#one of the things we considered was changing white lady for a small younger version of her

[mebis-art-dump]

The lady in white

[bluebellhairpin]

The Kings Queen

King!Erwin Smith X Queen!Reader

A/N: It came to me in a daydream; I was MC; and certain British actor was he. And now it is no longer dream, but reality - if only because now in ink. - Nemo

Summary: In order to get his politicians off his back, Erwin needs an heir. The problem is, he isn’t even married yet. An arranged marriage is set, and his new queen is surprised at how compliant he is at waiting until she is ready. 

Warnings: Misogyny is a major one here guys. Arranged Marriage. Age gap (he’s in in forties, and mc is in the twenties area). Talk of pregnancy, and children. 

Listening to: ‘Once Upon a December’ from Anastasia (piano version) 

Series Masterlist 

Masterlist

A month ago it scared you, and scared you now. You stood next to a man you didn’t know, vowing your life to him, and all you could think about was how uncomfortable your corset was, how the headpiece dug in behind your ears, and how much you would rather be anywhere else.

Doing anything else.

Being with anyone else.

You wanted to be curled up on the armchair your grandfather made, your younger sisters at your feet next to the fire, as you read aloud to them from a book they probably didn’t understand. Your mother would be on a couch across from you, needlepoint in hand, and your brother and father would walk in. Your father would kiss your mother’s temple, and your brother would join your sisters on the floor, handing them two small, handcrafted, wooden figures. 

But instead you were here.

Standing under a chapel steeple, holding a bouquet that was too heavy, in a dress that had too much fabric. Almost half the city was crammed into the pews behind you, eyes hot and boring right into the back of your skull. Your almost-husband at your side. Your king at your side. 

You were getting married to Erwin Smith, and he was the monarch of the land you grew up in. 

You knew what was to follow. You knew why you were taken from your content life and thrust into the much higher end of high society. You were to give him a child tonight. An heir. And if it were born a girl, then you were to keep giving until it became a boy, and then some. 

You weren’t sure if it were that which scared you most, or that you never got the chance to have found a love of your own. You weren’t giving anything up aside from your family in marrying your king. There was no farm boy or baker's daughter that you were leaving behind nor betraying by speaking the vows that came from your mouth. 

No others lips had touched yours, and no one else’s fingers had grazed your wrist as Erwin’s did now. You marked off your shivers and incapability to meet his eyes as nerves, and nothing else. 

Before you were taken away by your uncle, your mother told you something. She told you to notice things. Notice the people. Give them what they want, graciously, so that they have want for nothing, and then want of their own to spare. 

So when you turned around to face those people, the crown which now held both allies and enemies, with your new husband’s arm wound around your waist, you noticed the people. You saw their smiles and cheers and decided to take your mothers words to heart. They were your people now, you were their queen. 

So you fought down the nerves, painted on your best smile, and sent greetings and waves to as many as you could as you made your way to your new home.

You had to admit, like most children, you did gaze upon the castle and it’s stone walls, wondering what life behind them was like. 

You had been once before, a garden party when you were younger and your brother was only a tot. It was one of the few parties the lesser and higher nobles alike were invited to. As equals. It was the first Erwin held after he was crowned king. He hadn’t had one like it since. 

You remember wandering off into the rose maze with your brother's hand in yours. Being only ten years old, your mind made the brush of thorns and baby-pink blooms into a lot more than what they really were. Whether it were to comfort yourself or to keep your brother calm, you made up a little game. 

Somewhere in the maze was a dragon; blood red scales and teeth as long and sharp as kitchen knives, a belly full of flames, and a smell for human flesh. If you stayed stagnant too long, it would find you around the next corner and swallow you up in one gnash of it’s jaws. 

But there was also a Prince in the maze; brave, gallant, and knight-like in every way possible. With hair golden like fresh cut hay, and eyes as clear and strong as ocean waves. He would wield a sword with a blade so sharp that one blow would send that dragon straight to its death.

Of course you didn’t tell such things to your brother. They were a bit intense for a four-year-old, so you dulled it down a number of notches. 

Imagine your surprise when you ran into someone, with hair the colour of fresh-cut hay, and eyes of the clear blue. He offered you his hand, and told you he’d keep you safe from that ‘dragon’ who was chasing you. 

And he did stay true to his word. You did get out of the maze safely, even if there was no dragon he was protecting you and your brother from. 

You remember that boy, a man really, and how he was handsome with his youthful features. Back then you didn’t know who he was. Namely that not only a few months ago he really was a prince, and that now he was the king hiding from most of his own party guests. 

That was around fifteen years ago, naturally things were a little different this time around. 

This time the party was inside, with tables stocked with foods - some you’d never even seen before - and candelabra’s. The room was already filled with guests, chattering and laughing, some even dancing with did bring a smile to your face. There was a group in the corner, playing instruments in all forms available. You had been changed before you joined your husband in a chair slightly smaller than his. Apparently being seen in your wedding dress at your wedding reception wasn’t proper, and that you needed to wear a more dulled-down version to eat. 

The corset was just as tight.

You’d barely said more than a few words to him, and now here you were. 

You excused yourself early from the celebrations, and no one batted an eyelid. ‘Preparing’ yourself might be proper. 

There was a lady, a bit older than yourself, named Nanaba. She helped you out of the stifling corset and the wads of white fabric. The putting on of the night slip and it’s robe was a lot nicer. It did not require a corset, as nice as it might make you look. She sent in for some tea, and once it arrived she excused herself. 

You wish you’d spoken to her more. She was nice. And it may have calmed your nerves a little. But you didn’t and you couldn’t will yourself to do anything except cling to the bedpost furthest from the door and wait. Luckily you didn’t have to wait long. 

The door opened, and in stepped your king. You found yourself sucking in a breath, nails grazing into the polished wood, and you cast your eyes down to put yourself in check before looking up at him. He looked over at you, smiling lightly and shed his outer layer of clothes before sitting down at one of the chairs near the fire Nanaba lit earlier. 

You wondered what he was waiting for. 

“Come sit, please.” he said, shuffling a little to set up two dainty tea cups. “This is your home too now, the last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable.” 

You let out a quiet puff of air, playing with the new ring on your finger before making your way over to the chair opposite him. 

“You are quite timid, aren’t you?” he mused, offering you a steaming cup, “I supposed though anyone would be all things considered.” He sat back, and you finally took a moment to notice how much he had to be admired. ‘Handsome’ was barely a word to describe him, but those blue eyes, and his hair looked like it would be soft to touch. It made you think of that ‘prince’ from the game you made up in the rose maze outside. What luck would bring you both to meet a second time. 

He caught your eye again as he took a sip of his drink. 

“You can take comfort in knowing nothing will happen tonight, nor any night in the foreseeable future.” he said, voice hushed and quiet and indeed comforting. “We are barely acquaintances, let alone friends or lovers.” 

You couldn’t help but gape at him, letting your tea get colder. 

“B-but why? You need a child, I… I-I’m here to give you one -”

“- no, that what all those lords want. The child that they want me to have is going to be yours too. It’s not my body that will be their home for the first nine months of their life. I admit,” he said, setting his cup aside, “I will need an heir eventually, but it’s no matter or urgency to me.” 

“Not until I’m ready?”

“Not until you are ready.” he nodded. 

“That’s very kind of you, your majesty.” 

“Call me Erwin,” he said, taking to his knee as the glow of the fire reflected off his face, “At least when it is just us. Please?” 

You let out a laugh, light with nerves and giddy fluttering in your heart, and brought a hand up to your mouth as you turned to compose yourself. You turned back with a smile to see his face matching yours. 

Who knew you were seemingly fretting for nothing. 

“Only if you also call me by my name.”

It was a well-known fact to even the ‘commoners’ that there were not many men in the kings court who were good people. 

Within your first week of living in the palace you knew Erwin was one of them. 

Despite his often off and rough ways of getting to and around things, he was a good man. He did have a good heart. 

Another was a much older man named Dot Pixis. He had an odd manner of speaking, and his ways were not always perfect. But he always went out of his way to treat you kindly - something many others viewed as easily brushed aside - and he had a loyalty and trust to Erwin that you sensed not everyone had.

You also took kindly to Levi Ackerman and Miche Zacharias, both head guards set to protect Erwin and yourself, respectively. They both did marvelous jobs, for you nor Erwin had been hurt by someone will ill-intent yet. And despite both their quiet natures they were nice. At least Miche was. But they weren’t really ‘in parliament’. 

Nile Dok was the only other of those men that didn’t send your gut reeling in some way. He had a family on his own, too, and you’d seen how he treated them the morning after your wedding night. He truly loved them, and a man who loved his family like that was one who you trusted. Your own father was like that with you. 

Many other new friends were found in your new home, too. Hange was the head librarian, and with the help of Moblit the rows and rows of books were kept - not organized per say - but everything did have a place. 

There were those in the kitchens, and the gardeners, maids, and military personnel. You made sure to greet them all when you could. You were more than happy when they returned the gesture, even if a little more than some of them didn’t. 

But there were people you didn’t trust at all. They made your skin crawl. You knew you didn’t come from a lot, and didn’t expect the same respect that Erwin had, but what they showed towards you? Even Nanaba commented how you should be treated better. 

However they would never treat you any less than a queen unless you were with Erwin. Unless you were with your husband, the most powerful man in the country. As much as you liked Erwin, and come to even love him in some very small way over such a short amount of time, you didn’t like that. 

You didn’t like how you couldn’t get their respect unless you were standing next to him. 

So you made up your mind.

[amymel86]

Burden

Victorian au one shot...

The Queen and Dagger Inn is a not-so-respectable establishment that happens to reside in a small village of no particular note on the outskirts of Leicester. It also happens to be very roughly halfway between Jon’s abode in York and his cousin, Lord Robert Stark’s residence in London. It had been an arduous carriage ride to make it here. When Jon arrives, the lamps had long been lit to illuminate the pitch of the night.

A fire pops and fizzles in the grate as Jon enters, a few heads turn his way but he could spot his cousin even in the dim. A Lord, a member of the ton, does not frequent these kinds of establishments unless he is looking for a three-penny-upright or a gamble. Though, there are much more agreeable places to do both, Jon is sure.

In any case, although he is not overly familiar with his cousin, he is sure he had not written and asked to travel and meet in such a place for either of those ungentlemanly past-times. “A brandy, please, innkeep,” he says, nodding to the white-whiskered gentleman behind the bar. Numerous sets of eyes were on him as he approaches the table.

“Cousin Jon,” Robb greeted with a subdued version of his winning smile. “Thank you for making the journey. Are you well?”

Jon’s brandy arrives. He made to pay the man, but his cousin was faster. “I’m able to afford my own spirits, cousin,” Jon comments, tipping a nip of the deep honey liquid to his lips.

Lord Stark gives a small smile. “I’m sure you are.”

Jon and his mother have long been the poorer relations ever since he was sired. A young, impressionable Lyanna Stark swept away by romantic whisperings uttered by his rogue father. She was tucked away in the Yorkshire countryside to have her babe, and there she has stayed, as unwed as the day Jon was conceived. His mother had told him once that Robb’s father, his uncle, had fought to bring her back to town, back to the family. If he’d not died of an infection on his injured leg not long after Jon’s younger cousin, the Lady Sansa was born, perhaps things may have been differing.

But as it stands, Lord Robert Stark is no more familiar to him than the cobbler he seeks twice a year, and he’s yet to make the Lady Sansa’s aquaintance at all.

“How are things in York?” his cousin asks, candle-glow from the single lit wick on their small oak table dancing across the amenable smile on his face. “Is your practice running nicely? And Aunt Lyanna? Is she faring well?”

A dribble of melted wax travels down the old, dusty wine bottle now acting as the candle’s home, dark brown glass long vacant from its contents. Jon’s lips twitched. He took another sip of brandy. “I trust you’ve not asked me here at half a day’s journey purely to exchange pleasantries?”

Robb shoves a hand through his hair and downs the dregs of his own drink. “Quite,” he agrees, signalling for his glass to be refilled. When that was accomplished, he watches the innkeep walk away and makes a sweep of their establishment before leaning in. “I’m afraid, cousin, that I must ask to burden you with something. For the good of the family.”

The good of the family? Jon knows not what this burden shall be, but he hardly considers himself or his mother a Stark anymore what with them travelling amongst high society and he, a practicing physician. What grave burden must he now carry? He nods his head the once, indicating for his cousin to continue.

“My sister, Sansa,” he begins, wetting his lips, “she... she has found herself in some difficulties as a result of – well – being deceived most horribly.”

Jon’s brows furrow as he leans back in his chair, taking his brandy with him. “That sounds troubling.”

“Indeed. She was...” Robb took a breath, seeming to change tact in conversation. “My sister has always had her head amongst the stars. Dreaming of great romances and happily ever afters.”

Jon cocks his head. Another dribble of wax tumbles down the glass bottle. “As I’m sure many ladies do. Nothing wrong in it.”

“No. No, quite. It’s just... she was bamboozled rather badly by one utter heel of a man. He...” Robb casts a glance around and leans forward to speak in a low voice. “He convinced her they were in love but that his family had set their sights on a lady of even higher standing in society for him. I suppose my sister thought it all rather exciting; the forbidden love. He convinced her to wed quietly in a little chapel outside of London. It was all done before any of the family were aware. She... well, she had her wedding night in the village where the union took place and that was that.”

