#please let these men finally have some peace and safety for once let certain things go into the abyss

[endlessfuckup]

I originally wrote after seeing a post joking about a very serious thing that happened to dan and phil back in 2012.

I wrote it because the post triggered some really upsetting memories for me. I had gone through that exact thing on a smaller scale and it ruined my life for a long time.

I was going to delete it because it seemed too far and too personal.

But, I think people should read it anyway.

imagine if you posted private thoughts & photos of yourself to a place where you are certain only you and maybe, at most, 20 or so people will see them-

its your only safe place...

now imagine if suddenly a lot more than 20 people find out who you are. like millions of people. and, despite your best efforts, they find what you thought was your most deeply hidden secrets.

oh shit...

your employers see them. your coworkers see them. your friends all know now. oh god your fucking family have now seen that. All of it sent to them by some of the many complete strangers that watch you online.

oh fuck nonono...

What do you even do? What do you even say? You have no idea who or how many have seen.

maybe everyone has.....

There is nothing you can do but try to minimize the damage being done. all by yourself.

its just impossible..

what feels like the entire planet is pointing, laughing, calling you slurs and telling you to kys

you seriously consider it for a moment...

you have to just go on silently pretending that nothing happened at all. Live. On. Camera. in front of the entire fuckin world

How the fuck would you feel?

[heynikkiyousofine]

The Fairy Princess and The Hanyou Prince

First things firsts, this story is my first muti-chapter fic, but as always, an inukag story. I’m still really knew at writing, so bear with me, haha. Inspired by so many people in the fandom, let me know what you think! I’m still writing this story, but I’ll be updating it pretty quickly. 

@keichanz @neutronstarchild

Chapter 1

Once upon a time, in a far away land, there resided four kingdoms, whom all lived in harmony with each other. The northern kingdom, King Toga, an incredibly powerful dog demon, and Queen Izayoi, an equally incredibly beautiful human, ruled with grace and fairness, along with their hanyou prince, Prince Inuyasha. The west, King Sesshomaru, King Toga’s first born, and his queen, Kagura, a powerful wind demon, ruled at a distance, but peaceful. To the south, King Koga an arrogant wolf demon, and Queen Ayame, a sassy, but strong wolf demon, ruled with laughter, promises and joy. The final kingdom, to the east, ruled King Suikotsu, a kind, strong fairy, and Queen Kikyo, a fairy as well, ruled with grace, beauty and love for all things, for they themselves were beings of the earth. In these kingdoms lived a variety of people, demons, humans, hanyous, even mythical creatures, such as gnomes, elves, fairies, unicorns, mermaids, even ghouls and trolls. Everyone lived in harmony and tranquility for hundred of years.

One spring evening, the kingdoms united together to celebrate the birth of the new princess, Princess Kagome. A huge celebration was in order, with treats, gifts, music and dancing and everyone throughout the land traveled to the eastern lands to rejoice in the new birth. They knew with happiness in their hearts, the peace would continue throughout the lands with the birth of this new child. 

“Mama, there’s a baby.” Inuyasha pointed, looking up at his mother.

“Yes dear, that’s the new princess.” A woman with long, silky black hair told him.

“Why does she have wings?” He asked, tilting his head, his ears perking up straight, like the cute puppy he was.

Laughing softly, Queen Izayoi picked him up and spoke softly to him. “She is a fairy, baby. Fairies are wonderful, extravagant, beautiful creatures, who spread love, joy and happiness wherever they go. Fairies have wings when they are born and grown into them as they become big and strong, like a certain hanyou I know.” She spoke, nuzzling his cheek.

“Mamaaaaaa, stop.” Inuyasha laughed, pushing gently on her chest, trying to get away from the kisses. He wanted to go take closer look at the new princess. “Can I go say hi, please?”

“Let’s go together.” A baritone voice came from behind.

“Okay papa!” Izayoi let her son down to his feet and gracefully turned to her handsome husband, smiling softly, and took his outstretched arm. Together, the three of them approached the dais, where the new parents sat.

“King Toga, Queen Izayoi, we are overjoyed you could make it. My my, Prince Inuyasha, you have grown since we’ve last seen you.” King Suikotsu exclaimed, laughing loudly, standing to welcome the northern royalty.

“I’m two now!” Inuyasha said excitedly, holding up two small clawed fingers, jumping from foot to foot, in anticipation of the new princess.

“Well, you are growing strong everyday kind sir, did you want to say hi to the new princess?” He gestured to his left.

Suddenly shy, he nodded and turned to face his parents, unsure of what to do. Softly pushing him forward, Toga smiled softly for his pup. Inuyasha took a deep breath, stepping up towards the queen, whose large, blue wings glittered like the ocean in the sunshine. The queen knelt down, holding a soft bundle to her chest and smiled warmly, beckoning him forward with her manicured fingers. Inuyasha took another small step forward and looked down.

What he saw made him gasp in awe. There in her arms, was a smiling little baby girl with the bluest of eyes he had ever seen, gazing at him. They seem to match her mother’s wings in color and shimmered so brightly. Taking a sniff, he smiled softly. She smelled like wildflowers in a meadow and sunshine. Her small wings, gold and silver twirling throughout, shifted to open upon seeing him. The little girl laughed, reaching her small hands out, as if she were trying to reach his ears. Blushing a little, Inuyasha reached his hand out and Kagome grabbed onto his fingers and laughed a little more, her laugh like a tinkering of bells in the wintertime. “She smells pretty.” He whispered to himself, unaware of his father’s hearing, who just smiled upon hearing this.

“Her name is Kagome.” The fairy queen in red spoke to the young prince.

“Hi, Kagome, I’m Inuyasha.” Kagome squealed at his words and smiled at him once more, before yawning, bringing her fists towards her mouth. Laughing quietly, Queen Kikyo stood again, “She’s getting sleepy. Dear, let me put her down for a little bit, while you get the celebration going. The Southern Kingdom can’t be quite loud during celebrations.”

Agreeing with a chuckle, Suikotsu kissed his wife’s forehead and steered towards the door. Suikotsu then turned and announced the feast was about to begin, while Inuyasha skipped towards his parents with a grin on his face. As Kikyo walked Kagome to other room to lay her down, Inuyasha gripped on his mother’s pale blue skirt and couldn’t help but watch her leave and smile excitedly, knowing he had a new friend. 

The kingdoms rejoiced for days for the new brith and all was well in the kingdom for a few months. Four fortnights had passed since the celebration and Kagome was beginning to grow into the beautiful child, with the most loving parents. Little did they know, an evil hanyou with a wicked plan would destroy everything. One warm summer evening, as Queen Kikyo put the child down to sleep in her bassinet, she heard some cries come from the meadow outside the castle. Rushing into the room, King Suikotsu shut the door quickly, turning towards his family with fear in his deep blue eyes.

“Naraku is here.” “No!” Kikyo gasped. She knew he would come, had heard of the man who hunted creatures, but not this soon, not with Kagome so young. “What do we do?!” She cried, tears beginning to form along her lids.

“Pack a bag, we’ve got to run, the other kingdoms know what is happening. I sent a carrier to each kingdom a day ago to let them know Naraku was coming. I’ve told everyone to help evacuate the castle, get to the villages safely, try and travel to any of our neighboring kingdoms for safety. They will welcome them with open arms.” He explained, his voice wavering, reaching for a bag near the door.

Before Kikyo could reply, there was pounding and slamming against the large wooden door, followed by loud screaming. Kikyo picked up Kagome, who still sound asleep, curled into her mother’s arms. Knowing exactly what to do, she ran to her jewelry chest, a small black opaque box, and picked up three necklaces. Each with the symbol of the fairy kingdom. She infused her power to the first one and lifted it over her head, changing her appearance, removing her wings completely. She said a soft chant, the second pendant, a blue similar to the sky, began to glow and she wrapped it around her bundled up child. Kagome’s wings disappeared instantly, her aura changing to that of a human. Infusing the last, Kikyo turned towards her husband, just as the door burst open.

Naraku strolled through the doorway, sword in hand, with blood coating his chestnut coat, and before Suikotsu could take a step forward to defend his family, Naraku plunged the steel blade into his chest with a sinister grin on his face. Crimson eyes watched as the  fairy king fell to the floor with shattered breaths, blood pooling around his wings and turned towards the queen with the small child in her arms blood coating the weapon. Dropping the third necklace quickly, Kikyo covered her daughter with both hands, closed her eyes and softly chanted a spell. Naraku took a step forward, raised his sword and slashed, catching Kikyo’s shoulder, slicing a wing in the process, just as she disappeared into twinkling dust. Enraged, Naraku, knelt down and grabbed  at Suikotsu’s chin, snarling, “Where did she take her?”

“You’ll never find her.” “You’ll die before seeing either of them again and your kingdom will be mine.” “Go to hell.” Suikotsu sputtered, blood begin to spill from his mouth. Chuckling softly, Naraku used his sword to slice the king’s neck. The sword began to glow brightly, absorbing the fairy king’s power. Standing and calling to his men, he instructed them to dispose of the body. However, before his henchman took a step, the king’s body disappeared into gold dust, leaving only the large pool of deep red blood on the floor. Snarling softly, Naraku sheathed his sword turning to head out of the room. Catching his attention, he noticed the remaining necklace, glowing softly with Kikyo’s concealment charm, Naraku smiled and picked up, clutching it in his hands, knowing he would one day find the princess and make her his.

Kikyo stumbled through the trees, gasping for breath, blood covering her right arm. She tried to stop and use the leaves from the trees to stop her bleeding, to heal her, but she was fading fast. Taking another step forward, she looked up to the full moon and prayed for help, for her and her child. Breathing deeply, she pushed through the underbrush, trying to go north to King Toga’s kingdom, knowing he could protect her child. Tears streaming down her face, whether from the pain or the situation or her daughter’s future, she wasn’t quite sure, Kikyo sobbed, holing the still sleeping Kagome to her breast. Stop to catch her breath, Kikyo looked down to Kagome, looking like a normal human, no sparkle to her skin in the moonlight and kissed her on the forehead. “My little girl, one day you will be strongest and most beautiful fairy. You will be the answer. I love you.” Sighing and squaring her shoulders, Kikyo used the last of her energy to walk into a small meadow, near a stream, where she spotted a cottage along the water. Pushing herself even more, she stepped towards the doorway, when the reed mat swung open to reveal a woman around her age, wearing an eye patch, with a startled look across her features.

“Child, are you alright?” The women asked, taking a step towards the wounded mother.

“Please, help me. Take my child.”

“Child?” It was then, the woman in red hakama and a white kosode, looked down towards the bundle in her arms, noticing the blood dripping along the ground beside the queen. “Come inside. Let me help you.” She urgently requested.

“Please protect her. She is special, she will save our kingdom. This necklace will keep her hidden from harm. Her name is Kagome.” With that, Kikyo sank to her knees, Kaede catching her, to keep her from dropping Kagome and falling in the dirt herself. As Kaede took the sleeping child, she locked eyes with the queen, unbeknownst to her, that the queen was dying. As Kaede began to reach out towards Kikyo to help her stand, KIkyo gasped, holding her right shoulder, and fell, disappearing into twinkling dust as she passed. 

Not knowing exactly what just happened, Kaede looked down to the sleeping babe, who had began to fuss, knowing she would protect this child at all costs and sensing a great power beneath the concealment charm. Standing and turning towards her little, but warm cottage, she looked up at the full moon and prayed for all the help in the world with this child.

Not too far away, in the northern kingdom, King Toga held his wife a little closer at his side, watching the eastern kingdom fall, with the rise of an evil ruler, knowing the time of peace had ended.

20 years have passed since that eventful night, but Kaede kept her promise to Kikyo in keeping the princess safe. Naraku began to become even more powerful, catching any creature he could, and absorbing their power with his sword. He became unforgiving, creating a ruthless reputation for beheading his servants. The southern wolf kingdom locked down their borders, not allowing anyone in or out without protection. Sesshomaru merely didn’t change anything, as if he didn’t care. Toga welcomed anyone who needed help with open arms, aiding his villages in support and creating a strong army in defense. Demons, mythical creatures, and humans feared Naraku, many fleeing the eastern kingdom and seeking protection among each of the kingdoms. Families were separated, lost to each other and the King and Queen of the eastern kingdom lost to its people. Many mythical creatures almost became extinct, many of the remaining hiding from the evil.

However, in a small cottage, at the border of the northern and eastern kingdoms, Kagome grew into a lovely young woman, with her powers growing exponentially everyday. She loved gardening, growing different kinds of flowers, herbs and vegetables. She loved the feeling of the soil in her fingers, learning new remedies and recipes from her mother, Mother Kaede as well as her neighbor, a friendly half-demon, Jineji helped her with her garden and always accompanied her on her walks to the neighboring villages. Her hair, a long, almost black, ran to her waist, curling slightly at the bottom and her eyes the bluest of blues, like the ocean. Her small waist almost always had a basket of flowers perched against it, and her smile never seem to left her face. The nearby villages praised her kindness and beauty, while fearing her temper on some occasions.

A bright spring morning, Kaede and Kagome were beginning their day with breakfast. “Child, I think today would be a good day to gather some flowers, while taking these herbs and remedies to the fox family down the road. Shippo’s mother just gave birth and needs a few things.”

“Okay Mother Kaede! I would love to see Shippo too, he loves my snack cakes that I make, almost as much as you do. There are a few left, may I take them with me?” Kagome asked brightly, giggling softly.

“Of course my dear. Please be careful, if you should need help, call for Jineji if you are near his home. DO you have your dagger?”

“Always! I can’t wait to see all the flowers in the fields, I wonder if the tulips have sprung yet….” Kagome began to talk to herself, as she packed her knapsack. 

Laughing quietly, knowing just how much Kagome loved the wildflower field on a warm day, Kaede helped her with her cream cloak, buttoning it along her right shoulder. “Do you have your pendant? As well my child?”

“Yes Mother!” Kagome huffed, grabbing her basket with the herbs and began to step through the door. Breathing deeply, she smiled, knowing today would be a wonderful day.

Following the green path, she spent a good hour walking towards the fox hut Letting go of the pendant she was fingering around her neck, she stopped to hear voices inside, along with a laughing squeal. Jumping out front doorway, Shippo waved at Kagome and hurried towards her, with the biggest shit eating grin on his face “Kagome! Kagome! Can we go play in the wild flower fields today?”

Smiling even brighter than she was, eyes glimmering in the sunshine, Kagome laughed along.”Of course! I brought these for your mother from Mother Kaede. It’s for your brother and sisters too.” Sniffling at the package, Shippo jumped onto her shoulder as they headed inside the hut. “Now, what did you do? I know that smile.” Kagome asked, ticking Shippo’s rounding belly.

Not too far away, Prince Inuyasha, followed by his closest friends, began their hunt. It was near the end of the deer season and he wanted to catch one more for the dinner table tonight. He wanted to show his father how good he was at catching game and as they travel toward the thick forest, Inuyasha began to daydream as he rode his horse. Something about gold and silver wings and the smell of wildflowers. Hearing a slap against skin, he sighed, shaking his thoughts from his head, and turned, looking at his friends. “Serves you right Monk, you should know by now Sango will hit you every time.” He snickered at the couple.

“It’s the hand! I swear this thing is cursed.” Miroku responded, his left cheek sporting a bright pink hand print, raising his own hands in the air.

“No, you’re just a pervert!” The brunette beside him cried loudly, pulling the reins, slowing them to stop.

“Okay you two, hush, while we hunt for game. I smelt a steed not too far from here. Sango, close are we to the border?” Inuyasha turned toward the demon slayer, his companion being in charge of the maps.

“Not too far. There is a village a little ways that way, the one where the hanyou horse resides, who helps with herbs in this area. After that, you’ve reached the border.” Sango pointed, stating.

Nodding his head, Inuyasha began the dismount from his horse, grabbing his crossbow and arrows, his sword bouncing along his leather clad thigh. Stopping suddenly, his ear twitched and turned toward the wildflower meadow he knew was near here. He could hear soft giggling and a small child talking. Miroku and Sango climbed down from their horse, squabbling at each other again. Taking a step towards the sounds, he left his friends behind at the horses and followed the sounds. When he approached the edge of the meadow, he stopped in his tracks.

[justcourttee]

So I know you've been very busy so just stay strong, I know you can do it! :) I was also wondering if I could request more sibling jasonette with the Joker going after Marinette once he finds out they're related? Take your time getting to this request if you need to, I know it'll be great when you get to it! Don't stress yourself out too much!

Thank you so much, I really do apologize for being so spotty the last month or so. I think I’m finally getting back to some sense of normal, so hopefully, I can write more :)

I hope you like it!

An Average Night in Gotham City 

Marinette couldn’t believe her luck.

Being the holder of the ladybug miraculous, you would think that everything would go her way, but it seems that Tikki had a funny way of distributing that good luck.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

The rank smell of something souring surrounded her senses as she dangled from the ceiling by her wrists. She was certain that there would be some difficult bruises to hide later but that was the least of her concerns at the moment.

“What you have is a pissed off college student. Who snatches someone from a library? Don’t you have any respect for my education?”

Something sharp poked her back causing her to hiss in pain.

“Now, now, I really do love Gotham State University and if it was game day, I wouldn’t dare step foot on our campus, Gothamite pride and all. But you my dear, well once I learned that you attended the school, I just had to stop by and say hello.”

His maniacal laughter would strike fear in the hearts of most, but honestly, she was just too pissed at this point to care.

“Okay, you said your piece, may I return to the library? I have a paper due at midnight tonight and I literally only have one paragraph finished.”

Another strike against her back felt hard enough to draw blood. The Joker was not in a joking mood tonight.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, How rude of you to want to leave when you just arrived! You batbrats are all the same, always in a rush. That’s why Jason is my favorite little bird. He always makes time for me,” his dreamy sigh faded into a scowl and in one quick movement, he was face to face with Marinette, his hand forcing her to stare into his eyes, “At least he used to. With you in town, he never seeks me out anymore!”

Releasing her cheeks, he turned away in a mock sob, using the edge of his purple tie to wipe away his tears.

“Maybe it’s because you two have an abusive relationship. I mean who wants to seek out someone that beats the shit out of them all the time.”

Joker stroked his chin thoughtfully as if her words carried some weight to them.

“Perhaps you’re right, maybe my last beating didn’t express enough love and admiration. How do you beat him to show him you love him?”

With a snap of his fingers, one of his men rushed forward to place a stool in front of him. Plopping down, he crossed his legs, motioning for her to speak.

“Uhm, well, I don’t beat him. Being my brother and all, we fight on the occasion, but if I want him to know I love him, I bake his favorite sweets or surprise him with a visit to his work.”

“Ah ha! That’s what I have to do! I got too reliant on my good old friend seeking me out, but maybe every once in a while I should seek him out!”

“Wait, that’s not really-” She couldn't finish her sentence as a crackle of electricity echoed through the warehouse. Her breathing was labored as she slowly began to come to terms with her situation.

“You know little batbug, you are slowly becoming a second favorite of mine. Of course, none of you could ever replace Batsy himself, but I would be lying to myself if I wasn’t fond of you and my Jason.”

If this was how he treated his favorites, Marinette was terrified to think of what Tim or Damian would go through if they were in her place right now. As he continued his monologue of the highs and lows of his and Jason's great relationship, Marinette took the time to take stock of her options.

There were ten men in total, more than likely at least five more outside posting guard. Fifteen wouldn’t be too hard, but there was one wildcard she couldn’t account for. Joker hardly ever accepted a fight that he wouldn’t believe to be fun and if she was honest, she couldn’t figure if he would jump in or not.

Tikki had already been working at the ropes holding her wrists, it was mere moments before they snapped, the only thing that stood in her way was that clown.

“-anywho, I suppose it’s time to go pay Jason a visit. Boys, leave this one alive. I like her.”

There was a slight groan of annoyance that sprinkled throughout the room.

Now was her time. The minute Joker stepped foot outside of the warehouse, she would be able to escape with almost no effort. As the doors slid open, Marinette nodded to Tikki to chew through the last rope.

“Where is she?” A frantic voice spilled through the front door causing Marinette’s eyes to snap into focus.

Several guns were trained on Jason as he gripped the front of Joker’s suit, his fist curled and ready to strike.

He came for her.

It wasn’t that she had any doubt, but she figured that her emergency tracker hadn’t sounded after seeing the response time from the team. As she dropped softly to her feet, Marinette slammed her elbow into the nearest man’s neck, gripping his gun as he dropped to the ground.

A few guns shifted from Jason to Marinette, seemingly unsure who was the bigger danger at this point.

“Oh Jason, I knew you cared. Marinette said I might have to seek you out, but that’s just not true is it. You always find your way back to me.”

His laughter was infuriating and Marinette could tell Jason was seeing red. If she didn’t get them out of there in the next few minutes, there was no telling if she could stop him from murdering the clown in front of him.

“You stupid clown, I could care less if you attack me, but you leave her out of this you understand?”

The Joker shook his head, a small giggle escaping his lips as he waved his men to stand down.

“Leave her out of this? Oh Jason, batbug there has become one of my new favorites. But don’t you worry, you’re still number one in my book.”

Marinette felt a shiver throughout her body at the sound of the growl that emitted from Jason.

“Jason, let's just leave. This isn’t a fight for today.”

There was no response as he and the Joker remained locked in an invisible argument, neither budging at the sound of her voice. Taking a step closer, she kept her gun trained on the clown, her eyes scanning the other men for any sudden movements. Instead of fighting her, they parted to allow her to get closer, all of them feeling equally confused as her.

Lowering her gun for a brief moment, she reached out to place a gentle hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“Jason, not today.”

She felt the tension in his body melting under her touch as he loosened his grip in the Joker’s suit. With one last glance, Jason dropped the man to the floor, turning to pull Marinette into a tight hug. 

“Your stupid tracker needs an update. Tim could only place it near this area and it took me entirely too long to get here.”

Marinette winced under his tight grip, the realization of her wounds finally hitting her. Pulling back, she nodded to Jason as they both moved to walk out the door.

The sound of several guns switching off safeties echoed, causing them both to stop in their tracks.

“Joker, let us go.”

Her eyes met his as he lifted himself from the floor, brushing off the imaginary dust he had acquired. There was a certain glint in those eyes that screamed danger to her. They both shared a mutual understanding that he knew far too much and that he could attack whenever he wanted. This advantage seemed to please him as he nodded, motioning for his men to stand down once more.

“Batbug is right, this would be no fun if the two of you were dead. So many interesting possibilities for the future, it’s so exhilarating.”

The sound of his laughter stayed with her even after they were blocks away from the warehouse.

“Batman was right behind me, I’m sure he’ll get there before they have time to clear out.”

Marinette nodded absentmindedly as Jason pulled them into the nearest ally. As gently as possible, he lifted the back of her shirt to exam the wounds. Letting out a low whistle, he began to patch them one by one, the stinging of antiseptic cutting just as deeply as the wounds had.

“Mari, what were you doing before that clown kidnapped you? It doesn’t look you struggled much, there only seems to be torture wounds.”

Marinette’s eyes widened as she suddenly remembered.

“Jason, we have to get back to the library! My paper is due at midnight! That idiot snapped me while I was writing, I only have one paragraph done and I don’t even know if it saved.”

Jason struggled to bite back the laughter that was fighting to escape.

“You know Marinette, this is what you get for waiting to the last minute. Don’t you know by now that there is a fair chance of getting kidnapped while you’re trying to do school work?”

Marinette reached backward swinging blindly as Jason’s laughter finally bellowed through. As he pulled her shirt back down into position, Marinette turned to give him one last hug before she took off into the night.

Jason and Tikki shared a look. Together, they took off after her, giggling and calling after her as they raced through Gotham’s streets. All in all, it really was just another average night in Gotham City.

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[yootaesowlwrites]

I’ll Be There - [10]

Series Masterlist.

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As they approached the mansion, the first thing (Y/n) noticed was the large golden gates with two large lion statues seeming to guard it, as they neared the main entrance (Y/n) also noticed the large fountain surrounded by a small garden, obviously for decorative purposes, (Y/n) also heard the sound of small rocks being crunched by the wheels of his sports car, those tiny decorative rocks which for some reason people found pleasing, but (Y/n) absolutely hated them, why would anyone want that, especially in front of the house, you couldn’t even take a peaceful walk without needing to put on a pair of proper shoes, if she wasn’t aware of the situation she was in, she would have commented on it, but instead she kept quiet.

Max parks his car near the main entrance, cutting the engine and pulling the key from the ignition, he glances at (Y/n) and saw her staring at her hands that were on her lap, he climbs out the car and made his way around to the passenger’s side and opens the door for her, she could hear the crunching sound from the rocks underneath his shoes as he moved, she stares up at him before slowly stepping out the car, the place was large with cream coloured walls, it wasn’t anything that she expected it to be, surprisingly, it was pleasing to look at, apart from the rocks scattered on the ground.

“Welcome to my house,” Max says while closing the door to the sports car, he couldn’t exactly call it home, so instead, he called it a house, although it was anything but the size of a house, a home should have a warm feeling, something the mansion didn’t have, a home should feel welcoming, which most of the time, the mansion didn’t feel very welcoming, he guides her to the front door and allows her to enter first, she lets out a relieved sigh after hearing and feeling unpleasantness from the rocks outside, Max looks at her for a moment as he closed the front door. “This way.” He guides her down a long hallway, the walls were once again a light colour instead of a dark colour she had been expecting, as they neared his office, she could hear chatter coming from a room, she didn’t understand the language, but she was certain that it was French, Max pushes the door open, revealing the three men from the restaurant, Albon, Galsy and Kvyat, talking or more discussing something, corner clear on their faces.

“I’m here,” Max states as he stared at them. “I’ll be in my office, don’t disturb us unless it’s important.” Gasly wanted to say something, only for Albon to stop him, muttering something to him, Max closed the door and continued leading (Y/n) to his office, dark wood, black leather couches, a large wooden desk as well as bookshelves decorated his office, (Y/n) had no doubt that the bookshelves were just there for show, to hide weapons or even a secret room, she was certain about it when she had spotted the scraped on the floor near them.

Fear, that was the only thing (Y/n) could feel as she sits on one of the black leathered couches in the spacious office, Max sat on the opposite couch across from her, he had just finished explaining what he was and what he does for a living, even giving her the names of each business and building he owned, everything slowly sinks in, but she refused to show it, she didn’t want him to see how scared she was, but she was sure he could see it, possibly even sense it.

