#or maybe someone has already made something like this and i am underestimating the unyielding indomitable human spirit

[syrnyj]

concept: a theatre play in which every show is just one part of the overall story.

the first couple of plays happen normally, with all the same lines and scenes in every one. then something clues one of the characters in to the fact that they have already lived through these events before, but something keeps bringing them back to the beginning.

from this point onwards, the protagonist begins trying everything they can think of to break the time loop, altering the plot of every show in the process & the final performance is the one where they finally succeed.

[hobiwonder]

Induratize | 05

Pairing: Prince!Jimin x Princess!Reader

Genre: Royalty AU.

Warnings: Angst, Smut (future), Fluff, Some violence. [angst in this chapter].

Words: 4k+

Summary: You make a heart-shattering discovery. 

A/N: i won’t even try and justify the wait bc i’ve been crying about it on my blog regularly, so!!! this is a major chapter in terms of OC and Jimin’s relationship. It took me a while to write it because I kept getting distracted by other projects but now that i only have exams to cover (and the big reveal has happened phew) I can maybe focus on moving the story to its fluffy end???? hmmm????? [it’s coming soon]. PLEASE tell me what you think!!! I have already written 2k words of the next chapter.

When Jimin used to walk down the same dimly lit passageway towards his father’s, the King’s, chambers he rarely felt anything other than mild annoyance from being reprimanded for the most minuscule mishap while on missions and negotiations with the neighbouring clans. Back then, he had nothing to lose. Nor did he care much if he was whipped or starved whenever he made a mistake. It was how he had been trained ever since he was a boy. His father became even more unsympathetic once the Queen passed. Jimin was allowed a mere few hours to grieve her before he was stowed away in the training camp under the Army General. Every tear that slipped down his cheek was whipped away until his eyes were dry and mouth was set tight. There was no place for weakening emotions like sadness. Only anger. And anger was filled inside of Jimin to the brim in his years of training. To the point where he learned how to master it and utilise the emotion in winning wars and slashing clans that refused to do his father’s bidding.

He had learned how to be unyielding and unforgiving. He was attached to no one but the cause of…. Of what? He had never questioned it before. Conquering was all his father cared about. But was it not enough? Haelyra was prospering. There was nothing the kingdom lacked. Yet his father was unwilling to stop his mission to have the whole world in the palm of his hand. And Jimin was a loyal soldier, fulfilling his duty to his country and being an advocate of his father’s plans. Whether willing or unwilling. Though he was mostly ambivalent to the details or the plans. He didn’t know a life other than the one he was living. The tender love and nurture his mother provided for the short period that she was alive felt like a fever dream.

Until you. Until he met you. And now that he was walking through the same walls, surrounded by the same guards, about to see the same person he had seen many times in this context; he was scared. He was scared out of his wits because now he had something to lose. You. The one person who let him shed tears without judgement and held him together. Someone he did not know he needed until he let you in and wrap your warm arms around his cold body. You were the warmest person he had ever known and the only person who let him…. feel anything other than anger and numbness. Only other person apart from his mother. Though his body was not showing physical signs of his internal panic about what would his father could possibly do to you if he realised your importance to Jimin.

Leaving you in his chambers was harder than he thought it would be. Your soft eyes had looked up at him while you clutched the sheets around your even softer body. Thankfully, he’d been able to contain his initial panic and gently coax you in to taking another restful nap until he was finished with business. Reassuring you that he would be back and that it was just a routine visit. But of course Jimin knew better than to pretend he knew what was coming his way. That was his father’s play. Never keeping Jimin in the know too much so he will stay on alert and not become comfortable in his position as the future king. He understood it before. Or at least he thought he did. That his father was preparing him for what is to come. Though, more and more it seemed impractical to Jimin that he wasn’t not aware of future plans, or even current, right before they were to be implemented. Would it not be better if Jimin was made aware of future expeditions and laws that were to be announced before they actually were? Did his father not trust him with any decision making?

“Your majesty.” Minister of the Household, Ahn Jihoon, greeted Jimin as he entered his father’s chambers. His nerves were on edge but at least his years of training made him a master of control.

Jimin took a curt bow towards where his father sat in his throne, busy examining the scroll in his hands.

“How are you, son?” This was certainly unexpected. Jimin could count on one hand how many times his father had asked him that.

“I am well, father. What is it that you wish to discuss?” He gets straight to the point like always. However, he could tell that his father was trying to find the right words to speak with the way his eyes roamed about the room before setting on him.

“I see it was quite the blood bath.” The King chuckles as if the death of hundreds of people was daily humour to him and it makes Jimin feel queasy. “You’re looking bright which is excellent before you begin your next task.”

“When would that be?” It was too soon for his men to go out again. They had barely healed from the last mission. Hell, he had barely healed but he didn’t want his father to know that.

“Well son,” The King leaned back in his throne, placing the scroll he had been reading to the side for the house minister to collect, “You will embark at sundown tomorrow.”

When his father continued to stare at him with shrewd arrogance, Jimin knew the answer to his question before it even slipped past his tongue.

“Where… would that be?” A calculated smile and then an astute laugh.

“To Tampa of course. We have business there you failed to finish. Again.” The atmosphere had gone eerie in mere seconds as the King grimaced towards Jimin, unsatisfied.

“But my lord, we just attacked. I’ve barely had time to wash off the blood soaked in my coats.” Though Jimin’s reasoning fell on deaf ears as the King waived off his concerns.

“It will be better to attack while the enemy is still wounded. The element of surprise will be in our favour son.” Jimin was furious.

“And how do you expect me to use that element in my favour when half of my men are bed bound?”

“We will recruit more men if need be.” The king looked unbothered. Staring dismissively at Jimin who tried to keep his voice levelled and not explode with the anger bubbling inside. How could his father be so reckless and uncaring towards his own people?