Jon shook his head at his cousin. “I do not know where all this secrecy and talk of burdens comes in.”

“Well, the gentleman turned out to be lowest kind of blaggard. The minister who’d performed their wedding was a great friend of his and no minister at all. He’d roped the chap in to this charade of his making and got him to pretend to be a man of the cloth.”

“The wedding was unlawful?”

Robb took a hefty swig of his drink, bringing the tumbler down hard on to the worn oak of their little table. “The wedding was unlawful,” he nods his head. “My sister was tricked into laying with a man that she thought to be her newlywed husband. She thought he loved her.”

Jon’s mind drifted to his own mother – of how his father had said his pretty words and then cast her aside when he’d felt he’d succeeded in his conquest. He could not stop his lip from curling in disgust and took another nip of brandy to steady his emotions. Men of his father’s ilk disgust him quite terribly. “That is... unfortunate.”

“Yes...” Robb toys with the glass between his hands. “And she is now with child.”

Jon blinks at his cousin. Ah. A moment or two of low murmuring from the other patrons passes while Jon let the situation his Lady cousin finds herself in settle in his mind. She must be utterly heartbroken and terrified. “He cannot be made accountable? A proper union between the two cannot be made?”

Robb shook his head. “The man refuses to acknowledge his wrongdoing and will not claim the child. It was his word against her own. I’d call for a duel if the scoundrel hadn’t tucked his tail and travelled abroad – business on the continent apparently.”

Typical. Jon found himself getting quite enraged at this unnamed gentlemen. “What is to be done?”

With a heavy sigh, Robb wet his lips once more. “This is where we need you, good cousin,” his finger taps at the worn wood grain of the table. “There is no one better to look after Sansa in her hour of need. You’re family, and a physician. If she can stay with you until her time comes, we would be tremendously grateful.”

Makes sense. His modest house is tucked away in the quiet of the countryside. Who is there to spread rumours and gossip about a young unmarried pregnant woman except the sheep and the larks?

“And when the baby comes?” He’s not delivered a baby in perhaps a year or two. He’ll have to renew his knowledge on the maternity and infant sciences.

“My wife, Jeyne will need to stay with you also.” This causes Jon’s brows to knit. “I will spread word in town that she is expecting again and convalescing in the country. When the baby comes, we will claim the child as our own.”

Jon did not quite know what to say to that. The plan – clever as it was – seemed rather cruel to his cousin, the Lady Sansa. That she should give up her babe. Although, there seemed no other alternative that did not mean utter ruination or giving up the babe entirely – at least he or she would stay within the family.

“I...” Jon shook himself and took the last of his brandy. “I do not possess the means that your sister and wife will be accustomed to. No footmen, no hall boys, no scullery maids. I do well, but my house is modest by their standards, I’m sure. Only the one cook, part-time, a maid who has no qualms in scolding me for walking mud into her rugs and a butler with whom I sit and take brandy with of an evening. And my mother, of course.”

His Lord cousin smiles widely. “Sounds perfect,” he says, his face turning a mite sombre again afterwards. “I am sorry to bring this burden to you, cousin.”

“When will you send her to me?”

“She’s in my carriage now. I was rather hoping, you’d –“

“You brought her here?” He had been a tad louder than the rest of their conversation. A few other patrons looked their way. Robb only nods.

“Yes, Sansa now, and Jeyne to join you in a month or two. Will you help her, cousin?”

***

They arrange the exchange of his Lady cousin from one carriage to the other in a dark, country track that neighboured the inn. Robb finally helped her to enter Jon’s carriage after seeing to it that her luggage was secured to the tail board. She glances briefly at him before turning to bid her brother farewell. Her eyes were forget-me-not blue and just about the prettiest he’d ever seen. He wet his lips when her hood came down to reveal the most stunning shade of auburn. Her skin looked like sweet cream. “Cousin Jon,” she bows her head briefly at him and he was reminded to remove his top-hat. “I wish that we could have met under differing circumstances.”

“Indeed, Lady Sansa.” His throat felt tight. The carriage bumped its way into movement again.

“My brother told you everything?”

“He did.”

His cousin nods her head. She looks like a picture, sitting there opposite him, straight-backed and prim. Lace gloved hands crossed in her lap. She’s not showing yet but Jon knows she’ll carry the babe well. He wonders if she’ll faint away if he were to suggest that she forgo her stays once she swells. He feels his cheeks heat absurdly at the very notion of the conversation.

“Then you’ll know that I am no whore,” she said plainly, posture perfect as the carriage bumps and rolls into the wheel divot. “I was tricked by a scoundrel and every night I curse his wretched name into my feather pillow,” Lady Sansa proclaims before turning away to watch the absolute pitch black of night pass by outside the window.

Oh, she has some pep. And if he’s not careful he’s in danger of being half in love with her before they even arrive back in York.

She thinks better of watching the night go by and those forget-me-not blue eyes are back on Jon again. Her tone is a little remorseful now, as though she regrets her mild outburst. “I am sorry to be a burden to you, cousin.”

“I assure you. You are no burden at all, Lady Sansa.”

The smile on her berry pink lips was the finest thing in all of Jon’s memories. “Just ‘Sansa’ will do.”

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 47: Crossroads

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Forty-Seven: Crossroads

Note: *laughs like that one jerk from Dexter’s Laboratory.* Sorry for any mistakes. It was just one of those days.

(-~-)

The last cards were placed on the table, and to the surprise of only one person present, they fell in the young blond woman’s favor. A bright smile spread across her face as the demon hunter in red walked past her and around the table towards his brother, ruffling her hair in the process. It seemed that she had as little mercy for first-timers as she did for experienced players. Just the way he’d taught her.

On Vergil's part, it was a resounding loss. Even after having the rules haphazardly explained to him by his younger twin and Lady as they debated which version of the game they were actually playing and what the house rules were, he’d been somewhat confident that he would be able to pull off a win. Naturally possessing what he understood the textbook definition of a “Pokerface” to be, he was almost certain that he had not managed to give himself away to his opponent. But that did not by any means explain why he had managed to not only lose the game but to do so with astonishing speed. That game couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes!

Rotating his head slightly to make eye contact with his brother, Vergil tilted his head back slightly so that he could more easily speak to his younger twin without the worry of the entire room hearing him. He wasn’t exactly whispering, but he did desire privacy for this particular inquiry.

“Are we entirely sure that she does not come from demonic blood, Dante?”

Laughing slightly at that statement, Dante shook his head and shrugged, more amused by the question than anything else. As much as he was hoping for a case of beginner’s luck for his unfortunate twin, it seemed that the gambling gods just didn’t favor their family. For all of Vergil’s talents, cards were one of the few things that they both sucked at. That said, he had lasted longer than he’d assumed he would against her, so credit was due there. He would need to run this test with both of his nephews once they had time. Perhaps they would fare better.

“Well, she comes from a family of Alchemists or something like that on her mom’s side, but she didn’t grow up with them, and I don’t think they practice anymore. The Lowell family, if I’m remembering that right. Could be wrong about that, though.”

He had to admit that this was news to him. Patty came from magic as well? He wondered for a moment if her family had had any dealings with the Ludwigs in the past. To his knowledge, they were the biggest coven still operating in these parts. But to be fair, they were not alchemists, either. While it was true that they did possess the requisite skills, and some among their ranks had dabbled in the craft, he doubted that any of them would stay that they were experts in the craft. They were far better sorceresses than anything else. 

“Curious…”

“Honestly, I think she’s just really good at cards. She held her own in a game against some pros about a decade ago. Patty subbed in for me at one point since I wasn’t exactly winning, and losing kinda meant you’d die. The demon we were trying to catch made sure of that. The whole situation was kind of a mess.” Dante said with a shrug, shaking his head as he watched Patty laugh at something that Lady and Trish were talking about from the other side of the small table. For a moment he remembered when he’d had a pool table in that very spot. He had to say that he missed it. One of these days he would have to get another one. She’d probably be good at that, too, and he’d love to teach her how to play.

Vergil went slightly wide-eyed for a moment, fully turning around to face his twin. He couldn’t have heard that statement correctly. Surely he was imagining things. Dante had done some extraordinary unintelligent things in his lifetime. They both had… but that…  “And you thought it was an acceptable decision to let her play under those conditions?!”

Somehow he instantly knew that he was either going to fully explain that decision or find himself pinned to the wall with Yamato stuck through his head and several spectral blades piercing every extremity he possessed. Yes, that did sound bad and it had also been pretty bad, but he had realized as much at the time, and he hadn’t allowed her to really go through with it. Dante might be bad at poker, but he did know how to read a table, and the second he sensed danger, he’d pulled her out of harm’s way. It hadn’t been a perfect decision, but it was what he had done in the heat of the moment.

“Look, it wasn’t my idea in the first place. I didn’t even know she was on the boat until she showed up. It just sorta happened, ya know? And I pulled her before anything serious could happen. I wouldn’t let her get hurt. We had a pretty good idea of what we were up against.” Dante said with another shrug, unsure as to what else he could say in a situation like that. He knew that Vergil knew he wouldn’t casually risk his life, but either way, he saw his older sibling’s point.

The Darkslayer calmed slightly at that revelation and nodded. He could believe that. His younger twin clearly cared a great deal for the young lady, but he still thought that it was an awful idea and a fair bit irresponsible on his brother’s part. Knowing it hadn’t been his idea lessened that somewhat. He just hoped he wouldn’t willingly partake in something so foolish again. But considering his own track record, he was aware of the fact that he had very little ground to stand on. 

But if that was the case, then it meant that magical intervention was very unlikely, even if she had done so involuntarily. A child her age who didn’t know that she was in possession of possible power could unwittingly sway things in her favor, but he sincerely doubted that to be the case in this situation. No, she was simply just that good at the game. A genuine advisory to go up against, then. He liked that.

“… I must improve, then.”

“Good luck with that, Vergil,” Dante said as he gave his older twin a supportive pat on the shoulder. His older twin had his work cut out for him if he thought for even a second that he was going to stand a chance at beating Patty in a game of poker. If he’d never done it before and he actually knew how to play poker, then what hope did his older twin have?

Just a few feet away from the twins, Lady was laughing slightly to herself as Trish sighed and handed her the cash she owed, somewhat begrudgingly. That was what she got for assuming for even a second that Patty might ever lose a game of poker. She had to be more careful with her bets going forward. After all, Lady was a dab hand at seizing financial opportunities, and the last thing that Dante would be doing was paying back his debt anytime soon. She wouldn’t be expecting any cash from him anytime soon.

(-~-)

The cup clicked quietly as it was placed back down on the table, the tray that normally housed it gone for the moment. Using a coffee cup for tea didn’t feel right to her, and she couldn’t seem to get the ratio of sugar and water right, not to mention that the tea was either too strong or too weak for her liking. It was a never-ending cycle of mediocrity, but she would live. Bad tea was a travesty, but it wouldn’t kill her unless she mixed the wrong leaves into it, and she kept those out of her reach in another part of her house just in case she did just that in a moment of thoughtless ineptitude.

A sudden knock at the door drew her attention and aroused her suspicions as Magnolia stood up and slowly headed over towards the entrance to her home, she stopped. No one had a reason to come and knock on her door this late at night. Something didn’t feel right about this, and she knew it. Whatever was on the other side of that door could be a threat. She needed to keep her guard up.

Fixing up a quick defensive spell, she placed her left hand behind her back, keeping it at the ready as she approached the door. A quick glance through the peephole was all that it took for her to realize that someone she had never seen before in a white hoodie and a pair of black jeans stood at her door. They shifted from side to side as though they were nervous, and she noted that she could more than likely take advantage of this fact.

Opening the door quickly and giving them a sideways look, she was unsurprised when they stepped back a few steps, clearly startled and seemingly scared out of their mind. It was then that she realized that this younger individual seemed to have a bit of blood on their side. Were they injured?

Before she could inquire as to what they were doing at her doorway and what was going on, they cleared their throat and looked around, clearly nervous. “Please, there isn’t much time. I need to tell you something. I’ll explain everything, but you have to let me in. I can’t let them see either of us, or it won’t end well. I know you don’t know me, but I’m begging you to trust me. I don’t have anything to gain by lying.”

She studied them for a moment, considering his words. They seemed to grow more and more afraid by the moment, and she didn’t sense anything amiss about them. Perhaps whatever unease she felt in the pit of her stomach was due to whatever they were seemingly fleeing from. If that was the case, then she was going to need to activate the defensive wards she had placed around her house. Something told her that she would regret it if she didn’t.

“You had better not be playing me for a fool, child. I don’t like to play games with strangers. Come in quickly. You have some explaining to do.

A look of elated relief crossed the stranger’s face as they practically dived through the door, clearly feeling instantaneously safer just by crossing the threshold of her house. She folded her arms as they took a moment to compose themselves before turning back to face her, shuddering from the change in temperature in her home as opposed to the arctic cold front that had moved in just outside of the door.

“That’s what I’m here to do, ma’am. To explain everything… And to warn you of what’s to come. Because it’s bad. Very, very bad. And I don’t think any of you are ready.”

