#prompts: royal scarf shrug

[goddess47]

Hand Made

For @sterekdrabbles February 2, 2024 prompts - royal, scarf, shrug

-----

"And... finished!" Stiles shrugged his shoulders to relieve the tension.

"Really?" Eli lit up.

Stiles held up the royal blue scarf. "What do you think?"

Eli took the carefully knitted scarf. "It's beautiful!" He looked up. "Is it okay to give it away?"

Stiles nodded. "That's what I made it for," he said. "It's yours to do with as you please."

Eli leaned in for a quick hug. "Thank you, papa!" He scampered off.

"He'll be sad about the scarf if he breaks up with that girl," Derek commented. "He's only a teen-ager."

"Meh. Part of growing up," Stiles replied.

[triskhellion]

Anticipation

Chosen: Part 5 (Part 1, Part 4)

For @sterekdrabbles

Prompts: royal, scarf, shrug

M | 100w | mating bites | mating bonds | undressing

He lifted a hand to his throbbing mark, unsteady from the new and intense sensations coursing through him. His bondmate looked every inch the wolf he was, ravenous and poised to pounce in his royal blue Suitor's coat. He could feel Derek’s consuming desire. His elation.

Stiles smiled and took a deep breath, shrugging out of the pale green Awaiting robe. He untied and removed his drawers, throwing them alongside the unworn black Declination scarf, and crawled onto his bed. Fabric rustled and ripped behind him and when he turned to lie back Derek was right there.

Naked. Glorious. Daunting.

[quackquackcey]

Royal Red

Stiles always warms Derek up, body and soul.~ 🧣 (AO3).

For @sterekdrabbles 2/2/24 prompt: ‘royal, scarf, shrug’. 100 words. Rated G. Tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort.

Blood dripped from Derek's claws as Stiles stepped over the mauled bodies that lay around Derek.

Derek wondered what he would say—"Again?"

Maybe "You're beginning to scare me."

The latter was what Derek feared most.

But instead, Stiles wrapped a scarf around his neck.

Derek wanted to cry.

"Really?" he murmured.

Stiles shrugged. "Your alpha powers won’t protect you from the cold, Mr. Big Bad Werewolf."

"Yeah, they just give me bloodred eyes," muttered Derek. "For the bodies I kill."

Stiles pressed a kiss on Derek's lips, warm as ever, and smiled. "Royal red. For the lives you save."

[beyondspaceandstars]

hello writer!! i was wondering if you could do a fluff arranged marriage loki oneshot with the prompt “can we makeout now?”

thanks for considering!

Dating and Marriage

Relationship: Loki x Reader

Warnings: N/A, just fluff!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: alright i hope this is okay and ended up well i love the arrange marriage AU and i thought i was gonna be better at putting this together but maybe its clunky or something idk i still like it so i hope you do as well!

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It had taken you a while to get somewhere in your relationship with Loki.

When the two of you were informed you had already been promised to one another before either of your births, you weren’t too shocked. As both of you came from royal standings, arranged marriages were far too common for a variety of reasons. In your case, it was to cement a peace treaty.

Sure, at first, you and Loki were very annoyed with the decision, especially since neither of you was ever even given the chance to be in on the conversation but that annoyance wasn’t allowed for very long. You two were adults now and had to take on your royal responsibilities as such. That responsibility included following through on the outlined marriage.

Loki didn’t seem to harbor any malice towards you and you never held anything against him. But, still, it wasn’t like you two were in love. You were tolerating one another.

And for a while, that toleration was enough. As a couple, you were quite poised in public. Sometimes you thought maybe it was hard for others to believe it was an arranged marriage based on how much you seemed to accept each other’s company. It was okay at times, you felt like you had a friend. Being a royal in a whole new palace could be lonely. Loki at least would spare you some time to sit and chat.

But this unusual friendship you two had started after the wedding was growing into something else for you day by day. And as much as he probably wanted to deny it, you could see something shift within Loki. He’d look at you differently. Reach for your hand when out of the public eye. Even began inviting you to spend his leisure time with him.

There was no avoiding the fact you two were headed on a different course than originally planned in this arrangement and despite its prevalence, you two didn’t speak about it. But you were growing greatly tired of ignoring it.

"We should go on a date," you suddenly said one afternoon. You and Loki were sitting in the library. He was in his favorite chair, consumed with some fairytale while you were seated on the couch across from him, in the process of knitting…something. You didn’t know what — you had only taken up knitting because you had heard other princesses did it. Making scarves had become all the rage.

You could feel Loki eyeing you suspiciously as you tried working on another stitch.

Eventually, he placed his book to the side and spoke. "A date?" Loki echoed.

You shrugged, not taking your eyes off the yarn. "Yeah, a date. You know, just the two of us. We could go out or — or maybe make some dinner here. I’ve been having the kitchen servants teach me about cooking."

"I know what a date is," he sighed. "What I meant is, why should we go on a date? We’re already married."

You felt a bit defeated with that response. You set your yarn on your lap and looked at your husband. He was watching you quite intensely, waiting for your answer. You shivered under the icy stare.

"Y-You don’t want to—"

Loki cut you off abruptly. "I didn’t say that." He glanced down then back at you. "It’s just that… Dates are for wooing, yes? Why would I need that when I can already tell you’re taken with me."

Your heart dropped. You blinked at him, stunned. You hadn’t expected him to just…admit he knew what was working up in your mind. There was some pride in his eyes at your reaction but behind it, you could make out a hint of fascination.

You tried shaking off your pounding heart. You promptly picked back up the yarn, continuing your hopeless scarf, as you responded, "Have you never considered that maybe your wife still wants to be wooed despite the status of her interest."

"So you admit," he chuckled, "you have fallen for me."

You scoffed, "Don’t act all high and mighty. I’m well aware of how you look at me."

You heard Loki lean back in the chair as the leather of it creaked. You could feel his eyes roaming over you but you didn’t know in what capacity. Whatever was in his eyes now you were ignoring as you frantically tried to focus on knitting and not your love confession.

"Okay," he eventually said. "We’ll have a date."

It was impossible for you to hold back the smile forming on your lips.

***

After minimal deliberation, Loki agreed to let you cook for him. You had heard that the Midgardians used food as signs of love and were fascinated with trying to learn some dishes. You studied with the servants for days trying to perfect a meal. They were always a little uncertain about letting a princess in where servant frequented but once you explained this time you were cooking to please your husband, they giggled like schoolgirls, excited to help.

Once you felt prepared enough, you informed your husband of when you wanted the date. You may have had to do some rework of both your royal schedules but it was fine. Meetings are forever, love can be fleeting.

You were preparing the food when Loki hesitantly entered the kitchen. You had explained that you two would be eating at the kitchen table. It was just a little table where servants usually sat to eat meals or relax in between shifts.

Loki had originally protested this saying he was not of such low status. You assured him that there was no intimacy to be found at the grand dining hall. It was far too big and annoying for two people. He didn’t argue further, just mumbling that he’d be there at the time requested.

And, luckily, he followed through.

"Hi, honey," you smiled, watching the stew simmer above the flame.

Loki took his seat gently as if he was going to catch something from the table. "This is really what you wanted to do for our date?"

You nodded. "I’ve had so much fun learning this meal and doesn’t it smell great? I think it’s going to be nice. I ever have bread baking." You motioned towards the stone oven. Loki followed your gaze but didn’t look impressed yet.

"We could’ve very easily had someone make this for us," Loki pointed out. "We have that luxury, darling."

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your bubbling stew. You could feel your anger bubbling in the same fashion.

"That’s not the point, Loki," you said, the tone in the kitchen shifting as you spoke his name. You rarely ever did. He perked up as you continued, "The point is that I, your wife, like you and would like to express my adornment through a freshly cooked meal."

Loki fell silent with that, something that was so rare for him. You didn’t push any further, though, and instead killed the fire under the stew and presented your bread from the oven. You divided it out into individual portions then placed each on the table. Still with an annoyed, sour look, you sat across from your husband. He was watching the stew, you were watching him.

"It—It looks delicious," he said

"Thank you," you mumbled. You two dug in then, this date now turning out a bit more awkward than you had planned. Neither of you spoke for a while, instead filling the kitchen with the slurping of soup and chewing of bread.

Loki soon began looking between you and the food like he was working up the courage to say something which was absolutely ridiculous to you. Your husband was one of the most outspoken people in the realm.

Eventually, you just decided to look up at him, your eyes begging for him to say whatever he wanted to say.

"This meal is lovely," Loki eventually said. "Th-Thank you for…doing all this."

You smiled, a faint blush creeping up on your cheeks. "You’re welcome."

Loki finished his stew then asked, "What else should we do on this date?"

Now you were really blushing. While taking your little cooking classes, you asked the servants what else goes on on dates. They seemed like lovely girls and you were curious. You had heard stories before of dancing and parties but you wanted something more intimate and you had never actually been on much of a date before. You spent time with boys in your youth and the night before your wedding you and Loki had talked for a little bit but nothing was ever of such fashion.

One servant had informed you, quite shyly, that she and her boyfriend always finished their dates by making out. You had gasped, amazed at her bluntness but then remembered these were servant girls. They lived far less controlled lives than you.

You were partially envious but then you realized, technically, you had a husband. A husband who was capable of making out with you even if such actions and beyond were typically reserved for very a calculated time — heir bearing, such intimacy only happened during the time when potential conception was at its peak.

"Well," you said, running your spoon through your bowl of stew, "one of the servants that helped me said her and her boyfriend end their dates with make-outs."

"Making out?" Loki repeated, brows raised in surprise. "But it’s not—"

"I know."

He looked away. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain. "You want to make out with me for fun."

You giggled at his shock. "Is that so unbelievable? I thought we already established I am into my husband."

"Yes, but you, well, neither of us, have never been so bold before."

"But it’s not such a bad thing," you shrugged, "to be so bold."

Loki hummed in agreement as he eyed you. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you definitely knew something between you two had shifted. It had already been shifting, sure, but your newly expressed desires opened the dam walls.

"Alright, dear, I think I can indulge you."

You smiled at his excitement which he was certainly trying to hide. But you maybe wanted to take a moment to maybe mess with him a bit. "Hmm," you glanced around at the dirty pots and pans, "after we clean up."

Loki’s jaw dropped. "What?"

"We can get on with our date once we clean up."

"You’re kidding me, right?" He pointedly asked. You shook your head. Loki huffed, "When did my wife become such a tease?"

You stood up, collecting your bowls and plates, bringing them to the counter. "I’ve always been like this, honey," you said. "Maybe you just have to get to know me a little bit more."

Loki began stalking towards you as you pretended to be fooling with the dirty dishes. "Well, darling," he said as his hands came upon your hips, "there’s something you must know about me and it’s that I don’t like to be kept waiting."

"I can maybe leave all this for later if you ask nicely."

He scoffed. "Are you asking me to beg?"

You shook your head. "I’m just asking you to ask nicely."

"Fine," he sighed. "Please, can we make out now?"

You sighed, leaning into his hard body. His arms moved to wrap around your waist now. "Yes, your majesty."

Loki chuckled lowly, dangerously, in your ear. "Thank you, princess."

He leaned his head around and within seconds, your lips were captured with his, getting more and more lost in one another as you two become a miss of kisses and touches.

[zirkkun]

❤️ULR Speed Date Event Results - Part 5/5!💙

And, very unsurprisingly, Ace is in first place for the amount of submissions he received, that being 82! Due to the fact that there was so many submissions, he has a lot more I debated between (and even though one of these was a joke response... it was still pretty story worthy):

❤️ Ary 💙 dragon anon ❤️ din 💙 Vee ❤️ Yours~ 💙 ya know, nyah :3c ❤️ Chaomingo 💙 Lilianna ❤️ Orly

And last but not least is the winner of Ace’s date will be revealed. You can read the date either under read more or on AO3!

🖤--✨--❤️

Undertale (c) Toby Fox Underlust by @/nsfwshamecave Underlust Reimagine by myself

Thank you for your support, but do remember to support and read Underlust (18+) if you can!

ulr masterpost || ulr main tag || ulr ask box || ulr comic beginning || kofi?

... the anon who submitted under the name Lilianna!

❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙

Sans still didn't want to be a part of this. He didn't want to be doing this at all. But, unfortunately, his brother wouldn't take "hell no" for an answer. So now he was stuck on a date. With a human, no less. Oh joy. Despite the fact that living on the Surface was so saught after, he really wasn't finding it to be appealing.

At least, for the start of this, he was by himself. Maybe a long time ago, he would have been bothered by someone being late to an event like this, but for now, he was indulging in the silence.

She, Sans's date, decided that she wanted to meet at this park outside of the city, late at night, for a chance to watch the stars. Frankly, he didn't really care one way or another. But, he did eventually find himself standing at the ledge of a bridge, watching the stars twinkling in their reflection on a river. That and the dead silence, only bug noises chirping here and there; was shockingly more relaxing than Sans had anticipated it would be.

"There you are! Sorry I'm late!!"

And the relaxation was cut short. Oh well. Not that he didn't expect that.

Sans turned his attention towards the direction of the voice, spotting the human running up to him as fast as she could. Panting as she caught up to him on the bridge, she exclaimed, "I'm so, so sorry, things were backed up getting out of the city and --"

"i don't really care," Sans cut in. He turned his attention back to the river.

The human, a little taken aback, tried to brush over the harsh comment. She took a step towards the edge of bridge, holding on to the railing with a tight grip. The silence echoed in the park once more, but for the human, this was more awkward than anything else. She didn't really know what to say... is there a topic she knew offhand he'd be willing to discuss? Um... no, not really. 

"hey."

Oh! He said something first! "Yeah?" the human responded.

"do you think a fall from this height into the river would kill me?"

A brief moment of silence. It held both shock and interest from each halves of the conversation.

"What -- I don't know?! I don't really want to know!! That sounds painful regardless and I really don't want to find out!!"

But Sans just laughed at her sudden panic. "relax. i was joking."

"Th... that's a bit of a dark joke, don't you think?"

He shrugged. "It happens." He didn't elaborate, leaving the silence to once again consume the conversation into nothing. The human shifted uncomfortably where she stood.

She debated back and forth on another topic to talk about. Anything to ease the tension -- especially since it got worse with his topic of choice.

"Um... so, on that form thing, you asked me about stuff I like to do... but what about stuff you like to do?" she prompted, hoping it wouldn't be another dark joke response.

"hm." Sans pondered the question for a while, not really knowing what to say. When's the last time he did something he liked doing? Probably when he was working with the other Royal Scientists. Which was over ten years ago. "i dunno," he answered instead. "haven't done anything just 'cause in a long time."

"Oh." The human frowned. "Well, maybe we could do something together sometime then, and you can find a new hobby? Only if you'd like, of course."

Sans raised a brow as he flicked his gaze to her. "like what?"

"Oh, um... well, I like to bake, draw, and read... but those are all pretty boring so maybe not those..." she responded sheepishly.

Sans didn't react negatively, but he wasn't exactly enthusiastic either. He's practically read every book from the Underground cover-to-cover with how much time he's had on his hands, and his drawing skills were... not to be admired. And Papyrus has always been on his case to eat more. So... "i dunno, baking?" he blurted.

The human blinked. "As in, you'd want to do some baking together?"

"yeah, sure, whatever."

"You really don't sound all that interested."

"i'm not interested in most things, what's your point?"

The human shuffled back into silence for a brief while as she herself started to stare at the river, her eyes trailing down the reflection until they met the sky, full of crystal-clear stars. "You don't have to if you don't want to," she added. "I know you're already... not super excited about this current date, so please don't feel like you have to force yourself further."

Ah. There it was. The same kind of consideration that made him pick this person over everyone else in the first place. Some people had acknowledged him not wanting to deal with this, but their responses were things like, "Then why be here?" which only irked him enough to toss them aside. Some disacknowledged it, which he prefered, but something about when she said... "You seem like you don't want to do this anyways, which is all good," really hit him in a way he didn't expect.

Sans, however, did not even consider responding out loud, and instead just pulled his scarf up tighter on his face. Sans? Being honest and clear with his emotions? Haha. How funny. Easier to just push them aside. A void of feeling is much easier to deal with.

Well, he did give a sort of grunt of acknowledgment to her comment. But... it was really far after she'd said anything. So she thought he was prompting something new.

"What's that?" she asked.

"nothing."

"Then...?" But the human just shook her head. Maybe talk about something else. "You know..." She'd started a sentence, but didn't actually have anything to say. In a frantic moment to try and finish what she'd started, she said, "Time is a precious thing, isn't it?"

There was a pause.

"what'd'ya mean?" Sans asked.

"We only get so much of it. It's so limited and can be taken from us in a second."

"... yeah, and?"

"I just... I like spending time with people," she finalized. "There's only so much time I have available, and I want to be able to spend as much of it as I can with people I care about and doing things I've wanted to do. Thinking about it all is a bit scary sometimes..."

Sans debated the crass comment of "so what you're saying is i should leave and do something i'd rather be doing," but he figured now was not the time for something like that. He waited a moment to see if the human had more to say about the topic, but when she didn't, he decided to jump in with his own response. "worrying about what you might lose out on is kinda pointless," he said bluntly. "sometimes shit ain't gonna work out, and you'll miss out on something you'd have rather wanted. sometimes people are taken away from you when you least expect it and you're left wondering if you did enough for them or with them. but it's not the end of the world. you've gotta just work with what you're dealt with."

The human didn't expect such a long, nor deep, reply from him, and was a little taken aback by it. While these may have been things said before, or maybe she'd even considered them, it was different to hear them coming from someone who two seconds ago wanted to jump off the bridge. Frankly... does that mean she should take his words with a grain of salt, or...?

"sorry," Sans blurted. "said more than i shoulda."

"Wh -- n-no, don't worry about that!! I just... didn't expect you to have a lot to say on the topic. Or, I guess, to really reply lengthy at all. But it's okay! I'm glad you let me hear your thoughts."

He pulled his scarf tighter as he grunted a response, staring still at the reflection in the river.

[melzula]

hi ! i don’t know if this counts as a whole prompt, but could i request some iroh ii ? maybe their reunion when kya’s daughter went back with bumi to the fire nation and their whole reunion to wedding story ?

a/n: I just did the reunion part of this because it would be hard to cram the whole timeline into one piece aha but nonetheless enjoy!

*based off of these hc’s

The cool breeze of the ocean air does little to calm your nerves as you fidget with the beads that wrap themselves neatly around your wrist and stare out into the open water. The Fire Nation docks are fast approaching, and you foolishly wonder if everything will be the same as it was when you left it behind all those years ago. You wonder if he is still the same, fearing for a moment that perhaps he has forgotten you after being apart for so long, but you don’t have time to dwell on your anxieties when a firm clap on your shoulder breaks you from your thoughts.

“Why the long face, kiddo?” Your Uncle Bumi grins. “I thought you’d be happier to be back here.”

“I am,” you reassure him, “it’s just I’m a little nervous is all. I haven’t been here in so long...”

“Well I’m sure the royals will be happy to see you,” he says. “You were Lord Zuko’s star student after all, and General Iroh is always asking about you.”

“He is?” You gasp, doing your best to quell the excitement that bubbles up inside of you at the news. You always brushed off your infatuation with the General as a silly childhood crush, but if that were the case then the mere mention of him shouldn’t have made you as cheerful as it did.

“Of course! Why do you think I brought you out here with me? Some good old nostalgia would be perfect for you!”

“Uncle,” you say with a pointed look. Bumi grins sheepishly.

“You could use a friend, y/n. And so could Iroh.”

You don’t get the chance to argue or insist that you’re fine, that you’re perfectly okay with the fact that your best friend is your Gran Gran, as the ship pulls into the docks and Fire Nation guards arrive to escort you to the palace. None of them are familiar to you, most of the men you’d known as a child having retired by now, but they still greet you with the same kindness as always, a perk of being the Avatar’s granddaughter and the Commander’s niece.

“I have to prepare for the meeting,” your uncle says as you reach the front gates and are permitted entry to the palace, “but if you want to head off and look for some old friends or even just explore your old playing grounds go right ahead.”

“Good look with the meeting, Uncle Bumi,” you reply before gifting the man a kiss on the cheek and parting ways with him for now.

You find yourself wandering into the gardens, admiring the blooming fire lilies and enjoying the refreshing breeze that blows cooly against your face as you reminisce on the memories you hold in this very spot. If you look hard enough you can almost see yourself sitting underneath the shade of the tree with Zuko and his grandson studying fire bending scrolls and enjoying cups of tea. Life had been so quiet and simple then, so peaceful. Maybe Bumi was right about needing a friend; you’d never felt lonelier in your entire life than you did now looking upon old childhood memories.

“Y/n?” A voice calls almost hesitantly, void of the confidence he’d always held, and despite the fact that your heart catches in your throat at the sound of his voice you will yourself to turn around and face the man you never stopped thinking about.

You can’t help the way your mouth hangs agape at the sight of him; he’d always been a good looking boy, but over the years Iroh had grown into the handsomest man you’d ever seen. He was beautiful with his strong jaw and shimmering gold irises, and despite how much he’d changed over the years he still held that same boyish grin you’d taken comfort in many times before.

“Iroh,” you finally say, heat crawling up your neck as you smile shyly. He’s rushing towards you in an instant, pulling you into his chest for a tight hug and laughing with pure unadulterated joy.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he admits with a sheepish grin, hands resting on your shoulders as he pulls away and looks you in the eyes. You don’t know it, but he’s just as taken back by your beauty. He was used to seeing you running around in your pigtails with your wide smile and a few teeth missing; you were absolutely radiant, your features maturing with the time that had passed, but your eyes still held that same twinkle they always did.

“It’s so good to you, old friend,” you say, smiling fondly as you rest a hand upon his cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

“So have I,” he replies, and you don’t miss the way he seems to melt into your touch. “I have a meeting to attend to, but perhaps you’d like to accompany me to dinner tonight? I want to hear about all of your adventures.”

“Dinner sounds lovely.”

“Perfect,” Iroh grins, “I’ll see you then.”

He parts from you then with a kiss on the cheek, leaving you with a dazed smile alone in the gardens as you watch him walk into the palace.

“We’re having dinner,” you murmur quietly to yourself, an excited smile pulling at your lips as you rush towards your assigned quarters to prepare.

~~~

“A date with the General, huh?”

“It’s not a date, Uncle Bumi,” you remind him as you sit before the vanity and slip on your favorite pair of earrings, a pair your mother had bought for you once during your travels, “it’s just dinner.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” he teases with a knowing grin. “You know, I always had a feeling about you two.”

“You said the same thing about Uncle Tenzin and Aunt Lin,” you retort only for Bumi to grimace.

“I never said it was a good feeling.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you shrug nonchalantly. “We’re just two old friends who want to catch up with each other.”

Oh, but it actually is a very big deal for you. You can’t remember the last time anyone has taken you out to dinner or the last time you had actually dressed yourself up for someone else, and frankly you don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s Iroh, after all, your childhood friend, why should you be nervous?

“Oh, I’ll walk you out!” Your Uncle exclaims excitedly once you put the finishing touches on your ensamble, and before you can even get up from your chair Bumi is yanking you onto your feet and dragging you out of the room towards the front gates where Iroh is presumably waiting for you. “I only wish your mother were here to see this!”

“Uncle,” you groan in quiet embarrassment, “you seem more excited than I am.”

“What? That’s nonsense!” Bumi scoffs. “Can’t I just appreciate the romanticism that comes with seeing old friends?”

“I see you’re a poet much like your father,” a third voice intrudes, a smiling Iroh startling both you and your uncle. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, not at all!” Bumi says before you can so much as open your mouth to reply. “In fact I was just leaving. You kids have fun! Oh, and uh, bring her back home safe and sound and all that protective Uncle junk I’m supposed to say.”

“Of course, Commander,” he says with a slight laugh before turning to you. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” you smile, making sure to give your Uncle a chaste kiss to the cheek before taking Iroh’s outstretched and following him out the front gates. Your Uncle watches your retreating forms with a faint smile and a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Phase one of my matchmaking plan is complete.”

~~~

The royal plaza is beautiful at night. Lanterns hang from the skies and bathe the streets in their golden hue. The restaurants and shops are bustling with customers as lovers, families, and friends all spend their evenings out on the town. No one seems to notice your presence— Iroh had insisted that no guards were needed to escort you both— and for that you are grateful.

“Hungry for anything in particular? I know you were especially fond of dumplings when we were children,” Iroh notes with a chuckle.

“I’d love anything spicy. As much as I enjoy sea prunes and seal jerky, nothing in the south really has that same kick to it that Fire Nation food has.”

“I know the perfect place,” Iroh says, and you have to fight against the way your stomach seems to summersault when he takes your hand in his own and weaves you through the streets.

You end up in a quiet little restaurant together where the food is fresh and the hostess is the sweetest little old lady you’ve ever met, though she brings you way more food than you ordered. You’re eager to scarf down the spicy noodles and steaming buns, so eager in fact that you don’t notice the love stricken way in which Iroh watches you practically inhale your food.

“How’s your family?” He asks behind his cup of tea.

