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goldenponcho · 5 years ago

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Unlikely Friends

Merry And Pippin meet a very unusual new friend in Fangorn Forest, and Pippin is developing the strangest crush.

Pippin/OC

The cool night air wafted through the branches of the sleeping trees, swirling gently along the forest floor and through the curly locks of the two tiny hobbits who slumbered in a cradle of roots and moss. It had seemed ages since Merry and Pippin had slept so soundly. Trying to sleep when hanging from the back of a galloping Uruk was a chore more than anything, and the poor hobbits’ aching arms and wrists finally rested lax agains the roots hugging their sleeping forms.

But a pointed ear caught the rustling of nearby foliage, and Peregrin Took’s eyes flashed open. As the haze of sleep left him, he registered where he was, and slowly, he made out the shuffling and hushed voices only yards away from the small clearing they lie in.

“Merry,” he whispered to his friend, who dozed in a bed of roots next to him. “Merry!” He prodded at the other hobbit’s side, who recoiled with an irritated groan.

“What is it, Pip?” he mumbled blearily without opening his eyes.

“Wake up! There’s somethin’ in the woods!”

Meriadoc Brandybuck rolled over, rubbing the back of a hand over closed eyes, and propped himself lazily on an elbow to listen. Slowly, his brows knit together, and he opened his eyes, now wide awake as well.

“More than one somethin’s…”

With the snapping of twigs and rattling of leaves underfoot, the murmuring drew closer.

Merry tugged Pippin’s sleeve as he stood, “Get up! We’ve got to hide! Now!”

The two halflings hurried quietly to huddle behind a large elm tree on the opposite side from the direction the voices came from.

“Right about now, I’m missin’ dwarf especially.” The voice was nasally and higher pitched, “Now that’s red meat if I’ve ever tasted it! Nicely marbled too. You ever ‘ad dwarf, Traz?”

The other approacher gave a steady sigh, “Can’t say I’ve partaken.” This voice was deeper than the first but clearly female, though with a subtly gruff edge.

“Closest I can compare it to is a nice hearty mutton. Plenty chewy!”

Pippin’s breath caught in his throat. Orcs! Not now! Not again!

“If you don’t stop talkin’ about food, we’ll see how chewy you are…”

The hobbit realized then that he had never seen a female orc before, and even through his fear, he felt the urge to take a peek. And that’s what he did. Slowly, carful as to not scrape his clothing against the tree bark, he moved to have a look around the tree. He could make out the silhouettes of one smaller orc and another one about the size of a fully grown man.

“I bet you’d like to see how chewy I am…”

He was almost certain the male voice had come from the smaller one. That larger one had to be…uruk-hai, were they called? He squinted to make out her features. It was impossible to decipher much other than the thick furs that outlined her form against the night sky. Just as he caught himself looking a bit too long, a twig snapped under his heel.

“Pippin!” Merry exclaimed silently and caught his cousin’s cloak by the collar to steady him and pull him back behind the tree. They weren’t left long to wonder if the pair had heard him.

“We know you’re there…” the female orc warned, her tone dry and unshaken.

The frightened hobbits heard them step closer alongside their tree, and Merry grabbed Pippin’s arm and pulled him to sneak around the opposite side. The two thought for a moment they might be able to slip away undetected, but Pippin turned to be met with eyes peering down upon him, glowing as they reflected the blue moonlight.

He gave a shriek, alerting Merry to the danger, and they shot in the opposite direction, only to be set upon by the smaller orc, who still practically towered over them. They narrowly dodged the creature, Pippin jabbing an elbow in it’s side for good measure.

“Oi!” the orc hissed, “That weren’t called for!”

“Stop!” the other commanded, but the hobbits ran as fast as their short legs could carry them.

And that’s when Merry was snatched into the air by the net he had stepped into just ahead of Pippin.

The other halfling stopped in his tracks, “Merry!!”

“Go, Pip! I’ll be fine!!” he reached for his sword and struggled to free it.

“I’m not leaving you, Merry!” He froze as he heard heavy footfalls sprint to stop behind him, and he turned on his heel, and unsheathed his own sword.

“Don’t you touch him!” Pippin’s voice shook more than he would have liked.

“Woah! We’re not here to hurt you!” the female orc still remained featureless under the cloak of night, “Calm down and don’t move another inch.”

She stepped gingerly forward, and Pippin held out his sword defensively, “I’m warning you! I’ve had training!”

“Heeyyy…I believe you, but there’s no need for any of that.”

There was a rustling behind him, and Pippin whirled around and lashed out at the other orc behind him with his sword, “I said get AWAY from him!!”

“No! No! Don’t run that-“ a loud metallic snap and a searing pain in his ankle sent the poor hobbit toppling, and he cried out in pain, his vision a swirl of darkness. He sobbed as he grabbed at his foot to find it caught in a metal vice.

He saw the glowing eyes approaching closer again, “That’s what I was trying to tell you…”

“Get away from him!! You won’t eat my friend!!” He struck out blindly with his sword, and he heard it make contact as the orc snarled in pain.

“Hey!! Would you LISTEN to me! I’m trying to help you!”

“Help me?!” he cringed at the throbbing in his leg, “You’re an orc!”

“Don’t trust her, Pippin!” Merry called, through pants as he attempted to saw through the thick netting with his blade.

“I am…” she kneeled slowly to come closer to eye level with him, “And I’m here to help you. You HAVE to trust me.”

The apparent gentleness in her voice took him aback, and his sword wavered for a moment before he caught himself and directed it firmly towards her, “You swear on your life?! You swear on…on…” he fumbled for something an orc could be held accountable to, “…on your lord, Sauron, that you won’t harm us?”

“If it makes you feel better…” he could see well enough to make out her raise her right hand and put the other over her chest, “I swear on the MAGNIFICENT and ALMIGHTY Lord Sauron!”

“Be serious, now!”

She chuckled, “I’m sorry! I’m not exactly a huge Sauron fanatic. May I disarm that bear trap on your leg, now? I believe it was hurting you.”

His brow furrowed as he tried to read the ghostly eyes before him, until he finally nodded into the darkness, swallowing hard, “Fine.”

He heard Merry give a sound of disappointment and as the lady orc scooted toward Pippin, she nodded to her companion, “Scraw, could you CAREFULLY get our other friend out of that net, PLEASE?”

Though it was clearly said in half jest, Pippin found it strange to hear an orc utter the word “please”. She only had time to remove what seemed to be a lantern from her side when a chop, followed by Merry’s scream and collision with the ground echoed through the forest.

“That’s why I specified CAREFULLY!” she rolled her eyes muttering under her breath, “... pa-gog aukuk...”

“Sorry!” Scraw shrugged, then hoisted the freed hobbit roughly to his feet, dusting his cloak off for him.

Merry backed away, “Yes, yes! I’m fine! Thank you!”

“I’m going to remove my scythe from my belt so I can light this tinderbox,” she waved the little round tin toward Pippin, “Is that alright?”

He calmed his unsteady breath at the word “scythe” and nodded. She sat the opened tin on the ground, then slowly removing said short handled scythe, she struck the flint along the side of the blade. The box smoked, and Pippin could barely see only hints of her face as she blew on the glowing tinder. Then, the lantern was lit and with a flutter of flame, the young female orc’s face was finally illumined.

Pippin was surprised at what he saw. Her features had a certain harshness to them, but it was perhaps only because her dramatically arched brows were knitted in concentration. She wasn’t nearly so grotesque as the creatures they had escaped from the night before. She had dark eyes, he thought black, even, under even blacker bushy hair that blended seamlessly into the furs on her shoulders and back. Her nose was broad and almost flat, and full lips partially hid the large fangs in her slightly open mouth. Teeth were normally the defining feature of most orcs, but when her mouth closed completely, they were almost entirely hidden. More than anything, she reminded Pippin of a large cat, like the ones he had seen in pictures from the old books Bilbo Baggins owned, calmly basking in the afternoon sun.

Pippin was so lost in thought that he barely registered her say “Hold your breath,” before she had firmly gripped either jaw of the trap and forced them open. He hissed with a sharp inhale as his ankle seared, then dulled to a throbbing ache.

“Is it broken?!” Merry approached his friend.

“Probably snapped the little thing right in two,” Scraw, approaching close behind, nodded with a snort and a smirk in his voice, “Might ‘ave teh amputate, eh, Trazna?”

“Stop trying to scare them, pinhead!” Trazna berated her less than helpful companion, then nodded to Pippin, “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.” And before Pippin could nod his consent, the entire forest seemed to rustle and the THUMP THUMP THUMP of something massive fast approached them.

Trazna gasped as she turned in time to see the massive ent lunge for her, and all Merry and Pippin had time to do was shriek “Treebeard!!” and “Treebeard! NO!!” She let out a startled yelp that transitioned into an animalistic growl as Treebeard grabbed her by the leg and hoisted her up to dangle in front of his large, barked face.

“Orc!” his mighty voice rumbled, “You dare to prey on MY hobbits?!”

Trazna huffed, “I wasn’t preying on anything! YOUR hobbit is injured!”

“By your doing, I see!” Treebeard arched a craggy brow.

“She did help us, Treebeard,” Pippin urged his large friend, whose skeptical glare flashed between the two.

“We didn’t know anyone else was here.” Trazna assured, “We set the traps to catch deer and rabbits, not people.”

“And you would NEVER satisfy your hunger with a couple of tender young halflings such as these?”

It was now that Trazna noted that Scraw was nowhere to be seen. Incompetent coward... “It might surprise you, but I don’t make it a habit of eating things that can talk to me.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“She’s telling the truth! Right, Merry?”

Merry glanced to Pippin, a bit more skeptical than his cousin, but he nodded, “He’s right, Treebeard. We thought they were after us, but they were trying to warn us about the traps.”

“TRAPS?! More than one?!” Treebeard glared toward the captive lady orc.

“There are five others,” Trazna confessed, “We can remove them if it pleases you. But now, I need to tend to your friend’s wound, or it’ll fester. And I’d really prefer to be right side up again; the blood’s pooling into my head.”

“She would have taken us by now if she had wanted us,” Pippin winced as his injured ankle brushed the ground, “And the whole festering wound thing sounds even less pleasant than being eaten…”

“If I try anything, you have every right to stomp me into the ground.”

Treebeard creaked with a long grumble, seeming to be on the border of being convinced, then he exhaled slowly, rattling his own leaves as well as the ones surrounding them, and he dropped her none too gently to the ground.

She landed on her back not far from Merry with an “oof!”. “Thanks…” she mumbled not exactly in appreciation, untangling herself from the long furs now flopped over her head. Then, rubbing her side, she got to her feet to come and kneel next to Pippin.

“I’m gonna pick you up, now. Alright?”

Pippin’s stomach leapt into his throat, but he nodded, with a small “yes”.

Trazna lifted the halfling into her arms with no effort, treating his sore foot as tenderly as a bird’s broken wing. Those dark eyes glanced down kindly into his, the moon only reflecting off them slightly, “Pippin, wasn’t it?”

He felt his cheek brush lightly against the soft fur of her cowl, and he thanked the gods she couldn’t see the color in them in the darkness, “Yes! Uh…Peregrin Took…but most call me Pippin.” He had realized just as he had begun speaking that she actually might be able to see him growing red in the dark. Orcs were, after all, known for being active in very low light.

“Traznarad,” she stopped in front of a tree, “You can call me Trazna.” She knelt to lie him delicately in a mossy patch between the roots, placing the lantern next to them, then went to take hold of his foot, “I’ll be gentle, but tell me if this hurts.” She slowly began rotating his ankle, and he inhaled lightly.

“That hurt?”

He nodded, “A little…”

“Is it broken?” Merry repeated his earlier question, “Honestly, Pippin, if you broke it, I think we might really be up the creek…”

The younger hobbit scowled, “I didn’t do it on PURPOSE, Merry!”

Trazna shook her head, “I don’t think it’s broken. But you should stay off it for a few days,” she nodded toward Treebeard, “I’m assuming your friend can help you with that.”

She turned to Merry, who she came nearly eye level with even in her crouched position, “Do you know what an athelas plant looks like, Merry?”

He nodded, “Kingsfoil! I’ll find some!”

“That way,” she pointed behind him, “There are no traps that way.”

Merry quickly took to the woods behind him, leaving her and Treebeard to look after Pippin. “Yeah, it’s definitely not broken,” she felt around his ankle, careful not to irritate the exposed wounds on either side, “You’d definitely be carryin’ on a lot more if it was,” here eyes met his, “You have some impressively strong bones.”

The halfling chuckled lightly, “Well…hobbits are surprisingly sturdy creatures, you know.”

She smirked as the little hobbit puffed out his chest as best as he could in his horizontal position, “Are they really? I hadn’t met one before, to be honest.”

“Oh?! Well, then, might I say that I’m happy to be the first,” he grinned, “And I’m sure Merry is happy to be the second.” Trazna laughed, baring fangs that didn’t seem quite so terrifying as before.

Trazna procured a small stone basin, filling it with a bit of water and looked up to address Treebeard looming above them, “With your permission, Treebeard, I’ll need to build a small fire to boil this water.”

Concern crossed the ent’s jagged features, “Always burning. Always flaming!” he heaved a rumbling sigh, “But what must be done…must be done.”

She nodded with a look of reassurance, “I’ll put it out like a responsible camper.”

As she set the basin over the fire she had made, Merry sprang forth from the brush, a fistful of kingsfoil in each hand, “We won’t want for kingsfoil here! The underbrush is loaded with it!”

“Fantastic!” Trazna motioned to the slightly bubbling water, “Toss it there.” As Merry followed her instruction, she settled to rest on her haunches to wait.

Pippin watched in fascination as the sweet smell of the athelas permeated the air and put him at ease, “We’ve only met one other person who knew about kingsfoil other than the elves.”

Trazna nodded, “Well…people tend to forget that orcs were once elves,” she retrieved two bottles, one thin and empty, the other larger and full of an amber liquid. She handed them to Merry, “Fill this halfway, if you would, Merry.”

Merry did again as he was bid, and Pippin’s smile wavered, “So then...those stories...what Morgoth did to the elves...it’s all true.”

The water had boiled and fizzled out quickly only to leave behind the mushy leaves, which she scooped out and handed toward Merry, “It’s what is widely believed. And it certainly lines up with the...circumstances I’ve witnessed,” Merry gave a look of sadness as well as she portioned some of the plant into the vial with quick instruction to shake the corked concoction, and Trazna paused in realization of how much she had dampened the conversation. She smiled reassuringly, “But it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done, and besides...” she smirked between the two, “I can catch twenty rabbits with my teeth in the time it takes an elf with his fancy little bow and arrow to shoot one.”

Pippin laughed, and Merry looked slightly startled before laughing as well.

“How’s this?” Merry held up the now viscous mixture.

“Perfect!” Trazna took it shaking it once more for good measure, then uncorked it, “One thing elves DON’T know, is that a mixture of pine sap, olive oil, and beeswax can act as an antiseptic and speeds the healing process even more.”

“Oh, grand!” Pippin leaned to watch as she made ready to apply the mixture, “What’s “antiseptic”?”

Merry rolled his eyes at the simplicity of his friend and ruffled his curly hair playfully as he sat next to him, “It means it will keep your smelly old foot from rotting right off!”

Trazna approached with the amber liquid gleaming in the moonlight, “Alright, this will sting.” Pippin braced himself before wincing with a barely muffled whimper of pain. “Sorry,” she winced as well in sympathy, retrieving a bit of cloth to dress the wound.

Pippin exhaled steadily, glancing from where she tied the bandage then up to her face, “Thank you.”

“It’s really the least I can do…” she faltered as admiring green eyes stared into black. She was about to continue before they heard a call from nearby.

“Traznarad!!” the voice was deep and rasping.

The orc woman stood, “Maugor!”

“More orcs!” Treebeard stepped between them and the group of orcs and one intimidatingly large troll next to which stood Scraw, looking especially proud of himself for bringing reinforcements.

“It’s alright, Treebeard, they’re with me!” Trazna stepped around the ent’s massive leg.

“What’s going on?” Maugor eyed the massive creature next to her with a warning glare, then the two halflings behind them. Merry and Pippin stiffened at the sight of the large orc. If there was any doubt that Trazna was an uruk, there was none whatsoever with this creature. He stood at least as tall as any of them they had encountered in the hoard the previous night, and he wielded an impossibility large battle hammer. Hair as black as Trazna’s flowed down his back in a braided crest, and the fangs that jutted from his lower jaw were large enough to be considered tusks.

“It’s ok!” Trazna held a calming hand toward her companions, “The little ones got snagged in our traps. I just finished dressing one of their wounds.”

The small pack lowered their weapons; even the troll deflated a bit, looking a bit dim instead of angry and intimidating. Maugor stepped forward as Treebeard as well let down his guard, “Come, then. We must take leave of this forest. It seems it is much too dangerous for our kind here.”

“Well we can’t just leave them to starve,” Trazna pled kneeling back down to help Pippin prop himself against the tree’s trunk.

The youngest hobbit’s ears perked at the possibility of food, and as usual, he was the first to speak up, “Our friend Treebeard can offer his protection while you’re here.” Maugor’s intense gaze darted to him, and his brain stammered for his next words.

“Treebeard can, can he?” the ent rumbled.

The uruk bowed slightly, a motion that belied his savage appearance, “I understand that a hoard of orcs and trolls may not be of much comfort to you, but we do not intend to bring your forest or its inhabitants any harm,” he stood to his full seven feet at least, “Save for a deer or two; we do have to eat.”

Trazna scoffed, “We’re hardly a hoard, anyway; there are only nine of us.”

““Very well...” Treebeard creaked, “…we will allow you shelter until you must take your leave.”

“Take your leave!” Scraw jabbed his elbow into the leg of the troll who stood beside him, “Ya get that, Bognaut? That’s a tree joke.”

“Tha’s a clever one, tha’ is,” Bognaut slurred with a low but not exactly intimidating laugh.

Maugor turned to the orc next to him with a nod, “Fintherok, take Deak and Babgoth to check the rest of the traps. I smell a doe nearby; perhaps we’ve caught it.” Fintherok did as his leader had instructed, quickly disappearing into the woods with the other two orcs, and Maugor turned to the younger uruk, “You had best hope there’s more than just a doe in those traps, Trazna; we can barely keep eight orcs and a troll fed as it is.”

She looked up at him, still perched on the balls of her feet above Pippin, “Well, come on! How much could two halflings eat?”

Said two halflings gave each other a sheepish look, “Right!” Pippin quickly recovered, “How much could we eat?”

After two does and two rabbits were retrieved from their traps. Fintheroth, a tall, lithe orc and Babgoth, a small, female orc with large eyes, skinned and gutted the catch a ways off in the woods. Not much went to waste, though, as many of the orcs didn’t mind eating the organs or even chewing on bones and sucking out the marrow, so the meat was divvied up and done with as each party member pleased. Traznarad showed the hobbits how to make a pit oven, where their fire could be easily controlled and not endanger the forest, something for which Treebeard was silently grateful for.

Merry and Pippin…though, especially Pippin, revealed their ill proportioned appetites quite quickly. The two were given the rabbits, roasted and even seasoned nicely in their newly built pit. Trazna as well preferred her meat cooked, though, she had said with a toothy grin, she liked it quite rare.

The band of bizarre characters laughed amongst themselves as they ate, many roughhousing and sharing less than savory tales of exploits and bragging, much in the way they had witnessed with Saruman’s hoard before, but in a rather more pleasant nature. Trazna sat with the hobbits, enjoying the new company.

