled him with those same barring teeth and low growls.

Legolas inhaled a deep breath of cold air as he tried to re-center himself, for it was not often an elf got knocked on their ass and enthralled so deep in a beauty.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and focused in on his elvish senses—feeling every nerve in his body scream out to be alert.

Legolas’s ears picked up the first indication—the speaker.

A sound of rough, ragged panting carried through the breeze as his gaze whispered upon the being who had previously hollered—a worn down Ranger.

A small grin crossed the elf’s face. Aragon stood before Legolas, with hands on his knees, sucking in deep breathes. An entirely human action. The Ranger clearly had a hard time keeping up with the canine creature—which he surprisingly seemed to be acquainted with.

“Legolas, by the Valar, I didn’t know you were traveling through these parts,” He exclaimed.

The elf chuckled as he stood, brushing dirt off his palms.

“Well, I suppose I am lucky for she listens to you well,” He nodding at the wolf for reference.

The Ranger shook his head and let out an amused laugh. “She never listens to a thing I say. So, you are lucky, indeed.”

The wolf released a snort-like sound as if she was retorting to his words.

The Ranger rolled his eyes before speaking to Legolas again, “Let me show you to where we are camped. A hot meal will be waiting.”

Legolas smiled softly, “Thank you, Mellon Nin (my friend).”

The group—consisting of man, elf, and wolf—traveled through the woodland tundra with small conversation between the two who could speak. They shared their recent adventures and current news across the lands until they come upon a handful of Rangers around a blazing fire. They were clad in similar attire as Aragorn, being worn leather boots and thick fraying fabrics. Each of them had the same haunted expressions as many people Legolas had met, yet nothing like the joyful grin that pulled slightly at Aragorn’s lips.

The Ranger introduced each of his companions to the elf as he settled down upon a log. Legolas did the same, allowing himself to become enthralled by the brilliant flames. The she-wolf left his thoughts.

As the moon rose high and stars stretched across the sky, the rangers began to settle for the evening. It was then when the elf ducked away to relieve himself.

He made his way through the twisting trees in silence for he enjoyed listening to the sounds of night’s nature. But the normal chirps and hoots was not what met his ears; rather it was snapping bones and ripping skin, small groans and weak whimpers—it was pain.

Legolas narrowed his eyes and crept forward cautiously, fearful of what he might find.

The sounds let him towards a rather large bolder that was impeded in the ground and covered in thick moss. He was startled as he laid a hand on the cold stone, for a leg protruded upon the side—a leg belonging to the canine species.

It bended and it snapped, morphing into one of human nature—much like his own. It then disappeared behind the rock once more. He could not hold back the gasp that left his lips for witnessing such a thing was—shocking, confusing, terrifying. It was unnatural, but then again, what was ever natural within the lands of Arda?

Legolas’s attention was drawn upwards as a naked figure shakily stood before him.

She stood straight, with impeccable posture, and a head held high; but that is not what claimed his consciousness. It was that vibrant gaze, burning angry holes into him.

She spoke sharply, “Well, are you going to pass me my clothing?”

Instead of responding or making any motion, he froze as if he was deer hiding from the predator once more. His blue orbs locked onto hers, for he dared not let his gaze wander.

Dreadful silence hung in their air as he processed that the person before him indeed was a wolf moments before—the wolf.

However, that antagonizing absence of sound was disrupted when life was breathed back into him and he could finally move his lips. Though it came out as a whisper, for elves were conservative creatures and such a sight had caught him off guard, it still came out nonetheless.

“You are—are not entirely human.” He stated with an expression that seeped curiousness and inquiry.

“Though, currently, I am shaped like one. So, as you are in my way, I will ask you once again to pass me my clothing.” She reiterated.

Legolas’s brows pulled together and his lips mumbled her words back to her as he searched his mind for the meaning. He twisted around and around until a pile of dark fabrics caught his eye. He grasped them gently and passed it over the boulder between them into her calloused hands.

He turned so his back was facing her. His anxiety and awkwardness reverberated off of every word that non-consensually tumbled from his lips. “You are a shifter then—able to alter your form? A wolf....so I suppose it was you who almost tore my throat out.” He paused before recalling her name, “(Y/N).” He should have stopped there if he could, but alas, he couldn’t. “I have only ever met one other like you. His name was Beorn—a great black bear he was—“

She interrupted him, “Most elves I come across are not so verbal. Though, Strider had mentioned you before, Legolas. A strange fellow you are indeed.”

A small grin of embarrassment flickered across his face, not that she could see. “He called me strange?”

A laugh, sounding of blades of grass rubbing together against the wind, struck the air. (Y/N) spoke, “For an elf he had said. But truly, he was too generous with those extra words.”

Legolas tilted his head at that for it seemed to be an insult; but before he could decide on such a matter, she called out to him again—this time fully clothed and ten feet in front of him.

“Are you coming?”

He quickly scampered after her.

As he and (Y/N) entered the area, Aragorn, who still sat by the fire, glanced up with a shimmer in his eye.

Legolas gridded his teeth and sat down next to the man. In a voice as low and quiet as he could muster, he spoke to the Ranger. “Why didn’t you tell me she was the wolf?”

Aragorn smirked in amusement before whispering back, “I figured you would eventually come to that conclusion and by your expression it was not of the best experiences.”

Legolas shot his friend a glare, but that only made the Ranger grin more.

Luckily for the elf, (Y/N) interrupted the moment. “Strider, did you save me some stew? I’m starved.”

The man passed a bowl to her as he spoke, “You know I always do, (Y/N).”

She smiled gratefully.

The Ranger stood and made his way to his bedroll, clapping the elf on the shoulder as he went.

Legolas took notice of the interaction between the two and turned his attention to the woman sitting across from him.

Once he was sure Aragorn was out of ear shot, he spoke quite bluntly, “You and Strider....are you—“

She snorted, “No, no. His heart lies in Rivendell.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow, “And yours?”

(Y/N) shrugged and glanced up at the scenery around them. “Here. In the lands of middle earth.”

The elf tilted his head, examining her again.

She stopped her chewing and sent him an accusatory look. “What?”

Legolas smiled softly, “I sense that shifters are much like elves in that regard—bound to nature and tethered in the sky.”

She raised a brow, “And what makes you think that?”

He chuckled lightly at her bold fierceness, “Your eyes. I can see the essence of Arda in them.”

(Y/N) shook her head in amusement, “Elves and their poetry.” She paused, taking a moment to think. “Although what you say is true, it is within that where I think we differ. You elves are laced up spiritually whereas shifters are tied animalisticly.” When the elf did not respond she continued, “You care for morals, I care to survive.”

Legolas nodded in understanding, “Yet we both appreciate the beauty of it.”

The corner of her lip pulled upwards and she shook her head in agreement.

......

As time went on and the small group traveled, the female shifter and the elf became great friends—bonding over their infinity with nature. The two had split off from the rangers for a little while because (Y/N) wanted to see the forest of Greenwood and examine what seemed to be haunting it. However, after approximately two moon cycles, they met with Aragorn once more. He was not with his previous companions though, so it was only the three of them.

The months had gotten colder and they traveled upon open plains so (Y/N) stayed in her wolf form. It was easier for the time being. And it was in this shape that she came bounding towards the ranger that she had not seen in a while.

She jumped up upon him, knocking him to the ground as she had once done to Legolas. She plastered wet slobbery licks upon his face as his chest rumbled with laughter.

The elf could not help but feel a pang of jealous encase his heart. He had grown to develop feelings for the shifter as they had grown close over their journey.

Just as he felt bound to nature, he felt bound to her.

So he stood, with a fire burning in his heart, as he watched (Y/N) give canine affection to his human friend.

As the days continued on, Legolas’s irritation grew. (Y/N) strayed closer to Aragorn’s side—rubbing her face against his leg and pawing at his feet in attempt to trip him.

Of course, Aragorn could pick up on the elf’s mood and angry looks. He had thought Legolas was aware of his lover in Rivendell, but perhaps not. The Ranger had wanted to find a moment alone with the elf so he could assure him of the sibling-like relationship between him and the shifter; but with open freezing lands like this, there was no privacy.

The small trio had settled upon large rocks for the night as that was the only shelter available. They lit a brilliant fire in attempt to starve off the nipping wind, but it only did so much.

Aragorn, wrapped in blankets, had fallen asleep quite quickly; whereas Legolas sat brooding, leaning against a boulder.

It was a moment before he noticed those curious eyes on him. They twinkled with the emotions of Arda, searching his soul. With a tilted head, the wolf approached him slowly.

She crawled forward, so close that her wet nose was inches from his own. She resting one large paw upon his thigh but her weight did not hurt him.

Legolas did not move because he was taken by surprise. (Y/N), as partially human, did understand boundaries; yet, she did not seem to care about them in this instance. Instead, she studied him—up close.

The elf knew that she was searching him for answers given she had noticed his mood as well. However, Legolas did not wish to give any. Therefore, he held his porcelain elf features strong, not bending to her intimidation. He starred right back at her. Though this time, his eyes were filled with anger and frustration—and (Y/N) could tell.

Legolas was upset with her for she blatantly gave Aragorn affections.

Could she not see his heart?

He had said he would not bend to her will and intimidation. He had decided he would be cold towards her. He had made a choice—a choice that he could not uphold as he gazed into her soft eyes of nature.

Slowly, he raised a gentle hand. He brought it close to her face. When she did not pull away, he cupped the canine’s features.

To his disbelief, (Y/N) completed an action he had never seen her do before—even with Aragorn. She leaned into his touch.

Legolas’s lips parted as the moment encapsulated his mind.

He let his hand fall slowly and (Y/N) leaped off his lap. But she did not scamper off in a different direction. Instead, she ducked into his side and curled up against him. She let her head rest on his lap.

Cautiously, Legolas began to stroke her soft, (h/c) fur. He let the short strands slip through his fingers, lulling her to sleep.

.....

When Legolas woke, (Y/N) was not in his sights. He sent a confused expression towards Aragorn who was tending to the dwindling flames.

“She will be back,” the Ranger stated simply.

The elf stood and walked towards Aragorn. “Where did she go?”

The ranger shrugged while biting back a smile.

Legolas frowned at his playful expression, “I know you know something, Aragorn.”

The man raised his brows. “I woke sometime in the night. You and (Y/N) seemed quite close.” He paused, the tone of his voice changing, “You know, she never lets anyone touch her like that.”

“Never have you....?” Legolas let his sentence trail off as the ranger shook his head.

Aragorn spoke again, “My heart rests with another.”

Their conversation was cut short by a feminine voice. “Have either of you seen my cloak?”

Legolas’s head snapped in the direction of the sound for it had been long since (Y/N) was in her human form.

The shifter stood before them shivering slightly in her clothes. They were clearly not fit for the freezing air as the fabric was thin—so thin that her the curve of her breasts and nipples was easily seen.

Legolas adverted his eyes and instantly began to ruffle through his bag as he spoke with concern in his tone. “(Y/N), why have you shifted to your human form? Did you not say it was safer for you to travel through this weather as a wolf?”

She sighed, “It is harder to communicate in my animal form.”

Both of the men knew what she was alluding to.

Legolas cleared his throat and pulled out a couple fabrics from his bag. “I have been carrying your cloak.” He moved towards her as he continued speaking. “Wear this as well. It is an elvish tunic weaved from my homeland; it will keep you warm.”

“Legolas, you don’t ha—“

He shook his head, “Please, I insist.”

(Y/N) reluctantly took it and pulled the fabric over her head. She frowned as she handled the wrap around ties, not quite able to figure out how they were supposed to lay.

The elf smiled softly, “Here, let me.”

Ever so gently he took the extra fabric in his hands and begun to weave it around her form. He tied the delicate cloths in a simple knot before moving to fasten her cloak under her chin.

“Thank you, Legolas.”

He tucked a stray hair behind her ear, “It is no problem.”

He turned to gather his belongings as they were to continue their way through Arda. However, as he did so, Aragorn shot him an amused playful look. The elf sent him a sharp glare in retribution.

.....

Within a couple days, a winter storm hit the group. Luckily, they were not far from a human town which they gratefully took refuge in. Of course, as they busted into the inn, many weird looks were thrown their direction. It was not often this area was crossed by elves and rangers—and skin changers, but they were unaware of (Y/N)’s less than human nature.

They each paid for a room and took time to settle into the warmth.

Legolas rested on the edge of the cot, fiddling with one of his blades. He had let his thoughts wander to a place he had been avoiding. A bond with nature was one thing he knew deep within his soul, but a bond with another was something untouched and left uncovered. Of course he had had acquaintances with friends and family; however, the bond he was debating over was one with a lover. He knew where his heart craved to be, yet he was unsure how to proceed.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the frame of his open door.

Legolas looked up to see (Y/N). She was wearing fresh clothing, likely washed and pressed by a maid. All the filth and grim had been scrubbed from her skin and her wet hair was pulled into a tight braid.

“(Y/N),” he stated simply. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head as she stepped into his room, “Well, not entirely.”

Legolas frowned at that comment.

The shifter walked closer until she stood only a foot from the elf.

He looked up into her vibrant eyes with question.

(Y/N) cleared her throat as she gently placed something soft and neatly folded into his hands. “Thank you for lending me your extra tunic.”

He smiled softly at her, “Won’t you need it again when we depart? The weather isn’t getting warmer anytime soon.”

A light chuckle rumbled in her chest and she shook her head in response.

Legolas placed the fabric next to him and looked up at her again. He did not notice he was staring until she whispered his name.

“Legolas, why do you do that?”

He tilted his head trying to hid his embarrassment, “What do you mean?”

Her teeth scraped her bottom lip, “Why do you look at me like that?”

The elf adverted his gaze, “My apologizes. I did not mean to offend you—“

(Y/N) interrupted him, “It is not an offense.” She sighed before speaking again. “You look at me like you marvel at nature—as if I am something so breath taking.”

“You are.” He frowned, “Do you not think so of yourself?”

The woman did not say a word; instead, she shifted her vision to the floor.

Legolas reached outwards and took her hand in his own. “You are breath taking, (Y/N)—even more so than nature.”

She shook her head, “I—I don’t understand.”

Legolas could not hold back any longer. He knew he needed to explain what he meant but no words could formulate such a thing. Therefore, he gave into his impulses and did the only thing he could think of to demonstrate it. The elf pulled her into him and grasped her cheeks with his hands. Legolas drew her face downward and smashed his lips against hers. When she did not reiterate any action he instantly pulled away. Had he taken a step too far?

“Legolas,” she breathed out in a whisper.

“I...I am sorry...I didn’t—“

She shook her head and clasped his cheeks, bringing his mouth to hers once again. Their lips moved together like the rhythmic dance of the wind—swirling and intertwining with eagerness. Legolas could taste the essence of Arda upon her lips—the sweet honey from east of the Anduin, the fresh berries from the region of Eriador, the bitter nuts from the mountains of Angmar. (Y/N) moved her body in-between his legs, but she decided that that was not close enough. So, she lifted herself into his lap, letting his calloused hands encircle her waist and hold her steady. She could feel the warmth of sparking fires, the comfort of soft wool, the shield of shelter from harsh winds. Legolas laid down upon the bed, pulling her form with him. He could hear the pounding of her heart and the gasps of her breath. Every sound she made did not escape him, it fueled him. (Y/N) tangled her fingers in his blonde locks and smiled against his lips for she recognized every aspect of nature within the elf, for it was in her too. It was the essence of Arda.

.....

Everything Tag: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust

Legolas Tag: @dark-angel-is-back @mylittle-escapingdreams @arandomfandomblog @moriamithril

#lord of the rings #lotr #the hobbit #legolas #aragorn #Legolas x reader #Legolas fic #legolas one shot #legolas drabble #legolas imagines #legolas one shots #legolas imagine #mirkwood #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction

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thr-333 · 4 years

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Drastic Measures- Part 17

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Northern Lights~

I have nothing witty to say... woe is me

Ao3

First < Previous

-----------

“You will never mention this,” Damian hisses at her.

“Sure Damian,” Marinette giggles as the boy holds tight around her middle.

The snowmobile kicks up snow as they speed along. Even with the rush of speed Marinette couldn't help but worry about her parents. Were they worried? Were they looking for her? Were they hurt? But despite all that, she stayed with Damian. When she had told him her concerns he had assured her that they would likely meet her Maman there. Marinette couldn't see why she would, but she trusted Damian.

They dodged through the trees. Marinette was better on the snowmobile because of her Nona’s (secret) motorcycle lessons. Damian was forced to hold tight or get blown off the vehicle. Marinette follows the markers coming out on the other side of the forest a large white expanse of snow. She parks by the waiting cabin.

Damian leads the way inside, cautiously walking in but there's no one there. Frowning Damian goes back into the cold pulling his ‘borrowed’ coat on tighter. Marinette has no interest in going back out in that cold, instead lighting the fire. She looks around its small but there are two rooms and more importantly, both are stocked with warm clothes. Even if they don't fit Marinette is willing to wear them after being stuck in the same outfit the entire time they were on the boat.

The fire warms up the cabin but Damian's still not back. Resigning herself to facing the cold Marinette goes back out. Damian's standing in front of the cabin, arms crossed, footprints everywhere a give away that he had been walking around. He didn't acknowledge her, whether he actually knew she was there or not was beside the point. Still, Marinette decided to have a little fun. Using the snow on the deck's railing she made a snowball carefully aiming for Damian's head.

“What are you doing?!” He yells getting hit square in the back of the head.

“Snowball fight?” Marinette asks meekly, hiding partly behind the railing.

“Tt don’t be so childish,” Damina turns away looking back over the snow.

“I am a child,” Marinette comes down the stairs to stand next to him, “And so are you, come on,”

“I refuse to partake in something so immature,” Damian huffs pulling his arm out of her grip.

“Scared you can’t beat me?” Marinette teases, bending down to make another snowball.

“I have trained as an assassin since birth!” Damian shouts indignantly.

“Have you trained in snowball combat?” He dodges her throw this time.

Giving in Damian scoops up a handful of snow, failing miserably at forming it. Marinette doesn't correct him just makes an obvious show at making her next snowball. Damian picks it up and they fall into all out war. Marinette uses the side of the cabin as a shield against the assault, Damian prefers the trees. She grows bored, wandering into the trees to find Damian. It's quiet in there, just the sound of her footsteps and some distant animals. Marinette lets her guard down for a moment and that is when Damian chooses to strike. He drops down from the tree above her the mother of all snowballs and dunks it directly on her head. Marinette yelps starling at the cold rush as it goes down her coat.

“I am the victor,” Damian puffs out his chest looking awful proud for winning a 'children's game'.

“You're a jerk that's what,” Marinette brushes the snow out of her hair.

“Don't be a poor loser Dupain-Cheng,” Damian chides walking back to the cabin.

“How did you even get the snowball up there?” Marinette doesn't wait for him to answer lighting up with an idea, “We should build a snowman!”

It turns more into Marinette making a snowman while Damian questions what she's doing with a layer of insults. He kind of reminds her of Chloe, except Chole would have thrown a fit a hundred times over at this point. Also, Chloe wouldn't have played with Marinette. Not that Damian really does, but it doesn't seem like he doesn't want to. It’s like he doesn't know how.

“Dupain-Cheng why do you insist on getting rid of our warm clothing?” Damian asks as she comes back with an armful of clothes.

“Because a snowman has to have a hat and gloves,” Marinette dumps the clothes on the ground, “Also arms, Damian can you go find a couple of sticks?”

Damian rolls his eyes by goes anyway. Marinette fixes on the hat and is adding eyes and buttons when Damian returns.

“Damian that's a tree!”

“You didn't specify size!”

It’s not a problem anyway. They break off a couple of branches for the arms and chop the rest into firewood. Damian of course lords over how much better he is at cutting it than Marinette.

“You’re just slowing me down Dupain-Cheng,”

“Well, then I guess I’ll just go back inside,”

“That would be preferable to this,” Damian scoffs, Marinette brings down the ax in one last big swing, cutting the log clean into.

While Damian is busy looking shocked she leaves him going inside. Feeling bad Marinette decides to bake some cookies might as well while they’re stuck here until the people picking them up to come. Damian trudges inside when the cookies are out of the oven and Marinette is fixing them some hot chocolate instead.

“Still cold?” Marinette asks, Damian is carrying firewood inside.

“I am not cold,” Damian scoffs, brushing snow off. Giving himself away as he sits right next to the fire.

“These will warm you up,” Marinette places the hot chocolate down followed by a plate of cookies.

“Tt,”

“It’s childish to refuse food,” Marinette chides already knowing where he’s going with this.

Damian scoffs again but takes the hot chocolate while Marinette dips a cookie in hers. She thinks back to what he said about being an assassin. He had stopped threatening her after she told him her Maman name so he probably knew her. It actually made a little too much sense that her Maman was an assassin too. She had thought about it but this only confirmed her suspicions as more than just imagination.

“So do you like being an assassin?” Marinette tries for a conversation, “I get the feeling from Maman she didn’t like it so much,”

“Sabine was one of the best assassins in the world,” Alright, no denying it now.

“You can be the best at something and still not be happy,” Marinette says gently, gaining a little worry for Damian.

“That's of little importance,”

“What!?” Alright, a lot of worry, “It’s very important!”

“Not to an assassin,” Damian looks away, Marinette stands up to be in his line of sight.

“Then you don’t have to be an assassin,” She puts her hands on her hips, authoritative as she ever gets.

“Yes I do,” Marinette doesn't accept that fixing him with a hard stare until Damian is compelled to add, “... I’m the son of Batman,”

“Then you definitely don’t have to be an assassin!” Marinette proclaims leaning into his space, “You can be a hero!”

“... no I-”

“Come on I’ll help you,” She smiles widely holding out her hand.

“You’ll be my sidekick?” Damian asks, taking her hand.

“No, you’re partner,” Marinette pulls Damian to stand up, “Equal,”

A green light shines through the window behind them as if lighting up the occasion. Marinette walks over to the window a perfect view of the northern lights.

“How pretty,” Marinette sighs watching out the window with Damian.

“Ok,” Marinette looks over Damian's not watching the light show, he’s watching her.

Marinette smiles and they turn back to the window watching as lights dance across the sky.

“Don’t you have other responsibilities that would impede our agreement?” Damian asks eventually

“Nope,”

---

“Ladybug where are yOU!” Adrien yells, or rather Mister bug as he is tied up being closed in on by the Akuma.

Things are going well.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous fanfic #miraculous marinette #Marinette #badass marinette #maribat #daminette #marinette x damian

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thebluemartini · 4 years

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Battle Scars [Nessian Fic]

A/N: Well, A Court of a Silver Flames is just a little over a week away, so I might as well post one final little Nessian fic before its release! So back in November, @hereforthemoment wrote the following post:

Nesta and Cassian are sparring, right? And Cassian ends up on top of her with a dagger to her throat but at the last moment Nesta aims her dagger at his heart.

He says, “you’d be dead”

But she chuckles and says, “then I guess we’d go together”

Then they both become very serious and look into each other’s eyes until Nesta pushes him off of her and leaves the ring

I asked for permission to write a fic with this scene, and voila! I finally finished it! So here goes! (Thank you @hereforthemoment!!)

TITLE: Battle Scars

FANDOM: A Court of Thorns and Roses

SETTING: Post-ACOFAS.

CHARACTERS: Nesta and Cassian

RATING: SFW

GENRE: Angst/Romance/Drama

SYNOPSIS: Nesta and Cassian finally address the war and its aftermath.

*You can also read this on AO3 or FF

________________________________________________________________

“Train with me, Nesta.”

She did not need to peel her eyes away from her dagger to discover who was talking to her. The low timbre of his voice was familiar to her—and one she heard nearly everyday.

“That sounds like an order,” she answered coolly from where she sat on a log and continued to sharpen her dagger against the stone in her hand. “You are well aware that I’m not very fond of being told what to do,” she added in a casual tone.

“My sincerest apologies,” he replied. Nesta kept her eyes down, but she could tell he must’ve been smiling to himself. These days, he always grinned whenever she spoke civilly to him...a vast difference from how they conversed with each other the first few months of her living in the Illyrian Mountains. Those conversations were more like verbal sparring matches. But now, several months later, the two of them were more like...friends.

“What I meant to say was...would you do me the honor of dueling against me?”

Letting the stone in her hand plop onto the snowy ground, she sheathed her dagger and finally looked up to see Cassian standing beside her. His hair was pulled back, allowing her to look directly into his eyes.

The way he stared at her was...unnerving, and the way he treated her in recent weeks was equally unsettling. That fool actually had the audacity to make comments that would cause her lips to curve upwards into a smile. And he’d done things for her — like make her pancakes and retrieve new books for her — that made her feel like something was fluttering around in her stomach.

She had to shift her gaze. “You haven’t asked me to train with you before, General. Why now?” she asked, while suddenly finding the lacings along her sleeve to be quite fascinating.

“Well, before, I feared you might actually end up killing me in a duel.”

“What makes you so sure I won’t try to kill you now?”

“I have reason to believe you rather enjoy this pretty face of mine.”

Nesta’s eyebrow rose in confusion as she stood up to face him. “Whatever gave you such delusions?”

“I seem to recall you looking quite concerned when Merida scraped my cheek during training last week.”

“That’s because I wanted to have the pleasure of marking you myself,” she assured him as she crossed her arms against her chest. The scratch left by the Illyrian female who accidentally struck her dagger against his face was still there.

“I can think of a few more interesting ways you could do that without weapons, sweetheart,” he remarked with a smug grin as he allowed his gaze to drop to her lips.

Nesta glared at him. “Are you sure you want to spar with me right now? The urge to murder you is definitely present.”

Cassian smirked. “Well, I’m not the type to back down from a challenge I’ve already made. Let’s go to the ring.”

________________________________________________________________

In Nesta’s mind, every duel she engaged in was a story. Many of her fights with Illyrian females told tales of wild beasts that had been tied down for far too long that had now finally been able to roam free, progressing from rigid stances to more fluid movements within the span of the duel.

Her current fight with Cassian told its own story—one that seemed to echo her and Cassian’s relationship since she moved here to the Illyrian Mountains. At first, his movements were slow and hesitant as he began circling around her, trying to gauge exactly what kind of fighter he was facing, while her own slashing motions at him were rapid. But he was quick to defend himself against her, blocking her dagger with his own. For a moment, her persistence seemed to frustrate him, causing him to finally attempt to strike back at her. Then their arms tired, and they spent less time sparring and more time analyzing the other as they circled each other.

“You’ve grown stronger,” Cassian noted as he continued staring at her.

“Are you surprised?” she asked, staring right back and noticing how the snowflakes fell on his eyelashes.

“No,” he calmly replied. “I’m proud of you.”

At the sight of her raised, quizzical brow, he continued, “You’ve overcome so much. It’s inspiring.”

She would’ve raised her brow even higher if she was capable. To hear him say such a thing was...shocking. Alarming. Unsettling. Maybe even infuriating? But maybe she even felt a sense of pride, too...

“But you still have much to learn,” Cassian said with a strained breath and in a swift motion, he suddenly tackled her to the ground.

Laying atop her body, Cassian pressed the tip of his dagger against her throat, careful not to nick her skin.

“You’d be dead right now,” he muttered.

But at that moment, he felt the tip of Nesta’s dagger pressing against his chest, right over his heart. Nesta let out a low chuckle. “Then I guess we’d go together.”

Cassian’s eyes quickly met hers, and her laughter faded. Silence fell between them—only the sounds of their ragged breathing could be heard as they looked at each other.

Suddenly, with a shove, Nesta winced as she pushed Cassian off of her. Getting up, she sprinted out of the ring, leaving behind her dagger on the ground.

“Nesta!” Cassian called out. “Nesta, wait!” In a quick movement, he stood up and charged after her as his own dagger tumbled to the ground.

Determined, Nesta trudged her way through the snow with her arms folded across her body. The gusts of cold wind blowing against her face did not deter her. In fact, the biting cold helped distract her from thinking about the last time she almost died with Cassian.

“Nesta!” Cassian called from behind her. She wasn’t walking fast enough. “Nesta, please. We need to talk.”

“About what?” she shouted back, unable to resist the urge to yell at him and release her pent-up anger. Of course, she had an idea about what he possibly would want to talk to her about, but she’d been wrong about that before. Back after the King of Hybern was dead and the war was over, she thought he’d seek her out and address what he said to her on the battlefield. But that never happened.

“Us, the war...everything!” he replied. His voice was louder now.

Inside, Nesta was seething and couldn’t help herself from bursting now. She abruptly halted and whipped around to face Cassian as he approached, catching him by surprise.

“You’ve had months—years, actually—to talk!” she exclaimed. “Why even bother at this point?”

“Because...I’ve been such an idiot–”

“No argument there,” Nesta grumpily interjected as she crossed her arms against her chest.

Cassian paused and took a few heavy breaths as he looked at her. “And we need to talk about it in order to move forward. Because I love–”

“I need to go,” she interrupted him as she shook her head in disbelief at the words he was possibly about to utter. She turned around to resume her journey back to her cabin.

“Nesta, this is coming out all wrong. Can we please just talk?” he asked as followed her and reached out to grab her hand in an attempt to make her stop.

Instead, she furiously swatted his hand away, not noticing the patch of ice on the ground as she did so. She slipped, sending her sprawling to the ground, and let out a small yelp in the process as the sharp pain surged through her ankle.

“Nesta!” Cassian was instantly beside her, crouching down to help her sit up. “Nesta, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

“My ankle is twisted,” Nesta answered gruffly through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to bark her head off at him. “Leave it alone,” she ordered when Cassian placed his hand against her boot as if he were going to slide it off.

“We should wrap your ankle with some snow,” he explained.