(-~-)

It hadn’t really occurred to them until they had left that they didn’t really have a way of getting to V’s house on the other side of town without the van. Nico was still in Fortuna, and couldn’t get a ferry over to the mainland until morning came, so they were either looking at walking about ten miles, or they were going to be taking the metro lines. It wasn’t exactly a difficult choice, but it did mean that Nero wasn’t going to get to eat whatever Kyrie had been making for dinner. It was a tragedy that his father would pay dearly for if not for the circumstances.

Unfortunately, hindsight is twenty-twenty after all, and while Nero registered the fact that they should have probably just gone back to the office and asked his father to drop them back off at their respective homes, he couldn’t say that any of them really had anything better to do than catch a train and go for a ride.

As they entered the terminal, the trio was surprised by how quickly they almost got lost. It seemed that several lines were out of order due to the destruction caused by the Qliphoth several months back, and what few people there were seemed to be a bit on edge about the prospect of riding a train when just some parts of the region were still experiencing inconsistent tectonic activity as a result of the attack. Apparently, some of the areas that had once been inhabited by the roots of the massive demonic tree were still settling.

Nero genuinely wondered if they would ever be able to repair that city; if the lives of everyone who had once been in that region would ever be the same. The majority of the people there had been able to evacuate before the worst had happened, but it had been a huge place, and countless lives had still been lost. 

Perhaps it was best that he not think about it for now. It was still all over the news as it was, looming over the hearts and minds of everyone who heard or saw it. After all, everyone knew. And it seemed that the laboratories that had been contracted to research the cause of the destruction had been unable to come up with a scientific explanation for the flora that had started to bloom within the exclusion zone in the time since the attack. Well, at least one that didn’t obviously scream “demons”. 

Big surprise there. 

The general public the world over seemed to know what had really happened there since so many people had been there at the time and lived to describe their first-hand experiences, but while the local government attempted to find any other explanation, the damage was done. Even if no one running the country wanted to go on paper or public television and explain the actual reason, seeing it with their own eyes had been all the proof that basically every resident of the surrounding area needed.

Bleak times they lived in.

Slipping through the security checks had been surprisingly simple. While there had been a man on standby with a metal detector, the second that V’s cane had set off the machine, he’d allowed them both to pass, seemingly uncomfortable with the fact that he was holding someone up who probably didn’t like to stand for long periods of time. He had more than likely assumed that asking for the young summoner to stand there without his cane while he looked it over would be overstepping somewhat, so he had simply allowed them to pass, not realizing that in an ironic twist both Lucia and Nero possessed weapons of their own, and that V was certainly more dangerous than his frail demeanor allowed him to appear.

As they approached the onboarding ramp, Lucia took a look at the map. She had made a point of trying to remember where all of their homes were in case she needed to find them, and although she didn’t know basically any of the local street names, she remembered a few key ones. Namely the larger intersections closest to their homes. And back home she was quite good at traversing the underground railways in her area. This wouldn’t be too bad. “To my understanding, we should only need to go three stops.”

Looking over at the wall-mounted route map, V studied it for a few seconds before nodding in agreement. He then turned back to looking over at… whatever he had been looking at previously, shifting in discomfort slightly. Nero and Lucia both took note of this subtle change in his demeanor, but were hesitant to ask what seemed to be making him so uncomfortable. That was until V swayed slightly and had to catch himself, his palm making its way up to his forehead before his fingered rubbed his left temple. He didn’t seem to be in noticeable pain, but he was most certainly disorientated.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is something wrong? Are you alright?” Lucia asked pleasantly, clearly worried. She allowed her right arm to list slowly as she got within catching distance of the young man, unwilling to allow him to topple over should the need arise. He couldn’t be that heavy.

Nero nodded in agreement, placing his hand on V’s shoulder and gesturing towards a bench that sat near the boarding area. People were watching them more than they already had been when how much they stood out was taken into account, but that was the least of Nero’s concerns. “Do you want to sit down? You seem kinda dizzy or something.”

V shook his head slightly, lowering his hand. He then looked back over in the direction of the boarding platform that he had been studying just a second before. It stood on the opposite side of the tracks, and he couldn’t say that he wasn’t concerned with what he thought he’d seen. He liked to believe that his eyes were simply playing tricks on him, but that was rarely the case. His hearing and eyesight were perfectly fine, exceedingly so, in fact. His mind might play tricks on him, but his other senses did not.

“I believe that someone may be following us.”

The devil hunter with the short hair turned to look, but Lucia stopped him. She then looked back over at V, nodding very subtly. “Then it may be best to not let them know that we are onto them. What gave them away?”

Gesturing in a manner casual enough to not attract attention, V tilted his head slowly in a pointing manner towards the other side of the tracks. There, an obscure figure in a long white coat stood by a pole, looking directly at them with what could only be described as an intense stare. They didn’t move, and their face couldn’t be clearly made out from where they were. It was as if there were some otherworldly that kept them from being able to identify this figure, and it was unnerving, to say the least.

“... Call it a hunch that I have.”

Seemingly realizing what he was referring to, Lucia was about to say something when a train pulled across in front of the other side of the track, obscuring the target of their attention. A little less than a minute passed before it pulled off again, revealing that the person in question had disappeared. They looked around, not seeing where they had gone but now silently alarmed that they had lost them. There was no way that they could board the train now. Allowing this individual to know where they were going wasn’t at all a card that they were willing to play.

“What do you think we should-’”

Just as Lucia was attempting to finish asking her question, a screeching noise could be heard from the train tunnel on their right side, the direction that their ride should have been coming from. Cacophonous screaming could be heard as people with a better view of the platform suddenly turned and ran for the stairs on either side of them. Backing up out of reflex, the trio looked at one another, unsure as to what was going on.

But they didn’t have to wonder for long. Just seconds later an ear-piercing screech echoed through the terminal as the train came flying through the terminal on its side and crashed into a support beam, knocking them back on their backs and the wind out of their lungs with the sheer force of the impact it made with the platform they were standing on. As the power to the terminal cut, a rumbling noise could be heard from all around them as part of the ceiling above them to one side cracked and fell in. And then everything went dark.

(-~-)

*Laughs evilly to myself.* Some of you asked if the finale was drawing near. I assure you, this is the beginning of the true build-up to that climax. It’s going to take a few chapters to get there, but now that all of the main players have been introduced, we can begin the true descent into madness. *Evil laugh.*

I hope you enjoyed the cliffhanger! See you next week on Wednesday and in the comment section. Stay safe out there!

[snow-pitch-grimm]

A Perfect Match

Summary: In a world where those with magic are matched by fate, Baz and Simon are two idiots that can't see what's right in front of them.

Oh, and there's a group of mages that's not too happy about Natasha Pitch's new leniency toward magical 'infected' creatures. 

Creatures like Baz and Simon. (Someone help these poor boys)

Chapter 1: A Bright Light

BAZ

There was a knock on the door, and my father pocked his head inside.

"It's almost time, Baz. Your mothers are waiting for you as is everyone else,"

"Yes Father," I say

I take another look in the mirror. Black tux, purple shirt, shiny shoes and hair slicked back. Perfect.

My father holds the door open for me as I step outside. As we walk side by side, he pulls out a package and hands it to me.

"Happy Birthday, Basilton," he says as I take the package and gives me a gentle hug.

I smile, "Thank you father,"

He gives me a soft smile, and I expect him to start walking. Instead, he pulls me close again, and this time, the hug in much tighter.

"I know I don't say it a lot, but I'm proud of you, you know,"

A lump forms in my throat and I bury my face in his shoulder. Neither my father nor am I prone to emotional moments, but the occasional softness on special days is very nice.

And today is a very special day indeed.

It's my twenty-first birthday, which means, starting today, I can finally begin to find my perfect match, just like every other Mage and magical creature in England. There would have been a time where being a vampire would have barred me from being a part of the matching. However, when my mother had realized what I had become, she had fought hard to change the rules.

At first, I had believed it was only because I was her son. Daphne had shut that thought down fast. She is good at that. The whole comforting thing

"Oh, Baz, no. She is doing this because you are her son, but that is not the only reason. You made her realize that mages turned magical creatures are no different from the rest of us. They do not suddenly change after being infected, well they change but not at the core. You were Tyrannus Basilton before turning, and you are still our Tyrannus Basilton. So yes, you were the catalyst that made your mother realize that things needed to change, but never believe that we love you despite your vampirism. We love all of you, including your vampirism,"

"Why don't you open the present, son?"

I shake myself out of my thoughts and smile at my father again. I open the package to reveal an old wooden carved box. Inside there is an old leather cuff with the Grimm crest on it.

"I know you are planning to give your grandfather Pitch's ring to your match. Understandable since you are your mother's heir. However, I thought maybe you could give this too. You are part Grimm too after all,"

His eyes are alight with hope and I find myself vigorously nodding, "I would love to father,"

My father smiles and claps a hand on my back, "Good man. And don't worry. You will get a proper birthday present later,"

"Oh, no," I say, "You didn't have to-"

"None sense, Basilton," says Father, "Just because you're a proper adult now doesn't mean we can't buy you birthday presents. Come along now. We should get to the ballroom before Natasha sends a search party,"

Slipping the cuff on my right wrist, I leave the box with one of the brownies of the house who eagerly takes it titters off.

The ballroom is full of music and laughter. My mother is the first to spot me. She comes over and gives me a huge hug, Daphne right behind her.

"You finally made it, Tyrannus. Happy birthday!" she gushes, pulling me into a hug. She and my father have always called me by their favourite name for me. Well, mum calls me by her favourite name. Father just hates Tyrannus. They pull out the Tyrannus Basilton when they're mad at me.

Daphne always just calls me Baz. I like that one the best.

She pulls me into a hug once my mum lets go.

"Happy Birthday, Baz," she whispers against my ear, "You look very lovely,"

"Thank you, Mother," I say, making her beam at me.

I call Daphne Mother instead of Mum. I used to wonder if that hurt her but now I can tell that she's pleased I consider her a parent too.

"Everyone, your attention please!" my mum calls out, clinking a glass with her spoon, "There are waiters coming around with glasses of champagne and temperance drinks. Please join us in toasting my son,"

I blush as all eyes turn toward me and my father discreetly hands me a champagne glass.

"I'll keep this short," said my mother, "Twenty-One years ago I brought my son into the world. Like any parent, I had expectations and goals and dreams for him. I am so proud to say that he had has exceeded any and all expectations we had for him. My son has been the greatest joy of my life and after today I hope he will take his first step toward finding his own eternal happiness,"

There are murmurs of agreement and wishes of luck from around the room.

"To Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch,"

The guests echo the toast and a few minutes later I'm being pulled around by relatives and friends, being congratulated and wished more luck. My aunt Fiona gets her hands on me at one point and I'm pulled into a long-winded dance that leaves me laughing and breathless.

I also make sure to say Hello to my younger sister who is running around with the other children, causing a ruckus for her sitters. The younger three have already been put to bed.

Eventually, I end up standing with my friends in a corner and laughing about our childhood exploits.

"Oh and remember when you accidentally set the curtains on fire," said Dec, laughing, "Aunt Natasha was so mad,"

Niall also joins him in his laughter and I roll my eyes at them.

"Haha funny,"

"Seriously though, how are you feeling about tonight. Ready to start looking for your perfect match?" asked Niall, "I for one can't wait for my birthday,"

Niall was a few months younger and wouldn't be getting his orb until his birthday. The orb was basically a small ball that gave you clues as to where your soulmate was, depending on how much you asked and how much you could take.

Dev had gotten his two months ago and it had glowed blue instead of white, indicating that his perfect match had also had their twenty-first birthday already. Since then he had been having dreams and visions of classrooms and exam papers. That, with a few other clues he hadn't told us about, it had become obvious that his soulmate was also a young uni student. However, neither of them was ready to meet the other yet so, for now, all he got was small glimpses of their everyday life.

"I'm feeling pretty excited," I said, answering Niall's question " If my orb has a coloured glow, I think I'd like to find them as soon as I can. Granted they're on the same page,"

My friends nod and Dev raises his glass again, "Well cheers to that. Here's to you finding your perfect match,"

"Hear. Hear."

XXX

"Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch," Calls out my great-great-aunt Viola, an old wrinkled lady with a hunched back but eyes still filled with life.

A Pitch through and through. The oldest Pitch to be exact.

I make my way up and spot my parents, all three of them, smiling at me proudly. Standing together now I can see that their clothes are complementing each other. My mother is wearing a deep forest green strapless dress with a slit on the right. Her accessories are a glittering black colour. My father is wearing a black tux with a deep green shirt. Daphne is wearing a back dress with a green flowery pattern.

My mother blows me a kiss with her left hand as I take the mini-stage at the front of the ballroom. Her right arm is linked with my father's left from where he's angled a step behind her. His right arm is wound tightly around Daphne's waist and she's also giving me a thumbs up with both hands.

I can't remember a time when they weren't like that. Happy, Solid, and together.

As a lovesick teenager, I had daydreamed of having that with- No no thinking of him tonight. I’m twenty-one now, it’s time to start looking for my perfect match.

Viola smiles (the Pitch version) at me and hands me an orb. It's a heavy and solid weight in my hands.

Next, she takes out her wand and casts the spell.

