#only to have her single moment of victory and sacrifice before fading away

[captorations]

fuck it. making the call that anastasia ends up playing a role in tlt comparable to alt calliope in homestuck

[lessi-lover]

ILYSM- maybe when reader is feeling a bit down and viv makes sure she feels supported and loved? love you!!

you understand me II v.miedema x reader

summary: you have a panic attack but your girlfriend is there for you. ★ you understand me II v.miedema x reader

the grass glistened under the floodlights, raindrops blending with beads of sweat, as they traced the curves of exhaustion etched into every player's face.

but there was one face amongst both teams that shone with a fierce focus, a resilience that the torrents of the weather couldn't dampen, - vivianne miedema arsenal's star striker, or better known to you, your girlfriend.

the final whistle blew, signalling another hard-earned victory, another night where your team would travel home scraping out yet another difficult win, another night in which you and your girlfriend would fall into bed with sore muscles, tired eyes, but hearts full. you barely noticed the weight of the rain soaking your kit; the thrill of the tough win lingering heavily on your mind.

you pushed through the stadium's corridors, the sound of your boots against the concrete creating a steady rhythm in your ears, as your head began to space out.

reaching your locker room, you immediately stripped yourself of your rain soaked clothes, immersing yourself in the warmth of the shower. you scrubbed your body clean, a few nasty tackles had resulted in a lot of grass stains, and a few small cuts that you knew your girlfriend would fret over, much to your displeasure.

drying yourself, you dressed yourself in your girlfriends, your plain cream shorts, and an arsenal hoodie you had been gifted by Steph, for secret santa. you brushed your wet hair, neatly braiding it into a plait, before packing away your belongings and heading out of the stadium.

walking out, you were met with a dizzying amount of photographers shouting your name, and yelling out questions. your mind raced, the pounding in your ears unwavering. you pushed your way past begrudgingly, your usually patient persona completely left behind.

as you neared the bus, you pulled your hood over your head, there was only one person you wanted to see right now.

you knew Viv would be waiting for you at the end of the bus, her arms open widely, with a comforting smile adorned on her face, and with the exact words you needed to hear.

walking past the girls seated on the bus, you could feel a swell of emotions cloud your head. the chatter and laughter of your teammates became a distant hum, as you felt tears brim in the corners of your eyes. each step towards the back felt heavier, laden with the weight of the 90 minutes you challenged your body to play for.

despite your best efforts to stay composed, the strong walls you had built up began to crumble, dragging you down in the destruction. you felt your last veneer of strength begin to fade, mirroring the harsh toll of your day. the barrage of flashing cameras, loud speakers, invasive fans and the sheer physical exertion of the game, left you utterly drained and with nothing to do but try and gather the pieces by yourself.

you longed for solitude, for a single moment in which you could just be you. The persona of the calm, enthusiastic, indefatigable athlete was a heavy mask to wear, and in this moment you felt it start to slip.

nearing the end of the bus, your steps became slow, your laboured breaths echoing in your ears. you yearned for viv. her presence was a light in the haze of your crowded head, a promise of comfort and love. she knew the unspoken battles, the silent sacrifices, the relentless push against one's limits that came with the demanding lives you both chose.

finally reaching viv, you saw her sitting down, arms open, a sanctuary in the storm. her smile, so raw and familiar, able to soothe your nerves. she didn't need to speak any words; her presence was comforting enough. in her arms, you found a haven, a safe place, one where you could let the facade you had built fall away, and just be yourself, vulnerable and real.

collapsing into her embrace, the tears that had been threatening to spill finally fell down your cold cheeks. viv held you, her arms wrapped tightly around your body, her heartbeat beating steadily against your own. "you're okay, darling," she whispered into your damp hair, the three words alone enough to mend your heart all over again. "everything is going to be alright, love." she reminded you, her arm rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

"you're safe." you sniffled, air getting caught in your throat. "you're beautiful." your tears began to subside. "you're talented." your breaths returned to their normal pace. "you're loved." she kissed your forehead, her thumb wiping away your dry tears.

"i love you, vivvy."

you nestled your head into the crook of her neck, her comforting arm never leaving you. gazing out the window, you watched as the rain drops traced effortlessly down the glass, the journey seeming aimless yet purposeful, much like the swirl of emotions you felt yourself. the rhythmic pattern of the rain against the roof provided a calming background noise, to the turmoil of thoughts swimming through your head.

you felt yourself become grounded, safe in her arms.

there was nowhere else you had to be, nobody else you needed to be with.

you found your solitude, right there in the arms of your favourite person. right there in the arms of the girl who would be able to mend your broken heart over and over again. right there in the arms of the only girl who truly understood you, and you understood her.

[sondepoch]

Silence Starts to Overflow (Venti x Reader)

Barbatos’s voice, whispering gently in the wind, stirs you from the slumber you were about to give into. How cruel, that you would allow yourself to pass without saying farewell to him.

MASTERLIST

Death isn’t quite the right word for it.

It would be more fitting to say that you’re passing—because passing is something that precedes catching, catching is something that precedes continuing, and continuing is something that precedes life.

Though to say that this state you’re in can precede life is a lie at best.

Where are you?

Barbatos’s voice, whispering gently in the wind, stirs you from the slumber you were about to give into.

How cruel, that you would allow yourself to pass without saying farewell to him.

The final remnants of your strength—the strength you’d been saving for a final, devastating blow against Baal, the strength you never got to use because Rex Lapis ambushed you first with an cataclysmic meteor—fly out from your fingertips in a single beacon of light that pierces the clouds as it broadcasts your position to the world.

Instantly, you feel the wind turn.

A smile crosses your lips at that. Channeling your Lumino into the sky so freely is a risky move, especially given that every archon in the area now knows where you are. You can already sense the familiar pulse of Geo and Electro growing closer as Rex Lapis and Baal doubtlessly venture back to you to finish the job, but, of course, Barbatos is faster.

Geo is slow, after all.

Electro is marginally faster, given the right medium.

Nothing, however, can trump the speed of Anemo.

Nothing but Lumino, though you suppose that will cease to exist with your passing.

“You’re a fool,” Barbatos whispers in that breathy, exhilarated voice of his. “Someone could have seen,” he says. “You’re lucky I was so close.”

Ah. It appears that he hasn’t seen your wounds yet.

Well, that’s not so bad. 

You allow yourself to relax as Barbatos gathers you in his arms at the speed of wind, holding you close against his chest as he rides a breeze of his own making into the sky. 

“There are less than a hundred gods left, now. You and I can keep a low profile these next few days and wait for the numbers to dwindle, and then we can start working together to…”

You say nothing as Barbatos continues.

To die like this, in the arms of your lover, the sound of his laughter in his ear and the element of his soul surrounding you...would be a peaceful death.

A nice death.

As Barbatos eagerly tells you about his fight against Beleth, you press your head deeper into his chest. You take a deep breath of his scent, the scent of cecilias and happiness and youth and freedom, and you begin to let yourself drift away, the strength of Lumino finally fading from your gnosis and from this world, and…

How cruel.

You can’t bring yourself to part from your lover just yet.

Not without a proper goodbye, at least.

“Barbatos,” you whisper, just strong enough to lift your head off his chest. “Barbatos, please.”

It’s at this moment that Barbatos looks, properly looks, down at you, and you can see the adrenaline of his victory sap from his expression, beautiful blue eyes turning from overjoyed to mortified in a single second.

“No,” he mutters when he sees how the light has already begun to fade from your eyes, the natural waves of Lumino that used to radiate off you so naturally now turned dim with your impending death. “No. No, this can’t—no, no. No. Please. No. No.”

Within a second, he has your back lain against a cloud, as if the stoppage of movement can do anything with your elemental energy so far dwindled. 

“Who—who did this—”

You smile gently. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

Baal isn’t an especially dangerous woman: you know Barbatos can defeat her; but if she’s managed to obtain an alliance with Rex Lapis, God of War, then the last thing you want is for your lover to attempt to avenge you and get himself killed just like you. Not when Barbatos is already so strong. Not when he already has a chance at becoming one of the Final Seven.

“T-This isn’t a time for—”

“Shh,” you whisper, reaching for his hands. The touch calms him. You channel what little power you have left into his hands, praying that he can feel it. Feel you.

“Tell me,” Barbatos says, tears beginning to build in those mesmerizing eyes. It’s hardly the time to be thinking about it, but this form that he’s chosen is truly beautiful: skin like porcelain, perfect and fine and untouchable, stunning dark blue hair, thick and nearly-black at every inch, and eyes that hold your entire world in them, blue and green and Barbatos. “I—please, they might still be around here. I can defeat them and give you their gnosis, and—”

You force yourself past your limits to lift an arm up to Barbatos’s chin. It takes all your effort to press a single finger against his lips, a wordless seal on the conversation. 

“You’re dying,” he whispers, the tears now spilling forth. “You’re—you’re—”

You press your finger against his lips again, silently asking him to speak not of your death, and the god breaks down next to you, sobbing loudly as he pulls you closer, now holding you in his arms instead of allowing you to remain flat on the ground.

It’s quite uncomfortable, actually.

Yet, you prefer the warmth of your lover’s arms to soft chill of the clouds, prefer the sensation of his salty tears spilling onto your hair, prefer the way you can savor the feeling of him a little bit longer this way.

“S-Sitri should be near here. I-if you can last just a little longer, he’ll be able to heal you and—”

Your heart falls. This must be karma.

“I killed Sitri this morning.”

The devastation in Barbatos’s eyes when you say that is more painful than the spreading darkness in your gut.

“Ph-Phenex might—”

“Sitri killed Phenex. He told me.”

The sound that spills past Barbatos’s lips at that is something between a wail and a whimper, a sob and a scream. It’s nothing like the beautiful music you’re used to hearing from his lips, and it hurts you to know that you’re the cause of this awful noise, this awful pain that will hurt him so much more than it can hurt you.

Though that’s the nature of this war, isn’t it? The very notion of thousands of gods, thousands of elements, all fighting against one another in an attempt to sit on one of the final seven seats in Celestia is something that can only occur with death, with sacrifice.

You and Barbatos were naive for ever thinking that both of you would be able to make it.

“Barbatos,” you say, cupping his cheek gently, admiring the silky softness of his skin because you know this is the last time you’ll be able to do so. “I want you to live.”

“Stop it,” Barbatos says. “Stop—stop talking like you’re going to—to—”

“To die,” you finish for him, and your hand falls from Barbatos’s cheek. You don’t have the strength to hold it up anymore. “But I don’t want you to die.”

“N-no, please, I—” Barbatos sobs, an ugly sound. “I don’t want to live in a world without you.”

“I want you to live,” you say, stubborn. “Live for me.”

“I don’t want to,” Barbatos whispers. “Not without you. S-so if you want me to live, please just try to—”

“I can’t.” Your smile is sad as you stare at him. “I can’t, Barbatos, but you can.”

“I don’t—”

“Take my gnosis.”

Your lover physically recoils at that, shock painted on his beautiful features before denial takes over.

“No,” he says, shaking his head furiously. “No, no, no. No. I won’t. I—you’ll only die faster without your—”

“Barbatos,” you say, wishing you had the strength to reach out and grab his hand. “Barbatos, for all purposes, I'm already dead.”

“No!” he shouts, and when he sees how you wince at that, he lowers the volume of his voice. “No, you’re—you’re not dead. You’re alive, you’re here, and you don’t have to—”

“I can’t control it if I die.” You turn your gaze from Barbatos to the sky, vaguely wondering what heavens are above the heavens. “But you can make sure you don't. Take my gnosis.”

“I don’t want it,” Barbatos whispers, and his eyes shimmer with tears he’s trying to hold back. 

“Take it,” you say. “Take it and live. And remember me. And build a world where no one else needs to die like this.”

“I don’t care about anyone else,” Barbatos whispers, but his hand is on your heart, now. “I just want you. Please. Please don’t—”

“Take it.”

The power of Lumino comes to a peak as you allow the source of it to expose itself, raw elemental energy radiating off your body.

“Hurry,” you whisper. “Someone will come.”

“I-I don’t—”

Barbatos lets his hand grip the gnosis, but he can’t seem to bring himself to take it out from you. Doubtless, it’s because he knows that this gnosis is the only thing allowing you to cling to life—but for him to be able to absorb its power, he has to take it from you when you’re still alive. You need him to take it now. If you want to make sure he has the strength to become one of the Final Seven, this push is the only thing you can offer him.

“I love you.”

The words fall from your lips naturally, and the power of saying them—a power that inevitably rises because those three words, that declaration of your heart’s true sentiments, are the reason you’re able to get up every day, a power that gives and gives and gives and is the sole reason for which you live—sends you a final boost of strength.

You thrust your hand onto Barbatos’s and hold it. 

With the gentleness that only the shadow death can bring, you lift his hand, still closed around your gnosis, from your body. 

The second your gnosis is off of you, it binds to Barbatos.

You can see the power travel into his body: the power that manifested as Lumino in you being absorbed into his body as the tips of his braids turn bright at the edges, a beautiful blue as bright as the sky where the edge of Barbatos's hair was once nearly black. You can feel, then, as the gnosis amplifies his power: it happens in a shockwave that jolts your body, a shockwave that shakes you to the core with the original source of your power now gone.

“You…”

Barbatos stares down at you with wide and teary eyes. Where you seem mesmerized by his transformation, it seems that he’s horrified at yours. No doubt, just as the light entered him, it must be equally visible that it’s left you.

A chilling breeze draws towards you. You shiver under it. 

“Cold,” you mutter, and Barbatos instantly pulls his cape off to wrap you in it. Somehow, it does nothing to warm you up. The cold, it seems, originates from within.

“Stay with me,” Barbatos says, cradling you in his arms. He presses his lips to your forehead. “Stay with me, love. Stay with me. You can live through this, I know it, just stay…”

Ah. 

It’s so cold.

The chill that begins from deep inside you spreads, branching towards your fingertips and your toes and up your neck. With it comes a darkness, one that your power has always protected you from. Now, though, Lumino is weak. It stands no chance at being one of the Final Seven elements. You failed it as an archon. 

“...with me. Please. Please don’t go. Stay. Please. Please…”

You want to respond to him. You’ve never heard Barbatos sound so miserable, so broken. You stare up at him, trying to make your lips form the shape to words that will comfort him. 

You can’t seem to move your lips.

You can’t seem to move your eyes, either. 

Numb, you stare up at Barbatos, unblinking and unmoving. Your gaze is fixed on him, a darkness creeping in at the edges.

No, you think. No, stop. I want to look at him longer. 

The darkness doesn’t oblige. It creeps closer and closer, and a desperate fear begins to overtake you. Is this the last time you’ll see your lover? Why? How? How can that be? That can’t be right. You and Barbatos were supposed to win this war. You and Barbatos were supposed to survive this war. You and Barbatos were supposed to rule a nation together and save the world together and build a life together and—

Why is it all going away?

Stripped of the power of light that had always protected you, the darkness you’d always feared crawls closer. 

Stop, you think. Stop it. Don’t take him away. I want to stay. I want to stay with him. I don’t—

Despite the chilling cold that’s wrapped around all your body, you feel a tear fall.

I don’t want to die.

You hear something that sounds like a scream, but it’s so distant. It’s like a howl: monstrous and enraged and furious and terrifying, yet...familiar. Suddenly, you can’t figure out who this wailing reminds you of, but the thought of the person sends a strange sense of warmth to you. 

It’s nice, you think.

You can’t be quite sure what’s happening anymore. All you know is that it’s cold and dark, so horribly cold and dark. 

The howling sound grows louder. Vaguely, you feel something grip you, shake you, cling to you.

Something about you is instinctively soothed by the touch. Amidst all this cold and all this darkness, you think you can find comfort in this sensation. You know you shouldn’t like it—that the feeling of your body being shaken and clung to and howled and wailed at isn’t something you should like—but there’s peace in it. 

It’s a nice feeling.

It’s a nice feeling. 

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 2.3k

Notes: freedom sword come home

Comment & Like

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

[hopeled]

in the mourning--     

warning: fgo 6.5:traum spoilers mentioned no i’m not okay thanks for asking 

                   there’s someone you can’t trust on that ship.

 she hadn’t wanted to listen to such a warning. how could there be someone who would betray them? after all they went through together, how could a single one of them be working with the enemy? it wasn’t an impossible thing, but a possibility that Ritsuka refused to entertain. no matter how foolish it might have been.....she trusted her team. she trusted those within Chaldea and always would. no warning could ever stop that. 

        and then the truth came out. it was nothing she could have ever anticipated nor prepared for. because Goetia had been right but he had also been wrong. 

                   it is because we, Chaldea, will triumph. 

   “...you were wrong. “

   Sherlock believed in them. he genuinely and truly believed in them to win, to come out the victor in the end. he wasn’t trying to play them. he hadn’t lied to them. he hadn’t been fooling them from the start. she had never been wrong in trusting him, no matter what anyone said or thought. her belief never faltered. how could it? he was their friend, their ally. and, just like everyone that came before him, he did what he had to in order to give Chaldea the chance they needed to win. a victory he had full faith in them achieving, for how else could he have smiled so easily in those last few moments? he defied his Master. at the most important moment, he defied his purpose.

                                  Farewell to all my dear and wonderful friends.

     the breath she releases is a shaky one, rushed by her lungs crying out for air. her vision is blurred, nothing in sight except hazy shapes and bursts of greens & browns blending together. these are tears. they rise and slip over the curve of her cheeks without restraint and without thought, dripping of their own will. like every fresh loss, her heart bleeds anew. sacrifice was necessary and inevitable with their mission, but it made none of it easier. and it was different-- this wasn’t just someone met inside a Singularity or Lostbelt. Sherlock...he had been with them since the conclusion of the Grand Order. he had been there through each Lostbelt, willingly putting himself in danger numerous times. he was a friend and losing a friend is never easy. it will never be easy for her.

                     it will never be something she could ever get used to. 

      a sharp intake of breath follows, the only sound that is covered by the rustling of leeves in the summer wind. shaky hands rise to her face, as if to stifle the noise but that is not the intention. here, nobody could hear her. more tears flow, unrelenting and unashamed as the hot liquid trickles down her hands. messed bangs stick to her cheeks from the wetness, but she can’t bring herself to care to wipe them away.

           it hurts. like with Romani, da Vinci and Musashi-- it’s the exact same kind of pain that winds around her heart without mercy. even if he came back, it would do nothing to ease it. it would not change what had happened. and it would not be the same Holmes. knees are pulled tight against her chest, one arm curling around them as the mage lets her weight be supported by the harsh bark of the tree. she’s tired. she’s tired of losing people. she’s tired about much, but right now, it is this that brings forth the weariness. she carries the memory of so much loss with her and though Ritsuka knows she should put it down-- how can she? she cannot tarnish their memory like this. she cannot let them fade and be forgotten. but she is so damn tired because of it, angry that it keeps happening like this. angry that she’s kept in the dark until the last moment. but what can she direct that anger to? what can she use it for? here-- nothing. she has no choice but to hold onto it. there is nowhere to set it down, and so, it stays. (like a creature of the shadows, it sits and waits and grows.)

  she’ll be fine later. she knows she will be. it is how it always goes: she mourns, she grieves, in her way. she lets the feelings wash over when she is alone, letting them toss her about like a rickety boat on the ocean. she lets the pain and anger and grief flow as they are intended to (always felt so intensely, so vividly) and then, she’ll get up. she’ll continue on as always. she’ll go back to her life with a heart that’s a little more weary, a little more torn, but still beating. 

                 and she’ll survive. 

   but, for now...for now she is neither the Master of Chaldea nor the one who stands against gods. she is not Fujimaru Ritsuka, one of humanity’s last. no, she is just a regular human being, a woman with no titles and responsibilities, handling another loss the only way she knows how.

          she stays. in the woods of Cotes, as the sun sets beneath the horizon, she stays. the dying light of ambers and golds trek across her person, leaving shadows in its wake as the evening gives way into the night and the only thing she can feel is the bark against her back and the earth beneath her hands.

[rngknsk]

The Aftermath

Chapter 1: Consciousness

Sanemi Shinazugawa/Reader (F)

You find yourself alive at the Butterfly Estate beside your closest friend after the final battle against Muzan Kibutsuji. You both are hurting over the loss of your comrades, so you must find a way to comfort each other.

**THIS SHORT STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE DEMON SLAYER MANGA. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T FINISHED THE MANGA.**

Tags/warnings: Shared trauma, angst, survivors guilt, slight tw, comfort, slight fluff, reader is a Hashira

You can also read here on Ao3. Enjoy!