“I will not have untrained soldiers sign a death contract. You underestimate the Tampans, father. They fight with a vigour that even I do not possess.”

“Then acquire it!” The king’s loud voice boomed across the walls, alerting the guards standing in his chambers to the king’s fury. “For your land. For your people! Remember son. No mercy…” He leaned close to Jimin, looking him in the eyes before whispering, “Only vengeance.”

Jimin swallowed his own vehemence. Your face flashing before his eyes suddenly, calming his nerves tenfold that even he himself was surprised.

“We will make an enemy out of them forever if we attack again, you are aware, right father?”

“We don’t need cooperation from those heathens; only obedience.” The king spoke of his former allies as if he had barely known them. When in reality, the Tampan tribe had been a valuable resource and a source of information to his father’s previous plans. And yet, with the craze of world dominance, the King was ready to sacrifice valuable bonds in exchange of absolute power. Wanting nothing but to play God.

Jimin says nothing. Face stoic and posture stony. “Do you understand me soldier?”

He just nods. “Good. You must maintain an air of absolute obedience with anyone. No exceptions. You are the future King, son. You must be cruel if it results in obedience.”

If Jimin remained in his father’s chambers any longer, he was afraid he would say something that could jeopardize his men or worse, you.

“And Jimin?” He stops right before he exits when his father calls him again.

“Yes, my lord?”

“The girl must remain pure. Do not forget. If the marriage is consummated, it will be difficult cutting ties with Munia when the time comes.”

Within seconds, Jimin has exited his father’s chambers after nodding before he stops in the hallway, away from anyone witnessing the heavy breaths leaving him. He had almost forgotten. In fact, he actually had forgotten about the sick and twisted plan his father had in mind before he agreed to marry Jimin with you. The relationship that had cultivated between him and you turned out to be something so bewildering, so precious that the reminder of the wicker scheme his father had come up with was making him physically sick to his stomach.

How could Jimin ever agree to it? How did he ever agree to such thing being done to an innocent human being, let alone someone he had come to care for so much that he knew, without question, that he would die for you. The overwhelming feeling he had developed to protect and cherish you was like cold water being poured all over him. The realisation that he loved you had him weak in the knees as he leaned back against the stone wall for support. Looking up at the sky as if it held all the answers.

He was in love with you. And in the end, he would have to leave you.

His father had specifically instructed him to not consummate his marriage with you because then, after acquiring all of your wealth and Kingdom, the royal law would allow Jimin to divorce a princess if she is pure and can be married to another royal. It was the sick reality. That you would be just handed off to the next Kingdom as an offering to another prince. As long as you were pure, his father’s plans would be in place and no royal laws will be broken. If Jimin did take your maidenhood, you would be his wife forever, his responsibility and the King would have no choice but to remain allies with Munia.

But he knew that if he did mark you as his forever, the King would not stop at anything until you were out of his life. There was no other way to conquer Munia other than war or via infiltration. Having Jimin be in holy matrimony with you was the perfect way to gain access to anything and everything in Munia.

And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to try to do any of those things. He didn’t care for it anymore. Ever since you’d come in to his life, it seemed worth living again. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened but he would do anything to protect you. Even if it meant keeping you away from him. He couldn’t risk your life for his own selfish need to have you. You deserved better than a man like him. A man who was using you for your wealth and Kingdom. It didn’t matter how much he loved you; his father would never let you stay in his life

It had been roughly an hour that Jimin has been gone and with each passing minute, you’re getting more nervous. In the time you’ve been here, it wasn’t hard to notice Jimin’s swaying moods always came after being away on his father’s orders or whenever he came back from his chambers. And the way Jimin’s demeanour distorted, hearing the guard relay the message, you knew that all the progress you two had made so far in connecting with each other was at risk. It was becoming more apparent to you that opening himself up to someone was definitely not an option for Jimin before you or at least a while before you that his default reaction to you being concerned for his wellbeing was that it was a burden for you. When in reality, anyone and not just someone with a relationship such as a husband or wife, would comfort a person in distress like he was last night.

Though you were determined because even if you hadn’t clearly admitted to yourself that Jimin, as infuriating his fluctuating moods and sometimes unyielding rigid personality, meant something to you – you were not going to give up. Not that you had much of a choice anymore because you couldn’t just up and leave. You were bound to Jimin by every royal law out there and before, that seemed like the worst life sentence. But you were happy that you’d made a life for yourself with genuine friendships and your ever growing romance with Jimin. Never did you think that the mere thought of him would make you blush so much. And now you were. Blushing furiously while you brushed your hair as Haejin tidied up in the back.

“Are you feeling okay, Princess?”

“Huh? P-Pardon?” You could see Haejin looking slyly at you. As if she didn’t really care about the answer.

“You’re looking awfully rosy.” Her tone appears to be playful teasing first. Until she opens her mouth again when you duck your head in embarrassment. “The prince has that affect doesn’t he? I would know.”

“I beg your pardon?” The words slip out before you can control your reaction and you can feel your heart skip a beat. What does that mean?

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Princess.” It was as if this was a completely different Haejin that what you’d been witnessing before. Maybe on the first day you’d been here but never did you think that you’d be right about your suspicions. That she had some sort of relationship with your husband. And you were not exactly happy with her condescending tone right now. Haejin just smiles at you through the mirror as she finishes folding the feathery blankets before she tip-toes out the door, curtseying to you as she leaves.

What in the lord’s name was that supposed to mean? Did Jimin harbour some sort of feelings for her? Even if he did, it wouldn’t have been allowed in the first place due to her place as a palace worker. Though you were entirely speculating at this point, your silly heart was hurting already at even the thought of Jimin being involved with another woman. You wanted to be the only one and as silly as this sounded even in your head – you wanted Jimin to wholly belong to you. The more you got to know him, the harder it was becoming to be apart. And even though he was still on castle grounds, you felt like it had been a lifetime since you’d been able to smell is earthy scent.