“Good. Gran Gran has been training the new Avatar and my mother helps where she can. My Uncle Tenzin and Aunt Pema just had a new baby not too long ago, a son named Meelo.”

“That’s amazing,” Iroh smiles, “congratulations on your new cousin.”

“Thank you. Our family is certainly growing,” you say with a slight laugh. “And how are things with you and your family?”

“I have to admit, I haven’t really been home much to know,” Iroh chuckles. “This visit is also my first time back in a while. Mother is a gracious ruler and the people love her, my sister is still living her quiet life with her husband out on the farm, and my grandfather comes back and forth all the time. Everyone seems to be happy.”

“And are you happy?”

“I like to think so. I’m the youngest General in the United Forces which is a great accomplishment, and I’m having dinner with a friend I thought I’d never see again, so yes, I’m very happy,” he notes with a wink. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his slyness, a small huff blowing past your nose.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you tease.

“Really, y/n,” Iroh says, all features void of his previous humor as they morph into a more tender nature. He reaches across the table and rests a hand across your own, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ve missed you, and I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Me too,” you admit with a tiny smile. “It’s been hard without you, friend.”

“Friend,” Iroh repeats with a small sigh, but his smile never falters. He pays for your meal and offers you his arm to guide you back to the palace; you talk about old memories and new ones, your adventures during your time apart, and your excitement to create new ones together. You’ve never been happier, and for the first time in a long time the loneliness that normally gnaws at your spirit is nowhere to be found.

“Can you find your room okay?” Iroh asks as you reach the front doors of the palace.

“I can,” you nod with a smile. “I’m actually staying in the room I had when I was a kid.”

“Go figure,” he laughs softly before gracing you with a sweet smile. “Thank you for accompanying me to dinner tonight. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“You will.”

“Good. I look forward to it,” Iroh says. “Sleep well, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Iroh,” you utter with a small smile, making sure to gift him a kiss on the cheek before disappearing inside. Stunned, the General stands frozen in place with a dazed smile on his face. He hasn’t felt this way about anyone in such a long time, hadn’t felt such genuine excitement and joy, and he had to admit that it somewhat intimidated him. He’d always seen you as the girl he’d grown up with, the one he’d spent his time with stealing desserts from the kitchen and running through the hallways, but now...

“Spirits,” Iroh exclaims with a breathless laugh. “I think I’m in love.”

In the gardens sits the trio of adults who watch the scene unfold before them, knowing looks exchanged among them as they sip their tea and watch Iroh disappear into the palace.

“They make a handsome pair, don’t they?” Zuko notes offhandedly to his daughter. “I give them a month.”

“A month?” Bumi snorts. “No way! Three weeks maybe, but not a month.”

“I have more faith in my son than that,” Izumi says with the shake of her head. “One week.”

“One week?!” The Commander exclaims with a laugh. “Oh, you’re on!”

“Betting over the love life of my grandson and my former student was not how I pictured spending my retirement,” Zuko sighs, but there’s a smile on his face as he considers his grandson courting the granddaughter of his best friend. Life has a funny way of working out sometimes.

And it was going to work out for you and Iroh.

| iroh/atla tags: @nataliahaslosthershit @zukh03s @rainteslerrrr @simpinforsukka |

[braiawrites]

Lost & Found - Chapter 3

Summary: A messenger fills Jude and Madoc in on important news. Jude and the cat pay a visit to the palace. || Inspired by this prompt by @newblood-freya

Words: 3188

Rating: T

Warnings: Brief description of a murder in the first section.

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER FOUR

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

Send me an ask!

A/N: So I thought writing a multi-chapter would be much easier once I had a solid plot laid out but when I tell you I was dragging words out by my teeth—yeah, I'm not super happy with this chapter but it's here and technically I had it finished in time, just not posted so uh. Good for me? Yeah I'll shut up now, here's chapter 3.

***

Dead. One of the princes was dead.

Jude stood stock still for a long moment, the shock on her face palpable as the words echoed in her mind.

Prince Dain was dead. Did that mean Cardan was, too?

Finally, she swallowed and took a shaky breath. “Prince Dain is dead?"

“Did you not know?” Madoc’s voice was heavy, his eyes sharp.

“No,” Jude gasped. “No, I–no. I thought this was about Cardan. I thought—I don’t know what, exactly, but not this.”

Madoc ran a large hand over his jaw, and then—

“Sit.” He gestured to one of the chairs set along the wall. “You might as well stay to hear the rest.”

She nodded numbly, hesitating before turning to the chair. The cat was standing next to her, black fur fluffed up and small body trembling, his eyes fixed on her foster father. He seemed as horrified as she felt.

“Your guest can stay as well,” Madoc said, tilting his head curiously at the cat. “We will talk about keeping pets later.”

With a nod, she scooped him up as she moved to sit down, tucking the trembling form into herself. She wanted to murmur comforts into his soft black fluff—as much for him as for herself, she suspected—but with Madoc and the messenger looking on, she settled for soothingly stroking the length of his back.

Madoc turned his attention to the messenger boy. “Report,” he instructed, like the boy were one of his soldiers.

He certainly reacted like one, his spine straightening and his chin lifting as he snapped his liquid gaze up to Madoc’s.

Jude didn’t blame him. The old redcap could have that effect.

“Prince Dain never returned to his quarters yesterday,” the imp said. “He was found by a librarian this evening in the royal lineage section, propped against the shelf and—” the imp paused, looking slightly sick, “and with his throat slit.”

“Any other injuries?” Madoc’s voice was cool and steady, as though he were asking about the weather, not the murder of a prince.

“I didn’t—I don’t know, sir. I didn’t see the body.”

At the general’s displeased grunt, the boy rushed to add, “But—at the time of my departure, they were just going to fetch a royal physician. They’ll have the report by now, I’m sure.”

“Hmph,” Madoc responded. “I’ll just have to go and find out for myself. Dismissed.”

As the imp bowed and turned to leave, Jude found herself blurting, “Wait!” the word coming out before she had a chance to think better of it.

The imp halted, glancing first at Madoc, who shrugged, and then at her.

“What about Prince Cardan?” she asked. “Has there been any news of him?”

The cat on her lap stirred slightly, his paws kneading into her legs at the mention of the disfavoured prince’s name.

“Not to my knowledge,” the boy said, shaking his head, and Jude felt her heart drop.

She nodded her thanks as the messenger bowed again and left, not trusting herself to speak through the tightening of her throat or the worry washing through her. For all he’d done to her, for all that he was her worst enemy, she never would have wished him dead.

Madoc’s commanding rumble broke through her fear. “Go and have the stablehands prepare me a mount,” he said. His eyes glared into hers as he repeated, “One mount.”

“I’m not—” Jude started, her fists clenching, but she swallowed her protest. There was no point in saying anything—he’d already made it clear that he wouldn’t allow her to come.

“Fine,” she said instead, and gathered her cat up as she left.

~ ~ ~

Jude did not go to the stables, but instead marched straight to her room, the heels of her boots clicking on the wooden floors. She caught a servant along the way to demand a mount be made ready for Madoc, and then set about preparing for her own trip to the palace.

As she strapped her sword belt to her waist and hid daggers under her sleeves, she kept glancing sidelong at the little cat pacing her floor. His tail lashed viciously with each step, his eyes bright. He must sense her own agitation.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I’m just worried. But I’m not staying home until Madoc brings word. For all I know, he’ll leave out all of the most important details to keep me from getting involved.” She scowled. “I’m not a child anymore. And I’m going to find out what happened to Cardan.”

The cat meowed and when she glanced over he met her eyes full on with his own amber bright glare. She could have sworn he’d sounded annoyed as she glared back at him, trying not to let her unnerve show. It wasn’t natural how human he seemed sometimes.

With a deep, steadying breath, she strapped the last sheath to her thigh and double checked the blade before sliding it into place.

She glanced at her cat again. “Are you coming?”

He mewed and clambered up her clothes, his claws pricking her skin.

“I swear you do that on purpose,” she grumbled as she checked out her window.

In the distance, Madoc was galloping astride a dark horse, almost at the edge of the Milkwood. By the time she had a mount saddled, he would be too far ahead to notice her.

With the cat slunk over her shoulders like a warm scarf, she made her way down to the stables and chose a light-footed creature reminiscent of a reindeer with glassy eyes and long fangs on either side of its mouth.

She made good time through the woods, her mount swift and smooth as it dodged trees and leapt fallen logs. The cat perched on the saddle before her, little face upturned in the wind, eyes slitted in pleasure, and Jude would have joined him had there not been a knot in her stomach at the possibility of Cardan being dead.

When the palace of Elfhame came into view, she pulled her mount to a stop and left it to graze out of view. Though it would have been quicker, coming careening up to the castle on the back of a fanged reindeer would be far from inconspicuous.

She continued on foot, the cat riding on her shoulders once again until they neared the base of the hill where the entrance was hidden by humming magic.

Two guards stood watch today, a precaution to keep unwanted visitors out after the news of Prince Dain’s murder. She had planned to enter quietly, but that may be impossible now.

As Jude drew closer, the guards moved in unison, drawing their weapons.

“What business do you have at the palace?" the taller of the two asked.

Jude lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “I’m here with General Madoc,” she declared, to which the shorter guard snickered.

“Sure you are, mortal.”

The taller one shook her head. “The general specifically stated that he came alone.”

Jude fought the urge to clench her fists as the guards remained unmoving. “I need to see him,” she tried, “it’s important.”

“There’s nothing we can do about that,” the short guard drawled. “No one’s allowed in or out without explicit orders.”

The taller one shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. We can take a message, if you like.”

Jude shook her head, already turning away with a mumbled excuse, when her cat leapt off her shoulder and disappeared into the hill.

“Hey!” she called after him, moving to follow, but the guards stepped in front of her.

“You can’t go in.”

“But my cat—”

“You live in the general’s household?” the taller guard asked.

“Yes.”

“We’ll make sure the cat gets sent back with him if we see it again.”

She ground her teeth but nodded. “Fine. Guess I’m leaving then.”

“Guess you are,” the shorter guard challenged.

She fought the urge to say something smart back, or draw her sword on him, and instead walked around the hill.

“Where are you going now?” one of the guards called.

Nosy, she thought, but yelled back, “Visiting a friend,” and rounded the base of the hill until she was out of their view.

There had to be another way in, and so long as there was one, she would find it. She paced a half circle around the side of the hill opposite the guards, searching for another illusioned entrance or tunnel, a servants’ door—nothing.

Jude was just about to give up when she heard a triumphant, “Mrrrow!” from somewhere above. It was her cat, his little black head poking out an open window halfway up the hill.

“You genius little kitty!” she praised him, jogging up the sloping earth and climbing through the round window. As she eased the wood-bordered glass pane shut again, she whispered, “I didn’t even know these opened.”

The cat purred, looking decidedly smug, and Jude marvelled again at his strangeness.

“You don’t happen to know the way to the dungeons too, do you?” she asked, half jokingly.

He chirped and wound around her leg before trotting out of the room.

~ ~ ~

Jude entered the dungeons on quiet feet, trailing after the little black cat. The moment his paws touched the cold stone he yelped and leapt back onto her shoulders, his claws digging in.

“Spoiled rotten,” she accused him. “You have twice as many legs as me, you know. If anything you should be the one doing the carrying.”

She could have sworn he stuck his tongue out at her in response, or maybe it was just a coincidence, so she blew in his face.

The dungeon was mostly empty, with the few cells that were filled being deeper down. She supposed crimes weren’t oft committed in a land were a forceful promise was binding. Or, Jude thought as her eyes caught on an executioner’s sword mounted on the wall, maybe there was a darker reason.

She tried not to shiver in the damp air as she stalked past rows of cells, her eyes scanning the shadows for a pixie girl in a gown fit for a revel.

When at last she stopped before a small figure in a dirty gown, the cat sprung from her shoulders to stand, hissing and hackles raised, before the bars.

Behind the bars, the pixie sat up from where she was lounging on her straw palette, a laugh spilling from her lips, bitter and grating to Jude’s ears.

“Well, hello again,” the prisoner smirked, ruby red eyes flashing in the low light. “It looks like you came back to find me. You miss me that much?”

Jude tried to hide the confusion swirling inside her as she picked up her yowling cat. “We’ve never met,” she stated, to which the pixie laughed again.

“Not everything’s about you, love.” Her eyes locked on the cat as she jerked her chin at it. “Cat bring you here?”

Jude frowned. “Leave him out of it.”

“Alright, if you insist,” she shrugged. “So what do you want? Because as much as I’d like to think you came just to visit, I find it hard to believe you would appreciate my company so much—especially since we’ve never met.”

Jude shifted. She hadn’t thought about what she was going to actually say once she got here—ask nicely for the return of the prince? Grab the prisoner through the bars and shake her? Instead, Jude steeled herself and dove straight in, barrelling through both tact and diplomacy in one fell swoop.

“I have questions.”

“And what makes you think I have answers?”

“I already know you’re connected to Cardan’s disappearance,” she said, stepping closer, “and you’re going to tell me where he is.”

“Oh?” Red brows lifted over honey gold skin as the prisoner regarded Jude with some interest. “Am I now?”

“Yes, you are.” Jude ground the words out through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to lay her hand on her sword hilt as the pixie seemingly considered her options. Finally, she leaned back on her straw palette like it was the most comfortable bed in the world.

“No.” Her tone was flat, void of emotion, but there was a flicker of something—anger? Regret?—behind her eyes.

“I’m not asking,” Jude said, meeting the pixie’s glare.

“Oh, but I think you are. What else are you going to do? Threaten me? I’m already behind bars, darling, and you snuck in here. As soon as I called for a guard, you’d have to run, or risk being caught.”

Jude thought about bluffing or lying her way out of the trap, but curiosity got the better of her.

“How did you know I snuck in?”

“I didn’t, for sure, until just now,” the pixie responded, and Jude cursed herself for her stupidity. “I’d guessed it, because you have no uniform and no keys, and because no one ever enters from that direction.” She gestured down the hall where Jude had come from minutes prior. “And because the castle already came to see me today.”

At Jude’s frown, the girl elaborated with a roll of her eyes.

“They come down here every single day to ask me if I’m ready to tell them what I did with our dearest Prince Cardan, and every single day I tell them no, I’m not ready, I’m still literally unable to talk about anything I’ve done EVEN IF I WANTED TO, because I’m under a damn OATH!”

She threw her hands up in frustration before covering her face with her arms, huffing a sigh before continuing. “And then they walk away and tell me well then, no food until you’re ready to talk, and I always scream my worst insults at them as they leave, which I have to admit makes me feel just a teeny bit better.”

She sat up and met Jude’s eyes with a shrug. “I mean, it’s not nice of me, but I think I deserve it after all this.” She gestured to the mildew damp walls and bounced a bit on the creaky bed.

A pang of sympathy wormed its way into Jude’s heart, but she shut it out.

“How are you not dead?” she asked. “You have to have said something or you’d have starved by now.”

The girl laughed again. “Oh, but that’s the beauty of it! See, this cell is enchanted specially by High King Eldred himself.” Her eyes flashed and her smile faltered, so momentarily Jude could almost have been convinced it didn’t happen. Almost.

“Once you step inside, you can feel as hungry or as thirsty as you like, but you’ll never die from it. It’s a special kind of torture,” the pixie grimaced.

Jude swallowed the pity rising in her throat and lifted her chin. “Well, you probably deserved it. You’re a murderer afterall.”

“I—” the girl began to protest, but she stopped before she could say anymore. A moment passed before she coughed.

“Like I said, I can’t tell you anything about what I’ve done, but I can tell you that if I had been given a choice, I wouldn’t have gone after Cardan.”

“And Dain?”

“Dain?” the pixie echoed. “What about him?”

“They found him murdered this evening. Did you go after him?”

“What?” If the look of utter shock on the pixie’s face hadn’t convinced Jude, her next words did: “I didn’t kill Dain. You know I can’t lie, so you believe me, right? You know I’m telling the truth.”

Slowly, Jude nodded. “I believe you.”

“Listen: I can’t tell you what I did to Cardan, or why, or who I work for, but I can tell you this,” the pixie said, moving to stand by the bars.

“Desires sometimes take unexpected forms, but chasing them does no good when they’re already within your grasp. Cardan is closer than you think, but there is a power that will always hunger, and if you don’t stop it soon, it’ll devour not only your prince, but the rest of Faerie as well.”

Silence fell over the jail like a blanket, disturbed only by the drip, drip, drip of water.

Finally, the prisoner raised red brows. “So?”

“Thank you so much, that was so helpful and I now know everything,” Jude declared flatly.

The pixie girl sighed and propped her fists on the soiled waist of her gown. “You can be sarcastic all you want, babe, but I swear, that was as much as I can tell you—you know, binding oath and all? I mean, have you not been listening this entire conversation?”

The cat on her shoulder mewed and Jude glared at him sidelong.

“Whose side are you on?” she huffed, to which he meowed again and lashed his tail.

“Alright, fine.” Jude pressed her lips into a thin line as she turned back to face the girl in the cell. “I’ll figure it out myself.”

With the cat on her shoulder, Jude stalked out of the palace the same way she’d come in.

~ ~ ~

Cardan sat on the windowsill of Jude’s room, watching as the sun began to creep above the horizon, painting the sky in the golden light of dawn. Behind him, Jude was deep in slumber, snoring softly into her pillow, but with everything that had happened today, he couldn’t sleep.

Dain was gone and the palace was in shambles—he’d seen as much when he’d slipped inside. Guards had been everywhere, servants carrying cleaning supplies milled about, and curious courtiers had drifted through the halls, trying to catch a glimpse of what had happened.

When he’d passed by the library, Cardan had paused, resisting the urge to enter. When he breathed in, he’d nearly vomited.

Scents were much stronger to his cat nose, and through the must of old books and scrolls, beneath the scent of centuries of dust, he had smelled the cooling blood of his brother as it seeped into the carpets. It had taken all his willpower not to collapse in his sorrow.

The blankets rustled from inside the room and Jude’s groggy voice reached his ears.

“Kitty? What’re you doin’?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder and gave her a soft mrrm of amusement. Her hair was escaping its braid and dried drool had left a trail down her cheek.

“Come here, kitty,” she crooned, patting the blankets, and Cardan complied, slinking across the room to curl up in the curve of her arm.

Jude’s fingers played in the fluff around his neck and he couldn’t help but purr into the silence. He’d always been disgusted by how much he craved her touch, but he’d discovered of late that her fingers scratching his jaw or playing with his fur was one of his favourite things. He blamed Pellia’s cat curse.

They stayed that way for a long while, Jude stroking his fluff and his purrs warming the ever-lightening room.

When he twisted his face up to look at her, she brushed a kiss to his nose before settling into her pillows and pulling him closer. If cats could blush, he would have been bright pink.

“Sleep tight, kitty,” Jude whispered. “You’re safe here.”

And Cardan knew she was right.

***

A/N: Hello, loves! Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!! I'm sorry this was a bit late, as I said earlier I struggled with this chapter so much. Thank you all so much for your support though, reading your lovely comments was a big motivation to get this chapter written, and I can say with absolute certainty that I would have given up long ago if it weren't for your kind feedback. I'm sending lots of love to all of you!

(PS: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list!)

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[sexyshakespeare]

Kurodai Day 5: Ass-assination

[Prompt: Locked in]  -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kuroo was woken up by the loud clangs of the cell door. What now. Jesus, can’t a guy get some shut-eye in here. Well, he should’ve thought about that before embezzling from the JVA. At least that’s the voice in his head said, for the first time that day, and not for the last. It had been 5 months in here already, and he was slowly settling into a routine. It was bad, but not quite that bad. He tried to keep his head low, not say much to anybody, mind his own business. He’d manage to keep out of trouble for months now. The only exception being that time he fought that fucker for getting his chocolate confiscated by blowing the cook or whatever he did to make it happen. Fuck that guy and his greasy hair, fork-tongued motherfucker.  

Kuroo sat up in his bunk, wondering who his new inmate was. Broad shoulders, brown hair, and ripped. Shit, he better not get on his bad side huh. He watched him quietly from his side of the cell, waited for the last pat down from the guard- who nodded towards Kuroo, handed him his cigarettes, and headed out, locking the door in place. The man sat down on his bunk. He looked like he’d lost a lot of sleep lately. Tetsurou looked him up and down, sizing him up for his crime. Most likely battery, maybe arson. He looked deadly enough to do it. Or maybe he was just caught at the wrong place at the wrong time- like him. A rich person’s worst nightmare- Kuroo liked to believe he wasn’t a criminal, just a businessman. That was probably why his sentence was still as long as it was. There was absolutely no remorse behind his sweet smiles and promises to live a good, honest life when he was out of here. Fuck that. He wanted that villa in the Caribbean. “What are you in for” Kuroo directed the question at the other man. The mysterious man built like a goddamn grizzly, looked him straight in the face, the look of a killer in his dark eyes. “This ass-“ . .

.

Tetsurou stared at him for a good minute watching him as he laid back in his bed, folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. Alright. Alright, that’s how he was going to be?  Being in-mates and everything, hey, he’d hoped they could’ve been friends. Fine, fucker didn’t want to share? Fine, he’d be smoking this entire pack of cigs by himself, he thought to himself and laid back on his bed as well.

Weeks went by the same way as they always had- and rookie here didn’t need much help around the place. Funny. It was like.. he’d been to prison before, or at the very least, knew how they worked inside-out. Kuroo kept a close eye on him as he ate at his table with his regular group. It was purely a protective group he hung around, they weren’t exactly friends- definitely not anyone he’d keep in contact with once he was out of here. In fact, he was hoping to ditch his name altogether if he did get out of here. Big goals, big dreams. Before long, he’d learnt his name- since he hadn’t offered it on his own. He was lucky he was such good eye candy, and by default maybe had a soft spot in Kuroo’s generous heart. He even saved him some chocolate one time- offering it to him in the cell. “Don’t like chocolate” Kuroo’s eye had twitched when he said it, the way he said it. But the time he heard his name- was when they were receiving mail. Kuroo never got mail- his friends were ashamed to be associated with him. His dad had disowned him altogether. Well, Kenma did come visit him last month- telling him he’s done waiting and he’s moving on with his life. Which meant, of course, that he was finally going to admit to sleeping with Hinata behind his back. Kuroo couldn’t have cared less by then, he’d let him go a long time ago. Daichi. Sawamura Daichi was his name. And it was called out every week, sure enough- there was a care package of sorts, from somebody, that came through every week. “Daichi..”, he ventured one night when he was in bed. The man grunted in response, signalling that he hadn’t slept yet. “You really got into prison cause of that ass?” Not a moment’s hesitation, or any sign of his gruff, sleep ridden voice wavering as he said, “Definitely” And that was that, the days following that night, Kuroo was off at lunch time telling the story of how Sawamura Daichi got his ass thrown in prison- quite literally, for it being a goddamn menace. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday passed- and the rumors were flying- Did you hear? Sawamura smuggled coke into the country in his ass for months before getting caught- No no- Sawamura was the personal security guard for the crown prince of Saudi Arabia, who committed crimes against his country by allegedly tapping that ass, then flat out handing him the royal throne in marriage. Come Thursday and Daichi had finally caught on with what was happening. He walked up to Kuroo’s table where he was animatedly explaining the cause of his demise to his companions- and everyone hushed. Almost instantly looking a little pale when they saw the bearish man walk up behind Kuroo, who might easily lose a fist fight against him. Tetsurou stopped talking then- turning around to see the man, staring down at him. Then without another word, he put his tray down on the table next to him and sat down heavily. He nodded at Kuroo, then began eating his rice quietly. “Go on- tell them how it really happened-“, he said in a deep voice that would bring chills to anyone who heard it. The guys looked spooked, and Kuroo- well, he got less chills, more thrills. And he was happy to oblige.   With a little smirk on his face, he turned back to the table and continued, unfazed, “Sawamura was a security guard at the governor’s last speech- the one he died at-“ “Yeah, didn’t he get shot?” “Nah nah man- they cover all that shit up in the papers-“, Kuroo waved his hand at the guy, “Yeah the media guys getting their cocks sucked by the governor’s PR team to cover it up-“, Daichi answered without skipping a beat, nodding seriously as he slurps up his gravy like a hungry beast. Kuroo nodded, his hands coming into action as he hunched over the table conspiratorially, “Yeah so, he was head of security right- and the governor knew his face, he’d been in town for a while right-“ The silence around this table now. Kuroo felt like a star, his story was reaching hundreds- he was making history right now. “Daichi here, bless him, he bends over right- and what, you were going commando that day you said?”, a nod his way as Tetsurou feigned asking for confirmation. “Yep yeah- hot day, May’s just fuckin murder-“ “Yeah so my guy turns from the podium for a second to check if his deputy had the perimeter secure- he bends over to talk to the guy standing down the stairs- and his, will you believe it- his pants rip” At this point Kuroo gives a grin- not too big a grin, just a shrug of his shoulders like, ‘hey it happens’. “His pants rip- and he ends up mooning the governor- who was, looking DIRECTLY at him when he was giving his speech-“ Daichi smirks at this point, agreeing in full. “And the governor.. trips- over the wires on his podium- and falls-“, Kuroo’s strong fist smacks hard into his palm, “Head-first into the concrete 3 feet below-“ At this point, the entire table was staring hard at the two men- waiting for the punchline to this joke, waiting for a crack of laughter, a smile- a flash of tooth. They got nothing. Kuroo shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head at his tray and biting on his bread. “Damn tragedy- wrong place, wrong time, man..”, he finished in a low voice. Sawamura glared at them, daring them, any one of them to laugh. Not a soul dared. And then the man finished his meal, smacking his lips, slurping up the rest of his gravy and scarfing down his fish. And with that, the duo of Kuroo and Sawamura exited the scene, making it back to their cell in one piece. Once inside their cell- they exchanged one look, and were falling all over the floor, Daichi clutching at his stomach, Kuroo pounding the floor with his fist as they laughed their hearts out. “My ASS IS MAKING ROUNDS BABY” “FUCK YEAH IT’S MAKING ROUNDS- YOU SEEN THAT THING? YOU PACKING BACK THERE MY MAN” Hi-fives were exchanged- the two men slapping each other’s backs as loud as thunder- till they heard a loud yell from their floor guard, and tried to choke back their laughter, giggling like a couple of schoolboys as they watched each other. Each one with some wonder in their eyes as they did. “Man.. you’re alright-“, Kuroo said with a big grin thrown his way. “You’re.. brilliant- did your mouth get you into prison?”, Daichi leaned back on his bedframe, stretching his legs out in front of him as he asked. “You could say that-“ “Bet it could get us out of prison too-“ “I’m not blowing any guards again man-“ “..that’s not what I.. again..?” Kuroo took his pack of cigarettes out from under his blanket- waving them at him like it should’ve been obvious. “..you a lawyer?”, Daichi asked now. He chuckled at him, his body vibrating as he lit his cigarette with the lighter he would have to chuck down the toilet when they checked the cell this weekend. “You know, I could’ve made a great lawyer.. made more money like that too probably-“, he shrugged his shoulders, taking a long drag. “So- did you?”, Tetsurou looked back at him with teasing eyes, a smile on his face, “Did I what-“, he answered, his face was considerably softer on him now. He had a handsome face, especially when he smiled. Kuroo reckoned he’d like to see more of that over the next few months. “Get in here for your ass-“, he said as he stretched his arms above and behind his head, a little too suggestive a look on his face. He fully expected Daichi to close up again, turn a cheek- or maybe give him a hard punch to his exposed ribs. But instead, Sawamura looked him in the eye, a growing smirk of his own on his lips, “Why don’t you find out..”