“So Maugor…” Merry said somewhat under his breath, “He’s your…”

“Oh! We’re not related,” Trazna shook her head, taking a bite of the venison flank she had wrapped in a leaf to hold a bit like a sandwich, “But…we have been together for a long time. We escaped one of the breeding pits near Mordor together a decade ago. No, my birth father was killed when I was quite young.”

“I’m sorry,” Pippin abandoned his rabbit for the first time since it had been handed to him to look at her sadly.

“That’s alright,” she returned a sad but reassuring smile, “I remember him a little…but not much.”

“Was he an uruk?” Merry continued, before taking a bite from the leg he had dislocated from his own rabbit.

“No, actually, I…” she paused, considering her words, “…I don’t know whether I would be considered an uruk myself, or not,” the halflings now gave her full attention, “My father was an orc from Mordor, and my mother is a half orc from Harad. See, I was born naturally, whereas Maugor and his kind were born from the ground,” she shook her head, a slightly strained look crossing her features, “I don’t know the exact process, but I know it’s a lot less pleasant, all things considered.”

Pippin forced his less mature side to ignore the implications of this statement, instead inquiring elsewhere, “Your mother is still alive, then?”

“Yes,” the shine in her dark eyes glittered, half in reminiscence and half in sorrow, “She’s a prisoner in Harad. That’s where we’re going. We wanna free the captive men and orcs there.”

“Captive?” Merry’s brow furrowed, “Aren’t the Haradrim sided with orcs?”

“No one sides with orcs. They side with Sauron,” she gave a dry laugh, “Orcs are pawns just like everyone else in Harad. There’s hardly a choice in anything for an orc. If we decide we don’t feel like terrorizing innocents anymore, we aren’t exactly given the choice to leave freely,” her gaze turned to Pippin, whose green eyes stared wide with a now idle cheek-ful of rabbit, “Orcs are all prisoners, and we’re specifically conditioned not to realize it,” she shook her head, now leering into nothingness as she tore off a chunk of meat. “But not us…” she glanced back toward the hobbits mid chew, “Not ME.”

Pippin frowned in thought. He had never considered the orcs as prisoners before. Truthfully, they all seemed to enjoy the destruction and cruelty they inflicted on the weak and innocent. But then again…most armies seemed overly keen on bringing death down upon the enemy, and as Sauron intended to bring darkness to the world, he would seem like a hero to creatures that feared light. He came to realize that this made the whole thing even more disturbing.

These musings were pushed out of his mind as Trazna nodded to them. “Being a captive did teach me some useful skills, though,” she went to her belt again and retrieved what looked to be a small metal and an irregularly shaped lump of copper, “Most orcs unwillingly under Sauron work in one of the industrialized areas created by Saruman,” she began shaving away at the little chunk of copper meticulously, “I learned metalworking there.”

Merry’s golden curls bounced as he shook his head, “I thought orcs only made crude armor and weaponry.”

“Well,” Trazna gave a matter-of-fact shrug, “That’s what we were SUPPOSED to make. But I made other things when I could. You can bet I got flogged for it more than once though. I did make it out with these!” She pulled out her scythe and, to both hobbits’ surprise, in a quick twist of her wrists the gleaming blade was now two separate weapons.

Pippin shuddered, “I suppose you could do a bit of ghastly damage with those.”

“Sure…” she pursed her lips indifferently, “…but they can do a lot more than that. I can climb a wall with them, I can light kindling with them,” she ran a nail across the abrasive sides of the blade she had used to light kindling earlier, then sliced at the air, “If there are branches in my way, I can hack down-“

Treebeard grumbled next to them, startling all as they had almost forgotten he was about.

“…my internalized…disrespect towards nature?” she continued sheepishly with a chuckle, and the ent grumbled something intelligible before retreating to whatever tree business he saw to each night. She handed each half of the versatile tool to each halfling for them to look at.

Each examined the intricate details of their half, and Merry traced fingers along the blade, “The engraving is like somethin’ ya might see in a dwarvish...even an elvish weapon.”

She bowed her head, “I took a bit of inspiration from both...of course, with a bit of an orcish twist.”

“You made these?!” Pippin half asked, half exclaimed in awe, carefully testing the sharpness of the tool, before looking up to what she worked on now, “And what kind of tool will that be?”

She looked up to him, a slow smile spreading across her face, “It’s a duck.” She held up the little copper piece, and indeed, it was taking the unmistakeable shape of a water fowl.

Pippin nodded, grinning stupidly, “Ah! So it is!”

The corner of her mouth twitched as she suppressed an amused chuckle as Merry, took the two blades and twisted them into one, handing it to Trazna, who put it back in its holster.

“So…” she continued, casually going back to her carving, “...what do hobbits usually do when they’re not hauling an elvish weapon of mass destruction across the continent?”

Pippin went moon-eyed, “You know about the ring? OW!!”

Merry elbowed his cousin hard with a warning glare.

“I do now…” Trazna paused again to gaze up at the now guilty expression on the young hobbit’s face, “All we knew was that it was a weapon, and Sauron wanted it,” she eyed the two with a knowing smirk, “It’s THE ring, isn’t it? You have THAT ring with you?”

“Not us…”

“PIPPIN!!!” Merry scolded his friend a second time.

“We can trust her, Merry!” Pippin argued, “Don’t you think she’s proved that by now?!”

“Frodo didn’t even trust all of the Fellowship with it!” Merry shook his golden head, “Gandalf wanted it secret for a reason!”

Trazna held up her hands defensively, “Hey! Say no more! If you can’t talk about it, I won’t ask.”

Pippin looked to her apologetically, “I’m sorry. We mean no offense…”

She grinned down to him, “None taken.” Pippin lowered his head, trying to hide any evidence of the heat he could feel in his cheeks, as she continued, “It would probably be best that neither of us spoke of the other to anyone after tonight...according to the enemy, we’re all up to no good.”

The halflings smiled to each other, and Merry nodded, “Nothing’s changed there. That’s what we were known for back home; bein’ up to no good.”

“Oh, yeah?!” Trazna arched an eyebrow, holding up the copper duck to examine her progress before putting it down, “Have we run into a couple of delinquents in the deep, dark woods?”

Pippin’s eyes twinkled with mischief, always one to take the opportunity to brag, “We were in the middle of raiding Farmer Maggot’s crops when our journey found us,” he elbowed his cousin with a cackle, “We made off with quite a haul that day, eh, Merry?”

Merry nodded with a chuckle, and Trazna clutched at the carved string of teeth about her neck as if they were pearls, “Morgoavh’uk thos! You’re a couple of criminals!”

Pippin grinned cheekily, picking his teeth with a rib, “Aye! Already got holda’ some a’ yer spoils at it is!”

Trazna laughed heartily, “Ya know, as a kid back in Harad, we used to-“

“I’m sorry, Traznarad, but we must move on,” Maugor interrupted, and the trio turned their attention to the towering uruk, “We only have a few hours more of darkness, and we won’t get far once the sun rises.”

Her face fell before turning to face the two hobbits with a sad smile, “Well...I guess this is it, then...”

Merry and Pippin adopted the same solemn looks as Trazna stood, and Pippin felt a pang of regret that their new friend had to leave. It hadn’t been until now that he had truly realized that parting ways was inevitable and that it would bring him sadness. He felt a slight tightness in his throat, “I guess so...”

Trazna knelt, placing a hand on each of the hobbits’ small shoulders to give them an affectionate squeeze, “Don’t get into more trouble than you must.”

“A bit late for that,” Merry gave a dry laugh.

“Do you think we might see you again?” Pippin had blurted the question before he realized how stupid it was. Trazna beamed down at him, cupping his cheek and rubbing a gentle thumb across it. Pippin’s heart thumped at the intimate contact as Trazna seemed to be searching for an answer.

“If I say yes, maybe we will.”

Pippin took the hand that had been on his cheek between his significantly smaller ones, “Then we’ll see you then.”

She nodded, “Goodbye, Pippin...Merry.”

They said their final goodbyes and watched as Traznarad and her clan retreated into the dense wood.

Finally, Merry spoke, a knowing smirk across his face, “Well, I never thought I’d see that of you, my dear Peregrin.”

Pippin cocked his curly head, “See what?!”

“All starry-eyed over an orc woman?” Merry shook his head dramatically, “What would the folks back home think?”

Pippin’s jaw dropped with a scoff, “I was NOT “starry-eyed”!!”

“No shame in it, Pippin! She’s quite pretty,” Merry patted his now beet-red faced friend on the shoulder, “ESPECIALLY pretty for an orc.”

The younger hobbit pouted, shrugging off Merry’s hand.

“Come on, Pip,” he chided, “She was sweet on you.”

Pippin’s head snapped in his friend’s direction, “She was?!” Merry’s grin was wide and smug, and Pippin straightened as tall as he could, “I mean…of course, she was!” He waggled his head proudly, thumbs hooked under his suspenders, “No female is immune to the Took charm, no matter the race!”

“Yeah?” Merry cackled, “Or maybe she really did want to eat you but was just too polite.” Pippin looked wounded before Merry mussed his curly hair. Noting the melancholy that had shrouded his friend’s countenance, he continued, “Who could say...maybe you will see her again.”

A slow smile once again spread over Pippin’s face, and he seemed himself again, “Yeah, maybe we will.”

Black speech phrases (Forgive me if these aren’t exactly accurate.) Pa-gog aukuk — dumbass Morgoavh’uk thos! — Morgoth’s balls!

#pippin #peregrin took #lord of the rings fic #pippin/oc #hobbit/orc

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fullmoonfinley · 6 years ago

Text

No Turning Back

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader, Sirius Black x Remus Lupin, James Potter x Lily Potter

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 9,192

Summary: Regulus invites the reader, his girlfriend, to live with him and his brother as she escapes her pure-blood family. Both of them are fueled to win the war. So, when they hear about a possible way to gain intel, they jump on it. The reader can't help but worry as she sends out the only person she has ever loved into the cruel, dangerous world, especially with her family of Death Eaters on her scent. What will the reader do when her love gets caught up in the turmoil? Will she be able to save him? Or will Regulus be another victim in what seems to be a never-ending war?

Warnings: Canon-divergance, language, angst, loneliness, violence/torture, descriptions of blood and gore, implied smut/sexual themes, mentions of family abuse/hostile family environment, self-doubt, lots of fluff sprinkled throughout.

Author Note: Thank you @emmielupinblack for helping me with this and editing my horrible writing. I appreciate it more than you know. Sorry it’s so long. I got carried away. There will most likely be a Part 2, maybe more. I didn’t want to turn this into a novel.

Read this on Ao3

Regulus rushed through the front door of his flat. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were still behind him, then shuffled towards his bedroom door. From the moment the two of you had made it to the small, four-unit flat building, Reg had seemed on edge. It could have been the war, and his obsession with stopping the Dark Lord from coming to power. Or, it could have been the fact that he had never had a woman in his personal space before. Either way, it was strange watching the usually calm and collected wizard so strung out.

Regulus slowly turned the knob on his front door. His wide eyes scanned the room around him and the hall beside him. What was he so worried about? Was someone else home?

A door opened down the hall, answering your question. “Shit,” Regulus muttered, standing up straight as he rolled his eyes.

“Hey there, little brother,” a slightly lower voice cooed from down the hall. That must have been Sirius, Regulus’ older brother who he had moved in with just a few months earlier. You remembered him from school a little bit, but you didn’t really interact with him. So, all you had to work with was what Regulus had told you, which was a crazy mix of some great and a lot of terrible. Over the four years that you had known Regulus, and the eight months that you had been an intimate relationship, as Reg called it, you had heard quite an earful about Sirius Orion Black.

You flipped your Slytherin scarf over your shoulder. You saved it from school, since the ones your parents had gifted you weren’t warm enough for the usually frigid winter. If you were being honest, the inside of the flat wasn’t much warmer than the outside was. Odd.

You took a few steps closer to Regulus, then slowly peered down the hall. Your eyes latched onto Sirius’ almost instantly.

“Oh, Reggie. You didn’t tell me we had company!” Sirius took a few steps forward, grinning. “And I didn’t know you knew any women.”

“Piss off, Sirius,” Regulus snapped. Sirius just chuckled as he studied you. His eyes lingered on your scarf.

“Oh, it looks like the limit of one Slytherin in this flat has been breached. One of you is going to have to leave.” Sirius leaned against the wall and smirked. Wow, Reg was right. His brother really was an ass.

“What a gentleman,” you muttered under your breath. “I feel so welcome.” Sirius furrowed his brow.

“Well, you aren’t.”

Laughing, you rolled your eyes. “Wow, Regulus. You said your brother could be a royal arse, but this is a bit more than I expected.” You crossed your arms. “Who died and made you king?” you sassed.

Sirius scoffed, chuckling. “Wow, she’s a frisky one, Reggie. Where did you find her?”

“Fuck off, Sirius. Really.” Regulus shot his older brother a death glare. “We’re just here to look into a few things.”

“Huh, I’m sure you are.” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows and laughed. “I have to admit, she’s definitely not hard to look at. I’m almost jealous.” And, with that, Sirius approached you in his way to the kitchen. “Little Reggie, finally getting his first piece of hot arse—”

“Fuck. Off.” You slipped your wand from your jacket and pointed it straight at Sirius’ face. He barely faltered, starring down at you with the same stupid grin. “You don’t need to try to impress me. You aren’t even close to impressive. Besides, I’m not here for you. I’m here for Regulus. So, keep your pathetic, pompous arse away from me if you’re going to be a bloody prat.” Sirius’ gaze flicked over to his brother, who stood in the doorway of his bedroom. Regulus’ face showed a hint of surprise, and a lot of pride. He knew you were a force to be reckoned with.

“Look, Sirius, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. But, you don’t need to be so rude. You told me that if we found anyone fighting the war on our side, they were welcome here.” He sucked in a breath, maintaining eye contact with his older brother. “Y/N is not only my girlfriend, but she is escaping a family of Death Eaters. They were threatening her life. She’s brilliant with spells and curses, healing and otherwise. And, she wants to help.” Regulus took a step back into his room, gesturing for you to follow him. “She needs a safe place to stay for a while.”

Sirius’ expression hardened a bit. “How are you on tracking?” His whole demeanor completely changed. You studied his silver gaze, just a little brighter than his younger brother’s, and offered a hint of a smile.

“Very good. Tracking, defending, healing.” You nodded. “I taught myself. I’ve healed a few since I got involved in the war, including your brother.” You smirked a little, then turned to Regulus. “More than once.”

Sirius turned to his little brother, then back to you. “He never mentioned it.” Then, Sirius nodded. “Alright. If you can make yourself useful, you’re welcome. But, the moment I even think you’re a spy, you’re done for.”

You laughed. “Deal, arse.”

You flipped through yesterday’s newspaper, searching for anything out of the ordinary. It was something you had done for months. Regulus thought you were bat shit for looking at something so conspicuous. But, when you found a hidden message within an otherwise normal article, Regulus completely changed his mind.

“Here!” you exclaimed, pointing at the newspaper. “This article, by—” You narrowed your gaze at the paper. “Merlin’s beard.”

“What?” Regulus perked up, scrambling off the floor to join you on his bed. He leapt onto the large mattress, leaning his head on your shoulder as he read with you.

“Reg, this article is by Anza Y/L/N. That’s my sister.” You scanned over the first few paragraphs again. “It keeps mentioning an old building out near my parent’s home. I know it’s abandoned, but they are talking about an open house next weekend. They say it’s been renovated by the new owner.”

Regulus nestled in face into your neck, then sighed. “Who is the new owner?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t say. It just says that the old home has be ‘restored to its original glory’ and that there will be a get together to ‘lighten the mood in these darkened times’.”

Regulus let out a deep sigh, then lifted his head. “Well, that sounds normal.” You nodded. “Why would someone open their house to just anyone, especially with everything that’s going on.”

You grinned. “Unless it’s a trap.” Regulus turned to you, raising an eyebrow.

“A trap?”

You lowered the paper onto your lap. “An open house in what was known as an abandoned house until now? I remember playing with my sister on that property as a child. We went inside a few times. Even though it was technically abandoned, it was still furnished.”

Regulus’ raised an eyebrow. “What were you doing there?” Regulus asked, folding his legs under him. His nearly shoulder length curls fell into his face, making you smile. You reached out, reining a few strands and tucking them behind his ear. He pulled back just slightly, then smiled.

“I wasn’t ever sure why we were there. I just remember my parents going into the building, and my sister and I would stay outside to play with a few of the other children. I only went when my sister and I were really young. Once Anza was old enough to watch me, we stayed home.” You could see the wheels turning behind Regulus’ eyes. He was starting to piece together what you were saying.

“And your parents went inside, along with other people?” You nodded.

“At first, I thought someone owned the place. But, I later learned that the owner of the property had died almost ten years before I had even stepped foot onto the property.” You smiled at him. “So, why on earth would my parents and other families be in that home?”

Regulus smiled. “They were meeting in secret. Who would look in an abandoned home that far out? Especially when the surrounding homes were owned by more elite families?”

“Exactly.” You leaned over and pressed a light kiss onto Regulus’ lips. He wasn’t much for affection, mainly due to the fact that no one had ever loved him properly. But, he wasn’t against it, not in the least. It was just foreign to him. So, you remained patient, and slowly taught him what it meant to be truly loved.

Regulus let out a deep sigh, then leaned back onto the bed. He sprawled out beside you and crossed his legs. “So, you thinking that we should go to the open house? See if it’s really a party or if it’s some sort of Death Eater trap?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think so. But, someone might recognize me, especially if they knew my parents. I don’t look much different. Besides, my sister wrote the article. She might be there.” Regulus sat back up and cleared his throat.

“I can go. Even if someone knows me or my parents, they may not recognize me. I look very different now.” He smiled to himself, tucking his mass of curls behind his ears. “They would recognize Sirius in an instant. I’m not the same scrawny little boy I used to be.”

Your heart pinged a little at the thought of Regulus walking into that party alone. “You’ll have someone to go with you, right? It’s not a good idea to go in there on your own, especially if someone does recognize you.”

Regulus bit his lower lip. “I have a few of Sirius’ friends who I can ask. Most of them are much nicer than Sirius can be, at least towards me.” Regulus smiled, which was something he was doing more of these days. “Sirius just likes to show off.”

“Should we tell him?” you inquired, peering off towards the door.

Regulus’ arm snaked around you waist and pulled you back. You both slammed against the plush mattress, making you squeal. He wrapped both arms around you and tugged you close against him. His charcoal gaze slowly scanned over you.

“We should, but later.” Regulus leaned in and rubbed his nose lightly against yours. “Nothing is going to be done tonight. It can wait a little while.” His lips landed on yours, awkwardly at first, but he soon gathered up enough confidence to press a little harder. You smiled against his lips and wrapped your arms around him.

“Someone’s getting the hang of this relationship thing, huh?” you teased. A thin line of pink ghosted over Regulus’ paper white cheeks, making you chuckle.

“Well, I’ve been waiting years for you to be mine. I’m just finally getting used to the fact that you are mine now.” Regulus’ cheeks blushed a little darker. Damn, he was adorable when he did that.

“Yours, huh? Eight months and you’re staking claim?” you played. But poor Regulus just widened his gaze, obviously not understanding your sarcasm. Not that he didn’t get or often use sarcasm. There were times when he just took a while to realize that you weren’t backing off like he feared.

Regulus chuckled nervously. “Is that too soon? I mean, I think you seem rather happy overall.”

“I am, Reg. I really am.” Regulus pulled you flush against him, smiling.

“Excellent.” He licked his lips, his eyes darkening a little. “Now, I heard Sirius leave about twenty minutes ago—”

“He left?” you blurted, stunned. “I didn’t hear him.”

