#maddox stumbles around like she can still do things sick

[galaxysharks]

Shout out to Madison for being the kind of ex that skips angry jealousy and jumps directly into being the best/worst wingman.

Like they see through your bullshit but they also know all your secrets.

Aka: oh God the gf and the ex are talking......and it's definitely about me....

Aka: a war on two fronts.

Ex.

At Maddox and Jet's apartment

Madison: sooo, Ash, what'd you do to make the first move?

Ashlyn: how do you know I made the first move? Maybe in between being a boss on set Maddox created an elaborate scheme to woo me.

Madison: Please, Gadget initiating a date? Ms. Woman of the Woods is a workaholic princess, and a big scaredy cat.

Ashlyn: ....Princess?

Madison: Urban Dictionary, I'll give you $20 to look up that definition right here.

Maddox: yo Mad? How's this for Princess? Get out of my house!

Madison: oh come on Mad, I'm just teasing. You're cute when you're flustered. Am I right though? Was Ashlyn the one who made the first move.

Maddox: ..... technically you were....

Madison: Me?! You mean the Balloons? Girl we've been broken up since before Halloween! Were you at least planning something for her?

Maddox:...….....

Madison: Gadget

Maddox: I was a little busy meeting the exacting demands of a hyper-artistic and pretentious director, thank you!

Ashlyn: wait a minute..... Before Halloween? But you picked up her phone on college outreach day!

Madison: yeah well, the last time Maddie got the flu, she overworked herself until it changed into a severe cast of pneumonia and she had to spend the rest of the summer in the medical cabin. I live like an hour and a half out from here, so I figured I would bring some soup and keep her from dying or drowning herself trying to shower. I thought you were calling to check up on her.

Ashlyn: No! I WAS CALLING TO ASK HER OUT!

Madison: See! You even though we might still be together at that point! Now that's initiative!

Maddox: I hate this......

[oofcori]

CORI ACCOLA. anyone who knew her was aware of what she was like; she didn’t hide it. she was energetic, talkative, enthusiastic — maybe often too much of each. she was persistent, supportive, she liked to immerse herself with people at all times and she liked being liked so it was no surprise that she had a perfectly cultivated personality for every single person she met. they didn’t stray too far from one another, mostly sticking true to who she was, but her mannerisms, her tone of voice, the way she’d hold conversations or drop them in an instant — it all depended on who she was talking to.

on days like her birthday she found herself talking to everyone. even people she barely spoke to aside from the occasional check up or glance in the hallway were celebrating with her, and she knew it was down to the party as a whole, but still ! she’d accept any kind of attention, no matter what. 

it was strange how birthdays were both mutually the best and worst days of her life, no matter the year. they always started positive, like she’d just been birthed the very second she awoke and she was bursting with immense energy. she thrived from the birthday celebrations, the attention, all the gifts ! 

eventually things would calm down as does she and she’s left with a desire to get back to that happy place — she’s been familiar with all kinds of things in her years, often just getting trashed with whatever alcohol she can find but it’s not like she’s a stranger to narcotics. she doesn’t remember several birthdays because of this and she genuinely prefers it this way. she doesn’t know what exactly happened but she knows her twelve, fifteenth and sixteenth were her worst ones. 

it wasn’t that she was a bad kid, she was just a handful. and when she wasn’t even related to the people who had taken the role of her parents it was easy to decide she didn’t have to listen to them. so there were multiple times police had to be called, several times she’d end up needing her stomach pumped in hospital and eventually thousands of dollars were spent on therapy she refused to take seriously. 

there were obvious whispers from her godparents’ friends and family, always discussing how they didn’t NEED to take her in, how they didn’t owe carla and tobias anything even after their murders — corrine was too much to handle and not what they signed up for ! except her godparents were GOOD people, they were her parents best and closest friends, most trusted contacts and they knew corrine deserved some stability in her life, despite her being anything but. 

when her parents died she was seven and she only remembers one or two birthdays with them but even that’s enough to know how much they loved her and how much she loved them. she remembers opening up her princess annika barbie doll, her first nintendo ds ( then another a week later when she dropped it from the balcony ), and she remembers how they’d wake her up with a candle in a cupcake softly singing ‘ happy birthday ’ while she twiddled her feet and swayed along, trying her best to be patient and not blow out the candle too quick. 

and then she remembers her eighth birthday. the first one without them, how she dreamt of them the night before and how they weren’t there when she opened her eyes in the morning. she kept falling back asleep, maybe if she tried again they would be. she didn’t cry once, she didn’t eat any of her cake, didn’t open any presents, didn’t talk to anyone. 

her ninth was a bit better, she actually had some cake. tenth she had a party, though it ended up with everyone being sent home after she decided to see if she could set georgina wood on fire with one of the candles. turns out she could.

once she got to fourteen cori was well aware of how to seem normal. no setting people on fire, no fires in general ( twelfth birthday was a disaster, she’d now claim it was lit  ), no replacing her own cake’s sugar with salt, making sure she was actually contributing to conversations. it was a long list. so she was starting to act HAPPIER which was good, she was getting friends at school which was good — it was only really on her birthdays that she’d let go of that control and fall into old routines.

so with her twenty-first it was no different. 

perhaps it was the perfect night. she almost feels bad for stealing part of the attention away from it being the end of year party considering she got her own surprise mini-performance with faith jumping out from the cake. she was with all her friends. milena, sage, grey, jas, raina, claire, scott, lou, levi, maia, cyrus, maddox... honestly she had too many friends.  she loved seeing them all dressed up, loved dancing with them and drinking far too much together. she remembers how she was sad about the whole date situation, she’d told ella to ask grey and regretted it immediately, found out milena asked maddox and felt completely lost with who to ask herself, so many of her friends were DATING so they were automatically out... everyone was taken up quickly and the people she was depending on to go with were suddenly unavailable. faith had been a literal life saver because if she had to turn up alone on her BIRTHDAY she would rather have died. but the night was everything she could have wanted and she wouldn’t have changed it for anything. 