It’s not your time yet, young one, you still have a long journey ahead of you.

Be sure to live a life that will inspire others every day, please know that I will always love you.

We will always be here, watching you, waiting for you. We know you will do great, we are so proud of you, Y/N. Live on.

✾✾

Rain pattering gently against the window stirred you from your dreams. You blinked a few times as you peeled your eyelids apart, feeling the discomfort of the built-up eye-crusts that had grown as you slept for the past few days, to which you didn’t realize just yet. Your mouth felt dry as you slowly smacked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Your tongue felt swollen. Staring up at the dimly lit, wooden ceiling of the building that protected you from the rain outside, you took a few moments to try to recall where exactly you were. You remained in a numb physical state, or so it felt; you just needed to fully wake up. When you did, all of the memories came flooding back.

You tried to pull yourself upright in the bed you found yourself on, but immediately froze as the pain shocked and ran through every nerve in your body. You shut your eye and let out a sharp inhale through your gritted teeth that interrupted the silence of the room, trying to ease the pain. It was then that you realized your left eye was covered. Slowly, you brought your bandaged hand up to your face, pressing your scarred fingertips to your cheek. Your head had been wrapped several times with a bandage that ran at a slight angle across your face and over your eye.

It was a long, final battle between the demon slayer corps and the demons. The war that was fought for centuries, even millennia, had finally been won, and because you remembered your victory, you were able to slump peacefully back into the bed you laid upon. You laid for a few long moments, the ringing in your ears starting to fade away, allowing you to finally relish in the serene sounds of the rain against the roof.

“You’re finally awake,” came a familiar voice to your left. You hesitated for a moment, tears welling up in your uncovered eye, realizing who the voice belonged to.

You slowly turned your head towards the voice before gasping out his name, “Shinazugawa-san?”

He met your alarmed gaze with a kind smile that made your heart feel warm and fuzzy, and it just might have been enough to cure the aches among the rest of your worn-out body. You wanted to tear the blanket right off of your figure and throw yourself upon him in a triumphant embrace, you wanted to bury your face into his neck and cry, but neither of you were in any physical condition for that.

Your fellow Hashira lay sitting up in his bed, covered in bandages from head to torso, arms to shoulders. He was certainly in a rougher state than you, but for good reason. Sanemi Shinazugawa risked his life for the sake of humanity against the demons, and the most feared of all, Muzan Kibutsuji. He was ruthless in every battle he’s fought, but until he butted heads with Kibutsuji, you’d never seen him so merciless. At the end of the fight, you were sure he’d never pull through. Before you passed out from exhaustion and blood loss, you caught a glimpse of his bloodied figure sprawled across the ground. The last thing you saw was Kibutsuji crumbling away, and with that sight you allowed yourself to finally drift off, to that you imagined would be death.

But it wasn't.

Instead, you woke up next to the man whom you’ve come a long way to care so much about. He was such a tough nut to crack, but you and Sanemi had become so close, and you were sure that you’d meet him in the afterlife along with many others, but rather, you woke up just a few feet away from him at the Butterfly Estate. With that you were beyond thankful at another chance. This time you were sure that you’d tell him how you’d truly feel. Now, finally, you’ll be able to express to Sanemi how important he is to you without any worry of an unexpected end, unlike the last time you opened your heart to someone.

“I’m surprised, you slept longer than I,” he continued. “I was thinking for sure that I’d never wake up, and instead I woke up to you still napping.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment. You figured he was trying to make a lighthearted joke, so you thought you’d at least react somehow. “I’m sorry, I thought I wouldn’t make it either.”

“You’re a tough girl, I knew you’d be just fine, unlike the others,” he slightly turned his gaze to the floor, a solemn expression curtaining his face.

Before you could ask, three Kakushi rushed into the room that you and Sanemi were resting in, audible gasps coming from behind their masks.

“S-She’s awake!” one cried as he ran out of the room. The other two hurried to your side to take your vitals.

“Please sit back L/N-sama, don’t strain yourself!”

“Yes, your wounds are still fresh and healing, don’t try to move until the nurses arrive!”

✾✾

Hours later, your bandages were rewrapped after you enjoyed a nice bath with the help of the Kakushi. They had given you an extraordinary painkilling formula that had been invented by Shinobu Kocho, the Insect Hashira and outstanding pharmaceutical expert, prior to her death. It was almost as if she created the formula in preparation of Kibutsuji’s attack. You had learned of the deaths of many, including the other remaining Hashira, with the exception of Sanemi and Giyuu Tomioka. You prayed to them as you sat in the bath after the Kakushi gave you some time to soak alone. You cried, for they weren’t as lucky as you to be able to know a world without demons, to know a world in which you could live free. However, each and every life that was lost during the battle against Muzan Kibutsuji belonged to those who fought valiantly and believed in the freedom that you were so fortunate to experience.

It was evening now, and the rain had finally stopped. The colorful pastel clouds were moving out of sight, and the falling sun gleamed brilliantly between the damp leaves of the trees it tried to hide behind. The dew drops sparkled against the rays before they each slid off of the leaves at their own individual pace. You slowly walked yourself outdoors to the engawa, which is where you found Sanemi. He was sitting by himself, a single leg hanging off of the engawa edge while his other was propped up in front of him. You’d never seen him so quiet and peaceful looking, even with his back towards you. You didn’t want to startle him or disrupt his alone time, but you wanted to talk to him. You wanted to know what he was thinking; what was going through that mind of his?

“Shinazugawa-san,” your voice gently hit the breeze, carrying your greeting to his ears. His head slightly perked up, but his gaze remained forward. He didn’t respond, but rather patted the wood floor beside him. After a moment of noticing his gesture, you stepped forward to slowly lower yourself next to him, gritting your teeth to suppress any signs of pain from your injuries. Once seated beside your friend, you glanced out of the side of your eye to see a single tear rolling down his cheek. The sight punctured your very soul. After all these years, training and fighting beside this battle-hardened man, you never thought you’d see him cry. Of course, he lost his younger brother during the battle, so it seemed he was taking this time to grieve; you were just surprised that he allowed you so close to be able to see him in such a state.

“Genya would have liked this view, don’t you think?” Sanemi broke the silence, fighting away the cracking of his voice. “When we were kids, we would always watch the sun set in the evening. It was one of the things that really helped us forget how shitty the world was for us back in those days. Seeing his bright, wide eyes and that happy expression was what pushed me to continue forward every time. But now…” he finally turned away, wiping his remaining tears with his sleeves. “I just wish he could be here to see it, to see the sun set in a world where we don’t have to fight for our lives anymore.”

You didn’t know how to respond. It seemed as if the best option would be to let him talk and express how he was feeling. It was, after all, better than him bottling things up, similar to what he’s done for his entire life. Genya wasn’t the only person that Sanemi has lost. You couldn’t forget what he had told you about, what had happened to his family, what he had to do to protect Genya way back then. He’s lost family, friends, others… And you did too, but this wasn’t about you. Right now, you had to comfort someone who was very dear to you.

“I wish he was here too,” you spoke, leaning yourself towards him to rest a hand upon his shoulder. You hoped your gesture would help ease him. “I wish… everyone was here. Our families, our friends,” you lowered your head for a moment in respect, saying a silent prayer for those who had been lost. When you looked back up you found that he had turned to your direction, and you locked eyes with him. His expression was absolutely pitiful. You could feel him tense up when you began to involuntarily squeeze his shoulder faintly. “But we must live on. Live on for them, or else their sacrifices would not be worth anything. Please, Shinazugawa-san, know this,” you rested your other hand upon his, which was laying atop his lap. “Every person that you have ever loved is always watching over you, and they are so proud of you, including myself,” you smiled warmly as you concluded your words of reassurance.

Trapped in each other’s watery eyes, there was a sure understanding between you both. You knew how he felt, and he knew that of you. Ever so gently, Sanemi leaned forward to rest his forehead upon yours. His hand reached up and rested behind your head, pressing you even closer to him. As you both sat there beneath the dimming purple skies, you quietly thanked whatever higher beings allowed you both to survive hell and finally find paradise. Stars began peeking through the pastel-colored atmosphere, and the air felt fresher than it ever had before. You both shared a smile.

“Thank you for everything, L/N-san.”

✾✾

[cosmicauo]

     The stage has been set. Many attempts have been made, yet the orb of darkness continues to threaten the reality of this realm. … He can sense it though; the dark sphere is growing weaker, the light orb will soon be ready. There may be no visible signs of the eventual destruction, but the eyes of the King see the truth. This miniature age of corruption is reaching its end. The muck and mud has claimed its fair share of victims— some have managed to escape its grasp, while others have succumbed to the wicked evil. Others still were recklessly killed under the assumption that death was a better alternative to corruption. How many have died to this madness? How many have temporarily given in to the fear and paranoia that has rampantly spread throughout the island?

     The attacks on the orb itself have come with their own share of sacrifices. Warriors who pour all of their might into single blows, draining their own life force just for a small chance at victory. Humans who willingly risk their very sense of self to try and shoot down this menace. True heroes worthy of the title, fake weaklings pretending for greatness— all walks of life have converged on this one path. Not all of them have been able to reach this point. Some were foolish enough to burn out their very souls to try and end the darkness, only to fade away and join that darkness...

          “... Tragic...“ For a brief moment, his mind wanders to the Saint of Orleans. Surely she must have known that burning out her life would not have been enough. A pointless end, and for what? The foolish ideals she clings to, ones she believes are worth dying for? … In that regard... Yes— she truly is human at her very core, not a deity to be worshipped. An individual human’s actions are, by themselves, utterly pointless the moment they reach death. But what truly gives them meaning— that is what the living decide, with countless answers as possibilities.

     It is true that she, and all others who have fallen, will simply come back in due time thanks to the rules of this realm. But even so, does that negate the meaning of sacrifice? There are those who still suffer and ache from the pain of loss, who press on in order to give meaning to meaningless acts. So, what sort of meaning will the King of Heroes grant such pointless losses?

          “Hm— Very well, then. You have all made it very clear... that this story must come to an end. So you shall be the one to end it...“ The golden armor that dons the King— it vanishes without a trace, exposing his upper body and the red markings ingrained into his being. The Gate of Babylon tears open through reality once again, but only a single entry point is made. The handle of a lone weapon is exposed, a weapon that only the oldest King may touch. Before Gilgamesh, this foreign weapon rises from the rift in space— and all the while, the King of Heroes floats higher and higher into the boundless sky, the red light cutting through the darkness around him.

           “— Ea.“

     The weapon that this current reality cannot fully comprehend. A weapon from a time “before,” long forgotten and erased. Even by simply floating higher through the air, space around it distorts and flashes from its sheer might. The King’s ascent is slow and drawn out, making sure that all who look up to the sky can witness the end of this War of Corruption.

     When Gilgamesh’s ascent to the sky finally reaches an end, the spheres of darkness and light still loom over him. The pulsing is still present— does it acknowledge the threat before it? Does it continue to stay lost in its dreamless sleep, unaware of the reality around it— simply existing regardless of what the outside may do?

     Ea still requires time to prepare— yet it already begins to form a miniature galaxy around itself and its owner. The King stands proudly while basking in this light, arms now spread apart as he begins to address his “subjects” that have survived to this point.

          “— Citizens of Spirale! Your survival up to this point is certainly commendable! I, the King of Heroes— Gilgamesh, acknowledge your desire for victory!!“

     His words ring out far and wide, a grand announcement in its own right. His arrogance simply knows no bounds— by simply deciding to speak up, he has declared that his words must be heard by all who are still able. By what right does he claim to bear such importance? His own.

          “Therefore... I shall show you the truth— I speak of genesis!”

     At long last, he grabs the hilt of the foreign sword. All around him, a galaxy of small stars have taken form. A dazzling show of brilliance, one that mocks the self-proclaimed Stars that rule this realm. They will not step in to stop this conflict— not openly, at least. In that sense, they are akin to gods... Useless! The people shall instead bear witness to his creation, Ea’s destruction. The edgeless blade begins to spin all of its cylinders— the galaxy begins to compress and focus to a singular point; the tip of this abnormal weapon. Gilgamesh raises his blade far above his head, a shining beacon of the “Truth” he shall grant the enemy.

          ”Mortar of the stars! Heaven’s hell is the eve of creation’s celebration! Now... You will pay homage in death!“

     His targets have all aligned perfectly. The orb of light, the corrupted creation of the Stars, and the black sun... If the orb is unable to absorb the full might of Ea, then it will simply annihilate and destroy everything else in its blast. Here and now, the King declares his might for all of Spirale to remember. They shall burn this image into memory, to never forget the blow that separated Heaven and Earth. He pulls back his arm as his mocking grin grows wide, and with one thrust—

          ”—— ENUMA... ELISH——!!”

     The roar of sheer power is deafening. Crimson energy tears across reality itself— this is his declaration against NULL, or whatever force threatens this realm. For all the might they wield, the Star of Creation shall shred it all into oblivion.

[the-lone-wolffe]

Salem’s Sacrifice

Note: Death Omens Story. I wrote this one shot in one day, I can’t promise anything quality wise. 

Warnings: Death, Angst, Ask to tag

AO3

Salem hummed softly to herself, gently scrubbing at the plate in her hand, trying to get rid of the leftover breakfast grime. She pushed a strand of dark hair back behind her ear with a soapy hand before placing the dish in the drying rack.

It was quiet, peaceful. All except for the sound of water running, and her children playing a couple rooms over.

It was funny. She never could see herself a mother. She’d mostly known battle in her younger years, fighting in a war meant for the hunters before the witches inevitably got dragged in.

Leading a coven, a strike and recon team really, into the front lines on behalf of the Embers Family. Planning. Strategizing. Fighting. Surviving. Loss. Victory.

Settling down wasn’t in her future, she couldn’t see it.

But she was glad she eventually did. Because she wouldn’t trade the triplets or her husband for the world. The peace- or rather, a new form of chaos- was a nice change of pace from the fighting.

……

She was reaching for a mug, when a shadowed being appeared in the doorway to her left, leaning against the frame. Salem tensed, adrenaline pumping. She whirled around, ready to face the intruder.

…...

She frowned when she saw it was only Diavel. Setting the cup down in the sink, she leaned back on the counter and folded her arms.

“I’ve been telling you this for years now Diavel. You keep popping up like that and I’m going to find a way to kill demons.”

“If that were possible, Salem” Diavel’s voice was monotone, but he was smiling, “There is a list of demons I would’ve had dead by now.”

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Diavel had been asking about the triplets- how they were doing, if they had started showing signs of magical talent- when Salem noticed how quiet it had gotten.

She couldn’t hear the triplets playing. Couldn’t hear Thorne’s shouting, or Ebony’s quiet laughter, or Daemon’s complaints.

Couldn’t hear the sounds of their toys crashing together or falling to the ground.

Her gaze drifted towards the door leading into the living room, unknowingly holding her breath.

Something was wrong. She could feel it in the air.

She snagged a knife from the sink, slipping it into a dress pocket before hurriedly walking towards the door. Dark veins traveled up from her fingers to her wrists, and so on.

Something was wrong.

Diavel watched her strangely, slowly trailing behind her. Did he not sense it to?

“Sale-“

The demon was cut off by a shriek, a pained cry piercing through the air. Ebony’s, followed by Daemon’s crying and Thorne calling for her mother.

“MOM!”

Salem broke into a run, heart pounding wildly. So loud she couldn’t hear her footsteps as she stumbled around a corner, could barely hear her own anxious thoughts.

What was it? Had someone broken in? A shadow maybe? Someone from the war?

Or maybe they’d been playing rough and someone got hurt?

No, no then there would’ve been more noise.

There was a crash. The smell of wood burning.

It felt like hours had passed when she finally turned into the living room, looking around wildly for her children and the source of their screams.

She found them huddled in a corner. Ebony was holding his hands to his eyes, sobbing while Daemon hugged him close, face buried in Ebony’s shoulder. Occasionally he peeked out, before whimpering and hiding his face again.

Thorne stood protectively in front of them both, shaking and terrified, but defiant as ever.

A large, fiery demon loomed over Salem’s children, flames dripping like molten lava.  Fire had already begun to spread around the room.

It raised a hand, Thorne flinched.

“NO!”

Adrenaline, a protective instinct, urged Salem forward. Appearing between the triplets and the demon, she crossed her wrists above her head, forming a shield to block the demon’s blow.

She winced, the heat singing her skin as its fist came crashing down. Her eyes watered from the smoke, staring up at its face, at its snarl.

There was an all too familiar symbol etched into its forehead. The symbol of the Blair family.

……..

Everything seemed to stop.

The symbol of the Blair Family.

She glanced back at her children as the demon raised its fists for another strike.

She knew why it was here now.  

Leaving one hand up to uphold the shield, she lowered the other. Her eyes went black, shadows dripping from her arm.

Right as the demon swung for another hit, a clawed hand reached from the wall and grabbed at the demon. More and more appeared, dragging the entity towards the wall.

Salem kept her hand out, keeping the creature pinned. She stepped away from her children, facing it.

She’d buy them time. As much time as she could.

No matter how long that meant.

“Run. I’ll come find you.”

She was lying.

Thorne looked hesitant, glancing back at Ebony, who was grasping tightly onto Daemon’s shirt with one hand and covering his face with the other.

Salem felt a pit in her stomach, swirling with anger and determination at the sight of the burns her son was hiding. Her hand clenched, tightening her grip on the demon before her.

“But...Ebony-“Thorne started, only to stop when the demon screeched, struggling in its makeshift binds.

“I…I’ll make sure you’re all ok in a minute, ok sweetheart?” Salem gave a smile, teeth grit, “Ebony will be fine, but for now you need to go.”

She wouldn’t let it take them away. Wouldn’t let those people harm her children any further.

“T-take care of your brothers, ok?”

She meant goodbye.

She winced as the demon continued to struggle. The shadowed hands strained; the spell wouldn’t hold much longer.

The triplets needed to leave.

“Thorne-“

The young girl grabbed Daemon’s hand, quickly instructing him to grab Ebony and not let go. Then she ran, leading her brothers out of the room.

Salem finally exhaled the held breath, turning her gaze back to the demon. The binds were sizzling and burning, falling away one by one.

She whispered a name, eyes going black as the living room burst into flames.

“Diavel.”

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When Salem opened her eyes, she was sitting in a vast and endless space. Silent, deafening.

No going back now.

Before her stood Diavel, crisp and clean as always. He smirked, despite the obvious rage in his eyes.

“Ready to figure out how to kill a demon?”

She shook her head, standing shakily. Tears were starting to build up. Guilt and fear were rampant.

She didn’t know if time had frozen out there, if the demon was still trapped. Diavel never told her.

So time was of the essence.

“I’m sure we can work something out. It’s a lower demon after all, lesser if you will. If those blasted specter hunters can banish them, I’m sure we ca-“

‘Diavel.”  

Salem pushed her sleeve up, revealing her wrist. Taking a shaky breath, she extended her hand towards him.

She didn’t want to do this, per say. If she saw any other option, she’d have chosen to run with her children and get them far away. Find their father and run.

But she knew her family. They were persistent in their pettiness. They wouldn’t stop until she was dead, and then who would protect her children? Who would protect Diavel?

There was only one solution.

Diavel’s eyes traveled down to her wrist, widening in realization. “Salem...”

“Vengeance, I speak your name.”

‘Salem, don’t.”

She inhaled shakily, swallowing before continuing. Moments from when the triplets were babies flashed through her mind.

She saw the day Branwen proposed. The day she met him.

Saw Diavel teaching her ways of magic, secrets and knowledge many witches didn’t know.

“Diavel. Demon of the Blair Family, contracted to me.”

“Sa-“

“I withdraw my one, single demand.”

A symbol began to glow on her wrist; Diavel struggled as his hand moved on its own, moving to grab her’s.

He was crying. She’d never seen him cry.

“Salem, please-“

“I demand that you protect my children. That you be bound to them until their death. Keep them from harm, guide them when you can.”

His hand made contact with her’s. She looked up at him with a smile, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m sorry.”

The last thing she heard was Diavel screaming no, reaching out to her with his other hand, before she faded back to her realm.

The clawed hand of the fire demon stabbed into her chest. She gasped in pain, falling to her knees.

The last thing she saw was fire, and the photo hanging above the mantel. Of her family- Branwen, her husband, holding Thorne and Daemon in his arms while she held Ebony.

And she smiled, knowing now that they would stay together, safe and happy. Far, far away from the grasp of the Blair family.

