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edgeofmyniall · 3 years

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The Arrival: Part Two

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trigger warning: descriptive telling of a miscarriage

The warm air hits Niall like a sudden force that kicks him in the stomach. His hand still lingers on the crook of Penelope’s back and he knows all too well that his heart is screaming for her. One look from her and he feels like he could vomit.

It had always been that way for him when it came to Penelope Myers. She could make his thoughts dizzy, his heart sing, and his stomach knot with one singular look. If love was illegal, he would forever be in the top ten most wanted criminal in the world. He was absolutely, without a doubt, still in love with Poppy.

Until he started to notice that Poppy cared for more of the material things than himself. Her gaze would linger on the necklaces and rings that he presented her when she thanked him. She could not stop praising the new car that sat in the garage when she called her mom. It was him that worked hard and gave Poppy the nicer things in life. And she failed to respect him in the way that Niall seemed fit.

She was shallow, only loving him for the diamond on her hand and the car she drives.

“How have you two been?” Amelia asks as her drink slings against the carpet. Clearly under the buzz of wine, she pulls both Niall and Poppy into a forced hug, letting her Yorkshire accent free from her imprisonment. The pretend couple look at one another before Amelia lets her grip go, forcing smiles on their faces. “Been a lot of rumors going about… a divorce, an affair? Not the two of you, I say,” Amelia smiles, genuinely believing her friends were still together. “Aren’t you two trying to have a baby?”

Poppy cradles her torso in an unconscious decision-grief swallowing her whole. Niall presses his hand tighter around Poppy’s back, pulling her closer to him. They had been, trying, to say the least. Until one night Poppy woke up with bloody sheets and her torso feeling as if it’s been ripped open. Niall grieved only for a few weeks that his wife miscarried, but Poppy still grieves in silence.

Three Years Ago

“Niall,” Poppy whined, her stomach feeling torn to shreds. She had woken from a deep slumber to the intense pain that scratched and clawed at her torso. She felt weak, both physically and mentally. She thought it might have been the food she had eaten for dinner, but it was more than that. She felt the loss move through her body. She moved her legs closer to her chest trying relieve the pain somehow. “Niall, please… I-”

“What is it?” Niall sat up, leaning on one arm as he turned toward his wife whose tears had soaked into her pillow. “What’s wrong?” Niall tries to wrap his arm around Poppy’s shaking body when he feels the dampness on the sheets. Quickly he turns on the lamp beside the bed and tosses the white sheets off Poppy’s body. The dark red liquid had stained the entirety of Poppy’s side of the bed. In the scene of life or death, Niall watches his wife lose the greatest joy she had. Still crouched in the fetal position, Penelope screams out as another wave of pain courses through her body. Her back muscles were tight contracting with the pain as her lower abdomen pulsates its muscles with the pain. Niall’s heart races as he becomes frantic. His breathing is erratic as he scoops his wife into his arms and carries her downstairs.

“Please, please, please not the baby,” was the only thing that ran across his mind.

“It hurts, Niall. I can’t-” Poppy tries to speak through the tears and the gut wrenching pain, but fails as she buries her head into Niall’s chest as she cries.

“Baby, shhh, it’ll be alright,” Niall lied, panic rising in his chest, trying his best to soothe his wife. He awkwardly opens the back seat of his car and lays Poppy down gently before racing back up the stairs to grab his phone.

“Sam, get an emergency cleaning crew to my house as soon as fucking possible,” Niall tries to steady his request, but it comes off more as a demand. “I’m taking Penelope to the ER. Cancel all my meetings for tomorrow or today or what the fuck ever day it is. My wife lost my child and I- '' Niall screams into the empty house as tears fall down his face. His body shakes as he hits his fist into the wall, putting a hole into the painted drywall. “I got to go.” Niall shoves the phone into the pocket of his checkered pajama pants and flies to the nearest emergency room.

“Sir,” the doctor, a young and fairly new attendant, walks into the room. She carries herself in a way that one would when delivering bad news. Niall had been waiting in the hard metal chair while Poppy was rushed into the operating room. “Your wife has lost a lot of blood and she could have lost her life if you hadn’t made it here in time.”

“What about the baby?” Niall’s eyes wide as he takes in the unspoken words. He could read between the lines. “What about my baby?”

“The fetus did not make it,” the doctor’s face scrunched as she tried to break the life changing news. She tried so hard to stop her own tears from falling. “Penelope wasn’t far along and in the first trimester there is-”

“Eighty percent chance that a miscarriage could happen. I know, I researched everything when Poppy told me.” Niall hung his head and wept as the doctor stood in the solidary of Niall’s grief. “Is my wife okay? Did she make it?” Niall’s voice cracked at the thought of losing his best friend. His life would be shambles if he ever lost Poppy.

“She’s in the recovery room asking for you. Penelope, it seems that she does have polycystic ovarian syndrome. It’s a condition that affects her hormone levels. Penelope has more male hormones than she should. PCOS makes it hard for women to become pregnant…”

“We had a hard time… We had an appointment to start with In Vetro, but then she was pregnant by some miracle,” Niall looked at the speckled white floor tiles, trying to steady his voice.

“The high levels of testosterones caused the miscarriage. Mister Horan,” the doctor crossed her hands in front of her body. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Niall knew the doctor was truly sincere when she apologized, but nothing, no words, could bring his growing baby back.

Niall’s trek to the recovery room seemed never ending. He wanted to reach his wife and to hold her close so badly that the white walls and floors of the hospital were an endless maze. Niall curses at the barriers that are keeping him from his wife, his best friend, that needed him. He tried so hard to hold himself together when he saw his wife, laying in a stiff hospital bed hooked up to beeping monitors. He watched her heart rate continuously flash across the screen. He held her hand, still soft and gentle just like the first time he held her hand.

“I’m sorry,” Poppy said. Her eyes were still closed and heavy from the pain medication, but she knew the warmth of her husband’s hand. “It’s all my fault. My body... I-” Poppy’s voices cracked under the weight of her words. Everything she tried to say was too burdensome to speak. The invisible barrier between them was overshadowing both of them and Niall had already begun to crack under it.

“No. No, no, no,” Niall repeated as he pushed the wet, sticky tendrils of light colored hair out of Poppy’s face, his voice finally cracking. He tried to be strong for his wife when she was at her weakest, but the sight of one of the strongest people he knew lying in a bed in grief that consumed her broke him. It was not her fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but maybe his own. If he would have watched more closely for the signs, anything, he might have prevented this from happening. Pale and sickly cold with sweat, Niall smiles at the angel with dark circles under her eyes as if she was the inspiration of the Mona Lisa. Poppy swallows hard as she brings her husband’s hand to her lips, the touch of his hand to her skin causes another wave of tears. She had failed him and the baby. “We’ll try again.”

“We’re...giving it some time,” Poppy dances on the right words to say. She dares not speak of anything that might give any indication of what’s happened. She curses herself for living a secret life.

“Ah, well, it’ll come. All good things come when in their own time, innit that right, Niall? The business hasn’t been doing well, yeah?” Amelia’s eyes flicker with sarcasm as Niall swallows his anger. He knew deep down that Amelia had always been jealous of his success- the way that the business skyrocketed when the firm had helped their country in the decrease of pollution. He wants to say what he’s really thinking, what he really thinks of Amelia and her winery, but instead, he only gives back what Amelia dished.

“Same could be said for you and Maxwell? Or is it Josh this week?” Amelia laughs, hurt and anger flash across her face, a look that would kill Niall where he stood. Poppy nudges Niall with her elbow and whispers, “Be nice” after Amelia disappears to fetch the unlucky lad of the week.

“I am. Being nice. Did you hear what she said about the business? Jesus Christ I could twist her head off. Ah, here is the lucky man. Name’s Niall.” Niall extends his hand out to the tall, tanned male who looks to belong in a magazine. His blonde hair is gelled back with a tiny curl swooping down his forehead. He flashes his teeth when he smiles.

“Jayden. Nice to meet you and Miss?” Jayden almost bows as he looks at Poppy. “Mrs. Poppy, Niall’s...wife.” The word is a lie and it tastes bitter in Poppy’s mouth. She wishes she could get used to the taste by now, but it still is just the same. Poppy looks at Jayden, who is still holding her hand. Niall clears his throat as he pulls Poppy closer to him.

“Leave your luggage by the door,” Amelia says before folding her arm around Jayden’s and showing them Justin’s home. As if they actually needed it. It was only to show off that the successful business couple came back to their roots, even if for a little while.

“Now, tell me,” Amelia whispered when Niall wandered over to the bar to collect a bottle of bourbon, “I saw a ginger hussie standing over Niall with her breasts all out when I came by the office one day to drop off some of my samples. I tried putting in the code on the gate at your house, but it wouldn’t work, but you would know that if you ever returned my calls.”

“Sorry about that, Millie, I’ve been busy with the magazine. Niall said she’s the new intern.” Poppy hates the taste of lies, boiling inside her as she spews one after another.

“Well, she was all over him, and Niall was eating that shit up. I swear, I almost threw the bitch off the balcony meself.” Amelia’s brow furrowed as she looked up to her friend. “If the rumors are true…”

“No!” Poppy said a little too quickly and loudly, “I mean, no they aren’t. I trust Niall. He knows what he comes home to.” Poppy smiles reassuringly, but doubts her words. Does he really know her the way that Poppy does? Poppy only disciplines herself for ever believing that she knew Niall. She never did.

“Well, I trust you. I know that you would never lie to me cuz you’re me best friend, and I love you so fuckin’ much,” Amelia’s words slurred as brought her friend in for another hug. Poppy’s heart sank as the lies burned in her mouth. She could never take them back, and if her friend ever found out, their trust would be severed and the domino effect would begin.

“I just hate that we’re together again under these circumstances. Justin was…” Poppy tried to find the words to describe what Justin meant to her. He had been her friend throughout college, and they had been close until the divorce. She was angry at Justin for keeping his cancer a secret from her for so long. She wanted to help, but Justin reassuringly let her know that unless she held the power of God, that there wasn’t anything that she could do.

“Amazing, to say the least,” Amelia finished her friend’s sentence. Poppy looked over to Niall who stood next to Alex with a smile wide across his face. He was firmly gripping his glass of red wine when he looked over to his ex-wife and felt an old happiness and yearning for her. He swallowed the feeling down as he sipped his wine, cursing himself for letting his guard down. He still loved her.

Two Years Ago

“Where were you last night?” Poopy asks, her hands crossed against her chest. “Where the fuck were you?” She cocks a brow as she looks at her husband who remained silent. The cold grey morning seeped into the pale white living room where the two were standing. Niall had only just come inside when Poppy stood at the base of the stairs. Her eyes, rimmed with red from worry and tears, watches her husband as he tosses his briefcase to the floor.

“I was out, alright?” Niall sighed as he looked Poppy in her swollen eyes. He didn’t call her. Not even after the floods of texts and calls, Niall never once picked up his phone.

“Where?” Poppy asks, her voice sharp as a knife. She could feel the tears brimming over the edge of her lids and her mouth formed a frown. She thought of the worst.

“I was at the office late with reports,” Niall walked over to Poppy kissing her temple as he pulled her close. “I fell asleep. I should have called.”

“I was…” Poppy folded her arms around her husband and sighed, “I was so worried.” Poppy's head rests inside the crook of Niall’s neck and as she breathes in her husband, she breathes in the musk of a perfume she didn’t recognize.

“I’m going to take a shower and then we can go see your mother, okay?” Niall asked as he let his embrace go. It was foreign to her now. Who was this Niall standing in front of her now? The faint outline of red lipstick still stained his skin where she kissed him. It was smudged, like Niall had tried to vigorously rub the act of possession away.

“Yeah, sure.”

One by one, the two are reunited with old friends that they had lost contact with over the years. Each time, the two forced smiles and laughter for shared memories and explanations. No one dares to address the rumors that the couple are no longer together. That would mean facing the truth and digging up each lie they’ve spoken over the past year. Hours passed and the two felt as if they had finally come home after wandering around for years. Niall steals a quick glance from Poppy who is laughing at a joke that Jayden said. He wants to rescue her as he watches her subtly flirt with the stranger. His fear of losing Poppy had come true, by his own demise, but here in the warm fire scented room, he felt that he could lose Poppy all over again.

“Where’s our rooms?” Niall finally asks after sharing a chardonnay with Alex, Justin’s long time girlfriend. Alex tried to keep the wine from coming up when Niall asked his question. Niall felt the secret becoming like loose strands the longer he stood there in front of his friends.

“Rooms? You and Poppy only need one, unless…”

“No, none of it’s true. Just misspoke is all,” Niall swallows the last of the wine in hopes of the conversation and upcoming questions dying. The bottle of unopened bourbon still stands on their suitcases waiting for Niall’s lips to taste.

“Last door on the left upstairs. The usual room,” Alex cocks a brow when Niall strides over to Poppy and pulls her in the direction of the luggage.

“Grab your bags and let’s go,” Niall breathes hard, angry at himself for letting the one word almost unravel the lie they’re both living. “We’re in our old room.”

“One room? We’re sharing?” Poppy asks as she pulls the handle out of her rolling suitcase. “Are you sure?”

“They don’t know, Penelope,” he growls, looking Poppy in the eyes before trudging upstairs leaving Poppy to her own demise.

They don’t know.

She has to repeat this to herself, reminding her that while life moved forward for the two of them, their friends are stuck in the past.

taglist: @niallerlover, @yourpolaroid07, @militrybarbi

#niall horan imagine #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan au #niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan 1d #1d ff #1dff #1d fan fiction

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worldoffae · 4 years

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My Small Joy - Rowaelin AU

A/N: Strap in cause chapter 3 is a long one. I feel like my biggest struggle is dialog and getting it to flow good so I hope this chapter turned out okay. Next chapter will be pretty steamy - so be ready. ;)

Story Rating: Explicit (brief mentions of sex)

Summary: Six months ago Aelin got the worst news of her life. She would never be able to get pregnant, to give birth to a baby that she so desperately wanted. Deciding that Aelin needs some fun in her life, Lysandra takes her out to a club where she meets the silver haired man of her dreams. A one-night stand takes a turn when 6 weeks later Aelin finds out she’s pregnant! Her world is turned upside down when she runs into him again at a coffee shop. Aelin tells him the truth and this handsome stranger tells her he wants to raise their baby together and she agrees.

Masterlist

Chapter 3:

The semester ended and just like that, Aelin was officially done with college. At least that was one less thing for her to worry about. Between working at the bookstore and trying to find an internship Aelin spent almost all of her free time with Rowan.

It had been six weeks since she found out she was pregnant and had run into him again. It had been six weeks of them slowly opening up to one another and telling each other secrets they had kept hidden for so long.

Aelin learned that outside of Rowan’s sexy and brooding exterior, he was actually incredibly kind and sweet. He was born in Ireland and lived there up until three years ago. When he was younger his father’s job would often send him to America to work so they would spend a few months of the year there before going home to Ireland.

He told her about his wife that was killed by a drunk driver. They had met in high school and dated throughout college before they got married. She was a month pregnant by the time they had their wedding. After she died, Rowan had spiraled for a couple of years. He sold their house and lived on his own in a shitty apartment. His friends, the people he currently worked with, had convinced him to come and work with them. Their company relocated them to New York and he’s been living here for the last three years.

He worked for a photography company. Rowan showed her some of his photos and he was pretty damn good.

Aelin spilled her guts about her own past. She was terrified he would decide he had made a mistake and would run out of her life. Besides Lysandra, her own friends didn’t know everything she had done. Not even Aedion. But Rowan took it in stride and held her hand through it all. He didn't judge her, just looked at her with understanding that she did what she had to to survive.

She lost her parents when she was twelve years old. The foster system had trouble contacting any known family since her aunt, Aedion’s mom, and her own mother weren’t on talking terms. So they placed Aelin in a group home that was under the careful watch of a now known criminal, Arobynn Hamel.

The group home is where she had met Lysandra and Sam. They got there about a year after she started living there. Arobynn trained Aelin to be a petty thief. Trained all of them. Told them that if they wanted to continue living in such a nice place with somebody that cared about them, they had to earn their keep. By the time Aelin turned 18 and was able to leave, she was scary good at stealing.

At first, she hated Sam and Lysandra. But she and Sam were the best at being criminals so they were often teamed up for jobs. And they ended up falling in love. He was a year older than her and was able to leave the home before she could. He went to academy to become a cop. He said he wanted to right all the wrong he was forced to do.

When Aelin turned 18, she moved in with Sam. Aelin worked at a disgusting bar illegally to help pay for the apartment. She and Sam talked about what their life would be like, about how much they loved each other and how excited they were for a day they could start their own family.