"The Red String of Fate,"

A soft golden light, like the morning sun, emits from the orb, nearly blinding in its glory. As the people in the room ooh and aah I am reminded of bright blue eyes shadowed by bronze curls and smile that could-

No! Not thinking about that.

As soon as the light fades, I'm being swarmed. First by my parents and then everybody else in the room. There are congratulation and hugs and kisses. By the time I make it to my room, I'm ready to go to sleep despite the excitement making my stomach churn.

After changing and washing up, I put the orb on my nightstand and try to decide on the wish.

Should I start with something simple? Or just dive right in? Would that be a little too invasive of my soulmate for the first time? But then again, the orb won't show me anything they haven't agreed to already since they obviously got their orb before me.

Making up my mind, I lean forward and whisper, "Show me where I'm meant to be,"

xxx

In another room, in another bed, laid another young man.

Unbeknown to the sleeping figure, the white orb on his nightstand lit up a bright yellow, almost like the sun.

[ryqoshay]

How to Handle a Nico: Of Fruits and Photoshoots

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Words: ~1.8k Rating: G Time Frame: Later in Maki’s 1st and Nico’s 3rd year of high school Story Arc: Stand Alone

Authors Note: Thank you to those who offered ideas for possible locations for the background scenery of the second NicoMaki UR pair in SIF.

I will post the pic at the end for those who need a refresher on its appearance, and because I adore it and look forward to their release to WW.

“How about these?” Nico help up a handful of rhinestones. “Maybe make a hair clip out of them or something?”

“The rubies certainly match your eyes.” Eli approved as she continued to work on another accessory. “And pearls would stand out well in your hair.”

“I meant for her.” The raven-haired girl clarified.

“Then the pearls are definitely a decent choice for accents.” The blonde nodded. “Otherwise, on their own, the rubies might get lost in her hair.”

“Yeah, that too. And I was also thinking about using these for me.” Nico indicated a pair of red ribbons with thin white stripes.

“Ah, I see.” Eli nodded. “A good match.”

“Think she’ll notice?”

“Do you want her to?”

“And so what if I do?” Nico scrunched her nose at the unexpected return question. “Anyway, red and white works for her strawberry theme.” She began attaching the faux gems to a clip. “And my watermelon theme as well.”

“Shouldn’t it be red and green for you? Or red and black if you went with the seeds?”

“The rind is white.”

“I suppose.”

“Though I was kinda hoping I could find some diamonds…” Nico admitted before thinking better of it.

“Didn’t we just have a birthstone set?”

“Yeah, but… oh, never mind.”

Eli rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the accessory in her hand.

Nico knew Eli saw straight through her, but she wasn’t going to admit it out loud. So what if she wanted to have a few accessories match with Maki? It wasn’t the first time they had similar things on their outfits and probably wouldn’t be the last… hopefully. Besides, it wasn’t like the younger girl would notice anyway, so what harm would it do? It was just a little something that made Nico happy, and that alone was worth it. And if Maki did happen to notice, then all the better.

“So, what do you think?” Eli spoke up after a moment.

Nico blinked back to reality to inspect the item in the blonde’s hand.

“Nozomi will love it.”

“It’s not for…”

“I know.” Nico interrupted. “But red is a good color for you, especially in your hair. And Nozomi will love it. And will undoubtedly comment on it.” She smirked. “Probably lewdly.”

“Nico…”

“Turnabout is fair play.” The raven-haired girl stuck out her tongue.

The blonde pouted, earning a laugh from the other girl. But after a moment of getting past her embarrassment, she joined in with a chuckle of her own.

Under different circumstances, Nico might have used an overdramatic display of disgust when it came to the topic of her fellow third-years and their public flirtations. It was an act the three of them knew she used to deal with her jealousy over what Eli and Nozomi had together; what Nico wished she had with the girl she liked.

But today she was in higher spirits. Today, she and Eli were preparing accessories for an upcoming photoshoot that included a set for which Nico had been matched with Maki as the focus pair. It wasn’t summer yet, but the set’s theme was something about vacations, swimsuits and fruit. Each girl had chosen or been assigned a fruit and would wear two outfits designed with it in mind.

Maki ended up with a strawberry theme. Granted, the redhead often found herself in hues reminiscent of her hair, but she always looked good in them, which probably lent to the repetition. And Nico was excited to see the results, as well as show off her own.

“That should be long enough for it to set.” Nico thought out loud about the adhesive she had applied to hold the gems to the clip. “Who’s next?”

“Ma~ki-cha~n!”

The redhead turned toward the voice calling her from behind. “Nico-chan.” She greeted with a nod.

The raven-haired girl running up to her was dressed in a watermelon themed outfit with green overall shorts covering a white shirt with green stripes. It wasn’t the overly stylized version for this part of the photoshoot, but the pastel shades offered an adorable softness that was well suited to the image Nico always tried to portray. And of course, no outfit the girl wore was complete without pink, so ruffles on the sleeve and collar of the shirt filled that role. Maki allowed herself a moment to take in the view as Nico closed the distance between them.

Even if Maki had wanted to, she would have been hard pressed in denying that Nico looked incredibly cute right now. Not that she wanted to deny it anyway. Probably. But it did bother her how cute Nico could be at times. Like now. Maybe.

“There’s one more thing before we begin!” The third-year held out something that glittered in the stray light from the nearby set.

“Hair clips?” The first year inquired on recognition.

“Yup!” Nico chirped before reaching up. “Hold still a sec.”

“Did you just find these or…?”

“Nope. Nico made these just for Maki-chan.”

“Then why not hand them out with all of the rest?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Nico furrowed her eyebrows. “Nico made these just for Maki-chan. So she wanted to give them to Maki-chan personally. Got a problem with that?”

“N-no… uhm… Th-thank you?”

“And there we go.” Nico grinned as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. After a moment, she turned to the photographer’s assistant. “You guys have a mirror?”

“Oh, yes.” The young man replied before moving to a nearby counter to retrieve the requested item. “Here.”

“Take a look, Maki-chan.” Nico held the mirror up.

“They are quite pretty.” Maki reached up to touch the clips in her hair.

Was it her imagination, or did the clips kind of match the striped bows in Nico’s hair? Maybe? Even if not, Maki decided she preferred to consider it a match because it made her feel good, for some reason.

“I know, right?” The older girl interrupted her thoughts. “Nico knows her accessories.”

“Thank you, Nico-chan.” The younger girl’s thanks was more sincere than the one she had given prior.

“You two ready?” The photographer suddenly asked.

“Yeah, sorry.” Nico replied. “Be right there.”

The two girls made their way onto the set. In front of the greenscreen they found a couple classic poolside style chaise lounge chairs and a few small side tables. Off to the side, on a counter, was a decent selection of props from which they could choose.

“This set is nice.” Maki commented, touching a tray on which sat a glass tea set filled with a red liquid.

“Of course Maki-chan goes for the red things.”

“Well, my fruit is a strawberry…”

“True, but you often choose red things.”

“I like red…”

“So you like your cheeks then.”

Maki pouted, earning a laugh from the other girl.

“And I suppose it’s a good thing Nico’s eyes are red!”

It took a moment for the implication to click in Maki’s mind, but once it did, she balked. “Buweehh?” She turned to find an amused glimmer in said eyes accompanied by a toothy grin, the combination of which made it difficult to get upset.

“Anyway, Nico is going to use this.”

The twin-tailed girl grabbed a plate of what looked like cake with decorative icing and two scoops of sherbet.

“Alright.” The photographer spoke again. “If you could each choose a seat, we can get started.” She motioned to the chairs.

Maki did as instructed and leaned back onto the plastic slats. “You know… kyaa!” She cried in surprise as her ankles were suddenly grabbed. “Nico-chan?”

“I think this will work better for the shot.” The older girl replied, moving Maki’s legs off the side. “How is this?” She asked the photographer as she knelt where the younger girl’s feet had been a moment ago.

“That will work just fine.” The woman responded, giving an affirmative gesture.

“So you’re not going to need this?” The assistant asked, moving to the empty chair.

“Nah, I’d rather be here, closer to Maki-chan.” Nico replied, grinning at the blushing redhead and scooting in a few centimeters more.

The young man nodded and removed the unneeded prop.

“So, you were saying?” The raven-haired girl prompted, lifting the fork in her hand as though to take a bite of the fake cake.

“Oh, right, uhm…” Maki scrambled to recover her derailed train of thought. “I was going to say that the décor reminds me of the place in Demark.”

“Copenhagen, yes, I can see that.” The photographer stated. “The background we are using could be seen as reminiscent of the buildings around the canals of Nyhavn. But I don’t believe there are palm trees in Denmark.”

“Not along the canals, no.” Maki agreed. “But I do remember seeing some last time we were there… maybe in the botanical gardens?”

“Maybe.”

“Then is the background of the painted ladies in San Francisco? They have palm trees there.”

“I’d have to double check the file, but I thought it said it was shot in the Canary Islands? I could be wrong.”

“Maybe Northern Ireland? Spain?”

“Whitehead and Vilajoyosa? I don’t think either was it.” The photographer shook her head. “I can check for sure while you two change for the next part of the set.”

“Alright.” Maki agreed before shifting her gaze to find Nico staring at her. “What…?”

“Does Maki-chan have a vacation house in all of those places.”

“No, but I’ve visited most of them.”

“Hrmph…” Nico huffed. “Must be nice; traveling the world all the time.”

“Not always.” Maki admitted. “A lot of it was for business, so my parents would be busy the whole day. And since I was too young to go anywhere on my own, I would just spend the day reading at the hotel.”

“And the place in Denmark?”

Maki realized she could detect a bit of jealousy in the older girl’s voice. “It’s not ours.” She clarified, shaking her head. “One of our old doctors moved to Europe after he retired. He lets us use that place when we want.”

“Must be nice.” Nico repeated.

The jealousy wasn’t going away. What to say? Uhm… “It is a lovely city.” No, that didn’t seem like something that would diffuse the situation.

“Then if Nico becomes a famous idol,” Nico suddenly preened “she’s going to have to get her own place in Copenhagen. And the Canary Islands. And San Francisco. And maybe a few other places Maki-chan hasn’t even been yet.”

“You mean when you become a famous idol.”

“Right, that’s what I said.”

“I’d like to see it.”

“Hrm?”

“Your place.” Maki found herself getting a little excited. Not only had Nico’s mood improved somewhat, but the idea of taking a trip with her was surprisingly appealing. “Or places, any of them, really, when you get them.”

“Of course!” Nico raised an eyebrow. “Someone like Maki-chan would be welcome anytime. Nico thought that much would be obvious.”

“I’ll hold you to it then.” Maki lifted her cup as though to propose a toast, despite the other girl lacking a beverage of her own, fake or otherwise.

“And I think that’s the shot right there.” The photographer spoke up again. “But let’s take a few more to be sure.”

The two girls gave their affirmation and the photoshoot continued.

UR Pair Referenced:

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

[fanesavin]

Guests settle in while trouble brews in the market.

[ Part 1 | Part 2 ]

Collette indulged in sampling what few luxuries there were at this coronation. The food was lavish, even if it wasn’t the gold leaf and truffles that she’d heard the last king served at his own. She’d only ever eaten so richly as a named warrior for an ancient and long dead noble house.

There was a long table spread for reception, although that would likely come after the coronation ceremony took place. He couldn’t help but notice the one person actually partaking of it, while the servants quietly tried to bustle and work around her to finish setting up. His tried to hide his smile, but it came anyway, watching in amusement as the White Lady sampled things, turned her nose at other things, slowly picking her way through the large but still austere eating choices. If anything could symbolize the spirit of this day, it was certainly embodied in that food. It made perfect sense to Iann; food being such a literal and symbolic description of security.

Collette carried a small silver plate of her favourite choices and a glass of a golden meadlike liquid. She headed towards her captor, the food and alcohol in her belly making her of a far less aggressive disposition. She did have to thank him for one thing. ‘This mead is lovely.’

Iann looked surprised again, when the White Lady approached him of her own volition. He came to a full pause, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed down at her. “Our honey is the pride of our nation, second only to the Freewinds Fleet,” he stated, but Iann was clearly pleased, his chest puffing out as he looked at the cup of mead in her pale white hand. “Third is our obsidian flint, of course. As our Isles are formed from the Sea Goddess’ incessant belching, while she lay pregnant under the ocean,” he laughed, because he loved the Sea Goddess myth, and in many ways believed in her. In addition to paying lip service to the Cloverry, of course. “Volcanic rock, which can light a fire faster than any flint found on the mainland.”

‘Charming,’ Collete said as she sipped the mead. ‘Obsidian is the only gemstone I have time for. It’s rather useful in all kinds of things.’ Perhaps he’d have won her favour if he hadn’t covered her in the symbols of wealth and power like golds and silvers, then. ‘I prefer the myth I heard long ago about the battle of the Fire God and the Earth God, which then gave birth to the stones, glass and metals.’

“Obsidian isn’t considered a precious stone on the Forty Isles, it is a tool.” Indulging the White Lady, he pulled out a dagger that rested on his hip, the blade black and shiny enough to see her reflection in it, dark and luminous. “Forged in the fire created by the selfsame obsidian flint, in an ocean fire that burns even underwater. It strengthens the blades, unbreakable when they clash with mainlander steel.” He slid it back into its sheath, and then took the Lady’s cup. “May I?” he asked, then sampled it. “Ah - this is from Melis Island, I think. Their apiaries make honey of blueberries and lavender.” He returned the cup to her. “Fire God and Earth God? Are they related to the Sea Goddess, then?”