[bugbeee]

Pyrrhic for Pale King or rubatosis for Nightmare King Grimm? Hireaeth for Hornet or liberosis for Hollow/Pure Vessel? Morituro for Ghost or scrosciare for Quirrel or Lemm? So many of these prompts are so good for Hollow Knight--I can't make up my mind which ones I like the most. Feel free to do however many you feel up to--don't feel pressure to do every single one. Pick and chose!

Cookie, you are the light of my life and I adore you. I hope you enjoy these! Prompt list from here!

Pyrrhic (won at too great a cost):

Sitting on his throne, the Pale King wondered if he should be happy. They had won. He had won. The Radiance was sealed, and the infection would no longer plague Hallownest. And yet, the roiling in his stomach would not cease. Abruptly, he stood up, unable to keep himself still any longer. The palace halls were silent save for the swish of his robes. His daughter had been sent to train with Vespa a scant few cycles ago, and Root...

Well. Root had left long ago.

Only his retainers remained, and even they grew quieter and quieter with each passing day.

Despite the sealing, he knew that something uneasy continued to lurk within his kingdom. In the end, he truly was a blind fool, despite his foresight. He had seen it when he first saw the Pure- the Hollow Knight before him, and he had seen it again as he sent it to fulfill their duty.

No cost too great, he had said. And yet, he could not stop himself from weighing the innumerable sacrifices he made for... for nothing. Root had left a scant few cycles before the Knight’s sealing, though she had confided in him that it was not because of love for her hollow child. After such a harrowing experience, she needed to retreat. She would return soon, she said.

Wyrm didn’t need his foresight to know that was not true.

The Gendered Child had been sent away for her own safety, and for his own sanity. She raged with the loss of her mother, and after the attempt on her life, she could not sleep without being plagued by nightmares. He knew that the palace was unhealthy for her, that every waking moment was torture-

So he sent her away. Despite the betrayal on her face as he did so. Despite her screams of abandonment.

But he had to. He had to, because the assassin brought rumours of an orange plague, because bugs were acting strangely and mentioning dreams of gold, because-

He had already failed once as a father. He would not give her a parent she didn’t deserve. Not when she already had the love of her mother and step-mother.

Unable to keep walking, Wyrm collapsed to the floor, burying his face in his hands.

This was meant to be victory, he thought bitterly. So why did it feel so much like loss?

Morituro (someone who is destined to die):

Elderbug had been the only resident of Dirtmouth for a long time now. He had seen travellers come and go, always waiting for a familiar face to pop back up and return. Hoping, that perhaps one of them would stay. But no. His town remained empty, and had done so ever since the cloud of sickly sweet rot and sickness had risen from the well on the outskirts of town, luring bugs in with enticing promises of riches and glory. He had never seen the city below that travellers spoke about with such fervent excitement, never felt the own tug of wanderlust pulling him down into the depths of the forgotten kingdom.

No, he was always happier at his home, welcoming those who came by, and hoping that perhaps this time, one of them would stay. Once upon a time, his town had been filled quiet contentment, bugs living in comfort and harmony. It had been a happier time, even with the quiet whispers of Hallownest’s fall. But the days of life within his village had been long gone, and soon enough, he was the only one remaining, waiting in vain for someone, anyone to return and stay. While he enjoyed the quiet, he preferred to spend it with another person. The loneliness and isolation that had spread across his village like an infection had changed that quiet into an empty silence.

And yet... that had slowly begun to change, all thanks to his small masked friend. They had introduced new bugs into his town, had rekindled the flickering life of Dirtmouth, had given him new hope. Shops began to reopen, people moved back in, and he was no longer alone. There was still the gentle quietness of his town, but no pervasive silence that gripped his very carapace. Just for that, Elderbug owned them a debt, yet they never asked for anything in return, instead being content to simply sit on the bench beside him and bask in each other’s’ presence. His fondness for the childlike bug was not unlike that of a grandfather, and he could not help the soft affection that rose within him whenever they returned.

Despite the stench below, despite the dead kingdom beneath his feet, Elderbug was content again. His town was full, gentle life having drifted back in with the appearance of his friend. He wondered when they would cease their wanderings in the caverns below, and finally join them all above. He would not keep them from exploring, but their increased disappearances made him worry all the same. He hoped that soon, soon they would settle down. Was a quiet life not enough? Was being surrounded by friendly bugs not an adventure in itself?

But it was not his place to give voice to these thoughts, not when his friend was so eager to travel. He gave a soft sigh, watching the gentle lights sway in the quiet breeze, eyes flicking between the well and the Stag Station. And then, finally, the door of the Station opened, and out hopped the little traveler, something small clutched within their claws. Relief and joy warmed Elderbug’s heart, and he eagerly welcomed them to the bench.

“Hello, my friend. It is good to see you in good health. I admit, I grew worried when I heard the screeching from below, but seeing you whole is reassuring,” he said softly as they approached him.

His eyes fell upon the delicate flower in their hands, and Elderbug blinked in surprise.

“Hm? What a beautiful flower!” he exclaimed. “Why are you carrying around such an exquisite bloom?”

They looked at him, eyes unreadable as ever, but there was a quiet sadness in their posture, lit up with the slightest hint of affection as they reached out to offer him the bloom. Elderbug choked at the gesture, tears springing to his eyes as he took the flower with trembling claws.

“Thank you, my friend. Suddenly, the world seems a little less faded. I will take care of this flower while you are gone, so we can enjoy it together when you return,” he said hoarsely, so touched by the gesture that he missed the hint of sorrow and regret within his friend. The little one carefully sat down in their usual spot, shuffling slightly as they became comfortable.

Elderbug smiled softly at them, and took up his usual position beside them, basking in their quiet presence, but they patted the bench.

“Oh? Do you wish for me to sit with you? I am quite happy standing, especially if you wish to rest after such an adventure,” he explained, but they shook their head, and patted the bench again.

“Very well, my friend. I would be happy to sit by your side.”

He let his old, weary body sit beside them, the cold metal a comforting balm on his aching limbs. They rested together until Elderbug could feel his strength returning to him and his friend’s slumped body straightened. They turned to look at him, tilting their head at the flower tucked close to his arm, empty eyes seemingly cataloguing every piece of him.

He chuckled softly at their examination, and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as his friend placed a claw over his. It was a fleeting gesture, yet comforting all the same, and Elderbug was reminded of a child grasping onto someone close for a shred of reassurance. They leapt off the bench before he could respond; only turning to look at him once as they headed towards the well. His friend lifted their hand in a small wave, and he could not help but think they looked so sad as they did so.

As though it was a final farewell.

“Next time,” he muttered, despite the hollow stone sat in his chest. “Next time I’ll ask them to stay.”

(Perhaps, had he known, he would have clung harder.)

Scrosciare (rain pouring down or waves hitting rocks):

Quirrel stared out beyond the lake, the soft crash of water against rocks echoing within his emptied mind. His tired eyes caught on the shimmering waves illuminated by the distant glow of lingering lumaflies. How strange to think that after all these years he would be in Hallownest again. His departure had been abrupt, spurred on his Madam’s eternal slumber. One end began there, and today, it would finally reach its conclusion. Even now, his memories were disjointed, caught on fragments of confusion and fog, but she still shone like a beacon in his mind, a gentle light guiding him within the tangled memories. If she were still here, she would disapprove of his plan, he thought. But she was not here.

She had been gone for a long time.

The soft patter of footsteps broke his musings, and he tilted his head towards his little friend, though his eyes never left the blue shore. It warmed him to know that despite the slow, stumbling death of Hallownest, he had still made a friend, and a dear one at that. Their silent presence had been a comfort throughout his journey through the decaying kingdom, and he had found himself eager to see his friend in every new place discovered. And now, they sat by him as he spoke fondly of being able to relive the beauty of Hallownest, of being able to meet them. They stayed as quiet as ever, and he couldn’t help but smile.

There was a quiet sadness about them, Quirrel thought to himself, and he wondered if they knew what he planned. His friend sat unmoving next to him, staring across the waters just as he had done a bare few moments ago. Together, they let the time slowly drift by, only the gentle flow of the waves giving any sense as to how long had passed. He sighed softly, and turned to face their friend, words ready to spill, but he paused. They were looking at him, eyes as empty as ever, but there was a mournful air around them, and a part of him thought that, were they able to, they would be crying.

“Friend?” he asked hesitantly.

They did not look away, studying him as intently as his Madam had shortly before-

Ah. So they did know then. Or at least guess.

“Do not worry about me, my small friend. I have wandered this world for a long time, have been lucky enough to experience more wonders and beauty’s than most bugs do in their life time. Mourn not for me, my dear friend. My duty has been fulfilled, and now I shall rest,” he said gently, letting his claw rest uncertainly on their head.

They seemed unconvinced, and took his hand with their own small ones, mask shaking in silent disapproval. Quirrel chuckled.

“Even without a voice, your scolding is clear. Tell me, what is there left for me to see?”

For him to live, went unspoken.

They swept a claw to the world around them, before pointing up, up, upwards.

“Hallownest is gone, my dear friend, choked by this infection. The village above will soon follow,” he murmured gently, but they shook their head vigorously again.

They grabbed their nail and swept it as though fighting some invisible foe.

“Oh? Shall you fight off the rest of this sickness then? Do you even know how?”

Do you know what it will cost, he did not say, instead staring at the little fellow besides him.

They nodded, dropping their nail and grabbing his claws again, staring hopefully up into his own face.

Well then.

“I see you won’t let me go that easily. Very well, my dear friend. I shall wait until you fight off this infection, so that I may see a clean Hallownest again. And who knows, maybe there will even be life again,” he said begrudgingly, but a small part of him was intrigued. Perhaps even excited. His Madam surely would hate for him to waste his life, certainly before even giving the revival of Hallownest a chance.

Waiting wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Not with his friend by his side, not with the quiet hope they still inspired. Quirrel had long since forgotten how or where the infection came from, or even how it was contained, aside from the Dreamer’s Seal, but he believed in his small friend. If anyone could do it, then surely, surely them.

“If that is the case, then I shall meet you above in Dirtmouth, once it is all over. But for now, I will enjoy this moment for a while longer. You are welcome to stay, or continue your quest, but your company is never unwanted.”

The little Ghost plonked themselves back next to him, and the two of them watched the lake together until Quirrel could feel his eyes closing, lulled into a gentle sleep with the steady comfort of his friend.

The waves lapped gently against the rocks.

[whatzaoverwatch]

The Reaper of The Opera Chapter 13: Love Never Dies (FINAL)

The ending come forth! I hope everyone enjoyed the journey of this au fic as I have. It’s great to return to writing again, having put the lengthy fics to the side for awhile after the traction fell short. If you have any interest on my other fics please check out my masterlist in my bio. Thank you for all the love and support and thank you once again for @stormcallart design of Phantom!Gabriel that really inspired me. I wanted to split this into an epilogue but hell I’ll just combined them both.

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Cruel fate had rested upon your shoulders. Your mentor now turned monster was now forcing you decide your future. Threatening the life of your childhood friend now fiancé for your love. To lose your last bit of light or be succumbed to the darkness once and for all. A choice that made you lose in either situation. Reapers sinister glare showing no mercy for the struggling Genji. Seeing your beloved being pressed further into the rocky wall. Rising from your place, that face of fear no longer cascading your form.

“Why do you give me this choice? No matter what I choose it will be in your favour.” You questioned, watching Genji try to shake free of Reapers hold.

“For the dramatics I suppose,” Reaper hummed, pressing the gun against Genjis temple as a warning, “He is the barrier between the love we could have. I give you a choice that I was never given upon my accident. I know what you will desire, but I also know who you truly are. You could never let your beloved die, I will spare him only if you become mine.”

“Why make her lie to you to save me?” He gasped out, looking over to you with a face of guilt, “[Name], forgive me. I tried to do everything I could for you. No matter what you decide, I just want you to know that I love you. I always have and I always will. I only want you to have the freedom he took from you. Deny him, don’t let him win. If it is my time to die, so be it. I already escaped death once, I’m afraid it may not favour me this time again. Don’t throw your life away for my sake.”

“Genji…” You mumbled. Seeing how much he sacrificed to you on several occasions. Giving his second life to you without a second thought. Unable to let him die from all he has been through. Reapers arm pressed against Genjis throat, cutting him from speaking any further.

“Don’t sway her emotions you little brat! I am willing to spare your life, don’t make me change my mind,” Threatening Genji, he leered over at you with a growl, “There is no turning back now. No use looking for pity or cries for help. What shall it be my dear? Do you end your days with me, or do you send him to his grave?”

“You were my teacher, my guardian and my hope. To think that at one point I would feel sorry for what happened to you, Gabriel. But now I can only spare nothing to you but hatred,” You told him, your stance firm and your eyes growing cold. Watching his stature tense at the sound of his old name. Shaking your head at what he had done to you after all of these years, “I gave you my heart and mind blindly. You used me, and you deceived me.”

The smoke of Reapers form fading. His demeanour not shifted by your words. Those thoughts of hatred and anger meaning nothing to him anymore. Clicking his shotgun at the ready, his darkened gaze grew weary of your speech.

“You are trying my patience [Name]. Make, your, choice.” Warning you one final time. Knowing if you continued hesitating, he would make the choice for you. To blast Genjis head onto the stone wall and taking you as his forever. Noticing that his opponent also waited for your response.

Looking at the men who had taken your heart, you knew your decision was set. Slowly approaching Reaper, he took no sign of letting his guard down. Reaching carefully over to him, you carefully rested your hand onto his burnt mark. Feeling his skin was cold as ice, his body trembling as if contact had never been experienced. Brushing your thumb gently under his jagged teeth, you could feel his shuddering breath from your touch. Guiding him closer to you and away from Genjis form.

Genji collapsed onto the ground, the pressure from Reapers hold taking the wind out of him. Catching his breath as he watched you gently caressed Reapers face into your hands. Keeping your attention upon the black irises before pulling him into a passionate kiss. Startling the wraith by the choice, he is left to be taken into the desired kiss of his dreams. Genji was left disheartened by the decision, turning away from your sacrifice. Dropping his weapon, Reapers guard was dropped entirely. Never minding the idea on if this was a trick or that you truly had chosen him. Feeling him slowly ease into the kiss with his own sense of desperation. Hands delicately cradling you like a porcelain doll.

After so long, he felt like he was human again. Shedding a single tear down his cheek from the love. But the feeling didn’t last, pulling away from you in a state of shock. Catching his breath to look upon your beauty. Gently placing a hand over your cheek. Finding himself breathless when you leaned into his touch. The faint smoke from his touch quickly reminded him of his own curse.

As much as he cherished you, he wondered how long you would last in his solitude. Would you still remained preserved for all eternity like him? Or would you eventually find your own death overtime? Unable to bare the thought of you losing your smile and song. He couldn’t go through with it, to take away the one thing that mattered most to him. Halting you from going for another kiss, stumbling back at the overwhelming fit of emotions. Wiping away the tear, trembling in his form to compose himself. Heading on over to his organ to hide himself away.

“I can’t...I cannot do this to you,” He confessed, his voice drained and powerless. Unable to look at the two of you in his state, “Forget about me, leave this place. Leave me now!”

Reaper had spotted the ring he had taken from you. The glimmering dragon gazing upon him in judgement. Tossing the mockery towards Genji, a token of his victory on his behalf. The metal bouncing against the stone and onto his side. The younger man was speechless of Reapers decision. He was certain that he would’ve been forever heartbroken. Taking the opportunity to grab the ring and his blade that rested just against the rocky shore.

You kept your focus on the trembling Reaper. Knowing he had given up on his life with you in an instant. The kiss revealing what he longed for and what he could never have. He was letting you go. All because he loved you. Denying Genji your hand before he could reach it, knowing you had to make your final goodbye to your angel of music. Placing a delicate hand upon his back, he froze in his place to look over at you. A silent gaze upon you both was enough to share your final moments. The look of grief building inside, finally pulling away from your touch.

“Go!” He commanded one last time. His voice echoing the darkened cave once more.

Taking your leave, turning to Genji who still held his hand towards you. Quickly going to his side for a reunited embrace, taking in the moment with your love in silence. Taking your hand, he guided you towards the gate, heading towards your freedom. Remaining by each others sides by returning to back where you came from.

Reaper kept his back towards you both as you left him once and for all. Unable to look back knowing his mind would be changed when he saw you again. The withheld tears of torment finally coming forth when he could no longer hear your voice. Only greeted to the sounds of the music box that slowly began to play its familiar tune. Approaching the aged box, he looked upon the monkey that had gently tapped its cymbals to the music.

A box gifted to him long ago by his friends the moment the theatre had opened. The memories burned away by the scattered photos beneath his feet. Kneeling himself against the ground, he listened to his faint lullaby. Accepting his fate that was before him. A hand closing the box once it played its final tune.

“It’s over, the Music of the Night.” He croaked, letting his final burst of shadows consume him into the darkness. The final roar escaping him in his agony. The candles slowly flickering out one by one. Black roses scattered across the water, floating against the surface and away.

-

The flames had long destroyed the theatre. Empty and hollow from the destruction. The lair soon discovered by McCree and the rest of the group. Having searched for it long after to seek out the spirit that once haunted their home. Jesse lead them to where Ana had directed him thereafter to discover the hiding place for himself. He searched around the dimly lit area, spotting the scattered paper and broken mirrors.

Kneeling with a torch in his hand to see torn and burnt pictures of the original stage group altogether before the theatre. The memory of it grew heavy in the stage-handlers heart. Continuing his investigation around the place for any sign of life aside from his own. His journey leading him before a bed, where only two things of interest were presented before his very eyes.

A withered music box that he had once seen before, and an infamous mask resting on its side. Picking up the mask, he gazed upon its features. Knowing deep down that his search had finally ended. Looking to the group, mask in hand as he could no longer feel the presence of the spirit around him.

-

Present Day

Maximilian had made his final collections before making his way to the exit doors. Counting over the profit he had received with great disappointment. Overestimating peoples desires for some aged theatre antiques to turn in a decent pay. Knowing that this would be the last time he decided to take in this sort of auction in his future. Just as he was about to lock up, he felt a presence behind him.

“I’m sorry, but I am afraid that the auction is closed.” He informed whoever was behind him. Not wanting to be bothered by an already disappointing day. The person behind him spoke up in a gruff voice.

“I am not here for any profit; I just want to take a look.” Maximilian simply rolled his eyes, turning himself around to the gruff man before him.

“This isn’t a tourist attraction. If you want to stand around and gaze upon memorials I highly suggest-” In his hopes that he could shoo the blue eyed man away, his words were cut by a roll of cash that was presented before him. Twice the amount of money that had been raised from the auction before his very eyes. Taking one look at the older man, noticing his two scars upon his face, he carefully took the cash with a clear of the throat, “You’ve got twenty minutes. I am a terribly busy man you know.”

“It’s more than I need.” The man grunted, stepping inside while Max opened the way for him.

Allowing the man to have his time alone inside, he waited patiently by the doorway. Double checking the money that he had received. Not prying any questions on the man’s reasons. After all, he could never turn away from cash.

The mystery man walked into the theatre in complete silence. His black and red gloves ghosting over the rust and dusty surfaces around him. Approaching the stage to be greeted by a set on untouched auction items.

A flood of memories greeted upon the older man while he approached each piece one by one. Old costumes torn and props that were half broken. Desks and chairs that had been destroyed from the fire. A salvaged chandelier that still contained its beauty after so many years. Taking in the musty air with a sigh.

“Lot of memories of this place…they weren’t all bad.” He muttered to himself. Drifting himself to memory lane by everything he looked upon.

Reminded of the glamour and glory the theatre once held. Cherishing the applause and songs that once filled the opera house. The friends he had met in his time throughout the years. All the laughter and hard work put into make the Overwatch Opera Company come alive.

When the first fire had happened, almost everything was lost. Finding it difficult to take in the consequences and suffering in the blame. Searching for his own peace, he wasn’t at all shocked to hear of the Opera Houses final fall. Receiving messages from his beloved friend Ana on the aftermath on what had occurred.

She had taken Fareeha back home to mend their relationship. The managers had finally retired and wish to simply watch over other shows instead of taking charge. McCree had set out to do his own work, trying to reflect from the actions taken place. The infamous Hana Song announced her tour with Lucio and his partner Baptiste. The other dancers had returned to their countries living out their lives with their loved ones. He was especially surprised to hear that you had left to Hanamura with Genji and Hanzo. Last she heard, you and Genji were expecting your first child together.