but as it gets later she’s feeling more and more drained, she’s stumbling around from the alcohol and she’s already ingested a bit more than advised of the edible cookie cyrus gave her. she’s fine, she just can’t stop thinking about things she definitely doesn’t want to think about. she keeps getting urges to do SOMETHING... but she doesn’t know what, she knows it’ll probably be bad, though — and it’s fine when you’re thirteen and your biggest issue is why henry malkovich would rather sit next to yasmin greene than you in english class but here, at gallagher, when you’re friends with EVERYONE... they can’t see you like that. 

she’s already losing her breath, feeling like her hearts going to burst from her chest if it doesn’t slow down and she’s making her way outside as subtly as possible because there’s nothing worse than someone coming to check on you when you’re freaking out and you don’t want them to know.

she’s outside, trying to figure out where she can go to think and just be anywhere but around other people. her heels are quickly discarded and then she’s running. she hadn’t decided where she was off to but she ends up somewhere in the forest, surrounded by the trees and it’s so DARK but the moon looks beautiful from what she can see through the branches above — there’s a comfort in how still everything is, especially when her body feels like it’s involuntarily spinning round and round. so she decides to sit. her hands playing with anything that’s on the ground beside her — twirling grass around her fingers, digging little holes then burying them back up with a solid pat, peeling off little chunks of bark from the tree and trying to engrave her name into it. anything to occupy herself with, a distraction while her mind calms down, something to DO. 

she’d been messaging some friends, all none the wiser except grey — only because she’d told him she was feeling sad, though it was something she regretted as soon as she did. she shouldn’t have told him she was outside, alone, and clearly too intoxicated to make wise decisions. he was always looking after her even when she didn’t want it, and tonight she REALLY didn’t want it and she hoped he was joking when he said he was coming to find her. it only frustrates her and makes her anxious, which just sends her thoughts spiralling. 

there’s no warning before she’s sobbing, a split second vision of her dad rushing for a hug — his laugh echoing in her head. she can hear her mother singing to her, cradled together in bed while there’s thunderstorms outside. and once she starts she can’t stop. she was emotional, sensitive, weak and it was something she didn’t like people knowing. but it’s never just about her parents deaths. it’s how she’ll never see them again, how she won’t have her father walking her down the aisle or that they never got to see her grow up and know just how much she looks like both of them. how she literally can’t look in the mirror ( which is something she loves doing ) without being reminded of them one way or another. she wished she had a sibling just so she could TALK about it — someone who could understand her and tell her that she’s not crazy for having a breakdown after she notices herself humming lullabies her mother would sing or how when she really laughs she has a squeak in her throat like her dad and that breaks her heart.

it’s about how she will never know if she’s good enough or if she turned out okay, how she despises herself for not making every day count and that she KNOWS they’d be disappointed in her today. how she’s sick to her stomach with the thought that they were better off without her, even though she felt non-existent without them. 

so she just stayed against the tree, determined tears refusing to stop as she wipes them away again and again and again. and she’s sure she looks a whole MESS right now but there’s not a single care in her being as her palms swipe at her eyes, leaving her mascara all over her hands. she bites down on the side of her palm, just below her thumb, in hopes to calm her breathing, to stop panicking quite so much and just relax.

after a while of forcing herself silent, she’s struggling to keep her eyes open, fluttering slowly but often as she lets her body sink and she’s drifting to sleep. 

[novamm66]

Chapter 20 – In Irons

Note: This chapter contains violence and major character injury.  

---

 “Are we agreed? Shrine of Dumat first, then we will head to the Western Approach and track Hawke’s party down. How quickly can we be ready to go, do you think?” Kiaya’s impatience was evident. 

Cullen exchanged a smile with Leliana. The week after the ball had been filled with meetings and socializing with the Orlesian gentry. Evelyn and Josephine had been busy and very successful at gathering support. Unfortunately, this had meant that Kiaya needed to remain hidden on the estate.

“You could leave today if you wanted,” Josephine answered as she flipped through her notes.

Kiaya sighed, “Well, I wouldn’t want to seem too eager.”

Cullen couldn’t hide his snort of laughter.

“I think the ship has sailed on that, Inquisitor.” Leliana smiled.

“Fair,” Kiaya nodded before grinning. “I am just a bit bored.”

“You could always come to the dinner at the Germain Estate tonight,” Josephine pointed out.

“I am not that bored,” Kiaya grimaced.

“Departing soon is likely a good idea,” Cullen said. “Catching Sampson will mean getting there before he realizes we know his location.”

“And it is concerning we haven’t heard from Hawke and Warden Stroud. The sooner we know what is going on out there, the better,” Leliana added.

“Then we will set out tomorrow. Is there anything else?”

“That covers everything for now,” Josephine replied.

Kiaya remained lost in thought, staring at the map while the other two women departed. Cullen couldn’t read the expression on Kiaya’s face, but she was biting her nails, something Cullen noticed she was doing more often of late. “Kiaya, I wanted to thank you.” Cullen’s voice shook her out of whatever thoughts she had been lost in and she smiled the radiant smile she saved just for him.

“What for?”

“For supporting my coming with you to go after Sampson.”

Kiaya reached out and took his hand in hers. “I will take every advantage I can get,” she sighed. “However, I’m not thrilled about the idea. But all my misgivings stem from the fact that I love you. Which shouldn’t be a factor in Inquisition matters.”

Cullen squeezed her hand. “I am glad you see it that way. I don’t want you to worry.”

“Oh that’s a given,” Kiaya wrapped her arms around his waist. “Just promise me you will be careful.”

“I promise.”

—-

Kiaya was right. Being this close to the red crystals was agony. The song was everywhere. It hummed in his ears and crawled under his skin. Standing at the gate as the fortress burned behind them, their mission a failure and Sampson’s taunting note clutched in his hand, Cullen felt as if he was at the end of his willpower, and as his adrenaline faded it took all of his strength with it. Tremors wracked his body, and it was only his stubbornness keeping him upright. He felt angry and useless as he watched Kiaya give instructions to the soldiers. It was what he should be doing, but if he unclenched his jaw he was sure he would be sick. He couldn’t fight against the rage coursing through him: rage at Sampson, at Maddox’s sacrifice, at the Inquisition’s failure to arrive in time, at his own weakness, and at the song that promised to fix it all. 