“I will do it,” Nesta insisted with a frown, as she averted her eyes from Cassian. “Just leave me be and go on your way.”

Confusion covered Cassian’s face. “Nesta, I’m not leaving you out here to suffer alone.”

“Why not? It’s what you’re good at.” Nesta spat back as she remained focused on pulling off her boot.

Cassian froze as her words punctured his heart. Silence passed between them while Nesta inspected her ankle. Cassian then reached for the small pouch belted at his waist, pulling out a gray lace cloth that was adorned with various Illyrian symbols.

“I’d like to change my ways,” Cassian spoke faintly. “And become a man worthy of you…if you will let me.”

He grabbed a handful of snow and wrapped it within the cloth, then held out his makeshift ice pack, waiting for Nesta’s permission to place it around her ankle. She peered over at it, curious as to how and why he would have a cloth like that with him.

“This cloth belonged to my mother,” Cassian said upon noticing her staring. “I like to have it with me, especially in battle.”

Nesta’s frown disappeared and switched to a look of slight concern. “Why would you want to use that to wrap my ankle?” she asked in a softened voice.

“It’s all I have with me,” he replied. “And I am willing to give you all that I have,” he said with a meaningful look. “If you will allow me,” he added.

Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, Nesta returned to inspecting her ankle. “Be gentle,” she instructed, granting him permission and not daring to say more out of fear of what Cassian was possibly implying.

Cassian proceeded to gingerly wrap the cloth and snow around her swelling ankle, tying it so it was secure. “In the weeks when I was laying in bed, recovering from my injuries after the war…” he began hesitantly. “Every time I awoke, I always hoped you would be there when I opened my eyes.”

Nesta’s breath hitched upon hearing Cassian speak of the war, but she did not stop him from speaking.

“But you never came,” he continued calmly, as he delicately slid her boot back onto her foot and began tying the laces. “And I was left feeling angry, bitter, and sad. I thought...after the way you shielded my body with my own, after our...after our kiss, that it would’ve meant something to you. That you would want to check on me and make sure I was all right and talk to me. But when you never showed, I assumed you wanted nothing to do with a low-born bastard like me. That everything between us meant nothing to you.”

Nesta absorbed every word he said as she watched his hands. But she allowed the sounds of the whistling wind to fill the silence instead of responding.

“I can carry you back to the cabin, if you want,” he suggested as he stood up off the ground.

Even when it came to the smallest things, Nesta hated not being the one in control. But with her ankle throbbing in pain and a long trek back to the cabin before her, it appeared she was left with no choice but to accept Cassian’s help.

Yet, there was something endearing about his offer. He didn’t ask her if he could fly her back, which would be much faster than carrying her by foot. But he knew how much she detested flying and how sick it made her feel.

It wasn’t the first time he’d recognized how she’d been feeling. As of late, he definitely had taken notice of certain things about her...like never starting a fire within the cabin because he realized its crackling sounds distressed her, always fully cooking the meat in her meals so it’s red juice wouldn’t remind her of bloodshed, and preparing a cup of tea for her each evening knowing it helped her sleep well each night. He even started remembering the little details about her, like how she prefers honey in her tea over sugar.

Nesta gave a stiff nod.

Cassian instantly knelt down to lift her up in both of his arms, careful not to jostle her ankle too much.

As he began the trek to the cabin, Nesta turned her face toward his. While he had been learning more about her these past few months, there were still some things he did not yet understand. And there were things about him that she’d been wanting to understand.

Feeling her gaze, he looked back at her.

She took a deep breath. “In the weeks after the war, I was drowning,” she recalled calmly. “I was struggling to deal with all that happened in the war, from fighting the king to dealing with my father’s death to coming to terms with my powers.” Her voice fell into a whisper. “Do you think I was ready to deal with...whatever I may have felt for you at the time on top of that? Do you think I would’ve wanted to visit you and see firsthand the after-effects of a war that I was already having nightmares about each night?”

With a somber look darkening his face — an expression that Nesta wasn’t sure she’d ever seen grace his face before — Cassian stopped.

Squeezing her more tightly in his arms, he raised her a little higher so he could bring his face closer to hers. “I’m so sorry, Nesta,” he said. “I’ve...failed you so many times. I chose to be bitter. I was hurt that you appeared to despise me while I was in love with you.”

While she could sense his apology was genuine, there was still more she needed to know and comprehend. And more that he needed to realize. “You promised more time with me out on the battlefield, then abandoned me. Then, you agreed to send me away to live here in the mountains against my will. Is that love to you?” she wondered sadly. “You told me that you didn’t understand how my sisters could love me. Would you call that love, too?”

A tear shone in Cassian’s eye as he shook his head vigorously. “No, absolutely not,” he insisted. “I realize how wrong I’ve been. I’m so sorry I gave into my pain and tried to hurt you the way I felt you had hurt me. I hope, in time, you can forgive me.”

Nesta found she couldn’t reply. Not just yet. She’d been wrestling with thoughts of how he treated her in the past, compared to the way he’d made her feel as of late.

Cassian soon resumed walking, striding through the snow with determined steps and an intense, serious facial expression.

The rest of the journey to the cabin was quiet, but once Cassian stepped upon the porch outside the front door, Nesta held up the palm of her hand and rested it upon his chest, catching his attention. “Cassian, I want to forgive you,” she confessed softly. “But I… I need to see that I can trust you.”

Cassian nodded, turning his head down. “I understand,” he said. “You don’t know how much I wish we could start over. That we could go back to the end of the war, so I could be there for you afterwards,” he stated wistfully.

Nesta moved her hand up to his cheek, capturing his gaze again. “Then, let’s start over.”

“What?” he asked, puzzled.

“Begin again by making me a promise, and prove to me that you can keep it this time,” she proposed.

Cassian took a deep breath before tilting his head down and staring deep into her steel eyes. “My only regrets in this life are the ways I’ve failed you and how I’ve wasted time that could’ve been spent better with you, Nesta. We will have that time now. I promise.”

He tightened his grasp on her, and to his astonishment, she lifted her head up and planted a sweet, brief kiss upon his lips.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against his. “It just felt like something was missing after such a promise,” she admitted with a slight grin playing at her lips. Cassian let out a low chuckle.

“Don’t screw up this time,” she added in a whisper.

“There’s no way I’m losing you this time, sweetheart.”

________________________________________________________________

A/N: In writing this, I realized that I wished there were more synonyms for “stare” because I am ALL ABOUT intense gazes between Nesta and Cassian! So apologies for the overuse of the word.

Anyway, I hope you liked it! I was pretty determined to include a Nessian kiss in here, but obviously those two still have a lot to heal through here...more than a oneshot allows :) so thank goodness ACOSF is almost here to do that for us! I had hoped to finish this fic weeks ago so there was a good chunk of time before the release but here we are. (While I am DYING for this book, I do feel a tinge of sadness over the fact that most of my Nessian fics will no longer be canon-compliant! XD)

Thank you for reading and thanks again @hereforthemoment for the fic inspiration!

#a court of silver flames #nesta archeron #nessian #nesta #cassian #nesta x cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #post-acofas #nessian fanfiction #fanfiction

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lala-ladybug · 3 years

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Healing Hands: Chapter 4

Yesyesyes I’m super excited to share this one with you guys!! The game is finally beginning, ahhhh!!!!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

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Chapter 4: Goddamn wimps, all of them

Marinette opened her eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight. She stood in a huge village square filled with hundreds of people, the gaps between them growing smaller as more and more players appeared. The sun shone merrily, and an excited chatter began rising in the air. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It felt good to be back.

“Marinette!” She looked around to see Alya and Nino waving a few yards away. She broke into an excited smile and jogged over to meet them. They must have spawned in relative to their actual locations since Kagami, Luka, and the others from her class were already there.

“Hey guys!” Marinette said breathlessly. “Almost didn’t make it. Thanks for the call, Alya.”

The brunette gave her a quick hug. “Anytime, girl. Now you and Lila can show us the ropes!” She bounced excitedly.

Marinette barely caught herself from rolling her eyes and just nodded instead. Of course Lila would be able to help teach the others how to play. It definitely wouldn’t just be Marinette teaching everybody. Again.

Meanwhile, Max and Nathaniel were remarking on how realistic the textures of the cobbled streets were. Marinette did a double-take when she saw Adrien standing next to them. He had an immensely intricate and ornate suit of armor. There was an excess of spikes, ribbons flowing from every joint, and every inch of him was covered in metal. A tall helmet adorned with skull decals cast a shadow over his grinning face.

“What are you wearing?” She spluttered. He pointed a thumb to his chest with some difficulty, the thick metal creaking with the movement.

“This bad boy is the toughest armor in the game! I may have made a few embellishments of my own, so now I look even cooler.” He stated with pride.

Marinette shot a look at Luka, who wore a light set of simple leathers. He grimaced and shook his head, warning Marinette not to question their friend’s surprisingly atrocious taste in fashion. Or serious misunderstanding of armor weight classes.

“You know you could’ve picked any armor you want, right?” Adrien asked.

“Oh, I know. I crafted this set during beta testing!” Marinette spun around to show the boys, gladly welcoming the change in subject. She was dressed in a light suit of armor, the metal tinted a deep red. Black fabric peeked underneath the gaps, a strong yet flexible design of her own making. A simple grey cloak hung off her shoulders, concealing the quiver behind her back.

While Luka and Adrien complimented her brilliant design, she spotted Lila. She looked a little out of her element, hanging back to awkwardly watch a conversation between Kim, Alix, and Kagami, oddly enough. The three were dressed in heavy sets of armor, lamenting about how there weren’t any monsters to battle yet.

Chloe sauntered over to join them and, having heard how even Kagami was itching for a fight, wrinkled her nose. Marinette giggled to herself. This was going to be interesting, to say the least.

* * *

Jason’s eyes snapped open and he threw out an arm to steady himself. The transition from logging on was dizzying, but the sensation faded with every deep breath he took. He noted the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. Damn, even he had to admit this tech was impressive. Dick and Tim stood next to him, wearing blue and red-toned armor respectively. Tim was looking around wildly, grinning like an idiot.

“Timmy!” Cassie Sandsmark sprinted towards them to tackle her boyfriend in a hug. Oh great, looks like the rest of the kiddy patrol was here too. Looking to where Cassie had run from, Jason indeed saw various members of The Team. Connor looked just as nauseated as Jason had felt after joining. Roy stood next to him, unmoving as he stared down at his very realistic-looking hand. Ouch. Jason had to have some sympathy for the poor kid, not that he’d ever tell him that.

Bart and Garfield, on the other hand, appeared to be having the time of their lives. Bart got into a running stance and Garfield gleefully jumped into the air, both falling flat on their faces. Jason snorted as he watched Jaime help his boyfriend up. Jaime asked him, “Whoa there ese, what gives?”

Bart shook his head and muttered, “I don’t have my speed.”

Garfield furrowed his brow and strained his face. “You look like you’re either really constipated or trying to shift,” Artemis informed him.

Ignoring her, Garfield locked his panicked eyes with Connor’s. “I can’t shift either, SB.”

“Der kaolc ym nrut,” Zatanna intoned quietly. When nothing happened, she nervously said, “My magic doesn’t work either.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Goddamn wimps, all of them. “Looks like all you supers will have to stoop to our level.”

“Stay whelmed everyone,” Dick stepped in to mitigate half the group’s outrage. “It’s just a game, we don’t exactly need our other skills right now.”

Before they could say anything else, an enormous bell mounted in the center of the town square began to ring. A hush fell over the crowd. The sky darkened as red hexagons interlocked to create a massive dome around the town.

A tall being flickered to life in the air above them. The hooded figure floated high overhead, their face eerily concealed.

“Attention players,” the figure raised their hands. “I welcome you to my world.” Well that didn’t sound ominous, Jason thought to himself. He felt the mood from the others shift into high alert.

“You may call me the Game Master, and I am the only one in control of this world. You may have noticed that the logout button is missing from your main menu.” The figure paused dramatically. “I assure you, this is no defect in the game. It is all as I have designed it to be. You cannot log yourselves out, and no one outside the game will be able to remove you forcibly. If anyone tries to do so, a transmitter inside the VR headset will emit powerful microwaves into your brain that will end your life.” Shit, shit, shit. This was just supposed to be a dumb game he played to make Replacement shut up about it, what the hell?

“Of the 10,000 players, 215 have already died because their family or friends ignored this warning and attempted to remove their headsets. Media outlets have been reporting on this, so it is safe to assume the danger of your headsets being removed has passed.” This guy had to be joking. Though if he wasn’t, Babs would surely research everything within her power to try to remove them safely.

“One other feature of the game is that you are no longer able to revive players. If your HP drops to zero, your avatar will die and the headset will destroy your brain.” Jason’s eyes widened and his head whipped to Dick. He ran a hand through his hair, looking just as horrified as Jason felt.

“The only way for a player to return to the real world is to clear the game. You are currently on Floor 1, the lowest level of the castle. If you make it to the dungeon and defeat the level boss, you may progress to the next level. Defeat the final boss on Floor 100, and you will clear the game.” This motherfucker couldn’t be serious.

The game master, god what a pretentious prick, raised his hands and began to disappear once more. He said, “Good luck, players,” before disappearing entirely. The sky returned to its cheery blue.

A beat of silence passed before someone started screaming. Then the thousands of players erupted into a cacophony of sound.

* * *

Marinette stood stockstill amidst the chaos. She felt more than heard masses of people panicking around her. Her eyes darted back and forth without truly seeing anything, mind racing to figure out a solution. If there was no way to safely remove the headset, then they’d have to beat the whole game. What about the Kwami? Could they connect with their miraculi? What about the small powers they’d each accumulated over the years? If those were accessible, then they might stand a chance, but god if they weren’t--

A hand on her arm made her snap her head to attention. It was Adrien, his jaw clenched tightly. She gripped his arm in return, the small reassurance barely that. Around her, the new Order looked to their leader for orders, direction. And behind them, her classmates....

Most were white in the face. Max had his hands clenched in his hair and was muttering to himself about the likelihood that the headsets actually could kill them. From the way he was shaking his head, she guessed it was a definite possibility. Lila looked like a cornered animal, twitchy and desperately looking for an escape. Even Kim and Alix wore uncharacteristically serious expressions.

“Well?” Chloe prompted Marinette. The latter took a deep breath. Better focus on solving the smaller problems first. “Your VIP package came with a house on the first floor, right?”

Chloe blinked in surprise. “Yeah, it did,” she replied uncertainly.

“Good.” Marinette whistled and gestured for the rest of her friends to gather around. “Listen up! We don’t know how everyone else is going to react, so it’s best for us to go somewhere safe to lie low for a while. I can teach everyone the gameplay, and we’ll do our best to help beat the game.”

She looked Alya and Nathanial in the eye, since their hands seemed to be shaking the most, and said with all the confidence of Ladybug, “Think of all the bullshit Hawkmoth’s put us through. We are not going to die here. That’s a promise.”

Marinette drew her bow and half-strung an arrow, holding it parallel to the ground. “Chloe has a house on the first level. Let’s go.” She nodded to Adrien, Chloe, Kagami, and Luka to establish a perimeter around the rest of the class as they moved. She exhaled a quiet, shaky breath and led the way out of the square.

The crowd did not part easily. People were sobbing, shouting, hyperventilating. They needed to get out fast before the shock wore off.

Someone stood in front of her. The poor soul was probably just as scared as they were. She put her bow back in her inventory, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

“Excuse me,” Marinette gave a little half-wave to get their attention. “May I please get through?”

“Oh, sorry,” He had a deep, male voice. One hand gestured to the direction she was headed as he stepped out of her path. “Go right ahead.” His hands weren’t shaking as the other crept towards his belt. Not good, not good.

A flash of silver was all the warning she got before Luka pulled her back. A knife collided with his hastily raised shield, shedding sparks as the assailant nearly dropped his weapon in surprise. Marinette dropped down to sweep her leg beneath Luka’s shield, knocking the man off his feet. He gave a shout of surprise as he went down, and Luka disarmed him in the confusion.

“Come on, move it!” Marinette shouted over her shoulder. She re-equipped her bow and surged forward, picking up the pace to get the hell out of there. Such a large group was an easy target, they had to get out of the open and fast. People were starting to react beyond their shock, and more of them were bound to get violent.

Her eyes scanned over the buildings in front of them. There. A momentary break in the throng of players allowed her to spot Slipcut Alley, a favorite shortcut of hers. It was only a few yards away. The alley was too narrow for anything but a single-file line, but it provided cover and was hidden by a spell that only other beta testers would know about. It was their best option.

She squared her shoulders and pushed through the last of the crowd. She turned to face her friends, who gathered around her as they too made it out into the small clearing. Chloe, Kagami, and Adrien were watching the crowd behind them, ready to defend against any other attacks.

Marinette put her bow away one more time and asked, “Do you trust me?”

Shaky nods and wide eyes. That would have to do.

“Then follow me,” she said, and walked straight through the wall before them.

* * *

“Our first step should be finding shelter for the night,” Dick said sharply. “We can figure out the rest tomorrow, but it’ll do us no good if we die tonight.” Tim nodded, ever the protégé.

“And just how do you suggest we do that?” Jason countered. He couldn’t help it if it came out a little accusatory. He did not sign up for a damn death trap.

It was Garfield who had the answer. “Well, in order to do anything, we need money. So we need to start killing some monsters!” He palmed his fist with a resounding smack. “And then we can see about an inn or something.”

Connor rubbed his chin. “That’s not a bad idea, kid.”

“Just tell me where to hit them,” Roy said in a low voice, sounding about as pissed as Jason felt.

“Let’s split into three teams. Alpha squad will be Artemis, Wally, Bart, and myself. Tim, Roy, Gar, and Connor will be Beta. Jason, you’re with Jaime, Cassie, and Zatanna for Gamma.” Great, Jason was the only non-super there. What a grand old time that’ll be.

He made to leave the square and disappear into the panicking crowd, but Dick held his arm. “Hey, I’m trusting you to keep them safe,” he kept his voice low. “It’s been a while since they fought without powers, so keep an eye on them.” He then turned to address the rest of the team. “Alpha will take north. Beta, go south and Gamma see what’s west. Meet back here at sunset. Alpha will secure lodging before engaging enemies.”

“What, no pep talk?” Wally elbowed Dick. The latter didn’t crack a smile as he said, “Just stay alive.”

Beside him, Garfield swallowed hard and said weakly, “Noted.”

Jason rolled his eyes and jerked his head in their assigned direction for the other three members of Gamma squad to come with him. He’d follow along as long as Dick made good plans, and Jason didn’t exactly have any better ideas for now.

He put on his very best I know exactly how to kill you and I’ll do it if you don’t get the hell out of my way face and lead the way out of the packed square. The crowd parted easily before him, and they were out on an open street within a matter of minutes.

”Where to first, ese?” Jaime asked, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Good question. Jason looked around for a map or something that could tell him the way out of the damn town. When he glanced back for a quick headcount and only counted two, he cursed and asked Cassie, “Where the hell is Z?”

She pointed at a nearby stall where the magician was chatting with the vendor. Zatanna waved to them, then sauntered back over to the rest of the team. “The shopkeeper says there’s a bridge further down this street and to the left that’ll take us west out of the town.”

Cassie frowned. “Was that a player with their own shop already? Man, we are behind.”

“Oh, no it was an AI.” Zatanna readily supplied. “An NPC?” She added on seeing the confusion on her companions’ faces. “Honestly, was I the only one to do research on this game before playing it?”

Jaime sheepishly scratched his head while Cassie squeaked, “Well....” Jason had to agree with them, he just did this to keep Replacement happy. And get Dick off his ass, the meddling prick.

Zatanna shook her head. “Look, AI stands for artificial intelligence, and NPC is a non-playable character. They’re computer-generated people, not actual players.”

Jason caught enough to surmise that these NPCs were created by the same maniac that locked them up in here. He crossed his arms and asked, “How the hell can we trust their word if they’re controlled by that fuckin’ game master freak?”

Cassie bit her lip and had the good sense to look concerned. Zatanna just shrugged and said, “I guess we’ll just have to find out. We can try following their directions but stay cautious in case it’s a trap.”

“Fine,” Jason sighed. “Let’s go.” He was already resigned to the absolute stupidity of the situation anyway.

They made it to the end of the street without incident, and turned where the shopkeeper had directed them to. There was a bridge, spanning a merrily bubbling river, and open fields dotted with trees beyond it. Jason could smell the greenery and apple blossoms from here.

“Wait!” Jaime threw his arm out. He made a face, then sneezed. “Aw man,” he gave a tremendous sniff. “Can’t eben escabe allergies in a video gabe.”

Cassie laughed at her friend and slapped him on the back, which only made him sneeze again. Dumbasses, they didn’t have time for this. Jason rolled his eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time that day and walked up to the base of the bridge. He slowly, carefully stepped across and edged his way to the other side.

The other three followed suit, and upon joining him, Zatanna said cheerfully, “Seems like we can trust the NPCs!”

“For now,” Jason muttered, still not convinced. He turned his gaze to the rolling hills before him, warm breezes sending waves that shimmered through the knee-high grass. He didn’t see any monsters, but there had to be some... right?

He used two fingers to swipe the air in front of him, opening his inventory. At least he remembered that much from the tutorial. He equipped the crossbow he’d loaded in when he created his avatar. Damn, that night in the Batcave felt like it was a week ago.

Jason took a wary step forward, into the grass. “Fan out,” he directed the other three. He didn’t turn to watch as he heard them draw their own weapons and creep up to flank him.

A rustle in the grass ahead had him throw a clenched fist into the air to have the others hold their positions. He waited until the movement stilled, then crept forward a few more steps, careful to keep his footsteps silent. He was within feet of it now, whatever it was. He hoisted up his crossbow to brace it on his shoulder and trained it on the last place he’d spotted movement. There was a sharp inhale behind him, and then Jaime sneezed loudly.

The head of a wild boar whipped up and it lunged for Jason. “Shit!” he yelled. Damn kid and his perfect timing. Jason blindly jumped backward and fired a bolt at the same time. It met its target and the boar shattered into glittering dust that resembled pixels. In front of him, a notification popped up that 20 copper coins, the crossbow bolt he’d shot, and a boar tusk had been added to his inventory. Huh, that was surprisingly easy.

“Wow, that was so crash!” Cassie pumped her fists in the air. “This game is gonna be a piece of cake.”

“Not so fast,” Zatanna frowned. “Remember, this is only the first level. It’s bound to be easy. It’s only going to get harder from here.”

Jason turned around to face them. “And just because that little shit was easy to kill doesn’t mean they all will be on this level.” He noticed Jaime hanging back, looking embarrassed.

“Hey kid,” Jason jerked his chin at him. Jaime's head snapped up. “Do you want to try the next one or wait by the bridge until your allergies clear up?”

Jaime opened his mouth to respond but had to sneeze again. “I think I’ll just waid by the bridge. I’b really sorry guys.” He trekked back to where they’d come into the fields.

“And then there were three. Ladies first,” Jason mockingly bowed, gesturing to the open fields beyond where the boar had been. Zatanna smirked and Cassie stuck her tongue out at him, which he returned with a rude gesture.

#healing hands #jasonette #sword art online au #virtual reality #maribat #maribat fic #batfam #batfam fic #yj #yj fic #young justice #young justice fic

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sign-from-god-complex · 4 years

Text

Self-Control

Summary: The sound of footsteps pad across the landing above and though Virgil has come all this way he’s suddenly struck with the feeling that he’s not ready. It’s been 15 years since they’ve seen each other—so much can change in 15 years; so much has changed in 15 years.

Though, maybe things haven’t changed quite as much as Virgil thinks.

(AKA, a past-punk moxiety AU)

Pairing: Moxiety!

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smoking, homophobia and nondescript injury. Vague allusions to past abuse (or at least mentions of terrible parental figures). Brief discussion of a parental figure having died.

AO3 Link

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

It isn’t at all the place Virgil imagined for him. The flower pots all sit in a row on the steps, red ivy climbing up the fence like spider webs and a garden hose curled up on a perfectly manicured front lawn. Everything about it is picturesque—almost to the point of insanity—and as a butterfly floats by and lands delicately on a ladder leaning onto the fence from the backyard, Virgil wonders what in the world could have changed Patton so drastically to have led to this.

There’s an image, in his head, of teenage rebellion—of 2 am milkshakes and stolen bicycles, of broken glass and laughter, so much laughter, as they took advantage of what time they had left to live. It doesn’t fit in with this pastel blue sky in this pastel blue neighbourhood full of pastel blue people but he knew that it wouldn’t. He knew things would be different.

Though, that doesn’t make it all that much easier to comprehend.

Vaguely, Virgil hears the sound of excited squeals coming from the yard and he ducks his head over the fence just a bit, catching sight of a young girl flying off of a trampoline at a hundred miles an hour—hair a mess and grin bright.

The kid must be Patton’s—it’s unmistakable, that dark skin and reckless look, like she’s ready to take the world on at any moment—and Virgil can’t help but remember the nights the two of them spent drinking and talking and vowing to never tie themselves down to anyone or anything.

He supposes no one really does know what they want when they’re young.

It takes Virgil a while to gather up the courage to knock—he’s all too aware of his leather jacket and patches, his dyed hair and piercings. He couldn’t feel more out of place in this suburban neighbourhood and he hadn’t thought that around Patton he could ever feel out of place.

In the end, though, the choice is taken out of his hands. The young girl throws open the door, clearly looking to haul ass across the street to the park—the kind of place he and Pat would have smoked, once upon a time—but is stopped short as she notices Virgil standing in her way. There’s a moment where he’s afraid she’s going to scream or cry or something else he would have no clue how to deal with but instead, she just grins cheekily.

“Dad!” she yells, barely turning her head to face the soft white interior of the house, “There’s a man here for you!”

The sound of footsteps pad across the landing above and for a moment Virgil is so afraid that he’s gotten the wrong house or that Patton won’t want to see him and though he’s come all this way he’s struck with the feeling that he’s not ready. It’s been 15 years since they’ve seen each other; so much can change in 15 years.

“Riley, what do you mean? What ma-”

And then, there he is.

His face is void of any of the makeup he used to wear, his hair faded from turquoise to its natural black and left curly in a way he wouldn’t have been caught dead with once. And, over the top of a graphic t-shirt displaying some characters Virgil doesn’t recognise and unripped light-wash jeans, Patton had thrown a familiar blue flannel.

Virgil remembers that flannel, worn under heavy coats to help fight the evening windchill, tied around Patton’s waist as they scaled fences just to see if they could and left in a pile on the floor in his room as they finally escaped back to comfort and warmth. Honestly, he’s just surprised it still fits.

Patton does nothing but stare at him for a moment, his lips parted in shock and his eyes big and wide and god, looking at him now is like falling in love all over again.

“Virge?” he breathes, a melody of disbelief in his voice. Virgil can’t exactly blame him—it isn’t as if he’s someone Patton was expecting to see.

Virgil rubs over the fabric of his jacket, a nervous tick he’d had even back then. “Hey, uh… surprise?”

And in an instant, has Patton pitched forward right into his arms. Virgil catches him—of course, he catches him, he’ll always catch him—and Patton laughs, displaying some level of joy Virgil hadn’t known he’d needed to hear until now. He can feel Patton breathing against his neck as they hold each other and, distantly, the sound of light footsteps echoes away and up the stairs.

They pull apart, eventually, the separation like trying to peel a sticker off of a concrete wall—the easiest kind of graffiti to enact while still being tricky to remove. The distance Patton puts between them seems almost reluctant and Virgil wishes he had the courage to tell him to stay.

“What are you doing here?” Patton asks. It’s soft, like the white fuzzy carpet of his new home and Virgil realises suddenly he’d been so caught up in him that he’d forgotten that this him wasn’t the same.

Patton had always been soft but not soft like this. He’d been soft in redirected conversation and distractions, in Virgil’s favourite TV show on in the background and stolen chocolate bars in his pocket, guiding hands mimicking steady breathing. This Patton seems soft around the edges—worn down, almost—and Virgil feels those 15 years as more of a lifetime.

He doesn’t answer the question—truthfully because he’s not sure how, not sure where to start with the mess of events and near-misses and regrets that finally brought him here to Patton’s doorstep—and instead replies with one of his own.

“My mom died. Did you know that?” It’s a stupid thing to ask, they hadn’t spoken to each other in 15 years, there was no way he could have known. Virgil asks it all the same though. “I have her money now. Didn’t write me out of the will even after everything we went through. Guess she didn’t want how much she hated me and my “lifestyle” to come out even after she’d kicked it.”

Patton just looks at him. There’s something sad in his eyes, maybe, something regretful or sympathetic, something holding years worth of apologies and love confessions in not so many words that every night they'd pretended they hadn’t said.

Maybe not, he isn’t sure. He’s never been very good with stuff like that.

“You owe me a party,” Virgil continues impulsively. Patton grins and shakes his head and the urge to kiss him is so strong for a moment Virgil can’t breathe. “You promised me when she was dead and I didn’t have to worry about her anymore we’d have a party. With cheerio sausages and expensive liquor and-”

“Sparkling juice and bad karaoke,” Patton interrupts, “I remember.”

Nobody speaks. Patton doesn’t invite him in and Virgil doesn’t ask for fear of being turned away.

He knows there’s an element of worship in the way he looks at Patton. It’s worship like the way farmers pray for rain in a drought, worship like how sailors are drawn to the rough turn of the sea and worship like teens relishing in the night when they’re bored and alone and angry, yearning for freedom that only comes in years they feel they don’t have left.

But now, dark eyes gazing at him and breath catching in his throat, Virgil thinks maybe he isn’t the only one who feels it.