[silverineontherun]

I don't know what you mean exactly when you say "Keith prompts" but I have always had a soft spot for royal Keith or knight Keith (*-*) Anyway, HB to this beautiful boy, so precious, must protect him at all costs ♡

As usual, I don’t provide enough info, sorry 😂 I intended to write small pieces for Keith if people asked for something specific! Now, for Knight Keith, I have a snippet of a discarded fic I wrote a while ago, Knight Lance x Knight Keith. This was the part that inspired the whole thing, actually, I hope you like it!

***

Snippet from “The Heart of the Lotus” (Klance, Medieval/Fantasy AU, discontinued)

Sir Lance remembers to shut his mouth on time, clearing his throat and commanding his men to descend from their horses and form in front of the first set of stairs that lead to the entrance, where a line of soldiers and courtiers dressed in solid black and red are already waiting for them.

He checks on his company and corroborates they are standing in clean formation just as instructed, to his utmost relief. Proud, he feels his chest swelling as Coran hurries back to the princess’ carriage to help her descend from it. Lance walks in front of his people instead, facing the Thayserians who look at them like hawks. They look like servants and guards, and Lance is glad they are not being received directly by the king himself, feeling uncomfortable under his sweaty clothes. The trip was long and the entire contingent needs to refresh before the anticipated meeting…

That’s when, suddenly, the local soldiers break their formation in two, leaving some space right in the middle. The servants hurry to the sides, keeping their heads low, and a figure appears from behind them and walks resolutely to Lance’s encounter. 

He is dressed in black from head to toe, from his shiny boots to his elegant silk robe, a garment Lance hasn’t seen before, decorated in soft grey patterns that surround his wide torso like a painted canvas. Just like the Palace itself, the only ornament that adds some color to his outfit is a long red scarf, crossing his chest and dangling behind him, secured to his shoulders by two silver pins with the shape of flowers — flowers whose name escapes him right now, but are part of Thayserix royal family’s crest. The ends of the silky scarf flutter like a weightless cape behind him as he walks.

This time it’s not that easy to keep his jaw from slacking. The closer the man gets, the more Lance can appreciate his gorgeous features while feeling absolutely struck by them. 

So... what had Coran said about King Shiro? 

Dark hair, sharp eyes, high cheekbones…

Check, check, and check. The man’s pale face is framed by rebellious black hair that falls to his shoulders and suits him disturbingly well, despite its unkempt state. The rigid line of his mouth is not amicable, but Lance can’t stop staring at it, his head momentarily empty with only Coran’s voice resonating inside. 

‘Beauty can be a lethal distraction…’

Indeed, thinks the Altean First Royal Guard sweating a bit because, in that regal attitude and the way the man’s eyes scan the whole contingent and then settle on him as if measuring him, he can testify that ‘lethal’ and ‘beauty’ can absolutely go together, and the king of Thayserix is the living proof of that.

But he isn’t one to be intimidated by looks, no sir. He will let nothing distract him from his duties, and this is the best moment to show that. Sweeping his hair back and then taking his fist to his chest — ignoring how his feet seem to need some convincing before moving again—, he walks until he meets the king in the middle of the esplanade, and before they can lock eyes, he bends the knee and lowers his head, wishing to appear humble and obliging.

“Your Majesty,” he says loudly so his people can hear him too. “It is truly an honor to make your acquaintance. I am Sir Lance of Altea, and I speak on behalf of Princess Allura of Altea, deeply grateful for your welcome, and in hopes of being of service to you, as you may see fit.”

Silence. Lance is satisfied with his words for around three seconds until he notices the unnatural silence around him. He frowns, not daring to raise his face yet, a bit taken aback by the fact he doesn’t even get an answer, until, finally, a manly voice answers him.

“Welcome. Our king has been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

A pause. Lance, stunned, raises his eyes slowly, and he finds the man’s eyes not looking at him, but at the people and the carriages. From this close, Lance notices a scar that crosses his right cheek, and also the long sword hanging from his side, as well as his gloved hands. 

If he wasn’t so dazzled by that first impression, he could have noticed before that the man has no crown and probably never will. He confirms it when he finally has the delicacy of introducing himself.

“I am Keith, King Shiro’s Shield Guardian. I am to lead you to your new chambers…” The man makes a pause, and his eyes settle on Lance again. With a smirk, he murmurs: “Your Majesty.”

And that’s when Lance feels the weight of the entire world dropping right over his head. Unable to turn back to his people, with his cheeks burning, he watches how the Thayserians hurry to help the Alteans with their luggage and horses, while this Lord Keith turns around with the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. Pinned to the floor and humiliated, Lance’s mind fills with gibberish until he reconnects his brain to his limbs, and then, furious, adrenaline propels him forward, deaf to Coran’s call coming from behind. 

“Wait a moment! Hey!”

Lord Keith stops and looks back, curious. Lance struggles a bit to find his words. He doesn’t remember ever being this mad in his entire life.

“You— How— You!!” 

“Excuse me?” asks Keith, looking unimpressed. This irritating attitude is like oil to Lance’s already burning rage.

“You... How could you let me bend the knee in front of you instead of your king? Have you no shame?!” he fumes.

Keith makes a pause, staring at him with cold eyes. And Lance adds another unwanted discovery to his list: the knight’s irises are colored in a strange shade of violet, regarding him with an intensity that makes him feel they can see through him. His heart beats faster at this against his will, and he notices the heat creeping up from his neck up to his cheeks once more. Worse, when Keith smirks again, his gaze inevitably drops to his full lips instead.

“It was funny,” he says, shrugging. He smirks wider at Lance’s outraged expression, and turning around, he adds, “Your men are really loyal to you. Laudable, though I honestly feel for them.”

He starts walking again and Lance stays there letting his arms dangle foolishly by his sides, confused, until he hears Coran’s voice calling him and he turns around to find the group of Alteans and Thayserians catching up to them. The Alteans look at the tall ceiling and the splendidly illuminated corridor with curiosity, but the warden, followed closely by Allura, stomps his way like a pissed off yalmor.

“What was that, Sir Lance?! Do you intend to shame us in front of our hosts since day one?!” he nags in muffled but furious whispers.

“I-I’m sorry. I honestly thought— I mean, did you see him? You said— Uh...” stutters Lance, ashamed.

“Don’t be so hard on Sir Lance, Coran. Besides, you saw how the guards reacted, didn’t you?” says Allura, amused. It’s the first time Lance sees her smile sincerely in weeks. Coran sighs, shaking his head.

“What did they do?” Lance asks eyeing his men, uneasy. The least he needs right now is sabotaging his own leadership among them in alien territory, yet there he goes, blowing everything for hurrying too much like he promised he would never do again.

However, at that moment he catches sight of Hunk, just when Coran grumbles:

“They also kneeled down. So you looked less foolish, and we looked way more well behaved than we really are. Truly, nothing short of a miracle.”

But the miracle has a name for sure, and when Hunk gives Lance two thumbs up, the knight seriously considers running his way and asking for his hand in marriage right there. He has done enough damage to their first impression as it is, though, so he has to be content with putting his hands together and murmuring a teary ‘thank you’ while making a mental note to get his friend the finest ale or similar treat these lands can offer. The rest of the men don’t look too worried about it, luckily. Maybe they think that was the right protocol. Maybe they just want to save face.

Or maybe the Thayserians maids are also very pretty and very distracting, which explains their dumbfounded looks, though Lance has trouble worrying about that with Lord Keith’s hateful smirk imprinted in his memory, filling his stomach with nothing but pure liquid rage and uneasy, unwelcome tension.

[doriansapprentice]

Road to Undermount

Ship: Mal Volaris X M, MC Solaris

Words: 1 586

Warning: Racist slure and homophobic mention, fighting, and one curse word.

Disclaimer: All characters belongs to Pixelberry

A/N: Part of @choicesweeklychallenge Prompt "Why are you looking at me like that!? I swear I didn't do anything!" Who will appear in bold. Partly inspired of Road to Eldorado cause I can imagen its something Mal and Mc would do 😉

The archer beamed bubbly as Mal ran a hand in his dark blond hair and wrapped a lock around his thumb. Adventures in all honor, when the wayward group of mages, royalties and acident creature had to search for dark artifacts and fight the shadow court. Tho the young man loved the harmonic and quiet nights like this.

After buying supplies in a rustic middle large village a couple of miles from White Tower, the gang set camp in a hidden valley in a old woods not far from the main road leading almost all the way to Underwood. It were the first woods since they left the capital after going on bumpy and rocky steepe lands. If they wanted to hide properly the experience gang would not make a fire and perhaps even choose a valley further from the main road just to be sure. Mostly they wanted a warm meal after eating lukewarm food and sleeping in drafty inns for days, and wanted to sleep around a fire on soft grass. Tho the gang were a bit wary not making the fire to high. Due to what happen earlier that day...

On their trip to the village three rough guards had mock Tyril calling him knife ear and beeing threatful towards them. The men did not have the royal emblem on their armors, who were a bit worn out but else in good shape. By the hips in old scabbars it were long swords and a arm long dagger. So Tyril and Solar sucpected it were three guards from a bigger city, going around the villages nearby to maintain order, or what seems to be in this case scaring and harassing villagers and drinking ale.

It were only Tyril and Solaris there as Nia and Threp looked to buy new pots and pans, Imtura and Kade for meat and Mal were heavens know where. The rogue had mishviously left the group grinning said he got buiness to do. So the elf and human had walked into a tavern/ Inn to gather usefull informations on the road aheas from the old women incharge. One of the guards wobbling got up from the guards table, waving his knife and grinning his teeth, hissing that he would gladly cut the tip of rough prince ear so he would look normal.

To the guards annoyance the elf did not move a muscle in his face, instead he shoved a elbow in the bend of the mans arm so he dropped the knife. The guard being very drunk had a hard time to to draw his sword, who got stuck in the scabbars, making it easy for Tyril to slide to the side drawing his own sword and hitting the hilt in the back of is head. Rolling his eyes up the guard passed out and it all took a second, so his friends only reacted after he hit the floor. One guard had just stood up when Solaris shot an arrow that stuck in the hard wood one inch from his ear. Laughing dry the archer said the next arrow would cut the tip of His ear of if he did not ran away this instant. Tyril blocked the knife that the third guard throwed with one flick of his sword and glared at the man who feelt over confident and ran at Tyril. Solaris had looked at the knife on instict and that gave the second guard a chance to attack. The guard raised his sword high over his head to attack and it got stuck in the wood cealing. Swiftly Tyril kicked the man in his groin and when his tumble to the floor the elf kicked his knee under the chin making him fall backward bumping his head and lost concious. Solaris did just as good swordfighting the other man and happen to hit the flat side of the sword at the cocky guards hand who dropped the sword howling of pain, and wasting no time the dark blond man headbutted him so he passed out before hitting the wooden floor. It were only a few people in the combinated tavern and inn who looked wide eyed on the fight. Cheering impressive that they succeded to win and moreover did so in under ten minutes.

Hours later the gang meet up after the old women incharge insisted that the man would stay for a drink on the house. Imtura groaned of missing all the action and Kade wide eyed wanting every detail of it, while Nia fussed about them getting some shallow wounds wanting to treat it.

Tyril sat down reading a book near the fire to get more light to read in than the moon and stars. Kade hummed quiently and lazily played on a new song he improvised out of the blue. Nia sat near Tyirl knitting on another scarf, already knitting one for Mal and Solaris. Threep layed on the ground biting and rolling the ball of yarn between his pawn and since it did not disturb Nia's work that much, the gentle priestness let the nesper play. The archer loved that Mal continued to play with his hair as he talked to Imtura about the adventure they both been through competing who were had the wildest ones.

" Maybe you should join my crew landcrab? I would gladly accept the challange to make a pirate out of you." Imtura smirked taking another big swing of her ale burping loudly.

Mal grinned loopsided now running his thumb around the archers sharp cheekbones.

" Why not? What do you say Sol? Wanting to sail the seven seas?"

" We would make a dashing pair. I can imagen." Sol winked tilting his head up and tug Mals hair so their lips meet halfway.

The orch captain rolled her eyes as they snog fiery.

" We might get to work harder to make you a fiery pirate River boy."

Over dramaticaly the dark blond man sat up gasping, ruffling the tousled hair.

" I have you know Captain I am VERY Fiery."

Kade snickered.

" Its true. One time I ate the last chocolate we stole from a rich foreigner, travling through Riverbend. Sol blue eyes burned and he hunted me around the village. It lasted for three days I have you know."

It did not convince the orch who grunt poking a meat club of chicken at Tyril who rolled his eyes wondering what shenanigan the pirate were up to.

" No offence baby cheeks. But prince fancy pants is even more fiery than you and is more likely to grow a pirate beard."

Tyril did not bother that with a answer and had his nose burried in the book.

" Okay enough with the cock measure contest." Solaris glared at Imtura. " And that goes for you to!" The orch just shrugged going thats fair. " We should play a game. I know we knew eachother well. But there is always more to tell and this is our last chance before everybody go their seperate ways. What say you all?"

Mal wrapped his arms around Solaris stroking his thumb on his shoulder and the other ruffled his hair, who the archer doubt would get any messier but alas he were wrong.

" I like that idea. We could do a classic game I have no clue where it orgins. We all tell three stories. One is the truth and two a lie. Then we have to guees. Which one i true. Loser gets to drink."

They all agreed. Mal cleared his throat when three men marched into camp.

" There you are your cheeter! We want our money back your street rat!"

The gang bounched up ready to fight. First beliving it were the three guards, only to see it looked like villagers, arm with axes and knifes.

" Why are you looking at me like that!? I swear I didn't do anything!" Mal said looking at Solaris skeptical face. Not able to smirk smugly.

One of the men throwed some dice on the ground, and Mal made a oh I must have grab their dice as I hurried of.

" Your dice are Loaded!!!"

" What?! You gave me loaded dice?!" Mal theatrical turned to Solaris

" I gave you what??"

The bard played a dramtic tune. Mal winked and Solaris just played along being used to Mals schemes by now.

" You better give them their money back or I will..." The thief pulled out his sword. " En garde!"

The archer on instict stretched his arm to get his bow who hanged round the shoulder and draw his sword.

" I am thief? Take a look in the mirror."

The men jumped around and fought near the fire and up a boulder.

" Ah. You fight like my sister!" The rouge laughed dodge the other rouge sword.

" I fought your sister. Thats a compliment!" Sol grinned loopsided.

" Get them!" One of the men shouted.

" Ops well it were worth a shot. One last fight as a group Kit?"

Beaming of the nickname the dark blond man looked at him mishviously.

" Beside you? Always. But why did you use loaded dice tho?"

Mal brown eyes turned dark as the night sky.

" The men were rude and homophobic to a couple who owed a small inn. So I thought I scam them and give the two men who own the inn the money."

Sweetly Sol gave Mal a kiss on the tip of his nose.

" Okay Mr adventurer. Lets kick their asses."

Also beaming of the new nickname the due jumped down.

[katefiction]

Cora, Chapter 8: Princess in the Tower

by katefiction (Maria) / 2013

St. Michael’s Church, London

December 2165

Pine cones and orange is my favourite smell. The way it gets right up your nose as if forcing you to acknowledge that it’s Christmas time. I breathe it in fully, revelling in my favourite time of year.

‘Could this get any duller?’ Annie says, shifting uncomfortably in the pew.

‘Shh’

‘Seriously, there aren’t even any cute guys to look at’ she huffs.

‘It’s a charity carol concert Annie, not an opportunity to pick up men!’ I whisper.

‘You wouldn’t be saying that if you weren’t cozied up to Nicky’

I blush.

I had told Annie what Louisa had said, how she’d made me doubt Nicholas’ integrity.

Annie had told me straight, ‘it seems like you’re just looking for an excuse to break up with him’

‘That’s not true!’ I protested. ‘Why would she say it?’

‘Because she hates you?…’ Annie said unhelpfully.

I hadn’t asked Nicholas about it, I didn’t want to cause a rift between him and Jonathan. The more I thought about it, the more I began to think Annie was right. Nicholas was a good man who treated me well and cared about me. Why would I want to ruin that?

The choir arrives at the front of the large church, and the orchestra warms up, filling the huge space with music.

‘Do I have to sing?’ Annie mumbles under her breath.

‘Yes or at least pretend’ I laugh.

Nicholas and his family are on the other side of the aisle; he catches me laughing and flashes me a smile.

I smile back awkwardly.

We are asked to rise and all hold up our song sheets to sing O Little Town of Bethlehem.

I had gone for a black A-line dress tonight with netting underneath which I immediately regret as Annie starts to tease me.

‘That netting is invading my personal space’ she says as we get to the second verse.

“The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee tonight”

I giggle, ‘get on with the song!’

She is clearly bored, but as she is always in America for Christmas, I force her to spend time with me whenever she’s in the country.

She begins looking around the church, presumably for a guy to flirt with.

“We hear the Christmas angels The great glad tidings tell”

‘Um Cora’ she says, turning around.

‘What now?’

‘Ben’s here’

“O come to us, abide with us Our Lord Emmanuel”  

The carol comes to a rousing end and I spin around, hitting Annie with my skirt.

I see him immediately on one of the back pews. He is wearing a long dark coat with a scarf wrapped around his neck, which he’s pulling at. On his face is a one, or possibly two day layer of stubble.

I turn back around before he catches me staring as we launch into Away in a Manger.

Had he seen me?

‘Go talk to him’

‘No’

‘Don’t be so petulant!’

‘What is he even doing here?’ I say, more to myself.

The people on the front row turn and give us the evil eye.

‘Sorry’ I mouth.

Annie hushes her volume, ‘maybe he was feeling festive?’ she shrugs.

I give her the side eye, and as I do, find Nicholas looking directly at me. He gives me a curt nod and turns to look at Ben.

Crap.

*

We are given an interval to rest our voices. I try not to look over to Ben as I’m aware of Nicholas’ eyes fixed on me, but from the corner of my eye, I see him wonder to the back of the church by himself.

‘Hey you’ I say to Nick as I approach him. ‘Having a good time?’

‘Naturally, you?’

‘Yes yes’ I say, smoothing my dress down.

He pulls me to one side, away from Jonathan and Louisa, who are giving a bored Annie the schedule for their wedding.

‘If you want to go and talk to him, now’s the time’

I burn red, am I that obvious?

‘Don’t be silly…’

‘It’s fine…I’m fine with it, I trust you’. He says it so sweetly but for a moment I’m annoyed that he’s speaking to me like a child.

‘I’ll be five minutes, ten tops’ I say.

He nods and lets me hurry off to where I saw Ben heading, my heels clattering on the stone floor.

I find him in one of the alcoves with his back to the entrance, staring up at the carved wooden ceiling, presumably admiring the architecture. I watch him for a minute, not wanting to disturb his moment.

‘Are you going to say something?’ he says, his voice making me jump.

‘Oh…you knew I was there?’

‘I could hear your horse shoes coming a mile off’, he says, still with his back to me.

‘They’re not…’ I begin, but think better of it. ‘How are you?’

He turns around finally, his dark eyes fixing on me, ‘good, and you?’

‘Good good, happy birthday…for last month’ I say awkwardly.

He smirks at me, ‘happy birthday for last January’

I can’t help but roll my eyes at his nerdy joke. ‘So what brings you here?’

‘My cousin’s a member of the choir. And you?’

‘Nicholas’ family go every year, he invited me’

Ben stuffs his hands in his pocket defensively, ‘ah yes, good old Nicholas’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

The conversation turns unpleasant in a split second.

‘He swooped right in there didn’t he?’

My blood begins to boil. ‘I hardly call a year after we broke up “swooping”’

‘He was still there in the shadows waiting for his moment’

It’s only at this moment after all this time grieving, that I realise how angry I am at him.

‘Don’t be so ridiculous Ben’

‘Speaking of ridiculous, nice dress’. He reaches out and fluffs the netting up.

‘Stop trying to change the subject, it doesn’t work anymore’

‘Doesn’t it?’

I suddenly realise how close he’s standing to me. And the fact that no one else is around.

‘I don’t think you know how pissed off I am with you’

‘Why?!’ he says incredulously.

‘For not having the balls to stick around!’ I say too loudly. ‘I thought we had something…and you gave it up over a stupid tennis match that you didn’t even win’

He laughs as he backs away from me.

‘And why do you think I didn’t win Cora?!’

I’m too angry to take that as a compliment.

‘Well you got over it this year didn’t you?’

‘You can talk’

We stand there in silence, our chests heaving.

‘Does he make you happy?’

I don’t know what to say. He doesn’t make me unhappy.

‘He understands my life’

Ben moves closer again, ‘that’s not what I asked you’

‘He won’t walk out or get scared away…’

‘I didn’t get scared away, you pushed me out’

‘You called it off, not me!’

‘You will never admit you were in the wrong will you?’

‘Because I wasn’t’ I say stubbornly, trying to ignore his honey and wood scent that I love so much.

He sighs, as if defeated.

Fight for me. Please fight for me.

‘I hope he makes you happy Cora’

The music starts up again, telling us that we are to return to our seats.

He signals for me to walk out first, knowing that we can’t be seen together.

I do, and I don’t turn back.

 Christmas

‘A royal flush!’ Dad laughs as he pulls out the novelty toilet paper that I’ve bought him for Christmas. Each piece has his face printed on it. ‘Thank you darling…I think’

It had been tradition for years for our family to buy each other joke presents at Christmas. This year was no exception.

Dad always bought me some novelty Christmas-wear, and this year I was proudly sporting some cosy reindeer slippers.

The rest of the family buzz around the Christmas tree, exchanging comedy gifts and laughing with each other.

‘Any gifts from Nicholas?’ Dad asks, trying to be casual.

‘I told him not to bother’ I say quietly, trying not to catch the attention of the rest.

‘Well that’s a shame, perhaps he’ll have something for you anyway’ he looks around the room like he always does when he’s hiding something.

‘Like what?’

‘Oh I don’t know, a ring maybe?’

‘Daddy! Don’t be stupid!’ I shout, prompting strange looks from around the room.

‘Ignore her’ Dad says to everyone, and they dutifully get back to their business.

‘He is not going to give me a ring’ I whisper.

He was talking about marriage just last month.

‘Wouldn’t you like that? Surely every girl would like a big diamond given to them by a nice man’

‘First of all, I hate diamonds, and secondly, even if I did want that, I wouldn’t be telling my father!’

Dad laughs conspiratorially.

‘What? What’s so funny?’ I say, getting increasingly agitated.

‘Let’s just say me and Nicholas have had words’ he pushes on of the baubles on the tree, making in swing and shimmer in the light.