If you were taking it you would have stopped him. You would not be a failure. You would be better.

Take it. Take it.

“Cullen?”

Cassandra’s voice snapped his eyes open, pulling him partially out of the red fog. His eyes settled first on Kiaya, standing with Varric and the soldiers on the other side of the gate. Then he struggled to refocus his eyes on Cass. She was frowning at him, likely seeing his tenuously held control. Her mouth thinned but before she spoke, a screech and a bellow of pain echoed off of the stone walls, followed by the ringing of every weapon being drawn. The soldiers had pushed the red lyrium shadow back to the wall before Cullen had even registered what was happening, and his vision narrowed to Kiaya and Varric on the ground in a growing pool of blood. Cullen roared and charged the attacker, who didn’t stand a chance with the number of blades coming at him. The fight was over far too quickly for the rage and fear coursing through Cullen’s blood. His hands shook with the effort not to pulverize the body at his feet into the ground.

“Cullen!” The one voice he was desperate to hear cut through the haze. “Cullen, we need your help. Now!” The command in Kiaya’s voice had his body obeying before he could feel relief. A relief that faded at what he saw. Kiaya knelt on the ground, her hands, arms, and chest soaked in red, her bright eyes round with panic. Varric writhed on the ground next to her as Cassandra and Dorian were trying to hold him still while Kiaya tried to stem the flow of blood from around a blade of lyrium sticking out of his back.

“Cullen take Dorian’s place,” Kiaya ordered. “Now.”

Dorian shifted to the opposite side from Kiaya as Cullen knelt to hold Varric’s legs. Kiaya and Dorian were speaking quickly, faster than Cullen could follow, so he concentrated on holding Varric still.

“That was only a theory, Kiaya, and it was Solas’s theory, and he’s not here. Even if you get all out, you and I aren’t healers. He needs a healer.”

“We don’t have time for them to get here. Dorian, if we don’t try this now there will be too much in his blood. This is going to work. It has too.”

Cullen watched as Dorian nodded before quickly fishing out two bottles of lyrium, drinking one and holding the other out to Kiaya. Kiaya stared at it with a strange expression on her face. “Take it.” Dorian hissed. “We need all the help we can get.” Kiaya nodded, accepting the flask and swallowed it quickly. She glanced at Cullen over her shoulder before giving instructions. “Cass, Cullen, do not let him move.” She looked down at the dwarf, “I’m so sorry, Varric.” Then she shifted her marked hand to rest on the blade, and fade magic crackled to life. Varric screamed and thrashed against the hands that held him. Cullen tightened his grip and, for the first time, glanced at the Seeker holding Varric’s shoulders. Cassandra’s lips were moving silently, and her eyes were on Varric’s face. Varric’s body went limp as Kiaya withdrew the lyrium spike, and a fresh well of blood flowed.

“Now, Dorian,” Kiaya commanded. Dorian’s hands began to glow over the wound, joined quickly by a stronger glow from Kiaya’s outstretched hands. Sweat broke out on their foreheads as the two concentrated on the spells they were casting.

The swell of magic so close to him, brought the lyrium song roaring to the centre of Cullen’s mind again. He gasped and shifted backwards, away from the flow of magic, and stumbled to his feet. The pounding of hoofs and rushing feet broke Cullen’s trance and a whirl of activity descended as Kiaya and Dorian were replaced by the mage healers from the Inquisition camp. Cassandra wouldn’t let Varric go until Kiaya pulled her away. The healers quickly had Varric on the cart, and it jolted away. Cullen got lost in the whispers in his head, and again it was Kiaya’s voice that cut through.

“Cullen, are you alright?” She was looking at him as if this wasn’t the first time she had said his name. Dorian and Cassandra were already hurrying down the road. Cullen couldn’t meet Kiaya’s eyes for long, her face filled with exhaustion and concern for him.

She knows you are weak. She didn’t want you here.

“I’m fine,” Cullen snapped. His head was filled with anger and poison and it all wanted to pour out at Kiaya. He clung to his only rational thought. Get away from her, protect her from yourself. He forced his feet to move, jolting him forward, unable to meet her eyes as he left her behind.

—-

Kiaya stood outside of Cullen’s tent. She was frozen, worried about what she would find inside.

Please let him be alright.

When she had gotten back to camp, the healers had no new information about Varric, so Dorian and Kiaya had taken care of Cassandra. She hadn’t spoken a word yet, and the blankness in the woman’s eyes scared Kiaya. After they were cleaned up, Kiaya had left Cassandra in Dorian’s care, waiting outside the healer’s tent.

Kiaya took a deep breath and stepped through the flap.

Cullen was still in his armour, leaning on a rickety camp table hard enough that Kiaya could see the legs bow. His head was bent over a small open box with the letter from Sampson beside it. Without looking, Kiaya knew what the box contained, and her blood ran cold.

Cullen pushed violently away from the table; Kiaya was surprised it didn’t tip over. He paced the short distance to the end of the tent before whirling around and spotting her. The shock and anger on his face made Kiaya think she should have knocked.

“Is there something you need, Inquisitor?” Cullen’s voice was strained and cold.

Kiaya frowned at the title but ignored it. “I came to check on you.”

“Any word on Varric?”

“Not yet.” An awkward silence fell until Kiaya moved forward and reached for him. “Cullen…”

“Don’t,” Cullen snapped, jumping away from her. Kiaya stopped, trying to keep the hurt off of her face.

“Don’t,” Cullen repeated more gently. “I’m not, it’s not…” He growled and slammed his fists down on the table, causing the hinges to scream. He froze, staring at the box between his hands.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, barely loud enough for Kiaya to hear. “This is my fault.” His voice rose in volume. “I could have been faster. I could have caught him. I could have protected us better. I should have known we weren’t safe. I was distracted and… I should have been on guard. This is my fault.” The last was said loud enough that Kiaya winced. Cullen’s legs gave out, and he barely caught himself on the table.