“I have a kid now, you know?” Patton asks and Virgil knows instantly that question isn’t about the party but everything that comes after it—all of the hundreds of possibilities that stem from this decision that neither of them can quite voice out loud, “Single parent. I made a lot of bad choices in those 15 years—gave myself away to a few people who didn’t deserve it, maybe—but she’s… helped. I want to be better for her.”

Virgil nods. It’s a little hard to reconcile teenage Patton with this one but he tries anyway. He has to; he owes him that much.

(In truth, he owes him so, so much more than that but right now this is all he feels he can give.)

“Yeah, uh, Riley, right? Seems like a sweet kid, if not a bit mischievous.” Virgil smirks slightly, somewhere between teasing and nostalgic. “Kind of like you were.”

At that, Patton grins and he laughs and it feels right—feels like early morning rainfall and crackling log fires, like the burning in your lungs as you run and the way your eyes slowly drift shut against your will when you’re up too late, like every ending and beginning in just a moment.

He shakes his head again, almost affectionately chastising and there’s a stuttering of Virgil’s hand as he goes to reach out, to brush a strand of hair away from Patton’s face but stops himself halfway through.

Patton doesn’t seem to notice. Virgil once thought Patton never noticed—never saw the longing in his eyes and the flushed red of his cheeks as they sat side-by-side on a park bench in the middle of winter, running from the heat of harsh words and high expectations.

He wonders if maybe that was naive.

“Well, I’ve gotta make sure to raise her right,” Patton jokes and his smile is amused—fond and familiar like the worn leather of Virgil’s jacket between his fingers, “If she’s not questioning authority and getting me called down to the office at least once a term then I’m doing something wrong.”

With that, there’s a flash—just a moment—of principal visits and angry rants, of cutting class to sit with the other in the silence of the school office and knowing, that outside of the two of them, there was no one else to come. And he thinks of Patton—this Patton, not his Patton—taking up the empty space of that office with kind reassurances and defensive words, protecting and protecting and protecting, fighting for Riley the way he had Virgil.

Parenthood suits Patton more than he’d first thought, perhaps.

“Ah, office visits.” Virgil nods sagely and can’t resist the quirk of his lips as Patton giggles. “A hallmark of a punk child. Next thing you know she’ll be dyeing her hair, running off to the park in the middle of the night to meet up with boys.”

It’s obviously a joke but still, Patton quietens, taking on a more contemplative look. It seems as if he’s remembering something and Virgil needs, all at once, to make sure he’s more to Patton than simply that expression on his face in the midst of just another day.

“Yeah,” Patton finally says, “Yeah, she was thinking purple actually.”

Virgil doesn’t reach up and drag a hand through his own purple hair but it’s a near thing. He hums—soft and low. “Good taste.”

A heavy silence rings in his ears—an echo of all the memories they share and all the memories they don’t, a collision of black and pastel blue on a canvas already painted with teenage angst and first love—and Virgil can't stand the way it feels like it may be too much to overcome. It isn't; he won't let it be.

He takes a step closer and Patton doesn’t move away, just lets Virgil crowd him against the doorframe till their chests are pressed together and each shuddering breath is a joint effort.

“I’d like to get to know her. If you’ll let me,” he murmurs and he’s so close that he can hear Patton’s heartbeat pick up as he slides a hand up to brush at the strands of hair against Virgil’s neck.

The air between them is tense and pulled tight—gazes tracing over freckles and foundation, their skin warm with each point of contact and the rushing of blood in Virgil’s ears drowning out the pounding of his heart. Each second that goes by without comment feels to Virgil like sinking into quicksand, like fingers losing their grip on the edge of a building and threatening to let him fall.

But, before he can draw away, throw up his walls and stumble his way through apologies like they’re nothing more than kids again, Patton tugs him forward and, softly, he brings their lips together.

The kiss is a teenage fantasy come true, the culmination of every moment—under streetlights or under blankets or under nothing more than the cover of night itself—where Virgil longed to reach out and tell Patton that he wanted to kiss him until the world faded away and all that he could focus on was the taste of cherry red lipstick and the joy and love pounding in his chest like a second heartbeat.

It's the comfort in late-night knocking, Patton taking Virgil in and patching him up and holding him as he cries because he has a mother that doesn’t love him and a father that’s always absent and a world that doesn’t care, muttered reassurances a quiet backdrop to his sobs.

It's the warmth in drinking their way through meagre retail paychecks, Patton’s soft touches like fire against his skin and the thread of restraint holding Virgil back from blurting out a love confession worn down to something as thin as a spiderweb and just as delicate.

It's the exhilaration in grocery store runs with no money and bags filled with spray paint cans, their gloved hands clasped tight as they race against the biting evening wind, giving in to the urge to let out a cry of victory that bounces off the empty alley walls.

So, yes, it’s the culmination of years of pining but it’s more than that too. It’s an apology, it’s acceptance and it’s an offer of a future, to stay here with them.

“I think I’d like that,” Patton gasps as he pulls away and Virgil’s so enamoured even after all these years that he barely knows what to say, “For you to know her, I mean. She’d like you. She’s like you, or at least the way you used to be—always a bit loose with self-control.”

Virgil doesn’t tell Patton that all his self-control had been going towards keeping himself from telling him he loved him. He doesn’t think he’d know how.

Slowly, Virgil blinks and he nods and it’s all he can do to keep himself standing as Patton beams up at him with a smile reminiscent of stars colliding—bright and beautiful enough to take his breath away. And suddenly Virgil feels like maybe he can fit in here, that maybe he can fit in anywhere he needs to if Patton keeps looking at him like that.

He smiles back, smaller than the one he’d received but the way Patton’s eyes light up makes Virgil feel like maybe that doesn’t really matter. “Okay, yeah. I want that; I want to stay.”

“Okay,” Patton parrots and he’s barely holding back giggles, Virgil can tell. It’s okay though because he feels it too—that sense of happiness and disbelief that has almost no other way to present itself—and giving in feels more like an inevitability.

So, laughing and hands joined together, Patton pulls Virgil inside to the soft white of his suburban home. And he closes the door.

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

Taglist: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @camcam774 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @welpweregonnadie @spirits-in-my-thoughts @hold-my-hat @goodandbadisallmadeupnonsense @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @harleyquinnamiright @localtransgrape @fandomsofrandom @gattonero17 @airiervessel @ollyollyoxinfree @tired-and-probably-crying .

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #lo can write #blease read this guys I worked really really hard on it #they're just. soft and in love #virgil has Many Feelings

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twosidesofthesameidiot · 3 years

Text

Fall

Word Count : (1735) Characters: Merlin; Gwen; Will; Lancelot Summary: A series of autumns in Merlin's life Warnings: angst A/N: Fill for a5 "campfires" for @merlinbingo AO3 link

“Come ooon,” a brown haired boy shuffled his feet as he stood outside his best friend’s home, resisting the temptation to go in and drag him out.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I just need - hah!” a boy with black hair tumbled out of the hut with all of his usual grace and enthusiasm, which is to say, none and, in the first boy’s opinion, an unhealthy amount.

“What did you almost forget this time?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the shorter boy grinned, “I remembered it, and that’s what’s important.”

His friend rolled his eyes, “I swear you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to you,” he knocked his knuckles against his friend’s head.

“Oi, rude,” he stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

The brown haired boy just snickered.

The fallen leaves crunched underfoot as they made their way into the forest. The black haired boy kicked some at his companion who retaliated by throwing a hastily snatched handful back at him. Squirrels gathering last nuts into their hoards retreated to the safety of the trees as the boys rushed by stirring up the leaves. From above, the birds watched the forest floor spring to life in their wake. Leaves leaped and reached for the trees from where they had fallen, the mingling colours mimicking a fire like the one they sat near now.

The black haired boy’s eyes were wide, the light of their campfire making them appear a deep blue.

“... they’ll take your soul, the very warmth from your bones.” The brown haired boy paused, “ They say all that’s left is an icy corpse. Freaky, right?”

An icy wind cut through the otherwise still night and both boys start before moving closer to the fire.

“That’s creepy as heck, why’d anyone want t’go and do that for?”

“Dunno, don’t recon there’s anyone who would though, even if it could happen,” the taller boy shrugged.

“I thought campfires meant fun stories, not Samhain come early.”

“We ain’t little kids anymore, ‘sides you liked it,” he stuck his tongue out, recalling his friend’s childish tendency.

The boy just rolls his eyes before grinning and rummaging through his satchel, “Speaking of not being kids anymore - Happy birthday, Will!”

He holds out something carefully wrapped in a plain cloth.

“Merlin, I told you not to -”

“If you don’t accept it, ma’s gonna be upset,” Merlin cuts him off with a grin, “‘sides, you’re really gonna like it.”

“Insufferable, you are,” Will fakes a grimace before accepting the offering.

“Ooooh, big word there, maybe with age does come intelligence,” Merlin fakes wiping a tear away, “and here I had almost given up hope.”

Will ignores the comment, staring at the delicately shaped pendant in his hand. “Merlin, I,” his voice is thick, the words slow to come, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” his smile softens for a moment, “I told you you’d like it,”

“And the moment’s gone,” Will rolls his eyes even as he slips the cord over his head and tucks the pendant into his shirt, “just for that you get first watch.”

“No fair, i just gave you the best present ever, you should take first watch,” Merlin protests, completely forgetting the fact that they have never kept watch while camping.

“It’s my birthday though,” Will shrugs, biting back a laugh at the look on his best friend’s face.

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

“In hindsight, maybe I should have kept watch, when we got up the next morning the squirrels had gotten into our food,” Merlin grins, recalling the walk back to the village with Will chasing after every squirrel he found.

Lancelot laughed, “So, what I’m hearing is that we definitely should keep watch.”

“Can you imagine what Gauis would say if we went back without what he needs,” Merlin shuddered, “And I’d have to tell him what happened, too. I need to maintain some dignity, please.”

Lancelot only laughs harder and both men shift closer to their campfire as a cold wind cuts through the night. The flames flickered causing the shadows of the half bared tree limbs to shift eerily and the fallen leaves rustle softly welcoming their freshly fallen comrades.

Noticing his friend’s nervous scanning of the area, Lancelot nudges him gently, “You worried the blue ghosts are gonna pop up?”

Despite the teasing tone, Merlin can sense his concern and he shakes his head, “It’s fine, ‘s a bit stupid, but that story always freaked me out.”

Lancelot frowned as he draped his blanket over Merlin's boney shoulders, "It's not stupid. It is kinda freaky, but I don’t think they’re anywhere near this mortal plane, and even if they did somehow appear” he smiled reassuringly as Merlin glanced at him, “I’d fight them off.”

Merlin looks at him for a moment before a smile replaces the frown, “Really living up to the chivalrous code, aren’t you,” he lets out a small laugh, “gonna keep being my knight in shining armor?”

Lancelot grins at him, “Yes, and as such, I’ll even take first watch.”

“It’s fine,” Merlin protests, extracting himself from the blanket, “I can take it.”

“Merlin.”

“Seriously, Lance, you don’t have to - you’ve been training non-stop and I know how Arthur can be -”

“Merlin, go sleep, I’m taking first watch,” Lancelot rolls his eyes, “I’m used to this, and you deserve a break.”

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

“Merlin! The filling is for the pie not you,” Gwen laughs as she smacks his hand away from the bowl.

“I know that,” Merlin sniffs exaggeratedly, “ I am merely testing it, gotta make sure it’s safe for everyone to eat. And, you know,” he carefully snatches the bowl off the counter, “I really don’t think it is, I should prevent a disaster and eat it myself, spare everyone else.”

“How selfless of you, Merlin,” Gwen snickers, “But, I think everyone will be just fine, as long as you put that into the crust now.”

“Don’t say I didn’t try,” he sighs, complying with Gwen’s order.

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

The sky was clear and the campfire crackled softly, sending up translucent streams of smoke that curled into the pale tree branches.

“This is amazing, Gwen”, Morgana’s soft voice tugged Merlin out of the brief reverie he had slipped into, “Next time, you should let me help you?”

Merlin could hear the smile in his friend’s voice, “I’m going to be making another one tomorrow, you’re more than welcome to come,” she giggled softly, “I’m sure today’s assistant could stand to learn some things from you.”

“I am a perfectly lovely assistant, thank you very much.”

“Of course you are, Merlin,” Gwen patted his arm consolingly, still giggling.

Merlin’s reply was cut off by the sudden sound of clattering armor.

Morgana stiffened, then sighed, “I guess that’s my cue to return before I’m missed.” She stood, smoothing out her dress, royal mask sliding back into place, “Thank you for a lovely evening, I’ll see you tomorrow, Gwen. Goodnight, Merlin.”

“Goodnight, Morgana.”

As she slipped into the crisp autumn night, Merlin stared into the familiar flames, absently running his fingers over a pendant rubbed bright by continuous wear, reflecting the amber glow..

Gwen watched him for a moment before gently placing her hand on his shoulder. Turning slightly, Merlin rested his head against her shoulder, taking her smaller hand in his own.

A little ways off, at the end of a faint path a woodmouse happens upon a feast. Two slices of pie and two cups of apple cider, laid out side by side under a willow tree.

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

Lancelot feeds another log to the fire and the flames seem to burn a bit brighter for a moment. Their light makes the pendants hanging from Merlin’s neck glow, and the rings from Gwen’s glitter. The red of the fire makes the red of his cloak, draped over their shoulders, a deeper, warmer shade.

A wreath of Aster and Sedum lie under the willow tree with the woodmouse’s feast.

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

It’s not a campfire, not really, but it is a fire and it’s autumn and Lancelot recalls uttering these same words under similar, yet vastly different circumstances.

“Merlin, go sleep, I’m taking first watch,” Lancelot cannot mask the worry in his voice, “I’m used to this, and you deserve a break.”

Over the blanket Merlin has wrapped himself in, Lancelot has draped his cloak, but Merlin is too on edge to find his usual comfort in the gesture.

There is one bed in the little house they entered, and it is occupied by the frozen remains of its former owner. But the fire is warm, casting its protective glow to the corners of the room.

They are jerked out of a light sleep by the shrieking of a dorocha, Merlin immediately bringing the fire back to full flame before they run out of the house.

The dragon is a shock to Lancelot, but he takes it in stride, or at least he hopes he does.

After the immediate danger has passed, they feel lightheaded and Merlin starts to laugh.

Sensing Lancelot’s confused look, he manages to blurt out, “Will really was right after all.”

Confusion gives way to laughter, “On both counts, too. Should have kept a better watch.”

If had Kilgarrah cared to listen, he would have heard the hysteria laced through the sound.

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

For the first time in years, Merlin lights the campfire completely alone.

Gwen is safe in Ealdor and although he knows she probably has done it for herself, he still sets out her gifts under the willow tree.

The wind cuts through his thin clothes and Merlin shivers. He’d forgotten to bring a blanket and could not bear to touch Lancelot’s cloak. He cannot stop the tears that escape as he lays down the Sedum and Aster flowers he has gathered.

Tonight, the sound of happy harvesters cuts him more than the cold wind and he feels as lost as the yellow leaves it flings around.

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

The fire is warm, and a blue eyed man adjusts the camping kettle hanging over it. There is a soft clinking sound as he moves and for a moment something shines brightly as it reflects the flames, before it is covered again by his red scarf.

There is a container on the ground next to him with a slice of pie in it. On top of the container rests a heap of aster and sedum, which he is slowly braiding into a wreath and around him red and yellow leaves fall.

#lance writes #bbc merlin #merlin #lancelot #gwen #will #bbc merlin fanfic #fanfiction #merlin bingo

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noyin · 4 years

Text

One Percent

AO3 Here!

[This Is Logan To Ground Control]

Rating: G

Pairing(s): Logicality, Familial Analogical, Background Prinxiety

Tags: Astronaut!Logan, familial analogical, Emotional Hurt, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Alternate Universe, I Know Nothing Of Spaceships, I Know Nothing Of Hospitals, Oneshot, Inspired By: One Percent By Gorillaz

Summary:

Anyone Not anyone of us who is in search Everyone's receiving you...

—

The stars spun ever so slowly. Passed the circular window overhead, the beauty of the galaxy, starry and alone, stretched out for miles. But nothing came close to the beauty of planet Earth, centered in the glass.

Logan could stare at Earth for hours. It wasn't like there was anything else left for him. After all, he could only do so much about the T. Sanders' condition and he had no company. So he'd float there, trying to sleep but never being able to, and he'd look at Earth, round and awe-some, and…

He found that he cried often.

His eyes turned up to Earth as he floated. He suspended in relax, drifting wherever the loss of gravity took him. It was like he was underwater, which was a fitting comparison; sometimes space felt suffocating.

Earth reflected in his teary brown eyes.

"Hello, Patton," Logan said. He sounded as small as he felt. A lone man in space. "It's night now. I know I should be going to sleep, but I can't without telling you that I love you." Logan breathed in a stuttering breath. "I love you."

The fragment of the moon floated in the corner of his peripheral. Logan rubbed his eyes, inhaling again. He hugged himself but it wasn't his own arms he wanted to be in.

"I just wish you were here to hear it."

After a while, jerky became something Logan ate for its texture rather than its taste. Logan was sure he wouldn't ever eat jerky again if he had the choice. But he thought it was best that he remained loyal to routine. It was good to have a constant when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

Throughout Logan's day, he had five constants. The picture in his pocket that he looked at far too often for far too long, the jerky breakfast and marking down his inventory—he had exactly a hundred and fifty days left of meals now—speaking to his electronic log, up-keeping the ship, and falling asleep as he spoke to the company he didn't have, watching Earth in a distance.

As he chewed the jerky, like many times before, he made his way to the computer room and strapped himself down on the chair. He turned on the computer.

"Salutations, computer. It is day two hundred and eighty five, and it is currently- ah, running a little behind today. It is currently zero nine hundred and seven, UTC. This is still flight engineer Logan of the space shuttle, T. Sanders. I believe I am approximately twenty days away from Earth. As happy as this news is, I do have concerns regarding my reentry into Earth's atmosphere and landing without guidance or assistance. Especially with the OMS engine barely on the side of functioning. Given the OMS engine is used specifically for the final deorbital burn...I'm not entirely sure how much strain the system can handle." Logan leaned back a little.

It wasn't like any of it mattered, though. The worst case scenario would be his untimely death, but Logan had been aware of the possibility since the moment he turned the ship around.

With a sigh, he continued, "It will still be a while before I am faced with the terrifying task of reentry. But until then, I will continue to try to make contact with Ground Control and attempt to repair the OMS engine the best I can, but there is very little I can do." With his sign-off, Logan saved his entry and turned off the computer.

He sat there for a moment in complete silence, save for the ever constant whirring that reverberated within the metal of the ship. With a longer, drawn out sigh, Logan set his head in his shaking palms.

He thought of Patton and Virgil and his heart ached. He longed for them, he wanted to kiss his husband's rosy-cheeked face, he wanted to hug his son. He wanted to see them, so much it hurt.

He pressed his palm against his lips, just as the tears rushed from his eyes, as the ever occurring thought returned to him, "I'm never going to see them again," Logan sobbed, muffled.

It felt like the world was crushing around him and it was hard to breathe. Logan did his best to ground himself before the anxiety could take hold of him, but he could tell he was slipping into a breakdown. It was hard to stay grounded when he was so far above the world.

Logan couldn't withhold from bursting into tears. Doubt and fear was festering in Logan's mind more and more, now. Irrational thoughts, human thoughts, and Logan knew that these were made of raw instinct and emotion. He just wanted to return safely to his family.

But as time went on, the more he believed he had already seen their last smiles.

Logan held the picture of Patton and Virgil in his trembling hand. The picture was so worn, with a line going down the middle from how he had folded it and a white splotch over the corner of Patton's cheek where he had brushed his thumb over thousands of times.

He took his time as he chewed through his jerky, appreciating the texture one last time as though it was his last meal.

His heart pounded against his ribcage and he felt alive with anticipation. He would be seeing his family soon.

Logan's eyes drifted to the spacesuit in hung neatly on the wall. And the face of the Earth pressed against the circular window overhead.

The only thing he could hear was the steady pulse of his heart thumping in his ears and the heaviness of his breath.

The presence of Earth was daunting. The adrenaline which flooded his veins made him shakier than usual, and the looming thought that he might not make it home—no, Logan thought, and instead he forced himself to think of Patton's smile.

He pressed the button for the intercom to Ground Control, knowing he would be met with nothing but hoping anyway, as he had done for all of three hundred and five days.

"This is flight engineer Logan to Ground Control," Logan said, forcing his voice to steady, "I am preparing to reenter Earth's atmosphere in approximately t-minus one-eighty seconds. The OMS engine is...operable at best, but not entirely reliable. I don't believe I have any other choice, however." Logan said. He inhaled. "It would be beneficial, I think, to have Ground Control as guidance."

Static. Logan sighed, his hand settled on the control panel.

Despite the anticipation that bubbled inside him restlessly, the universe reflected the opposite. It was always quiet. It was always beautiful. He knew the stars would always hold a spot in his heart. Logan was ready to leave it behind to more beautiful sights.

"T-minus one twenty seconds," Logan spoke to the intercom.

Static.

The whirring of the ship rumbled faintly at his feet, and kept him grounded—his thoughts tended to gravitate towards the clouds, towards the worst possible scenarios. But Logan felt the rumbling at his feet and it reminded him, to shift his focus on the things within the realm of his control.

Easily, he placed his hand over the control stick. He closed his eyes. And took a breath.

Static.

Logan's eyes shot open.

"...Is…ol...o..."

He stared at the intercom for a moment, curious. He pressed the button. "Is- is anyone there? Over."

There was silence for a moment, in which Logan held his breath, and then spoke a voice clouded in static, "This is Ground Control to the T. Sanders. Logan Berry, we are receiving you loud and clear. Everyone is receiving you. Over."

Logan let out a soft cry, overwhelmed by relief and shock. I've made contact with Ground Control.

"Ground Control, this is flight engineer Logan Berry of the T. Sanders, the only remaining crew aboard the T. Sanders," Logan said. It was a struggle to keep his voice clean and even. "I am set to reenter Earth's atmosphere in approximately t-minus fifty seconds. The OMS engine is damaged and I am flying the craft alone. I require your immediate assistance. Over."

"We will guide you through."

In Logan's field of vision, the Earth began to swallow up the darkness of space into a beautiful hue of blue—the color of blue that had always been Patton's favorite. Then followed the tufts of white clouds and miles of green, a sight that filled Logan was an indescribable feeling of euphoria.

That euphoria lasted for a second before sparks of fire began to flash and the turbulence picked up, making the craft shudder. Logan felt his anxiety spike, his focus fading.

And then a thought came to him, clear as day—Breathe in for four seconds, he heard himself say—but he was talking to someone else. Hold for seven seconds. Virgil knelt in front of him, a tense, clammy hand in his own. Out for eight seconds, he heard himself say, and Virgil breathed out.

Four, seven, eight.

Logan's breath began to even and everything returned to focus.

As Ground Control spoke through the intercom and Logan executed each command, and it was, as they say, so far, so good. When it came time to put the OMS engine to use, to reduce his velocity until it was suitable enough for landing, Logan felt his doubt creeping in. But it was either die trying or die not trying at all. And Logan would do anything if it gave him a chance to return to his family.

As soon as Logan began to operate the machine, a warning signal beeped within the craft in time with a flashing red light on the dash. Warning, it read, Overheating.

Logan grit his teeth, yet held his ground.

The craft began to creak and groan, strong vibrations making the ship shiver. It was growing evident that the engine was struggling, as it was growing extremely turbulent and alarmingly warm aboard the flight deck. The beeping continued, drowning out the static of the intercom.

Warning: Overheating.

Logan did not heed the warning yet, though he knew the engine would soon start to give out on him. He just needed enough time, enough time to-

Crash!

Logan jerked in his seat as the spaceship lurched violently, shuddering like a stalling vehicle. Everything felt thrown to disorder, and Logan felt all disoriented, his world spinning in front of him. He could barely hear the blare of the warning, now mixed in with a hissing noise. Not good, Logan thought.

The ground was rapidly approaching. Logan closed his eyes tightly, bracing for impact.

Beep, beep, beep, beep...

The experience was still so vivid to him, even in his dreams. Though everything felt distant. He could remember fire. Heat. The feeling of his body twisting and crushing. He couldn't breathe. Water. He remembered the water before his consciousness gave out on him.

But most importantly, he could still hear the beeping, blaring in warning. In warning that everything could go wrong in the blink of an eye. And that he would be gone, without so much of a goodbye.

Logan could still hear the beeping.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

But this beeping was different. Slowly, the sound of frantic blaring faded into something calm and steady.

Logan opened his eyes and he was immediately greeted by a gentle light. He turned to it, warmth exploding against his face like delicate kisses on Saturday mornings. Sunlight, his mind supplied helpfully, Oh, I've missed the sun.

Wait.

And then the realization hit Logan with full force. He scrambled to sit up, his body protesting every movement and his head throbbing. He was consumed by disbelief—and he needed to know whether or not he was dreaming. Or if he was, maybe, incredibly lucky.

The room was small, pristine, and white, with cabinets and a sink, and a box for sharps. Logan looked down at himself, finding that he was clad in a paper gown. A hospital, Logan quickly deduced. He was at a hospital.

He then turned his focus to the table by his bed, on top of which had a glass of water and a piece of paper beside it. Logan reached for the paper first, its worn edges fitting perfectly in his hand. It was a photograph. He instantly recognized his husband's smile and his son's signature scowl.

Logan covered his mouth, thick tears blurring his vision. Oh. He dropped his face in his trembling hands and began sobbing in overwhelming happiness and relief.

"I'm alive," Logan said, "I'm alive."

It was so difficult to believe that, after everything, after all the odds were against him, after he truly believed returning home wasn't possible, after he had resigned to believing he would die, he would be alone-

After everything, he was wrong.

Logan looked up when he heard footsteps enter his room and hastily made to recompose himself, wiping his eyes free of tears. The nurse who entered stopped by the door with a look of surprise.

"Oh, Mister Berry, you're awake!" he said. He gave Logan a warm smile as he approached with his cart. "I'm Emile and I'm going to be your nurse for today. How are you feeling?"

"Salutations, Emile," Logan said. He paused for a moment. "I'm feeling overwhelmed, I think. I've been in space for nearly a year, after all, and I thought I wouldn't-" Logan said, but he stopped himself. He smiled a little to Emile. "You know, it's nice to be speaking to someone again."

"I can't imagine how you must feel right now. It hard it must've been hard for you," Emile said.

"I don't particularly want to discuss it," Logan said.

"That's completely understandable. When you were admitted, you had several broken ribs and a severe concussion. You just woke up from a medically induced coma," Emile explained, "So, I'm going to check your vitals now, if that's alright with you."

"I want to go home," Logan said instead. It wasn't what he meant to say, but it certainly was what he wanted to say.

Emile paused. "Oh. Well, I'm not sure that would be advisable."

"I know," Logan said, "But if I can be prescribed a medicine to manage pain, I think it would be appropriate enough to discharge me."

"I would have to check with the doctor on that," Emile said. "Let me take your vitals and I'll get into contact with him."

"That is fine," Logan said, "Thank you, Emile."

Maybe it wasn't the most logical thing to leave the hospital against medical advice, but Logan couldn't regret his decision.

He sat nervously in the back of the taxi cab, his precious photograph cradled in his hands in his lap, and he couldn't help but smile as he looked at it. He couldn't wait for the moment he wouldn't need the photograph anymore. He would be able to stroke his husband's cheek and hug his son, rather than brush the worn face of the picture and press it close to his chest.

There was nothing that could describe all that he was feeling in that very moment. Especially as familiar sights began to fly by through the cab's window—the cafe on the corner, the local library, the skate park, the flower shop. Logan was getting all antsy with anticipation when the taxi turned into his neighborhood.

It was only a short drive until his home came into view and it looked just as welcoming as he remembered it to be, and Logan felt like bursting into tears upon seeing it. After all this time, he was finally home.

"Alright, babes, here we are. Twenty-four Stokes Lane," said the driver as he pulled up against the curb.

Logan paid the fare, hurried out of the cab and collected his duffle bag of belongings. He stood at the end of the driveway for a second, taking a few recomposing breaths, as he felt like he was going to explode with nerves, he was trembling so much.

He made his way up the driveway and to the front door, his heart beating harder with every step. Finally, he lifted his hand to the door and gave a firm rap. A moment or two passed, and then the door unlocked and swung open.

"Yes, can I help you?"

The person that stood in the doorway wasn't someone he recognized, but rather a young adult with tan skin, fluffy hair and honey colored eyes, clad in a jacket over a set of pajamas. Logan felt his heart sink a little and he frowned.

"I- I'm-" Logan stammered, at a complete loss on what to say. He adjusted his glasses and took in a deep breath. "I'm looking for the Berry residence. Do they still...live here?"

The man smiled brightly. "Oh, yeah! This is the Berry residence," he said, "I'm Roman. Can I help you with anything?"

Logan felt a smile spread across his face. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Roman. I'm Logan Berry."

Roman's eyes grew wider than saucers. "You're-"

"Hey, Princey," spoke a third voice, low and grouchy, which Logan recognized immediately. "Who the heck are you talking t-"

As Virgil popped around the door frame, he stopped completely in his tracks, shocked. The three of them stood there in silence for the longest time—Logan was simply too overwhelmed by the sheer joy of seeing his son for the first time in a year, and Virgil looked as if he had died and come back to life. Which, honestly, Logan wouldn't blame him for thinking so.

Virgil clutched Roman's sleeve with white knuckles and buried his face into Roman's arm, and began weeping. He quickly abandoned Roman and stumbled through the doorway into Logan's arms. Logan caught him in an embrace with a teary smile.