Sam was officially a cop and had begun working to uncover the truth about who Arobynn Hamel was. He was the lead officer in the bust that led to Arobynn being arrested. But Arobynn knew they were coming and put up a fight. Sam was shot and killed during the bust.

Aelin had sat up waiting for him to come home. It was around midnight that she got the call saying Sam had been fatally shot. She had fallen to her knees on the spot and screamed at what had been stolen from her. For what had been stolen from the nineteen year old that had his whole life ahead of him. She ended up robbing a pawn shop and stealing a gun. She was mad with grief and tried to break into the jail they were holding Arobynn at to kill him. She didn’t make it far before she was arrested.

Aelin ended up spending a few months in jail. Lysandra was the one that picked her up when she got out. She had heard about what happened to Sam and her. She offered Aelin a place to live. She said she didn’t want to hold onto the anger that was fed to them from Arobynn and Aelin agreed.

A few months later and Adeion had shown up at her doorstep. Her cousin had finally tracked her down and found out where she was. He moved into town and they got to know each other again.

She had never even told Chaol about going to jail. Once when they were dating he had locked himself out of his apartment. Aelin had picked the lock to open the door and he made it very clear that he wanted no part in any illegal activities. So she had kept her past hidden to him and he had never asked. No wonder their relationship crashed and burned.

A chime from her phone brought Aelin back to the present. She pulled it out of her pocket to find a text from Rowan.

Saw this and thought you might like it.

Attached was a photo of a small puppy with its butt in the air and paws splayed out in front of it, tongue hanging out while it stared at a caterpillar.

She felt her lips pull into a smile. She was beginning to form a reply of her own when she heard a familiar voice call her name.

“Aelin?”

She looked up from her phone to see Dorian walking towards her. His face brightened up when she saw him. Shit, she thought.

She hadn’t seen him since that party right after she and Chaol had broken up. When she had just found out the news that she wouldn’t be able to bear a child and had been a mess. They probably all thought she was broken over their break-up.

“Hey, Dorian. How are you?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful.

“I’m good. But, how are you? I haven’t seen you in forever. What’s it been, like half a year?” Dorian said. He leaned in and wrapped Aelin in a big hug.

“Yeah, something like that,” she forced out.

Dorian looked at her up and down and Aelin was grateful for the thick jacket she was wearing to ward off the cold January air. She was beginning to show a little and she wasn’t ready for that conversation.

His eyes softened as he said, “We all really miss you, Aelin.”

“I’m really sorry I haven’t been around. These last few months have been… difficult. I had some things I needed to work through.”

He nodded. “I get it. I’m actually having a birthday party tonight, if you’d maybe come? Aedion and Lysandra will be there. I had asked Lysandra to ask you to come but I had never heard back.”

Aelin opened up her mouth to make an excuse and realized she had none. “Um, yeah, I can try to be there.”

Dorian perked up a little at that and smiled at her. “Great. It’s at my place at 8.”

Aelin felt panic begin clawing its way through her chest at the thought of having to go alone. So she said, “Could I bring a friend?”

Surprise flashed across his face. “Yeah, that’s fine with me. It’ll just be the usual gang so the more the merrier.”

Aelin smiled a small smile and nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight then. I gotta go though. Doctor’s appointment.”

They hugged again and went their separate ways.

Aelin pulled her phone out as she continued walking down the street and sent a text to Rowan.

Hey, how would you feel about going to a party with me tonight?

She watched the ellipses pop up as she opened the door to her doctor’s office and walked inside. A party? An odd request for somebody who can’t drink.

I couldn’t think of an excuse to get out of it. It’s for a birthday party. What do you say, Buzzard? You in?

“Your wish is my command,” a deep and accented voice said in her ear.

Aelin jumped at the sound of his voice. “Shit you scared me,” she said as she smacked Rowan’s arm.

He chuckled and walked with her as she got checked in at the front desk. They sat down and waited for her name to be called.

“I ran into Dorian on the way here,” Aelin said, her knee bouncing.

“Oh?” Rowan’s brows rose.

She nodded. “The birthday party is for him. I got a bit nervous about going by myself.”

A moment of silence passed between them before Rowan said, “Why not ask Lysandra or Aedion to go with you?”

“They’re already going to be there.” Rowan had already met the two of them and he and Aedion got along a lot better than Aelin thought they would. “You can say no to going, you know.”

“That’s not why I asked,” Rowan said softly when he noticed the change in Aelin’s tone. “Me being there will just bring up questions and I didn’t know if that was something you were ready for.”

Aelin took a deep breath. Rowan was just trying to be thoughtful. She needed to stop jumping to conclusions and assume he was trying to find an out. He had more than proven how badly he wanted this baby too.

So instead she shook her head and said, “I know. But I’d really like for them to meet you anyways. I’m going to have to come clean about this pregnancy at some point and that will just start the whole, ‘Well who’s the father?’ questions.”

“So I’m the one being outed now.” Rowan’s chuckle sent shivers down Aelin’s spine and she tried her best to keep it from showing.

“I’ll just introduce you as my friend. They don’t need to know that part yet. But I do miss them. And I don’t want to hide the shit I’ve been dealing with anymore.”

She felt Rowan’s gaze on her and she snuck a glance at him. There was a softness in his eyes and smile that had her breath catching in her throat. She had done her best to ignore the feelings he brought up in her. And she had caught him on more than one occasion giving her the same heated looks she gave him when he wasn’t looking to know he felt the same. The agreement was to get to know each other first. They had their baby to think about.

“Galythinius?”

Aelin tore her eyes from Rowan to look at the nurse that called her name. She stood up and Rowan did the same before they followed the nurse to her room. Aelin got settled on the bed and waited for the doctor.

“Hello. Are you Aelin Galythinius? I’m doctor Towers. It’s nice to meet you,” the doctor said. She was beautiful with her long, curly hair and golden skin. She gave Aelin a smile as she nodded.

“I know this pregnancy has been a bit scary so far. But today is a day to celebrate. You’re at 12 weeks so you're officially done with your first trimester! The chances for a miscarriage are much lower. Are you excited to see your baby today?” Doctor Towers asked as she set up the ultrasound machine.

“I am so excited. Still scared though.” Aelin blew out a breath and smoothed a hand over her small bump.

Dr. Towers glanced up beneath long lashes at Rowan before getting settled in her chair. “And are you the father?”

Rowan nodded and looked at Aelin. “Yes I am. And I am also very excited to see our baby today.” He took Aelin’s hand and smiled. Gods he was so handsome.

Dr. Towers nodded and put on her gloves. “Okay, let's get started then. If you could pull your shirt up a bit and unbutton your pants for me, Ms. Galythinius. Yes, that’s good, thank you. Now this is going to be cold.”

She squirted the ultrasound gel onto her stomach and Aelin flinched a litte. “Shit you weren’t kidding.”

Rowan chuckled and the doctor smiled. She put the wand against Aelin’s abdomen and Aelin squeezed her eyes shut as the doctor began moving it around to find the baby. She heard an intake of breath beside her and opened her eyes to find Rowan leaning down next to her. She saw tears begin forming in his eyes.

“Look, Aelin,” he breathed, his eyes not leaving the screen. “It’s our baby.”

Aelin tore her eyes away from him to look at the screen. She was too scared to look at first. She still felt like this was all some dream she would wake up from soon. But there on the screen was the small bean in gray and white. She couldn’t stop the tears from falling as she took in the tiny figure.

She pressed her shaking fingers against her lips and let out a little, “Oh. There it is.”

Rowan gently took her hand in his and squeezed. She could feel his own shaking like hers. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Dr. Tower’s froze the screen. “Your baby is looking very healthy. It looks like it’s right on track and there’s nothing to worry about. Just keep doing what you’re doing, okay? Would you like a picture to take home with you?” Aelin nodded so fast she thought she would give herself whiplash. “Can we have a few, please?” she whispered, her eyes still not leaving the screen.

The doctor smiled and nodded. “I can do that. I’d like to schedule you for a 16 week check up if that’s alright with you. Since this is a higher risk pregnancy I’d like to have you in for check ups more often than I usually would. I’ll meet you at the front with your pictures.”

Dr. Towers stood and handed Aelin a wipe for her stomach and left them to have a moment to themselves.

Aelin felt a sob work itself out of her throat and Rowan leaned his forehead against hers. She let herself lean into it, let herself breathe in his pine and snow scent to steady herself.

After a moment she looked up at Rowan’s face. She could see the tears and happy smile that lit up his face. “Our baby. I can’t fucking believe it,” she said, taking another shuddering breath.

“Our baby,” Rowan echoed.

Aelin laced her fingers with Rowan’s and smiled at him with no restraint. The pure happiness on his face was mirrored on hers and together they looked at the tiny bean that was their small joy.

-----

Hours later and Aelin found herself standing at Dorian’s apartment door. She was fiddling with the zipper of her jacket in anticipation of what was to come. Rowan slid a hand to her lower back and Aelin glanced up at him, grateful for the comfort.

Underneath she wore a red empire waisted dress. It stopped just above her knees and she wore a simple pair of flats. Her hair was half up and half down and it fell in loose waves. Rowan had let out a whistle of appreciation when he had picked her up at her apartment and she tried to hide her blush.

He wasn’t looking too shabby either in his dark green button down shirt and tight pants. Although he could be wearing a trash bag and still be hot as hell. She told him as much and that earned her a blush of his own.

Aelin took a steading breath and nodded before she knocked on the door. She felt Rowan’s hand fall from her back and she found herself missing the contact. But she straightened her spine and stood tall, trying for that old swagger that was slowly coming back to her.

The door swung open and Dorian’s wide grin met them. He faltered slightly when he took Rowan in beside her but recovered. “Aelin! Welcome! This must be your friend.” Dorian shook Rowan’s hand as he continued, “I’ll admit, though, that when Aelin asked if she could bring a friend I assumed it would be a woman.”

Aelin rolled her eyes as she nudged her way into the apartment. “Of course you did. Not getting laid enough these days, Dorian?”

Dorian let out a howl of laughter and shut the door behind them. “Everyone, Aelin’s here!”

They took off their coats and walked out of the entryway hall and into the living room. Seated on the loveseat were Aedion and Lysandra, smiles on both their faces as the latter waved at Aelin and Rowan. On the couch was Chaol and a beautiful woman with golden skin and thick, curly hair pulled up in a bun.

Aelin stopped dead in her tracks as she made eye contact with the woman. Recognition lit up her eyes as she noticed the two of them and Aelin’s eyes fell to Chaol and her hands intertwined. Shit shit shit.

Her doctor was Chaol’s new girlfriend.

Her hesitation went unnoticed by Dorian as he made introductions. “Aelin, this is Yrene. Yrene, this is Aelin. I’m really hoping Chaol told you about them having dated or this is about to be real awkward.”

Dr. Towers, or Yrene, tried to hide her amused smile. Aelin couldn’t help but let out a rasp of a laugh. She felt Rowan’s steading presence behind her and took a step forward so she didn’t lean into him.

“We’ve met actually. She’s my new OBGYN.”

Chaol’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked between his girlfriend and his ex.

Yrene nodded in confirmation. “It seems this was always going to be a little awkward at first, huh?” Amusement lit her eyes as she looked at Chaol and back at Aelin.

Oh, Aelin liked this woman.

Chaol turned his eyes to Rowan. He looked like he was about to say something when Dorian interrupted. “And this is… I actually never got your name,” he said, gesturing to Rowan.

Rowan stepped up to Aelin’s side and extended his hand to Dorian and then Chaol. “I’m Rowan. I’m Aelin’s friend.”

She could see how the three others looked at Rowan with questions on the tip of their tongues. Aelin hadn’t come around in seven months and all of a sudden she brought a guy friend with her. She would be curious too.

“An accent,” Dorian said, waggling his eyebrows. “What is that, Scottish?”

“Irish, actually,” Rowan answered. He didn’t supply any more information and silence fell.

“What’s up, man,” Aedion said, breaking the awkward tension. He stood and pulled Rowan into a half hug and clapped him on the back. They said their greetings and Lysandra came up and said hi, smiling and batting her eyelashes at him. Aedion grumbled and Aelin laughed.

“There’s beer in the fridge if you want one,” Aedion said to Rowan, walking into Dorian’s kitchen and helping himself. Rowan gave Aelin a look and shrugged before he followed suit. Aelin tried to hide her smile and failed.

Dorian stood for another second before he seated himself next to Chaol on the couch. Lysandra sat in her spot again and Aelin took a seat on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“I can go grab a chair for you, A,” Dorian said quickly, starting to get up. “I didn’t know if you were going to be able to make it so I didn’t grab it earlier, but-”

Aelin shook her head and he stopped. “I’m okay here.”

Dorian looked unsure but sat down again.

Chaol was the one to speak next. “So, what have you been up to, Aelin? We haven’t seen you since…” he trailed off, looking like he was unsure if he should continue.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Since shortly after we broke up. You can say it, Choal. And before either of you two try asking,” she said with a pointed look at Dorian and Chaol, “no, I wasn’t a mess last time you saw me because I was hung up on Chaol.”

Dorian leaned forward at that. “Then what was it? Like, shit, A. You two break up and then we see you a month after it and you’re drunk off your ass and tell us all to stop asking you what was wrong. What else were we supposed to think?”

Rowan and Aedion had walked back in as Dorian started talking and they took their respective seats, Rowan sitting down next to Aelin.

Aelin took a deep breath, preparing herself for the conversation she had been dreading. She hated being open and vulnerable.

She felt Rowan’s knee brush against hers as he readjusted himself. She knew it was intentional. To remind her that he was beside her.

“I was a mess at that party because I had just had a doctor’s appointment where I was told I would never be able to get pregnant.”

She watched as Dorian and Chaol’s faces fell. Chaol opened his mouth to say something but Aelin held up a hand.

“Clearly, I didn’t handle the news well. But I should have been honest with you guys instead of pushing all of you away. I realized that and I’m really sorry for doing that.”

Both of them shook their heads. “Aelin,” Dorian said. “You don’t need to apologize. Yes, I think both Chaol and I both would have appreciated it, but you don’t owe us anything. But I wish we could have been there for you.”

Aelin nodded, looking down at the table where her hands were crossed. She pulled them off the table and into her lap as they started shaking. “There’s more. Another reason I realized I didn't hide from you guys anymore, no matter how awkward it would be to have to explain everything.”

She looked up and held her chin high as she pulled the ultrasound picture out of her pocket. She saw Lysandra sit up abruptly out of the corner of her eye and could hear her intake of breath. She hadn’t told them she was getting her first scan today.

Aelin watched as Chaol and Dorian sat forward to get a better look at the picture. Their jaws went slack when they realized what it was. Their eyes shot up to Aelin’s.

“I’m twelve weeks pregnant today,” she said.

“Shit, A,” Dorian breathed. His face broke out in a huge grin. “That’s amazing!” He hesitated. “It is amazing, right? You’re happy?”

This time Aelin didn’t try to hide her smile as her eyes fell back onto the photo. “Yes,” she breathed. “I’m very happy.”

“I’m so angry you didn’t tell me you got your scan today,” Lysandra said, picking up the ultrasound picture. “But I’m so happy for you, Aelin. Does this mean I can finally start buying baby things?”

Aelin laughed and shook her head. “Soon. Not quite yet.”

Lysandra huffed in annoyance but the smile didn’t leave her face as she handed it to Aedion. She saw the tears well up in his eyes but he didn’t say anything as he handed it back. She knew that would come when they had a moment alone. Neither of them were fans of crying in public.

“I have to ask,” Dorian finally said, his eyes darting to Rowan and back to Aelin. “But who’s the father?”

“Why is that important?” Aelin asked. She knew this question was going to come but gods, she really didn’t want to explain how it had happened to them.

“Because you just told us that you lost your shit after you found out you couldn’t get pregnant, then tell us that by some miracle you are, and you brought your ‘friend’,” Dorian used air quotes for the word friend, “to my party. One can only assume.”

Aelin opened her mouth, trying to think of an excuse to deny it, when Lysandra chimed in. “No, don’t you dare, Aelin. I know you’re going to try and come up with some lame excuse so you can save yourself the embarrassment, so let me do it for you.” She turned to everyone else. “Aelin needed to get laid so I took her to a club where she fucked Rowan in the bathroom.”

Rowan choked on his beer and flushed while Aelin cried in outrage, “Lysandra!”

She threw her hands up. “What?” she said. “It’s true and I don’t want any more secrets.”

Rowan chuckled. “She’s not wrong.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to agree with her,” Aelin said in exasperation, swatting his muscled arm. Rowan chuckled again and grabbed her hands in his to get her to stop hitting.