‘Daddy, please don’t say…has he asked you…for permission?’

Rather than beating fast, my heart feels like it’s slowing down. Dad’s expression turns to concern.

‘I thought that’s what you wanted?’ he says.

Sometimes he can be so naïve.

‘To get married one day…yes, but…’

‘Not to Nicholas?’

‘Dad, shh!’

‘Sorry’ he whispers. ‘I just can’t see why you wouldn’t want to marry him, he’s charming, kind, affable, and he’d be great with the public…’

‘Are you sure you don’t want to marry him?’ I say sarcastically.

He tuts at my joke.

‘I didn’t say I didn’t want to marry him, but don’t you think it’s too soon?’

For all my worries, I can’t see Nicholas proposing this soon. He’s far too sensible.

‘Perhaps. But your mother and I got engaged after nine months’

‘And look where that got you!’ I scoff.

‘We had many good years Cora’

‘But I don’t just want years, I want a good life, to grow old with someone who I can have fun with’

Dad leans in, ‘Don’t you think it’s time you let Benjamin go sweetheart?’

‘That’s not what I meant’ I say, my heart quickening.

‘I know you were crazy for him, but he’s not here, and Nicholas is. It’s not fair to keep comparing them’

‘I’m not’ I keep my eyes focussed on one of the baubles.

‘You will never be happy if you don’t accept it, trust me’

‘I have accepted it’ I lie.

I just miss him so much, I want to scream.

Dad puts one arm around me and I snuggle momentarily into his round chest.

‘I just want you to be happy’ he whispers.

‘So do I’ I say back.

*

The Boxing Day shoot was always my least favourite part of the festive season. I was no shooter, but Dad forced me to come along every year anyway to ‘spend time with the family’.

I’d much rather be spending time with a mince pie and a Christmas movie.

It is freezing on the Sandringham Estate, with the open spaces allowing the wind to bite nastily at my ears and fingertips. I stand with my gun hanging limply in my hand, watching as Dad expertly aims at his target. I’m so bored I could cry.

‘MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!’ comes a booming voice behind me.

I turn around to see Nicholas, Jonathan and their parents striding towards us, all clad in their finest shooting gear.

Nick beams at me as he approaches. God knows what my expression must look like.

‘What are you doing here?!’ I ask as we exchange kisses.

‘Your father thought you might like some company’ he says, giving a curt bow and handshake to Dad who is greeting everyone. ‘He called us last night’

‘That’s all a bit sudden’ I say nervously, recalling my conversation with Dad yesterday.

Nicholas rubs his hands together for warmth, ‘yes well, he wanted a chance to congratulate Jonathan and Louisa on the wedding, seeing as he can’t make it next week’

Of course he did.

‘That’s…nice’ I say.

‘Aren’t you happy to see me?’ he says with a smile.

I press my hand against his chest, ‘yes of course Nick’

It is the truth, Nicholas was great company and I was glad to see him.

My good mood is cut short in a second, when from the corner of my eye; I see a blonde ponytail swinging in the distance.

Louisa and her parents, the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire walk purposefully in our direction.

‘They’re here too?!’ I say, probably quite rudely.

‘Is that a problem?’ Nicholas looks a little annoyed.

‘No…it’s just, Dad rarely invites anyone to this shoot…’

Why on God’s earth would he invite Louisa?Was he trying to ruin my Christmas?

‘It is her wedding too’ he says sensibly. ‘And he’s known the Devonshires for years’

‘I suppose’

‘Right Cora, Nicholas’ Dad calls, ‘let’s not mess about, get involved’

Nicholas takes my hand in his and leads me to where the rest of the party are shooting. He curls his arms around me and helps me point my gun to the sky, ‘just like old times hey?’

I giggle because I don’t know what else to say. It did remind me of the day Nicholas had asked me out. When he was the only man in my life. When things were so much easier.

I wish I could get back to that.

I look over to Dad who looks very pleased that his plan to cheer me up has worked. He gives me a small wink. I wink back, if only to please him.

*

Later in the afternoon, I retreat to the small cabin on the grounds where eggnog and warm snacks have been laid out for us to enjoy.

I take a sip of the eggnog, closing my eyes and enjoying its warm silky texture on my throat.

‘Is there anything else to drink?’ comes her squeaky, grating voice.

I don’t even want to open my eyes. But I have to.

‘There’s mulled wine’ I point, not bothering to offer to pour it for her.

Louisa shrugs and heads for the wine.

As much as I want to walk out and ignore her, the princess in me (and my father’s voice in my head) stops me.

‘So, you must be getting excited for the wedding’ I say.

‘There’s still a lot to do, working out where all the members of Jonathan’s family are going to sleep for one’

I nod, pretending to be interested.

‘Still, you’ll learn all about that soon enough’ she smiles sarcastically.

Does she know Nicholas had asked Dad for permission?

‘Not for a long time yet’ I smile back.

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Yes…why?’

She runs her perfectly manicured finger over the rim of her glass, ‘I just wouldn’t be surprised if Nicholas chose our wedding day to pop the question’

‘Oh grow up Louisa’ I say, beginning to lose my temper.

She doesn’t flinch, but stays frustratingly calm, the smile fixed to her face, ‘you don’t know him at all do you?’

‘What is your problem with us?! Do you fancy him or something?’ I know it is out of line, but I can’t help it.

‘Oh please’ she laughs. ‘Nicholas is a pale imitation of Jonathan and he knows it’

‘That’s ridiculous’

‘Why do you think he’s so competitive with him, he’s constantly trying to live up to his big brother’

I clutch my glass tightly.

‘Don’t talk about him like that’

‘And now he has to live up to your ex too’, she sticks her bottom lip out tauntingly.

‘You don’t know anything about us’

Louisa steps towards me, ‘I’ve known those boys for years, I know how they work’

‘If they’re so bad, why are you marrying Jonathan?’

‘I’m at his level, you are not. Nicholas will eat you up and spit you out’

As I’m about to respond, to tell her how much I trust Nicholas, he walks in, a look of suspicion on his face.

‘Everything ok ladies?’

‘Fine’ I say quickly. ‘I was just telling Louisa how much I’m looking forward to the wedding next week’

He puts an arm around my shoulder, ‘it’s going to be a great day’

A look passes between them, not of passion like I thought, but of warning.

‘It should be fun’ Louisa says, placing down her glass and moving towards the door.

‘I can’t wait’, I say grimacing at her.

She leaves the cabin, pulling the door shut behind her.

‘Are you sure everything is ok’, Nicholas asks as soon as she leaves.

‘Yes…she was talking crap, that’s all’

‘About?’

‘About you. About us’ I look at the floor, wishing I hadn’t just admitted that.

‘What did she say?’, his eyes darken.

‘Just that you aren’t who I think you are, that you’ll “eat me up and spit me out”’

‘You don’t believe her?’

I hesitate, ‘no of course not, but I do wonder why she has it in for you’

‘She’s never liked me…and she’s deathly jealous of you’, he bends to my level, ‘that’s all it is’

I can’t help myself, I have to ask him, ‘Nick…you’re not trying to live up to my ex are you? Because you know you don’t need to!’

He curls his lips, like he’s insulted, disgusted even. ‘No Cora, I’m not’

‘Oh, well good’ I say, slightly taken aback.

‘Anyway’ he says, softening, ‘I came in here to talk to you about an environmental project my father’s starting…’

Nicholas proceeds to tell me all about his father’s new project involving home grown food on British land.

‘…so I was thinking with your background managing the estates as well as other things, you’d get involved?’

I had hundreds of requests for my patronage a year, and even more now that I’m the Princess of Wales. I chose them all carefully and made sure I was passionate about each of them. I can’t say this one was getting the blood pumping.

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to work together just yet’

‘Why not?’, he looks crestfallen.

‘Because people will accuse me of favouring your cause for other reasons’

‘That didn’t matter to you when you were working with Ben’s Trust’ he says resentfully.

I flinch. The truth was I never worked with Ben’s Trust. Ben told me all about it of course, but my involvement with the Trust was nothing more than an excuse when I had to explain to Nicholas why I was inviting him to the Highland Fling.

‘That was different’ I lie. ‘And I’m not working with them now’

‘Please just consider it, ok?’ he says stroking my arm.

‘I will’ I lie again.

‘We’ll be spending the rest of our lives working together, might as well start now’ he says, thoroughly ending the discussion.

I want to argue my point but I don’t have the energy.

Instead I follow him out of the cabin, thinking about the fact that he spoken about marriage twice now before he’s even said he loves me.

*

Dunrobin Castle, Scotland

New Year’s Eve

Louisa has gone all out with the decoration of the castle for her wedding. The bannisters on the staircases are wrapped in holly and twinkling lights. Swathes of red and gold fabric drape from the ceilings and a band plays festive music in the foyer.

I have to give it to her, it’s magical. And the same can be said for Louisa herself. For as much as I don’t want to admit it, she looks beautiful.

As she and Jonathan walk back up the aisle, I admire her gown. Made from the finest lace and skimming gently over her slim figure, it frames her shoulders to highlight her doll-like face. She looks like elegance personified.

Shame the personality doesn’t match.

Nicholas walks behind them as best man, with the maid of honour, the ‘chocolate and orange’ Louisa-clone, Martha.

He grins at me brightly, for once seeming happy to be in his brother’s shadow. I return the gesture, glad to see him so relaxed.

*

It feels like a long wait for the evening reception to start. I sit with Jenny and our friends in the parlour watching the sun set through the glass doors.

‘Your wedding will be so much better than this’ Jenny says conspiratorially.

I laugh at her sudden bluntness, ‘this is pretty good, you have to admit’

‘Yes but your reception will be in a palace, that trumps a castle every time’

‘Oh I don’t know, I love it at Balmoral’

‘You won’t be able to travel from London for the wedding all the way to Balmoral for the reception…’

‘Why are we even talking about this?!’ I say, realising how much I don’t want to talk about my imaginary wedding.

‘Come on Cora, everyone knows you and Nicholas will be next’.

Jenny had changed her mind once again when I told her I was with Nicholas. Apparently we are perfect for each other after all.

Before I can affectionately tell her to shut up, the wedding planner hushes the room to make an announcement.

‘All those asked to partake in the official photographs are to report to the main hall in twenty minutes’ she says sternly.

I give Jenny my most despairing look.

‘Off you go’ she teases.

As much as I’d protested and as much I knew Louisa probably had, Nicholas insisted that I be in some of the official photographs. I was his girlfriend and date after all.

I leave reluctantly, making my way up the grand staircase to the east tower, where a round dressing room had been allocated for me to and Nicholas to get ready in.

Turning the little brass key that I’d been given, I enter the room and reach for my comb and hairspray that I’d left on the dresser. I smile at the sight of the vintage lace and silk emerald green dress that my mother had leant me hanging on the mirror.

Beside the mirror is the only window in the room. From way up here in the tower, I feel like I can see the whole galaxy. It’s beautiful.

I slip out of my day dress and put the evening gown on, as per Louisa’s strict instructions. My hair is another matter. After being in an up do all day, it has begun to sag. I take the bobby pins out, deciding to attempt to re-do it.

Clutching twenty of them in my hand while attempting to reposition my hair, they tumble from my grasp, scattering all over the floor.

‘Oh crap’ I mumble to myself, kneeling on the floor to retrieve them. ‘Where’s Annie when you need her?’

Under the dresser, I spot Nicholas’ bag hidden in the shadows.

Maybe it’s what Louisa said, maybe it’s my own doubt, but my curiosity overcomes me.

I unzip the main section of the bag and see nothing but Nicholas’ clothes. Patting my hand on top of them, I suddenly feel something suspiciously cube-like in shape.

It can’t be.

I carefully take out his shirt and unwrap it.

There in the middle is a black box.

Shit.

I shouldn’t open it, just like I shouldn’t have opened the bag in the first place. But I do.

The diamond dazzles me. It’s huge, bigger than any ring I’ve ever seen. Bigger than Louisa’s. I pull it out of the box and place it against my ring finger. It engulfs my whole hand.

He can’t seriously be doing this tonight. On his brother’s wedding day.

My heart is racing with panic.

I’m pulled out of my shock by the sound of laughter down stairs. I look at my watch, my twenty minutes is almost up.

My hair still hangs down in loose curls. I have no time to fix it now. I put the ring exactly how I found it and hurry out of the room, locking the door behind me.

When I get to the hall, everyone is waiting.

‘Sorry’ I say to Nicholas as I find my place beside him.

‘What were you doing up there?’

‘Oh just sorting my hair out…but I still made it on time!’ I joke.

‘Everyone knows when Louisa says twenty minutes, she means fifteen’ he says irritably.

He must just be nervous.

‘Oh I’m sorry’

‘Shouldn’t your hair be in some sort of style?’ he says, eying my loose tresses.

‘Sorry, style expert’ I say, trying to lighten him up.

Our conversation is interrupted by the wedding planner and the photographer shepherding us all into place for a group shot. I watch as Nicholas wrings his hands together.

I can’t let him go through with this.

*

As the reception gets underway, I pull Nicholas to one side, ‘can we talk?’

We go outside onto the grounds, the same place that Ben and I went on the night of the Highland Fling.

‘What’s the matter’ he says, holding himself to keep warm.

I don’t know where to start.

‘Nick, I think I know what you’re going to do tonight, and I can’t let you do it…’ I begin.

‘What am I going to do’ he looks confused.

I take a deep breath, ‘I found the ring’

He stays still, the cold air not even leaving his mouth. ‘You went through my things?’

‘No…well yes, but I knew what you were planning’

I just didn’t want to believe it.

‘Well that’s the surprise ruined’ he says bluntly.

‘Nick, I wanted to tell you not to do it’

‘Don’t call me Nick’

‘What?’ I say startled by the change of subject.

‘Don’t call me Nick. I hate it’ he says, looking past me.

‘Since when?!’

‘Since always’

‘Why are you only telling me now?’

‘How do you tell the girl you’re chasing that you hate the nickname she’s given you?’

‘Oh’

I feel deflated and confused at his sudden change of character. When I stopped things between us at the Highland Fling, he was so gracious, but this time, it couldn’t be more different.

‘I just think it’s a bit soon to be thinking about marriage’ I continue where I left off.

‘But it will happen eventually, why not do it now?’

‘Because I don’t want to’ I say, getting frustrated.

‘You don’t want to do it now, or you don’t want to marry me at all?’

‘I-’

‘Because you know I’m right for this Cora. Your Dad loves me; I get the rules, the traditions…’

What about “I love you”?

Ben never said it either.

He carries on, not letting me speak, ‘Ben Evans isn’t going to understand your future like I do’

‘This isn’t about him!’

‘Really? You know he probably just used you to promote that Trust of his?’

‘I WAS NEVER WORKING FOR HIS TRUST!’ I yell.

Nicholas is taken aback, by me losing my temper or by what I’ve just told him, I don’t know.

Suddenly he is calm and collected again, ‘how about we go and enjoy the party and talk about it later?’

‘Fine’ I nod, ‘give me five minutes’

He heads inside, leaving me in the cold. I’m confused and frustrated. A whirl of information is spinning in my head.

Why did he take it so badly?

 Why does he keep bringing up that damn Trust?!

My mind hurtles back to the night of the Highland Fling:

“‘So how do you and Cora know each other?’, Nicholas asks.

I butt in before Ben can speak, ‘like I told you, we met at Wimbledon and I might be getting involved in Ben’s Trust’”

And then propels forward to the newspaper article that revealed mine and Ben’s relationship to the world:

“Sources reveal to us that the pair began dating last year after Cora began working with Evans’ charitable trust, the Marion and James Evans Tennis Trust.”

My breath catches in my throat. I’ve been so stupid.

I run back inside, my heels clattering on the floor. Nicholas is by the grand staircase still heading towards the hall for the reception, where the other two hundred guests are.

‘NICHOLAS!’ I shout, not caring who hears me.

He turns to me, ‘great, we can go in together…’

‘It was you wasn’t it?’ I say, panting from my sprint.

‘I’m sorry?’

I step closer to him, fury building, ‘you sold the story about Ben and I to the paper’

He laughs coldly, ‘don’t be silly, Cora, now come on, the party’s started’ . He grabs my arm but I snatch it away.

‘I was never working for Ben’s Trust, Nicholas’

‘This again?’

‘I told you I was going to work with Ben because I needed an excuse, you were the only person I told that to, and it just so happens that was how The Sun said we became close’

Nicholas stands there in silence.

‘I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid, I should’ve realised it was you’ I say shaking my head. ‘But how did you know we were even together?’

Finally his façade cracks, the charming man I thought I knew disappears, ‘you think I couldn’t see it at the Fling? You were all over each other’

‘But why would you want to ruin things for me?! If you hadn’t have sold that story, we would still be together!’

‘Don’t be so naïve! You and him were never going to work, I just quickened it up for you’

 I want to punch him, slap him, anything.

‘You don’t know that’

‘Don’t tell me that you broke up because your affair was revealed’ he says smugly.

He is right.

‘What did you do it for? Do you even like me or want to be with me?’

‘Life isn’t a fairy tale, we will work well together, I’ll be a great consort for you, and in time we’ll learn to love each other’

That’s why he didn’t want to get intimate with me. He doesn’t even like me.

‘You’re ridiculous’ I whisper.

‘Look, whatever you think of me now, you’ll see I’m right eventually. All the complications that come with your life don’t suit a relationship like yours and Ben’s. Just look at your father and mother, and all the other failed marriages in your family. If we were to marry me, you know we’d never divorce’

I believe him. We would have the perfect royal marriage. On the outside at least.

It’s not like I have a better offer.

‘Just think about it’ he says. ‘Come and find me later’

He wonders off to the reception like all he’s done wrong is left the lid off the toothpaste.

I can’t face all those people, so I head up the staircase to my dressing room in the tower. When I get up there, I slam the door shut and lock it.

I should be angrier, Nicholas has ruined everything. But in my heart, I know he didn’t. I ruined everything.

I close my eyes to think when there is a sudden tapping on the window. I ignore the noise and try to un-jumble my thoughts. The tapping continues, louder this time.

I walk towards the window hesitantly. It’s dark outside, but as I get closer I see something that makes me scream for my life. A man’s face is looking right at me.

I back away from the window, ready to run to my protection officers who are waiting in the hallway outside.

‘Your royal highness, are you ok?’ one of then says at the door.

But the man begins to shout through the window, ‘Cora! It’s ok, it’s me! It’s just me!’

I step forward, and he continues, ‘open the window!’. It’s only then that I recognise his dark eyes.

My heart leaps.

I pull the old iron window wide open, and Ben climbs inside.

‘What the hell are doing here?!’ I whisper and then shout through the door, ‘I’m fine, just a spider!’

‘Nice to see you too!’

‘Ben, are you crazy, how did you even get up here?’, I stick my head out of the window and look down at the dizzying drop below.

‘It’s was pretty easy, I climbed out of one of the lower floor windows and up the ledges on the outside’

‘You’re insane!’ I say despairingly.

‘I know’

I can’t quite take in that he is standing here in front of me, clad in his best dinner suit, that’s marked with dirt from the castle walls.

‘How…why…?’ I can’t even express all the questions I have.

‘Why don’t you sit down’ he says, and I comply as my legs are like jelly.

‘Your father called me this morning. He said that he thought that Nicholas might be proposing to you tonight’ he looks down at my hand to see if I’m wearing a ring. ‘He said that despite the fact that he likes Nicholas, he hasn’t seen you happy since we were together…’

I want to cry, I can’t believe Dad called him.

‘He thought that we should talk before you agreed to anything. So I got here as fast as I could. The security had no problem letting me in, Wimbledon champ and all that. I saw you heading this way, but there were too many people around to go knocking on all the doors, so I thought I’d just go from the outside and peep through the windows’

I’m too stunned even to call him a peeping Tom.

‘I should’ve known the princess would be in the highest bloody tower’

‘But why did you come at all? I thought you were over us’

He tuts, ‘because I love you’

He loves me. It sounds so beautiful coming off his tongue.

‘We’re not engaged’

‘I figured that much out’ he laughs.

‘Ben…he was the one who leaked the story about us’ I immediately regret telling him.

‘He did what?!’ he eyes widen in anger. ‘That fucking little toe rag! I told you he was no good! Where is he?…’ he pounces at the door, but I jump up and block his way.

‘Don’t be stupid!’

‘He can’t do this to you and get away with it!’

I’m suddenly furious. At Ben. At Nicholas. At myself.

‘I’m not a damsel in distress! You can’t just climb up a tower to come and save me!’

‘I’m not…’

‘You left!’ I realise I’m shouting, ‘You left me, you can’t just waltz in here and tell me you love me and expect me to fall into your arms. If you really loved me, why didn’t you tell me months ago, why did you let me believe it was over?’

Ben is shouting now too, ‘because you were with him! I wasn’t going to ruin things for you without knowing how you felt’

‘You must’ve known how much I love you!’ I push him backwards.

He stops for a moment. This wasn’t how I had imagined myself telling him that.

‘I hoped, I didn’t know’ he says.

‘Nicholas thinks I should marry him because we won’t have the complication of loving each other. He thinks it’d be a perfect royal marriage’

‘And what do you think?’

‘That he’s right, it would be easier’

‘Is that what you want?’ he steps towards me, ‘an easy life with no arguments, no one to tell you when you’re wrong, when you’re being an idiot?’

‘I-’

And then he’s kissing me, one hand is through my hair, the other is clutching at my skirt. We back up against the door, his lips are on my face and my neck.

‘God, I’ve missed you’ he mumbles.

 I grab his face and bring it back to mine, kissing him as deeply as I can, before pushing him off me.

‘I was scared of losing you’ I say suddenly. ‘That’s why I didn’t want anyone to know about us, I was never ashamed of you’

He stays quiet, letting me speak.

‘I saw my parents break up, and I’ve always thought it was the press that got in the way, I didn’t want that for us’

‘You couldn’t have hidden me away forever’

‘I know, but I thought the less people that knew, the better chance we’d have’

He runs his hand through my hair, ‘it doesn’t work like that, Cora’

‘I’m sorry…I was wrong’

‘I’m sorry too … and thank you for finally admitting to being wrong’ he can’t help but tease me, even now. ‘So what now?’

‘Now, I think I need to sort this all out myself’

In the process of falling in love, being heartbroken, then being with a man who never really wanted me to be myself, I’d lost who I was.

The old me would cringe at how weak I’ve been. I didn’t need any man to save me, not even Ben. I needed to act like the Queen I would one day become.

‘I just need some time, if you can be patient’

‘I’ve waited this long, I can wait a bit longer’. He kisses me on the cheek and goes to leave – through the door this time. ‘Oh, you look incredible by the way’

I blush despite myself, brushing down my dress and messed hair, ‘thank you’

Now alone again, I gather my belongings and text Jenny, and ask one of my protection officers to put everything in the car.

When I get to the entrance of the hall, the noise is overwhelming. Music is blaring and the guests are taking part in a Scottish jig. Apart from Nicholas, who is standing against the wall watching Jonathan with a disgusted look of envy on his face. I recall the conversation we’d had on our first date about how competitive the brothers were, and then conversations with Louisa, who kept hinting at something to me.

It’s only now that I realise why Nicholas had pursued me so hard. It wasn’t the money or the status he was after – he had both of those. His motivation was purely his life-long competition with his brother. After all, what could top marrying a duchess? Marrying a princess.

He catches my eye and I beckon him over to just outside the hall. I feel more in control and more calm than I have in months.

‘Have you had time to think?’ he says, a hint of desperation clear in his voice.

‘I’m afraid you won’t get the chance to upstage your brother tonight’ I say. ‘See, your offer was good, I’m not getting any younger and the chance to be guaranteed a life-long marriage is tempting…’

‘Great, maybe in a few mon-’

I put my hand up to stop him, ‘please don’t interrupt me. It is tempting, if the sight of my future husband didn’t make me want to vomit over his perfect suede shoes. I would rather spend the rest of my life alone than spend it with you’

I smile at him sweetly. Princesses don’t punch.

‘You will never speak to me or any of my family again, do you understand?’

He looks at me but doesn’t say a word.

I turn to leave, but turn back around for a moment ‘oh and Nick, maybe next time do some research before you buy the ring, because I fucking despise diamonds’

Maybe my language isn’t very princess-like, but it’s Cora through and through.

*

January 29th, 2166

I’m twenty-eight today. And I’m by myself.

Sitting in my apartment in Clarence House, I open the birthday cards given to me by my family and friends. I’d spent the past month alone, getting myself together, working hard, and trying not to call Ben.

I had told Dad and Mum everything that had happened. Dad suggested we lock Nicholas in the Tower of London and Mum proclaimed that she never did like him. We’d also sat together and talked for hours about their divorce. And about how to have a relationship in the spotlight.

They had both assured me that the good times were worth all the hassle that came afterwards. I was still scared, of course I was, but I realised taking a risk would be worth it. It was ok if it failed, I would be ok.

I prop up my cards on the side table next to the picture I have of King William and Queen Catherine. I put it up there to remind myself that they took a chance once too.