Regulus snorted a chuckle through his nose. “Call it stupid sibling intuition, and incredible hearing. But, he is probably at Remus’. He’ll probably be there all night.” Regulus nibbled nervously on his lower lip, making your skin prickle.

“And?” you teased. You yelped as Regulus suddenly pulled you on top of him, keeping his hands on your hips.

“And, I have you all to myself.” His fingers tightened on your hips. “I’d like to take advantage of that.” He winked, making your heart patter. You hadn’t seen this side of him, at least not this bold. Leaning down, you brushed your lips over his.

“Then do it.”

You slipped out of Regulus’ room and headed for the kitchen. He assured you, despite what Sirius may say to you, that you were welcome to anything. You weren’t able to pack much when you fled your parent’s home. So, you cozied up in one of Reg’s jumpers and a pair of his sweatpants. They almost fit you perfectly, which worked well for you. But, eventually, you were going to have to find some more clothes for yourself.

Once you made it into the kitchen, you spotted the kettle on the stove. Tea sounded amazing right then, especially in the frigid house. A small part of you wondered why the two men didn’t keep the heat on. But, as long as you had clothes and hot drinks, it didn’t matter too much to you.

The front door opened the second you lit the stove. Sirius must have been home from visiting with his pals. You peered up at the clock. 11:35pm. Later than you thought it was, but earlier than you expected Sirius to be back.

“Evening,” Sirius greeted, stretching out his word. “Cozy?” His eyes scanned up and down your attire. You just rolled your eyes.

“As cozy as I can be. At least it’s clean. I couldn’t fit much in my rucksack before I had to leave my parent’s place.” you muttered coldly. “Do you want some tea?”

Sirius smiled and leaned against the counter. “Uh, sure. Thanks.” He seemed softer than earlier, less abrasive. Maybe it was the booze you could smell off him. Or, he was just accepting your existence. You didn’t want to think he was that rude. But, from what you had heard over the years, he wasn’t the most snuggly person. Not in Regulus’ eyes, anyway.

You scanned over the cabinets, trying to figure out where the mugs must have been hiding. You could feel Sirius’ gaze staring through you.

“Third cabinet on the top,” he instructed with a smirk. “Some of them are a little dodgy, so be careful. The dark green ones are good. Remus gave me those when I moved in.” You nodded to the slightly older man and grabbed three dark green mugs.

“So, you coming to terms with living with another Slytherin?” you asked playfully.

“Yeah. I’m fine with it.” He shifted his weight. “I wasn’t mad to begin with. I just like giving my brother a hard time. He knows I love him.”

“He does. And he cares about you. He’s just a little stand-offish when it comes to emotion.” You smiled, watching the steam start to slip out of the kettle. “But you would know that more than anyone.”

Sirius smiled, staring at you. “So, you’re Y/N Y/L/N,” he confirmed. You snapped your gaze to him.

“You’ve heard of me?”

Sirius rolled his eyes and nodded. “I live with Reggie, don’t I? We talk more than it seems. He’s fond of you. Very fond. Like, rest of his life fond.” Sirius pushed himself off the counter. “I’ve actually never seen him so fond of something—someone—in his life.”

“Honestly? It doesn’t seem like it takes too much.” The tea kettle squealed beside you. You flicked off the burner and removed it. You poured the water over the tea bags in each mug. “Milk? Sugar?” you asked, reaching for the small sugar container beside the stove. You opened it, finding it mostly filled with small sugar cubes.

“Just milk. I’ll get it. Reg likes—”

“Two sugars, no milk. I know.” You smiled as Sirius stood beside you, pouring milk into his mug. Then, he lifted the carton, offering you some. You nodded, allowing him to splash a tiny bit of milk into your tea.

“You know how he takes his tea. You two must be close.” Sirius grinned, taking his mug into his hands.

“Well, I’ve known him well for at least four years. We were, what, fifteen? So, closer to five now, I guess. We were both in Slytherin, but he was so shy that I never really got to know him. Then, he sat beside me on the first day of class, fifth year. We started talking little by little. And, well, here we are. I guess you could say we’ve been ‘together’ for about eight or nine months now.” Sirius took a sip of his tea, nodding.

“That’s when he perked up a bit.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Like I said, he’s fond of you. I’ve never seen him so content.” He turned his whole body towards you. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. You’ve made my little brother a more pleasant person. So, thanks, I guess.”

Your heart swelled in your chest. You knew Regulus was happy with you. But, hearing it from someone else made it seem just a little more real. He made you equally as happy. You adored his quirks and his obsessively driven personality. There really wasn’t a part of him you would change.

“I’m just being me. No need for thanks,” you whispered. “I better get Regulus his tea before it gets cold. I’ll see you in the morning?” Sirius nodded, raising his mug to you in thanks. Then, you turned away, your shoulders feeling a little lighter after calming the waters with the older Black.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sirius called after you. Peering over your shoulder, you gazed over at him. “If you need any extra clothes, I’ve got some old t-shirts that you can steal. They may be a little bit big. But, they’re still good.”

You nodded. “Thanks Sirius. I’ll let you know.” And, with that, you headed back to Regulus.

Regulus adjusted his dress blazer as he stared into the mirror, frowning. You tiptoed up to him and pressed a kiss into his cheek.

“Very handsome. Maybe you can flirt your way into taking down the enemy,” you teased. You twirled your fingers into his hair and grinned. “Why don’t you get this dressed up for me?”

Regulus huffed, rolling his shoulders. “It reminds me of home. Mum and Dad had a lot of parties. We always had to wear stuff like this.”

“Well, you look handsome. Maybe I can help you make some new memories? We can go out when things calm down?” You furrowed your brow as you smoothed a wrinkle. “Have you ever seen me in a dress?”

Regulus stilled. “I don’t think so?” He spun on his heels, facing you. “But, I bet you’re beautiful.” You blushed at his sweetness. It wasn’t like him to say something so emotional. However, he seemed to be breaking out of his shell a little.

“Regulus?” you heard Sirius’ friend Remus call out from the other side of the door. “Are you ready to go?”

Regulus turned for the door. “I’ll see you this evening.” He leaned down as kissed you lightly. “I love you,” he whispered softly. Then, he opened the door, and followed Remus out of the flat.

It was just after seven in the evening, and your stomach was starting to turn. Remus and Regulus were expected to be back over an hour ago. You were sure that they were fine. But, something deep inside you churned with dread.

Sirius noticed your fret and cleared his throat. “They’ll be back soon. They’re both smart, and they both have someone waiting for them.” You nodded, staring out the foggy window onto the small town. From the fourth floor, there was actually a good view of the surrounding area. It was safe, off the ground. But, if the people weren’t inside, it wouldn’t do much good.

“I know. I’m just still getting used to him going out there like that. I know he’s done it. But, I just wasn’t aware.” You lowered your head, trying to hide your face. “I know how vicious the other side can be. Luckily my family didn’t care enough to meet Reg. So, if they are there, they won’t know him from anyone else.”

Sirius lowered himself onto the large couch against the far wall of the living room and sighed. You barely knew the man, but you could tell he was worried too. The person he cared about most was out there too, along with the only family he really had left. And there was nothing either of you could do.

You turned back to the window. “Um, Sirius. Is this your owl?” A tall, dark brown owl balanced on the window sill, gripping a small envelope in his beak.

Sirius shot up from the couch and raced to the window. “That’s James Potter’s owl.” The moment he opened the window, he snatched the letter from the owl, closing the window before the creature could come in. He ripped open the lip of the barely sealed envelope and unfolded the small paper inside.

“Sirius and Y/N, come quick. Something went wrong. Remus is here. It’s bad. James,” Sirius read aloud. “Fuck!” Sirius screamed as he raced for the door.

“Sirius wait a moment—”

“Remus is hurt. We need to get to James and Lily’s now.” His tone was almost vicious. Letting out a deep breath, you stood your ground.

“He has people with him, Sirius. We’ll get there. You just need to breathe—wait. Remus is there?” Your eyes widened. “Nothing about Regulus?” Sirius stared at you the same way you stared at him. Then, he turned for the door again.

“We need to go.”

“How? Walking? That will take ages. They’re almost on the other side of town.” You extended a shaky hand, forcing yourself to smile in hopes of calming the stressed man. “We’ll apparate.” His eyes locked on yours. Then, he nodded, taking your hand. Within a second, the two of you were gone.

James was right; it was bad. Remus was laid down on the couch with a concerned Lily hovering over him. Sirius shot over to his side, falling to his knees as he took in the horrid site of his battered boyfriend.

Remus’ face was covered in blood, but you could tell that most of it was coming from his left cheek. A huge gash stretched from his upper lip to the bottom of his ear. And it was deep. Another large gash cut through his two layers of clothing and deep into his lower gut. Blood still oozed from the wound, dripping onto the dark tan sofa.

You scanned over the man, who was already covered with scars, and checked for other injuries. There was no use trying to heal the ones you saw if a hidden one was doing the most damage.

“Y/N! C’mon! You said you could heal!” Sirius screamed. Tears were welling up in his eyes as he glared at you. “Please!” You nodded, pulling out your wand. You knelt down to the right of Sirius.

The moment you started muttering your healing spells, Remus stiffened. Sirius’ eyes shot even wider, but you turned to him, nodding at his reassuringly.

“It’s okay. It’s normal. It doesn’t feel good. But, it will help.” Without waiting for a reply, you started again, shooing everyone else away.

Sirius stood, still shaky. He took a few steps back to give you some space. He stood beside his friend James, who rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“He’ll be okay, mate. He’s been through some ugly stuff before. Besides, it looks like she knows what she’s doing.” Sirius nodded at his friend, but his expression didn’t change. “So, Reggie’s girl is living with you now? I’m surprised you let another Slytherin into your place.”

Sirius snickered, wiping a tear. “That was my first thought. But, she’s actually much cooler than my brother. She’s good to him. He deserves that.”

You smiled as you listened to Sirius whisper to his friend, using that positivity to fuel your enchantments, and push back the thought that Regulus was nowhere to be found. Knowing him, he was hiding out somewhere and unable to get to you right now. You just hoped that you were right.

“Has anyone seen Reggie?” Sirius asked, making your stomach churn.

“No,” James replied. “But Peter and Marlene are out there. If they find him, they’ll bring him straight here.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Remus sucked in a sharp breath and opened his eyes. You leaned back a little, expecting Sirius to rush right in. He did just that.

“Remus! Merlin, are you okay?” he pleaded at your side. Remus panted, trying to get his bearings. He stared up at you, then turned his gaze to Sirius.

“Regulus. They got him. I don’t know who they are,” he huffed. “But, t-they have him.”

“What did they look like?” you interrogated. He turned to you and shook his head.

“I know one of them was a young blonde, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three. She was tall, thin.” Your eyes widened as you shot up and furiously searched the room.

“What is it?” Lily asked at your side.

“The local paper, the one with the article for the party. Do you still have it?”

Sirius scowled. “I hardly think the article is going to help—”

“My sister. She wrote the article. She’s tall, blonde, and a little over three years older than me. Her twenty-third birthday was two weeks ago.” You perked up as James handed you the paper. “If she wrote the paper, she would be there. I’m sure of it. Her photo is right—” He flipped thorough the pages before, “Here! Was this her?” You held the black and white photo in front of him. He studied the girl as she smiled and peered around in the moving picture.

Remus nodded. “That’s her.”

You spun to James and Lily. “Her name is Anza Y/L/N—”

“Y/L/N? That rich family at the edge of town?” Lily asked. “Even my family has heard of them, and they’re muggles.”

You nodded. “That’s my family. Death Eaters, even my sister. My parents are vicious, proud fuckers. A typical pure-blood family.” You glanced over at Sirius, who nodded. “If my sister took him, I might know where he is.” The moment you thought about your parent’s dungeon, tears threatened to fall. You had watched a few servants and house elves meet their fate within those stone walls.

Sirius locked his eyes on you. “Then we find your sister.” He stood to his feet and turned to James. “Where is your family’s house, Y/N?”

You shot to your feet, shaking your head. “No, I’m going with you. If Regulus is worse off than this, he will need me—”

“Remus needs you know. James and I can get Regulus here once we find him. You can’t leave Remus like this. We may not find Regulus right away.” Sirius voice cracked at his brother’s name. Sure, you wanted Regulus in your arms that very moment. But, you knew he was strong. A lot stronger than your sister. Even with your parents involved, Regulus could make it through a lot more than most gave him credit for. You knew that, from what he told you.

The other person who knew that was Sirius.

Clenching your fists, you nodded at the older Black. “Go. Find him. Go up the main road until you’re three kilometers out of town. Go right at the fork, then take the first left. Once you see Whomping Willow on the left, you’ve reached the property. The house is another half kilometer in.” You turned to James. “Be careful. My parents raise hounds. And trust me, they aren’t poodles.”

James made his way over to Sirius and nodded. Then, the two of them made their way to the door, where they could apparate with fewer barriers in their path.

Remus finally sat up on his own after a few hours. Lily had handed him some chocolate, which he scarfed down without hesitation. That was apparently his weakness. You’d have to remember that.

The wound on Remus’ stomach, which was much worse than the one on his face, was healing well. You figured it would heal on its own from here, since it was no longer exposing his insides. The wound on his face was just another scar to add to the mix.

You leaned forward as your emotions got the worst of you. Remus turned his head and watched as tears leaked down your cheeks.

“Y/N, they will find him. He’ll be okay. He’s probably the toughest of all of us.” Remus rested his hand on your shoulder and smiled.

“I won’t know that until he’s here.” You leaned away, shooting him an emotionless glare. “I know what my sick family is capable of. I’ve seen what they’ve done to people.”

“But Regulus is a powerful wizard. He and Sirius survived a lot at home. More than most people should ever have to. And he has something worth fighting for.” Remus held his stomach as he slowly stood. “Smells like Lily is up to something in the kitchen.” He offered you his hand. “You should eat something. You’ll need strength for then Regulus comes back.” You nodded. There was no fucking way you were hungry. But, Remus was right. If you were going to be able to use any more magic, you were going to need to eat.

When you entered the kitchen, you saw Lily shuffling for plates as a spoon slowly turned inside a pot on the stove. Whatever it was, it smelled amazing. She turned and smiled when she saw Remus standing.

“Well, look at you,” he beamed. “Sit down before you fall over, Remus. I have some warm soup here for you. I found noodles that I remember buying last week, and we have what was left of the vegetables in there. It’s not much, but it tastes good.”

“If it tastes half as good as it smells, it’s perfect.” You tried to keep your voice cheerful as he grabbed the swirling spoon and dished out two bowls. Lily was a kind soul, from what you gathered having only met her twice. Honestly, everyone Regulus surrounded himself with were decent people. And that made the horrendous waves of emotions racing through you ease just a tiny bit.

Lily lowered a bowl in front of you with a spoon already inside. You nodded in thanks as you peered up at Remus, who was already shoveling the food into his mouth. A ghost of a smile cursed your lips as you watched what was quickly becoming your new family carry on in the madness surrounding you all.

“So, Y/N, you and Reg met in school?” Lily asked, settling down beside Remus at the table. You nodded, stirring your soup.

“Yeah. We did. But, I didn’t get to know him until fourth year. Since then, though, we’ve been close. And now, well, we’re really close.” You chuckled, taking a small bite of your meal. You were glad the soup was actually better than it smelled. That kicked up a small fraction of your inexistent appetite.

“I can tell. I almost feel like I knew you before I met you. He has nothing but great things to say. He was worried about you, you know. When you were with your family.” She lowered her head. “Before you left.”

You sighed, slowly lowering your bowl. “Yeah, I know. But, I’m away from them now. I just hope he can get away from them too.” You turned your head away, fighting tears. Lily noticed you were upset and quickly stood.

“Y/N! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She rushed to your side while Remus leaned a little closer over the table. Lily leaned down, pulling your hair from your face. “We’ll get him back. We got Remus—”

“I just wish people would quit telling me that! ‘We’ll get him back’ and ‘he’s tough’. I know that! I’ve just never cared about someone like I care about him.” You stared up at the two of them. “He just needs to be okay. I-I don’t know what to do if he isn’t.”

A crash in the other room startled the three of you, followed by a loud pop. Before you could register what was going on, you were on your feet and racing into the other room. Marlene and Peter were standing against the side wall, staring down in horror while James and Sirius slumped a very bloody Regulus onto the couch. James glanced up at you for a moment.

“Y/N! Quick!” In a second, you were right in front of them, kicking the wooden coffee table away to clear more space. Pulling out your wand, you scanned over Regulus.

“Is he breathing?!” you shouted. You stared between James and Sirius. Sirius rested his hand on his brother’s stomach, only to have it saturated with blood.

“I can’t tell!”

You pushed his arm, almost knocking him off the sofa. “Move!” You hovered your ear over his mouth, but heard nothing. “Sirius, pull out your wand. Now!” He obeyed you, watching as you blew a breath into Regulus’ mouth. Almost instantly after you blew into his mouth, blood began to spirt from his side. “Anywhere you see blood leaving his body, use the spell Vulnera Sanentur. Go!” You breathed into Regulus’ mouth again, your tears staining his dirt-covered skin. But, you continued, and Sirius continued beside you.

You spotted Remus standing over Regulus’ obviously broken leg and pulled out his wand. “Ferula.” Good, someone else remembered the healing spells from Charms class.

Another minute passed, and you still heard nothing from Regulus. He wasn’t breathing, but he was bleeding. That meant his heart was still going.

As Sirius continued over every gash and he could find. You held your wand over Regulus’ throat and closed your eyes. “Anapneo.” Sirius and you both jumped when Regulus sucked in a breath. His eyes hot wide open for a moment, then closed again. But, he continued to breathe. It was shallow, but it was something.

A few more minutes passed, and Sirius stopped, leaning back against the tipped over coffee table. You peered down at your boyfriend and let out a deep sigh. He was breathing, and his gashes weren’t as bad as they were when he got there. At least, the big ones weren’t. You smiled, glancing over at an exhausted Sirius.

“Shit, he was bad when we found him. I didn’t even know he was alive.” His voice shook.

“He was choking on his own blood, and he had a punctured lung. That’s why the blood came out when I blew into his mouth. It shot down his throat, and out of his lungs. But, his throat filled up before he could take another breath.” You explained. Everyone in the room stared at you in awe and shock. “I-I was studying to be a healer—” Before you could finish your sentence, Regulus started to convulse right before your eyes.

“What’s happening?!” Sirius shouted, launching to his feet. You mimicked him, rushing to Regulus’ side.

“He’s seizing!” You cut your last word short as you fought the urge to vomit. “It can happen when someone is—” You stopped, unable to answer. Instead, you raised your want to his temple and began whispering another spell. He slowly calmed, then finally stilled. Sirius stared down at him with the widest eyes you had ever seen.

“The Cruciatus Curse. If someone is subjected to the Curciatus Curse for too long, they can tremor or have seizures.” Remus completed your earlier explanation. “If they’re lucky.” You closed your eyes, but the urge was too strong. You rushed to the bathroom down the hall. Sirius hurried after you.

You made it to the toilet before what little food was in your stomach left you. You heaved for a few minutes, then finally settled. Sirius stood beside you, rubbing your back.

“You going to be okay? You know, this is how it started with Lily a few months ago.” He shot you a suspicious look, but you shook your head. He let out a sigh, then smiled.

“Don’t worry. It’s not that. But, yeah, I’m okay. It’s just different when you see someone you love so much look like that. I didn’t want to think that he was tortured that badly. But I knew deep down that he was. That’s how my family rolls.” You shrugged, leaning your head against the wall.