“Do you have any questions?” Max asks in a soft sincere tone, (Y/n) shakes her head, unsure what she could ask and which questions could get into a lot more trouble or worse, her gaze falls onto the floor, finding it more interesting than the shelf behind Max. “(Y/n), I would never hurt you.” He sounded so convincing, but how could she believe him? “If I wanted to bring any harm to you, I would have done so a long time ago.” He stood from his seat causing (Y/n) to shiver with fear in her seat, Max quickly picked up on it. “(Y/n)…” Hurt evident in his voice, but before he could continue, somebody knocked on the large wooden doors, interrupting him, (Y/n)’s eyes wide as she looks up from the ground, her eyes displaying the fear she felt. “I told them not to disturb us.” Max strides towards the door and pulls it open, glaring at whoever stood on the other side of it. “If I remember correctly, I said don’t disturb us.”

“And I am deeply sorry to disturb, Sir, but we thought this could be important,” Pierre says before hosing something to Max on a tablet, causing him to snatch the device from Pierre’s hand as anger bubbles inside him, a picture of (Y/n) was attached in an email. “She is in danger, and so are we.” Pierre tried to say it as quietly as possible, but failed, (Y/n) had heard him. “Butler’s hang knows about her, and they are threatening her if you do not meet the demands they ask for.”

“How did they find out?” Max questions, how had he not noticed? How did nobody notice that butler had been following them?

“We're not sure yet, but we believe he had seen her with you at some point, we just don’t know where,” Pierre explains, (Y/n) licks her lips, her heart pounding in her ears, but she needed to ask.

“Wh—Who’s Butler?” (Y/n) asks, her voice faltering for a second, Max turns to face her and saw her standing from the couch, nervously fiddling with her fingers, he quickly learned that she did that when she was nervous.

“A nobody.” Max states. “Nothing but a piece of scum.” His voice hard and cold, causing her to take a small step back, afraid. “You shouldn’t worry yourself over this lowlife, he’s a nobody.” His gentler this time around, he looks back at Pierre. “Thank you, Pierre, we will have a meeting later, let everyone know.” Pierre nods his head and glanced at (Y/n) before leaving the office, Max closes his door as he turns the tablets off, how was he going to explain to (Y/n) that her life was in danger, and he couldn’t, no he wouldn’t let her eave tonight.

“He said, she’s in danger.” (Y/n)’s soft voice says from behind Max, she already knew what was coming. “Am I in danger?” Max turns around to face her a takes a step towards her but quickly halts when he saw her tense.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, (Y/n),” Max says. “I won’t let that piece of scum come near you.” (Y/n) slowly nods her head, her eyes looking everywhere but at him, her eyes finally fall back to the floor, a sigh leaving her lips.

“I can’t go home tonight, am I right?” (Y/n) asks, already knowing the answer to her question, but she had to ask.

“I would rather you don’t,” Max says. “Not with somebody from my world knowing about your existence.” But what he said next surprised her, she was sure that he wasn’t going to let her go home. “But I am a man of my word if you wish to go…” He trails off, he didn’t want her to leave. “I won’t stop you.” He would rather have her stay there, where he knew she would be safe, (Y/n)’s mind swirled with thoughts, what could be waiting for her at her apartment? Would she even make it back to her apartment? As much as she wanted to leave, she didn’t want to die, she preferred living.

“I uh…” (Y/n) begins, only to stop and clear her throat, Max was right, he’s never hurt her before, why would he now? She needed to think about her safety for a second, so when the words left her mouth, Max couldn’t believe it. “Can I uh, stay here?” Her voice barely above a whisper, she was still scared of the man standing a few feet away from her, but he might just be her safest option, the safest option. “Just until you’ve caught this Butler person.”

“Yes, of course,” Max says. “I’d rather have you stay here, knowing that you’re safe rather than let you stay on your own.” A glint of hope in his eyes, perhaps if they could spend some more time together she might see that he is still the same person before she knew the truth. “I’ll have Russell prepare the guest bedroom for you.”

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Of Gods and Men - Ch 3

Title: Of Gods and Men

Fandom: Supernatural / Vikings

Pairing: Destiel and Sabriel

Rating: Lemon

Tags: canon typical violence and gore, smut, angst, still some fluff

Summary: A Vikings inspired Destiel fic.

     Dean, Barbarian King of the lands, must make a crucial decision in the survival of his people. Leave the one and only land and life they have ever known, leave their home, or make the possibly dangerous journey across the seas to a potentially better life. Who knows what will await him across the waters, hope, future, maybe even destiny.

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*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

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Chapter Three

     The hall erupted into cheers and toasts of great journeys to come as Dean and Sam left to speak more privately in his chambers. Once inside, Dean crossed the room, tossing his cloak to the side, and pouring two hefty goblets of mead. He handed one to Sam and joined him where he sat at the small table to the side of the room. 

     “Are you excited, little brother?” Dean asked with a smirk over his goblet, “Your wish comes true. We travel across the seas to new lands, just as you wanted.”

     “I am! I know this will bode well for us and our people, I have seen it in my dreams and I can feel it in my bones.”

     Dean chuckled at his excitement as he took a long drink. He had to admit, he was excited himself for their adventure and what awaits them across the seas. 

     “Brother, might I ask you something?” Dean hummed as he took another drink. “You spoke of a destiny, your destiny, that it waited for you in the new lands. What did the Gods show you?”

     Dean placed his goblet on the table at his side and leaned over, elbows on his knees as he spoke to his brother. “A life of peace and happiness,” he smiled, thinking back, “and as you saw in your dreams, me with children, so many beautiful children!”

     “I told you it was wonderful, brother!” Sam reached over and smacked a hand down on Dean's knee, “All I want for you is that happiness and love I saw in my dreams, that the Gods have shown you in this vision.”

     “And there is one more thing the Gods have graced me with.”

     “What is it?!”

     Dean sat back up and pulled down the shoulder of his shirt, and turned to show Sam the handprint scar that had appeared there. His eyes went wide and his mouth fell agape, hands reaching out but not touching. “Brother, you were touched by the Gods! This is a great honour!”

     Dean smiled and shook his head, “No, Sammy, I do not think this handprint belongs to any of the Gods.”

     “Then who?”

     “I believe I was touched by my destiny.” Dean watched as Sam finally reached out and laid his hand over the handprint. His hand was too big, it didn't fit. 

     Sam pulled his hand back but his eyes still remained fixed on the scar. “What do you mean, touched by your destiny?”

     “In the vision,” he began, placing his own hand over the scar, “there was a man, he told me to come to him. And when I saw him, when I looked into his eyes and heard his voice call to me, I have never felt such warmth in my chest. I believe that this handprint belongs to him, that he is the destiny that awaits me across the sea.”

     “You must find him then!” Sam nearly jumped up from his seat, “We must hurry and ride the seas to find this man!”

     “Easy, brother, easy,” Dean laughed, raising a hand to his brother, “give the men their two days' time, and then we will leave. There are preparations that must be made first before we make this venture. Have patience, Sam, the time will come.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Brother, I need to speak with you for a moment.”

     Sam followed Dean through the busy docks, trying desperately to hold his attention.

     “Sam, there are many things left to prepare before we depart today, make it quick.”

     “Gabriel.” As soon as the name was out of his mouth, Dean stopped walking and turned to Sam, giving him a knowing look. “I don't think he should come with us.”

     “Why not?”

     Sam sighed, “He is so small, too weak, I fear he will not make the journey to the new lands. We know not how long it will take to cross the seas, I wish not for the Gods to take him so soon.”

     Dean laughed, then turned to continue walking down the docks, “Be careful, brother, it sounds like you might be starting to care for the man.”

     He rolled his eyes at Dean as he followed after him once again, even though he knew Dean could not see it. “Brother, I beg of you, speak with Gabriel, convince him to stay behind and wait until we return to gather the rest of the people in the warmer seasons.”

     “I do not think I can.”

     “Why not? You are the king, he will listen to you.”

     “Oh, dear brother, this has nothing to do with me or my position,” Dean tossed a smirk over his shoulder, “as long as you are on that boat, Gabriel will be too. I do not think he wants to let you out of his sight, let alone see you off on a journey that could last a very long time. I do not think the Gods themselves could convince him to let you go without him.”

     “Dean, please I…” The two stopped again as Dean inspected some ropes being brought to the boats, and Sam shifted from foot to foot. “I do not think he would fare well if we should get caught up in a fight.”

     “Ah,” Dean turned to him, crossing his arms, “so you worry for him.”

     “Yes! I do not wish him hurt if battle should occur.”

     “Because you could not bear to see so.” 

     “Yes!” He nearly shouted, not even noticing the mischievous smirk on Dean's face.

     “Because you feel for him.”

     “Ye-” He stopped short, realizing what Dean had said and what he had done, almost getting caught in the trap. “I…”

     Dean softened his devilish smirk into a genuine smile, and placed both his hands on Sam's shoulders, “When will you admit it, brother? Just love the boy already. It's obvious you feel for him, and he for you. The Gods will smile upon your union.”

     Sam opened his mouth to either dispute it or agree, though Dean didn't get the chance to find out which before they were interrupted by just the man they were talking about. 

     “Sam! Sam!” He came running up and stood between them, though Dean noticed much closer to Sam than he. “I have more supplies for our trip to the new lands! Food, furs, and more weapons. Which boat should I put our furs in, Sam?”

     Sam looked down at him wide eyed and took a slight step to the side, “Our furs?!”

     Dean chuckled lightly to himself, then spoke in barely a whisper, “And my point is proven yet again.” Sam looked up to him and blushed, but Dean just continued to smile and slapped a hand on his shoulder as he spoke to Gabriel, “You and Sam will be travelling in the first longboat along with myself. You may load yours and Sam's furs at the front of it.”

     Gabriel nodded with a huge smile on his face, looked up to Sam once more, before running off to the boat Dean had told him he would be travelling on. 

     Sam turned a deep frown on his brother who was still smirking, “Brother, this is not wise, what if he gets hurt?”

     “He may be small, Sam, but he is as fierce a warrior as any other viking I know,” he slapped his hand down on Sam's shoulder again, stepping closer and staring intently in his eyes, “worry not about Gabriel’s safety and more so about getting him into your bed.”

     Sam scoffed and smacked his brother's hand away from him with a shake of his head. Dean laughed, hearty and full for the first time in a long time. “Do not try to deny it, Sam, and perhaps a little love will loosen you up. The man is already all over you, just let him do it with a little less clothes on.”

     All Sam could do was sputter out nonsense, eyes wide as he stared at Dean who only continued to laugh at his brother's obvious level of discomfort. After having his fun and a good laugh at Sam's expense, he turned and shouted towards the docks, “Ready the boats to sail, men! It is time to depart for the new lands!”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     The docks were crowded now with not only the vikings taking part in the adventure to the new lands, but with loved ones as well. Wives, husbands, and children all gathered to say one last goodbye before watching the boats disappear on the sea's horizon. One could never be certain of two things when going on such a journey. The first being how long they could be gone from their home every time they left, and the second was one Dean had still not yet come to terms with accepting. Everytime they left their familiar shores it was a danger, and no matter how hard he tried, Dean could not save everyone. Not always would every viking make it home to hug and kiss their loved ones again. So he always told those travelling with him on such journeys to make every last second count, for one never knows.

     Dean didn't have anyone to say goodbye to, no one waiting on him to return safe, with the hope of the Gods in their hands. And after seeing many a time the despair as their ships left the shores, and the devastation when they returned with less than they departed with, he sometimes thought he should count himself lucky that he did not have that weight on his shoulders. He had Sam, of course, but Sam was always at his side, through every journey and every battle. They never had to worry for the other and were always there to protect each other. But… despite all that, sometimes he did find that deep down, he did wish he had someone. But if what he was shown in his vision from the Gods was true, he would be finding happiness just over the horizon, or so he hoped.

     “Dean!”

     He turned to the familiar voice with  a smile, shaking off his thoughts, and walking to meet her. “Ellen, are you ready to take my place while I'm gone?”

     “Hardly,” she scoffed, “no one’s as fit to lead us as you. The people will be awaiting your return eagerly, as will I.”

     “Nonsense, you will be fine, Ellen. The people will follow your lead, I have great faith in your guidance.” 

     “I appreciate your optimism, Dean,” she crossed her arms, suddenly surrounded by an air of importance as she continued, “now, any last words of wisdom before you depart?”

     Dean shifted and matched her stance, both exuding the same level of strength and power. He smiled slightly to himself, he knew she was the right person to replace him in his absence. “Just one thing. You have enough food to last you all through the winter, and once the winter has passed, if the new lands prove to be bountiful, we will return and bring you all to our new home. But, if we do not return come the end of spring, you must lead the people and move on, leave Nazareth. If you stay it will be your death’s. Promise me you will do this if we do not return.”

     She knows what he means. That danger, that risk that comes with every journey away from home. If they do not return, what he really means is if they all die. But she nods, not saying much more on the matter, not really wanting to think of that outcome. “You just take care of that old goat for me, will ya?”

     They both looked over to a gruff, brooding man helping to load the boats. More like ordering other people to do it while he watched from the docks. He looked back to Ellen who was watching the man with a fond smile. “I promise I will take very good care of him, and bring him back safely.” She turned to him to barely smile back, give his arm a pat, then leave. He then turned back to the man and shouted, “Bobby! Are we ready to set out?”

     He turned to Dean, giving him a thumbs up, then hopped into the boat. Dean shouted once more for the men to say their last goodbyes and board the longboats. He joined Sam and Gabriel in the lead boat, and just as the edge of the sun breached the horizon and was fully in the sky before them, they all set sail, heading off to a hopefully better future and a very bright destiny.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Dean was sitting at the front of the boat, legs hanging over the edge. This day brought with it the fourth sunset since they had departed Nazareth, and still he was too excited to sleep. The rest of his men were huddled all around the boats, sleeping peacefully as they rocked gently on the sea. 

     As they slowly drifted through the night he let his thoughts wander back to his vision, to the mark on his arm, to the man the handprint belongs to, the man with the piercing blue eyes. His hand slowly wandered to rest over the mark, he could not wait to find this man, to see what splendors the Gods had in store for him not too much farther away.

     Shifting below him had him turning to look down at his men, finding Gabriel right below him, huddled under as many furs as he could find, but his small body was still feeling the chill of the airy sea night. He shifted again, tossing and shivering, teeth chattering in an attempt to find warmth. Watching him, Dean started to think maybe Sam was right, maybe this trip would prove to be too much for Gabriel, maybe he should have convinced him to stay in Nazareth.

     Another body shifted off to the side and Dean's eyes drifted to the noise. Sam, who had been sleeping closer to the edge of the boat, had now shifted closer to Gabriel. Dean could see that his eyes were wide open, more likely having been laying awake listening to Gabriel shiver and not getting much sleep for his worrying. A small smile crept across Dean's face at the thought of his brother caring this much for another.

     After a while, it seemed as though Gabriel’s shivering was getting worse, and just as Dean was about to jump down to do anything to warm the smaller man, Sam's hands reached out from under his furs and across to Gabriel. He grabbed him and pulled him towards his chest, settling him as close as he could against him. Gabriel opened his eyes with a squeak of shock, but upon realizing that he was being pressed into Sam's chest, he immediately settled and wrapped his arms around Sam, burying his face into Sam’s heat.

     Sam let go a fond smile as he too wrapped his arms around Gabriel and pulled him impossibly closer, resting his nose in the smaller man's hair, rubbing his hands up and down his back. Slowly he stopped shivering and his light snoring, though slightly muffled by Sam’s chest, was a relief to Dean’s and Sam's ears. 

     Dean settled back into his place on the edge of the boat, thankful that Gabriel was finally warm and comfortable, then looked down once more at his brother and the huge smile still plastered on his face, cuddling with Gabriel. Dean huffed out a light chuckle, “No feelings for him, my ass.”

     And Dean found himself laughing even harder when Sam, not moving an inch or even opening his eyes, whispered back so as not to wake Gabriel, “This may be your boat, but do not think I won't throw you overboard.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: More to come soon! If anyone wants to be tagged let me know, and if you know anyone who might like this fic please share it with them XD  Love you all <3

Tags: @thebridgekid

[captainsimagines]

Titanic || H.S

Part Two || “You.”

“And tell us about that Titanic! I hear it’s as grand as Buckingham Palace! Unsinkable!”

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

The needle a centimeter away from your finger and the one sitting between your incisors each created a rattling noise as you pressed the pump with your left foot and created a steady vibration. You opened and closed your lips ever so slightly in concentration. It was an evident possibility that your finger could inch its way too close to the hopping needle or that your tongue could swivel onto the pointed end and prick a drop of blood. But determination got the best of you as you heard the giggles and confident praises the seamstresses emitted. The stitching of your first full sweater would be completed in mere seconds, its elegant trail smiling right back up at you as the needle halted to a fine finish. 

The ladies cheered as you carefully removed the sleeve from under the machine, holding your first completed work of art up in the air for everyone to marvel at. It was a dark green color, similar to how you would imagine those black and white photographs concealed the true pigment of the vast Amazon rain forest. It was easily donned over one’s head and onto the body in a swift movement of lifted arms and lacked the tightness of your dated Victorian clothing. It welcomed a breezy and comfortable afternoon with tea and silent tranquility. It was simple but the ladies in the workshop would not let your first completed stitching go unnoticed. You were a valued customer, as was your mother years ago before she began buying from more established designers, and their exclamations were definitely ones full of pride. 

“It’s a wonder you finished so quickly! Come, let’s have a look at what you’ve accomplished!”

The ladies made sure the doors were locked before you stripped away your upper layers and uncomfortable corset. You breathed a sigh of a relief and a chuckle of reassurance for the worried faces staring back at you. You pulled the masterpiece over your head and immediately squealed in delight, happy that the fabric which treated your working hands delicately also did the same for your torso. It was slightly bigger than your form, baggy enough for you to fit both arms inwards as a blanket. You hugged yourself and swayed back and forth, smiling from the cheers and claps surrounding you. 

“There we go! Now you’re a proper seamstress!”

A few ladies scolded the woman who spoke of your ‘low’ title, but you quickly dismissed their worry. “It’s alright! I believe this new clothing item earned me a proper title.”

The ladies all congratulated your hard work once again but were interrupted by a hard knock on the door. It seemed all knew who was lurking behind the wood, the atmosphere altering to one of uneasy stillness. 

You sighed quietly, “Just go on.”

Everyone obliged, quickly picking up where they had left off before they had come to crowd around you and gawk at your hard work. You disregarded your other clothing laying on the floor and left your green sweater on. 

You yourself were a sight to marvel at, all done up in the face with regular-looking clothing somehow tainting the priceless property of your soon-to-be husband. Or maybe he had already placed a price tag on your skin, like how they mark cattle with an abrupt hot stab. You never knew anything these days. 

George cleared his throat and conducted a quick visual scan of the room. “You’re needed at the house, Miss.”

You breathed in deeply, mentally rolling your tired eyes at your fiancé’s personal bodyguard hire. It wasn’t that he was a total annoyance to have around, but that he was the most colossal annoyance to have entered your life after your fiancé, Cal. His eyes would never leave your body - not in an inappropriate manner but as caution for your safety. It was only on Tuesday you were able to free yourself from the constraints of your busy life to buy groceries alone, downtown, without help. It had become extra enjoyable to extend that peace by befriending the townspeople and participating in their daily lives. You didn’t view this as offensive simply because none of the seamstresses voiced a personal grievance. You wanted to partake in a normal activity, a hobby, in something you could actually call yours and not passed down through generations. But perhaps naming this a hobby while these women referred to it as their one underpaid job was privilege after all. 

“Do they need me immediately or do they simply want me home?”

Your questions once startled George as you proved to be quite the pistol, answering back and reminding him that you outrank him as well, not just Cal. It was rude to do so, you acknowledged, but the sudden burst of adrenaline your body experienced anytime you would not follow Cal’s orders easily were beginning to feel like a forbidden midnight craving. But George laughed off your wit and proceeded to point to your abandoned corset and upper part of your dress, as if telling you to suit up, and walked away to wait for you in the car, a cigarette in between his index and middle finger.

As you shut the door for some well-deserved privacy, some ladies of the shop narrowed their eyes while others shared their stares of pity. You had briefly mentioned your lack of desire to marry at such a young age, wanting to marry for love instead of insurance. While some of the ladies understood your point of view, others could not possibly believe you would give up the chance to settle down and be financially stable for the rest of your life. It was a difference of opinion and class, but one thing was certain - none of you were free from the constraints of men. 

You sadly stripped away the warmness of your sweater and lifted the white corset from the chair beside the sewing machine. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor and hurried footsteps painted a shy smile on your face. You remembered her name was Linda and watched as she rushed behind you to pull the strings of your corset slightly tighter than they already were. She was a middle-aged woman, more experienced than most women hired and perhaps the best. She had been the first to welcome you to the shop, teaching you the ropes of sewing - first by hand and then by machine. Linda often called her mentorship a privilege to conduct and made you promise to improve. 

“Oh, Miss. I know life isn’t what you want it to be, but when does it ever work out for people like us?”

You turned your head over your shoulder slightly to look at her, “You mean us women?”

Linda cleared her throat uncomfortably and finished tightening the last bit of your corset. “Yes, but… pardon me, Miss but I think you have more choice than the lot of us women combined. ”

Linda held out your jacket so you could tuck your arms in. You understood her point in matters of class, but as you slid your arms through the sleeves and saw how the glimmer of sunlight danced off your brown skin, you evaluated the types of privilege Linda had that you didn’t. But you would not overstep her boundaries, and instead remained quiet. 

“I don’t mean that to sound rude, Miss. Only that, even with an unhappy marriage, there are plenty of freedoms to explore that most people will never get to.”

You buttoned the front of your jacket yourself and let Linda finish speaking. What she said was absolutely correct. Lots of people suffer through boring and arranged marriages, finding joy once they bring new life into the world or handling the property portion of your household. It most certainly sounded like a simple compromise. But the thought of a loveless marriage with only the hope of conception to bring actual love into the world upset you. There had to be more to it than just that. 

“Thank you, Linda. I hope to see you in the next year or so.”

Linda momentarily covered her mouth in shock, “I completely forgot! You’re going to America!” Her outburst caused a couple of the ladies to murmur to each other, all sharing their want for the new American dream the papers were talking about. It was said there was no heavy violence, property was easy to obtain, and gold was discoverable by anyone with a working hand and a shovel. But you didn’t believe the lies - it was the same hole as England, if not worse. 

“Oh, please write, Miss! Share your adventures with the group,” Linda laughed, gathering your purse in her hands and into your waiting ones. She handed you the forgotten groceries and your new green sweater as well. “And tell us about that Titanic! I hear it’s as grand as Buckingham Palace! Unsinkable!”

You nodded and smiled to the group of ladies who had become your friends in such a short amount of time. “I’ll be sure to write with great detail. Don’t get into any trouble without me.”

Linda scoffed, “And if we do, you’ll hear about it through the mail!”

You laughed and voiced your goodbyes, walking out of a peaceful atmosphere into the polluted streets in search of the waiting car. 

The enjoyment of silence and limited movement had always been a treasured feeling. Your feet taking small steps across such a large bedroom and emitting such a small sound while the clock ticked every second was such a lighthearted moment in your busy schedule. You folded the last bit of your clothes from the drawers into the bags the maid fetched, making sure to wrap the small perfume bottles as tenderly as possible inside your undergarments. Neatly tucked away in the corners, you glanced around the grand bedroom that had witnessed your mental deterioration for the past two years. It had encased you in times of grief as you said final goodbyes to your father; in times of brief happiness each time one of your horses won a race; in times of uncomfortable stillness as you destroyed gifts from loved ones, corsets string-by-string, or bottles of champagne from congratulations on your engagement. It was time to say goodbye and welcome four new walls to witness more tumbling emotions. 

A small knock at your door interrupted your thoughts. “Thought you could use a little help with the last of your belongings.”

If it wasn’t for your incredible acting skills, you probably would have screamed at Cal a thousand and one times by now about absolutely everything and nothing. He was subtly controlling, insisting which books you should and shouldn’t read or what food you should or shouldn’t try. For an engagement that was barely three months strong, you had already experienced fifty years of a failed marriage. 

You gave a small smile, “Thank you.”

Cal stepped into the room with your given permission, shutting the door gently behind him and locking it. You sighed deeply as you heard the click, trying to occupy yourself by wrapping the last bottles of perfume with undergarments. It occured to you in that moment that your private wardrobe was out in the open, so you quickly tucked the last bottle without its personal wrap and zipped the bag closed. Cal didn’t seem to notice your clumsy actions, instead focusing on lighting the cigarette between his lips. 

You stood at the foot of your bed and clasped your hands together, “You know I don’t like cigarette smoke in my bedroom, Cal.”

Cal chuckled and moved to grab the bottom half of your torso. You allowed him to guide you into his chest, swaying with him back and forth while simultaneously avoiding the dangling stick from his lips. Cal exhaled the smoke over your head and made sure all the smoke exited before he leaned down to press scattered kisses across your neck. Self-control abandoned, the involuntary grimace to stain your face remained unseen by your poor fiancé, who was only trying to selfishly build a certain romantic mood that was sure to escalate in the next week on your wedding night. Cal had it in mind that if he introduced a new intimate gesture every day, you wouldn’t act so cold during the ceremony. It was worth a shot, but the complete disregard for your upset over cigarette smoke was enough to bump his score back a few points.

“I was hoping the packing was all finished,” Cal sighed, trailing his kisses closer to your collarbone. “The help gets paid for this, Sweetpea. You shouldn’t waste your time and energy.”

You cleared your throat to break the one-sided tension, “It calms me, actually. Besides, the household is busy preparing for our departure in other ways.”

Your engagement had caused a disruption in the everyday lives of your staff. It was known that you had to marry after your father’s death or else your family wealth was in jeopardy. Your father had left everything in your name - property, money in the banks, jewels - anything and everything. But it was the nonexistent trust of your capabilities that people would not outright express. Coupled with the fact you were in your early twenties, no one would confide in your training abilities, rent your property, or give you loans. Getting married was practically on the agenda since your father announced his diagnosis. 

“Think of this,” Cal began, blowing out smoke and flicking the ash onto the floor. “In a week's time, you won’t need to worry about anything.”

He paused before taking another long drag of his cigarette. “America will welcome us with open arms and open pockets.”

“Must we think too much of the future? Can’t we just enjoy the present moment?” you spoke quietly, still swaying against him. 

Cal chuckled softly and gripped your chin lightly with his thumb and index finger to tilt your head upward. “America is full of such rich opportunity! How can I not envision it?”

You shrugged your shoulders and departed his loose grasp. “I’m not saying you can’t imagine-”

“No need to imagine!” Cal yelled excitedly, playfully falling on his right side at the foot of your bed. “I know it isn’t a figment of my imagination. It’s real…” he continued, looking up at the ceiling in undisturbed awe, “we can be as big as the Rockefellers.” 

You chuckled softly and picked up your bag to bring it to the chair by your door. “I’m sure our reachable dreams will suit us just fine.”

Cal scoffed jokingly, “Think of it! Your father’s property, our combined assets, the booming railroad business-”

“Actually, they say trains are becoming less and less valuable as automobiles become more affordable.”