A knock comes at the door and I hurry over to open it, fixing my hair as I go.

‘Hello’ he says.

‘Hello’

I haven’t seen him in a month, but it feels like forever.

‘Happy birthday’ Ben says, clutching something rectangular in his arms.

‘You didn’t get me a present did you?’

He laughs that deep beautiful laugh, ‘no, not quite’

He places the packet down on the counter and unwraps it.

‘Lemon drizzle cake!’ I say happily.

‘I hope it doesn’t upset you, you know, being your tradition with your granddad and everything. I just thought you’d like to continue it…with me maybe’

‘I love it Ben’ I say, trying not to be a total idiot and start crying.

I go to kiss him on the cheek, but he turns his head purposefully and catches my lips with his. It’s like we haven’t been apart.

‘And I love you’ I add.

‘You’re alright too I suppose’ he says.

I slap him on the shoulder, ‘don’t be mean’

‘Ok ok, I love you, despite the fact that you drive me absolutely insane’

‘Good’

‘Good’ he mimics.

He cuts a slice of the cake and gives it to me, one slice of many more to come, I can only hope.

‘I’m sorry I don’t have an extravagant gift for you’ he says, stuffing the cake into his mouth.

‘I have everything I want’ I smile.

‘Look at you with the cheesy lines!’ he laughs.

‘Shut up!’ I say, burying my head in his shoulder.

He wraps his arm around my waist, keeping me there, ‘so you weren’t expecting a diamond?’, he raises his eyebrows tauntingly.

‘No I wasn’t, I would throw it back at you’, despite my attitude, I don’t move from his side, and he doesn’t let me.

‘Quite the model princesses aren’t you? Princess Cora, Rejecter of Diamonds, Potty Mouthed Queen of the People’

‘You better get used to it, princesses aren’t all what they’re cracked up to be’ I snigger.

‘Don’t I know it’

*

As it turns out, Ben never did give me a diamond ring.

Because on Boxing Day the following year, he gave me an emerald one.

[efrmellifer]

FFxivWrite ‘20, Twenty-Three

Prompt: Shuffle, during Heavensward, 1,845 words (this could be considered a non-canon spiritual successor to Entry Eleven from the Wondrous Tails event)

Drinks were already on the table, ready when they were due to arrive, armored and bundled against an especially cold night.

Etien was the first to get to Camp Dragonhead (without already having been there, of course), with no knight’s responsibilities to keep her behind and running late.

Haurchefant had been called from the room to tend to some matter one of the younger knights had needed help with, so when he returned to find Etien seated, spreading out the cards, turning them over and doing tricks, he was a little surprised.

“Eager, are we?”

“Tataru gets the taverns, Alphinaud eavesdrops on the high houses’ gossip, and I get to see what the knights get up to in their free time,” she explained, examining her nails. “Not to mention that I enjoy the company of all three of you.”

“I can only apologize more of us couldn’t join in.”

“Such as?” she asked, folding her hands and resting her chin atop them.

“Oh, I don’t know. Corentiaux, Lucia, maybe some of the dragoons.”

Etien grinned, teeth glimmering in the lower light. “I don’t mind us keeping it small. More intimate that way.”

Haurchefant couldn’t hide the little giggle that bubbled up his throat at that. “You, my friend, must be careful saying things like that. Intimacy. Next, they’ll say you touch a gentleman's hand without gloves.”

She thought about the layers of leather and armor and thick fabric that had been barriers against even the most chaste of touches.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched someone outside of maybe supporting them after a battle.

Nothing came to mind. She wanted to, though, wanted to feel the warmth of a cheek against her palm, or the brush of fingers through her hair.

She had a preferred partner for that sort of thing, if ever she could be so blessed. Despite her intentions not to, she’d looked—stared, even, if the quick, hungry gaze could be called that—at the fingerless gloves giving way to fingertips Etien would give just about anything to kiss even if only once. Though she wondered, didn’t he ever get cold?

Hells, she’d have to kiss his fingertips to stave off frostbite.

She wondered a lot, not just about the kissing issue, but why the gloves were fingerless at all. Did it increase his grip on his sword? She needed her fingers free for bowstrings and lyre-plucking, but even she either cut holes in them or added leather with extra friction.

She didn’t suppose she would ever have a good reason to ask, it wasn’t as though she could simply say—

“Oh, hello, Aymeric.” She tried to keep her voice light as she gathered up the cards she’d been playing with, scrabbling for her drink—oh gods damn, Haurchefant had added port to the chocolate.

Well, this was probably the best group for her to be drinking around; she could trust them even if the drink really was intoxicating.

When Etien had put her cup down, Aymeric greeted her, followed with an “Enjoying that?”

She nodded. “I hadn’t expected the wine, but it’s a nice touch.”

“Ah, I had meant to warn you,” Haurchefant interjected. “Mine apologies.”

She waved it away with a sunny smile. “Estinien coming soon?”

“He was only a few steps behind me,” Aymeric commented, looking towards the door. “So I would think so.”

The door opened, Estinien shaking snow from his hair.

“I would think it would be warmer, if snow was on the way,” Etien said with a little tint of confusion.

“It is not snowing,” Estinien grumbled. “Someone being careless with their Chocobo ran into a tree I was standing under.”

“Is everyone all right?”

“The Chocobo trotted off unscathed, but without its rider. I made my way here as fast as I could.”

“Ah,” resounded from Aymeric, Etien, and Haurchefant.

“So what are the rules tonight?” Etien asked as she lifted the cards again.

The three men shared a look among them. Something had sparked in Haurchefant’s eyes, but Aymeric looked hesitant and Estinien impassive. But no one seemed to disagree with whatever he was suggesting.

“Light armor, no other outerwear,” he said finally.

Etien shrugged off the draping cloak she had on, and unlooped her scarf from around her neck, laying it on the table next to her.

“No helmet, Estinien?” Aymeric asked.

“None of you have one; it seemed unfair if we were playing from armor.”

“Unfair to us, or you?” Etien asked, fiddling with her effects spread around her. She straightened her cup, refolded her scarf, fidgeted with her gloves.

“That depends. I hear you’re becoming a mean hand at cards these days.”

“I’m learning from the best,” she replied.

Haurchefant beamed as he sat down. “Would you like to shuffle, Etien?”

She nodded, scooping up the cards and shuffling them. “I didn’t intend to choose the game, one of you three can choose.”

She kept shuffling the deck as the Elezen debated the merits of a few common card games, or whether specific versions of the games were fair to play with someone who was still so new at the games themselves.

Eventually, they decided on one, and Etien passed the deck over to Haurchefant to cut. He tapped it. “I have no idea where you would have learned to count cards, so I think that won’t be necessary.”

She started to deal.

When she lost the first hand, she shrugged, popping open the clasp of her top, sliding it off her shoulders and letting it drape over the back of her chair.

She was more careful after that, cards close to her chest, playing with caution. And so a few hands passed by, hands she made it through with no trouble.

“I think I prefer this method,” Estinien commented, sipping at his drink while Aymeric tried to slip out of his coat gracefully while still seated. “I don’t lose any gil.”

“Good thing our clothing does not make the pot, then,” Aymeric responded.

Etien laughed softly. “it is, though I would love this,” she added, rubbing the blue material of the shed coat between her fingers. “So pretty. Is it comfortable?”

“I used to find it heavy,” he replied, attempting to be casual. “I have since gotten used to it. Are yours?”

“Comfortable enough. Not too heavy.” She gestured behind her, to the discarded boots. “Getting those on over the bottoms can be difficult, though.”

“It must keep your legs plenty protected,” Haurchefant commented, eyes on his cards. “I fear I must fold this hand.”

He kicked off his breeches, sitting down again. “What have we on, friends?”

Etien piped up first. “My undershirt and my field bottoms. And my socks. And my smalls, of course.”

“Good to know you wear them,” Estinien snorted, huffing harder when Aymeric elbowed him. “Ow. Breeches, gauntlets, my shirt. Everything under that.”

Haurchefant looked to Aymeric. “I still have everything on but my coat,” he responded.

“Guess that would mean you’re winning,” Etien said, draining her mug of port-and-chocolate.

“Certainly, because I would seem to be the least-dressed of us,” Haurchefant said, matter-of-fact. “Play on, friends! I shall watch eagerly.”

The trio laid their cards out.

“That would be impressive, Etien,” Estinien began, “but it doesn’t beat this four of a kind. Aymeric?”

“All I have is a straight.”

Etien stood, shimmying out of her bottoms and taking her seat again. “Who’s dealing now?”

“I’ll do it,” Aymeric said, holding his hand out for the cards. Everyone handed them over, and as he shuffled the deck, letting Etien cut it, Haurchefant stoked the fire.

“We cannot let her get cold, so unused to the Coerthan clime,” he explained, though he hadn’t needed to. All three of them could see Etien starting to shiver in only her shirt and tall wool socks.

Cards spread over the table, chatter accompanying them.

Just as everyone looked up from their cards, Aymeric happened to notice Etien’s ears flatten.

Maybe he hadn’t been paying attention before, but now that he had noticed, it was impossible to ignore. It was unfair to play cards with someone who, no matter how well she coached her facial expressions, would be given away by involuntary body language.

She clearly thought her hand wasn’t good enough to get her through the game still in her shirt. She was already shivering. Something had to be done.

“I-I fold,” he said.

“Surely your hand cannot be so bad that you would drop out immediately!” Haurchefant cried out.

“No, I assure you, it is,” he lied, standing and peeling away his shirt. That wasn’t so bad. It was like training.  Though usually he was a little warmer then...

He ignored the blush rising to his cheeks when he caught Etien’s eyes on him, but at least she looked a little more relieved. And it did serve to warm him.

When she, Estinien and Haurchefant laid their cards out, he scanned over them all before anyone had spoken.

Estinien’s three of a kind would have him losing those gauntlets, especially when Etien’s straight hand had only just edged him into last place.

Still, when she’d handed over her cards, Etien’s hands came to her upper arms, trying to rub some warmth back into them.

“Haurchefant, maybe we should end it here, I’m freezing.”

“One more?” he pleaded. “Besides, I think Aymeric has half a mind to keep you warm. Give her your coat,” he instructed, getting ready for a new hand.

Etien accepted the cards, tucking her tail under her leg and scratching at her ears, trying to disguise any movement they made.

So her sound thrashing with an utter bum hand of only Thordan-high had her sighing heavily, especially up against Haurchefant’s full house (including a pair of Flavien de Fortemps cards, no less), Estinien’s four of a kind, and Aymeric’s royal flush.

That flush became far more literal as Etien shrugged back his coat and her fingers curled around the hem of her shirt.  

She peeled it away, breaking into gooseflesh. “If we go much further than this, we really will be getting in trouble,” she said with a giggle.

“We… would do nothing of the sort,” Estinien replied. “I think I have had enough of cards. Seeing you like that is giving me a chill.”

He had found his voice, but Aymeric had not, eyes practically boring holes into the discarded cards strewn about the table.

Haurchefant was busying himself adding another log or two to the fire, and getting Etien something hot to drink. He had to get her warmed up again, at the very least. And so he occupied himself with that, even though he could tell from the growing tension in the room that he wasn’t only one who wanted to do so, though with very different method in mind.

And he had hoped this would spur Aymeric into action. Especially with how cute Etien looked, all curled up in his coat. She looked good in that shade of blue. Pity.

Haurchefant would just have to keep goading them, then.

[agentdagonet]

At The Beginning With You

Welcome to my entry for the 2019 @kingsmansecretsanta! I’ve actually never done this event before, and I’m glad I did so now! 

My gift is for the incredibly talented @han-ban-bam who won my heart over with their art when I was curious about their prompt. I hope you enjoy it!

Find it here on AO3

Summary: The Dowager Empress has been searching for her lost son Henry for ten years- but she's lost hope, and is prepared to live out the rest of her days alone, wondering what became of him.

Harry (just Harry) has no idea who he was eleven years ago- and all he has to lead him is a ring he can't remember getting with an inscription inside the band: Together in Paris.

Eggsy and Merlin are looking for the Grand Duke Henry Hart- or at least someone close enough to get the reward money- when Harry falls into their laps.

---

          ‘Go left they said- well,’ Harry looked at the sign briefly before scoffing, ‘I know what’s on the left. But, if I go right, perhaps…’ He spun the ring on his pinky briefly, a sad smile upon his lips ‘perhaps I’ll find an answer. But that’s ridiculous,’ Harry began to pace, looping his way through the snow and around the sign twice before speaking again, ‘how would I ever make my way to Paris- fuck it; I need a clue, a sign, something- anything! Just… give me a hint that doing this reckless thing is the right one.’

           He’d been without his memories for as long as he could remember, no pun intended. He knew that he’d been staying at the Statesman house for ten years with no clue as to who he’d been or where he’d come from. He didn’t have anything from his past- had nothing he could call his own outside of the ring that sat upon his right pinky. Which was plain enough at first glance, but inside the band there was an inscription: Together in Paris.

           Harry pulled his coat as close to himself as he could and glared almost accusingly at the sign post, barely noticing the insistent tugging at his pocket- the one that held his scarf. He looked down to find a small dog, scruffy and black, seemingly delighted to have caught his attention. He grasped the end of the scarf in his pocket and tugged a little, and laughed at the tiny growl the dog gave in return. He played tug for a little longer, allowed himself the luxury of happiness for a moment, before he crouched down and pat him on the head.

           ‘I don’t actually have time to play with you, you know- I’m waiting for something,’ Harry looked back up at the sign, let his eye trail across and follow the snow as it fell, and unknowingly allowed his grip on the scarf to loosen.

           ‘Excuse me!’ The small dog was dwarfed by the scarf, thin as it was, but he was determined to get away. He paused for all of a breath, tail wagging furiously as he looked back, before bolting down the road and pausing again. ‘Lovely. A dog wants me to go to St. Petersburg- wait,’ Harry glanced back toward the Statesman house, that he knew he wasn’t going back to no matter which path he chose. He looked toward the path he knew well and the predictable future he could have.

 He followed the dog.

 ---

           It turned out that getting out of the country was more difficult than he’d assumed. Made infinitely more so by his lack of money and his status as an amnesiac. There were people trying to hawk off goods as having belonged to the long-since deceased Hart’s- somehow the people who had celebrated their deaths now craved their presence.

           Humanity was strange.

           ‘Excuse me, sir- a suggestion?’ Harry looked up from where he was staring at the ground, and looked the young woman who had spoken in the eye with a brow raised. ‘Go see Eggsy- he could probably help you.’

           ‘What’s an Eggy?’

           ‘Eggsy, sir,’ she corrected gently, and Harry nodded, ‘and he can help you find a way to Paris- he’s at the old palace, but you didn’t hear it from me!’ As quickly as she had appeared, the woman had folded into the crowd and vanished. He looked down to Mr. Pickle, having named the dog with the intention of keeping him no matter where he ended up, and pressed his lips to the top of his head before standing.

           ‘Well, why not?’

 ---

           ‘I hate to say it, Eggsy, but we’ve run out of men the correct age for this farce to be successful. We’ve wasted the last of our money and have nothing to show for it but this dilapidated ruin to hide in for one night longer.’ There were men in the building, their voices echoed out from somewhere Harry could not make his way to. He allowed himself to wander slowly, his hands trailing across the few things left in the house- some knicknacks, the odd torn bit of tablecloth.

           ‘This place is- it… feels familiar. Like a dream I don’t remember having.’ Mr. Pickle was running about, sneezing when he stuck his head somewhere particularly dusty, but Harry paid him no mind. He’d tuned out the people talking, one of them being the man he’d even entered the building to find, focused intently on the painting of who he assumed were the deceased royals. There was something about the youngest man in the portrait that had him frozen. He recognised him, somehow, from somewhere; he could feel a phantom grip upon his shoulder, his hair ruffled, a kiss upon his cheek...

           ‘The fuck ‘re you doing here, bruv?’ The voice came from across the hall, and Harry’s head snapped up to find two men staring- the one with green eyes and light hair had spoken, and the taller bald gentleman was looking at a notebook, a set of spectacles perched atop his head. The younger man looked angry, almost sneering in his direction, so Harry turned and ran for the stairs where Mr. Pickle was lying beneath the massive painting. ‘Hey! Shit, mate, stop we ain’t gonna hurt you!’ That’s what they all say. He’d meant to keep running, but the stairs had winded him, and he paused with one hand bearing his weight against the wall before turning to the sound of approaching footsteps.

           ‘Apologies-’

           ‘How did you get in… here…’ The younger man interrupted him, but trailed off, eyes darting between himself and the portrait behind him with something akin to awe. Harry shrugged and sighed, and Mr. Pickle chose that moment to reveal himself by growling from where he was perched upon Harry’s feet.

           ‘You haven’t answered our question-’ The younger man shushed the bald one, who looked at him as if offended at having been interrupted. The blond man didn’t seem to notice his offence.

           ‘Do you see what I see, Merlin?’ The younger man, presumably Eggsy, gestured in Harry’s direction.

           ‘No.’ pushed the glasses down his head, and gestured toward Harry a second time with a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. ‘Oh, a dog!’

           ‘Not the dog, Merlin-’

           ‘Oh- oh- you think-’ Merlin looked excited by whatever they were seeing in him, but Harry was getting impatient. Either let him leave or get on with whatever it was they wanted with him.

           ‘Are you Eggsy?’

           ‘Tha’ depends on who’s askin’.’ So it was definitely Eggsy, then, who was approaching him in a decidedly less antagonistic manner than the chase had started with.

           ‘I’m Harry, and I need travel papers- I was told my someone that you were the one to find, though I couldn’t tell you who told me so.’ As he spoke, Eggsy began to circle him, humming to himself and only vaguely motioning that he had heard him at all. ‘Dare I ask why you’re circling me? Perhaps you were a vulture in a previous life?’ Eggsy jumped a bit in place and looked at him sheepishly

           ‘Sorry, sorry; it’s just you look an awful lot like-’ he seemed to cut himself off, ‘nevermind, you said you need papers?’ He took in Harry’s dishevelled appearance, his worn eyepatch and fingerless gloves, but didn’t change how he addressed him. ‘What for?’

           ‘I’d like to go to Paris.’ Harry rubbed his thumb along the band of his ring mindlessly but Eggsy paid him no mind, having turned his attention entirely back to Merlin who was besotted with Mr. Pickle.

           ‘Paris, eh? Well, lemme ask you somethin’ Harry- there a last name to go with that?’

           ‘I doubt you’ll believe me, actually, but I haven’t the foggiest as to my last name. I presume I have one, but I was found wandering about ten years ago-’

           ‘An’ before then, what? You just popped into existence ten years ago?’ Eggsy looked simultaneously hopeful and baffled, and Harry didn’t know what to make of that.

           ‘I know it sounds ludicrous, but I honestly don’t remember- I have very few memories of my past, and my only real clue to figuring it out is Paris. So,’ Harry shrugged, and forced his thumb from his ring and attempted to look nonchalant. ‘Can you two help me, or shall I off and find another person to forge my existence?’ Eggsy leant toward Merlin and asked for something before turning back to Harry

           ‘Actually, we was headin’ to Paris ourselves- I got three tickets here, but unfortunately one of ‘em’s for him,’ Eggsy gestured to the portrait, specifically the young man with the brown hair and honey eyes, ‘Henry.’

           ‘We’re going to reunite the Grand Duke Henry with his mother- she’s been searching for years-’ Merlin came fully up the steps, Mr. Pickle in his arms, and nudged Harry up toward one end of the staircase.

           ‘You kind of look like ‘him- got his eyes, you know-’

           ‘Alexandra’s chin and Nicholas’ smile- look,’ Merlin pulled his left hand closer to his face, ‘he even has his father’s hands.’

           ‘I mean, what’re the chances- right age, the looks-’

           ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you attempting to tell me that you think I,’ Harry began incredulously, laughing slightly, ‘am Henry?’

           ‘All I’m gonna say is I’ve seen hundreds of blokes from all over the country ‘nd there ain’t one of ‘em that looks even close to the Harts compared to you. I mean, bruv, look at the paintin’ there!’ Eggsy gestured wildly to a new painting he didn’t bother to look at.

           ‘I was rather hoping you’d prove my first impression incorrect, but instead now I think the both of you are mad.’

           ‘Why? You don’ know what happened to you, an’ no one knows what happened to him!’

           ‘You’re looking for family in Paris, and that happens to be where his only family lives.’ Merlin interjected, one hand rubbing behind Mr. Pickles’ ears idly.

           ‘You ain’t tellin’ me that you’ve never thought about it?’

           ‘About what? Being a prince? It’s more than a bit difficult to think of yourself as much of anything when you’re sleeping on a damp floor- but sure, I guess every lonely person has imagined being royalty.’

           ‘And, somewhere, one lonely man is.’ Merlin rested an arm across his shoulder, a move more familiar than anyone had done in many years, and Eggsy began to walk away.

           ‘Wish we could help, mate, but tha’ third ticket’s for the Grand Duke Henry so-’ Eggsy pulled Merlin away, and Harry didn’t bother to turn. He stared at the new portrait, this one only of the younger man and a woman he could only assume was his mother bedecked in a finery Harry could scarcely imagine. He couldn’t help but lift a hand to the canvas, as if he could run his fingertips along the silk.

           ‘Eggsy, can I ask why the fuck you didn’t tell him about our plan when he is the only viable option-’ Eggsy raised a finger to his lips, and lifted the other hand to count down from three. Two. One.

           ‘Eggsy!’

           ‘That’s the thing with us common types- we know how to work a crowd, yeah? He’s in the palm of our hands, now- just ‘ad to make it look like his idea.’ Eggsy grinned, he and Merlin having come to a stop at the base of the staircase, and he could hear Harry making his way down the steps at much the same pace he’d gone up them.

           ‘Eggsy, wait- if I don’t know who I am then… well, then who’s to say whether or not I am a Duke?’

           ‘Go on,’ Eggsy placed a hand at his chin, and Merlin seemed to be holding something back, but Harry couldn’t help but continue now that he’d begun. If he was going to take hints and chances from the universe, then he was going to do it right.

           ‘Well, if that turns out not to be true then the Empress would certainly know immediately if that were the case. An honest mistake- what had I to go on but the timing of my injury with the Hart massacre?’

           ‘Makes sense to me.’ Eggsy nodded, one hand beneath his chin, and Merlin nodded once before speaking.

           ‘And if you are the Prince then you will finally have some, if not all, of the answers you’ve been looking for. Family and identity.’

           ‘Merlin’s right, bruv- ‘sides, either way it gets you to Paris, yeah?’ Eggsy smiled and held out a hand, and Harry couldn’t make himself hesitate.

           ‘Right.’ They clasped hands, though perhaps Harry gripped a bit too hard if Eggsy’s face was anything to go by. ‘Well, Mr. Pickle, seems we’re going to Paris.’

 -------

           ‘Stop messin’ about with your ring and sit up- you’re a Duke, ain’t ya?’ Eggsy didn’t want to let on how much he hated trains- always made him feel a bit sick- and tried to focus on getting Harry to act like the man he was supposed to be. Merlin was sat on the other side of the cabin, fiddling with their travel papers, and Mr. Pickle (seriously? Why would anyone name a dog- nevermind) was sat across from Harry in the other window seat.

           ‘Eggsy?’ Harry had slouched further into his seat, but seemed to find that just a little too uncomfortable for the ride had sat back up to address him. 

           ‘Yes, Harry?’

           ‘How is it that you know what royalty is supposed to act like?

           ‘I make it my business to know.’ Eggsy dodged the question, not allowing himself to think about his mum and sister even after all the years between then and now. Everyone remembered the Hart’s destruction- but they never remembered the bystanders that fell simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. ‘I’m just tryin’ to help, ‘kay?’

           ‘Indeed… Do you truly believe me to be royalty?’ His eye was wide and earnest, the brow above the eyepatch raised to match the other, and Eggsy turned fully toward him.

           ‘You know I do, bruv.’

           ‘Then stop bossing me around.’ Harry turned bodily back toward the window, pat one leg to beckon Mr. Pickle to sit with him, and seemed to admire the view without a care to Eggsy’s reaction.

           Merlin, on the other hand, had been observing the pair of them since they’d left the dilapidated palace and simply made another tally in his notebook. For all that Eggsy was a professional sweet-talker, he was being given the runaround by Harry. Between his cheek and his lack of memory, Harry seemed to have a lack of care when it came to niceties, and it had been a long while since anyone had pushed back when Eggsy pushed them.

           They were oblivious, of course, but Merlin wasn’t going to complain about the entertainment their dancing about brought him.

           ‘Harry, I think we got off on the wrong foot.’ Eggsy rubbed one hand along his jaw as he sat across from Harry, who looked fully engrossed in a book and might not have heard him in the first place.

           ‘I’d have to agree with you there, my boy- but I appreciate your apology.’ Harry peered over the top of his book for a moment, sincere as you please, and it took a moment for the words to fully sink in.

           ‘Apology? The fuck said anythin’ about an apology- I was just sayin’-’

           ‘You needn’t say anything else, Eggsy- in fact, it may actually upset me further.’