Chaol spoke this time. “So you two are just friends?”

She could see the questions in his eyes. That he could see that answer for the lie it was. Before she might have interpreted it as him being jealous. But she could see how relaxed he seemed around Yrene, their hands still intertwined. She could see now that they had both moved forward and were maybe at the point where they could try to be friends again.

“For now, yes,” Rowan answered for her. Aelin’s head whipped in his direction.

Choal looked at Rowan for a beat before he nodded. He smiled. “I’m happy for you guys. This is really great, Aelin.”

Aelin looked back at Rowan and smiled, her hand smoothing over her stomach for the thousandth time that day. “Yes, it really is.”

-----

Rowan walked Aelin back to her apartment door. They got to her door and Aelin unlocked it but made no move to open it. She wasn’t quite ready to say goodnight yet.

“What did you mean when you said that we’re just friends ‘for now’?” she asked.

Rowan smiled slightly, lifting a hand to tuck some hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed against her cheek and her eyes fluttered at the small touch.

“I meant,” he rumbled, “that I know we agreed to get to know each other and take things slow for the sake of our baby. But I also had every intention of asking you out on a date tonight.”

Aelin didn’t think she was breathing. “And now?”

“And now,” he said, stepping closer so they were sharing breath, “ that I still have every intention of doing just that. So, would you want to go out on a date with me tomorrow night?”

Aelin had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. She could see the mischief dancing there. But she could also see the hope there.

Aelin smiled at him. “I’d love to.”

Rowan’s eyes dropped to her lips and she tracked the movement. She saw a slight blush grace his cheeks and he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing. She tracked that movement too.

So she leaned up on her toes and let her lips graze his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Buzzard.”

Rowan let out a breathy chuckle that had Aelin involuntarily leaning into his warmth. She felt his hand gently grasp her hip and she pulled back. She flashed him another dazzling smile and winked at him before she opened the door and stepped inside, shutting the door in his face.

#tog #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin au #my writing #my small joy #fanficion #fanfic #pregnancy au

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finstermond · 3 years

Text

Witcher Ranch AU

Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer of Vengerberg

Ciri, Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert, Jaskier

---

Geralt gazed upon the vast grassland that belonged to him - or the horses, as he would say. It had belonged to his father before he gifted him his inheritance early as a wedding gift.

Almost hidden by the bushes grazed some of the horses. He could see two heads of adult ones and one of a foal but only one of the adult heads was discernible. A white mare - Endrega, he was sure of it. What a beautiful one. Her fur glistered in the sun as fresh snow. Riding her canter felt as if riding a breeze.

The Morhen Ranch bred horses for some generations now. It was his life, the only one he knew. The only one he ever wanted to know.

“Hey,” his brother Eskel disturbed his thoughts, “think you can actually hold the post or do you want to keep looking at the horses and make your wife jealous?”

Geralt grunted and readjusted his grip. Eskel sighed and struck the hammer on the post.

“Thank you, Eskel.” said Geralt.

“No problem, it’s my job after all. If your son can’t even hold a post up I need to chime in!” teased Eskel his older brother. “Ah fuck you,” answered Geralt, “you know his mother wanted to show him something today.” They walked back to their horses and put the hammer, the old posts they had renewed now, planks and the nails back in the cart Eskel’s pinto was strapped to. Eskel’s wolfdog Bann waddled his tail, ready to run back to the farm.

“She did?” asked Eskel while mounting. Geralt went up to his riding horse Roach. Originally he wanted to name all horses Roach - followed by numbers. Several people intervened. The brown mare greeted him with a soft snort.

“Yeah, she took all of the kids with her after school. They’re riding to see a plant that only blooms for a few days a year.”

“Flowers?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t understand your wife.” Geralt squinted towards Eskel.

“Rarely anyone does.”

---

“Daddy!” a wall of shouts arrived Geralt as he came back from the field. Eskel had taken a turn to look for the chicken fence. Geralt almost didn’t manage to climb down from Roach before a wall of children hugged him. Well, apart from his oldest son, Eric, who had a phase of being too cool for his dad. He had his arms crossed, smiled nonetheless and stood close. It was understandable behaviour being 13 and all but Geralt couldn’t stop being a tad bit sad about it. At the same time he mirrored his mother so much. A gaze that could kill, hair as black as the night, his smile. Apart from that his stature was more like his. He’d grow up to be broad and tall, Geralt was sure of it. The second eldest, Leo was 11 and like a younger twin to his brother. It seemed like he’d grow even taller for he was about the height Eric had been a year ago. Casimir - their third son - just turned eight and currently wants to grow long hair which keeps getting into his face. Geralt kneeled down to pick up Roger, their youngest son at five who was born hunched and tried not to groan. Gwyn, their only daughter at age seven - and a mirror to her mother in all but character - took the chance of her dad kneeling and gave Geralt a peck on his cheek. She had made her brothers flower crowns which all of them - except Eric who had it bound to his belt - proudly wore. Gwyn handed her father one sheepishly. “I made you one too!” she exclaimed. Geralt happily tried to put it on but his daughter had over measured his head and it was more of a necklace. He beamed nonetheless and walked towards the main house, children following him. Eric ran behind after he finished unsaddling Roach and let her into the paddock.

Nearing the house, Geralt smelled stew and got excited. With his free hand he opened the door, put out his boots and walked towards the kitchen. “I’m home!” he exclaimed.

Two of the kids detached from him and ran towards the stew and the raven haired woman standing before the pot.

Yennefer turned around and greeted Geralt with a fleeting smile and a kiss. The kids all let an exasperated “Ew” be known.

She looked him up and down, noted his necklace and grinned wickedly, “Your daughter thinks you’re bigheaded.” she said. The kids took off around the kitchen and Roger wanted to be let down so Geralt kneeled again to put him back on his feet. Yennefer turned towards the stew. Geralt hugged her from behind.

“Wonder if her mother keeps telling her that.” he said. She let herself loose in his arms.

“Might be.” she closed her eyes for a second.

“How was the flower?” Geralt asked.

Yennefer chuckled. “The auraris scenoloptis? Beautiful. Our kids got distracted by wolfbanes, moleyarrows, blowballs and ginatias though.” she told him. Geralt looked down on his necklace, made up of those flowers. “Yeah, right.” he said.

“I’m drying some petals and hope I can use them for a salve soon. The fishmonger's daughter needs some help getting pregnant.” she explained.

“What’s so different to using white myrtle?” he asked.

“Well it’s more potent in its aphrodisiac agency and acts as a booster to the female cycle by activating-” she realised Geralt was more interested in sniffing her hair than letting her explain in detail, “- in other words you have a couple more fertile days.”

“We didn’t need that.” he added. She turned towards him.

“Be glad, could have been different in another life!”

---

Lambert had returned from the city. His carriage was full of groceries, metals, fabric and leather. Eskel helped him unpack. Eric and Leo joined while Casimir, Gwyn and Roger had disappeared in the stables. “Everyone’s buying stuff as if a plague’s coming.” Lambert exclaimed. “Well maybe some are blessed with prophetic dreams or just like to prepare for winter early, like we do.” Eskel answered. Eric and Leo carried a big package to their storage house. Lambert’s two wolfdogs and Eskel’s greeted each other and proceeded to run around the cart and ranch.

Vesemir joined the unpackers, “Like we do? Those kids would eat those horses up in two weeks if we won’t buy food!” and kneeled down to pick something up which stopped both Eskel and Lambert to shout “Stop it!” and basically rip what he tried to pick up from his hands.

“Stop it, old man, you know it’s not good for your back!” Lambert shouted again.

Geralt and Yennefer, hearing commotion, walked out and soon were greeted by this scene. Vesemir put himself back up and made a sour face.

Yennefer called out to him, “Come on and help me inside, Vesemir.” after that she greeted Lambert with a quick “Hello!” which he answered with a “Hey, Yennefer.” She turned to got back inside.

In passing Geralt who sped to help unload he murmured, “My own sons don’t think I can do anything anymore and my daughter-in-law just gives me one command after another. I am not inept, I’m just getting a bit old!” Geralt patted him on the back. Vesemir had not been as quiet as he thought since Lambert quickly added a “I’ll be damned if there is a person one day she doesn’t order around. So don’t feel bad about that part.” which handed him a grunt and a sour look from Geralt.

Lambert shrugged. “Don’t tell me it’s not true!”

Without a word, Eskel threw something heavy at their youngest brother for him to shut up. There was silence for a few seconds. The boys returned and began carrying another package towards the storage hut.

“How was the town?” asked Eskel.

“Good, hectic. People are going a bit crazy. Emreis bought the Cintraen Stables. Ran ‘em out of business I say. I mean, crazy coincidences - Calanthe and Eist died a few weeks ago. Pertussis they say. Their granddaughter is missing. I mean she has nowhere to go, no family left anyways. Wolves probably got her. Hm. Old hag apparantly died. Can’t say I miss ‘er, had a few debts. Ah, I managed to have two of our foals of next year reserved. An Craite wants one of Alps and Foltest wants either one of Kayran or Eredin - maybe even both he’s not sure. Ugh Friday, finally!” Lambert told his brothers.

“Calanthe and Eist died?” Geralt asked.

“Yeah, pertussis apparently. Emreis already had a signed contract weeks before but I still get why people are thinking it might have been on purpose. Even more so that Cirenella or whatever her name was ‘s missing. You’d think they’d have prepared for it.”

They hadn’t been friends but lived in silent respect as almost neighbours and hearing about the tragic story around Calanthe’s daughter and her young grandchild had been the topic of many conversations with Yennefer. She had often remarked whether or not Pavetta was actually Vesemir’s daughter as a joke since Geralt and Pavetta had shared the same white-colored hair. Since Pavetta’s daughter was born a bastard with no known father it had led to some distressing silence.

“Hm.”

---

After having everything from Lambert’s shopping trip stored and packed where it belonged, they ate. Having ten mouths to feed was not something Yennefer ever imagined to do but she did it with glee - and she didn’t have to do it daily since both Lambert and Vesemir loved to cook. Geralt was good at it but he would rather feed the horses daily than his children, to put it briefly. “Horses don’t play with their food.” he’d say to Yennefer as an excuse not to cook. “Well then I won’t play with your meat!” was the whispered reply that usually took great effect.

Lambert told tales of the city with his nephews and his niece hung on his lips while eating.

Geralt only scooped a few spoons in, his mind occupied with the child of Pavetta. Only Roger who had snuck in the pantry and stolen some sweet pie and therefore wasn’t quite as hungry as his siblings noted his father being absent and tried to smile at him. Yenenfer who kept an extra eye on her criminal son to check whether he was eating anything healthy at all thus noticed Geralt being absent minded. He felt her gaze and looked up towards her. They exchanged a few facial expressions as married folk tend to do and Yennefer understood he would come up to her with it in time but later.

Yennefer returned to give Roger a stern gaze and he hastily put another spoon full of stew into his mouth, then smiled, mouth full of stew at her.

---

Beer in hand, children in bed, freshly bathed Geralt stood next to the fireplace. Vesemir was dozing off in his rocking chair. His ale stood beside him on the ledge.

Roger had a phase of direly needing his mom to sleep and while Geralt had read them all a story it was Yennefer who was needed to hold Rogers hand until he slept right now. Sometimes she dozed off too and then came up later to the parlor.

Eskel and Lambert washed up, he could hear their voices softly getting to his ear. They would drink a quick beer together, then go to their houses. Eskel as the ranch’s smith above his furnace and Lambert next to the storage hut. Vesemir took turns sleeping at Eskel’s or in his house which was way smaller and originally planned as a guest house. On colder nights he stayed at Eskel’s.

Originally they had all slept in the main house but with one child after another place grew scarce soon. And then again Geralt and Yennefer were grateful for every bit of privacy.

Geralt was still recovering from a leg injury he got when taming last year's horses. He had taken the children with him. Leo and Casimir almost got in harm's way when they groomed an already tamed horse of theirs, Morvudd, and his wild horse almost crashed into the other one. Morvudd jumped and left space for the wild one to crash into Leo and Casimir so Geralt got it to turn again and crash into a splintered fence, causing his leg to cut open.

The children had been horrified of course. Eric and Leo quickly ran back home to get help from their mother. It was resolved rather fast but since then his leg wasn’t healed completely and his duties on the ranch got split and taken over by his family.

After a while Eskel and Lambert came into the parlor and laughed at their sleeping father “No, I am not getting old.” Lambert mimicked his tone of speech and they all chuckled. They drank their beer and then wished each other good night. Eskel woke Vesemir and they left together. Geralt sat down into the rocking chair when he heard steps coming downstairs.

“Look who’s still awake.” he said with a low voice.

“Ha-ha.” Yennefer fake laughed. “Your son was scared you’re still hurting and cannot eat because of this.” she explained and then yawned.

She sat on his lap, carefully avoiding his hurt leg and began stroking his beard. No words were needed, no further inquiring.

“Lambert told us about Calanthe and Eist dying.” he began. He began caressing her back.

“Cintrean Stables?” she asked while closing her eyes. He nodded. “Yes, he said Emreis bought it. Didn’t mention they died though. What about -” he cut her off.

“Went missing, he said. She has no family left. She’s probably just a thorn in Emreis’ eyes.” Geralt added. Yennefer turned to look at him. “You...?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know do you…?”

She smiled, “What’s one mouth more to feed?”

One moment in silence then they started giggling. “Oh, Eric’s not gonna like this.”

Geralt looked towards the fire, sad about this prospect. Yennefer turned her body more towards him. “Hey. He’s having a phase. Just like Roger who needs me to sleep right now because he thinks if I am not there monsters will come. Eric is in a phase where he thinks he doesn’t need his dad and can protect himself from all the monsters in the world. The boys in school teased him because he told so much about you in school and then you got hurt even though being immortal according to Eric, the teacher told me.”

“Oh.” Geralt’s eyes widened.

“Geralt, it’s not your fault.” Yennefer tried to reassure him. “It’s a phase. He will get over it soon enough and then it’ll be me he hates. He’s starting puberty. It’s gonna be - fun.”

“Fun.” Geralt repeated.

“I need to convince myself or else I am gonna get crazy. We really had five children in eight years which means that they’re gonna be pubescent at the same time at one point.”

They both stared into the fire.

“It’s gonna be six children, Yen.” Geralt remarked. Yennefer smiled, then her gaze saddened. “We’re gonna have to find her first.”

---

They were awoken by a loud stomps on the stairways and shrieks of playing fetch. Yennefer went from sleeping to a commanding tone in mere seconds. “No running on the stairs!” she shouted, silence followed, quickly to be exchanged with a trail of steps running towards the two of them who had slept on the rocking chair, covered in fur and a quilt.

“Mommy! Daddy! Good morning!” they exclaimed and threw a ball between them. A game Geralt didn’t get the rules of. “We don’t have to get the rules,” Yennefer once explained to him, “what’s important is a) that they’re playing at all b) they are playing together and c) they’re letting us be for five minutes”.

They got forehead kisses from their parents - even Eric who Geralt just grabbed and pulled towards him. Yennefer saw Eric smile afterwards and was reassured he just had a phase.

Breakfast was bread with cold meat and jam. And telling their children about the plan of adopting another child.

“She doesn’t have a family anymore - do you guys think we could be that for her?” Yennefer asked the children.

“But who is gonna protect her if Daddy’s away? I already have to protect all of them. And you!” Eric got worked up.

“First of all, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself and you,” Yennefer got serious, “second of all, your father has a job that means he has to stay with the herds several nights in a row. It’s not as if he’s gone forever or will leave forever. He’s never going alone and won’t ever go alone. And third of all, we are fine. I know you hear a lot of the jokes Lambert makes about you guys eating everything up one day but no it’s not the truth. We have enough for all. Hell, we would have enough if Lambert and Eskel finally got a -”

Geralt stopped Yennefer. “I think it’s okay now, Yen.”

Eric looked a bit beat down and angry at the same time, Geralt wondered why he hadn’t left yet but he guessed Eric was too proud for that.

“Hey buddy,” Geralt started, “I know you’re feeling a bit like I am not your friend anymore these days but I am. I don’t know what I did to make you feel this way but this is between us and shouldn’t -”

“Yeah yeah I know. Just keep on getting more children like I am not enough!” Eric stormed off, closing the door behind him by smashing it. Yennefer looked as shocked as rarely ever before.

Eskel peeked into the parlor. “Your son just crashed into me and then ran off? Are you alright -” he saw Yennefer's expression, Geralt being quite unhappy and the other children mildly confused. “Okay. I guess not. Uh. I will look for Lambert.” he left again.

