#not until lance wears the look for a week straight

[skylarmoon71]

Lance Sweets (Bones) - Crossover AU - Chapter 3

“Dr. (L/N), you have a visitor.”

“Send them in.” You call absentmindedly.

The person was guided inside and you intended to address them right after you’d finished filing for the most recent item you were about to put in the archive.

“Good morning, I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just got one of each donut.”

The voice caught you off guard and you placed the item down, spinning around. Sweets was holding a box of donuts, a broad smile on his face. He moved over placing it on the desk.

“I’m not trying to interfere with your work, so I’ll get out of your hair. See you at lunch.”

You were gaping at him as if he’d sprouted an extra head. He just wore a proud smile, strutting out of your office. For a moment you just stood there, unsure of what just happened. You were positive that you’d literally threatened the man to never come within a hundred feet of you. Much less show up at your office with a treat.

Your eyes directed at the box and you clenched your jaw. You really wanted to set the damn thing on fire. But you didn’t need the hassle of a fire drill right now.

So you carried on with your day as if nothing happened. Maybe it was a fluke. He was testing the waters.

Testing you.

You weren’t gonna fold.

When lunch rolled around you were careful to leave the office. Usually you have lunch there because you always seem to get lost in your work. Yet, since the encounter you haven’t had much luck focusing on your work.

You settled for the diner close by. Your hope is that the meal will distract you long enough to figure out his angle. Picking at your fries, you sigh heavily.

“What a coincidence.”

You jolt, turning at the voice.

Sweets took a seat opposite you.

“I was stopping by to bring lunch to you, but this works too.”

He was wearing a smile, and you clenched your fist on the table.

“What are you playing at?”

“Despite what you might think, I’m not here to cause you harm. I just want to be your friend. From your reactions it’s clear that you don’t have many that you truly trust with anything. You’re accomplished but you have no ties. You were adopted as a teen. You’ve lived in Washington all your life.”

You can’t believe it, he did a background check.

If you even didn’t trust him before that’s amplified now.

“You’re not exactly selling yourself as a comrade. I don’t need friends. I’m warning you.”

“I believe everyone needs friends. Humans strive for social interaction Unless you’re not human.”

He caught the slight tenseness in your shoulders.

“Interesting. Well I suppose we’ll be getting closer. I have to get back. This was a nice talk.”

He stood, and despite the purely venomous look, he was still smiling straight until the point that he exited.

“I’m going punch a hole in his stupid face.”

He’d definitely gotten under your skin.

Those little meetings went on for a while.

He’d pop up at the craziest times with a smile and lunch. Then he’d start chatting like you’d been buddies all your life. You couldn’t figure out his game, or why he wasn’t running like a headless chicken away from you.

A week of the strange behavior and you finally decided to confront him. You had meant to do it privately, but he was just sitting there chatting with Booth and Brennan as you held the documents in your hand that you needed Camille to sign before she left. The second he saw you, he smiled, waving you over and your anger increased.

“Hey, join us for dinner. We were about to head out for a meal.”

Angela and Hodgins walked over, and it became clear that this was a friendly gathering. One you had no interest in joining.

“No thanks, I just need a signature.”

Camille understood.

“Oh, let me grab a pen.”

Brennan’s office was closest, she did a little shuffle, grabbing a pen off the desk as she moved back over, taking the files from your hands.

“So what are we having tonight?” Hodgins asked.

“I don’t know, we should let (Y/N) pick since it’s her first time with us.” Sweets suggested.

Camille clicked the pen, handing you the clipboard back.

“Here you go, so what are we feeling for tonight? Any suggestions?” She inquired.

Sweets sent a smile your way. You gripped the papers, trying to stay neutral. You didn’t want to lose your temper, but this felt like a game. Sweets must have been messing with you.

“My new friend has the call.” Sweets informed.

That comment made you snap.

“I’M NOT YOUR FRIEND!!”

The entire space went quiet after your yell. Your glare was fixated on Sweets.

“You’re nothing to me, we aren’t friends, do you understand that!! Your entire existence is insignificant to me!!”

It was cruel to say that, but you hated this. Being toyed with. Like you were some puppet for him to pull. He knew your secret and he was dangling it in front of your face. It was a declaration that he could out you at any time. At any point you could become some experiment because he knew about your weakness. He must have figured it out by now. This must have been his play.

Nothing else made sense to you.

“Alright, let’s all take a breath.”

Booth moved between the both of you, and you stepped back. You were furious. When you finally got yourself to calm down, you could see it, the judgment they wore. It was normal. You’d ripped into their friend for what seemed like no reason. To them, you must look like a complete bitch because all he’d been offering was company.

Huffing, you lower your head.

“I’m sorry. Please excuse me.”

Just like that you were turning to leave.

Saddened looks were exchanged before they decided to leave. They expected Sweets to follow them, but he sent a smile, shaking his head.

“I’ll have a word with her.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? It’s pretty obvious she prefers her own company. It’s possibly the reason behind her outburst. Your attempt for inclusion backed her into a corner.” Brennan’s words caused Booth to sigh.

“Bones, times like this are when you say good luck, you got this.”

“Oh, well good luck. You got this.”

Her usual flat tone caused the rest of them to stifle their laughs.

Sweets followed you all the way up to your office. When he knocked on the door and entered, he could see the anger in your gaze, doubled with fear. He closed the door, ready to plead his case.

“Listen-”

“Is this some kind of game!! Do you think it’s funny to toy with me! You have no idea how difficult this is. What right do you have to do this? I haven’t done anything wrong. Don’t you think that I would much prefer to be on my planet with my own people! I have no one left of my kind and now you’re holding my faith in your hands!”

He hadn’t truly understood the seriousness of the situation until he saw the tears. He thought that if he came off as a friend, it would help you to be more relaxed around him. He realizes now that the tactic must have felt like a mock.

A way to control you.

“I’m alone in this world..I have..no one..”

You were sobbing, and he moved closer. With your defenses weakened, you seem a lot less like you were going to punch a hole through his body. Your shaky gaze looked up, and it broke his heart to see that look again. That fear, just like when you were in that bedroom bleeding out on the floor. You were terrified that he would tell someone. This whole time you were scared.

“I’ll never tell anyone your secret. I’d sooner die. You saved me and I owe you my life. I’m not trying to hurt you. I just want to be your friend.”

His words sound sincere and when he reaches out, it’s hesitant. He places it on your shoulder, and to his surprise, you don’t flinch or pull away. He takes one more step, pulling you to his chest.

At that very moment, it seems like the right thing to do.

Apparently it was, because slowly, you hug him back. 

[autisticlancemcclain]

Hey Baby (I Think I Wanna Marry You)

Keith/Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Fluff and Humour, 893 Words

Summary: Keith and Lance are impulsive and ridiculous. Hunk is Tired of them.

---

Sometimes Keith just… says things. Just whatever half-formed thought is on his mind. Which is why Hunk doesn’t bat an eye when Keith straightens abruptly from his position on the couch (where he has been glaring thoughtfully at the ceiling for forty straight minutes), knocking Lance’s legs from his lap. He squints at the man in question, and says: “Hey. Lance. Marry me.”

See? Sometimes Keith just says whatever. They aren’t even dating. Hunk knows this because Lance complains about it regularly (Hunk pretends to hate it, but, y’know. Drama is drama and he eats it up every time).

Lance doesn’t even glance up from his book, snorting. “Do you have a ring with you?”

“…No.”

“A location? A date?”

“No.”

“Get those details figured out, and get back to me.”

And just like that, the bit is over. Lance and Keith, being their weird, incomprehensible selves. They’re so caught up in each other that occasionally they just speak in one-word references; it drives everyone else insane. Have you ever watched two people so on the same wavelength that they just hum at each other in different tones and they have a whole-ass, real conversation? It’s beyond infuriating. It might even make you, during a meal where they are having said annoying conversation, lift your fork in front of the duo in question, pretending they’re in jail. For your own damn peace of mind.

But anyway. Keith and Lance tend to be in their own world, and Keith especially loves to just Say Things that make sense to Lance and Lance only. Ergo Hunk dismissed the actual, literal proposal as some weird inside joke between the two of them. So you can imagine Hunk’s surprise when, a week later, he’s minding his business, eating his dinner, when he notices something shiny on Lance’s fourth finger. His eyes widen, and he glances over to Keith, and — yep. Matching golden rings.

“Ahh??” he yells, pointing at their hands. His yell draws the attention of the rest of the team, who notice the rings and gasp.

“What the fuck are those,” Pidge demands.

Keith glances down at his hands, looking back up at them with his brow furrowed. “Wedding… rings…?”

Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose, giving Keith a Look. “She knows what they are, Keith. She’s asking why you and Lance are wearing them. We are all asking, actually. What the fuck.”

“Cause we got married,” Lance supplies, looking at them like they’re dumb. “Obviously.”

“I didn’t know you were courting,” Allura says.

“We weren’t.”

“So… why are you wed?”

Now Keith is the one looking at them weird. “Y’all were there when I proposed,” he says slowly.

“I thought you were doing a bit!” Hunk cries.

Keith blinks. “I’d never joke about marrying Lance. I’m in love with him.” Lance presses a kiss to his cheek, making a cheesy ‘mwah!’ sound.

“Love you too, babe!” he chirps.

“I thought humans tended to have a ‘dating’ period before marriage,” Allura asks again, still confused.

“They usually do,” Pidge mutters.

Keith shrugs. “No point. I love him, I know him, I’m gonna love him until I die. Why bother waiting?”

“Mhm,” Lance agrees. “Plus, he asked nicely. And we went and got me a ring when I asked.”

“Okay,” Shiro sighs tiredly. “I guess.”

Hunk can’t quite get over it so quickly. “Lance,” he says, staring at his friends with wide eyes, “your mamá is gonna kill you.”

That, finally, seems to make a difference. Lance freezes, sending a panicked look to his — his fucking husband, Jesus Christ.

“Maybe she’ll be so happy to see me that she’ll forgive me immediately?” Lance tries.

Hunk snorts, feeling vindicated. “Unlikely. That’ll teach you to run off and get eloped just because your impulsive-ass husband decided to marry you one random Wednesday.”

“It wasn’t impulsive!” Keith defends. “I’ve been thinking about Lance forever! Once I decided to go for it, I asked!”

“It was definitely a little impulsive. You didn’t even have a ring or anything,” Pidge points out.

Keith falters, and Lance smiles into his cup.

“Okay, true, but that’s what I have Lance for! He reminded me and we got them and boom. Problem solved.”

Hunk opens his mouth to argue further, but stops himself. Yes, it was sudden. No, it doesn’t really make much sense. Yes, these two idiots are codependent to the enth degree. But…

They are happy.

“I’m not playing marriage therapist,” Hunk says instead of you two are batshit insane and perfect for each other because of it. “Also, if I hear even one decibel of honeymoon sex, I will set your room on fire with you in it.”

Everyone makes a face at the insinuation, except for the newlyweds, who wear identical smirks. Because of course they do.

“I mean it,” Hunk warns, but he can’t quite keep the glare on his face.

After all — his best friends just got married. Sudden or not — he’s happy for them.

(He hears the fucking honeymoon sex. Because of course he does. But he and Pidge mess with their bed so that it folds in half and traps them in it if they get past a certain noise level, and Shiro laughs so hard he forgets to lecture them about it, so. He feels like maybe he wins that round.)

part two

[ceciliasthings]

Eugene Week 3

<3 Stephanie/ Max<3

( I had forgotten how boring Wednesdays are 😑 I'm doing this in my chemistry class )

• As many of you may know Stephanie in the series is actually Max,But in the comics she is called Stephanie and continues to be called Stephanie until the end.•

• in the series She works as secretary to Pamela Milton, but in the comics it is not revealed what she worked on before meeting Eugene (I think she worked at the radio station or with Lance)

• They changed her appearance a little in the series but kept her ethnicity, in the comics she is a chubby girl and wears a wig because it's hard to keep the curly hair in the apocalypse, But in the series she is a thin girl with straight hair.•

• Both are very kind and care about Eugene, both are also smart, one parallel I noticed was that they both failed to speak to Eugene at first, In the comics Lance didn't let her talk to Eugene properly and even threatened to take her out of the job she was in and in the series, She couldn't talk to eugene because she didn't speak her real name and when she saw him with the fake Stephanie she thought he had moved on..but that wasn't it Lance had tricked Eugene with a fake Stephanie but this is only revealed in episode 11x11/11x12

• How did she meet Eugene?•

• Both in the series and in the comics they met on the radio, with the only difference being that in the series they sing an iron maiden song but in the comics that doesn't happen •

• In the comics, Eugene is also sad and hopeless because Rosita had died pregnant on the stakes and he was practically without ground.•

• While in the series he was sad because Rosita had rejected him and he moved to the hilltop but was feeling very lonely, however when he met Stephanie (Max) He was happy to have met a girl who is interested in what he says.•

• Difference between series and HQ.

° In the comics Eugene knows that Stephanie is Stephanie, he's not tricked or anything like that. as soon as he arrives in the city of communhealth she calls for him and he goes towards her but before they talk They are interrupted by Lance, But when Eugene and the others talk to Pamela and she says they can stay in town, he and Stephanie spend time together, But it's still just a friendship until the day they go to what looks like a train track and Stephanie kisses him, and in the next chapter he's in her apartment,Stephanie doesn't participate much in the rebellion, nor is Eugene very active in the rebellion.But when Rick takes power gives commonwealth and has the time advance shows that Stephanie has died (probably of old age) and that Eugene is alive and is bringing the industrial age to communities.°

° In the series he is tricked by Lance and a little bit by Max, she lied about her name because at first she didn't trust Eugene so much and she was afraid of getting caught and it would affect her work,And her brother's work, something that's in the series and not in the comics, she's Mercer's younger sister,Before it was revealed that she is the real "Stephanie" many fans were already speculating because of her appearance and the way she looked at Eugene when she saw him near the ice cream truck,In the series their relationship is like in the comics but some scenes were changed like their first kiss while in the series eugene comforts her in the comic she takes the initiative and kisses him, The only scene that is similar is the apartment scene, from what has shown in the series so far they are very active in the rebellion so much so that Eugene asks Max to steal Pamela's files and this can probably cause problems, But as the series is not over yet, I don't know if they will get some scenes from the comics or what will happen , but I hope then adapt the scene Of the walkers surrounding the train.

• sorry if this post is short is that they showed little of her and her relationship with eugene in the series , who know, when the final episodes of TWD are released I edit this post •

[pretty-setter-bois]

cute

request; The paladins headcanon reaction to started dating their crush and it’s been like 2 weeks and maybe like they’re both just doing something together and s/o with the straightest face ever says: “oh my god… you’re so cute…”?

summary; fluffy shenanigans with the paladins of voltron.

word count; 822™

warnings; none.

SHIRO

shiro is a very straight forward man

but there are times where he may lose his composure

so when you accepted his proposal (to date) he was the happiest man alive

he was still getting used to calling you his and enjoying your company

so during the times that he’d review battle plans

you’d join and help

and this one time you were helping him with the notes

you recommended he take a break after working for so long

when he comes back, he finds all the work done

even a cute little note heh

‘don’t over work yourself <3’

he had a little blush on his face

and it was one of those moment where he realized you were dating

and he just

squeezed the life out of you

‘thank you’

‘what for?’

‘for being you, for being mine’

KEITH

literally the ceo of antisocial

let’s be real here, you probably asked him out

he got all flustered (like the red lion flustered) and almost said no

lance was def in the back yelling something like ‘say yes, idiot!’

anyways, theres two things he’s overprotective over.

one: you

two: his belongings

one time he was training

and you being you, took the chance to come and see him

he didn’t notice you when you came in, so you sat on the bench to wait

you wear his jacket

he finished training after a while

he catches a glimpse of you in his jacket

at first he’s confused

he’s sure you must have bought another one to match his

but then he goes to grab his

it’s gone

he looks at you

you look at him

‘is that… my jacket?’

‘oh, uh, yeah. i was waiting for you, and i don’t know why i wore it, but i’ll give it back.’

you begin to take it off and he stops you

‘n-no. keep it.’

he even zips it up to your chin, and you look even cuter than before

you look up at him, confused

‘cute. i-i mean, y-you. you’re… cute.’

LANCE

we all know resident lover boy has tried every trick in the book to get you to date him

every trick

but every time, something had to go wrong

or you wouldn’t understand

so when you asked him out, he had to back track a little

‘w-wait, really? y-you, want to date… m-me?’

long story short he began to run around the castle on pure adrenaline but got lost and got tired

anyway, lance sometimes forgets you’re dating — or it seems too good to be true

and he just can’t get used to your cute little gestures

one time, when coran had dragged him off to help him clean the cryopods, you offered to come with

coran said he was going to get more cleaning supplies, and left you two

you began to clean — to which lance payed no mind — and somehow got your towel stuck above the cryopod

so, you nervously approach lance

tug on his sleeve (and your hand stays there)

and mumble something about your towel

although you can’t see his face, he’s blushing because he can’t believe how cute you are

he hands you the towel, and you shyly thank him

‘c-cute!’

‘um… huh?’

‘you, you’re really… cute.’

‘oh. thanks.’

and then you smile

and lance isn’t sure how to keep it together

HUNK

ahh

i feel like he would worship the land you walk on if you dated

he gets such an ego boost once he remembers that you’re dating

‘yes, my s/o is that absolutely good-looking person over there. need anything?’

he’s very respectful of boundaries though, and won’t hesitate to try and make you feel better if you’re feeling down

he’d find everything you do cute, to be honest

his reaction would always be the same,

bear hug

wide smile

‘you’re so cute!’

and it would instantly make you feel better :)

PIDGE

she’s not very romantic

it’s always slipped her mind, really

until it came to you

it felt like you were the first person that understood her, besides matt

you would always find her in her lab

help her out with experiments

and you soon began dating

anyway, you were helping her out in her lab again one day

and she said she had to grab something from coran

and left you

you decided to try and understand her experiments

so you looked at the open books and beakers and her laptop

you end up getting what she needed to finish it, and did it for her

she comes back, defeated because coran didn’t have what she needed

you show her the experiment

she instantly perks up

‘you… finished the experiment?’

‘well, of course.’

‘you… you’re… cute.’

‘oh… thanks. you too.’

awkward mess of a tech whiz and science nerd

[shatterinseconds]

hug

Julance ‘21 day 19

Lance grabs Keith’s face in his hands, to hold him steady, to make sure he doesn’t try to run. His bangs are matted to his face from sweat and dirt; too many scrapes are scattered across his skin. He limps with a sprained ankle, though they’re standing still for now, and while it’s covered, Lance knows there must be a smattering of dark bruises forming on Keith’s back from when he was thrown into a wall. After pushing Lance out of the way.

Keith should feel lucky his spine didn’t snap.

The rest of their team graciously decided to give them the space they needed, having seen the fury in Lance’s eyes. And the way his jaw tightened as he constantly watched Keith and held onto him tight the entire trip back to the castle.

Maybe Lance should save the discussion for when Keith’s healed, a little more stable on his feet, but if he holds it in any longer, he’ll burst.

Lance wipes a bit of dirt off Keith’s cheek before he finally speaks. His voice is low even though they’re the only ones in the hangar. “Don’t do that to me. You give me a heart attack every time.”

“You don’t control me,” Keith says, voice rough. His mouth pinches as he shifts his body to stand more soundly on his good foot.

“I also don’t ask you to sacrifice yourself for me. I was handling it.”

“They were going to kill you!”

“You could have died too!” Lance practically yells. His hands wrap in Keith’s hair, bringing him forward until their foreheads touch. “I--I can’t have you dying for me.”

“And I don’t want you to die,” Keith says softly, eyes closed now. His breathing is a little more even.

Lance huffs out a short, humorless laugh. “Checkmate, I guess.”

Keith sighs, shaking his head. “What do you want me to say, Lance? That I’m fine with watching the person I love die or get seriously injured when I could’ve prevented it?”

Mouth parting to argue, Lance quickly thinks better of it and concedes. “No, and I would be such a hypocrite if I said anything else.”  

Keith stares at him for a long moment before moving in to hug him. Hands splayed on Lance’s back, his warmth spreads throughout Lance’s body even with all their armor on, and Lance’s breath catches for a moment in surprise. Keith ducks his head into the crook of Lance’s neck, his breath dancing across Lance’s skin.