“Your sister was there. She fought back, but she’s still alive. Her friends are too.” Sirius slid down the wall, taking a seat right beside you. His shoulder leaned against yours as he handed you a wet rag. “There was a man her age, brown hair, tall. And an older woman, black hair, maybe approaching fifty. Sharp blue eyes.”

You sighed, wiping your mouth. “The older woman is my aunt, Una. She’s a mean bitch. She would watch my sister and I when we were young. The man must be Spencer, her son. I was supposed to marry him.” You giggled, making Sirius laugh.

“Good to know my family wasn’t the only one like that.” Sirius cringed.

“My parents wanted to keep the bloodline pure. I’m sure if they were half-way decent people, they wouldn’t have been opposed to Reg. He’s a pureblood too.” You rolled your eyes. “I just never thought I would be with one, no offense.”

Sirius shook his head. “Hey, I’m not offended if you aren’t.” He smiled. “And as long as Regulus is happy, I don’t care who he’s with. I’m thrilled that he found someone smart and talented, pureblood or not.” He laughed. “My parents would have been pleased to hear at least one of us is going to marry a pureblood.”

You laughed, then froze. “Marry? Who says Regulus is going to marry me?” Sirius cleared his throat.

“Well, uh, I mean, you two are fond of each other. I don’t see you two parting ways anytime soon. So, if you two are into that sort of thing, it might happen.” He winked, then raised to his feet and extended his hand. You took it, slowly rising onto your shaky legs. “There’s mouthwash under the sink.” You nodded, thanking him. Then, you watched him sneak of into the hall, leaving you with a smile on your face.

When you had cleaned yourself up a bit, you returned to the living room to find the sofa empty. Lily scrubbed it, flicking her wand every few seconds, then frowning. She turned to you and smiled.

“Sirius and Remus moved him to Remus’ room. Remus is in there with him, and James. I think Sirius passed out on our bed.” She turned back to the couch and frowned. “Blood is so hard to get out, even with the right spells.” She shook her head. “But, no matter. It will come out eventually.”

You chuckled. “Do you need any help?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine.” She smiled, nodding to the hall. “Go be with him. First door on the left, just passed the washroom.”

You turned, following her directions until you reached James, who stood against the door frame. He patted you lightly on the back as passed.

Regulus was resting comfortably on the bed, still unconscious but otherwise looking much better. He was still sporting his bloody clothes from earlier, but it appeared that his wounds were healed a bit. You had to admit, Sirius did well under pressure.

You lowered yourself onto the bed beside him, resting a hand on his. Then, you slipped your wand from your sweater and tapped it against his bloody clothes. “Tergeo.” The dried blood surrounding his wounds suddenly started to vanish.

“I may have some extra clothes you can change him into. Those look pretty bad. I mean, they will probably be far too big for him. But, they’re clean,” James suggested with a smile. You turned to him and nodded.

“I think that would be good. I wouldn’t want to wake up in these, or dirty Remus’ sheets any more than they already are.” You shot a smile to Remus, who nodded in thanks.

Once James fetched his clothes, everyone but Remus and you left Regulus’ side. James went on to talk to Marlene and Peter, who had just returned from their quest to find Reg. Remus helped you change Regulus into an oversized jumper and a baggy pair of jeans. They were only slightly loose around the waist, but they were far too long, causing you to chuckle.

Remus stood against the wall near you while you sat on the bed, clenching Regulus’ hand in yours. His fingers were a lot warmer than they were a while before, which gave you a little bit of hope.

“I hope he wakes up and looks at you first, and not me. I’d want to wake up to something beautiful, not this banged up old face,” Remus teased. You giggled, studying his scars. You had come to your own conclusion that he was a werewolf about thirty minutes into knowing him. He was reserved, but not fearful, so he wasn’t abused. And a lot of the scars were decades old, meaning he must have earned them when he was young. The only reasonable conclusion was that he had gathered them slowly over the years.

“Did you and Sirius meet in school?” you asked casually, glancing up at Remus. He nodded, instantly smiling.

“Yeah, first year. But, I started developing feelings for him during third year. It wasn’t until fifth year that he gathered up enough courage to kiss me. We’ve been together ever since.” He huffed out a laugh. “He even had the guts to tell his parents.” He frowned for a moment, then shook his head. “Needless to say, Orion and Walburga were less than please to hear that their oldest son was—”

“Happy? Sounds like my parents.” You shot him a sweet smile, and he nodded.

“Regulus was distant at first, mostly because he and Sirius didn’t get on much until the end of school. But, he’s always been very nice to me. Now, he’s as much my brother as he is Sirius’. And, I tease him less.” You both laughed for a while. Then, he pointed casually at Regulus. “I know you’ve heard this before, but he’s crazy about you. For such a quiet lad, I haven’t heard him talk so much about one thing.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been subjected to such boring conversation,” you played. Remus rolled his eyes.

“You’re good for him. And I can tell he’s good to you. Or, I would hope, or you still wouldn’t be here.” Remus winked. “And it wasn’t boring conversation. Anything that gets Reggie talking is great conversation.”

Regulus stirred beside you, then squeezed your hand. You snapped your gaze over to him. “Reg?” you whispered. “Reg?” His eyes fluttered open, landing immediately on you. You smiled down at him, watching his movements. You had no idea how much damage was done to him, at least mentally. “Hey there, handsome.” Remus patted you on the shoulder, smiling, then slowly left the room.

Regulus slowly rubbed your thumb over your hand. “Y/N,” he whispered. Tears welled up in your eyes at the sound of his voice.

“Regulus. I’m so sorry. My family, I’m so sorry they did this to you.” Tears slowly fell down your cheeks, but you stayed strong, elated that he was awake.

“You—Your family is here, n-not there,” he huffed. You lifted your free hand and gently leaned it against his cheek.

“I love you,” you whispered. Then, you lifted your wand and began whispering healing spells against his wounds. He closed his eyes, but you would tell he was still conscious. You continued your work for another five minutes or so, then stopped, satisfied with his progress.

Regulus opened his eyes again and smiled. “I told you, you’re the most brilliant witch I know.” You blushed and scoffed.

“You were half-dead a few hours ago, and now you’re flirting? They must have scrambled your brain.” You smiled down at him. He reached for your hand and pulled it against his chest.

“You’re the reason I’m alive, Y/N. You saved me.” You shook your head.

“I’m the reason you were out there in the first place—”

“Don’t. I would have b-been out there either way. This isn’t your fault. Besides, I g-gathered some interesting information while we were there. But, that’s a conversation for later. For now, I just want to be here with you.” He patted the bed beside him. You laid down, scooting close and wrapping your arm around his. He turned his head towards you, smiling. “I thought I wasn’t ever going to see you again. I thought I-I was going to die in that dungeon with so much left to say to you.” You turned to him, lifting an eyebrow.

“Like what?”

Regulus sighed. “How much I love you. I know I don’t say it like that often, but I mean it. I’ve meant it for a long time. Since school. But—”

“You’re a man of few words, but a lot of emotion. I know. I get it.” You smiled, rubbing his arm.

“And that’s just it. You get me, more than I think anyone ever has. You’re young, but wise beyond your years. I still believe to this day that you’re the brightest witch I’ve ever met. You saved me.” Regulus caught his breath for a moment, then continued. “How’s Remus?”

You nodded. “Doing well, walking. He wasn’t hurt as badly. He’ll heal just fine.”

“I’m sure you had helped with that.” Regulus’ eyes sparkled in the dim candlelight, making your heart race. You had never seen him like this. It was like all of the emotion you hadn’t seen in him was slowly leaking out of him. Not that you were complaining.

“I know a lot of spells. You know that.” You gestured to Regulus’ chest and smiled. “But, your brother was brilliant too. And Remus. They all helped me heal you when you got here.” He smiled. “That leg may take a little time to heal properly. But, you’re here.”

“With you.” He leaned his head towards yours. “You don’t know how happy I am. I keep thinking this is a dream. But, dreams aren’t usually this painful.”

You raised up a little. “Are you in pain? I could—”

“I’m fine. You relax and stay here with me. I-I have more to say.” You rolled onto your side and stared at him.

“Like what? What’s got you so chatty?” you played.

Regulus turned a little and winced. “Like I said, I didn’t think I was every going to see you again.” He rested his hand on yours. “I w-was going to wait. But, Sirius said I may not have time to wait. And, well, I see that now.”

Your eyes widened as you studied his expression. His torn lips were curled into a slight smile as his eyes locked on yours. You ran a hand through his tangled hair. “Wait for what.”

“Y/N, I need to ask you something. It may seem, well, a little forward. And, maybe a bit out of character. But, you live with me—with us—now, and I feel like from the moment you won Sirius over, it’s been as natural as breathing having you there with me. I love waking up to you in the morning, and falling asleep with you by my side. And when I was laying there in that dungeon, writhing in pain—” You winced at his words. “I thought about you. I wanted to make it home to you. To continue my life with you.”

Your heart swelled at his confession. You had never heard him say anything like that before. It took him almost six months to say he loved you, even though you knew he did long before then. He just wasn’t an outwardly emotional man. So this, at least some of it, sounded like it was something he had been planning. He even said that Sirius told him not to wait, but for what?

“Y/N,” you whispered, then closed his eyes. He was shaking a little. It wasn’t his weakness getting to him. No, this was nerves.

“Regulus Arcturus Black, whatever it is you’re trying to say, don’t be afraid to say it. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” You held his face in your hand, your noses just inches away from each other. He held your gaze as he smiled, blushing just a little.

“I wanted to make it back here so we could continue our lives together. So I could ask you to be my wife.” You froze, holding his gaze. His wife. He was asking you to be his wife. He moved his face just a little closer to yours and licked his lips. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

Tears fell from your eyes as you lifted yourself up, peering down at the man you loved. He was different, normally reserved and a little cold. But, in this moment, he was everything. Perfect.

You nodded your head, letting more tears fall onto the pillow below you. “Yes, I will.” Regulus’ face lightened like you had never seen before, his eyes glistening with tears you so rarely saw on him. You leaned down and kissed him gently, holding him lightly yet lovingly.

Someone in the doorway cleared their throat, startling both of you. You turned to see Sirius leaning smugly against the doorframe with his arms lightly crossed over his chest. “Glad to hear you finally took my advice, little brother.” He winked at you, smiling. “Good to see you awake.”

Regulus smiled lightly at his older brother and nodded. Then, Sirius turned for the hall, disappearing into the dark.

You turned back to Reg, grinning from ear to ear. His breathing was a little more labored than it was before. But, with the excitement and current state of health, it didn’t surprise you.

He tilted his head up at you and smiled. “I have a ring, you know. Sirius and Remus helped me with it. I honestly had no idea what I was searching for, or what was appropriate,” he rambled. “I just hope—” You shut him up with a kiss, giggling.

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” He smiled, then closed his eyes for a moment. Now, he looked exhausted. And you didn’t blame him. “Get some rest. I’m going to go get something to eat. Do you want anything?” Regulus shook his head and smiled.

“No. I’m fine.” You nodded then lifted off the bed, leaving your fiancé to rest and heal.

It took a little over a week for the rest of the wounds to heal, and for Regulus’ leg to be back to normal. The only thing left were a few soft scars along his torso, and one on the right side of his neck. Other than that, it was like nothing happened.

Well, at least on the outside.

Regulus had been having nightmares since the moment be got back. And, since you were right there beside him when he would scream out into the night, you were being affected. Not that it bothered you all that much. You just couldn’t stand to see him suffer. It was torturous seeing the man you loved scream and beg for his life.

Remus and Sirius later learned that your sister and the rest of your family knew who he was from the beginning, before he had even arrived at the open house. You were right, as usual. It had been a set up. And they were hoping that Regulus would show up.

How could you have been so stupid? Sending him off to something like that? You had practically handed him over to them.

But Sirius told you not to think that way. Either way, it was going to happen to someone. And the fact that it happened to someone so strong was a blessing. Right, a real blessing.

Regulus stirred a little beside you, curling up as his eyes fluttered. He was having another nightmare. So, you did what you had been doing the last three nights and started softly singing to him. Something about the sound of your voice calmed him, even when he was asleep.

Once he had calmed down a little, you gently caressed his cheek with your thumb. He still stirred, but he was better than before. Each night was getting a little easier. And all you could do was hope that he would eventually push the painful memories behind him.

“Y/N?” his voice rasped. His eyes fluttered open and locked on you. “Did I wake you?” You nodded but smiled sweetly.

“It’s alright. I got about five hours of sleep before you started.” You kissed his forehead. “It’s happening later every night. Maybe soon you’ll be able to sleep through the night.

Regulus nodded slowly. “I’m so sorry.” Your eyes widened.

“What? Why? You have nothing to be sorry for.” He glanced away, tucking his face partially into the pillow. “I understand if you regret your decision.”

You froze, letting out a gasp. Regret? Why the hell did you regret being there? You shook your head, pulling him as close as you could. “Why the hell would I regret my decision? Regulus Arcturus Black, I agreed to marry you. That means I’m here no matter what we go through. And we are going through this together. You aren’t alone. You never will be. I’ll always be here.”

You glanced over at the gorgeous ring he had presented to you when you got back to the flat. It rested just beside you on the bedside table, shining in the light of a single candle. According to Sirius, it was mostly Regulus’ design, contrary to what Reg had told you. He never gave himself enough credit.

“It’s just, I’ve never had a great role model for how support works in a relationship. The best I have in Sirius and Remus, which can get a little awkward. I mean, he’s my brother. And James and Lily, well, those are more Sirius’ friends than mine.” You lifted his head back up a little. “My parents weren’t exactly the ideal match.”

You smiled. “Mine weren’t either. But, just follow your own instincts. If it makes you happy, do it.” You shrugged. “And I’m happy here. So, in my eyes, you’re doing perfectly.”

Regulus smiled up at you, chuckling lightly. It was nice to hear him laugh. “You’re such a sap. You know that?”

You grinned. “Yeah. But, you asked this sap to marry you. There’s no turning back now, is there?” you teased. Regulus shook his head, taking your hand.

“No. No turning back.”

Stay turned for Part 2!

#regulus black x reader #regulus black #regulus x reader #regulus black x y/n #sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #james potter x lily potter #regulus black fluff #regulus black reader insert #regulus black fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders era

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ruffsficstuffplace · 7 years ago

Text

The Viridian Vanguard (Part 28)

Edit: Apologies for late update, I have been busy with AC Odyssey for the past week and a half.

The Keeper Team came out of the teleporter, and straight into a scene of anarchy.

The walls of the Thundercall Tunnels and Research Facility Hyrkanos echoed with the sounds of booming thunder and the roc’s deafening shrieks, hundreds if not thousands of them flying into the hollow the facility was built in, the aerie so thick and densely packed they were like one solid mass of beating wings and crackling electricity. Energy collectors, lightning rods, and power regulators exploded and melted as the rocs either overloaded them, or ripped them apart with their beaks, talons, and screams; jets and vents roared and tried to blow the rocs away and into choke-points; and what was left of the facility’s watchers were desperately firing high explosives, area-of-effect spells, and whatever else they still had left against the rocs.

With each barrage, dozens of the rocs died, shredded, exploded, shot, frozen, incinerated, gassed, or many other demises, but it seemed there were always more ready to replace them, their numbers seemingly infinite. Suddenly there was a monstrous screech, one that dwarfed the sounds of all of the other rocs combined, that chilled the bones of the Fae and their beasts, sent the watchers running and for cover and the rocs parting to make way.

“SCRAW…!”

Zeus V burst into view, barely slowing down from the high-force winds blasting him, demolishing buildings and towers just by flying through them, the electricity from his feathers blowing up and setting fire to whatever was still standing. Dozens of his brethren flew in his wake, becoming living shields for Zeus, helping lay waste to the other buildings, or attacking the watchers, even carrying off some unlucky Fae and animals.

Most managed to fight their way out of their talons, or their allies shot the rocs down, but a handful didn’t make it, their screams drowned and their fates unseen as the rocs rapidly swarmed around them. Zeus flew back out the hollow, almost completely unscathed, while the watcher’s defense line was pulled back, just one or two more retreats before Hyrkanos was at the mercy of the aerie.

Blake looked back at the portal as it was forced to shut down; the few dozen or so Apex-class watchers and animal companions that had made it alongside the Keeper Team; back to the observation window; then finally, at Ruby. <Let me guess: we’re the ones that are going to be hunting down Zeus?>

<Yep!> Ruby said cheerfully.

Blake sighed heavily, her ears tilting downward. <Alright, it’s not like I didn’t ask for this...>

Soon, the reinforcements were briefed, and equipped with flight packs, hookshots, and special armour for withstanding the roc’s electrical and sonic attacks, among other necessities. Save for Zwei who was joining the mobile artillery units, every member of the Keeper Team plus Blake were to be loaded into a series of shells, then fired out of a giant electromagnetic cannon.

<I feel obliged to disclose: this method of deploying into battle is not entirely safe and carries great risk of personal injury, even in ideal circumstances,> Penny said as the weavers and makers buffed them with spells, and covered them ear tips to toes with mixtures and solutions.

<It’s alright,> Blake replied. <Believe me, I’ve gone into life and death situations much worse than this.>

They were loaded in, the runes and the magitech along the barrel started crackling and humming as it was aimed at where Zeus would swoop down. Zwei and the other artillery units continued their barrages, until finally, that deafening screech echoed through the caverns again:

“SCRAW…!”

<NOW!>

The artillery units ceased fire, the Keeper Team deployed.

Thoom. Thoom. Thoom.

Any rocs they hit instantly turned into a fine bloody mess, those around them were swept away and sent spinning. Zeus barely had time to pull out of his dive and flap his feathers, making a giant electric shield in front of him.

Krrzzsshh!

The shells exploded, the shrapnel flew away from Zeus, killing and injuring the other rocs nearby, or making harmless nicks on his hide or damaging the tips of his feathers. He almost seemed to smile smugly, up until he saw Ruby and the rest of the Keeper Team flying out towards him.

Slash!

Ruby got him in the neck, the large, ugly gash bleeding profusely. Zeus howled in pain, swiftly turning around and retreating, the Keeper Team either jetted after him with their flight packs, or clung onto him with their hookshots.

Zeus flew out of the hollow to the giant, open cavern outside Hyrkanos, started doing sharp dips and rises, hard turns near walls and rock formations, and barreling around in the air, outmaneuvering or shaking off Qrow, Ren, and Nora. Ruby almost flew off, too, until Blake whipped out her breakneck and caught her, Penny helping reel her in, then keep them all secured on Zeus’ back.

Zeus let out a frustrated screech, before he dove to the ground, talons gouging the rocks before he stopped completely. He started looking around, raising his wings, violently shaking and turning around, trying to find where the three of them were.

Boom-boom-boom.

Smokebombs exploded in Zeus’ face, he coughed and flapped his wings, blowing it away. His whole body crackled and surged with electricity, lightning discharging randomly all around him, but Penny, Blake, and Ruby were just too fast or too tough, dodging them or tanking the blasts without ill-effects, slashing and shooting at him as they circled around him, or dashed underneath his wings and legs.

Zeus suddenly let out a long, piercing screech, the sound echoing and shaking the caverns, Ruby, Penny, and Blake forced to cover their ears as their sound dampeners were pushed to their limits. Zeus whole body glowed as he concentrated all the energy in his body, before it discharged in a wave around him, the rushing electricity and air blowing them back and stunning them.

Deafened and disoriented, they didn’t hear Zeus’ reinforcements arriving, notice the large roc swooping down on them until Blake found herself picked up, and being swarmed by dozens of smaller rocs.