Collette reached out to touch the blade but found Iann had slid it back in its sheathe before she could. ‘Hm?’ She let him sample the mead and watched as he decided where it was from. ‘Lavender is lovely.’ She took another sip of the mead and nodded. ‘It was over the Sea the two were fighting. Earth won which gave birth to rivers and lakes. But even though Fire lost, he birthed a bastard with the Sea.’

Iann hummed. “I’d never heard that aspect of the myth,” he murmured, but he couldn’t help but make connections to more recent legends. Namely the one of the Forty Isles once being one large Island, up North, connected by a natural stone bridge that spanned into Savinlands. The Dragon War had fractured his beloved islands long before Iann had been born, and dragon magic pushed his islands south, creating the Forty Isles as he knew today. He recalled Inquisitor Savin confirming that part of the legend, albeit from a Northman’s point of view (which was neither wrong nor right, just different. This was in no way a slight on the North or the way Northerners thought or carried their legens. It was merely an additional perspective on a history that Iann had grown up learning on the Isles, which Iann welcomed, especially from al ally such as the Savins). “I myself have many bastards. I admire this Fire God and Sea Goddess for doing what they chose.”

Collette White ‘Maybe. But every recollection is different. For some, it’s an affair of the heart. Others it’s a sign of the savage Fire consuming what wasn’t his.’ Collette swayed a little as if dancing to the music that was playing. ‘All myths are different, after all. And not everything gets better with age.’ She made no comment on Iann’s bastards. Who could pass up the chance to further their legacy?

Iann smiled. “Then I like it even more. Myths with multiple claims and versions have always fascinated me. It’s like looking at your reflection in the ocean, the most natural mirror of the known world, but always changing. When you look into the ocean, you never know what face you will see, staring back at you.”

‘And how many reflections have you had? Ones of gold and silver like today? Or ones of black and red, like the day I was captured?’

Iann inhaled, unclasping his hands to stroke at his beard. It was flecked with grey at the corners of his mouth, which was kept so perpetually down-turned. When he smiled, when he frowned, when he sulked, when he felt stress and strain breaking his back. “My ocean defines who I am, and nothing else,” he replied, calmly, his words carefully chosen. He looked down at Collette, her white hair in smooth, elaborate braids that emulated snow-capped mountains to his eyes. “What defines you, my dear Lady?”

Collette made a small noise of her own, an unintended scoff. ‘I’m only defined by my actions. I kill in protection of the land I love the those I am loyal to.’ And that had been a long time since. ‘I am defined not by my money or the people I surround myself with. But it all lies on what I fight for.’ It wasn’t the place of the north she fought for. But the historic ideas of the honour and protection of its people. But it was the blood and fire that followed was what defined her to the people.

“Well said, and wonderfully traditional, as well. Honourable creeds to spark true inspiration within any good, earnest soldier’s heart,” Iann praised her, then smiled. “You see? We have now turned the tides as I promised, and I shall only shower you in accolades.”

‘So you’ve finally stopped gloating?’ Collette’s lips curled into an almost sweet smile. ‘But thank you.’

“I have, it grew boring and there was simply no satisfaction in gloating over you. No one here enjoys a good triumph, not any longer. Everyone’s beholden to one single morality, with no room for anything else.” He glanced around, then motioned for a servant to bring him a cup of mead. He took it, and sipped it. “So you’re not much of a prize, unfortunately. Everyone only pities you and despises me. So I’ve decided to leave you to your own devices.” He looked around the slowly gathering courtyard, then down at her. “Return to the north, as you please. Your captivity has no strategic service within the new high-minded post-war structure now being built here in Bluesprings. It’s a damned shame to release you, though. I was starting to like you.”

‘How dull! Are you sure you’re telling the story correctly? With all the fire and death? How I held your men hostage after you attacked?’ She was unimpressed with how weak the people down here seemed. ‘No, You’re the only person who treats me like the legend I am. I’ll stay with you so long as you respect my myth.’

“Bragging is considered unseemly here, people are so desperate to maintain peace their only care is the same as yours. Good of the people. The people, the people,” he shook his head. “Everyone’s minds are on the well-being and harmony of the people.” He shook his head. “Can I even blame them? Hardly. My people have lived as freefolk on our islands. Those who fought in the wars on the mainland were soldiers and sailors, not innocents.” He looked at the White Lady, with some sympathy. “And you, my dear, have become a lovely but old-fashioned relic, in light of all this blessed, necessary peace among both nobles and commonfolk alike. The White Lady of blood and fire will now be the White Lady of squabbles over sheep-theft and pregnant unwed farmer’s daughters. After the coronation, I’ll return you to your beloved North. Your personal escort - I’d like to visit my son in Blackspire anyway.”

Bella had not left the Dead Woods since she was a much younger woman, the war outside was not something she wanted to involve herself in, a battle for power mattering very little, but now the dust had settled and it seemed appropriate she venture out into the Kingdom to represent what was hers. By no means did she imagine this future ruler would have any command over the forest, she doubted he could make it inside without the magic that was at the root of everything there tearing him apart, but that was her ego and she needed to see for herself. The company of so many humans already quite daunting to her as she walked into the courtyard of the main city where the coronation was to occur. Black gown falling over her slender frame her face wore green and black staining over her eyes that were golden she listened in on a conversation being had by a collective of people with regal postures and titles being thrown about.

Collette stared at Iann for the longest moment. ‘There have been supposed peace’s since I was born. There’s not a single moment I deluded myself with the idea that the battles will not return. If not after this king’s death, his children’s. Or a squabble between houses with no bearing on the throne. I’m not afraid of peace because I know it will never exist.’

Iann gave a one-shouldered shrug, mouth once more down-turned at the corners. “Then you are set for the rest of your existence, my Lady. And as this fictional peace degrades over years, I’ll continue to live my meaningless mortal life out, on the sea where I belong.” He flinched at his own words though, angry at himself for thinking of the sea first, before his Forty Isles. Dammit, when would his father die. For now he gave the White Lady a small, if formal bow. “And I wish you well.”

Collette felt something shift after what she said. Even her reluctant captivity felt more pleasant than being there right now. This freedom he’d given her felt empty and unearned. What had she done? Nothing? Had someone else won her battle for her, or was he simply surrendering. Whatever he was doing wasn’t going to work on her. She wanted to win this victory, not to be handed it. ‘I’m not leaving your captivity,’ she said, chin up.

Bella looked to the woman whose hair was perhaps the polar opposite of her own, listening as she implied peace had once existed, Bella could not recall a time and no social graces retained in her she interjected without introduction or elegance. “Why should your life be meaningless because it is short?” she asked the gentlemen whose skin seemed worn with age and deeper than her own or the other woman’s there. However as she had missed much of the conversation for the woman to say she was choosing to remain his captive seemed to make each of them less endearing.

Iann blinked, unsure he heard the White Lady correctly. “You - ” he was about to say, when another Lady he did not recognize seemed to materialize near them. She had a dark, chilling way about her. Claustrophobic even, even though she was only a small thing. But Iann hated small spaces that were not within the bowels of a ship. And this new strange lady was certainly no ship’s child. She reminded him of the strange woman he’d met earlier, Faye of Lacroy from the Wildwood Marsh. Someone truly connected to land. Iann gave her a formal bow. “My apologies, I don’t believe we’ve made introductions. I am Prince Iann de la Cardero Reyes Ojeda Lopez, and this is my - ” he stopped, then looked at the White Lady. “This is my…esteemed bondwoman, the White Lady of the North.”

A prince, he did not quite appear as one, he was terribly old to be a Prince. “Queen Bellamy Jacqueline Chevalier of the Dead Woods,” Bellamy introduced herself but she wore no crown, nothing so ostentatious, and her wolves she had left at the gates, for the time being, as to not seem as aggressive as she could often be. “What is a bondwoman, if I may? Is she your wife?” Bellamy questioned, curious if perhaps these were just unfamiliar words to her, ones from other Kingdoms or that had sprung up in her absence from a more gallant society.

Iann had the exact appearance of a Heir Apparent Prince, considering the wealth of his deportment, and his imposing stature that both commanded power while also exuding the comfortable casualness of one who knew how and when to wield said power. That this little Queen held her doubts spoke of her own inexperience, more than anything else. He opened his mouth to respond, then Lady White filled in the answer for him, which Iann rather loved. “So like a wife, one could argue. Especially to someone as unlovable as myself.”

Bella looked over the man, curious to see if there was any sort of enchantment on him. “You really are a pathetic sort of Prince if you deem yourself unloveable and your life lacking in meaning, I hope you have older siblings far more worthy of whatever Kingdom you are in line to inherit,” she said without hesitation, or even malice, her tone was lower and slow, as she merely voiced her opinion. Looking to the woman. “I’m not sure why you would voluntarily be something akin to a wife,” he wasn’t even attractive, but this was coming from a woman whose partner was in the form of a wolf for more than half of the time.

‘A wife? I’m nothing like a wife! I’m a willing captive, until the moment someone finally acknowledges this man’s strength on the field of battle. And if that means until he’s bested his enemies, then so be it.’

Iann looked down at the White Lady, his arm snaking around her armoured back. Not to protect her, but because Iann had a feeling the White Lady would not hesitate to launch into violence if she felt insulted. She’d already fought an exceptional battle with many of Knight Harrison’s own men, when they had kidnapped her. He didn’t touch her back, it was more of a demonstration that he stood beside her if things turned sideways. The Queen of the Dark Woods. It seemed strange and unfamiliar to Iann, not that he doubted this self-titled creature. She was here, after all, and must hold some merit on the mainland. The idea of the White Lady calling herself a 'willing captive’ was similarly fascinating to Iann. This 'Queen’s’ petty and childish insults washed off of Iann like water. “As you wish, our Highness,” he said neutrally, and then looked at the White Lady. He bowed to them both, although his bow to the White Lady was considerably lower and formal than it was to the Dark Woods Queen. “If you’ll both excuse me, I shall take my leave and attend to other business.”

Bella practically sneered at the woman’s detestable sort of personality, not that her own was shining very brightly then. “And how exactly is that going to make anyone acknowledge anything about him? Latching yourself onto him like a leech, so far you’ve only made him seem more pathetic to me than his own words have.” She was glad for him to leave but imagining his 'captive’ would follow soon after.

Collette stepped forwards, towards this ‘Queen’. Her hand flew to her sword, that Iann had stolen along with her other effects. She was unarmed, thankfully to the others’ opionions. ‘He bested me in combat when I rendered the odds impossible. And so far no one has acknowledged the achievement no other man has managed!’ Two hundred years and in her first visit south she had been insulted deeply.

Faye let herself be led towards the stables by… the Inquisitor, she’d heard him called. She didn’t dismount just yet, not caring to be shorter than most around her. Especially since the Lord himself was far taller. “I don’t think I caught your own name in the confusion, m'lord. Unless of course, you didn’t give it.” Her horse, Abraxas was his name, shook his head and clapped his teeth in the Inquisitor’s direction. Faye spoke something to the stallion, a few soft words, and he shook his great head again but fell quiet.

Fane knew the sigil of the Guard embroided onto the breast of his jacket would likely be a giveaway as to who he was. Even if he was a frequent visitor to these parts people had some idea of who he was and more than one curious look was shot at him and the woman astride her horse with whom he walked. It wasn’t a far journey but he was unaware of the kerfuffle that had taken place not long after their departure a fact he would no doubt learn of later. “I didn’t give it, and technically neither did you,” he intoned in slightly put upon amusement, “but in the way of introductions, my name is Stefan. High Inquisitor of the Dawnguard and Lord of House Savin.”

Faye made a humming sound, a tiny smirk lifting one corner of her mouth. “That’s quite a mouthful. I’m afraid mine is less impressive. Faye Lacroy. Of House Lacroy. It’s an honor to meet you, Lord Savin.” She glanced at him again. “I don’t seem to remember the Dawnsguard having an Inquisitor in the past. Though I’m not current on many things, it seems.” Her tone was slightly humorous, meant to keep her fears hidden. They arrived at the stables, and Faye entrusted her horse to a groomsman, giving him the required coin from a small purse hidden deep inside her cloak.

Fane merely tipped his shoulder lightly, “everyone here has some extended title or epithet, honestly the struggle is remembering them all and the right honorifics to go with them… Duke, Lady, Lord, Prince so on and so forth.” Arriving at the stable he leaned his shoulder on the wooden column supporting the thatch roof, “so in that regard, it’s quite nice really,” he said of her seemingly unimpressive title. Though he was aware of the other little epithet that she and her kin had garnered but he held his tongue on that for now. Perhaps he would ask later, “there have been a few Inquisitors when the realm has need of them, with the ushering of this peace perhaps we won’t have need of them at all… But for the time being, I hold the mantle.”

“Peace,” Faye said, mostly to herself. “I’m not sure most people know what that word means.” Now stood on the ground, she was shorter than him by a head. But she watched him with her strange eyes, looking for any signs of falsehood. “What will you do then? If the world has no need of you?”