Kiaya took a deep breath. “Cullen, none of this is your fault, and I don’t believe things would be different if you were taking lyrium.” She moved towards him slowly, giving him the chance to back away. When he didn’t, she laid her hand on his arm. “What do you want? What would be best for you? Forget the Inquisition for a moment, and think about that.”

Cullen sighed, and Kiaya felt some of the tension leave him. “I don’t want to be that person ever again. I can’t be tied to that life anymore. But without it I am weak, and the memories that haunt me... I can’t.” He choked and cleared his throat before whispering, “What if I am not strong enough?” His voice was filled with despair, and it wrenched Kiaya’s heart.

“You are. Look how far you have come. Right now you are tired, and affected by the red lyrium, so it is not the time for decisions.” Kiaya waited until Cullen had nodded. “Can I get you some food?”

“No,” Cullen swallowed and turned a bit green.

“Then you should lay down.” Kiaya was relieved when Cullen nodded. It was quick work removing Cullen’s armour, and getting him into his bedroll, where Kiaya sat with his head in her lap. He was still tense, his eyes were screwed shut. She pulled a small pot from her pocket.

“This is a balm Evelyn makes for headaches. Would you like to try it?” Kiaya asked. Cullen nodded almost before she finished asking. He likely wasn’t really listening, but Kiaya continued anyway. “It’s elfroot, lavender, mint, and crystal grace.”

Kiaya continued to murmur anything that she could think of as she massaged Cullen’s head and shoulders until he drifted off to sleep. Kiaya sat and watched his chest rise and fall, grateful for the numbness filling her mind. She couldn’t find the emotion or energy to cry or to move, weighed down by everything that had happened and everything still to do. She leaned back against a tent post, closed her eyes, and let unconsciousness take her.

—-

Cullen stood in the courtyard of the inn, watching the last wagon of inquisition gear and people head for the harbour to board the ship back to Ferelden. The morning sun was warm on his face, and the breeze was gentle. It was a beautiful day, marred by the fact that he would shortly be boarding and leaving Kiaya behind. Cullen surveyed Kiaya’s companions preparing the horses. Bull, Sera, Blackwall, Cole and Dorian would be travelling with Kiaya by land to the Western Approach. Varric and Cassandra had already departed for the ship, Varric under healer’s orders not to move until he arrived in Skyhold, something that was already proving hard for the dwarf to do.

Cullen had woken the day after Dumat still feeling the effects of the day before, but they were not overpowering. He had discovered Kiaya slumped next to his pillow, still leaning against the tent post, a small snore the only sign she was alive. She hadn’t woken as Cullen moved her into his bedroll, and she slept there for almost a full day. It had been three days before Varric had woken up, and two more before the healers would allow him to be moved on a stretcher. It had been slow going back to the coastal town where they were now, but the week they had spent in the inn waiting for the tides and winds to change had been a boon for the shaken moral. Varric was recovering quickly, for all that he was being held together with a hope and a prayer according to the healers. Much to Cullen’s surprise, Cassandra had rarely left Varric’s side, and she hadn’t argued when Kiaya suggested Cassandra return to Skyhold. They had received word that Solas had returned there as well, and was waiting for their arrival to confirm what Varric already proclaimed: that he would be fine.

Cullen sighed as he returned to the room he and Kiaya had been sharing. She was still packing, although Cullen was beginning to suspect she was just trying to delay the inevitable. When he opened the door she was simply standing and staring at a shirt in her hands, far away in thought.

“Kiaya, it’s time.”

She jumped at the sound of his voice before stuffing the shirt in her bag and turning to him with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Stealing my shirt, I see,” Cullen teased. “I am starting to see Sera’s side of things.”

This startled a laugh from Kiaya, and this time her smile was real. “She started it. I can give it back if you want.”

“No, Love. You keep it.” Cullen said, and he watched her finish tying up her pack. “I put something in there for you. It’s a journal, to write letters in. I have left you my first letter inside. I will keep one as well and we can trade when we are next together.” Tears sprang to Kiaya’s eyes before spilling over. “Oh, Sweetheart, it wasn’t meant to make you cry.” Cullen pulled Kiaya close.

Kiaya hugged him tightly, sniffed once, and leaned back. “I know. Thank you. I love it and you.” She examined his face as her tears dried. Cullen knew that she was worried about him, although she never mentioned his weakness from that night. She had been firm that he take care of himself properly, making sure he was eating and sleeping regularly, and treating him with the same respect, publicly and privately, that she always had.

“You take care of yourself. Promise me,” Kiaya said, her eyes fierce.

Cullen gently cupped her face, again trying to memorize each freckle that dusted her skin. “I promise, although I am going back to a fortress while you are the one in the field. Maker,” his hands tightened around her, wanting to never let her go. “Please, be careful. Stay safe.”

Kiaya nodded before rising to meet his lips with hers and Cullen could feel her promise in the press of her body to his. Cullen returned the silent promise, pouring all his love for her back to her. It was a hard thing to let her go when she eased back, and Cullen felt as if a part of him went with her. It was both a wonderful and painful feeling, and one he felt Kiaya shared.

Cullen picked up her pack, and they left the room together.

—-

Happy February All! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. 

[lyrasilverspring]

Valkyrie’s Evaluation

Valkyrie was frustrated. She held herself perfectly still, waiting for Lanthan to finish whilst also trying to keep all thoughts of the boy out of her mind. Just before he left, he’d leaned in closer to her face, a challenging smirk on his. ‘Knock em dead Maddox, you know I will,’ he’d grinned, letting his lips brush the side of her face as he whispered it into her ear. He’d always been a creep, but things had only gotten worse since the games, and the kiss she’d blown upon arrival hadn’t helped anything. Luckily he was used to her avoiding him, and his deluded confidence made him almost enjoy her resistance. It was sick.

She fought down the embarrassment at having the other tributes around to see it. She hadn’t even flinched after all, and Aphrodite was undoubtedly distracted by Fenn, or maybe even Cosima despite the distance between them. That was a line of thought she quickly turned herself from. It was not her business to care who Aphrodite distracted herself with. Her business was doing well in this evaluation so she could carry out her task in the arena. That meant keeping her distance and keeping her focus.