“I’m not sorry I pushed you out of the way,” Keith begins honestly after a moment. “I’ll never be sorry for saving you. No matter how injured it gets me, even if it causes me my life. But I know how you feel because I get the same way when the situation is reversed. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“The problem,” Lance mumbles into Keith’s hair. Even though they’ve just been through a battle, Lance can still detect the faint scent of his shampoo. It calms him. “Is that we’re both self-sacrificing idiots. One of us needs to be more selfish.” 

Lance’s heart stutters when he feels Keith’s laugh against his skin, and a soft smile appears on his face, though Keith can’t see it. That feels good.

Stepping back, Keith holds out his pinky. “How about a promise to be more careful in battle instead.”

It’s a flaky promise to make, Lance knows--and he sure Keith does too--but it provides some baseline foundation now. It may break in a week, a month, a year. In some battle where Keith--or anyone on their team--is about to die and Lance jumps this time. Lance isn’t stupid. War is unpredictable and violent. He knows he won’t always be able to protect Keith just as Keith may not be able to protect him. But Lance will take the time he has now, be grateful for all the battles they walk away from. Because no matter what happens or what injuries they may obtain, those are the real victories. 

And if Lance can’t handle it, then he shouldn’t have allowed himself to fall in love with someone in the middle of a war. 

Lance hooks his pinky with Keith’s. “Promise,” he says, looking straight in his eyes. “Now, let’s get you to a healing pod.”

Keith smiles, but Lance can tell it’s pained--the painkillers Coran administered must be wearing off now. “Yeah, that would be great.” Keith drapes an arm over Lance’s shoulder, heavily leaning against him for support, and Lance wraps an arm around his waist. It’s a slow walk to the med-bay, but they make it. 

They’re both scarred and a little bent but not broken. They survived today and that is something to celebrate.

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 9

So, here's the last chapter for now. I hope I can introduce you to the next one fairly quickly, but it's still being written. Hoping you liked those already released and see you soon for chapter 10 🐉

(Link for Chapter 10 here)

Chapter 9 : I've always been used to only showing my human form

My footsteps echoed in the silent of the Guards' Corridor. I had just left Lance's room and it was with a much lighter heart than when I entered that I walked away. The distant rumor of the happy conversations had finally died down, leaving me wondering how long I had been able to spend with the dragon.

Finally, I didn’t regret my impromptu visit. Even if our understanding remained fragile and our points of convergence continued to darken the picture, his presence had nevertheless proved, in many respects, more beneficial than harmful. So, to my surprise, I never believed that one day I would come to beg for his patience to relieve my ailments.

Unlike the last time, it was with a feeling of euphoria that I could feel the magic continue to flow through me. Not as vigorously as when I awakened my powers, but undoubtedly, its power had slowly returned to pulsating in my veins. When I wiggled my fingers, I could still feel bits of heat run through my muscles. And the strangest thing about it was that instead of wearing me out, this power rush seemed to invigorate me.

For the first time in weeks, I felt good.

Looking up, I noticed that a small figure was wandering right in front of me. In the half-light of the corridor, I narrowed my eyes to try to make out her more clearly. When she passed in front of one of the windows, the moonlight let me see the face of a little girl with long, light hair. Not seeming to notice my presence, she continued to wander until she reached the entrance to the Crystal Room, right next to me. When the girl finally reached my height, I was surprised to find myself overcome by a familiar feeling.

Did I know this child ?

The young girl finally entered the room without a glance in my direction. Intrigued and attracted by her aura, I decided to follow suit.

I entered in my turn cautiously and almost immediately, a feeling of serenity had seized my heart when my gaze rested on the immense Crystal enthroned religiously in the center of the large room. On the doorstep, I was dumbfounded for a moment.

Strangely enough, I had not been back here since waking up. Truth be told, I had even avoided that room in which I had spent far too much of my life.

However, I didn’t know for what reason.

Bathed in a soft light, the Crystal seemed so imposing to me that I could not look away for several seconds. Without realizing it, my steps slowly led me to it, my hand timidly extended in front of me. As my fingers approached the smooth surface of its barrier, I felt the warm energy of my powers unleashed down my arm to the palm of my palm. Kinds of tingling covered me almost entirely and it’s the shortness of breath that I felt one of my fingers cross the protection which surrounded the luminescent crystals.

- Andraste ?

I jumped even more at the hearing of the voice that echoed behind my back. As if caught in the act, I quickly withdrew my hand and turned to my interlocutor.

It was his long blonde hair that I noticed first.

- Leiftan, what are you doing here ?

How had I managed not to realize his presence ? Since the big battle, aengel and I were connected. Whenever he stood next to me, I got to feel his emotions as if they were mine, and probably the other way around.

- I'll turn the question back to you, he said to me, his face marked by a certain curiosity. I couldn't get to sleep. When I left my room, I saw you come out of one of them and lead you here.

He marked a silence full of innuendo before adding, in a much colder tone :

- From Lance's, it seems to me.

I tensed at hearing his last sentence. A dull anger seized for a short moment in my heart and it took me a few seconds to realize that it was not mine.

- Yes, I just needed to clear some things up with him.

- At this time of night ?

I had the impression of undergoing the interrogation of a jealous lover, except that it did not concern him.

- I have no further explanation for you, Leiftan.

The latter didn't answer anything and just probed my face.

I had seen him very little lately. The aengel seemed to do his utmost to flee any presence and to keep away from all responsibility. I had already tried to ask him to train me, especially about my powers because until now, he had been the only one who could help me, but he had each time declined my requests.

- Good. But I reiterate, what are you doing here in the middle of the night ?

His anger had subsided, I only felt a great calm accompanied by a touch of curiosity. But his question brought me back to reality.

Where had the little girl gone ?

I realized that I had not seen her since I entered the room.

- I saw a child come in here, I said, hesitating to continue. There was something strange about her.

- Can you explain to me ?

I was a little confused on how to phrase it. How do I tell him that his aura attracted me ?

- She reminded me of... the Oracle, I finally let go.

His eyes widened slightly at what I was advancing, but he quickly regained his composure.

- I think I know who you're talking about.

- Really ? I exclaimed, in my turn surprised.

- Yes, Huang Hua reported to me the presence of a child in the HQ that nobody knows anything about. She does not speak, but some people have speculated that there is a connection between her and the Oracle.

I couldn't believe my ears. This little one has something to do with the Oracle ?

- I have for my part never crossed, I can tell you nothing more.

- Do you know how long she's been at HQ ?

He knew very well where I was going with this.

- It seems to me that she was noticed for the first time shortly before our return, he announced to me, his face serious.

Leiftan and I pondered his words. Our awakening was clearly not trivial, something strange was manifesting itself on Eldarya and I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.

- I'll leave you, it's getting late and I think you might be better off doing the same.

He walked towards the hallway door and added quietly :

- Good night, Andraste.

Giving me one last look filled with infinite sadness, he finally left the room.

- Good night, Leiftan, I answered weakly.

*

Two days passed following these two unexpected interviews and the guard finally charged me with a few simple missions which occupied my days. My visit to the dragon chamber had really been fruitful, because since our discovery on the possible communion of our powers, I had the impression that mine had never really left me. I had thus discovered that I was again able to send a faint light from my hands, even in the absence of Lance, which gave me incredible surges of energy. I was finally starting not to tire myself at the slightest effort, even if I continued to perceive anomalies in my physical state, which did not prevent my mood from being markedly improved.

Having joined the Obsidian Guard, I had therefore started to perform the few requests that I was able to do as long as there was no specific mission to perform. I walked through the forge when I heard a voice that I recognized immediately.

My heart was racing against my will.

- We're going to need enough materials to consolidate these weapons. It will also be necessary to train new recruits and see their level in combat. I don't have time to train everyone, but I trust you to give me your feedback.

Without being noticed, I walked over to a shelf and put down what I had just bought at the market. Trying to concentrate on my task, I couldn't help but strain my ears.

- No worries boss, you know you can count on me. I already have some reports for you.

- Very good. Thanks Falco, it's a great job.

The young man by the name of Falco put a solemn fist on his heart and bowed slightly before stepping out of the forge. I was speechless. It was the first time that I had seen Lance as the leader of the guard and I had to admit that he seemed made for it. His naturally bossy tone commanded respect, and I was troubled to see the trust and admiration his subordinates seemed to have in him.

Pretending not to have noticed it, I bustled about my task and listed the effects I had just bought before putting them away in each compartment. After that, I gathered the things I needed to be able to complete my missions for the day and get out of here. But to my chagrin, one of the items on the list was at the top of one of the shelves. Huffing in annoyance, I reached out as far as I could but only managed to touch the end of the object. I was about to give up the idea when an arm appeared in my sight and effortlessly grabbed the mesh I needed. Standing behind me, I didn't have to see him to know who he was, though.

The tanned hand of the leader of the Obsidian patiently handed the object to me.

Turning my head, I fell on a bluish gaze plunged into mine. I grabbed the object not avoiding the trouble, I was going to succeed in catching it.

- Thank you, but it was not worth it, I was going to manage to catch it.

A carnivorous smile stretched his features.

- Yet I thought I understood the reverse.

- It must be because of your chivalrous soul, you can't help but rescue a young girl in distress.

Lance gave a deep laugh that echoed close to my ear. He then pretended to look for a parchment in front of me and very quickly, I found myself stuck in the space of his arms. The rest of his words echoed even closer.

- It's true, but I think it's only in your presence, that.

He wasn't looking at me as he said those words, focused on a point straight in front of him. I remained frozen in place, I was far too aware of his proximity all around me to dare a movement.

- And so, you felt compelled to help me? It's funny, I knew you rather inclined to serve me more than anything else.

I felt the dragon smile behind my back.

- You're not wrong. But didn't you already tell you that I had changed ?

- Yes. And far too many times for my taste, if you want to know.

His laughter echoed between us once again and I couldn't help but smile too. He eventually found the parchment he was looking for and finally withdrew his arms, allowing me to finally resume my normal breathing.

- You are free tonight ? he asked me as if nothing had happened.

In response, I gave him a dumbfounded look that amused him once again. He was definitely in a good mood today.

- It seems to me that you asked me for help with a certain thing and that I suggest you do that tonight.

*

With a lump in my stomach, I found myself knocking on Lance's bedroom door again at a late hour, preferring to avoid the busy times in the hallway so as not to be surprised. This time, the dragon opened me much faster and moreover, he had taken care to keep some of his armor while still being more comfortable. Without a word, he let me in as if the gesture had already become a habit, and closed behind my back just as eloquently. He moved away from the clapper and briskly walked around me to remove his gloves and place them on his desk.

He seemed to ignore me completely. I waited several seconds but he definitely showed no sign of starting a conversation.

- So like that, you invite a girl to your room and you play the distant guy? I gave him bluntly.

Taken aback, the dragon looked at me with a strange eye, looking amused but also ...

An amused smile was born on his lips.

- You would have more interest in remaining a nice girl and not looking too much for me on this ground, you know. I will not hold back indefinitely, he said, planting his gaze on mine, in which I thought I read some undisguised envy.

Did I understand what he meant ?

My god, I was very hot all of a sudden.

- Lance ...

Seeing that he had managed to confuse me, the dragon seemed to revel in having cornered me. Because if I answered, the slope could become too slippery and we both knew it.

He laughed under his breath before finally changing the subject.

- Do you have any news about your powers ? he asked me.

Relieved, I smiled slightly before rolling up my sleeve and letting the beams of light travel up my arm. I thought I saw an imperceptible admiration appear on his face.

- Their feeling hasn't left me since the other night. It's still very weak, I can barely use it, but they're there, I finished with a hint of pride.

Lance tilted his head, suddenly looking thoughtful.

- It's a very good start. We will already start by focusing on this element before tackling a more complicated one.

- More complicated ?

- Well in my memories, you had a huge pair of wings on your back, he said with a thin smile.

My wings ... it is true that with Leiftan, he was the one who had seen my powers the most at work, in the end. Even though it was clearly not in the best of conditions. Thoughtful, I passed an absent hand between my shoulder blades but unsurprisingly, no trace of wings marked my back.

- It's true, I would love to find them, I said softly.

A memory suddenly came back to me.

- Tell me, the other night when I left your room, something rather strange happened.

- What ? he asked me, suddenly really intrigued.

- Going out into the hallway, I passed a child walking alone. She didn't seem to have noticed my presence. She went to the Crystal Room and when I followed her, she sort of ... disappeared.

Lance seemed to think for a moment.

- It is probably Ophéliai where it comes from, even if some hypothesize...

- That she would have a connection with the Oracle, I continued in his place.

Like every time something intrigued him, he raised one of his eyebrows.

- Indeed. But why are you telling me about it ?

I pursed my lips. I hadn't told anyone what had happened before Leiftan arrived in the room.

- When I entered, I felt a kind of connection between the Crystal and me. My powers absolutely seemed to want to manifest, and I don't know how that protective barrier works, but when my finger went through it...

- Wait, he stopped me, you crossed the barrier ?

I hesitated for a moment. Was it a good idea to confide in him ?

- Yes, at least, I had started to cross it. But the closer I got, the more I felt that my aengel strength was taking over. It was ... powerful.

Lance was silent for a long time, seeming to analyze my words. I clearly didn't like his silence.

- I think it's not for nothing if you saw her that night precisely, he began. You had just reactivated your powers, and if Ophelia really has a connection to the Oracle, it wouldn't be surprising if she sought to get in touch with you. The barrier is an enchanted protective field, normally no one is supposed to be able to cross it, but I guess that last point is not for you.

He paused again before concluding :

- I don't know if it's a good thing or not, but the Oracle seems to try to push you to use them, or at least to find them.

The words of the leader of the Obsidian echoed what I had feared. The Oracle seemed to want to get in touch with me, but for what reason exactly ?

I wondered if Leiftan's presence that evening was really harmless...

- Hopefully I can find them entirely, then. I don't feel that all of these events are heralding anything good.

- Me neither, if you want to know everything, he said in a serious tone. In any event, this proves that the process will have to be speeded up. I also thought about what happened between our respective magics, and I would like to try something else.

Playfully, Lance slowly approached the center of the room. When he reached my height, I was amazed to see ice blue scales appear along his skin. Escaping from the collar of his top, they went up to the bottom of his face, much like when he had marked me with his streaks two days before. His arms and hands also covered, more sparsely, and soon I could see a dragon tail wagging calmly behind his back.

I was totally fascinated by his appearance. I had seen him in his draconian form before, but never that way. Seeing him half transformed in this way reminded me of Tia, his mother, whom I had seen by his side in the memories of his ancestors in Memoria.

As if drawn in spite of myself, I raised a hand and let it slide along the scales that covered the base of his jaw. Rigid and cold, I felt them vibrate slightly under my fingers as his gaze never left me. Lance looked surprised at first, straining under my fingers, but finally let me.

- Do you feel better like that ? I asked him, watching the play of lights reflecting off the blue of his now hardened skin. Tia seemed more comfortable in this form, did you too ?

The dragon did not move a millimeter, but hearing his mother's first name, I saw him swallow his saliva with difficulty.

- I've always been used to showing only my human form, so it's very easy for me to stay that way. But yes, the most comfortable appearance is this, he told me in a deep and low voice, almost ashamed.

I gently pulled my hand away and watched his scales move slightly, as if a shiver ran through him just where my fingers left him.

- They are beautiful, I said, looking up to his.

I saw him swallow again and thought for a moment that he was going to make a move in my direction, but he finally restrained himself and just said :

- I avoid showing myself like that, in general. Normal people don't really feel confident when they learn they are in the presence of a dragon, he argued, his jaws clenched. Moreover for most, this form can seem repulsive.

I was shocked to hear those words. Faeries must be used to seeing creatures of all kinds, so why should the appearance turn them off ?

- I find it anything but repulsive, I felt compelled to tell him. And yet, I have lived much longer on Earth than here.

His features relaxed under my words.

- Dragons are believed to be a long extinct race, and their stories are largely unknown to the people of the lands of Eel. It is therefore not surprising to see them react in a virulent way to something that they thought was gone.

- Maybe, but it's still silly, I said, quite annoyed. Dragons are certainly very large, but certainly not repulsive.

Lance looked at me for a long time before laughing. His gaze suddenly softened.

- I hope I can count on your bravery to kick their buttocks for me, in this case.

I returned his smile sincerely, rocked by this revelation that saddened me for injustice. Because in a way I could understand what he was feeling. How would people react if they saw me walking around with aengel wings on my back ? They would probably be scared too, even if my form was softer than his.

I realized that humans and faeries looked more alike than I thought, the same fear of the unknown marking them indelibly.

- Well, what did you want to try, suddenly ?

His gaze suddenly became serious again, but the weak smile never left him.

- Do you know if you trust me, or still not ?

I hadn't really expected this question. But if I was here now, it had to be a bit like that, right ?

- Let's say I trust you a little more than before, I tell him cautiously.

He nodded in approval.

- I've been doing quite a bit of research on the powers of aengels and dragons since the other night, and there is something I would like to try. But for that, you have to trust me a minimum.

- All right, tell me what to do.

(Chapter 10)

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 14: Masquerade

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which there are intruders in the castle.

Word count: 3.1k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N aka “Peach”)

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Y/N had danced her third dance of the night with her third partner. The entire time, she'd kept searching the room for Harry. Where was he? It wasn't like him to promise that he'd be here and not show up. She blamed all the trauma she'd gone through for her being too guarded and anxious, yet she trusted her gut instinct, and tonight, it was telling her to be careful.

The crowd broke into applause at the end of another dance, and Y/N felt a tap on her shoulder.

"May I have a word with you in private?" Lance asked, eyeing Y/N's dance partner. The man took the hint and bowed goodbye to Lance and Y/N. Lance gave Y/N a mysterious grin as he gestured with his hand toward the door, letting her walk first.

"You seem anxious," he pointed out once they were alone in the corridor and the orchestra music became muffled.

"How anxious?" she asked, pulling off her mask.

He kept his mask on, holding his hands together behind his back. "Right now? Not as much as before." He offered a calming smile. "I'm sorry. Is this a bad time to talk about politics?"

"It's never a good time, but go ahead."

Lance hummed his agreement. "I didn't see Mary tonight. I thought Jo was supposed to keep an eye on her."

"She's being kept an eye on. Don't worry. Her room is being guarded," Y/N said, arms crossed. "What's wrong?"

Lance inhaled deeply, catching his breath. "She was to betray us. She was a spy for Calanthe. She told you to go to the North mountain because Calanthe wanted you to lead her there. She also wanted to find the lake. But her plan failed because the forest protected its secrets from outsiders like her."

Y/N's stomach dipped. "How long have you known this?"

"Weeks."

"And you decided to wait until now to tell me?"

"Look," Lance breathed, raking his fingers through his dark locks. "I was going to wait until after tonight because you'd gone through so much–"

"So what made you decide to tell me in the middle of my dance?"

Lance worked his jaw. For once, he was inarticulate. "This might sound stupid, but...it was my gut feeling telling me to tell you right away."

Y/N bit her lip. "So...why are you keeping this a secret? Why are you protecting the witch?"

Lance hesitated. "I don't want to hurt Jo..."

"Jo?" It took Y/N a moment to realize what he meant. Her heart dropped. "Oh, no, Jo...She was looking for someone tonight. I thought it was you."

"No," Lance chuckled, shaking his head. "Jo doesn't like me like that. Or at all."

"Everyone likes you."

"Is that so?" His eyebrow lifted in amusement. "Well, I'm very flattered, Your Majesty, but I don't think me being likeable could do much good for us. Calanthe has a plan."

"What plan?" Y/N scoffed. "Is there something else you're not telling me?"

"It's not a fact, just my speculation."

"Go ahead."

Lance rubbed his chin. "Well, I think George Wallace was murdered, but not by one of our people."

Y/N took a moment to let that sink in. "What are you implying? That it was a setup?"

Lance nodded, his eyebrows knitted. Y/N watched his grey eyes dance behind the mask as he observed his surroundings before lowering his voice. "They sent him here to kill him. He was the bait. No one would suspect Calanthe to sacrifice her most trusted advisor."

"Harry said the same thing," Y/N said and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"What?"