“Indeed, I doubt many do… Nor anticipated to see it in their lifetime yet… Here we all are.” Now that she was on foot he could see those infamous violet eyes that had supposedly cast many a soul asunder. It seemed they were of a mind, gaining an estimation of the other. Fane wished to see the peace maintained, even if he doubted it would ultimately last and that meant gaining an understanding of those that also seemed to wish to support it too. At least, support it for the time being. “I look after my people’s interests and see our wares are traded for goods we require in return.”

Faye: “I certainly didn’t. War has seen the end of my House. I wonder how many more will see their own end during peacetimes?” It had been a false sense of peace that had slain her ancestor, if the stories were to be believed. But war had gone on for so long, and what did she really have to lose? Nothing at all. “I have no people, Lord Inquisitor. I have only myself.” She tilted her head to indicate they should walk back towards the Keep if he wished.

Fane inclined his head solemnly. “The wars have been the end of many once great houses, but perhaps an era of peace will allow for those that have suffered to rebuild.” He couldn’t say if it would happen, but perhaps there was a tentative hope. “That seems a rather lonely existence,” her nod caused him to step back ever-mindful of giving her space and not crowding her considering how she’d reacted when her horse’s rein had been caught earlier. “So might I ask then, what does Lady Lacroy do to pass the time in the Wildwood Marshes?”

Faye: “Perhaps,” she said of rebuilding. Though Faye held little hope for finding a husband at this point in her life. She was in her third decade now, far past the age of marriage and children. The best she could hope for is that her House was not forgotten completely. “It is.” Faye grew lonely all the time. She remembered a time when there were always people in her castle. When the hearthfires burned all the time and the smell of cooking and sound of laughter and music could be heard. But not anymore. Not for a long time now. His question caught her offguard, because why did it matter? “Read. Tend the garden. Sometimes I go for a walk.”

Fane knew to some degree of loneliness once widowed and without heirs. While he had not loved his wife for it had been a marriage of politics he was fond enough of her and she had passed in a fever-bed too young to see the end of her days quite so soon. But that was the way of the world it would seem. Though no one needed to know his thoughts on such things they were his own personal council. “What do you grow?” he asked on her mention of a garden “I can’t see how marshland is very good for agriculture unless you’ve managed to find a system to grow on such land?”

“I grow what I need,” Faye told Lord Savin. “It’s just me after all. I have a garden in the courtyard. The soil there is good. I have a few chickens. Some caged doves. I hunt the occasional swamp deer or boar.” Though she saw those rarely nowadays. “Some things grow best in the marshes. Though I doubt you’d want to eat them.”

Miguel had spent a few hours with Adeline, reading to her and asking her questions about the houses, making sure she was ready to face all the nobles that would be milling about. Making sure that she was safe. A few of the castle guards had been added to her entourage, and Miguel asked his own two crew members to watch over the child. And then he took back to wandering. This time in a more respectable outfit, fitting for his station as a lesser son of the Cardero house. A flowing cream colored shirt with gold embroidery and obsidian buttons. His broad sword, ever present at his hip. An obsidian dagger to match Iann’s at his belt - and one in his boot. He smiled and greeted everyone it would benefit him to greet. And some he greeted for fun, his amusement benefit enough. The food was interesting, with variety from across BlueSprings. He stayed away from the food that reminded him of home, he wanted to try new things. His curiosity brought him back to the violet eyes of the witch of the wilds, he had met her once before and he wondered if she remembered him. Perhaps, it didn’t seem like she had many visitors at least. He circled once, taking stock of the inquisitor and whomever else wound in and out of the conversation. “Inquisitor, Lady Lacroy.” He nodded his head in greeting.

Faye’s attention was brought from her current conversation by a familiar voice. Granted, one she never thought to hear again. She stopped, peering at the man who’d been one of her rare visitors in the last few years. “M'lord,” Faye greeted him. “Fancy seeing you here.” Though a tiny smile lifted her mouth. “You look well.”

Fane nodded in understanding. “Ah, yes I suppose you’re right… I’m rather unaccustomed to Houses having so few people belonging to them… Normally there’s so much that needs to be taken into consideration… We have glasshouses that we use to grow the things we need… The rocks don’t lend themselves to very good growing conditions.” But as another approached, Fane found his eyes studying the newcomer. Ah, one of the other princes belonging to the Isles. “Your Royal Highness,” he greeted with a small bow, more formal than Fane had greeted his elder brother earlier.

Faye glanced at the Inquisitor, wondering if he was insulting her or not. She was quite literally the only person left. No husband, no children. Just her. “One may find things a bit less complicated when everyone else is dead, m'lord.” The words were said flatly, but held little heat.

Miguel smiled at the two. “Oh everyone is here Lady Lacroy. But I am happy to see you.” He smiled an extra special Forty Isles honey smile for her. She was overlooked by the other nobles far too often. And he wouldn’t be making that mistake. “I’m happy to see you as well Inquisitor,” he said and his smile turned a little cheeky.

Fane had meant no offence, it was a simple truth. He wasn’t accustomed to Houses with only one survivor. Small households yes, but one individual alone was… something else entirely. “I apologise… I meant no disrespect truly.” But Miguel’s arrival saved him from a little too much awkwardness. “I can say the same of you and your brothers, it seems like an age since we last wrote to one another. How have you been fairing on your voyages lately? Any new discoveries to regale us with tales of?”

Faye nodded at the apology, but said nothing else about it. Her attention turned to Miguel as her two companions seemed to know one another. “You as well.” His smile was returned with a bit more familiarity than Faye had given anyone else.

Miguel pretended not to notice the end or the awkward discussion and instead kept his jovial persona in place. “Oh yes! I recently got back from the Western continent. There I learned about some interesting blacksmithing techniques. Have you heard of crucival steel?”

Fane was thankful at least that no commotion was made of what he said. Some nobles could be incredibly tetchy about things and even if peace was looming some were still far too high-strung for Fane’s liking. “Oh aye? Crucival?” he shook his head a little, “I can’t say I have but you have me intrigued. How does it differ to typical steel?”

Miguel was perked up and grinning. “Well! It’s a mix of pig iron, iron iron, and steel. Along with ashes or glass. All melted in a crucible. The addition of the junk actually makes it stronger. I tested it against my obsidian blade and my blade splintered.” He glanced around and frowned. “I’ll talk to you again Lady, Inquisitor.” He didn’t want to spend too long with any one group. Plus there was still food he wanted to try.

Fane politely inclined his head as Miguel excused himself, not particularly minding. “I apologise… If I did cause offence earlier,” he said more quietly and sincerely then as they walked. “I only meant to try and understand what it would be like to live as you do. But in hindsight it was callous of me to phrase it the way I did and for that and any offence i caused you Lady Lacroy I’m sorry.” He wasn’t full of himself enough to know when an apology was needed and this felt as though it required one.

“No harm done. I don’t speak to people very often. Not unless they need something.” She pulled her cloak tighter around herself. “Why?” she asked, frowning down at the ground as they walked. “My way of life is…” Faye stopped talking lest she make herself out to be the rude one. “You have far greater concerns than me, m'lord.”

Fane made a quietly sympathetic noise as they walked. That was something he understood, people wanting and asking things of you but ultimately that was their job. Though in Lady Lacroy’s case he assumed that perhaps it was a slightly different beast if rumours were to be believed. “Need there be a why?” he countered thoughtfully, straightening himself he clasped his hands behind his back “I take the position that if we are all expected to live in peace surely there needs to be some degree of understanding that exists between us no? How else do you understand a person but by asking the questions to learn about their life?” Perhaps a tad philosophical but no less true in Fane’s opinion at least. “Perhaps,” he allowed to her statement of his greater concerns, “and yet I choose to walk here with you instead.”

“There’s always a why,” Faye said rather shortly. Always a why. Or a how. Or a what. An addendum to everything. “And it’s hard to understand something when you fear it too much.” She meant that as a general statement. Even now as they walked, people glanced at her and upon meeting her eyes many moved quickly away. Some stared. Some even looked angry. And for what? A rumor. A superstition that lingered over her family for ages. Though she was certain by now word of her presence in the city had spread. The Witch come to curse the new ruler. Or something equally horrendous. “Perhaps not the best choice on your part,” Faye told him, though it seemed to keep people from staring at her too long.

Fane tipped a brow at the abruptness with which she answered, well then. “Perhaps there often is, but in this case the why would be I’m curious.” Fane pressed his lips together as he considered her words. “Aye, ‘tis true,” he conceded patient but no less curious despite her attempts to deflect said curiosity, “but I’ve seen things worth fearin’ and I can’t say you happen to be one of those things. Not by my typical estimation of things that’ll maul me to death on the spot at least.” Fane noticed the lingering looks but where Faye seemed uncertain of them he chose to not acknowledge them. “No, perhaps not and yet I choose to stay because I would like– if you would allow me to that is, to try and understand.”

“And I should merely bend to the whim of your curiosity?” The words were only slightly less heated, but she did glance up at him as he returned his own opinions of things to be feared. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want you to think.” Most beautiful things were dangerous in some way. Faye was no less so merely because she isolated herself. She shook her head as they walked. “Stay if you wish. It will only serve to show you that I’m not worth the time.”

Fane looked rather amused by her prickly nature. “Now that’s smart but that wasn’t what I said, I may be curious but you don’t have to indulge my curiosity.” His hand rested loosely on the pommel of his sword, a casual stance and more for comfort than any other reasoning. “Aye, perhaps so. But I’d rather meet my end as such than torn limb from limb by Nightspawn if I had to choose.” Content for the moment he continued to walk alongside her. “That said, it seems unfair if I’m the only one asking questions. If you haven’t socialised for as long as you say surely you have questions about the state of things, no?”

Maya started by walking through the market just observing. You could learn a great deal, she knew, just from observing. It was easy to spot the spice sellers. From a stall a little down the way she watched the only woman among them haggle with someone. After the customer left, Maya headed in the direction of the stall. She was almost there when someone bumped into her. “Have you considered watching where you’re going?” she asked as she straightened herself. She turned to see who had run into her, hoping that it wasn’t a noble.

Aedan was pleased to find that peace would fall on the country. So he was beaming and a little in his cups when he brushed past someone. He wasn’t expecting the woman to take so much offence. He raised his brows at her and sipped his drink. 'I was watching.’

Maya stood with her back completely straight. Despite her slightly worn and common clothing, there was still pride in her air. She noted that the man didn’t actually apologize. She swallowed any annoyance she might have at that fact though. Any trouble she caused would fall back on her master. This was especially true at an event like this. She liked working at Blackspire and didn’t wish to find herself jobless again. “I apologize sir,” she replied, “It has been a…trying day.”

'Events like this are always trying. But perhaps next time be a little politer. Most of the gentry would have leapt at the chance to attack you.’

Maya raised an eyebrow. “Attack a servant in the marketplace? When the land is finally so close peace? I should think most nobles smarter than that,” she replied, “And as for politeness, perhaps you should consider heeding your own advice.”

'Nobles are idiots. And either way, a small nudge didn’t justify your reaction.’ Aedan polished off his glass and handed it to a passing servant. 'But I apologise nonetheless.’

“And it is yours to decide my reaction?” Maya asked, “Perhaps I was concerned that while you managed not to injure me the next person might not be so lucky.” She did give a small curtsey when he did apologize. “I, as well, sir.”

Aedan reached for another drink. 'Lord Ruaidh, King’s Master Architect. You?’

“Maya, no one of importance,” she replied. “What brings you to the market if I may ask? In my,” she chose her words carefully, “limited experience, most nobles send their servants for such tasks.”

'I prefer to buy things for myself. How am I meant to choose the right thing through a servant?’

The Red Priestess had been slowly making her way through the market, getting the feel of the people gathered to see this new ruler crowned. They were an odd mix of nobles, petty lords, and townsfolk. Though a few caught her eye here and there. Those with certain… attributes. Though it was rare to find anyone that was humble. Which is why the woman’s voice caught her attention. As did the man’s next to her. “Sometimes a servant knows exactly what their lord requires,” she said as she made her way towards the pair.

Maya replied, “That must take up a great deal of your time.” It brought up questions for her of if he simply didn’t trust his servants or if he couldn’t employ trustworthy servants. Neither spoke especially well of him. Maya turned at the sound of someone chiming in. She curtsied to the priestess as the woman approached. She also did not respond, seeing as she was now in the presence of two people of more equal rank to each other. Better to wait until it was clear when she was being spoke to.

The Red Priestess dipped her head at the girl. “Hello, Maya of No Importance.” The priestess gave her an appraising look before giving an equally appraising look to the young lord standing next to her. “You yourself are but a servant of the king, are you not?”

Maya “M'am,” she replied with an incline of her head and a short curtsy. It concerned her a little the way the priestess looked at her, but she was still fair from where anyone knew her name. It was going to be fine.

Bella sensed the power of a strong Priestess in the marketplace, having abandoned the courtyard in search of the woman she had given shelter to for some time. Bella’s black gown clung to her form as she moved through the market, wolf now at her side as she was not so close to the castle, no money on her person it would have been the jewels that hung down her back that a thief would go for. So far as she could tell there were many that were going to take advantage of such an event, and she doubted that the wolf would deter them when they were already facing the myriad of guards that had come with royalty. “Octavia,” she called, but her eyes were on a dark haired woman whose energy felt opposed to Bella’s own.