Cal looked at you with wide eyes and a confused stare. “Well, whoever you are referencing was wrong.”

You wanted to list your sources and prove him wrong, but decided against the nasty argument. 

He continued to preach, “Just envision it, Sweetpea. It’s already in our grasp.”

You pretended to ‘envision’ his world by staring at the same spot he was, but could only see lonely nights in a house too big for the two of you and endless parties with mindless chatter. It was already draining the energy from your chest, so you simply lied to your fiancé to end the conversation.

“I can’t wait to see it, Cal.”

Cal jumped to his feet and fixed his tie before heading for the door. You could honestly say this was the longest conversation you ever had with Cal, and one where he wasn’t so bland. He seemed comfortable and relaxed around you right now, when usually he’s controlling and constrained. Air being sucked from your lungs without warning and then quickly replaced in a sharp and painful manner. A desperate reminder that you would have to learn to endure this endless suffering if you wanted to live comfortably. ‘Comfortable’ and ‘cheerful’ were two words that were completely foreign in feeling, on your tongue, in your social circle even. But yet again, you reminded yourself of your place - a place that you would simply have to learn the rules of. Cal was quick to change personalities anytime someone would interrupt your already tamed conversation, either showing you off as an extravagant prize or as a nuisance, someone to fetch him another Brandy. 

Perhaps it was due to the proximity of his American dream. 

“Perfect, Sweetpea,” he leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow around seven. We have to be up bright and early to get to the docks by nine.”

You nodded and waved him goodbye, “See you then.”

You spent all night tossing and turning in your massive bed, hearing the trees sway with the wind and the midnight workers opening and shutting gates every five minutes. Silence greeted you only momentarily, somehow interrupting your thrashing or your wild thoughts, wishing you would open your eyes and imagine random designs in the ceiling above you. But as you did so, an intense wave of pain would sever any ounce of playful imagination your mind struggled to concoct, teasing an impossible ability to conceive a world other than your own. 

Tomorrow you would be locked away in the most elegant room on the grandest ship in the world, each swirl and twist of captivating designs sprawled across another four walls offering its own imagination to your tangled mind - another four walls that will observe your internal struggles with yourself, your husband-to-be, your “rich people problems”. 

And all you wanted was to disappear. Perhaps jump into that endless, blue abyss and have the world forget you ever breathed its air. Those four walls would only taunt you, remind you of the nauseating situation you were constantly in, breaking you further until all that’s left is another tombstone in your already crowded family garden. Your problems seemed miniscule as you thought about the setting of your deterioration, a luxurious and expensive atmosphere to suffocate inside. 

Perhaps you were overreacting. 

And as you heard another gate shutting and making an obscene amount of noise, you swallowed back those pitiful tears and reminded yourself that it could always be worse.

It could always be worse. 

But instead of disappearing, you decided to wander through the dark hallways of your home and sneak into the main kitchen. The peace and quiet you were hoping for as you devoured some chocolate chip cookies was absent and the kitchen roared with about half a dozen servants cleaning and packaging the food for donation. No one stopped their tasks because you entered the room, so you took that as an invitation to peck through the food on the counters. You found the sweets near the middle tables, still unpacked and freshly baked from this morning. You stacked a few cookies and lonely blackberries onto a single napkin, pulled out a chair, and sat to relish the flavor of each small creation. 

“Sugar at night will give you nightmares.”

You chuckled lightly, turning to smile at the only servant who took notice of your presence. “It’s worth it if this is the last time I’ll taste Hernando’s baked wonders.”

“Oh, don’t speak like that! Soon you’ll be back here and stuffing your face with all kinds of sweets.”

She wiped down the counter behind her quickly so she could sit beside you. You offered her a cookie, handing one to her but she declined. 

“What’s got you awake at near midnight? You have a busy day ahead and you need to rest up,” she said, folding her washcloth absentmindedly. Although you wanted to be fully honest with someone, you still kept most of your worries confidential. 

“I don’t want to go back to America,” you admitted. 

She scoffed, an action that modeled her desires rather than yours. “Why would you want to stay here? All of your father’s family is back in the states!”

You shrugged, taking a bite of your cookie. You spoke softly as to not invite gossip from others, “If I don’t go, then I won’t get married. Besides, all my family is out West. We’re staying on the east coast.”

She gave a sympathetic look, reaching out to tap your hand gently. “We’re not all meant to marry for love. But most of us do fall in love after… gradually.”

You scrunched your nose in slight annoyance, realizing that she had completely glossed over the mention of your family and the distance between them. “My mother said the same thing.”

“She is an honest woman. Perhaps she is right and you are just stubborn.”

Now wanting to end the conversation, you stuffed a cookie into your mouth so she would be forced to continue speaking without your input. She instructed another servant to pour you a cup of tea that had just finished heating.

“Who knows, dear? He could turn out to be more wonderful than you expected.”

Clearing your throat, you brushed your hands off on a nearby napkin and carefully handled the tea, standing from the table with a slight frown on your face. 

“One can only hope,” you said, bidding the midnight staff goodbye. “Please tell Hernando that I will miss his cooking.”

The cookies had relieved you of some of your building stress and the tea was also aiding in your recovery, but they quickly digested and sat in your half-empty stomach. You took long glances at the walls of the hallway adorned with family portraits, random maps, and lifesize sculptures leaning against them. You were saying goodbye in your own way, the only way possible, and it felt somewhat nostalgic - so quiet and yours. 

There was a strong possibility that you would return, but for some reason there was a need to say goodbye. Because if you never did return, you knew it wouldn’t be by your own choice.

Thank you so much for your lovely comments! It truly means a lot. -Moni xx

[skdubbs]

Let Love Find You

Chapter 1: An Awkward Introduction

Summary: Love has a funny way of finding you when you’re not looking for it. Commander Fox discovered this the hard way when a box arrived on base and pique his interest. 

Here it is. I can’t believe I'm finally doing this. A huge huge HUGE shoutout and thank you to @detroitbydark​ for all of the encouragement, feedback, and listening to my ramblings about this story. You’re the best. 

This story will be the first in a collection of three interconnected stories taking place at the same time. I hope you all enjoy! 

It all started with a box.

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard stared at the parcel currently sitting on his desk amidst piles of carefully cataloged holopads. The contents of said package laid innocently next to the box. He’d had part of it scanned and tested, twice. Absolutely nothing alarming to be found. And yet Fox was still unsettled.

In the year since taking up his post, he’d never been rendered speechless. Well, today the boys could mark it down in the books. Truly, the commander didn’t know what to say. Or think. Or do. The mental conundrum Fox found himself in was beyond exasperating. Sighing, Fox shook his head, then glanced at the flimsi note he held. Once more, he read the delicately written script.

To: Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard

Dear Sir,

I’m sure this package and its contents might cause alarm and confusion. Please don’t allow it to do either. This is simply a token to express my thanks to the troopers involved with the skirmish in the market district on Level 3 nearly four rotations ago. Their actions saved my life and that of my daughter. When we expressed our gratitude, my daughter felt the shock trooper didn’t think we were sincere. Hence, this small gift. I ask that you please see to it that the troopers involved receive this token and understand how grateful we were for their timely arrival. For there are citizens on this planet who are aware of the services the Guard provides to ensure our continued safety and peace. Thank you for your help in this matter.

Sincerely,

Arissa Blunt

Fox knew without looking it up what skirmish Ms. Blunt referred to, as well as the troopers involved. Reach’s report had made mention of the two citizens he’d pulled away from the fire fight, a young woman and child. Interestingly enough, Fox had also heard through the guard barrack’s grapevine that Reach spent most of that night crowing about a civvie thanking him and how pretty she’d been. According to Reach, her body was a man’s wet dream.

At the time Fox had scoffed and pushed the matter out of his mind. He had far more important matters to contend with than one of his trooper’s infatuations. All of the men would have one at some point or other. It was a natural result with overexposure to civilians after a lifetime of social isolation. Fox was one of the few he knew to never fall to such an affliction. That didn’t mean he hadn’t dabbled and explored his options. The commander had simply never experienced the magic of someone capturing his attention for more than a moment of a little physical pleasure. Until now.

Commander Fox was intrigued, all because of a box of homemade ginger spice cookies, a short note, and an infatuated trooper’s embellished description. Again, Fox sighed. Maker, he needed a drink. And it wasn’t even 1200 yet.

He commed Captain Stone, the squad leader there on the day in question.

“This is Stone,” came the greeting.

“Captain, round up the troopers involved in the skirmish on Level 3, I’m sure you remember the one,” Fox instructed. “They’ve got a gift waiting for them in my office. Apparently Reach’s story wasn’t completely fabricated.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. It was brief, but Fox knew it for what it was. Shock. “Right away, sir,” Stone replied.

Fox disconnected, then turned to inspect the baked goods still sitting on his desk. Ginger spice cookies. Homemade, no less. Damn, they smelled good.

Fox smirked. What the men didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He plucked one cookie from the pile, taking a small bite to test the flavor. A groan of delight broke past his lips. This was one of the best frekkin’ things he’d ever had the pleasure of eating, and that's saying something. After all, the position of Commander of the Coruscant Guard afforded certain luxuries and privileges that few other clones were allowed.

The commander took another bite, savoring the taste. What he wouldn’t give to have something this good to eat every day. His eyes found the note again, sitting on his desk in stark contrast to everything else. Arissa Blunt. One has to wonder what kind of woman she was. Fox had every intention of finding out.

-----

After giving the boys their gift (the looks of shock and delight on their faces had caused a grin on his), Fox decided to investigate. It took little effort to find the information he needed. Another perk to his position.

Arissa Blunt, single human female aged 22 standard years. Currently a member of the Republic military’s research and development division located here on base. His brows had raised at that. He merely needed to leave his office and walk across the facility in order to find her. Her focus was prototype military-grade weapons. So, she worked on creating better ways for his brothers on the front to do their job. While he didn’t know her, Fox felt a swell of appreciation for this woman.

He was shocked and intrigued to find she held her position with no formal training. Instead, Ms. Blunt came into the program through the recommendation of a member of the board. It was highly irregular. Perhaps some nepotism was involved? But that made no sense either. According to her file, Ms. Blunt had no living relatives, only a young daughter named Gemma. Cute name, he’d thought.

Out of curiosity, Fox looked her up too. Gemma Blunt, single human female aged 5 standard years. Currently enrolled on scholarship at a school for gifted young children located noooo in a more well-to-do area of the upper levels. So, the kid was smart.

A part of Fox was impressed. And even more intrigued, especially as he gazed at Ms. Blunt’s photo. Reach hadn’t exaggerated, she was quite pretty. Not in the glamour model sort of way. But you could see the potential lying underneath her cute veneer should she ever try to be one. And those eyes….well, they’d surprised him too. Most humans didn’t have violet colored eyes, at least not naturally. But on her they were stunning. They drew you in and spoke volumes. As if the secrets they held were more than just her own. She could know yours without you evening realizing. A fanciful thought perhaps, but there all the same.

And that is why Commander Fox found himself making the long trek to the R&D division on base a few hours later. Amazingly, he had an hour free. Plenty of time to pay Ms. Blunt a visit. He could convey the men’s appreciation and slake his curiosity.

He’d found a technician by the name of A’tron Rogers when he arrived. The man had the audacity to scoff at him when he stated who he was looking for. Fox wisely kept his helmet on, knowing full well what kind of person he was dealing with. It was rather obvious what Mr. Rogers thought of clones and about doing anything for them. One had to wonder why he was in a position that required him to help create weapons that helped said clones.

“Yeah, she’s back here,” he’d snapped. “Follow me.”

Resisting the urge to call the man on his insubordination, Fox followed. They made their way further back into the lab and came to a stop at what looked to be some kind of long range canon. However, the weapon wasn’t what caught Fox’s attention.

Fox froze, his brain gone blank. Before his eyes, bent over at just the right angle, was perhaps the most perfectly shaped ass he’d ever seen. His mouth watered while his blood rushed south. Mentally, he cursed. This was not a good way to start an introduction.

“Blunt!” Rogers practically screeched, trying to get the technician's attention. It certainly did the trick, albeit in a painful way. Arissa’s head shot up, caught by surprise, only to have it collide with the paneling of the prototype she’d been working on. A string of low muttered curses followed the loud clang. Fox winced in sympathy.

After a moment or two, Arissa straightened, seemed to take a steadying breath, then turned to face them. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second when they landed on him. However, she recovered quickly, her face becoming unreadable as she turned to her coworker.

Fox wished he could say the same. That beautiful shebs he’d been staring at not long ago should have warned him at what else he’d see. Because, by the maker, Reach hadn’t exaggerated. Not one bit. Arissa Blunt truly was a man’s wet dream. Her hair was up and covered, but he didn’t need to see the dark brown wavy locks again to know how it finished the masterpiece that stood before him. Even wearing coveralls covered in grease splotches couldn’t detract from that hourglass figure or the small waist. And her breasts. By Fett, they were a handful and more. So much more. Again, Fox was grateful he’d chosen to keep his bucket on. He’d have looked like a gaping fool otherwise.

Arissa addressed Rogers, her voice even and devoid of emotion. “Did you need something, Rogers?”

The shorter man huffed, obviously put out by her lack of response to him. Fox made a mental note of that. Maybe it wasn’t just clones the man had a problem with. “You’ve got a visitor. Commander Fox here needs to speak with you.”

The technician’s gaze swung over to him, that violet gaze holding him captive. Again, he noticed a moment of trepidation, as if she feared his presence. Fox scowled, annoyance flaring. Her reaction was classic for a citizen. They either looked at him and his brothers with fear or disdain. He wasn’t sure which pissed him off more.

“I see,” she replied. “Well, I’m due a fifteen anyway. If you need me, we’ll be in the conference room.”

Rogers snorted, then left. Yup, that chakaaryc really didn’t like Arissa Blunt. Fox focused his attention on the woman before him. As he looked closer, her nerves became more obvious. What did she have to be nervous about?

“Ms. Blunt,” he greeted, his voice stiff and formal.

“Commander Fox,” she greeted in return. Grabbing a rag, she wiped her hands off, then motioned for him to follow her. “Whatever you need to tell me, it’d be best said in the conference room. Otherwise, everyone else in the department will know about it before the end of the day. You wouldn’t think it, but the lot here are as bad as a bunch of gossiping housewives.”

Nodding, he followed. As they left the lab and made their way down the hallway, Fox couldn’t help his eyes from looking. The sway of those hips were going to haunt him. Another curse ran through his mind.

Soon enough they reached their destination, Arissa gesturing him inside. He took up a position further in, standing at attention while he waited for her to shut the door.

“Would you rather sit, Commander?”

“No thank you, miss. But please don’t stand on my account. Have a seat.”

He patiently waited while Arissa got comfortable. Once she seemed settled, he dove right in. “I assume you know why I’m here?”

That flash of trepidation was back. It was gone immediately, but still, he saw it.

“I think so,” she quietly answered. Her tongue came out to wet her lips. Despite himself, Fox felt a knee jerk reaction to the tiny movement. Maker, this needed to stop. Now.  

“Then explain yourself,” he ordered.

That got her attention. Arissa straightened, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Explain myself? I thought the note I left was pretty self-explanatory.”

“Perhaps,” he hedged. “However, your reaction to my appearance here would say otherwise. I thought you appreciated what the guard does for the citizens of Coruscant. Someone who is appreciative doesn’t respond with fear in their eyes.”

Arissa’s eyes widened, first in shock, then in anger. However, when she next spoke, her voice remained even. “From my point of view, your sudden appearance here is rather suspect. Troopers, let alone commanders, don’t make random visits to this part of the base. Any fear you saw was my worry that I’d done something wrong.”

That made Fox pause, considering. Her words in the note had sounded sincere. And someone who feared or hated clones wouldn't have sent something in the first place, not without it having some sort of repercussion. Perhaps she had a point. Finally, Fox relaxed his stance.

“I suppose your reaction would make sense then,” he conceded. “I apologize for alarming you, Ms. Blunt.”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, you couldn’t have known. I’m sorry I gave you the impression I was like all those ungrateful idiots out there.”

Fox stared at her. Well, that was certainly one way of putting it. Apparently Ms.Blunt lived up to her name. He cleared his throat. “Now that that’s settled, would you mind explaining to me why you felt the need to do such a thing?”

Arissa started fiddling with a loose thread of her coveralls. A nervous tick. “I already told you in the note I sent with the package. My daughter thought the trooper who helped us didn’t believe we meant what we said. I was helping to make him see otherwise.”

A scoff escaped him. “Forgive my own cynicism then. I’m used to people having ulterior motives. It’s my job to find them.” He shrugged. “So, it’s a little hard to believe there wasn’t something else behind your actions, appreciated as they are.”

While he knew he was being something of a di’kut, Fox needed to know. He wasn’t lying. Any civilian he’d ever met had some sort of ulterior motive, most often to the detriment of his men.

She didn’t speak for a while, sitting there in quiet contemplation. Then, those violet orbs caught the gaze of his visor and held it. She wanted to get this right, he realized. She wanted him to believe her. “Maybe because men who didn’t have a choice in choosing this life deserve something good once in a while.”

Speechless, that’s what he was. She said it so plainly and without artifice. Fox knew she meant it, every word.

“I see,” he replied, voice quiet and low. “Well, allow me to express my gratitude and that of my men. It may not seem like much, but those sweets were the first gift any of those men have ever received. It might be the only one.”

“You’re very welcome, Commander Fox.” Her voice was quiet too, her eyes soft and understanding. How Fox wished he could get lost in them for more than just a few minutes. It was time to go. Now.

“You’ll excuse me then, Ms. Blunt, for taking up your time. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I’ll see myself out.” Fox made to do just that, not leaving her a chance to say anything in return. He was almost to the door when-----

“Commander, could I ask a favor?”

Fox stopped, then looked over his shoulder. Here it comes. “What is it?”

Arissa gulped, her nerves showing once more. Fox smirked. Already in such a short amount of time, Fox knew he’d enjoy setting her on edge on a regular basis. It was a shame their paths likely wouldn’t cross again.

“I know this may seem silly, but would you be willing to write a short note to my daughter? I know it’d mean the world to her to hear how much the troopers that helped us enjoyed the cookies.”

“Can’t you just tell her?”

“I could,” she allowed. “But she might think I’m lying. Sometimes she has a hard time believing things if she doesn’t have evidence. Finding out you came to tell me yourself just how much the gift was appreciated will be suspect without some kind of proof.”

“Is your daughter really that cynical?”

Arissa laughed, shaking her head. Fox had to admit she had a lovely laugh. Fett, he was going soft. “No, not cynical, commander. Just a child who needs encouragement that something is real when she’s had so many other disappointments.”

While Fox was curious as to what she meant by that statement, he didn’t ask. Honestly, what was the harm in writing the kid something? There was none. Besides, he was more than happy to do it.

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint.”

The smile she gave him made an answering one pull at his lips. Thankfully, his helmet hid the sight. Yeah, this was definitely not good.

------

“Mommy! You’re home!” Gemma squealed in happiness as Arissa stepped through the door. Arissa was barely inside before her five-year-old daughter wrapped her tiny arms around her torso and squeezed.

Arissa paused, soaking the moment in. A smile pulled at her lips while the hint of tears teased her eyes. This right here made everything worth it. The ridiculously long days. The demeaning remarks and catty behavior from her coworkers. This was her why, the reason she kept putting up with everything.

She wrapped her arms around Gemma and squeezed back. “Hello to you too, Gemma. Did you miss me?”

“Yes!” Gemma pulled back, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing in her excitement. “Did you miss me?”

Arissa chuckled, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “Yes, sweetie.”

“Welcome home, Arissa. Long day?”

Arissa glanced up, making eye contact with the teenager lounging on the lumpy pale green couch in the apartment space that served as a living room. She barely withheld a grimace, thinking back over her day. “Just the usual, Trix.”

Although it really hadn’t been. Not when a certain unsettling clone commander decided to pop in and pay an unexpected visit. Gods, she’d thought for a moment there she’d done something wrong, that somehow the gift Gemma had practically begged her to make was illegal. Panic had filled Arissa, assuming the worst. But then he’d thanked her. Thanked her. Like a box of ginger spice cookies was the best gift his men had ever received. That wasn’t really too far off the mark, though, was it? And that black visor. When he’d held her gaze, Arissa had felt as if she were naked. She couldn’t remember anyone ever making her fell that way. Definitely not something one wants to feel upon meeting a commanding officer of the GAR. 

Shaking her head, Arissa focused back in on the present. “Did the two of you eat yet?”

Trix suddenly appeared uncomfortable, a look of guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah, we did. I, um, thought it’d be nice to treat Gemma to something. We went to Dex’s Diner and had the works. Saved some for you, too.”

While she knew why Trix might feel guilty, Arissa couldn’t fault the teenager for spending the money instead of eating the leftovers in the fridge. A year of being homeless and dodging traffickers and drug dealers had done a number on Trix. The kid’s useless father had abandoned her just days after her mother passed away. And the lower levels of Coruscant were not kind to the young and innocent. Arissa knew this fact quite well. Trix was finally getting back on her feet, working at a local bakery to make some money while attending school at night to finish her primary education. She lived in the third bedroom and watched Gemma when Arissa had to work late. And Trix positively adored her. So if Trix wanted to spoil Gemma with a night of burgers and shakes, Arissa wasn’t going to complain. She was far too grateful for the help to even think of chastising the teenager for splurging.

“That sounds like a lot of fun. Thanks for thinking of me,” She smiled at Trix, hoping the teenager understood she wasn’t mad. “I can’t remember the last time I had Dex’s. Is it as good as I remember?”

Gemma giggled. “Even better! Oh, and we got to meet Dex. Did you know he’s a besalisk? I’ve never seen one before. He answered all my questions, too. Didn’t act like I was a bother or anything.”

“Of course he wouldn’t. Because he realized right away what a bright and inquisitive mind you have, sweetie.” Arissa’s heart warmed at the kindness the diner owner had unknowingly extended her daughter. Gemma truly was inquisitive, wanting to know anything and everything. And amazingly she remembered it all. However, there were some people who found the girl’s nearly constant questions an annoyance and something to discourage. It was why she’d done so poorly in school until transferring into a private academy. Thank the maker for that scholarship. She bent over and lifted Gemma up, holding the young girl as she made her way to their small kitchen table. “Now spill. How was your day?”

Asking Gemma that question was all the kiddo needed to start regaling her mother with the events of the day. Arissa listened attentively as she went about putting her dinner together. She laughed when Gemma explained how a boy in her class had water come out of his nose during lunch and praised her when told how she’d received perfect marks on yesterday’s exam. Trix stayed with them for a while, interjecting comments here and there before retreating to her room to start on her school work. They wished the sixteen-year-old good night as mother and daughter both knew they likely wouldn’t see the teenager again until morning. Arissa was done with her dinner and working on a mostly thawed nerf milkshake by the time Gemma asked how her day went.

Arissa had thought long and hard how she wanted to present her surprise. She pulled the note from her back pocket and slid it across the table’s surface. “I had an unexpected visitor today. He asked me to give you this.”

Curious, Gemma carefully unfolded the note. Even at such a young age she handled everything with a great deal of care. Violet eyes scanned the note, then widened in shock. When Gemma finally looked back up she was smiling from ear to ear. “He wrote a note. He really wrote a thank you note!”

The smile breaking across Arissa’s face almost hurt. Seeing her daughter’s happiness at something so small was beyond precious. Mentally, she filed the image away to remember when the moody teenager years hit. “I was told not to read it. That it was top secret until your eyes saw what was inside. Think you could read it to me?”

Gemma nodded enthusiastically.

“It says: Dear Miss Gemma. Thank you for the lovely gift of ginger spiced cookies. I have shared your present with the troopers involved in the skirmish four rotations ago in the market. They were very surprised and grateful for your thoughtfulness. They rarely get a thank you for their work. Your mother tells me you are a bright student and love to learn new things. Did you know that members of the guard love uj cake? I highly recommend trying it. Please continue to do your part as a good and loyal citizen of the Republic.

Sincerely,

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard.”

The excitement radiating off of Gemma was contagious. She truly was happy from Commander Fox’s words. Arissa sent a silent thank you to the commander for taking the time to fulfil her request. Maybe she could find a way to let him know how much his note meant. But he must be very busy. Why would he care about any of this?

If he didn’t care, why would he bother in the first place? He could have said no.

“Do you think I could write a reply, mommy?” Gemma asked. “Maybe we could make them some uj cake since they like it so much and leave a note with it like before.”

That made Arissa pause. “Perhaps. But don’t you think the rest of the guard might get jealous when only a few of them get to have some?”

Gemma’s brow furrowed as she contemplated that possibility. “I guess you’re right. I know I wouldn’t like it if only a few of my classmates kept getting something and I didn’t.” Then her face brightened. “Maybe we could make some for everyone! That way no one felt left out. Oh but,” Gemma frowned as she realized something. “That wouldn’t work either. There’s so many of them, aren't there?”

Arissa hmmed, feeling her heart squeeze with regret as her daughter’s face fell. For someone so young, she truly had a compassionate and giving nature. She wanted everyone to be happy. “I’m not sure how many there are, but yes, there are a lot of men in the guard. Far too many for us to make enough for everyone. I’m sorry sweetie.”

The evening wore on, the hours passing as the world outside transitioned from day to night. Despite her disappointment, Gemma managed to recover. They played a few games, took care of Gemma’s bath, and cuddled on the couch to watch a silly holomovie before Arissa announced it was time for bed. Arissa read a story of her daughter’s choosing, sang her a song, and kissed her good night. Once Arissa left the room, she’d make a cup of tea and curl up on the couch with a book, losing herself in the passionate romance of her current novel before heading to bed as well. It was like so many other night’s, this ritual their evenings had become. But tonight would be different.

“Mommy?”

Arissa paused, turning back to face her daughter. Only the top of her head and her eyes were visible above the fuzzy purple comforter she’d cocooned into. “What is it, sweetie?”

“Will you please tell Commander Fox thank you for writing me that note? I really did like it. And I think he’d like to know that, too.”

The breath whooshed out of Arissa’s lungs. She hadn’t expected this. But how could she refuse? “Of course, Gemma. I’ll tell him tomorrow. Now, get some sleep. You have a big day at school in the morning.”

“Can you make rainbow berry pancakes for breakfast?”

Arissa couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped, Gemma’s tone was just too hopeful. “I think I can manage that. Now, sleep little one.”

Gemma giggled, happy at her mother’s answer. “Okay, okay. Good night, Mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Gemma.”

Arissa closed the door and made her way to the kitchen. She tinkered around the small space, getting things ready for the morning while her tea water boiled, then steeped. Once finished, she grabbed the old and worn romance novel off her caf table, the flimsi pages yellowed with age. She happily made herself comfortable on the couch as she dove into the world of high passion…..