Her head shot up. She blinked at Lance. "What?"

Lance cocked his head to the side. "Is everything all right between you two?"

The question wasn't sarcasm with the intention of taunting her. Lance genuinely cared about her feelings despite his own. Knowing so, she could not help but think about what he'd said the other night and earlier on the dance floor. First and last dance...

No. She was overthinking again. She wasn't allowed to have these thoughts. This political chaos was already too much to handle. There was no time for personal business.

"Nothing is all right, Lance. You know that," Y/N answered with a soft sigh.

Lance nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.

Just as the uncomfortable silence threatened to creep back in, a guard showed up, gasping for air as he bowed to Y/N and Lance. Y/N thought to herself, 'Not another dead body,' and her limbs went numb as she remembered that Harry was nowhere to be found tonight. He could be anywhere in the castle. Who knew what could have happened to him?

"Your Majesty," the guard said between laboured breaths. "There are intruders in the castle."

"Where?" asked Lance, his fingers secured around his sword-hilt.

"The west wing," the guard said. "Commander Harry saw someone."

"Where's Harry?" Y/N asked, her stomach knotted. She unconsciously reached for the sword at her side, only to be reminded that she was wearing a ball gown, and there was still a dance going on behind those doors. She was stupid and careless enough to have gathered all the important people here tonight.

"The Commander went after the intruder, Your Majesty. We suspect there are more than one."

"Fucking idiot!" cried Y/N as she picked up her skirt and ran. She heard Lance telling the guard to keep the ballroom secured and make sure no one came and left. Then he chased after her.

If that idiot Harry didn't die tonight, she would kill him with her bare hands.

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Harry wanted to skip the dance. People had been whispering about him since he'd returned, so he didn't want to draw more attention to himself by dancing with the Queen herself. However, he'd promised Y/N he'd be there for her, and he never wanted to let her down. And so he deliberately took a bit longer to get ready just to show up late and blend right into the crowd.

The castle was so quiet tonight with almost everyone being in the ballroom. Harry could hear the music all the way from his chamber. He took one last look at himself in the mirror before adjusting his mask and leaving for the dance. He was accompanied by a guard, which made him quite uncomfortable. Still, he knew it was all for his safety. Everyone must be careful after the murder of George Wallace.

"Help!" a scream tore through the night, causing both Harry and the guard to whirl around. A shadow dashed out of the darkness and crashed right into him. He caught the person with both arms and was terrified to find that it was a woman covered in blood.

Mary.

"Help!" she choked, tears streaming down her scarred face. Her hands were shaking as she smeared blood all over his shirt. "They're...they're dead! They wanted to kill me!"

"Who?"

"The guards," Mary sobbed, her face as white as the moon-washed floor. "They're dead! A man killed them and...was chasing after me! He had a weapon!"

"Take her somewhere safe," Harry told the guard, pulling Mary up to her feet.

"You're not coming, Commander?" the guard asked Harry.

Harry opened his mouth to answer when all of a sudden, he spotted a tall and slim figure lurking in the shadows of the corridor. It vanished in a blink of an eye. Harry knew it headed to the courtyard for there was nowhere else to go.

"There are intruders in the castle," Harry told the guard, his heart pounding. "Send backups. Alarm the King and Queen!" And without waiting for the guard or Mary to stop him, Harry ran after whom he assumed was the murderer.

He didn't stop until he was deep in the garden. The snow was falling peacefully all around while the beating of his heart accelerated. Thousands of tiny candles dotted ledges hidden throughout the topiaries. It would have seemed magical had the fog ever lifted. Now the little lights played strangely with the mist, creating shadowy phantoms, there one moment and gone the next. Harry gripped his sword with cold and numb fingers, overwhelmed with anxiety as he scanned his eyes around.

Suddenly, he became aware of another's presence behind him and swung his sword just in time to deflect the blow. The person stumbled back. A clang of metal on metal. A whoosh. Harry let out a gasp as he felt the cold tip of the blade at his throat. Meanwhile, he was holding his sword with an outstretched hand, pointing straight at Lance's heart.

"You," Lance said, catching his breath. He seemed relieved, which confused Harry.

"You!"

"Peach!" Harry and Lance bounced away from each other as Y/N rushed up to them. She looked beautiful in her golden dress, yet she also looked angry...

"Mind explaining what happened?" she asked before Harry could open his mouth. Lance put his sword away, assessing Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"Someone killed the guards outside Mary's room," Harry said, hating the way Y/N's face grew grim. "They tried to kill her but she escaped."

Y/N groaned as she hugged her arms around her chest, gooseflesh rippling over all that bare skin. It was far too cold to be out.

"You shouldn't be here," Harry said. Y/N's eyes sharpened furiously at him. He was expecting her to snap when a broken branch alerted the three of them.

"Y/N!" cried Lance, but he didn't react fast enough. Y/N had yanked the sword out of his hand and chased after the figure. Harry could see it a bit clearer now. It looked like a man wearing a dark cloak. He exchanged horrified looks with Lance and both sprinted after Y/N and the intruder.

"Show your face!" Y/N shouted as she studied the garden in silence. From where they stood, the ballroom, shining so brightly inside, could barely be seen. The orchestra's music echoed eerily in the fog. Y/N looked half-crazed. Her words came out in smoke. "Surrender and maybe I'll spare your life."

There were footsteps padding towards them, gaining speed, closing the distance. There was more than one person.

As they closed in, Harry spun around. He drew his sword and struck at eye level. A cry of pain answered him. Y/N deflected the blow and lunged with her sword, which met with the figure's blade which gleamed in the moonlight. Beside Harry, Lance was dodging every strike. He was quick, yet unable to fight back without a weapon.

Harry heard Y/N mutter something under her breath, her eyes met his for a second, and he could see the helplessness in them. She wanted to protect Lance.

Harry took down the man charging at him with a swing of his sword before thrusting it right through the one cornering Lance. Lance looked up at him, wide-eyed, breathing out smoke. He hadn't expected Harry to help him.

Y/N's sudden cry startled both men. They turned. Like a silver snake, the last intruder's sword shot out and caught Y/N in the shoulder. She fell with a hard thud to the ground.

"Peach!"

"Y/N!"

Lance and Harry bolted towards her. The murderer took that chance to flee, disappearing into the fence maze when Harry looked up. The heavily falling snow had covered all the footsteps like a perfect accomplice. The garden returned to its peacefulness as if there hadn't been a crime committed against the Queen.

"I'm fine," Y/N said, wincing as she held her shoulder. Red blood was trickling down her skin, staining the snow, bringing back to Harry the unpleasant memories of those nights in the woods. He was reminded once again that he could lose her any moment if they weren't careful.

Lance put an arm around her as he helped her stand up. Harry tore his sleeve and wrapped the piece of fabric around her wound to temporarily stop the blood. His heart ached as he watched her bite back the pain. Blood had stained her beautiful dress. Then, Harry noticed that Lance was looking at her with the same agony in his eyes. It was like looking into a mirror. Harry and Lance both hurt the same.

"Y/N!"

"Your Majesty!"

Jo and five guards finally showed up. Jo gasped into her palms when she saw that Y/N was bleeding. "Oh, Y/N, you're hurt!"

"Took you long enough!" Lance snapped at the guards. "I would have had all of you beheaded had something bad happened to the Queen!"

The guards muttered their apologies which were silenced by Lance's raised hand.

"I don't think they wanted me dead," Y/N spoke. She sounded strangely calm for someone who'd just been stabbed. "If they did, they would've killed me already."

"They're here for the witch. They knew she betrayed them," Lance said.

"Betray?" Jo muttered.

Lance's expression shifted. Harry reckoned that Lance hadn't meant to let Jo find out this way. Harry wasn't sure he was more shocked by the news or Jo's reaction to it. He had never seen her so genuinely hurt by anyone that wasn't Y/N.

"She was a spy for Calanthe," said Y/N, seemingly too in pain to acknowledge her friend's pained expression. "Don't worry. We'll take care of that."

"You're not going to...hurt her, are you?" Jo said, her voice wavering.

Lance placed a hand on Jo's shoulder. For the first time, he was showing sympathy with a servant. "We're not. Don't worry."

Jo nodded, yet the uncertainty was etched on her face as she wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist, escorting her back inside.

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Harry lit a candle beside Y/N's bed. She was lying on her back, watching him. Her shoulder had been bandaged. It didn't hurt as much as before yet she could not shake off the fear she'd felt earlier in the garden. She wished she'd seen those men's faces. She believed they were the Monks. Calanthe had either sent them here to kill the witch or to light a match that would start a war.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his hand placed over of hers.

"About what?" she chuckled. "Tonight wasn't your fault."

"You came to the garden to find me."

"Yes, I did it by choice." She squeezed his fingers and cracked a reassuring smile. "I can take care of myself. Don't you worry. I'm brave."

"I know," Harry sighed. "Brave people tend to get themselves in trouble."

Y/N snorted as she rolled her eyes. "Trouble follows me everywhere I go. So many people have wanted me dead. But look at me now. I'm the Queen, and I'm not losing my crown to anyone. I'm not letting them take my father's kingdom."

Harry exhaled, a smile playing on his lips. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said.

There was a knock on the door. "Y/N?"

"It's–"

"Lance," Harry said, his expression unreadable.

The door creaked open and Lance poked his head into the room, looking surprised to see Harry there. "I'll leave," Lance said.

"No, I'll leave," Harry said, smiling at Y/N. "Goodnight, my queen." Then, he kissed her hand and got up to go.

"Hey," Lance stopped him halfway through the door. "Thank you for earlier."

"No problem," Harry replied. With just that, he was gone, shutting the door on his way out.

"Glad to see my fake future wife still alive," Lance said as he made his way to the bed to sit down at Harry's previous spot.

Y/N let out a light laugh. "I'm sorry I took your sword."

Lance squinted his eyes in amusement. "Yeah, and still, you managed to get yourself hurt."

She scowled at him and punched his shoulder as a joke. He pretended to wince in pain before busting out laughing. "Sorry." Lance cleared his throat, suppressing a grin. "How's your shoulder?"

"It hurts less. Thanks for asking."

"It wasn't like you to be so careless," he said.

Y/N pursed her lips. "I was distracted."

"By?"

"I was...worried you'd get hurt," she mumbled. Even without looking at him, she could still feel his notorious smirk growing wider.

"Don't let that happen on the battlefield," he said. "I can take care of myself, with a sword, of course. But you should always remember that the enemy wants your head more than mine."

Y/N swallowed hard as Lance reached out his hand. She watched him ponder for a second before gathering enough courage to place his hand on top of hers. Just like Harry had before. Harry's touch had been natural and comfortable. As for Lance, she felt him turning into a bundle of nerves.

"You're too good for me," she said.

His eyes danced as he chuckled. "No one is too good for anyone." Then he sucked in a breath. "I hope we'll both be alive after this."

"We will," she said even though she was unsure.

"What will happen then?"

"We get married. For our kingdoms."

Lance's smile faltered. He clenched his jaw and looked away, his fingers sliding off hers. "We don't have to if Calanthe's dead," he whispered.

"Our people expect a wedding."

Lance shook his head and switched his gaze back to her. "Forget what the people want. What do you want, Y/N?"

"I can't just forget what the people want. I'm their queen."

Lance's lips slightly parted yet he said nothing more. It was hard to tell if he'd run out of arguments or simply didn't want to start.

"Let's try to stay alive and find out," he said with a thin smile. "Goodnight."

She watched him get up, looking rather weary. The complete opposite of the charming king he'd been at the dance.

"Why did you say it was our last dance?" she asked before he reached the door.

He looked over his shoulder, lips curled to the side. "It was a joke. Because you said you didn't want to dance with me, which I hope was also a joke."

"It was." She gave a small smile. "I loved dancing with you."

"Good," he said, weakly. "Rest well, Y/N."

"So do you," Y/N said.

As quietly as a shadow, Lance slipped out of the room.

[paperanddice]

Spectral riders are another special creation of the skull lords. Raised from the bodies of great warriors, both righteous and cruel, they are twisted and conscripted into the service of the triple-headed skeletons and used as bodyguards or elite strike agents. Despite the life-like appearance they can take, they are actually mostly ghosts possessing the armor and weapons of the warrior and creating the form of a mounted warrior. The mount and rider are not separate creatures, instead being a shared projection of the undead's essence, and the rider is actually entirely incapable of dismounting, somewhat limiting its ability to traverse tight areas. The ability to briefly turn incorporeal as it moves lets it maneuver a little better, but a careless spectral rider that allows its momentary incorporeality to wear off while it is within a wall or other solid object gets destroyed as soon as it reforms, so they very rarely risk passing through any but the thinnest walls.

A spectral rider makes for an excellent leader of a skull lord's lesser minions, as it can bolster other nearby creatures against attempts to turn them, and the desecrating aura surrounding it lashes out at the holy symbols of its foes. Those who cannot assert their faith and personal strength against the rider's disdain find their symbol melting to painful acid in their hands, burning them and removing their ability to channel holy powers. While spectral riders are difficult to raise, a skull lord may be willing to send its rider on a suicide mission to try and destroy the holy symbols of groups of clerics or paladins in order to weaken them before the following assault with the rest of the skull lord's minions.

Originally from the 3.5 Monster Manual V, though I was actually really disappointed with that stat block. It might as well have been called the spectral pedestrian, since it got literally no real benefits from being mounted. Didn't even carry a lance in that version. So here's mine where it's actually defined by being a rider. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as a spot on the Paper and Dice Discord server, consider backing me there!

5th Edition

Spectral Rider Large undead, unaligned Armor Class 20 (plate, shield) Hit Points 119 (14d10 + 42) Speed 50 ft. Str 18 (+4) Dex 14 (+2) Con 18 (+4) Int 12 (+1) Wis 15 (+2) Cha 19 (+4) Damage Immunities necrotic, poison Condition Immunities poisoned Senses passive Perception 12 Languages the languages it knew in life Challenge 6 (2300 XP) Desecration Aura. Unless the spectral rider is incapacitated, it and undead creatures of its choice within 30 feet of it have advantage on saving throws against effects that turn undead. Any unattended nonmagical holy symbol in that area immediately dissolves into an acidic pool at the end of the spectral rider's turn. A creature carrying a nonmagical holy symbol that starts its turn in that area must succeed on a DC 15 Charisma saving throw or it takes 3 (1d6) acid damage and its holy symbol is destroyed. Ghost Shift. As a bonus action, the spectral rider can become incorporeal during its movement until the end of its turn. While incorporeal, it can move through other creatures and objects as if they were difficult terrain, and opportunity attacks against the rider have disadvantage. If the spectral rider ends its turn inside of an object, it is immediately destroyed. Trampling Charge. If the spectral rider moves at least 20 feet straight toward a creature and then hits it with a lance attack on the same turn, the target takes an extra 10 (3d6) piercing damage and must succeed on a DC 15 Strength saving throw or be knocked prone. If the target is prone, the rider can make one hoof attack against it as a free action. Actions Multiattack. The spectral rider makes two longsword attacks. Longsword. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 8 (1d8+4) slashing damage plus 7 (2d6) necrotic damage. Lance. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 10 (1d12+4) piercing damage plus 7 (2d6) necrotic damage. Hoof. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 7 (1d6+4) bludgeoning damage plus 7 (2d6) necrotic damage. Shroud Of Living Days. The spectral rider cloaks itself and anything it is wearing or carrying with a magical illusion that makes it look as it did in life. The illusion ends if the spectral rider takes a bonus action to end it or if it dies. The changes created by this effect include tactile and olfactory elements. A creature must take an action to visually inspect the illusion and succeed on a DC 20 Intelligence (Investigation) check to recognize the illusionary disguise.

13th Age

Spectral Rider 5th level troop [undead] Initiative: +8 Vulnerable: Holy Brutal Lance +10 vs. AC - 25 damage and the target pops free from the spectral rider Limited Use: 1/battle, when the spectral rider started its turn unengaged. Desecrated Blade +10 vs. AC - 14 damage Natural Even Hit or Miss: The spectral rider pops free from the target and can move again as a quick action. C: Desecrating Aura +8 vs. MD (1d3 nearby enemies) - 8 negative energy damage Dissolve Holy Symbol: If the target is carrying a holy symbol, it must roll a saving throw. On a failure, the holy symbol is destroyed and the target takes an extra 5 acid damage. If the holy symbol is magical, the save is an easy save (6+) instead. Limited Use: 1/battle, when the escalation die is 3+. Ghost Shift: The spectral rider can move through solid objects, but can’t end its movement inside them. It gets a +5 bonus on disengage checks. Shroud of Living Days: The spectral rider can cast an illusion over itself to appear as it did while it was alive. Seeing through this effect outside of combat requires a DC 25 skill check, otherwise the rider gains a +2 bonus on its attack in the first round of combat. AC 21 PD 16 MD 18 HP 68

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || Also on AO3

Chapter 46: Martin

Having Melanie definitely helps, in ways Martin hasn’t been expecting.

In the first place, having someone new in the Archives who needs to learn the ropes—never mind that they’re still basically making it up as they go in a lot of ways—gives him a new project to focus on, and one that he doesn’t have to stress about hiding from Elias. He suspects Melanie catches on a lot quicker than she lets on, and really there’s not that much to pick up on, but she plays it a bit stupid and asks a lot of questions. On Thursday, when Elias is distracted by his weekly meeting with the library staff (which goes on longer now that Diana is gone, especially since he doesn’t seem to be telling them oh, yeah, she’s been dead for at least a year and got replaced by a monster and I let it happen to torture the Archivist), she points out that if he thinks they’re spending time trying to get her up to speed, he’ll leave them alone a bit longer. Martin isn’t sure about that, but he lets it go.

Besides that, while he doesn’t want to admit it aloud, Martin likes having someone around who’s more on his level. Melanie might have a degree, but it’s what a lot of the people up in the Library would have disparagingly called a “fluff” degree, one where she didn’t have to do the same level of intense research or the same types of papers. It means that, like Martin, she doesn’t have the same precision and academic style that Sasha and Tim do to their research and notes. At the same time, she’s been running her own thing for so long that, unlike Martin (or at least unlike Martin when he started), she isn’t afraid of operating on a hunch and a load of guesswork.

She fits in well. She’s got a bit of a bite to her, but her sense of humor is close to Martin’s, and they have similar enough tastes that they can have decent discussions but differing enough tastes that they can have spirited but ultimately friendly debates. They’ve also discovered an ability to riff off of one another. Melanie even installed a little widget on her computer that keeps track of how long she and Martin can toss jokes back and forth with a straight face before one of the others begs them to stop or laughs so hard they can’t breathe. So far their record is forty-seven minutes, but it’s only been a few days.

It’s enough to keep him distracted while he’s at work, at least. Same with Tim, or so he says. And when they’re actually focusing on the research and filing and recording of statements, it’s hard to focus on anything else. The problem is that they really can’t let themselves get too deep into it and risk falling deeper into the Eye’s thrall, so they have to pace themselves. Martin’s pretty sure it’s harder for him than it is for Tim, at least at first, but when he sees Tim’s hands shaking as he tries to resist picking up a statement, he reevaluates that a bit.

Weirdly, it’s harder to resist without Sasha there—she takes Jon Prime’s suggestion and skips out for the rest of the week—which tells Martin she’s absorbing a lot of the Beholder’s power. He ends up enlisting Melanie to make sure he and Tim don’t take work home on Friday. She practically frog-marches them down the block, then hugs them both and tells them to take care before peeling off to do whatever it is she’s planning to do for the weekend.

The weekend is the hardest part. Martin and Tim try to distract themselves, and each other, but so much of what they do reminds them that Jon isn’t there and they haven’t heard from him, except occasional texts. In sheer desperation, they collect Charlie—who misses Jon almost as much as they do—and take him to the London Zoo on Saturday. It takes a little bit for all of them to relax, but soon they’re enjoying themselves, laughing and eagerly talking about the animals and exploring the exhibits. Martin’s phone isn’t going to have enough space for all the pictures he’s taking, but he decides it’s worth it.