<BLAKE!> Ruby screamed as she started chasing after her.

<FORGET ABOUT ME!> Blake shouted back. <FOCUS ON ZEUS!>

<Like hell we are!> Ruby cried, holstering her scythe and holding out her arm. <Penny!>

<On it!> Penny cried, taking it.

Ruby threw her into the swarm of rocs, Penny discharged a wave of magic from her arms, stunning and disorienting them and Blake. She fell out of their claws, Ruby dashed forward and caught her, before continuing on back the path to Hyrkanos. Dazed, injured, and out of breath, she could only look back and watch Zeus having his wounds tended to by his smaller brethren.

<Keeper Team, rendezvous with me at the following location, be warned that Zeus and lackeys are still alive!> Ruby said, marking an area in her mask’s mini-map. <Bring Zwei, too, I think we might need med-vac!>

<Roger!> Nora called back. <FYI, we drove the rest of the rocs out of the hollow and pushed the defense line back up, it’s basically a shooting gallery here!>

<Hell no! Zeus being gone has really given us the upper hand!> Nora said, before she resumed fighting.

Ruby, Penny, and Blake stopped behind a patch of rocks, just before they ran into the chaos in the cavern nearby. Ruby laid Blake down on the ground, before Penny was kneeling over her and scanning her.

<How’s it looking?> Ruby asked.

<Extensive damage to the first and second layers of her armour and to her flight pack, potential internal organ damage and hearing loss from all the electric shocks and sonic blasts, some lacerations to the epidermis,> Penny said as she sprayed Blake down with medicine, then temporary reinforcement for her armour.

<Why did you save me?> Blake asked. <You could have killed Zeus back there, he was getting desperate!>

Ruby looked back at her, smiling underneath her mask as she said, <I promised to protect you, right?>

There was suddenly a commotion nearby, screeching and dying rocs, and the sounds of gunfire and fighting. Ruby and Penny tensed up, until Zwei leaped into view, Nora and Ren on his back, Qrow flying close behind them.

“Yippee ki-yay, motherfuckers!” Nora squealed as she and Ren fired a barrage of bullets and explosives at the rocs chasing them, until they retreated..

<What?> Blake asked as she stood back up.

<Holo-Vision quotes, she does that a lot,> Ruby replied. <You good to fight still?>

Blake nodded. <Let’s roast that bird.>

<Just so you know, they’re best boiled, slow roasted, or slow cooked,> Qrow said as he and the others readied their weapons again, turned back into the tunnel. <Otherwise they’re tough as bark and taste about as pleasant.>

They were about to advance back to the tunnels, when they heard it: the sounds of wings flapping in near unison, rumbling thunder and crackling electricity, an all too familiar monstrous screech:

<SCRAW…!>

They started firing, slashing, and throwing out more bombs as the rocs went straight for them, surrounding them and even tackling them to the ground; they only realized that they were on a suicide charge as Zeus flew past them while they were occupied.

Blake managed to hook her breakneck on his back, Ruby dashed and sliced through several rocs and managed to grab onto her, before the both of them were yanked off and high up into the air. Zeus kept on climbing, what remained of his aerie swooping around him and taking the shots and distracting the watchers rushing after him, his whole body crackling and charging with electricity once more. He abruptly near the roof of the cavern and hovered in the air, too busy glowering at the firing line in Hyrkanos to notice Ruby and Blake flying upwards and above him by her breakneck’s cable.

Time seemed to slow down as they hit the peak of their swing, where they looked at the dozens of Fae and beasts that were at the firing line and around them, down at Zeus clearly building up to something catastrophic, then at each other.

<Do it.> Blake said firmly.

<I’m sorry.> Ruby whispered back.

<Don’t be.> Blake said, before she activated her breackneck’s reel.

The two of them screamed through the air, going faster and closer to Zeus with each second. Ruby let go of Blake, pulling out her scythe and prepared for a massive swing, her scythe’s blade growing bright silver. Blake closed her eyes as she fell past Zeus, serene and calm as she awaited the inevitable.

Shing!

Zeus seemed to continue hovering in the air for a moment, seemingly unharmed, before his eyes widened, blood spewed out from the new, clean line around his neck, and finally, he exploded.

Boom.

The thunderous blast deafened and disoriented Blake, the shockwave ripping her breakneck off Zeus’ back and sending her hurtling through the air. With her flight pack broken, it was only a matter of time before she was dashed against some rocks or the ground.

<Guess this is it,> she thought to herself, before she smiled, and waited for the end...

… Only it never came, as Qrow snatched her out of mid-air, desperately flapping his wings and trying to slow them down, steer them away from any rock formations or stalactites, until finally the others caught them and brought them safely to a stop.

Behind them, Zeus beheaded, charred carcass crashed to the ground, forming a massive crater as it hit. Ruby landed on it shortly after, breaking several of its bones. The watchers and the other Fae watching waited in suspense, until finally, Ruby said:

The Thundercall Taverns echoed with the sound of cheering and applause.

“Blake wasn’t instantly promoted to the Keeper Team after that—she was still a fugitive here under really terrible circumstances, after all—but the Hyrkanos Defense did go a long way into helping her officially become part of our team two months later. Maybe it was fate, or because we already worked and gelled really well with her for the most part, but we just couldn’t find anyone better to fill the spot other than her.

“And that, Weiss, is how Blake ended up joining the Keeper Team!” Ruby said proudly.

“Wow,” Weiss said, smiling, “is recruiting new members always this exciting?”

“Nah,” Ruby said, “Penny’s was a lot less dramatic. I could tell you it sometime—but probably not now, you should probably be going to bed.”

Weiss nodded, before she yawned. “Yeah, it’s probably safe for me to lie down now… thank you for the story and the conversation, Ruby, I really appreciate it.”

“Any time I can help it, Weiss!” Ruby said, smiling. “Sleep well, I love you.”

“I love you too, Ruby, have a nice rest of your shift,” Weiss said, before she closed the connection.

Ruby sighed and frowned as the holo disappeared, she pulled her farsighter to her eyes and resumed scanning her surroundings with Iaros. A few minutes later, she put it down, pulled out her comm-crystal again, and sent a text message:

“Uncle Qrow? You up?”

“I am now,” Qrow replied a few moments later. “What’s up?”

“Do you mind if we holo-chat?” Ruby asked. “It’s real quick, I promise.”

Qrow sent a connection request, and his bleary-eyed face soon appeared before Ruby. “Like I said, what’s up?” he said groggily.

“I was just telling Weiss the story of how Blake ended up on the team, and I wanted to thank you again for deciding to let us keep her around, and saving her back at Hyrkanos,” Ruby said. “I know you had a shit-ton of issues with her and would have thrown her into the Roost if you could, but you didn’t.”

“I said it before, I’ll say it again: I wasn’t doing it for her,” Qrow said flatly.

“I know, Uncle Qrow, but I’m still thankful,” Ruby said. “Sorry for waking you up, and I love you.”

“Love you too, kiddo, now please let me go the fuck to sleep,” Qrow said.

“I will, promise,” Ruby said, shutting the connection, before returning to her duties for real.

Note: Thundercall Rocs are one of the apex predators of the Thundercall Caverns, and one of the most notorious at that. They are extremely fast and voracious breeders, are purely carnivorous and eat pretty much any other animal in the Caverns, sentient or otherwise, and are infamously impossible to tame or domesticate.

In the words of one Tender who tried and failed miserably, “They’re bitey, zappy, screechy bastards who’d sooner blow up your entire aviary for shits and giggles than try to sit on your command.”

#fanfic #white rose #rwby #the viridian vanguard

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dracusfyre · 7 years ago

Text

A Cinderella Story: Chapter 2

Rating: Mature

Relationship: Bucky/Tony

Tags: Modern cinderella story; based on the tween movie, not the fairy tale; phone sex;

Warning: Ableist slurs

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (new)

“I can’t go!” Tony wheedled, following Pepper around the living room. “I don’t want him to know who I am, and it’s not like I can wear a mask to meet him!”

“Tony-!” Pepper exhaled and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why don’t you want him to know who you are?”

“Because being a Stark…it just comes with so much baggage.” Tony grimaced. “You know? I just want to be just Tony, not Tony Stark.”

Pepper studied him with exasperation and Tony did his best to look both pitiful and sincere. “Fine. You’re being ridiculous, but fine. But while I’m out, I’m going to sit down and have a nice lunch where I don’t look at or think about any of this,” she said, gesturing to the mess of papers around them.

“Totally fair. You should.” Tony gave her a fifty from his wallet and kissed her on the cheek. Slowly, so as to not start any gossip, Tony had been selling off some of his mom’s treasured antiques; the most recent to go was a two hundred year old china cabinet that she’d inherited from her aunt. Tony had been sad to see it go – Mother had been so proud of it – but he enjoyed the ten grand he’d gotten for it, since that let him pay the bills for a few more months.

“And don’t mess with my computer,” she added. “I’m in the middle of something, and I don’t want you to accidentally close a screen or mess with my spreadsheet.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tony promised, putting one hand over his heart and the other in the air.

“You owe me more than lunch for that,” Pepper announced when she came back two hours later, kicking the door closed behind her as she put her purse down and took off her shoes. “That poor boy looked so disappointed but was still so polite about it.”

Tony winced. “Was he really mad?”

“No, of course not. He’s far too much of a gentleman to be mad about it.” She glared at him, holding his phone out of his reach. “You be good to him, Tony, you hear me?”

“I really like him, Pep,” he said. “I'm going to be honest with him and I won’t make any promises I can’t keep.”

"Honest with him like not telling him who you are?" Pepper said pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

"Look, I don't need your help to feel bad about that part, but do you blame me?"

Pepper sighed as she handed over the phone, because she knew what he meant. As soon as the gossip rags had found out about the long hours Pepper was putting in here at Tony's home, they had been relentless trying to get pictures of them together. “I’m not going to lecture you anymore, but only because he’s clearly got it just as bad as you do.”

“Yeah?” Tony’s shoulders relaxed, releasing a tension he hadn’t noticed until it was gone. As he unlocked the phone he was unable to keep the foolish grin from his face as he put Bucky’s number into his contact list and texted him. "You're the best. Have I mentioned that lately?"

***

Bucky heard his phone ding and gladly took a break from filling in information on the Veteran Administration’s antiquated database. His heart jumped when he saw it was a message from Tony.

Hey handsome, how’s your day going?

Meh, Bucky wrote back. Same same. You?

Tony’s next message was a picture of what looked like a fort built out of those cardboard boxes used to store paperwork, with someone, probably Tony given that tousled dark hair, peering over the top, eyes concealed by giant binoculars. While Bucky was smiling goofily at the picture, his phone chimed again. Pepper is making me go to a board meeting. Then came a gif of a vampire hissing at sunlight.

Bucky laughed and took a picture of the stack of files on his desk. I have to type all of this into the computer ONE HANDED! Wanna trade?

It only took a moment for Tony’s response to come back. No voice to text?

Bucky snorted. Where do you think I work, Stark Industries? He took a picture of his computer, one of those giant CPUs with the clunky monitor that was still running on last decade’s version of Windows, and sent it.

I think I’ve seen one of those in a museum, was Tony’s response. What does it run on? Windows 2.0?

I don’t know. There’s a family of mice that have been living in it for enough generations to have become sentient, I’ll ask them.

You do that. What are you doing later?

Bucky’s heart jumped again and he sat up a little straighter. Nothing really. Maybe the gym. Why?

I’d really love to hear your voice tonight. Call me?

Bucky sighed, trying not to feel too disappointed. Of course, sweetheart, he wrote back. What time? For weeks now, this had been most of their interactions; lots of texts during the day and a few stolen hours on the phone together when they weren't too busy or tired.

Close to bed time. I'll help you relax ;) Bucky laughed aloud at that, disappointment forgotten. The rest of the afternoon went by about as quickly one would expect; Bucky forced himself to go to the gym for all the usual reasons, and then straightened his apartment to kill even more time. He took a shower and then finally at 9:30 he figured it was late enough to call.

Settling back onto his nice clean sheets, he dialed Tony’s number. “Gonna help me relax, huh? What did you have in mind?” he asked when he heard Tony pick up.

“Soothing ocean noises, naturally. Kissshhhhh, kissshhhhhh, scraw scraw, whooooooaarrrrrrrr – that last one was whale song by the way, very New Age. Why, what did you have in mind?”

“I wish I were kissing you,” Bucky said. “I think I just fell in love with you because you think seagulls say ‘scraw.’”

“Excuse me,” Tony said, sounding offended. “You have apparently never heard seagulls fighting over a french fry. They definitely say scraw.”

Bucky grinned at the ceiling. “If you say so. Now take your clothes off.”

Tony huffed out a laugh. “This is the most aggressive phone sex I’ve ever had. I like it.” In the background Bucky heard Pepper shout “Tony! Get the hell out of here!” while Tony laughed. “Ok, ok, I’m in my room,” he said, and then he made a noise like he was laying down for the first time in a really long time, a sighing groan that made Bucky’s heart ache. “Getting naked now.”

“Good. Wish I could be there to do it for you,” Bucky said, closing his eyes so he could imagine it.

“Yeah?” There was the ruffling of clothing in the background. “Well, I’m definitely in the mood to just lay back and let you do all the work,” he said, tiredness starting to bleed into his voice.

“That’s fine, sweetheart. I’d be happy to take care of you.” Bucky put the phone on speaker and set it on the pillow next to his ear as he shoved his own pants over his hips. "You’ve had such a long day, I just want to make you feel good.”

“Oh, you already are,” Tony murmured. “Just hearing your voice is enough to make my day better."

That made a heat bloom in Bucky’s chest. He smiled at the ceiling and said, “I'm going to start by kissing that sweet, smart mouth of yours. I could kiss you for hours, just lay there and feel your body next to mine."

“Mmm, yeah,” Tony said, voice deepening. “That sounds nice.”

"But eventually I'm going to kiss my way down your neck, then I'm going to see how sensitive your nipples are. Would you like that? For me to put my mouth all over your chest, tease your nipples until they are hard and aching?"

"Oh yeah, I'd like that," Tony said, his breath coming faster now.

"Then I would kiss my way down your stomach while I was pulling your pants off. I’d get between your legs and press a kiss to the inside of your thigh.” Bucky traced lazy patterns on the skin below his belly button, avoiding his erection. “I like sucking bruises there, something that only you and I would know about.”

"Yessss," Tony said on a sigh. "I want you to mark me up, let me know that I'm yours."

"Fuck, Tony," Bucky said roughly. He let his eyes drift shut, imaging Tony naked and spread out on his bed, his mobile mouth already swollen and bitten red, chest and thighs pink from Bucky's mouth. “As I work my way up your thighs, I spread your knees nice and wide to make room for me, maybe drape them over my shoulders."

Tony made another noise, deep in his chest, that went straight to Bucky's cock. "While you’re down there, I want to run my fingers through that dark silky hair of yours,” he said. "Maybe pull on it a little."

Yes, do that, Bucky thought with a shiver of arousal. "You know, it’s longer than the last time you saw it. You could get good fistfuls of it and direct me where you wanted me.”

Tony moaned and Bucky thought he could hear the slick sounds of Tony touching himself. “After all of that, I don’t know if I could put up with much more teasing, I’d definitely want your mouth on me like, yesterday.”

"So you're the impatient type?" Bucky pictured that, Tony’s thighs tensing restlessly, face and chest flush with arousal. "Well, this is my rodeo and since I'm not in a hurry, I'm going to take my time now that I've finally got you under me and naked." Encouraged by Tony's moan, Bucky continued, "Tell me how you like it, baby, so that I can make it good for you. You want me to suck it hard and fast or slow and sloppy?” He finally gave in and wrapped his hand around himself, stroking slowly so he could concentrate on the sounds coming through the phone. “I’d like to take it as deep as I could, see how much I could take.”

Tony’s breath hitched on another moan. “I’m not going to last long," he said breathlessly. "Seeing your lips wrapped around my cock would probably do it for me.” The slick wet sounds coming through the phone got faster.

“Yeah?” Bucky said roughly, his own hand moving faster too. “Which would you like better, me holding you down so I could work you over nice and slow, or would you want to hold my head still while you fuck my mouth?” God, Bucky would love it either way – the slight sting as Tony pulled his hair and the look of hot arousal in his eyes as he chased his orgasm, or wringing desperate noises from him as he took Tony right to the edge and backed off until he couldn’t take it anymore.

In his ear, Tony cursed and panted. “I think about your mouth all the time, Bucky. How your body felt against mine. I wish I could have gotten my hands on your skin that night.”

Bucky had to squeeze the base of his cock hard to keep from coming at the sound of Tony falling apart. “Well you’ve got me now, sweetheart. How about you come down my throat then you can do whatever you want to me?”

Tony’s long, drawn out moan as he came sent a hot shiver all the way down Bucky’s spine. “Fuck,” he finally said breathlessly. “I mean…damn. You are good at that.”

“Mmm, I’ve been told I have a good sex voice,” Bucky purred, wishing he could see Tony relaxed and happy. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

Tony’s laugh at that was deep and rumbly, like he was already drifting to sleep. “If I had more energy, I’d tell you everything I’d like to do to you, but for now, why don’t you come up here and show me how you like to touch yourself?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Bucky said, letting himself sink back into the fantasy. “I’d crawl up your body and straddle your waist, looking at you all fucked out and boneless under me.”

“At your mercy, even,” Tony said, and fuck, yeah, that was hot. Tony’s hands handcuffed to the headboard so that Bucky could take his time, maybe edging him until Tony was begging for it. Bucky grunted and pressed his head back against the pillow, hand moving faster over his cock. “Oh, you like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” Tony’s voice was dark and knowing and Bucky could just imagine the wicked look in his eyes. “You want to tie me up and have your way with me, don’t you? Tell me, do you like to use toys, because I have a lot of fun toys,” and that, that was it, the image of Tony writhing, bound and blindfolded, while Bucky used a vibrator on him broke Bucky’s brain. The air punched out of him with a helpless grunt as he spilled, hot and messy, all over his stomach and chest. His hips jerked with the force of it and it felt like it just kept going, waves and waves of uncoiling pleasure, all the way to his toes. He eventually managed a ragged inhale, then another, finally realizing that Tony had been murmuring praise in his ear the whole time.

“Damn, that was hot,” Tony said as Bucky shivered one last time and looked for something to clean himself off with. “If I was less tired, it would make me want to go again.”

“Oh, God, gimme a minute,” Bucky said with a smile, tossing his now extra dirty towel in the direction of the laundry. “I’m an old man here.” He stretched and surprised himself by yawning.

“Uh huh,” Tony said skeptically, then his voice softened. “Get some sleep, Bucky. Thanks for calling.”

“Oh, no, thank you. You get some rest, too, ok?” Tony muttered something sleepily that sounded like an affirmative and Bucky's heart ached; I love you, was on the tip of his tongue but Bucky swallowed it back and hung up before he said something foolish.

***

Two weeks later, Bucky was working the front desk at the VA when he heard the jingle of the door opening. "Welcome to the VA, make sure you sign in," he said automatically, gesturing to the clipboard on the desk while he finished reading the latest guidance on benefits packages.

“Are you James Barnes?”

“Yes, how can I help you?” Bucky looked up and frowned for a second before he forced his expression to be politely blank; the man in front of him looked like an entitled douchebag instead of a typical veteran, but this was supposed to be a judgement free zone so Bucky tried to rein in his assumptions.

“I need to speak to you about Tony Stark.”