"Dad," Virgil cried.

"Virgil. I love you, Virgil," Logan said, his voice all shaky with emotion. "I'm here. I've missed you so much."

"I fuckin' hate you," Virgil said thickly. "I hate you so much."

But Virgil squeezed him tighter, as if he would never let go, and continued to weep against Logan's shoulder. Logan closed his eyes and held him close, and while there were no words exchanged, the hug spoke multitudes. Logan had dreamt about this moment for so long and nothing in the universe compared to what he was feeling. The physical manifestation of absolute happiness and love was right there in Virgil's arms.

"'m sorry," Virgil mumbled, sniffling and wiping his eyes. "I was so angry at you. But I love you so much."

"I know. I'm so sorry, Virgil."

"Wait, shit-" Virgil pulled away from him. "Dad, you have to see papa."

Logan's heart lurched at the thought of Patton and he smiled. "Yes."

Virgil pulled him inside, and Roman closed the door behind them and took Logan's duffle bag. As soon as he stepped in, he was bombarded by warmth, familiarity, and the smell of chocolate chip cookies. He knew he was truly home and that alone felt so overwhelmingly euphoric.

And then he heard the sound of singing coming from the kitchen and he couldn't hold back a smile. He could imagine the scene—Patton, clad in an apron with the words 'Hi Hungry, I'm Dad' printed on it, flour in his hair and his cheeks rosy.

Virgil led him into the kitchen and Logan's breath caught in his throat when he saw his Patton, the love of his life, for the first time in far too long.

Though his attention was towards the oven, as he held a tray of hot cookies in one hand, and fiddling with the oven knob with the other.

"Oh, goodness, we need a new oven," Patton said with a light laugh. Logan's heart fluttered.

"Hey, Papa," Virgil said. He was beaming. "Guess what."

"Yes? What is it?" Patton turned around.

His eyes met with Logan's and if felt like the world stopped spinning. There was a sharp clatter as the tray of cookies slipped from Patton's grasp. Logan could see the slight tremble in his hands as he brought them over his mouth in complete shock. Tears began to spill from his eyes and stream messily down his cheeks.

"Logan?"

"Hello, darling," Logan said, tears also gathering on his lashes.

Patton cried softly, sinking to his knees on the kitchen linoleum. Logan approached and knelt beside him, collecting his husband in his arms. Patton turned into his chest, gripping the face of his shirt and hiding in the crook of his neck.

"I must be dreaming," Patton said through his hiccups. "I missed you, Logan. So much."

"I love you," Logan said.

Patton tittered and sobbed, cupping Logan's cheek in his palm. When he smiled, his eyes shimmered like stars—beautiful and warm, and- nothing like the loneliness of the galaxy.

Patton leaned up to place a teary kiss onto Logan's lips. It felt like a dream to finally be in the arms of his love, to be able to kiss him, and hold him, and smell the chocolate chip that clung to his hair.

"You said you'd be back before I knew it." Patton said.

"I know. I'm so sorry."

Patton smiled softly, however, and kissed him again. "I'm so happy, Logan. I'm so happy you're home. And I love you so much."

"I love you so much, too. And there's nowhere I'd rather be than here. In your arms. With Virgil and Roman," Logan said. He held Patton tighter, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Nowhere in the galaxy."

#lavmochi fics #sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logicality #prinxiety #space au #sad hours #sequel #ltgc #one percent

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gigilalaka · 4 years

Text

The Deage Troll Au. Update and Chapter 1

So, this was supposed to tell you all that want to read my still in progress deage au, that chapter 1 was out on my ao3 account. Well its not. I can’t get access to it on my pc and I’ve tried a couple of other methods as well. Now I’m just waiting for they guys and girls that run ao3 to find whats wrong. However I want people to at least read the first chapter so here it is. We will see what happends in the coming days but for now enjoy!

*for thought

‘for speak

Chapter 1 “ Good days gone bad”

Poppy looks out of one of her windows that she got installed barely 3 weeks ago, its soft rain that gos pit patter on them tonight and normaly she would hum to the soft sound but she can’t find the strengt nor heart to do it. Her mind is filled with worry and guilt over the small body thats currently sleeping in a small borrowed bed that Smidge had been so kind to give her. * What am I do to now?* the words keeps runing around her head as she hears a small whimper coming from the bed. She truns around to look at them and walks over with soft steps and just stops at bedside, the little thing looks like they are not haveing the best of dreams. She could not blame them, she bet shes haveing them tonight as well once she finally finds sleep herself.

She slowly stroke the little things face, tears silent runing out of both closed eyes. One out of lost another out worry the next out of fear. A small boyish voice filled with sadness and longing asking for the one person thats never going to be able to anwser back ‘ grandma, where are you?’ It breaks her heart just hearing it.

‘Oh Branch, I’m so so sorry. I should’t have brought that stupid flower to the bunker, we should’t have.’ she says as she looks at her boyfriend, now in a body of a 6 year old, his skin grey as dark ash, hair black as coal and a fearfull frown onpond his little sleeping face. It still amazed her how bad everything had gotten just within 5 days, and it all started when he asked her a favor of just getting some stuff from the deep forest. How she just wish she’d could stop her past self from taking that damn flower or just give it to the herbalist before she and Hickory went to visit him. Maybe then neither of them wouldn’t feel so bad like they do now.

‘I’m so so sorry, sweetie. I’m so sorry’ she keeps saying, tears anew starts run out her eyes again, while her mind drifts back 5 days ago, where it all started.

‘So let me see if I get this right?’ Hickory begins while he helps his brother over a giant fallen log with a rope around him and Dickory, while said brother is cursing up and down and to the high heavens for gifting him with this damn body and how he wish he’d have moveing hair like the pops have. It would sure make this a lot faster! Poppy stops to look at the bounty hunter, the half open basked strapped on her and one on each bounty hunters backs moveing a little showing herbs, barks, flowers and berries, a small smile froming on her face when Hickory nearly let loose the rope thats currently the only thing thats keeping his brother from falling several feet down, again. The small yodleller looking at the other one with a glare. Dareing his little brother loose his grip again on the rope, or else theres going to be hell to pay.

‘Branch is missing or gone out of several herbs and a type of moss thats used for a variety of diffrent meds and skin tonics? And he ask you to get them for him while he fixses something down in the bunker thats gone badly out of whack?’ For the past 4 months, Hickory and Dickory has been residents of said bunker while they are here helping the pop trolls build up their villiage again. Its part of the deal they have with Delta on the amount of charity works they need to get done with the country trolls and for what they did Poppy and Branch. First they had to help fixing some the homes and buildings back in Lonesome Flats, before they were sent to what remaind of the Pop villiage to help fix things there as well. Though to be honest, untill more of the trees and plants recover some more, theres little they can fix. Many a troll are still living in the undergrund bunker the resident grump live and build up, till some of their home trees are ready to take them in again. Though said grump was getting a little antsy with all the other trolls hyper-go-lucky energy. And endless will to party hard and as loud as possible.

Both he and Dickory had been very supriesed and shocked on how one troll had build something this lagre by the age of 15, get it so well stocked and maintain all alone for well over a decade. It was not for nothing that the other pop trolls called him the most prepared troll of the Pop villiage. *Though to be honest, we should have figured that out with how he was so prepared for just about everything on the journey* Hickory thought while putting the rope in his basket, Dickory finally on safe ground. He’s very sure that if they meet another log like that again, his big bro is just gonna swallow his pride and ask the queen for a ride over instead. It was getting very tiring getting past these forsaken logs for the both of them.

‘Yep’ the queen say, the ‘p’ poping as she said it.’ The Ruby moss is the most improtent one along with the Silver Drop Rose. They are used for some very serious bruns tonics and blood loss meds that I think even the funk trolls have never seen. Branch said that even if we only get a few of each of them, it still be enough to treat several dozen patients, but it would really help him and the doctors to have a bundle or two of each instead. They only bloom for the brief period between these 2 weeks. The rainstrom season is coming soon and they are going to be washed away soon when the first storm hits. Oooh look some more Dede berries! Miss Flourens going to be so happy that we gotten some of them, they hard to find this time of the year. Now she wont have to worry so much about the flu season’ The berries looks nice where they are hanging from their bush, a rich maroon colour with what looks like a golden stripe going around the oval shaped fruit. Poppy takes out a few small clay jars to store them in from her basket. She notes that she’s running out of room to store things. She take out a book from the basket she’d taken with her in her hair, incase she found any other herbs she’s not sure about. One of the many useful gifts Branch have given her the past 2 years.

‘So why did you take us with you girly? You know how that boy of yours don’t like us very much’ Dickory asked, it was a bit of a understatment, Branch had been rageing mad at them when he found out the their lie. Had it not been for the fact that Poppy's other friends was holding him down, Dickory is very sure he and his bro would not be walking at all. Its a bit better now, but non of the yodeller brothers wants to overstep themself the frail peace they have right now. Though he still wounders what the less colour full troll meant with ‘ this is just like what happened almost 2 years ago!’. He did not like the sound of it, not at all.

‘Mostly to give you guys some breathing room really.’ Dickory gets back, the queen is still getting some of the last berries in the jar. Then give them to him for storage in his basket. ‘Also, I know for a fact that since your both bounty hunters you guys was the better choice to take on this little trip when it comes to protection. Which I know mister grumpy is not going argue against, beside I’d rather take you guy over the other one thats avaialble.’ * The less said about Creek the better off I am* Poppy thinks, not wanting to take that guru on this trip today, lately the purple troll was trying to get them alone very often and that scared her.

The three continue their journey, stoping every now and then for a breather or a brief lunch, when they come to a area that has the herbs they are looking for. Its not easy to get to them though. The roses blooms on a small cliff thats very close to a river that has some very sharp stones jutting out and the moss prefer to be on the ceilings in a cave that is home some nasty creeps and crawls that no sane troll would want crawling in their pants. However, when they took a break near a tree, they a get a glimps of a snow white petals that seems to shimer in the light behinde another tree and some bushes a little father ahead of them. Hickory and Dickory is not sure if it is safe to go there, but Poppy is insistent that they at least check it out.

They come onpond a small clearing with a pond near the middle of it, a single flower blooming from the north side of the pond. Its white as snow that shimer in the sun light, with what looks like golden, amethyst and royal coalbolt blue bands around the base of the pastals forming a lovely small pattern of rings together. Its shaped like a tulip, if a tulip had slightly longer pastals and curly torns that is. They can smell a faint hint of sweet yet lightly bitter smell coming for it.

‘Now what in blues hell is this? Poppy do you know what this flower is?’ Hickory ask as he looks at the plant. Its very nice to look at and would make a wounderfull gift to a loved one, but dose not go near it. Neither he nor Dickory knew if it was safe to go anywere near it. No doubt that something had to be wrong if only the flower was the only thing to bloom in that pond. He dose not get a anwser for a while, the queen busy with her herb book to see what they have stumblot onpond.

‘Thats very strange. Its not in the book.’ the pink troll say with a mumble. She looks at the two and ask ‘ are there any sticks or stones near bye that we can throw? We need to check that its not a pond lucker. Those things are rightout nasty to deal with and I rather like to keep my arms or legs intact.’ A shiver gos down her spine when she think what happened to the last party group that went out to gather stuff from the deepest part of the forest. From a 35 group to only 14 coming back, almost half of them missing limbs thanks only to dose things. Was it not for that 2 of them had realy good aim, more would have been lost.

‘I think a saw some over there by the river. Gimme a min’ Dickory say as he runs there to get some. When he comes back the three of them each choice a spot to hit, but noting happens. They to it a few more times, just to be sure but is just a normal pond. Relief settels in a bit, but they move slowly near the flower. Once they are near enough, Poppy takes a few minutes to look at it, than take out a pair of gloves, a sturdy looking glass jar and a small spade.

‘Don’t tell me your gonna take that flower with you?!’ Dickory almost shouts. ‘It can’t be safe if it is the only thing that living in this damn pond!’

‘I have to. This area is the closest to the villiage when it comes to get these types of herbs. The others can take weeks to go to and fro. Finding a plant that we know nothing about so close here, I have to take this to our herbalists to find out what it is. For all we know it might do more harm than good to this area’ Poppy anwser back, most of her focus on the plant, not knowing how true her words would become.

Once she got it in the jar, she looks at them and says ‘Its best we go now. We don’t need to be here any longer’ the hunters agree with both of them tur-

‘WAAAAAA’ a scream comes out of Branch traped yet again in another nightmare that he can’t wake up from, sending Poppy out of her thoughts and chair like a rocket crash and running to him. She hugs him while the trolling continue to scream his heart out, his fear clear as day, small fists hitting her chest every now and then. His not stoping and his sob aren’t getting better either.

*My poor poor Branch. Why do you have to suffer more of this?* rings in her head, well aware that her boyfriend haven’t had this kind of nightmare in a long time. It seems fate still wanted to give the troll some more grief. All she can do now is hold him tight, whisper sweet nothings and patt his back.

Slowly but surely Branch began to calm down, and slowly Poppy sings whatever her tried mind can come up with right now not careing if they fit with the song whats so ever.

Sweet baby mine don’t cry

The moons here to sing you a lullaby

And am here to sing with stars

Sweet baby mine don’t cry

We are all here to make you smile

She continues to sing as Branch slowly starts falling to a peacefull slumber, but Poppy know its not over yet. She lays him back to bed makeing sure not to wake him. Once she sure his going to sleep a bit more she drags herself to her own bed try to get some rest before Branch wakes with another scream.

#trolls #trolls world tour #deage au #branch #poppy #hickory

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jubilantwriter · 4 years

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Jaspvid Week 2020: Day 4 - Hurt/Comfort

(AO3) @jaspvid-week

get ready for a gratuitous amounts of capslock

Remember When They Were Bad Friends in Canon? Well- NEVER HAPPENED. Aha! Oho!

Summary: David was never good at the whole sleeping thing. He’s been working on it, honest! And he’s been getting better at it, even if there are some places he’s better at sleeping with than others. But sometimes... sometimes when he falls asleep, all he wants to do is wake up.

Word Count: 3148

WARNINGS: PTSD, Graphic Descriptions of Wounds (just to be safe)

David knows that dreams aren't real. That the chronic nightmares that plagued his sleep as a child were nothing but the result of his fears and anxieties left unchecked and unacknowledged for so long. He thought he'd gotten over that part of his life - sure, he still had bouts of insomnia every once in a while, especially at Camp Campbell, but he'd very rarely suffered from nightmares that had him waking up screaming bloody murder. And it's all very rare indeed! Gwen has only needed to wake him up a few times throughout their time working together.

He really thought that he was finally okay. That's what he thinks, when he looks down at hands covered in an inky red before looking back up to see Jasper, hunched over with hands trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

Jasper's bleeding.

Pained blue eyes, wide with fear as light fades fast from them, stare deep into David's own horrified greens.

"Davey," he gasps out, before collapsing to his knees.

"Jasper!" He lurches forward and catches his boyfriend in his arms, and it's just a dream, just a dream, just a dream-

"You have to run!" Jasper shoves David away as best as he can, already wheezing as blood continues to drip down his chest. Long, deep gashes that look worse than they did years ago reveal themselves to David through a shredded t-shirt and it's just a dream just a dream just a dream-

"I'm not leaving you here!" David grabs Jasper as he slumps forward, and it's just a dream just a dream just a DREAM-

His hands feel wet and slick and sticky and red red red-

NO.

Just a DREAM just A DREAM IT'S JUST A DREAM-

But he feels warmth, Jasper feels warm, he feels warm and wet and cold and wet and the wet feels warm and Jasper feels cold and Jasper is solid, solid in his arms and heavy and David can feel his body heave with every desperate gasp every pained shudder every wet cough-

JUST A DREAM!

JUST A DREAM JUST A DREAM JUST A DREAM JUST A DREAM-

BUT WHY DOES IT FEEL SO REAL?

His vision swims and swirls and spins and he can't see there's tears falling from his eyes real tears streaming down his cheeks as he cradles Jasper's weak body and he hears every little "plip" and every little "plop" his tears make as they land on Jasper's face-

Jasper's face Jasper's pale face Jasper's dying face and David begs begs begs to wake up, please wake up he wants to WAKE! UP!

He doesn't want to feel like he's losing his boyfriend like he's watching the same scene replay over and over again like he's letting things repeat like he's let this happen before one time two times three million times and he doesn't want to FEEL THIS ANYMORE!

HE DOESN'T WANT TO SEE THIS ANYMORE!

WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP BLOOD ON HIS HANDS BLOOD ON HIS CHEST AND IT'S REAL AND WET AND OH GOD PLEASE WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP THIS ISN'T REAL THIS CAN'T BE REAL HE DOESN'T WANT THIS TO BE REAL WAKE-

"-UP!" A deluge of cold water hits his face and he screams, log tossed into the air as Gwen steps back. "David, shit!"

"I- huh- whu-?" He pants heavily, looking wildly around the room as he tries to get his bearings. And then he remembers blood on his hands and blood on his chest-

"Jasper- Jasper! I have to- I gotta-"

"Woah woah woah!" Gwen catches him just as he tumbles out of bed. "David, deep breaths!" Com on, with me now. In, out..." She guides him through a breathing exercise, calming him down just enough for David to finally make sense of where he is.

He breathes in, and he recognizes the cabin he’s in, and where this cabin is.

Camp Campbell.

He breathes out, and feels the heat all around him, hears the crickets, and recognizes what those all mean to him.

It's summertime.

And as he steadies his breathing, all his thoughts connect back to a crucial bit of information.

Jasper's at their apartment, waiting for him to come back.

Jasper's alive. And well. And far far far away from the forest, away from bears, away from childhood memories that still struck fear in both their hearts.

"What..." He blinks blearily, looking out the window and realizing just how dark the sky is. Or still is, rather. "What time is it?"

"Three am." Gwen rubs her temples, exhausted and sleep-deprived. Whoops. That was definitely his fault. "You were shouting- well, screaming, in your sleep. It was damn near impossible to wake you." He looks down to see the mud-caked slippers she still has on and winces.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize." She waves off his guilty look but quickly grows concerned again when his shoulders still droop. "...Listen. I called Jasper."

"You WHAT?" Though peeved at his shriek, she gestures for him to settle down.

"Fucking relax, you weren't waking up and I thought he'd have some idea for how I could wake you. He suggested the cold water. The bucket was all me." David blinks before remembering that, oh right, he's currently drenched. Gwen tosses him a towel before he can start shivering. Just like Gwen to be prepared like this.

Although he wishes she didn't have to be prepared for this kind of situation.

"Are you gonna call him?" Gwen watches as he dries his hair, towel now resting on his shoulders as he looks to his phone. The device sits unplugged, probably from Gwen yanking it from its charger in her desperation to find a way to wake David.

His very instinct is to dial up Jasper's number, but the time of night makes him hesitate.

"I... probably shouldn't." Though the thought of hearing Jasper's voice, just to hear him breathe and sigh and affirm and reaffirm that he was okay and that it really all was just a horrible nightmare, he thinks about how Jasper also gets up early in the morning to drive to work. If he calls him now, would the brunette even have enough time to sleep? What if he crashes his car because he stood up all night talking with and worrying over David? Jasper shouldn't have to risk that just because David had a nightmare. "It's late and- he needs his sleep. He has to wake up in like, four hours."

"Don't think your boyfriend will be sleeping tonight." Gwen sits on her bed with a tired plop. "He heard you screaming and was about to drive over here."

"What?!" David leaps up from his bed and lunges for his phone. "He can't do that! I have to make sure he stays home-" His speed dial calls up Jasper in a second and he listens to the rings anxiously. "He has work in the morning, and if he comes here, he won't have any sleep AND he won't have any time to drive back-!"

"I know." Gwen's smirk graces her lips just as Jasper picks up. "That's why I convinced him to stay home already."

"Hello?" David's mind blanks as Jasper's worried voice carries over from the speaker. Of course Gwen took care of that already. She puts in some earplugs and puts on an eye mask, already turning onto her side to resume sleeping as he struggles to create words. "Davey? Is that you?"

"A-ah." Well, at least she's giving him some privacy. That's nice of her, at least. "I. Um."

"It's okay, take your time." Jasper's voice soothes him from miles away, and it's enough to get him to relax just a bit.

"...Right." He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose, exhaling from his mouth and repeating. Jasper remains quiet, but David can hear his breathing from his side. And it's. It reminds him of where he is, and that everything is fine here. It was just a dream. "Hey, Jasp."

"Sup, homeslice." David sits with his back against the headrest, arm hugging his knees to his chest as he listens to every sound of Jasper he can catch. "You doing alright?"

"More or less." He laughs weakly. "It was just- just a bad dream. A really bad one."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I..." Large gashes that span Jasper's chest flash in his mind. Had they gone lower when he was first mauled by those bears... He sucks in a breath and blinks hard, willing the tears to stay at bay. "I don't think I can, sorry."

"That's okay." Jasper assures him gently, and he wishes, really wishes, that Jasper was here with him right now. It's not the first time he wishes his bed was tucked away in a corner of the room, and not just pressed against the wall. If only so he could feel some approximation of a hug. "...You want me to drive up there?"

"Don't do that." Even though he desperately wants him here. "Y-you have your job to worry about, and there's the bills and rent to pay-."

"I can take a day off, get my shift covered. Wouldn't hurt to use up a little bit of my PTO."

"It was just a bad dream, you don't have to-."

"David." Jasper's voice is firm but still maintains that gentleness he's held since they were kids. "It wasn't just a bad dream."

"...Y-yeah."

"Bud, are you crying?"

"I'm not." He sniffs and scrunches his brows together. "...Okay, maybe a little."

"...I'm driving up there."

"No!" David doesn't need to be there to imagine the shock on Jasper's face. "Don't- don't come here. Please. Please. Stay home." His voice shakes and breaks as he speaks, and he's imagining Jasper in the forest, Jasper facing a bear, Jasper bleeding out and hurt-

"Shhh, okay, okay, I won't." A gasp escapes him and, dang, he really is sobbing now. "I'm sorry, I won't come." He hears the distress in Jasper's voice and immediately panics.

"It's not because I don't want you here!" He tries to wipe away his tears, but they keep coming, and god, god, he wishes Jasper was here. Jasper could easily make his tears go away with his kisses and hugs, but Jasper being here is the last thing either of them need. "It's just- you know, you left Camp Campbell for a reason. And I'm not going to force you to come back here." Just because I want you here, he thinks to himself.

"You're not forcing me to come over there but..." He hears Jasper's weary sigh and imagines the brunette running his fingers through his hair. "...Is this about your nightmare?"

"I..."

His hesitation is enough for Jasper.

"Okay." The soft understanding is clear in his voice.

"Sorry." He mumbles into the phone, feeling like an idiot. "It's dumb- I'm dumb, I wasn't even the one who got hurt- it was you, but I'm sitting here waking everyone up because of a stupid nightmare and I wasn't even the victim, it was you and-"

"Hey hey, wanna slow down for me?" Jasper's gentle tone has him stop long enough to breathe. "What's this about me being the victim?"

"...You know. The... bear attack." There's a sharp inhale from the other side. "It's just- it really shouldn't be me, right? I shouldn't be the one getting nightmares about this, I don't even have the right to, I'm just-"

"You got some heavy thoughts bouncing around your headspace, my guy." Despite David's words, Jasper still manages to chuckle. "Listen man, what happened that day... affected both of us differently."

"...Mmmgh."

There's a creak from Jasper's side. Like he's adjusting his position on the bed. David closes his eyes and pretends for a second that Jasper's sitting next to him, one arm wrapped around him as he hugs him close.

"I'm not gonna lie - falling from a cliff and being attacked by bears was the most unwoke thing to have ever happened to me, like, ever." David laughs a little, because of course Jasper would phrase it like that. "I still hate nature, and I still hate that you're willing to go back to camp every year in spite of what happened. But you got your own reasons. Because that day changed you too." He imagines Jasper leaning against him, pressing his head against David's as he lowers his tone, almost to a whisper. "You saw me die nearly twice. Once, when you couldn't save me from the cliff. And the second time when you found me in the cave mauled and bleeding. You saw my wounds and helped me back to camp. You watched it all happen."

"Yeah, I sure did watch." He grumbles into the phone and sighs. "You were covered in scraps and scratches and then QM took your badge away because I used your shoes."

"To save me." Jasper shifts again from the other side. "Davey, you did way more than anyone else did for me that day. And you were just a kid. We were both kids, and you had to watch as someone your age nearly died because all the other adults barely did anything to help." There's a slight hitch in Jasper's voice as he voices what David won't say. "Maybe you’re not scared of bears like me, or even hate nature like me. But Davey, that day made you so terrified of losing people. Like, really losing them. And that’s a real and justified and valid reaction to what happened, man. Because you don't wanna see another kid fall from a cliff or come back covered in blood. It messed you up real bad, even if you weren’t physically hurt like I was."

"I..." David sighs as he thinks about what Jasper would be doing right now. Kissing his temple? Holding his hand? Looking him in the eye while cupping his face? Maybe all three, knowing his boyfriend. "You sound a lot like my therapist."

"I'll take that as an 'I'm right' card then. Just, don't beat yourself up just 'cause I'm the one with the physical scars. It was a bad day for both of us. Pretty sure if our roles were reversed, you'd be telling me not to beat myself over it too."

"I mean- yeah, I wouldn't want you to feel awful over something like this."

"Exactly." A soft chuckle comes from Jasper as he jostles the phone. "...Feeling better, Davey?"

"A little, yeah." He smiles to himself as he cradles the phone close. "I mean, as long as I can hear your voice, I think I'll be okay."

"What, just my voice? You don't want the whole package deal?" Jasper makes a wounded sound, drawing a small laugh from David. "I thought you loved me!"

"I do love you, Jasp. More than the whole world."

"...Aw, I'm blushing." His laugh turns into a snort. "Want a pic as evidence? I think my selfie game is off the heezy now!"

"As tempting as it is, I think I'll have to pass." Jasper takes forever taking selfies. Something about getting the angle right, then getting the right pose, then making the right face, then choosing the filters, and then he starts all over from scratch if he doesn't like it. David would probably have passed out by the time Jasper manages to send even one selfie. "I'd rather see you in person." David continues to smile when he hears a soft squeak from Jasper.

...Wait. Hold on.

"Is that an invitation?"

Oh hooey.

"No-"

"It's like, what, Friday today? I can take the day off-"

"Jasp-"

"-It's no big deal, I'm good at faking being sick-"

"Jasp-"

"-Rent a room at that dank motel, it's a motel right? All I know is that it's got rooms I can rent, and then we can be alone-"

"Jasper, oh my god!" He covers his mouth to stifle his laugh, but the chortle comes out all the same. "I still have to do my job!"

"Fair, fair. But I can just wait for you. Maybe sneak out during your lunch or something, give me a kiss on your breaks like I'm a prince waiting for a ride-by smooch from his knight in shining armor."

"You're being ridiculous!"

"Am I?" He can easily picture Jasper wiggling his eyebrows on his face. "Or am I just happy to hear you laugh?"

"Both." His laughter subsides as it turns into a content hum. "...I really love you, Jasp."

"I love you too, sunshine." David giggles at the nickname as Jasper laughs along with him. "I'll see you on the weekend then?"

"Alright." It's not like he can stop Jasper once the man's made up his mind. And... he really would like to see him again soon.

"Most excellent, my dude."

"Ah jeez." He shakes his head as Jasper laughs again. "I can't believe you're really coming up here."

"Anything to see your dorky smile."

"You're the dork!" David rubs at his face, the little trails left by his tears now dried up and gone. "...Um, Jasp?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks. For. Just talking with me." He smiles against his knees, a light blush on his cheeks even if Jasper can't see him. "It really means a lot to me."

"...Of course, Davey. I know you'd do the same for me. Hell, you already do!" A sleepy smile matches the sweet laughter on the other side. "It's getting late. I'm gonna call in sick and take a nap. You get some sleep too, alrighty?"

"Mhm." Warmth blossoms in his chest as he gets up to grab his sleeping log. "I can't wait to see you."

"Same, homey. It's lonely without your goofiness to make things bright again."

"Okay, I'm cutting this off before this continues any longer." Jasper chuckles on his end before sighing.

"Right, have sweet dreams, Davey."

"You too, Jasp."

"That's easy when all I gotta do is think of you!"

"Jeez- good night, Jasper!"

"Night, Davey!"

He hangs up the call, a soft smile on his face as he giggles to himself.

Right.

It was just a dream. A bad, awful, horrible dream, sure. But it was just a dream. Because Jasper is still here. Being his goofy, lovable self. And he'll get to see him on the weekend!

So maybe he hasn't quite gotten over it as he'd hoped. But... that's okay, in a sense. He's not dealing with it by himself.

He never was.

He plugs his phone back in to charge and sighs as the time flashes up at him.

Well, two hours of sleep isn't so bad!

As he curls up on his bed, avoiding the damp parts of it in favor of the drier parts, he thinks he'll take a note from Jasper's methods.

And for those two hours.

He'll just have sweet dreams of Jasper.

#camp camp #cc david #cc jasper #jaspvidweek2020 #jaspvid #cc gwen #listen like #what if right #what if david supported jasper after that bear attach #*attack #like sided with him and made sure he was okay and gave him his badge #and david became a ray of sunshine to cheer jasper up #and he got all into camp campbell because #what if he could learn skills to keep others safe #keep jasper safe #and then he becomes a camp counselor to like #make sure no other kid gets hurt ever again #like what if man #what if

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crystallized-iron · 4 years

Text

The Inaccuracy

For Cherik Week 2020, hosted by @teamxcherik

Day 1: Space AU

AO3

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

Arrivals to the space colony were separated into three lines. Erik paused momentarily as his comrades presented their information at the check-in counter. He held his papers ready as he approached the man running the computer for his line. There was never a problem at previous colonies they traveled to for work, but those check-ins were all run by inferior androids running on autopilot, simply copying the information on the forms into the computers.