“You have a lovely family,” a zoo worker tells Martin with a grin as he’s snapping a photo of Tim lifting Charlie up so he can high-five a monkey through the glass of the enclosure, and Martin thanks him for the compliment without thinking twice about it. It’s not until they’re halfway home, Charlie worn out from excitement and exertion and sound asleep against Tim’s shoulder, that it catches up to him and he realizes that people they encounter out in public lump them together as a family—that people weren’t seeing him and Tim as babysitters or even uncles, but as a couple and Charlie’s fathers.

What surprises him is that he doesn’t start panicking over it. He just thinks well, that’s a thing and moves on.

Sunday they take Charlie to the St. Patrick’s Day parade; none of them have any interest in it, it’s just something to do to keep their minds occupied. Tim gets into a chat with a woman whose son is a little bit older than Charlie and seems thoughtful afterward, but won’t say anything. He’s a lot clingier that night, though, not that Martin minds.

Sasha’s back on Monday, seeming none the worse for the wear, and they settle into the usual business of things. Tim and Sasha do their usual weekly lunch; when they get back, Melanie offers to buy Martin lunch and they end up talking about the weekend. It turns out she was at the parade herself, with Georgie, and they have a decent laugh about not having run into each other. She’s curious about Charlie, though, and Martin ends up showing her the pictures he took over the weekend.

“So when are you going to adopt this kid?” Melanie asks as they head back to the Institute. It’s the first day of spring, but you wouldn’t know it from the grey and gloomy weather. It’s also started raining—shocker—and they’re huddled into their jackets with the hoods pulled up because both of them are too stubborn to carry umbrellas unless it’s pouring buckets. “I mean, you said he’s an orphan, and his grandmother doesn’t seem to care much about him. And it’s obvious he adores you all. Could do worse than having the three of you as dads.”

Martin nearly misses his step, but manages to recover. “It’s not really something we’ve talked about. But…hypothetically, if we were going to try and convince Mrs. Calloway to let us take him off her hands, we’d probably want to wait until after we’re sure it’s safe, you know? He’s a little kid. He doesn’t need to be mixed up in…all of this.”

“Fair. Meanwhile, you can just keep spoiling the hell out of him and rescuing him when you can.”

“That’s the plan.” Martin holds the Archives door open for her.

Elias is unusually present all afternoon, which puts all of them on edge. It’s not until they’re home and making dinner that Tim says quietly to Martin, “I think something’s wrong with Jon.”

Fear lances through Martin’s chest. “What makes you think that?”

Tim shrugs and hands him the lettuce. “We haven’t really heard from him since he left, except in texts. Sasha says he got in touch with her over the weekend and asked her to look into something for him—apparently Gertrude got arrested while she was in America—and she said he sounded kind of off. And now Elias is lurking about? I don’t doubt for a minute that something’s gone wrong and Elias is trying to either make things worse or find out if we know.”

“Surprised he didn’t say anything,” Martin mutters. He bites his lower lip hard enough that he feels it split and forces himself to stop. “U-unless, unless he was trying to see whether or not we could See across the ocean or whatever.”

“I’d like to think we would. Know if he was in danger, I mean. But…God. We didn’t know he’d been kidnapped or threatened or any of it. Anything could be happening and we’re not there to help.” Tim’s voice breaks on the last words.

“He’ll be okay,” Martin says, less because he actually believes it and more because he needs to believe it. “He promised.”

“Yeah.” Tim leans into Martin for a minute, then goes back to cooking.

Somehow they make it through dinner, and a couple games of backgammon after, but Martin can tell they’re both still tense and he’s already resigning himself to a restless night for both of them as they start to settle in. Melanie’s going to give them hell in the morning, he can feel it…

As the thought passes through his mind, his phone rings. A phone call this late at night is never good news, and Martin’s anxiety goes into overdrive. Something’s happened to Jon, or to Charlie, or to Sasha or Melanie…or else it’s the home calling about his mum.

He grabs for the phone and answers without looking at the display. “Hello?”

“Martin?”

Just his name, but the soft draw of the first syllable is as familiar to Martin as his own heartbeat, and he sits up straighter. “Jon? Jon, are—h-hang on.” He makes eye contact with Tim, whose head jerked up as Martin said Jon’s name, and fumbles with the phone for a minute before activating the speaker button and holding it out in front of him. “Can you still hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you just fine.” Jon’s voice is a little tinny but perfectly clear.

Tim gives a near-silent sigh and sinks down onto the side of the bed next to Martin. “Jon, thank God. We were starting to worry about you.”

“Tim?” Jon’s sigh is far more audible. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to—i-it’s been a rough week. How—is everything all right with you?”

“We’re fine. No problems.” Martin puts the arm not occupied with his phone around Tim’s shoulders, and Tim slides an arm around his waist. “Are you—how’s the—did you find anything?”

“I—I don’t know. The address Gertrude gave Zhang Xiaoling to forward anything to didn’t really pan out; it’s a short-term rental place, there must have been a dozen people through there since she and Gerard Keay stayed. The owner said he heard calliope music from West Pullman park a few nights when they were staying here, but nothing more than that.” Jon takes a deep breath. “I’m in Pittsburgh now. The records you found—that’s where Gerard Keay died, so I just…wanted to check up on that. The hospital—I could only find one nurse who remembered him being admitted. His cancer was pretty far advanced…he’d had a seizure, and they did their best, but he had another one and they couldn’t save him. The nurse was the one who told me Gertrude had been arrested—did Sasha tell you about that?”

“She did,” Tim says. “She also said you sounded…off.”

Jon’s silent for a moment. “I—was. I wasn’t feeling well. It took me far too long to realize, but—th-there was a statement I read while I was at Pu Songling, I thought I’d be okay, but a-apparently things have…progressed faster than I expected. I was—hungry, I suppose. I hadn’t thought to bring a statement. I was dizzy and weak and close to passing out, and—I opened the front pocket of my bag and found a statement in there. Was that—was it one of you?”

“Martin thought of it,” Tim says. “Right before you left, while you were showering, he asked if you’d brought a statement with you.”

“Tim’s the one who put it in your bag, though,” Martin adds.

“I should have thought of it. I should have—I really didn’t expect to be gone this long.” Jon sighs heavily. “Thank you both. Seriously. I—I might have been in actual danger if you hadn’t. But I’m okay now. I promise. I read the statement and…well, I’ve been asleep most of the day, honestly. I think I needed it.”

“Jesus,” Martin mutters. He has to close his eyes for a moment, and he feels Tim press closer to him. “The—did you, um, did you find out anything else about Gertrude?”

“Oh. Yes. She was arrested for trespassing—they found her in the morgue stood over Gerard Keay’s body, reading from a large, strangely-shaped book. Apparently his body was…mutilated, though they didn’t know if she did it, and she managed to talk them out of pressing charges somehow. The officer I spoke to doesn’t remember how. I—I may not have been able to draw as much power, being as drained as I was, but it’s also possible, even probable, that he really doesn’t remember.”

Martin looks at Tim, whose eyes reflect the worry Martin’s feeling himself. “So now what?”

Jon is silent again, but before Martin can repeat the question, he says, quietly but firmly, “I think it’s just another dead end, and I’ve decided it’s the last one. I’ve booked a ticket on a Greyhound to Washington, DC tomorrow. I’m going to stop in at the Usher Foundation, just in case they have anything that might be helpful, and then I’m coming home.”

Martin relaxes, and he feels a lot of the tension bleed out of Tim as well. “So you should be back…”

“Well, the bus doesn’t get into Washington until…hold on.” There’s the sound of fumbling and clicking. “I’d be there around five o’clock in the evening, so I likely won’t be able to even stop by the Usher Foundation until Wednesday morning. My intention is to be there as soon as they open. I don’t anticipate them having anything useful, honestly, so…if I’m fortunate, I’ll be home by Wednesday night. Worst-case scenario, early Thursday morning.”

“Call us when you know,” Tim says. “We’ll pick you up.”

“If it’s too early in the morning—”

“We’ll know enough in advance that we can set alarms. Come on, Jon, we’re not making you take the Underground home—or worse, a taxi. You’ve been away long enough. We’ll come and get you.”

“Okay. Okay,” Jon says softly. He clears his throat and adds, “How are you doing? How are—is Elias leaving you all alone?”

“For the most part. He was hovering today,” Martin answers. “We think he’s been watching you a bit, and…maybe just leaving us be to see what happens. He, um—we’ve got a new Archival Assistant.”

“We do? Who? Oh, God, did he transfer someone in?”

“Nope.” Tim pops the P hard. “He intercepted Melanie when she came by on Tuesday to read the Ivy Meadows file. Suggested she might want the job.”

“And she accepted?” Jon sounds horrified. “We warned her!”

“I know, but she’s good at this,” Martin tells him. “The researching and all. And…well, at least she knew what she was getting into. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, Jon.”

Jon sighs. “I trust your judgment. Other than that…outside of work. Are you two okay? You’re not…overloading yourselves or—or overworking or anything, right?”

“No. We’re taking it easy,” Tim promises. “Checking each other. Sasha did a bit much, got a bit close, but she took a long weekend and she’s fine. And Melanie stopped us from bringing anything home over the weekend. We actually spent it with Charlie. Took him to the zoo, the parade, that sort of thing.”

“The p—right, right, it’s St. Patrick’s Day weekend. How was it?”

They take turns telling Jon about the weekend. Martin’s already transferred the photos off his phone and onto his laptop to save space, but he promises to show Jon when he gets home. Jon laughs in all the right places.

“It sounds like you had fun,” he says, and there’s a definite wistful note to his voice. “It sounds like Charlie did, too.”

“He did,” Martin says. “He kept saying how much he wished you were there, though. He misses you. A lot.”

“I miss him, too.” Jon sighs. “And I miss both of you. Badly. I-it’s not…this hasn’t been an easy trip. Not just the, the usual issues of travel. Airport food and customs and layovers. Mechanical issues and weather delays and people who don’t seem to have grasped the concept of deodorant. Hotels and taxis and…all of that is bad enough. Open-ended travel is bad. But…then there’s the issue of just being me. Of being the Archivist.” He’s quiet for a moment. “It’s a lot harder to resist using these abilities when I’m alone. When I don’t have you two there to—counterbalance me, I suppose. It’s like I’m constantly balancing on a tightrope, and I know I have to keep walking the line, I know it’s what I’m supposed to do, but…”

“But?” Tim prompts when Jon trails off and doesn’t continue.

“The rope is only a few inches off the ground,” Jon says in a low voice. “Or that’s what it looks like. When I, when I look to one side or the other…it doesn’t look like I have so far to fall. I could so easily step off and be on the ground, and it wouldn’t hurt at all. I don’t have to balance so carefully. There’s a voice just over my shoulder, whispering for me to step off, to save my feet, that there’s more to life than this narrow back and forth…”

A chill runs up Martin’s spine. He recognizes the description, actually. What they’re doing, the way they’re all trying to avoid overusing their abilities…it does feel a bit like walking a high wire. Martin keeps telling himself not to look down, to take it slow, to put one foot in front of the other, because he knows if he loses his concentration for even a second, he’ll fall. In his mind, there’s a platform at either end of the wire, and Tim stands at one end and Jon stands at the other, so no matter which way he turns, one of them is there, reaching for him, waiting for him when he’s done. He’s safe as long as he focuses on them.

Somehow, he doesn’t think that metaphor will help Jon.

“Are you sure, though?” he asks. “A-about…the rope not being so high.”

“No,” Jon whispers. “If I look at my feet…if I look straight down, I know how deep the chasm goes, so deep I can’t see the bottom. It’s just—it’s so tempting, Martin. I d-don’t want to put the burden of my humanity on the two of you. I need to be able to do it on my own. But it’s hard. It’s so much harder when I’m alone. And the worst of it is that there’s a part of me, a tiny voice, telling me that it’s just me, that I’m alone, that no one will ever know if I give in to temptation, just for a moment. Just to try.”

Tim huffs. “That tiny voice sounds an awful lot like Elias to me, boss.”

“I know. A-and I know I’d…I don’t want to let you down.”

Martin can’t really explain what those words mean to him, but from the way Tim leans into him, he feels the same way. He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and tries to sound practical. “We’ll talk about it when you’re home. But it’s okay, Jon. I promise it’s okay. You’re—you’re stronger than Elias wants you to be.”

“It’s so much easier to believe these things when you say them.” Jon laughs softly, but there’s a genuine lightness to it—like some of the dark dread has lifted from his mind. “It’s—God, what time is it? Five o’clock? You’re not still at work, are you?”

“Time difference,” Tim reminds him. “It’s ten here.”

“For God’s sake, why didn’t you tell me? You both need sleep,” Jon scolds. “You have work in the morning.”

“Fine, but only if you promise to go get food,” Martin retorts. “Actual food. You’ve been asleep all day, you probably need it. Get some food and take it easy.”

“All right. All right. I think there’s a restaurant attached to the hotel.” Jon takes a deep breath. “I’ll call you when I’m on the bus.”

“You do that,” Tim says.

“Please be careful, Jon,” Martin says softly. “We can’t lose you.”

“I promise,” Jon says, his voice solemn. “Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you both.”

He ends the call before Martin can respond, or actually process what Jon’s just said. The stunned look on Tim’s face indicates he feels the same. For just a second, Martin lets himself hope…but no, that can’t be. And even if it is, it’s a conversation all three of them need to have, not just him and Tim. They can’t make decisions like that without getting Jon’s input.

“Come on,” he says instead, reaching for the charging cable to plug his phone in. “Jon’s right, we need sleep.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, sounding a bit dazed. “Sounds good.”

They crawl under the blankets and turn off the light. Tim rests his head on Martin’s shoulder, and Martin runs a hand through Tim’s hair without conscious thought. For a long time, there’s no sound but their breathing. Martin assumes Tim has fallen asleep, but as relieved as he is to have heard from Jon, his mind is buzzing too hard to actually let him rest.

Suddenly, Tim murmurs, “She’d seen us before.”

“Who?” Martin is instantly on the alert, wondering who he needs to be worried about, who might be set to hurt them.

“The woman at the parade. She’d seen us before, when we took Charlie to the fireworks. She was asking where Jon was.” Tim’s head shifts restlessly. “She thought Jon was Charlie’s bio-dad and…”

Martin nods slowly. “One of the zookeepers complimented me on my ‘lovely family.’ I—I think a lot of people just…assume we are one.”

“I’m not upset by that.” Tim’s voice is drowsy. It’s like this is the last thing he had to get out to keep him from sleeping.

“No,” Martin agrees. There’s another lump in his throat and he has to swallow around it before finishing. “Me, neither.”

And maybe that is what’s blocking him from sleeping, because the next thing he knows the alarm is going off and sunlight is poking through the gap in the curtains and Tim is still warm and safe in his arms, and they’re one day closer to having Jon home.

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober2020 - Day 10

We’re almost a third of the way through Whumptober! On to part 10 of the oof!au, and over the crest of the wave into trauma mixed with the promise of recovery! I’ll be playing in this au for most of the coming week. They’ve got a long road towards healing.

General Info: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending. Past/eventual Codywan. Previous one-sided Vaderwan.

WARNINGS: Relatively minor for this part. Discussion of injuries, fall-out from mind control and torture. References to character death. Considerations of suicide.

No 7. I’VE GOT YOU 

Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

Cody gestured at the troopers around the room to secure their chipped brothers. They had time to get to the hangar bay, he’d made sure of that, but not an indefinite amount. Leave things too long, and the possibility had existed that Skywalker would have beaten them and had time to undo the explosives.

The entire complex was going into the lava below. Even if they’d lost, even if they’d all died, Cody had made sure they were taking Skywalker with them.

The fact that they’d all lived through it still felt hard to process. Cody didn’t try. There were other tasks in front of him, things he needed to do. He focused on them, to the exclusion of all else. He had to get Obi-Wan out - get his men out - get them to the ship and away.

“Get to the hangar,” he snapped, moving across the floor to crouch by Obi-Wan, ignoring the agony in his side, the warm wetness of blood flowing under his armor. Obi-Wan was still sprawled against the far wall, collar a few feet away, where Skywalker had tossed him like a broken doll. He was breathing, shakily, bloody and trembling as Cody hesitated, all hopes that Obi-Wan would be able to walk out on his own dissolving into nothing.

Half the room had fallen on him. He’d pushed most of it aside with the Force, but not all of it. Cody had felt something tearing in his chest as it came down on him, felt himself breathe again only with the smoke cleared and Obi-Wan was revealed, on his knees, determination in every line of his face.

Determination only took you so far. He looked at Obi-Wan, slumped against the wall, panting, and knew it wasn’t taking Obi-Wan to the hangar.

Someone needed to carry him out. Someone--

Cody started to reach out, and froze, remembering the crack of Obi-Wan’s voice, the way he’d flinched and tried to get away, and--

Obi-Wan looked up at him, eyes dazed and unfocused, face streaked with both blood and tears. There was no relief on his features - not like the first time he’d seen Cody, there in Skywalker’s cruel care, their reunion had been a spoiled, awful thing - only exhaustion and pain as he gasped, “Cody. You’re--you again?”

Cody’s gut turned over, agony lancing through him that Obi-Wan’s first question would be concern for him, after what he’d done. He managed to find his voice, through the horror and anger inside his head. He rasped out, “Yes. We’re free. You’re free. He’s dead.”

He watched Obi-Wan freeze, just go still all over, breath catching and holding. Cody  watched relief pass over Obi-Wan’s expression and a deep, terrible grief, at the same time. He was bleeding, hurt. So terribly, because Cody hadn’t moved fast enough, hadn’t-- he swallowed. His guilt needed to wait. “I’m going to get you out of here. Can I--” He stretched out a hand again, fingers curling back before he touched Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Obi-Wan didn’t flinch back from him. Cody wasn’t sure how he managed that. He only rasped, his voice cracking, “Please do.”

Cody couldn’t manage to speak around the tightness of his throat. He shifted a little closer, cautiously, trying to find a spot of skin that looked undamaged to touch, hesitating to touch at all, remembering, with a sudden lurch of his gut, gripping at Obi-Wan’s skin, holding him down, and--

Obi-Wan made a ragged sound and moved, lifting his right arm and curling his hand around Cody’s shoulder and--and the initiation of the touch unlocked something in Cody’s head. Obi-Wan’s breath was ragged and hitching. He was shuddering all over. And Cody could do nothing else but wrap an arm around him, and then slide the other under his legs, holding him carefully, both wishing he weren’t wearing his armor - the edges had to be cutting against Obi-Wan’s bare skin - and so grateful that Obi-Wan had more layers between them.

“It’s alright,” Cody said, unable to stop the words from bursting out. “You’re safe now.”

Obi-Wan gasped, making an effort to raise his head and then giving it up with a pained sound, cheek still resting on Cody’s shoulder. Cody didn’t know how he could bear it, how Obi-Wan could stand to touch him, but… Cody stood, lifting Obi-Wan easily - he’d wasted away, in Skywalker’s care, or possibly even before - and turned to look at the rest of the troopers, those who had waited to escort them to the hangar.

Cody couldn’t fathom even the idea of handing Obi-Wan over to any of them. As much as it hurt to lift him, as much as it pulled things inside his damaged side, as much as disgust tried to kick up through his chest, he… he didn’t want anyone touching Obi-Wan, ever again.

“I don’t,” Obi-Wan rasped, in his arms, shivering all over, “feel so well.”

Cody swallowed, nodded his brothers forward and fell into step with them. He didn’t feel so well, either. Light-headed. But he could work around that. The droids had said Obi-wan had internal injuries. Who knew how badly he’d aggravated them, in the fight. Who knew if Skywalker had hurt him before Cody showed up. Who--  “We’re going to get you help,” Cody said. “You just - just rest. Pass out, if you need to. I’ve got you.”

He’d carried Obi-Wan unconscious body through these halls before, after all. None of his brothers had ever looked askance about it. They’d just stared forward, for all that Cody knew they must have been screaming inside their heads, the same way he’d been.

“Might, ah, just do that,” Obi-Wan rasped, a thread of sharp humor in his tone that cut down Cody’s spine. He swallowed, heavily, when Obi-Wan stifled a sound, agonized, as the base shook with another explosion and Cody jarred him. Cody fought not to swear.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped out, instead, meaning about so much more than any inadvertent harm he was doing. 