Octavia followed closely behind Bella, keeping an eye on the merchants and customers alike. “Yes, my Queen?” she answered. Her leather bodice held a knife ready for protecting herself and mainly Bella, she never left her room without it. She brought her hand up to it, tracing the outline of it hidden by her long black cloak.

The Red Priestess looked at the girl again as she curtsied. “Do I know you, child?”

Bella looked to her as she stood in the square before her eyes flickered back to the Priestess and the people she was speaking with. For a time Bella had felt guilty that Octavia had readily taken her station, calling Bella by a title she held over people who chose to live in the Dead Woods when Vi had one of her own, but there had been little discouraging her. “Have you been to this place before?” she asked. “Does she look familiar?” Bella continued to question, pointing a hand towards the Priestess as someone curtsied before the woman. Bella knew people had come long distances to the coronation, but even though Ruby was not from the area Bella could not know any better.

Maya shook her head, “I wouldn’t imagine so. As I said, I’m no one of great importance. Merely a kitchen girl in the employ of House Savin.”

“It has been a very long time, but I have been here once before during a peace summit. What good that did.” Octavia said, mumbling the last sentence under her breath. “I do not think I have seen her before.” She whispered close to Bella as she studied the woman.

“I doubt it has done much good now,” Bella noted. Based on her conversation with the self loathing Prince she didn’t imagine many royals were happy, but it was their choice to acknowledge any of this. Still as she watched the Priestess engaging with the slender girl before her she thought perhaps it was not so unlikely that peace could remain. “How would your father have felt about all this?” Bella asked her as she began in the direction of the two women, no tact to speak of she had merely decided she wanted to speak to them and would.

Octavia looked down to her feet, her stomach dropping any time her father’s memory crept into her mind. “He would have loathed this show they’re putting on today. Pretending to bring peace to this war ridden country. I’m sure he would have had a say against this High Raj.” Octavia smirked, following Bellas change in direction towards the woman she had previously asked about.

The Red Priestess: “So you say,” the priestess told Maya. “Most truly important people don’t realize it. Those that do are usually either gluttons or fools.” She recognized the name of the House, and nodded. “A fine name to be connected to. Where’re you from, if I may ask?”

Bella heard Vi’s words, wondering if perhaps these sentiments were what had actually killed the man, rather than his daughter. If you were in the way of peace why would those seeking it not remove you in a less than peaceful way? “I suppose we shall see what the High Raj is like momentarily but for now,” Bellamy moved on as she reached the Priestess and the girl about her own height and build. The Priestess was speaking and, though Bella did not share whatever beliefs this woman had, she would by no means interrupt her. Instead waiting patiently for the girls answer before leaning in. “Excuse me, Priestess,” Bella spoke, eyes dipping to the other girl. “And company. May we join you?”

Maya couldn’t help but smile at that, “One might argue that the gluttons and fools aren’t as important as they claim though.” She paused before answering the priestess’ other question. Luckily, she was saved by two more people’s approached. She curtsied to the newcomers and didn’t answer the woman’s question. I t was not her decision if they joined her and the Priestess.

Octavia lingered close behind, giving the two women a smile. She pulled back her hood to reveal her long waist length hair, feeling it fall down her back.

“Spoken just like someone who wants that indulgence, but also want to appear humble.” Faye eyed the way his hand rested on his sword, a habit she was certain, but something to note regardless. Her own dagger lay inside her cloak, long and wickedly curved, it wasn’t just for show. She thought about his words, and whether or not she did have any questions. She had just opened her mouth to ask something, when there was a commotion to the side. Something heavy careened into Faye, knocking her off balance and into a market stall. “You fucking witch!!” the crazed man screamed at her, brandishing a rusty blade beneath Faye’s throat. “You’re not welcome here! You’ll bring a pox! A plague! A-” The man made a sudden tight, huffing sound, and suddenly grew very, very still. Though his blade was still held to Faye’s throat, and a small trickle of blood ran down her neck. “Release me,” she said, her words wavering slightly, “or you’ll be carrying you entrails in a handbasket.” Her dagger was pressed to his stomach, the tip piercing the soft flesh but not deep enough to truly harm. The crowd around them had scattered, and the hushed whispers of 'witch….’ spread through the onlookers. Faye’s eyes tightened slightly as fear started to settle in.

Fane had to laugh at how she spun the situation. “Now that’s incredibly presumptive of you Lady Lacroy.” She was an interesting character to boot, and by the minute he found himself all the more intrigued by her. Unfortunately, their peace was interrupted rather abruptly and Fane grunted as he too was knocked though not directly enough to loose his footing. It all happened in the space of a second but a second was all it took. Fane’s smaller dirk had been drawn from his side, “now– there’s no need for this… Release the Lady and you’ll come to no harm…” his voice was sterner now. “If you harm her you’ll answer to the full authority and justice invoked of the Guard.”

He stared in shock as Hadwin only pressed the blade tighter to Faye’s throat. His fingers curled tighter around the hilt of his dirk that remained at his side, the other hand raising non-threateningly. “Lady Lacroy is here to make peace just as the rest of us are – by invitation of the Crown.” The wild-eyed man’s eyes snapped across then considering the small area of space that had been made by the crowd backing away from the commotion chattering nervously amongst themselves. Hadwin spat a thick brownish globule of spit in Fane’s direction but the Inquisitor remained unmoving, eyes fixed on Lady Lacroy and the man holding her at blade-point just as she had him. “What gives you the right t'invoke the Guard for this stinkin’ witch?!” the blade was pressed tighter and Fane instinctively took a step forwards so that he was closer to intervene if forced to.

“That’s why they’re fools,” the priestess smiled. “A true ruler doesn’t have to remind anyone of who or what he - or she -” A pointed look at Maya. “- is.” Before the girl could answer her other question, Scarlett turned at the sound of another voice. Though as she took in the woman in black and her armored companion, the priestess’ smile faded ever so slightly. “Of course. We were merely speaking of the market, and all its finery.” A small lie, but the priestess knew this woman, if not personally, then by reputation. “What brings the Deadwood to the Capitol? Other than the obvious.”

Octavia looked over to where a slight skirmish had occurred. She watched as a mad hovered over a woman with a knife to her throat. “Ma’m, may I assist the woman over there? She seems she may need the help.” Octavia whispered lightly to Bella before she realized the woman had possibly already begun to defend herself.

Bella only knew of her reputation in the most peculiar of ways, since she rarely left the Dead Woods it was more from those who ventured in that she understood the way that she appeared. Blood magic was not something typically practiced. It was strange to imagine that her parents had twisted things enough that she was the villain in their story, in reality things were a little different. “I thought perhaps with the war ending that things might be different out here than they were in Chevalier,” she answered of her families Kingdom, none of whom had shown their faces so far. “I don’t imagine I know either of you though but your presence is unrelenting,” Bella said of the Priestess. “This is my ward and protector Octavia,” Bellamy introduce, the girls had at her own dagger unmistakable but hopefully not threatening.

Bella gave Octavia a gentle nod that she could do as she liked, Bella would quite see what she was speaking of but she had her wolf at her side and that would be enough.

“And how is that?” the priestess asked of the woman’s home. Her tone was genuinely concerned, and not mocking. “Or do you speak of the rumors that circulate about things people don’t understand?” She dipped her head in thanks at the compliment. “As is your own, m'lady.” The priestess greeted the woman’s guardian as well, not treating her any differently than she did her mistress.

“Ladies.” Octavia gave the three women a slight bow and took a step backwards, pulling her sword from it’s place at her hip to ready herself. “Is there a problem here, M'lady?” She asked. She saw a man at the ready as well, attempting to talk down the crazed attacker. “Sir.” She said giving him a nod.

Fane opted not to draw his sword, considering the close confines of the square there was no way to swing a blade of any real length without potentially risking harm to other commonfolk gathered nearby. So Fane kept his short blade handy while he spoke to the man holding Faye presently. A few of his sworn shields that happened to also be in the city, the crest of the Dawnguard emblazoned on their shields and tunics stepping up behind Fane. “There appears to be… unrest… here over Lady Lacroy’s presence in the city…” he explained without taking his eyes off the situation at hand.

Faye stayed quite still, even if the fear in her eyes was real. She was no fool, and this wasn’t the first time she’d ever been set upon. Though it had admittedly been a long time. Since the dagger in his belly hardly seemed to do much, Faye’s free hand reached into a small pocket in her robe. Into the small satchel she kept there. When the man glanced aside at Fane and another woman that come up to help, Faye blew the small handful of grey dust into the man’s face. He sucked in a breath as Faye held hers. Instantly, he started shaking his head, clawing at his eyes and throat. He dropped the blade as he staggered and fell to his knees, still clawing at himself. Faye stood up, closing her fist until she could wash off the powdered fireberries. Sheathing her own dagger, she wiped the blood from her throat. “Still think they wish to understand me, Lord Savin?” she asked, moving off to clean her hands, ignoring the crowd as they parted to let her pass.

The woman still had not introduced herself and just as Bella went to say had designs on what was once her home there was an announcement that there was to be a celebration, something festive in preparation for the event staved off to the following day. “Would you like to walk together?” she asked of them, her hand drifting over the head of her wolf and running fingers through it’s fur. “Perhaps you can tell me what you are a Priestess of, I haven’t come across another since my time at home.” The church in Chevalier was more known for its choke like hold over the people in conjunction with the monarchy. It made her nervous to be here, though it seemed the church here had done a lot to bring the unsavory war to an end.

Iann from the crowd, Iann applauded loudly. “What a show! Such a magnificent demonstration of elegance, of power. The reason we are all here today, wouldn’t you say?” He looked around at the watching crowd, still anxious but now confused. “Scatter now. You have all heard the announcement. Go enjoy yourselves, rather than seeing your blood stain the swords of the Dawnguard. I heard the mead is delicious.”

Octavia:pulled out a handkerchief from her bodice, offering it to Lady Lacroy. “M'Lady.” She said eyeing the woman. “Will you be attending the celebration this evening?” Octavia asked the two keping an eye on Bella as she made her way to the festivities with the other two women.

Fane blinked and before he could quite say what had happened the situation was… resolved. He looked after Faye as she cut through the crowd, and while he wanted to say something… What else was there really to be said that hadn’t already? Grunting, he shoved his dirk back into his belt and walked over to the man clawing at his eyes using the toe of his boot to roll him over onto his back and look down at him for a moment. “As for who invokes the Guard, the Inquisitor does,” the man’s eyes and nose were flushed a snotty scarlet red. Unimpressed by the man’s display Fane kicked his blade aside and indicated with two fingers for him to be seized, “put him in irons and let him think on his actions behind bars.” He said nothing more as he watched the man be picked up and hefted away while Iann thankfully got the stragglers to scarper.

Octavia followed Lady Lacroy through the crowd.

Miguel had watched the clamor, interested in what it would mean for everyone. He found he was content when Faye came out on top. The image of her blowing the powder. Of the hard look in her violet eyes, like sharp crystal, it was elegant and exciting. Something that Iann echoed a moment later. He went to his brother and bumped lightly against his shoulder, a habit from simpler times, when there was more affection between the eldest and youngest of House Cardero. “Is the mead or the honey from our Isles?” He asked.

Faye heard the jeering from the crowd. A mocking voice she’d heard earlier in the day. Typical for someone else’s pain and fear to be amusement to the ones in power. Nothing ever changed. She looked up as the woman who’d come over to assist Lord Savin spoke to her. “Thank you,” Faye said, accepting the handkerchief with a nod. She only felt a bit ashamed of walking away as she had, but her anger was none of Lord Savin’s fault. And she didn’t wish to take it out on him. “I think I shall. If only for the mead.”

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Hearts of Steel (Ch. 3 of 3)

Len heads back to his Earth, temporarily, with Sara by his side. But fixing what he'd left behind won't be easy, and sometimes the idea of "home" is more complicated than it seems.

And here it is! I’ve really enjoyed writing this version of Leonard, but this is it for now. (Probably.) Many thanks, as always, to @larielromeniel​. Can also be read here at AO3.

Sara wakes what is, by her fairly developed internal clock, about two hours after they’d fallen asleep, curled up together in the comfortable-if-small motel bed. Len’s left arm is thrown across her hip, his chest against her back, and she can still feel him breathing, deep and steady, at peace at least in this small, calm corner of his Earth. She pauses a moment to see if he wakes, smiles when he doesn’t, and then slowly moves from his loose grasp, rising to stretch, arms over her head, and sigh.

She doesn’t really want to put her uniform back on, but neither of them had thought to bring changes of clothing. Still, at least it’s dirt- and water-resistant. (Thanks, Cisco.) She rinses it off and hangs it up, knowing it won’t be long before it’s dry, smiling as she sees Len had already done the same with his.

She thinks, too, about going back to the industrial park to check on Lisa and Mick, to try again to get through to Lisa, to make sure Mick’s made it through the process unscathed. But something says it wouldn’t be a good idea, both in the case of the younger Snart and the elder. Nothing prevents them from visiting later to make sure all is well, she reminds herself, thinking with regret about the way things had gone. And maybe…

Len makes a startled noise in his sleep, and Sara turns, watching his eyes flicker open. He stares at the empty side of the bed a moment, then struggles into a sitting position even as she moves forward so he can see her.