But this one felt different. Erik could not detect a trace of metal in the small yet pretty man that smiled at him and stated, "Identification please."

Erik handed the paperwork over. His ID card was scanned. The papers were skimmed through, all necessary information typed in.

There was something about the man that kept Erik on edge. No metal had to mean he was human. But why? Check-in counters were a dangerous place for humans to work.

As the man returned Erik's information, their fingers brushed briefly against each other. It was only a second but it was enough for the man to flinch away from Erik with a gasp.

He looked into widening bright blue eyes as the man whispered, "You are not…"

Erik glanced at the men he was traveling with. This was not good.

But then the man recovered from his shock and forced a polite smile on his face. "I do hope you enjoy your stay."

He was letting him through. Erik murmured a thank you and took his paperwork back, but before he could leave he heard the man say, “I hope no one else learns of the inaccuracy in your paperwork.”

Erik turned to him, but the man’s gaze remained on the screen in front of him. “You won’t tell anyone?”

The man glanced at him then. “No. I should, but no. Just go.”

With a nod, Erik walked away, catching up to the others.

“Everything alright, Lehnsherr?” one asked him. “You were stopped for awhile.”

“Everything is fine.”

“Did you notice the kid though?” said the second. “I swore he was one of those new androids until Lehnsherr touched him. He was too professional, too polite. He couldn’t be human.”

“You need to be professional and polite if you are going to be stationed at check-in.”

“But isn’t that why other colonies just use androids? No risk of injury then.”

“How are you certain he isn’t one?” asked the first. “Don’t the latest models have real emotions?”

“That’s just terrifying. Emotional machines. Isn’t that supposed to be a really bad idea?”

Erik shook his head. “Do not anger them and you would have nothing to worry about.”

“You think so?”

“Most living things do attack when angry, or threatened.”

“But are androids really alive?”

Erik did not reply to that, and remained quiet as the other two discussed whether androids really were living beings capable of human emotion, or simply advanced machines running on a program.

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

Charles logged out of the check-in computer two hours later, waiting as Emma signed in for her shift. “Is it really required for us to report all inaccurate information to the authorities?” he asked.

“Of course it is,” she told him. “That was one of the first things we were told when forced into this job.”

“Because only we would know.” Charles bit his lip, his eyes focused on his spotless shoes. Professionalism in every detail, just as ordered. “Have you ever -”

“Hush,” she stopped him. You know they have eyes and ears everywhere.

He nodded and sent back, Have you ever let someone through without reporting the inaccuracies?

Her expression softened as she looked at him. I have. It was a family.

He has no family. But that isn’t the problem.

What was?

There was a beep at the computers, signaling that another ship had docked.

Charles gave Emma a small smile. “I suppose that means I have to go now. Good luck tonight.”

“You too, Charles.” Don’t get yourself into trouble.

I know.

He left the check-in counter, and walked into the heart of the city.

The lights installed into the ceiling of the colony to produce artificial sunlight were dimmed to mimic moonlight. The city itself was illuminated by electric sweetlights along the perfectly paved roads. There was artificial turf in the one foot gap between road and sidewalk, and behind the flawless sidewalk corners stood real trees that aided in oxygen production.

Sometimes Charles wondered how much like the real Earth his home colony was. As a child, he would stare at old color photographs of the planet, amazed at the natural landscapes, the animals, streams, lakes, and rivers. Even cities on Earth were so much more natural looking than the carefully constructed environment he grew up in.

But the original Earth never felt real to him. Nor did the man from earlier, Erik Lehnsherr.

He had felt what he thought was human skin with the usual warmth and softness that flesh had, but something so vital for human life had been missing.

Erik Lehnsherr had no brain, or at least, no human brain.

As Charles walked, he began to pick up the mental voices of the men Erik Lehnsherr had arrived with and he looked into the window of a small diner. There they were, along with the mysterious Erik Lehnsherr.

What these men were doing on this colony was no longer any of his business. Why Erik’s information declared him a human when he certainly was not had nothing to do with Charles.

In fact, he should report it. Why would an android pretend to be human anyway? Erik had to be up to no good.

And then Erik’s eyes found his.

Charles swallowed and turned away from the man’s stare. He started walking. What Erik did was none of his business. It had nothing to do with him.

His walk became a jog as he rushed to his apartment building. He stopped at the door to catch his breath.

What was he doing? What if there was a sinister reason behind Erik Lehnsherr pretending to be human? He should have reported it right away! What if someone got hurt, or worse?

“Excuse me.”

Charles gasped at the voice and turned. Erik Lehnsherr had followed him home, and now stood almost near enough for Charles to touch him. “What?” Charles demanded. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

Erik stepped closer. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” There was a tremor in his own voice that Charles chose to ignore. “I was only followed all the way home.”

“I am sorry for that,” Erik told him. “I didn’t know that’s where you were going.”

“Why did you follow me?”

Closing the distance between them, Erik said, “Because you know.”

“And I already told you I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know. But I want to find out how you know. What makes you so different that you can learn the truth in an instant?”

Charles’ hand went to the door handle. “If you kill me, everyone will know.”

“I will not kill you.”

Shaking his head, Charles muttered, “I can’t tell whether you’re lying or not.”

Erik showed his hands. “Unarmed. You can check if you need.”

“You don’t need a weapon. You are built with a stronger body.”

“You are right. But killing is against the rules for all, new and old.”

Charles could feel his body shaking. He never imagined he would find himself in a position such as this. “Come on,” he said then, opening the door.

“You will allow me into your home?”

“Discussing things further out here is a terrible idea. They are always recording.”

Erik went into the building after him, the door clicking shut behind them. They went down the long corridor together, passing numbered doors. Fragments of conversations from the other side of those doors seemed to echo in the usually barren corridor.

Charles typed a code onto the keypad by his door. After hitting Enter, the door opened and they walked inside.

The light in the first room automatically came on. On the far wall were three screens measuring oxygen level, temperature, and time. An ancient model personal computer booted up at the lonely desk covered in old plates and a couple of solid color mugs. A couch sat in the middle of the room, a single book resting on one of the cushions, its place marked by a receipt.

Erik stayed by the door. Charles removed his jacket, feeling the man watching his every move. “Sit there,” he said to his guest with a point at the couch. As Erik did as was requested, Charles added, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Do not move from that spot.”

“I do not plan to,” Erik promised, glancing at the personal computer.

Charles left for his room, quickly changing out of his uniform and into a pair of sweats and a comfortable t-shirt a size too big. He ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. What was he doing?

He checked his uniform pocket and found what he needed. At first glance, it appeared to be a flashlight, but it had a built-in taser; just pop off the cap where the light shined from.

He held onto it as he went back out, finding Erik still on the couch, but reading the last few pages of his book. “Was I really gone that long?”

“I am a fast reader,” Erik answered. He placed the book back on the couch cushion and looked up at him. “You are armed.”

“I am.” Charles went and sat at his desk. He grabbed the mouse and clicked through a few windows, opening a recording program and clicking the button.

If anything happened to him tonight, Emma would know.

He swiveled his chair toward Erik. “Alright.”

Erik leaned into the couch. “Most are easily fooled, but you were not. Why is that?”

Charles took in the sight of the android seeming so comfortable on the furniture, wondering if it was even possible for an android to feel comfort. “I am different from others.”

“Yes you are. But how so?”

He stared into the cold gray eyes. “I am a human with telepathy.”

“Telepathy?”

“Yes. My DNA was altered while I was growing in an artificial womb. I know of two others with the same alteration, and the three of us take turns at the check-in counter.”

“To catch androids claiming to be human?”

“To catch liars, frauds, and criminals,” Charles corrected as he checked the taser. “We are supposed to report inaccuracies in information.”

Erik’s gaze dropped to the weapon in Charles’ hands. “You are very informative.”

“I give you honesty -” he popped off the cap - “you give me honesty.” Their eyes met again. “Seems fair to me.”

“I suppose it does.”

“Now.” Charles leaned closer. “Why does your paperwork say you are human?”

Erik frowned. “Again, how do you -”

“Telepathy.”

“Yes, you said that, but -”

“You don’t have a brain.”

“I do,” Erik told him.

“Not a human one.”

“No, that is true.” He actually sighed. Was that a normal thing androids did? He seemed so real but he wasn’t. “Shaw, he is the one that… well…”

“Created you?” Charles finished.

Erik nodded to him. “Yes. He filled out my paperwork. He believed I was perfection, that no one would ever guess.”

“If I did not have my power, I would probably ever know,” Charles admitted. “I would have thought…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Charles pushed the thought of Erik being a beautiful man away, and then said, “But I touched your hand. I touched it and there was nothing I could feel inside of your head. It was shocking because your information stated human but that was impossible because humans have brains.”

“Once again,” Erik said, “I do have one.”

“I am not talking about a computer for a brain.”

“Human brains are simply organic computers.”

Charles groaned and leaned back in his chair. “Shut up… I should have reported you.”

Erik watched him. “Why didn’t you? You found what you call an inaccuracy in my information, but then you did nothing about it.”

“You didn’t seem to be doing anything wrong other than that, really,” Charles told him. “You are just trying to work and survive like the rest of us.”

“Do you still feel that way?”

“You followed me home. I was already doubting my decision, and then you were there and I got scared and… I don’t know.” He eyed the taser in his hands. “Is everything else the truth?”

“Yes. It is all the truth except for being human.”

“No other crimes committed?”

“None.”

“You mean that?” Charles asked, lifting his gaze to Erik’s face. “Not lying?”

“Would you be able to tell if I was?”

“I am trying to trust you, Erik.”

The ends of Erik’s mouth began to quirk upwards. “You want to trust me?”

“I need to know I did the right thing.”

“No other crimes committed.” Erik smiled, such a warm expression for a mechanical being. “Not lying.”

Charles let out a heavy breath. “I am taking your word on that. Please do not let me down.”

“I won’t.” He gestured to the computer. “Are you going to keep recording?”

Popping the cap back on the flashlight taser, Charles asked, “Are you planning on staying longer?”

“If you will allow it.” The cold gray eyes drifted over Charles. “I must say, despite the interrogation, I do enjoy being in your company, if only to admire your beauty.”

Charles stared at him, taken aback by the statement. Could androids really… Did he actually… “You don’t really mean that.”

“I am not lying. You said you want to trust me. I want that as well.”

“I am trying, but you have been lying about yourself for your entire existence. How do I know you are being honest now?”

“Because like you said, you were honest with me.” Erik moved to the cushion nearest Charles. “That does mean a lot to me.”

“Does it?”

“It does.”

Charles hesitated then said, “I don’t know you.”

“No you don’t.”

“Would you mind telling me about yourself?”

“As your evidence against me?” Erik asked.

Charles went to the computer, setting the flashlight on the desk. He stopped the recording and closed the program before turning back to Erik. “How about now?”

“Only if you would tell me more about yourself as well. Seems fair, right?”

Leaning closer, Charles said, “It does seem fair. Go ahead and start then.”

“Alright. I will start with my creator, Sebastian Shaw…”

#CherikWeek2020 #cherik #Charles Xavier #Erik Lehnsherr #Emma Frost #space au

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nullvoid868 · 5 years

Text

Homestuck rosemary vore

Note that the formatting here is rather poor. will be uploading it to ao3 tomorrow, with better formatting. a cute rosemary vore fanfic. soft, safe.

if you don’t like vore i suggest you turn back now.

Rose awoke to a world of blinding light compared to the dark labratory she had teleported from. Giant flowers surrounded her, their colors absolutely dazzling. The dew on the huge grass showed that it was early morning. It began to occur to Rose that she must be very small compared to the local flora and fauna. She also heard the not so distant drizzle of a watering can and a horrific thought struck her. Where there is a garden, there is also a gardener.There must be a gardener not too far away from where she was hiding. A giant gardener that would probably kill her with no effort whatsoever, like any other unwelcome pest that one might find in a garden. Rose quickly hid between the stalks of a vibrant bouquet of flowers.

Kanaya maryam had been spending her morning watering her plants when she heard an odd sound. It reminded her of the noise made by the older models of transportilizrers that had been fazed out years ago, but she soon brushed it off as her mind playing tricks. It was when kanaya came to a group of beautiful purple flowers that she noticed something odd. It seemed that something was crouched between their stalks, as if hiding. She scooped it up into the palm of her hand to get a better look and was shocked. A person the size of her index finger was sitting in her palm. Even stranger, they had no horns, lacked grey skin, and there was no symbol printed on their shirt. The tiny being was trembling in fear.

Rose feared for her life as she sat in the giant botanists hand, shaking and curled up into a ball. She had barely even been able to see what the giant looked like before being scooped up, but she had noted that they were most certainly not human. The gardener possessed orange horns and had grey skin. Rose also thought she saw her… glowing?

“Relax, I'm Not Going To Hurt You, Your Safe”

The giantess spoke to rose in a surprisingly calm manner, and rose sat up a bit and got a look at her face. She was glowing alright, but she also looked calm and almost… caring? Her expression was far from the angry, murderous alien rose had expected.

“That's It, Just Relax. My Name Is Kanaya, What's Yours?”

Rose paused for a minute before timidly saying that her name was rose lalonde and that she got here due to malfunctioning lab equipment. She also explained that she was from a planet called earth and asked where she was now.

“This planet is called alternia, and my people are called trolls. We are the only intelligent species native to this planet apart from a few carapacians. You must have come from very far, I didn't even think transportalizers worked across such distances”

Rose’s fear of Kanaya was starting to melt away and she had ceased shaking. The two of them chatted for quite some time about what life was like on their respective planets. After a while Rose noticed a structure nearby, not unlike her friend jade’s house. Two huge white towers with bulb like rooms on top, but these had been draped in large and ornate pieces of fabric.

Rose: Is that your house?

Kanaya: House? Sorry I Am Not Familiar With That Terminology.

Rose: You know, where you live.

Kanaya: Oh, You Mean My Hive. Yes, I Live Up There.

Rose: I like those fabric sails you've tied to it, they are beautiful.

Kanaya: Why Thank You! I Made Them Myself…

Suddenly, what appeared to be a gigantic white moth flew out from behind a tree in the distance and began rapidly approaching. Rose, never having seen a creature like this before, began screaming. Kanaya held her close to her body to comfort her and tried to explain. “That's my lusus, she is like a sort of caretaker. She won't hurt you, so don't be scared”. Rose calmed down and took another look at the creature. The Lusus had horns the same shape as Kanaya’s, and had huge fluttering bug wings. It was tilting her head at her to get a good look and had a gentle smile on its face. It turned to Kanaya and it seemed to Rose that there was some wordless communication between the two.

Satisfied with Kanaya’s choice of friends, the lusus flew off.

Rose relaxed and realized how tired she was. Getting zapped halfway across the universe must have taken the wind out of her.

Rose:Mind if I take a nap here?

Kanaya: Of Course Not, Rose. All Of This Must Have You Worn Out, Get Some Sleep.

Rose laid down on Kanaya's palm and stretched. It was soft and gave off a gentle warmth, as well as a soft glow. It was only a few seconds before she was fast asleep

Kanaya headed back into her house and plopped onto the couch to watch tv. It wasn't long before she was asleep as well.

YOU HAVE 1 NEW TROLLIAN MESSAGE!

Kanaya: Just 5 More Minutes Please…

YOU HAVE 23 NEW TROLLIAN MESSAGES

Rose: Grumble… It's Saturday, I can sleep all I want, mom.

YOU HAVE 187 NEW TROLLIAN MESSAGES

Kanaya: Fine, Who Is It This Time

Despite their best efforts to sleep through the endless stream of notifications, kanaya and rose eventually got up to check the messages on kanaya’s palmhusk.

Lunchbox computer: You have 753 new trollian messages!

arachnidsGrip logged on:

arachnidsGrip: kanaya

arachnidsGrip: kanaya answer me

GrimAuxiliatrix: What Is It Vriska

arachnidsGrip: I need to pick up that creepy doll you stitched 8ack together

GrimAuxiliatrix: Oh THAT Thing. As Much As I Want To Be Rid Of It As Soon As Possible, Could You Pick It Up Later?

arachnidsGrip: i'm heading over to your house now.

GrimAuxiliatrix: Not A Good Time, Vriska

arachnidsGrip: I don't care, fussyfangs. See you in a few minutes! ::::)

Rose, acute as ever, realized that Kanaya looked quite worried, and asked her what was wrong.

“Vriska Is Quite Violent, And Has Injured Some Of My Friends. I Shudder To Think About What She Might Do To You. I Need To Find A Way To Hide You Before She Gets Here. Trouble Is She's Got Incredible Sight And Even More Incredible Luck”

Kanaya began tearing apart her hive, looking for a place to hide rose. She opened drawers, checked wall compartments, and threw clothes to the ground. The result was a huge mess and no new ideas for hiding spaces… well, Kanaya did have one idea, but didn't like it very much and knew Rose wouldn't either.

Kanaya: I Do Have One Idea, But Your Not Going To Like It, And Neither Do I

Rose: What is it?

Kanaya: Trolls Have A Storage Sack Like Organ In Their Bodies Called A Crop That They Can Put Things They've Swallowed In And Cough Them Up Later. There's No Acid In The Organ, So You'd Be Perfectly Safe In There. But I Understand Completely If You Don't Feel Comfortable With It.

Rose:...

Kanaya: sorry I just… it was all I could think of and…

Rose: kanaya, that would be the ultimate trust exercise…

Kanaya:...

Rose: But, despite only knowing you for a few hours, I trust you that much. I… just get this feeling that you mean well and will keep me safe. So I'm fine with this plan.

Kanaya blushed dark green, and held rose closer to her face.

“Alright, let's get this over with before Vriska gets here”

Kanaya held rose in front of her lips and opened wide. Rose was hit with a blast of her warm breath as she started to climb inside. The gigantic troll had glistening sharp fangs and her innards were grey like her skin. Rose stepped onto kanaya's grey tongue and slipped, landing face first on the squishy organ. She could feel it shifting under her, keeping her away from the teeth. The tongue began gently sliding Rose around the mouth and soon she was covered in Kanaya’s saliva. As jarring as it was, Rose knew that it would be impossible to swallow her without this, and she could tell that kanaya was trying her best to be gentle. Once this stopped, Rose crawled farther into kanaya's mouth, and slipped her feet and then legs into the throat. She rested her head on the back of the tongue as she slipped down further into the throat, her head brushing up against the uvula. Strangely enough, something about it was so relaxing that she felt sleepy. The sloshing of the green saliva, the softness of the tongue and throat, kanaya's warm breath.

“Okay, I'm... ready to be swallowed”

Rose could feel the throat’s muscles tensing around her as Kanaya closed her mouth. Now in complete darkness, the tongue lifted itself up and began to push Rose deeper into Kanaya’s throat. The huge, powerful muscle pushed her down the rest of the way with a loud gulp.

Traveling down Kanaya's throat, Rose realized it wasn't that bad at all. Being swallowed was just like getting a massage, all the muscles pushing her along gently. It was comfy in a way, nice and warm. Rose relaxed and let all the stress she held melt away. After a short time rose plopped into the storage sack kanaya had mentioned. A bit slimy, but safe and warm. Rose stretched and laid down for another nap.

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

Kanaya felt incredibly nervous as Rose climbed into her mouth. She couldn't believe she was about to swallow her newfound friend. She could feel every movement Rose made, from falling face first onto her tongue to stepping into her throat. She used her tongue to gently slosh Rose around in her mouth, making sure to coat her with saliva to make swallowing her easier. As she did this, Kanaya thought to herself that rose tasted like a brand of purple candy she often ate when she had the boondollars to buy them, both minty and sweet, and immediately pushed this thought out of her head. It felt wrong to taste Rose, she was her friend! She could hear Rose tell that she was ready from inside her mouth, and swallowed her as carefully as possible. A few moments later she could feel Rose slide into her crop and curl up for another nap.

“Wow fussyfangs this place is a real mess”

Kanaya: I Told You It Was A Bad Time

Vriska: This is really unlike you, you're usually the one with the cleanest hive

Kanaya: I Was Looking For Something

Vriska: Your hiding something from me, 8ut I bet that whatever it is is lame and stupid.

Kanaya: Let's Just Get That Creepy Puppet Out Of Here

Vriska: It didn't seem that 8ad when Aradia found it.

Kanaya: Ever Since I Repaired It I Get Chills When It’s Nearby And It Has Appeared In My Dreams

Vriska: Very funny fussyfangs, now hurry up and get that puppet!

Kanaya headed up to her room and closed the door. Putting her hand on her chest she asked rose if she was okay

“Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz”

Kanaya took it as a yes and grabbed the creepy puppet that she regretted sewing back together. It's red cheeks and eerie smile had given her the creeps since the day it was brought to her for repairs, and the green suit she had given it somehow made it even more unsettling. She would be more than happy to get it out of her hive. She returned to the living room and handed it to Vriska

Vriska: ok now I kind of see what you were saying about this thing being creepy as fuck.

Kanaya: Told You So

Vriska: Do I really have to take this… you can keep it if you want

Kanaya: Nope Its Yours Now

Vriska: Crap. And I still think you're hiding something around here. What would you possibly have been looking for?

Kanaya: None Of Your Business

Vriska: Whatever. See you later.

With Vriska gone, Kanaya could safely converse with Rose again. She pressed her hand into her chest to wake her up.

“Are You Ready To Come Out Of There Now”

“No, it's actually quite cozy in here”

“Okay. I'm Going To Finish That Nap, Wake Me Up When You're Ready To Get Out��

With Rose safe and fast asleep in her crop, Kanaya laid back onto the couch and went to sleep. She was glad to have made such a nice friend, and was glad that Rose trusted her so much. Kanaya felt an intense need to protect Rose, but it wasn't her normal motherly instincts speaking. She struggled to put her feelings for Rose into a quadrant.

Was she feeling… flushed?

#homestuck #softvore #v.ore #rosemary #Gt #giant/tiny #homestuck vore #vorestuck #safe vore #safevore #MyArt

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raywritesthings · 5 years

Text

Once Upon a Star (City)

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Sara Lance, Nyssa al Ghul, Damien Darhk, Ted Grant, Quentin Lance, Malcolm Merlyn, Dinah Lance, Robert Queen, Raisa, Tommy Merlyn, Thea Queen, John Diggle, Dr. Fate, Zatara, Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine, Olivia Queen, Willima Clayton Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Nyssa al Ghul/Sara Lance Summary: King Robert and Lord Lance enter their eldest children into a betrothal arrangement, only for the celebration to be interrupted by Damien Darhk. Will Lady Laurel fall victim the curse upon her, or will true love prevail? *Can be read on AO3 or FFN, links in my bio*

Long ago, the kingdom of Star had a very special year. Queen Moira was expecting a child, an heir to the throne. With this event quickly approaching, King Robert had his mind on the future. When it came time to meeting with the various nobles who had pledged fealty to the kingdom, this mindset went with him, including in his talks with Lord Quentin Lance.

Lord Lance was a prickly sort whose loyalty and sense of right could not be bought with money or simple gifts. He commanded a measure of respect among the common folk who tended his land and who he protected in times of strife. Good relations with the nobleman meant peace within his kingdom, and Robert thought he saw the way.

“Lord Quentin, I wish you well and congratulate you and your wife on the birth of your daughter.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” Lord Quentin answered with a short bow of his head. “We’ve named her for her mother. And it’s my hope she’ll grow into a true lady of the kingdom.”

“I am certain of that. It’s why I am prepared to make you a conditional offer.”

Lord Quentin frowned. “Conditional how?”

“On the birth of the new heir to my throne,” King Robert told him. “Should the infant be a boy, as I’m hoping he will be, I wish to propose a betrothal between your daughter and my son.” He could see the shock on the nobleman’s face.

“You’re serious?”

“I am interested in focusing on my people, Lord Quentin, not on the lands of others. The future Queen should be one of our own, and I can think of few families finer. But we shall wait for the birth before making any final arrangements.”

Prince Oliver arrived to much merriment, and the two families planned a grand feast to celebrate the births and the future union of their houses into one. All the kingdom was invited, save one.

The day of the celebration, three of the kingdom’s most respected and sought-after Sidhe were in attendance to bless the future union and the infants individually. First were the gifts bestowed upon the Prince, starting with the one called Fate.

He rose half a foot in the air with both arms held out as he spoke. “To the young Prince, I give him strength of body and strength of heart, to endure the hardships of the crown. Where others falter, he will lead.” Thus spoken, he lowered back to the stone floor of the great hall.

“Show off.” Constantine was the second of these Sidhe to step forward, striking a match against the baby’s crib. “I give the Prince what some may call the gift of diplomacy. With his wit and his humor he will charm those who seek war and and soothe those with rancor against the crown. And with this gift, he will woo the fair lady to which he’ll find himself wed.” That said, he stepped back and lit a smoke.

Last if the three was Zatara, who held a hand over the crib as he said his own piece. “To the future king I give a warrior and a hunter’s skill. No weapon wielded by his hand shall be bested, and thus restraint shall be the true measure of his ability.”

With these gifts given to the Prince, the Sidhe turned their attentions to the Princess-to-be. Again, Fate took his turn first.

“To the child, I give the gift of beauty, within and without. Her face shall inspire the poets and her kindness shall inspire the people.”

Constantine breathed out a trail of smoke before speaking. “I give the little lady the gift of a strong voice. Raised in anger or song, all will hear her and all will listen, or quickly learn their lesson,” he added with a smirk.

Zatara stepped forth, but before he could speak a tremendous wind threw the doors open and blew out every torch in the hall. The King, Queen and Lady Lance all drew back in horror.

Damien Darhk, most feared of the Unseelie, stepped through the open doors to several gasps. “Your Majesties, Lords and Ladies. Forgive my tardiness. I only just learned of this happy celebration today.” He walked up the aisle of people that parted at his approach until he had nearly reached the dais upon which the two ceremonial cribs sat. “I’m sure the messenger with my invitation has a good explanation for it.”

Lord Lance stepped forward, a frown on his face. He had never appreciated Darhk’s encroachments upon the kingdom nor his veiled threats. “There wasn’t one sent.”

The Unseelie drew back, face transformed into a mockery of shock. “Not sent? But that means… you didn’t want my presence at your celebration. Such a shame. After all, I only wished to give the dear little girl a gift of my own.”

“You did?” Lady Lance asked hesitantly.

“Why yes. Do listen.” He raised a hand. “The future Highness will indeed be beautiful and kind, loved by her Prince and all that feel her kindness. But—” And here his voice turned from pleasant to cold and hard. “Before the Earth completes its turn past her thirtieth year, she will fall to an arrow, and die.”

“No!” Quentin lunged, but was held back by his terrified wife.

“Seize him, before he harms the Prince as well!” King Robert declared. His guards charged, but the laughing Darhk merely disappeared in a flash of light and smoke. When it cleared, all were left in confusion and dismay. A celebration that had quickly turned to a time of mourning.

“Do not despair just yet,” Fate told the families. “For Zatara has yet to give the final gift.”

“You mean, you can reverse what that monster’s done to her?” Quentin didn’t dare to hope as he looked upon the Sidhe.

Zatara bowed his head for a moment. “Not reverse entirely, but lessen. With my daughter’s help, our magic can divert the course of Darhk’s prophecy to some degree.” He beckoned a small dark-haired girl to stand with him, and the father took the lead. “Dear child, though others wish you harm, I give you this final protection. Should the arrow pierce your flesh, death it will not bring, but sleep.”

“Peaceful sleep eternal,” the young Zatanna repeated. At her father’s urging, she continued with a brighter gleam in her eyes, “Though many may try to wake you, only one way will they find: the kiss of true love, a power stronger than all the darkness of this world, will end the evil curse upon you and bring the happiness once promised to us all.”

A faint glow seemed to emanate around the Sidhe and the cribs, sealing the magic before dimming once more.

“Thank you, Zatara,” King Robert said. “But there is nothing else that can undo this wicked trick?”

“None, save hiding the child away, which is what I would do if Darhk set his eyes upon me,” Constantine remarked. Then he turned and walked away. The other Sidhe soon followed.

The Lances were both crestfallen at this announcement; they could not simply abandon their station to seek a hideaway nor could they expect to keep their daughter safe from the threat of arrows within the kingdom. Lord Lance, however, was loathe to trust the power of something so intangible as true love’s kiss, and so he resolved to have his daughter hidden away from everyone, even himself.

The task was entrusted to a retired knight who held the highest honors: Sir Ted the Wildcat. His wilder nature, already tempered with age, would soften even further in the presence of the sweet child he would raise as if his own. He even gave her a new name to better hide her from Darhk’s spies: Laurel. In the dark of night, he slipped away with the baby deep into the woods in a tiny cabin, as removed from the pomp and circumstance she might have been raised in as one could get.

Lord and Lady Lance produced a second daughter they named Sara. The nobles and the royals decided the betrothal agreement between their families would go on, this time without a special celebration to commemorate it. And though they raised the young prince and the young lady with this idea in mind, their children proved far more inclined to pursue their own fates…

---

Fourteen years later, Prince Oliver of Star rode through the woods. “Ollie, come on! Stay on the path.”

He looked back at Tommy, his closest friend from childhood, and laughed. “You stay on it if you want.” He urged his horse on and soon found himself hopelessly lost, which was probably what Tommy had been trying to warn him about. Oh well. He enjoyed being out in the woods where he wasn’t the King’s son, heir to the throne and all that. He could waste a day away out here if he wanted.