           ‘Guess I’ll keep my trap shut if you will.’

           ‘Fine.’

           ‘Fine.’

           ‘... Do you think you’ll miss it?’ Harry whispered, face not leaving the window even though his gaze was locked on Eggsy in the reflection.

           ‘What, you talkin’?’ Eggsy smirked, leant back in his seat carelessly.

           ‘No, Eggsy- Russia. Do you think you’ll miss Russia?’ Harry turned back toward Eggsy and gestured blandly to the snowscape out the window.

           ‘Nope.’ He didn’t even have to think about it.

           ‘But it was your home.’

           ‘It’s where I lived for a while, but it weren’t home, end of story.’

           ‘Then you must be thinking of making Paris your true home?’

           ‘What’s it with you and home, mate? Russia’s a place I lived, ‘nd maybe Paris’ll be the next place I live, what business is it of yours?’

           ‘It’s something every normal person wants, for one- for another…’ Harry stood and tried to pace, but Eggsy refused to move his legs from where they blocked his path. ‘Oh, forget it. Merlin!’ Harry exclaimed upon seeing the man come through the door, ‘thank goodness it’s you- please remove him from my sight.’

           ‘Fuck did you do, Eggsy?’

           ‘Me?!’

 ---

           ‘Unfortunate change in circumstance, Eggsy- papers are in red this month.’ Merlin spoke at a level tone, conversational, even as he turned their forged papers around to indicate the blue ink they were made in. ‘I propose we move ourselves to the luggage car before guards come to inspect our papers.’

           ‘That ain’t gonna do it, guv, y’know that- let’s get off this train.’ Harry was still asleep on the bench, and Eggsy leant over to nudge him awake. ‘Harry? Harry we’ve-’ Harry’s arm shot up and clocked him, and Eggsy fell to the opposite bench clutching his nose as Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

           ‘My apologies I thought you were someone else- oh, nevermind, it’s just you.’ Harry didn’t smirk, in fact his eye showed a touch of remorse if Eggsy was reading him proper, but he didn’t make any move to help, either.

           ‘C’mon,’ Eggsy grabbed as many bits of their luggage in one hand before offering the other to Harry, ‘we’ve got to go.’

           ‘Might I ask where we’re going?’ They made their way down the corridor slowly, and as Merlin and Eggsy settled into the luggage car Harry couldn’t help but nudge the bee’s nest and hide a smile.

           ‘The baggage car- scenic. There wouldn’t happen to be issues with our papers, would there, maestro?’

           ‘Course not, Your Grace- just hated making you mingle with them common folk, is all.’ There was a crash, a stack of luggage fell over, and Harry stumbled to the nearest wall. ‘The fuck was that, Merlin?’

           ‘No idea, but there goes the dining car,’ Merlin looked forlornly out the back window before approaching the door nearest the engine, ‘and it looks as if someone’s set the engine aflame.’ Indeed, there was fire coming from the smokestack.

           ‘Somethin’ ain’t right,’ Eggsy threw his coat off before jumping from their car to the one spewing fire, ‘stay here- I’m gonna check it out.’

           ‘I’m not certain there’s anywhere for us to go.’ Harry muttered to himself, glaring down at the bundle of fabric he’d managed to catch, and Merlin nodded in agreement. Luckily for them both Eggsy returned quickly, face flushed and a fair bit of soot on his trousers.

           ‘There ain’t nobody drivin’ the train- we got to jump.’ Eggsy tugged at Harry’s sleeve, half dragging him to the side of the car and pulling the wall open to reveal a steep drop off the edge of a cliff.

           ‘Jump, you said? Well I’ll certainly follow your lead on this one.’ Harry’s eye was wide and his face pale with panic, but it seemed that even certain doom couldn’t turn off his sarcasm.

           ‘Fuck it, we’ll- we’ll uncouple the car, then.’ Merlin dashed toward the fallen luggage and began searching for tools, and Eggsy went to the coupling, going through whatever tools Merlin handed him and cursing each time they broke.

           Mr. Pickle began to bark as a box shifted closer to him, likely startled by its size, but Harry began to grin as the shifting light from the fire revealed the box’s contents.

           ‘Y’sure there ain’t somethin’ better than this in there, guv?’ Eggsy was glaring at the coupling, which didn’t look at all worse for wear from when he’d begun trying to undo it, and didn’t even look up as there was movement from the corner of his eye. He lifted a hand and grabbed what was passed to him, and grinned when he finally brought it fully into view. 

           ‘Yes, Harry,’ Eggsy grinned jamming the stick of dynamite into the mechanics of it before running to the other end of the luggage car to await the earth-shattering kaboom. ‘The fuck taught you that?’

           ‘No one had to- I was just a bit inspired by the setting.’ 

           ‘Eggsy, lad, the brakes are out.’ Merlin was turning at the gear frantically, though his voice gave nothing away, and the flaming engine car was still close enough to send some embers into their car. A box caught fire, and Harry went to smother it out as Eggsy looked frantically about for another option.

           ‘There’s loads of track still, yeah? We’ll have to slow down eventually!’ Perhaps one of them ought to have knocked on wood, for at that precise moment the car rocked violently, and a glance outside showed that a large bit of track just ahead had collapsed. They all froze for a moment before springing back into motion at a frantic pace.

           ‘You were saying?’ Harry quipped, trying desperately not to panic in the midst of this life-endangering chaos, but Eggsy paid him no mind.

           ‘I got an idea- Merlin, gimme a hand.’ Without waiting for an answer, Eggsy pulled some chain to the back of the car, and climbed down toward the gears. He lifted a hand for the chain, eyes fixed on his target, but looked up as he grasped it. ‘Oi, did I ask for Harry?’

           ‘Merlin’s a bit preoccupied at the moment.’ Harry lowered the chain and instinctively gripped Eggsy’s arm as he lost his balance with a jerk of the car. He pulled the young man up, the two tumbling to the floor of the luggage car in a tangled heap, before watching a bit of the train fly off and slam directly into a tree. ‘To think, that could have been your untimely end.’ Harry blinked his one eye innocently before letting go of Eggsy entirely and moving away.

           ‘If we live through this shit, remind me to thank you.’ Eggsy grumbled, moving toward where Merlin was dusting himself off from a wayward tumble into some debris to grab the other end of the chain.

           ‘Wouldn’t dream of forgetting.’ Harry helped drag the chain into a pile by the door, not quite understanding what the plan was until Eggsy dropped the last bit of it to the top: a hook.

           ‘Brace yourselves.’ With that, Eggsy and Harry pushed the pile of chain out the back of the car with both hands, and waited with bated breath for the hook to catch on something.

           Anything.

           There was a lurch when the hook caught on the track, the entire car pulled off it from the sudden attempted stop. Suitcases were flung from one end to the other, some falling from the damaged holes in the car, Harry held Mr. Pickle tightly to his chest and prayed that they’d get out of this in one piece- even if it were a damaged one. As soon as the car seemed to settle to a steady grind along the ground, the trio of men locked arms before exchanging terrified grins and staring out at the rushing snowscape.

           ‘Well, it seems this is our stop!’

           They jumped.

           They miraculously landed without breaking any bones, though some rocks hidden by the snow had scraped them up a bit and Mr. Pickle was shivering pathetically in Harry’s arms.

           ‘I fuckin’ hate trains, bruv- don’ let me get on a train ever again, y’get me?’ Eggsy was still lying in the snow while waving a finger angrily at Merlin, who nodded indulgently, but Harry could do nothing but stare at the sky.

           What now?

 ---

           ‘Are we walking to Paris, then?’ They’d been walking for ages, and as the days wore on Harry was losing his nerve and his patience. He felt like a child, whinging about how long things were taking- but he had waited ten years for answers and now that he was on the path the rest couldn’t come soon enough. He was so close to getting an answer.

           ‘No, Your Grace, we are taking a boat from Germany into Paris.’ Merlin sighed, and looked forlornly at the path ahead of them.

           ‘Are we walking to Germany, then?’ It wasn’t that he was impatient, Harry reasoned with himself, it was just that he did not enjoy not knowing the plan. He wanted to at least have a solid idea of the next step they were taking, even though the end goal was the same.

           ‘We’re takin’ a bus to Germany, Harry, just got to get to town first.’ Harry hummed in agreement, and together they trudged on in companionable silence. Until Merlin decided the silence was too much to bear and began to wax poetic about someone named Roxy.

           ‘Who’s Roxy?’

           ‘The Juliet to my Romeo, hot chocolate after a walk in snow, a decadent pastry filled with laughter-’

           ‘Are we discussing a dessert or a person?’

           ‘Ix-ay on the Oxy-Ray’ Eggsy muttered, seemingly to himself as both of his companions were too caught up in one another to pay him any mind. The closer they got to Paris, the more stressed he became- how many more ways could shit go wrong? It was lucky that there wasn’t an actual deadline here, or they’d have been fucked over ages ago.

           ‘The ethereal Roxy Morton is the Empress’ Niece-’

           ‘Niece? Why are we going to see the Empress’ niece, and not the Empress herself?’ Harry barely kept himself from stopping in his tracks- but no matter what their initial destination, there was no way he was staying out in the cold because he was being petty.

           ‘Did you really think that we could just show up at the Empress’ doorstep?’ Eggsy scoffed, and glanced back before continuing onward. ‘No one gets to the Empress without Roxy’s say-so- after that thing where her whole family was massacred the Empress is a bit wary of strangers, if you can believe.’ Harry’s ears burned at the rebuke, feeling foolish for not having come to the logical conclusion of security.

           ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Harry muttered, refusing to make eye contact with either man when they looked back toward him, ‘I’m not certain how I feel about actively lying to someone about this. Make an appearance looking done up, ask some questions and perhaps get some answers, certainly, but to lie?’

           ‘The fuck said anythin’ about lying? D’you know you ain’t the Duke?’

           ‘Well no, I don’t know much of anything about who I may or may not be.’

           ‘So it’s one more stop on the path toward becoming your true self!’ Merlin said as he slung an arm about Harry’s shoulders, but Harry looked away and shrugged it off.

           ‘Harry, ain’t this somethin’ you’re gonna see to the end? Thought you wanted answers- can’t get shit if you don’ try.’ Harry shrugged and stared at a nearby pond for want of something to focus on. Eggsy was having none of his shit, and grabbed him by the elbow to force him to look at his own reflection. ‘What do you see, Harry?’

           ‘I see a frail man, who has no past to draw from and no future to aim toward.’

           ‘Well that’s nonsense,’ Merlin placed a hand on his shoulder, gripped it in a way that Harry knew would not be removed by simply shrugging it off, ‘you’re an intelligent man who wants answers. You’re determined and took a chance on the likes of us,’ Merlin gestured between himself and Eggsy, ‘on the word of a woman you didn’t know from any other passerby.

           ‘I’ve seen you give command equal to any royal- which,’ Merlin smiled, ‘is saying something, as I was once a member of the Imperial Court. I’ve plenty of experience with royalty to draw from.’

           ‘So you’ve got a choice, bruv’ Eggsy’d stopped, and had his hands shoved into his pockets, slightly slouched, and Harry couldn’t help but admire the cut of his image as Eggsy raised a brow in his direction, ‘you gonna focus on what you see now, or what you can become, Grand Duke Hart?’ 

           ‘Do you think that I’ve got anything to lose?’

 ---

           It was surprising how easily the lessons were able to stick. It felt far less like creating something from nothing and far more like rebuilding. Like giving a table a new leg, or darning a sock, instead of crafting from the bare materials. On the one hand, it made lessons simpler to get through- but on the other, it was actually terrifying to think that he had once known these things. Had he once been a man of the Courts? Was he a gossip that had merely taken note of all of these things for use at some later point?

           Table manners had needed some work, but it seemed that if Harry stopped thinking about things then his body simply did them naturally. If he curled his lip and narrowed his eyes, sometimes he was able to imagine sitting with the sorts of stuffy people he imagined royals to be and not making an utter fool of himself. But the things that were not easy were so difficult Harry was tempted to give up the venture entirely.

           ‘Harry, if I can do this shit then you can too. It ain’t that difficult.’ Eggsy was gesturing with a sheet Merlin had written various facts onto. Family members and the sorts of little stories that were used to make conversation when small talk wasn’t enough. Oh, once Count so-and-so managed the most ghastly thing entirely by accident! The empty stories that made collectives and families. ‘Now Count Sergei-’

           ‘I’ve heard he’s put on a fair amount of weight.’ Merlin commented from where he was sat, writing into a notebook.

           ‘He’s the one who had a cat, right? Some fat yellow thing,’ Harry cocked his head to one side, eyes looking skyward, and entirely missed the startled look Merlin and Eggsy exchanged.

           ‘...Yes, Harry.’ Eggsy said, barely holding it together as Merlin shook his head, only enough to be barely noticeable. Merlin snapped his book shut and tucked it away, Mr. Pickle startled from his nap where he’d sat upon Merlin’s legs and jumped down as Eggsy approached their luggage and reached inside. ‘Now, there’s somethin’ all royals c’n do that us common types ain’t the best at-’ Eggsy pulled out a set of black men’s dress shoes, open laced and simple, ‘dancing.’ He came up to Harry, offering them to the man with a grin. After a moment of Harry not reaching to take them from his grip, Eggsy shook them in front of his face. ‘What’re you waitin’ for?’

           ‘The punchline.’

           ‘There’s no punchline, Harry- dancing is as important to the royals as all of the bits of knowledge you’ve memorised up till now,’ Merlin spoke softly, and made sure to look Harry in the eye, ‘you’re going to have to learn at least a few dances, and these shoes are what you’ll need to be comfortable dancing in. Eggsy is going to be your dance partner-’

           ‘- what?’

           ‘- as you’ll have to be comfortable leading your partner and the height differential betwixt you is ideal.’ Merlin didn’t smile, but Harry could see the amusement in his gaze. He nodded, and Merlin took a few paces back to lean against the edge of the boat as Harry replaced his worn travelling shoes with the fancier pair.

           ‘They’re called oxfords- they make some with designs and shit ‘n call ‘em brogues, but the Hart’s were more about bein’ elegant than flashy.’ Eggsy muttered, the tips of his ears were red, and in spite of his overwhelming curiosity Harry kept his mouth shut. Perhaps at the end of all this he would know more than just who had once been, but until that time came it didn’t do well to pry.

           ‘Well,’ Harry stood, at once feeling entirely and nothing like himself in the too-hard shoes, ‘let’s get started.’ Harry offered a hand to Eggsy, who took it before placing his other hand at Harry’s shoulder. They exchanged a shaky grin before starting to move, both muttering beneath their breath and glancing downward every few moments.

           ‘Well, Merlin, on the one hand you’ve done an admirable job in setting them up. On the other,’ he sighed to himself, pulled a hand down his face and allowed his eyes to lazily follow them as they seamlessly danced their way around the bow of the ship, ‘you’ve set them up.’

           ‘I’m feeling a bit light headed, Eggsy.’ Harry murmured as he slowed their dance down to a crawl.

           ‘Dizzy?’ Eggsy looked up, an eyebrow cocked and Harry nodded in reply. ‘Prolly from all the spinning. We- we should stop.’ Eggsy couldn’t pull his eyes from Harry, who was looking at him the same way he’d looked at the sunset- eyes wide and mouth slightly parted.

           ‘We have stopped.’ They didn’t move from their positions, pressed nearly chest to chest and the toes of their shoes touching, and both men closed their eyes. Simply allowed themselves to breathe in the same air, unknowingly leant even closer than before, nearly-

           There was a clatter of luggage, and both men’s heads snapped toward Merlin and Mr. Pickle, the latter of which was sat atop the messy pile of belongings. Merlin was half covered by the pile and glaring at the dog. Eggsy pulled from Harry’s grip and backed up a bit before smirking in his direction.

           ‘You’re doin’ great, Harry.’

 ---

           Merlin was sitting on the floor of their room of the ship, a little green at the gills, while Harry read a book in his bed. Eggsy was sleeping on the floor, surrounded by their luggage just a little bit away, and Harry looked briefly over his form and Mr. Pickle sleeping beside him before he turned to Merlin.

           ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’

           ‘Just riddled with envy- there Eggsy is sleeping through everything while you and I remain awake from the rougher waters. There’s little I envy of Eggsy’s life, but his ability to sleep through anything is at the top of that list.’ Mr. Pickle had stirred at Merlin’s voice, and made his way over toward them with more than a little fanfare; he was small, and climbing over the luggage had jostled something loose, something that looked priceless. Gold and blue and engraved with strange symbols that tugged at the edges of Harry’s mind.

           Or perhaps that was the seasickness talking.

           ‘It’s a lovely jewellery box, is it not?’

           ‘Is that what it is?’ Harry turned it in his palm idly, looking but not really seeing the details.

           ‘Well, what else could it be?’ Merlin looked briefly between Harry’s face and the intricate object before putting his head back between his legs.

           ‘Something else- something... secret,’ Harry whispered, ran a fingernail along the top edge, ‘is that possible?’

           ‘Well, anything’s possible- you got Eggsy to waltz, didn’t you?’ They chuckled for a moment, exchanged a wry glance, and settled in for bed as best the were able.

           Eggsy woke to Mr. Pickle barking and jumping on his side, and he sat up slowly before registering the groaning that was not his own coming from the bed. Harry was tossing, his face contorted into a grimace and a noise Eggsy didn’t want to call a whimper but could call little else escaped him. Eggsy couldn’t help but scramble from his place on the floor, ran a hand down Mr. Pickles’ back unthinkingly as he passed, and shook Harry’s shoulder.

           ‘Harry? Harry! Wake up!’ Harry’s eye shot open, one hand slapped itself over his ruined eye socket to hide it from view as he gasped. Or maybe just to grasp at the eye patch that should have been there but was conspicuously absent. Eggsy moved his eyes slowly, left his hand on Harry’s shoulder, and used the other to pick up the patch from where it had fallen to the floor.

           ‘Here,’ Eggsy gave a small smile, the kind of sheepish thing you exchange when embarrassed, as he pressed it into Harry’s hand, ‘you okay?’

           ‘I- I’m not sure. I keep seeing these faces, they’re screaming, and-’

           ‘Hey,’ Eggsy squeezed the hand on Harry’s shoulder, ‘it was just a dream, yeah? You’re safe now.’ Harry looked between Eggsy’s eyes frantically, as if he was looking for something specific, and seemed to relax minutely as he found it. Whatever it was. His face slackened, one side of his mouth pulled into a sheepish grin, before he stretched languidly and turned onto his side beneath the covers.

           ‘Of course I’m safe- I’m with you.’

 ---

           ‘Yes, yes, we’d take picnics by shore in spring- but, tell me, why in the spring? How did we get there?’ An older woman, silver hair pulled into an elegant knotwork of loose braids, tapped her cane to the floor while glaring at the man before her. She could see the dye in his hair and the state of his attire did nothing to convince her of his supposed heritage. His blue eyes widened, one hand lifted in a parody of thought, before she continued. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but you’ve taken too long. Please see yourself out- and do let people know that I have no intentions of seeing any more false Henry’s.’ The door did not slam behind him, but a woman emerged from the hall with her eyes downturned and she scuffed a foot in the carpet as she came forward. Her red dress somehow subdued despite the colour, shoes a simple black to accompany a delicate bracelet that sat upon her wrist.

           ‘I’m sorry, Empress, I thought-’

           ‘The issue is not that you were thinking, Roxanne- it’s in how you were thinking. It’s been many years, and I am growing tired of the rough ride my heart has been taken on. I don’t want to give myself any more false hope, darling- I’ll not see any more. I would rather wonder than have my heart broken again.’

           ‘As you wish, Empress.’

 ---

           ‘What if she doesn’t recognise me? What if I’m not Henry, and we’ve come all this way for nothing? Just a short while ago I had nothing and now I’m having to remember an entire lifetime-’ Harry was fiddling with his ring, the only bit of familiar clothing on him, and refused to meet anyone’s gaze. His blue waistcoat and bowtie felt stifling and the oxfords on his feet still felt unnatural. But, these were the sorts of things he was meant to be used to- so he would suffer through the hassle.

           ‘Breathe. We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it.’ Eggsy ruffled Harry’s hair, sufficiently distracting him from Merlin ringing the doorbell.

           ‘Oui, monsieur?’ A maid had opened the door initially, but Eggsy stifled a laugh as she was unceremoniously pushed from the doorjamb and replaced with a woman in violet. Her hair was pulled to the nape of her neck with a black ribbon, and Harry could only notice that because she had veritably launched herself into Merlin’s embrace.

           ‘Merlin, well isn’t this an unexpected surprise!’ She had pulled back, a smile splitting her face, seemingly ignorant as to the rest of the guests. ‘Do come in, we can catch up inside. What brings you all the way to me after all this time?’

           ‘Might I present His Imperial Highness the Grand Duke Henry.’ Merlin gestured toward Harry regally, and Harry couldn’t help but straighten his back under her appraising gaze.

           ‘Well he certainly looks the part- but so did many of the others I’ve had to see through, love.’ Roxy tilted her chin and narrowed her eyes, but nodded her head before addressing Harry directly.

           ‘How do you take your tea, Henry?’

           ‘Preferably not at all.’ Roxy’s lips twitched for a moment before settling back into calculating neutrality. For all that he was meant to be royalty, if he did not act like a normal person around those who were meant to be his peers then he was obviously out of place. At least, that’s how he justified his thoughtless reply in his mind.

           ‘If you and I were to go dancing,’ Eggsy stifled a laugh at Harry’s look, ‘would you allow me to lead?’

           ‘Would you step on my oxfords?’ Harry raised a brow, and Merlin huffed a breath as he shook his head. The dance had begun.

           It had taken several hours, they’d shared a meal and Eggsy had noticed Roxy’s watching how Harry ate his meal. They’d had tea brought out twice, and Merlin could practically hear the notetaking happening in Roxy’s head. On the one hand, it was admirable that Roxy was taking her job as gatekeeper to the Empress so seriously- but on the other, this was exhausting.

           ‘And, finally, this may be a fair bit personal-’ 

           ‘We’re meant to be discerning my identity, think nothing of it-’

           ‘How did you escape during the siege of the palace?’ Roxy finished, and sat back in her seat with her hands folded in her lap. Harry looked to the floor for a moment from the corner of his eye, and licked his lips before answering with a knowledge he didn’t know the source of.

           ‘There was a boy, a young boy that worked in the palace, and he opened a wall. Which sounds like nonsense, I know, but-’

           ‘Is he Henry, then, Roxy?’ Merlin interrupted, leant forward in his chair beside her, one hand upon the tabletop between them. Eggsy hadn’t moved, had barely dared to breathe, locked on Harry’s form with eyes wide and unseeing.

           ‘Well he certainly answered every question I posed to him.’ Harry allowed himself to smile, but couldn’t get his body to relax. Still sat with his back straight, wrists straight, legs still beneath the table.

           ‘So when do we go and see the Empress, then?’

           ‘You don’t.’ It’s said simply, neutrally, as if discussing the weather or a nearby plant as Roxy pushed from the table and began to pace. ‘The Empress has had her heart hurt once too many times and has ordered an end to introductions.’ One hand rubbed at her chin while the other was curled behind her back.

           ‘But there simply must be a way- I certainly won’t budge until we have some semblance of an idea.’ Merlin spoke not frantically, but not calmly either. He spoke like a man who was used to people finding a way to obtain what he wanted.

           Harry’s mind was frantic. Here he had come all this way, done everything proper, and still it was hopeless?

           ‘Do you like the Russian Ballet? I believe they’re performing in Paris tonight, and the Empress and I are sure to never miss a performance.’ Roxy winked in Merlin’s direction, Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to share a smile with Eggsy-

           Who wasn’t there.

           ‘We did it! We’re to see Her Imperial Highness tonight and then we are golden, Eggsy!’ Merlin meandered into the garden where Eggsy was staring almost angrily into a bird bath.

           ‘He’s the Prince, Merlin.’

           ‘Oh, quite right, I nearly believed him myself,’ Merlin continued to babble, but Eggsy wasn’t listening. They were going to shop for proper attire for the ballet, great, but that didn’t change anything. They’d go, the Empress would see Harry, and it would be over.

           He’d just have to live with it.

 ---

           ‘Merlin I told you a hundred times now, we got nothin’ to worry about. Henry’s the Prince. He’s the real deal.’

           ‘I know, I know-’

           ‘No, you don’ fuckin’ know! I was the boy in the palace, Merlin,’ Eggsy swallowed heavily, clenched his hands together and looked down at his lap. Sitting on the steps of the Ballet house was likely poor etiquette, but he couldn’t care less at this moment. ‘I opened the wall.’

           ‘Then… We’ve managed to reconnect Harry with his family, we’ve found the heir to the throne, and you-’ Merlin breathed, sad eyes looking at Eggsy.

           ‘Will leave his life forever.’

           ‘What? But, Eggsy, he-’

           ‘Princes don’t marry kitchen boys, Merlin. It’s better if he don’t know- we get this shit done like nothing’s changed, yeah?’