Five minutes later, Arissa was back in the kitchen, a notepad open to a clean page while her holopad came to life. She scrubbed a hand over her face, sighing. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” As soon as the piece of technology was up and running, she began bringing up Republic military records, trying to get an accurate head count of how many men filled the ranks of the Coruscant Guard.

------

Now, while Arissa was toiling away at the kitchen table trying to work out a plan to fulfill her daughter’s wish, said daughter was busy working on another matter instead of sleeping.

Gemma waited for her holopad to boot up, reading the note from Commander Fox almost obsessively. She’d never thought in a million years her mother would come home with any kind of news about the gift she’d begged her to make. Instead, she’d brought home a note. A note! Gemma very quietly giggled, pressing her face into her pillow to better muffle the noise. She was in the next star system from how happy that little piece of flimsi had made her. The five-year-old sent a desperate plea to the gods, asking them for the chance to meet this Commander Fox. Yes, she’d asked her mom to thank him, but she wanted the chance to tell him herself how much his note meant to her. And she wanted to show him just how much she could learn when she set her mind to it.  

Finally the holopad came on and Gemma brought up a search engine. Adults were always so surprised when they saw how well she could navigate tech at her age. For whatever reason, it was astonishing. Gemma didn’t pretend to understand why. Carefully, she typed in uj cake, then hit search. She skimmed over a promising article. It did sound rather yummy. Perhaps she could convince her mom to help her make some after school tomorrow and she could share it with the class. The kids would probably like that. Maybe it’d help her make a few friends.

The article said the recipe came from Mandalore. Intrigued, Gemma decided to search the planet, not knowing what she was getting herself into. What she read fascinated her. Hours went by and Gemma refused to sleep, far too invested in learning more about this old creed of warriors. She had only nodded off when her mother came to wake her, far earlier than usual.

Gemma’s groggy eyes met her mother’s. “What is it, mommy? Is something wrong?”

Arissa shook her head, a hint of mischief lighting her eyes. “No, sweetie. I just needed your help with something. How would you like to help me make some uj cake this morning? I think a certain clone commander would appreciate it.”

It took a moment for Gemma’s sleepy brain to understand exactly what her mother was saying. When she did, she shot out of bed so fast she almost knocked her mother over. Excitement took care of the exhaustion she’d felt just moments ago.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, then dashed out the door to the kitchen, her mother’s laughter following after her.

What neither realized then was how their actions that morning would come to shape the rest of their lives.....and those throughout the galaxy.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

The Fiery Furnace (Daniel 3:13-25)

"As soon as you hear the sound of the horn, flute, zither, lyre, harp, pipes and all kinds of music - you must fall down and worship the image of gold that King Nebuchadnezzar has set up! Whoever does not fall down and worship - will immediately be thrown into a blazing furnace." - Daniel 3:5-6

Every child knows this story. It is one of the classics of Christian households. It were well if all our modern Christians had the sublime moral courage of these "three Hebrew children." We will never have to meet precisely the same trial of faith, that these young men had to meet; but we need just as heroic a spirit - in order to be faithful.

Imposing images are set up even now in many a place - and all are expected to bow down to them - and woe to him who does not kneel!

We all have chances enough to be heroic. The popular religion is inclined to limpness of the knees. We have grown wonderfully tolerant in these days! We bow to almost anything - if it happens to be fashionable. It would not do us any harm if we were to take a good lesson from the example of these "three Hebrew children."

As Nebuchadnezzar grew great - he grew proud. He knew no God. There was no one to whom he thought of bowing down. He exalted himself as God. He demanded that all men should pay homage to him. That is the meaning of this strange story of folly. His people obeyed his command. "Therefore, as soon as they heard the sound of the horn, flute, zither, lyre, harp and all kinds of music - all the peoples, nations and men of every language fell down and worshiped the image of gold that King Nebuchadnezzar had set up."

But there were some whose knees did not bend! Quickly the king was informed by anxious spies, that certain Jews did not worship the golden image he had set up. Then Nebuchadnezzar in his rage and fury, commanded to bring Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Here we see a great king - in a very bad temper! That was certainly an unkingly mood. No man is fit to rule others - who has not learned to rule his own spirit. Peter the Great made a law that if any nobleman beat his slaves - he should be looked upon as insane, and a guardian should be appointed to take care of his person and his estate. This great monarch once struck his gardener, who then died in a few days. Peter, hearing of the man's death, exclaimed, with tears in his eyes, "Alas! I have civilized my own subjects; I have conquered other nations; yet have I not been able to conquer or civilize myself!"

There are Christian people who would do well to think a little of this matter. Self - control is the mark of completeness in Christian culture. It is the lesson of peace perfectly learned. Bad temper is always a sad blemish in disposition and conduct. To get into a rage - is a mark of lingering barbarism in the character. Self - mastery is Christ like.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were all young men who were in peculiar circumstances. They were away from home, out from under parental influence and restraints, and exposed to very strong temptation. They had now their choice between duty - and the fiery furnace! We should study this lesson for its example of heroic devotion to duty, regardless of consequences. Even yet, the world's promotion is obtainable ofttimes - only at the price of a trampled conscience!

There are several things to note in these young men.

Note their calmness ; they displayed no excitement, no heat of passion. The peace of God ruled in their hearts.

Note also, their sublime courage. They had a contempt of death. They feared only one thing - sin.

Note also, their trust in God. They committed the matter utterly into His hands. They did not know what He would - but they were sure it would be the right thing.

The king did not want to destroy these young men, and repeated his command. "Now when you hear the sound of the horn, flute, zither, lyre, harp, pipes and all kinds of music, if you are ready to fall down and worship the image I made - very good. But if you do not worship it, you will be thrown immediately into a blazing furnace! Then what god will be able to rescue you from my hand?"

The king wanted to give them another chance, as he preferred not to burn such useful servants; but they told him there was no need for a second opportunity. They would have no other answer to give. They could make no possible change in their decision. The thing that was demanded of them was contrary to the plain law of their God - and that settled it forever. There was no room for discussion or for deliberation or for persuasion - when it was the law of God that was concerned. They could burn - but they could not turn!

It would save many people a great deal of weighing, balancing, and discussion of fine points - if they would act always on this principle - that the Word of God is final in all matters of duty. When a thing is forbidden in the Word - that should be the end of it.

But too many people keep questions of duty open, waiting for new light, secretly hoping that by some logical process it may become possible for them to avoid making the sacrifice, and to do the thing that now appears to be wrong. So they parley with the matter, and weigh the pros and cons, and wonder if they are mistaken in their sense of duty - and usually end in yielding to sin. It is never safe to parley with temptation! There is no need for it. Duty is final, and no process of reasoning can change it. There is no new light possible on a divine command. It would save many of us much trouble if we fixed it in our mind - that God's Word settles some things, settles them finally and forever, and that we have no need to consider them - but should obey them without parley or question!

The answer of the young men was given promptly. "If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace." There is a wonderful majesty in these words. About the whole of the creed of these men was in the words, "Our God." God was theirs - and they were God's. He was taking care of them, and therefore they had no need to concern themselves about their own safety.

It is a great thing to be able to call God OURS, and to say, "God is our refuge!" "The Lord is my Shepherd." When we can really say this - we are ready for anything. No danger can terrify us. It is not the assurance of personal safety which gives us confidence; it is the fact that we are in God's hands, that we belong to Him, and that He is taking care of us! We do not need to know just what He will do with us - or for us; whether He will deliver us - or let us suffer. The ground of the confidence is that we are in His hands - and that He will do the right thing. It is not the highest trust that merely believes in being brought out of the trouble - or being delivered from danger. Perhaps we shall not be delivered. God may permit us to suffer. Very well - our trust does not depend on deliverance. It has no condition. It is simply trust without stipulation or suggestion. The highest confidence is that which suggests nothing - but lies in God's hands, and leaves Him to decide the manner of the care and the blessing.

The next three words are almost equally important: "Whom we serve ." There are plenty of people who like to cry to God in time of trouble or danger - but they have never been willing to obey or serve Him - when there is danger. They even scoff at Him in the sunshine ; but when the storm arises - they fall down on their knees and pray to Him!

These Hebrew young men were not of this class. They could cast themselves upon God's protection in this time of danger without shame, because they had been God's loyal friends and had been serving Him before the danger came. If we want to be able to call God ours and commit ourselves to His care when trial or peril comes - we must not only believe in Him - but must obey His will.

True religion is not all creed ; it has also a very practical side, and we ought not to overlook this word "serve." We must serve God - as well as trust Him. We must be willing to serve Him, too, even if it costs and hurts and burns. We must continue to serve Him though He brings no earthly deliverance. "The Christian who lazily looks for nothing but His personal comfort - will never look at fiery furnaces with composure." So if we would be without fear in the day of danger - we must be God's loyal and faithful servants without condition.

Then comes the expression of the faith of these men. Our God is able to deliver us!" They did not say He would deliver them from the fiery furnace. They did not know that He would. They knew that He could - and that if it were best - He would. There they rested the matter.

God's power ought to be a strong comfort to us in trouble or danger. He is able to deliver us - there is no doubt about that. No combination is too strong for Him. He can easily do whatever He pleases. Men say there are no miracles in these days - but God can always find a way to work any deliverance He desires to work for His people. He is never handicapped in His own world. And since He is our Father, and loves us and is taking care of us - we should know that if it is best that we should be delivered - He will surely do it. If He does not deliver us - we should know that it is because it is better for us and for His glory that we should suffer. True Christian faith is willing to leave to God - just whatever He shall do, confident in God's power and in God's love.

"But if not ." They made no condition of loyalty to God. They would obey Him just as loyally - if He did not deliver them. There are some people who call themselves Christians who never get above self-interest even in their religion. They believe it will be best for them in the end - if not just at present, to be Christians and to be faithful to God. Their consolation in losses and sacrifices is that God will more than compensate them in some way. They like to quote, "To those who love God - we know that all things work together for good." This is true. We shall never lose anything in the long run - by doing right. God's service brings great reward. Yet even this should not be the condition of serving God. We should serve Him for Himself, even if we know that serving Him will bring loss that never can be made up to us.

There is a legend of one in the old times, who walked the streets of Alexandria bearing in one hand a torch and in the other hand a vessel of water, crying, "With this water I will put out hell, and with this torch I will burn up heaven - that God may be served for Himself alone ." It surely is not the highest kind of faith - which always thinks of the benefit to ourselves; it is far higher if we say, as these men said, "Whether God shall deliver us or not from the furnace - we will serve Him!" Or as Job, "Though He slays me - yet will I trust in Him!"

The king was angered by the quiet determination of the young Hebrew children, and commanded that no time should be lost, and that their punishment should be as terrible as possible. "So these men, in their trousers, robes, head coverings, and other clothes - were tied up and thrown into the furnace of blazing fire!"

There are furnaces burning yet all over the world, and faithful ones are continually being cast into them.

There are furnaces of physical pain and suffering, in which saintly ones lie, sometimes for years. But they are not destroyed by the fire. The only result is - that they become more saintly. The sin and the earthliness are burnt out of their lives - and the pure gold remains.

There are furnaces of trial, too, in which men suffer loss for being true and loyal to God. We must not suppose that a holy life is always an easy one. Says one: "God's judgments - it may be the very sternest and most irremediable of them - come, many a time, in the guise, not of affliction - but of immense earthly prosperity and ease."

[lokidokiliteratureclub]

Healer

Kylo Ren x Reader (One-Shot for now)

Plot: Your planet has been destroyed, and as you are attempting to flee you are taken in by the New Order for your supposed healing abilities. With all the other nurses compromised, you are called upon to treat a very special, insufferable patient.

I am pretty sure this classifies as angst. It's less a romance and more an interaction.

Note: Sorry for those who are waiting for me to update the other story. I just needed to put something out to prove to myself that I'm not dead. Updates to Frostbitten coming! I'm doing my best :')

You should have never told these people you had any value. You should have pretended not to understand them. Look where honesty has brought you.

You are at the feet of the first order, a prisoner. A spare. A disposable remnant of the planet they destroyed in your wake. You are the only thing that remains of your people, and you are being dragged around in a lousy pair of handcuffs.

Figures approach as you and your guards turn through a hallway. You don't look up to see them, instead electing to listen to their voices.

"Is this the nurse?" A man in white asks the men in white behind you as you shift your hands around in their cuffs. "Assistance is needed urgently. Lord Ren is unaccompanied and mortally wounded."

That sounds bad, but you don't care enough to react. No one with the title 'Lord' has ever done anything good for you.

"Are there no others that can treat him? We have yet to test for experience. There is no way we can guarantee-"

"The nurses aboard our ships are either wounded or in shock. We need somebody now. These are our orders."

"What if this, this child kills him?"

Oh, please.

"I'm hardly a child," you speak up, looking up from the ground. There are no eyes for you to stare into, so you stare into the pits of the Trooper's mask. "And I know enough about you all to decide that murder is unwise. I'm sure a fate worse than murder would await me as a punishment for betrayal. I will treat whoever you wish."

At first, it seems they're going to take you seriously. Then, a short laugh.

"Do not be fooled into thinking you have a choice."

You are taken to a small quarters. The room is dark- not ideal for your work, but manageable. There is a man in black lying across a rectangular table in the center, and it is clear from the shade of his skin that he has lost plenty a lot of blood. With the urgency that you were rushed in with, it is clear that this patient is a patient of great value. You should be quick.

"All the tools you need should be here," a Trooper states. The handcuffs click quietly off your wrists. "Should you fail to save him-"

"I won't," you cut in. "But please, allow me the luxury of privacy. I cannot focus when I am being intruded upon."

The Troopers look at eachother, and then at the man on the table, and then, regretfully, step out of the room. Now you can begin working.

You strip the layers of bloodied clothing off of his skin, laying them at his sides and adjusting his body to reveal the worst of the wounds. Then, you glance quickly at the door to be sure you're alone, and close your eyes.

The energy begins to flow.

It flows out of you like a second language, striking home as soon as your fingertips touch his skin. The energy races to where he needs it most. His body begins to heal.

But then something odd occurs.

He pushes back.

Within his subconscious, the man on the table fights against your energy. His will rises to meet your own. It's as if to say 'I don't need you' even though he clearly does. You try to ignore it, but the longer you push the stronger the retaliation. You flatten your palms against his skin and focus more energy toward him. There is a slightly higher success rate, and then all his resistance falls back. You ease away from him, now physically drained from fighting, and you open your eyes. The worst of his wounds have sealed off. The only problems you have left are the wound on his face and the noticable blood loss. You decide to tackle the small problem first, and look toward his face.

He's looking right back at you.

An instinctive screech rises within you, but you push it down. You stare longer, silent. He's waiting for you to react. You don't. You take a deep, shaking breath inward, and straighten your spine, awaiting his words.

"Who are you?" He finally asks, faintly. His strength is still faltering, and you can hear it in his voice. He's lightheaded. He's weak. "What did you do to me?"

"I'm a healer," you state. "I healed you. It's kind of what I do."

"You used the force," he speaks, and he says it like a curse. "I felt it. I wanted to fight it- but you weren't trying to harm, were you?" He furrows his eyebrows. "Why can you do that? Who are-"

"I'm a healer," you repeat. You sense it makes him a bit angry. "I healed you."

"And what technique did you use to do so?"

"Unless you're a healer as well, not one that I'd expect you to understand. May I finish my work?"

The anger rises again, like a glowing ember. "I'll ask again. Are you capable of using the force?"

Still unfazed, you shrug. "The force is a part of the Jedi religion. The Jedi are dead. I heal people. I am not a Jedi."

The ember ignites. The man's hand jolts outward, and suddenly your airways are void of air. Your hands shoot to your neck, and you let out an unpleasant choke. "Yes or no," he repeats. His eyes are strong, demanding, but his grip is weak. He is still weak. "I'm not asking for much."

Your eyes trace his hand in the air. It has been far too long since you've seen another person exhibit your same power. Is this why the prisoner was held to such importance?

You stare him in the eye, face going red with lack of air supply. "You're not strong enough to hold this yet. I'd let go."

The grip tightens. There's pain on his face. He's still weak. "Yes. Or. No."

You shake your head, pushing a bit of what remains of your own energy outward into his. He falters, and then his hand drops, limp. "You're still healing. Give yourself time to rest." You reach a hand toward the wound on his face. "Let me finish."

He grabs your wrist. Not with any magical force this time, but with his hand. "You're not part of the Order."

You shrug. "I certainly don't support them. They blew up my home world, kidnapped me, and they are now forcing me to treat this asshole who thinks I owe him something." You shift your eyes back to him, and say with certain certainty: "I don't."

There's a pause, and you worry you pushed the wrong button, but he drops your wrist and closes his eyes, relaxing into the table.

Good. A moment of peace.

"Fascinating. You don't know why I am," he says, and he seems to believe it. "You'll regret saying all of that once you do."

You roll your eyes, placing your fingertips on either side of the man's head, near his temples. The energy begins to flow again. "No one can hurt me anymore. I either live or I don't. All I have left is to work. I left behind everything I had, so now I don't have-" you cut off, and as you stop speaking the energy stops leaving your fingers.

The man sees this weakness before you can recover.

"Anything left to lose?" He guesses. Suddenly, he has the high ground. All because of a falter. "You left? You abandoned?" He laughs. The entire table shakes slightly. "I don't see why they took you. We must be low on nurses."

You flinch. "I'm a healer."

"You're an asset." He raises both eyebrows, looking disgustingly smug. "There weren't many intelligent inhabitants on that planet. I'm sure you were very close to them."

Your hands tense. You feel your own ember begin to form, anger spinning a web. "That doesn't matter."

"Not anymore, I suppose." He opens his eyes, and you don't flinch when he looks into yours. "So, why are you here? Too much of a coward to die with them?"

The ember threatens to ignite. It begs to. You realize this, and take a step back, and close your eyes. And then you place your fingers back over the wound and continue healing.

"It takes one to know one," you say. "And that puts us in the same boat, doesn't it? From the looks of your wounds, you suffered quite a loss in battle. Why didn't you remain among the other men?"

"You don't know anything about me," he states in grim retaliation. "I'm not just some solider."

You laugh. "Clearly not. If you were a soldier you'd be wearing white armor and not a glorified bathrobe." Your hands rise from his skin, and the work is complete. "I'm done. I wouldn't move for a couple of days, as you lost quite a lot of blood." You turn, now eager to escape this tiny prison.

"Y/N," is all he says. You freeze on the way to the exit. "You're very difficult, Y/N."

You turn back around, limbs stiff. "How do you-?"

"I know the force. I can use it in ways beyond your imagination." He exhales deeply, frowning. "Your father taught you the ways of the force, didn't he? Who was your father?"

Your eyes start to sting, and you blink to keep tears from forming. "My father is dead. That's all you need to know on the matter."

"And whose fault might that be?"

That breaks you.

Your hand shoots out in front of you, and when it does the man goes flying off the table and into the wall, before landing on the floor with a dull thud. He laughs. "Good! You are powerful. In need of guidance-" He braces himself on the wall, standing up, clearly unstable. "I know a teacher who can help you use that power-"

You clench your outstretched hand. The man shoots across the room toward you, freezing in the air just a couple feet away. Despite the fact that you're in control, he looks very satisfied with himself. "The force is not a power. The force is a balance. As evil rises, an equal force of good rises with it." You open your fist, leading him back over the table and dropping him on top of it. "My father was not a teacher. He was a force that threatened the safety of others, and I rose up against him. That is all you need to know on the matter. Get some rest- whoever you are."

You're just about at the door when, as you expected, he speaks again. "My name is Kylo Ren," he says simply. From the silence that follows it is clear he expects a reaction. You look over your shoulder.

"No, it's not."

You leave before you hear his response.

[dfrh93]

DFRH Original #4

Space and Humans: Kicking The Hive

Hobbes:

It has been 3 months since I first saw an alien in person, 3 months since I touched one for the first time. They are finally comfortable enough with humanity that they are finally letting some of us on the station to meet the ruling body of the GA. It took about a month before we could communicate effectively with them but our AI has bridged the language gap, and all human crewmembers of the Enterprise have been fitted with translation devices, which are quickly becoming unnecessary. Most crew members can now carry out a conversation in at least one of the new languages, while a handful are becoming fluent in multiple. It has helped immensely that we have multiple linguists working on translation and an AI designated just for translation and teaching purposes.  

Chairge: 

The Humans (as they call themselves) have been peacefully parked with me aboard their ship for about ¼ of a standard orbit, teaching me about their people and planet. My recommendations to let them aboard the station are finally being welcomed by the general assembly. Hopefully it goes smoothly when I try to introduce these peaceful predatory behemoths… wow that seems quite contradictory if I think about them like that. Although to be fair they seem to be full of contradictions. 

Gahurl: 

“Brothers, sisters, and Brooders; we have relayed a message to the humans, and they have sent a group of 8 of their kind to be presented to us today. Please be respectful and keep in mind that they have shown no aggressive actions in the last quarter orbit. We don’t want to make them feel unwelcome aboard the station now that we are talking trade alliance with them. Remember they are quite large and look predatory as you can see on the image being projected to your tablets. Do not be alarmed if they show their teeth, it is a sign of good humor and enjoyment in their species. Remember first impressions are impor…“ Gahurl was interrupted by numerous alarms. The Hurgleth had arrived.

Hobbes:

“Captain,”  the com on Hobbes’s wrist screamed. He stopped as he was walking up the steps to the shuttle and listened to his com. Something was not right and he needed to deal with it fast so he could make his meeting with the first contact team to be introduced to the GA.

“Hobbes here, what's the situation bridge?”

“You better get up here captain, Meeting the rest of the GA is going to have to wait. We have potentially hostile bogies incoming. Lots of them and they have opened fire on GA shuttles out on the outer edge of the system.”

“I’m on my way. Open a com channel with Speaker Gahurl, we need his input on this.”

Gahurl: 

Amid the alarms blaring around him, Gahurl heard the distinct ringtone he had set for communications with the Human captain. “Speaker Gahurl here, I am organizing the launch of all of our escape pods, shuttles, and ships. It is my recommendation that you leave the system as soon as possible. Those ships that just dropped into realspace have been hounding the GA for close to 60 orbits. We have lost many of our homeworlds to their militaristic expansion and…” A loud chirp from his com silenced him mid sentence and to his surprise the human captain cut in.

“Speaker Gahurl, this is Captain Hobbes, we are in one of the most advanced human warships ever developed, we can buy you time to escape, but we also have a plan for helping you escape. I would say that we have roughly 24 hours before they are within weapons range of the station, let us use it to our advantage. Don’t start evacuating yet, we have a couple tricks up our sleeves that may help. Give us an hour to get the data to you, after that evacuate if you don’t like the chances of our plan. In the meantime can you send us any and all data that you have on your enemy? Anything at all could help us to strategize a way to help you escape.” 

“You have your Tik, and I will send all the information that we have on them but I’m not optimistic. We have been fleeing and hiding from them for many rotations, and have never been able to hold them back.” 

Hobbes: 

The plan that I outlined was pretty simple, if I do say so myself. Although for it to make any sense I should explain that my ship is full to the gunnels with impressive tech. One such piece of tech is quite well suited to the task of relocating the entire GA station, while others are well suited for warfare. The first is designed as basically a warp drive with a crap ton of towing equipment. Technically it is designed to take mineral rich asteroids back to earth for mining purposes, but with 2 or 3 hours it could be attached to the station and take the station elsewhere. I handed the info on the Tug to Speaker Gahurl and told him to have his engineers run a simulation to see if the station could withstand the jump, then I outlined a quick battle plan with the data relayed from the station. The plan was simple. Distract the enemy, long enough that the station could escape, killing as many enemy ships as possible before following the station to its destination. The only problem is we only have one destination programmed into the Tugs, so I guess I am taking the GA leadership to visit Earth. 

Gahurl:

“Gahurl do you think this will work? I am set to start my attack distraction in about half an hour, so I want to know if I need to send my engineers to you to connect the tug and get you the hell out of here? The only place I can send you is earth, but you will be safe there.”

“I don’t see much choice Captain,” Gahurl sighed, “take us to Earth, it is the only way we will get everyone on this station to safety.”

“Speaker my men will be there shortly with the tug, coordinate your engineers with mine so they can more efficiently attach the tow lines to the structure without affecting the integrity of the station. You may want to suggest that all of your people strap in and wear a space suit in case it gets ugly. We will buy you as much time as we can but don’t delay too long.” 

Hobbes:

“Start unfolding the ship. I want all shipboard weapons out and free to fire, get us on a heading full speed towards the enemy ships, and give the gunners the okay to fire at will once we are in range. Spin up the secondary generator and pull up full shielding, this is going to get ugly.  Be ready to release the warp enabled fighters, and give them standing orders to retreat to earth if things get too messy, or the station and The Enterprise have both jumped. Spin up tertiary generators and prep them to Warp skip us behind the largest of the oncoming ships. As soon as we are done with the skip I want all designated fighters released and all fire focused on that large ship. Once it is down, we start playing with the chaos and destroy as many ships as possible.” 

Chairge:

These humans are crazy, I think they have forgotten that we are aboard their ship too. “Why are we running towards the demons that have been destroying all they can? We don’t have any tech that can keep up with them and the GA has been in space for generations. No offence but this is your first interstellar craft, what makes you think you can get us through this?”

“Oops,” Hobbes jumped, “I forgot you were here with us Chairge. You and your crew need to get strapped into the gravity couches, we are going to be playing with g forces that will be terribly uncomfortable for you all. The couches should counteract that and keep you alive. Also no offence but humans have been fighting wars since we were able to pick up rocks and club each other with them. With the data the GA supplied I am confident that we don’t have anything to worry about.” 

As she retreated with her crew to the gravity couches, Chairge overheard the Captain trying to boost his own crew’s morale in the face of certain death, “This should be a cake walk guys, they won’t know what hit them. I am confident we can take down that entire armada alone, I am only sending the Station away because It keeps the GA from panicking.”

Hobbes: 

I am fairly sure my crew knows I’m blowing smoke, but nonetheless they are looking at me with confident expressions and preparing to go down fighting if we have to. I take a moment to update my captain's log and send it off to earth to ensure the safety of the station once it reaches its destination, then take a few big breaths as I prepare to launch myself into yet another war. Hopefully this is one I can walk away from in one piece. 

“Everyone at their stations?” I ask my bridge crew, and with affirmative nods from each of them, I broadcast over ship wide coms “All hands prepare for a fight, Warp skip in 3. . . 2. . . 1. . . “

[wondertainmenttoys]

Heres a story prompt: SCP-1233 meeting the Laika module.

Moon Champion blasted towards the strange object, finally getting close enough to see what exactly the humans had shot up into space.

Ah! So they had launched a primitive fortress to defend against the threats to their planet! Even if it looked small and ineffective, the Moon Champion couldn’t help but admire the cleverness of the earthlings.