Not far away in a tiny wooden cabin, Laurel was preparing for a day out with a book to read and a basket for collecting berries, herbs and anything else that caught her fancy. “I’ll be back to make dinner, Ted.”

“Don’t go too far,” he cautioned her, as he always did.

Laurel smiled and shook her head. He was such a worrier. She stepped outside and shut the door behind her, humming under her breath. As she went further out, confident in her complete isolation from even Ted, her humming turned to song. First under her breath, then louder as her confidence grew. She liked her voice, but she’d grown shy of sharing it when she hardly had an audience.

Yet that was about to change.

Oliver looked up, pulling the reins to slow his horse to a trot, then a walk. Had he heard something?

Then it came again, off through the trees. The most beautiful voice he’d ever heard. Like a siren’s call, perhaps, it beckoned him. And so he went, riding quickly and jumping over brambles and fallen logs in his path.

He slowed once again to listen, then swung off his horse and walked the rest of the way through the trees that separated him from the owner of such a voice. When he at last lifted a branch aside to see into a small clearing, he was momentarily stunned. “Lord…”

A maiden with long, blonde hair and sparkling green eyes swayed her way this way and that. Her clothes were plain and she’d forgone stockings and even shoes for the moment as she seemed content to feel the grass beneath her feet as she moved to the music of her own making.

Heedless to any observer, Laurel continued her approximation of a dance, the little she had gleaned from her books of how one was meant to dance. If only she had a real partner instead of her daydreams to help show her how it was meant to be.

And then, quite suddenly, she did.

Oliver had tied the reins of his horse to the branch, stepping forward just as her back had turned to catch her hands and guide her in a spin. The surprise on her face mirrored what he felt at his own daring; he hadn’t been able to resist.

“Oh!”

Instantly, he released her and stepped back hands raised. “I’m sorry. You looked a little lonely there.”

Laurel backed up into a tree, eyes wide as she took the young man in who was standing before her. She’d never met a man in the woods before; she was usually so much more careful.

“I wasn’t lonely. In fact, I’m meant to be alone,” she argued. “Or at least, not with some stranger.” There was no need to make him think she was all by herself, after all, even if she feared she was very much out of Ted’s earshot.

Oliver shook his head. “We can’t really be strangers.” He didn’t want this encounter to end so soon.

Laurel stepped away from the tree she’d half-hidden behind, intrigued despite herself. “Can’t we?”

He thought quickly, then asked, “Haven’t you ever dreamed of meeting some handsome fellow?”

Laurel ducked her head and blushed. “Yes.”

Oliver spread his arms. “Well then, here I am.”

“You’re very confident about that,” Laurel teased. “I didn’t even say if he was blond.”

For a moment, he seemed stumped. But Oliver quickly rallied. “Some have described my hair as a very light brown. I’m adaptable.”

“Are you,” she replied, grinning so widely she thought her cheeks might hurt. She wasn’t meant to find strangers so charming, but there was just something about him, as if they really had met in some dream of another life. “Who are you, really?”

He grinned. No one ever asked him that question. He found he liked it. “You can call me Ollie.”

She thought he might be a hunter of some sort. She’d heard them pass by her home a number of times but never seen one so close. And his clothes were of a much finer weave than any she might have expected a common hunter to wear. But whether he was or wasn’t, she didn’t find herself terribly worried. So she curtsied and said, “Well, Ollie, I’m Laurel.”

He bowed in turn. “Laurel. A beautiful name to accompany such natural beauty as I’ve found here.” He was happy to see her pretty blush again. “Shall we continue our dance?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t learned the rest.”

“Then I’ll lead. Trust me, I know them all.” They’d been drilled into his head by tutors, and though he’d been irritated at the time, he appreciated the excuse now to be nearer to her. Laurel allowed him to take one of her hands again as he guided her other hand to his shoulder before placing his own at her waist. He nodded to her once and they were off, dancing around the clearing.

Laurel could hardly believe this was happening. She’d rarely met anyone in her life besides Ted, and now she was dancing in someone’s arms. Ollie guided her less sure movements and never complained or asked why she didn’t know them. He was a perfect gentleman.

Although as they slowed in the middle of the clearing and his arm slipped around her waist instead of resting at the side, she remembered herself. “Wait!”

Oliver, who had just been about to give into the temptation of kissing the beautiful maid, stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure I should — it’s just that, before they died, my caretaker promised them I would wait for my true love to have my first kiss.” She had no way of knowing, of course, that the story was partly a lie; the Lord and Lady Lance still lived.

Oliver, for his part, was saddened to know her life had been marred by such a tragedy so young. He stepped back to allow some space between them again. “I see. But, if you don’t let anyone kiss you, how are you meant to find your true love?”

She shook her head, smiling. “I’d yet to find anyone until today, so I’ll have to let you know some other time.” She scooped up her basket. “I’m behind on my errands. I should say goodbye.”

“And wander through the woods with no escort?” He offered his arm. “Please, allow me.”

With only a moment’s hesitation, she took it, walking along towards the berry bushes she knew would yield the best results for Ted’s cooking; she could not seem to produce food of any quality on her own, but she knew what went into it.

“What is your book?” He asked, nodding to her basket.

“Today, it’s a collection of decrees by the King. Not many apply all the way out here, but I find them fascinating. Like a glimpse of the world beyond these woods.”

“How did you and your caretaker come to dwell out here?” He couldn’t help thinking that Laurel belonged in the palace with all the amenities and comforts such a life provided.

She shrugged. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I think it was a woodcutter’s cottage before it became our home.”

“Laurel?” A voice called, one familiar to her but not Oliver.

“Oh, Ted,” she whispered. She pulled her arm away from Oliver and smoothed her dress. “You have to go. He can’t see you.”

“Alright. But when can I see you?”

“Sometime,” she promised distractedly. Ted had called for her again. “I’m always out here for this or that thing. Just come find me — coming, Ted!” She stopped and turned back to Oliver, grasping his hand with both of hers. “Goodbye. And thank you for showing me the dance.”

“It was my pleasure. I’ll come find you again, Laurel.” He held onto her hands as long as he was able before they slipped from his grasp and she was hurrying away through the trees. Such a strange but captivating young maiden. He longed to be with her again already.

Oliver went back to his horse and rode for home. He evaded all questions of where he had been and what he had been up to, excusing himself to see his betrothed. Though, truthfully, he considered her far more a friend.

Oliver and Sara had courted for a time, and indeed still did to keep up appearances. But Sara had confessed she didn’t wish to settle down and be Queen with all the expectations that came with it, and Oliver, young and uninterested in commitment himself, had agreed to the ruse with little hesitation. So she was the only person he felt he could safely tell his secret to. He told her everything from the voice he had heard to the lovely maiden and the dance and conversations they had shared. “I never knew meeting someone, even for a moment, could change so much. But I think I’m in love.”

“After only one meeting?”

“I’m going to see her again. And I’ll keep seeing her the whole rest of our lives if she wants. I can’t explain it, Sara,” he told her. “I just know this is right.”

“It sounds wonderful, Oliver, it does. But you know your parents will never let you marry a common girl even if they let you out of marrying me.”

The reality of his position caught up to him once more, and his shoulders slumped. Laurel was everything he might have longed for in his love, and he was sure the whole kingdom would find her a most beautiful, intelligent and kind Lady. Even a Queen, someday. But it would never be.

“Then I simply won’t marry,” he declared. There would be two lives for him. One, Prince Oliver, heir to the throne of Starling; the other, Ollie, Laurel’s sweetheart and companion. It was the only way.

---

For years, their clandestine meetings continued. Whenever the Prince could catch a few moments of privacy, whenever the Lady could escape her minder for an hour or so in the summer sun. Winters were long and lonely as they had no place to see each other that protected them from the elements. Campaigns with the knights to protect their borders occupied nearly five years of his time as well, though the fighting kept him from having to answer his parents’ increasing demands to settle down.

And Laurel was growing impatient as well. “Haven’t we waited long enough, Ollie?”

“I thought you were worried about leaving Ted?” Her caretaker had grown quite old in the intervening years, after all.

“We wouldn’t have to abandon him. But I want to make a life with you. A home, a family. We’re already thirty. How much longer should we wait?”

He sighed. It was wrong of him to keep delaying and never explaining why, he knew that. But he was convinced that he had lied for so long about his title of Prince that she might reject him if he told the truth now.

The other complicating factor was that he wasn’t sure he even wanted to be Prince any longer. Oliver cared about his people, but he felt lost trying to fill his father’s shoes. And knowing he would only be allowed to rule without the woman he loved at his side left him defeated and uninspired.

Perhaps he wasn’t meant to be a great King like his forefathers. Thea was of age and a bright young girl at that. She could provide the kingdom with guidance, couldn’t she?

“I’ve loved you for nearly half of my life, Laurel. Is this absolutely what you have your heart set on?”

“It is.”

Oliver nodded. It was time to choose, and he already knew his choice. “Let me return home and make arrangements, gather provisions. We’ll leave tomorrow on your birthday and make our own way in the world.”

Laurel beamed, throwing her arms around him in a hug that he returned, nearly lifting her off her feet. “Thank you, Ollie. I’ll wait for you at the cottage. We can tell Ted and get his blessing.” She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek — the closest intimacy they’d yet to share — and then they parted to enact their plan.

Once home, Oliver gathered his most trusted friends. This included Sara, Princess Thea, Tommy and Sir John, his most loyal knight and de facto advisor.

“Some of you know parts of this already, but I’ve finally made up my mind. I’m going to abdicate the throne.”

“What?” Tommy cried.

“Is it for your lady?” Thea guessed with a knowing smirk.

“Definitely gotta be the lady,” Sara agreed.

“Your Highness,” Sir John began with a frown. He had figured out some years ago that Oliver had been purposefully slipping his guard to go somewhere, but had never quite glean the location of the tiny cottage. A fact Oliver was grateful for, as it would have rather spoiled the whole thing. “What about the kingdom?”

“The kingdom is still in my father’s capable hands. And I’m sure Thea will make a better heir to the throne than me.”

“Whoa, who said I wanted to?” His sister asked.

“Ollie, just think for a minute. You’re going to leave your friends and family completely behind just for a woman you’ve met up with every so often?”

“And who you’ve been lying to,” Sir John pointed out.

“It’s not lying if I’ll no longer be the Prince,” Oliver argued, even as guilt twisted his insides. Maybe he would tell Laurel once they had gotten safely away, but he knew doing so right now would only complicate things, so what was the point? “I’ve made up my mind on this. Laurel is more important to me than anyone, so if I can’t have the life I want with her here, I’ll make one for us elsewhere. I just didn’t want you all to worry about me.”

“I say you should follow your heart,” Sara recommended.

“Yeah, but… we’ll miss you,” Thea added. He stepped forward and gathered her in a hug for a moment.

When he offered his hand to Tommy his friend reluctantly shook it before taking his leave. Sir John did not even offer his own hand.

“I suppose you’ll need to be making preparations, Oliver.”

Oliver sighed. He knew the knight thought he should be doing more for the kingdom, but he had served it for his whole life. Did he not deserve some of his own happiness?

Tommy returned to the wing of the castle set aside for him and his father, the advisor to King Robert — and Queen Moira’s lover, though only a very few within the castle knew that. Though he loathed his father, Tommy knew that leaving his authority meant losing his status in the castle, and he was prepared to admit he could not survive as a commoner. Though Oliver’s impending absence from the castle made it a far less appealing alternative.

“What has you in a sulk today, Tommy?” His father asked, sounding faintly amused at his expense.

Well, he had news that would likely knock the wind out of his father’s sails. “Ollie,” Tommy answered him. “He’s leaving his crown to spend his days with a girl he’s been seeing. I’m sure she’s beautiful and a terrific singer and everything else he’s said, I just—”

“She’s a singer?”

“Yes,” Tommy repeated slowly. “Not professionally, she doesn’t travel with the minstrels or anything. Just lives out in the woods with some cranky old guy named Ted.”

“I see,” said Malcolm, the wheels turning in his mind.

What Tommy did not realize was that his father was not content with simply being the King’s advisor; he was hungry for ever more power, and if his suspicions were correct about the identity of this maiden, he believed he had a way to get it.

“I shall have to think on what this means for the kingdom,” he said out loud, excusing himself from the room. He stopped by the royal armory to retrieve a particular item, then descended deep into the dungeons until he entered a secret room which contained only a stone idol. Malcolm knelt before it and waited.

After a moment, a blinding flash of light emitted from the idol, then standing in the room was the Unseelie himself: Damien Darhk.

“You call upon me, Lord Merlyn?”

“Yes. I believe I have information on the Lady you have long sought. And I know how it can help us both achieve our own ends.”

---

In the old woodcutter’s cottage, Laurel had just finished packing her things when a knock sounded at her door. Drawing in a breath, she called out, “It’s open, Ted.”

Her old caregiver entered the room, raising his eyebrows as he noticed the state of her things. “You’re ready?”

Laurel blinked. “Well, yes.” How did he know? Was he just guessing, or had she been too obvious in her attempts to sneak away to see Ollie? “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I just hadn’t figured out how.”

Now Ted was the one confused. “Tell me what?”

“About my leaving to start a new life. I’ve met someone, Ted. Someone wonderful. And he thinks the same of me. He’s been a man of distinct honor,” she stated, as she could see his face already start to fall. “I kept my promise to you about waiting. But I — I really do think he might be the love of my life.”

To her disappointment, he only shook his head. “I should have kept a better eye on you. I didn’t want to restrict you to the house, that just didn’t seem healthy.”

Laurel frowned. “Ted—”

“It’s not your fault. You don’t understand. But Laurel, you can’t be with him.”

She felt the color rise in her cheeks as she marched forward a step. “And why not?”

“Because your marriage has already been arranged!” He exclaimed.

Laurel’s mouth dropped open, and Ted sighed.

“You are the Lady Dinah Lance, named for your mother who still lives. Her and your father, a prominent Lord of the kingdom of Star.”

“My parents? They’re still — but why—”

“At a ceremony commemorating your birth, an Unseelie cursed you over a petty disagreement with your father. The curse was said to take effect by your 31st birthday, but Lord Lance entrusted you to my care, to keep you safe and away from the evil seeking to find you.”

Laurel couldn’t even think of what to say. She’d been cursed? What even was it a curse of? Was it in effect now?

Ted continued. “At that same celebration, the kingdom was also celebrating the birth of the new Prince. It was decided by your parents that he was to be your betrothed.”

“I’m promised to the Prince?” Laurel managed to shake her stupor enough to ask. She didn’t even know who the Prince was! King Robert’s son, she supposed, but the books they had in the cottage were old and made no mention of him. What was he like? Surely nothing like her Ollie.

“When is your young fellow coming here?”

“Tomorrow. For my birthday,” Laurel answered numbly.

“Then we’ll leave immediately to reach the castle by sunset.” He raised a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “It is better to not involve him. For your own protection.”

She didn’t know what to feel. Her parents were alive? She had a family who had sent her away, but were waiting for her. She was a lady — but betrothed to another man!

It was this that finally caused her to sink onto her bed, her head resting in her hands.

“This isn’t fair,” she cried, her shoulders shaking.

“Life often isn’t,” Ted said simply, though she knew he meant it as a comfort. “And your life has been harder than most.” She heard his footsteps shuffle to the door and back again. “I purchased this from a traveling caravan. It might not be the standards of the court, but I thought it might better suit a lady of your standing than what I’ve been able to give you all these years.”

Laurel raised her head to see the blue gown he held out to her. It was the nicest thing she’d ever had to wear, and all she could think was that she wanted it out of her sight.

“For your birthday, huh?”

Laurel stood slowly, ignoring the dress in favor of hugging her caretaker. “Thank you, Ted. I just wish… but wishing won’t do any of us good.”

Ted nodded and left her room to allow her to change, taking her packing with him to prepare for their journey.

She would have to return tonight to see her parents; they had sacrificed so much to ensure her safety, she felt an obligation to at least assuage the worries they had to have held all these years. Once done, she could explain her situation and how she simply could not go through with the marriage they had arranged for her. Even if it was to the Prince? Surely they would understand.

If they did, would she be able to find Ollie again? How long would he wait at their cottage until he had decided she had left him? She couldn’t see any easy way out of this.

With defeat in her heart, she put on the gown and descended the steps. She felt strange, almost out of her own body in the formal dress. Ted took her hand and led her out to a horse he must have arranged for. He helped her onto it while she figured out how to ride side-saddle, and then he took the reins to lead the animal in a slow walk. To her, it felt like a funeral procession; the end of her old life and dreams.

They continued through most of the night. Sir Ted was wary of stopping for too long on the open road. But eventually, their horse needed to stop for water, so he helped Laurel off while he brought the animal to a small stream.

Laurel stared out at the trees while she waited, wishing for all the world that something might forestall this unexpected change to her life.

Then something did. A green glow off in the distance that was at once captivating and entrancing. It called to her, nearly sounding like the voice of her dear love. Laurel walked toward it, unable to help herself.

Sir Ted turned the horse back around for the path, but stopped as he discovered his charge missing from where he had left her. “Laurel?” Off through the trees, he just caught sight of her back and the green glow drawing her like a moth to flame. “Laurel!”

Laurel was heedless to his shout, hypnotized as she was by magic — for it was Darhk’s magic guiding her steps, closer and closer. She believed herself to be reaching her beloved Ollie, and therefore raised not even a hand to defend herself when the Unseelie stuck her side with an arrow from the Prince’s own quiver.

Sir Ted crashed through the undergrowth just in time to watch his dear charge collapse into the deep slumber the Sidhe had predicted. “No!”

Damien Darhk laughed to see his revenge at last carried out. He dodged the knight’s enraged strike with ease before throwing him against a tree. “You mortals thought you could outwit me, did you? Let this be a message to you all. Of course, I haven’t finished my fun. There’s a Prince I need to see to next.” With that, he disappeared in a flash of blinding light.

Sir Ted crawled towards the fallen maiden, despair filling him at the sight of her still form. “I failed you. Lord forgive me…” His arm outstretched towards hers, he fell insensate for a time.

Sir Ted roused at the sound of hooves against the dirt path. “Prince Oliver!” A voice shouted. “Prince Oliver!”

“Help,” Sir Ted mumbled weakly, before rallying his full voice. “Help, please!”

A number of guards led by Lord Merlyn himself found them. “What has happened here?” The nobleman asked, directing his guards to help both the older knight and the young lady off the earthen floor. “Speak quickly.”

“I am Sir Ted, the knight Lord Lance sent with his daughter years ago to protect her from Damien Darhk. But this night, I have failed my sworn task. Darhk appeared to her and lured her into a trap where she met with the arrow that he foretold.”

“The Prince’s arrow,” Lord Merlyn said, picking the offending weapon up from the ground. “And the same night that he has fled the castle. There has been some treachery at work tonight.”

“It was Darhk, I tell you,” Sir Ted tried to explain.

“Lord Lance must be informed, and the kingdom prepared,” Merlyn said, ignoring the retired knight. He snapped at a pair of guards. “Bring the young Lady Lance. She should be allowed to rest with her family at last.”

They carried her away before Sir Ted could voice another protest. He hurried to his horse, determined to follow the group. Even if he had failed to stop the dark prophecy from unfolding, he refused to abandon his duty to Laurel.

And he sensed a kind of treachery indeed.

---

Within the court at Star, the Lord and Lady Lance were preparing a massive feast, for it was finally the day their daughter would return. Only the older servants truly knew this, though; Quentin and Dinah had long forbidden any mentions of their lost baby, for fear it would incur the interest of the Unseelie who lurked their lands.

Yet in the midst of their preparations, a servant showed in a most auspicious guest along with two of his guard.

“Lord Malcolm,” said Lady Dinah, curtsying low. “We are honored by your presence tonight.”

“I wish I could say the honor was mine, Lady Dinah. But I fear I bring you both news of a tortuous sort. My men encountered Sir Ted the Wildcat in the woods on his way here with a young lady. The one you have been waiting for, I believe.”

Lord and Lady Lance both held their breath. Unknown to them all, Lady Sara had stopped just outside the room, curious and straining to listen in on this conversation.

“She was struck down by an arrow just as you have feared these thirty years,” Lord Merlyn told them at last.

“No!” Lady Dinah’s legs could not support her, and she fell back into a chair.

“What’s more, it was done by the Prince’s hand.”

“What?”

Lord Lance’s exclamation covered his daughter’s own gasp. Oliver had killed some young woman? He would never! And anyway, he was on his way to the woodcutter’s cottage to run off with his lady friend.

“I have begun a search for the Prince. We have no idea what he plans to do next, but it is clear the royal family has turned on us if they have seen fit to rob you of your daughter on the eve of your reunion.”

Daughter? Sara mouthed the word to herself. What did that mean? She was right here.

“I cannot believe this,” Lord Quentin said. “After everything King Robert promised. That his son would — it’s unthinkable!”

“He’s gone mad.” Lady Dinah turned to her husband. “Quentin, if he struck down our eldest, what of Sara?”

“Lord Malcolm wishes to offer protection for her,” a guard stated.

“Thank you,” Lord Quentin said. “I would ask that you protect her and my wife. Lord Malcolm, I wish to join you in your search for the Prince so that my firstborn will be avenged.”

“Wait.” Sara came out into the open at last, startling the group. “What is going on? You’re all talking like I have a sister.”

“There isn’t time, dear,” her mother said. “Go with Lord Malcolm’s guards and I’ll join you once I’ve seen to the servants.

“Come, Lady Sara,” a guard said, taking her by the arm and having to drag her out of the home where they were joined by even more guards.

“What happened to her? Why did you lie to me?” Her whole life, she’d never thought she was anything other than an only child. Why would her parents have sent one of their own away, and why would Oliver ever do something so cruel as to harm her before Sara even got to meet her? This didn’t make any sense!

“Let me go!” Sara struggled to free herself from their hold, but they outnumbered her greatly and had weapons besides. So it was to her surprise that her captors suddenly stopped.

“Move off the path!” One of them ordered.

“I will not,” said a woman’s voice, powerful and vaguely foreign-sounding. When Sara peeked over one of the guard’s shoulders, she caught a glimpse of the stranger; cloaked and with a scarf over her nose and mouth, what struck Sara first was her dark and piercing eyes. Then the sword at her side.

“You will release the maiden and tell me where I may find Lord Merlyn.”

“We’ll do no such thing. Seize her!”

What happened next, Sara could hardly believe. The woman ducked and weaved through the guards, cutting them down with practiced ease until none remained standing. Then she was suddenly standing right in front of her, but Sara found she was the one breathless.

“Come with me if you wish to be safe from those men.”

Sara took the woman’s hand without question, being pulled along away from her family’s castle, through the village, and into the surrounding trees.

“Who are you?”

Her rescuer looked back at her. “I am Nyssa, Heir to Nanda Parbat. I have been sent to settle a quarrel my father has with your kingdom’s advisor.”

“So why save me?”

“Because you required it. Is it not common for those on a quest to rescue beautiful ladies in your land? I had read as such.”

“Um, yeah, it’s common,” Sara replied, feeling her face heat up. She thought she could see the outline of a smirk beneath the scarf still adorning her rescuer’s face. “I’m Lady Sara,” she said, rallying herself. She wasn’t usually so shy, but then, she’d never been saved by a gorgeous lady before!

“Lady Sara,” said Nyssa al Ghul, bowing low over Sara’s hand and pulling her scarf down at last in order to kiss it. Sara has been right; she was gorgeous. “Do you know where I may find Lord Merlyn?”

“All I know is he’s leading my father and a bunch of men to try and capture my friend, the Prince of Star. He’s claiming Oliver hurt my sister or something — he’s claiming I have a sister in the first place, which is already news to me.”

“The fabled Lady, cursed by Darhk, perhaps?” When Sara stared at her blankly, Nyssa elaborated. “My father’s sources told him of a Lady in the court of Star cursed upon birth to fall into eternal slumber after her thirtieth year. She was secreted away from your kingdom to protect her from the Unseelie they call Damien Darhk — but it seems to me this plot is one of Lord Merlyn’s design.”

“Eternal slumber?

Sara wished she could have a minute to just process all of this, but her eye had caught upon an older-looking knight riding in on a horse with some sort of jungle cat embroidered upon his tunic. She pulled Nyssa along toward him.

“Sir Ted?”

“I am, yes. Forgive me, but I must find Lord Lance. I have news for him.”

“He knows about his daughter already,” Sara told him. “And I’m her sister.”

The knight’s face fell, and he dismounted. “I am sorry I could not protect her. But there has been a grave error made. The Prince was not her attacker. I must tell the court the truth, and then return to the cottage to see if I may find Laurel’s love waiting for her there. He may be her only hope.”

“Then it is true love’s kiss which breaks the curse?” Nyssa asked.

“My sister’s name is Laurel?”

Sir Ted looked down. “I called her such for thirty years to better hide her, yes. Her true name is Lady Dinah, the betrothed of Prince Oliver and therefore the future Queen of our kingdom. But if the man she met on her own is her true love, then nothing can stand in the way of bringing him here.”

“No, but my friend, Oliver, he’s the Prince. And he met a girl out in the woods years ago. He’s planning to meet her at her cottage and run away, and her name is Laurel.” Sara gasped. “Ollie’s Laurel. He’s walking into a trap!”

“Then we will attempt to intercede,” declared Nyssa. “I must borrow your horse, Sir. Come, Lady Sara.” Nyssa helped her step into the stirrups, then mounted the horse behind Sara, bracketing her with her arms as she reached for the reins to spur the horse into a gallop.

“Find Laurel!” Sara called back to the knight. “We’ll bring Ollie to her!”

She could only hope they reached Oliver before her father and Lord Merlyn did.

---

As Oliver approached the woodcutter’s cottage for the first time, he observed his surroundings and slowed. The air was still, the trees quiet. Not a single creature making noise, and no candles were lit inside despite it being just after daybreak. Something was amiss.

The door swung open, and a man with nearly white-blond hair stepped out. “Oh fine, don’t fall for it. I can improvise.”

Oliver reached for an arrow in his quiver. “Who are you, and what have you done with Laurel?” He could tell by the man’s voice that this certainly wasn’t her caretaker Ted.

“I am Damien Darhk, the infamous Unseelie. And what I’ve done to your beloved is what I promised to do thirty years ago as thanks for the slight her father Lord Lance dealt me.”

Oliver froze. Lord Lance was Laurel’s father? But she’d told him she was an orphan, and Sara had never made mention of an older sister.

“I can see the wheels struggling to turn,” Darhk remarked with amusement. “Allow me to explain. When you were a baby, your parents entered you into a betrothal arrangement with Lord and Lady Lance’s daughter. Their eldest daughter. The whole kingdom was invited except me. Kind of a harsh way to find out you’re so disliked, right? So I cursed her to die before her thirty-first birthday.”

Oliver had been taught about the Sidhe and Unseelie by his various tutors, but this seemed unconscionable. “You cursed an infant for something she had no control over?”

“Yes. I am evil, that is the idea,” Darhk replied. Just as Oliver nocked his arrow on the bow, the Unseelie raised his hand and he felt himself frozen in place. “I wasn’t done talking,” Darhk said, his voice turning cold for an instant.

Try as he might, Oliver couldn’t seem to break the spell over him.

“Now, the dear girl’s parents hoped to keep her safe by hiding her out in the woods, and it might have worked. Except you told your good friend Tommy all about your sweet maiden with the beautiful hair and stunning voice, and he complained all about how you were leaving him behind to his father, Lord Merlyn. Who works for me.”

Anger, white hot, burned in his gut. His father’s best friend had betrayed them all?

“And see, this has all worked out even better than I could have planned. Your love now sleeps forever unless she can be awakened by true love’s kiss, which is you. But right now, Lords Merlyn and Lance are on their way here with a small army because I may have borrowed an arrow from your armory to do the job. Whoops!”

If he had his voice, Oliver would have uttered a thousand curses and oaths at the Unseelie by now.

“So, you get to battle your way through your own kingdom’s people on your way to the kingdom for your true love, who you may awaken with a kiss assuming you don’t die or have to kill her father or something else horrible,” Darhk said. Then his grin turned sharp. “Or I could just end it all right now and ensure the lovely lady never wakes up.”

He closed his hand into a fist, and Oliver suddenly found his breath stopped. He was choking on nothing.

An arrow shot past him and very nearly embedded itself into Darhk’s eyeball had he not grabbed it at the last second, breaking whatever hold he had on Oliver. “Hm, craftsmanship suggests Nanda Parbat…”

Oliver did not hear anymore. He went crashing through the trees, knowing he needed to put as much distance between himself and the Unseelie as possible if he was to ever reach Laurel.

To his right cane a shout. “There he is!”

Guards normally under the command of his father descended down a slope with swords drawn. He struggled to outrun them and knew they would soon be upon him—

“Ollie!”

Sara’s voice had him looking round. She was holding the reins of a horse while an unknown woman holding a bow swung off the back.

“How did you—”

“Come on!”

“Rescue your love,” Sara’s new friend ordered him. “And leave Merlyn to me.” She stride past him to face the oncoming guards.

Sara reached out a hand to help pull him up. “How did you figure all this out?” He asked her.

“I’m kind of learning as I go. Now you have to go wake up my sister so I can finally have one. I can’t believe you never brought me to meet her.”

“I didn’t know!”

“Sara, what are you doing?” Lord Quentin yelled upon seeing his other daughter preparing to take off with the man he believed to have harmed his eldest.

“You’ll understand later, I promise!” She snapped the reins, and the horse took off.