Obi-Wan said nothing, breath uneven as he turned his head back and forth on Cody’s shoulder. And Cody could only swallow, wishing he could wrap Obi-Wan up, wishing he could bandage Obi-Wan’s hurts, heart tripping over when he felt Obi-Wan go limp in his arms, blackness mercifully swallowing him up for a while.

Cody walked through the halls with his back straight, looking directly ahead, bleeding under his armor. He passed the medbay, kept going, straight for the hangar, for the end of all of his plans, for freedom and safety and his men.

“Sir,” Fret said, as Cody climbed the ramp into the ship they had made theirs. He fell into step beside Cody, gaze falling worried to Obi-Wan’s limp form and staying there. “The chipped are safely in their quarters, sir. They didn’t put up a fuss. Bones says he can keep working on them here.”

“Good,” Cody said, ignoring the dizziness moving through his head. He - probably - should have let someone else carry Obi-Wan. But he couldn’t bear the thought. Couldn’t make himself take the sensible path forward. Besides, they were almost to the med bay.

“He’s alright?” Fret asked, his tone clipped and anxious, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

“He will be,” Cody said, words like a promise. He’d make them true, somehow. Obi-Wan deserved to be alright again, after - after all of their failures. And if it meant Cody couldn’t find a useful airlock right away, that was fine.

He’d wait, until he was sure Obi-Wan was recovered.

And then he’d do whatever else needed done.

They reached the medbay as Cody felt the ship lift off the ground. They’d only been waiting for him, apparently.  “Probably going to get bumpy,” he told Obi-Wan, who did not stir, his expression gone lax, his skin too pale, his breathing shallow. He was, Cody had a feeling, hurt badly on the inside, where Cody couldn’t even see, and--

And Bones stepped forward, turning away from a discussion he’d been having with concern written all over his expression. “Commander?” he asked, and Cody jerked a step back when Bones reached out, as though intending to just--touch Obi-Wan. Put hands on him.

Bones’ gaze jerked to meet his, held for a moment, before Cody managed to unclench his jaw, to remind himself that it hadn’t been Bones who nearly beat Obi-Wan to death. It hadn’t been Bones who held Obi-Wan down and--

Cody gritted out, forcing his voice to steadiness, ���He’s hurt. Badly.”

“He’s not the only one,” Bones said, tone sharp, and, when Cody only glared at him, he added, “Bring him here.” He gestured to one of the beds, and Cody limped over to it, bending to gently deposit Obi-Wan on the sheets. Obi-Wan made a soft little sound, pained, and Cody wanted to brush back his hair, wanted to hold his hand, but--he jerked back a step, instead, listening to Bones bark orders that seemed to be coming from further and further away.

He took another step back and wavered on his feet, looking down at his body, finally. There was blood, smeared all down his side and right leg. Quite a lot of it, he thought, dizzily, was not Obi-Wan’s.

“--said how are you?” Bones asked, suddenly gripping Cody’s arm, concern in his expression.

Cody shook his head, made to step back again, and his leg went out from under him. He said, sitting on the ground, “Take care of the General.” That was what mattered. They needed to make Obi-Wan well. Everything else, all the rest of his objectives he’d achieved, he realized, as he felt the hyperdrive engines kick on from somewhere far away.

He’d killed Skywalker.

Freed his brothers. 

Returned them to the stars.

Gotten back control of his own body.

It almost felt like a dream come true, but he knew, too well, the grip of the nightmare around his throat. It tightened, his vision darkening, as Bones yelled something urgent from a great distance. 

Cody blinked and realized he was looking up at the ceiling. There were hands pulling at his armor. His brother’s hands, and their voices overhead, tight with concern. “Leave it,” he said, trying to push them away as his world went grey around the edges and then to nothingness.

[tolkienhorror]

In Sauron’s Lab: File #4

Another oneshot about one of Sauron’s torture methods.

Warnings: Abuse, torture, non-con, oviposition, flaying, public humiliation, cannibalism of sort, medical torture.

Please note: This was created on a tumblr prompt given on my main blog. Prompt: Celebrimbor/Sauron, Public humiliation & Oviposition Also kudos to @sianascera for working in her excellent pirate fic with certain Dark Lord & oviposition themes first that play a role in this oneshot ...

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

Something was different tonight. 

Celebrimbor shifted uneasily on the soft fur protecting his scar-littered skin from the sharp-edged surface of the anvil he’d been forced to bend over earlier. His wrists and ankles were throbbing only from his weak attempts of freeing himself, not from the suspiciously soft material they’d used to tie his arms and legs to the heavy construction. No new scratches and infections from barbed wire then, or the chance for another of these useless attempts to rip his arteries open on his bonds badly enough that not even Sauron’s extensive medical knowledge and darkest healing songs would be able to bring him back.

Still, none of that was particularly new; it wasn’t even the first time Sauron had ordered his henchmen to put his favorite pet on display like this in his throne room, for everyone to see his naked, marred shape right next to the Lord’s chair. Ready to be abused by whoever and whatever Sauron deemed proper at any given time. It was Sauron who was different. Sauron usually didn’t put his hands on him when they were not alone. It was a matter of privacy, he sometimes cooed into Celebrimbor’s split ear, silken voice full of almost-sincere sounding care and desire, before he was fucking Celebrimbor in some corner of his bedroom with that barb-studded, crooked cock of his.

A mockery of the tender nights they’d shared when Sauron had had this other name and shape that Celebrimbor had bonded himself to. Of a time when he’d still believed that the foundation of this world was trust and that it was worth fighting for. Of course, Celebrimbor was still not talking, and by now, he’d half and half expected his former lover to have understood that he never would, that Sauron was only wasting both their time.

No such luck, apparently. And apparently, tonight, Sauron wasn’t feeling the need for any privacy either. Tonight, he had not ordered a couple of orcs to whip and rape his favorite pet for his entertainment, or one of his trolls - only one of those, always, because after those incidents, he always needed half a week to sing Celebrimbor’s insides back in place. He wasn’t even using Celebrimbor’s immobilized body as his personal pincushion, as some perverted kind of plush toy to cut and pinch and scrape with the diamond-sharp tip of one metal gloved finger, casually, while he was going about his daily business. Tonight, his torturer had thought of something else to pass the time while being immersed in some heated discussion with one of his lieutenants about the next attack on where Sauron thought - rightly so - a larger elvish population to be hiding from the deadly terror of his troops. He made very sure to lay out in detail what he expected his henchmen to do to these poor souls that Celebrimbor had once used to lead and protect, if the orcs should really manage to invade their hideout. But for once, the Dark Lord wasn’t in full armor, the poisoned edges and spikes of which had ripped and punched more than one hole in Celebrimbor’s body in the past when his former lover had been especially impatient to fuck his frustration about Celebrimbor’s defiance into him. Almost plain looking, without his crown and wearing only a crystal-studded, black robe, his impossibly long legs crossed, covered by thigh-high orange boots, his torturer had one arm loosely hanging from the throne’s armrest, sharp-nailed fingertips preparing his favorite toy for whatever he had planned for him tonight. His hand never stopped moving for even a second while was instructing the very interested looking soldier who could hardly take his bulging eyes of Celebrimbor’s degraded shape, drool dripping from his grey lips. Sauron took his sweet time, laying out how many elves he wanted to be taken back to this fortress, to conduct his inhuman experiments on them. In a place that had once used to be Celebrimbor’s own home but had long become unrecognizable, with everything that had used to be crystal and silver turned into tar and smoke. A couple of those poor refugees would be left behind, dying bodies speared on the orcs’ lances for everyone to see who would pass by that the reign of Sauron was everywhere and there was no place to hide.

Celebrimbor found, with little surprise, that he had run out of emotional strength to dread these words. He couldn’t help his people, he couldn’t even help himself. All that was left for him to do was keep the one last secret that prevented his devilish husband from ruling all of this cursed world. And to try to die as quickly as possible before Sauron might find a way to beat it out of him after all.

The irony wasn’t lost to Celebrimbor that his torturer had chosen this very meeting, in which he once more let him know that there was nothing that Celebrimbor loved and treasured that Sauron wouldn’t rip to pieces, to try this very special kind of torture on him. One he hadn’t even used in the very beginning when he’d still been of the delusional hope, he could sway Celebrimbor’s mind, make him serve him like these pitiful creatures disfigured in body and mind so happily did. It was worse than anything else Sauron could have come up with.

The well-oiled fingers buried deep in Celebrimbor’s backside crooked gently, aiming straight for his oversensitive prostate until another hardly suppressed moan came from Celebrimbor’s lips, stretched too far around the metal gag keeping his mouth ready for his torturer’s cock whenever Sauron had use for it. He struggled against his bonds again, hardly able to lift his upper body more than an inch or two off the surface. There wasn’t a lot of strength in his body left since Sauron had starved him down to half his former shape and had fed what most of what had been left of his muscles to his wolves right in front of Celebrimbor’s eyes. The new-grown, deformed patchwork that was his skin burned and itched from more salt covering his body by the second as the heat started to rise in his groin despite all his best efforts to ignore the skillful stimulation.

His hollowed cheeks blushing in shame, he could see the lieutenant kneeling in front of the throne grinning at the reluctant sounds of arousal from his lips, the brawny creature licking its lips in hunger. From the corner of his eyes, he also didn’t miss how the guards by the door laughed scornfully and rubbed themselves through the leather pants of their uniforms, surely hoping they would get to use Sauron’s favorite pet once the Master was done with it for the day until his body wasn’t even twitching enough for them anymore to satisfy.

That was usually how things went when they dragged him to this throne room by the collar sewn into his throat, but Sauron, for some reason, seemed to want to make it a point today, showing his henchmen from up close how he liked to treat his favorite prisoner. With the meeting finally over, he waved the lieutenant away to stand with the others, never taking his slowly thrusting fingers out of Celebrimbor’s stretched hole, instead pushed one more into him, eliciting a new moan from Celebrimbor’s lips.

Four slender, slowly circling and scissoring digits it was now that were working him open, drumming his prostate every now and then, a sharp spark burning in his groin every time those pointy nails tapped the oversensitive spot. And there was nothing Celebrimbor could do to stop his slimmed down hips from thrusting back towards that intrusion instinctively. From chasing that blissful nothingness spreading in his soul that made him forget, at least for a few minutes, all he’d lost and all they’d done to him, even the black creatures leering and cheering at his newest humiliation in the corner. He wondered, as his chest was heaving with ragged breaths, if Sauron would fuck him right here, in front of his people, the last privacy concerns obviously traded for the foolish hope that this, finally, would be the way he could convince Celebrimbor to betray everything he lived for. Maybe he would take his Annatar shape for him again, Celebrimbor thought dully as he let himself fall into sick desire, no longer caring who watched the once-honorable elvish Lord of this land whoring himself out for the Dark Lord. That elf was long dead, his life’s work nothing but a vague memory of better times. There was no use fighting what was happening anyway. It would be nice, maybe, he thought, not even trying to fight the tears rolling down his cheeks when the dreaded pressure inside lessened, only for Sauron to thrust his hole fist past his almost unresisting hole next. A shadow of better days it would be, seeing Annatar’s slender, well-formed shape at least from the corner of his eyes when Sauron would take him, feel his beautiful, thick length slowly slipping inside of him instead of a beastly weapon ripping his insides. Losing himself to the illusion for a while that they were back in their marital chambers, that the future with this heavenly creature by his side was bright … His untouched cock was leaking white on the dark grey, polished dreariness that was the ground, both from the stupid daydream and that small fist slipping deeper into him, knuckles digging into his prostate, drawing deep groans from his lips. A drop of red joined the white mess, falling from his chapped lips from a choked scream of protest at being breached even deeper, far deeper than it should be possible, by something too big for this use, pulling and shoving at the sensitive flesh of his insides until he wondered if Sauron was trying to reach for his very heart to rip it out of him. Celebrimbor hated how relieved the sob from his bleeding lips sounded when his torturer finally pulled back, as if he didn’t know exactly that the bastard was far from being done with him. His too quick breathing hurt in his chest. He wondered if he could come up with enough strength to hyperventilate himself into a few seconds of unconsciousness, if it would be worth the punishment, getting his forcibly aroused body to calm down and regain at least a shred of his dignity ...

Sauron didn’t give him time for such useless musings. Suddenly, he was standing right in front of him, shielding Celebrimbor’s trembling body from the eyes of his other slaves at least for a moment, green cat-eyes glistening with deeply rooted sadism as he held out to Celebrimbor what he had brought for him today to play with. “Good news, my love,” he purred, pointed teeth scraping a fine line of red into his full lower lip, whitish glowing skin flushing with lust at the sight of Celebrimbor’s wide, terrified eyes. “You are going to be a father.” He bent down low enough to slip his forked tongue into Celebrimbor’s mouth, past the metal bars spreading it open, feeding to him the acid tasting blood of his most preferred shape until Celebrimbor gagged and tried to tear away from the iron, ice-cold grip on his chin.

Which only made it worse, because now he had the black and grey colored, egg-shaped device right in front of his eyes that his torturer held, easily bigger than a man’s fist on its widest point. Heat was radiating from it, and under the half transparent shell, Celebrimbor could see a strange light glowing, slowly moving like the thick very substance of evil itself.

He must have made a sound he couldn’t remember behind his gag, because Sauron chuckled and patted his head like one would calm down a nervous horse. “Oh, you’re going to like it, Tyelpe.” He ignored Celebrimbor’s faint sob at this name he’d come to hate so much just like his victim’s futile pulling on the unforgiving ropes. “I created this especially for you. And I made it big and heavy, like an Eagle’s egg, since I know how much you like to be stretched and filled, my love. I figure it will make walking hard for a few months, but it’s not like you have many places to go, is it?” With an almost hysterical chuckle, he petted Celebrimbor’s head again and then buried his hand in what was left of his hair, forcing his head up so that Celebrimbor had to stare at this disgusting thing again. Sauron licked the hot tears from his cheeks with a sigh of delight, holding the egg to his narrow chest almost lovingly careful. “Can you feel it, my love? It’s almost alive ... It’s waiting … It only needs to be fertilized. You see, I have no idea what this is going to be when it hatches. I suppose it will be a friendly, if you beg me nicely enough to bring it to life myself. It could be ours. Wouldn’t that be sweet, my dear? You always said, you wanted us to have children one day …”

That unhinged, too high-pitched laugh again, that had Celebrimbor’s stomach hurl and sent shivers down the parts of his skin that were still able to produce them. His eyes were full of tears, of hate, of despaired pleas when he shook his head against the unrelenting grip on his hair, trying to form words with his dry tongue behind his gag that wouldn’t come.

“No? You might want to think about that, my love.” Sauron’s eyes glowed brighter in the weak light of the torches, well-known anger smoldering in his animalistic pupils, an impatience he was no longer able to hide. “Because if it’s not supposed to be me, I will leave it to these fine soldiers back there to fuck you full of their seed. Morgoth knows what then will come out of that egg once it’s ripe. Are you sure you want to risk that? I imagine it might not feel too nice when it starts feeding its way out of you …” Almost soothingly, he wiped the helpless tears off Celebrimbor’s cheeks and squeezed his unprotected throat close with a harsh grip before the violent gagging there could fill his mouth with bile. “Or …” Sauron leaned close enough to his ear to lick and suck on the torn flesh, lowering his voice to an almost inaudible whisper as if no one was supposed to learn about the favorite lie he sometimes still tried to make his victim believe. “Or you could just tell me what I want to know, and we can end all this right here. I will make you my equal, my commander, and we can rule this world together. Make it in our image. Bring peace and order to everyone. Isn’t that what we used to dream about, my sweet Tyelpe? Just say the words and you’ll be free …”

Celebrimbor didn’t deem it necessary to even try and give any kind of answer save for the blank stare he regarded his former lover with when Sauron withdrew with one thin eyebrow expectantly raised.

“Didn’t think so. Guess we’re going to find out then what kind of offspring an elf and an orc breed, won’t we?” With an exasperated sigh, Sauron straightened up again and sat back down on his throne as if nothing had happened. But the tell-tale wet sound of something smooth and heavy rolling into that bowl of oil he’d been keeping there all evening, had Celebrimbor’s blood run cold. Hot, slightly uneven breath hit the oversensitive, swollen mess that was his hole. The sharp scrape of teeth had him cry out, a thin trail of blood running down the back of his thigh, giving him a first taste of what was in store for him. “Such a beautiful, willing ass,” Sauron sighed, it sounded almost honestly disappointed. “A shame, really, you’re begging me so loudly to ruin it again and again. But who knows? Maybe you’ll change your mind once you can feel your precious baby start moving inside of you, tearing in your flesh. You know, I’m always very willing to hear you beg and plead, my love.”

But Celebrimbor remained silent. It didn’t last long.

*

It was only hours later that he saw his torturer again, a faint vision of white and black moving gracefully through the cell they’d taken him back to after he’d passed out. A light-hearted, bright whistle was on his torturer’s lips as he lay a few of his usual instruments and jars with potions out on a table. Seeing Celebrimbor’s eyelids flutter weekly, and the feeble twitching of his arms in the leather manacles that strapped him down to the broad metal table where he had been suffering for months now, Sauron stepped close to him with a toothy smile. Spider-like fingers stroked his messy hair, down his sore throat, to his very weakling heaving chest and finally lower, to the massive bulge rounding his stomach.

Celebrimbor wailed softly and twitched, new bile burning his tongue when his insides cramped around the intruder stretching them to their limits instinctively and the faint thud of a strong heart vibrated against his flesh. His abused, torn hole clenched around nothing, torrents of greyish, reeking cum dripping from it as his drained body tried in vain to get rid of something that didn’t belong there, but the egg was sitting far too deep buried inside of him for that. This thing wasn’t going anywhere unless his torture would allow it.

And the fascinated shine in his lover’s eyes as he slowly started to trace Celebrimbor’s swollen belly and reached for the first of his instruments, let him know quite clearly, this wasn’t happening anytime soon, even if he should have found in his broken soul enough strength to betray himself and everyone he loved, to beg for this unbearable ordeal to end.

He wondered, faintly, with a mind that was no longer entirely bound to the stability of sanity, if the next months of his pregnancy would finally answer the question who, between Sauron and him, was the more stubborn one.

[leavaloo]

Applin To Give and to Kick Ass

Hi guys! As most of you know, I’ve been extremely busy lately and also dealing with some shit on the side, so I wasn’t able to write anything for Valentines Day! I know, such a crime that an imagines blog didn’t post on V-Day. It’s okay! I’ll make it up to you here~

As a further notice, I will be deleting most of my inbox requests, as a lot of them have been sitting for a while. I apologize to those who are left, but this is needed.

Anyways, have some Raihan V-Day fluff!

Raihan knew a lot about dragons. Like, a lot. Dragon expert to the core, so much so that he ended up taking on some of their draconic qualities. Like protectiveness, jealousy, and every once in a while, a growl. Raihan also knew a lot about the Applin tales, as per his title as dragon expert and the vault keeper. Yet for some reason, he didn’t think that they would play a part in his life, until now.

Applins were fairly common in Galar as a declaration of love, and because of his titles, he had been asked so many times of where to find them, how to breed the right one, yadda yadda. Even some gym leaders like Nessa had asked his advice on this topic. And now, with Valentines day coming up, it was all the rage.

You had been champion for some time now, and already you were proving to be both formidable, dependable, and breathtaking. You didn’t use the typical cape that Leon wore, and instead, made your own outfit that made it look like you were dancing whenever a particularly powerful move whipped your dress around. Honestly, you treated a lot of your matches like a contest, and it had garnered you a lot of attention, and possible suitors.

That’s why Raihan never felt like he had a chance. You were beautiful! Even a lot of the other gym leaders had been talking about you, some of them wondering if you were single. That was when Raihan figured out how jealous he was. He all but snapped at Milo when directed a question about it at him, but he played it off that he was just stressed recently and apologized.

A day before Valentines day, you waltzed into his gym. He wasn’t expecting it, and he was honestly caught off guard. Even in your casual attire, you were striking. You were asking for some documents, and so Raihan lead you back to his office, and all the while, he had a difficult time even looking in your direction.

“Working right before Valentines day? I would’ve thought you’d wanna lay low.” He finally sent one of his signature smiles your way, trying to lighten the heaviness in his heart.

You chuckled and smiled back. “Honestly, me moving about makes it harder for the fanboys to track me. I don’t need anymore applin in my boxes, which might be entirely your fault.”