Eagerly he knocked on the metal capsule,

“Hello! Are you this space castle’s garrison? I am Moon Champion: Champion of the Moon!”

No response, though he was certain he sensed something shuffle inside.

Puzzled, Moon Champion allowed himself to orbit around the strange thing, looking for some sort of entrance or window. However, a few trips confirmed a glaring design flaw: this fortress lacked any form of doors or windows!

Again, he knocked on the shell,

“Hello? Are you in there? How do you expect to fight the dangers to your planet without any windows? Are you using earth magic to see?”

There it was again! That small movement! Why won’t they answer? Do they perhaps think that Moon Champion is a threat?

“Do not fear, earth friends! I am Moon Champion! I mean no harm! I greatly admire earth and its inhabitants! Please let me enter your admirable castle!”

Again, the same lack of a response. Moon Champion started to become worried; normally any human would be eager to answer and talk with him. Was this not a space castle?

And then it hit him: no, it couldn’t be! Where are the swords and spears? No space castle would be fit without those! This must be something different, something more nefarious!

Moon Champion had to rescue his earth friends no matter the cost!

“Fear not! I am no longer deceived! I shall release you from your metal space prison!”

With no effort he ripped open the outer shell, revealing a smaller, rounder prison within.

Another shuffled, followed by a small, feeble bark, echoed from inside.

---

“It should be back in range now.”

Dr. Sergeyev looked at his colleague with a small hint of anxiety. Once again they only had a fifteen minute window before the Sputnik 2 satellite moved out of range of their telemetry sensors.

“Are we receiving data still?”

“Er, yes, Comrade Sergeyev. The sensors are transmitting data. The photometers are still in excellent condition.”

“And the uh... biological readings?”

His colleague stared at the stream of data coming in before speaking, a small frown forming at the corners of his mouth. Sergeyev immediately knew the answer before it was given.

“Nothing.”

Sergeyev swallowed, a sense of repressed guilt over the dog finally rising to meet reality. It was no secret among the team that Laika was doomed to die. Her mild temperament and good looks doomed her to that fate. Still, even the most conservative estimates had her lasting at least a few days.

He paused, remembering how he knelt down and gave her one last hug before she was to be launched. The poor thing had no idea what was awaiting her.

“Right... Right. Let us hope that it was a peaceful death then...”

He knew better. For a brief moment the image poor Laika suffering in that metal ball shot through his mind, but he immediately shook it away.

Laika had sacrificed herself for the good of her motherland. She may not have been able to comprehend it, but her contribution to Soviet science will help to ensure the safety of the brave men and women who will follow her into the void of space.

In the coming days, Soviet news would continue to report on the good health of brave Laika, and each time Sergeyev heard it, guilt would rise back up into his throat.

---

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a farm’s field was graced with a brand new crater. In the middle of the dissipating dust plume stood Moon Champion, and cradled in his arms was the metal prison he found in space.

“You have been returned to your planet, all thanks to Moon Champion!”

Another muffled bark reminded Moon Champion that the poor prisoner was still trapped.

“Very well then! Fear only a little longer, for your prison is about to be destroyed!”

And, for the first time in what had been a very dreadful day, Laika was able to breathe in the fresh air of earth.

[readyplayerhobi]

Strawberry Lemonade

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 2.5k

; Synopsis: After a stressful day, you come home to Hoseok to see whether your life will change for the better.

; A/N: Surprise! I consider this the fluffiest of all the drabbles...please let me know what you think with a comment or ask!

Peppermint 01

-

The apartment is quiet when you get home from work, no sound effects coming from your boyfriend’s mouth as he plays one of his favourite video games nor any beautiful singing as he works in the peace and tranquility of home. You’d almost think he wasn’t there, except for the fact that you know he’s been working from home all day to ensure that he doesn’t get distracted with any incessant questions at the office.

It had been lonely without him, even though you can’t actually see him when you work. His desk is on the other side of yours after all, his monitor backing up to your own and the only way you can spy his pretty face is by leaning around the side. He normally always has a bright smile for you when he spots you, lips curving into that familiar heart shape that still makes your own heart kick after three years together.

Even on the days when you had a fight before entering work, it would still soothe your anger to see him there with the concentrated frown behind those familiar circular glasses. Not that you argued often with him. In fact, it was about as rare as Hoseok getting angry, which was almost never.

The man had endless amounts of patience, which you had come to love and admire over the years. Shy, awkward and jumpy though he may be, he was nevertheless a rock of support that you could rely on happily for comfort and support through rough times.

Your lighthouse in the storm.

Today, you’d really wanted the safety of his arms and his soft words of reassurance to allay your fears and soothe the worries that had flitted through your thoughts the whole day. Because something had been irritating you in the back of your mind for a while now, wondering if perhaps you were imagining things or if it was actually serious.

But today, you’d finally decided that you were going to find out once and for all. Hoseok could help with the psychological side of things for you, but only you could truly resolve the issue. You just hoped that he’d be agreeable to it, which was why you were hoping to hear him when entering the apartment.

It had once been solely his, but now was home to the both of you. The living room remained near enough the same as before with only a few minor changes by you. A few more pictures of you both dotted around the room, some new curtains and new cushions being the main extent of the differences.

Otherwise, it was still a shrine to popular culture spreading over all different mediums. Still very much Jung Hoseok in a room.

When you first moved in, he’d been pretty agreeable when you’d made changes to the bathroom and inserted your things into his life permanently. He’d been a little wary with the bedroom, but had accepted the changes with only small amounts of whining and complaining.

But you’d quickly discovered that the living room was a no go area for change, at least at first. Suggestions of removing figures or certain posters to make way for something else sent him into a visible state of defence and borderline panic, leading to you abandoning it for his comfort.

This had been his home since he was 22 after all, 10 years by that point. It was his safe area, the place where he wasn’t judged by people or expected to respond to social cues in an acceptable manner. It was the place where he had happily surrounded himself with all the things he loved, a place that calmed and comforted him.

You were one of those things, and so he was happy to include you in it. But shifting other things around had evidently not been in his immediate plan and you were loathe to do something that distressed him. So you’d backed off and over the last two years, Hoseok had become slowly amenable to adjustments that reflected the two of you.

His safe space was no longer solitary, and you were beyond pleased when he began to make changes himself. He’d spent so long building walls around himself that it took him awhile to find his way through them and invite you inside. But you were there now, cosy with him.

“Hoseok?” You call out, voice loud in the silence. Frowning, you wonder where he could’ve gone. He had been online on Skype when you’d left, and you knew that Hoseok had a tendency to accidentally overwork if left to his own devices. It wasn’t really work to him as much as a hobby he just got paid for. He loved his video editing that much.

Moving over to the tiny office that had been set up in a corner of the kitchen, it had originally been in his bedroom but he’d moved it when you moved in, you note the MacBook laid on the surface with the screen open. It’s on, so you know he’s here somewhere.

Quiet he may be, he’s still far too big to be playing hide and seek.

“Hos-” You’re cut off when the door to the bathroom opens and your boyfriend walks out, almost walking straight into you from where you’d been stood in front of it. Immediately he jumps backwards, a shriek leaving his mouth that was a weird combination of adult male and little girl. 

For a moment, he does nothing but stand there with wide eyes and a hand pressed to his chest as he calms his obviously racing heart. The bright pink headphones covering his ears let you know why he hadn’t heard you and you can’t help but wrinkle your nose as you gently push them till they slide down his neck.

“Ew, you wore those to the bathroom?” You question, causing him to roll his eyes as he moves past you into the kitchen.

“It’s not like I peed on them. I didn’t even touch them. Why are you home so early?” He asks, sitting down at the small desk and tapping on the keyboard quickly. Biting your lip, you move one of the chairs to sit next to him before suddenly letting your head flop onto his shoulder.

“I asked to come home early. I don’t feel well. All sick and blah.” Hoseok shifts, trying to twist his head until he can look at you. He has such pretty eyes, soft and friendly looking. His hand comes up to rest on your forehead.

“You don’t feel hot. Do you want to lay down? I can bring you something later if you want? Toast? Soup? Flat Coke?” Snorting, you just cuddle closer into him and wrap your arms around his bicep tightly.

“That’s an old wives tale. It doesn’t work. Besides, we don’t have any. You drank the last the other night. No, it’s not that,” Hoseok goes to argue, his mouth opening but you beat him to it. “I think I’m pregnant.”

No sound leaves him, despite the fact his mouth works for a few moments while he stares blankly ahead. You can practically hear the cogs working in his head, putting together what you’ve just said and you have no doubt that he’s working through denial right now. He’ll probably verbalise it in a moment, pointing out that you’re on birth control and he uses condoms. Except that one time last year when you’d both gotten a little too drunk at one of the work nights out.

That had been interesting, discovering a new kink for both of you. Not one that you’d entertain again for the near future. Although maybe now…

But your wonderful boyfriend has never been like other men, and he proves it right then and there. “Do you want me to go buy a pregnancy test? Or five? How many are you supposed to take?”

“What...no asking me if I’m sure?” You tease lightly, despite the roiling of your stomach as you lean back to look at him. His face is markedly pale right now against his black hair, not the usual golden tan that it normally is and his cheeks are flushed rose but his expression is sincere and determined.

“You know your body. If that’s what you think, then that’s what you think. Just...have to prove it I guess. Or disprove it.” You can hear the concern and worry in his voice, but whether that’s for you or the potential future child you’ll both have, you don’t know. Instead, you just wrap your arms around him tightly.

“I love you. You know that? I bought three. Just in case, you know. Three’s a charm. I’ll go...do them I guess?” He watches you carefully, nutmeg brown eyes scanning over your face before they look at your bag by your feet.

“Do you need help?” Chuckling, you shake your head as you retrieve the three boxes and head over to the bathroom.

“Not unless you want to pee on them. And I think we’re definitely getting a negative from that. I’ll be back out in a minute.” Hoseok stands to follow, the last image you see of him as the bathroom door closes is one of a man trying to look positive for you but with confusion written all over his body.

The process is simple enough and you don’t even bother to read the instructions properly, simply uncapping and peeing on each stick in sequence. Washing your hands and heading back out, you carefully lay them on some tissue paper on the kitchen table while Hoseok watches them with wide eyes.

He sits down next to you at the table, an arm wrapping around your shoulders to bring you closer to him before he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “We’ll be okay. Are you okay?”

The question is soft and you smile at him, nodding. You’re surprisingly calm about this whole thing to say that you’ve spent the whole day feeling ill about the prospect of being pregnant.

Neither of you really speak for the next few minutes, the silence tense and almost awkward until finally you both look at the tests laid out in front of you. Each one is pretty easy to understand, and the three tiny plus symbols make it clear what the result is.

“Holy fuck. We’re having a baby.” Hoseok states bluntly, sitting back in the chair with almost comically wide eyes. Chewing on your lips, you rest a hand on his denim clothed thigh before realising that you’re already resting a hand on your stomach.

Your child is in there, a tiny bunch of cells that are made up from Hoseok and you. Both of your DNA coming together to create a little human being.

You expect a bit more panic from Hoseok, a little more wild hair as he runs his hands through it and a little more pacing frantically as he tries to get his head around it. Hoseok doesn’t particularly like change, and a baby is the biggest change anyone can make.

He doesn’t like mess or chaos, and a child is the biggest creator of mess and chaos. His beloved living room will never look the same. What if it’s too much for him?

“What do you want to do?” Is all he says though, turning to face you with a carefully blank face. There’s no sign of panic or turmoil on his expression, just determination and love for you. It almost makes you want to cry, and you do end up pressing your hand to your mouth.

“Do you...I mean do you want a baby? I know that we’ve talked about it before but you’ve always made out that you want a baby after you got married. And we’re not married. And a baby will cause so much mess for you and it’s a lot of noise and stress and-” He cuts you off with a kiss to the forehead before looking at you sternly.

“What do you want to do? You’re the one carrying the baby. I don’t need to be married, ignore that. I’m terrified, yes. I think I’ll be a terrible dad honestly. The idea of all that mess is horrific, but I’ve always known I want children with you one day. It just came early. But it’s your decision. I swear I’ll support you.” You don’t mean to, but tears start to fall at that as your heart swells with pure emotion from him.

Everyone always thinks of Jung Hoseok as cold and awkward. A high opinion of himself when in reality he’s just shy and quiet, forever unwilling to raise his voice. He doesn’t comfort with his words but with his actions, and he loves so strongly. And yet he’s never said anything more wonderful than what he said just then.

That he’s here, and he will be here no matter what you choose. That even though he’s scared, he’s willing to go with whatever you want because he knows you’re just as scared. Maybe even more so, as it’s your body that will change over the next few months and it’s you who will go through the trials of labour.

“Are you sure? If we keep it? I mean...we’ll need somewhere new and to buy things and get things ready. It’ll be so much mess, so much. And-” Hoseok shakes his head with a trembling smile.

“Don’t. Don’t think like that. We’ll just get on with it, like every other parent. I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. I swear. Do you want to keep it then?” You’re nodding before you even realise, salty tears falling down your face to land on your lips where you taste them when your tongue darts out.

Hoseok tastes them too when he kisses you, his hands cupping your cheeks gently before his thumbs wipe away the trails. “I love you. I’m not even being cheesy when I said that I never imagined myself having babies with anyone other than you.”

“You’re going to be a daddy. And you’re going to be a great daddy, no more bad mouthing yourself.” He laughs, breath ghosting against your lips as he nods, his nose brushing against yours.

“You’re going to be a mommy. Ahh, you’re going to be such a good mommy. Now we can be a super family at conventions!” Hoseok’s arm wraps around you and pulls you tight to him, the position awkward on two chairs yet neither of you cares too much. You care even less when he rests the flat of his palm against your stomach hesitantly.

“They’re going to lose their minds at work, you know that right? Jimin may literally die of shock and Taehyung may just pass out from excitement. You know he loves kids.” You state quietly, smiling into Hoseok’s neck as he laughs and nods.

“I can’t wait. Is that mean of me?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Signed, Sealed, and Delivered - Sam x Reader (Mini Series)

A/N: Here’s another bit of something for my @spnkinkbingo card. This little series is going to cover a few of my squares. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Square Filled: Arranged Marriage

Warnings: Non/Dub con moments. Beaten/Abused reader. Upcoming smut.

Word Count: Roughly 1,800

“We haven't had a hunt in weeks,” Dean grumbled, leaning back in his chair. Quitting the search for a new job with every theatrical mutter he could manage. Time off forcing him to prowl the bunker like a caged beast. Sure enough, the hardened face deepened as he shot to his feet. Continuing his lumbering pace as if he'd never stopped.

“You say that like it's a bad thing,” The younger brother skimmed over the library's walls. Searching for a book that had nothing to do with lore. When he finally settled on one, he stuffed himself into the chair as deep into the corner as he could get. Crossing his leg over his knee as he opened up the hard cover. Breathing in the soft scent of aged paper, Sam let the calm sweep over him. The moment he flipped to the first page, a metallic banging caught his attention. First time, he blew it off. By the third? He had no choice but to grow alert. “You hear that?”

“Oh yeah,” Dean's grin held nothing short of carnal glee as he tugged his pistol from its place beside the abandoned laptop. “Looks like break time is over.” The hammer clicked back. Affirming the statement loudly.

Teeth grinding, Sam nodded. Slamming his novel closed, he got to his feet. Wishing for just one more moment of peace. “Fantastic.”

His own weapon was tugged out as he moved towards the staircase. Braced for war. Werewolves? Vampires? Djinn? They'd pissed off every kind of monster on the planet. Every kind of deity. Other hunters. The possibilities were endless.

“Winchesters!” A male shouted through the door as it slammed open. There were no obvious deformities. Wild, only slightly reddened eyes. Greyed out hair. Normal, albeit damaged, teeth. Shotgun in hand. Definitely a hunter. The man was waving his metal in the air wild in a single palm. His other grip was busy lugging something after him. Something that was fighting back, “You've got a debt to pay!”

“Yeah? Get in line,” Dean stepped forward. Drawing the attention to himself right from the start. Poised and ready to shoot the weapon in an instant. “Who the hell are you?”

“A friend of John's.” That earned a shared glance between the brothers. Their dad had been dead for over a decade. A hell of a long time for someone to go without making contact. A short nod said plenty. They weren't buying it. “Get up, would ya! Always so damn difficult.”

“Let...me...go!” Your voice cried out, making a move to bolt even with your wrists bound behind your back. The door slammed shut, trapping the huddled figure that Sam could just make out. That didn't stop you, though. You changed your course down the stairs in an attempt to get some kind of space. Safety from the lunatic who shared your blood.

The last step was your downfall, though. Your worn boots caught, leaving you to fall forward. Sam didn't hesitate. Moving half a step faster than his brother. The swiftness saving your face from another hard landing. “You okay?”

Your eyes met his as he helped you upright. All E/C and bloodshot from your ordeal. Dark rust crusted down your chin from where your lip had been split. Staining the white tank you wore. Black and blue lined your cheeks. Breathing hard, you remained stoic. Looking over him. Attempting to gauge how much of a threat he'd be to you. Every instinct in his body told Sam to hold on and protect the fragile being in front of him. Even as his brother's brows slammed together in distrust.

A nod was all you could muster. Your father, however, had more to say. “Which of ya two is our dear Sammy boy?”

“Why?” Dean rocked forward, again; blocking his brother as he always did. Not bothering to answer the question. Letting the man assume it was him. All too familiar with what John had thought of his youngest son before he'd croaked. 

If there was a debt? A price on his head? Didn’t matter in the end. Dean'd take it in a heart beat.

“I've got some business to take care of with him.” Came the vague answer before the weapon was trained on the boys. Not taking anything other than what he'd gotten there to accomplish. “Now...which one?”

“Me.” As soon as the word left the younger brother, your eyes jerked up to his face in horror. It was as if you'd been burned. Before he could ask what the deal was, you were scrambling again. Trying to get away from him. Shaking like a leaf all the while. “Hey,” His voice was low as he yanked you into his chest. Attempting to soothe despite the elbow to the stomach he received, “Hey...hey, I don't know what you heard about me...but, I'm not going to hurt you.”

“You better not,” The weapon master at the top of the stairs smirked, looking awfully pleased at the turn of events. “Cause that's your future wife. And you try it? I'll kill ya.”

“Future...Uh...” Sam couldn't even finish that statement as his brother turned to him; mouth open as if he was about to say something and couldn't find the words. Hoping there'd be some kind of clear up from the younger man.

Sam had nothing. He shrugged, eyes equally wide. Unable to provide an answer that made some kinda sense.

“Excuse me?” Dean finally breathed out, turning back to the doorway. Needing a little clarification. “Wife?”

“No!” The word seemed to force out even more of the fight in you. Again, you scrambled. But, the stunned being in front of you wasn't letting you go anywhere. Not until it was all laid out.

“You hush up, girly. Let the men talk.” Your father's words didn't touch you. Instead, your knee came up; knocking into Sam's crotch. Not enough to maim, but just the right amount to get free. “Y/N!” The shout of rage didn't slow you down. Instead, you bolted down through the library.

“She isn't going to get far,” Dean promised as you escaped down the closest hall, preventing your father from hunting you down in their turf. Getting back to business. “Now...talk...fast.”

“You're not goin' to let an old man rest his feet?”

“No.” Sam's answer was stern as he straightened back to his full height. Jaw working as his body throbbed in protest. His weapon raised again. Suddenly more willing to have to pull a trigger. “You stay right there and tell us why we shouldn't shoot you.”

“Shoot me? Me? I'm not the one who broke a signed contract!” Indignation filled the air as the weapon was lowered. The old man shifting into his pocket all the while. His find? A yellowed, wrinkled slip of paper that had seen better days. “I've got the proof right here. Says it in black and white. 'My son Samuel Winchester will be married to your daughter Y/N L/N. Signed, John Winchester.”

“And why would he do something like that?” Dean didn't buy it.

John had made a lot of mistakes with the boys. No one could deny that. But, he hadn't sold his sons. Least of all into marriage. And if he had? He'd have told them, surely.

“Cause I had a lead on a yellowed eyed demon.” Just like that, certainty fled. Weapons dropped an inch. Green eyes met hazel. Both less sure of their footing. “Ya seem to know what I mean.” One step. Two. He made it halfway down the stairs before the guns raised back up to aim for their lethal targets. “John needed help tracking the son of a bitch. I needed someone to look after Y/N when I’m gone...win win.”

Sam felt the breath leave his body. Another betrayal from the man he'd called father. Certain that he'd been sold to the highest bidder. Not for the first time. “Dean...check out that paper.”

The safety was pushed back on the hand gun as the older hunter turned to his brother in confusion, “Where are you goin'?”

“To find my bride.” With that, he turned away. Running his hand through his thick hair. Cursing his bloodline for the millionth time.

“God...”A heavy slam of flesh meeting wood sounded. Trapped in a dead end. “Damn...” Another crash followed in between your cursing. “It!” The cry of rage echoed down the walls as the statement was finished. Just as Sam turned the corner, you slid to the ground in defeat. Arms still trapped behind you. Head bowed. Waiting for the inevitable. “Go away.” It was a weak order delivered through a light stream of tears.

“Can't do that.” Slowly, he crouched down in front of you. “Your old man is kind of insane.”

There wasn't any point in denying that one, “Yeah? Yours, too. Should've seen him that night. Drunk...willing to do anything to get to that demon.” A broken laugh left you as you thought over everything that had led you to that point. “This whole thing is some kinda sick joke. Pops was going to toss that stupid piece of paper til his ‘prodigy’ died. Then, suddenly, you're the magical answer...Like I hadn't kept myself alive this long. Like he'd even cared about me before that...” Clanking metal sounded as you tried to get more comfortable inside your chains. Talking more to yourself than to him. “I don't even know you.”

“I...I get the feeling.” Your eyes lifted back up to him slowly. He wondered what you were seeing. What you were thinking as you looked at your future. “Thing is? I don't...I don't think either one of us is getting out of this without your dad offing someone.” There wasn't a noise from you. Simply silent defeat. “It doesn't have to mean anything, alright? We do the deed. And then you're free.”

“It doesn't work like that.” Once again your head bowed. “He's going to just keep showing up. At least, until he's dead.” Another broken chuckle left you. “Hell...probably even after that. His idea of fatherly duties, apparently.” Your shoulders drooped as the weight grew deeper. “You're right...the only way we're getting out of this is to...to kill him...let him kill one of us...or to go along with it.” Somehow, the last option held the most disdain.

“So...option one?” In his mind, it was the easiest solution.

“He's the only family I've got left...” The only ties to your past. As a Winchester, Sam appreciated the sentiment more than most. He’d done a lot of shit in his life. And yet, somehow, taking away that last link wasn’t something he could hold onto. Not with the amount of sadness residing on your face. No one said a word for a moment. Absorbing the end of the road you both faced. And then? “It's a marriage in name only...you don't touch me. Ever.”

“Deal.” Sam sounded as dead inside as you felt. Both of you sat, waiting to be found. In no hurry to rush into your futures...

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @supernaturalginger​

[therealcalicali]

“Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 9

IMAGINE: TELLING YOUR HUSBAND IVAR, THAT YOU HAVE BEEN SLEEPING WITH ANOTHER MAN, AND IT’S DEEPER THAN JUST SEX.

Read Part 1 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 1

Read Part 2 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 2

Read Part 3 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 3

Read Part 4 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 4

Read Part 5 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 5

Read Part 6 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 6

Read Part 7 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 7

Read Part 8 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 8 

Read the Finale Chapter 1 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.”

Read the Finale Chapter 2 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.”

Read the Finale Chapter 3 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.”

PART 9 WARNINGS: Angst, Intrigue, Marital Strife

Word Count: 12,764

____________________________________

As you slept peacefully with the help of the tincture administered by the Healer, an elated Ivar entered the passageway. There, he found his brothers and the main servants eagerly awaiting him.

"Well, what is it?" Hvitserk asked, annoyed at his little brother's silence.

He was worried sick and it didn't help that Ivar seemed intent on making them beg for information.

"There is no need to be distressed." Ivar smugly replied. "I will tell you everything in a moment."

With that, he glanced at the servants and ordered them to return to their duties. Even Adelaide. Naturally, the Head Domestic was taken aback by the command but did as asked. When he was certain the Thralls were out of earshot, your husband proudly announced that he was to be a father again.

Ubbe, Bjorn and Hvitserk could not believe their ears. Like Ivar, they were shocked that he had managed to become a father at all. But now, that you were with child yet again, they began to question all they had believed about their little brother. The things the female Thralls had told them about his inability to "perform" now held no weight.

As for Ivar, he wanted to gloat further, but the looks on his brothers faces was victory enough. After all their taunting and gossiping, he had won. He would now tie Bjorn in the number of offspring and add more. Ivar had always desired a large brood to leave his legacy to, and now, he was well on his way.

"I can see that you are all overcome." Ivar said with deep satisfaction. The jubilation he felt from rubbing their faces in the announcement was palatable. "I shall take the silence as a sign that you are all overjoyed for Y/N and I. Now, if you will excuse me, I must tend to my wife."

When Ivar reentered your chamber and closed the door behind him, Bjorn became livid. Though the most reserved of the Ragnarssons, he was still the eldest. Thus, he took exception to Ivar’s obvious disregard for the rules.

Glaring at his brothers, Bjorn stated that he wanted him returned to the cells immediately. Especially since your "illness" had now been identified. However, before he could call for the guards, Ubbe informed him that he didn’t agree. In fact, he added that he didn’t see the issue with Ivar being at your side.

"Let us not punish Y/N for his mistakes." Ubbe concluded. 

"But he killed Sigurd. Or have you forgotten that already?" Bjorn asked with eyes wide.

"Of course I have not forgotten. But the trial is tomorrow." A thoughtful Ubbe replied. "So what harm is there in him spending time with his wife? As fathers, we both know how stressful things are for a woman in that condition."

"Fine. But I am telling you, he has learned nothing." 

Without another word, a frustrated Bjorn walked away. He couldn’t understand Ivar’s ability to garner mercy even when it wasn’t deserved. Though he tried to shake the thought, in his heart, Bjorn knew that his little brother would not pay for his crime. Like it or not, it appeared that the Gods favored Ivar.

The signs just couldn’t be ignored. For that reason,Bjorn resigned himself to leave Kattegat as planned once the trial concluded. He refused to be around when Ivar the Boneless was unleashed again.

________________________

"Ivar?" You mumbled as you noticed him asleep beside you.

Sitting up, you could still feel the effects of the tincture. For that reason, you were unsure if you were dreaming or not. He was supposed to be in the cells, wasn't he? 

Ever the light sleeper, your husband's eyes promptly opened and his hand instinctively went under his pillow. It was where he kept an axe, despite all your protests.