He was unaware of the full extent of what had occurred to you. Finding himself taken back on what his old friend had been up to. But he knew of the madness Gabriel succumbed to. Unable to break the guilt of being partly responsible of his fate. It took him awhile to convince himself to make his way back to look over the condition of his old Opera Company. But with the Opera House doors finally closed and the Reaper no longer heard from, he decided to take the risk.

Taking it all in one last time before finally turning away from his past once and for all. Looking out to the theatre, he could picture the audience that once took place in the broken seats. Taking in his words as he presented the show. Memories faded to ash not once but twice.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he turned to take one final walk out of the building. Before taking his steps, the lights flickered from the once broken chandelier. Pausing his reminiscing to hear a faint organ playing beneath his feet. Filling the silence with melody once more. Heart stopping at the familiar music in his ears.

Rotating him his place to hear the music once again. What once was lost, remained within its walls. He knew he could not escape that song. To remind him that The Reaper of The Opera could never be forgotten.

The End

[naruwitch]

Code Geass: Paladins of Voltron Chapter 36: At Least With Sorrow

Shirley wished with all her heart that this was simply a nightmare that she would wake up from at any moment and find herself wrapped up cozily under the covers in her room on the Castleship. Possibly snuggling one of the pill bug aliens in the process (Milly claimed she'd already done it several times and had a few pictures to keep for 'later.' A.k.a. blackmail material in its finest).

But the screams from below and the flashes of violet lasers and red-lined ships only confirmed the hellish reality as through blurred tears, she and Zinnia smashed through a group of about five Galran fighters.

With a battle cry, Rivalz used Polaris's ice ray to freeze multiple fighters, and it was quickly followed up by Zen shrieking through them with her jaw blade active. The ice did nothing to quell the explosion that occurred a second later.

While from their position in the air, it seemed that the Galra were only targeting the area around the SAZ, they knew it was only a matter of time before they started spreading into the settlement area, and the Paladins knew that the Galra didn't care, and they certainly wouldn't take the time to see who was Japanese and who was Britannia before destroying any building or home in their path. The Emperor would gladly sacrifice an entire area of the empire if it meant getting his way.

'Mom, Dad,' Shirley thought sorrowfully, 'please hang on!'

"Heads up!" another voice that Shirley couldn't place right away shouted through the comm. Snapping her head up, the Orange Paladin gasped as she saw what looked like a glowing blade penetrating the center of a Galra ship before swiftly cutting through the front of it. Once the blast cleared from the destroyed ship, Shirley had to take a moment to gape in awe at the sleek black Knightmare frame that was now hovering not too far from Zinnia.

The Seishin Knightmare frame itself was black and dark grey, but all of the crevices that pieced the Knightmare together were glowing a faint blue color, identical to the Balmera crystal she knew was powering it.

"Thanks, um…" Shirley hesitated before the pilot answered.

"Asahina," the pilot responded, and Shirley's brain spat out the image of the bespectacled member of the Four Holy Swords. One of Colonel Tohdoh's men.

"Thanks, Asahina," she corrected quickly.

Though she couldn't see him, she was sure she felt him nod before his Knightmare sped off after another Galra fighter.

Around in the air, the Seishins, though some were more unsteady than others, swung and swiped at the fighters with the same blades, easily keeping up with the fighters' speed. Several were firing multiple rounds of laser bullets from their built-in shoulder guns while also trying to avoid being shot out of the sky as well.

Two Knightmares in particular, stood out among the rest. The red glow of the Guren's Radiant Surger was hard to miss, and there was a Seishin with two dark blue appendages by its head, almost like a strange cape.

The same Seishin sliced a Galra fighter clean in two with a spinning strike before expertly dodging a barrage of shots from another. Four more hovered around it, picking off and dispatching any fighters that targeted the first.

Many Knightmares were also descending towards the SAZ, lasers already firing at any Sutherland and Gloucester they could see, forcing the Britannians to stop shooting the people below and divert their attention to the Seishins above them.

A streak of purple and blue flashed by two ships before they exploded. Yoru roared thunderously as she pounced onto another, ripping the top of the fighter clean off.

"Suzaku!" Nunnally exclaimed once she saw the Purple Lion, "Suzaku, is Euphie…?"

There was silence for a moment until he answered, "She's in a cryopod. She'll be fine."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Milly gasped.

"Yes, I'm glad to hear that…" Lelouch whispered the relief he felt rippling through his very bones.

"Zero!" Ohgi exclaimed, his Seishin gliding next to Zen, "How do we know who's on whose side?"

"Cornelia and her guard are with us, along with the Glaston Knights," Zero answered, his link open to all Black Knights, "Other than that… If they're shooting at the Galra, they're with us. Protect the people and destroy any Galra ship you see!"

"Got it!" Ohgi said before steering away.

"Right… Hold on, Nunnally," he warned his sister before addressing his fellow Paladins, "Time to take this battle! Form Voltron!"

While to the Paladins, it felt like it several moments to form the robot, to an outsider's perspective, it seemed the Lions joined in a flash of light, and with barely a blink of an eye later, Voltron stood in their place.

"Form bow!" Zero ordered.

Shirley plunged her Bayard into Zinnia's port, and Voltron's bow and arrow formed instantly. A single arrow formed in Voltron's hands, and he pulled back on the bow's string. Multiple targets emerged on the Paladins' screens within the cockpits—dozens of Galra fighters about to meet a fiery end.

"FIRE!"

In a flash of blue, the arrow was released.

Despite the promise of providing back-up from the ground, Cornelia's forces, the few who were actually listening to her anyway, were having zero luck against any Galra vessels that shot near them or descended low enough for their bullets to reach. Even the Hadron cannon being fired from the Le Fey was only having partial success, only melting the ship's outer metal instead of destroying them. The Blaze Luminous shielding was taking significant damage as well.

They were able to eliminate several Knightmare frames that were still firing at the escaping Japanese. Despite being locked up for almost a month, Cornelia had piloted a Gloucester long enough that her muscle memory easily allowed her to dive into the hoard. She didn't earn the moniker Goddess of Victory for no reason after all.

She was also certain that most of the other Britannian Knightmares, besides her own hand-picked men and the Glaston Knights, were only assisting her because they didn't want to end up on the wrong end of her Knightmare's lance. They could weed out the scum later, and she would do it personally if she had to.

There was a flash of light above their heads, and Cornelia smirked when she saw Voltron appear in the air, fire an arrow, then blast off into the main fray.

"No!"

Said smirk quickly faded with Darlton's cry as one of the Glaston Knightmares was engulfed in flames from a fighter's blasts. Said fighter was destroyed moments later by the custom red Knightmare with the strange claw. Didn't Lloyd say that one was called the Guren?

"Alfred!" Edgar Darlton exclaimed before swerving to avoid a barrage of blasts himself.

Cornelia grit her teeth. While they had finally got back-up via the sky, they were still taking heavy losses. Their Knightmares were simply not equipped to deal with the Galra ships.

"Nonette!" Cornelia exclaimed over the comms, "Any word from the other Knights?!"

"No, nothing!" the Knight of Nine said, impaling a Sutherland with her spear, "It's weird! It's like something is jamming my communication with them."

"Perhaps they-augh!" whatever Bart Darlton was about to say was cut off as a rain of lasers practically cut his Knightmare in two before it also exploded like his brother's.

"Asplund! Croomey! Any word from Schneizel?!" the princess demanded next. As much as she wanted to kick her brother's butt for nearly killing Euphemia back on the island, they needed all the help they could get right now. In fact, it was strange that Schneizel wasn't already dispatching his own men onto the battlefield. So why wasn't he doing so? He wouldn't sit back and simply watch this!

"No, nothing from the Viceroy!" Cecile's voice shouted through the comms, "The Le Fey is taking heavy-"

Cecile was cut off by a large crash on the other end of the comm, and looking up, Cornelia saw the airship take a heavy hit from the side. From the laser's size, Cornelia could only guess that the blast came from one of the giant ships where the other fighters were flying out of.

"Oh, dear! We're going down!" Lloyd exclaimed from the ship.

Fortunately, the Le Fey didn't get far, as several of the space Knightmares latched onto the ship and were able to slow its descent to the ground. She saw several fighters fire at them, a couple exploding, but not before the escape pods fired from the main body.

"Princess, look!" Guilford exclaimed, his Knightmare halting and looking at the sky. Above them, Voltron's weapon had transformed from a bow into the giant sword they had first seen when Colonel Tohdoh had been broken out of his prison. The robot was flying straight towards the closest cruiser and, with a mighty swing, much like how the original Avalon was destroyed, sliced straight through it, dragging the sword with a metallic tearing along before exiting out the other end. The cruiser erupted into an inferno, lighting up the sky as if a second sun had appeared above them.

Voltron shot directly for its next target, not wasting precious seconds, the sword shrinking to normal (or normal in giant robot cases) size, slicing through ships and Galran forces almost every second.

Reinvigorated by her brother's attack, Cornelia charged forward, a righteous battle cry issuing from her throat, not even bothering to see if her men were following her as she knew already they were.

Commander Corza frowned as a large chunk of her forces were taken out in Voltron's counterattack. While she knew that such sacrifices were necessary, it still seemed like a blow to her pride to see one of the cruisers go down.

A glow of blue drew her attention, and her eyes narrowed as she saw the Altean's wretched castle itself join the fray, lasers and shots firing from the particle barrier and its other weapons systems. She growled when she saw a concentrated shot rip through dozens of ships and take out the front end of the second cruiser; however, the ship was able to remain airborne.

The control panel in front of her flashed red, signaling an incoming call, which she promptly answered. The face of Zarkon's trusted witch greeted her, her hood casting a shadow over her eyes.

"Commander Corza," Haggar addressed, "recall your remaining forces and regroup at once."

"Vrepit sa," she intoned with a salute before the video call was terminated. As ordered, the crew pulled her main cruiser away from the planet's atmosphere, and she commanded the remaining straggling Galra to retreat.

Corza couldn't help but scowl. Those fools on this backwater planet only managed to decimate so many of her troops because Voltron was kind enough to protect them.

"But…" she smirked sadistically, "Enjoy this small reprise while it lasts, you fools. It's only a small taste of what fate awaits your people."

Seeing that the Galran forces were pulling back, the Black Knights took this as their cue to land on push back the remaining Britaiannain forces, which wasn't too hard. One look at the Seishin Knightmares' weapon arsenal sent most anti-Numbers Britannians running or surrendering on the spot. What really sent them running was the Castle of Lions itself landing in the now destroyed area that would have been the SAZ. Lelouch was grateful for this. While the castle had a limited number of cryopods, he knew there were other medical supplies they could still use to assist.

"Cornelia!" Lelouch exclaimed, landing near his sister's Gloucester (Voltron had dispersed as the castle began to descend), the hatch of which had opened up to reveal the ex-princess. For the most part, she seemed unharmed, though she had a fair stream of blood coming from her forehead. She must have hit her head at some point in the fight.

"I'm fine!" she replied, waving him off, "It's not me you need to worry about right now."

Lelouch grimaced, then nodded. He ordered a small handful of Black Knights to create a perimeter around the zone, at least until the castle's particle barrier turned on again, but he knew that several Japanese would be making their way over from beyond the barrier's reach, so he informed Allura to keep it down for now. He then grabbed a first aid kit that all the Lions were equipped with and exited Zen to try and help any wounded he could.

As he approached a small family, the mother of whom was cradling a girl no older than ten, he saw from the corner of his eye that the other Paladins and Black Knights were doing similar acts, and he even saw the elevator from the Castle of Lions descending, likely with Coran and C.C. to help and possibly escort heavily wounded to the healing pods. He ignored the look of awe that the family, especially the child, gave him as he helped pull the girl's arm into a sling. After checking over the mother and father, he ordered them to start making their way to the castle, where they would be further accommodated inside.

This pattern continued for what felt like hours. Look for an injured human, patch them up as best you can, then send them (or flag another able-bodied person over) towards the castle. Repeat.

During this time, Suzaku managed to dig Cecile and Lloyd out of the now-destroyed Le Fey, and Nonette followed behind Rai after helping her out her Gloucester to assist with the injured.

Zero was about halfway through the strange Altean wrapping gauze (he was fairly certain he had bandaged a good few dozen civilians already and wasn't in the mood for his brain to hurt as he thought about how this is possible) when the particle barrier flashed to life above him, frightening the teen that he was wrapping the ankle of.

"It's okay," Lelouch assured him, "that's up to protect us."

He tied off the bandage before shooing the teen off towards the castle, supported by a girl around his age.

Looking up, almost automatically ready to attend to the next injured civilian, Lelouch had to blink to see that almost everyone was already attended to or making their way to the Castle.

"Lelouch…"

The Black Paladin jumped a little and turned to see that Nunnally had wheeled her way out of Zen and found him. His heart nearly shattered when he saw the look on his sister's face, her eyes brimming with tears as she sadly gazed over the landscape.

"Big brother, what are we going to do now?"

Lelouch could only sigh, "I don't know, Nunnally," he murmured, "I'll think of something soon."

Nunnally just nodded, hugging her sides and desperately trying to hold her tears in.

She gasped when she felt her brother's arms encircle her, and her tears finally overflowed, and she clung to him as she let it all out.

Lelouch was also silently crying under the mask, but these tears weren't just of sorrow.

'Charles zi Britannia,' he thought through gritted teeth, a hot red rage building in his chest, 'I swear… you will pay for this atrocity!'

It was a rare yet terrifying sight to behold when Schneizel el Britannia was angry. Out of all the Royal Family members, the Second Prince was considered one of the calmest and most level-headed of the emperor's children. Not to say that he didn't get frustrated or annoyed from time to time, but everyone knew that it took a lot for Schneizel to lose his temper.

And right now, he was at his boiling point.

The Viceroy's office doors swung open with a resonating bang as the Second Prince stormed out and walked briskly down the hall. A flabbergasted Kanon matched his speed while a profusely sweating Bartley actually had to jog to keep up with the two.

"Get me an audience with the emperor this instant!" Schneizel snapped at the closest officer he could lay eyes on, most of whom were scrambling trying to establish order again within the palace itself. It didn't help that Bismark, Gino, and Anya had mysteriously vanished shortly before the emperor's announcement.

"Your Highness, all of our communications with Pendragon have-urgh!"

The officer was cut off as a barrage of lasers melted through him like butter, dropping dead to the ground.

"Dear god…" Kanon gasped before the three registered the sound of metal clamping against the tiled floor. Schneizel's eyes narrowed as several silver robots crowded the halls, either taking the palace staff hostage or shooting the ones who fought back on the spot.

Staying calm, Schneizel slowly lifted his hands in surrender, and he saw that Kanon and Bartley were mirroring him. It would be foolish to get killed now.

"Wh-what is the meaning of this?!" Bartley stuttered before feeling a sharp butt of the robot's gun against his back, pushing him and the others forward.

The robots lead them outside where Schneizel saw several more robots corralling soldiers away from guarding the Knightmare frames.

"So…" a purr of a voice drew Schneizel attention to the center of the courtyard, where several dark grey ships were parked. In the midst of the robots, he spotted a purple furry being with a slender yet muscular figure, large cat-like ears, yellow glowing eyes, and hair (at least he was sure it was hair) tied in several braids and tied back. Her armor was bright red, accented with black and dark grays. The woman (?) held out a long slender blade to the prince's neck, "...This is my partner, is it? I'll admit, I find myself disappointed."

"Why you-!" Bartley gasped in offense despite the situation, "You dare raise your blade to a-"

The man was promptly shut up as burning pain shot through his head, emanating from his right ear. The man shrieked and clutched the area now flowing with blood where his right ear once was, now hanging precariously from the tip of the alien's blade.

"Oops," Corza sneered insincerely, "I couldn't figure out where your off button was. I bet it's underneath all of that fat you're lugging around. Perhaps I'll save you the trouble and shave some off, hmm?"

This sadistic threat coupled with the pain from his severed ear had Bartley collapsing to his knees, keening and sobbing like a frightened child.

"Enough," Schneizel said as calmly as possible, "There is no need for violence here. What do you want? Present your terms, and my men and I will adhere to them."

Corza chuckled mockingly, returning her sword to Schneizel's neck, "So, there is someone with a brain here after all. Well, for your information, your so-called 'emperor' insisted I keep you alive, which by the way, Lady Haggar only felt the need to agree to because you're more useful as a prisoner at the moment. But let me make one thing clear," Corza leaned close to Schneizel's face, "behave yourself. I may have orders but… As the saying goes, 'everyone makes mistakes' now, don't they?"

Schneizel fought to keep a straight face. This creature reminded him too much of Luciano Bradley in terms of bloodlust, and from the demonstration with Bartley's ear, she wasn't lying either about killing them if they stepped out of line.

As of this moment, he was in a deadlock.

The best he, and hopefully his subordinates, had of surviving was to accept their situation and wait for the right moment to either escape or fight back.

From the outside, the SAZ seemed completely deserted, now laying in ruins, and the bodies of dozens of Japanese men, women, and children littered the streets, all lost to a selfish emperor's order.

At the center, though, shining like a star in a moonless sky, a large cyan dome illuminated the battlefield, the survivors of the SAZ all herded safely inside… For now.

Many of the survivors were still in need of medical treatment, so all of the cryopods in the med bay were quickly filled. Coran pushed the pods into their highest and fastest setting that could be used safely so that they could attend to as many injured as possible.

The rest (both Japanese and Britannian) who were mostly uninjured or only suffered fairly minor injuries were currently gathered in the Castleship's ballroom. Above the crowd, situated on the balcony, stood Nunnally, Guilford, Darlton, Nonette, Ohgi, Sayoko, Tohdoh, Kaguya, and Kirihara. Zero was standing in the very center of them. Cornelia, Lloyd, and Cecile had also been brought up to the Castleship, but Cornelia had insisted on checking on Euphemia first, and Lloyd and Cecile kindly (being the word Lloyd used) offered their services to Rakshata's research team in the Knightmare bay.

In the front of the group on the balcony, Rover hovered faithfully, waiting for the signal from Rai to begin a worldwide broadcast.

It was time for Earth to unite, to fight against the intruders who had invaded not only their country but their very planet, the planet that all humans called home.

The Galra may have surprised them, but now Voltron had a little surprise for them.

"All set on my end, Zero!" Rai's voice crackled in Zero's commlink, "Whenever you're ready."

"And this will be broadcast to every electronic device on the planet?" he inquired.

"Yes, this program should keep any viruses the Galra develop at bay for a while."

"Very well," the Black Paladin nodded, "Begin."

"Got it!"

Zero could hear the righteous fury in his half-brother's (Lelouch was still getting used to calling Rai that) voice as Rover beeped in affirmation, and his camera blinked three times, signaling him to start.

At that moment, every digital device, televisions, laptops, jumbotrons, and even smartphones were hacked simultaneously, all broadcasting this very message.

It wasn't just Japan, though. It was broadcasting in the Chinese Federation, the European Union, and all other nations of the world were tuning in to this announcement.

"Attention, people of the Earth," Zero began loudly and dramatically, "and all who are oppressed by the empire of Britannia! Long have I waited, all through the struggles against Britannia's injustices, I've waited for them to come to their senses! The Special Administrative Zone of Japan, created by the kind-hearted Princess Euphemia was a genuine attempt to unite the world against a common enemy and end the fighting that has long since plagued our world, spearheaded by the fascist Britannian Empire! And how was she repaid for this act of selflessness?! Betrayed by the very man she called 'father'! Who would prefer to throw his lot in with a hostile alien regime and sell out his own world to save his own skin!"

The people down below began to scream in outrage. Not only the Japanese but the brave Britannians who willingly chose to oppose the emperor's actions.

"Never forgive the emperor!"

"Murderer!"

"Filthy coward!"

"Hypocrite!"

"Burn in hell Charles zi Britannia!"

"But fear not!" Zero continued when the cries started to die down, "For from this moment forward, we hereby declare the independence of Area Eleven from Britannian subjugation! But don't take this to mean the resurrection of your fallen nation! It is the birth of something new, a nation where nobody is oppressed for their gender, race, ideology, or even species! This is… The United States of Japan! And with that, I also hereby announce the formation of the Voltron Coalition, with its first member being the Planet Earth, and the nation of the United States of Japan led and protected by the Black Knights!"

This announcement resulted in even more cheers from all the Black Knights, Paladins, and gathered citizens.

'The United States of Japan?' Suzaku thought as he looked up at Zero from the crowd. He had to give Lelouch credit, he was going all the way and showing no signs of slowing down.