Leo, after holding a “conference” with his siblings and being the eldest with Eric’s vanishing, told his parents that they were alright with another sister, should she “wish to join, be okay to make flower crowns, race towards the forest and back, accept the rules of ball-throw-game” and, most importantly the task they all hated but someone had to do “help folding bed sheets” which had Yennefer and Geralt fall out of their moment of shock and return to smiling. “Sure. We will present her with your demands.” Geralt told his son.

---

“Are you sure you won’t rather take the carriage?” Yennefer asked as Geralt mounted Roach. Vesemir already sat on his horse, a white gelding.

“Yes, Yen. We will be faster that way. She is alone out there and every minute might count.”

“I just worry-” Yennefer got interrupted by Vesemir: “His leg won’t fall off and I may be older than you all but I can ride a horse faster than you all can. Now stop being cheesy and give him a goodbye kiss.”

Yennefer did, presented Vesemir with a stern gaze and then waved them goodbye with the children, up until they got bored doing so.

Geralt and Vesemir took on a quick trot and reached the town soon after high noon. The town hall delivered a quick message in the form of Julian Alfred Pankratz alias Jaskier, one of the council members. “Geralt! Vesemir!” he exclaimed , “it is nice seeing you here!”. He came closer, leaving a waiting and now angry couple waiting for their meeting behind. “How is your leg? How are your children? How is… the witch doing?” Vesemir laughed at that last remark. “How are you, old man?” he asked Vesemir who visibly didn’t like being called ‘old man’. Geralt smirked at that, had he been okay with his wife getting insulted seconds before.

“Getting better each day, getting bigger each day, getting more beautiful each day.” Geralt answered. Jaskier shrugged. “Wow I really need to visit again.” he said.

“Yes, they miss their uncle.” said Vesemir. “And to be frank we could use a day of singing again.” Jaskier beamed.

“We’re here because of Pavetta’s child though.” Geralt chimed in.

“Who?” asked Jaskier.

“You know the child of surprise.”

“Ah. Sure. What a tragic story, isn’t it? I really need to make it a song. ‘Last flower of Cintra’, maybe? Hm. Sounds too floral. Lion? They had lion decor. But they still were a ranch. Rose? Yeah yeah sounds better. What are the odds of both grandparents dying mere days from each other?”

“Jaskier.” Geralt cut his evasions short.

“Right. Cirilla. What about her?”

“Lambert said she went missing and doesn’t have a family.” Geralt explained.

“Well at least the family part is true.” Jaskier said.

“What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t have any further family. Well except - surprisingly - a father should surface,” he noticed Geralt's stern look, “but no she doesn’t have any living family and no one willing or possible to take her. Alas she is not missing - okay yes she went missing for a quick moment but was quickly found and lives with the teacher for now.”

“Oh.” Vesemir and Geralt shared a look. They both were glad she was sfe for now.

“We spoke about maybe taking her in,” Geralt stated, “can I meet her?”

“Sure,” said Jaskier, “just maybe bring Yennefer next time. The council decided we would only let someone take her in after both had met them. You know it didn’t go well with the Jaromir boy last time and now he’s living on Emrais Ranch getting fed lies about how inept we are. And Emrais hasn’t even adopted him. I think it’s a bunch of kids just living off the ranch’s supplies.” Geralt wasn’t so sure that was the whole truth but he didn’t care.

“I think it’s best we ride back, Geralt. You and Yennefer can still ride back here today and meet her then. It’s no use going there alone. You shouldn’t make the decision yourself anyways. Would have been different if she still ran around in the forest.” Vesemir opined. Jaskier nodded consensual. “Yes I won’t be here for long anymore but you know where to meet me. I will have the papers ready should you decide to take her in.”

---

Yennefer and Geralt rode as fast as the wind. Her black stallion was called Aretuza and one of the fastest in the bunch. Roach had been tired out so he took Plotka, another brown mare.

“Remember when we got married in the town?” Yennefer smiled.

“Barely.” Geralt answered. Yennefer's smile vanished.

“You’re teasing me!” she turned sour. Geralt’s eyes widened in glee.

“Yen, I am just reminding you of the time you told me you were pregnant.”

“Oh,” she laughed, “I remember, you didn’t recall our wedding at first. To be fair they had you quite… drunk at the end of the night.”

The conversation had been barely a week after their wedding. Istredd, a study friend of Yennefer who didn’t make it to the wedding, congratulated them and then, after winking at both of them for seeing Yennefer's situation, asked whether they had chosen a name already. After he left Geralt asked her for what he congratulated. She had told him that they had wed which got Geralt confused.

“I wore white and had flowers? All our friends and family were there? You wore a dress shirt? You said ‘I do!’?”

His answer back then didn’t stem from being reluctant rather than actually not knowing what had been going on. “How was I even supposed to know? You always smell of lilac, wear white, black or black and white - also I still can’t believe any day I wear those horrible fancy clothes is a chance you take? I honestly thought it was a normal sunday. I mean okay, the drinking got out of hand but it happens, right?”

“Please tell me you at least remember what we need a name for?” Yennefer had asked, getting aggravated. His eyes had grown even more panicked.

“A horse?” Geralt had asked, confused.

“I’m seven months pregnant, Geralt.”

“Fuck.” Anxiety over having an unwanted child had now grabbed Yennefer. “We don’t have a name,” He took her into a deep hug and then started kissing her, “But well we have about two months, still.” Between her tears, Yennefer still had managed to laugh.

“I still can’t believe I forgot most of our wedding. It sucks to be honest.”

“At least you feel bad about it,” Yennefer said, “and I am so glad you didn’t suggest ‘Roach’ as a name in that moment. We wouldn’t have made a week of marriage.”

“I know.” he answered.

It was late afternoon when they rode into the town. Jaskier told Geralt he would alert the teacher of the situation and he would expect them at their home. The teachers house was small by comparison to the ranch but right next to the school which had its own advantages. They knocked on the door and were greeted by the teacher's wife and one of their children.

“Ah, Geralt and Yennefer. Come in!” she said and made room. As they walked in she asked a lot of questions about the room size for the children, how old they were, whether they were healthy. Geralt made some remarks about the size of the ranch to make known that some worth lied there. The teacher’s wife openend the door to the parlor where the teacher sat with Cirilla and one of their children. Cirilla looked about eight, was dressed in a blue dress and had white hair. Yennefer and Geralt exchanged a look and almost began to laugh. At first sight she looked more like his child than any of his did. Cirilla locked eyes with them and after everyone greeted each other and Geralt and Yennefer told her who they were she greeted them with: “I am Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon but you can call me Ciri. Will you take me with you now?”

She stood before them smiling sheepishly. “We could if you want to? We have a ranch with horses.” Geralt told her.

“And we have five children.” Yennefer added, asking herself why he always had to mention the horses before his children.

Ciri nodded.“Yes Jaskier has already told me about all that. Mr. Teacher has already explained to me that I cannot stay here.” she told them.

“I think we’re settled then? I am sure you will love our home.” Yennefer said, beaming while doing so. Ciri seemed to warm up quickly and they hoped it wouldn’t stop once meeting the wall of children they had at home. Her bag was packed quickly since she didn’t have a lot of stuff. Most important was the stuffed lion her grandmother gifted her which she held firmly.

“Can I ride with you?” she asked Geralt.

“Sure.” he smiled as he answered and promptly placed her on Roach who whinnied.

They talked about some basic stuff on the way back home. Her favorite food, color, animal. Stuff to get to know her and ease her into a situation she seemed to accept rather quickly.

---

Back on the Ranch they were greeted by all of them including the dogs standing together and waving. Geralt and Yennefer stopped their horses and got down. The children came nearer but were pretty shy. Eric stood before his siblings and greeted Ciri first. “Hey Ciri, I am Eric.” he said. Lambert and Eskel fist bumped which meant they prepared him for this moment. Geralt gave them a quick thumbs up. Everyone greeted Ciri who stood next to a squatting Yennefer. Ciri whispered in her ear “How am I supposed to remember all of those names?” Yennefer giggled once, then said “Don’t worry you can always ask, we won’t bite.”

Ciri nodded, still a bit unsure of the situation.

Lambert exclaimed: “Who’s hungry? I cooked.”

Geralt then noticed he hadn't eaten all day. His stomach growled, “I am hungry.” he said just as Ciri bravely expressed her hunger as well.

“Follow me!” said Lambert and the whole bunch followed him put.

Vesemir walked up to Geralt. “Sure it wasn’t you that got Pavetta pregnant?”

In another life, Yennefer's anger could kill people as easily as a storm. We’re glad it’s not this.

#witcher #the witcher #no beta we die like calanthe #geralt x yennefer #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt #yennefer

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fourteendoors · 4 years

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The Queen of Akzetha and the King of Crete

Image credit to Denys Tsiperko on artstation. Most modern stories about the Minotaur suck. I’m allowed to say this because I’m an Artist, and therefore objectively correct about everything. These stories suck because they focus on Theseus, a boring prettyboy whose only real talent is murder, instead of the much more interesting blend of divine retribution, personal tragedy, and general horniness that underlies the creation myth of the Minotaur. So, before we go any further, let’s have a quick refresher of the story, and then a dissection as to why I like it so much.

The Minotaur is a creature entirely born from the fuck-up of King Minos of the Isle of Crete. Upon ascending to the throne of Crete, Minos was having trouble consolidating power, and as such asked the sea-god Posideon to send him a snow-white bull to show that the gods favored him for leadership. Posideon asked Minos to sacrifice the bull to honor him, but Minos valued the bull so much that he instead sacrified another instead. Angry at this, Posideon caused Minos’ wife, Pasiphae, to become incredibly attracted to the bull, at which point she begged the inventor Daedalus to build her a bull-shaped armature so that she could have sex with it. Upon doing so, she became pregnant with the half-man, half-beast Minotaur, who, being divided between two species had no natural source of food, and so (logically) was only able to subsist off devouring human flesh. Although Pasiphae attempted to take care of it for a time, eventually Minos imprisoned it in his Labyrinth, constructed by Daedalus. There’s a ton of interesting things here. Firstly, that the Minotaur was entirely born out of hubris and spite. He’s not a monster because he was made by an evil god, he’s a monster because he was made by an incredibly petty one. The detail about the wooden cow is incredibly choice, but not really gameable (although I am begging someone to prove me wrong.) It’s interesting that Minos chose to imprison the beast, rather than kill it. If you can contain something enough to trap it in a giant maze you had your inventor friend build, surely just straight-out murdering it wouldn’t be impossible? I like to imagine that Minos felt some guilt about what he’d done to his son, and couldn’t bear to have it killed on his own orders until Theseus arrived. Anyway. Here’s a Minotaur-variant you can stick in your own games. ------ The Queen of Akzetha The Kingdom of Akzetha is a small city-state on the Sea of Silk. It’s not a Kingdom anymore- it hasn’t been for the past few decades- but the Council currently in charge of the city is absolutely resolute that Akzetha is a kingdom, and will be known as such. (They tried to issue an official motion to transition the city into the Republic of Akzetha. They had to suspend the vote because of the nightmares.) For its size, Akzetha is fairly wealthy. This is mostly due to the exploits of its founder, Vrantearn the Serpent, a legendary Yncol pirate who terrorized the Sea of Silk for nearly a century. Upon his retirement, he took the hand of a legendary songstress in marriage, and bought the island where he would found his Kingdom. Vrantearn’s hoard funded the fleets of trade ships that now ply the Sea of Silk, making the early years of the kingdom very profitable for The Serpent and his loyal crew. There is a story about his death, and the story goes like this. Vrantearn and his lover had a daughter after Azketha’s founding- a clever and bright-eyed girl named Xurah. Vrantearn truly loved his child, and spoilt her with exotic trinkets from across the known world. One night, while Xurah was being tutored in poetry by a Cvess philosopher, a bedraggled man approached Vrantearn’s throne. He claimed to be a priest of Rhulenkaath, the goddess of blood and birds and contracts, and asked after a certain artifact that had come into the Pirate King’s possession. The artifact was of grave importance to the priesthood, and if Vrantearn would turn it over they would consecrate a new temple in his honor. The Serpent simply laughed, saying he had no need for the assistance of a goddess who could not protect her own subjects, and turned the man away. Ill omens followed. Traders at port found that the touch of gold opened cuts on the skin of their palms. Vrantearn’s prized monkey died, bleeding black ink from its eyes. And Xurah grew strange and distant, keeping odd hours and odder habits. The people whispered of the wrath of the goddess, of the folly of the Pirate King. One day, Xurah entered the royal bedchambers and devoured both her parents whole. The girl hungered for blood, and although the guards fought valiantly they found that she healed from any wound they could give her. It was only through the wit of the King’s advisor that they were able to Xurah beneath the palace, in a network of secret passageways that had been built if an escape was ever needed. The entrances were sealed, but for a single accessway, watched day and night by guards to ensure the monstrous child would never escape. This is what the story tells. It less often discusses what happens next. Although Xurah is monstrous (guards report glimpses of feathers and talons and wide, dark eyes), she is intensely intelligent, charismatic, and persuasive. The art of statecraft seems like an intriguing game to her, and it is one she is very, very good at. And although the Council would never admit it, in matters of politics they still often answer to her. It goes like this. The most heinous criminals in Akzetha are sentenced to the worst fate imaginable: to be devoured by Xurah. They will not go willingly, of course, and so they’re often given a soporific beforehand. Under the soporific, a question may be tattooed on their back- ‘should we go to war,’ perhaps, or ‘how do we cure the blight.’ They are cast down into the dark, and they are not seen again. The answer will usually appear by the next morning, either in a dream, whispered on the wind, or (in one particularly unpleasant case) spelled out in animal viscera on the floor of a Councilman’s estate. This is the price for the questions of state. For questions of one’s own life- the Councilmen’s aspirations, their relationships, their future- Xurah demands flesh from one’s own body. In recent days, a change has occurred in Xurah’s behavior that terrifies the members of the Council. It’s not that she’s began to try to escape- far from it. Xurah’s entire life has been marked by escape attempts, each more elaborate and unpredictable than the last. (The Council has spent a fortune hiring wizards and engineers to try and keep up.) Rather, it’s the fact that in the past year, Xurah has not tried to break free once. The more optimistic members of the Council speculate that her will is broken, that she is now utterly resigned to her fate. The more pessimistic members say that she’s only biding her time, or even perhaps that she’s realized that staying trapped beneath the earth can inflict more cruelty upon them than her release ever could. And in the dockside inns and on the cold beaches at night, you will sometimes hear the commoners speak of a queen that speaks in dreams, a queen whose crown is wind and blood... ------ How To Use Xurah In Your Games: Xurah will take an interest in your PCs, because your PCs are likely interesting. What this interest will actually mean is entirely up to you. Perhaps she’ll want to eat them (if that’s what she’s doing), and will convince the Council to frame them for something heinous and cast them down into her lair. Perhaps they’ll end up serving her, knowingly or unknowingly, following the cryptic words on the wind and the voice in their dreams. (She can pay them well- there are caches of pirate treasure all over the island, and she knows each and every one.) Maybe she’s not even interested in escaping anymore, and is instead looking for the PCs to assist her in her newest scheme- perhaps killing the old rivals of her father, or serving the interests of the god who made her. I wrote Xurah’s followers as acting on her behalf, but I actually like it better if they’re not, instead misinterpreting random dreams as signs of divine prophecy. Of course, when Xurah tries to drive them away with nightmares, that’s just more signs that the prophecy is fulfilled. This gives Xurah, the Council, and the cultists a push-and-pull aspect, each ostensibly allied with the other, but secretly working on their own agenda.

#fantasy #osr #worldbuilding #roleplaying #minotaur #monster #i've been listening to a lot of Spencer Krug lately can u tell

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i-am-parsec · 5 years

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Page 4

Henrik has gone from ignoring me for weeks to monitoring my every move 24/7. Stacy goes around the house making jokes about the benefits of having an live-in doctor since she may go into labour any minute now but I can't tell she's just as worried as me about the Doc. Worried because he's not explaining himself. Worried because he won't tell what's in the goddamn book. Worried because of his reaction when she "dared" to use Google to translate the first page. Henrik claims it's ancient German, too hard for him to understand, "after all, Chase, I only lived in Berlin for a few years as a kid, I barely speak modern German!, but you can't bullshit the bullshiter, Schneeplestein.

He's scared, and while I keep telling myself I don't what of, I think it's time to face up to the facts. It's time to call mom and ask what the fuck happened the night Charles broke his arm and I met my wife.