"Y/N…what is it?" Ivar asked with concern as he sat up. Holding the weapon’s handle firmly, he eyed the chamber door. "Did you hear something?"

"No. I just did not expect to see you here."

Relieved that there was no danger to you or Dahlia, Ivar set the axe back in its place. After laying back down, he motioned for you to come closer. As you did so, he brought you against his body, resting your head upon his chest.

"You do not know how happy you have made me." He declared as he ran his fingertips along your arm.

"Me?"

"Of course, woman. Are you not with child?"

"Oh." You replied with some displeasure. "I explicitly told the Healer that I wanted to give you the news myself."

"Either way, my heart is full." Ivar said before bringing your hand to his lips. After kissing your palm, he apologized for the man not heeding your request. "Perhaps it was because you were asleep by the time I was called."

Before you could reply, your mind went to Dahlia. The last you saw of your daughter, the wet-nurse was feeding her in your chamber. Immediately, you sat up - heart racing.

"The baby." You exclaimed.

"Calm yourself, Y/N. She is in her cradle."  

You felt a wave of relief as you laid back down. As he held you again, Ivar stated that he was glad that you also saw the need to keep Dahlia close. After all, he was no fool. He knew that there were people who wouldn't mind hurting her just to send him a message.

For that reason, your husband had employed his own countermeasures. 

Ivar had numerous spies masquerading as Thralls. All of them courtesy of his loyal friend, King Harald. Furthermore, he was using his "flirtations" with Messilla to mask his real reason for keeping her near. Whom better to uncover things for him than your shy personal attendant? No one would ever suspect that the pretty Thrall was Ivar's eyes and ears. Not even you.

Caressing your back, he admitted that there was much to discuss, but it could wait until after the trial.

"After the trial." You thought.

The words echoed in your mind, nearly causing you to burst into tears. The sleep concoction had eased your mind temporarily, but now, reality had returned. Hvitserk and Ubbe wanted you to bear witness against Ivar, and King Solmund expected you to do far worse.

"Ivar…………"

"Yes, love?"

"Never mind. It is nothing." You replied, too afraid to lay your heart bare.

"Are you certain?" He asked tenderly. Ivar then brought your face up gently with his rough hand. Looking straight in your eyes, he studied your countenance, almost as if he could see the fear that raged within you. "Y/N, you know that you can tell me anything. I am your husband after all."

"I know. It……it is nothing important. Just nerves about tomorrow, I suppose."

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure." You lied – hoping your facial expression didn't betray you.

In all honesty, you wanted desperately to tell Ivar everything. But what if revealing the plots against him only made things worse? Your husband was clever, however, he had the habit of losing his temper. If you divulged all, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't make things worse.

"God, help me. I do not know what to do anymore." You prayed silently.

_________________________

Unable to find any peace, you awakened in the middle of the night. Though you tried, you just couldn't shake the ominous feeling that hung in the air. Either way, the trial was going to put you at odds with someone.

If you sided with Ivar, Hvitserk and Ubbe were sure to be upset. After all, they had plans on ruling Kattegat without their little brother's interference. And why wouldn't they? With Bjorn no longer interested in anything there, they would be able to do as they pleased. Most importantly, they wouldn't have to placate or bend to Ivar’s ego ever again.

Then, there was King Solmund - Sven's father. He and Jarls Borg and Øysten would be furious if you didn't side with Ivar. 

“I need to clear my head.” You thought as you got out of bed.

Desiring fresh air, you put on your boots and grabbed a cloak - tying it about your shoulders.

You then walked over to the cradle and caressed Dahlia's cheek as she slept. Looking at your daughter, you nearly sighed when you noticed her thumb stuck in her mouth. It was another new habit that you didn't care for. 

However, as always, Ivar encouraged it. As long as it made his baby happy, he could care less about your complaints.

After fixing her furs, you walked to where your husband slept peacefully. It was obvious that he had been completely exhausted. Which of course, was not surprising. Despite his high spirits, you doubted that he got much sleep in the cells. As you were fixing his furs, Ivar’s eyes fluttered open.

"Where are you going?" He asked groggily - noticing your cloak.

"I am going to the gardens for fresh air."

"Let me come with you."

"No. Just go back to sleep." You insisted. "I will not be gone for long."

Ivar stared at you a short while before asserting that he didn’t like the idea. However, he recalled that you often went for walks when carrying Dahlia. So, he relented. But before you could depart the bedside, he grabbed hold of your wrist.

"I will come and find you if you do not return soon." A tired Ivar declared.

"There is no need. Besides, your men are posted everywhere."

"Y/N, I will never leave your safety or that of our children to others." He replied before placing his hand upon your belly. "You are my responsibility and I will never take that lightly. Do you understand?"

You nodded before laying your hand on top of his. Satisfied that you appreciated his concern, Ivar laid back down as you left the chamber.

_________________________

In the gardens, you sat down, practically on the verge of tears. You were with child and that typically meant joy all around. However, it only complicated your dire situation. The only thing you could think of was the safety of Dahlia and your unborn child.

As you sat contemplating things, Torvi's warning echoed in your mind. She had not minced her words when she stated there were people who would do anything to hurt Ivar. After all, he appeared to be the strongest of the Ragnarssons. Not even Bjorn Ironside commanded the following that he did. 

Thus, any weakness they could find, they would most certainly seize upon it. That of course being you and your children.

"Princess, why do you weep?"

Stunned to realize you were not alone, you looked up to see a worried Sven staring at you.

"I...........it is nothing. Please, do not concern yourself."

Though he hardly believed you, the Prince didn't push further. Instead, he informed you that he had just returned from the Ragnarsson’s training grounds and was unable to sleep.

"But I suppose that makes two of us." He said lightheartedly in an attempt to lift your spirits. "I get these restless spells from time to time. Perhaps it means I am half owl."

When your expression didn't change, he became concerned again.

"Princess, I know this may be bold of me….." He said in a hushed tone. "but tell me why you are so troubled. As a man of my word, I will do my best to help you."

"And why should I?" You asked skeptically. “Pardon my bluntness, but I have absolutely no reason to trust you.”

It wasn't your intention to be impolite to the Prince, however, he was the son of the man you now feared. King Solmund had proven himself to be treacherous and for that reason, you didn't know how to feel about Sven anymore. As for the Prince himself, though taken aback by your harsh tone, he remained serene.

"I know there is allot on your mind right now. But despite what you may believe, you and I share a great deal in common." He replied.

"Sven, please. You have been beyond kind and I think you are a good man. However, I prefer that you leave me to my thoughts."

"No!"

You were surprised by his reply but he appeared determined to remain where he was.

"Fine. If you will not leave, then I shall go."

"Please stay, I beg of you." An exasperated Sven implored. "All I am asking for is a few minutes of your time. Nothing more."

"Why should I listen to anything you have to say? I hardly know you."

"As if how long you have known me infers anything. Tell me, the people you have known for much longer, how do they seem now? Personally, I think all of them are showing their true colors."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Believe me, the opportunity to gain power always reveals the worst in people."

You wanted to deny what he had said but you couldn't. Sven was right. Everyone was acting quite strange. Even sweet Hvitserk, whom you never thought was that ambitious. Giving in, you informed the Prince that you would allow him to speak his mind. The one condition however was that you didn't need to respond, either way.

"Tell me, do you not wonder why I have been so drawn to you?" Sven asked, causing you to give him a peculiar look.

But it was a good question. He had been attentive from the very first time you met. When you shrugged, he smirked.

"You remind me so much..............” He added as if hurt physically to utter the words. “of someone dear to my heart."

"What does that have to do with anything? You asked with disinterest.

Undeterred, Sven paced a moment before glancing at you again.

"You promised that you would hear what I had to say. So I ask that you allow me to finish." He replied. "As I was saying, from the moment I saw you, you reminded me of someone." Sven then inhaled and let out his breath nervously. "My wife."

"Wife?" You thought to yourself.

That was the last thing you expected him to say. Sister or Cousin, yes. But not a Wife. From all you had heard, the Prince was unattached. Not to mention he flirted with maidens, including Jarl Holmfast's daughter.

"Asfrid was so much like you.” He added with a weak smile. “You should have seen her. I swear, she had a presence larger than her small frame. I  think that you would have liked one another."

"Where is she now?" You asked cautiously.

"In Valhalla . Along with our son."

You could see the heartache in Sven’s eyes despite him remaining stoic. There was a brief silence since you didn't know what to say. How does one continue a conversation after such a revelation?

"You need not feel sorry for me." Sven said – noticing your expression. "It has been some years now so I have done all my grieving."

"If I am being too forward, do let me know. But can you tell me what happened to them?"

"They died during one of the battles over the disputed lands."

Your heart sank. Not because you thought it was directly Ivar’s fault that his family had perished. But you knew it meant that the Prince surely held a grudge. It could also mean that he was going along with his father's plots.

"Is that why you befriended me?" You asked with disappointment. "So you can use me to get your vengeance?"

"What?"

"Sven, do not insult my intelligence. You must know that your father wants me to kill Ivar." You furiously replied. 

"I will not lie to you. I am aware of the scheme but I had no hand in planning it."

"So, what is your role then? To use our “friendship” to convince me to listen to your father?

To your surprise, Sven looked wounded by the accusation. He shook his head in disbelief as he gazed at you, almost unable to speak.

"Princess, I do not blame you for thinking the worst of me. But I will say this, I may be King Solmund's blood but I am nothing like my father." He replied. "To be honest, I have been waiting for the chance to ask for the vial."

"This is some type of trick.” You said. “If I hand the vial over, you will just report that I will not comply. That would put me and my daughter in danger."

"Stop with these accusations and listen." Sven pleaded as he looked at you. He was quite frustrated and for the first time, you saw emotion upon his face. "If Ivar dies, my father will surely invade his settlements. He wants it all. Honestly, he hated the idea of sharing even when King Ragnar was alive. I may be a warrior but I grow tired of killing at my father's behest."

"Why should I believe that you are against your father? He is your blood, regardless of how awful he may be."

"Because………." Sven said, eyes glistening with tears. "Ivar did not kill my younger brother Tormund. My father did."

Your eyes went wide as you stared at him. If he hadn't appeared so broken, you wouldn't have believed your ears. You recalled Ivar mentioning a great battle with Tormund's battalion right before King Solmund surrendered the lands.

In fact, Sigurd had told you that despite the treaties, the King held a grudge for the death of his son. 

"But, I do not understand. From what Sigurd told me, everyone believes Ivar killed him."

"Well he did not. Though your husband is unbothered by the lie, I know the truth. "

"How are you certain?" You asked.

Walking closer, the Prince knelt before you.

"My ships faced severe weather, for that reason, my men were too late to be of help. However, as my men searched amongst the dead for survivors, they miraculously discovered Tormund. He was between life and death. Upon taking him to my tent, it was quite apparent that he would not last long. Thus, I resigned myself to be at his side." Sven paused a moment. "Remarkably, his eyes opened and he called my name. As I held his hand and confirmed that I was truly there, his exact words were "Father cut me down. Our own father turned his sword on me. Do not trust him, ever."

The Prince then added that his brother held on long enough for him to ask a few questions. The most important of course, being why would their father do such a thing.

"Princess, my brother was a man of honor. So he did not agree with father's decision to seize the disputed lands after Ragnar's death. And he was quite vocal about it. Obviously, this caused a rift between them. Still, duty compelled Tormund to fight Ivar's men when they came to reclaim the territories."

"It sounds like he wanted a peaceful resolution."

"He did, but father never regarded his wisdom." Sven agreed. "It is why my brother had the hearts of our people. Both in our Kingdom and the settlements. Father grew resentful, but I never realized how much. Thus, he seized the chance to rid himself of the son he feared would replace him."

"Sven, I am speechless." You confessed.

"Now, that I have unburdened my soul, I hope you longer think ill of me."

"I do not even know where to start. Forgive me for misjudging you."

"There is no need to ask for forgiveness." The Prince replied lightheartedly. "It only proves you are as prudent as I have believed you to be."

"But, what do I do now? Your father expects me to act after Ivar's trial. If I do nothing, he will surely send men to silence me."

"Do you trust me, Y/N?" Sven asked, looking you deep in the eyes.

You nodded as he glanced around the gardens again. Satisfied that you were alone, he instructed you to give him the vial of poison when possible. With that, Sven instructed you to return to your chamber. But he added that you had to slap him first. When you asked why you should do such a thing, he laughed. 

Wisely, the Prince stated that he wanted it to appear as if he had been trying to seduce you the entire time.

"You never know who may be watching from their window." He said with a smile. "Now, Princess, please make it worthwhile."

Getting to your feet, you walked over to Sven and mentally prepared to strike him. After all, it was not something you were accustomed to doing.

"What is taking so long?" He taunted. "Are you scared to hurt your wrist?"

Annoyed, you let your hand fly, striking him much harder than you had intended. However, your violent slap amused the Prince. To your annoyance, he smiled as he rubbed his cheek that had turned a bright red. As you left the gardens, Sven watched you with pure admiration in his eyes.

___________________

Back in your chamber, you entered to find that your husband and daughter were both still fast asleep. After removing your cloak and boots, you got into bed, however, you didn't lay down. Instead you looked at Ivar, contemplating what to do. There was great turmoil within your heart as you debated whether or not to reveal the plot against him. 

For whatever reason, something kept compelling you to reveal the truth. The sooner the better. Despite Sven having a plan of his own, you didn't feel right hiding things from Ivar any longer.

"Y/N, are you alright?" He suddenly asked as his eyes fluttered open.

Ever the light sleeper, Ivar had sensed your presence in the chamber.

"Not really."

He gave you peculiar look as he studied your expression. Though you hadn't noticed, you were twisting the fine hairs of the furs nervously.

"Y/N, look at me." He said sincerely. "There is no need so suffer in silence. As your husband, it is my duty to do everything within my power to help you."

Though he sounded sincere, you knew Ivar was a force of nature. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t lose his senses once you told him of King Solmund’s plan. So, you took a deep breath and mentally prepared for the worst.

"What I am about to reveal is sure to enrage you. For that reason, I need you to promise that you will not do anything hasty."

"You know very well that I cannot promise such a thing."

You sighed and informed Ivar that if he couldn't do that one thing, you would keep your thoughts to yourself. Of course, that displeased him because he wanted to hear what you had to say. Especially now that you were with child again. The last thing he wanted was for you to be under stress for any reason.

"Fine." Ivar reluctantly said. "If it will make you happy, I promise to control my temper. Now, can you please tell me what is troubling your mind?"

"I am serious, Ivar. You must make this promise on your honor as the son of Ragnar. I am trusting you to keep your word.

Though he glared at you momentarily, he reaffirmed the promise as a Ragnarsson. Satisfied, you looked at the fireplace as you composed yourself.

"Well, I am waiting." Ivar demanded.

Though it wasn't obvious, he was troubled. The last time the two of you had a serious discussion, you told him that you were in love with another. Despite Herry being deceased, it didn't mean you couldn't have similar news. Numerous scenarios raced through Ivar's mind until his anger began to rise.

"Y/N!" He seethed, unable to take the suspense any longer. "Speak!"

"Ivar, you were so right about King Solmund. He is a dangerous man."

Your husband practically let out a sigh of relief. All the dire assumptions vanished from his mind as he gazed at you. Whatever you were going to say, he could at least take comfort that it had nothing to do with a lover.

"Go on." Ivar persuaded, giving you his undivided attention.

"He asked me to do something."

As your voice wavered, he eyed you with suspicion. He wasn't sure what you were alluding to. But for the King's sake, Ivar hoped the man had not tried to bed you. Regardless of what he had promised, it was one thing he wouldn't take lightly.

"Y/N, your silence is not helping. Just tell me what it is."

"He……………he asked me to kill you."

"What?" A dumbfounded Ivar asked as he finally sat up.

The words hit him harder than when he had heard of Aslaug’s death. He couldn't believe what had come from your lips. For a long while, your husband could only stare at you. Not in anger but deep anguish.

"For whatever reason, he said that you are a common enemy." You continued. "I assume he has heard the many whispers about our relationship."

Sensibly, Ivar recognized that people did gossip about your dysfunctional marriage. But for King Solmund to use it as a tool to entice you to murder, shook him to his core.

"So, how was it supposed to play out?"

"He provided a poison." You anxiously replied. "I was to pour it in your ear as you slept."

Even in the dimly lit chamber, you could see Ivar’s eyes glistening. There was no doubt that your revelation had shocked and enraged him. As the tears began to well, he stared at you - speechless.

“Please, say something.” You pleaded as you clutched the furs. He was truly making you regret listening your instincts. But you couldn’t hide such a massive secret any longer. Especially if things went awry. He had to be in the know in order to make a contingency plan. “Ivar?”

“Did you consider following through?” He finally asked with deep hurt upon his face.

“Of course not! That is why I am telling you everything.”

“I will not get angry if you tell me the truth. After all, I know you hate me.”

For the first time since you had been with Ivar, he was vulnerable. Even his body language that was typically imposing, revealed a broken man. Yes, he had been your tormentor and done vindictive things to break your spirit. Yet, there was no doubt that you held a power over him unlike anyone else.

“I do not hate you.” You replied. “It is true that you have been unkind, but I am a Christian. I am compelled to forgive.”

“Y/N, I do not care for your Christianity!” Ivar said with exasperation. “I want your heart, not your pity. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you never considered using the poison.”

You looked him straight in the eyes as he had asked. Hoping it would help calm his emotional state.

“Though you have mistreated me and we have been at odds, I do not wish you harm. Besides, you are the father of my children.”

“I will take you at your word. But let me say this. I know I am not the man you wanted.........”

“Ivar, th—–”

“Y/N, please allow me finish.” He interrupted. “I make mistakes and do things that even I cannot explain. But I need you to know one thing for certain. I love you.”

Looking at him, you could practically feel his pain. In spite of everything, his raw show of emotion had touched your heart. Before you could speak again, Ivar rested his head on your shoulder. Again, he professed his love and added that you didn't need to reciprocate.

"I am sorry that I did not tell you straightaway." You admitted as you stroked his neck. "To be quite honest, I was confused and afraid."

"The fact that you told me is all that matters."

When he lifted his head, you ran a hand over his plaited hair reassuringly.

"Fortunately, I believe things will work out without your interference. I spoke with Prince Sven and he revealed that he already has plans for his father."

Instantly, Ivar's eyes fell upon you and he didn't look pleased.

"Sven?" He repeated. "Of all the people to trust, King Solmund's own blood is the last."

"And that is how I felt initially. But trust me, Ivar, there is more to him than you think. He is nothing like King Solmund."

Your husband scoffed. But unlike other times when he disagreed with something you had said, he remained composed.

"Y/N, you know that I do not give my trust easily. Whether blood or otherwise. So tell me, why do you feel that the Prince is worth yours."

You were grateful that Ivar hadn't resorted to shouting or putting you down. Normally, that is how all your conversations went. But this time around, he was actually interested in what you had to say.

"I know it sounds absurd, but I do not think Sven likes the way King Solmund operates. Not only did he tell me not to listen to his father, but he also revealed something about you."

"About me?" Ivar asked with curiosity. "What?"

"That you did not kill his brother. He said that though mortally wounded, Tormund lived long enough to give last words. He told Sven that their own father had cut him down."

"Well, at least someone knows the truth." A apathetic Ivar replied.

"But I do not understand. Why have you allowed King Solmund to go around spreading lies about you?" You asked with great confusion. "Sigurd said that you supposedly killed Tormund after he and his men had surrendered. Why allow people to think you did something so dishonorable?

"Because."

Though you waited, Ivar didn't add anything further. Instead, he laid down and stared at the ceiling.

"Because what?" You asked. "Please, I really want to know."

"Y/N, is it not obvious?" He replied reluctantly. "People already believe worse about me. There are even those that say Aslaug was cursed, that is why she birthed a half serpent child. So what is the point of fighting their prejudice? I am not a perfect man, but if they wish to think I am a monster, so be it."

You hadn't considered the fact that people did gossip a great deal about Ivar. Even when you were a Thrall in Bjorn's home, you heard countless whispers about "The Cripple". It couldn't be easy to live life continually being mocked for an infirmity.

"But that is no way to live, Ivar. I refuse to believe that you like people making such assumptions." You said. "Why give in so easily?"

"It is far from giving in. It is merely allowing them to think what they wish. If people want to believe every tale they hear about me, let them. I will never beg to be understood."

"So you do not care how people see you? Even a little?"

"No." He replied confidently. His sorrow had lifted and he was now contemplative. "Let them create whatever version of me that pleases them. Besides, any man that cares about the opinion of others will never be happy. And I prefer to be happy."

Everyone knew Ivar was a masterful tactician but who knew that he was also quite philosophical. Curious, you observed him a moment before asking if he was indeed a happy man.

"Of course I am." Ivar said before he stopped gazing at the ceiling. He then gave you his full attention. Putting an arm about you, he stroked the small of your back in circular motions. "When my mother was killed, I never thought I would find peace. Every day I woke up with a great tightness in my chest. As if a storm was raging deep inside. But then came the day I saw you. It was like finding something I did not know I was searching for. So yes, I am very happy, Y/N."

You could only stare at him. Your husband was showing a side of himself you had never seen before. Not only was he being soft-spoken but he was revealing personal thoughts. In nearly three years of marriage, you couldn't remember sharing such a moment.

"Ivar, it is not wise to find your joy in other people." You said as he brought his face closer to yours. "My father; rest his soul; believed such a thing was the path to sorrow and disappointment."

"Perhaps. But I have never been good on my own. When I had my mother, all seemed right with the world. In spite of everything, she made me feel that I was truly loved." He confessed, almost as if he was reminiscing. "She loved me unconditionally. So when she died, it was as if she took everything good with her. Despite the presence of my brothers, I felt………………..alone. Floki was my only saving grace. But then, you came along. So you see, I cannot help finding my joy in you."

"Did you not hear what I just----------"

Putting his finger to your lips, Ivar gazed at you - his intense eyes studying your every feature.

"Y/N, I choose to feel as I do. If I am gravely wounded for that in the end, so be it."

With that, Ivar pressed his lips to yours tenderly. As he pulled back, he  affectionately caressed your cheek, feeling more assured about your marriage than he had in some time. 

_______________________

In the morning, Ivar was the first to awaken. Quietly, he lifted himself utilizing the leather and chain strap he had installed over the bed. After putting his leg bracers on, he rang the bell for the servants. 

As the women busied themselves selecting his clothes for the day, one asked if they should wake you as well. To the shock of all the Thralls present, he nearly threw the horn of ale he was drinking.

"Are you mad?" He hissed. "Can you not see that my wife is exhausted? Now go and have them prepare my bath before I have you flogged."

Before the three frightened women departed, he called one back to the chamber.

"Yes, Master."

"Fetch Messilla. And tell her to come straightaway. I have a very tight schedule and cannot be kept waiting."

"Of course, my Prince."

With that, the woman hastily left to go and fetch the newest Thrall. Optimistic about the day going well, he walked to the cradle and gazed at Dahlia. The baby had apparently been awake for some time, entertaining herself. She was happily babbling away until she saw Ivar’ face. Instantly, she gave him an adorable smile as she reached up for him.

"Are you happy to see me, my love?" Ivar sweetly asked as he placed his finger in her grasp. To say that he was enamored with his daughter would have been an understatement. Every time he beheld Dahlia, he couldn't believe she was real. Taking a seat in the chair beside the cradle, he placed the crutch down and picked her up. "You are going to spend the morning with me so mother can rest.”

As he brought her in for a kiss, Dahlia excitedly held his face with her plump fingers. It was a little game they played now that she was bigger. As Ivar kept lifting her in the air and bringing her down for kisses, he tried to get her to repeat words.

"Say, fa-th-er." He coaxed before nibbling her cheek playfully.

He did so a few times more which only seemed to amuse Dahlia. Every time he said the word, she squealed and became livelier. Knowing that repetition was the only way to get babies to talk, Ivar kept the game going.

"Fa?" She unexpectedly babbled.

His eyes lit up with elation as Dahlia kept repeating herself. Glancing over at your sleeping form, Ivar contemplated whether or not to wake you. However, despite wanting to share his the news of your daughter’s first word, he quickly decided against it.

"We will tell her later." He cooed as Dahlia stared at him attentively - almost as if she understood his words. "Do you know you will be an elder sister soon? Yes, you will. That means we have to take good care of mother so she and the baby stay healthy. She will need lots of rest."

To Ivar's amusement, Dahlia began babbling excitedly as if she was challenging his assertion. As he continued playing with her, a knock came upon the door. When he asked who it was, the Thrall he had sent to fetch your personal attendant nervously replied.

"My Prince, I have brought Messilla as you instructed."

"Let her in."

The door opened slowly and in walked the tense Gaul. She had been asleep when the Thrall had burst into her chamber instructing her to make haste. For that reason, Messilla only had time to throw a robe over her night dress.

"Master, what do you require?"

Without taking his eyes off Dahlia, Ivar informed her that it was to be a long day. And since he wanted you to rest before the trial, she was to take the baby to be fed and bathed.

"When the wet-nurse is done, you shall mind the baby."

"Of course."

Timidly, Messilla walked to where Ivar sat and took Dahlia into her arms. Though she didn't cry, the baby did begin to whine.

"What has father told you about crying? Hmm?"

Running his hand over Dahlia's head, Ivar comforted her affectionately before glancing at the Thrall.

"She is likely quite hungry so you may go. But remember…….." He said before dropping his voice to a whisper. "do as I have instructed."

"Of course, Master."

______________________

As he ate first meal in the privacy of the Study, Ivar asked one of the servants to fetch Messilla. After all, he had to keep up the pretense of favoring the Gaul. Not long after, one of the Thralls returned with the lovely Gaul in tow. 

Though she still found it awkward, Messilla had donned one of the costly dresses Ivar had gifted her. 

This of course was causing great chatter amongst the other Thralls. It was bad enough that the new arrival had her own chamber within the estate. But the fact that she was also being dressed lavishly by Ivar was not doing her any favors. Most of the female Thralls were growing to hate the young woman. 

In fact, whenever Messilla was around them, they went out of their way to be rude or curt.

Fortunately, they didn't go too far with their disdain. They may have been envious, but the last thing they wanted was for the young Ragnarsson to hear of her mistreatment.

"I am so glad you called for me, Master." Messilla informed Ivar as she took at seat. She then began to gently rock Dahlia in an attempt sooth her. "I have not been able to calm the baby since her feeding. Mistress told me that she is cutting teeth so I went to get advice from the wet-nurse. However, I was informed that she has gone into town."

"For what reason?"

"They said she was headed to town square. She wanted to purchase certain foodstuffs appropriate for the babies."

Rolling his eyes, Ivar broke a piece of bread and put it on his plate. Though he found himself growing aggravated with the wet-nurse, he didn't wish to dismiss the woman. Not only had she come highly recommended, but she was actually quite likable, minus her unplanned day-trips. Additionally, her son was only a few months older than Dahlia. 