The look of relief he gives her is startling…and saddening. Did he really think she’d leave? But in a way, he’s just lost two relationships in his life that go much further back, so why not this one?

The look of alarm moves nearly immediately to consideration, and a slight smirk as Len leans back a little, considering her continuing state of undress. Sara pouts at him—he’s got a sheet still pulled over most of himself—and the smirk grows, at least until he glances at the old clock radio on the bedside table and regret flickers through his eyes.

“Sadly, I do think we should be moving on,” he says, regret also filling his tone. (At least he also pulls the sheet aside as he stands, Sara thinks with amusement, enjoying the view.) “I want to hit an old safehouse to pick up some things. And the, uh, ‘Cold groupies,’ as you called ‘em, are probably looking for us.” Something sad crosses his face again. “And…Lisa knows I helped out Amari’s family, once. If she decided she wanted to…wanted to…”

He can’t make himself say it. Sara can’t make herself think of a good response. So instead, she just moves forward to kiss him again, and he lets himself be distracted.

Len returns the key to Amari in the office as Sara waits outside, studying their surroundings and wondering idly what she’ll do if actually confronted with Cold groupies. (Brag, she decides.) As Len slips back out, he gives her a small smile, and they start walking back toward city center, shoulder to shoulder.

They walk, for the most part, in silence, but as the taller buildings of downtown come into view, Sara glances over at Len, who appears lost in thought.

“You should probably tell them,” she says quietly. “Someone from your Justice League. They might be looking for you. Wondering about you.”

Len glances over. “Eh. I doubt it,” he says with a sigh. “Or…well, actually did I think Barry would look in on us by now—he usually knows what’s going on in Central to an utterly annoying extent, but…”

“You could tell me.”

They both stop in their tracks.

The voice is feminine, musical with an accent Sara can’t quite place, and she turns quickly, even as she registers Len’s intake of breath with the awareness that there’s no alarm in him. And then she freezes.

“Holy,” she breathes, “shit.”

Len darts a glance at her. “I know, right?” he mutters, then looks back at the woman before them, running a hand through his hair and giving her a simultaneously fond and nervous expression Sara’s never seen on him before.

“Diana,” he says, just a bit awkwardly, reaching around to rub the back of his neck. “Hi.”

The black-haired woman watching them steadily is tall and...well, the best word is maybe "statuesque," in a way that speaks both of extensive physical training and excellent genes. Her get-up—gold and red and blue and Sara doesn't really know where to look without being distinctly impolite, if incredibly impressed—screams "hero," and there's a shield slung on her back and a sword at her hip, as well as a coiled, golden rope that seems to be...glowing?

Her look is not without amusement and even affection, though, and she smiles at Len before turning her head and regarding Sara, who feels her mouth going dry. Drier. (So she has a...a predilection...for badass dark-haired women, OK?) Still, Sara lifts her chin and meets the woman's eyes, trying to convey that she means no harm here—in fact, rather the opposite.

Diana studies Sara a moment longer, then inclines her head, regally, a salute of sorts.

“Sister," she says solemnly, and Sara feels like she's just been given an accolade she didn't even know she'd coveted. Then Diana turns her head again and regards the speechless Len.

"Leonard," she says in that musical accent. "Barry is...out of town." A tilt of her head. "Very out of town, really. I said that I would pay mind to Central City, in his absence. I did not expect to see you."

There's a question, in the statement, and Len clears his throat, obviously trying to figure out precisely what it is and how to answer it.

"No one said anything about what happened?" he asked diffidently. "In National, couple months back?"

Diana nods. "There was a portal," she notes. "So Victor said. He brought in the meta responsible, but the man wasn't truly in control of his powers." She tilts her head. "We feared you dead or lost. But neither could anyone figure out how to reach you."

"Yeah...I landed in a different Earth. But I fell in with ...friends." Len takes a deep breath, then, squaring his shoulders, and looks at Sara and back at Diana. "Sara Lance, White Canary, this is Diana Prince," he says, a bit formally. "Justice League founding member, princess of Themyscira." A pause. "Also known as Wonder Woman."

"Yes, she is, isn't she?" Sara muses, still a bit dazed, then shakes her head at the other woman's amused look. "Pleased to meet you...your highness?"

Diana's lips quirk, just a little. "That is not necessary," she says, humor in her tone. "But...Lance?" She looks back at Len. "White Canary?"

"Yeah, well, there are some differences." Len hesitates, then nods as if to himself, meeting Diana's eyes. "And I'm going back. To stay. The League doesn't really need me here, and I’m not...I can't go back to what I was before. I've got people, there." He looks at Sara. "And a...home. And..."

His voice trails off, but Diana lifts an eyebrow, looking back and forth between them. "Ah," is all she says. "Well, I shall convey your...resignation to Bruce. And Barry. You will be missed."

Len snorts. "I somehow doubt that," he mutters, but waves a hand as Diana gives him a questioning look. "Thank you. I..." He hesitates again. "The...the two called Lady Midas and Heat Wave. Central City Rogues. Ask Barry. They..." A deep breath, and an admission. "She's my sister, and he's the closest thing I've had to a brother, here." He meets her eyes. "Watch out for them? If you can? They have powers they can't control, and I tried to help them, but...I don't know how that's gonna work out."

It's obvious there's a lot of story there Len isn't telling, but to Sara's surprise, the other woman simply regards him another long moment and then nods.

"I will," she says simply. "I give you my word."

There's not so much more to say after that, honestly, and while Len's never been one to give up a chance to chat up Diana, neither does he want to further outline his many failings to her (or to Sara, who already knows them far more than most). It seems, now, to be a good time to take his leave, officially, of both her and of the League.

"Thank you," he says soberly, giving Diana a direct look and something far more sincere than his habitual smirk. "For that. For...more than that." For treating him like a valid member of the League. For fighting alongside him when the others were still giving him that suspicious side-eye. For being…being.

And then, without waiting for a response, he glances back at Sara (who's still eyeing the other woman with a tentative expression of both respect and lust, both of which he gets) and nods, to her, turning away, heading off down the street, keeping sentiment at bay.

And Sara gets him too, because she falls into step without a word, just a nod to Diana, and they walk a moment, shoulder to shoulder, silent, in solidarity. But they’re only to the end of the block when Len slows again, glancing behind them.

Diana is still there, watching.

“Just a sec’,” he tells Sara. “Really. I…”

But he can’t finish. He just turns, and jogs back toward the princess of Themyscira, who watches him calmly with no surprise at all.

He stops a few feet again, taking another deep breath, and meets her eyes again, surprised at the understanding he finds there.

"Diana?" he blurts out. “A question?”

And then again, before she can do more than nod: “Am I doin’ the right thing? I…I’m leaving everything. My world. This time on purpose. Because I made connections there, and more…I…” He glances back at Sara, who’s also watching calmly. “I…it doesn’t seem like I deserve…”

But Diana holds up a hand, startling him into silence, and regards him solemnly.

“Do you love her, Leonard?” she asks after a moment, tone wistful and commanding at the same time, full of memory and loss and passion.

When it comes down to it, it’s the easiest question in the world. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Then, there is your answer. When in doubt, choose love. Always, choose love.” Stunning him into silence, she steps forward and kisses him, briefly, on the cheek, stepping back just as swiftly to smile at him, a joyous expression that has him blinking at her in dumbfounded wonder.

“And now, gods-speed, Leonard Snart,” she tells him quietly. “You have weathered the cold. Enjoy the warmth.”

"Leonard?” is all Sara asks as he rejoins her.

"Yeah, well, she's the only one who gets away with that, here." He sneaks a glance at Sara, who doesn’t seem bothered by that kiss on the cheek at all, but instead seems serene and amused.

God, he loves her, he thinks abruptly, again, then grins, stopping to face her.

“Let me show you my city,” he says.” Before we leave. We have a few hours. And I’m starving. What do you say?”

Her grin, slowly spreading across her face, is as wide as his. “Lead on.”

And he does.

They hit the Ice Box first, where the owners greet Len gleefully and generously offer them meals in exchange for a photo, and excellent pie for dessert.

From there, avoiding the groupies, they take to the rooftops again, and even Len is laughing as Sara flies like her namesake across gaps, turning to taunt and challenge him until he dares enough to catch up to her, grabbing her shoulders as the sun starts to set and kissing her again deeply as the sunset paints the sky. (They know someone in a nearby window is taking a photo of them. They don’t care.)

Once it’s dark, they break into the Flash Museum, which is closed for the evening, and Len proudly shows Sara the “Captain Cold” exhibit. They take a selfie for posterity’s sake and steal the question mark at the end of the “Hero or Villain?” marquee, and Len goes into the gift store and signs every single piece of merch with his image on it. (“They should be paying me royalties, you know.”)

And then, as the hours tick down, Len leads them to a quiet working-class neighborhood, jimmying the lock on an abandoned-looking apartment building to step silently into a musty-smelling ground-floor studio apartment.

“I pay peanuts to keep this thing for emergencies; the landlord’s out of the biz but can’t be bothered to actually take care of the place,” he mutters to Sara. “Advance rent will run out at the end of the month. Might as well take a few things.”

Despite his casual words, Sara notices how quickly he crosses to a small safe tucked into a corner of the room, and how carefully he removes a few items: a few photos, two books, a small wooden box. Without even bothering to close it, then, he rises, glances around, and nods to her.

“OK,” he says quietly. “We can go now.”

And then, as Sara watches, he stiffens, staring past with an expression that’s simultaneously horrified…and hopeful? She whirls, and freezes herself, at the sight of Mick Rory, fire-free and larger than life, standing there, watching them.

For a moment, she thinks it’s her Earth’s Mick. But…there are too many scars.

"Yeah, well, you don't make it easy to find you, asshole,” the bigger man rumbles, responding to a comment Len hasn’t even made. “Took me hours.”

Len swallows, watching him, and Sara carefully moves out of the way, still watching both of them. “I didn’t know you were going to be doing so,” he says quietly. “I woulda stayed, but…you OK?”

Mick studies him a moment…and then, unexpectedly, grins. It makes him look even more like Earth-1 Mick.

“I woke up and no more fire,” he says, raising his hands to admire them. “First thing I did was get a cold beer.”

Len makes an involuntary noise, and Mick tilts his head, watching him. Then he nods again.

“And talked Lis down,” he adds, in a diffident mumble. “The other two pills, they’re safe. I left ‘er staring at them, but I made ’er promise she wouldn’t take one ‘til I got back.”

Len drags in a shaky breath. “Do you think…”

“Yeah, she will. Take it, you mean? Yeah. She misses…lots of stuff.” Mick frowns at him. “You really leavin’?���

Len just stares at him another moment, and Sara gets it. He’s made some peace with leaving with business undone, and now…

“Yeah,” Len says after a moment, an echo. “I figure I’ve done enough damage now. Take care of her, would you?”

“Lis? Sure, but she can take care of herself. Even without the stupid powers.” Mick smirks, then looks at Sara. “So. Blondie. An’ you take care of this bastard, OK?”

Sara actually has to blink something out of her eyes. “Yeah, I will. I promise.” She pauses. “You…take care of yourself too.”

This Mick gives her an odd look. Then, showing the remarkable perception she knows her Mick is capable of, he says, “I don’t know you. But…you know me?”

“Yeah. Sort of.” She can’t really bring herself to say more. Fortunately, this Mick just snorts and nods, then looks back at Len.

“Figures I can’t remember the gorgeous blonde,” he mutters. “Snart?”

Len is still blinking, but then manages: “Mick. You need anything, you…and I know this sounds weird…track down a guy called ‘Vibe,’ OK? Ask…ask the Flash. They can, uh, put you in touch with me.”

Mick gapes at him. Then: “Um. OK,” he manages. “I can do that.”

“OK.” Len looks him in the eye. “Goodbye.”

“Bye, Snart. And…good luck.”

The alley is deserted, this time of the evening, and Len’s glad for that. He checks his watch, then the sky, and sighs, looking at Sara.

It’s not that he’s not OK, leaving this Earth. He is, especially now, but he’s still not sure life, fate, whatever, is going to let him get away with this.

Minutes left, really. He studies the sky, then looks almost involuntarily at Sara, who looks at him at almost the same time.

“Ready?” she whispers. “You OK with this?”

“Hell yeah.” He hesitates. “You?”

“Len…”

But whatever she’s about to say, it fades as the breach, as promised by Cisco Ramon, appears before them. The way home.

Len stares at it. Takes a deep breath. Then looks at Sara.

“Is it too cheesy to say, ‘Let’s go home?’” he asks her, smiling, holding out his hand. “ ‘Cause…well, let’s be honest, that won’t stop me.”

Sara laughs back at him, reaching out to take the hand. “Cheesy,” she chides him. “But…true?”

“That it is.” Len lifts her hand to his lips. “Shall we?”

“We shall. God only knows what the team’s gotten up to.”

“Eh. Mick will keep ‘em in line.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Len can’t help a laugh. “Well…depends on the line, doesn’t it?” He tightens his grip on her fingers. “Let’s go see what we need to clean up, captain.”

“As long as it’s ‘we,’ captain.”

“Always.”

And, together, they leap through the breach. Hand in hand.

Home.

When you've been fighting for it all your life You've been struggling to make things right That’s how a superhero learns to fly…