Lord Merlyn sent some of his mounted guards after them, led by Lord Quentin. Then he approached his adversary on foot. “Nyssa. I suppose I should have expected this.”

“And yet you made no preparations. How thoughtless of you.” She exchanged her bow for her sword, watching as he did the same.

“You think by beating me you will finally win your father’s elusive approval?”

“It matters not. You have conspired against a dear lady and her family.” She readied her stance. “For that alone, I will be glad to rid the earth of you.”

At once, the two charged, meeting in the middle with a clang of swords. Though Merlyn possessed great height and strength, Nyssa was his equal if not better in skill. She had prepared her whole life for the warrior’s path, and her fury at what had been done to hurt Lady Sara and her sister propelled her to new heights. They exchanged blow after blow, circling the small clearing again and again, until at last, Nyssa’s sword caught Merlyn’s and flung it out of his reach.

He held up both hands. “Nyssa, wait. I’m a father, the only family my son has left in this world.”

“Yet you ally yourself with those who would steal children from their parents.” Unwilling to hear his pathetic pleas any further, she cut him down.

Meanwhile, Sara and Oliver’s progress through the woods was greatly impeded by a forest of thorns spontaneously growing in their path every which way Sara turned the horse. “It’s Darhk,” Oliver realized. “I’ll have to go on foot. Hold off your father. Try to explain.”

“Alright, but hurry, Ollie.”

The Prince plunged into the brambles, hacking at them with his sword over and over, slowly but steadily cutting his path. They tore at his clothes and his skin but he battled through the pain, knowing that at the end of all this was something he wanted more than life itself.

He fought off beasts, transformed and monstrous with Darhk’s magic, and forded streams that had turned into raging rapids threatening to flood the land. When at last he spied the gates of the kingdom, he was forced to dodge a volley of arrows from the guards at the ramparts. Oliver used a back way he and Tommy had discovered as children to sneak over the castle walls and into the place he’d called home.

The castle itself was quiet and still. The sudden upset of the coup seemed to have all on edge. Nevertheless, he snuck his way to the kitchen where he hoped to find aid.

“Raisa?”

Sure enough, their old cook still busied herself by the fireplace, though she jumped in alarm at his voice. “Prince Oliver!”

He shushed her, and she glanced around before engulfing him in a hug.

“I’m so relieved you’ve made it home alive. But if you’re seen—”

“Some allies of mine are dealing with Lord Merlyn and the guards. What’s become of my family?”

“The Queen and the Princess have been confined to their rooms. No one is to go in or out, save select servants. I am one.”

“And my father?” He asked, dreading the answer.

Her crestfallen face told him the truth before her words. “Slain by Lord Merlyn. The servants all know it was him.” She wrapped him in a second hug, this time one of comfort which he gladly accepted. “I fear for your life as long as you remain here.”

“I have to put an end to this, Raisa. I have to break the curse, so that peace can be restored and the truth known. Tell me, do you know where they are keeping Lord and Lady Lance’s daughter? I don’t mean Sara.”

“So it is the lost Lady,” Raisa breathed. “I brought water and bread to a knight long retired from his duties. He has hidden himself in the highest room of the tallest tower, where he guards the young lady you speak of.”

“Thank you, Raisa.” He left the kitchens and made his way to the tower. Oliver took the stairs at a run, knowing he was trapping himself the higher he climbed. If he was discovered before reaching the highest room, it might all be over.

At last, he cleared the final stair to find a locked door. He knocked, calling out, “Sir Ted?”

For his part, Sir Ted has done as Lady Sara requested and found her sister. The guards had placed her sleeping form on a cart while they discussed their orders to shoot the Prince on sight, only leaving one guard to watch Laurel. Ted has chosen not to engage the younger man in formal combat and instead punched him out before securing his charge and hiding them within the unused room in the tower. He had hoped to spy the return of Lady Sara, Nyssa and Prince Oliver, but the forest of thorns had obscured his sight. Now, he rose and answered the door.

“My Prince,” he said, bowing his head slightly. Then, with a wary look down the stairs beyond, he opened the door another few inches to allow Oliver inside, taking his place on the stairs to watch for any guards and to grant the couple a moment’s privacy.

Laurel rested on the room’s only bed, her hair like spun gold fanning out over the pillows. Her chest rose and fell slowly, the one indication that she was not totally lost to this world.

Oliver walked forward, kneeling at her bedside and taking one of her hands. “Lady of the court or not, betrothed or not, you will always be the love of my life. I still need you, Laurel.” With this declaration, he softly kissed her lips with his own, pulling back to look at her with his breath held.

Her eyelids fluttered. That was the first sign. Then the color returned to her cheeks. Her fingers curled around his, and her green eyes blinked open.

“What? Where am I… Ollie!”

His eyes felt strangely wet for the wideness of his smile. “Prince Oliver of Star, actually.”

Laurel’s eyes widened. “You- you knew this whole time?”

“Not about this!” He hurriedly clarified. “I didn’t know you were really my betrothed who was cursed by an Unseelie or that I needed to break the curse by kissing you — but I’m glad at least about the last part.”

Laurel touched a hand to her lips. “You kissed me?”

He nodded. “Sorry. I would’ve waited for you to be awake, but that was kind of the problem.”

Laurel shook her head. “I cannot believe we were really supposed to be together this whole time.”

“I can.”

She smiled at him, shaking her head a little as she brought both arms around his shoulders to draw him closer.

But a flash of light startled them both and announced the arrival of Darhk himself. Angered by Malcolm’s and his own failures to impede the young lovers, he sought to take revenge for himself — until Lady Laurel released a scream from her mouth that threw him from the window of the tallest tower and to the ground below. He remained there, unmoving.

Laurel placed a hand over her mouth as Oliver checked this, and both turned upon Sir Ted rushing back into the room. “Laurel!”

“I’m fine, Ted. We both are. I just…”

“The Sidhe’s gifts,” Sir Ted concluded. “They are known to work in mysterious ways.”

Down below came a series of shouts. Loudest among them, the voice of Lord Lance. “Lay down your weapons! We’ve been tricked, all of us, by Lord Merlyn! The Prince is not our enemy!”

“I must tell your father the curse has been lifted,” Sir Ted explained, leaving through the door once again.

“My father,” Laurel echoed, standing to watch the people rushing about down below.

“That’s him there,” Oliver pointed out for her. “The young lady beside him is Sara, my friend. And your younger sister.”

Laurel gasped. “I have a sister?” A tentative smile rose on her lips. “And who’s her lady friend?”

Oliver watched the woman with dark hair who had taken on Merlyn as she followed Sara’s every step like a keenly devoted shadow. “I… don’t actually know yet. But they seem pretty close.”

“You’re the Prince. I’m betrothed to the Prince, which means… I’m going to be a Princess.”

“Not exactly.” When she looked at him, Oliver explained. “Merlyn killed my father, which means I have to succeed him on the throne.”

Laurel stared at him. “I’m going to be a Queen?”

“If you would. I was prepared to run away just to have a life with you, Laurel. I could never imagine doing this without you by my side.”

Laurel’s heart felt warm and nearly overflowing, to the point where all she could do was nod.

“We’ll worry about the details after you’ve had a chance to meet your family,” he promised her.

“And after you’ve had a chance to mourn yours,” she added, taking his hands. He was glad for that measure of comfort and support, and gladder still when she guided his hands to rest on her waist.

“For now, I for one believe I am still owed a kiss.”

“A kiss?” Nevertheless, he obliged.

Though the kingdom was in some disarray from the sudden upheaval wrought by Darhk and his conspirators, the emergence of the young royals would help to soothe the pain of King Robert’s loss for all. King Oliver, helped by his friends and advisors, would work to improve the lives of all the peoples of his kingdom. The most salient advice he found nearly always came from his Queen, whose own experiences growing up outside the courtly life often proved invaluable.

Her sister, Lady Sara, would go on to be the kingdom’s emissary to the land of Nanda Parbat, which made both Sara and Nyssa very happy. The Ladies Lance would also quickly grow close and exchange letters and visits often. And even when Sara was away, Laurel found she had her father, Oliver’s mother and sister, Sir Ted and always Oliver himself to provide the companionship and belonging she had often craved in her youth.

And they all lived happily ever after.

---

“More, more, more!” Chanted four year-old Olivia Queen, still as wide awake where she bounced on her bed as when he’d brought her up here for her story.

“More?” Oliver let his mouth fall open in a gape. “But that’s it! That’s all that happened.”

“Nooo!” Olivia cried, the word drawn out. “They gotta bring peace to the kingdom and get married and go on dates with Lady Sara and her girlfriend and find a nice house for Sir Ted—”

“For the record,” said William, standing in the doorway, “it doesn’t make any sense for Sir Ted to have taken Laurel to the highest room in the tallest tower. How was he going to escape if he needed to?”

“Well,” Oliver said, floundering for a moment. “He didn’t need to.”

“An’ it’s special,” Olivia told her half-brother. Oliver gave her an approving nod.

“You mean it’s Disney?”

“Hey, we don’t support the monopolization of the entertainment industry in this house,” Oliver reminded, pointing a finger at his eldest. “But fair use is fair use, so—”

“I am not hearing snoring children,” Laurel’s voice came in partial sing-song from down the hall before she stopped behind William. “You nitpicking your dad’s storytelling abilities again?”

William shrugged. “A bit.” He wasn’t quite out of the teenage years, clearly.

“Mommy, you were a Princess!”

“I was? Well, that’s news to me.” She stepped around William and walked to the bed, guiding their daughter to finally lie down under the covers instead of hopping around on top of them.

“Uh-huh. And you were asleep an’ dad kissed you.” Olivia giggled, clearly thinking the idea very silly.

“Well, now it’s your turn to get some rest, Sleeping Beauty,” Laurel told her. “I can’t promise you a true love, but I can promise your dad’s pancakes in the morning before we take William to the train station.”

“Does Will have to go?” Olivia whined.

“Yes. We can’t hog him from his mom all the time.”

“Okay,” Olivia agreed, subdued.

“We’ll see him in two weeks,” Oliver promised, meeting William’s eyes and getting a nod from him. Then he stood and joined Laurel to finish tucking their daughter in. “And we’ll do a new story, then.”

Olivia smiled up at him before yawning wide. “I love you, daddy.”

And damn, that really always did something to him. Oliver blinked back the stinging at the corners of his eyes and bent down to kiss her forehead. “Love you too, beautiful baby.”

Laurel and William each exchanged similar good nights with Olivia before they shut all but her Flash-symbol nightlight off and left her room.

Laurel loosely draped an arm around William’s shoulders as they all moved down the hall. “You all packed?”

“Pretty much. Just, you know, toiletries and stuff.”

“Okay, good. Go get some rest, honey.”

“Goodnight, Laurel. Night, dad.”

“Goodnight.” Oliver watched his son head into his own room for the night, breathing in once and letting it out again with a distinct air of contentment.

“Sleeping Beauty? Really?”

He looked down at Laurel. “Why not? You’re beautiful, even when you sleep.”

Laurel swatted at his arm. “Why pick the story where I have to be asleep though?”

He shrugged. “You were only asleep for a little bit. And it kind of, I don’t know, mirrored our lives. The, the life support,” he muttered quietly, still finding it hard to talk about that horrible time she’d been hovering between life and death at the hospital.

It had forced him to grapple with his feelings for her and the conviction he needed to finally do right by her, but he would gladly pay any price never to have to live through something like that again.

Laurel seemed to sense his spiraling mood, for she stepped in close and wrapped her arms around him, fitting herself against him in that perfect way they had. “Hey, I’m fine. We both are.”

He held back a smirk hearing her unknowingly echo some of the lines he’d given her in the story. They really did know each other too well sometimes.

“We have a beautiful family, a city that’s on the mend even if it still needs some help here and there. And we have each other.” She tilted her head back to meet his eyes. “That’s my idea of a fairytale.”

“And here I thought you’d groan if I used a ‘happily ever after’ pickup line.”

Laurel’s forehead dropped against his chest. “I am groaning. That’s so bad.”

He grinned unabashedly. “So bad it’s good?”

“...if I say yes, does that get you into the bedroom?”

“It’s a safe bet.” He allowed Laurel to start pulling them along without an answer.

Fatherhood had certainly given him the opportunity to polish his storytelling skills, but it had also taught him not to let a quiet moment go to waste. And if that was one of the biggest challenges to his day, he had to agree with Laurel that they really were living their once upon a dream.

#lauriverweek2020 #lauriver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #laurel x oliver #nyssara #nyssa al ghul #sara lance #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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enkelimagnus · 5 years

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A Winx Club Shadowhunters AU - Clizzy, Malec & others

Her name is Clary Fairchild, and she’s an entirely normal 19-year-old human girl.

Except she isn’t. That comes at a complete surprise just as she’s about to die a horrible death at the hands of a yellow ogre. That’s just what she gets for trying to save Isabelle, a fairy Princess from the planet Solaria.

Her life is changed forever as she embarks on a journey that will give her more than she could ever hope for.

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Event - On AO3

Amber Fairchild let her fingers trace over the black smudgy lines of her daughter’s charcoal drawing of a landscape of Gardenia. In particular, it was a drone-view of the area where the Fairchilds’ house was located.

Behind it, on the cork board, was pinned another charcoal drawing, these times of fairies. Amber could only see two but she knew there were 3. They were quite beautiful. Clary was getting better at facial expressions.

On the drawing desk were a couple of more sheets of paper. Two versions of the same castle, a fairytale-worthy structure, complete with thin flags flowing over the towers, from different views. And a portrait of a woman. The woman strangely looked like Clary. Like a family resemblance.

Amber wondered if Clary was drawing what she thought her birthparents looked like. Amber and William Fairchild had never hidden the fact that Clary was adopted from her. It had never seemed to be an issue for Clary, but maybe she was starting to want to know more.

That was knowledge that the Fairchilds didn’t have. William had found Clary in a house fire, eighteen years ago.

Clary had turned nineteen less than a week ago.

It was a bit of a shock, for Amber. Her baby was all grown up now. She was going to start her second year at the prestigious Gardenia Academy of Art in a couple of weeks, and she was growing into a fierce and wonderful young lady.

Amber stepped over the clothing and the books that were scattered over the floor. Clary was maybe an adult now, but she was still a messy teenager.

"Wake up, sleepy head!" Amber called, slightly louder than she usually would. "The sun’s been up for ages!"

The dog that they owned, a fawn-and-white one-year-old whippet named Kiko that was surprisingly human some days, was napping in his basket next to the bed.

Clary shifted in her bed, only her red hair visible in between her pillow and the duvet.

"Five more minutes, Mom," she grumbled and buried her face impossibly further into the pillow. Amber smiled widely and moved a little closer.

"You’re late, Clary!" She said softly, in a sing-song voice, right next to her daughter’s face.

There was a second-long beat, during which Clary put two and two together and suddenly she bolted out of bed. "FUCK!" She cursed loudly as she ran around the room. "How the fuck did I miss my alarm?"

Amber winced at the curses. Yes, they had allowed uncensored swearing to Clary on her 18th birthday, but that didn’t mean it was easy to get used to.

"It’s the first day of the school year, none of my things are ready, what the fuck was I thinki-" Clary stopped, one leg down her jeans and looked up.

"Hang on a sec," she said softly, before turning towards her mother. "YOU. That’s SO not funny," she grumbled.

Amber chuckled. School was not starting again before a couple of weeks. "You fell for it, didn’t you?" She crossed her arms.

Clary finished putting on her black croptop and ripped jeans, before falling bad onto the bed dramatically. "I don’t care. I’m going back to bed."

Amber sighed. "It’s 9am. Late enough."

Clary huffed and slid under her duvet again. Kiko jumped onto the bed and snuggled against her.

Amber looked at her softly. "You should try going to bed earlier, you know. You were up really late last night." William and her had gone to bed relatively late, and they had seen the light under the door of her bedroom.

"I was reading..." Clary sighed.

Amber grabbed the book she was pointing at from the floor. The cover had a fairy on it, just like Clary’s drawings. She sighed. This was a little more mature and scientific, if there was such thing as the scientific study of fairies.

""Fairies: Myth or Reality?"" She read out, and huffed. "Urgh, don’t you ever get tired of these silly things?" She asked softly.

Clary shook her head. "I don’t. I like them."

Amber nodded. "Alright then. Who am I to call them silly if you care about them so much?"

Clary sat up on her bed. With her messy hair and her tired look, she still looked like a child to Amber. Her smile was still as contagious.

"Thanks, Mom," she said softly.

Amber waved it off. "Oh, It’s nothing, darling. Now, come get coffee."

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

Since she’d woken up early, Clary guessed she got to be doing some stuff. She’d decided to take Kiko on a trip to the park. The park allowed for dogs to be unleashed, as long as people were careful.

It was Clary and Kiko’s favorite place to go. Usually, Clary would run around and play for a while, before sitting down by her favorite tree and drawing while Kiko either went to run around or laid by her feet.

Clary rode her bike, with Kiko secured in a basket, to the park, where she settled at her usual spot. She put her back against the tree and grabbed Kiko’s toy.

After a few rounds of throwing and running and playing, she decided to sit down. Kiko still seemed to have a bunch of energy so she let him go play."Go on Kiko, but stick around, alright?" She called.

She sat down on the grass and grabbed her sketchpad. She barely had time to get drawing that Kiko came back, howling, absolutely terrified.

"What’s the matter Kiko?" Clary asked, gently patting the terrified animal. She stood up, looking towards the part of the park Kiko had come running from.

It was a deeper, wilder part, where people went a little more rarely. She swallowed and stepped forward, grabbing the pepper spray from her bag and walking into the bushes.

Kiko followed, whining at her feet, almost trying to tell her not to come. Clary stopped next to a clearing, as strange noises were coming from it.

From behind the tree, Clary saw something that she couldn’t really explain.

It was a woman. More exactly, it was the most beautiful woman Clary had ever seen. Her tan skin radiated with a glow that definitely couldn’t come from only body glitter. Clary swallowed. She wore shorts and a one-shoulder crop top, made of a glittery golden orange material, that hugged her curves perfectly. She had matching heeled boots. Her dark hair was parted into two low pigtails, held with golden orange bands.

Clary’s eyes opened wider. From the woman’s shoulder blades sprouted translucent blue wings. They were delicate and beautiful, glittering gently with every motion of her body.

She was fighting, kicking at strange monsters. She had a cyan-blue scepter with a sun-shaped circle at the top, in her left hand, and Clary focused on that rather than the rest of the seriously wrong things happening in front of her.

"Rising Sun!" The woman shouted, and a blast of blinding golden light erupted from her right hand, sending one of the monsters tumbling down, screaming in pain, before it quickly disappeared in a pile of ash.

"Wow!" Clary heard herself say. She could feel the power that came from the woman. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before. "Goodness, did you see that Kiko?" The dog was hiding, trembling, behind a log.

"Solar Wind!" This time, the wave of light was more diffuse, but it still was successful in burning away a number of the small monsters. It was... it was like the woman was doing spells. That and the wings... Clary felt a headache forming between her temples.

“I am warning you," the woman spoke out. Her voice was calmer than Clary’s would have been in the same situation. "Leave this realm now or you will feel the magical wrath of the Sun and Moon fairy!"

The yellow monster erupted in a loud laugh, that turned into an animalistic snarl, and then it charged. It started running, full speed, towards the relatively small - if unnaturally powerful - woman.

She put up a fight, but was violently shoved backwards. Clary saw her fly over a short distance and land painfully on the grassy ground.

"Oh my god!" Clary exclaimed.

The woman wasn’t getting up. She was laying very close to where Clary was still hidden, and she wasn’t getting up. She was trying, but the painful landing had cut off her breath and she was struggling to regain it.

"Your time is up fairy!" The monster shouted. It turned to the smaller monsters, red, ant-like creatures. "Take the scepter! Give me that scepter!"

The small creatures pounced. Clary almost screamed as they attacked the woman on the ground, holding her down and prying open her fingers to get the scepter out of her hand.

They ended up managing to get it from her when they used their paws to block out her eyes and mouth, keeping her from breathing and seeing. She instinctively let go of the scepter, and the monsters took advantage of that.

The yellow monster smirked as the scepter was given to him. "Not so strong now, are you?" He growled, and moved, aiming towards the fallen woman with the scepter.

Clary moved without thinking. She ran out from the trees and stood in front of the woman, standing tall and looking at the monster with a hiss. "Let her go!"

The monster raised its eyebrows. Yes, it had eyebrows. What the fuck?

"Get her!" It roared.

She saw the monsters coming at her. She felt the flame inside of her. It built from her heart to her fingertips, burning, pulsing, wanting to get out. And it did. She felt the flame leave her skin and radiate around her, and the monsters died as they touched it.

She blinked, her fingers tingling. One of the remaining monsters grabbed Kiko’s tail, making him yelp loudly. "Hands off Kiko!" Clary grabbed a branch and beat it off of him.

Well. She wasn’t that bad at self-defense.

A giant yellow hand wrapped around her wrists, pinning both of them in one crushing grip. She groaned loudly in pain and tried to get away.

She felt it again. With the pain crushing her wrists, came also the flame. It burnt again, from her heart onwards. She closed her eyes and felt it escape her body again.

The monster screamed in agony. Clary pried her eyes open, only to be blinded by a too-bright ray of light. She closed them again, but small light spots still danced behind her eyelids.

"Hey, that was... powerful," the woman said.

Clary opened her eyes again, and her vision was back to normal. She could already feel she would have a headache, and she felt absolutely exhausted, but she could see alright.

The woman, with her dark hair, her wings and her orange glittery clothing, was staring at her with awe. She had dark eyes that held a bright spark, her lips were painted red, and it looked like she’d sacrificed at least a dozen children to some dark deities for her beauty.

She walked closer to Clary and held out her hand, helping her to her feet. "Are you okay?" She asked softly. Her voice was even nicer when she wasn’t yelling.

Even if she was standing in shadows now, she was still glowing. The Sun and Moon Fairy . If that was true, the glowing would make sense.

"Yeah..." Clary managed to reply, mouth hanging open, trying to wrap her head around the situation. A stunning woman with wings, who referred to herself as a fairy, was holding her hand like it was something precious, after Clary had protected her from a monster.

Said monster got up from the ground then. The woman - the fairy - turned around. She planted her feet into the ground. "You want the scepter? Come and get it!" She taunted. A burst of golden light caught the monster square in the chest, sending him flying back.

Clary was about to shout at her to watch out for the remaining of the ant-like monsters but the woman was already moving. She snarled with effort, the entire scepter and her hands lighting up with the same gold light that seemed to envelop all her spells.

She jumped, a powerful, unnatural leap aided with her wings’ flying ability, twirled the scepter over her head at lightning speed and suddenly cut through the air.

All around her, following the path of the scepter, light erupted and monsters turned to ash.

She twirled the scepter one more time in her hands, this time more for a flourish, before winking at Clary. Clary swallowed.

"We will meet again, fairy!" The yellow beast warned, before disappearing in a beam of purple light.

A heaviness that Clary had not realized was in the air lifted with the creatures departure.

"Thank goodness," the woman exclaimed. She seemed genuinely relieved, even if she had demonstrated quite the abilities. "They’re gone at last!"

Clary was about to reply, ask questions, do something, but the woman faltered. She crumbled to the ground, and let go of the scepter.

Clary rushed to her side. "Hey are you alright?" She called out.

There was no reply. A bright light enveloped the woman’s unmoving body, and in the blink of an eye, her wings, her costume, and her pigtails were gone. Gone too was the glow that had seemed to radiate from her.

Her boots had changed to less practical heeled sandals, her crop top had changed shapes, with added cyan blue accessories and strings that wrapped around her waist. The shorts she’d been wearing became a skirt, long and flowing, with the same blue strings holding it to her waist.

The bands holding her hair parted were gone, it flowed free against the ground, and on her head rested something Clary recognized as a tiara, a cyan blue headband-like tiara that also had a sun-shaped circle at the back of her head, in the same shape as the top of the scepter.

Panicked, Clary looked around and realized the scepter was gone.

Fuck. She needed to call her parents.

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

Clary stared at the shredded pant leg of her jeans, toying with the straw in her lemonade glass. She hadn’t realized that the creatures had ruined it before she’d been home, with the woman laying on her bed, asleep.

She could hear her mom and dad’s hushed whispers. They were standing in the kitchen, and the kitchen was only a few feet away. They weren’t exactly stealthy.

"Clary," her father started, turning to her and speaking a bit louder. "I’m not sure I understand. Could you run that by me again?"

She sighed deeply, looking up at him and leaning back in her chair. "It’s not complicated. Kiko and I were in the park. He got spooked so I went to see what was going on. She was there, fighting creatures. They called her a fairy. She called herself a fairy."

William sighed. Clary loved her dad, but she knew he was a skeptic when it came to these things. Neither Amber nor William really believed in the supernatural, magical things that Clary believed in.

Clary was very different from her parents. Physically of course, since she was adopted. They were both brunettes, and there weren’t a redhead in their family. Her face was different, her stature was different.

But in their beliefs too. Clary had always like the idea that there was more to the world that the things she could see. She believed in magic, and in the things that went bump in the night.

"Hmm, I see," William mumbled.

"You believe me then?" Clary asked, even if she honestly had little hope that he did.

"No, I don’t! I think we should call the police and take this girl to a hospital."

It was a sensible offer but Clary opened her mouth to refuse. She didn’t have time to.

At that moment, a voice resounded in the room. "No, no please. Don’t tell anyone."

The woman - the fairy - was standing in the doorway to the bedrooms corridor. She looked a bit pale, but perfectly alright. She was still incredibly beautiful.

Amber immediately stood up straighter and walked to her. "How do you feel dear?" She asked softly. She guided her to sit down on the couch. The four of them all moved to the living room.

The fairy sat gracefully, at the age of the couch, back straight and ankles crossed elegantly.

"I’m all right," she said softly to Amber. She then turned to Clary. "Thank you for helping me out."

Clary shook her head. "Why else could I have done? Leave you passed out in the middle of the park?"

The fairy smiled gracefully. "Still. You were very kind to bring me to your home." She looked regal sitting there, in her fancy clothing and the tiara that she still wore. She was silent and elegant.

"I’m Clary," Clary said softly. "Clary Fairchild. And these are my parents. Amber and William Fairchild."

The woman nodded. "It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Isabelle. My friends call me Izzy." There was more to that, but Clary waved it away. They were strangers, after all.

"Can we drive you somewhere, Izzy?" William asked.

Clary almost glared at him. She could feel in his tone that he wanted Izzy out of their home as fast as possible. Now that she looked alright and awake, there was no reason for her to stay longer, right?

Izzy had a small chuckle. "That would be difficult. I come from a place that’s a bit far from here."

"Fairyland?" William huffed.

Izzy raised a perfectly styled eyebrow in his direction. "There’s no such thing. Maybe the Legendarium World would qualify, but that’s only where the Ancestral Fairies came from, not where they reside. I am from Solaria. Not Fairyland." Her voice was cold.

William opened his mouth and closed it right after. Clary’s head felt like it was spinning. She’d read nothing about the Ancestral Fairies or the Legendarium World. She’d never even heard of those before, in all her research about fairies.

"But you’re a fairy, right?"

Izzy turned to her and nodded, smile coming back to her lips. "I am. The Fairy of the Sun, the Moon and the Stars. One day, I will be the Guardian Fairy of my Kingdom, Solaria."

So Guardian Fairies were a thing. Alright, that was something that Clary understood.

"How did you end up on Earth?" Clary asked curiously.

"I was trying to get to Alfea castle in the realm of Magix... It’s one of the magical dimensions, and Alfea is the College for Fairies. It’s the best school out there for fairies."

Clary could almost physically feel the skepticism and annoyance coming from behind her but sighed.

"Those creatures attacked me and I was forced to land here, on your planet," Izzy continued, before she turned to Amber and William. "Your daughter saved my life. I had never seen instinctive magic quite like that."

Clary shook her head. "I... I don’t know what happened. It all went so fast and the flame..."

"It was similar to the fire magic I’ve seen before," Izzy pointed out. "And you don’t actually need to know how. Instinctive magic exists in all of us magical beings, may we be Fairies or not."

William sighed and looked at both Clary and Izzy. "I don’t... I don’t understand what’s going on."

Amber shook her head. "I don’t understand either. But this..."

"It could be some sort of scheme. Acting."

Izzy stood up gracefully. She slid the blue ring she was wearing off of her finger, and it suddenly changed shapes. She was now holding the scepter that the monsters had been trying so hard to get.

Clary exhaled. Now she didn’t have to break it to her than she had lost her precious scepter.

Izzy planted the scepter firmly in front of her and put her two hands on it, one above the other. She closed her eyes for a moment.

Amber gasped as a bright ball of light came out of the sun-shaped circle at the top of the scepter. It danced around the living room, moving between the four of them with elegance, following motions of Izzy’s fingers.

"Can you believe me now?" She asked softly.

Amber looked over at her. "I think I do."

William stayed silent.

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

Clary sat down heavily on her bed. It felt like so much had happened since she’d left it, this every morning.

Now, there was a fairy in her bedroom. She wasn’t as tall as Clary would have imagined a fairy would be. Actually, Clary and her were about the same height. The fairy was maybe a bit smaller even, was she to take off her heels.

Said fairy, Izzy, was currently looking around Clary’s room. She was especially focused on the drawing table and the drawings that Clary had pinned on the corkboard. She reached up and gently touched the one with the fairies.

“Did you draw these?" She asked, tone curious, as she turned around and looked at Clary. Her eyes were shining.

"Yes. I’m an art student.”

“That’s amazing! And so are those drawings!” Izzy exclaimed. There was a hint of black from the charcoal on her fingertips as she pulled her hand back. “I’m a student too. Guardian fairy curriculum, at Alfea College for Fairies.”