That meant he wouldn't need to find a playmate for her as she got older. Taking a piece of dried beef from one of the platters, Ivar motioned Messilla over.

"Bring her to me."

Placing the baby over her shoulder, Messilla did as commanded. To her surprise, he took Dahlia from her arms and sat her on his lap. Ivar then held the dried meat to her lips despite her crying. It took some coaxing, but soon enough, Dahlia grasped the hardened beef and began chewing on it.

"How did you know that would work?" An impressed Messilla asked as she took a seat at the table.

"You women need to stop thinking men are dolts when it comes to children." Ivar remarked proudly. He held Dahlia securely with one hand as he began eating again. "Anyhow, have you had first meal?"

Messilla shyly looked at her lap and shook her head. She had wanted to, however since you were asleep she was nervous about entering the Great Hall. Especially since the Ragnarssons and guests were there feasting. It would have been too much for the poor girl to enter such an environment.

"Then help yourself." Ivar commanded as kissed the top of the baby's head. "There is plenty."

"That is a kind gesture but I must decline."

"Why?"

"I mean no offense by it, my Prince. It is just that my previous Master would never have allowed such a thing. Perhaps you are putting me to a test."

"Messilla!" Ivar said with exasperation. "If I wished to punish you, I would do it outright. Now eat."

Bashfully, she took a plate and began serving herself whilst Ivar gave Dahlia his attention. The baby was content and resting her head against his chest as she busily suckled on the dried beef.

"Love, you are getting spittle everywhere." He commented before grabbing a linen. As he wiped her face and chin area, Dahlia began whining. "Stop that. You are becoming much too spoiled."

As Messilla ate, she kept stealing glances at Ivar. It was hard for her to believe that it was the same person everyone feared. Even when he had purchased her from her old Master, the man had given an ominous warning. He teased that the young Ragnarsson was likely to be the worst Master she would ever have in her life. Thankfully, she had yet to experience such.

"Give Father a kiss." Ivar sweetly said after cleaning Dahlia's face. When he brought his face closer the baby pressed her lips to his. With a big smile, he looked at the introverted Thrall. "Can you believe how clever my daughter is?

"Yes, Master. She is also very attentive when adults are speaking. It means she will likely speak earlier than most children."

"Of course she will." He replied as he looked at Dahlia. Taking his horn of mead, Ivar took a sip before turning his attention to the Thrall again. "Now, tell me, is there anything new I should be aware of?"

Straightening in her seat, Messilla bashfully looked at him. She then stated that she had overheard a conversation between Ubbe and Bjorn.

“Well?" Ivar said with annoyance.

"It was right before they entered the Great Hall for first meal. I was seated near the gardens when they made their presence known. After they acknowledged me, they spoke by the entrance. Apparently, Master Bjorn plans to leave Kattegat after the trial for his settlement. He thinks you will not see any punishment and does not wish to be around once the dust settles."

Ivar scoffed. He could care less about Bjorn ever since his mother killed Aslaug. Though he had tried, living at peace with his elder brother had run its course. Despite what Ubbe and others said, to forgive Lagertha was not in his blood.

Ivar had denied himself vengeance for years, suppressing his growing rage for the sake “family”. But now that he had a real family of his own, he no longer cared if he fell out with his brothers.

"So, Bjorn wishes to run away?" Ivar contemplated with a delighted expression. "That does not surprise me. Like his mother, he is a coward. But please, go on."

"He said that……..that….he wants Master Ubbe to take over his assigned territories in Kattegat. He does not think he will return to oversee them anytime soon, if ever. Master Ubbe tried to change his mind but it appeared that Master Bjorn is resolute."

"Is that all you overheard?"

"Yes."

Not believing her reply, Ivar looked at Messilla. As expected, her eyes were dashing around which was a telltale sign that she was hiding something. Being astute at reading people, he eyed her with seriousness.

"Messilla, I will not ask again!" He said as Dahlia became restless. She let go of the dried beef and began fidgeting in his lap. Taking his attention from the Thrall briefly, Ivar held the baby firmer. He then spooned some honeyed porridge and put the spoon to her lips. "Still hungry love? Do not worry, Father will have a talk with that blasted wet-nurse when she returns."

As he continued feeding the baby, Ivar turned his attention back to Messilla.

"Tell me what you are so afraid to say. And do not make me repeat myself. Trust me, you do not want to see my other side."

"Master Bjorn said…….he said he could not believe that the Mistress is with child again. He also said that he pities her and the children for being trapped with you. And Master Ubbe agreed."

Though the words enraged Ivar, he didn't show it outwardly. He instead kept feeding Dahlia while pondering what Messilla had revealed.

"Thank you for being of great help." He finally said. "Now come closer, I have something to say."

Placing her knife and bread down, Messilla went to Ivar's side. She stood nervously with her hands clasped in front of her as she waited to hear his words.

"I want you to keep doing as I have asked. And remember, no matter what my wife may inquire, do not reveal anything. I will let you know when you are free to desist your efforts." He stressed. "You may go and finish your food."

"Yes, Master."

"And remember, anything I do or say to you in public, play along.” Ivar added. “But never to the point that it offends my wife. Understand?"

"Of course, my Prince."

Messilla returned to her seat, grateful that Ivar was nothing like her previous owner. Though she had initially thought he wanted to lay with her, it was apparently not the case. Amazingly, Ivar was a loyal husband. Her previous Master was nothing of the sort. The man was not only cruel but he used her as a bed-warmer despite having two wives.

As she ate, Messilla hoped that when her task of spying came to an end, she could make use of her talents. As a learned woman, she could teach languages, music and other skills to Dahlia and her siblings. Indeed, for the first time since becoming a Thrall, the young woman felt she could have a decent life with you and Ivar as her Masters.

__________________

You awakened in the afternoon feeling rested and ready for the long day ahead. For whatever reason, you spirits were high despite all that was occurring.

“You know what? I think I shall wear something colorful today. Perhaps the color red would suffice." You announced to the servants as they rubbed you down with rose oil.

"Would you like to take a look at your wardrobe so you can make a selection?"

"No." You said cheerfully. "Just surprise me."

Straightaway, one of the Thralls left to go through your vast collection. The one thing no one could ever say was that Ivar was selfish. He was exceptionally generous when it came to showering you with gifts. Your husband gave you so many things, that there was hardly any space in the chamber that housed your wardrobe.

When the woman returned, she was holding a lovely burgundy dress with gold embellishments and embroidery. You nodded in approval as the other Thralls laid out your boots and other necessities. As they were doing so, one of them brought out a corset.

"I shall not require that." You said without explaining why.

The woman put the corset back on the bed and came to assist with the braiding of your hair. Thankfully, with two Thralls working diligently, they finished rather quickly.

"Mistress, how would you like the ends? Pinned into a bun or left down."

"Pin it up please. And use the golden hair combs."

After your hair was finished, the servants helped you dress before looking you over.

"I think you should use kohl as well, Mistress?" One thoughtful Thrall said.

Agreeing with her assertion, you sat down so they could apply it to your eyes. As they were doing so, one of your least favorite people entered the chamber. Head Domestic, Adelaide, sauntered in unannounced, looking unpleasant as usual.

"May I have a word, Princess Y/N?

"As you can see, I am quite busy. Besides, I must go and have first meal once they are finished."

"Understandable. But I will not keep you long."

"Alright.” You said, trying to hide your annoyance. “I am listening."

The old woman looked around the chamber to convey that she wished to speak to your privately. Taking notice, you dismissed the other Thralls despite not really wanting to entertain Adelaide.

You knew she didn't like you nor your presence. But what could you do about it? The woman had served Aslaug faithfully and taken care of Ivar after her death. Thus, asking him to send her away would be like asking him to dismiss a family member.

"Well, we are alone now. What do you wish to discuss with me?" You asked.

Adelaide looked at you with a stern resolve.

"Prince Ivar tells me that you are with child again." She began. "He asked that I say nothing to the other servants until he makes the formal announcement."

"That is understandable." You replied. "But if he has already spoken with you, what do you need from me?"

"I need to ask an important question. Something only you can answer."

You instructed Adelaide to proceed, but you were weary. To your utter bewilderment, the old woman looked you straight in the eyes and asked if you were truly with child.

"What a strange thing to ask. Of course I am! Do you think the Healer has nothing better to do than to go around fabricating things?"

"I meant no offense. I just wanted to know for certain."

“Well, you may rest your mind. I am indeed with child! You snapped. 

"I beg your pardon. But you cannot blame me for being apprehensive. After all, you did not want to birth my Master’s firstborn."

Your neck snapped in her direction. The audacity it took for Adelaide to speak to you as she was doing was astounding. 

“There is no need to feign innocence with me.” The old woman continued. You attempted to rid yourself of seed the first time around did you not?" And do not say otherwise because I witnessed it all with my own eyes. The only thing I want to know now is if the unborn child is truly Ivar’s."

"What?"

"You heard me." Adelaide replied without flinching. "Why are you so content this time around? Personally, I think it’s another man’s seed."

Your hand hit the table hard before you got to your feet. Not only were you angered by the accusation, you couldn't believe that she had been spying on you so much.

"I will hear no more from you Adelaide!" You seethed. "I cannot believe you have the gall to speak to me as if I am the servant, and not the other way around. Now you listen, and you listen well. This is Ivar's child whether it pleases you or not! Now get out!"

"As you wish, Princess Y/N."

With that ominous reply, the old woman departed the chamber, leaving you to your thoughts.

_______________________

"It’s done." King Harald said as he stood on the pier beside Ivar. "Someone should come across her soon enough.

Since the time of the trial was fast approaching, Bjorn had given permission for them to meet. Despite the King being on the panel of judges, he was still Ivar’s dearest friend. For that reason, he requested time with Ivar in case it was his last day of freedom.

"I cannot express how grateful I am. Lizzy was a danger to my family."

"That she was." The King said with a nod.

With a pleased expression, Ivar suddenly looked at his friend, almost unable to contain his joy. Noticing his sudden change of mood, King Harald gave him a peculiar look.

"What’s with the smile?" He asked.

"Though I have yet to make the announcement, you must share in my good fortune."

"Good fortune, aye? What is it?"

"Y/N is with child again."

With a hearty slap to Ivar's back, King Harald congratulated him. As he laughed, he added that the news only proved that the Gods had not abandoned the youngest Ragnarsson. In fact, it seemed that they favored him greatly.

"And you now what else? The King added. "It also proves what you said to me the night you met her."

"I said something to you?"

"I’m not surprised that you cannot remember. After all, you were very intoxicated that night. But after Y/N served our table, you looked at me as if you had been stuck by lightening. Your exact words were "She’s the one. I must have her." Hopefully, this good news should finally give you reason to stop mistreating the poor girl."

"What?" An irritated Ivar asked as he shifted the crutch underneath his arm. "You think I mistreat Y/N? If that is how you feel, why have you never voiced it before?"

"Do you forget whom you are?" King Harald asked with a hearty laugh. "I prefer my skull intact, thank you very much. But I digress. If you truly wish to know my opinion, then I shall speak freely. Personally, I think you should stop being so aggressive with your wife. Leave the rage for the enemies on the battlefield."

"Let me understand what you are suggesting. You wish for me to become soft so Y/N can run amok? Never. She is far too willful as it is."

"Look Ivar, I am not asking for you change who you are. But you must think before you act. Y/N is a foreigner and already unaccustomed to our ways. If you are not careful, like a bird, she will fly away the moment opportunity presents itself."

King Harald observed his friend’s expression once he was done speaking. Obviously, Ivar was not thrilled, however, he did not fly into a rage. Instead, he pondered the words thoughtfully.

"I am grateful." Ivar finally said as he glanced over the waters. "It is not often anyone gives me words of wisdom. That all ceased when Ragnar died. For that reason, I will take what you have said to heart.”

"Good. Now, about the trial, have you spoken to any of the other panel members?”

"That will not be necessary. You see, I believe things will go my way."

"Oh?" King Harald remarked with a chuckle. "You are far more confident than you were before. What has brought about this sudden change?"

"Let’s just say that my brothers have been overly zealous with their desire to take control of Kattegat.” Ivar scoffed. “Ubbe is a fool to think he can dissolve the Council without worrying our allies. But I’m not surprised. He lacks understanding when it comes to the intricacies of leadership. Not to mention he forgets whom everyone credits with avenging Ragnar. Me."

"That is interesting. I never took Ubbe as the ambitious type. What of Bjorn?"

"That coward? He intends to join Lagertha at his new settlement. As if mere distance will protect him once I’m ready to strike."

When King Harald asked if he was finally going to seek vengeance for Aslaug's death, Ivar nodded. 

"That treacherous woman will die by my hand. I will watch the light leave her eyes and enjoy every second."

"I do not blame you for wanting to do so. But it may be easier said than done. Don’t you think Bjorn will fight by his mother’s side?"

"Then he shall die by her side." Ivar shrugged.

"True." King Harald mused as he ran his hand over his beard. "But what of Ubbe and Hvitserk? I know they are not your favorite people at the moment. But do you think they will finally side with you?"

"Those useless dogs? None of them cared about our mother like they should have. They may go and join Lagertha’s forces for all I care."

"Well, if it is of any consolation, I shall be at your side when the time comes. After all, you area seeking justice. That makes your cause righteous in the eyes of the Gods and man.”

A pleased Ivar smiled before thanking his noble friend. There was no one else he trusted more than King Harald. And in that moment, it was reassuring to know that such a powerful man understood his need for retribution.

________________________

When you entered the Great Hall, the entire place went silent. Though it was unnerving, you remained calm. With everyone's attention focused on your every move, you approached the center of the room with your head held high. 

There were about sixty people in attendance, all of them men of valor and great importance. As for the Ragnarssons, they were on the panel of judges along with King Harald, King Solmund, Jarl Borg and Jarl Øysten.

"Thank you for being patient, Princess Y/N. Please, sit there." Ubbe said as he pointed to the chair that sat in the center of the hall. 

As you did as instructed, you passed by Ivar. Remarkably, your husband seemed to be in good spirits despite the gravity of the situation. He even gave you a reserved smile while watching you take your seat.

You could hardly breathe wondering how the proceedings were going. Despite being a character witness, you had not been present for the start of the trial. Due to your condition, Ubbe felt it was best not to expose you to the entire ordeal.

"Sister, how do you fare this afternoon?" Hvitserk asked with a pleasant expression.

"Fine, thank you."

"Good." He replied. "Firstly, on behalf of the panel, I must ask if you understand why you have been summoned."

You nodded and stated that you were there to answer their queries about Ivar. Satisfied, King Solmund followed Hvitserk’s words by asking if you were prepared to speak truthfully despite your husband being the accused.

"Of course, your Majesty. I swear by the Gods."

"The Gods?" Jarl Borg interrupted. Despite being one of the conspirators who wanted Ivar set free, he had not forgotten about your little confrontation. "No offense Princess Y/N, but everyone present is aware that you are a foreigner. Not only that, you were a Thrall forced to adopt our ways. For that reason, swearing to our Gods holds little water in my eyes."

As several people murmured in agreement, you could only look the Jarl's arrogant and mocking expression. Though it was clear he enjoyed demeaning you, he was playing with fire. 

Ally or not, Ivar didn’t appreciate his assertion. Though his expression remained serene, one thing was certain. The Jarl would live to regret his display.

“I hardly think her old life matters, Jarl Borg.” Ubbe declared.

Though you thanked your brother-in-law, you added that you understood the man’s concerns.

"Jarl Borg, you speak no lies. I am indeed a foreigner. And a Christian one at that." You began. "If swearing by my newfound Gods is not acceptable, with permission from my husband, I will swear by my old faith."

When you looked at Ivar, everyone in the Great Hall watched with great interest. It was no secret that he treated you harshly, even in public. For that reason, all those present expected an angry response.

"You may do so if it will appease Jarl Borg's concerns." Ivar replied, surprising everyone.

Relieved that he had shown restraint for once, you thanked him before giving the Jarl your attention again. You then swore to be truthful by your Christian faith, and their Gods.

"That is more than satisfactory." Jarl Øysten said, as he glanced at his friend. "What say you Borg?"

Defeated, the Jarl shrugged and told Bjorn to continue with the proceedings. From what you could gather, your brother-in-law appeared more tense than usual. 

"Sister, as you know, we are here because of Sigurd's untimely death. Unfortunately……" Bjorn continued as Ivar stared daggers in his direction. "he died at the hands of none other than our brother and your husband. Ivar. In spite of this, we want you to be forthcoming. Is that clear?"

"Yes, of course."

"Now if you please, can you shed light on Ivar's feelings toward Sigurd?"

You knew the question was coming but it didn't make it any easier to answer. Honestly, you had heard your fair share of Ivar's complaints about his brothers. But for whatever reason, Sigurd got the brunt of it. Simply put, the two were like water and oil. 

Although there were moments of peace, your husband made it clear that he hated the deceased Ragnarsson for tormenting him. 

"I can only speak on what I observed." You said as you tried to gauge your words. . "There were times that the two of them got along. For instance on the Council and things of that nature. But things never went well for long. They argued often and would not speak to each other for long periods of time."

"And what did they fight about most of the time?" King Solmund asked with curiosity.

"Well, my husband is…………was born with an affliction." You began.

But before you could say another word, the King interrupted.

"My dear, we all know he is a cripple." He affirmed. "What of it?"

"With all due respect, King Solmund, I would not put it that way. As I said, Ivar was born with an affliction."

"Fine. You may carry on."

Ivar's expression softened. Despite often referring to himself as a "cripple", it was a word he greatly disliked. He only called himself one in an attempt to take the sting out of the insult. However, it still hurt him to his core. For this reason, he was immensely touched by the way you spoke of him.

"As I was saying, my husband’s affliction was used to belittle him." You continued. "Though Sigurd knew it bothered Ivar, he would continually make mean-spirited remarks."

"Like what?" Jarl Borg asked.

"Often, it was things directed at Ivar's worth as a man." You admitted as the room erupted with whispers. It was so distracting that Bjorn had to tell everyone to desist so you could be heard. "I loved Sigurd. God knows I truly did. But he did not bite his tongue when it came to Ivar. Nor did he desist when threatened. Honestly, when my husband’s anger would rise, it only amused him. It even………………"

You paused before adding that on numerous occasions, Sigurd had told Ivar that Aslaug should have allowed him to die. Additionally, you revealed how he would also insult their deceased mother for being a dreadful caregiver.

"Of course, I never had the opportunity to meet my mother-in-law. She was long dead before I was transported to Kattegat. But from what I can tell, Ivar truly loved her. For that reason, Sigurd's disrespect of her memory made things between them worse."

King Solmund leaned back in his chair and glanced at you with a raised brow. As for Hvitserk, he looked at Ubbe before leaning forward and placing his hands on the table before them.

"Sister, you speak truthfully. The feud between the Ivar and Sigurd began in childhood." Bjorn said in agreement. "But if we are to believe that inciting Ivar is what causes his ruthless behavior, then how do you explain how he treats you?"

Your heart sank. It had not occurred to you that out of all people, one of the Ragnarssons would be the one to bring up your marital problems. And since they had witnessed things firsthand, you couldn’t lie.

The entire Great Hall was strangely quiet - everyone eager to hear your response. The only other person unnerved by the question beside you, was Ivar. 

Though the two of you had conversed openly, there were no guarantee that you wouldn’t change your mind. Naturally, the line of questioning only deepened his hatred for his elder brother.

"It is no secret that my husband is volatile." You said truthfully. "Has he done things to bring me to tears? Of course. In fact, many have seen it first-hand, including yourself. However, I do not know whether he’s worse than any other husband. All I know is that despite everything, Ivar rescued me from a life of servitude. After all, I was your Thrall when he met me."

"That may be so.” Bjorn replied. “But are you saying that Ivar isn’t cruel by nature? That he needs no provocation to be violent?"

"As a Christian, I do not think anyone is violent by nature. Everyone is capable of good and bad deeds. Even Ivar can be kind. After emancipating my family, he not only gave them homes but he established trade for my mother and brother-in-law. For that, I am ever grateful."

There were murmurs as Bjorn groaned at your reply. As for Prince Sven, he sat quietly amongst the crowd, pleased by the developments. On the flip side, no one was more disappointed by your testimony than Hvitserk. 

Like Bjorn, he hoped that you would have sealed Ivar's fate. Unfortunately, it had come to nothing.

The questioning went on for a while longer before Jarl Øysten indicated that it was enough. He added that you had been very cooperative and provided great insight. With a kind smile, he then gave you permission to depart the Great Hall.

Utterly relieved to have held your own in a room full of intimidating men, you stood. As you passed by where Ivar was sat, you felt the calloused touch of his hand on yours. When you looked down at him, he gave you a gentle squeeze.

Giving him a reassuring smile, you returned the gesture before leaving the Hall.

___________________

"Mistress, please eat something." Messilla said as she rocked a sleeping Dahlia. The two of you were sat under a sunshade in the courtyard trying to enjoy second meal. However, you had no appetite despite the delicious spread. "There is no use in worrying about what is occurring at the trial. The Master is in the hands of his Gods now."

Though you knew she was right, you were far too stressed. Whenever that occurred, your appetite was the first thing to go. And how could you enjoy any food at such a time anyway? 

The fate of your family was in the hands of other people. If things went badly for Ivar, it would be devastating. Especially since you had cast your lot with him. That meant there was no guarantee that any of the Ragnarssons would offer shelter or help.

"Messilla, if things go awry, Please stay long enough to help me get my daughter somewhere safe. After that, I will let you go."

"I wish you would not think so negatively, Mistress. But if it will ease your mind, I give you my word."

You thanked her before taking a sip of honeyed milk. Your mind eased slightly, but as you glanced at your personal attendant, your curiosity peaked. In spite of all that had been going on, you had noticed that Ivar had taken a liking to the Gaul. 

So despite your normal aversion to him, you found yourself slightly bothered.

"Tell me, what do you think of Ivar?" You asked as Messilla ran her hand over the Dahlia’s thick black hair.

"The Prince is a good Master unlike my previous one. Many of the other Thralls think so as well."

"That is good to hear." You replied as you looked into her green eyes. "But what do you think of him? Personally, I mean."

When her expression wavered, your anxiety worsened. How odd it was to think you could very well be chatting with Ivar's mistress. Though you had no evidence, all signs were saying it was a possibility. 

From her expensive wardrobe to her private chamber within the estate, your husband was not treating Messilla like a Thrall.

"Do not be alarmed. I am only trying to satisfy my curiosity. Has Ivar attempted to..............lay with you?" You added.

"Mistress, please. You are asking things that you know I cannot answer. As I told you before, the Master forbids me to say anything without his permission." She said timidly. "Truly, I wish that was not the case."

Her response didn't answer your question but it definitely created more. Why did Ivar have her sworn to such secrecy? After all, Vikings took Mistresses openly. There was no need to hide anything if Messilla was his lover. But since the entire subject was giving you a headache, you chose to push it from your mind.

Before you could take another sip of milk, you spotted some guards escorting Jonah to where you sat. Since you had not seen your brother-in-law since the last time he had visited with Ivar, you got to your feet. 

However, you barely greeted him before he practically collapsed in your arms.

"Oh Y/N, it’s awful." He said with great pain in his voice. 

Your heart raced as your thoughts went straight to your mother. She had gone to take care of a foreign Jarl's daughter. What if the girl's illness had killed her? 

"It's Lizzy! She’s dead!" Jonah said as if he barely believed it himself. “My wife is dead!”

You could barely accept what you heard. Was your little sister truly gone?  Though you tried to ask him to repeat himself, Jonah was overcome by grief and embraced you tightly. As tears welled in your eyes, you felt the peculiar ache that only death provoked. It was numb and surreal.

All you could do was rest you head on your brother-in-laws shoulder and grieve with him.

_____________________

"We have come to a decision." King Harald declared as the Great Hall quieted down. "I will now give the floor to Bjorn to convey the panel's decision."

With that he sat down as the eldest Ragnarsson got to his feet. He first locked eyes with Ivar briefly before folding his hands over his chest.

"Friends, we gathered today for the sole purpose of deciding whether or not Ivar, son of Ragnar, was accountable for the death of our brother Sigurd." Bjorn said as everyone hung on his everyone word. "After all statements were taken into account, the panel concludes that Ivar did not act maliciously. Furthermore, he will be given his freedom immediately with the condition that he pay the fine of one thousand silver penning within the month. The amount will be split equally amongst the leaders of the Heathen army. If the fine is not paid, he will be returned to the cells until the entire amount is remitted."

The Hall burst into chatter and whispers of approval. Some men even cheered causing Bjorn to raise his hands for their attention.

"Have you any questions to ask of the panel, Ivar?"

With a smug expression, your husband looked at his elder brother with satisfaction.

"You shall have the coin first thing in the morning." He replied.

Hvitserk was so appalled, he could barely look in Ivar's direction. The disappointing ruling had gone down, two to six. With he and Bjorn voting against Ivar. For whatever reason, Ubbe had changed his mind halfway through the proceedings.

"That concludes the trial. You are all free to go." Bjorn pronounced.

The Hall erupted with great noise as the people in attendance began making their way to Ivar. Everyone wanted the opportunity to shake his hand and commend him on his vindication. As for Bjorn, he marched out of the Great Hall straightaway, followed by Hvitserk. 

Ubbe, however, sat at the long table, pondering his next move. He knew that he had angered his brothers, but he had no choice.

He may have been ambitious, but Ubbe was smart enough to see the writing on the wall. Ivar was going to be set free even if he had cast a guilty vote. And the last thing he wanted was to put a target on himself or his family.

"It appears that congratulations are an order." Prince Sven said to Ivar as he shook his hand. "I for one am glad to see you remain at the head of the Great Army."

"Your words are kind. I shall not forget them." 

"I only speak the truth. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall step aside so others may have their turn."

With that, Sven excused himself and departed the Great Hall. 

______________________

As a euphoric Ivar made his way across the courtyard toward the West wing, he couldn't help smiling to himself. Not only had he thwarted the takeover attempt by his brothers, but everyone seemed satisfied by the outcome of the trial. 

In fact, like Prince Sven, most voiced their relief that he would remain leader of the Heathen forces. Whether the Ragnarssons liked it or not, their allies viewed Ivar as the superior strategic mind. 

"Master!"

Ivar stopped in his tracks as Messilla came dashing across the courtyard holding her skirts. When she made her way to where he stood, she looked around to ensure no one was within earshot.

"Why are you running around like a madwoman?" He asked half amused.

"It is Princess Y/N." She began, her breathing somewhat labored. "She has been taken to your chamber and put to bed. Master Jonah is at her bedside along with the Healer."

Ivar's pleasant expression melted away as the words hit his ears. His first thought was that something had happened to the unborn child. He knew that it was a common occurrence for women in the early stages. But then, his thoughts went to you. Ivar could tolerate many things, even the loss of an unborn heir. Though sad, it was possible to try to create another.