The creaking open of the chamber doors is unnoticed by your ears as you stare off in to the distance, still absentmindedly brushing your hair. Jimin’s solemn reflection in the mirror however has you turning back fast. Something didn’t feel right.

“Are… are you alright?” He doesn’t look at you right away. His face was set in harsh lines, the way you have mostly seen him as of late.

You get up from your vanity chair, making your way to the window where he stood, looking out of the castle. Jimin stood quietly as if in deep thought, hands inside his trouser pockets. It may not have been the best time for your body to react the way it does, shuddering as you take in his attractive stance and the way the muscles in his back appeared prominent below his thin blouse. He was the epitome of beauty.

“I’m fine. I’m… fine.” The sigh doesn’t go unnoticed by you. The Prince sounds deeply troubled with whatever that is occupying his mind. You desperately hoped that your growing closeness would mean that your husband would open up to you a bit more freely. Yet, it seems that you will have to probe and prod at him to let you share his troubles and worries and maybe ease his pain.

Jimin doesn’t turn around to even spare you a glance. It’s almost as if he’s going out of his way to avoid looking your way and you don’t understand what happened in the small timeframe he was away from you. “Jimin, please talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Your hands go to take his wrist in to yours, still standing behind him as you look up at his stoic face. He doesn’t budge. And you try again. “Jimin? Are you due to leave again? Is that… Is that what’s troubling you?”

He just shakes his head but only to dismiss your questions – not as an answer to them. Why was he acting so distant again? Why does this feel like that despite the two steps forward, you’d taken several back?

Your body moves at its own accord as you take a step forward, slipping your hands up his chest trying your best to have him just look at you. “Can I help-”

“Enough! You can’t help me!” Jimin’s outburst is unexpected and his loud voice so close to you makes you flinch backwards like you’ve been burned. If he notices you flinch, he doesn’t comment. He’s looking at you like he’s helpless. Eyes blown wide while the clench in his jaw intensifies. You’d figured to some extent that Jimin was not in the carefree, lively mood he’d left the chambers in. Everything about him looked… hostile. It’s like someone had brought him back to default. Reverting him back in to the closed off, austere and indifferent man you’d become used to but had hoped could change.

You’re not sure what you looked like but the expression on your face must have brought Jimin back from the episode of rage he’d flown in. He’s reaching out to you – hands trying to grasp yours. You step back out of instinct, not wanting to upset him further and it breaks his heart to see you back away. “W-Why are you being like this?”

The tears pool in your eyes before you can stop them and Jimin’s attempts to touch you intensify, wanting to wipe away the hurt from your face. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m…. sorry.”

Jimin’s head hangs low, hands resigning by his side while he lets the tears escape. What had happened for him to be so fraught? All the times in the past, you’d always been able to tell yourself that you could do something about the many mishaps that occurred between the two of you. This time, however, it seemed different. You felt a thousand miles away from your husband and to see him so troubled made you feel helpless.

“Y/n...,” Jimin is moving forwards with a new fire in his eyes, desperation lacing his every movement as his callous hands cup your face.

“Listen to me. There are forces, in this castle that want to take you away from me. And I... I knew that when the time came, I would have to give you up. But... But that was before I- I felt this way. I can’t let you be taken away from me. I will not give you up.”

“What do you mean? Jimin, please. T-Tell me.”

Now it’s you who is desperately trying to look him in the eyes, hands coming up to hold him by his elbows. Trying to gauge some sort of explanation for his odd confession. Who was going to take your away from him? How did he know this already but had not thought to tell you anything before? Did he always know you would be discarded?

“Jimin... please. What is happening?”

“I’m so sorry. I... I will do whatever it takes to keep you by my side. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Jimin!” You’re hysterical just as much as him. Trying to shake him from his delirium. And for once he stops, watching you pull away to gather your thoughts. “What are you not telling me?”

The eerie silence that follows is enough to tell you that this wasn’t an ordinary secret. Did you really want to find out? Maybe living in ignorance will be better than knowing the wholehearted truth but it was too late. You harboured too many feelings for the man across from you to let this go. You needed to know what he was implying.

“Before... Before you were betrothed to me, The King had made a plan. A plan to use your father’s royal relations in exchange for the manpower we would provide. As a token of good faith and to make sure that the two kingdoms will be united after decades of war, your father had suggested that I will take you as my bride. In order to test my father’s truthfulness and to strengthen the alliance. But the king... my father. He’s a cruel man Y/n. He always gets his way. He always sets his own rules and most of all - his pride is what matters to him most.”

Each word escaping Jimin’s mouth makes your stomach churn further and further. Your father had offered you up as a peace offering like you were a lamb to slaughter. You had made yourself believe that he needed to protect his people and that you understood. But it didn’t ease the pain. Especially after hearing it from your husband’s mouth. Because you had a feeling something more grim was coming.

“Go on.” You’re holding on the bedpost, standing much farther than before and now the distance you had felt before had become physical.

Jimin is silent for a few more seconds before he speaks again. Shame and regret lacing his every word making you feel sick.

“My father had decided to agree with yours. To continue with the alliance. In front of your father anyway. He played the part of a dutiful and loyal king, bettering the circumstances during his reign by bringing you here. But... that’s not the case. He told me to not... not take your maidenhood. To keep my distance from you until he had what he needed. And then, he was going to send you back.”

“You see, he finds a way. He always finds a way to make everything dance to his beat. And the law dictates that if a royal bride is virginal, if the marriage hasn’t been consummated... it is not real.”

“No church will be able to stand against my father and declare him a sinner if I... If I had kept my distance. I- My love for you is real, my love. Please.”