'They've done it,' a fanatically smiling Diethard hidden among the audience thought, 'Despite everything, they've actually created a whole new nation!'

"Once the land of Japan breathes freedom once more, we will continue our crusade of freedom to the rest of the planet, from the tyranny of Britannia and the Galra alike. From there, our cause will continue to spread beyond, reaching every planet and people in the universe, until the cries of the free will never be extinguished again! For freedom!"

"For freedom!" the crowd roared in response, fists pumping in the air.

"For freedom!" Kallen shouted, followed by Rai, Tamaki, Chiba, Asahina, Urabe, Senba, and all the rest of the Black Knights in the crowd.

"For freedom!" Ohgi shouted, raising his fist high, along with Kirihara, Kaguya, Sayoko, and even Tohdoh raised his katana. "For freedom!"

Even Guilford and Darlton, though hesitant at first and feeling out of place, raised their fists and joined them. "For freedom!"

"My first objective was successful. Princess Euphemia li Britannia is dead. However, unfortunately, I could not fulfill the second objective regarding Princess Nunnally. Forgive me, my Lords."

V.V. couldn't keep the small scowl from his face at this news as he and Charles stood tensely on Haggar's command ship. Nebrios was their most skilled assassin in the Geass Order. His Geass, dubbed 'Ward of Absolute Suspension,' was the perfect weapon for assassination and other related jobs. Therefore, it was a no-brainer on who would be responsible for removing his two meddlesome nieces. Well, at least one was out of the way. He could deal with Nunnally later.

"That's fine," Charles intoned next to V.V., "We still have time to correct this error. Remain on standby until further instruction."

Nebiros glanced at V.V. from his side of the screen, and he nodded. It still irked V.V. that Charles insisted on capturing Nunnally instead of simply killing her (the true order V.V. gave out). It seemed even in death, his brother was still soft with anything involving that bitch Marianne.

"Yes, Your Highness," Nebiros bowed before cutting off communication.

"I warned you, did I not?" the voice of their newest 'ally' made the twins jump and turn around. Almost melting from the shadows, Haggar approached the pair, "Once again, you underestimated the Paladins as well as Voltron. That is what led to this failure and all your past failures until now."

Charles scoffed, "They're only children! They-"

"And yet you yourself use children to do your own dirty work," Haggar interrupted with a sneer, "Your arrogance is blinding your judgment. Fail to contain it, and it will be your downfall."

"How dare you-" V.V. choked as Haggar raised her hand, causing his body to be engulfed in a violet aura and rise from the ground. The immortal's hands clawed at a non-existent hold around his neck before he felt himself being thrown backward and crashing hard against one of the ship's steel pillars. He felt several vertebrae in his back snap on impact as he cried out in agony.

"Victor!" Charles exclaimed, but he froze as Haggar raised her hand towards him as well, forcing him to his knees.

"Remember our agreement," Haggar hissed, "Earth will be yours to rule, but only from within the Galra Empire. As of this moment, you are both servants of Emperor Zarkon. Do I make myself clear?"

As V.V. struggled to sit up through the pain as Charles bowed submissively, though he grit his teeth furiously.

A low beeping sound drew Haggar's attention to the main screen again, and she waved her hand to answer the call.

The being that appeared on the other end made Charles's blood run cold. He was sure in another life, he would have been in a similar position, with those under his command cowering below him.

V.V. also, through the pain of his slowly repairing back, felt himself shaking in genuine fear at the sight of the figure before them.

Now, they were the ones cowering as the face of Emperor Zarkon flickered onto the screen.

"My Lord," Haggar bowed in respect, "have you successfully received our latest weapons?"

"Yes," Emperor Zarkon's deep, haunting voice vibrated, "the druids are making final preparations. When they are ready for launch, I myself will be joining you at your location, Haggar."

Haggar's poisonous smirk widened, "Of course, my Lord."

Meanwhile, back on Earth, the Castle of Lions was a buzz of activity. After Zero finished his speech for the entire planet to see, the Black Knights, along with their latest Britannian recruits, got right to work. Coran was herding the Britannians down the armory to fit them in their spacesuits and then give them a crash course of how the suits functioned and how to properly use the Seishin Knightmare models.

Despite the crew's hustle, though, there was a layer of distress as well. While the Paladins and Black Knights managed to rescue many of the SAZ's attendees, many more died, and even more were succumbing to their injuries before they could be placed into the cryopods in time. Even though the pods were working at near overdrive, and human doctors and some Altean medical droids that Coran managed to reactivate were treating them, the reality was that even they couldn't save everyone, and the infirmary was still overflowing with injured.

Nunnally looked on with sorrow as she saw one of the pods with a young child inside. The little girl had been shot several times in the chest and stomach, and her arm had gotten badly mangled in the attack. Coran was honestly unsure if the pod could completely fix it. Even if it repaired the muscles, the nerve damage was extensive, meaning she may never have full use of her arm again.

Lelouch and C.C. together managed to shoo Cornelia out of the medical bay to get fitted in her armor with the promise she would be updated on Euphemia's condition.

So far, Euphie was stable, though Coran did note that the assassin who attacked her knew what he was doing. She had been lucky that the bullet had only nicked her heart wall. If she had been brought up only a few minutes later, she would have likely bled out and went into cardiac arrest. The cryopods could pull someone from the brink of death if they are put inside in time, but they couldn't do anything with a corpse.

The pod had frosted over what was below Euphie's neckline to preserve her modesty. Due to the severity of the injury, they hadn't had time to change her into a cryosuit. This wouldn't alter the healing function, but it was likely that most of her dress would dissolve during the process. From what they could see from her face, though, she didn't appear to be in any pain.

"The fellow in the third cryopod should be done in another varga," Coran informed, the depressed quiet of the room getting to him.

"That's good," Shirley whispered half-heartedly.

The feel of death and destruction was being felt by all of the Paladins, feelings of sorrow, anxiety, and even rage permeating the room, though some were better at hiding it than others. Rai and Kallen looked especially angry, but the clenched fists that Suzaku and Lelouch shared made it clear what their feelings were as well.

"Dammit…" Kallen muttered, clenching her teeth and fists so hard she was sure they'd be bleeding if she was barehanded.

Despite the Paladins' effort to keep their feelings suppressed, Allura showed no such action.

"What kind of disgusting, ludicrous, quiznacking kazrlgi must you be to willingly join the Galra!" she ranted furiously whilst pacing. She looked two seconds from tearing her hair out, "How can someone be so stubborn and shameless?! How could…" the princess faltered, "...How could it come to this?"

"Why are we acting so surprised?" Rai asked bitterly, "We knew with Haggar on Earth, the rest of the Galra weren't far behind. Maybe she struck a deal with the emperor. One that he couldn't turn down."

"A deal that includes enslaving his planet and people with himself on top?" Milly asked skeptically, "Since when does Zarkon actually agree to a partnership like that? From what we've seen of the psycho, he doesn't seem like the type."

"He isn't," Coran confirmed, "Alfor attempted to negotiate a peaceful solution with Zarkon when he was still alive, but he couldn't sway him from his ways."

"I'm quite shocked that Charles agreed to this as well," C.C. said, "As we've stated before, Charles is just like Zarkon. He won't negotiate unless it ends with him as the sole ruler and beneficiary of the deal he's struck. He's not the type to submit to anyone. The only person he sees as his equal is V.V., but they're partners at best. He only trusts himself to fulfill his plans. And yet… He still did this."

"Do you think… Maybe Zarkon's Geass did something?" Shirley suggested quietly, "Maybe he's using it to control the emperor and V.V."

"It's a possibility," C.C. admitted, "but we can't know for sure, especially without knowing the type of Geass Zarkon has, or if it can affect a Code Bearer."

"It doesn't matter," Lelouch finally snapped, "Charles made his choice, and we've made ours. There's only one path left for us… Straight forward."

Everyone in the room looked up at the Black Paladin before Rai rose from his spot by one of the pods, "No turning back, right?"

Slowly, one by one, everyone got to their feet.

"Let's do it," Kallen said, cracking her knuckles.

"No way am I turning around now!" Rivalz exclaimed.

"Same here!" Shirley nodded.

"...Right," Suzaku murmured, his eyes blazing.

"We promised we would support you, Lelouch," Milly said solemnly, her bayard suddenly flashing to life, "and that hasn't changed."

Trance-like, in unison, everyone else's bayards flashed to life. A bow, a rifle, a katar, a kusarigama, a katana, a cestus.

Allura gasped softly, and Coran's eyes widened. C.C. also looked intrigued as she took a small step back.

"What's…?" Nunnally began before her brother stepped forward, his hand traveling to his waist. When he removed it, a small knife wrapped at the hilt was grasped tightly in his hands.

All meeting in the center, the seven Paladins of Voltron raised their weapons above them.

"No turning back," Lelouch intoned strongly.

"No turning back!" the rest of the Paladins echoed.

There was a silent awe in the room as the four outliers watched the Paladins make their vow, the Warrior's Bond forging anew.

As the Paladins slowly parted, C.C. smirked, "Well, don't leave us out of the fun. We're in this just as much as you are."

"Quite right!" Coran exclaimed, "We're with you, Paladins! No point of the universe is treacherous enough to deter us!"

"Yes," Allura nodded resolutely, "We, Voltron, are meant to protect the weak, defending them from those who would wish them harm! That mission has not changed, nor will it now."

"We're with you, Lelouch!" Nunnally piped in, her hand gripping his arm.

Lelouch couldn't keep the grateful smile from his face as he squeezed his sister's hand back, "Thank you… All of you!"

After smiling at his team, his face soon relapsed into a stoic mask, "Kallen, Rivalz, Milly, Shirley. Head to the settlement and get your families. Now that your faces are known, I doubt the military will be leaving them alone. Bringing them to the castle is the most secure place to hide them. Rai, Coran," he turned to the two in question, not waiting for the latter four to respond, "Head down to the launch bay and assist Rakshata's team with our newest recruits. Run them through the Knightmares and weapons operations. Suzaku," he looked towards his oldest friend, "You're with me and Allura. We'll regroup with Tohdoh and the rest of the leadership to organize our forces. Everyone understand their orders?"

When no one objected, he nodded, "All right! Move out!"

"Lelouch, is there anything I can do?" Nunnally asked as most of the rest quickly exited the room.

Lelouch knelt on one knee (Nunnally was still in her hoverchair), "Just stay here with Euphie, Nunnally. If she wakes up sooner than expected I think seeing a familiar face will help her stay calm."

Nunnally nodded in acceptance before wheeling closer to her sister's pod. Lelouch then looked towards C.C., "Will you look after them?"

C.C. nodded while shooting a look at him that said, 'You still had to ask?'

Lelouch smiled a little bashfully before turning to leave the room himself, only to stop short when he saw Suzaku standing at the doorway.

"Suzaku?" he asked in concern. The Purple Paladin jumped, looking embarrassed.

"S-sorry, Lelouch," he stuttered, "Can you just…? I'll catch up with you later. I need a moment."

A sympathetic look crossed Lelouch's face before he nodded and patted Suzaku's shoulder. "Take your time."

Suzaku nodded and jogged down the other hallway as Lelouch rushed off to catch up with Allura.

Neither Paladin noticed C.C.'s concerned look as she watched Suzaku disappear.

"This must be unbearable for Suzaku," Nunnally said softly from behind the immortal, "I mean, big brother loves Euphie too, but not in the same way that Suzaku does. Lelouch tries to hide it, but I can see the pain in his eyes… I can only imagine what Suzaku's feeling right now."

C.C. frowned and looked back down the hall.

"Nunnally, stay here for a moment," she finally said, "I'll be right back."

Suzaku trudged down a deserted hallway, wondering if this is what it feels like to be a zombie. No emotion, no thoughts, he felt like he didn't even have a heartbeat.

Being numb wasn't a foreign feeling for Suzaku. He remembered this feeling well eight years ago after driving a knife into his father's heart. The months that followed came in flashes to him, but he knew that it took forever for him to start feeling decent enough to function again.

Now the feeling had returned tenfold. Like a huge hole had been punched through his chest. He had held the love of his life in his arms as she was dying. Bleeding out from an assassin's bullet, and he couldn't do anything to stop it at the time. He had promised he would protect her, and he had failed. Just like he always did. Why? Why did this keep happening?!

Eventually, the Purple Paladin slowed to a stop. The hole he felt inside him suddenly grew hot. His breath came out in short hisses as it exited through his clenched teeth. His vision became blurry as anguished tears built in his eyes.

With a cry of agony, Suzaku brandished his Bayard and swung it wildly against the wall, leaving a dark scar in the pristine white of the Castleship's walls. Letting this new bubbling rage guide him, he kept swiping at the walls. Eventually, this wasn't enough for him, and he threw his Bayard, still in sword form, to the ground and his fists collided with the wall. He knew deep down that he wasn't accomplishing anything by doing this, but right now, Suzaku's feelings were completely feral. He was a rabid and broken animal that couldn't find solace.

A hand snatched his wrist, keeping him from punching the wall again. This act felt like an icicle to the back, icy cold reality hitting him and the furious rage vanishing. Looking to the source, tears and even snot covering his face, Suzaku saw C.C.'s somber face staring back at him.

Only now was the reality of the situation sinking in. The Emperor of Britannia had shot Euphemia through the hands of an assassin. Her own father didn't so much as bat an eye as she lay bleeding to death on the SAZ's stage.

Now Suzaku wasn't an idiot. He'd heard enough stories both from Lelouch and others about how stubborn the emperor was, but this… He actually had the audacity to side with Zarkon?! Not even Lelouch predicted that his father would make such a move, so… Why?!

With these thoughts buzzing in his head, all fight left his body, and he sunk to the floor.

"If there's one thing I know about Charles from my years of knowing him," C.C. said as if reading Suzaku's mind, "it's that he's an incredibly ambitious man. More importantly, when he sets his sights on something, nothing is off-limits, and he will resort to any tactic possible to fulfill his goal. Sacrifice anything… Or anybody."

Suzaku didn't move from his spot on the floor, but he was listening.

"I'll admit, even I was blindsided by his decision to side with the Galra, but when you think about it, this actually isn't too out of character out of him," C.C. paused to think about to word this correctly, "Voltron represents everything he disagrees with about humanity, but it also stands as his biggest obstacle toward his goals, and right now he's trying to remove that obstacle. In his mind, siding with the Galra is the most logical choice."

Suzaku finally reacted with a hysterical laugh. "Logical?! What is so logical about this?! We were offering an olive branch, a chance at a peaceful resolution! We were so close! So close to finally achieving peace! The dream that I… that Euphie thought was possible!"

C.C. sighed, "Suzaku, what you must understand about Charles is that he isn't interested in peace. His only interest in life is making the world the way he wants it. He wants his version of peace, not anyone else's."

Suzaku fell silent again, just staring sightlessly at the floor.

C.C., apparently tired of the silence, speaks again, "Suzaku, I want to ask you something, and I want an honest answer. When you first joined the Britannian military, did you really do it to change the system on the inside? Did you truly believe that Britannia could change?

Suzaku doesn't answer right away. His head and his heart were screaming two different answers. His heart was saying yes, he did! But his head was louder this time, and the truth was…

"...When I met Euphemia, I really believed that she had the power to do it. To change the system, to change Britannia. And I was ready to give her my full support, even my life if I had to. That's how much I believed in her. But… when I first signed up… when I first became an Honorary Britannian… No. I didn't believe that."

"You only told yourself that so that you could put yourself in a situation where if you died, you would die a "heroic death" and redeem yourself for what happened to your father," C.C. said.

"Yes…" Suzaku nodded slowly.

"So… What are you going to do now?" C.C. asked, "I hope you're not planning to give up now, especially not after that display by the cryopods. I won't tell you what to do, but there are people here who truly need you, and Euphemia is one of them. When she recovers, and she will, she might have family and friends who are there for her, but she might need you even more; that is if you truly feel the same way she feels about you."

Suzaku's mind wandered again, this time starting from the very moment they shot into the sky in Polaris, meeting Coran and Allura, becoming the Purple Paladin, finding his Lion aboard the Galra cruiser, forming Voltron for the first time, and training and bonding with all of Paladins. Then learning Lelouch's true identity as Zero and the shock and horror he had originally felt, but still agreeing to help if only to not break up Voltron, as thanks to Lelouch's first attempt to leave they all learned were hard to find. All of the battles the Paladins went through and the crazy training trips Coran sent them on. He noticed that over time, something slowly changed in him, in all of them. He stopped silently questioning Lelouch's plans, began following orders more willingly, and began risking his life not just because it was convenient for the circumstances but because he wanted to. He wanted to follow Lelouch and his other friends. He wanted to protect people. He wanted to save the universe from the Galra.

And Euphie… Dear sweet Euphie. Not one day went by on the Castleship that he didn't think about her and miss her. He constantly thought about what she would think if she was in his position. One thing was for sure though, he was sure she would have persevered, even if it was painful.

"If I stop now…" he started, "I won't just be failing my team, I'll be failing Euphemia too. It would be a mockery to her dream, the one I know she still has. I'm ashamed it took me so long to see reason, but… I'm not going to let this chance go to waste."

Standing up fully, he turned to C.C. and held out his hand. "C.C., I want to form a contract with you."

C.C. actually took a step back in surprise. Out of all the Paladins, the immortal had honestly believed Suzaku would be the one not to get a Geass, much less ask for one.

Suzaku noticed her look and said, "You've made contracts with everyone else so far."

"Yes…" C.C. said slowly, "But there was no telling the type of ability they would get or how it would manifest. The same still applies to you, including the risks involved."

"I know that," Suzaku nodded but didn't lower his hand.

"...Are you sure this is what you want, Suzaku?" she asked again, "If you're making this decision purely based on your emotions there can be negative consequences on your mental state… Like with Mao."

"I know," Suzaku said, "I'm sure about this, though."

"...All right," C.C. relented, reaching out to grasp his hand, "Just make sure you don't become too dependent on it."

With this final warning, her hand fell on top of his, and Suzaku's world burst into color.

"We're sorry! We're working as best as we can!"

"We weren't fast enough! We managed to keep the news off the Net, but there are insurrections all over the map!"

"Not just Elevens either! Even Britannian forces! Voltron is absorbing and rallying all of the masses against the settlement!"

"With so many honorary Britannians, and even full-blooded Britannians turning on us, our enemies number in the tens of thousands!"

Corza growled, "You Earthlings can't even keep control of your own people? Pathetic!"

Schneizel remained silent with two Galran sentries looming over his chair, rifles raised, knowing that speaking up or correcting her would likely worsen the situation.

"Report in! Our units have been unable to detain the Fenette, Cardemonde, and Ashford families. They all managed to escape!"

"What?" Schneizel said aloud, but more out of confusion than shock as he was sure he never issued an order to capture those families. However, he quickly confirmed his own suspicions and figured Charles had given that order instead. It was logical from a strategic point to take hostages, especially if they are friends or family of the enemy.

"There are reports of the Orange, Blue, and Yellow Lions intercepting the units. The targets were gone by the time they left. We've also confirmed reports of the Red Lion attacking the Eastern Penitentiary. Several inmates are confirmed to have escaped, likely on the Lion!"

"Likely gathering more forces that way," Corza mused, but chuckled, "Not that it will matter. Plenty more Galra vessels will be arriving shortly. It won't matter how many humans stand against us. They were doomed from the start."

"Okay, let's fire this one up!" Rai called as he was lowered back to the ground. He had just finished installing a Balmera crystal into the Lancelot's power generator. Despite the Le Fey being unsalvageable, Lloyd and Cecile managed to lead some Black Knights to retrieve both the Lancelot and Gawain Knightmare frames from the wreckage. They were also in the process of modifying the remaining Glaston Knights' Knightmare frames. They didn't have time to install everything, but they had a much higher chance of surviving the upcoming battle now compared to using normal Knightmares. The Gawain had also been modified to one passenger seat instead of two.

"All right, Lancelot startup sequence beginning… Now!" Cecile announced. With the engine roaring to life, the Lancelot's system booted up, the Balmera crystal's energy syncing in. Like with the Seishin Knightmares, the Lancelot outlines began to glow a faint blue, and even the green 'eyes' of the Lancelot shifted into a cyan color.

"Oh my! This is greater energy than I ever anticipated!" Lloyd exclaimed like a kid in a candy store.

"Well, if you're a good boy, Lloyd, I might let you take a look at my notes from the original test runs," Rakshata smirked.

"'Might'?" Lloyd pouted.

"Might." Rakshata giggled while Lloyd continued to sulk. Cecile rolled her eyes while Rai and Coran shared a chuckle.