Raihan sheepishly laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeaaah... sorry about that.” He remembered the onslaught of guys who had sought him out in the previous weeks, all asking for applin advice.

“Though, I guess it gave me some good applins to get my own ideal one.”

Raihan’s eyes snapped over to you, looking over your figure. You were looking straight ahead, small grin on your face and a tiny blush on your cheeks. You had someone in mind for this applin. He figured he might as well test the waters, if not only to quell his own internal panic.

“‘Ideal applin’, huh? Does this applin have an intended recipient?”

You laughed, following the dragon up the stairs to his office. “It does, yes. Do you have an applin for someone, Raihan?”

I did, he thought to himself, but shook his head. “No. The person I would give it to has probably already been taken.”

You feigned a surprised gasp. “The infamous Raihan, with so many thousands of fangirls, somehow doesn’t get his feelings reciprocated?! How cruel!”

Finally, he was able to laugh. He hadn’t been able to do that in a while, what with him stressing, but you always managed to make his mood lighter. Though the dread of him not being your chosen recipient shot through him again when he opened the door to his office. “After you,” he purred. If there was one thing Raihan was good at, it was acting.

As he searched for the required documents, you wandered around his office, looking at all of the different dragon type memorabilia. It took longer than expected, because every time he looked up, you were happily smiling at another picture on his walls. Some were from Lance’s time, another was a championship match from Unova with Iris, and some legendary dragons were sprinkled in there.

After searching all of the file cabinets, his desk and some other places, he got everything together and handed it to you. They were all about how the power plant fared after the recent events with the Darkest Day, and as he approached you, he noticed that your demeanor became... fidgety. Your blush was more prominent, and you wouldn’t look him in the eyes. You just smiled, took the documents, said goodbye and rushed out the door before Raihan could say anything.

With a frown on his face, he sighed and went to sit as his desk. He leaned back in the chair, a huge sigh coursing through his body. It was then that he noticed a new addition to his desk. He furrowed his eyes and leaned forward to look at it closer. A loveball pokeball, sitting there and facing him. His heart rose in his chest, almost scared to touch it. His hands didn’t even meet the pokeball when the familiar blue light popped out, situating itself firmly on his lap.

An applin. Not just any applin. A shiny, bright green applin, already fast asleep on his lap. He couldn’t even make any sound, he was so shocked. His heart was racing a million miles an hour, he could barely process that it was holding two things. A sweet apple, and a note.

Dear Raihan,

I’m not very good at this love stuff, and I know this is really cliche, but this is the easiest way to get my feelings across. This applin is specifically bred to not only be shiny, but also have everything you need to make a badass competitive mon. I figured you already had someone special, so I just wanted to make this quick and easy. I didn’t want to hold it in anymore.

P.S. I’d like to grab some coffee with you sometime.

[Y/N]

Raihan read over the note several times, a smile brimming on his face. Then he took out his phone, held the sleeping applin up to his chest in a warm embrace, and snapped a selfie. He pulled up your text chain with him and sent the picture.

Raihan, 12:59pm

you know you could’ve stayed right

A couple seconds later, he got a ding, and wondered if you had expected something along these lines.

Cutie Bean, 1:00pm

I’M SORRY OKAY I GET NERVOUS

Cutie Bean, 1:00pm

I wanted to stay but I was... to scared.

Raihan, 1:01pm

did u really need those documents? lol

Cutie Bean, 1:01pm

...Yes, but I figured I’d leave that there too...

Raihan, 1:01pm

well, i think i’ll name her Cutie Pie after what I have you in my phone

Raihan, 1:02pm

besides, i think a coffee date tomorrow would be absolutely perfect, my cute little dragon <3

Raihan, 1:02pm

unless u have other plans? :(

Cutie Bean, 1:03pm

You’re my plan now <3

Cutie Bean, 1:03pm

Shit I have to find something to wear.

For the rest of the day, you and Raihan were texting back and forth. Everyone was wondering why he suddenly looked so happy after sulking for almost two weeks straight, but then they noticed the applin sleeping happily in the hood of his hoodie. The more that Raihan looked at Cutie Pie, he realized just how terrifying of a mon this could be. Amazing IV’s, right nature, hidden ability. He vowed to not only kiss you till the sun rose, but also someday kick your ass with this girl. If she were to ever wake up.

[elias-veturius-laia-of-serra]

*Contains Sky SPOILERS*

All my favorite Musa Of Adisa quotes and scenes 🥺  ❤️

“I am Musa of Adisa,” the man says. “Son of Ziad and Azmath of Adisa. Grandson of Mehr and Saira of Adisa. I am also the only friend you have in this city” - A Reaper At The Gates

“Who’s the Beekeeper, and how can I find him?”

“Ah, Laia Of Serra.” His white teeth shine like those of a smug horse. He offers me his arm, and under the brightening sky, I finally get a closer look at his tattoos - dozens of them, big and small, all clustered around a hive.

Bees.

“It’s me, of course,” Musa says. “Don’t tell me you hadn’t guessed.” - A Reaper At The Gates

“You listen. How fast can you get information on the jinn?”

Musa strokes his chin. “Let’s see. It took me a week to learn that you’d broken Elias out of Blackcliff’s dungeons. Six days to learn that you’d set off a riot in Nur. Five to learn what Elias Veturius whispered to in your ear the night he abandoned you in the Tribal desert for Kauf Prison. Two to learn that the Warden-” - A Reaper At The Gates

“Musa and I go back again and again, carrying out those who cannot walk themselves, pulling to safety as many Scholars as we can.” - A Reaper At The Gates

“As I told the story, my attention was on the king. I did not notice the ghuls emerging from the shadows and congregating around the princess. I did not notice them latching themselves on to her like leeches. Musa looks as if he is watching the slow torture of someone he loves—which, I finally realize, he is.” - A Reaper At The Gates

“Nikla and I eloped ten years ago,” he says. “We were only a little older than you, but much more foolish. She had an older brother who was supposed to be king. But he died, she was named crown princess, and we grew apart.” I wince at the perfunctory nature of his recitation, a decade of history in four sentences. “I didn’t mention it before because there was no point. We’ve been separated for years. She took my lands, my titles, my fortune—” 

“Your heart.” Musa’s harsh laugh echoes off the hard stone of the buildings on either side of us. “That too,” he says.” - A Reaper At The Gates

“Another arrow shoots out of the darkness, but it too misses its mark, dropping in midair—courtesy of Musa’s wights. 

“Nikla!” Musa snarls. “Show yourself!” - A Reaper At The Gates

“When I rush her,” Musa whispers, barely audible, “run.” I’m just processing what he says when he’s past me and heading straight for Nikla. Immediately, silver-armored bodyguards step out of the shadows and attack Musa so swiftly that he is now nothing but a blur.” - A Reaper At The Gates

“Musa’s voice rings in my head. We need you as a voice for the Scholars. We need you as our scim and shield.” - A Reaper At The Gates

“You pull that hood any lower,” Musa of Adisa whispers from beside me, “and people will think you’re a jinn.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Stop waving around your blade, aapan.” Musa uses the Mariner honorific that means “little sister” and speaks with the same exasperation I sometimes hear from Darin. The Beekeeper, as Musa is known, is twenty-eight—older than Darin and I. Perhaps that is why he delights in bossing us around.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Musa eases my hand off the hilt. “You break Elias Veturius out of Blackcliff, burn down Kauf Prison, deliver the Martial Emperor in the middle of a war, face down the Nightbringer more times than I can count,” he says, “and you jump at a loud noise? I thought you were fearless, aapan.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“This . . . thing. This Rehmat. It was living inside you?” 

“Like a parasite?” Musa says. “Or a demon?”

 “Don’t be so horrified,” I say. “Whatever it is, it’s inside you too. All of you. Or so the Jaduna said.” 

Musa looks down, clearly wondering if some fey beastie will burst unexpectedly from his chest. 

“So if one of us had lost our temper and yowled at the Nightbringer—”

 “I did not yowl—” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Laia! Watch it!” a Scholar man with dark skin and long, black hair calls out. He holds off three legionnaires with a scim, a short dagger, and—I squint—a cloud of hundreds of wights who befuddle his foes. They defend him with a vicious protectiveness that wights aren’t known for.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Tend to your wounds,” I say. “Then leave. Go back to the beach. To your boats. To a quick death, it matters not. But you will not enter the Waiting Place.” 

“He’s your brother.” Musa speaks up, nodding to Harper. The Mask gapes at Musa, who doesn’t seem to notice.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“The Soul Catcher gives her a brief, unreadable look. “Yes. One human might slip through the forest undetected by them. But a half dozen? They will know you are here soon enough.” 

“Can’t you just—” Musa puts his hands around his throat and mimes choking—referring no doubt to how the Soul Catcher can steal away breath.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“You’re late.” His armor is splashed with blood, but he doesn’t appear to have any wounds. Musa materializes behind him, limping. “Good in a fight.” Quin nods to the Scholar approvingly.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Not hard to look at, is he?” I jump at the voice next to me, my scim half-drawn. It is Musa, one hand gently nudging my blade back to its scabbard. He has a dozen bruises and as many cuts, most half-healed.

“So jumpy, Shrike. One would think you’d only just escaped a band of Karkauns by the skin of your teeth.” He chuckles darkly at his little joke, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Forgive me,” he says. “Laughing hurts less than facing what happened. I am sorry about Faris. I liked him.”

“Thank you,” I say. “And your joke was terrible, so naturally, Faris would have loved it.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“He pats his face, preening. “Everyone says I’m even more dashing with scars.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Now, Shrike.” Musa follows me reluctantly. “While I do like my women tall and bossy, and while I know this face is difficult to resist, sadly, my heart belongs to another—” “Oh, shut up.” I stop when we’re far from the courtyard. “You’re not that pretty.” He bats his eyelashes at me, and I wish he were just a bit uglier” - Sky Beyond The Storm

“In fact, I’ll offer you a little tidbit right now. Captain Avitas Harper is on his way here. He’s in the northwest corridor, passing that very ugly statue of a yak, and moving rather quickly.” 

“How—” I know how he does it. Still, the specificity is uncanny.

“Ten seconds,” Musa murmurs. “Eight—six—” I stride swiftly away, wincing at the pain lancing up my leg. But I’m not fast enough. 

“Blood Shrike,” Harper calls in a voice that I cannot ignore. I curse Musa as he walks off, laughing quietly.” - Sky Beyond The Storm

“Within the crowd of Karkauns, a squad of my men fight their way toward me, Musa among them. I try to join them, but the Karkauns surround us. Musa disappears, his scims flying, and I remind myself to ask him who the hells trained him before I am inundated by the enemy again.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Just the blather the Karkauns were spewing. Ik tachk mort fid iniqant fi. Haven’t been able to get a translation of it, but—”

“‘Death wakes the great sea,’” Musa translates, nodding a greeting to a group of Scholars as they pass. “Or—no, wait. ‘Death feeds the great sea.’”

I stop in the middle of the hall, ignoring the irritated grunt of a Mask who nearly runs into me. “Why didn’t you tell me you spoke Karkaun?”

 “You didn’t ask.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“My grandfather taught me to fight. He was a palace guard. Saved old King Irmand’s life when he was a boy. Got a beekeeping estate for his trouble. My father became a healer, but I spent more time with the bees. I think they both thought training would toughen me up.”

“Did it?”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Go on, insult me,” Musa says. “But you and I are more alike than you know, and that’s not a compliment. You’re in a position of great power, Shrike. It’s a lonely place to be. Most leaders spend their lives using others. Being used. Love isn’t just a luxury for you. It’s a rarity. It’s a gift. Don’t throw it away.”

“I’m not throwing it away.” I stop walking and pull the Scholar around to face me. “I’m afraid, Musa.” I don’t mean to blurt the words out—especially to a man whose arrogance has vexed me from the moment I met him. But to my relief, he does not mock me.

“How many in Antium lost those beloved to them when the Karkauns attacked?” he asks. “How many like Dex, who hide who they love because the Empire would kill them for it?” Musa runs a hand through his black hair, and it sticks up like a bird’s nest. “How many like Laia, betrayed and then left to claw her way through her pain? How many like me, Shrike, pining for someone who no longer exists?” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“But that’s not what we’re talking about,” Musa says. “You are lucky enough to love someone who loves you back. He is alive and breathing and in the same vicinity as you. By the skies, do something about it. For however long you have. For whatever time you get. Because if you don’t, I swear that you’ll regret it. You’ll regret it for all your years.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Do you know where Musa of Adisa was in the fight to take Antium, Pontilius?” I say now. “At my side, bleeding for an Empire he’d never set foot in until a few months ago. Fighting for the Scholars. Tell me, General, where were you during the fighting?” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“As I walk through the freezing palace, I search for a flash of color amid the drear. Musa can always be counted on to wear at least one loud item of clothing—and I need his information now.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Someone who will know how to deal with Musa’s pain. But the Scholar does not release my hand.

“I shouldn’t mourn her.” He wipes his face, and I almost don’t hear him.

“She jailed my father. Took my lands. My title. The Scholars suffered under her rule.” - Sky Beyond The Storm

“We got married a decade ago. I was eighteen. She was nineteen. Her brother was crown prince, but he died of an illness and the palace healer—my father—couldn’t save him. She—” He shakes his head. “Grief took her. The ghuls found ripe prey with her, and they nibbled at her mind for years. And when I spoke of them to her, she called me insane. King Irmand was so grief-stricken after his son’s death that he did not see what was happening to his daughter.”

“My father died in prison. My mother soon after. And yet—” He looks between Harper and me. “I still loved her. I shouldn’t have, but I did.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“I have to go to Marinn,” Musa says. “Find Keris. Kill her. Nikla’s heir is a first cousin. Skies know if he’s still alive, but he’s young. He’ll need help.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“You want me to stay,” he says. “But the Mariners were my people first. They need me. And you owe me a favor, Shrike.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“All the way to Avitas’s quarters, where we can speak without interruption, I think of Musa’s cries. The way he sounded as if his soul had been dug out of his body.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Ah, young love,” Musa says, and I glance at him, wondering if I will see bitterness in his regard. But his smile takes years off his face, which has been drawn and desolate of late.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Love can be more powerful in a battle than planning or strategy. Love keeps us fighting. Love drives us to survive.”

“Skies, stop meddling—”

“I meddle because I hope, aapan.” The humor bleeds from his voice, and I’m certain he’s remembering his beloved, doomed Nikla. “Life is too short not to hope.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Soldiers on both sides of the escarpment stumble to their feet, still shaken from the maelstrom. Musa has an arm under the Blood Shrike’s shoulders, and together they stagger away from the front line, anguish emanating from both.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“The Blood Shrike, Musa, and I are discussing how the troops should handle any rogue ghosts. When Laia appears, Musa kicks the Shrike in the ankle.

“What the hells, Musa—oh—” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Duty gives me a straight back when Musa, his own eyes red at the loss of Darin, finds me and takes me to a line of bodies to be buried in the jinn grove.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“Musa is here too, gesturing with the flatbread while flirting with Afya Ara-Nur. The Tribeswoman is still pale from her injury, wincing even as she laughs. Mamie looks amused while Spiro Teluman watches with a dark glare. The smith shouldn’t worry. Musa’s heart is as shattered as mine” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“Gird your loins, Shrike.” Musa gives me a sidelong glance. “You’re about to get quite the promotion.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“I heard her tell Zacharias a story last night. He was rapt.”

“Where is he?”

“With Tas, eating moon cakes.” I nod to a cart near Mamie’s wagon, where the young Scholar boy, who appears to have grown a foot since I last saw him, grins as my nephew stuffs a cake into his mouth. Musa, keeping them company, hands over another.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“Musa has been invaluable in court, charming Illustrian Paters as easily as he has Scholars. When we broke up the estates of Keris’s top allies, it was Musa who suggested we award them to Scholars and Plebeians who fought in the Battle of Antium. And when grief threatens to consume me, it is Musa who appears with a meal and insists we eat it out in the sunshine. Musa who drags me to the palace kitchens to bake bread with him, and Musa who suggests a visit to Zacharias, even if it means canceling two weeks of court. I thought at first that the Scholar had wights watching me to make sure I did not fall too deeply into despair. But the wights, he told me, are no longer his spies.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“How am I supposed to take the Pater of Gens Visselia seriously when I know he spends most of his time composing odes to his hounds?” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“Yes,” I say to his uncertainty. “I want you to stay, Musa.” He lets out a breath.

“Thank the skies,” he says. “I don’t actually like bees very much. Little bastards always sting me. And anyway, you need me around.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“I’m not lonely!” A lie, though Musa is too much a gentleman to call me on it.

“But you are alone, Empress.” A shadow passes across his face, and I know he thinks of his wife, Nikla, dead six months now. “As all those in power are alone. You don’t have to be.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“It should have been him dancing with you,” Musa says, and at the raw emotion in his voice, my eyes heat.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“Alas.” The Scholar spins me in a circle, then pulls me back. “We’re the ones who survived, Empress. Unlucky, perhaps, but that’s our lot. And since we’re here, we might as well live.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“Though I was reluctant moments ago, now I find that I want to give in to that exuberant beat. So does Musa. So we laugh and dance again. We eat a dozen moon cakes and chase away the loneliness, two broken people who, for this night, anyway, make a whole.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

[myhusbandsasemni]

Burns and Rescue

The Adventurers

CW: Burns, mentions of torture and experimentation

WC: 2474

.............................

“I need your help, master,” Rin said. He stood in the dusty beams of light that filtered into Old Man Ralph’s house. The house always seemed to be bathed in a sunset glow, the light dancing across the piles of books and playing on the bottles in the cupboards and on the shelves. 

Ralph looked up and raised a bushy eyebrow. “What for? You Adventurers don’t need my help.”

“Well, I need your help this time,” Rin said desperately. “You have to understand, there’s a man I need to go rescue, but he’s severely burned. The shock of the rescue might kill him and I need another medic who can deal with deep tissue burns.”

Ralph froze and turned fully to Rin, his wolf ears tilted in high alert. “Rin,” the old man said, “I can just go dancing off into a fight. I’m old and frail and-”

“You’re not frail!” Rin protested seriously. “I’ve seen you work on a surgery for 9 hours straight. That is not a feat that a frail man could manage. Please. I know you hate adventures and motion and danger, but this is something we can’t do alone. He was sick and dying and I couldn’t do anything! I left him behind and I NEED to rescue him and I can’t do that without……. Oh. You’re coming?”

Ralph looked up from the bag he was packing and rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m coming, if only for the bragging rights. Stop your blathering and help me pack.”

Rin grinned and hurried to do as the old surgeon asked. 

…………………..

The dark building brought up unpleasant, half formed memories in Rin’s mind. It was a very unassuming block of concrete. There was no decoration to it at all. It really was just a hollowed out block of cement and metal. Rin grimaced, leaning into his best friend, Laurance, for a bit of comfort. He could almost hear Simon’s screams in his mind. 

He was back in the blank hallways, only decorated with his and Simon’s gasps of pain and fluids from their weeping wounds.

“We’re almost out,” Rin had gasped, holding his arm where a guard had dislocated his shoulder. “Come on, Simon. We’re almost out!”

Simon had panted behind him, his arms awkwardly out to his sides to avoid chafing the burns. “I’m coming,” he’d called, his voice pained. 

Rin barreled through a door, banging his shoulder on the way through. He screamed as his shoulder popped back into place, as intended. He shook stars out of his eyes as his healing processes bound his ligaments tightly back in place. 

He paused so he could run alongside Simon, one hand on his lower back to help him run. The sounds of the guards were coming up behind them. They didn’t have much time. Rin leapt up on a counter and smashed open a window. The first window he’d seen since he’d been brought here that led outside. The haze of light on the horizon where the sun would be rising gave Rin such a rush of relief and joy he nearly passed out. He climbed through, breaking the glass so Simon wouldn’t receive the cuts that were already healing across Rin’s own body. The adrenaline the werewolf felt was the only thing that was keeping him going. 

He turned to reach and help Simon, but the guards were already pouring into the room. Simon was backed up against the counter, shaking. He twisted his head, burned arms up in the air. “Rin!! GO!”

“Simon, I-”

“GET OUT OF HERE!”