***

I have two uncles. Both of them in prison. One of them for murder, the other for rape and murder. I had no idea they were in prison or that they existed at all. My mother told me as that trying to contact them was pointless, she swore to my father I would never meet them. Apparently delivering that fucking book wasn't his only deathbed wish, knowing him, the fucker probably made a list. I want to be mad at him, I really do, but I can't, right now I can't feel anything. There's so much going on inside my head and at the same time, it's blank. It reminds me of our time working in Arizona, the attempted robbery - when Stacy shot at that guy with the gun so close to my head, I felt the whole world going completely mute while simultaneously exploding. The ringing right after, that's how I feel now. Silenced terror.

I go back to how mom greeted me and it makes me want to scream.

"I'm glad you called, dear. You have no time to waste; now, listen carefully and everything will be alright, you are the one who's gonna get it right, son."

Reassuring words as she holds me in the monster's den. Nothing but lies, that's all this family is. She asked me to record the conversation. I should have hung up right then and there

Triplets. Dad was born first, then Lucas, then Matthew. The three of them seemed like healthy, happy boys despite their father's distant behavior. If what my mother says it's true, that grandfather I never got to meet only held his children once for a picture after they were born and never again touched them, not a hug, not a caress, not even pat on the back. Their mother tried really hard to make up for their father's lack of affectionate gestures, in other words, she spoiled them. That alone could explained my father's addictions and his brothers' criminal tendencies but mom insists there's more. She insists there is a curse.

I am going insane, aren't I? A sane person would suggest their mother to get herself checked after listening to what I did, yet here I am writing it all down, going over the recording again and again, afraid I might miss some details. This is ridiculous...

A curse has followed the Brody men for at least 6 generations. Someone, somewhere made a pact and apparently screw all of us up; with who or what is up to debate but what my family has deduced over the years is that this entity preys on all of the males who descend from that poor fucker and that it feeds off our pain (either emotional or physical) while working its way into the brain of its victims. Once it achieves this, it starts controlling the victim's body until it completely destroys it and then proceeds to start the same process with the next generation, i.e. It drives you insane and, after killing you, it starts torturing your son.

I've always doubted my mother’s sanity but this certainly sounds like reason enough to lock her up in an asylum - although, given the fact that I might go crazy myself in a matter of months, maybe that's a not a good idea; last thing I need is to end up trapped in a mental institution with her. That could totally happen, I'm unlucky like that, as time has proven more than once.

From here on, I'll just write down her exact words, I'm done with trying to process all this crap, it's obviously not happening.

"Your father loved you and me more than anyone has ever loved anyone in this world. He made the biggest sacrifices so you and every other man with Brody blood on their veins could get an actual fighting chance, a shot at happiness. He went through Hell, and back for us, my love, and maybe you think ‘no, that's not right, he put us through Hell, he was the devil himself’, but that's just not true and you know it. Maybe that thing managed to slip away from your memory but it’s not an easy sight to forget, once you see it, it sticks with you forever, and you saw it, son, many times. Every time your father pinned you down on the floor, every time he burned your skin with a cigarette, every time he threaten you or me to kill us, there it was, relishing in our fear. You have to understand, Chase, that while all of us could see it, no one knew how to stop it, no one was brave enough to find out, except your father and his brothers. He wasn't the horrible man everyone saw from the outside, he was and will always be the tender boy I fell in love with so many years ago.

He didn't know what was going to happen to him as he grew older, his father never warned him - you see, that was your grandfather’s strategy. This thing needs the victims to love and be loved, to have hope and dreams, it needs them to be happy, so he can rip their happiness apart. Your grandfather learned this from the old book I sent you and he concluded that if he stayed away from his sons and never allowed himself to love anyone, he would be safe, he could starve the demon and maybe even destroy it. But there's no escape from love, no matter how bad it hurts. He suffered just as much as your dad did, but got nothing out of it. When your dad and uncles found out about this curse of sorts, they realized there was no point in trying to fight it, so they didn't. They let it consume them completely, so they could learned as much as possible from it, what it was, how it behaved and especially, how to kill it.

I knew your uncles. They were good men, and they loved your father very much. By the time your grandfather died and the truth came out, Matthew was engaged, Lucas was a successful singer (you won't find his songs on the internet but trust me, he was gifted, just like you, dear) and your father, well, he and I had just moved in together and I was pregnant with you. It is truly a shame you never got to meet Matt and Luke because they would have been the most wonderful uncles any kid could ever have. In a way, they are. They decided your dad was the one who had the most to lose, so they sacrificed themselves, hoping it would prevent the monster from attacking him too. That's how they ended up in jail. They were the kindest people I had the honor to meet, they would have never hurt anyone, but they thought if they became the evil puppets this thing wanted them to be, it would leave your father and his new family alone. They loved you a lot, Chase, if your father made me promise you will never to see them, it's because they are no longer the lovely men they once were. This thing consumed them. You must remember them as the smiling kids in the pictures I'm sending you. You should be getting them soon. That's who you uncles are, not the emotionless shells who are in prison now.

Just like them, your father was not the beast you sadly had to grow up with, he was kind and creative and he would have let this thing eat him up alive if it meant finding a way out for you, son, and I think he did. The book is mostly notes from your great grandfather, the first one to "investigate" this thing, but on the back there are your father's own findings. Read them, dear, prepare yourself but most importantly, don't make your elders' mistakes. Don't try to ignore it or hide it, this is a fight you can't avoid or win alone. I'm glad you married the Walter girl, she always seemed so strong and determined, I know that if you tell her the truth, like your father did with me, she will stick with you.

I'm sorry it took me so long to tell why we could never leave, my love, I really am. I hope, one day, you can forgive us all.”

I want to tell my mother to fuck off, to stop making shit up and accept the fact she married an abusive drunk worthless piece of shit who happens to be brother of two equally fucked up pieces of shit and that maybe now that he's dead she can finally get some professional help to deal with it, but I can't. I want to put this pen down and go to bed and hold my beautiful wife, tell her everything is alright, but I can't. I want to call Henrik and tell my friend there's no need to lie because whatever is written is that book is nothing but some drug-induced crap my great-grandfather wrote many years ago, but I can't.

Because I know it's not true. Because I remember my father's true voice. Because I can see the void in the window's reflection, hovering over my shoulder, reading these rushed words. Taller than a human, wider than my desk, I can feel its freezing breath against my back. I don't want to turn around. I don't want to stare at it and listen to its heinous scream. I don't want to tell the truth. I don't want to admit my father was a good man controlled by a fucking demon because then that means my monster is not gone and I'm still not free.

It means my monster is standing right here with me and this time there's no one to hold it behind a shut door. This time, I have a son on the way, and it's my turn to hold it shut.

4 pages left. Page 3 // Page 5

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#Unaddressed Letters #Chase Brody #His letters

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ronan-macteer · 5 years

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⤷ have you heard? ( RONAN MACTEER ) has arrived in novigrad. the stories say ( he ) is also known as ( knight of the dawn ). he is very clearly ( thirty-five ) years old and a ( witcher ). little birds may whisper that ronan is ( - mendacious, enigmatic, wrathful, artful, silver-tongued and stubborn ) but their own would describe them as ( + gallant, charismatic, masterful, dauntless, genuine and loyal ) [ fc; richard madden ]

Hey there my dears - I’m Eden and I am super excited be here and bring to a dash near you the okayest witcher . Below you’ll find a vague-ish intro for my smol son because this one required more of an actual bio than Tea did ( adrastea incase you need to know ). Should you like to plot or fancy a connection with my love here hmu!

tw mentions of death

Name: Ronan Albertus Martin MacTeer ( long I know but his parents really hoped a long name would inspire him to be more

Nickname: Ronan ( preferred ), MacTeer ( also preferred ), Roan, Roanie Ronan of Velen and other various nicknames and things one can shout at a witcher.

Title: Knight of the Dawn

Age: 35yrs. old. He does actually thoroughly look his age save for the grey stripe that appeared in his hair when he was just a boy.

Born: Gors Velen, Velen, Northern Coast of Temeria

Species: Witcher ( formerly human? its common knowledge most witchers were human males if not all of them )

Gender: Male

Height: 5ft 10in

Physique: Muscular. ( everything about a witcher is enhanced and modified to create a more perfect fighting machine against the monsters that ever constantly threaten this world since the Conjunction of Spheres. Needless to say Ronan is no exception to that rule that everything about him is more than any other man. Still Ronan doesn't make it a point to laze around but because of his training he is always honing his skills, sharpening them for until there cease to be dangerous creatures there is still a need for him to be ready at all times to face them. Monsters are the only ones truly capable of killing other monsters - that was the reason for creating witchers in the first place. Too, Ronan is a gorgeous hunk of a man and you aren't simply born so stupidly sculpted and handsome )

Hair: Ginger. Well ginger to a point there is one single solitary wisp of grey in the very front. He does quite fancy that little wisp of grey and is prone to playing with it in idle moments or when he's about to cheat in Gwent ( bonus fact: that isn't often ronan is just that damn good of a player and almost never loses a game. )

Family: There was one once that existed. He had two brothers and three little sisters - being the oldest himself it should've fallen upon him to take care of them and become the patriarch of the family. Since the witcher that saved his father claimed the right of the law of surprise he hasn't heard of them since. He knows better than to look for them as well knowing that times were hard when he left and they wouldn't have survived very long. Its a sore point but he considers his fellow witchers brothers.

Occupation: Witcher.

About ( this one is a bio mhmm of sorts )

There was family once. Ronan remembers the smell of his mother's hair and brothers and sisters to play with and a father who would teach him there was more out there in this world. He remembers happiness when he was a little nothing of a boy barely able to hold a practice sword or say alghoul without butchering the pronunciation of it all. After all these years he still remembers them. Often in his journals he'll write about them and there was a point he would secretly write letters home but they were never met with any sort of response. Ronan isn't entirely sure if they're still alive or if they can even read or write. One thing is certain the last time a contract took him to Gors Valen to his birthplace they weren't there and not a soul that lives there now remembers the fisherman, his wife or the score of children they had. Even still if they are there why would they accept that their brother is a witcher?

Young Ronan MacTeer was only five when the witcher named Velles claimed him and took him to train at the School of the Griffin. He fought that day - kicked and screamed and violently refused to go. Velles still had teeth marks in his skin until the day he died from where the young child bit him. A promise was a promise and Old MacTeer had promised his eldest to the witcher for having saved his life and he would go. His mother wailed and the youngest of his sisters ran after the horse until her feet were unable to carry her. It was the price it was the pledge and it would be honored. Despite his initial resistance and there was a great deal on his part, Velles did become an adoptive father to him. The two came to care for one another very deeply. It still hurts and always will that he essentially has no one else now but he's gained another family all his own of brothers in arms he wouldn't trade any one of them for the world. They are all each other has.

While there were initial bumps this was the beginning of the Knight of the Dawn. He would earn his name soon after he completed his trials and he went through them all. They took a boy and took him apart. After the choice which Velles convinced him of it was excruciating. Witchers in the School of the Griffin hardly thought he would survive the trial of the grasses but Ronan did. When he came through Ronan, just barely a young man, insisted they put him through additional trials. Velles told him it was unnecessary that completing this one was enough and he was now a witcher of the griffin school but Ronan despite the pain it would bring insisted. Noble, gallant, dauntless and incredible stubborn he was already ten times the man most other witcher boys were at sixteen willing to suffer so for the cause he'd been taught to believe in. Yes it made him like all other boys submitted to the witcher trials a foul creation - a freak in their own way but he really and truthfully knew no other life. It was the sunrise on the next day after his final trial where the boy truly became a man. High up in the mountains, higher than any one else including perhaps the monsters they hunted cat eyes open and took in a deep breath. Ronan greeted the dawn as he did every other day only this day was the beginning of the rest of his real life. A monster yes by normal human being standards but who would protect them but a witcher - specifically the Knight of the Dawn as Velles coined him.

Years passed, contracts and contacts came and went and the more harrowing each job became but he greeted each monster with a cunning smile and a silver sword. Those were the days to be wild and alive. Sure enough the Knight of the Dawn earned his name for being noble and a most masterful fighter to his enemies they surely knew him to be a trickster of sorts - never told the whole truth, came for blood, could talk his way out of any situation and had a terrible way of gaining an upper hand but in all that he was still good. Cheated at cards and drank but her was more than most men and had a mind about him to think of more than just himself. Never once did he claim the right of surprise and when they couldn't pay he wouldn't force them too. Then came a day he questioned things. He wondered of his former family. Perhaps it started when Velles died that he wondered if there was more to what they did - more to life. He kept this curiosity quiet, the studying he truly did of the monsters they hunted expanding knowledge in the hope to understand. They were once people were they not as was he? Who in this age wasn't some beast hidden there in the dark? It's always been a thought to gnaw away at him in the lonely days. His wonder of those things went no further because he knew there weren't many of his kind left and that wonder led down a dangerous path no witcher could walk without losing their head. He was faithful to his brothers and he would have their back, even Urbis', to the end. Lonely it was but they were the shred of what family each other had and it was entirely possible they would be the very last of their kind. The life of a witcher was never promised to be kind - their training and the things they've had to do have all but ensured they know their place in the world.

Ronan despite his training, despite the trials that took a boy and tore him apart and made him the witcher he is and even despite his artful ways of dancing around the truth he wondered of love. He wondered and still questions as he fights for coin to rid the world of monsters if he is not more a monster than they are and if there would be a person who would share this cold and bloody world with him? Perhaps it is a fools dream of a life beyond witching? What is sad is he has loved, deeper than some would think a witcher capable of loving; an all consuming love with a woman who loved him just as much and understood that what he was and never feared him for she knew his hands would never harm her if only protect her. He wakes in the night as if he is missing part of himself and reached for the ground beside him to find nothing and it is a haunting loneliness no amount of silver-tonged ability, daring fights, drunken brawls or loose women has helped. He hides it well but it is a gaping hole and it is painful but the knight of the dawn has no other option then the press on because there is no other life than this one. Ronan misses the love of his life not even knowing it is she he's missing not even knowing the empty name he wishes he could call is Orianna... Orianna.

Here he is Novigrad, less of his kind than there was before having accepted another contract but the whispers of the Wild Hunt concern him. Other things have been amiss as well but if the Wild Hunt comes perhaps with it comes his end as well? His arrival here in Novigrad and the arrival of other witchers makes him suspicious that there is more afoot here than the place initially lets on. With that and the thoughts that plague his mind what a time it is to be alive in regards to the Knight of the Dawn for the future is unknown and he is unsure of what lies ahead...

Trivia

Moral Alignment: Neautral

Zodiac: Capricorn

Temperament: Choleric

Sin: Wrath

Norse God/Goddess: Tyr

Witcher School: School of the Griffin - duh

Favorite foods: Meat, seafood, hot biscuits, strawberries and ale. He does like food and has quite honestly a more refined palate.

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Theme Song: Oblivion by M83 feat Susanne Sundfør

WANTED PLOTS:

Oh boy all the things -. the list is endless. HONESTLY LETS PLOT

#witcherintro #really it was a thousand times longer and more heart breaking so this is a pg version #tw mentions of death

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okimargarvez · 6 years

Text

IF YOU GO AWAY

Original title: Se tu te ne vai.

Prompt: misunderstandings, funeral, telephone conversations.

Warnings: character death. Set in the end of season 12. Very sad.

Genre: angst, drama, comedy, family, romantic, friendship.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Spencer Reid, (Emily Prentiss), Derek Morgan, BAU team.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: trilogy of oneshots.

Legend: 💏😘👓🔦⚰.

Song mentioned: none.

If You Go Away- Masterlist

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES Note: I’m sorry.

IF YOU GO AWAY or three stories of a farewell, a return and a stay

1- FAREWELL: Why did you leave?

-What is this?

-It's my letter of resignation.

-Penelope.

-No. If Reid dies, I quit.

-We won't let that happen.

-Emily, I'm exhausted, and it is breaking me, and this whole year has been an emotional roller coaster. It's like every time something happens, there's a piece of myself that is being chipped away, and if one more thing goes down, I don't think there's going to be anything left.

Luke has noticed right away, she's not here. But he had look the other way. This was no time to think of such a thing. They had to find the mother of Spencer. But he couldn't help but care about her. He had proved protective of each team member, but she was something more. Maybe because he could so easily to grasp the fragility behind all that apparatus of eccentric clothes and odd phrases. Or will it be that Penelope is the sweetest creature (when and with whom she wants) that exists on this planet. When Emily returns from them, her brown eyes is strange. She went to her? Has something happened? Why she not talks, dammit?

No, she continues to think about the case, and rightly so. But he has had enough.