"Excuse me," someone cleared their throat from behind them. Turning around, the group spotted Claudio, David, and Edgar Darlton, and they were all clad in their new Black Knight space uniforms and armor.

The armor looked fairly similar to the Paladin armor, but with several distinct design changes. The helmets were nearly identical, but small three spikes were branching out from above the forehead (above the dip in the 'v') and two off to the sides of their ears. Altogether it looked much like the symbol for the Black Knights. The suits' arms and legs were armored in the same way as the Paladins, but the neckline was tighter and the shoulders broader.

The only other major difference was the color scheme. Compared to the white and black with different colored accents for the Paladins, the Black Knights' armor was black, the undersuits dark rusty red, and the highlights silver.

On the back of each of the uniforms, just beneath the jetpack that bore the Black Knight symbol, was another feature. A single homing device. This was sewn into the suits as a safety precaution. Just in case one of the Black Knights got 'lost in space,' or otherwise, the Castleship could hone in on the device and retrieve the wayward pilot.

They were also designed to withstand all of the extremes of space, from 2.6 to nearly 5810 Kelvin ("If I'm converting your Earth measurements to the ship's correctly, that is," Coran had said), and (according to Earth standards) were completely bulletproof.

"Ah, Andreas's little boys," Lloyd greeted, "How do you do?"

"You're surprisingly chipper considering the situation," David scowled back.

Lloyd just shrugged, "Eh, what can I say? It's my nature as a sociopath."

"Perfect timing, though," Rai interjected, "We just finished modifying your Knightmares a couple of dobashes ago. We didn't have time to upgrade them completely, but they're better than nothing. You should have time to do a couple of practice runs around the moon to get used to it."

"'Around the moon,'" Edgar echoed softly, before laughing in disbelief, "I can't believe I'm actually hearing something like that."

"Thank you," Claudio nodded, "We were actually coming to inquire about that."

"So… about the suits," David said, examining his helmet skeptically, "Is this seriously supposed to help with the interfacing?"

Coran laughed jovially, "Of course not, young man!" The three brothers looked at him dubiously, "It's supposed to help keep you alive out there!"

At this admission, the Glaston Knights felt themselves pale and glanced at one another. Rai smiled sympathetically while Cecile bit her lip.

"From the reports that are pouring in, it seems that most of the settlement has been evacuated," Ohgi pointed out from his position on the bridge, "So I don't think we'll have to worry too much about civilian casualties."

"Good," Zero nodded to everyone presented, which included Suzaku, Tohdoh, Allura, Ohgi, Cornelia, Darlton, and Guilford, all of whom were looking over the terrain of the settlement on the screen, "Then we can continue with final preparations. The Castle of Lions will provide support, while Voltron engages the Galra head-on. In the meantime, the Black Knights will attack the stragglers in the Britannian military. It's a shame that we couldn't collect any further support from the other branches."

Guilford and Darlton both scowled at this reminder. Shortly after being taken aboard the castle, the two had attempted to contact any military personnel they had connections with. Much to their disappointment, though, most of their allegiance remained steadfastly with the emperor's decision. Only a couple of newer Privates and other soldiers who were brave enough to desert answered their call.

"It seems that several of the outlying rebel groups still in the area are offering assistance as well," Allura said, "Many are providing weapons and other resources at their disposal."

"Yes, General Katase made contact with me about an hour ago," Tohdoh nodded, "Several groups from Yamanashi and the remnants of the Blood of the Samurai are being rallied as we speak."

"Good, we'll have them focus on the Britannian ground troops," Zero said, "Try to keep them out of areas heavy with Galra forces."

"Still no word from the Knights of the Round?" Suzaku asked, glancing at Cornelia. Nonette was currently in the engineering area getting prepped for the Lancelot's new modifications, but she said she'd try to make contact with her colleagues in the meantime… She also admitted that it was unlikely they'd help due to being under the Emperor's direct orders and answering almost exclusively to him.

"No nothing," Cornelia shook her head, "We've been unable to make contact with any of the leadership either."

"You mean there's still no word from Prince Schneizel?" Guilford gasped.

"Nothing yet," Cornelia said with a frown. She still wanted to gut Schneizel for his stunt on the island, but having him as an ally at this point would be a hundred times better than not. She and Lelouch knew that it was extremely unlikely that Schneizel would support this, so if they couldn't get in contact with him, it was likely that the enemy had captured him. They would likely have to come up with a rescue operation if they managed to at least locate him.

"Well, we should find him then!" Suzaku said, "If he's with us, I'm sure more Britannian forces will be willing to side with Voltron."

"Suzaku, as much as I do agree, we don't have time," Zero said, "We don't even know where to start looking, or whether Schneizel's even still in the settlement or not!"

Allura had heard many mixed reviews about the Second Prince, most of which took a nosedive after Shikine Island. However, if cooperating with this ambiguously moral individual meant this planet would survive, she was willing to swallow her pride and do it. She had already agreed to work with Cornelia after all. "If we do manage to locate him during the battle, we'll assign a team to retrieve him," Allura decided, "But until then, I'm afraid Zero is correct."

"That's it then," Darlton said gravely, "Unless there's anything else that needs to be discussed?"

"No," Zero shook his head, "You all have your duties and squads assigned. It's time to get moving!"

With this final exclamation, everyone except Allura, who would monitor the battle from the bridge and provide the support Zero mentioned, exited the room.

'If the Britannian military wishes to side against us, so be it,' Lelouch thought gravely as he marched briskly toward Zen's chamber.

This was it. This was only a few Earth minutes until midnight. All the Voltron Coalition forces and their supporters from the insurrections had surrounded the settlement and were waiting anxiously for Zero to issue the order to attack. Up above the ruins they now occupied, Voltron himself hovered strongly at the front of the settlement, surrounded by hundreds of Seishin Knightmares, the Lancelot, Gawain, and the remaining Glaston Knights.

On the ground, there were also multiple ground-units, including tanks, armored vehicles, and infantry.

While Voltron's troops looked impressive, the settlement was also heavily guarded. Not just by the bulk of Britannia's military stationed there, but also a small Galran fleet. Dozens of Galra ships hovered around the Tokyo settlement, circling it like hawks ready to swoop in and snatch its prey.

"Hear me, Britannia! This is Zero!" Lelouch exclaimed from Voltron's head, "A rebel against oppressors who abuse their power! We will wait until midnight. You have until then to surrender! This is your only warning — heed it. Twelve midnight, not a single tic later!"

Lelouch didn't expect a reply, but according to the scans of the enemy they were picking up, the foe had begun to converge around the edge of the settlement. It seems they had their answer.

"So be it…" Lelouch murmurs mostly to himself before turning to the comms, "Rai, is the virus ready?"

"Affirmative!" Rai answered, "I have it automatically set to activate at midnight just like you said."

"Good. Now we wait, it seems…"

"Um… Lelouch?"

Lelouch blinked, and if one had been looking at him, they would have seen the faint circle of red around his iris.

"Milly?" he responded mentally, "What's wrong?"

"Well… This may be a bad time to bring it up, but when I went to Ashford to pick up my grandfather, I tried to look for Nina too. I couldn't find her, though. Shirley and Rivalz said they haven't seen her in a while either. Do… Do you think she's okay?"

"I'm sure she's fine, Milly," Lelouch reassured her, "She's likely been evacuated with the other civilians. Besides with us, that's likely the safest place she can be right now. We can try and find her after the battle."

"If you say so…"

The ring in Lelouch's eyes faded. They had yet to completely test out how far Milly's range could reach, but depending on it, especially if the Paladins were separated on different missions, Milly could easily be a liaison between teams. The only drawback they'd found with her Geass so far is that she could only use it on one person at a time, and she had to say the person's full legal name to connect to them.

"Lelouch," this time, it was Kallen's voice that drew his attention, and he turned on the video camera.

"What is it, Kallen?"

"I was just thinking… We know that Haggar's here somewhere, whether in the settlement or one of those ships. So… what the chances that Zarkon's here too?"

Lelouch didn't answer at first, but he felt his hands shake slightly. Despite not having seen the Galra overlord for a couple of months, the thought of facing him still terrified the Black Paladin. The… Violating feeling he felt when Zen was ripped from his grasp at the Galra HQ still haunted him, and he wondered if he was strong enough to stand up to the warlord this time.

Shaking his head, Lelouch looked up, "There's nothing we can do about that now. If Zarkon does show up, we'll deal with him."

"Um…" Now Rivalz's face joined Kallen's on Lelouch's console, "Not that I want Mr. Negative here, Lelouch, but the last time we fought Zarkon, he nearly wiped the floor with us. He almost killed Kallen and Suzaku, and they're the best pilots out of all of us!"

"It doesn't matter!" Suzaku's face joining the conversation, "We weren't expecting to fight Zarkon the last time. But we've gotten stronger since then. We're not going to let him beat us around this time!"

Lelouch nodded with a small smile before he sent a signal to Shirley, Milly, and Rai to turn their monitors on too.

"Listen, before this all starts," he said after the three appeared alongside the others, "I feel like I need to apologize to you all. I feel like I dragged you into my problems-"

"This again, Lelouch?!" Milly exclaimed, annoyed, "How many times do we need to tell you? None of this is your fault!"

"Yeah, if your dad weren't such an asshole, we wouldn't be in this situation!" Rivalz agreed.

"We all agreed to stand by you and see this through to the end!" Rai said, "No way we're backing out now!"

"We trust you, Lulu!" Shirley held up her fist confidently.

"We've been through a lot already as a team," Kallen said, "and we plan to keep it that way. So you're stuck with us."

"I...We're not abandoning you, Lelouch," Suzaku said, "Not like he did."

Lelouch struggled to keep the tears in his eyes from falling as he smiled at them all in gratitude.

"Thank you… All of you…"

With a final round of nods, his fellow Paladins cut the comms just as the timer reached zero.

Almost like a rippling earthquake, the Tokyo Settlement rattled at its foundation before collapsing in on itself like a giant sinkhole. From Voltron's head, Lelouch could see that a majority of Britannia's forces—Knightmares, tanks, armored vehicles—got caught in the shock of the attack as streets were ripped apart and buildings crumbled, some of which took out several enemy planes with them, and collapsed under them, leaving them buried and destroyed.

This seemed to spur several fighters into action, but before any could fire, the Castle of Lions descended from the clouds and with a blast from its central cannon, and shot straight through a Galra battleship, nearly cutting it in two. Seconds later, it erupted into a fiery inferno.

"You told me to learn the gambles of war, Father," he whispered aloud. But these words were not for him. They were for his sworn enemies, Zarkon and Charles zi Britannia, who had brought this tragedy to Earth, "But I think I've already learned them. Have you? You think your Galra allies will save you? You think Zarkon will come and protect you? None of that will change your fate. Hell, I welcome it even. It's what you wanted right? You want a war? Well, now you've got one."

[writing-the-end]

Feral Friendship- Part 3

Previous Post

Masterpost

Haha I really love putting these right when the angst is at it’s peak- makes us all have to wait a little longer to see the resolution, and a break from all the sadness. I really do love Feral Friendship, and this is one of my favorite parts. 

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland​

The remaining infiltrators scuffle their heels against the jungle wood in Cub’s base. False holds the red banner out, but it feels like a hollow victory. Not even a victory- they just evened out the score. Cub looks at the bruised and rattled hermits before him. They’re covered in sand and leaves, looking like they’ve been camping for weeks. The sun is just starting to set on the first day of the game. “Where’s TFC’s entire team? And Scar?” 

Xisuma shrugs. “We just know they haven’t returned.” 

“Who knows? Maybe they have the second flag and are just being cautious, Sheshwammy.” Keralis offers, but the others seem less optimistic. 

“And Scar?” Cub raises an eyebrow, taking the banner that False holds out. The wool fabric feels so good on his fingers. Such a hard fought item, finally in the hermits’ hands. He hands it off for Cleo to hang for scoring above the base. 

“Unfortunately, reports indicate that he was captured after hiding that flag. Etho saw Avon flying back to their side with him. Though he didn’t seem that concerned.” Doc reports, scratching his chin with his reattached arm. 

“As aggressive as they have been in their tactics, they’re still our friends. I don’t think they’ll harm Scar.” Joe adds. 

“We aren’t going to let Scar’s sacrifice go to waste. We need to strike while the iron’s hot. I want everyone to rush for Ecto’s flag.” Cub clenches his fist as he swipes up the red scrap that symbolized Avon’s flag on the map. “Everyone that isn’t Cleo, Joe, or me should go in and fight through the minefield. If we just throw all we have at them, they can’t stop all of us.” 

“Ah, the good old french revolution tactic.” Cleo hums.

Joe shrugs. “I mean, it worked in that case. At least our bastille doesn’t have muskets. Just cacti.” 

Cub hushes them, and points towards the door. “You guys go, get to the border and storm for the flag. Us three will stay behind and keep watch for Avon.”

Stress flags down the patrols behind the headquarters, waving for the three pairs to follow the remaining infiltration teams. Together, they march to the border between lands. The defense team seems surprised by the new order, though all just as excited about getting to charge into the mysterious land beyond the cactus wall. Night has fallen over the land, and monsters creep and crawl in the desert. They can outrun the husks and spiders, and most are well armored against the creepers and skeletons. It’s the other team that they have to worry about. 

It’s been a long time since Grian has seen a united hermit front, almost everyone here to tackle the wanderers. He admits it feels badass, like some superhero movie to have the crew lined up. Some of them have wings to fly over, others will run through and tackle what is on the ground. “For Scar! For the Dig team!” 

The hermits charge into unknown territory, breaking down more of Ecto’s cactus wall and running across the desert like calvary on horses. In fact, some of them are on horses. Jevin and Beef speed ahead, weapons drawn and cutting a path through the monsters ahead of them. 

But a horse can only take them so far. Jevin’s horse rears as he snaps the reins back, nearly falling into a sandpit that has opened up beneath them. The sand cascades into the cavern, followed by a single arrow shuttling after the blocks it disturbed. Ren spots Ecto, standing upright on a cactus tower about at the height he’s flying. She has a bow and a quiver full of arrows, snickering as the hermits on foot are forced into her minefield. They’re trapped in her land, of shifting sands and sharp spines. 

Ren charges to knock her off, but the air is empty by the time he reaches her. Ecto has jumped, falling to the ground below in an elegant flip. And as her rotation turns her upward, a coy grin appears on her face towards Ren, and she salutes to her hermit friend. Ecto tucks up a moment later, rolling across the sand and taking off after the other hermits.  

Ren’s about to dive after her, but it pulled back into the sky by Grian. He hadn’t seen Grian since they crossed into the desert, and his friend looks like he’s been running a marathon. Or at least flying one. “Avon’s over the border. She’s going after our flag.” 

Ren turns to look back at the jungle, then to his fellow hermits below. “Go after her. You’re the best flyer on this whole server. If anyone has a chance to beat Avon in an air, it’s you my dude.” 

“What about the others?” Grian looks at the desert, watching Mumbo squeeze through the cacti that Ecto has grown everywhere. Only to fall into a pit of sand. Ecto must’ve somehow built all those, but how is completely beyond Grian. 

“I’ll round them up and tell them to get back and try to stop her.” Ren let’s go of his aloft ally, and the two part. While Ren relays the news to the others, Grian returns to chase after Avon. Cub had seen her flying in, and tried to take a few shots to keep her at bay, but none of the strategists are equipped for fighting. They shouldn’t have left their base so defenseless. Lucky for Grian, he can see Avon circling the canopy as he nears. It doesn’t look like she’s found any of the other flags.

Until she does. Like a phantom diving towards it’s weary prey, it’s an elegant dive. At least it is before she hits the tree while landing. A branch smacks her right in the face, knocking the angelic descent into a demonic crash. Even Grian winces at the hit, spiraling down to see the damage. 

Avon’s on her feet before Grian lands, shaking the dizziness from her mind and sprinting towards the blue flag fluttering. It’s tucked in the leaves of an oak tree, where even the wind struggles to find it. By the time Grian has landed, she’s ripped it from it’s stake. “We’re playing this again, huh? Let’s see how good a flyer you really are.” 

Grian sighs as Avon launches back into the air, daring for him to follow her. He’s not going to let her score again. This time, he plans to fight her midair as well. While she’s still rising above the treetops vertically, Grian takes off at an angle into the sky. Trying to intercept her midair, he pulls out his sword and spins it. The sign of a fight catches Avon’s attention. She pauses, wings opening wide to halt her ascent. For just a moment, She’s floating in the air, wings fully extended. She’s shadowed from behind by the full moon in the night, but Grian can clearly see purple irises sparkle with challenge, and a crooked grin like the chesire cat. “You aren’t going anywhere with that flag.” 

Avon watches the moonlight glint off Grian’s diamond enchanted sword. It’s freeing to have her flag already captured, allowing her to focus on nabbing theirs. Toying with them. Ecto and Avon have been having a blast watching the hermits struggle against surviving in the wild. Surviving in their natural habitat. And they still haven’t seen the worst. She ties the banner to her belt and retrieves her trident. 

And she dives. Closing her wings to drop beneath Grian, she opens again when she’s under him. Turning on her back, Avon throws her trident. Grian rockets away before it can hit him, and goes into chase after Avon and the flag. She flies low, weaving through the tallest trees of the jungle. He needs to gain on her, slow her down. She’s faster, more agile. But he’s clever. 

Avon turns sharp around a tree, but Grian stays straight, shooting through a tiny gap between neighboring trees. Catching up with her. He lights off rockets, the wind whipping his blonde hair against his face. Grian gets close enough to strike, and doesn’t waste a moment. 

The trident and the sword clash, a midair dogfight between the two commencing. It’s one thing to have a battle on land, but the sky is a whole different world. Head to head, metal clangs against crystal, sparks flaring in the night sky. Stars in their own right, pinpricks of light alive for an infinitesimal second before fading away.

Avon takes a pass at Grian, getting around him and gunning for the border. He grabs her foot before she can get away. She kicks her feet up, sending Grian flying into the air. He closes his elytra wings, and lets gravity drop him back down. Straight down towards Avon. Towards the flag tied to her waist. On his way down, his fingers wind into the blue banner and tears it free of her belt. Avon’s stunned as he reopens his wings and takes off back to the jungle. He only grins, sticking his tongue out and winking. “Pesky bird.”

Grian straps the flag to the halter of his elytra, freeing his hands for the attack he knows is coming. Avon won’t give up that easy. He’s seen her pass out before giving up. He was right, because when he looks over his shoulder she’s hot on his rockets. He lights off more, but it only takes a couple more strokes of Avon’s wings to catch up to him. Grian turns over, blocking her reach with his sword. 

Avon just pushes the flat of his blade, vaulting herself over him. Suddenly he’s chasing her again, seemingly for no reason. Except that the jungle is this direction. “What are you even doing?” 

“A surprise.” Avon chuckles, before vaulting into the sky. She stalls at the peak of her backflip, beginning to fall as he flies beneath her. Feet to the sky and arms reaching for him. 

And retrieving the flag from his back. She snatches it mid backflip, creasing off and back to her teams side. Grian can’t even turn around fast enough to catch her. She’s beyond his vision before they reach the border. “Oh, Cub is not going to be happy about that.” 

-----------------------------------------------------

Cleo glances over at Joe at her side, then back to Cub. He’s shifting around the iron nuggets at a feverish pace, mumbling to himself. Is this the loss of Scar, his fellow convex, finally taking a toll on him? Or is it because they’re losing again. “Cub, love, are you doing okay?”

“I don’t understand their tactics. It’s almost like they have none. But they’re winning.” Cub grips at what is left of his hair, moving the three golden nuggets around. Avon scored their second flag. He has two patrols watching the last flag. If it so much as moves, he wants to know. Ren and Grian are patrolling the skies, and the defense is back watching for Ecto or Avon. This entire time, it’s just been those two. Red must be their strategist. But that makes no sense. Red is a lot of things, but she definitely isn’t a strategist. She hardly thinks about her next move before doing it.

Cleo is tired of standing here, trapped in this dark room pouring over her maps and listening to mistakes. She needs to take matters into her own hands, and she knows exactly who else is itching to get into the fight again. Cleo grabs her rapier, busting through the door of the headquarters. Joe can at least calm Cub. Maybe a good poem will keep Cub from having a meltdown. 

Meanwhile, Cleo saunters through the forest to find the other girls. Stress and False are patching up their wounds from the rush for the desert flag. Brush burns, bruises, and bandages all over them. “I think we all know what needs to be done.” 