The fifteen minutes were done and Valkyrie was called into the room and told to begin. She’d already planned out what she was going to do, and quickly activated the simulator setting she’d programmed in training the day before. Fifteen minutes, top level attackers, one by one, varied weaponry on attackers, varied weaponry available to tribute.

Immediately, an arrow came at her head and she ducked to the side, tucking down into a roll to come back to her feet and look at her opponent. An archer, at the other side of the room. She grabbed a throwing axe off the wall and took a second to dodge the next arrow coming at her. As it drew its next arrow she let the axe fly and hit the shoulder joint, causing it to fall to the simulation’s side unnaturally. However, unlike in her training sessions, this simulation was not designed to stop at incapacitation. She grabbed another axe and thew it hard enough to embed the simulation’s neck into the wall for the few seconds before it shattered.

As it did, she heard the sound of a sword leaving a scabbard behind her and whirled around to see an approaching simulation with a katana in hand. Valkyrie grabbed a bostaff off the wall and brought it round just in time to block the simulation’s first swing. They continued like that for a few more minutes, until she was in position to sweep its feet out from under it, knocking it flat onto its back. Once it was on the ground she brought the bostaff up, and then down, straight through the eye, the simulation shattering as her staff hit the floor.

She looked up as it disintegrated to see a large, unarmed opponent on the other side of the room. She took a run at it, feinting at the last minute so it would stumble forwards. They exchanged a few more blows before she dropped to the floor under a swing and tripped it. Once they were both on the ground, she grappled it into submission face down and rained down full force punches into the base of its neck, hammering repeatedly until it gave and the simulation under her shattered.

This time she was alerted to her next opponent by the sudden swing of an axe out of the corner of her eye. She rolled to the side and got her feet under her quickly, ducking again under another swing. She backed up to the table, felt behind her for two long knives and brought them up into the side of the advancing simulation as she slipped under its raised arms. She let the blades run through it as she moved, leaving two deep wounds in its chest. Whilst it was still facing away from her, she plastered herself against its back, slightly crouched so she was out of reach of its weapon. Before it could adjust to the position she had one knife sliding through its neck, and as it began to double over she viciously drove the other down into the windpipe, careful to stop the blade so it didn’t hit her as the simulation disintegrated.

She let the knives fall onto the table behind her as she turned to spot a simulation sporting a long bullwhip. She sprinted to the wall to her left, grabbing the long chain coiled at the floor. As she ducked down to pick it up, she had to rear backwards as the tail of the whip impacted the spot where her head had been. She got up to her feet as she used her left hand to pull the chain through her right, tightening it once she had a manageable length at her disposal. As she backed away she began slowly moving it into a tight circle of eight around her. Once the table was between the two, the whip came towards her and she let the chain fly as she ducked to the side, striking the simulation in the face. Instead of pulling it back she lifted her left arm, chain still in hand, to catch the next strike of the whip, swallowing down the shriek of pain as she quickly wound her arm around the whip before yanking it out of the simulation’s hands. She let it drop to her side and jumped up onto the table, pulling her chain back up into a defensive figure of eight. Once she’d picked up speed, she carefully timed a jump with its path so that she spun midair, driving the chain into the skull of her opponent. She finished the rotation just in time to watch the skull cave in for the few seconds before it disintegrated.

As it did, a klaxon went off, and so signalled the end of Valkyrie’s evaluation. It was then that she let herself realise how physically challenging the encounter had been. It was as if all the adrenaline in her body had suddenly left, but she forced herself to stay upright. She slowly nodded to the watching gamemakers before calmly leaving the room. Lanthan was waiting for her with a dark smile on his face. ‘I bet you looked so fucking good killing those simulations,’ he chuckled, ‘Nothing hotter than a girl who can kill. And you, Maddox, are a fucking killer.’

Valkyrie just rolled her eyes and made her way to her room, his laughter ringing behind her.

[constellationsadvocate]

The Constellations Advocate

Book One

Prologue  

“Time is always a fickle thing when you’re running against it and it’s already beating you to the punchline. It’s really not something to laugh at, but the idle irony of the stars aligning and time freezing- coming to an absolute standstill- just for the mere amusement of one's boredom.”

“Boredom?” An amused, deep and half-laughed question asked. “I don’t believe it was so. Maybe, out of coincidence, it was out of revenge?”

“Well, then it took them awhile. To plan revenge just so you can fix your own fate because one may or may not have been, shall I say, screwed over.”

“Not screwed over, friend.”

“No? Then, dear, what would you call it?”

“Double crossed.” They gruffly, briskly called back. They laughed lightly, a charming smile on their lips. “But, do continue, doll. The story is just beginning to get good.”

“Now that you’ve shut your big mouth, I will gladly do so.” The first voice coolly replied. “Like I said, Time came to an absolute standstill for the sake of one’s boredom. It wasn’t always boredom, no, but it was anger. Anguish. Pain, grief, heartbreak, guilt, longing. Our story didn’t start at the beginning, but at the start of the end.”

“This isn’t some children’s story is it? You know, the one with the colorful pop-up pages?”

“Just because your one molecule brain can’t break down big words, doesn’t mean you can’t follow along.” A third voice chimed, causing the other two to look back at the mysterious being.

“Why I oughta-!”

The first, smacking the back of the second’s head, reeled their hand back again only to stop and grab their cup of whiskey. “Put a sock in it before I knock your teeth out. We have a story to tell and I will gladly do so by myself if it’s by the means of removing your teeth and cutting out your tongue.”

“Whatever.”

“Anyways, it all began when it ended.”

“Doesn’t it always?” The third laughed softly, only to go quiet as a killing glare was sent their way.

“It was a destructive timeline. There wasn’t an end to finish and a start to begin. Therefore, something more constructive, crucial, was born.”

“Didn’t it fail?”

“Honestly, the first three thousand times it did.” The first signed disdainly. Then smiled mischievously. “But, what’s the harm in one more chance?

The other’s glaced to one another, then smiled cruelly. In harmony, “Născuți din focul Fenixului, constelațiile vor avea protectorul lor.”