The wetness on your cheeks is registered only when Jimin has stopped speaking. You were crying silently, without even knowing that teardrops were falling steadily from your face. The realisation that this whole marriage was a sham, that it was a carefully orchestrated affair was shattering you into tiny little pieces.

“You agreed to it.” it may have been a whisper but Jimin’s pained eyes heard you fine and clear.

He was rooted in place, watching you crumble against the bed, seconds away from madness.

“That was before. Please, Y/n.”

“Yet you continued toying with my heart.” your whole world was crashing down.

Nothing could have prepared for your husband’s complicit partaking in such an ugly scheme. How could a human being do this to another? Were you in love with a man who had no regard for another’s life? Was he really a changed man or this was his way of covering up his slip up from before? Why did you feel so uncertain about everything? So, so lost and betrayed and hurt and anguish.

“Please, Y/n. I love you. I loved you the day I met you I just took too long to realise it. I-I won’t let anything happen.”

“Do you? How am I to believe that? I was merely a temporary whore to warm your bed. Was I not?”

“Don’t say that. Please.” Jimin is kneeling in front of you, trying to hold you. Show you that he’s telling the truth and you so desperately want to believe him.

But you weren’t naive. He was loyal to his kingdom. Just like your father was. Just like his father was.

“You can’t keep me. You... you won’t keep me. You don’t have the power to.” Bringing your hand unto his face, you stroke across the chiselled bones, watching his pretty, puffy eyes looking at you with just longing.

“I don’t have power over myself. I’m merely, a body to be shuffled as the people in my life please, aren’t I? I have no autonomy. I’m no one.”

The words tumbled out of you without any hesitation. At this point, you were speaking to yourself more than Jimin. Because it was true. Just like your father, Jimin was loyal to the crown. And when the time came, you knew he would obey his father. And you will have to leave. You’ll go back to the place that had essentially exiled you. You belonged nowhere.

“Please, darling. Don’t say that. You’re the besting to have ever happened to me. I will keep you safe.”

“How? You don’t love me! You think you do. To ease your guilt. You don’t... love me.”

“I do and I will prove it to you.” For once, it was not you trying to gain Jimin’s favour.

After months and months of trying to build something between the two of you, you realised that it was futile. You’d been making yourself into a fool all the while he had known that this could go nowhere. Yet, to keep you from suspecting, he’d gone along the few times he had been present with you.

“Just... Just leave me be. Please, my lord. Just grant me some solitude.”

Jimin’s eyes are as vacant as your heart and you know that your refusal to say his name was your small step of retaliation. Nonetheless, he listens. Dropping a kiss to your forehead, he backs away. Watching you huddle within yourself - melancholy taking over the air.

“I won’t give up, Y/n.”

Oh how you wished that would’ve held true.

a/n: it won't hurt this much next chapter i promise.

[mirroralchemist]

Untitled FFXIV Trash pt.4

I think at this rate Imma forego my monthly writing update for this month since LOOK AT ALL THIS WRITING I’VE BEEN DOING

Notes: Still in ShB spoilers hell. This is after pt.3 and just after WoL and Ryne reunite with the others. That and the Thancred scene(tm) before it are my absolute favorites from the expansion (so far) so it was inevitable that I would write Ami’s feelings about him almost dying. This is just more me being wishy-washy on will they or won’t they.

Also more sad times.

“ ‘Filia, we have to go.” she said.

“But Thancred!” the Oracle of Light cried.

Blue eyes stared at his form. He was ready to fight the Eulmoran general, she could see that. This was a fight that he was adamant on having. His words earlier still ringing in her head. He was going to protect the resolve of this Minifilia with everything he had.

“He knows what he’s doing.” she finally said.

The Warrior of Darkness took a deep breath as she focused her energies into her speed. She nodded towards him before taking Minfilia’s hand and running towards their destination. She didn’t look back. Not even as the sounds of battle began. She couldn’t look back, lest the temptation to fight by his side win out.

He trusted her to protect this child.

That was the least she could do.

‘Don’t you dare die on me Thancred I swear to the Twelve.’

*   *   *

The Warrior of Darkness stopped. She and Minifilia were well on their way to their place. Minfilia stopped as well, seeing her pause. Blue crystalline eyes looked at her in worry.

“Ami? Is something the matter?”

Ami said nothing at first. She could only look down, her hand touching her chest. Something felt wrong. She soon felt a pair of hands reach up to her cheeks, wiping the tears strolling down her face.

‘Tears?’

“Ami, please speak to me.” Minifilia pleaded.

Something felt very very wrong.

She shook her head. It was just the worry coming through, she reasoned. She had every right to be worried. Ran’jit was a foe not to underestimate. The few skirmishes she had with the man well warranted her fears. She knew her Scion couldn’t die. He had cheated death so many times already. When this was all over, they would all meet up again and have a laugh over this.

The pang of emptiness gnawing at her chest didn’t go away.

“I’m fine? We’ve been running for a while, lets take a small break.”

*  *   *

“Your hair, it’s different.” Ami remarked.

Minfilia took a lock of her hair, blue eyes staring at shock. Not only did the Minfilia she had known changed this girl on the inside, to give her full reign over her abilities, but on the outside too. If no one had knew before hand, the girl standing before her now could never had easily figured out as the Oracle. Worry etched on Minfilia’s face.

“Thancred is pr-”

“He’ll be fine.” Ami assured her, “I’ll walk with you to meet him. He doesn’t stand a chance if we double up on him.”

That brought a smile to the young woman’s face.

“You care for him deeply, don’t you?”

Ami froze at that statement. She let out a small sigh. Whether some residual feeling from the Minfilia she knew or just the girl’s excellent observation skills, she couldn’t decipher how she knew. But Ami would not deny it. Not to this girl who shared so much with her.

“I do.” Ami admitted, “He most likely didn’t tell you this, but he was the one who recruited me to the Scions.”