False grins as she sees Cleo rest her sword on her shoulder, green sutured skin chill against the metal blade. “Finally, we’re doing things the right way.” 

“These guys have no clue what they’re messin’ with.” Stress hums, tugging on her bowstring to test it’s load. 

“They see a loss. I see a challenge.” Cleo adds. “We’re going to get that flag, bring it back and even the odds for us. It’ll really raise spirits as well.” 

“We know you’ve got a plan, so what is it?” False stands, stretching her arms with a relaxed smile. A bandage crinkles at her cheek, but she’s hardly bothered. 

“We’re going to take TFC’s tunnel. They got the closest, even though it’s obvious now they’ve been trapped. If we continue to use it we can get right under Ecto’s flag. Us three have faster reflexes than them. We just need to be cautious.” Cleo starts off through the forest, tapping her blade against the trees as the other two girls follow. The moon is beginning to set, but there’s still more night ahead of them. Won’t matter much when they’re underground. 

“If Stress stays back while we continue to dig, she can fish us out of any sand traps.” Stress picks through the potions that she’s been brewing while they waiting for the next attack. This is much more manageable than rushing the other side. She feels she can do so much more with just False and Cleo. Less ducks to keep in a row. 

The three descend down the ladder, deep into the mines that the dig team left behind. False picks a torch off the wall, holding it up to see further. Firelight glistens off her goggles and cascades down her blonde hair. The three follow the straight mine. “This is definitely a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be.” 

“I was sure we were gonna finish before noon, in all honesty. Those wanderers really can hold their own.” Stress chuckles. 

Cleo giggles alongside her friends, before thoughts infiltrate. Back to the battle. “We’ve seen Avon and Ecto...has anyone mentioned Red?” 

The other two both shake their heads. “No one’s seen him since the game started.” 

“Let’s think about this.” Cleo states, continuing to walk through the tunnel. “We found Avon’s flag in the sky, and Ecto’s flag among the desert. So let’s put on our critical thinking caps on and deduce where Red likely is.” 

“The ocean.” Stress whispers. It makes sense now. They were playing to their advantages. Using what they knew best. 

“How will we get to the ocean when we can hardly even get across this desert?” False questions. It’s not even a big desert, more just a glorified beach with cacti. 

“None of us are right fit for the sea either. Not like Red is, that’s for sure.” Stress looks through the potions she has. She may need to go fishing with this new information. 

“It can’t be that bad. Red isn’t a fighter like Avon and Ecto. They probably put her at the back so we’d have to go through them first.” False points out.

“I don’t know...you see the way she got at the meeting? Even I was a little scared.” Doc must really have no fear, or didn’t notice the way Red’s entire body language shifted. If anything, the lack of sightings with Red is more terrifying. Like knowing a phantom is hovering over you, but not being able to see where it’s coming from. 

False holds her arm out, stopping the other two before any can fall into the chasm. It’s not deep, and is mostly filled with sand that fell from above. A pit trap, just like what they saw in their invasion. Ecto’s signature, apart from cacti. “Not even BDubs would be stupid enough to get stuck in this.” 

“But maybe they would get stuck in that.” Stress points over False’s shoulder, across the stone bridge and a bit deeper in the mine. Another hole. The girls creep across, holding their breath at the precarious sand stacked around them. “Iskall?” 

“Stress? Is that you? Oh thank goodness someone finally found us.” Iskall jumps to try and see out of the cactus hole he’s trapped in. Even if he could climb out, there was nowhere for any of them to run, except into more cacti. 

“Is this where you idiots have been?” Cleo snorts. 

“Hey, hey, hey! We were trapped! Duped! Deceived!” BDubs clambers up a cacti, just enough to see the new team before releasing. And back to pulling needles from his arm. 

“Why didn’t you guys dig out?” False tilts her head.

“No can do. It’s empty beneath this layer of sand. If any one of us dug through, we’d all go fallin’ even further.” TFC kicks sand in his little corner, watching it drizzle down the cacti roots like an hourglass. “We’ve been right trapped.” 

“Are you guys here to save us?” BDubs croons. Stress bites her lip, looking at the supplies she brought. Definitely no rescue supplies. 

“After we get the flag, we’ll come back to help. I promise boys. We’re losin’ something fierce, we really need to get this flag.” Stress looks to Cleo, who begins to build a path across the cactus pitfall. 

“We’re actually losing? How?” Iskall questions, but none of the free hermits answer. They build past them, resuming the mining that they left. “You guys should be right under it soon. Be careful of cacti.”

Stress takes a step back, allowing False to dig a narrow staircase up. Cleo’s face lights up as a scrap of red becomes visible over the other hermit’s shoulder. They’ve done it.

[sodaparker]

just us |ch.1| g. weasley

2nd May 1998

4:50am

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The battle had been waging for hours, but it had felt like days in Rory's mind. She couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop fighting, she simply wouldn't allow it. Every curse blocked and deflected, every death eater disarmed and dealt with was a step closer to ending this war and keeping her family safe.

Her parents, her sister Eddie, Eddie's boyfriend George, the rest of the Weasley clan and him. Fred Weasley, her fiancé, whom she planned on marrying in the coming months, if she could just survive this bloody war.

Fred had stayed close by throughout those grueling hours, to which Rory was grateful. He had always felt like home, always boosted her confidence and most importantly he kept reminding her what she was fighting for; their future. Every flash of red hair in her peripherals, every victorious laugh, every hand lightly gracing her waist as he passed would bring a warmth to her chest. There was no fretting over where he was and if he was okay when he was ten feet away from her.

The battle was nearly over, or at least it had seemed like it. There were fewer people running at them. There seemed to be less people in general.

Rory could hear Fred laughing behind her,

"I think that's the first time I've heard you crack a joke, Perc."

A smile played at her lips, happy that after years of fighting Fred and Percy could finally have the relationship they should have always had. She looked over to see the two Weasleys still giggling over whatever joke Percy had made. Then it happened.

An explosion.

It knocked the three of them back. It took a moment for her to get her bearings.

"RORY!" she heard Percy call for her. The panic in his voice sent a cold shiver through her body. Fred was lying there, unmoving. No, this can't be happening. She rushed over as quickly as she could. He had died with a laugh still on his lips, frozen in time.

Her vision became blurry with tears as she sat over him. She wanted to cry out, but she couldn't seem to find her voice. Nothing could describe the dread that was quickly taking over her.

Just then a voice rang throughout the castle,

"You have fought valiantly, but in vain."

Rory covered her ears in a wasted attempt to muffle Voldemort's booming voice; not exactly the person she would like to hear from in this moment.

"I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilt is a terrible waste."

She couldn't help but look down at Fred, she could only hope and pray that his sacrifice was not for nothing. The thought of it made her eyes water even more, tears finally beginning to stream down her face.

"I, therefore, command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity."

"We have to get him to the Great Hall." Percy said, frantically. Rory could only nod in agreement, as tears continued to wet her face. She couldn't fully process this, not yet. How was she going to live without him? How was George going to live without him? Or Molly? Eddie? Any of them? Fred and George were beams of sunlight in this dark world, without Fred, would George's light fade? All their lives had changed in the matter of an instant, and in that moment only Rory and Percy carried the weight of that burden.

They slowly began lifting Fred's lifeless body. No words were exchanged between the two of them as they struggled to carry Fred down the corridor. The only sounds to be heard from them were choked sobs and hiccups, while they attempted to control their sobs.

As they slowly made their way into the Great Hall, most of the Weasleys were already there. Arthur immediately came running towards them. Rory couldn't hear the words he spoke to her as he took Fred's legs from her grasp. She couldn't stop herself from collapsing on the floor, crying, as soon as she let go of him. Molly quickly came over to help her up and walked her over in front of the cot they had laid Fred's body on. Everyone around them was crying and hugging.

"George," Ginny realized, "someone needs to go get him."

"I will." said Rory. It was the first time she had spoken since the explosion. She felt like she owed it to George to tell him. The four of them had been inseparable since first meeting on the Hogwarts Express first year. It wasn't often that two set of identical twins were starting their journey at Hogwarts the same year, and when one of those sets are Fred and George Weasley, they are going to insist on being the best of friends.

"Are you sure, darling?" Molly asked, concerned.

"Yes, I'll go find him." Rory tried to smile assuringly. "Everyone needs you here."

She slowly started the trek to the last place she had known George to be. What would she tell him? What could she tell him? Her mind began to race with these questions and more as she tried to form some semblance of an explanation.

She would bring him possibly the single worst news of his life; everything would change for him, for the three of us, for our families. George was currently living in blissful ignorance of this tragedy and Rory hated to be the one to shatter that reality.

Perhaps she should've waited for Eddie, she would've known how to handle this. Eddie was always receptive of other's feelings and always knew what to say and when to say it. It's one of the reasons Eddie and George are so good together. They have always kept Fred and Rory in check, making sure they never go too far, get too angry, and if they had, they always knew how to pick up the pieces.

This made Rory hesitate, she began contemplating whether she should go back and find Eddie before finding George. No, she was just stalling. She had to find George and quickly, she didn't want him hearing this news from someone who wasn't a friend or family. If she was lucky, she might find George and Eddie together, but it seemed that all her luck had run out when that wall had been blown to pieces.

"Rory!" she heard from behind her.

Rory turned around and there he was, the near spitting image of Fred. If she hadn't known better she might've thought she was having some sort of mental break, or perhaps seeing Fred's ghost. Yet, after nearly a decade of spending every day possible with the two, Rory had no problem spotting the difference. The purple jumper and missing ear also helped.

George jogged to meet up with her and pulled her into a bear hug; likely exhausted and relieved to see someone in the family has survived. Rory hugged him with the same amount of force, but for different reasons. She started crying again, she couldn't help it. It was all too much and seeing George made it nearly too much to bear, and she was about to burden one of her best friends with all of it.

George was the first to pull away with some resemblance of a smile on his face, eager to find the rest of his family and make sure they were okay, it had been a long night.

"Rory, you wouldn't believe what hap-" He stopped himself when he noticed that Rory had been crying and was avoiding looking at him. "Rory? What's wrong?"

She couldn't look at him; the guilt was beginning to eat at her, it should've been her, perhaps she could've saved him in some way if she had turned around sooner. She began to worry that George would blame her for it. He had never been unreasonable in that way, but he had always had Fred, and now he doesn't. Her eyesight became blurry again as she began to tear up again. She chose to focus on the destroyed painting on the floor near them rather than the ginger man that was looking at her expectantly, she knew if she looked at him she'd break again. George was having none of this and grabbed her face as a last ditch effort to make her look at him.

"Rory. Please, what happened?" George was nearly begging.

"Fred" was all she could muster.

His face fell instantly. His eyes beginning to brim with tears.

"Where?"

"The Great Hall."

George took off in that direction, but not before grabbing Rory's hand to drag her there with him. He knew her too well. He knew she'd stay there alone and he wasn't going to leave her. They both needed to be with their family right now.

They seemed to make it back to the Great Hall in record time. George holding her hand the whole way, only to let go as they approached the Weasleys. Rory noticed her parents had joined them and were standing in front of something. Someone. Someone laid next to Fred. Rory froze in terror as she got closer to see.

It was Eddie.

She could hear George's screams, Molly trying her best to console him and her parents pulling her into their embrace as she entered yet another state of shock.

She wasn't strong enough for this. She had lost so much in such little time. She couldn't even begin to process this. She felt like a shell of a person. Fred was her soulmate, the love of her life and Eddie, her best friend, her twin. What was left of a person when they've lost both of their other halves?

Rory vaguely remembered her parents leading her in front of their bodies, standing there with a never ending river of tears that she didn't make any effort to wipe away. She heard Harry, Ron and Hermione walk in the Great Hall, but couldn't find the strength to look up and greet them.

George lifted himself off the ground to hug Ron. As Ron sobbed over Fred's body,  George turned to Rory. His embrace shook her from her daze. After a moments hesitation, Rory returned the hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso as a way of anchoring herself.

"I suppose it's just the two of us now." George whimpered into her hair.

Rory held him tighter as she tucked her face deeper into his chest to hide the new wave of tears falling down to her chin.