“I’m sorry, who? You know, we’re not allowed to talk about ongoing cases-”

“Don’t be coy, son,” the man said impatiently and pulled out a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and placed it in front of Bucky. It was a long list of phone numbers and times, many of which had been highlighted, and when Bucky looked at it he realized that his number was the one that had been marked up. “You’ve been calling and texting with him for weeks now, several times a day.”

“Oh.” Bucky blinked a couple of times when he realized that the man was talking about his Tony. Whose last name was Stark, apparently. “Ok…what about him?” Bucky said as he handed the sheet of paper back to the man.

“I think we’re going to need a few minutes,” the man said. “You might want to take your lunch break.”

“Stark Industries,” Bucky repeated, still stunned. “He’s a billionaire?”

“I’m sorry you had to hear it from me,” Obadiah Stane said with sympathy. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell you himself.”

Bucky was quiet for a long time, digesting that information, before he said, “So why are you here, then?”

Stane unbuttoned his suit jacket and smoothed his tie down as he sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve been trying to find a nice way to say this, but I’m just going to give it to you straight. I’ve been cleaning up after the Starks for a long time, first Howard, and then Tony when he hit puberty. Lots of…indiscretions, disappointed people with broken hearts.” He scratched his beard. “Tony’s phone is billed to Stark Industries, so when I noticed that he’d been texting someone a lot all of a sudden, I realized that it was happening all over again.” He paused, waiting for Bucky to say something, before he eventually said, “Let me guess: he texts a lot, but can’t talk much, and never has time to see you in person. Sound familiar?”

“He works a lot,” Bucky said defensively. “I know he tries-”

“Works a lot?” Stane laughed. “Son, Tony only comes into Stark Industries maybe two or three times a month. That’s all he’s ever done. I’d hoped that after his parents died, he would want to take over, but…” He shrugged and spread his hands wide, and Bucky hated the look of sympathy that came over his face. “Look, son, I’m just here to make sure you don’t get hurt. You understand?”

“I understand,” Bucky said automatically, although he didn’t really. Just who the hell did this guy think he was?

“You know he is also living with someone, right? Has been for a while now.”

Bucky understood now that he needed to just keep his mouth shut, even though he knew about Pepper, had met her, and she had laughed at the idea that she and Tony were dating. For some reason Stane was playing some kind of game and Bucky was tired of giving him ammunition. “I think I need to get back to work,” he said, sliding Stane’s papers across the table and standing. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” he said, getting to his feet as well. “Believe me, I just want what’s best for everyone, especially Tony, and you seem like a good kid.”

Bucky went back to work, too stunned just yet to want to confront Tony about what Stane said. But as the day went on and the more he thought about it, the more furious he got; how long had this guy Stane been going around sabotaging Tony’s relationships? And what lengths would he go to to make sure he got what he wanted? The whole situation seemed fishy as hell.

At the end of the day, Bucky set his jaw and made a decision. It took him thirty minutes of transferred calls, dropping Tony’s name, and being on hold, but he eventually got to Stane’s personal secretary. “Yes, I’d like to leave a message,” he said. “Tell Stane that this is James Barnes, and if he wants me to stay away from Tony Stark, he’s going to have to make it worth my while. Otherwise, I’m going to go to the tabloids and see what kind of story they can make about it.”

His next call was to an old Army buddy, and then he went home and waited for the fish to bite.

It didn't take long; the next day Stane just showed up at the café where Bucky was eating lunch and sat down at his table.

“Barnes,” he said. “That was a hell of a message you left.”

Bucky straightened slowly and eyed Stane, wiping his mouth and taking a sip of his soda before answering. “Well, I said I had a lot to think about, and so I did. Then I came to a couple of realizations, namely that if you are so worried about Tony getting hurt, maybe it was worth something to you to make sure it didn’t happen.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what you want, Barnes?” Stane said, crossing his arms over his barrel chest.

“Fine.“ Bucky leaned forward and tapped his finger against the table. “Look, the way I figure it, if he's as rich as you say, I could probably have Tony paying for things for years. VA benefits don’t go all that far, you see what I’m saying? So if you want me to break up with him, then I want all that money up front. If not, I hear newspapers pay good money for stories about Tony Stark, and I feel like this would be a doozy.”

“You greedy little pissant,” Stane said after a moment, the look of blank pleasantness never leaving his face. He patted his pocket and pulled out a cigar. “You have no idea who you are dealing with, do you?” He light the cigar with a match then dropped the match in Bucky's drink.

Bucky curled his lip and sat back. “What are you going to do? Take my other arm? I’ve already been through hell, old man. You’re just another stuck up rich guy who thinks they can get whatever they want. Well this time, to get what you want you gotta pay for it.”

“Listen to me, you crippled piece of shit,” Stane snarled, showing the first crack in his ‘good old boy’ façade. “First of all, you aren’t getting a fucking penny out of Stark, because that entitled brat is broke as shit, I made sure of it.” Stane took a deep drag of his cigar and blew out the smoke in Bucky’s direction. “So if you think you’ve got yourself a sugar daddy, think again.”

Bucky let himself scowl. You made sure of it? What was that supposed to mean? “You said he was a billionaire!” He protested.

Stane shrugged. “I lied. Second, you might think that you have nothing to lose here, but I promise you that you do. You aren’t the first or the second person to try to get in my way but you are the most disposable. The suicide rate for veterans is a shame in this country, it really is.”

Bucky blinked. This conversation was not going how he thought it would; at most he thought he would get proof of Stane trying to pay him off. But this? What in the hell was going on? “So what you’re saying is, I need to stay away from Tony for my own good,” he managed. “Or else.”

Stane took another drag on the cigar. “Now you’re getting it,” he said approvingly. “Tony Stark is going to crash and burn and you’d do well to stay out of the fallout zone. Now are you going to be the one to do it, or should I?”

“I’ll do it,” Bucky said, sliding down in his chair and looking sullen. “I’ll make up something nice.”

“Yeah, no need for Tony to know that you’re a money-grubbing little prick, right?” Stane stood and held his cigar in his teeth as he buttoned his suit jacket. “Good talk.”

As Stane walked away, Bucky waited for the door to close behind him and said, “Did you get all of that?”

In his ear, his Army buddy Gabe said, “Sure as hell did. And I gotta tell you, it was worth listening to four hours of you fucking around at work all morning, because that shit was crazy.”

***

Tony, we need to talk, Bucky's text message said ominously, making Tony’s stomach drop.

Tony leaned against the nearest wall, knees suddenly weak as he dialed Bucky's number. “What's going on?"

“Look, Tony, I know who you are,” Bucky said, voice kind but firm. “No more hiding, okay? I need to see you."

“How…O-okay,” Tony said, mind still racing. He ran a hand through his hair, still feeling like the carpet had been pulled out from under him. “Um, where do you want to meet?”

“Wherever you think is best, sweetheart.”

Tony let out a long relieved exhale at sweetheart, knot in his stomach easing. “You can come here, to my house,” he said after a moment. Since the cat was out of the bag anyway.

“Perfect. Text me your address and let down your hair, Rapunzel, I’m about to climb your tower.”

That surprised a laugh out of Tony but Bucky had already hung up. He texted Bucky his address and after a moment Bucky wrote Ok, I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes. “Oh, shit,” Tony said, and sprinted for the shower. He had enough time to bathe, shave, take out the trash and cram all the dishes into the dishwasher by the time Bucky was ringing the doorbell.

“Hey,” he said as he opened the door, leaning casually against the door jamb as if he hadn’t tried on three different shirts before setting on one that flattered his skin tone and was slightly tight across the shoulders.

“Hey, yourself” Bucky answered, and Tony could have been wearing a bathrobe for all Bucky noticed; he couldn’t seem to look away from Tony's face, eyes traveling over it like he was trying to memorize it. “So. Anthony Edward Stark.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Tony said weakly. “As good as you imagined?” he joked, wanting to squirm under the weight of Bucky’s warm gaze.

Bucky took a step forward, herding Tony past the door and closing it behind him. He smiled and cupped Tony’s face in his hand, thumb stroking over his cheekbones. “Even better,” he said, tilting his head to press a kiss to Tony’s lips.

"You're not mad?"

Bucky shrugged. "I always knew you were hiding something, so it’s not like you lied to me. It’s just…a shock. I mean, it’d be nice to know if you’re hiding any other big, crazy secrets - ”

“I’m not,” Tony said quickly. “Being rich and infamous, that was it, I swear. And I'm, uh, not even that rich anymore, so.” Tony grimaced. "I didn’t want to say anything because I’ve been followed by paparazzi for my entire life, you know? Imagine all those dumb mistakes you make as a teenager being broadcast to the entire country. Parties. Breakups. Detention-"

"Tony," Bucky interrupted, putting his hand over Tony's mouth. "I get it, ok? I understand. You don't have to explain. Just shut up and kiss me again."

"Ok. I can do that." Tony fisted his hands into Bucky's shirt and pulled him in, tilting his head to cover Bucky's mouth with his own. Bucky made a sound deep in his chest and his hand slid around to the back of Tony's head, holding him still while Bucky deepened the kiss. God, it was better than he remembered; he swayed closer as Bucky's tongue curled around his own, shivered when Bucky's teeth caught at his lower lip. Tony could have stood there forever, lost in the drugging sensuality of Bucky's kiss, but after a few minutes he heard Pepper's surprised squeak as she caught them necking in the foyer and that was enough to break the mood.

“So what’s this mysterious thing we need to talk about?” Tony said as he pulled away, pressing one last kiss to the corner of Bucky's mouth before leading him into the dining room that had been converted into a shared office.

"Right." Bucky's face grew grim and he held up a USB drive. "I need to borrow a laptop."

Tony and Pepper listened to Bucky’s recording three times. Even after the hearing it so many times, Tony still looked dazed, but Pepper's look of surprise had hardened into righteous fury. “Crazy, right?” Bucky said. “Do you guys have any idea what he was talking about?”

"No," Tony said at the same time Pepper said "Yes." When Bucky and Tony looked at her, she said, “I didn't want to say anything until I had more proof, but something's really wrong with these financial reports we've been finding."

"What do you mean?"

Pepper turned her laptop to face them and stood. "Well, it started with this warehouse across the river in Jersey,” she said, leaning over Tony's shoulder pointing to the address pulled up on the screen. “The financial statements say that SI has been paying rent on the place for years now, but I’ve never seen any records of anyone working there or any shipments going too or from the address.”

Tony's eyebrows furrowed. “Odd.”

“Right? So that made me wonder. SI has been paying for this empty warehouse for years, so what if there were more? Turns out, there are a lot more. Not just empty buildings, but employees that don’t seem to exist but draw paychecks every month anyway, catering and janitorial contracts for locations that don’t have any employees, stuff like that. And it’s not just money going out.” She tapped her keyboard and the screen changed to another spreadsheet. “There were a couple of DOD contracts where Stark Industries was awarded a bonus for finishing the contract early and under budget.” When Tony frowned, Pepper said, “I know, that’s what I thought! That’s common in commercial construction but not for military contracts. Turns out those contracts are public record and there’s no clause in them anywhere justifying such a payment.”

Tony was silent for so long staring thoughtfully at her computer screen that Pepper started to fidget. “So what you’re telling me,” he said slowly, “is that my dad wasn’t incompetent. He was a crook.”

“Um. Well,” she said, biting her lip, “if that’s true, then he was an incompetent crook. Because if he was the one embezzling all of this money, he wasn’t keeping it or else you wouldn’t be in the mess you’re in right now.”

Tony barked out a bitter laugh. “True."

"There's more." Pepper blew out a breath and leaned against the table, tucking her hair behind her ear and crossing her arms over her chest. “Look, before I was reassigned to work with you, I had noticed some funny numbers on this R&D project budget. Mostly, they seemed a lot higher than a similar project that SI had done a couple of years ago, more than would be justified by inflation. I sent an email to my supervisor about it, but before I could meet with him, I got the letter to report here. Then when I followed up with my replacement, he said he had no idea what I was talking about, even though I know I put it in my turnover documents.” She took a deep breath and said, “My point is, I don’t think it stopped when your dad died.”

"Stane." Tony exhaled and scrubbed his hands over his face. "It's been him this whole time. How did my dad not notice that Stane was robbing him blind?"

"You heard the recording," Bucky said. "Maybe he did."

Pepper closed the laptop firmly, lips pressed together as if she were coming to a decision. “Look, Tony,” she said. “I know we are both good with numbers, but if we are going to nail Stane with this, I mean really get him, we have to be bulletproof. So I think we need to hire a professional.”

“Hitman?”

Pepper gave him a look. “Forensic accountant. Or a private detective. Or both.”

“Right, yeah, that makes more sense,” Tony said, but as the implication of Stane's betrayal sank in, the look in his eyes said he was still thinking hitman.

"I'm going to call around and see if I can find one that would be willing to work for a percentage of funds recovered," Pepper said, tucking her laptop under her arm and giving them both a pointed look. "I can do that from home so that you two can have time to...catch up."

"Catch up?" Tony echoed as he walked her to the door. "We've been talking for weeks, we don't need to 'catch up.' What are you afraid we're going to do, have sex right here in the dining room?" Pepper didn't answer except to give him an arch look as she got in her car. When Tony turned around, Bucky dragged his eyes up from where he'd been staring at Tony's ass.

"I mean, we could," he said.

***

What happened next didn't go like it does in the movies, with a climactic scene where everything was made right, justice was done, and the bad guys were locked up and the good guys lived happily ever after. Tony and Bucky did get to see Stane get arrested; Bucky gave him the finger from the front door until the police car drove out of sight. All of Stane's assets were frozen pending the outcome of the embezzlement investigations, and his bail was set at a staggering fifty million dollars. Six months later, after repeated rounds of testimony from Tony, Tony's private investigator, that forensic accountant, and countless other experts, the courts ruled in favor of Tony and finally money started flowing back in to his bank account instead of out. When the news broke that Stane was also under investigation for the deaths of Tony's parents, the photos of Tony holding Bucky's hand during a romantic dinner barely made page four in the tabloids.

Okay, so maybe it was a little bit like the movies, because Tony and Bucky did get their happy ending. A lot of them, in fact, one of them even in the dining room.

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #tony stark bingo 2018

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lobsters-on-their-heads · 7 years ago

Text

OB Rewatch: The Stigmata of Progress

Don’t forget - These reviews always contain spoilers for the entire series!

“We are definitely related!”

I loved

“You don't get to decide what bothers you or not. That's why it bothers you.” THANK YOU! I’ve been saying that for years.

“My sister has a robot maggot in her face...” Alison's come a long way from telling Sarah to hide her ugly face on the way out.

Adele. Oh. My. God. The accent, the mannerisms, the whole question-answer with Felix (Who hasn't had sex for material gain, HA!) the assumptions, the way Lauren Hammersley chews on the scenery in every scene she's in...

Sarah: “How high are you?” Felix, thinking: “Quite, if I had to put a number on it.”

Poor, sweet Helena - “I don't want them to grow up like me...”

Rachel bonding with Charlotte. Even though Rachel's partially using Charlotte as a door to the outside world, she cares about her. When Charlotte coughs up blood, Rachel calls her “darling,” and is immediately concerned.

The entire exchange of the Hendrix's telling Cosima that they (A) killed Leekie and buried him in the garage, and (B) have a worm thing that might help Sarah. Plus, I love the warm-yet-shadowy lighting and colors for both of them.

How quickly Sarah slipped into Beth's accent once the dental assistant said Beth's name, but it's not as good as it used to be. You can still hear Sarah peaking through.

I liked

Oh, hi, Rachel. I'm glad we're spending more time with you in a sympathetic way. I kind of forgot about you for a while with the whole Beth Childs, robot worm thing.

“You're a pale shade of Castor, aren't you?”

Charlotte, being a cute little know-it-all.

That Rachel told Susan Duncan to go to hell. Susan’s up there with Coady as Shit Mother of the Year.

The eye contact between Alison and Donnie as Alison asks Cosima if she needs a Neolution worm bot.

Kira being a brat. I mean, really, this poor kid has been through so much, with little to no explanation, at a young age. She doesn't understand who Neolution is, or who Castor are, or why they had to leave Iceland, or why people don't just tell her the truth about what's happening. Her mom comes and goes with no predictability, and sometimes when she comes home she yanks on Kira’s cheek until it hurts. PLUS, as we find out later, she has all of the clones' feelings bouncing around inside her 8-year-old head. Of course she's acting out.

Felix telling Sarah No, still. He's earned it.

Donnie joking with Helena. “Sometimes your kinda help is the kind that's needed, you know what I mean?”

Oh, hey, Oscar! You're still around. Too bad all they let you do is watch TV these days.

God, everything Helena says. “Doorbellings, I have to go.” “Hello, husband Donald.”

The trademarked Helena scree-scraw as she let the detectives in the house.

“Christ on a crabcake!”

“She's a scientist and a lesbian. She's not gonna let it slide!”

I disliked

Fucking Susan Duncan, man. I know, I'm supposed to dislike her, but she's such a bitch, and she's written as the kind of abusive, neglectful parent who's actually real in the world, unlike, say, a baddie like Westmoreland. Susan says shit like “I should think you'd be grateful” and “I have given you everything” after ALL the shit she's done to Rachel, and everything she's taken from and denied her. And then casually dropping all that information about Charlotte being cloned from Rachel, and how there were 400 attempts, and then goes and whines about “I never knew how to connect with you...”

Other notes

There's a theme this season of scenes opening from the inside of the fridge as Tatiana opens the door.

I am, however, a little surprised that the Hendrixes have hot sauce. They don't seem to be that, um, spicey.

Stocking the food for Helena's kitchen scene must've been fun, though. Apparently the blue jello was a fan suggestion.

Detective Collier, I think, is also seen interacting with Art in some scenes, but here he's out in Scarborough, which I would think is a totally different jurisdiction than Art's. Except, oh, right, Neolution sent him.

“All the aunties were there. You set mom on fire.” - Like all visions, this one doesn't exactly match with reality, but I do think it refers to Kendall's ultimate demise and cremation. Kendall = all the aunties, after all.

It really does say a lot about Helena's state of constant vigilance and the strength of her memory that she learned and remembered the names of everyone who helped with Alison's campaign (except, oddly, Felix, but maybe she just didn't want to say his name to the police).

I have questions

Why isn't Charlotte wearing all white like everyone else in her household?

Sarah and Felix consistently refer to Siobhan as their “foster mother,” although it seems Siobhan legally adopted them both before puberty. It's fine that they don't call her “Mum” more often – that's an emotionally loaded word, but why don't they call her their “adopted” mother, since there’s a definite legal distinction? Also, they were so young when she took them in, it's pretty odd that they themselves distance her that way, when all signs point to her being supportive and present. It just leaves me with SO MANY questions about their childhoods and teen / early adult years.

This isn't specific to this episode, but are the Castor boys younger than the Leda girls? If Rachel was around 6 - 8 (I think) when she left the Duncans, and Ira was 4 when Susan took him in (more on that later), I assume Castor was done later.

I would’ve liked to have seen

More Rachel and Charlotte interactions.

#The Stigmata of Progress #OB Rewatch: The Stigmata of Progess #OB rewatch #orphan black rewatch #orphan black season 4 #rachel duncan

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rcox808 · 3 years ago

Text

On An Apple-Ripe September Morning

by Patrick Kavanagh

Art by Johanna Westerman

On an apple-ripe September morning

Through the mist-chill fields I went

With a pitch-fork on my shoulder

Less for use than for devilment.

The threshing mill was set-up, I knew,

In Cassidy's haggard last night,

And we owed them a day at the threshing

Since last year. O it was delight

To be paying bills of laughter

And chaffy gossip in kind

With work thrown in to ballast

The fantasy-soaring mind.