Adeodatus, Patavium

“Aye, cad e mar a bheifea ag suil le fear dall a asal a fhail san aimsir seo?!” An aging, balding, middle aged man with refined attributes of a square jaw, straight nose, and oblique pale once blue eyes yelled out to a young man. The man, a simple farm hand stumbled through the rain and mud behind the old man, Maddox, looking frantically for the lost mule. Maddox, the blind man, stopped in his tracks causing the farm hand to slide to a stop. “Erivan!”

“For the last time, sir. People will think you’re a mad man yelling out in your old language!” Erivan sternly warned. He calmly walked to stand beside Maddox, placing a firm hand on the mans shoulder. “The mule can’t be far at all. You know how he gets during thunderstorms.”

“I know this. But that stubborn mule is getting on my last nerve.” Maddox replied briskly, tired of the same old routine. “And yes, I know what you’ll say. ‘He’ll find his way back home, Maddox.’”

“Aye,” Erivan smiled warmly, slicking back ebony wet hair from his forehead. “Now, can we please go inside before we both get sick again?”

Maddox nodded, turning back the way he came from. Erivan smiled assertively and followed behind. Only a few steps in, when in a short distance behind them, a mule brayed and stomped  it’s hooves in the thick mud. The pair turned sharply, Erivan’s eyes landing on a cloaked figure and the mule itself.

“Maddox,” An enchanting, smoky female voice called out. Maddox smiled brazenly, chuckling.

“Aye, Taarini.” Maddox greeted warmly. “What are you doing in this horrid weather?”

“Ag feachaint ar asal do dhuine dall.” Taarini laughed warmly as she answered in the old language. She turned her amused gaze to Erivan. “You shouldn’t assume there isn’t a fair share of people who still speak the old language. It may be dead or dying, but nothing stays dead forever.”

“Of course, Taarini. How foolish of me.” Erivan sassed, sarcastically rolling his eyes. “Thank you, oh great one.”

“Sarcasm. Funny most of the time, but when it comes from you it's just simply rude. Maybe if I cut your tongue out, it’ll stop rolling off.” Taarini sneared, smiling devilishly as she walked the mule to Maddox. “Do you not remember the last time I gave your ass a lesson?”

“Children,” Maddox chimed. “This is not the time. Maybe when the weather is better and we can have spectators on a warm, sunny day. Aye?” 

Maddox laughed robustly, taking the reins from Taarini and turning back for the farm. “Come on, Erivan! I can’t always walk by myself. So, kiss the pretty lass goodbye and move your feet.”

“You’re a mad man!” Erivan shouted after him, scurrying to catch up. A few feet behind Maddox, Erivan turned around to gaze where he once was standing with Taarini. She was still standing there, the rain seemling becoming heavier and something unnatural hanging in the air. His gaze rested on her for a moment longer. Taarini everything is shrouded in mystery and questions. No one knew exactly what she looked like, except the bold, rosy pink lips, the slender and strong jaw and jawline. The high cheekbones and the gray and gold mix-matched eyes that rested upon them. Everything else was covered with the hood of a cloak and a black fox mask.

In a blink of an eye, Taarini disappeared behind a caravan passing through town. Erivan blinked rapidly, searching around him before he sighed and shook his head. “You’re going crazy Eri. You’ll go completely insane hanging out with Mad.”

He continued mumbling to himself, breathing easier as the rain and air lightened up in the surrounding area as he hastened for the farm.

A scream erupted from the inside of Solas De Danaan as Jericho, Armazi, and Gemini reigned in their paint mares and gelding. The three snapped their attention to the guild, unmounted and tied the reins to the post, busting through the front door of the guild. 

Inside the fortified guild, the pale ashen oakwood floors were spacious with dark red mahogany tables and chairs. A bartop that had a matching wood stain, the shelves behind it, just as dark with mirror essence casted behind them. From the main floor, pale ashen oak stairs spiraled to the second floor and led to the library and a secondary storage room and office. Magical orbs of pure light floated and bobbed above the heads of the guild members who had immersed themselves in the situation at hand.

Asena, a sun kissed woman with golden blonde hair that curled at her mid back and eyes that could set your world on fire. Her fiery hazel eyes rested upon soft cheekbones that were dusted with freckles. Her physic was lean and curvy, but be no fool, she can out drink any man and leave him under the table. Despite her feminine and goddess like beauty, she can and most likely will put you in your place. Lesson, never dirty your hands if it means crossing someone who can literally light your ass on fire. 

Asena shrieked again as the figure of Taarini glitched out of sight again, appearing next to her. Arealla, the assisting bartender and right hand to the master of the guild, gasped as she quickly grabbed the bottle of bourbon from in front of Asena before she got coated in the sticky, fraganted liquor again and rapidly took a few steps away from the fiery woman. 

“No! Stop it!”Arealla yelled abruptly, looking from Asena to the glitching figure of Taarini. Asena glared at her desperately.

“You act like this is my doing!” She snapped. “Make her stop tormenting me every time she comes around!”

Armazi, Asena’s brother, scoffed. “Sister, are you sure the drink isn’t finally going to your head?”

Armazi,who has the build of a boxer, a strong and sharp jaw, golden brown shoulder length hair, the same fiery hazel eyes as his sister’s, bold cheekbones and a well kept beard. He leaned forward over the bar, taking the bottle from Arealla. Asena and Arealla locked baffled glares onto the brother, questioning his own sanity. 

“You know damn well, very well, it takes us both to have downed the whole store to get even remotely drunk before our bodies burn it off!” Asena growled. “So either someone else makes Taarini stop or I will burn her alive!”

Like speaking of the devil, Taarini appeared physically behind Asena with a bucket of water and ice mixed with thick honey. Followed hastily after, she dumped a sackful of white feathers on the sun magic mage. Asena screamed like a banshee once more. Golden flames licked up her calves, slowly. Within milliseconds, her whole body was engulfed in the pure flames. Armazi clapped amusedly as everyone dove from the bursting flames. 

“You vile vixen!” Asena screeched, the hatred rolling off of her tongue. “How dare you!”

“Cool it, hothead.” Taarini laughed coolly, strolling to the other side of the bar nonchalantly. “I thought you just needed to be a little cold to feel the burn of the drink.”