-I'll take a quick drag.- at night, in an area with no green spots... First of all he heads toward Garcia's office. He knocks. No reply. He tries twisting the handle and... surprise. The door opens. The light is on, but she's not here. He shouldn't set foot, isn't his right, is invading the privacy of the blonde, but... it's a special case, he is justified. He notices with pleasure, indulging in a little smile, that on her desk, in the midst of all those puppets and strange objects, there is also the one that he has given her. He approaches, taking it in his hand, thinking, wondering if she would ever do this, if every now and then she happens to use it, whether she has already tested its usefulness in reducing stress. And while she touches it, if she thinks about him. Ouch, this isn't really a thought by worried coworker.

Then his eyes are attracted to a yellow folder. It doesn't seem like the ones they use to keep the documents of a case. Nothing is written on it, which can help him understand what it is. He must not open it. He can't. But he does it however.

His visual apparatus recognizes before the mind the type of file that is inside.

I, Penelope Garcia, being of sound mind, I ask to be able to resign right now. I don't think I'm more suitable for this job and as a result I'll be a burden and not a valid help for the team. I would suggest for my replacement Sophie Cardoza, she is young but...

-What are you doing in my office?- Luke jumps, feeling behind her. Her tone wanted to be stern, but it came out weak and broken. She doesn't hide the fact that she has just cried. He turns towards Penelope.

He doesn't apologize, he doesn't look for justifications. -Why do you want to leave?- he asks her instead, directly, going to the point, without many turns of phrase. She sighs, shrugs, tries to seem distant and austere as usual, but she doesn't succeed very well. And that look is almost the same as when she had returned from her visit to Reid in prison.

-Why do you think it's your business, Alvez?- she answers with another question. But the man expected it.

-Because I'm part of the Awesome 8- he quotes her, with no parody intent -and I'm sorry to see you like that.- she needs Derek. If he were there, she probably would never have dared to bring that document to Prentiss. However, she can't deny that this isn't the first time she has decided to leave the Bureau. Derek would hold her in his arms and tell her it's all right. Or that if it's not right now, it will be better in the future. He would get Reid out of jail. He would have taken Scratch. Luke instead...

Before she can realize it, she finds the lips of the Newbie pressed on hers. She remains wide-eyed for the duration of the kiss, feeling overwhelmed by a train of emotions, unable to distinguish them with precision. -And this was for...- she pronounces this phrase like a question, her mouth still wet with his taste, as she catches her breath. It's his turn to shrug, indifferent.

-I don't know, I just thought it could work as when people have hiccups. If I could surprise you enough, maybe this would have passed.- he is serious, he did really think such a thing? Yet the man's gaze is so innocent, sweetly joking. Penelope allows herself a laugh.

-You really messed up, Alvez.- but then the mood returns grumpy. It was just a glow in the darkness. -But it didn't work.- she can't do without it, just look at his sad expression to become from the one would need to be consoled, to the one who instead consoles. -Hey, it doesn't depend on you. This time I think that even Morgan couldn't raise me up.-. she lies. Or maybe not?

-You didn't have answered my question. Why do you want to leave?- now Luke's tone is extremely calm and almost cold. She moves a few centimeters away.

-Because I can't take it anymore.- it's something, but it's not enough. He urges her to continue with his gaze. -You are in this team for how much, a little over six months?- it sounds like if he should feel responsible -How can we try to save the others, if we can't protect ourselves and the people we love?- she changes the register and the eyes they come back to be completely shiny. But the tone is firm. -Spencer was kidnapped, the girl who fell in love with him killed by a psychopath, one of the many that we chase every day... and now his mother is in danger.- gradually that she speaks, she notices he is gradually approaching at her body, but she tries not to mind too much.

JJ. Her husband was injured and kidnapped by completely crazy thieves, who were excited to kill as well as steal, and the woman even went to their home and threatened Henry, their child. Let's add the fact that she was disappeared for months, while she was in a war zone with the head of the section, Cruz and that this forced her to abort. - her voice is getting more serious, and less and less hard. -Rossi, as you have seen, spent countless birthdays receiving as a gift a name of a poor murdered girl... but it's not just that. One of her best friends was murdered "because of him", or better than his job. The head of section that was there before, Erin Strauss, with whom he had a relationship, was killed by another unsub, and if that wasn't enough, a girl who aspired to become like him was murdered for this reason.- now she no longer has the strength to look him in the eyes. -Emily, oh, she's more privileged, she's just been killed by a Russian guy and we just thought she was dead for a few months...- her laugh is bitter -... besides this, her childhood friends were killed by a priest convinced to practice exorcisms to save their souls and her ex-colleagues from that Russian I mentioned earlier... Ian Doyle.- she pronounces as if spitting -Tara's brother has been kidnapped by Mr. Scratch, but you know that, you were there too... in fact, when they found him he was saying your name, right?- but he doesn't reply nothing - Walker... that story of his friend seems to me that it doesn't need to be repeated.- she sighs and raises for a moment again the look on him. -And we pass to the absent. Hotch's wife was killed by one who managed to convince us for years of being one of the victims. He was drugged by Peter Lewis, who forced him to relive those experiences. And he risked dying from complications arising from the wounds he had reported years ago! And now he's in the witness protection program.- the words come out freely, as if they had life of its own and she was just a loudspeaker to make them sound louder.

-Derek. He was accused of murder, kidnapped and tortured for days, some criminal shot his pregnant wife... it seems to me sufficient- just three centimeters distance separated Luke from her. - And many others, which will be just names for you. Kate Callahan, her stepdaughter has been kidnapped by a group of people who sell young people to people... I don't think they deserve to be called like that... by some lousy people who sell kids to those who want to have fun, experimenting with a new method of murder.- her eyes, too swollen to hold back her tears, let her flow as she feels the warm breath of man brush her face like a caress -Alex Blake, maybe you've assist some of her lessons or read one of her books, she had to leave the unit to save her sanity and her marriage. In addition to this, her brother was almost killed by am unsub.- now it's certain that Luke has laid his hands on her shoulders, but she doesn't dare to open her eyes to check. -And then Ashley Seaver, daughter of a serial killer and future of the Bureau. Jordan Todd, skilled in dealing with terrorists but practically consumed in less than a month to talk with relatives of the victims and in conferences. Jason Gideon, one of the founders of the BAU... crushed like a fly, by one who had known more than thirty years before, when he had given up on this job! And finally Elle Greenaway, who was forced to leave because of me; after they shot her, she wasn't the same person anymore.- she seems to have talked for centuries. The sense of guilt is there, latent, but never abandons her.

-Why your fault?- finally Luke manages to open his mouth. Garcia's voice had hypnotized him.

-Because I was playing online with my PC, but with the wi-fi of Bureau and so the killer managed to get the personal data of the team, and chose to hit her, maybe because she was alone.- she exclaims aloud something she had just found out was always inside her. -He should have hurt me! I was an easy target too, but surely. she was prettier...- she's not crying, she just has to blow her nose every five minutes.

-Penelope, don't say that...- he increases the hold on her shoulders.

-Why not? It's the truth. In both cases. And it was my fault, I should have paid for it.- it's too easy to go back to those days that she thought she had by now overcome. Luke lifts her head and grabs her chin. If she were in herself, she would probably be shocked.

-No, it's not, in either of them...- but she doesn't listen, so he decides to change the subject and the approach. -And me?- he asks. Penelope frowns, confused.

-What?- he smiles.

-You did practically the list of everyone who was part of the BAU... you even mentioned Walker. The only ones you have not named, it's you and me.- another smile, a little more mischievous than the previous one. She sighs, annoyed.

-I can't include you, because I don't know anything about you.- And would you like to know? those dark eyes ask her.

-Well, you know I joined the team because of Daniel Cullen, the Crimson King...- she nods. -Here, when I caught him he was busy cutting open my partner, Phil, who miraculously survived. But the psychological scars are more difficult to heal and I, too, stayed awake for a few nights, terrified by the prospect of closing my eyes.- she had never thought about the fact that he could have such problems, but basically it's normal, each of them fights against their own demons. She has nothing to comment on. -And you?- we can consider what he is doing the principle of a hug.

-I... nothing. A guy, who I went out with shot me instead of kissing me. He hit me a few millimeters under my heart, a bit of rehab and here I'm, like new.- she shows off in a turn that doesn't come out very well. Even the joking tone is forced. Luke doesn't really want to laugh.

-Why you liquidate this like it was normal? - he puts both hands on her shoulders. -Garcia, don't treat me like I don't care at all.- behind them some device emits a sound.

-I've got some information on the case, would you let me go and see?- reluctant he lets her go and he follows her in every movement. -And anyway, if you really want to know, I'll not leave the BAU until the story of Reid is over.- the man realizes he can't do what he really wants and goes out, leaving her alone.

While each of them is busy looking for useful information on the murderer of Nadie Ramos, they ignore each other. Or rather Luke can't help but keep an eye on her, but with a more discreet than usual. He positions himself on the blackboard and he mark all the places that come to his mind. When she came back inside and sat down in front of her computer, he immediately realized that she was still crying. But Penelope didn't want his help and he doesn't know what else to do. It was better to focus on the case. They spend all night there, he makes a lot of calls, they drink lots of coffee, and then... then Prentiss manages to convince the judge to free Spencer because his mother was kidnapped.

And so, they go to jail: Luke, JJ and Penelope. He heads off to talk to Calvin Shaw once more while one blonde runs from Reid, the other stays alone outside. Yet as they accompany him on exiting the prison, she remains his only fixed thought, which doesn't want to go away. Here she is, beautiful with straight hair and that almost normal dress. His eyes widen at her sight, he can't help it. Although for her he is only one of many who have been part of the BAU, it's not the same for Luke. He looks away because he is aware that her joyous expression isn't for him, but for Spencer. How he envies him while he looks at them hugging, something she had never allowed him to do... yet that time, the first who had found her crying in his bunker, he had gone so close... if she hadn't received that damned message: We have a case. The two take each other's hands and a part of him dies. Needless to make fun of himself.

But the worst is yet to come. And bears a name and surname: Derek Morgan.

Right now, Luke doesn't want to rethink the synopsis of those days, but he still can't do without it. They had discovered that Lindsey had an accomplice, another girl who had met Spencer, a certain Cat. It was Penelope herself who told him who she was and what she had done. Then Reid and JJ went to jail where she was detained. And they had followed the whole interview, practically powerless. In the meantime, they had tried to figure out where Lindsey could keep Diana. So, Cat had mentioned Morgan and his family, because she knew that Derek's son carried Spencer's second name and therefore she wanted to make him suffer. Then she made him believe she was with child from him, but Garcia found out that the real father was a guard. And then they had managed to find Diana and bring her to safety. The moment of the maternal embrace had been beautiful. Lindsey was in their hands, Cat always in prison. All solved? No.

It was too good to be true. In fact, the ex-special agent Morgan had appeared out of nowhere because he had received a message from Penelope... in short, the blonde's phone had been hacked. Big mistake. How to try to steal from Arsène Lupine. Luke couldn't help but ask a simple question: if she could figure out where the hacking was from. And she took it very badly. She had turned to Derek and with a knowing look had pointed out what she had to endure. And the latter, holding back a laugh, he had addressed the word to him for the first time.

-Alvez, you'll always get a location with this one.- he had caressed her, squeezed a shoulder. With such naturalness, spontaneity, tranquility... all the opposite of what he could do. Only once he had the opportunity to touch her shoulders, when the judge had rejected the possibility of allowing a bail and throwed Reid in jail. That time she was so in crisis that she had probably not even noticed who was trying to console her. All that Luke had been able to do was a half-smile, behind which a thousand thoughts and emotions were hidden. Then Derek had called him "new friend".

He didn't know what to think of him. He couldn't understand what he felt for him. After all, he was married, with a son. He was no longer part of the unit. He was no longer a danger (or a rival), right?

The answer had arrived very quickly. When they had left the meeting room and they were both alone, he already didn't like the situation. But then he had to go back, because he had forgotten something. And so, he had seen them together. Much worse than the tasting he had had before. The way Penelope looked at him, as if he were really a god... with what love, affection, respect, devotion... all things she would never have shown to him. And even Derek, though his gestures were not just like a normal friend, the sweetness with which he had caressed her cheek or when he had told her he was proud of her and... that he loved her. He really loved her. Yet he had returned from his wife. He could never understand their relationship.

And when he thought that nothing else could happen now, the man had managed to surprise him, to open his mouth wide again. "But do you think you can try to be a little friendlier to Alvez?- why he did care? He did also notice that she treated him differently? -He seems like a pretty all right kid...- and Penelope rolled her eyes. But what she had replied... -It's complicated... I'll try. I make no promises.- Why she say it’s complicated? Apart from that, there were other reasons why it should be complicated?

For all these reasons Luke wasn't very focused on driving, nor on the case. Yet the accident didn't happen because of him. All the SUVs had been pierced by a special system that had appeared on the road just as they passed. They had turned upside down, but without suffering consequences. But while they were catching their breath, he had seen the light of the headlights out of the corner of his eye. And he had had only time to start a prayer, the most basic, the one that his grandmother had taught him when he was very small...

Then the awakening in the hospital. They were all fine. Some sprain, scratch, but nothing serious. In fact, he had been the one who had made everyone worry more, because he didn't regain consciousness immediately. But they hadn't even had time to relax, to rejoice, to breathe a sigh of relief.

Derek had suddenly entered the room where he was hospitalized, where the entire BAU was gathered. And each of them understood, even before the former profiler opened his mouth. Even Luke had understood that something serious had happened, but he hadn't wanted to believe it. Until he had thought about it, it would not have come true. If only it had been so...

How had it happened? Nobody could still say it. They only knew that someone had shot Penelope. While she was still at the BAU. Later they would have discovered that it was the work of the two villains, the evil couple, who had managed to organize everything from the prison. Somehow, they understood the connection between computer technician and Spencer and then, in any case, she was the simplest target. More vulnerable. Because they were out.

It had been all a trap. The real goal had been her, from the beginning.

It was their fault, of each of them. They had left her alone. They had assumed that inside their offices she would be safer, in fact, no one had thought it might be dangerous. Not even he.

She hadn't died right away. She had survived the surgery. It seemed like there was hope. In fact, the doctors had immediately said that she was still in danger, that they could only wait. But she was conscious. So, each of them went to her bedside, to do with her what would be the last chat. First JJ, Emily and Tara. Together, because they always had been. Then Rossi and Spencer. And Derek who had never moved. He had only come out after Stephen had done his part. Even he couldn't pretend not to cry. And then it had been his turn. Luke was finished last, he had risked not being able to even have this chance.

But when he had crossed the threshold of her room, Penelope was still alive. Weak. She was the shadow of Garcia to which he was accustomed. He had to show himself strong for her. But by now it was clear to everyone that their technician was slowly shutting down. She had stopped fighting. The game had been won by the lady in black. That game that began more than ten years ago, with a bullet hit. They would have discovered later that she had been the previous damage that made her survival impossible. But he didn't know it yet. He wanted to be strong, but he hadn't succeeded.

He had burst into inconsolable crying, falling to her knees before her bed, holding her hand. He had been out of breath, because

it was being so desperate. He didn't remember if he had said anything to her, if they were sensible phrases. But Penelope had tried to console him as far as she could. Her voice was so low that he finally had to placate tears in order to hear her. -I'm sorry I was so stupid.- it was the juice of the first tiring sentence she had uttered. -I'm sorry to have treated you like that.- the second one. Even at a time like this she couldn't stop thinking about someone else, everyone, except herself. The last one had been -I'm glad you managed to kiss me.- but Luke hadn't even had time to think he could repeat that gesture. The fingers tightened to his had become motionless. They were already cold. He had looked at her face. She had such a serene expression...

Luke sighs one last time, before he gains strength and loads part of the weight of the coffin on his shoulder. On the other sides there are obviously Spencer, Derek and Rossi. Behind them, many people, many ex-FBI agents. Three of her ex-boyfriends, for whom he can't even feel jealous anymore. Emily and JJ shake hands throughout the ceremony. Then the coffin had lower in the grave. And covered with ground. Together with the flowers above the coffin. Not roses, not just at least. A person like Garcia, she would have liked the last day to be full of colors and variegated. So, sunflowers, orchids, carnations, daisies and many others. In fact, while he waited for Dave's car to pick him up, he lost himself reading the meanings of the various flowers, because he wanted to tell her what he felt, though she no longer cared, at least that way, at least one last time. But he would have to bring a lot of them: holly (defense, eternity) for what he should have done and wanted, but at least he had tried; aquilegia (which before he didn't even know existed) because it meant hidden love ; freesia (another who didn't know) because it signaled mystery and charm; carnation, jasmine because simply the red was mark of love; Hibiscus, on the other hand, was the most suitable of all because it doesn't live more than a day, so its fleeting beauty lasts only for a moment and at the end what was there between them wasn't very different; the lilacs for the beats of love; the forget-me-nots would have been a mockery of himself. And there would have been many others, too many And, in the end, he had opted for a strange flower, whose name wasn't romantic, orange; and Spencer had recognized it immediately and surely, he had been the only one to understand. Buttercup. And yet another had reached his companions and had been buried by the ground. Zinnia.