As I crossed the wooden bridge I wondered

As I looked into the drain

If ever a summer morning should find me

Shovelling up eels again.

And I thought of the wasps' nest in the bank

And how I got chased one day

Leaving the drag and the scraw-knife behind,

How I covered my face with hay.

The wet leaves of the cocksfoot

Polished my boots as I

Went round by the glistening bog-holes

Lost in unthinking joy.

I'll be carrying bags to-day, I mused,

The best job at the mill

With plenty of time to talk of our loves

As we wait for the bags to fill.

Maybe Mary might call round...

And then I came to the haggard gate,

And I knew as I entered that I had come

Through fields that were part of no earthly estate.

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alydiarackham · 6 years ago

Photo

(Cover by me)

TIDE: Retelling the Little Mermaid by Alydia Rackham

Chapter One

A lone, black figure stood upon the crest of a hill, astride a muscular horse—equally black. The young rider’s cape twisted out behind him, borne on a cantankerous wind that had wound its way up through the craggy valley from the sea. That same wind disturbed the long, rolling mane of the horse, sending it writhing across the rider’s gloved hands—and it troubled the rider’s shoulder-length, ebony hair.

The young rider turned his pale, scarred face toward the towering forest wall to his left, as his steed’s shod hooves shifted and scraped against beaten stone. Even at the distance from whence he stood, he could feel an unearthly cold wafting out from between the gnarled fir trees. And though steely clouds covered the sky, he could glimpse the dark sparkle of frost amongst the branches.

Frost. In summer.

The young man narrowed his black eyes and set his jaw.

“Cryck!” The throaty, creaking cry echoed through the shallow valley from above. The rider glanced up to see the familiar form of a large, tattered raven swoop past, and glide ahead of him toward the deepening of the cleft in the hills. The rider adjusted his grip on the reins, and, giving one last black look at the border of woods, urged his horse down the hill.

He balanced easily as his mighty horse trotted down the wide gravel road, ignoring the cut in the wind—so different from the sun-soaked, sweeping hills he’d recently left behind. He passed down through the gully, and urged his steed into a canter. The long sword at his side beat a rhythm against his thigh, and his cape slapped the horse’s hindquarters. The raven overhead gave another absent squawk, and flapped his wings against the breeze.

Within an hour, they left all sight of the woods behind, and the gully opened up to a broad moor dotted with rugged heath and exposed stone. The sun shattered the clouds here, spilling down in waterfalls upon the earth below. And at the edge of this moor, the earth fell away, and the sea spread like a glittering carpet all the way to the horizon—interrupted only by a set of islands, the foremost island striking a vast and soaring form against the brilliance of the water.

The rider leaned back and gently tugged on the reins, slowing his horse to a walk. He paused, taking a deep breath of the briny air, then glanced again to his left, and found the white road that wound down to the fishing village.

The rider gave a sharp whistle.

The raven cawed, and swung around midair, dove, flapped his great wings, and landed expertly on the rider’s right shoulder. The raven pecked at the rider’s long hair, and ruffled his feathers.

Without giving more than a cursory command to the horse, the rider sent him into a canter again, and the three of them started down the rolling hills. Hooves clashed steadily against broken rock, and the roar of the wind increased, rushing through the rider’s clothes.

At last, they dipped into the shelter between two cliffsides, and old trees rose up around them. Ahead, the rider caught sight of smoke rising from chimneys. The road turned to packed dirt, and to either side, two-story, grey-stone houses appeared, with bright windows, and blue, red or green doors. The scent of smoked fish soon rolled out to meet him, along with the smell of burning wood. Bustling noise arose, accompanied by the dull, deep roll of the ocean swells.

He turned a corner and entered a broad lane busy with working people and carts and horses and donkeys. The plain-clad folk carried wood, grain, ropes and fish in baskets, they shouted to each other, they rang silvery bells that hung from doorframes.

He slowed his horse. The raven gave a quiet cluck-cluck-cluck. The horse lowered his head, and stepped through the crowd, careful where he set his mighty hooves.

They followed the curve in the road, and at last achieved a downward ramp that led to the broad beach, where crowds of women in hiked-up skirts plied the sands for clams. Seagulls flitted like wisps of cotton, diving and swirling over the breakers, crying and calling into the sky.

The rider and his raven maneuvered all the way to the end of a stone dock, where several beaten sailing vessels were moored. Hooves now clattered on stone, and the gusts of wind billowed out the rider’s cloak. He made his way to the very end of the dock, where a single, larger ship, much more finely-painted than the others, swayed with the tide. Several sea-battered, ruddy men stood upon the deck, winding rope and polishing the wood. They wore dark blue uniforms and white kerchiefs, and three of them heartily sang a sea chantey that the wind tried to steal away from them.

“Oh, the work was hard and the wages low

Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

I guess it’s time for us to go

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, the voyage is done, and the winds don’t blow

And it’s time for us to leave her.

I thought I heard the old man say

Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Tomorrow you will get your pay

And it’s time for us to leave her

Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, the voyage is done and the winds don’t blow

And it’s time for us to leave her…”

One of the three singing men caught sight of the rider, and stood up straight. He had a short-trimmed white beard, and curly white hair that stuck out from beneath a brimmed cap. He stopped singing, and beamed a wide smile that wrinkled his weathered face as he cast his blue gaze up and down the horse and rider’s towering black forms.

“Well…What a sight,” the sailor remarked. “What a sight, indeed.”

The other sailors immediately stopped what they were doing and looked up, as the rider gazed back down at them, his great cape rolling behind him, his raven hunching upon his shoulder, and his horse lifting his proud, grand head. Their mouths opened, but none were able to speak.

“You’re…you’re Galahad Stormcrane,” one of the younger sailors finally spoke up, stepping forward. “The Curse-Breaker. The one we’re to take to Metern?”

“I am,” Galahad said, sat back, and swung down from the saddle. He landed easily, his raven flapping to compensate. He turned and unstrapped a saddlebag, reached in, and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment. He stepped up to the side of the small ship and handed the scroll across to the older man—the captain.

“Thankee,” the captain said as he took it. Gripping hold of it with both hands as the wind tried to snatch it from him, he unrolled it and read it. “Aye, yes,” he concluded, looking back up at Galahad with another smile. “I’m Captain McNeil, and this is His Majesty’s the Essa.”

“Thank you,” Galahad nodded, turned and grasped his horse’s bridle, and led the great animal toward the edge of the boat. Alarmed, the sailors stepped back.

“Do he need a—” McNeil started—

And the huge horse kicked off, leaped over the rail and onto the deck with a shaking thunder. The raven squawked in comment. Galahad hopped in after, as the horse snorted and tossed his head.

“What great black beasties ye have,” the younger sailor comment. “What be their names?”

“This is Thondorfax,” Galahad slapped the horse’s neck. “And this is Scraw.”

At the sound of his name, the raven let out a loud crack sound. The sailors laughed breathlessly, still shying clear of Thondorfax’s massive shoulders.

“You’re a tall lad yourself,” the captain noted, glancing him up and down. “A good head taller than my son!”

“How long till we make sail?” Galahad asked, turning to scan the sea.

“Not but a few minutes,” the captain answered, tugging on his cap. Galahad just nodded, reaching out to grasp Thondorfax’s reins again.

Comments and gasping were quickly replaced by the bustle of activity on deck as they reeled in the anchor, pushed away from the dock, and made sail. The white canvas flapped slack in the wind before the captain turned the rudder and the sails snapped to. In no time at all, they had pulled away from the dock, fore into the waves, and the little ship rocked smoothly like a galloping horse. Cold spray splashed up over the rail, dotting Galahad’s cheeks.

As the crew worked, they gave Galahad and his animals a wide berth, but soon they began laughing amongst themselves again, and once more started to sing.

“The wind was foul an' the sea ran high, Leave her, Johnny, leave her! She shipped it green an' none went by. An it's time for us to leave her!

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, the voyage is done, and the winds don’t blow

And it’s time for us to leave her. The grub was bad an' the wages low, Leave her, Johnny, leave her! But now once more ashore we'll go. As it's time for us to leave her!”

They picked up speed as the waves and wind arose.

Gusts blasted across the deck, but the sailors only sang louder.

“Oh, leave her, Johnny, an' we'll work no more, Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Of pump or drown we've had full store. An it's time for us to leave her!

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, the voyage is done, and the winds don’t blow

And it’s time for us to leave her. Leave her, Johnny, an' we'll leave her with a grin, Leave her, Johnny, leave her! There's many a worser we've sailed in. And it's time for us to leave her!”

On either side, several smaller boats floated or sailed,

the men aboard throwing nets out or pulling them in. The Essa sailed between them, toward the great island that waited about two miles off shore. As they passed over the surf, the sea smoothed, and the little ship leaned easily as the gale carried her. Thondorfax braced his shoulder against the mast, and Scraw huddled down against Galahad’s neck. The chilly gusts tried to slice through his clothes, but his heavy shirt, trousers, boots, tunic and waistcoat wouldn’t allow it. Galahad rested his free hand on the silver butt of his sword, lifted his chin, and fixed his eyes on the far shore.

In swift time, the ship approached the coast of the island, but the captain pulled her to port, and they skated the edge of the jagged shore northward. Huge white cliffs leaped up from the beaches, and waves shattered against toothy rocks. Galahad’s gaze swept the green upper edges of the cliffs, and he said nothing.

An hour later, they rounded the curve of the island and headed northeast. They sailed past a little fishing village in a cleft—one that the captain pointed to, and declared it to be called Megipesk. Another half hour brought them around a short peninsula…

And there it rose up before them.

Galahad drew in a slow breath.

Atop the height of a great hill by the rim of the cliff stood a white castle. It had domed-roofed towers, elegant archways, and pillars that looked like unicorn horns. The domes shone blue, with tiles of lapis lazuli. Stripes of gold shimmered atop the lintels of the arches. Tall windows, paned with unbreakable silvery glass from Spegel, flashed back the sunlight. Designs of ships and great sea creatures adorned the smooth walls in relief. Seagulls soared around its peaks like snow.

“Perlkastel,” the captain announced, the pride evident in his voice. “Only to be rivaled by the Palace of Glas in Spegel. Or so they say. I’ve never seen that one, myself.”

“Nor I,” Galahad murmured, his attention still fixed on the ornate battlements.

The captain shouted orders, the sailors adjusted the canvas, and the ship turned toward shore—toward a carefully-built harbor lined with fine stone buildings. They drew up to the dock’s side, and let down the anchor.

As soon as he could gauge it, Galahad leaped out of the ship and landed on the dock. With a great heave and another snort, Thondorfax followed, crashing down right beside him, throwing his head. Scraw barked at him.

“Thank you,” Galahad said to the captain, hopping back up into the saddle, setting his boots in the stirrups and taking up the reins. “I will tell His Highness you performed your duty well.”

“Thankee, sir,” the captain tipped his hat. “Good luck, sir.”

Galahad didn’t respond. He just turned Thondorfax’s head and clicked to him, and the horse took off at a brisk trot up the dock. Scraw beat his wings and took off, sailing ahead again.

Galahad trotted onto the beach, up the white rocks, and onto the central lane of the village. The people here wore much finer clothes, of sea-green and blue colors, with hats on their heads. They didn’t shout, but walked beside each other—and all of them turned to watch Galahad as he passed through their midst. Scraw crowed, and Thondorfax picked up his speed.

Together, they worked their way up the ever-inclining, windy road, following the cliffline, occasionally passing shepherds driving their white herds. Then, the road turned to paving, and trees flanked it. Old trees, with thick green canopies. The wind rushed through their leaves, and unseen birds chirped in their branches. Galahad lost sight of Scraw as he soared over the leafy heights.

The wide lane wound gently across the hills, leading ever upward. And at last, the trees opened up to a huge terraced garden. A large fountain stood in the center of each terrace, each fountain taking the form of a nymph or a sea god or a mighty fish. Blooming roses surrounded the fountains, each terrace a different color. The heady scent washed over Galahad as he started up the drive toward the massive, waiting arms of the castle.

He followed the lane directly through the gardens, onto a large, paved yard, and drew up on front of the tall, elegant, iron black gates tipped in gold. Two guards, wearing shining silver helmets and white uniforms, stepped out from their towers to meet him.

“Greetings, sir. State your name and business,” said the guard with the mustache.

“I am Galahad Stormcrane, Curse-Breaker,” Galahad answered him. “I must speak with Prince James.”

He saw the guard’s eyes go wide, and he exchanged a glance with the other soldier.

“Stormcrane?” he stammered. “Yes, yes, right away, sir. If you’ll dismount, I’ll personally have your horse—”

“No,” Galahad cut in. “He comes with me.”

The guards balked.

“What—inside the palace?”

“Yes.” Galahad leveled a look at the mustached guard. “Or are your doors too small?”

“Why…Why no, sir, they’re quite wide—”

Galahad turned from him toward the palace.

“Then open the gate.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard hurried back, and with his comrade, they opened the gates. Not waiting for them to fully open, Galahad and Thondorfax marched inside, with Scraw flapping overhead. The raven then dipped down and landed on Thondorfax’s head. Galahad dismounted, let go of the reins and strode forward. The great horse followed right behind, his head ducking low. More guards quickly heaved open the double doors and Galahad passed through, Thondorfax and Scraw after him, into a large, white, pillared hallway with gorgeous mosaiced floors. At the far end waited a vast room flooded with light off the sea. Thondorfax’s heavy hooves clacked loudly against the smooth stones. And together, they entered the room.

The ceiling soared. Murals of ethereal humans dancing through the clouds covered the spaces between the arches. Glittering crystal chandeliers—more glass from Spegel—hung like a rain of diamonds. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up the entire wall, looking out over the glimmering channel and then the green, misty mainland. The floor was polished tile, alternating black and white squares. Galahad moved to the center of the room, turned to his right, and faced the head of the room, where a golden dais stood below a wall-covering tapestry. Thondorfax drew up behind him, and his shoulder touched Galahad’s. The horse’s great neck curved, and his body enshielded Galahad on all sides save the fore.

And the two people that stood upon the dais twisted to see them.

One was clearly an advisor—a middle-aged man dressed in simple, floor-length red robes.

The other was a young, vividly-handsome man—perhaps five years younger than Galahad—whose countenance shone like the light off the water. He had short, golden hair, brilliant blue eyes, and laughing features. He wore a silvery blue doublet, blue trousers and white hose, with diamonds sparkling on the buckles of his shoes. He saw Galahad, who stood encompassed by his towering beasts—and dropped his book.

The volume smacked against the steps of the dais, and the young man jumped.

“Good lord,” he cried, scrambling to snatch it up, then gripped it in both hands as he gaped at Galahad. “It can’t be.”

“Prince James, son of the late king Orion, nephew of King Leonardo?” Galahad said, his low voice echoing in the tall chamber.

“Yes,” the prince nodded earnestly, frowning.

Galahad solemnly met his eyes and evened his tone.

“I have come to warn you that your kingdom will soon be attacked.”

Chapter Two

The prince almost dropped his book again. He exchanged a startled look with his advisor, then stepped down the dais toward Galahad.

“Truly?” he said. “What…What news do you have to suggest that?”

“I’ve come from the Fortress of Maith,” Galahad answered. “The masters there watch over Edel’s Seven Seals—the seals laid down by the first Curse-Breakers to guard Edel from Curse-Makers from other shores.”

“Yes, I have heard of them,” the prince nodded earnestly. “There is supposed to be one just out my window, in fact. In the sea.”

“Yes, there is,” Galahad replied. “And on a clear day, I imagine you can see it under the water. A huge circle, perhaps a mile wide, of dark stone?”

The prince watched him intently.

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Each of these seals has a guardian,” Galahad told him. “His life is bound to the seal, and he’s to guard the seal and keep it strong.”

The prince glanced back at his advisor again before turning back to Galahad. His pale face had flushed red.

“That…is the first I have heard of that,” he confessed. “Is it…Is it supposed to be a member of the royal family?”

“On the contrary,” Galahad said. “The guardian only has one task. And, for some reason that none of the masters can understand…your guardian has vanished.”

The prince blinked, and his eyebrows shot up.

“What? Who is it? What happened to him?”

Galahad shook his head again.

“I don’t know the answer to either question. But one thing is certain.” He took a step closer to the prince. “Without him, the seal—and also your kingdom—are vulnerable to the dark powers of the sea, and whatever may lay beyond that. And it may be…” he lowered his voice. “…that the reason for the guardian’s disappearance is an imminent attack.”

The prince swallowed.

“I see,” he murmured. He shifted his weight. “You should know that my erm…My uncle, the king, is ill.” He looked up at Galahad, his eyes bright and open. “He is…He is not here.”

“Yes, I know,” Galahad said flatly. “He is at the Halls of Healing, but he is not doing well.”

The prince watched Galahad, the color leaving his face, then nodded slowly.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“Which is why I bring this news to you,” Galahad finished. “And to request your permission to stay in the kingdom of Mhuirlan, and even on Metern, until I can uncover what has happened to your guardian.”

“Oh, good lord, yes,” the prince said in a rush, and slapped the spine of his book. “Yes, please, please stay. As long as you like. Erm, in fact…” he glanced at his advisor again before taking a deep breath. “We have accommodation for a Curse-Breaker. My uncle made me aware of it last spring. It’s a house called Euryor, just down the hill, on the cliffs. It’s kept up by a groundskeeper and a maid, furnished and everything.” The prince tried to smile. “It’s only about a mile away.”

“I’m sure it will be sufficient,” Galahad said.

“More than that, I hope,” the prince laughed. “In fact, I’ll ride with you myself, and show it to you. You must be ready to take some rest.”

“Thank you,” Galahad inclined his head slightly.

“Garrick, have them ready my horse,” the prince ordered his advisor. The advisor bowed and left the room through a side door. The prince looked past Galahad at Thondorfax.

“And what a magnificent animal you have here,” he remarked—and without reserve, stepped right up to Thondorfax and vigorously petted his neck. Galahad’s attention instantly sharpened…

But Thondorfax just nickered and bumped the prince lightly in the chest with his nose. Scraw hopped nimbly down to the horse’s shoulders and gave a squack. The tension in Galahad’s shoulders eased.

“Scraw believes you were talking to him,” he noted.

“And so I was!” the prince grinned up at the large bird, then slapped Thondorfax’s flank. “Both are equally splendid.”

Scraw replied with a frank “blick!” and canted his head, studying the prince with one bright eye. Then the prince briskly turned to Galahad.

“Shall we go?”

The prince, astride a sleek white horse with black mane and tail, decked out with grey tack, led the way down the terraced garden lane, with Galahad, Thondorfax and Scraw just beside. They turned a slightly different direction than Galahad had come, and passed into a cultivated wood of firs and beeches. Thondorfax huffed, pranced, and strained at his bit. The prince glanced over at him.

“Is he not tired from his journey?”

Galahad snorted.

“Thondorfax is never tired.”

“Well then,” the prince sat up and gathered his reins in his gloved hands. “Stell hasn’t been out in a few days. Do you mind if I stretch his legs?”

Galahad looked over at the prince, and quirked an eyebrow.

The prince grinned at him in challenge.

“Hyah!” the prince slapped his horse’s rump, and the steed took off.

“Blahk!” Scraw barked, and took off straight into the trees.

Without urging, Thondorfax lunged after Stell.

Galahad easily leaned forward and wound that thunderous mane through his fingers, his own body flowing right with his horse’s as the great Friesian caught up to the prince’s smaller steed. The rumble of their hooves echoed through the wood, and hundreds of surprised birds burst up out of the hedges and branches.