She stared towards the sky, its unyielding light a reminder why they had set out here on this day. A feeling of nostalgia washed over the Warrior of Darkness. Back before all of the battles she would soon face, she was just a novice Pugilist sent to find a noble.

“It feels such a lifetime ago. We have changed in those times since we took down a voidsent together. As comrades and friends we have grown. I can scarcely imagine where I would be in this moment without him.”

She shook her head to will away those thoughts. She soon turned her gaze towards Minfilia, letting a small smile appear on her face.

“The others should be waiting. Let us go meet them.”

*   *   *

Words failed to express what I am seeing before me. We were all together again. But sitting at the steps of an abandoned station was Thancred; and he looked worse for the wear. His pristine white coat caked with dirt and tears at the tails. Dried blood and dirt smudged his skin as well.

I thought back to that moment earlier, where the emptiness had started to hit my chest as he recounted the tale of his encounter with Ran’jit.

He had nearly died.

If it wasn’t for the quick timing of our friends’ healing arts, he would not be standing here.

I took a deep breath as he reunited with Minfil-no, it’s Ryne now. We had said goodbye to a dear friend, one that brought us all together. But we welcomed a new one into our fold.

But it picked at my mind that I could have lost two friends this day.

My hands balled into fists as the realization set in. For the sake of not souring the relieved atmosphere, I kept my emotions hidden. We were so close to the possible location of the Lightwarden here, we couldn’t afford more delays than what we have already. 

I let myself fall back as we traveled through the trolley tracks towards Malikah's Well. Ryne was really taking to her new abilities. Regardless of other events, seeing her with this new found confidence made me proud.

“We’ll have to go deeper.” she said.

We all gathered at the opening to the mining area. It was expansive, so it was ideal that we took a small break to prepare ourselves before exploring its depths. I still couldn’t take my eyes off of Thancred’s current state. It was a harsh reminder of what could have happened.

I dug into my pack and pulled out a bolt of cotton cloth and a vial of filtered water; leftover material from my crafting ventures. I bit into the fabric, making a haphazard strip before pouring the water over it. It was an automatic process as I made my way towards him and began my attempts to clean him up a bit. My hands trembling as I wiped the soaked cloth against his cheek.

It must have took a full minute for him to realize what I was doing before he grabbed my wrists.

“Ami?”

“You look terrible.” I could only say, voice wavering.

There was that smirk that I had come to get used to over the time of knowing him. Any other time, however, I would just play along in a knowing smile too. But I was drained mentally. I dropped the items in my hands on the ground as I lowered my head and the tears pooled around my eyes. It didn’t take long before they soon fell. By some small grace, it wasn’t as obvious I had begun to cry.

It was reminiscent of watching Haurchefant die in front of me; the thoughts of regret and guilt ready to consume me.

Once again, you almost were too late.

How pitiful, you cannot even save those you hold dear.

The stoic mask I had carefully constructed had cracked. The silent tears gave way to muffled sobs, growing louder and louder. The hold on my wrists lessened only to move to my shoulders. Words were being said to the others but I couldn’t discern what was spoken. I was too wrapped up in my emotions to be fully aware of the situation.

“Come now, Warrior of Darkness, no more tears.” a whispered voice spoke.

“I know the others said you are fully healed.” I said, “I don’t trust my healing capabilities but I have some alchemic knowledge. Maybe some of my medicinal remedies could help?”

“Am-”

I shook my head. I was aware that Thancred was speaking to me, but his words seemed foreign in my mental state.

“Your coat is tattered,” I continued on, “I’m no armorer, but the tears should only need a basic stitching. I can do that at least.”

“Ami look at me. I am fine.”

I glanced up at him. The tears still running down my face. His hand gripped my shoulders just a little tighter.

“Please let me do something, anything.” I pleaded, “I can...I cannot-”

His gaze lowered. The concern on him was obvious for me. It would only feed my guilt more. He almost died, and was concerned for me? 

He picked up the cloth and pressed it into my hands.

“If you insist, my dear.”

I nodded before setting to work on cleaning his face with whatever clean cloth I had. The tears still didn’t stop as I wiped down on his skin. Normally I would assure him I was fine.

But I wasn’t.

Something was happening to me with each instance of primordial Light I had absorbed.

The battle at Lakeland still weighed on my mind.

Knowing definitively that Minfilia has passed; someone I felt a kinship to understand my Echo.

All that to top it all off with the realization that I could have lost Thancred too? It was too much. It must have been minutes before the tears eventually slowed. The transition of my guilt to anger coming in as fast as I shift my fighting forms in battle.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that you almost died and my weapons are my hands, I would hit you right now.” I admitted.

My hands balled up into fists as my eyes narrowed into a glare. Thancred was surprised at the sudden lowered tone of voice. I took a deep breath before poking his armored chest.

“I don’t know if I should be angry at the fact that you almost died or that you are so nonchalant about it. Godsdammit, this is the fourth bloody time and I don’t think my heart can take much more. I don’t want to keep worrying if the next time I see you is going to be my last. I lost too much to get where I am, I will not lose any more. I...cannot lose any more. If I did, then I-”

I put my arms around his waist as I hugged him. At the time I didn’t care that this was considered out of character for me. I wanted, no needed his presence. I needed to feel that he was here. I felt him stiffen, but eventually he arms circled around my waist too. There was only a head difference between our heights, but I still felt so small in his embrace. Even as the grime rubbed off on the bare parts of my skin, even as the buckles and the metals of his armor dug into me I was content.

If only for a moment.

Regrettably, the reality of the situation has sunken in thus we separated.

Now I couldn’t meet his face.

Sobered up from the crack of my emotional mask, I had come to realize what I had done. I felt myself flush in embarrassment. Whether he took the moment as a response to a friend in need or a different matter entirely, he didn’t comment on it.

I remain hopeful that he is blissfully unaware of what I had unintentionally revealed.