Rin froze for only a moment. A guard shot a taser at him through the window while others took Simon roughly by the arms. Rin fell back, dodging the prongs and sickened by Simon’s screams of pain as his burned skin shed off underneath the rough treatment. 

Rin stood up and ran off through the trees, sticks stabbing at his bare feet, branches whipping across his hospital gown, and tears streaming down his face. 

He’d been found in a town about an hour away on foot, curled up in a ball outside of a vet clinic. He couldn’t remember much after his escape. His brain had shut down.

It was now two weeks later, and Rin had found his way back. Laurance glanced at his friend with a concerned look as Rin came back to the present. Rin shook his head, fingering the crossbow charm that hung around his neck. He could feel Kiera’s comforting hand on his lower back as she and Anisha discussed if they wanted to go in sneaky, or swords blazing. 

“Kay,” Laurance said when the discussion stopped. “Kiera and Souka will cause a distraction, Anisha will go and find the control center and solve what this place is exactly and if there are more of them, and Rin and I will go and find Simon. Is that what the plan is?”

“Sounds good to me,” Kiera said with a nod, icing her knuckles in preparation for the fight.

Rin nodded. 

“And what about me?” Ralph asked, sounding very miffed that they had forgotten him.

“You’ll be coming with Laurance and I to help Simon,” Rin said seriously, clicking back into his place on the team. “Who knows what they’ve done to him since I escaped.”

“Let’s go then,” Anisha said. She became invisible and was off like a shot.

Laurance and Rin waited until Kiera and Souka had entered before they snuck around with Ralph to where the window was that Rin had escaped through. Rin almost swore when he saw the opening had been filled with concrete.

“We’ll find another way in,” Laurance said reassuringly. “Maybe Anisha found a sneaky way and we can follow her.”

“Just hurry up,” Ralph said, med pack strapped to his back and cane in one hand ready for some butt kicking. “I’m ready to get my bragging rights with healing this Simon of yours.”

‘Nisha,’ Laurance said in the mind link. ‘How did you get through?’

‘Window on the second floor,’ came the cheerful reply from the Scaleon inside. 

Laurance located the window. Rin went first, scaling the wall. Laurance paused to let Ralph complain and get on his back before jumping up and getting through with Rin’s help. Once inside, they found themselves in a lab. The sounds of a fight had started up somewhere on the east side of the building that didn’t quite mask the sounds of a keyboard in the next room. Anisha was busy doing her job.

“This way,” Rin muttered, getting out into the halls. “We were kept in the basement.”

The other two followed, Laurance sticking close to Ralph as he was the assigned bodyguard at the moment. Ralph just seemed vaguely annoyed by the time it was taking to get down to the injured man.

Once on the first floor, Rin had no trouble remembering where the basement stairs were. He popped the locked door open after only a moment and descended into the horrid darkness. 

‘I’m sure there will be scientists we have to watch for down here,’ Rin mindspoke, eyes darting across the dark rooms.

Laurance sent an affirmation to Rin and drew his sword. With scientists, he doubted he’d have to use it, but it was a good threat display. 

Rin shuddered as he passed a room he remembered all too well as an experimentation room. He’d spent a good three days in that room being ripped apart and getting healed up again by his own magic.

They came to a room that was definitely full of people. Laurance pushed past the two to peer through. Scientists were conducting experiments with chemicals and whatever else. Laurance backed up. He had not seen Simon, or any other prisoners, in the room. Rin led the way past silently until they reached a corridor of cells. The doors were made of a see through material. Some had scratch marks in their surfaces, almost all were empty.

Rin only glanced at the cell where he was kept, recognizing the marks of each of the scotches he’d made on the walls. It was the only thing he had to entertain himself while he was trapped here. That and talking to-

“Simon,” Rin breathed when he saw the man laying in the corner of the cell. Rin quickly opened the pad, put in the numbers he’d seen the scientists put in hundred of times, numbers he’d memorized in case they’d need it during their escape. 

When the door slid open, Rin dropped to his knees by Simon’s side. The man had shifted upon hearing his name, but his eyes were dull with fever and he shuddered under Rin’s touch. He probably didn’t even recognize the werewolf. 

“Oh, no no no,” Rin crooned, pulling back the hospital robe Simon was wearing. The burns from whatever the scientists were giving him had spread. They coated his arms and hands, but were creeping out onto his torso and up his neck. It was a wonder the man was still alive.

Ralph was by his student in an instant, cutting open the sleeves and sneering at the poor attempt at bandages on the man’s arms. 

“I’ll give him something to bolster him. I can’t do anything else until we get back to the med bay,” Ralph said, pulling out a potion and taking some of it into a syringe. He quickly emptied it in the man’s chest where it would circulate quickly. 

Rin rolled out a shock blanket and they loaded Simon onto it gently. The man was so out of it that he could only twitch when pain lanced across his body. They wrapped the blanket around him and Rin lifted the man carefully. He was so skinny now. He’d been here longer than Rin had. Even before Rin had been brought here. Rin bit his lip, calculating everything. There was a very good chance that Simon would die, even before they made it back to the med bay. 

“It’s okay, my friend,” he murmured. “I’m sorry it took so long to come back. I’m getting you out.”

Laurance was out in the halls first. ‘Should I take care of the scientists?’ he mind asked.

‘I’m thinking we just lock them in their lab,’ Rin replied. ‘We can send people to deal with them later.’ Rin widened his call and mind asked Kiera, ‘Is it safe for us to leave through the front doors?’

‘Should be all good,’ Kiera sent, giving the impression of flicking her tails with a sense of satisfaction. 

Laurance went off to lock the scientist in the lab, which he succeeded in. He jammed the doors so they wouldn’t open, ignored the scientists pleas and caught up with Rin as they reached the front doors.

“Let’s get out of here,” Rin said to Anisha, who was waiting for them outside after finishing her job. Laurance opened a portal as Anisha finished. He put extra care into making the portal steady. A wobbly portal could cause injuries to become worse, and while he hadn’t made a wobbly portal in months, any detriment to Simon’s health could likely kill the man. They portaled into their medical room in the Hoard and Rin, Ralph, and Anisha set to work in healing the man. Laurance put a hand on Souka’s shoulder and smiled. From what he’d glimpsed through the mind link, his boy had done very well in the fight, even taking out a third of the force while Kiera dealt with the rest. All with minimal casualties. 

“Wanna go make some food?” Laurance asked Souka.

Souka nodded, knowing that making food was exactly what Laurance would need to distract himself while they waited for the medics to finish up with Simon. Kiera would have to help this time so she couldn't bug Laurance or play games with them until Simon was stable. Her cooling powers would be needed on his burns.

So, the boys left them to it and went upstairs to make food for the others when they emerged from the hours of healing that were ahead of them.  

……………………

The healing was exhausting. Thankfully, Rin had plenty of material to print new skin for Simon. He looked kind of patchwork when they finished, but he was breathing better and he didn’t look as sick. Rin had eaten afterwards and then gone to pass out while Laurance cleaned the med bay after the surgery and looked after Simon. It was nice to have a friend who only needed three hours of sleep, especially when there were things to be done and you needed sleep. 

Rin grabbed a cup of coffee when he woke and went down to sit by Simon’s bed. He was nervous, but hopeful. Simon had actually done very well during the surgery. Perhaps the scientists put something in him that made him more resilient. Rin mulled that over in his head, sipping at his coffee slowly. 

Simon woke up around the time Rin was thinking about getting a new cup of coffee. Rin leaned forward into Simon’s line of sight as the man took a deep breath. He whimpered a little and the werewolf quickly soothed him.

“Simon, I don’t know if you recognize me without those robes on,” Rin smiled a little to himself over the hours they’d spent complaining about the clothing. “But it’s me. Rin.”

Simon peered at him from one eye. “R...Rin? You…. no.'' Simon groaned. “They caught you again.”

“No, no, no, my friend,” Rin said, ears twitching as he put his hand on the man’s forehead. “Simon, I got away. And I came back. I’m just sorry that it took me so long to do so. But you’re safe. We’re at my house, now.”

Simon stared at Rin and a relieved smile grew on his face. He relaxed into the blankets with a happy chuckle. “I knew you’d come back,” he said warmly.

Rin smiled. “Of course. I promised I’d take you out to watch some movies. Not to mention have a drinking competition. Once you’re healed, of course.”

“Of course.” Simon was silent for a moment. “I imagined being free so many times while I was in there. I imagined how I would feel, what I would do……... Now that I’m out, I’m most excited to be able to sleep….. without having to worry about waking up to more experiments.”

“I can imagine,” Rin said, agreement in his tone. “Hey, are you in any pain at all?”

“No,” Simon said softly. “I just want sleep…. And Rin. Thank you.”

“No problem man.”

“When you rescued me, I thought you were a god coming to take me to the next life.”

Rin chuckled. “Not a god.”

“Not a god,” Simon agreed. “But….. unarguably a hero.”

Rin smiled as Simon drifted off to sleep. 

The Adventurers tag list: @dowings @writeblrfantasy @artrayasnow93 @doubi-ixi @extraisthmus @thethistlegirlwrites @thepotatowriter

[moonbeambucky]

Ho, Ho, Oh No!

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2312 Warnings: fluff, implied smut

Summary: Plenty of gifts will be exchanged as you and Lance celebrate Christmas but you’re not prepared for a certain surprise

A/N: Thank you as always to Sam @buckyofthemyscira​ for beta reading 💕 gif not mine (x)

It’s peaceful in the morning without the sound of an alarm going off, a rare occurrence left for Sunday’s only, when there are no obligations besides dreaming cozily under your comforter. That’s a half lie, there is a very important responsibility to tend to, the one whose paws are swatting at your face, forcing you awake.

“Okay, okay Kip. I’m up.” You rub the sleep out of your eyes, tempted to roll back over until you see the sweet face of your little tabby begging for food.

Not so reluctantly you sit up, stretching your arms above your head and yawning so loudly you scare the poor cat.

“Sorry buddy, mommy’s tired,” you apologized, whether he could understand you or not.

Staggered footsteps take you to the kitchen where you open up a can of cat food. Kip weaves through your legs in a delicate dance you’ve learned to be aware of as he eagerly awaits his breakfast.

It’s not like he was starving by any means, dry food still sits in his other bowl but he wants the good stuff. His face is in the bowl before you set it on the ground, and you ignore the way your own body cracks as you stand up again. You need a massage and honestly you can’t wait until your other half gets home so you could have one.

Lance was due back today after traveling with the gymnastics team he coached and you missed him like crazy. Facetiming was just not the same although he made a point to do it every day he was gone.

You had been dating for a year and a half, living together for just a few months now and life was practically perfect. You fell in love with him and his rescue cat, and when you found out Lance named him after a gymnastics move your heart filled with even more affection for the suave athlete that was really a secret dork.

The warmth of the shower relieved your aching muscles and smelling the container of Lance’s body wash eased your mind knowing he would be home soon. He had been gone for too long and you had a plan in mind to welcome him back.

A few hours later Lance walked through the door, bright blue eyes standing out against wind bitten cheeks, bundled up in a heavy coat littered with melting flurries.

“Y/N?” he called out, taking off his coat and hanging it in the front closet.

Kip greeted Lance with a hearty meow as he was bent over to take off his boots. He lifted the cat in his arms, scratching his ears as Kip purred under Lance’s touch.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked Kip who rubbed the top of his head against Lance’s face.

Lance placed Kip on the floor and he grabbed his suitcase, as he headed for the bedroom he wondered where you could be. Your car was in the driveway but there was a chance you had gone out, although after a long trip there was nothing more that Lance wanted than to cuddle up next to you.

As he entered the bedroom Lance froze in place, more than surprised to find you on your knees in the middle of the bed, wearing red baby doll lingerie with white marabou trim. The Santa hat you wore flopped to the side when you tilted your head to greet him. Feeling himself twitch in his pants he instantly thought of another thing he could possibly want to do with you.

“Welcome home baby,” you cooed, a coy smile pulling at your lips as you seductively licked the candy cane in your hand.

“Is it Christmas already?” he asked, his weight dipping the mattress as he crawled towards you, laying you back on the bed and nudging your legs apart with his own.

You traced the candy cane along his lips, watching as the blue of his eyes retreated to a thin line as he sucked on the minty treat, humming sinfully.

“Only for naughty boys like you.”

His lips were on yours in an instant, tingling with sweet peppermint kisses that lingered on every part of your skin. That night Kip waited just a little bit longer for his dinner.

It was hard to focus on the task at hand, with Lance on the floor shifting the base of the Christmas tree you just brought home. His ass looked amazing in those sweatpants, so beautifully plump you couldn’t help but stare.

“Stop, it’s perfect!” you beamed, shifting your gaze back to the tree once it was centered in front of the window.

Lance pushed himself up and you took his hand, pulling him into an embrace. Leaning your head against him, you inhaled his intoxicating scent that combined warm cinnamon and light citrus. Every cell in your body loved Lance Tucker more than the last. You couldn’t believe you had met this amazing man, who was so unlike all the rumors said about him.

Lance was a tough trainer but never mean. He pushed his students to work hard but he could easily see when they needed a break. He was preparing them not only physically but mentally to be able to handle all that comes with competition.

It was after the Olympics Lance’s own reputation became slightly tarnished but he recovered and was thankful above all that you gave him a chance.

You tilted your head towards him and Lance felt the simmer of your passionate gaze. Your lips found his, soft and sweet, and you felt him smile against you.

“Sweetheart, we can move this to the bedroom if you want…”

His tongue swept across his lips and he raised his brow looking for your answer. You smiled, pecking his lips with yours knowing that as much as you wanted to continue this right now was the only time you had to put up decorations. Work had become increasingly busy and it was rare if you found yourself home on time. It was now or never if you wanted to decorate with Christmas being only a few weeks away.

“How about we decorate this tree and then… hop in the shower together?”

He detached himself from your embrace with comic speed, rushing over to the boxes that held ornaments, garland and all of your other decorations, frantically pulling off the lids in a hurry to get them up.

“Lance!” you whined playfully, “Come on. I don’t want to rush this. This is the first Christmas we’ll be celebrating in our place together and I want everything to be perfect.”

He set down the tangled cord of string lights to lift your chin, “Are you worried about the decorations or that your parents are coming to meet me?”

You sighed, unable to help the smile on your face because Lance knew you too well. You were very nervous about your parents coming for the holidays. They were eager to meet the man that stole your heart and every second leading up to their arrival date has added to your anxiety.

There was nothing to worry about, you knew this. They would easily see how kind and charming Lance is, but still in the back of your mind was this nagging voice that persisted, convincing you that everything had to be perfect. A gorgeously decorated tree, stockings hung just right above the fireplace, tinsel, wreaths and Lance’s favorite, the mistletoe.

Lance could see your mind was running like a hamster on a wheel, and all that spinning was making you even more panicked. Your name fell softly from his lips and you snapped out of your thoughts, finding peace in his calming irises, an ocean blue gaze that lapped like waves against the sand, washing away your worries.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, I promise. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” His lips pressed a kiss softly to your forehead and Lance cupped your cheeks as you stared back at him.

You were trying desperately to believe him, forcing your fears aside. “I know they’ll love you because I love you.” Lance grinned, pressing his lips to yours again. It was a quick kiss because of course your worries couldn’t stay away for too long.

“But I am worried. They’re predicting a bad storm the week my parents are supposed to come, what if their flight gets cancelled?”

“How many times has the weather been wrong before, huh? Just last week they said we’d have a foot of snow and what did we get? Flurries.”

You nodded your head. “You’re right. I’ll try not to worry.”

Your lips pulled into an innocent smirk and Lance chuckled, shrugging his shoulders because you both knew you would still be worrying about this. Not that he minded, because any time you needed reassurance he would be right there to hold you close until all your worries dissipated.  

Lance smiled as his phone lit up with your text message. It had far better news than the previous one that said you’d be late again. He was used to it, every night in the past week you had come home late and exhausted.

Often he had to force you to eat a little something despite you wanting to go straight to bed. Your job was extra stressful in the week leading up to Christmas but soon you’d have time off and he couldn’t wait. Although he was pretty excited by what your message said just now.

You: Hey babe. Finally on my way, hopefully not too much traffic but I can’t wait to see you soon… I have a surprise 😘

It was the kissing emoji on the end that really made him smile. The last time you had a surprise for him he found you wearing very sexy holiday lingerie. He questioned for a moment if this surprise might be along the same lines.

All of these late nights were taking a toll on you; sitting too long at work, eyes straining from staring at a screen, your back aching from poor posture. Before bed Lance would rub your shoulders, knead his thumbs into your sore muscles, kissing the aches away as he worked on the knots that littered your back.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the kissing emoji. Maybe work wasn’t so bad today. Maybe you had extra coffee and were able to move around a lot. Maybe you missed him as much as he missed you, wanting those nightly massages to turn into something more.

A smirk pulls deeply across his face as Lance comes up with an idea. He sets the mood, lighting the fireplace, dimming the lights to a glow as the crackling wood begins to drench the room in warmth. The blinds are closed, the tree is lit and Lance rushes to the bedroom to find the perfect sexy outfit to surprise you when you walk through the door. It doesn’t take long before he picks out the perfect one.

Lance stands in the living room, fingers slipping under the Santa hat he’s wearing to scratch his head. He adjusts the hat again, blowing out a nervous breath as he waits in silence.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said to Kip who hopped up onto the nearest table, staring curiously at Lance.

Within a few minutes Lance perked up as he heard the key jingling in the lock. He stood up straighter, adjusting his stance; transforming his giddy smile into a seductive smirk, his eyes falling into a half-lidded, lustful gaze.

“Oh Laaance,” you sang from the door, accompanied by a lot of noise. Perhaps the pulling off of boots and removing your coat, he thought. “Guess who’s– oh my god!”

Your jaw fell open at Lance, standing stark naked in the living room, only wearing a Santa hat with his modesty covered by a stocking. No, worse, it was inside of the stocking. On any other day you this would be a welcome surprise, but not today not as your…

“Don’t look!” you screamed, remembering your parents that were right behind you but it was too late.

You watched as your father spun his head around so quickly he might have given himself whiplash. Your head was buried in your hands as you felt waves of embarrassment wash over you. This was a complete nightmare, one you wished you could wake up from. You regretted not telling Lance about your surprise, that your parents decided to fly in early because the storm that was predicted was definitely happening.

Lifting your head you saw your mother continue to gawk at Lance who had become nearly as red as the stocking he held. His mouth fell open but no words came out; he’s not sure what he would have said any way, not when he wished the floor would open and swallow him up.  

“Mom stop!” You raised your hand to block her view but she was determined to get a good look at the man you were dating. “Lance would you put some clothes on!”

He was snapped out of his frozen state, holding the stocking extra carefully as he shimmied backwards. Lance was too embarrassed and preoccupied to realize Kip had left his previous spot on the table and was trying to weave himself through Lance’s legs.

The unexpected fur against his ankles made Lance gasp and stumble wildly as he tried not to step on Kip, nearly dropping the stocking as he found his footing. Your mother watched the whole thing, getting a perfect view of Lance’s bare backside, his buns jiggling as he was finally able to run into the bedroom to put on clothes.

“Well, Merry Christmas to me,” she smirked, fanning herself with her hand as she moved towards your father, as you hoped for a true Christmas miracle, that their memories could be wiped.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 5: The North Mountain

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which Harry and Y/N set off on a new journey and get stuck in another snowstorm.

Word count: 4.6k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

THEY’RE BACKKKKKKK! There’s another cave scene in this chapter 👀

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“Are you sure, Your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Y/N told Mary for the third and final time, hoping that she’d sounded determined even though her voice was wavering. She could feel Lance’s eyes burning holes on the side of her face. He didn’t want her to go through with this.

The throne room was utterly quiet. There were just the three of them and two guards standing by the door. Y/N hated how loud her heart was beating, as if even it could tell this was a bad idea.

“The journey won’t be easy,” Mary said, lacing her hands together in front of her crotch. “Many have tried to find the lake and those who returned had not even made it halfway to the top of the mountain.”

“I know,” Y/N said coolly.

Mary quickly looked from her to Lance as if expecting him to interrupt and convince Y/N that Harry wasn’t worth all this danger. But Lance kept a straight face, as usual, masking what he truly felt inside.