"Just us."

~~~~~~~~~~~

srry if this is bad, its the first time i’ve written a fanfic

links to wattpad and ao3 in my bio

[faean]

Catra x Female Reader Part (2/2)

Requested by: Anonymous(?)

Rating: T; Angst. You have been warned.

Word Length: 500

Title: Time To Say Goodbye

Author’s Note: Technically I’m cheating since some of the works I am doing for Pride were requested ages ago and I just never got around to editing them until now but, eh.

-----

        The Horde gathered on the fringes of the woods, just out of sight of Force Captain Catra and the traitorous (Y/N). They lie in wait for a signal, unbeknownst to Catra, who will give the signal to … remove, (Y/N) from the Rebellion. A decisive victory for the Horde, and a devasting loss for the Princesses.

        All Catra had to do was take (Y/N)’s hand. That was all she wanted to do.

        “Catra,” she spoke gingerly, breaking their embrace and holding out her hand, “let’s go.”

        Catra stood, quiet. She looked at (Y/N)’s hand with longing, and several excruciating moments passed by in utter silence. All she had to do was take her hand, and they could leave. Catra could have (Y/N) back. She could have Adora back. She could have friends and a family that genuinely love and care about her. She could finally be free of Shadow Weaver’s abuse and Hordak’s insane convictions. She could finally hope for something better.

        All she had to do was take her hand.

        All she had to do was take.

        All.

        She.

        Had.

        Catra reached for (Y/N)’s hand, and my plan went into motion.

        A single shot fired, piercing through the traitor’s hand. A platoon of mechs and various Horde troops spilled from the woods and quickly cornered the wounded traitor. Catra fell back in utter shock, watching as (Y/N)’s loving gaze so effortlessly turned to pure horror as she looked back at her. To her, this was all a trap.

        Catra didn’t care. She didn’t want to be with (Y/N). She just wanted to take everything away from her. Just like the Horde did when they were children. Just like the Horde did when Adora left. And just like the Horde is doing now.

        (Y/N) clutched her bleeding hand to her chest, back against a wall as the Horde encircled her, Catra tried to stop them, but they told her the princesses used their evil magic to trick her, and that this was the best course of action for the Horde. She fought with all her might, but she soon fell to her knees once again when the firing began.

        (Y/N) had turned to run, but before she took her first step, dozens of shots peppered the cliff face behind her. She fell to the ground, facing the broken Catra. As she bled out, her life force fading, she, unfortunately, gave Force Captain Catra a glimmer of hope.

        Rather than curse her with her last breath, or glare at her in her final moments, she smiled. A small, soft, loving smile. And she mouthed five little words to her.

        Five little words that led to months of rebellious and self-destructive action from the Force Captain that would ultimately lead to the fall of Hordak and the arrival of Horde Prime.

        Five. Little. Words.

        Those same words would lead not only to the liberation of Etheria and countless worlds in the universe, but to my own sacrifice.

        “I am with you, always.”

-----

Well, I hope you heathens enjoyed! I can assure you that the next few works will not be so unforgiving. In any case, one down, nine to go! Have a wondrous Pride Month!

[myakkoh]

shade of clouds

(Read on Ao3 here!)

First event in Lan Xichen’s rise to the Yiling Patriarch.

Side notes: Character death, violence, blood, please read at your own risk! Now, for this entire drabble and in the tag ‘Ghosts of Hell: YP Challenge,’ you may blame @vandrell for her enabling, and @blackkatmagic‘s server’s MDZS channel. We have no chill in it.

Now, enjoy at your own leisure!

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One staggering step to peer out of the bushes and Lan Xichen can hear his uncle’s silent screams.

“Shufu,” he whispers with a broken voice, too soft to be heard under the roar of fire. Can’t look away from the people in front of him, from his uncle kneeling before Wen Xu and the Qishan Wen Sect Heir staring down at him with an unreadable expression. There’s nothing but fire roaring around them, licking hungrily at the small cliff under him.

Crimson red drenches Lan Qiren’s robes, bloodied knuckles curled into tight fists. There’s a wide gash sliced along his shoulder, blood staining white robes and dripping down onto the ground like decayed leaves. Red trails down the side of his head. His uncle’s sword is nowhere to be seen, and fear slithers down his back, before Lan Qiren’s eyes snap open as if he’s reassuring him everything will be fine.

It doesn’t make it easier to breathe, though. Lan Xichen holds his breath in fear as his uncle lifts his head to stare at the man before him. Dark golden eyes flicker with fury and fire like the inferno around them, only to be replaced by a blank state. Only the clench of his uncle’s hands on the ground gives away his feelings.

“Lan Qiren,” Wen Xu addresses his uncle flatly, sword clenched within a fist. “I am inclined to let you live, in exchange for the whereabouts of your nephew.”

“I have two nephews,” Lan Qiren says with all dryness possible, especially in the current situation he’s in. Lan Xichen only shakes his head lightly. “Which one do you want?”

Wen Xu sneers down at him. “You know who I’m talking about, old fool. Where is your Sect Heir? Hiding like the coward he is? Like all of you?”

Those words slice into him, blades hitting its mark, and he nearly rises from his hiding spot, but his uncle only calmly looks back at the other cultivator. It makes him freeze. “My Sect Heir,” Lan Qiren says coolly, “is more courageous than all of you. At least the Gusu Lan Sect is more courageous than your cowardly father.”

Lan Xichen nearly reels back from the venom dripping in his uncle’s words. Does he know Wen Ruohan, the Sect Leader of the Qishan Wen Sect? Possibly, he thinks as Lan Qiren stares back with defiance flashing in dark golden eyes. The sword in Wen Xu’s hand faintly trembles.

Brown eyes narrow dangerously. “You dare insult my father?” he hisses quietly.

“I dare, Wen Xu,” Lan Qiren says blandly. “I dare to insult your father because he is a coward to his bones. An insult to his ancestors. A bastard to the core. Someone who deserves eternal death for what he did.” Dark golden eyes dart towards where Lan Xichen is and back, and he swallows, hidden emotion in his uncle’s eyes, smoldering and true. “Perhaps someone who could have earned redemption if he had never attacked us all.”

“Isn’t it a rule to never insult another in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Qiren?” Wen Xu snarls, and the Wen cultivators nearby shift nervously.

At this, Lan Qiren smiles grimly, and Lan Xichen has never seen the sharp, wild look in his eyes before. “You burnt Cloud Recesses down. I cannot see where your point lies, Wen Xu.”

There’s calm acceptance in his uncle’s voice as Lan Xichen stares down at him, slightly desperate to show himself. But there’s something reassuring in Lan Qiren’s posture, the way he seems to be holding himself. Holds his breath as he tries to see where Wen Xu’s sword will be heading, his fists clenching around the qiankun bags holding the scrolls.

He doesn’t want to see his uncle die.

Then— “Bring him out,” Wen Xu hisses out, swings his sword towards the burning buildings of his home. Lan Xichen swallows when two Wen cultivators march into debris, Wen Xu’s face growing a cruel smile. Who is Wen Xu ordering to bring out, when there’s no one left to fight against him?

A shout catches his attention as the two Wen cultivators come out with a familiar, struggling figure. His heart drops and his blood runs cold, breath hitched and his hand drifts to his sword.

It’s Lan Wangji.

His brother.

Lan Wangji tumbles onto the ground, the faint furrow of his brows and shaking of his hands revealing his brother’s current state. His brother is terrified, angered, horrified, and Lan Xichen bites his bottom lip to prevent himself from crying out his name. He tastes sweet copper on his tongue a moment later.

Red flames and douses his brother’s robes, his forehead ribbon stained with glistening dark crimson streaming down ever so slowly. His brother’s sword is missing, but Lan Xichen knows well enough his brother keeps a small spiritual weapon on him. His brother will be fine, but his uncle will not.

His uncle’s eyes widen, dark golden eyes darting from Wen Xu to Lan Wangji, back, before they harden and smooth over like ice. “No,” Lan Qiren says flatly, but there’s a slight tremor in his voice. His uncle cares, perhaps far too much, for them. “You will not.”

“I will,” Wen Xu growls and points his sword towards his uncle. Silver reflects the roaring flames in the light, as the Wen cultivators restrict Lan Wangji. “Tell me where Lan Xichen is right now, and perhaps I will spare both of your lives.”

“No.” His uncle doesn’t flinch when the sword nears his neck, and Lan Xichen feels tears running down his cheeks. He knows what will happen, no matter what his uncle will do next, no matter what Lan Wangji will do to stop it. He knows, and he can do nothing about it. “If you kill us both, then who is it to say you will be able to put the Gusu Lan Sect under your control?”

“Shufu!” Lan Wangji says desperately, golden eyes widening with visible fear.

“Offering yourself as a sacrifice?” Wen Xu sneers, the sword dipping into pale skin. Crimson drips slowly off the sword and onto his uncle’s robes. Lan Qiren doesn’t say anything, his eyes as chips of ice. There’s nothing readable in his uncle’s expression, nothing he can try and depict.

Sucks in a breath when Lan Qiren meets Wen Xu’s eyes, and says coolly, “I am. Lan Wangji doesn’t know where his brother has gone.” His uncle gives a faint smile. “And I am the only one who knows where he is.”

It’s victory in his uncle’s voice, in his eyes, Wen Xu only staying quiet. The Wen Sect Heir lifts the sword away from Lan Qiren’s neck. Faint hope flutters in his chest as he watches the two, and slowly brings the scrolls to himself. They will be safe, they will be fine. As long as his uncle doesn’t tell his location, they will all be fine.

Except... he knows he’s lying to himself. They will never be fine. Never again.

“Any last words, Lan Qiren?”

His uncle doesn’t blink an eye at the ominous words, only exchanging quiet looks with Lan Wangji. His brother silently weeps. “You can tell the bastard of your father that I have said goodbye,” is all Lan Qiren says without a single tremor in his voice, and fire shrieks in turn.

“Shufu!” Lan Wangji cries, more emotion pooled together in his voice, in this single moment than the earlier years. “No!”

Wen Xu’s eyes flicker with conflict, a flash of horror, before it fades away, resigned resolution steeling in them. Lan Xichen feels his breath hitch, grits his teeth as he tries to not make a single sound. No, no, no– there’s nothing he can do. The sword flinches once before it swings towards Lan Qiren’s head–

It connects, slices through soft flesh and bone. Crimson red sprays the ground.

The body slumps over and his uncle’s head rolls onto the ground next to it.

Lan Wangji screams.

Lan Xichen only feels his eyes widen.

There’s a serene expression on his uncle’s face, calm acceptance with closed eyes, but his uncle’s last words ring in his head, tainted and full of grief. Lan Xichen shakes as he tries to make sense of what has just happened, the memory of the sword slicing through his uncle flashing in his mind once more.

His brother tries to run towards their uncle’s body, enraged golden eyes glazed over with grief and fury, beyond what they can truly feel. The Wen cultivators hold him back, and Lan Wangji struggles against them wildly. Wen Xu stares at his sword, glistening with his uncle’s blood, seemingly in disbelief of what he had just done.

Lan Qiren is dead.

No, no, no, no, no–

Tears fall down from his eyes as he turns away, Lan Wangji’s screams quietly fading away as he walks from the scene. His uncle is dead, and all there’s left is him and Lan Wangji. Animosity sings in his blood and spiritual energy hisses in anger under his skin.

There’s no use dwelling in the past, no use trying to hope for something that isn’t possible anymore.

Lan Xichen vows revenge.

[eyeofmud]

prompt fill for @tevivinter “For DAWC: "the chariot" from the tarot prompt list!” the chariot - sacrifice, struggle, travel; “I’m sorry… I have to do this.”

for @dadrunkwriting

Victory. They’re so close to it Zevran can taste it on his tongue. Brimstone and death, so thick and so heavy Zevran knows, too, it won’t fade for a long time to come. The Archdemon’s death throes rattle through the dusty air, each breath a scream as it thrashes around the broken tiles of the palace roof. Almost the sweet music of silence. 

Lungs aching Zevran wipes his daggers clean quickly before sliding them back in their sheaths. He may have seen skirmishes before, watched battles from sidelines, but war is exhausting in ways Zevran couldn’t think of before this moment. It’s in his every joint, bone, muscle. A weariness pulling him down to sink like the chest of the Archdemon as it roars one last time. 

And then it’s over. Silence falls over Denerim as the Archdemon sighs and begins to still, not yet dead but so far gone the only thing left for it to do is close its eyes. It slides over him and all at once the ache fades from the center of Zevran’s chest as he whoops in triumph. They’ve done it. 

He turns to Ellanis with a grin on his face and laugh on his lips and Zevran finds his amor standing there beside him, facing not him but the Archdemon’s form. Profile lit by the sun, flyaway hairs dancing in the breeze and steely grey eyes looking forward.

Ellanis smiles gently. Lamplight flickering across his face in the privacy of their tent, hair down and eyes soft, he’s beautiful. “Do you really want to know?” 

Of course. Zevran wants to know everything he can about this man lying in the dark with him, but he stuffs the strange warmth down before he can think to hard about it. “Tell me about it. I’m no mage, yes, but how do you do what you do? Just look at a person and stop their heart, or make them roll an ankle and stumble onto my blade. Or seize them from the inside out, how is it you do such things.” 

Wiggling his fingers in Zevran’s direction Ellanis smirks. “Magic.” 

“Ass!” Zevran reaches out with cold hands and smacks them against Ellanis’ side. Earning a squeal before Ellanis tries to peel his hands off of him and starts a match of wrestling both of them know will end with Zevran on top. But that doesn’t matter, what matters is Ellanis’ out of breath laughter and the softness of his warm skin under Zevran’s fingers and the exhilarating rush of living in this moment. 

A red stain is spreading across the horizon. The setting sun bleeds across the battlefield to stain the last moments of it crimson. It falls like a blush across Ellanis’ skin where Zevran can see his profile outlined against the sky and for a second a trickle of unease runs down his spine. Why isn’t Ellanis smiling? 

They’ve won. In mere moments the Archdemon will be dead and the Blight will be over and they will be champions. Heroes.

But the line of Ellanis is taunt, holding himself so tightly upright it looks as though a single touch might shatter him. Staring holes at the Archdemon Ellanis is nearly swaying on his feet and Zevran can almost hear Ellanis’ heartbeat in his ears. Something isn’t right. Even as everything else is. 

It’s like cold water being poured over his head. Ellanis’ eyes are red to match the sunset and Zevran is too far to reach out in the space of heartbeats left between them. In slow motion, Zevran watches Ellanis’ eyes shut and his mouth whisper before he turns slightly to face him. A quiet acceptance in his eyes now.

“If you could go back and undo it, do you think you would?” 

Ellanis’ question hangs in the air for a moment before Zevran can even register it. Would he go back and save Rinna? Knowing everything he does now is because of it and living with that knowledge, would he go back and undo it all?

Pressing his fingers harder into Ellanis’ skin for a second and letting up as quickly Zevran isn’t sure. He would have given anything for Rinna and he killed her, but if he hadn’t would he have ever figured out he loved her? Would he have taken this contract? Or would he still be in Antiva killing without so much as a second thought until the day he, himself, would have been killed. 

To save Rinna what would he give?

Himself? 

Ellanis doesn’t press him, just watches him with those soft grey eyes of his and waits. And that’s all the answer Zevran needs. “Not now.”

Eyebrow raising, “Oh.” Too much insight in his gaze, something they’ve danced around but never spoken aloud shining in his eyes. It’s too much.

“Enough of my sins, what about yours hm?” Zevran manages to keep holding Ellanis’ gaze but only barely. Heartbeat in his throat, tingling under his skin. “The spirit asked you if you failed them and you said yes. Would you try to save them if you could do it over again?” 

Looking away first Ellanis bites at his lip. “Yes.” He breathes and Zevran nearly misses it. “I would.” 

“Why?” Air in his lungs burning him slowly from the inside out. Ellanis’ bare skin against his is warm, the whole of him so easily fitting inside the circle of Zevran’s arms. Like he could belong there. 

Eyes shutting in the dark, eyelashes against cheeks. “I don’t want to lose someone I love if I don’t have to.”

Sad smile on his face, head tilted just far enough the sun is glinting off the earring on his ear. Zevran takes half a step towards him in realization only for Ellanis to raise a hand and magic Zevran has only felt once before stops him in his tracks. "I'm sorry." Too far to hear his voice but Zevran knows his lips well enough to read any words that cross them, even the ones he wishes he couldn't. "I have to do this." 

No.

Stuck in place, a terror so deep it could stop his heart. Could, but doesn’t. Instead, it beats hard enough against his ribs Zevran should be afraid they’ll crack. Shatter just like he thought Ellanis might. Fighting against something he can’t beat, a fury mixing under his veins as his body doesn’t respond to his desperate cries to move. Move!

One tear falling down Ellanis’ cheek, a clear path of salt through the dust and dirt. Zevran can feel its match burning behind his own eyes. Unable to fall.

No.

"I love you." 

No!

Ellanis turns his back on him and if Zevran could do more than breathe he'd be screaming. Pleading. But instead he is unmoving. Watching Ellanis' spirit brace flair to life once more, walking calmly to the silent, barely breathing Archdemon. Watching as the monster's eyes lock onto Ellanis and shut. 

Watching as his amor raises his cane, his staff, for one final blow. 

Bringing it down on the Archdemon's head Ellanis is encapsulated in light for a moment stretching into forever. A column so thick it blocks out everything else, consuming everything in its path in a horrifying roar and before Zevran can really comprehend it Ellanis is lost in the light entirely. 

Please… no...

And the magic holding him in place vanishes.

"Will you take me to Antiva, when this is over?" 

His voice is so small in the dark. Zevran presses a kiss to Ellanis’ temple, tonight is a bad night. Not that he was expecting a good one out of the night before their final battle. Tear tracks wiped away by shaky hands, Ellanis is keeping something from him but Zevran doesn’t care about it. All he cares about is seeing the sunset of tomorrow with Ellanis beside him. A sunset Ellanis promised they’d see together.

“Amor, I will show you the beauties Antiva has to offer. Starting with a beach made of black sand where I happen to know of a well-hidden cove. It is a perfect place to forget about all others.” 

Trembling fingers wrap around Zevran’s. “I’d like that.”

“Ellanis!” Knees hitting the broken stone, tears falling with freedom. Blinking the last of the light from his eyes Zevran rushes to his unsteady feet. Thudding heartbeat in his ears when he still can’t see Ellanis, refusing to believe he isn’t there. “Ellanis!” 

Choking on his name, running as gracefully as newly born foal all trembling steps too fast and too weak not to fall. But Zevran keeps going, throwing himself upwards and continuing to run. Frantically looking around the rubble surrounding the Archdemon for any sign, any movement. And finding none at all. Nothing stirs in the clear air left behind after the light but him. 

Nothing.

Sobbing his name instead of shouting, “Ellanis.”

Shaking his head Zevran can’t believe it. Won’t believe it. He can’t just be gone. No, no, no, no, no, no! 

There. 

Zevran freezes just as solidly as he would if Ellanis had stopped him again. Because in a way he has. Lying crumpled against the jagged edge of a broken flagstone Ellanis isn’t moving. 

But Zevran is. 

Sprinting across the debris scattered roof Zevran stops breathing. If he breathes he might hope and Zevran knows all too well what comes of wishing. Of wanting. It catches in his chest and it tears down his cheeks and it weighs down his bones under his skin and Zevran is there. Falling. 

Ellanis is so small cradled against his chest. 

His skin is ashen and almost cool and Zevran rests his forehead against Ellanis’ quietly even though the whole of him is screaming. “You promised.” 

Broken voice over a broken body. “You promised you’d watch the sunset with me, amor.” Salt on his lips landing on Ellanis’ cheeks. A quivering hand caressing back the hair from his face even as the other tries in vain to hold Ellanis closer. 

But he doesn’t curl up in Zevran’s arms and he doesn’t tuck his head under Zevran’s chin and he doesn’t move at all. 

And Zevran breaks. Shatters. He curls further over Ellanis, rocking forward until his shins are digging into the roof and the sharp pain of it grounds him to this moment. This reality. This world without Ellanis. 

“You promised.”

But he didn’t keep it. 

Ellanis’ eyelashes are wet against his cheeks and in the light of the low burning candle, Zevran can watch as another tear swells beneath them. “And what if we don’t make it Zev?” Scratchy and thick Ellanis’ voice carries just far enough for Zevran to hear it. 

“What do you mean, of course we will make it.” He reaches out softly and wipes away the tears, a small gap to cross in the flickering dark. 

Grey eyes opening, puffy and red-rimmed. “I’m serious, what happens if we can’t stop the Blight?” Laughing high and off-key Ellanis shakes his head away from Zevran’s touch. “We’re just people Zev, do you really think we can do this?” 

“Yes.” Absolute faith. Not a moment’s hesitation. “We will stop the Blight, you will stop the Blight Ellanis. And when we do life will go on. Nothing lasts forever.”

Biting his lip Ellanis looks away, “Do you really believe that?” 

Reaching out again, cupping Ellanis’ cheek in his hand and this time he doesn’t pull away. “Do I believe you will stop the Blight? Without question.” 

“No, do you believe nothing lasts forever?” Eyes sliding back to meet Zevran’s Ellanis raises a hand to cover Zevran’s quietly, tenderly. 

Zevran smiles, all teeth and no bite. “The only thing that will last forever is us.” 

Cold fingers press against his cheek and Zevran pulls back nearly immediately. Startled, terrified eyes opening to meet soft grey ones. Stopping time once again, a heartbeat lasting forever. A promise kept against every odd cruel fate could throw against them and Zevran breaks again into entirely different pieces. 

This time, Zevran sobs Ellanis’ name and hears his own in response.

[personnages]

may you never need to banish misfortune

once the twilight settles over Hyrule, time passes by slowly for the one left high in the castle tower.

a drabble (ramble) of princess zelda, featuring @sunlilted ‘s sheik.

Surrender or die.

Life... or death?!

After a while, when she awakens, it is no longer with a hammering heart and tightened breath. She blinks her eyes open in her cold bed, looks at the slumbering embers in the fireplace, and glances towards the windows to see the same amber dreariness and sticky blackness as yesterday. Her cloak is waiting where she left it, folded over the single chair remaining in the room, and after she changes out of her nightgown and unbraids her hair, she slides it around her shoulders, knotting the scarf at her chin before pulling the hood over her head. Zelda kneels at the fireplace and cups her hands around her mouth to blow at the embers; it won't sustain a true fire but it will be some warmth, at least, before she needs to add another piece of wood to it. She's running out of furniture she can dismantle, she knows. The table and its chairs were the first to be fed to the fireplace, then the armchair, then the dressing-table and finally the wardrobe. All that's left is the dressing-table's chair, pulled towards the window, a single chest, and her bed. The chest holds one other set of clothes and precious little else at this point. If she has to, she can sit on the chest, though the wardrobe was large enough that she hopes to stretch it for some time. Hopefully, she'll get by without having to sacrifice the chair.

The twilight is cold and seems to cling to her skin like stickiness, so it's a double blessing to wrap herself up in her dark, heavy cloak to stave off both sensations. And Zant seemed to enjoy seeing her enveloped in darkness, so he speaks to her less, taunts her less. Zelda has no intention of pleasing him, but if he'll leave her alone, then so much the better. He seems to be busier, anyways. She hasn't seen him at all in the past few days, something she both thanks the goddesses for and fears the consequences of.

Time is nearly impossible to measure, in the twilight. Days and nights are the same, that unyielding smoggy amber, patched with black specks that flutter through the air and shadow her steps. The guard, she thinks, comes about every two hours, even when she sleeps, locking and unlocking her door as it pleases, leaving it open or firmly shut according to its whims. Zelda's gotten used to waking before a time she's begun to call six in the morning, so that she can have some morning to herself. She used to awaken every time the guards would make their rounds, shadows drawing long under her eyes before she accepted that she would simply have to sleep through it. They rarely come into her room, anyways, as if something drives them away once they cross the threshold. So they content themselves with kicking the door open or slamming it closed, and she doesn't speak to them, acting as if they aren't there at all.

The first few weeks, she tried to leave her room in search of more furniture to use as firewood, only to discover that the tower steps were half-crumbling and burned out, smoldering piles of stone and wood. The guard had screamed at her from the bottom of them then, an inhuman howl emerging from its spindly maw like metal scratching against metal, and she'd hurried back into her room back towards the window, her heart hammering in her throat despite herself until the steps of the guard had faded away. She'd been able to smell the smoke, wet and heavy, and she guessed that the rest of the castle was as the tower: a burned-out shell.

So today, she coaxes a little more warmth from her fire and makes her bed, folding her nightgown under her pillow. Most of the coverlets had been stripped from it in the first few days, leaving her only with a single sheet to draw taut, but it's something to do. It's become one of the few rhythms of her days, counted in sets of guard rounds; in a few more hours, she'll kneel in front of the tattered banner left on the wall – they had tried to rip it down from the wall but somehow it had stubbornly stayed put, and so they'd left it – to speak her prayers to Nayru, Farore, and Din, and then to Hylia. If not for them, she might grow unused to speaking at all. Still, Zelda can never bring herself to say them louder than a murmur, her knees growing cold on the stones even through her cloak. After that, she'll sit at the window, walk her room occasionally, and wait.

From her window, she can see dim lights moving below, muffled as they are through the thick air. This tower looked down over the main square of Castle Town, the fountain in its center now stopped and dry. The spirits that used to be her people still move slowly around the square, anxiously going through what they think are their days, trapped and slowed by the twilight. The first few days, she could barely look at them without flinching in shame and fear, but now she gazes down at them to trace their routes around the square. Now, she's grateful they're still moving instead of slowly winking out, one by one.

There's a lot less that horrifies her now, she knows. If she stops to let herself be scared, then she may well never find the will within herself to keep waiting, to maintain her patience. She needs to remain unmoving, innocuous, to be nearly forgotten by the king of the twilight and his beasts. Zant's infrequent visits are a gift, for they let Midna come to her and tell her of her plans, and with the goddesses' favor they will give her enough time for either Midna or Zamir to find the hero and bring them to her.

She prays that both of them have escaped the shadow beasts, hopes that Zamir escaped the castle before it was gutted and burned. Midna has come to visit her a few times, seemingly laughing at the danger to herself, though she always leaves before the guard can catch her in Zelda's room. Zamir she has heard nothing of.

She reminds herself as she gazes steadily past the iron framework of the window that no news of him is good news. It means he hasn't been found and captured, for surely Zant would have crowed to her of such a victory. It means that there is still hope: that the hero will be found, and that the darkness will be driven out of Hyrule. The triforce crest on the back of hand is dim but shining, even through the gloves she wears, a reminder that she is one piece and that there will be two others.

It still unnerves her, sometimes, despite her desire to stay patient. Though she knows it is the wisest course of action for both herself and for Hyrule, waiting for the bearers of Courage and Power to come to her is not what she envisioned when the triforce had made itself clear within her. She is powerless in this situation, and though she hopes for the hero to come to her first, she knows it's more likely that Ganondorf will find a way through Zant. But neither of them have yet to make an appearance, as far as she can tell. She gathers precious little information nowadays, alone in her room, but Zant is not the bearer of the triforce of Power, though Zant feels suffused with it in a way Zelda still cannot quite parse. Sometimes she suspects that Zant, too, is waiting, though for what, she doesn't know. Zamir would be better at finding that out, but he isn't here.

The guard's steps clomp closer to her door, and the door – having been open when she awoke – is slammed shut, the key clicking in the lock. Zelda sighs and sits down in her chair, placing her fingertips on her temples for a moment and shutting her eyes before letting her hands fall back down to her sides.

She's been apart from her twin brother before – he has always had the ability to go where she cannot, and to be away from the castle for extended periods of time – but she always knew he would return and that he would be safe, in the end. But the last she saw of him, he was hurrying towards the back of the castle with Auru and a few others, heading not towards the town but the wilder provinces. She prays that decision saved his life, and that he, too, was able to resist becoming a spirit in some way. She tries not to let herself think of the possibility that Zamir, too, is motionless somewhere in Hyrule, a bead of light dimly caught in terror.

If Midna is not caught by the shadow beasts, and if Zamir does not become a spirit, and if one or both of them find the hero, and if the hero arrives before Ganondorf does... That line of questioning will lead to nothing but anxiety, and she knows that will serve no one, so she opens her eyes again. There's a muffled rumble and then it starts to rain, the drops tapping one-by-one on the glass before it comes down in sheets, lightning flashing through the air. The room becomes colder and Zelda rises to blow on the fireplace again, warming her hands against it, palms flat and splayed. The triforce is dim and steady on her hand, like always. Goddesses, guide my people. Watch over the hero. Watch over Midna.

Watch over Zamir.

Guide me in our darkest hour. She allows herself in this prayer, bringing her hands back within the sleeves of her cloak. Lend me the strength to do what I must.