-Luke... - the young genius approaches him. Only the two of them were remained. He stayed in front of Penelope's tomb, the stone hasn't yet been laid, all this time. To think, to remember. To cry. But it doesn't embarrass him the fact that Spencer had sees his pain so obvious. They stare into each other's eyes for a moment and then he, the famous doctor to hate the handshakes, hugs him. When they separate, the Latin already knows what he is going to ask him. -Two flowers...- for once seems to be speechless, unable to compose one of his long sentences full of big words. -Buttercup: sad and melancholy love. Zinnia: nostalgia , lack.- he declares, how if reads the definitions of a dictionary. -You loved her?- Luke nods without having to think about it.

-You, who always know everything -he provokes him, sniffling -you can tell me why she had to die?- he doesn't blame him, but anger and despair follow each other very quickly in his soul. The young doctor doesn't have the answer he is looking for. But he is in possession of another that can still interest him.

-Do you know what she was doing when she was hit?- Why twist the knife? Why force him to return to that day? Make he feel again useless, helpless and stupid? But he doesn't say anything to stop him -I was with her. She told me that she had decided to leave the team... he showed me her resignation... then she tore the paper into pieces. And she came out to breathe, a breath of air, as if were a kind of ritual... then I heard the hiss of the bullet and I saw her fall to the ground. I called 911, Derek and then you, but you didn't answer, because the accident had already happened...- Luke isn't listening anymore.

Garcia had changed her mind. She wouldn't have abandoned them anymore.

Yet fate has chosen in her place. It decided she had to leave the Bureau. Conclusively.

Penelope, I miss you. Why did you leave me alone? Why you? Why I'm not dead? Not you, with your innocence, your trust in the world... not you.

While Reid holds him in another improbable embrace, the man becomes aware of a truth. He may love other women, but there will always be a thought, a hypothesis no longer verifiable, that will torment him. Because what isn't defined, has no boundaries, doesn't even have an end.

TAGS: @theshamelessmanatee @itsdawnashlie @talesoffairies @janiedreams88 @kiki-krakatoa @yessenia993 @teyamarra @c00lhandsluke @gcchic @arses21434 @orangesickle @entireoranges @jarmin @kathy5654 @martinab26 @thisonekid @thenibblets @perfectly-penelope @ambrosiaswhispers @maziikeen92 @lovelukealvez @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @ichooseno @ megs2219 @rkt3357 @franklintrixie @thinitta @chewwy123 @skisun @maba84 @saisnarry @myhollyhanna23 @thenorthernlytes

Note: I’m still sorry. The other two will be happier. I swear.

#garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #criminal minds #cm #luke x penelope #penelope x luke #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia #spencer reid

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catalystrpg · 5 years

Photo

“the criminal”

name: josephine “jo” morgan

age: 31

fc: jessica szohr

good lord give me peace from life long of pain and greed, but not yet, i’m not done payin’ for my crimes

Nothing in life is perfectly certain, but… well, that Morgan girl never did stand much of a chance, did she? It’s bad enough being born in New Jersey, of all shitholes. Her parents were just shit icing on the shit cake. Most everybody in Linden knew something of her father, at least. Wannabe mob boss and alcoholic extraordinaire, Frank Morgan liked to think that he ran the city, with a gang of scum happy to do his violent, chaotic bidding. He was going to build an empire, and he had just enough brains and contacts to keep himself out of prison all the while.

Until Donna Morgan’s death. There was no sweeping that under the rug, and Frank was sentenced to life in prison for the murder of his wife. Their daughter, six-year-old Jo, was left to the whims of the foster system.

Trouble always followed the girl from then, though it took her a long while to understand why. To understand that the men hovering in the outskirts of her life were her father’s men. They had their own kind of loyalty, and swore to keep an eye on the little girl for their boss. And they were always there for her. Moreso than any shitty foster parent, at least, as she was shuffled from home to home. Nobody seemed to enjoy raising a headstrong girl who attracted criminals everywhere she went.

It was from these men that Jo learned her more useful skills, the older she got. Violence, petty crimes, language far too inappropriate for a ten-year-old – she picked it up quickly. And, subsequently, enjoyed time in a variety of juvenile detention centers between foster homes. But she simply couldn’t help it. Like father, like daughter, isn’t that the saying? And the men who looked after her, the men who took her under their wing, were as close as she could get to a family. There was nothing she wouldn’t have done to impress them. That certainly made it easy to run away when she was sixteen – away from her foster home of the month and out of the foster system entirely.

Jo ran with them for years. And it was through them that she met Vinny. They didn’t fall in love, or any shit like that. They just… got along, better than most. Looked out for each other. Fucked, when they felt like it. And… look, it’s not a big deal or anything, alright? She got pregnant when she was nineteen, lost it a few months later, found out she probably couldn’t get pregnant again. That’s the gist of it. Doesn’t matter. Her makeshift family certainly didn’t care. As far as they were concerned, that was Vinny’s baby she’d killed, and that was something they couldn’t forgive.

She never needed them, anyway.

Nobody was incredibly surprised when she ended up in prison not long after. More than once. Fairly minor offenses, of course – vandalism, theft, trespassing, arson, assaulting an officer, what have you. She was locked up more often than she was free, but nothing quite stuck, and she never seemed to learn any lessons.

And then the murder. It wasn’t malicious, it wasn’t premeditated. Nobody ever quite believed that. Jo was twenty-four when it happened. She was walking home from a night out, a little drunk, a little riled up. God knows she’d never been one to turn down a fight, so when she passed by a rowdy group stirring shit up in some alley, she didn’t hesitate to make her presence known. With any luck, she’d kick some ass and make some new friends before calling it a night.

But these men were a different breed. Jo only caught a glimpse of a beaten, bloody body of a woman on the pavement before they were on her. It was damn lucky they underestimated her as much as they did, at least, or the four of them would have beaten her senseless in under a minute. She knocked two of them unconscious easily enough. The third was smart enough to run, disappearing into the night. It was the fourth, a hulking mountain of a man, who stayed to take his chances. And it wasn’t until he had her pinned, with a gun to her forehead, that she grabbed one of her own knives and did what needed to be done.

She doesn’t remember, really, what happened next. Calling an ambulance for the woman who still seemed to be clinging to life. Being put in the back of a police car, unable to explain what had happened. Arguing, a lot of arguing, when the cops questioned her involvement. Really, it wasn’t until they brought an attorney in for her that she understood why she was being held.

The trial didn’t take very long. The woman Jo had saved didn’t remember what had happened. The men she’d knocked unconscious lied, and lied easily. The judge barely had to glance at her record, and Jo was sentenced to life in prison with some distant hope at parole in just a few decades.

Her own guilt grabbed hold of her as she was being carted away, and its grip never loosened. So she kept to herself, mostly, in lockup. Read a lot, chilled with the old ladies and lazier guards. Learned some non-criminal skills along the way. Still a mouthy piece of shit, of course, that could never change. But for the most part, she kept her head down, even when she was relocated to a different prison in the south. In Georgia.

The prisoners were kept out of the loop entirely as far as the disease was concerned. Their access to the outside world was taken away bit by bit. Visitation was cut off, television was banned, mail was thrown out completely. So the chaos caught all of them by surprise – guards fleeing, doors and locks being left open, unattended, for prisoners ballsy enough to escape. And plenty of weapons lying about when those things came crawling. Jo armed herself, kicked ass, and got the hell out of that place once and for all.

Finding the group was unexpected, but hardly unwelcome. At least, once everybody stopped trying to kill each other. Jo never expected to stick with them for long – she doesn’t do family shit, right? She tried it and it didn’t work out for her, and she’d be just fine doing her own, lone wolf thing. But… shit, someone’s gotta keep an eye on these people right? They’re good. They’re good people, maybe, probably, and… Well. Maybe she’s not a lost cause anymore.

“the visionary”: as someone who was never able to carry a child herself, the young girl with the swollen tummy really stuck out to her. to bring a baby into this world seems like the worst thing they could ever do, but she’s hoping maybe - just maybe, it’ll be a blessing in disguise. she’ll do anything to keep the young mother to be and her unborn baby safe.

“the leader”: they are almost always bumping heads and can never agree on a single damn thing. sometimes she wonders if he does it on purpose; she could say the damn sky is blue and he’d fight her until his last breath that it’s not. she understands he doesn’t trust her and she doesn’t blame him, the jury didn’t either. she’s just hoping with time, she can change his mind.

“the liar”: birds of a feather flock together, right? he, just like her, was almost outcast from the start - but they were eventually, slowly - accepted into the family. despite everyone else finding it hard to trust him, she’s found it easy. she grew up around liars and thieves her whole life, this one just happens to also be one of the good guys.

#rpg #original rp #skeleton rp #mature rp #zombie rp #taken

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isaacathom · 6 years

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theres not a whole lot to the cop to develop, i guess. she’s a cop. she has a wife and probably a kid. which of them had the kid? dude. idk. shes like..... 30? so shes the oldest person there, yea, but thats not meaning a lot when its just a bunch of 25 year old criminals. seniority in age isnt exactly the issue here.

at my best guess, part of what inspired her to be a cop would stem from her being an elf. while the north are rather friendly towards elves, particularly in comparison to the south, its impossible for there no hostility, no stereotyping. as an elf who only speaks basic elven, she’s got a disconnect between her culture and that of her environment. as an elf, she’s a poor one. as an elf, she’s isolated in a predominantly human city. its a sort of lose lose.

so you get treated like shit a lot. and you grow to idolise those who have power. in part, that explains her loyalty to the royals, despite the kings utter fucking incompetence. she’s not blindly loyal, which is why she usually talks to Crown if she must talk to one of them, but she’s got that streak. and the guard, obviously, and all the associated groups. it makes sense to want to be in that untouchable position, where noone can hurt you, when you’re being hurt.

so she becomes a cop, because royalty isnt gonna happen. it takes time. it takes years. she falls in love with and marries in the time between starting training and being formally inducted into the guard. she feels absolutely unstoppable now. that she’s going to protect those who are wronged.

then, yknow... the law? and the letter of it? oof, baby, honey, no. she comes to see how those in power can abuse it, with her rose tinted glasses removed. she sees how its the letter and not the spirit that is enforced. how those that are hurt can be kept hurt. and it fucks her up. and theres the fact that now she’s a cop, and actively trying to curb the power of the major criminal players, that they have their eyes on her. that there is likely an incident where her wife could have died. maybe their first child even dies, i dont know. and it sucks! it absolutely sucks! that she has to both arrest people who she knows are good, and good people, and that she has to watch those she loves most be hurt because of her choice of profession. it sucks!!!! she and her wife have to live separately, and it sucks!!! she likely has to arrest someone she knows after they get attacked and fight back, and it sucks!!!

she’s probably a little disillusioned with the whole thing. the guard aren’t untouchable, aren’t infallible, and are often wrong. it sucks

the criminals fighting crime initiative wasn’t her idea. it was Crown’s idea. but the cop is a champion for it. she firmly believes that it could be a way to save some of the people who were imprisoned unjustly, but who the law couldnt save. she volunteers - volunteers - to be in charge of the first batch. but she’s not in charge of the full op, is she? so of course its someone above her picking the participants.

she’s a little miffed about the selection. Koci she’s glad is getting a chance to reduce her sentence, since Koci is one of the cases the cop has been fighting hardest for. since, well... its not exactly subtle the signs that koci was badly injured before joining the pact. its obvious that she was almost killed (or actually killed, they dont knw) before she lashed out and killed hundreds. she was possessed, it wasnt her. but she did the crime. she does the time. and the cop hates it.

Rien is a mixed bag. the cop has met them before, and they seemed a good person. they were suspicious off the bat for being a westerner, and due to the existing migrated western gang, but they were nice, and Amali trusted them, so they seemed good. they were well liked among the farmers and the market. but then, yknow, they come in confessing to being a bandit who had robbed dozens and carted goods illegally across the southern border and who had also gotten Amali killed in a bandit attack. ok. we’ve got issues. are they a good person, or a bad person? do they deserve a chance to redeem themself? the cop sort of manages by justifying it as Rien proving that they aren’t a liar, and that they meant what they said. which would prove them as a mostly - mostly - good person, in the end, right????? sure.

Warzens a flat ‘fuck no’ from the cop. Warzen is an unapologetic necromancer. unapologetic. unabashed. mans a proud fucking necromancer. he’s weird. he’s an asshole, he’s a criminal with no remorse. the only thing tha seems to go in his favour, aside from his skillset being potentially useful in the field, is that he seemed genuinely distressed when they destroyed his workshop home when hey arrested him. like... that was some from the soul pain. not the pain of someone mildly inconvenienced. he lost something in that fire, and it... it tugs at the strings, a little. a little. he’s still kind of an asshole, and the cop is POSITIVE he doesnt fuckin deserve the chance. but fine. fuck it. he’ll be under lock and key the entire fucking time, planar magically speaking. it should be fine.

Saval is...... a very mixed bag. they have the same issue as Warzen - an unabashed and unashamed criminal. A shit one, sure, considering she knocked herself out trying to rob a place, but a criminal nevertheless. she regrets none of it, beyond the consequences it held. That would place her in the Warzen camp. But. But but but. her information has resulted in the arrests of dozens of criminals. her in conjunction with a few of them captured have basically destroyed most of the western gang. she has been valuable. so her position on the crim gang is basically a sort of thanks, since the law provides no other way to reduce her sentence, really. but that doesn’t mean the cop likes it. does saval genuinely deserve the chance to get out of jail earlier, considering she’ll likely go right back to crime when she’s free? the cop doesn’t know. how far can kindness extend?

but the cop championed the initiative. she has to stick by it, regardless of her distaste for the group that was picked. on the inside, she knows its a form of sabotage. she knows that there are higher ups who dont want the initiative to work and are going to scapegoat the fuck out of her when it fails due to their shit selection of people. but she’s gonna fight tooth and nail to make it successful, god fucking dammit.

she’s basically trying her damn hardest to keep the entire group from falling apart. its the only reason she breaks up arguments - not because she really, personally cares too much, but because the less fighting, the better. like when koci starts angrily ranting at Rien for no other reason than that Rien seems like an easy target, the cop doesn’t.... personally care? but knows that breaking it up early is better than potentially making Rien angry, and having Rien sabotage the whole thing. especially since Rien seems to be on board with the whole thing.

its a bit higher stakes when it comes to warzen and saval due to their uhhhh unreliability, we’ll say. HARD fuck no. the less those two get pissed off, the better. its a cfucking relief to the cop when warzen/rien and saval/koci become friends. because now theres a sort of ‘back up’. theres a fall back. they can be caught before exiting. the concern is that warzen might drag rien outwards rather than rien dragging him inwards, buuuut she’ll cross that bridge when it comes up.

tl;dr the cop wanted to be untouchable and protect people, kind of got neither by becoming a cop and essentially the king’s fucking lackey, and is reaaaaalllllllyyy fucking hoping that this criminals-fighting-crime thing works out and she is completely fucked. both in terms of having a job (and potentially being alive, depending on outcome) and in terms of like. mentality. :)

#story blogging #cano fe yula #will have to decide if her kid died or not. that feels a bit too far for me so maybe not #maybe its just that criminals tried to kill her wife while she was pregnant with their first kid? thus heightening the stakes in a sense #if the cop had any scars they'd likely be from that event. ill think about it lmao

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ks-caster · 4 years

Text

Blood of Fire, Heart of Darkness

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Characters: Belle, Rumplestiltskin

Notes: A what-if for why Belle was locked up the whole time during the first curse - when Regina cursed the town’s residents and gave them all new personalities, she discovered to her great consternation that Belle already had a second personality: a violent, magic-retardant persona named Lacey, who existed to protect Belle from harm, and the trauma of her childhood.

While there are people who can use magic and people who can’t, there are also people called Fuillisang, who are immune to magic’s effects. Belle is one of these, which is part of why she’s so against Rumple doing his magic - and why she’s never particularly scared of him.

A partial beginning and the rest of my notes are available under the cut.

Lacey showed up for the first time when I was eight years old. I say “showed up” instead of “born,” because I have no way of knowing if she existed prior to that—but I say “showed up” instead of “made her presence known” because I also have no way of knowing if she didn’t exist before that. It’s possible that she never would have existed, that I would have spent my whole life as just me—just Belle. It’s equally possible that she would have slept in the back of my mind, waiting throughout my whole life for a danger great enough to awaken her.