They raced up and down several short hills, then passed through a gate in a large stone wall, and out onto the moors. The wind whipped through their capes and the manes of their mounts. The road turned into a beaten carriage track, and each man rode upon one wheel mark, side by side. At a full gallop, they swept over the rolling, heathy wilderness, passing copses of gorse, the salty wind ripping across the hills.

Galahad glanced over at the prince. The other young man kept his seat extremely well, riding with familiarity and comfort, even at this blinding speed. The prince looked at Galahad, and Galahad instantly saw the prince was gauging him in the same way. The prince’s smile broadened, and he leaned forward…

And the horse Stell shot forward—even faster.

Galahad blinked, then lightly squeezed Thondorfax’s flanks with his heels.

Thondorfax whinnied, tossed his head, and blazed after the other horse, immediately catching up. The prince laughed out loud, let go of the reins, and threw his arms out to either side. Stell kept galloping at full tilt, as his prince kept his seat as easily as if their bodies were one.

Scraw’s shadow crossed over them, as the two riders began their descent, down the face of a hill toward a gathering of four weathered trees, and a stone house and barn standing amongst them. The prince gathered his reins back up again and leaned back a little in the saddle. Stell snorted but slowed down. Thondorfax followed suit. They passed between two short trees and into the yard in front of the house.

It was a simple, old-built, two-story house of light brown stone, with a simple front door and narrow windows. It had a slate roof and two chimneys, one of which puffed smoke out to be instantly carried away by the wind. Ivy crawled up one side of the house’s face. Across the yard from the front door stood a stout, thick barn with a thatch roof. Chickens clucked and pecked at corn meal in the yard, and a goat wandered through the barn door.

Galahad drew Thondorfax up in front of the door, and cast his gaze up across the house. To the right stood a leaning woodshed, to its left, a walled garden with a wooden front gate. Galahad’s hands relaxed on the reins, and he let out a small sigh.

“This is Euryor,” the prince declared, swinging his leg back and hopping off his horse. “Come inside.”

Galahad stayed where he was for a moment, then climbed down and clapped Thondorfax on the shoulder. The horse rattled his bridle, then turned to nose the chickens out of the way to eat some of the corn meal. Scraw landed on Galahad’s shoulder, and Galahad followed the prince up to the front door. The prince rapped his knuckles against the black-painted wood. A few moments later, the door swung open, and a short girl stood there, perhaps sixteen years old. She had brown hair bound back under a white cap, and wore a grey dress and white apron. She had a pleasant, round face, large brown eyes, and freckles. Freckles that were immediately drowned in a blush as she dipped into a low curtsey.

“Your Highness!” she gasped, and then threw herself out of the way, holding the door open.

“Thank you,” the prince said, stepping up into the entryway. Galahad stepped up after him, his head barely passing beneath the low lintel. Scraw ducked, too.

Galahad paused a moment to let his eyes adjust. The floor inside the entry hallway was polished flagstone, covered by a pale, plain rug. It was dim, just lit by the outside light coming in from other windows.

“Galahad Stormcrane, this is Little Emblyn, the housemaid,” the prince gestured to the maid, who dipped another curtsey, her eyes wider than ever.

“S-Stormcrane?” she gasped. “The Curse-Breaker?”

“Yes,” the prince chuckled. “He’s going to be staying here as long as he needs, to conduct business. Please make him comfortable.”

“I will, Your Highness,” she promised, redder still.

“Here is the sitting room,” the prince said, passing through the doorway to their left and into a small but airy room with a carpet and a few pieces of furniture, and a painting of Perlkastel hanging over the white mantel. The walls were whitewashed stone.

“Through here is the library, which I think you will find the most interesting,” the prince remarked, striding on ahead through the wide doorway. Galahad followed him into a tall-ceilinged room filled with dark-wood shelves that were positively packed with volumes. The ceiling had been painted with a mural of a cloudy sky cut by streams of sunlight. Cherubic figures had been carved into the posts of the shelves, and several of them held out lit lamps in their hands. The far wall bore two tall windows, with long curtains. A fine woven rug covered the floor, and padded leather furniture stood around the strong stone fireplace. A fire now burned in the hearth, and above the mantel hung a broad painting of a battered, torn ship rolling upon a stormy sea.

“That’s the Cygnus,” Galahad noted quietly, stepping closer to peer at it. Then, he turned and regarded the prince. “The ship your father was aboard when it was lost.”

“Yes,” the prince offered a brave smile. “My mother never wants to see that painting again…but I couldn’t bear to throw it out. So I brought it here.” He shrugged stiffly. “My aunt tells me it will bring bad luck to the family.”

“Nonsense. It’s just a painting,” Galahad murmured, studying the lines of the art again.

“My father collected all kinds of books,” the prince said with a short sigh, stepping back and glancing around. “And, as you probably know, he was friends with Clanahan Curse-Breaker, so Clanahan sent him a good many volumes.”

“Did he?” Galahad faced him, then frowned up at the hundreds of tomes that lined the shelves. “That could be useful.”

“Come, let me show you the rest of the house,” the prince beckoned, and left the library the same way they had come in. Scraw croaked, and jumped off Galahad’s shoulder and perched on the back of a chair. Galahad flashed his eyebrows at him, and left to follow the prince.

They trailed back through the sitting room, into the entry hallway, and across into a medium-sized dining room, with a simply-made, rectangular table with benches and adorned with candlesticks and garlands. An iron chandelier hung from the ceiling, and light came in from the window to Galahad’s right.

“Dining room, and through here is the kitchen,” the prince pushed the door aside to reveal an old-fashioned but large kitchen.

Little Emblyn stood at the sink, and when the door swung open, she yelped and dropped a pan straight into soapy water, and splashed all over.

The prince ducked back, letting the door fall shut, and chuckled.

“Poor girl, she’s too used to being by herself.”

With that, he left the dining room again. Galahad gave the room another cursory glance, then came after the prince into the entryway and then up the creaking flight of stairs that led directly to the second level. They turned to the left and into a narrow, whitewashed passage. They passed one door on the right, turned a corner, and then found a door to the left. The prince opened it, then gestured to Galahad.

“After you.”

Galahad dipped his head, and entered.

“This is the master bedroom,” the prince said. “I hope you find it comfortable.”

“Mm,” Galahad grunted as he looked around.

The walls had been whitewashed and then painted a faded red, with no windows, just paintings of faraway landscapes, lit by lamps. A narrow fireplace stood in the far left-hand corner, and a four-poster bed stood to his right. The carpet on the floor and the blankets on the bed were deep scarlet. A chair and writing desk sat near the fireplace, and a trunk at the foot of the bed.

Galahad stepped inside, unstrapped his sword from his belt, and laid it across the bed.

“You sound as if you believe what your aunt said about bad luck,” he mused, crossing the room to look at a painting of a copper mine standing upon a cliff, its smoke stack reaching to the leaden sky. “Yet you ride as recklessly as a schoolboy.”

Behind him, the prince laughed, then cleared his throat.

“Well, I…”

Galahad turned and looked directly at him. The prince’s smile faltered.

“I might say that…my aunt’s experiences and my own differ somewhat.”

“How so?” Galahad wondered.

The prince suddenly looked paler, a trapped look in his bright eyes. He swallowed hard, and he pinched the thumb of his left hand in the fingers of his right. Galahad waited.

“A fortnight ago,” the prince began—much unsteadier than before. “I was traveling home from the island of Hanter-broder, and my ship was caught in a storm.”

Galahad’s brow furrowed, and he came back toward the prince, listening.

“Between the islands of Hanter-broder and Hanter-hwor there’s a ring of protruding stones called Serpent’s Pass,” the prince went on. “It’s difficult enough to navigate in calm waters…but it was night, and the seas had picked up, and it had begun to rain. It was impossible to see them.” The prince swallowed again. “The ship was driven straight into them. Completely smashed to pieces. All the crew lost.”

“How did you survive?” Galahad pressed.

The prince suddenly laughed, and shook his head.

“I…I don’t know,” he admitted. “The next morning, I found myself lying on the beach of Hanter-hwor, unharmed. And the only thing I remember…” he trailed off, and gave Galahad a hesitant look.

“What?” Galahad asked.

“I remember…arms,” the prince said quietly. “Arms taking hold of me. And a voice. Singing. And when I heard it…I forgot to be afraid.”

“The voice and arms of a man?” Galahad asked carefully.

“No,” the prince answered. “A woman.”

Galahad said nothing. For a long moment, he held the prince’s gaze. Then he nodded.

“I see. And this is why you feel you can be reckless.”

“Well, not reckless,” the prince corrected. “But…ever since then, I have looked at the world through new eyes. Before this happened, I used to fret over petty details, and treat people carelessly. Now, small, simple things give me pleasure, and I see beauty all around me.” The prince now searched Galahad’s face. “Do you understand what I mean?”

“I do,” Galahad nodded. “That feeling will pass.”

The prince laughed.

“I doubt it.”

Galahad considered, then nodded again.

“Let us hope not,” he said. “But I am thankful you survived.”

“You believe me, then,” the prince wanted to clarify. “I’ve…I haven’t told anyone what I’ve just told you. I feared they would think I’d gone mad.”

Galahad lifted an eyebrow and tugged off his cape.

“Of all the tales I have ever heard, and the things I have seen,” Galahad said. “That would be the least strange.”

“Truly?” The prince’s eyebrows went up. “Well…I should like to travel with you sometime!”

“Unfortunately, I never travel with anyone,” Galahad replied, tossing the cape onto the bed. “Would you mind showing me the barn?”

Chapter Three

Master Reola,

I have arrived safely on the island of Metern. The journey was uneventful, and I met with no trouble on the road. Passing by the southern border of Spegel, however, I did pause to look past the trees, and I could see frost inside the wood. I confess I am still uneasy about sending little Rose Melhorn to address that curse—especially if she is to deal with an ice fairy in the full height of her power. I am not far from Spegel’s eastern border, even now. Should she need my assistance with anything, she, or you, need only send word.

I have met Prince James, who is amenable, and open. He accepted what I told him without any pretense, and seems willing to listen, even if he is naïve. He has personally installed me in a house near the palace, and it is comfortable, and well-stocked with many of Clanahan’s books—as I have learned from the prince that the former king and Clanahan were close friends.

I plan to ride to the palace tomorrow morning and speak to the prince again, and ask him for a guide to take me round the island so I may better navigate on my own. I must work quickly. As we discussed, I have every expectation of finding the guardian of this seal to be dead. I will waste no time in discovering how he died, and why. If you hear of anything, send it on.

Give my regards to Effrain and Clanahan.

Your servant,

G. Stormcrane

Galahad set his quill aside, folded the letter, and sealed it with the red wax he had pulled from his writing kit—stamped it with his family crest: a hammer and anvil. Then, he left the study, strode out through the sitting room, into the entryway, and out the front door. His boots crunched on the gravel.

Scraw trotted through the front yard with the chickens, pecking at the corn meal. Galahad took a breath and whistled sharply.

Scraw’s head came up, then he took to flight. He blazed straight toward Galahad, Galahad held the letter out to the side—

Scraw snatched it in his beak and shot up into the sky. As Galahad watched, the bird gained a sweeping height—

And with a blinding flash like lightning, he shot off and disappeared. He would arrive at the Fortress of Maith within the hour.

The soft evening light swam across the waves as Galahad and Thondorfax walked down the beach. Galahad moved ahead of his horse, who followed him without saddle or bridle. The waves rushed over the sand, foaming around the rocks, as the ocean breathed and sighed and muttered. The wind had calmed, and the sky had cleared. Galahad’s booted feet made shallow prints on the high, smooth sand as he gazed out across the channel to the rolling green mainland of Mhuirlan. White sails dotted the faraway water, and seagulls followed the boats.

Galahad paused, taking a deep breath of the cool, salty air, letting the absent wind rustle through his clothes and hair. Thondorfax pressed up next to him, and both regarded the west, where the sun dipped below the horizon.

Sensing a soft light behind him, Galahad turned and caught sight of a full moon, faint and pearly in the pale blue of the sky, but even as he gazed up at her, her light brightened.

Thondorfax made a noise. A high, quiet whinny.

Galahad’s head came around, his attention flashing to his horse.

Thondorfax’s ears had perked up high, his attention fixed on something near the point where the beach met the feet of the cliffs. The horse drew in deep breaths, his nostrils flaring, his eyes unblinking.

Staying still, Galahad followed the horse’s captivated gaze. For a long moment, though he scoured the edges of the rocks, he saw nothing.

Then.

A figure. Huddled back against a large rock.

Galahad started forward.

Thondorfax made another plaintive sound, and eagerly followed him. Galahad’s pace quickened. He maneuvered around a group of tall rocks coated in lichen, then stopped.

A young woman. Sitting curled up with her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped around her middle. Her bare arms and legs were white as the moon, as was her face. She wore nothing. She had long, knotted dark hair that hung down all around her, covering her chest. She stared at him. She had large eyes, grey as the winter sea; long lashes, and black eyebrows. She had delicate, elegant features—a perfect nose and full lips, but they were colorless.

“Hello,” Galahad said carefully.

She twitched, and then started to shiver. Her wide gaze flickered past him, to Thondorfax.

Galahad turned his head slightly, and exchanged a glance with his horse. Thondorfax whuffled, lowered his head, and let his lips go slack as he shuffled toward her. He kept nickering softly, his nose almost on the ground, and nuzzled her knee.

Suddenly, she smiled.

Though her face remained deathly white, the expression lit her features with unexpected beauty. Shakily, she reached out and touched the horse’s muzzle. Her smile faded.

Galahad slowly pulled off his cape. He held it out in front of him, but did not move forward. She looked up at him again. He gazed back at her, and lifted his eyebrows.

Her lips parted. But she didn’t speak.

Galahad took one step forward. Her breathing picked up, but she didn’t move. He took another step forward. She slid her hand up, and tightly wound her fingers through Thondorfax’s forelock. Cautiously, Galahad knelt down before her, and just held the cape up. She breathed quickly, like a rabbit, her attention flicking between him and the garment. Galahad waited.

Finally, her attention stopped flashing back and forth, and found him again. Her brow furrowed. He leaned forward, and draped the cape over her knees. Then, he let go, and sat back.

She blinked, and released Thondorfax. Gingerly, she stretched out a hand and grasped the edge of the cape, and drew it closer to her chest. She pulled the hem up to her face, and pressed it to her lips, all the while, watching him.

Galahad sat back on his haunches, studying her. As he did, he tugged off his gloves, and pushed them into a side pocket of his trousers. The girl focused on his long, bare hands, now, as he rested his wrists on his knees.

Then, Galahad held out his right hand—his sword hand—to her, palm up.

Thondorfax whuffled again, leaned out and lipped his hand, mistakenly searching for a sugar cube.

The girl chuckled.

The sound reminded Galahad of the waves upon the sand.

Galahad’s own lips parted as he looked at her, but he didn’t say anything. Thondorfax realized that there was nothing in Galahad’s palm, and shuffled back, but not before nosing him in the shoulder. Galahad kept his hand where it was.

After a moment, the girl leaned forward slightly, frowning down at his palm. Then, she risked her own right hand, and brushed his fingers. Her touch was cold. He didn’t withdraw.

Her interest sharpened, and her left hand joined her right. She lightly grasped his hand, and turned it to reveal the deep scar on the back of his hand between his thumb and his forefinger. Her fingertips wandered over it, and then found the scar on his smallest knuckle. Galahad just watched, chills washing up his arm.

Her hands stopped moving, and she lifted her face. He met her eyes. Her eyebrows drew together, and something like decision marked her features. Then, carefully, she turned her own right hand over, palm up. Galahad looked down…

To see a black rune upon the palm of her hand.

He instantly snatched her hand, his eyes going wide, and stared down at it. Then, his attention flew to her face.

Her breathing hitched. She swallowed.

Galahad swooped over her. He swiftly took up his cape and bound it around her body, then scooped her up in his arms. She grunted, but she didn’t kick or hit him. He turned, and in three steps he mounted one of the tall rocks, then leaped off the peak. He landed astride Thondorfax, securing his hold on her. Thondorfax waited for him to settle her before starting forward at a smooth gait.

The sky darkened all around them, and the moon shone bright in a purple sky as they swept back up the beach, and started up the steep and winding road to Euryor House.

“Little Emblyn!” Galahad called, kicking the front door out of the way and striding into the house. The housemaid emerged from the dining room, wiping her hands on her apron, and gasped.

“What—Who is this?”

“I found her on the beach,” Galahad said, stepping past her and into the dining room. “She is cold, and wet, and I doubt if she’s had anything to eat for several days.”

“I’ll make up a bath for her!” Little Emblyn cried, shoved back through the kitchen door, snatching it open so that Galahad could follow. He felt the strange girl shivering in his arms as she looked wildly all around her.

“She’s terrified!” Little Emblyn realized. “Here, set her on this bench by the range—I’ll fetch the bathtub—”

“Where is it?” Galahad interrupted.

“In the pantry, there,” Little Emblyn pointed.

“I will get it, you start warming the water.”

“Yes, sir.”

Galahad bent down and set the girl lengthwise on the padded bench, and tucked his cape closer around her. Her frightened gaze caught his for an instant before he left her and crossed the stone kitchen floor to the back room and pulled open the door. There, against the far wall, beside the larder shelves, stood a small copper tub with claw feet. He bent over it, picked it up and hauled it back out the door. It was heavy. He set it down in between the girl and the range, even as Little Emblyn heaved a large crock of water onto the stove.

“Do you have clothes that will fit her?” Galahad panted, straightening up.

“Erm…no sir,” Little Emblyn glanced over the stranger’s form and then shook her head. “She’s a deal too tall for my clothes. But there are lady’s clothes in one of the upstairs bedrooms, sir. Some of those dresses are bound to fit.”

“Which bedroom?” Galahad asked, swiping his hair out of his face.

“The first door you come to, sir, straight ahead from the stairs,” Little Emblyn answered.

Galahad didn’t answer, just left the kitchen, and headed up the stairs to dig through the trunks.

Galahad stood over a table in the library, his hands braced on the wood. His head hung low, and he stared down at the large, open book before him. A glass oil lamp burned beside it, casting all the rest of the room into deep shadow—and light upon the ancient pages.

A map of Mhuirlan, and the Teylu Crown Islands…

And the great seal on the bottom of the Sira Channel.

Its perfect ring stretched from the coast near Perlkastel all the way across the channel to the shores of the narrow part of Mhuirlan.

And right in the center of it stood a single rune.

And he had been staring at it ever since he opened to this page.

“Sir?”

Galahad straightened, turned and looked toward the open door of the study. He saw Little Emblyn silhouetted against the lamp in the sitting room.

“Sir, I’ve dressed her and sat her down at table, but she doesn’t seem to know what to do with the soup or the bread…”

Galahad didn’t answer, just shut the book and picked it up, and carried it toward the door. He stepped past Little Emblyn, his jaw tightening, moved through the sitting room and into the dining room, his heavy footsteps ringing on the floor.

The girl sat on the other side of the table, in front of a steaming plate of food. She wore a plain maroon dress with fitted sleeves and scoop neck. Little Emblyn had somehow worked out all the tangles and knots in the girl’s dark, twisted hair—doubtlessly with a handful of olive-oil—and her tresses now hung in gentle waves down to her waist, shining in the candlelight. A little color had come into her cheeks, and her grey eyes had brightened.

When she saw him, her mouth opened—but again, she said nothing.

Galahad stopped, took a short breath, and inclined his head.

And he spoke in an entirely different tongue.

“Greetings Princess Meira—daughter of Strom, King Under the Water.”

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