           ‘You’ve got to tell him, Eggsy-’

           ‘Tell me what?’ Harry appeared as if summoned, but Eggsy knew it was just because he was distracted. His jacket, slightly covered by the long black winter cloak, was a dark blue velvet, slacks a pristine black and both were cut to make Harry look as if he had been the muse for whom the clothes were made in tribute of. He looked stunning, eye soft and hair carefully groomed and he seemed to have obtained a new eyepatch. Less faded, more elegant, just the slightest change that somehow made a world of difference.

           ‘Just how wonderful you look, Harry. Like- like Royalty.’ Eggsy ran a hand through his hair, and only Merlin could see the way he tugged sharply at the fine bits at the base of his neck.

           ‘Well, that’s what they say I am, so,’ Harry shrugged, a little pink in the cheeks, and the three of them slowly made their way up the steps. People stared, but only in the way one stared at a piece or art, admirably sand from a distance.

           ‘There she is, Harry,’ Eggsy leant intimately into his space, offering a pair of opera glasses and pointing with a flick of his wrist across the balcony. Roxy was sat beside a woman bedecked in a fine burgundy and so many jewels the chandelier was envious. An ornate crown sat upon her brow, and though her eyes were sad her face was soft. Harry immediately felt as if he knew her, could easily imagine late evening talks and soft laughter.

           ‘Oh, please let her remember me.’ Harry begged a god he didn’t believe in, desperate to know that he belonged somewhere but unwilling to believe so without solid evidence. He spent the first quarter of the ballet nervously fiddling with his ring, and ripped his programme to shreds, before Eggsy reached over and seamlessly threaded his fingers between Harry’s and gave a squeeze.

           ‘Everything’s going to be fine, Harry.’ Eggsy said it with such authority that Harry couldn’t help but believe him, and allowed himself to relax and actually enjoy Cinderella until the intermission.

           ‘C’mon, it’s time.’ Eggsy stood and pulled Harry up with him, and the pair walked steadily through the halls until they came to the set of doors Eggsy knew led to the Empress’ balcony. ‘I’m gonna go in and announce you proper, an’ then I’ll come and get you, yeah?’ He turned to pull away, but found Harry’s hand tightened around his own.

           ‘Eggsy,’ Harry was pale, but steady, and looked at him very seriously, ‘we’ve been through quite a lot together, and I wanted… well, before everything changes, I wanted to thank you.’ He lifted their clasped hands to his face, and placed a light kiss to Eggsy’s fingers with a soft smile and an emotion Eggsy didn’t want to name in his eye. Eggsy allowed himself one moment, the space between one blink and the next, to imagine the life he wanted. The life they could have had, if all of these things hadn’t turned out the way they had.

           ‘I- I, uh I…’ Eggsy forced himself to look away from Harry and pulled his hand back. ‘Good luck, Harry. Here goes!’ He turned, and let himself into the room- not noticing that it didn’t latch shut behind him.

           ‘Please inform Her Majesty, the Dowager Empress, that I have found her son, the Grand Duke Henry- he's waiting to see her just outside.’ Roxy had stood when the doors opened, and stifled a giggle at Eggsy’s airs.

           ‘I’m sorry, sir, but the Empress will see no one.’

           ‘You can tell the impertinent young man that I’ve seen enough Grand Duke Henry’s in my lifetime and have no desire to see another one. I wish to live out the remainder of my lonely life in relative peace.’

           ‘If you’d just let me-’

           ‘Come, you’d better leave, I’ll escort you to the door.’ Roxy pulled the curtains shut and bustled to the door, but Eggsy took a breath and went through the erected barrier instead.

           ‘Your Majesty I mean you no harm, my name’s Gary- I used to work at the palace. In the kitchens.’ He sat in a seat but was sure to leave a space between them- he was pushing things, but he wasn’t a complete idiot.

           ‘Well that’s certainly not one I’ve heard before.’ Her nose wrinkled, the edge of her eyes creased, and Eggsy couldn’t help but see Harry in her face.

           ‘I hope not, ma’am, as it’s the truth an’ all-’

           ‘I know what you’re after, I’ve seen hundreds of you in the last decade- men intent on the reward and willing to do anything to get it. To lie to an old woman about her own son,’ she spat, ‘you’ve come a long way, haven’t you? To get here from Russia must have been quite the trek, and no matter who the man beyond that door is he’s not going to be my Henry. He may look like him, or talk like him, perhaps he has the family tree memorised or knows my favourite perfume but it is never. My. Son.’ Harry and Roxy were stood by the door, one on each side, and both could hear the exchange. Roxy looked at him with defeat set in her shoulders, and Harry could do nothing but run his thumb upon his ring and look to the ground in reply.

           Harry barely kept himself from crying, just from the pain in her voice- he may not have any memory of his family, of his past, but he had seen enough examples of pain, of grief, in his ten years at Statesman to never wish to cause that to someone else. Whether Eggsy and Merlin had used him was irrelevant to this woman’s suffering. He had no right to reopen those wounds, no matter who he had been. 

           ‘He really is Henry, Your Majesty!’ Eggsy was grabbed around the arms by two security men, who had likely come through an unseen passage at the Empress’ request. ‘Just talk to him, five minutes, and you’ll see!’ She looked away from him, threw a hand lazily over her shoulder, and Eggsy was tossed from the room to land in a heap at Harry’s feet.

           ‘Was this all a lie, as she thinks, Eggsy?’ Harry offered Eggsy a hand to help him up, but let go as if burned once he was righted. There was only one real way to end this venture and stop contributing to the hurt the Empress had to endure.

           ‘No, no Harry it wasn’t,’ Eggsy clenched his fists so tightly his nails bit into his palms, ‘I ain’t gonna lie and say it didn’ start out that way but everything’s different now. It’s been differen’ since we got to Paris cos you really are Henry Hart.’ Harry looked at him sadly, and a single tear ran from his eye.

           ‘From the beginning there were falsehoods, and to think that I actually,’ Harry shook his head slightly, ‘nevermind. How am I meant to believe you, now, Eggsy?’

           ‘... When we was at Roxy’s place,’ Eggsy spoke slowly, eyes never leaving Harry’s, ‘you told her that you’d gotten out from the palace cos a boy opened a wall.’ Harry nodded, ‘Did we ever tell you that?’

           ‘... No.’ Harry sighed, and lifted a head to rub at his temple.

           ‘I was that boy, Harry,’ Eggsy gulped, ‘I worked in the kitchens, whole family worked at the Palace and all, an’ I heard the crashing an’ screaming and I didn’t even think I just knew I had to try.

           ‘I’m sorry I couldn’ do more, Harry. But I’m trying to make up for it now.’ Harry still looked unsure, so Eggsy nodded firmly and stepped around Harry to leave through the front door. He could take all the time he needed, as long as he was still in Paris by the time Eggsy’d convinced the Empress to try one last time.

           For once luck was in Eggsy’s favour, as the Empress as getting into her car just as he made his way down the steps, and Eggsy slid into the driver’s seat smoothly before taking off, tyres screeching.

           ‘Ilya, slow down.’ Eggsy looked back at her with a wink, and took a sharp turn while he kept his laughter to himself.

           ‘I ain’t Ilya, ma’am, and I won’ slow down ‘til you listen to me.’ The Empress demanded otherwise, but Eggsy tuned her out. It didn’t matter what Harry thought of him, what this woman thought of him, what happened to the money- as long as Harry got his fair shot at happiness. He pulled them to a stop in front of the house they’d been staying at. ‘You got to talk to him, look at him. Please.’ If it were for anyone else Eggsy would have hesitated, but he knelt before the woman with his head hung low and hands digging through his pockets.

           ‘I refuse to be badgered by you for a moment longer, young man-’ Eggsy pulled the jewellery box from his pocket triumphantly and held it before her.

           ‘D’you recognise this?’ She reached out a shaking hand to pull it toward her, breath caught, and looked briefly up to Eggsy’s eyes.

           ‘Where did you get this?’

           ‘I know you’ve been hurt, and that ain’t fair,’ Eggsy ignored the question, ‘but maybe. Just. Maybe he’s been just as lost an’ alone as you’ve been.’

           ‘You’ll truly stop at nothing until I give in, will you?’

           ‘Harts ain’t the only stubborn family, ma’am.’ Eggsy grinned, and though all the Empress did in reply was sigh he knew he’d won this battle. He led her up the stairs, left her at the door, and hoped for a miracle.

           ‘What could you possibly need of me at this time of night, Eggsy?’ Harry barely paused in his packing to respond to the knock at the door. No matter the outcome of the evening, it was unlikely that he would be able to remain in this place for long. He had to begin a new life, here- and the beginning was sure to be the toughest part. He didn’t notice the door opening or the clacking steps into the room, and only turned when he heard the door click shut again.

           ‘Oh, I- I beg your pardon,’ Harry stuttered, ‘I thought you were-’

           ‘I know precisely who you thought I was, sir- but I must ask. Who, exactly, are you?’

           ‘To be honest I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.’ Harry pulled up one end of his lips before pulling out a nearby chair and sitting himself on the edge of the bed.

           ‘I am an old woman, dear, tired of being conned and given hope only to have it tricked away.’ She did not speak the way Harry assumed Royalty would, she spoke plainly, but perhaps that was more her age than her standing in life.

           ‘It’s a good thing that I’ve no desire to trick you, then.’

           ‘I suppose you’re uninterested in the reward money, as well?’

           ‘To be frank, Highness, all I desire is to know who I am. Whether or not I belong to… well, to all this,’ Harry gestured to the finery he was still draped in, to the room around him that was far finer than any other he’d stayed in. ‘Whether I belong to your family, or if I must continue searching Paris on my own.’

           ‘Well I’ll have you know that you’re an excellent actor- the best I’ve seen, in fact- but it doesn’t make you who I’m looking for.’ She looked him up and down once more before turning to walk from the room, and Harry caught something on the air he couldn’t help but comment on.

           ‘Peppermint?’

           ‘An oil, for my hands.’ The Empress paused with a hand on the door as the other held her elegant cane.

           ‘I think I- yes, I spilled a bottle of it, once, onto the carpet. It always smelled of peppermint after that- it always reminded me of you.’ Harry was looking down at his hands, and entirely missed the Empress’ eyes widening as she turned around and sat at the bench by the door. ‘I’d lie there, undignified on the floor with a book, when you were away on business and wait for your return.’ He turned in place, eyes closed, one hand fiddling with the ring that had started this entire adventure as he smiled softly. He didn’t know where the words were coming from, but at this point he’d stopped questioning his body when it seemed to know what to do.

           When Harry opened his eyes, the Empress was looking at him softly, and gestured to the bit of bench beside her. He took the hint and sat down, forcing his hand away from the ring as he turned to face the Empress.

           ‘What is that?’ She gestured to the ring, and Harry’s ears pinked at having been caught fiddling.

           ‘I’ve always had this, for as long as I could remember. Well, since before then, I’d wager, as I don’t recall where it came from.’

           ‘May I?’ She lifted a hand, and Harry could only watch as if from a great distance as she took the ring from him and pressed it to the bottom of the jewellery box and twisted a handful of times. ‘It was our secret, my Henry’s and mine.’

           ‘The music box- to… to lull me to sleep, while you were in Paris.’ Harry whispered as he watched the box open and the figures began to spin. ‘Hear this song and remember…’

           ‘Soon you’ll be... home with me-’ The Empress sung softly as she slowly placed the music box on the bench between them.

           ‘Once upon a December.’ Harry finished, still staring at the music box as it stopped playing a song he hadn’t known he knew.

           ‘Oh, Henry,’ the Empress cried, uncaring of the tears that fell down her face in what was certainly an undignified manner, ‘my Henry.’ She pulled him into an embrace, and Harry couldn’t help but tuck his head into her shoulder and close his eye, trying to soak in the moment as much as he could.

           Down on the pavement, staring at the lit window from the fence, Eggsy blew a kiss and walked away, knowing he’d gotten Harry home.

           Hours later the Empress and Harry were sat in her home, a short table covered in small paintings and other such physical memories between their chairs, and Harry felt more than a little overwhelmed.

           ‘I remember, now,’ he murmured, ‘how much I loved them. It feels silly to mourn for them now, but-’

           ‘They would not have wanted us to live in the past forever, Henry- especially not now that we have found each other again after all this time.’ Harry hummed in agreement but continued to run his fingers over the sketch of what was apparently he and his brothers. People he could barely remember but somehow missed fiercely.

           ‘Do you remember this portrait you made for me?’ She passed over a rather ugly drawing, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh in no small amount of amused horror.

           ‘Oh, yes, didn’t Olga say it looked as if a pig were riding a donkey?’ Harry held it away from his face and squinted before he shrugged and set it aside. ‘Seems she was right.’

           ‘You laugh just the way your father did,’ The smile they shared was sad, ‘ah, but your looks are all from me. And rightfully so, Niko’s hair loss was a terrible shame.’ The Empress ran a hand through her soft curls before reaching out to card through Harry’s own, now that it was free from the product that held it in place for the ballet. ‘Come, we’ve a celebration to prepare for.’

           If Harry had thought the shoes were uncomfortable he was sorely mistaken. The pair of sashes that draped from shoulder to hip, the cloak at his shoulders that forced them back, the sheer weight of the jewelled tunic… he felt like a piece from a museum, not meant to be moved or touched, no matter how beautiful.

 ---

           ‘You sent for me, Your Grace?’ Eggsy bowed at the waist, confused beyond reason for his presence in the Empress’ home after he’d basically kidnapped her and forced her to interact with Harry.

           ‘The ten million rouble reward, as promised, with my gratitude for your stubbornness.’ She stepped away from the table, and indicated the open case that sat upon it.

           ‘Well ta for the gratitude, Your Highness, but I don’ want the money. There’s other places I can get that.’ Eggsy knew he was being stupid, being proud, because the money was actually something he needed. But the thought of it left a bad taste in his mouth, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to take it.

           ‘Then what is it that you desire in return for bringing my Henry back to me?’ This was an entirely different person from the car, this was far more like the woman he’d known in the Palace. When things were simple, and happy.

           ‘’nfortunately, nothin’ you can give me.’ Eggsy turned and began to walk from the room, but was stopped by a hand at his wrist.

           ‘Before you go,’ The Empress began, not at all as if she were giving an order but Eggsy couldn’t help but comply, ‘where did you get that music box?’ Eggsy pulled his fingers down his jawline and looked away, teeth clenched tightly together.

           ‘You were the boy, weren’t you- the servant boy who got us out. You saved his life that night- and mine- you’ve restored him to me, after all this time. And you desire… nothing?’

           ‘Not anymore.’ Eggsy shrugged the hand from his arm and continued toward the door, desperately trying to hold tears at bay. Harry deserved this, to have the life that had been taken from him so many years before in a senseless act of violence. It wasn’t his fault that Eggsy wasn’t a part of that picture.

           ‘Can I ask what changed your mind?’ Eggsy stopped and turned back to the Empress, shoulders back and jaw set.

           ‘It’s more a change of heart, ma’am. If you’ll excuse me.’ Eggsy bowed again before taking his leave, entirely missing the knowing look the Empress made at his back. He made his way down the stairs, stared fixedly at his feet as his hand gripped the rail, hoping beyond reason that he could simply escape without running into-

           ‘Hello, Eggsy.’ Harry, in an outfit of gold and sky blue, the sort of thing the Emperor had worn to the sort of parties Eggsy had never been old enough to work, let alone attend. ‘Did you collect your reward?’ It was said kindly, there was no judgement in Harry’s gaze, but it still made Eggsy’s neck prickle with shame. Did he really think that little of him, after everything?

           ‘Got my business done, yeah.’

           ‘Excuse me, sir, you’re to bow and address the Prince as Your Highness.’ A servant spoke from the base of the stairs, and Harry lifted a hand to stop him but Eggsy needed to get out of there. Now.

           ‘Your Highness,’ Eggsy bowed much the way he had for the Empress, and lifted only his eyes, ‘I’m glad you found what you was lookin’ for, Harry.’

           ‘I’m… I’m glad that you have, as well.’ Harry looked like he had more to say, so Eggsy remained as he was, but nothing more came.

           ‘Goodbye, Your Highness.’ Eggsy finally took his leave, fluidly walking down the steps and out the door before Harry could reply.

           ‘Goodbye, Eggsy.’

 ---

           Mr. Pickle did not like the crown they were attempting to put on him for the party. He didn’t mess with the sash or the toy sword but no matter how many pins Merlin used the crown was thrown off in a matter of moments. As adorable a picture he made, perhaps it was time to give up and settle for the rest of it.

           ‘Well,’ Eggsy spoke from behind Merlin, who turned around holding the dog-sized crown behind his back as if that would make Eggsy forget what he’d seen, ‘If you ever come back to St. Petersburg…’ Eggsy shrugged, and Merlin dropped the crown to the floor so he could grasp Eggsy by both shoulders.

           ‘You’re making a mistake, lad.’

           ‘Nah, Merlin- this is the one thing I’m doin’ right,’ Eggsy knelt to give Mr. Pickle a scritch and used him as an excuse not to meet Merlin’s gaze, ‘I can’t stay. I don’ belong here, with the ivory towers an’ fancy shit.

           ‘I’ll be alrigh’, Merlin- take care, yeah?’ Eggsy pat him on the shoulder, and made his way from the house with his one bag and a determined look on his face; he’d done what he set out to do, and now it was time to go home.

           Harry pulled the curtain open for the fifth time in as many minutes, eyes scanning the crowd for someone he was never going to admit he was looking for.

           ‘He’s not there, Henry.’

           ‘I know he’s not-’ Harry cut himself off, ‘who’s not there, mother?’

           ‘That remarkable young man that found the music box.’

           ‘He’s likely a bit busy spending the reward money, he’s probably trying to forget all of this even happened.’ Harry muttered to himself as he allowed the curtain to fall back shut and walked away from it. He’d thought their journey had given them a connection, and though Harry had definitely taken the coward’s way out and remained silent, Eggsy hadn’t said anything either. He’d thought that they had crossed a barrier, but it seemed that it was all for the job, the story, and now he was something left to the past. 

           The Empress rolled her eyes and looked at Mr. Pickle, who was curled asleep next to the elegant throne Henry would sit in after his introduction as the guest of honour.

           ‘Do you see them dancing, Henry? You were born to this, this finery with its titles and jewels, and you’ve found your way back here through so much. But I wonder,’ She paused, allowing her gaze to trail over the room of celebrating strangers, ‘if the reality of this is what you truly desire.’

           ‘All I ever wanted was to find my family, and I have,’ Harry turned to her, and grasped both her hands in his own, ‘I found who I am, and you-’

           ‘And you’ll always have me, my love- no one can take who you are from you again- but is it enough?’ She pulled him into her embrace, tucked her head beneath his chin and simply stayed there a moment before pulling back to look into is face. ‘He didn’t take it, you know. The reward- said what he wanted was something that I couldn’t give.

           ‘Seeing that you’re alive, Henry- seeing the man you’ve managed to become in circumstances I’ll never understand- has brought me joy I thought I’d never feel again,’ Harry began to pace, but the Empress caught his arm and lifted a hand to his cheek. ‘Whatever you choose, darling, we’ll always have each other.’ She pulled away and made her way out to the dance floor, leaving Harry to his thoughts. But as soon as he’d been left alone Mr. Pickle had begun a ruckus, barking madly and running out of the back door.

           ‘Mr. Pickle!’ Harry whisper-yelled, unwilling to disturb the party more than his dog already had, ‘Mr. Pickle, stop this nonsense!’ Of course the street mutt didn’t listen, and instead ran madly into the hedge maze his mother had led him through earlier. Harry didn’t allow himself to think about the party, about Eggsy and the money he had refused, about the things outside of his control, and instead followed his dog. 

           After all, this adventure was entirely his fault in the first place. Who knew where else Mr. Pickle would lead him?

 ---

           Eggsy had made it all the way to the ticket window at the station before he’d turned right back around. Maybe he was an idiot, maybe nothing would come of it, but if there was one thing a life without second chances taught you it was to go for what you wanted. Take the risk. Maybe it’d be what killed you, but that didn’t make it less important than anything else. At least you’d get to say you’d tried.

           But he couldn’t bring himself to actually go inside. He could hear the laughter, the music, could see the elegance from the windows but Eggsy didn’t feel any more as if he belonged there. That wasn’t his place. So instead he’d settled for wandering the hedge maze, he’d never been in one proper before and it was close enough to feel like he’d tried. Maybe he’d get the courage to find Harry later, but for the moment it was enough to know that he was nearby, even if he was unable to see him.

           Which was why it startled him so much to feel a tugging at his pant leg, and look down to find Mr. Pickle. And back up, to see Harry turning the corner, still in his finery, nowhere near the party what was entirely in his honour.

           ‘Eggsy,’ Harry breathed, and he couldn’t bring himself to move. The pair stood there, as if they hadn’t seen each other mere hours before, before Harry spoke again. ‘I thought you were going back to-’

           ‘I was, but-’ Eggsy shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets, scuffed a shoe across the ground and looked up slowly, ‘I couldn’t.’

           ‘And the-’ Harry was walking toward him slowly, as if he were an easily spooked animal, or an illusion he didn’t want to break.

           ‘That neither. Wasn’ right, not when I-’ Eggsy cut himself off, huffed a breath and shut his eyes.

           ‘When you?’ Harry was grabbing his hands, his eye curious and hopeful, and Eggsy blushed and looked away. Mr. Pickle barked, not enjoying being ignored, and it pulled both men from the daze they’d been in. The music echoed from the hall, and Eggsy looked down as his clothing before he started to pull away.

           ‘They’re waitin’ for you, Harry.’ Eggsy looked to the building, barely able to see the light through the hedges, and Harry didn’t move.

           ‘Let them wait.’ Harry cupped Eggsy’s chin with one hand, rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone, and turned his face toward him. There was a fraction of a moment, the space between breaths or blinks of an eye, where Harry searched Eggsy’s face before he brought their lips together.

 ---

           Wish me luck, mother, as I’m off on this new adventure. I know we haven’t had long to get to know one another as we are now- but we’ll be together in Paris again soon enough. 

                     All my love, Harry Hart

[impracticaldemon]

Queen & Captain

by impracticaldemon for Shalily Week 2019, prompts: “Status Quo” & “Safety” fandom:  Fairy Tail pairing: (human) Shagotte x Pantherlily words: 1300     rating:  general (historical/fantasy fluff) [will also be available on FFnet and AO3]

~-----~

Queen and Captain

“Travel papers?”

The guard at the gate looked bored, and Pantherlily saw his eyes flick toward the horizon, and the bright orange-red glow of the setting sun.  The tall former soldier had picked his time with care—no matter how much unrest remained in both the City and the country as a whole, a man who’d spent the day on gate duty in the sun would be hungry and averse to creating work for himself. Hopefully, he’d be disinclined to examine their documents too closely.

“Here.”

“Mm.” The guard scanned the artistically aged parchment with a practised eye, and Lily was glad he’d followed Lady Shagotte’s advice and spilled tea on it the day before.  There was something very normal about tea stains. “Your wife, is she?”

“Yes.”  He managed not to hesitate, this time.  Her (former) Royal Majesty had scolded him just the day before about his reluctance to claim her—on paper!—as his bride.  She’d understood his dilemma, but pointed out that she’d rather be married—on paper!—to him, than dead at the hands of the victorious invaders for the sake of royal etiquette.  There was anonymity, and safety, in being a wife.

The guard smirked.  “Frail little thing.  Try not to break her, big man.”  He gave Lily a friendly poke, and Lily tried not to scowl.  He could tell he failed by the way the other man’s eyes narrowed.  Then again, it would have been suspicious if he’d been happy with the comment.  Or so he hoped.  Acting wasn’t Lily’s strong point.

“…Yeah.”  He shuffled his feet, desperately trying to look more like a big labourer than the former captain of the Queen’s Elite Corps.  The dirt on his hands and face was authentic enough, as was the… odour… Lady Shagotte had insisted on rubbing into the soles of his boots.

[READ MORE BELOW]

There was a long pause while the guard made a show of rereading the documents.  Pantherlily was just starting to get genuinely worried when the man stepped to one side with a shrug and a nod.

“Don’t cause any trouble. We’ll be keeping an eye on you—got it?”

“Got it.”  Pantherlily gestured his ‘wife’ over, and tried to look natural about expecting her to follow him through the gates.  It was killing him not to carry all her things for her, but she’d insisted it would look strange if he did.  With an effort, he quelled the rage in his heart at having to watch her duck her head submissively to the annoying gate guard. Her life was more important than her dignity, as she kept telling him.

“Lily…”

A soft voice recalled him to his surroundings, and he felt heat suffuse his cheeks.  Until a few days ago she’d only ever called him ‘Captain’ or ‘Captain Pantherlily’.  Even if it was just for the sake of their disguise, he found it embarrassing to hear his adored Queen use his unadorned name, and a diminutive at that.  Embarrassing and ridiculously charming—as if he didn’t love her enough already.

“Yes, My Qu—um, I mean, my… my dear?”

There was a gurgle of laughter from beside him.  Two bright eyes peered up at him from between the wide brim of an unfashionable travel hat, and a wide scarf.