“Ready to rendezvous with the others?” he asked.

“Yes...and thank you.”

I stayed a comfortable distance from Thancred as we walked to the others. Belatedly, I realized that I had cracked in front of them too. I couldn’t meet their gazes as well. 

An apology was right on my lips, for slowing them down. For making them concerned over me and my feelings I should be better at controlling. For ruining a genuine heartfelt moment. 

Almost as if she knew what I wanted to say, Y’shtola put a hand to stop me from uttering a word.

“I take it you have had your fill of making maidens cry today Thancred?” she quipped.

I snapped my head up, shock clear on my face. She smiled at me while having that mischievous glint in her eyes. I didn’t think it was possible for me to blush even deeper. But somehow I was. If it wasn’t for the fact that we had a Lightwarden to slay, I would have hidden away by now. I felt Thancred’s hand on my shoulder, patting it lightly.

“You wound me Y’shtola. I have you know that I am quite used to making maidens cry. Albeit for a different reason.”

“Please, no.” came the dry response, “We need not to enrich the others with that kind of knowledge.”

I snorted at the conversation. The embarrassment giving way to a smile before I laughed. It was reminiscent of old times back home. How, regardless of what mission we went on or how far it would take us, this familial warmth would always be awaiting for us.

“There,” she said, “that’s the look I am used to.”

“Thank you.” I spoke in earnest, “Full glad am I that I am making this journey with you all.”

“Come now, the sentimentality can wait until after we bring the night back.”

“Alisaie is right.” I said, “Let us be off everyone.”

[ladyfireheart-and-buzzard]

The Flames in Her Eyes, Chapter 3: Princess

Masterlist

Tyler

I’d followed Celine outside barely two minutes after she’d left. I had to admit-- she walked fast. By the time I reached her, she’d already entered someone’s house. So, I waited outside, leaning against a tree.

She came out less than ten minutes later, wiping at her eyes and sniffling slightly. She spotted me quicker than I expected her to. Scowling, my mate went away from me, in the direction of her house.

“Wait!” I yelled after her.

She stiffened but continued her walking. Somehow managing to increase her speed.

By the Goddess, that female was infuriating.

As I caught up to her, I could see something on the back of her exposed neck-- a black symbol of sorts, a tattoo. It looked like a small lying crescent moon, resembling a smile, with two tiny stars above it.

She sensed my approach, despite my silent steps, and growled out, “What do you want, Alpha?” My title on her lips was even more mocking right now than it’d been last night.

“You’re crying.” Not a question.

Still wiping away the remnants of her tears, she said, “No, I’m not.”

She reached inside her hoodie pocket and took out a misshaped chocolate chip cookie. She smiled sadly at it as she munched on it.

I snorted. “Fine, you’re not crying. Those are tears of joy, aren’t they?”

She didn’t answer. I grabbed her wrist.

She whirled on me, snarling, but I said to her, a growl lacing every word, “Tell me what happened in there.”

“No.”

“Alright then, I’ll go see for myself.”

She yanked her hand out of my grasp and pointed a finger at me. “You will do no such thing.”

I grinned. “You can’t stop me, Princess.”

I was a head taller than her, but despite the height difference, and the half-eaten cookie in her free hand, she wasn’t intimidated. No, those signature blue flames of hers shone once more in her eyes as she whispered quietly, but not weakly, “You have no idea what I can and cannot do, Mate.”

I cringed at the way she said that word-- mate, with such harshness, such rage.

Apparently, she didn’t take me announcing our bond as well as it seemed.

Her scent overwhelmed me-- a wolf and not a wolf at the same time, mixed in with rain and citrus and cinnamon. It was intoxicating.

“Very well then, why wouldn’t you let me into that house?” A smirk found its way to my face again.

Celine lowered her hand slowly and stepped away a couple of steps. She bit her lip in thought, drawing my attention to her mouth. Finally, she said, “A... friend of mine lives there. I just don’t want you scaring the shit out of her.”

Deep down, I knew that not to be the whole truth. Regardless, I let it slide, nodding my head.

“And the crying?”

She scowled. “She’s a good friend. Thanks to you, I’ll be leaving this horrible place I call home. I went to say goodbye.”

Her words made me frown. “You sound as though you hate this place but don’t want to leave. Why?”

She resumed her walking again. I followed her.

“Sometimes home isn’t necessarily a place, but a person. Or people, in my case.”

She spoke softly, with a gentleness I didn’t expect to hear from her.

“There are people here, that I don’t-- that I can’t leave here. They could face danger, and I wouldn’t be here for them.”

“I’m sure your brother can protect himself just fine,” I offered.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t talking about him.”

“Oh?”

“My father has a… strange obsession, per se, to hurt those I hold dear.”

“Why?”

“He hates me. I look a lot like my mother. Now that she’s gone, I am nothing but a reminder of the mistake he made.”

That made me pause. I had seen Celine’s mother just over twenty minutes ago.

“But Ellen--”

She cut me off. “Ellen is not my mother. She may be Father’s mate and Nate’s mom, but we’re not related. My mother was a drunken one-night stand. Now she’s dead because my dear, beloved dad couldn’t be bothered to get her the treatment she needed. She died when I was twelve.”

She had been so young back then, with a hateful father no less. Sympathy coursed through me at that. “I’m sorry,” I said, and meant it.

She waved me off, so I asked instead, “How’s your leg?” She was walking just fine, much better than last night when she had it practically dragging behind her. I never knew a limp to disappear so quickly and without a trace.

“It’s fine,” as though sensing my question, she added, “my body heals faster than most, so after I removed the poison, I just wrapped my leg in a bandage, and it was fine in the morning.”

Removing the poison? My pack had the best healers on the Continent, yet I’d never --not once-- heard of the removal of poisons from one’s body.

“Removing the poison? I thought you drank an antidote?”