Mary drew in a breath. Then, she took the silver ring with a black gemstone off her finger and wiped it clean with the sleeve of her dress. “When my sisters and I were born,” she said, “each of us was given a ring like this. It was enchanted with our mother’s blood, so as long as the stone was red, it meant all three of us were alive in this world. That was how I knew my sisters were gone. After I’d escaped from Egon’s men, the stone faded to brown and eventually to black.” She turned to Lance. “This ring will let you know if the Queen’s in danger.” And back to Y/N. “All it takes is a drop of your blood, Your Majesty.”

Y/N met Lance’s uneasy gaze. He sighed and drew out the dagger attached to his belt and handed it to her. She held it firmly, biting her lip and pressing the tip of the blade into her finger until blood oozed out of the cut. Mary took hold of Y/N’s wrist and placed her finger above the ring. The red drop fell onto the stone and it glowed like a tiny flame before subsiding to a dimmer red.

“Blood calls to blood,” Mary said, giving the red-stone ring to Lance. He put it on as Y/N put the finger into her mouth, tasting the iron sting of her own blood. “If the colour darkens, it means she’s in danger. If it turns black, she’s dead.”

The way Mary said it, so assertively and pitifully, sent a chill down Y/N’s spine. But for Harry and her kingdom, she must not be afraid.

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Harry hadn’t expected to see the Queen in the stable. Who would expect to see a Queen out here in the middle of the night?

“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking equally surprised to see him.

He flashed a beam and continued stroking the black horse. “I ran into Jo and she told me to go feed the horses.”

“Feeding the horses isn’t your job,” Y/N said, arching an eyebrow.

Harry’s eyes widened. “It’s not?”

Y/N was speechless for a moment before she sighed. “Guide to surviving in my court: do not take orders from a maid.”

Heat pooled at Harry’s cheeks yet he managed to conceal his embarrassment with a grin. “Sorry. Your maid is pretty scary for a maid.”

Y/N shook her head as she broke into a smile. And Harry felt that weird sensation in his chest again. She’d been cold and distant since the last time they’d spoken two weeks ago. He hoped she’d forgiven him for what he’d done. Even though he didn’t know her, he felt a strong connection between them. He hadn’t had any nightmare lately about her jumping off a cliff or bleeding out to death on the floor, but those scenes had been stuck on his mind ever since the last time. He wished he knew what they meant or if they meant anything at all. That was one of the reasons he’d agreed to join her on this impossible quest – to make sure his nightmares wouldn’t come true.

“What are you doing here?” he asked and quickly added, “Your Majesty.”

Y/N’s mouth twitched subtly as she came closer. The black horse pawed the ground and snorted as if it were happy to see her.

“I’m here to say goodnight to Thunder,” she said, stroking the animal’s head.

“Thunder,” Harry echoed.

“I know what you’re thinking. Northerners have weird names for their horses,” she said. That was exactly what he was thinking. “You two have met before.”

“Thunder and I?” Harry asked, pointing to his chest.

Y/N nodded. “He was my ride on the journey last year. Would you like to see your horse?”

He said yes. And so she led him further into the stable to a beautiful brown horse who neighed and nuzzled Harry’s chest as soon as it saw him. Harry chuckled and stroked the horse’s back.

“Her name’s Lightning,” Y/N said and laughed when Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m serious.”

Harry didn’t remember having ridden Lightning before, but he felt like he knew her in the same way he felt like he knew Y/N. The memories might not be there, but the feelings were.

“Will it be just the four of us again tomorrow?” he asked.

“No, some of my men will be joining us. They’ll carry food and water.”

“What about the King?”

Y/N paused for a bit longer. “Lance must stay here. Someone has to run the court while I’m away.”

“And Attwell?”

“He’ll travel back and forth if necessary.”

Harry had heard from the maids that the people in Attwell loved Lance and were excited about the wedding. Y/N would probably receive the same amount of adoration in Isolde if she were a man. There hadn’t been any protests in the past weeks. Harry assumed Calanthe must be planning something else, so Lance had to stay here to pacify the court during the Queen’s absence. He wanted to ask Y/N about it, but he knew she wouldn’t discuss such matters with a peasant.

“Why doesn’t His Majesty go instead?”

Y/N’s expression remained the same as if she’d been expecting the question. “This is my kingdom,” she said, “so it's my responsibility, not his.”

“But he’s going to be your husband,” Harry ventured.

“So?” She lifted her chin proudly. “You think it’s because I’m a woman I cannot finish a job?”

“No, Your Majesty.” Harry could not help but smile. “I think you’re perfectly capable of getting the job done. It’s just...I wouldn’t let my woman risk her life out there while I’m safe here in the castle.”

“Lance insisted on going for me, but I didn’t let him,” Y/N said. “Just like you, I wouldn’t let my betrothed risk his life out there while I’m safe here in the castle.”

“Ahhh, so that’s what betrothed means,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. When Y/N didn’t reply and turned her attention to Lightning, he felt the need to keep this conversation going. “So...why are we searching for the lake? You asked me to come with you but you never told me why.”

Y/N straightened her back and folded her arms over her chest. There was something so serene about her, and Harry would sometimes catch himself staring unblinkingly at her face. He didn’t know if he was allowed to gawk at a sovereign, but Y/N didn’t seem to mind.

“One drop of water from that lake,” she began, “could cure the deadliest disease, heal broken bones, make a mute person talk and a deaf person hear. So if the lake exists and we have access to its powers, we’ll have a great chance of winning against the enemy.”

Harry pressed his lips together and shifted his gaze to his feet. Y/N let out a chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’re changing your mind now.”

“I still want to go,” he said. “It just doesn’t make sense to me why you chose me to go with you. I’m flattered, Your Majesty. But I’m also confused.”

“Because we’re partners in crime,” she said. “Even though you don’t remember anything about our journey, I believe we’ll make a good team as we did, you and I.”

Harry swallowed as he nodded slowly. Being trusted by the Queen with this important quest made Harry anxious and elated at the same time. “I hope this trip will bring back my memories,” he said, then realized he was unconsciously twisting the gold ring on his finger. “Do you know how I got this ring?” He raised his hand. “I asked Kenny and she didn’t know, so I assumed I might have stolen it. I’m not feeling guilty, it’s just weird to wear a piece of jewellery that you stole without knowing how you stole it.”

To his surprise and delight, Y/N broke into laughter. “I gave it to you.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. It was a reward for saving my life at the Wind Valley.”

“Wow.” He admired the ring. Now that he knew how he’d got it, he started looking at it differently. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said.

He dropped his arm back to his side and let out a sharp breath. “I can’t believe we’ve crossed the Wind Valley and done all those crazy things and I don’t remember anything.”

“I suppose we’ve made a lot of impossible things possible,” she said with a faltering smile. “But that was nothing compared to this. I need to know you’re ready.”

“I am.” He gave a firm nod. “I’ll try my best. That’s the least I could do for you before I leave the court.”

“Right,” Y/N said, almost to herself than to him.

He walked her out of the stable. It was snowing. She told him she could get back to her chamber on her own and wished him goodnight. Harry clasped his hands together behind his back as Y/N turned and started walking away.

He suddenly felt the need to shout after her. “You don’t have to worry! I’ll protect you and get you home safely to the King.”

Slowly, Y/N looked back over her shoulder. Their eyes locked, and a flicker of memory flashed across Harry's mind. It’d been snowing like this. They’d been at this same spot right outside the stable. Y/N was sitting on Thunder’s back, white snow falling all around them, decorating her hair with silvery flakes.

Reality rushed back into his vision when she spoke, “I can look after myself. You keep yourself safe.”

He opened his mouth yet could not utter a word.

Her red lips curled gently. And then she was gone.

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“What is it?”

Y/N’s voice brought Lance back to reality. He cast her a single glance before scanning his eyes around. They were standing outside the portcullis. The sky was just growing light. Men were already gathered, faces red in the morning chill as they saddled the horses that snorted clouds of steam.

“Nothing,” Lance lied, not looking at Y/N. He hoped she couldn’t see through his feigned nonchalance, although it hadn’t been effective lately. Y/N had acclimated to his attitude. Sometimes he thought she had to be the only person left in this world who really knew him. It was sad, as the more attached he grew to her, the more it’d hurt when she got back to Harry.

He unconsciously twisted the red-stone ring around his finger while keeping an eye on the soldiers and servants, acting occupied.

“I’ll be back in two weeks,” she said despite his silence. “Don’t miss me too much.”

He turned back to her. She was beaming. The dawn had reddened her nose and cheeks, and as he stared, he completely forgot what to say.

“I won’t,” he mumbled, averting his eyes before she could sense his anxiety.

She placed her hand on his arm and he tried his best not to react to her light touch. He didn’t like the person he’d become when he was around her. Always so sensitive and predictable.

“I trust you not to plot on overthrowing me while I’m away,” she joked.

He let out a laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know, my lady, your throne seems much more comfortable than mine.”

Y/N’s eyes wrinkled at the corners as she tilted her head. “When I get back, I’ll have a special cushion made for your throne.”

“I’ll hold onto that promise,” he said, flashing her his signature grin.

They were interrupted by Harry shouting at a servant for threatening Lightning with a whip. He shoved the man out of the way, obviously angry as he took the mare with him and whispered something to comfort her.

“He seems more himself lately,” Lance remarked.

Y/N only shrugged. It made him wonder what she felt inside.

She hadn’t spoken of Harry since she’d found him with the maid. Everyone in court was convinced that she was looking for the lake to use it as a weapon against Calanthe, and not to save Harry’s life. Lance didn’t want to get his hopes up. The things she did and said always contradicted the look she’d give Harry when he wasn’t looking – like she’d die for him. But he’d already died for her and was probably not coming back.

Lance told himself to never settle to be the second choice or even a choice; he’d been that his entire life being born a bastard. Yet, he would find himself looking at her that same way.

“We’re ready to go, Your Majesty,” said one of the men.

Y/N nodded once before turning to Lance. She held his gaze for a moment, probably rearranging the words in her head to make a proper sentence. She’d once told him that she was bad at goodbyes. He hadn’t thought one day he’d get to see it.

He mustered a smile and pulled the hood of her fur coat over her head, leaving only her face exposed. He cupped it with his gloved hands and she placed her hands over his. If it hadn’t been for the promise he’d made after the first and last time they’d been intimate, he would kiss her right now.

“Try not to die,” he said.

Y/N’s lips arched as she held his wrists. “Even if I die, I’ll come back as a ghost and haunt you and your new bride.”

He chuckled.

To his surprise, she pushed his hands down to close the distance between them and pressed her cool lips to his cheek. He instinctively tugged her in, hugging her like he’d always wanted as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The hug didn’t last for long. And when she pulled away, she turned at once and trudged toward Thunder.

Lance stood with his hands behind his back, watching her mount her horse and shout orders at the men. Harry was on the horse beside the Queen. For the first time since his return, he was looking at her the same way the old Harry would.

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Jo had been watching Lance pace these halls for the entire day after Y/N had left. He looked restless and would keep checking the ring on his finger. It had been funny at first, but now it only concerned Jo.

Of course, Jo was worried about Y/N, too. But from everything that'd happened, she’d learned that every time people doubted Y/N, she’d proven them wrong. And so Jo believed in her. Besides, Y/N had been alone the last time. This time she had a group of soldiers to protect her. The biggest concern should be the existence of the lake. But it was not Jo’s responsibility to think about it. Worrying would do them no good. Life had to move on here in court with or without the Queen.

“Are you kidding me?” Jo asked as she picked up her skirt and chased the King down the long corridor. Lance’s legs were longer so he strode ahead effortlessly while she was out of breath trying to catch up with him. “I’m not sharing a room with the witch!”

“She’s not a witch anymore,” he said easily. “Besides, now that the Queen is gone, it’s time for you to make new friends.”

“Said the loneliest man in the world!” she jeered.

Lance stopped walking and turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you always so mean?"

She folded her arms, chin lifted. “I’m not sharing a room with the witch.”

“Too bad. I’m the one giving orders.” He spun on his heels and she immediately circled around him to stand in his path.

“Why should she get to live here anyway?” she said in annoyance. “She helped Calanthe kidnap Harry, tortured him and erased his memory. She should have been hung by now.”

Lance regarded an angry Jo as he tightened his jaw and sucked in a breath. “Y/N specifically requested that Mary stayed with you.”

“What? Why?”

The King lifted a shoulder. “Mary’s sister was the one who brought you back to life, wasn’t she? Don’t you think you should at least be nice to her?”

“Yes, her sister, not her!”

“The poor girl has lost everything and everyone, Jo. Have sympathy,” Lance said. “And I don’t hit women, but if she pulls some tricks, you can easily take her down.”

Jo put both hands on her hips as her mouth fell open. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lance snorted, shrugged again and sidestepped her. He was walking away when his footsteps slowed and he stopped, standing rigid, staring at his hand. For a second Jo thought he was going to change his mind, but then he turned around and his face was pallid. “The ring,” he said.

Jo’s gaze dropped to his finger. The stone on his ring had turned to a darker red. A prickling sensation shot up Jo’s spine as she locked eyes with the King, both of them horrified.

Their Queen was in danger.

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A bad storm hit as soon as Y/N and her men entered the forest at the foot of the North Mountain. The powerful wind roped itself around them, wanting to either choke them or yank them off their saddles. The horses pushed through the deep snow as the trees swayed back and forth, bending in every direction while the howling of the wind grew louder and more frightening.

Y/N could not see. She shielded the flying snow from her eyes with one arm while looking around for shelter. Unfortunately, her vision was blurred by the raging storm, and she was unable to see further than a few feet ahead. The wind became more bitter and vicious. Horses neighed and men shouted. Y/N told everyone to stay calm, not sure if anyone could hear her. The only thing that kept her sane was Harry being by her side from the moment they’d set off. She thought about what he’d said outside the stable last night. Maybe he really wanted to protect her.

A human scream tore through the crying of the wind, making Y/N snap her head up and strain her ears to listen. It was a woman shouting for help. It grew louder and clearer and more desperate by seconds. Somebody else was here in the forest in this storm. But why?

“We must move, Your Majesty!” Harry yelled at her.

“Did you hear that?” Y/N shouted back.

“What?”

“A woman! There! She’s calling out for help!”

“I hear nothing.”

“How can you not hear that? There it is again!” cried Y/N, but Harry only looked at her as if she were mad. She shook her head quickly. “That woman needs our help. We must save her.”

“Are you insane?” he growled. “We can’t even save ourselves!”

The woman screamed again. She sounded as if she were in pain. Y/N thought about the dying pregnant woman she’d pulled out of the burning house and her conscience didn’t let her move on. “Wait here! I’ll be back!”

“Y/N!” Harry snapped. But she’d already pulled the reins and kicked her horse into a gallop.

She hurried through the snow, chasing the screams until she saw a figure crawling on its hands and knees across the white snow. Y/N flew off her horse and rushed toward the woman. She could barely make out the woman’s face through the wind but Y/N knew she was alive.

Y/N swore she could hear the fizz and crack of her own heart breaking. Her hood was thrown back by the wind. The cold stabbed its talons into her skin like a thousand little cuts with a serrated blade. She reached for the woman’s arms to help her up, but as soon as she closed her fingers around what should be human’s flesh, she was grasping at nothing.

The woman had vanished.

In one violent crack, the ice broke beneath Y/N and shattered into a hundred tiny fragments, sending her plummeting into the black water.

A million knives stabbed her skin, slicing her open. Her lungs contracted as her numb hands clawed for something to hold onto. She wanted to yell. Her ribs crushed her heart, and her whole body started caving in.

As her eyes shivered open, Harry’s face was the last thing that she saw through the surface.

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Harry knew something was wrong when he saw Y/N get off Thunder’s back and head straight toward the frozen river.

He’d forgotten about everyone else. His thoughts were running wild. He threw himself off Lightning’s back and hurried after her. She was standing out on the ice when he’d caught up. He called out to her, but she didn’t look back. Her hood was off and her head was bare, the wind churning up around her, making her look as if she were made of magic.

And then the ice gave way beneath her. A shudder and a crack and she disappeared into the river.

Harry ran. His heart flattened against his ribs. His feet were slipping on the ice. He dropped to his knees at the edge of a vast hole, plunged his arms into the black water and seized her hand floating just above her head. He pulled her up, dragging her onto the ice and into his arms.

He didn’t remember how they’d got back to their horses. Fear and panic had blurred his mind. They were lost. The others had either moved on without them or stuck somewhere in the storm. There was no time to look for them because he must find a place to hide and light a fire.

Y/N was shivering in his arms. Small ice crystals had formed in her hair and on her lashes and brows. He pushed her onto Lightning’s back and mounted the horse, sitting behind her, her head resting against his chest.

Suddenly, Thunder reared upon his hind feet. Harry feared that the animal thought he’d hurt Y/N. But then Thunder snorted and sprinted ahead. Harry knew the horse wanted him to follow so he kicked Lightning and chased after Thunder. He held the rein with his right hand, holding Y/N in his fur coat with his left arm. The cold was so unbearable that every breath he took caused him pain.

They rode and rode. The wind slapping against their bodies until Thunder stopped at the entrance of a cave hidden behind snow-covered branches. The black horse entered first and Harry and Lightning followed. The further they walked, the warmer it became, but it was not enough to melt the ice from their clothes.

Harry dismounted his horse and placed Y/N onto the ground, holding her closer to him to share his body heat. It was not working. Her clothes were all soaked. The only thing that let him know she was alive was her hot breath against his cheek.

“Stay with me,” he hissed, stroking her back.

His heart stammered as her eyelids fluttered. “I’m tired,” she croaked. “I’m going to sleep.”

“No.” He squeezed her shoulder and gave her a firm shake. “You’re not going to sleep. Promise me, Y/N.”

“I promise.”

Carefully, he laid her down and gathered as many dry sticks as he could find. The horses helped. It was obvious that they’d been trained for rescue missions.

Harry managed to light a fire which he hoped wouldn’t go out too soon.

Fuck, he hoped Y/N wouldn’t go out with it.

He quickly got back to her and dragged her back into his arms. “Here, stay close to the fire.”

The ice in her hair began to melt but her face grew bluer every passing moment. Now he was really afraid. He didn’t want her to die like this, in this cave.

“You saved me,” she spoke, her voice brittle. “Why?”

He schooled his face as their eyes met. “What do you mean?”

“I thought...I thought you hated me,” she said.

He swept her damp hair out of her face and frowned. “I don’t hate you, Peach.”

He hadn’t meant to call her that. It’d slipped out. He didn’t think she’d heard it, because she didn’t react. She was going to pass out.

He shook her again, forcing her to keep eye contact. “Tell me something,” he said. She needed to keep her brain working. “Tell me your most precious memory.”

Y/N’s face contorted as she shook her head. “I-I don’t know.”

“Think.”

She swallowed dryly, her purple lips quivering before she could manage, “Sunset.”

“What else?”

“Sunset...sunset…”

“No, Y/N, look at me!”

But she couldn’t.

Her eyelids slipped shut and her head fell to the side.

“No, no, no,” he chanted, shaking her as hard as he could but she did not respond. She was still breathing but it was becoming weak.

Harry had no other choice. Either this or she'd die.

“Forgive me, please,” he murmured and hurriedly removed her coat and the rest of her sodden clothes before he sloughed off his and spread their clothes beside the fire. His face burned with shame as he took her into his arms and wrapped his fur coat around their naked bodies.

He’d been close to many women, but none of them had been dying, so he told himself there was nothing to be embarrassed about. He was only saving her life.

Her face was buried into his chest. She smelled like winter. He continued stroking her wet hair until her breath grew steadier and her skin warmed up. The relief and ease that coursed through him felt too good to resist. He allowed exhaustion to engulf him and finally shut his eyes.

Outside, the storm was still raging, but at least for now, they were safe. He was just about to drift off when he felt her arm hook over him as she snuggled closer. If she were awake, she’d be able to hear how violent his heart was thumping against his chest. He thought about what she’d said, sunset, and tried to figure out what it meant, until finally, sleep took over him.

.

.

.

In the North castle, Lance sat by the fire, its glow illuminating his face. He heaved a sigh of relief and buried his head into his hands.

The ring on his finger had turned from black to red.