Asena growled, blasting golden flames at the mage who became consumed by them. The surrounding guild members gasped, only for confusion to cross their faces as a shadow figure of Taarini pushed Asena against the bar. The flames died down from Asena and Taarini, the masked mage coming out unscathed.

The shadow figure dissipated in a puff of smoke that traveled along the ashen oak floors. Taarini sighed doubtfully, “We do this every time I come back to the city. We used to be friends. What happened?”

Asena frowned disapprovingly. “You kept leaving.”

Taarini grinned cheekily. “But I got you something this time.”

“And let’s see if Asena can be bought back.” Jericho laughed out, taking a seat at a far corner table, Gemini joining him.

“I don’t know whose side I’m on.” Gemini chuckled lightly, watching intensely. “I love them both dearly.”

“Hon,” Lyra, a fellow guild mage with a curvy body, tanned skin, long white hair with ombre gold ends and silver eyes with flecks of black in the iris, full lips and a slender profile. “I don’t even think you know what side of you you’re on.”

“Aye, I second that.” Jericho and Armazi agreed in harmony. Gemini gasped, looking between both men.

“I’ve been good!” She squealed. “I promise!”

“Here, Gem.” Arealla smiled genuinely. “Have a drink.”

Gemini slid her gaze to Arealla, who handed the girl a bottle of ale. She smiled appreciatively and took a long drink from the neck. 

“Or you can just continue to hate me for something I have no control over.” Taarini mused, sliding her mix-matched eyes to Asena. “You also have the option of brawling it out with me. It’s not healthy to bottle your emotions.”

“Says the one that never vents to anyone about anything.” Lyra shot back in an undertone.

Asena grinned maddeningly, standing from her seat. “Oh, I’d really love the chance to burn that mask away.”

“I’d like to see you try, firebreather.” Taarini replied confidently, removing her hood from around her head, revealing her silver hair and gold streaked dreads. “I’ll even make it easier and more tempting for you.”

“Oh,” Kaimana, a male mage with silver and blue hair and aqua eyes muttered. “This just got interesting.”

“I don’t know what you want.” Faolan chuckled. “The flames to lick them or you to lick the flames.”

Kaimana looked at him with a perturbed glare. “Neither, you perv. I want the fight.”

[goldenboywrites]

don’t let the lion sleep

He slouched back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling, wishing he was anywhere but here. Well, not anywhere. He knew where he wanted to be. He wanted to be in Isaac’s dorm where Milo was. Lounging around and hanging out with his boyfriend. It was embarrassing that he was jealous of a fucking kitten. But that kitten was with Isaac and Apollo was...here. 

Here was his family’s manor. Maddox manor as cold as ever. It didn’t feel like home to him. It never had been home. Home was with Isaac. His home was warm, filled with plants, a sleeping cat, and soft music playing in the background. And he hated that he was away from it. He hated that he was away from Isaac and forced to sit here with her. 

Her nails tapped on the table and Apollo closed his eyes with a soft sigh. It had been rather different to explain the abruptness of him leaving university to Isaac. So he didn’t. Apollo panicked and just dropped the kitten off while Isaac was at class and then he left the campus. He couldn’t very well explain that his father was requesting him to come home for a few days to discuss wedding plans. Apollo was actually surprised for once that he was included. So far neither family requested his sour presence for this sort of thing. They were planning the whole fucking thing without him. Which was what he preferred honestly.. 

“Do you think you’ll ever be happy with me? That one day you might love me?” 

Apollo was taken back by the question but kept his face neutral. He turned and looked at her. Her hair was brown, long, and straight. Completely different from Isaac’s brown curls. He tried to imagine himself running his fingers through her hair and it didn’t give him the thrill he usually got when he did it to Isaac. Their eyes met. Her pale blue eyes didn’t have the warmth in them as Isaac's hazel ones did. She didn’t look at him with love and maybe that was his fault for never giving her a chance but her gaze didn’t excite him the way Isaac’s did. His gaze shifted down to her hands, small and fragile, and nothing compared to Isaac’s strong grip or his long, thin fingers as they practiced spellwork. It wasn’t fair to compare the two. She would never stand a chance against Isaac. It wasn’t possible. Maybe he could develop a fondness for her but he would never love her. He would never be happy with her. Maybe his mistake all along was not telling her the truth. He had always assumed she knew or guessed but it was completely possible that she truly didn’t know. 

“I’m gay.” 

It felt funny coming out of his mouth and Apollo realized that it was the first time he had ever admitted that outloud. It felt good to say it. To own it. But then he looked at her face and saw her expression. Confusion. Anger. Sadness. And then back to the cold, neutral expression he was used to. Apollo inhaled deeply and watched as she ran her hand over the magic scar on her forearm. He found himself mirroring his actions. A reminder of the unbreakable promise. And it was then that he realized how selfish he had been. Her life was on the line too. It wasn’t just him. He couldn’t love her. He didn’t want to be with her. It was their death sentence. Not just his. 

“I’ve been pretending my whole life.” He finally broke the silence between them and she shook her head slowly. “To be someone I’m not. Someone that my father is proud of. For a while it was worth it. I thought I could bury who I was and be who he wanted me to be.” She was looking down at her lap and he heard a tiny sniffle. “And maybe if things were different I could have continued on with the charade. I think if things had been different I would have been fond of you. Maybe even love you but I would never be fully happy and I could never be in love with you.” 

He inhaled slowly and felt a heaviness in his chest. He didn’t know her that well but he knew that what he was saying was devastating to her. He knew what was coming next and he felt guilty for putting her through this. For so long he made her the enemy in this story. Her and his father. But her life was on the line too. Her future was being decided along with his. They weren’t enemies...they should have been a team. 

“You should know there’s someone. Someone at University that I’m in love with. I’m planning on spending the rest of my life with him until the vow comes for me. I hope you can understand that I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of pretending. I can’t do it anymore.” He reached for her hand and at first she pulled away but then placed her small hand in his. He squeezed it and she looked up at him. “You should find someone who can really love you and give you the life you deserve while you can. Just fuck off and live however you want to while you’ve got the chance.” 