There were no people outside: only Celine and me.

“I did. But it’s a different kind of poison. Extremely deadly. It needs to be treated very, very carefully.”

“Which one? Maybe I heard about it.” I asked, rage filling me with each second at whoever used it on my mate.

A chuckle. “Doubtful. It is a very uncommon one,” she began. “Few people possess it, and even less know or actually can make an antidote that works and would save their lives.”

“Then how do you know of it, and how to treat it?”

Celine looked over at me. “Mother taught me. She was skilled with such things.”

She still hadn’t answered my question. “What is the poison called?”

My mate sighed. “Night’s Ash. You can recognize it by the black veins around the entrance wound. If treated immediately, they shouldn’t spread too much, but once it reaches your heart-- certain death. And not even a pleasant one, I’m afraid.”

I froze. I had seen those veins on her foot, over each and every toe. I remembered Celine rubbing her calf, seemingly to ease the pain.

She looked at me questioningly, fiddling with a braid.

“How long have you had it in you?” I ground out.

Her eyes darkened. “Nearly three weeks,” blinding fury shot through me. “It took time for the berries to arrive.”

“How far have those veins gone? I saw them on your foot the other night.”

Celine gestured with her hand just below her hip, and I couldn’t help but snarl.

“Tell me who did it. Now.”

She started walking, but I gripped her wrist again.

“Tell me. Right the fuck now.”

I didn’t tend to swear in front of people as much. However, Celine didn’t seem to care about my choice of words.

She didn’t flinch away from the harsh look on my face, either, and simply tore away her wrist out of my tight grip. Again.

“What’s the point? They’re dead. I killed them. You get into it with them and only end up getting killed. Or worse.”

“I think you might be underestimating my fighting skills, Princess. I am Alpha of the most powerful pack on the whole Continent for a reason,” I smirked down at her.

Rolling her eyes, she said, “Pride will get you killed even faster, Alpha. You don’t know them, and you haven’t seen them, haven’t fought them. But I have. And I can tell you that without a silver of doubt-- they will kill you.”

“They? You keep saying they. Rogue isn’t a bad word, Princess.”

Her gaze turned hard, unyielding. “If only they were rogues.”

I paused. “What are they then?”

I had only realized we’d reached her house when she stepped onto the porch.

She smiled at me. There was no joy in it. Opening the front door, she said, “Trust me, Alpha, you don’t want to know.”

And with that, she closed the door, leaving me to ponder our whole conversation until the evening. And throughout the night, too.

[gracewithducks]

Starving our Guilt (so others may be fed), Matthew 25:31-20 - Lenten series, week 3

Two of the most frequently uttered words in our house – and two of the most often ignored words in our house – are “supposed to.”

 As in, “Are you supposed to stand on the arm of the sofa?”

“Are you supposed to jump on the bed?”

“Are you supposed to get yourself a snack without asking?”

“Are you supposed to use your markers to draw on the walls?”

“Are you supposed to decorate the shelf with nail polish?”

 Often, the question is met with a guilty expression – and, as soon as mom or dad or grandma looks away, the bed gets jumped on, the hidden marker is produced, and the guilty party keeps right on keeping on.

 Then again, we adults are quite prone to recognizing that we, too, aren’t doing what we should. I lose count of how many evenings, after the kids are in bed, we collapse on the couch and sigh to one another, “I know I’m supposed to be doing dishes… I’m supposed to be folding laundry… We’re supposed to be doing our taxes… I’m supposed to be planning worship… You’re supposed to be starting your sermon…” So much that we are supposed to do, and so little time to get it all done.

 It’s not just adults who use the phrase, however. What I find quite remarkable is how often, in the morning before school, my bright, brilliant, creative genius of a daughter forgets what she’s “supposed to” do.

 Why aren’t you dressed yet? Why aren’t you eating your breakfast? Did you put your socks on? Did you use the bathroom? Did you brush your teeth? “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

 Really? Really? My kid has been going to school for five years now, and she doesn’t know she’s supposed to wear clothes to school. I find that hard to believe.

 But by far, by far, the biggest battle – the biggest “supposed to” in our household – has to do with dinnertime.

 I still remember, before I had kids, how I thought that dinnertime would go. I was going to be the loving but firm momma, the one who said, “You eat what you’re given, and you’ll be thankful for it” – “You’ll eat what’s in front of you, or you will go hungry.”

 And then I had kids. And I learned that I had grossly underestimated the strength of their will. Sure, they’re still supposed to eat what’s on their plates; they’re supposed to at least try a bite of everything, without complaining; and even if they don’t like what we’re having, they’re supposed to at least be polite.

 Supposed to. Unfortunately, there’s a big gap between “supposed to” and actually do.

 Let’s talk some more about Michaela. I am convinced that, someday, the world is going to know her name: my daughter is going to be a great lawyer, a teacher, a motivational speaker, a champion, a politician, maybe even the president. She is strong; she is unyielding and unbending in all the right ways. She has all the tools in her toolbelt to resist bullying and peer pressure and the patriarchy; no one in her life is ever going to be able to push her around.

 And if you’re reading between the lines, that incredible strong will – well, sometimes it looks and acts an awful lot like a stubborn little girl. Michaela knows what she likes: and often, it’s not what’s in front of her. She likes noodles, but not sauces; she likes roast, as long as it’s dipped in ketchup; she likes lima beans and broccoli – for real! – but she refuses cantaloupe or carrots.

 She is, really, much better than she used to be. When she was three, she fell asleep with her head on the kitchen table, next to her plate which held one single grain of plain white rice, which she absolutely refused to even try. And there are still nights where she chooses to go to bed hungry; and there are still nights when grandma is in tears because our little girl refuses to taste the meal grandma worked all day to make.

 Michaela knows the house rules. She knows what she’s supposed to do… it’s just that, sometimes, she really doesn’t care.