Clary raised an eyebrow. “So there are classes on how to be a fairy?”

“Not exactly?” Izzy hummed. “You take classes to learn how to harness all of your power and make sure you’re using your magic correctly. That’s the gist of most fairy programs in the magical dimensions, but Alfea has a special Guardian Fairy program. You learn how to care for your realms, your planets… And you get pushed to reach the ultimate fairy form that Guardian Fairies have to have. The Enchantix.”

Clary chuckled. “You’re speaking Chinese.”

“I’m not. I’m speaking Earth English,” Izzy raised an eyebrow.

“I meant, I don’t really understand what you’re saying. This is so new to me. Real fairies seem very much entirely different from what we learn about fairies on Earth.”

Izzy hummed, walking over to the book about fairies that Clary had been reading the night before. She picked it up and flipped it open, looking through some random pages.

"Is your world like that?" Clary asked softly. “Do they have some things right?”

The woman seemed to hesitate a little. “They have a few things right. But it’s not as pretty as in this book. Not as perfect. There are issues, like in every other world, every other society. And not every fairy is sweet and perfect. Fairies may use white magic, maybe, but not all fairies are good.”

Clary nodded a little, sighing. “I guess… Yeah. It’s just weird. To think that, this morning, I mostly thought it was a fairytale, a story.”

Izzy smiled softly, looking at her. “And now, there’s a real life fairy in front of you?”

Clary sighed. “And I might be one.”

“Your power sure felt like fairy magic to me. I mean, I’m not a professional, far from it. I did just spend a year at a school full of them though. And grew up around a couple. The King and Queen of Solaria made sure I had only fairy tutors.”

Clary huffed, standing up and going to tidy some things. “The King and Queen had something to say in your education? Damn.”

“The King and Queen of Solaria are my parents.”

Clary turned around and stared at the other woman. So that explained the regal manners, the perfectly polished behavior and the way she spoke. It wasn’t just what fairies were like, it was what a fairy princess was like.

“You’re a princess, too?”

Izzy chuckled. She stood up straighter, taking the ring off of her finger again and looking at Clary. She took a complicated bow, using the scepter for balance, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders. She looked up at her and smiled.

“Princess Isabelle of Solaria, Princess of the Sun and the Moon, and Fairy of the Sun and the Moon. One day, surely, Guardian Fairy of the Kingdom of Solaria,” she introduced herself.

Clary couldn’t help but stare at her. It was… so much. There was a fairy princess in her bedroom, and she was absolutely beautiful. And sweet.

“And you, my dear,” Izzy said walking towards her and gently cupping her cheek. “might just be the Fairy of Fire.”

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

The grass under Clary’s feet felt unnaturally soft. She guessed it was all unnatural, since they were in what Izzy called a bottomless postcard. Clary looked up. There was a rectangle in the sky, an opening, through which she could see the ceiling of her bedroom.

They stood in what looked, felt and seemed like a normal clearing in the some cartoonishly perfect woods. The trees looked like they had been drawn from the dreams of a ten-year-old, and the birds were singing. The rays of sun on Clary’s skin were so bright and defined that they seemed solid.

In front of her, Izzy had her eyes closed, her head tilted back slightly as she let the sunbeam fall on her features. Her skin was golden then, smooth and perfect. Everything seemed smooth and perfect.

Clary wondered whether it was the fact that it was a postcard that made it like this, almost unreal. Maybe it was just how it was in this magic world.

Izzy re-opened her eyes and for a moment, they shimmered gold, the sunray catching directly in them and transforming the darkness of her iris into light.

“So this is Alfea Castle,” Izzy exclaimed. Clary stopped staring at her and looked over where Izzy was pointing. They were close to it.

It was niched in the forest and felt like a safe haven from the world. Nothing imperfect could happen here, she was sure of it. While the roof was blue and almost blended in with the sky, the walls of the castle were a soft pink with purple accents. It reminded her a bit of cotton candy. But elegant cotton candy.

The buildings had a roundness to them that reminded Clary of the ones she would draw as a child. The whole area felt like taking a step back into her childhood, revising the perfect world that she had imagined fairies lived in. She hadn’t been so wrong, after all.

There were tall windows and balconies over the upper levels of the building. “Do people live there?”

Izzy nodded. “It’s a boarding school. Up to six people can share an apartment, itself divided in rooms. Royalty, like me, usually get solo rooms. You’d be getting a room with a roommate probably. “

Clary didn’t know if she would mind. As long as the other girl wasn’t weird with her because Clary was gay, she would love to share a room with someone and live out some sort of collegial dream that her proximity with her school in Gardenia didn’t allow her. Even if she loved the fact that she didn’t have to pay to live at her parents’. Thinking of Gardenia…

“What about my school in Gardenia? I would waste so much money dropping out of there and coming here… It’s free right?”

Izzy shrugged. “For someone like you? Absolutely. We royals pay entrance fees and donate money so others, with less money, can have it for free. It’s also considered a good deed, and charity is a very important value, especially in the fairy world.”

Clary opened her mouth and tried to think of something to say, but all of what was playing in her head was the stupidities and cruel words that politicians said on tv. About not wanting to pay so others can have access to the same things as them, especially things like healthcare or education.

Maybe some of those people existed in this world, but they seemed to be enough of a minority that prestigious schools like Alfea didn’t work with their model.

“I’m sure you’d like it here," Izzy grinned.

“I don’t know… I have to talk about it with my parents. It’s a big change.”

The idea of letting go of her spot at the Gardenia Academy of Arts, the idea of leaving Gardenia behind, leaving the future she had envisioned behind and diving head first into this new world and this new life terrified her.

She could feel a pull in her heart, a feeling that, if she did not take the chance, she would throw away the chance to follow her fated path. But was it strong enough to counteract the rational concerns about money and future?

“Listen, you have a night to think about it. Talk with your parents, think a bunch. When I’m leaving tomorrow, I can take you with me. But after that… I have no idea when you’d meet another fairy able to get you here…” Izzy said softly. “Though I would probably come back for you.”

Clary opened wide eyes at that. “Really?” She whispered and some kind of weird hope and warmth filled her chest.

Izzy nodded, looking at her softly. “Really. There is something about you… I feel like our paths have crossed for a reason. I was destined to crash on Earth, be saved by you, and bring magic into your life. I can’t explain it.”

Clary didn’t know if she could believe her. Izzy was wonderful and beautiful and almost unreal. What if Clary was just hallucinating this? What if this was just a dream?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Izzy taking her hand in hers. Clary looked down at their two hands joined, her skin looking absolutely white next to Izzy’s darker tone.

“Let’s get out of there, alright?” Izzy asked.

Clary nodded.

“All you gotta do is jump up!” Izzy explained and looked up at the opening in the sky. She looked over at Clary for a moment. Clary nodded at her again. They counted to three and jumped.

Clary could feel herself pulled upwards, and it was a bit uncomfortable, but very quick. It passed easily. She shook her head as she resurfaced in her bedroom, struggling a little to adapt.

She didn’t have much time to do the adjustments however, because a few seconds after they had come back from the postcard, there was a loud crash, coming from downstairs. It was followed by a great snarl.

Izzy’s eyes opened wide at that and she turned to Clary. They rushed downstairs immediately.

It was chaos. The small red ant-like monsters were back, and Clary could see the massive back of the yellow creature. There was another one with them this time, it was blue and it was snarling the loudest. They were making quick work of destroying the living room

"Those girls must be around here somewhere," the yellow one growled.

Before he could ask Amber and William where they were, Clary and Izzy came up behind them. There was a fire in Izzy’s eyes that Clary hadn’t really seen before. She’d already been tired when they’d met in the midst of battle.

"We’re right behind you!" Izzy called out. The yellow monster growled in confusion and Izzy smirked. “Let’s end this, shall we?"

Before Clary could say anything, Izzy was standing in front of her, feet planted wide. “Solaria!” She shouted, and a beam of bright light surrounded her in a blinding pocket of light. Clary lost sight of her, but only for a second. Almost immediately, rays erupted from the light cocoon, and the cocoon exploded.

Gone were the royal garments and the tiara, and back were the fairy wings. She wore the same outfit Clary had seen on her in the park, orange cropped top with only one shoulder, short shorts of the same sparkling orange material, and knee high boots. Her hair had magically been divided into two pigtails held by orange tube ties, and Clary felt the power radiating from her. Her first impression hadn’t been mistaken. In her fairy form, Izzy was glowing.

Clary gasped as Izzy immediately flew forward, kicking the blue monster in the chest. She had the time to notice nipple rings on this one. What was THAT about? Clary decided not to focus on the possibly kinkiness of the enormous blue monster that was destroying her home.

"What’s the use of you?” The yellow beast snarled at the blue one. “You got beat by a cutesy fairy!"

Izzy landed on her feet and raised an eyebrow. “Of course he did. But... I’m no ordinary fairy,” she chuckled. “I’m the Princess of Solaria!”

She turned to Clary. “Clary, we’re outnumbered. We’re gonna have to split them up."

Without thinking, Clary nodded. “Alright, I have an idea. I’ll take care of the red ones."

She was running entirely on automatism. She shot a quick glance at Amber and William, nodding at them reassuringly, before she started running out of the house. She ran through the corridor and the kitchen, slammed the door open and ran outside. She shut the door back once she was there, keeping the red creatures outside.

Once there, she froze. “Fuck.” She had no idea what to do.

By her side, Kiko was barking and shaking, in a mix of wanting to protect her and being absolutely terrified. She definitely could relate to that feeling. She wanted to protect her home and her parents, but now she was outside, alone, with four little red monsters that could maybe possibly kill her. She wasn’t exactly comfortable.

She got into position to try and summon the magical flame that she’d felt in the park. She took a deep breath. “Come on, Clary,” she whispered. “You can-”

She didn’t have time to finish her sentence. Out of thin air, the yellow monster had appeared and had crashed down on the red monsters, killing them instantly. The yellow creature itself looked pretty damaged.

Well. Izzy sure knew how to command respect.

Right as she was thinking that, there was a loud crashing noise and Izzy came flying through the glass window. She landed on the ground and groaned loudly.

“Izzy!" Clary exclaimed, running to help her get up. She didn’t look in that good of a state. Her previously so smooth and perfect skin was littered with small cuts from the glass, and she could see a couple of pieces sticking out of some slightly deeper wounds. She was bleeding. There were cuts in her wings too, shredding the delicate membranes.

"Don’t worry,” Izzy smiled a little, but you could see it was painful. “I’ve called the Specialists."

The what now? "Who?"

Izzy didn’t reply. Whoever the Specialists were, Clary sure hoped that they were coming soon. The blue monster - that she’d heard referred to as a troll - was now coming out of the main door. Coming through might be more appropriate, as the beast just forced its way through the wood.

It walked, slowly, and all Clary could do was watch. Izzy seemed weaker even than at the park, and she almost couldn’t sit up. There was no hope. They were going to die in there, because there was no way that people from another dimension would show up THAT fast.

Clary closed her eyes and held Izzy’s hand as the creature loomed over them. “I love you, mom and dad.” She whispered, even if she knew they couldn’t hear her. They’d fled through the back of the house.

She smelled the troll’s nauseating breath on her. She felt a tear roll down her cheek. She was only 19. She couldn’t even summon the little bits of power she had. She waited for death.

Death didn’t come. There was a loud crack, the crack of a whip, and the troll snarled.

Clary opened her eyes. A thick black cable was wrapped around the troll’s neck, pulling it backwards. She took in a ragged breath, eyes following the cable to where four men were standing.

The one holding the whip had blond hair that flopped over his face. He wore a… bodysuit? With a cape? And very tight, at that. Clary put the outfit in the “WTF - will revisit later and demand an explanation” folder of her brain that was growing fuller by the second, at this point.

"Guys, I’m ready,” one of the other men said. This one had short dark hair and glasses. So there were magical creatures with vision issues. Okay. Good to know, she guessed.

The one in between whip-guy and glasses-guy had dark hair, a bit of a frown and was very tall. Taller by a few inches than the three other men for sure. "Alright, let’s take him to jail where he belongs." He called out. He seemed to be the leader of the group.

Whip guy huffed. "What’s the rush? Don’t you want to have a little bit of fun first?"

Clary almost yelled at him that Izzy was on the floor bleeding and that if they could remove the death threat from their vicinity, that would be great.

The fourth man, who was the only one not to be wearing the tight bodysuit and cape combo, sighed. He was holding a long black staff, leaning against it and waiting. His clothing was just as… unusual as the others’. He wore a purple turtle neck dress-like garment with elbow-length sleeves, decorated with yellow stripes, split open on both sides below the waist, and held at the waist tightly with a red sash. His pants were of the same purple color.

"I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you. After all, this is only your first mission,” he pointed out.

Just as he was saying that, the troll tugged on the whip, sending the one who was holding it flying towards him. Whip-guy let go of the whip then, and landed right next to Clary and Izzy.

The purple-wearing man sighed. "I rest my case."

Clary watched helplessly still as the troll turned to the remaining three and started attacking. The edge of the staff purple-guy was wielding turned into a blade as he switched hands. Now holding the staff-blade in his left hand, he used his right hand to perform a complicated motion. A dark, smokey ball of energy seemed to erupt from his palm and crashed into the ground.

The ground opened up then, and the troll stumbled, letting up his attacks on the others. Its ankle caught in the crack and it howled. The glasses-wearing man jumped into action, closing manacles onto its fists.

“Well done, but it’s not over yet!” The dark-haired leader spoke out.

The red monsters that had been kept had bay by the Specialists were now turning towards Clary, Izzy, and the man next to them. The blond man huffed and got up. He looked dirty and tired and turned to them and sent them a wink.

"I’ll protect you, ladies."

Clary would have spoken up, but she was terrified, and didn’t understand a thing of what was going on, so she stayed silent. He took a strange object, and activated it. A fuschia saber blade appeared, and with that, he started fighting.

Clary didn’t know where to look, but she was pulled back to the situation when she felt fingers intertwining with hers.

“Clary,” Izzy whispered. “We have to use magic on the yellow monster.”

“But… you’re injured and I can’t…”

Izzy shook her head. “Help me up.”

Clary slid a hand around Izzy’s waist and helped her to her feet. The fairy turned to her, looking at her with a firm, stern look. “Magic is often linked to emotion. We need to help the Specialists, or the monsters will kill us, and also your parents.”

Clary opened wide eyes.

"Strong feelings such as fear have summoned up the wonderful powers that are in you once before,” Izzy said, in a hushed whisper. “They were always there, you just didn’t know it. It’s just a question of concentration. With your energy you can do anything.”

“But I can’t, I’ve tried and I can’t…”

“Believe it,” Izzy whispered. “Believe you can produce just one burst… You must.”

Clary closed her eyes. She wanted to believe that she could. She didn’t know about being a fairy yet, but she hadn’t imagined what had happened at the park. If she could do it once, she could do it again.

She felt it. The flame. The built-up was slower and smaller than it had been at the park, it had been a sudden burst of energy. Here, she had to work for it. So she did. She took the spark and pulled. She called it to her.

And just when the yellow monster punched the whip-guy out of the way, the flame appeared in between her hands. Izzy grinned next to her. “Now throw it!”

Clary didn’t know what she meant by that so she just did the motion. She kept the ball of energy, pulled her hands up and threw it, as if she was throwing one of those basketballs in high school P.E..

Izzy had thrown hers at the same time, and they both caught the monster square in the back. It howled in pain and crashed on the ground.

“I told you, you could do it!” Izzy grinned. “I’m so proud of you!”

Clary looked down at her hands. She could still feel it, like a phantom caress on her finger tips, a light tingle. "Wow. Then I’m really a fairy,” she whispered out loud.

"Of course you are, I’m never wrong,” Izzy chuckled. It was a bit of a strange sight, her smile and her cheerfulness, with light drops of blood rolling down her cheek from the cuts.

The Specialists gathered around the weakened yellow creature as it painfully stood up. It seemed to realize that it was cornered as it swore loudly and looked around itself. They didn’t have time to grab it. It clapped its hands a couple of time and bright purple light engulfed it. Once it had dissipated, the creature was gone.

Clary exhaled. Izzy’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground.

“Izzy!” One of the men called out and came running to her. It was the dark-haired, tall and serious one. He easily slid his arms around her and pulled her up to his chest, carrying her bridal-style.

“Alec, I’m fine,” Izzy mumbled.

“You’re not. You’re bleeding and your wings are shredded. We have a medic pod in the ship, you’ll need it.”

Clary watched the scene, a bit perplexed. The purple-wearing man came up to her and smiled. “Are you alright there?”

Clary crossed her arms. She felt exhausted. “I’m… fine. Just tired. Where is he taking her?”

“To our ship. You can come with us, if you want.” The man was Asian, had dark brown eyes, golden skin and dark hair.

Clary nodded. “Sure.”

He smiled. “Alright. By the way, I’m Magnus. We didn’t have time for introductions earlier.”

Clary smiled back a little. “Clary. Clary Fray. I… Is Izzy going to be okay? She was really banged up.”

Magnus nodded. “Don’t worry about her. Even if the medic pod can’t fix her entirely, we can bring her back to the Red Fountain to take care of her. Besides, Alexander will do everything possible to make sure she’s alright.”

Clary guessed Alexander was the dark-haired man that had ran to her immediately. “Are they…”

Magnus laughed. “Oh Gods no. Alexander is Isabelle’s brother. Crown Prince Alexander of Solaria, to be exact. And, Alexander well…” He had a little smirk. “He’s taken.” Magnus sent a look at the man. It was both soft and somewhat possessive and Clary let out a small “oooh”.

Magnus nodded. “Exactly. Now, let’s get you fixed up too, you look exhausted. And I’ll introduce you to Jace and Simon.”

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

The ship was… not what Clary had expected. After the whimsical aspects of Alfea castle, she guessed she had imagined it less modern. It was shaped like a kite, with the cockpit on the top face of the structure, above the rest.

As she stepped into the ship, Clary noticed the stairs leading up to the cockpit. The area below it had a long metallic table, upon which they laid Izzy. Alec grabbed what seemed like a first-aid kit and took out a syringe filled with a blue liquid.

“Painkillers,” Magnus explained, as Alec injected the liquid into Izzy’s arm. “Since we don’t know how bad it is, we’re dosing her now. Best case scenario, we can fix her up here and she’ll just sleep it off at your place. Worst case scenario, we have to transport her to the Red Fountain, Solaria, or the fairy hospital in Magix, and she’ll need it.”

Clary hated to see Izzy like that. It felt like it was all her fault, even if she knew it wasn’t.

Laser-like green and blue lights came out of the fixtures above the table and engulfed Izzy in what Clary hoped was healing magic. The dark-haired man - Alec - stayed by the side of the table, waiting, and watching.

Unlike the last time, Izzy was still in her fairy form.

The blonde-haired man walked up to them and looked at Clary. “Hey, what is she doing on the ship?” He asked Magnus.

“She saved your ass and wanted to watch over Isabelle,” Magnus replied. He smiled at Clary. “So that’s Jace. He’s Alec’s squire.”

Jace huffed. “More like… adoptive brother? I’m a ward of Solaria, and I grew up with Alec and Izzy,” he told Clary. Clary wondered if he was bragging or not. It wasn’t as if she actually cared.

“That’s nice,” Clary said, keeping her tone as devoid of actual interest as she could. “And I’m guessing Simon is the one with the glasses?”

Magnus nodded. “Yes. He’s our tech guy, and maybe the nicest person you’ll ever meet.”

Izzy had been so incredibly nice that Clary wouldn’t really imagine anyone being nicer than her. She was still laying under the lights but the superficial cuts were healing. Some of the tears in her wings were growing back together as well, but not the biggest ones.

“Magnus, could you suit up?” Alec asked over his shoulder and Magnus left Clary’s side with a light pat on her shoulder. She watched him put on some clothes and grab some tweezers. With those, he started taking out the pieces of glass that were still in some of the wounds.

Clary didn’t know how she could stomach this. She normally hated the sight of blood and anything vaguely surgery-related. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe she didn’t want to leave the side of the one person she somewhat knew and trusted. Whatever it was, she seemed bolted into place.

It felt like hours until Magnus was done taking out glass and stitching wings back together enough for the light beams to act. Alec and him talked quietly about what to do, and Alec eventually turned to Clary.

“We’re going to leave her with you for tonight. I’ll alert our family in Solaria and see what they want us to do, but for now, she seems fine. She’ll probably need someone to check on her wings, but the infirmary of Alfea can do it.”

Clary nodded. “Alright. Does she require anything specific?”

Alec shook his head. “She just needs rest. She’ll probably turn back into her human form too. We managed to keep her in her fairy form as long as we could to take care of her wings, but it won’t hold for much longer.”

Clary didn’t know if she was qualified in any way to take care of a wounded fairy. She’d shot some magic out of her hands a couple of times, but that sure didn’t seem like it would be enough.

The Specialists were starting to look tired too, and their uniform was a bit dirty. Clary noticed some light differences, mostly in the weapons they had holstered to their bodies, but also in the brooch that held their cloak in place, over their heart. They all had a different color. Jace’s was fuschia, just like the blade he’d used earlier. Alec’s was light blue, and Simon’s was yellow. She wondered if there was a significance.

Izzy stirred on the table and opened her eyes. She huffed. “Really? Full medic pod?” She grumbled weakly. Clary guessed it was the painkillers that made her a bit loopy. Izzy tried to sit up but failed. She radiated less glow than she had when she’d been fully powered.

They talked and checked her out for a small amount of time, and then got her back to the Fairchild house. Amber and William were sitting on their couch. They seemed quite uncomfortable, looking at their broken up apartment.

As Alec and Clary moved to settle Izzy in the spare bedroom, Magnus, Simon and Jace offered to help rebuild and tidy.

Alec laid Izzy on her stomach, as she was still in her fairy form. It seemed to flicker a little, not being able to completely stay permanent anymore. She was truly exhausted. Izzy grumbled some stuff about not being useless and being able to take care of herself under her breath as they tucked her in.

She was asleep within seconds, and the wings disappeared with the rest of her fairy form. They took off her shoes, her tiara and jewelry, setting those on the bedside table before letting her sleep it off.

Soon after, the Specialists gone, Clary crashed in bed and fell asleep before she could take her clothes off.

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

Clary yawned as she woke up, hours later. The sun was beaming inside her bedroom, and for a moment, she forgot what had happened. It was when she moved that she remembered, because she was aching. She was aching pretty much all over.

And it hadn’t been from a particularly intense gym session either. It had been from using magic. She sat up straight on her bed immediately at the thought of that and regretted it just as fast.

She still pulled herself out of bed. She slid out of the clothes she’d been wearing the night before and had slept in. She walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Everything was still messy.

Amber and William were sitting in the kitchen, around a fresh pot of coffee, discussing something in hushed voices. Her mom’s dark hair and her dad’s blond hair were almost touching from how close they were and how secretive their conversation was.

Clary cleared her throat. They looked up at her. Amber smiled softly at her daughter.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” she said.

Clary walked to the coffee pot, grabbed a mug and poured herself some. “You never call me sweetheart.”

When she turned around, there was a heaviness in Amber’s eyes and in her smile. William sighed and gently put his hand on his wife’s. Clary swallowed. It all seemed so… strange.

“We were talking about… all of what happened last night.”

Clary nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought her home with me, it only caused trouble.”

Amber shook her head. “No, Clary, we don’t blame you at all. We don’t blame her either. She tried her best to protect us, and from what the… men from last night said, she was pretty injured doing so.”

“We’re just thinking about what it means for you. And for this family,” William explained. He looked tired, much more tired than Clary was used to seeing him. He looked like he had just been on a triple shift at the casern. Maybe they had spent all night talking about that.

“We want the best for you,” Amber explained. “And… from what we saw, there is something within you that has been awakened. Something you can’t control.”

Clary sat down on a stool in front of them. She gathered her hands around the burning hot mug. It didn’t feel that bad. It even felt comforting.

“The school Izzy talked about,” William sighed. “No matter how improbable it sounds, how… wrong my head is telling me it is… Maybe it could be a good place for you to learn how to control… all of that.”

Clary didn’t really know what to say. She wanted to go to Alfea, she could feel that it was a right choice. But diving in the strange world of magic and fairies scared her. It terrified her.

“You wouldn’t have to pay for anything… Only the royals pay. The rest can go for free,” Clary said softly. “I…”

“Be honest with us, darling,” Amber asked. “You’re an adult, and this is your life, your future. Does Alfea sound like a good option for you? Do you feel like you belong there?”

Clary’s heart was screaming that yes, she belonged there. But there was still a little voice in the back of her mind. A voice that told her that she wasn’t good enough. That managing to create a couple of fire balls wasn’t the same as using spells and having a fairy form like Izzy had.

“Yes,” she still said. “I… I want to go. I want to try. If I don’t succeed, well, I’ll come back.”

William nodded and rubbed his face with his hand for a moment. “Okay, okay…”

“So you’re leaving…”

“Today,” Clary said. “This morning, even. The term starts tomorrow, I believe.”

She saw her parents hesitate then. It was a sudden change. Clary was afraid of it too. She’d never left home for more than a week of vacation with a girl she’d considered her friend in her last year of highschool.

Amber stood up. “Then,” she said, her voice a bit shakier than Clary wanted it to be. “We need to get to packing.”

Clary stood up as well. She walked around the table and hugged her dad for a moment. He hugged her back quickly, but gently pushed her away afterwards. “Go pack,” he said softly.

Clary nodded and kissed his cheek. Amber and her walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. As they walked past the bathroom, they heard the water running. Izzy was in a good state then, if she was able to shower without issues. That made Clary feel better.

Kiko ran between their legs, yapping as they took out the suitcase and started packing.

“Can I take him?”

Amber nodded. “Yes, we’ve talked about it. We’ve thought it would be good for you to have him, provided that the school lets you have him.”

“I’ll ask Izzy, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

They packed everything that Clary could think of and closed the suitcase. Amber was a little teary-eyed. Clary didn’t know what to do really, so she just hugged her tightly for a moment.

“I’ll come back anyway. There sure are vacations. And I’ll make sure to get a phone that can call you the second I can,” she promised.

They walked back down the stairs where Isabelle was chatting with William. William looked like he was only understanding part of the things she was saying. Amber cleared her throat.

"Clary’s ready,” she said.

Izzy turned around and grinned. She looked much better this morning than she had when she’d fallen asleep. She wasn’t pale anymore, she looked healthy. She wasn’t wearing her royal clothing anymore, nor was she in her fairy form.

She wore a burnt orange jumpsuit, nice and fluid with a v cleavage and thin straps. She had a broad, large, Egyptian-looking necklace around her neck, ornate with orange, gold and blue stones, that Clary recognized from the first outfit she’d seen her in. It was probably something to do with her royal status. Crown jewels maybe.

Clary smiled back at her.

“You look better,” Clary said softly.

“I just needed some sleep and I’m all new,” Izzy chuckled, waving it off. Clary had no way to know if she was still in pain or not. Whatever she was feeling, Izzy was hiding it well.

William sighed. “What will I tell people when they ask where you are?”

Clary hummed. “A boarding school out of state. An Art Academy… prestigious and secretive. That would probably shut them up.”

Her father nodded and came to hug her again. She let go of the suitcase again and hugged him tightly.

“You be careful, alright?” He asked.

“I promise.”

Clary and her parents bid her goodbyes. Clary tried not to focus on it much. She would be back. It wasn’t forever. She hated goodbyes anyway, and she was kinda tearful and hated the idea of being this emotional in front of her new friend, who seemed to be quite the master of her own emotional responses.

Once she was done hugging her parents and Kiko had settled in her arms, Izzy looked at her and nodded. “Let’s go. We don’t want to miss on the welcoming ceremony.”

She took the ring off of her finger and it extended into the scepter again. Clary was somewhat started to get used to that particular trick. Isabelle took a deep breath and brandished the scepter.

“Solaria! To Magix!” She shouted, and a bright light engulfed Clary, Kiko and her. She had time to somewhat wave goodbye to her parents for one last time before she felt herself pulled downwards. Clary closed her eyes firmly.

It was a stronger pull than the one she’d felt in the postcard and it made her almost nauseous. It was like being distended, stretched in length in a way. Kiko whined a little.

With her eyes closed, she wasn’t able to tell when they were done with the transport. All she felt was the sudden lack of pulling, and the ground she landed on.

She opened her eyes again. Izzy was standing over her, holding out her hand with a smile. “The first time is always a bit difficult,” she chuckled and Clary rolled her eyes, taking her hand.

The grass was deep and soft, and Clary wondered how Izzy managed to stay upright when walking on it with her uncomfortable-looking high heels. Maybe it was magic. Clary was very glad to be wearing combat boots.

They were back around the area where the postcard had taken them, but this time, they were walking out of it. Izzy was leading the way towards the lavender and pink castle, her steps firm.

Clary sighed for a second. She looked behind her, where she’d landed, where she somehow hoped she would see the line between her old life and her new life. But there wasn’t any line or any doorway to Gardenia. The door had closed already. She’d already chosen.

“Come on!” Izzy called. “We don’t want to be late.”

Clary swallowed and turned towards the castle again. Kiko ran up towards Izzy, sniffing everything he could sniff. Izzy turned around and looked at Clary, holding out her hand again for her to take.

Clary took it.

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

In the next chapter, at Alfea, Clary will discover new life and amazing new friends. But, in the Magic Dimension, she will also meet the witches from the school of Cloud Tower, the first problem she will have to deal with. Peace in Magix will be threatened.

#clizzy #malec #winxaufic #shwinxau #fic #shadowhunters #winxclub

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