I suppose I’ll never know.

But I’m rambling, aren’t I? This is meant to be a history, not a sprawling memoir.

It began with my mother. She was something called a fuillisang, more commonly known as a “fireblood.” They’re human…ish. They appear to be basically normal, until they’re in danger. During periods of high fear and stress, firebloods manifest a violent alter ego, designed to protect them, mainly by ripping their way through all comers until they sense the danger is passed. They’re fast, strong, smart, and incredibly resilient, healing from injuries a dozen times faster than any other mortal creature.

They’re also almost entirely immune to most forms of magic.

These qualities—as well as a general sense of ruthlessness and a complete lack of moral compass—place those with the boiling blood in high demand as mercenaries and assassins. My mother, Sasha, was one of these; she was highly skilled, devilishly clever, and had made quite a name for herself even in her youth. They called her the Death Spinner, likening her to a spider skillfully entrapping its prey.

The year Sasha was eighteen, she got in a bit over her head; played both ends against the middle one too many times, and had to hide out—the long kind of hiding, with a new identity and a back story no one would dare question. She was fantastically beautiful—something she’d often used to get people to let their guard down—so she traveled to a small country and seduced the crown prince, securing herself the titles of princess and then queen in record time.

I don’t know if she intended to have me, or if I was an accident. Probably she let herself get pregnant to keep up the ruse of being a sweet little wife, or perhaps she just wanted the excuse to hide away from the public eye and raise her child. Either way, she had me about a year into her marriage, and named me “Mirabelle,” after the sweet yellow plums she grew in her garden. My father hated the name—said a princess should be named for something more majestic than a plum. If it had to be a plant, it ought to be a rose or a lily or something; something you’d see the queen carrying in her royal portrait, not something that you’d find in half the gardens in the land, and certainly not something edible. He shortened it to Belle, meaning “beauty,” but my mother would call me Mirabelle in secret. I was too young to understand the implications; I just thought I had a nickname, but my mom liked the long version better.

But, getting back to the point, fireblood is hereditary. So, cute little me, with my auburn curls and dimples and controversial fruit name and the little yellow outfits my mother favored for me to match it; I had fireblood too.

A few years later, after the commotion surrounding Death Spinner’s questionable loyalties had died down, she began to slowly, secretly, take contracts, spending more and more time travelling, often taking me with her, with the excuse that she wanted me to be a well-traveled, independent woman when I grew up. Nobody would suspect the queen and the toddler princess were up to anything nefarious; perish the thought! For the most part, I’d stay at our lodgings while mum “made calls,” then she’d take me to see the sights, teach me about the history of the places we’d visit… as soon as I could read, I’d spend my time in the castle holed up in the library, fascinated by the endless tales of adventure and peril and heroism—just like the ones she’d tell me when we travelled.

Occasionally, she’d have no way of preventing me being near the danger, and she’d tell me to close my eyes, cover my ears, and sing to myself until she came to get me. I was a trusting child, and quickly developed the habit of doing that every time I was scared. However, even though I could sense the danger we were in during those times, I never felt the need to protect myself, because my mother was always protecting me. I’d sing myself lullabies and keep my eyes dutifully shut until my mother had washed her hands, hid the bodies, and told me it was all right to look again.

Eventually, my father discovered the truth about his wife. She tried to escape and take me with her, but he used all of his considerable royal resources to find us. I was seven years old, so even now I’m uncertain of whether he wanted to save me, or just stop her from sullying the image of the royal family. Maybe he felt guilty for accidentally harboring such a dangerous criminal. I don’t know. He never talks about her. What I do know is they caught up to us eventually, they killed my mother, and I missed her final moments, because I got scared, and did exactly what she taught me; tuned out the world, closed my eyes, and sang a song. By the time they coaxed me out of it, she was long dead, and I was on my way back to my father.

Few people who aren’t firebloods understand exactly what it means to be one. My father… he feared greatly that I was “infected with the same demonic poison as my mother,” so immediately upon my return, he sent for clerics and exorcists, anyone he thought could cleanse me of what her bloodline might have wrought in me. Funnily enough, as I said in the beginning, if he hadn’t done that, if I’d just grown up with my nose in a book, grieving a mother I lost too young, then perhaps I might have never manifested Lacey. But unfortunately, I wasn’t given that opportunity.

They were not gentle with me—the men my father brought from all corners of the land to try and drive the evil out of me. They subjected me to freezing cold water, they beat me, they spent long hours telling me what a horrible person my mother was, and making me repeat it. My father said he couldn’t bear to see me in pain, so I didn’t see him during that time. Once I understood and accepted that my mother was dead, I knew that no one was going to save me.

One day, I snapped. Of the eight men who tormented me, only two survived, and the dead were so thoroughly mangled it was nearly impossible to tell whose parts were whose. I have no memory of the event, but I remember what the bodies looked like afterwards. My father’s next cry for help went out to magic users, and the Blue Fairy explained to him that fireblood was a part of me, but it would only manifest when I was in danger. That meant he couldn’t get rid of it entirely, but he wouldn’t ever have to see it again as long as I remained safe and protected.

I spent the next ten years surrounded by walls and guards. I became betrothed to Gaston, who my father often reassured me would protect me, as he was the greatest hunter in the kingdom. His concern for me would have been touching—if I’d trusted that it was for my benefit. Nobody ever talked about what happened with my mother, and I blocked a lot of it out. However, I retained a strong and ever unfulfilled desire to travel the world and have adventures, and a vague idea that my father was not to be trusted.

When Rumpelstiltskin showed up, demanding me as the price for his help, I immediately agreed. If I was to spend my life as a prisoner, then it would be the prison of my choosing. At least this one didn’t involve a loveless marriage, and a family who saw me as nothing but a wild creature in need of taming.

Lacey was often near the surface as I was growing up, but she rarely had occasion to come out. However, while I lived with Rumple, she lay dormant and content, because not only was I in no danger from him, I learned quickly that he would protect me from harm. He was eccentric, had a lot of trouble being serious even when situations warranted it, and was on comfortable, intimate terms with his dark side. He often liked to pretend that his good side didn’t exist at all, but I knew better, and how could I not? Nothing is ever so simple as one person is a good guy and one person is a bad guy and everyone just plays their roles and that’s the end of things. I hated to see him sell himself so short, and in my quest to draw out his good side, I poked in a bit too far.

Instead of just trying to get to know him, I went and fell in love with him.

And while we’re on the subject, I don’t regret that for a moment.

The only time Lacey turned up during my time living with Rumple was when three witches kidnapped me. She slid in quietly, and was getting ready to hack her way out, when Rumple showed up, all rage and pride and pry-me-from-their-cold-dead-hands-if-need-be. The minute I saw him, I knew I was safe. Lacey wasn’t too happy about the part where we almost got squashed, but Rumpelstiltskin saved me, as I knew he would.

I should have told him, back then. At first, it was just the dark secret I had never had cause to tell anybody. Then, it became something that I hid because I was ashamed of it; Rumple saw me as this paragon of virtue—the special snowflake of humanity, the one who never stopped believing in him. No matter how much he might’ve denied it, I knew that he relied on that. I feared that if I admitted that I had a dark side, had that kind of dark side, then he wouldn’t believe I really saw good in him. He’d just think I was projecting; seeing what I wished to see. But I should have told him—I should have been brave enough, but I wasn’t. I was too scared of how he might see me differently.

I was scared that I’d have to admit aloud what Lacey—what I—had done.

And perhaps a little scared that he’d like Lacey better than me.

I never said a word about her.

He dangled the freedom I had craved my whole life in front of me, offering me the chance to walk away and never return, but also holding the possibility of letting me into his heart, of telling me about his son, of truly opening up to me for the first time. It’s true that I met Regina on the road and she brought up the true love’s kiss thing, but I can’t be certain how much influence she had over my actions that day. I’d been on the cusp of confessing my feelings for a long time, by then, and even if I had chosen to leave, I know in my heart I wouldn’t have been able to stay away very long.

In any case, I returned, I kissed him, the spell began to break, but he flew into a rage and rejected me, flinging me into the dungeon, and later telling me to leave the castle. I was in shock for so many reasons. Part of me was convinced that even if he did truly love me back, the kiss wouldn’t work, because there was something so wrong with me—my love was tainted, not to mention the whole resistant-to-magic bit.

Then there was the shock of his reaction. I did for him what I would give anything for someone to do to me, take away my darkness, make me human, and what does he say? He thinks I’m trying to take away his powers on the queen’s orders. The kiss was working, and that meant it was true love, but he didn’t care, he loved his power more than he loved me. And it didn’t work on me at all—not that I had very high hopes for it. I wasn’t under any sort of curse; I was born like this the good old fashioned way.

Lacey showed up about a week after I left the castle. I was emotionally extremely low, but I like to think I wouldn’t have harmed myself. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done anything else foolish without exactly taking my safety into account, though. Without a physical danger to fight, she took up drinking and dancing and beating strangers at cards. An entire personality formed to protect me from any and all danger has both a surprisingly good poker face and an impressive ability to sense when her opponents are bluffing. I never wanted for money, and when I would drift my way towards the harsh and unloving world, she would drink me back down into oblivion. For about two months, her control was a relief. I didn’t have to force myself to live, to go through the motions, because she took care of all of that while I had peace and stillness to grieve what was, and what never was.

Eventually she had to admit that she might be damaging my liver, and began to ease up. As she cut back on her drinking, I began to emerge bit by bit. There were a foggy few weeks where the lines between us were blurred, and I would slip back and forth in the middle of a conversation. As I regained my strength, Lacey’s friends began to drift away, while I made some of my own—a dwarf, a warrior maiden and a prince among them.

I began to feel whole again, and I decided to go back and confront Rumpelstiltskin. I still loved him, but being Lacey for so long gave me perspective. I did say that fireblood personalities were intelligent, didn’t I? She reasoned that no one could love a thing—even a power—more than their true love. That was the point of true love. People who loved themselves more than absolutely anyone simply don’t wind up in true love. That meant that whatever was going on with Rumple that he didn’t want to give up for me, it wasn’t about the magic. It was about someone. It only took me one guess to figure out that he probably needed magic to regain his lost son. Once I got my head back on straight, I decided to return to him and offer him my help. He didn’t have to choose between us—and what sort of monster would force him to choose between his child and his true love? I was a fuillisang; there had to be some way I could help. Then after father and son were reunited, I could break his curse, and we could all live happily ever after.

The evil queen captured me about thirty minutes after I began to make my way back towards Rumple’s castle. So much for idealism.

Lacey was exhausted—and, honestly, had worked up quite a debilitating alcohol addiction—from her long stint as the primary force in our shared consciousness. Her first escape attempt was sloppy, which alerted the queen to exactly what sort of monster she was dealing with. (Also the bit where she tried to rip the queen’s jugular out with her teeth might’ve been a bit of a giveaway.) Unfortunately, the woman was quite the diabolical one, and knew all manner of ways to ensure I wouldn’t be able to leave her dungeon. My memories of the last few years before the curse are extremely foggy as a result; Lacey was out for probably nine tenths of the time.

When the curse hit, there was only so much it could do to me—one of the few perks of being a fireblood. Instead of giving me a new personality, it simply pushed me and all my memories down to the darkest, quietest corner of my mind and barricaded us in. All that was left of me was Lacey, who was institutionalized for general safety almost immediately. For twenty-eight years, she was confined in a padded cell, four paces across and three deep. I was consigned to oblivion during that time, and even now, I’m barely even aware that it happened. I don’t know if that’s a result of the curse trying to affect me through the fireblood’s protection, or just because there was so little to remember. I was heavily sedated during that time—how else were they going to keep something like me confined, after all—so even Lacey’s edge dulled down to almost nothing. She, a shade of me, became a shade of herself.

By the time the stranger broke in to set us free, telling us to go find Mr. Gold, Lacey was a wreck, so weakened and exhausted from the drugs and the three decades of solitary confinement that it was all she could do to stumble out and ask a passerby for directions. Gold’s joy and desperate relief didn’t even compute for her, but he said he’d protect us, and that was enough. Lacey stumbled after him until the curse broke and she was able to collapse into the back of my mind and let me reunite with Rumple.

As I sit here writing this, a part of me hopes he’s doing something Dark-One-ish and magically reading this over my shoulder so that I won’t have to have this conversation out loud. But at the same time, I don’t know if I want him to know everything right away—if there are parts I’ll decide in real time that I’d rather keep to myself. It’s been a week since the curse broke, and I get the feeling he’s brewing something up to deal with Regina, totally going against his promise to me to leave her alone. I want to confront him and talk about it, but I also feel like, who am I to tell him not to go after her? If Lacey was still in control when the drugs left my system, she would have been absolutely game for whatever form of retribution he had in mind.

I don’t know my own mind, and I’m with someone who has just as much trouble with the whole moral compass thing. I don’t know how to support him, I don’t know what I need from him to support me… I love him with all my heart and soul—even Lacey was relieved when she saw him, and that’s saying something—but I don’t know what will happen to our relationship if we can’t be honest with each other.

I am so, so afraid.

Further Notes:

+The twist? Belle didn’t create Lacey. Lacey (Mirabelle) created “Belle,” because she couldn’t handle the idea that all of her mother’s attempts to protect both her body and her innocence had gone completely to waste in the end. Belle exists to protect her mother’s final wish, because she fundamentally changed that day.

+When Moe and Smee send her in the mining cart, Lacey takes over and knocks over the cart, dislocating her shoulder in the process. She then picks the lock on the cuffs with a hairpin, and returns, screaming obscenities at Moe, about how this had nothing to do with Rumple, it was just that he was scared she’d turn out like her mum, and he cared so little for her that he was willing to destroy her, take away everything about her, in the hopes of hitting the reset button and recreating her more to his liking. Rumple hears that, but doesn’t pry into her history just yet.

+After that ^^ when Belle and Rumple want to address the fight they had about Rumple hiding his magic, Belle moves out. She says that she loves him and wants to be with him, but the fact is that they went straight from “no, we’re definitely not in a relationship, absolutely not,” to “I haven’t seen you in thirty years, I miss you, I love you, let’s share a house.” They never did the part where they learned to communicate, learned to solve problems, and now Belle is paranoid and Rumple is doing magic in the basement and neither of them has a clue what to do about it. She assures him she’s not breaking up with him—in fact she simply loves him too much to let their relationship implode because they jumped in too hard too soon.

+They date like normal people, and communicate better, but Belle still hasn’t told him about Lacey. Then she gets attacked by Hook and fights him off. He runs, and she realizes that she MUST tell Rumpelstiltskin about her alter ego, now, before she comes out and introduces herself in the worst way possible. But before she can tell him, he realizes the shawl is missing. They go after it as they do in the show, but this time, Belle knows that Hook can’t kill her because Lacey is there to fight him off. When Rumple starts beating him up with the cane, she eventually interferes physically, putting a hand on his upraised arm.

+Rumple wants so much to leave and find his son, and she selfishly fears he won’t come back if she tells him what she is, so Belle doesn’t bring it up, just says that when he gets back, she has something to tell him, but it’s too long a story for right now. She comes with him to test the shawl, Hook shoots her across the line, but this time, Rumple can’t heal her, because she defaulted to Lacey, who is resistant to magic. They rush her to the hospital, he’s following in a panic because he doesn’t know what she remembers or why he couldn’t get the bullet out of her shoulder, but Lacey manages to slip out of the ambulance while it’s driving. She gets the bullet out, and her healing factor kicks in to stop the bleeding—she’ll be fine by tomorrow night. Belle has been pushed down even further than during the curse, so even though there’s nothing holding her there now, it’s going to be harder and harder to find her.

+Lacey is terrified that Belle might be gone forever, so she goes to find Regina, following the prickly feeling of the magic in the town to its origin. She demands to know how the border works, so she can figure out what it did to Belle. Cora shows up pretending to be Henry, but of course Lacey can see through that and immediately gives her away.

+Lacey steals the dagger to keep it safe from Cora and Regina? She knows that Gold is the only magician in town who will always try to help her get Belle back, so she wants to ensure that he’s protected. Her presence masks its magical signature, so they’re on a wild goose chase. Consequently, Johanna doesn’t die.

+Lacey spews out all the reasons she hates Gold—basically every way he’s failed Belle—to hurt him so that Belle will be forced to come back to protect him (Bad Guy Way)

+Rumple remembers vaguely that between long, loud crying sessions, she’d sometimes sung to herself while in his dungeon.

#Beth's New Year's Cleaning Queue #free to a good home #Any and all parts available for general use with credit #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic ideas #ouat #Once Upon a Time #Ouat fanfic #writing #writing prompt #rumplestiltskin #Belle

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