However, he didn't want to think of what would happen if he were to lose you.

"Why was the Healer called?" He asked. When the nervous Thrall failed to reply straightaway, his anger began to rise. "Speak, damn you!"

"Apologies. I think I should make things more clear." Messilla replied. "Rest assured that the Princess has not taken ill. She is grief-stricken."

"About what?"

"I hate to be the bearer of unhappy news, but your sister-in-law is dead."

Feigning disbelief, Ivar asked the Thrall if she was certain. Messilla replied that it appeared to be so since Jonah himself had said it. 

Though he had not expected for Elizabeth's body to be found so quickly, Ivar was glad. The sooner she was laid to rest, the sooner your family could grieve and move on.

"Where is my daughter?"

"I gave her to the wet-nurse for a feeding only moments ago."

"Fine. But when that is over, you are to keep Dahlia with you. Understand?"

"Of course, Master."

Before Ivar could add to his instructions, He spotted King Solmund, Jarl Borg and Jarl Øysten walking. The three men were headed to the Dining Hall to partake in the imported wines he had instructed the Thralls to serve. Without hesitation, Ivar took hold of Messilla's hand and kissed it affectionately.

Though he had told her to expect such things to occur, it didn't make it any less awkward. Messilla truly enjoyed being around you and feared losing the burgeoning relationship. 

Ivar leaned closer, as if flirting with the Thrall, aware that King Solmund and his companions were observing.

"That is all for now." He whispered. "And remember, anything you observe or hear, no matter how insignificant it may seem, report it."

Messilla nodded despite wanting to tell him that the entire situation was rousing your suspicion. But she held her tongue. She was a servant after all and there to do as commanded. All she could do was hope that things would return to normal sooner than later.

"Now, go and do as you have been told." Ivar said as he began walking away. "I will go and see to my wife."

King Solmund and the Jarls weren’t the only people to take not of Ivar’s “flirtation” with Messilla. Hvitserk, who had decided to go for a ride, spotted his little brother and the Thrall as well. Of course, he thought exactly what Ivar wanted everyone think. 

Needless to say, the flaxen-haired Ragnarsson was appalled by his brother’s display. Especially since he had just announced that you were with child again. Despite you siding with Ivar at the trial, Hvitserk was still contemplating helping you escape Kattegat.

It would be difficult, but not impossible. So, as he stared in his brother’s direction, the plan began to take shape.

_____________________

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[ikesenhell]

Flesh and Iron

Elysium, Part Three. You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine in my Masterlist. NOTES: Mild horror/medical stuff, very mild. Otherwise have fun! Also shout out to @a-shout-to-the-void for her rosary headcanon and catholic help!

—

Jean was used to the voices. Once upon a time, he thought they were angels. They’d taught him how to tend the crops on his childhood farm, whispered the weather patterns, hummed songs that lingered in the thin spaces of the world. 

Now he knew better. As they neared Penrith, carriages rattling, Jean heard them. This was no human tongue; the crush of a thousand dialects pressed in around him, borne by the wind current. Danger, danger, danger. Not all is as it seems–

Heaven above and hell below, why did they test him so? Jean gripped the reigns and gritted his teeth, drowning out the whispers with a familiar hymn. “Pange, lingua, gloriosi, corporis mysterium, sanguinisque pretiosi, quem in mundi pretium, fructus ventris generosi Rex effudit Gentium…”

Napoleon pulled up alongside, Isaac perched on the saddle with him. “Alright, there?”

The forest fell away behind them, the flat plains of Penrith before them. It had been so long since they returned here. Jean tried to count the years. Was it three? Four? Four. It had to be four since the war, since both Marceche invaded and Penrith tried to slide their troops in a pincer from the other side… 

Wrestling himself from memories, Jean finally answered, “They’re loud here.”

“Huh. So far from Oswego? That’s not good.”

Isaac peered over Napoleon’s shoulder. “How loud?”

Cue the wailing in his head. Jean reached on reflex for the rosary hanging on his belt, pressing the rosewood cross to his nose and inhaling deeply, absorbing its rich scent. Years ago, Napoleon had given him this one. It never failed to comfort him. “Nobis datus, nobis natus ex intacta Virgine…”

“Oh.” Isaac paused. “That loud.”

The walls emerged in a field of half-harvested wheat, red banners emblazoned with the Guild’s seal fluttering in the breeze. It was prettier now. No field of dead, no armies laid out before them, no suffering widows on the battlements…

Isaac interrupted once more. “So. We shouldn’t tell them what happened in the woods.”

“No?” Napoleon hummed, clearly considering. “Why not?”

“Because we can’t trust them.” Isaac gripped at his vest and smoothed it, a nervous tick. “They said the highwaymen were holding up people in the area, killing them, sacking coaches. None of that happened to us.”

“And?” Their liege kept his jade eyes straight ahead, but Jean knew that look.

“…And they were looking for something.” 

That was true. Jean wondered about their leader. What was their name? August? Who were they? Man? Woman? They weren’t one of them, at least–the voices would have told him–but the blazing light in their eyes lived on as a ghost before him. They’d untied his hands without a second thought. It wasn’t the smartest choice, but it was an oddly noble one. 

“Probably,” he agreed slowly. “It’s another matter getting the rest of the travellers to agree to silence.”

Isaac waved that off. “That doesn’t matter. We talk to the Guild first, then any stories getting out won’t matter in the long run. We just need to figure out if we can trust them in the first place.”

—

The gates opened for them readily. They rode in ahead of the carriages, down the broad streets, straight to the central quarter and the lavish building that seated the Guild. Marble pillars and polished cherubs adorned it. From inside, a man strode forward and greeted them. 

“Lord Bonaparte.” He grinned with all teeth, lush fabrics thrown around his shoulders, jewels on every finger. “It is an honor for you to personally come. How was your travel?”

“Uneventful.” Napoleon dismounted easily. Isaac struggled down after him. Lying was a sin, but Jean chose not to mention it. “I bring my trusted advisors with me.” 

“Wonderful. I am the Chairman of Penrith.” And he clapped his hands together, not even acknowledging their names. “Come! We have much to discuss. Tell me, Lord Bonaparte–have you given any further consideration to our open borders request?”

Jean often marveled at Napoleon’s ability to maintain a calm facade. Now was no different. Their leader stepped forward, side by side with the Chairman as they headed inside, a neutral smile on his lips. “Elysium traditionally does not enter into such arrangements. You know this.”

“Oh! But the times have changed, my friend. In this day and age, it is becoming for friends to open their doors to one another, is it not?”

Isaac thrust himself between the two men, ears almost scarlet. “So, the bandit problem. What of it?”

The Chairman clearly hadn’t expected this. “Yes, the bandit problem. Come. We will all have a seat and some drinks, and I will tell you all. What is your name?”

“Isaac.”

“Isaac. A pleasure.” And those beady eyes finally roved to Jean, absorbing him for the first time. How strongly he wanted to look away! Somehow, he managed to hold that invested gaze. “And yourself, sir?”

“Jean.”

“Jean,” the Chairman repeated, halting in his steps. “General Jean d’Arc?”

Dangerdangerdangerdanger– The voices surged again. Jean stood rooted, struggling for an answer. “Yes.”

People often stared at him. He wasn’t unused to that. So often he wondered if the truth hung in his face. Did they know? Did they all know, just by looking at him? Could they see every terrible truth about him in his face alone? The Chairman stared long enough that at last, Napoleon intervened. “Tea, then?”

Finally the moment broke. The Chairman averted that intense gaze and smiled. “Of course.”

The sitting room was as opulent as the rest of the space. The red carpet was thick and intricate, overstuffed chairs perched around a glass table. A servant waited patiently in the corner. Already the trappings of a tea were laid out on the table–fine silverware, snacks, delicacies aplenty. Candles glittered in fine holders. The Chairman sat first, his fingers picking over the table and settling on a bizarre object. 

“I hope you don’t mind my asking for a guest to do a trivial thing for me,” he started, and lifted a silvery metal candle snuffer from the tablecloth, extending it to Jean. “But we have a tradition here in Penrith. Before tea is taken, we snuff the candles.”

An odd request, to be certain. Jean extended his hand to the snuffer–only for Isaac to snatch it out of the Chairman’s hand first. 

“Wh-what metal is this?” He demanded, turning it over in his hands. 

“Why do you ask?” The Chairman intoned.

“B-b-because–” Isaac was a terrible liar and everyone knew it. “The stamping–it’s–it’s excellent–iron, isn’t it?”

Jean stayed his face as best he could. They knew. They knew. How did they know? The Chairman didn’t move a muscle, just smiled that false smile. 

“I’m pleased you care for it so much. If someone would snuff the candles?”

“I’ll do it,” Jean murmured. “Isaac, give me it.”

“I–”

“I was requested. If you would.”

He’d prepared, but no one could really steel themselves for the agony. Jean curled his fingers around the iron handle and regretted it instantly. Even through the gloves, it seared. He’d burned once. This felt the same–except it crawled through his blood like a disease, poured venom in his veins. There was no faltering here. As steady and calm as he could force it, Jean snuffed the candles, one by one, and extended the snuffer back to the Chairman. 

“As you requested.”

The Chairman took it back politely, eyes searching. “Peace be with you.”

“And with your spirit,” Jean answered automatically, the heat of his hand blazing in his chest. “And bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.” 

Shock hovered in the other man’s eyes before he recovered himself, reciting back a strangled, “Amen.” 

“Amen!” Napoleon rubbed his hands together and took a cup of tea. “Shall we discuss business?”

The Chairman smiled–a smile like the Devil–and settled back in his chair. “Yes. We shall indeed.”

—

“That was a goddamn trap.”

“To take the name of the Lord thy God in vain is–”

“I don’t care!” 

Napoleon barred the door to their inn room and motioned to the other men for quiet. Isaac complied, his face flushed with anger, fists balled. Jean, for his part, merely crossed the room and fumbled with the water pitcher placed there. During lunch he’d looked so strong. Now? Now he groped weakly at the glass. 

“Let me help,” Napoleon murmured, pushing his friend aside. “And take off your gloves.”

Jean set his jaw stubbornly. “No.”

“You need to be bandaged.”

“This is the will of the Lord. I accept his punishment–”

“Jean,” Napoleon snapped, “Shut up and take off the damn gloves. If we’re attacked here, we need you ready to handle a sword without dropping it. The last thing we need is an iron infection. The Lord helps those who help themselves.”

Downstairs, the inn’s kitchen clacked and bustled with life, happy voices echoing through the thin floorboards. But there, in the room, all was utter silence. Or was it? Had the voices stopped since they arrived in Penrith? Did they scream in his mind still? Napoleon had no idea. All he knew was Jean’s purple eye wavered, flitting from one corner of the room to the next. 

“If–” Isaac was terrible at kindness, but he made an attempt nonetheless. “If you’re n-not comfortable or s-something–something stupid like that–I can look away–”

“…That won’t be necessary.” Jean sat heavily on the bed, undoing the buttoned glove clasp. “Fine.”

Long ago, they’d decided the gloves were a necessary safety precaution. It wasn’t as if one could inquire about the metal makeup of every object handled. For the most part, the ruse worked. This time it clearly wasn’t enough. Part of Jean’s skin came away with the fabric, the raw red flesh of his palm bubbling and sick. Isaac muttered another sacreligious curse and turned away. 

“That really was iron, huh?” Was all Napoleon could think to say. “Hold still.”

They had salves for this kind of thing back in Elysium. Here, all they had was water and clean bandages. Hopefully that was enough. He gathered Jean’s hand in his and dabbed at the open sores with a wet cloth as gently as he could manage. 

“Who told them?” Isaac questioned aloud. “And they were clearly lying about the highwaymen. Saying they were murdering people left and right, ransacking food storages, stealing all they could. This feels like a trap. Are they still talking to you, Jean?”

Jean’s mouth twitched. “Yes.”

“Something is very wrong here.” Isaac wrung his hands in his vest and paced restlessly, golden eyes ablaze. “Very, very wrong. And there’s no one we can get the facts from.”

Was there? Napoleon tied off the bandage and patted Jean’s shoulder reassuringly. “I can think of one person we might ask. That bandit: August.”

[thedeviltohisangel]

The Light In Me//13//The Butterflies Inside Your Stomach

Snapshots of each of the Langdon children.

inspired by a conversation with @sweetlangdon many moons ago!

masterlist in bio!

send any requests for these two my way!

Isaac Alexander Langdon

Michael was barely listening as he strolled around the Sanctuary with members of the Cooperative’s security team. Ae time dragged on, outsiders were becoming more and more bold with their attempts to break down the defense of the Sanctuary. Security was one of the most important things for a leader to provide to his people. Michael intended to continue doing so.

“Last week we took out that entire band of cannibals. They had absorbed too much radiation to even be brought past the perimeter gate.” The voices of his colleagues were muffled by the gas masks. Only the air within the gates was pure enough for human consumption. Michael had long ago dropped the pretense that he needed to wear a mask. He wandered and breathed as he pleased.

“Do we have plenty of scouts? Are their vantage points high enough?” Michael had never prepared himself for ruling all these little details when he was planning his new world. He had just brushed it all aside and vowed to just kill anyone that crossed a certain threshold. He thinks, or knows, that it was Penelope and Helena that him now focused on safety. They were the lights of his life and he would do absolutely anything to protect them. Both of them had each been taken away from him at some point. A circumstance he never wished to repeat.

“Yes, sir, they can spot our targets miles and miles away. They’ve been extremely effective.”

“That’s-” Michael paused when he heard the sound of a baby wailing. A few years ago he would have been confused by the sound and thought it was an animal. Being a father had taught him many things. And that was the sound of a child.

He picked up the pace as he walked towards the cry and was suddenly overcome with the notion of how he would handle looking at an ill child. An innocent life. A pure soul. Surely not someone he had meant to harm during his creation of the new world.

“Has someone abandoned a child at our doorstep?” The confused murmur was of no concern to Michael has he bent in front of the wicker basket. A bundle of ripped cloth was peeled away to reveal a squirming newborn.

“My gosh. The child can’t be more than a couple months old!”

“Can you scan him for radiation?” The group quieted at Michael’s question. “Is there a problem?”

“My Lord, it is not safe to bring him into the Sanctuary. Nevermind the potential radiation, he is a child born post-cleanse out in the elements. We do not know what will become of him as he ages.”

“That will be for me to worry about.” In an odd way, Michael saw himself in the little baby’s eyes. He was abandoned. Left behind to survive by himself without really knowing how. The decisions had all been made for him. He had no say. “I will take him into my home for a final assessment.” Michael gathered the baby into the crook of his arm, holding him tight against his chest the way Helena had liked when she was little, and cooed to him gently. He was letting him know that everything would be alright. He was safe now.

Penelope looked towards the door with a smile when she heard it shut. Her husband had been gone all day and she had missed him terribly. When it was just them and their daughter, it was easy to forget that he had the entirety of the Sanctuary to look after. Their family cocooned themselves so nicely and she wished it could be as such every moment of the day.

“Penelope? Are you in the living room?”

“Yes, my love, anxiously awaiting your presence.”

“Well, I have a sort of surprise for you.” He walked towards the fireplace where his wife sat and the baby in his arms came into view.

“Oh gosh! A little one!” Penelope smiled brighter than the sun as she pulled the child from Michael’s arms and wrapped him in her own. “Where did you get this precious little thing?” She was thinking that he perhaps may have been a new, motherless addition to the nursery or the son of a high-ranking Cooperative officer and Michael had brought him to visit and quell her baby fever.

“He was left abandoned by the front gate. Found him on our walk this morning.” He watched her frown and tap the baby’s nose with her finger.

“That is such a shame. I’m sure his mother believed she was doing what was best for him.” Penelope had been separated from Helena only once in her life and it had almost caused her ruin. She could never imagine willingly having to go through that but also could imagine all the different possibilities that might have led to the child being left at the Sanctuary entrance. “Is he to spend the night? Go to the nursery in the morning?” The idea thrilled her. She had been trying to find the right time to ask Michael about having another baby. He had just been so busy that it hadn’t yet come up.

“It was odd but out there by the gate, I felt a connection to him. I saw myself in him. An abandoned little boy. Something inside me is saying that I belong to him. That I was meant to find him. That he’s not meant to be put in the nursery but to live with us here. As our son.” His wife smiled ever so softly as she stepped as close to Michael as she could with the baby in her arms.

“Michael Langdon that is the most wonderful, sweetest thing I may have ever heard.” She puckered her lips and he obliged her with a kiss.

“What do you think? Do we have room in our home and our hearts for this little one?” Penelope kissed the forehead of the child and breathed in his distinct newborn smell with a smile.

“There is no calling I’d rather answer than the one of being his mother.”

Ophelia Evangeline Langdon

“Mommy can I help?” Penelope looked at her daughter, who was a mere silhouette against the backdrop of the sun, and held her hand out to her.

“Of course, my pumpkin.” Helena was in school and Isaac had joined a group of boys who were going to play a game on one of the fields. It had left Penelope with the whole day to spend with Ophelia.

The youngest Langdon was conceived only a year after Isaac had been adopted into their home. Penelope loved being a mother to Isaac, he was her son and no one would ever be able to convince her otherwise, but after indulging in a sip too much of wine one night she had alerted Michael that her womb felt a little empty. Promptly, the problem had been solved right there on the table.

She took after Penelope in more ways than even Helena had. While the eldest Langdon showed some abilities that also showed themself in Michael, Ophelia had nothing but light and warmth within her. She was almost better with the garden than her own mother.

“How, mama?” Penelope sat up straighter and beckoned for her daughter to sit in front of her.

“We are weeding. These are bad plants,” she plucked one and handed it to her daughter, “it steals the sunlight and water from the other plants and then they die.” Penelope thinks there might be many useful lessons in a discussion on weeds with her daughter.

“This looks like one!” she extended one chubby finger towards what indeed was a weed.

“It is! Go ahead and pull it...make sure you get the roots so it can never grow back.” Ophelia grunted with effort but yanked the weed and its roots cleanly from the soil. “Perfect, my love!” Penelope nestled a kiss against her cheek, her daughter squealing with delight at both her mother’s affection and the joy of saving the plants.

“Let’s do more, Mommy!”

Fiona Vivienne Langdon & Freya Rose Langdon

When Michael heard that he was to be a father to twins, he cackled with the irony. Had lost his breath from doubling over in hysterics that his mother’s curse was going to be his blessing. He even found it fitting to name one after his late mother. But also he had done so at the urging of his wife. Penelope had witnessed a particularly violent outburst by Michael in the throne room one day and it had scared her to her core. Sometimes she forgot the true nature of her husband and it was startling to be reminded of it by his actions. She had begged Michael to find a way to make peace with his past. Find a way to heal and move forward as a loving father and husband first, ruler of the world second.

The birth of the twins had been the perfect occasion for that. He had first been nervous that Penelope would suffer the same fate as his biological mother and when she came out stronger than she had gone in, he figured it was a sign from his father that he was being gifted a clean slate. The chance to rewrite his own childhood. Of course he had already begun to do so with his three older children but having twins was too uncanny to not view differently.

Funnily enough, the twins did not seem to possess any powers the way their parents or biological siblings did. No spoons randomly levitated at breakfast, no baby disappeared in thin air from their high chair and no animals came to the window answering their calls. They seemed to be normal, human children.

It worried Michael and Penelope that something had gone wrong for their powers and abilities to not be passed on in the same manner they previously had been but they found they should have been careful with what they wished for.

What the twins lacked in magical ability, they made up for in beauty. Every person who met them was stunned in silence over the grace of Fiona and Freya. It brought men and women to their knees. Made the most powerful of people tremble. They could get anyone to do anything they want.

It had scared Michael at first. This was a sort of power and it was one they absolutely had no control over. One they could never have control over because it was entirely reliant on the reactions of those around them. It cause a constant debate within him if he should keep them sheltered away to protect them. Penelope talked him out of such nonsense quickly. They were meant to be wild and free. Michael didn’t want to think that she was referencing herself on some level. Taken from the open air by him

It seems the twins were born at the right time in both their lives to fix the wrongs of the past and set new paths forward.

James Benjamin Langdon

Michael’s first biological son was born in a ball of fire. He was the hardest baby for Penelope to birthe and it had worried him, even more so than when Helena arrived, that he might lose her.

The reasoning was revealed when his father visited him later that night. It had been many moons since Michael had spoken to his father, his mission complete and his focus on being a father and a husband rather than a son. He was rocking James after having woken up himself when a shadow loomed on the wall and a voice slithered inside his head.

“He is your rightful heir. Take care of him. He will have the throne of the world.” It had horrified Michael. He looked down at his sleeping son, incredibly at peace and unaware of what was apparently waiting for him.

“I promise I will never abandon you,” he whispered against his son’s forehead.

When he lied in bed with Penelope the next night he told her of the visit he had gotten from his father. Of the news he had passed on.

“There has to be a way to balance the forces within him. To have him capable of leading the Sanctuary but without granting any power to the darkness.” She hadn’t been able to help Michael resist his urges as a child but she would be damned if the same fate befell one of her most precious creations.

Oliver Finn Langdon

Penelope had made many friends throughout her time as Queen of the Sanctuary. She got together with many fellow mothers and had taken the time to start a farmer’s market and school for the children to attend. Her closest companion was a woman by the name of Ariana. She was relatively new to the Sanctuary, having been brought from an overseas Outpost, and was very small and very shy. Penelope had taken her under her wing instantly. The goddess within her had sense her purity of soul and her loneliness.

She bonded with her children just as quickly, helping Penelope keep all six of them in line and on task. She helped tend to the garden and groom the horses and milk the cows. It was on one of these busy days that she confided in Penelope her biggest secret.

“Before I was brought to the Sanctuary, I fell pregnant.”

“Oh, Ari that is such wonderful news! How far along are you?”

“I haven’t built up the nerve to visit the doctors here yet. I wanted to get a lay of the land before trusting any of the people here.”

“I will go with you if that helps any. The precious being within you is probably perfectly strong and healthy though it can’t hurt to hear that from another source as well.” Penelope had been correct. The baby within her friend was perfectly strong and healthy. It was Ariana that hadn’t been. The birth of her son was her end. She held the child for a few moments as the doctors tried to stop the bleeding but it was no use. Penelope had watched the life drain from her friend’s eyes and had been powerless to do anything.

When she walked into her home with the child that night, Michael knew what must have happened to Ariana.

“My sweet darling,” he cooed as he rushed to embrace her. He pressed as close to her as he could with the baby cradled in her arms. She was trembling slightly from the exhaustion and sadness of the day.

“Michael...the baby…” She couldn’t find the right words to say to him. To ask him to welcome this little boy into their home and raise him as their own.Thankfully, she didn’t have to. Michael and her were bound at the soul which meant he knew what she needed before she even did.

“He will be raised as our son,” he murmured as he stroked his hand over the child’s hair. Penelope nodded her thanks to him tearfully before sagging against his chest and succumbing to the day.

Grace Ella Langdon

Grace was the Langdon child most interested in her parents magical roots. Though Michael and Penelope had eradicated the New Orleans coven long ago, witches and other magic users still resided throughout the new world. Michael took them out when he could as he never could trust a witch. He also knew the power of combined forces and wanted to make sure the splintered groups never joined together to make a whole.

His eighth child came from one of these splintered groups that he slaughtered. He couldn’t find it even within himself to harm a child. She was a mere babbling baby when he and his raiders enacted their mission to destroy the group. Michael knew she possessed power the moment he touch her little hand. Knew that he had vowed to destroy all witches. But he couldn’t destroy such a perfect little angel.

“My Lord, if you place the child-”

“No. This one is not to die. I will return home with her.” The little baby was clearly a survivor. The type of soul that was resilient and strong. The type of soul that would fit perfectly into his family.

Everly Violet Langdon

“Has she disappeared again?” Michael had come down from getting dressed for his day to see all his children peacefully eating their breakfast at the table but his wife was nowhere to be found.

“I thought she was just letting the dog out and then…” Michael grasped Penelope’s hand as she sighed deeply. “Maybe she is not meant to be in our family. Maybe I should stop trying so my heart stops breaking.” The toddler had been orphaned when a disease struck the newest members of the Sanctuary a little while back. All those that had been sick had since been eradicated but it had left a little wildling without parents.

“She is a little lost, my love. If the fields and forest help her feel whole, then I am sure we can learn to love her whilst she is in them.”

“She probably misses her parents. Her real family. Maybe I imagined my connection with her.” Michael reached down and intertwined his fingers with hers.

“I don’t think you did, my love. I think you are exactly the figure she needs to be her mother in life. To help her remember and love her old family while learning to fit in her new one.” He sensed that his wife was not going to leave her spot in the meadow until the wildling returned from wherever she had run off to. He figured his work could be put on hold for the day. His family needed him.

So they sat there until the sky began to dim with the setting of the sun, her acceptance of defeat on the tip of her tongue when a figure broke through the tree line. Penelope stood up slowly and watched as the girl approached her.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” the wildling whispered as she reached her.

“It is quite alright, little one. Would you like to come inside for some supper?”

“Please.” Penelope reached out her hand the little girl grasped onto it quickly. The girl reach her other hand out to Michael as a sign for him to take it and join them on their walk back to the castle for dinner. He held her hand gently and smiled as she led the way back to their home. Their family.

Charlie Henry Langdon

“He’s quite the little rascal, isn’t he?” Michael mused as Penelope snuggled against his chest. They were sat by the fire at a time of night where it was black outside and not a sound could be heard. The latest orphan from the Sanctuary, Charlie, was much too full of life to go to sleep. Penelope couldn’t deny him a thing. She couldn’t for any of her children.

“He’s oddly like you, my love. Doesn’t much like pants.” She smiled as she watched the little boy run naked in circles. It was so comforting to have a little one back in their household. It brought a levity to the bustling castle. When one child was crying over their parents being unfair or another upset the outdoor game day had been cancelled for rain, Charlie was always just happy to be with the people he was growing to love. He was the first successfully birthed synthetic child for Michael and the scientists at the Sanctuary. They had worked tirelessly to produce synthetic sperm and eggs, wombs having come along awhile ago, and Charlie had been the result. It was only right he join the Langdon family. Michael said he felt like his son anyways.

“Do you ever wonder what the future holds?” he whispered as his eyes got lost in the fire.

“I think it holds us, our children...watching them grow and having ten more.” She was smiling but Michael knew it wasn’t teasing or a joke.

“I wish to use our immortality for the most passionate of lovemaking and you wish to use it for the product of such activity. What a wonderful pair we make.” Now her smile turned silly as she leaned in to kiss his lips softly.

“I love you, Michael Langdon. Thank you for giving me such a beautiful life.”

“I love you, Penelope Langdon. Thank you for letting me live it with you.”

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