“You sound so—so unconvincing, Captain!”  Then she clapped her slender hands over her mouth at her faux pas and glanced around nervously.

“Sorry,” muttered Pantherlily, also casting a wary eye over the people around them.  As far as he could tell, nobody was paying them special attention except to the extent of being cautious of his size.  He made an effort to slow his pace and drag his feet a little.

Lady Shagotte cleared her throat.  “I’m sure it’s fine, dear.  No need to look so uncomfortable just because we’re finally in the big city.”

“As you say, Sh-Shagotte.” Her name wasn’t a problem in and of itself, since many girls had been named after her while she was still a child, and even after she’d taken the throne following her parents’ tragic death. But to use such a familiar form of address—!  It simultaneously lacerated Pantherlily’s sensibilities, and made heat rise to his cheeks.  He was glad his skin was too dark to show any but the deepest blushes.

~-----~

They took a room at a moderately respectable inn, grateful for the chance to wash, even superficially. Pantherlily had already chosen the place as a short-term refuge during the early part of the one-sided war.  Lady Shagotte’s most devious advisor—and where was that irritating man now?—had arranged things so that Pantherlily would be known as a friend of a friend when he arrived.  It was fortunate that the Royal Palace was located in a town over a hundred miles from the City, though.  Otherwise, it would have been too great a risk for him to travel with the Queen, even in disguise.

“You’re frowning again, Lily,” murmured Lady Shagotte, setting a cup of tea in front of him. She’d insisted on learning to make and serve ‘commoner’s tea’.

“My lady—”

“Pantherlily. You promised to try harder.  We’ll never be convincing in public if we don’t practice in private!”

Lily took a sip of tea. It was an effort to drink the bitter, ill-steeped brew, but she had made it for him, and he bore it stoically. Besides, it had improved, and now resembled tea more than ditch-water.

“…I beg your pardon, my—I mean—Shagotte.”

With her hat and gauzy scarf discarded—the door had been firmly locked—Shagotte looked much more herself again.  She was smiling, but her eyes were tired and sad, and Lily longed to hold her and—

“Well, I suppose I am your Shagotte at the moment.”

“Ah—er.”  Her words had been light, but it had been impossible—even for him—to miss the hint of underlying sincerity, or maybe hopefulness.

They stared at each other, expressions mirroring the same rush of longing, uncertainty, and  deep loneliness.  Old habits and rigid principles vied with human need for love and consolation.

Shagotte cleared her throat and looked down, eyes once more veiled by long, near-white lashes.  “Captain, I—”

Her words were abruptly muffled as Lily pulled her across the short distance into his lap, and pressed her tightly against his solid chest.  Large, capable hands stroked her back, and caressed her damp, tangled hair. He was very strong, but she was the most precious being in the world to him, and his touch communicated both love and desire—he would never hurt her, even by accident.  The gate guard had risked his life by implying otherwise.  

“My Queen…  Let’s just pretend… for a while…”  He pressed his lips to her forehead, marvelling at how warm and supple she was, despite the superficial frailty that had caused such anxiety to her court officials.  They had not understood her brilliance and strength, and their fear had led to disaster.

“…Mmm… Lily…” Shagotte leaned away from him a little, just enough so that she could glimpse his face.  “Let’s—let’s stop pretending for a while.  Shall I tell you how I really feel about you?”

“No—I don’t know if I could go back to… how it must be… if you did that.”

In response, Shagotte wrapped her arms around Lily’s neck, and pulled his face down to hers.  Her beautiful eyes were brighter than ever before.

“Then I’ll show you, dear captain, dear Lily, so that you’ll never forget.”  She whispered the words against his lips, before kissing him as passionately as innocence and inexperience would allow.

“My Queen…”  Minutes passed, and when they finally needed air, Lily corrected himself, murmuring the words into her ear, while his sword-worn hands explored her soft skin:  “Shagotte, my dearest, only love…”

[END]

Likes, comments, reblogs are all appreciated!  ~ Imp

[yodawgiherd]

More than just red fabric

Rating: T Setting: current canonverse/manga chapter 118

Prompt: Could you please write Eremika to the 118th chapter. Something like the battle is already over, and Mikasa meets Eren, recovering from his wounds.

Note: Yo peeps, this is totally what's going to happen, i have through mysterious means acquired the future script of SnK, trust me. ;)

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

It was over in the blink of an eye.

Marley military, arguably the mightiest in the world, quickly lost its bravado when faced with dozens of colossal titans emerging from the walls all around them. The battle, which up until now was rather one-sided, ended with a quick surrender of the invader, granting the defending forces of Paradis an unconditional victory.

But such triumph couldn’t have been achieved without sacrifices.

Zeke’s face was still etched into Eren’s memory, the relief on it quickly turning into horror as he was being picked up from the ruined body of his titan and swiftly brought to the waiting jaws. Once he ate his brother, and his royal blood coursed through Eren’s veins, the full potential of the coordinate was unlocked to him, giving him a complete control over the army in the walls. To be fair, Eren liked his brother, to a degree, but his zealous intent to end any life on the island was not a goal he could ever back. Euthanasia? Not on his watch. Eren had to play by Zeke’s rules, up until now, as he held most of the cards, but no more. Now the aces were in Eren’s hands.  

And so, the rumbling began. Not on the full-scale, just a few of the giant titan army, but it was more than enough. No one could have faced this. With all their titans out of commission and the airships shot down, Marleyans had nothing to hit back with. Some pockets of resistance tried to keep their fighting spirits up, but from his vantage point high on the wall, where Eren climbed for a better view, he could easily direct the attention of his awoken colossal soldiers to quench any danger to his comrades. Now with the fighting done the unsung savior of Eldians sat down for a moment, to catch his breath and organize his thoughts. Because while today was won, the long-term effect was still fickle, and debatable, and he had to make sure that….

“Eren?”

A voice he knew, more intimately than his own, voice of a person he both longed for and dreaded to meet. Steeling himself and turning his head slightly, he decided to face the inevitable, which was coming to him in long strides.

Mikasa looked battle-worn, her uniform burned and cut, multiple new scratches and bruises on her skin, but didn’t appear to be seriously harmed. There was something about her, something Eren couldn’t quite place, that just didn’t sit right, not until she came to stand next to him and he finally managed to connect the dots together. Her scarf was gone. The usual redness underneath her chin being replaced with the pale glow of her skin, and a pink scratch on the left side, most likely from a bullet. The realization made Eren gasp. Not the fact that her scarf was missing, but that she was this close to dying, being shot down by a random soldier who’d never know that he killed the most impressive woman who ever lived.

“I left it behind.”, she said, seeing the stare at her bare throat, misinterpreting it. Defiant, she held her chin up, challenging his look with her own, unflinching. Apparently she was ready for him to be disappointed or something, even after everything he’s done to her. This girl was really one in a million.

“I’m glad.”, looking away, back at the city, Eren caught the change in her expression only at the edge of his vision, the simple words taking her aback.

“You’re…glad?”

“Of course. It’s good to see that you won’t let anyone insult you, not even me. Good to see that you’re finally free.”

Bark of laughter was the last thing he expected, but there it was, making him look back at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Something funny?”

“Are you really that dense?”, she asked, shaking her head with a bitter smile.

Unsure of what she meant, Eren waited for her to go on. Not like he had anything better to do right now anyway and having a moment alone with Mikasa was precious to him, especially now when everything else went to shit.

“That scarf, what do you think it meant for me? A bond? A chain binding me to you?”

Shrugging, he remained silent, because while he would most likely choose different words, the meaning was basically the same. The scarf was nothing but a collar to a leash that was firmly attached to him, not by anyone’s choice, but by her birth, and the tragedy that occurred. Mikasa was not to blame for it, no one but whoever forged that genetic chain was, and those people were long dead.

“You’re wrong.”, she cut into his thoughts, voice clear of any doubt in her heart, “It wasn’t you, the reason why I wore it, it was so much more.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at it from my perspective. I was nine years old and my parents were just brutally murdered in front of me. I was cold, hurting, alone, about to be sold off as cattle and then you came in. Saved me, wrapped that scarf around me…” Mikasa half raised her hand towards her neck before she remembered that it was bare, letting it fall back to her side, “It was warm, and safe, and showed me that there’s not only blood and violence in this world, but beautiful things too. That’s why I clung to it so much.”, she shook her head, sadness seeping into her words, “I would have given it up, if I had other reminders, but what was our life Eren? Was it nice? Safe? Warm? No. Your father disappeared, your mother died, our home was destroyed, and we spent every waking hour training and fighting to kill giant man-eating monsters. That’s hardly the life a young girl wishes for herself.”

“You didn’t have to join the military with me.”, Eren pointed out, “You decided to do that yourself.”

“And what was I supposed to do?”, she countered, “Let you die alone? You were my last link to the safety and warmth, you and the scarf, and with how you treated me when we were trainees…”

Eren could feel his ears warming up slightly when Mikasa reminded him of that time. She was right, he was nothing but an asshole towards her, jealous of her strength, hating how overprotective she was. It took him a long time before he realized it, and he regretted it ever since. And Mikasa was still far from done.

“We had to almost die together before our relationship improved, and once we reached the ocean I thought that maybe we could finally be done with this fighting, finally have a home to return to, not an endless line of camps.”, she sighed, “But I was naïve, wasn’t I. In the basement, we found out that titans were never the true enemy, that there are people, humans like us beyond the ocean, wanting nothing more than to exterminate us all. Another war to fight, perhaps even more brutal and savage than the one we just won. More restless nights. More training. More blood and violence.”, her voice turned bitter,” You disappeared, leaving me with nothing but memories and the stupid scarf to remember the warmth by. And when you returned, did you bring back the safety I craved? No. More war, insults, and hate I did not deserve in the slightest, both for me and Armin.”

“Mikasa I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

She didn’t let him finish.

“Yes, you did. Maybe not word-by-word, but overall you meant those words you said to me, don’t deny it.”, she pointed towards the city, “The battle is over, so I was wondering, would you perhaps tell me why? What did I do to make you hate me?”

A fair question, one that deserved a well-thought out answer from him, in the least. He had to make her see, understand, because their time was already growing short, and Eren had no idea what will happen once they are discovered.

“It’s… not that I hate you, I said that wrong and I apologize. I was angry at that time. Disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”, she tilted her head to the side, a gesture Eren found downright adorable and had to bite his tongue not to say it out loud, “Why?”

“You asked me to see from your perspective, so now please, do the same for me.”, he took a deep breath, doing his best to organize the words, but he was no poet. There was no way around this, and Mikasa deserved the truth.

“After we reached the ocean,”, he began, “I came to realize many things. My life is going to be short; I don’t have much time left. We, as a nation, are doomed, unless we do something. And, perhaps most importantly,”, this was hard to say without blushing, “the attention of the girl who used to annoy me to no end was actually rather pleasing after all.”

Mikasa blinked in surprise, her mouth dropping to a small “o”, but Eren pressed on, determined to get it off his chest.

“I don’t know what it was, the fondness I had for you, I think I had it in me for a long time, never realizing it. But here we were, maturing, both in body and in mind, and day after day I looked at you and wondered how I could ever take you for granted. The way you acted towards me, so attentive, and supportive, gentle, it was all I needed. When I was younger, it was just titans this, and titans that, experiments, shifting, but now I found myself wondering if you smile was always so radiant. If the way you tuck the strand of hair behind your ear was always so adorable, and if you were always so a-…uhm… attractive.”, unable to continue, fumbling on words, he  looked away, “This is so embarrassing to say.”

“I was not the only one who changed, your body matured a lot too. A few years back we were the same height, and now I have to look up to see eye-to-eye.”, Mikasa offered, hoping to ease him out of his sudden muteness.

It took him a few seconds to realize what she was saying, but then it hit him. Did Mikasa just compliment how he looked?

“You still haven’t told me the whole story.”, she pointed out, before he could really start mulling over it.

“Right.”, he agreed, “So here I was, thinking about all these things I never cared for before, mostly regarding you, and I came to a conclusion. No matter how I felt, the lives of our nation come first. I left, as you said, crossed the ocean, met my brother, and we talked. He told me a lot, about the titans, the world, and also about you, the Ackerman clan. The bond you create, the unnatural strength, the way your bodies are genetically enhanced to serve as elite bodyguards. And it got me thinking. What if all this fondness you have for me, what if its not from you, but from the bond instead? What If you don’t like me because of your free will, but because you have to?”, Eren looked back at her, “What if all those feelings I realized I had for you, what if they were all a lie?”

Eyes swinging back to the city, Eren went on.

“Then I saw you, back at Marley, saving my ass again, and realized that I can’t control it. Even with all this knowledge about the bond, I still loved you. I hated myself, I hated you, I hated the stupid bond and whoever created it. And I said all those words, later, and you’re right that I meant them, to a degree. It was wrong to say them, but my feelings were still hurt, and Yelena was breathing down my neck, and it all came out much harsher than I ever wanted to. I don’t hate you, as a person, because you’re wonderful, but I hate the possibility that I forced you to love me, that I bound you to myself with that scarf, made you nothing more but a servant when you have the capability to be so much more.”

Silence fell after his words, because he said everything that he wanted to say, and now it was up to Mikasa to digest those words.  And she did so with a laugh.

“Dummy.”

Eren looked up, unsure of what she meant, to see her staring down at him, face unreadable.

“Stand up.”, she ordered him, tone leaving no place for discussion.

Scrambling to his feet, Eren watched her unmoving expression, wondering if she wanted to punch him in the face or something, motion that was completely justified in his eyes and he would do nothing to stop it. There it was, Mikasa took a deep breath, and soon would pull her arm back to…

“Kiss me.”

“W-What?”

“You heard me.”, tone still completely militaristic, as if she was directing recruits on the field, her eyes holding steel in them, Mikasa’s lips didn’t do as much as twitch.

“I said kiss me.”, she repeated.

Slowly, sure that this is some kind of joke, or a revenge, Eren leaned closer, a bit scared of what would follow, and closer still, until he could gently and carefully press his lips against her forehead. Still, she didn’t hit him for some reason.

“Eren…”, she whispered instead, “You’re so incredibly dense sometimes.”

What? Did she want him to kiss her on the cheek or something? Surely not, he did not deserve such familiarity, not matter how much he craved to….

Her hands, appearing out of nowhere, took his face into a strong grip, and before he realized what was happening he was being pulled down, with a strength he could not deny, until his lips met hers, and they were actually kissing. The feeling made him freeze completely, because it felt much better than he ever even dared to hope, soft and warm, and while Eren couldn’t do much but stare Mikasa was way bolder, swiping her tongue alongside the seam of his mouth before pulling back, a wicked smile on her face.

“Dummy.”, she repeated, “I don’t have a single doubt about what I feel for you, not anymore. After you told me all those things, I was hurt, but in the end and after a lot of thinking I realized that you were right in a certain way. You made me look beyond the horizons I made for myself and see the bigger picture. I realized something. I don’t need the scarf. I don’t need you.”, she leaned closer, “But I want you, and there’s nothing unnatural about that.”

There was a lot of things he could say to that. But all of them felt unnecessary, as right now, there was a burning need inside him, one that he hasn’t felt in his life before. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he kissed her again, high on the wall, above the city that was still waking up from the aftermath of that terrible battle, the city that had many reasons to hate him, but with Mikasa in his hands and her lips moving alongside his own, he couldn’t bring himself to care. That was until she pulled back, making him growl, already missing the connection.

“You gotta apologize to Armin.”, she breathed out, “And Jean. They both trusted you.”

“They did?”

“Mhmm.”

“All right.”

But when he tried kissing her again, she pulled back out of his reach, giggling.

“Promise me.”

“Fine! I swear I’ll apologize to Armin.”

“And Jean.”, she added.

“And Jean.”, Eren agreed, already dreading the moment.

“And Connie.”, she went on, just about exceeding the limits of his patience.

“I’ll apologize to everyone, hundred times over. That enough?”

She nodded.

Whatever humiliation laid in his future was however completely worth it, as she allowed their mouth to combine again, each kiss feeling better than the last one. It didn’t matter that there was still the shortened lifespan of his to take into consideration. That while they repelled Marley for now, the danger persisted. That Yelena was still at large, somewhere below, most likely plotting her revenge already. That the world was still out to get them, even with their newest colossal guardians standing at attention. But Eren didn’t think about any of this, as for the moment he allowed himself to be selfish and focus solely on the woman he held.

Because any city can be rebuilt, but most importantly, maybe their relationship, which he thought dead and killed by his own hand, could be rebuilt too.

[startrekandwars]

Appearances are Deceiving

Word Count: 1919

Summary: Baves Urety finally reveals who he is to Din while also trying to avoid being killed by Bossk, a bounty hunter who is after the former Jedi. 

Tags: None

AN: Written for @celebrate-the-clone-wars prompt Always A Bigger Fish

Din Djaren has been traveling with Baves for some time now. His new partner wasn't the most talkative person, but he was far from quiet. The thing that Din noticed was that Baves was mostly observant. Maybe too observant. The child seemed to like Baves, and it was hard to fault the poor kid. Baves has this... aura that puts you at ease and makes you want to like him. He's so optimistic even if he doesn't voice it. It's written all over his face. 

The few times Baves has talked about his past, he just mentions his father taught him just about everything he knows. If it wasn't his father, it was one of his brothers. He also mentions that before the fall of the Empire, he worked as a bodyguard, and then decided to become a Bodyguard for hire. People used to pay this man to protect them. They used to pay him a lot.

Now is a good time for Din to observe Baves. He was an inch, maybe two taller. He could only be a couple years older than him too, though it's hard to tell because Baves keeps his face clean shaven. Baves says that he doesn't remember how old he is, and judging by how familiar the miralian is with a blaster, the mandalorian believes him. Baves isn't the strongest person. He looks like he should struggle to hold the child, all long limbs, and not a lot of muscle. He's also flexible. Din has watched Baves twist in ways he didn't realize a humanoid could twist their body. Baves looks like he couldn't hurt a fly, and he often tends to talk his way out of problems. It often works too. His royal blue eyes help soften his face, and the fact that there's a permanent smile on his face helps a lot. Even with out that, there are the beginnings of smile lines around the corner of his eyes. Din has never seen Baves's hair, and he had a feeling he never would. He could guess that his hair is jet black, if he were to judge it based off of the man's eyebrows. 

Din just can't place his finger on it, but he can tell Baves is holding back. He's too aware of things to not be holding back. It's like he knows what people expect him to be able to do, and he tries to embody those ideas. 

Even now, as they were walking through the market and Baves looks like he doesn't have a care in the world, Din has also learned that he is drinking in as much information as he can. "Oooooooh, Din look at this scarf!" Baves picked up a dark green head scarf with teal embroidery in miralian styles. "It's stunning!"

"You have seven scarves on the ship, Baves." Din countered, watching the man. None the less, the look in his eyes was hard to say no to. "When would you even wear it?"

"I don't know, around. I wear all seven of those scarves by the way." Baves countered, looking back at the scarf. "It's very pretty... But I suppose I don't need another one until something unthinkable happens to a scarf, like a grease stain." He put the scarf back, bowed politely, and kept walking. "I'm going to see if I can find any jogan fruit."

Din simply nodded and watched Baves walk away. Oh yes, that man could wrap just about anyone around his finger. Not because he was trying to be malicious, but because he was just so... kind. He was the sort of person you would want to protect. 

"Is that young man with you? Because if so, good for you. I don't know what a Mandalorian such as yourself would see in a man as kind as him, but if you want to win his heart, you should probably buy that scarf." The shop keeper said, sounding amused. She was a Miralian, but unlike Baves, she didn't cover her hair all the time, it was jet black and feel to her shoulders.

"I'm not-" How does he explain that he's not romantically with that man? "He's an associate of mine. We're not involved." 

"A pity, you don't find men like him everywhere in the galaxy. He's really one of a kind." She answered, looking back at Din before going to help a different customer. 

Din simply nodded. "That he is." The bounty hunter started to walk in the direction Baves had walked off in until he heard blaster fire and screams from that direction. Then he started to sprint. 

In the middle of the commotion was Baves, standing light on his feet, but looking relaxed. "Well that was rude!"

"Baves Urety- I am here to collect the bounty on your head. You can come quietly or loudly, but you will be coming with me." Bossk, a Trandoshan. And a member of the guild. Apparently there was a puck on Baves, and if Bossk was here to collect, then it was some bounty.

Baves sighed. He looked... bored. This happens to him a lot. "You know, a wise man once told me that there are always bigger fish out there. So you think you're the bigger fish in the ocean?" His question was really more of a statement. "Listen, Bossk. I just want to buy some jogan fruit and then I'll get out of your way- I'm not really looking for a fig-" When Bossk shot at Baves again, he side stepped, like he knew it was coming without even taking a breath from his sentence, "-ht today. We could leave in peace."

"No way, that bounty on your head can buy me a small planet!" Bossk countered. "Now come quietly. I would hate to make a mess of you."

The Miralian just shrugged. That was it. Bossk has two inches on Baves and several pounds of muscle on him. Anyone else should be very afraid of staring down Bossk, but the fact that there has been noise so far means that Baves Urety had managed to avoid Bossk for this long. "Fine, we'll do it your way. I can't give you a real fight to remember, but I can at least give you a run for your credits." That was when Baves chose to make his first move. He moved fast, faster than anyone can just run. He avoided Bossk's follow up shots with ease, a practiced ease, before jumping high over the Trandoshan, flipping and landing quietly on top of the roof of a shop. "But first you'll have to catch me!" 

Din could have sworn Baves glanced in his direction. He was acting as a distraction, buying Din time to get back to the ship and make sure that the child was still safe. He was doing this intentionally. Din didn't even have time to consider shouting Baves's name. The miralian was already running in the exact opposite direction. So Din was running towards the ship.

~*~*~

Bossk isn't an easy bounty hunter to avoid, Baves just had to hope Din understood what he was doing, that he was buying them time. Besides, he was a bit of a romantic who had trusted Din with his lightsaber, even if Din didn't know he had it. So the name of the game was evade Bossk long enough to get him out of civilization. Or at least innocent bystanders. "Wow- they call you a bounty hunter? I wonder what the Score Keeper thinks of you? I've fought clankers that have better aim than you do!" That being said, Bossk was getting familiar with how Baves was evading him. 

Once Baves could see the end of the market, he grinned and used the force to leap even further than he normally tries, turning around in the air and firing two rounds at Bossk. They were both close but neither of them hit the bounty hunter. "Kriff I miss my lightsaber."

"Running isn't like you- Urety, but it makes for a good hunt!" Bossk kept shooting at him, and Baves was all out of cover. He's good, he can evade people shooting at him for a while, but without his lightsaber, he was going to get shot eventually. 

"Well, I've really needed the exercise and it's been a while since people have tried to kill me, so I'm just drawing this out for as long as I can!" He countered, trying to find anything he could use to his advantage. 

Bossk shot at him again, and this time, Baves decided to get up close and personal. If he was too close for Bossk to use his gun effectively, then the former jedi could last a little bit longer. Again, Baves sprinted, using the force to move even faster and decided to disarm the Trandoshan with the force, flinging the weapon out of his hands, "Now this is what I expect when I made you my prey!"

"You talk too much," Baves countered, blocking the flurry of punches and opting to try to knock Bossk onto the ground. Sure he could use the force but he tries not to. 

Bossk had a wicked smile on his face, and the Force warned Baves of what was about to happen before he could process it. He ducked low, barely avoiding a flurry of blasts from an assassin droid. "Kriff!" He was standing too close.

Overhead, he could hear a ship. Din's ship. Din didn't say anything on the ramp, he just tossed Baves his lightsaber. Din trusts him enough not to just disappear with this apparently. 

Baves caught it and ignited it, the green blade humming into life, just in time to deflect the shots back at the assassin droid, taking it out. "That's better."

Bossk hissed right before Baves hit him over the head with his lightsaber hilt, "Oh shut up please! I've had enough of you for one life time." 

Instead of waiting for Din to land, he just leapt up onto the ramp, turning his lightsaber back off and handing the hilt back over, "Here."

"No- I'm a Mandalorian, weapons are a part of my religion, and I know just what you're doing when you're handing that over to me." Din countered, closing the ramp once Baves was back inside. "You're a jedi."

"Well that's one thing to take away from today- you got the jogan fruit?" Baves had been focused on trying to do what he felt was right until he saw the real prize of today. "How?"

"The shopkeeper was grateful since you managed to not destroy any of his property. I also got you that scarf." Baves didn't need to force to know that Din was watching him as he set the lightsaber down on the seat, picking up a jogan fruit. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The miralian turned and shrugged, "Mandalorians hate the jedi, for good reason, but you need someone to teach the child how to use the force. And I am a Jedi." 

Din looked at Baves, his expression unreadable with his helmet on. Perhaps that's for the best. "So you trusted me with your life... You were right about one thing though, Bossk wasn't the bigger fish."

"True, but there will always be another. Thank you for coming back for me." Baves's signature smile was back on his face, but it was sincere. 

"Least I can do. Besides, you're handy in a fight." With that, Din climbed the ladder back into the cockpit.