 So my husband Mike recently decided to try a new tactic with our little girl. He sat down with her one night, after a particularly difficult battle of the wills, and he started to tell her about other little girls who go to bed hungry, not because they choose to, but because there is nothing for them to eat. He told her how fortunate we are to have such good food, fresh and healthy and delicious food, and to have all different kinds of food, so our bodies can be strong. He told her that some of her friends at school aren’t that lucky. Some mommies and daddies and grandmas can’t work, or work really hard but still don’t have enough money to buy enough food. Some of her friends at school might not get dinner at night; some of them only get the breakfast and lunch they eat at school, and they don’t even get a choice in what they eat: take it or go hungry, that’s it.  

 I think Mike was hoping to open Michaela’s eyes to just how fortunate she is. But our little girl – well, I told you she was going to change the world. Instead of guiltily going back to clean her own plate, she went to the pantry, and started asking what she could take. She pulled out boxes of cereal and cans of fruit and vegetables and peanut butter and tuna fish, and asked if she could take them to school, so her friends wouldn’t be hungry any more.

 “Supposed to” only gets you so far. Michaela knows she’s supposed to eat her dinner, just like we all know that we’re supposed to help the hungry people in the world. But what I’ve learned, what my daughter has helped remind us, is that – while guilt can get you started, love is much more powerful a motivator than guilt can ever be. Guilt makes you feel bad, but love makes you care.

 This Lent, we’re studying George Hovaness Donigian’s book, “A World Worth Saving.” This week’s theme is, “Feeding Other and Starving our Guilt.” Donigian tells the story of his family, who escaped the Armenian genocide in the early 20th century.  During those years, heartbreaking images and stories of Armenian children, parentless and starving, were used as advertisements, trying to encourage Americans to “open your heart; open your pocketbook” and help. And I don’t know about you all, but I remember as a child being told that there were children starving in – name the country, they changed over the years – children were starving in some far away country, children who would be grateful to have my dinner; and the message was, of course, be quiet, you ungrateful brat, and eat your dinner.

 But even as a child, I wondered – and maybe you did, too – how is me eating my dinner going to help those starving kids on the other side of the world? If they were so hungry, and they wanted my brussel sprouts – they were welcome to them. Like Michaela, I wanted to find a way to give them food, not just be guilted into eating my own.

 Guilt is a powerful tool to motivate people to give – once or twice, to volunteer – once or twice. But it’s lousy at effecting any real lasting change, because it’s just such awfully hard work to keep feeling guilty all the time. Even during this season of Lent, when we talk about repentance and we’re encouraged to reflect on the ways we’ve fallen short – it’s not enough just to feel badly; we need to do something. To “repent” doesn’t mean to fall down wailing at our failures, it means to turn around, to make a choice to move in a new direction and to live in a new way. We get tired of maintaining our own guilt, and besides, didn’t Jesus come to set us free from all that? To set us free from feeling like we have to earn forgiveness and prove our goodness? Didn’t Jesus come to give us abundant life? Didn’t he promise us peace?

 Of course he did. Jesus didn’t go around making people feel guilty; he didn’t heap more loads upon the backs of those who were already feeling unworthy, unwanted, and unloved. Instead he said, “I forgive you” – and he also said, “Go, do better; go, and love as I’ve loved you; go, and sin no more.”

 The world doesn’t need us to feel guilty. Our hungry neighbors don’t need us to mutter guilty prayers or sanctimonious graces as we sit down to our meals. Our neighbors who are losing healthcare don’t need us to feel guilty as we keep going to our doctors’ offices. Our neighbors whose children are struggling in school don’t need us to feel guilty as we send our kids someplace else.

 What they need – what the world needs – is for us to care: to care enough to do something; to care about them the same way we care about our own families. What God asks from us, what the world needs from us, is for us to love enough to get involved.

 It’s been a year and a half since the image of a three-year-old boy named Aylan whose body washed up on a Turkish beach made us care about the children of Syria. It’s been seven months since our hearts were broken by five-year-old Omran sitting, stunned, covered with blood and debris on an ambulance seat. In those moments, we looked at chose children and saw our own children, our grandchildren, our nieces and nephews and neighbors – instead of the guilty numbness of statistics, we saw faces. We heard names. We saw people, and we cared.

 Do we still?

 All the Aylans and Omrans in the world don’t need us to feel guilty; they don’t need us to assuage our consciences or assign blame. They need us to care, to love enough to get our hands dirty.

 That’s what God does: God so loves the world, that it isn’t enough for God to sit on a cloud far away, to look down and pass judgment on us – God so loves the world, that God comes into the world, to find us, to love us, to work to make us whole. And it’s messy work. It’s hard and heartbreaking work. It ends up costing Jesus everything – and still, even then, he doesn’t assign guilt or heap on blame: instead he says, “Father, forgive them” – and his arms of love stay open, always, for our sake.

 We’re invited – we’re invited to be a part of that love. We’re invited, to show that love – to the children in Michaela’s school, to help make sure they have enough to eat, to help make sure they know someone cares enough to read to them, to listen to them, and to love them. We’re invited, to show that love – to our neighbors who are struggling, who are lonely, who are feeling like no one sees them and no one cares.

 We’re invited to love – not because we’re supposed to, but because we get to, because we have been loved, and because we have more than enough love to share.

 May God open our eyes, so we will see the face of Christ in the people we meet this week. May God open our hearts, so we will be moved to do something. May God set us free from our guilt, so that we will be free to love our neighbors – in what we say, and what we give, and what we do.

   O God, you love us; your love sets us free from our own insecurities, our failures, our brokenness, our imperfections, our grief, our fear, and our guilt. Give us a love that meets others where they are; give us a love that moves us to action. Give us passion, give us compassion, so we might be your hands and your feet. In Christ’s name we pray; amen.