“I don’t care that you’re gay.” Her words were soft and fragile. She glanced up at him and tried to smile. She really was kind and it was in that moment that he wished they had been friends. “I guess I always had a feeling. You were always so angry and upset about the arrangement and now thinking back to our time at Hogwarts you were never with anyone. I just wish it hadn’t come to this. We made an unbreakable vow, Apollo. If you had told me sooner I could have helped you. But I don’t want to die. And if you love someone the way you say you do then I know you don’t want to either. Can’t we just...get married and you can live your life and I can live mine? We put on a show for our parents. There isn’t one option for us. We can work together. You should have trusted me with this a long time ago.” 

His eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair. Apollo was blown away at her response. He had been so wrapped up in his own quiet rebellion that he didn’t ever think she would want to help him or even be willing to. But she was. Maybe...maybe this could work. Maybe there was an alternative route that didn’t result in him dying from breaking the vow.

Maybe…

But…

His gaze fell to his lap and he twisted his fingers nervously. Isaac didn’t know about her, about the vow. They had been together for almost half a year at his point and he had never said anything to him. It was too late now. If he told Isaac about his engagement he would view it as a betrayal. Apollo would lose him and a life without Isaac wasn’t a life he could handle. 

“You haven’t told him?” It came out like a question but he knew it wasn’t. It was all over his face. The guilt of what he had done to himself, to her, but mostly to Isaac. 

Apollo tugged his top lip between his teeth and chewed on it nervously. When he really thought about what he had done he felt like a piece of shit. How could he sleep next to Isaac every fucking night knowing that he was engaged...had been engaged the entire time and never told Isaac? 

“You have to tell him, Apollo!” She leaned over and smacked his arm. “If you love him as much as you say you do, you have to tell him.”

He ran his hands through his hair and sighed out loud. “I know, I know.” He was scared but he didn’t want to admit that. Terrified actually. He didn’t think he could survive without Isaac. Not anymore. 

“I’ll help you. If you promise to trust me. I’ll do what I can if you promise me that you’ll work with me. You’re not alone so stop acting like it. We can get through this alive and we can still have the lives we deserve so stop fighting this war alone. If you want to go back to university go ahead. I’ll cover for you with your parents but for Merlin’s sake tell your fucking boyfriend about this so we’re all on the same page. We’ll have to be if we’re going against both of our parents…”

She was right and he hated that. He felt nauseous and sick at the thought of going back to Isaac and telling him his secret. He didn’t think that his boyfriend would forgive him but he knew it was the right thing to do. 

He stood up and leaned over, kissing her lightly on the top of her head.

“Thank you.” Another set of words that felt funny coming off of his lips.

“I want to meet him. After you tell him and he’s not upset. I’d like to get to know you too. Friends?” Her hand slid in his and he squeezed her fingers.

“Friends.”

He straightened up and walked around his bedroom, collecting the things he needed in order to return to University. When he had his bag in his hand, Apollo walked to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder. 

“Apollo?” He turned around in the fireplace and looked at her. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” 

He opened his mouth to thank her but out of the corner of his eye he saw his father standing behind his bedroom door. The door was a few inches opened. His eyes were filled with anger the same anger they were the first time he caught Apollo with a boy in his bed. His heart sped up. Nothing is wrong with you. Nothing is wrong with you. He couldn’t control his breathing. He heard us. He knows. And just when he thought he was one step ahead, Apollo realized he was actually fifteen steps back. He whispered his location, the word coming out muffled and shaky. He didn’t know what his father would do to her. Maybe if he hadn’t been a coward he would have stayed to help her but he didn’t. 

The green flames engulfed his body and he blinked once and found himself standing in the fireplace of Isaac’s dorm. Pale and shaky, eyes wide with fear. He didn’t say anything. What could he say? He fucked up. He fucked up. He fucked up. He stumbled out of the fireplace, gasping for air. He couldn’t focus and he couldn’t stop. His chest felt like it was tightening and he clutched at it. Apollo fell to his knees and he heard Isaac in the background rush to him but he sounded far away and everything started looking fuzzy. His forehead was sweaty and his throat felt thick. Part of him expected his father to follow him through the floo but he knew it was impossible due to the wards he set on both of their dorms when Isaac had been in class. 

How much had he heard? How long had he been standing there? He knew. He knew everything Apollo had said. He knew that she was going to help him. He knew about Isaac. He was going to come for him...for them. He fucked up. He fucked up. He fucked up. He was going to lose everything because he had trusted someone else to help him. His father always won. When would Apollo finally accept that?

His heart was racing and as much as he tried to calm down he couldn’t. The ice cold fear that gripped his entire body and mind had too much of a hold on him. Isaac was kneeling next to him, trying to calm him but Apollo couldn’t stop. He reached for his bag, just out of his grip. “B-b-b-bag,” He muttered out through heavy puffs of air. Isaac brought the bag within his grip and he fumbled with the zipper before he just ripped it fucking opened. He grabbed around for Cass’ potion. He didn’t care that Isaac could see it. Apollo didn’t stop to think. He remembered Cass’ warning. Only two drops. Maybe three when you build up a tolerance to it. He couldn’t...handle this right now. He couldn’t stop gasping for breath and Apollo wanted it all to stop for awhile. With trembling fingers, he popped the cork off. Half a vial left. He didn’t think, he just took it. It fell from his hand and with a click everything went into slow motion.

Apollo’s breathing turned slow and steady. He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or not but when he reached up, his fingertips grazed his long lashes and he blinked rapidly before laughing. He rolled onto his back and his eyes found the ceiling. Colors and crystals were growing out of it. The plants were talking to him. Whispering words in another language. Isaac was there at his side. He was grabbing his face and shaking him. Apollo laughed and tried to catch Isaac’s fingers with his mouth. He didn’t feel anything yet he felt everything. And he didn’t care. He was happy. He was happy and free for the time being. What had he been so sad about before? He couldn’t remember. The plants told him not to remember…

He was somewhere where his father couldn’t find him. 

He laughed and laughed and laughed. And hoped he felt his way forever.