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asweetprologue · 4 years

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Words: 2618, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Witcher

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Fluff, geralt has a fixation on jaskier's hands, Pining, Confessions, it's about the hands tm

Inspired directly by this post by @valdomarx

“I didn’t even ask you to come this time, witcher. I don’t know why you’re acting so dour,” Jaskier pouted. He was standing in front of a small mirror that he’d propped up against the table, the only thing with a reflection in the small inn. His shirt was untucked over his tight pants, which were a startling peacock blue this time around. It was a fetching color, nearly matching the bard’s eyes, though Geralt would never voice such a thought aloud. He was fiddling with the ties at the front of the cream shirt, trying to decide on a complicated pattern of lacing that was well beyond Geralt’s understanding. The smell of wisteria and honeysuckle filled the room, overwhelming in its recent application. Jaskier rarely used scents beyond soaps while they were traveling, and Geralt preferred when he could more easily smell the distinct musk of the bard himself, rather than cloying perfumes.

He grunted in response to Jaskier’s comment, leaning against the bedpost. The inn was nice, actually, even though it was small. The sheets smelled fresh, the mattress was free of holes, and there was even a full bath off of the main room. Jaskier had sunk more funds into their accommodations than usual, expecting a big payout from the ball he’d been hired to perform at for the next several nights. “I’m not being ‘dour’,” Geralt said, watching Jaskier tug his shirt closed. His fingers played over the laces, easily working them into a tight series of delicate knots. Geralt wasn’t lying, truthfully. He wasn’t so much dour as… distracted. His eyes followed Jaskier’s hands as they tucked in his shirt, revealing his slim hips. The bard tugged here and there on the fabric, his fingers fluttering about as he searched for just the right amount of artful dishevelment.

Geralt noticed Jaskier’s hands.

He wasn’t sure if this was a universal experience or not. Over the past few months, he’d overcome the initial shock of realizing he was interested in the bard. He’d known Jaskier for years - closer to decades - and it certainly was a notion that took some adjusting to. One day Geralt had just looked up and realized that the gangly limbed youth he’d met in Posada had turned into an extremely attractive man, a man Geralt very much wanted to put his hands on. The thought had been startling, and he’d spent full weeks telling himself that it was a fluke. And yet he was captivated by Jaskier’s broad shoulders, his strong thighs, his infuriatingly dexterous fingers. It was embarrassing really.

But, he reasoned, he was in good company; literally half the Continent wanted to fuck Jaskier. Geralt was particularly unique in that regard. It was honestly more spectacular that he was a person who wanted to sleep with Jaskier who hadn’t. It was a bitter draught to swallow, but Geralt accepted it. Few people wanted a witcher in their bed for more than an hour, and he knew that it could never be a simple one time roll in the hay between himself and Jaskier. Geralt was already spending much of his time reminding himself that he was not and could not be infatuated with Jaskier, the famous bard, womanizer and, above all, his best friend. He was at least self aware enough to know that Jaskier’s rejection would be painful, and that losing him as a companion was unacceptable.

Still, this left him with a predicament. While he assumed Jaskier had caught on to his developing feelings quickly enough, Geralt didn’t want to make the bard uncomfortable with his attentions. He tried not to let anything change between them. He didn’t reach out to pull Jaskier closer when they shared a bed at night, he didn’t give him the best cuts of meat during meals, he didn’t buy small, intricate rings or beautiful leather bound journals for him when they went to the market. He would think about it and then turn away, and keep things how they’d always been. Jaskier was bright and loud and annoying, and Geralt was quiet and snappish. If the bard had wanted anything more, he would have made it clear long before now. Geralt was doing a pretty good job of keeping things platonic, he thought. He probably would have been totally successful if Jaskier hadn’t chosen a lute, of all the cursed instruments, as his primary tool of the trade.

The issue was that Geralt had something of a preoccupation with Jaskier’s hands, which may be a common experience but might be unique to Geralt himself, much to his dismay. They were just exceedingly nice to look at. They had long and elegant fingers with wide, reassuring palms that had spent hours cleaning, patching up and comforting the witcher. They were unscared except for a thin white line under his right ring finger, where Jaskier said he’d been punctured by a nail as a child. Though that wasn’t to say that they were totally unblemished. Years of playing had worn deep calluses onto the tips of his fingers, rougher skin that made Geralt shiver when they played over his scalp as they so often did.

They were nice hands, but it wasn’t just that. They were expressive, an extension of whatever Jaskier felt at the moment. Geralt never knew what to do with his hands if he wasn’t in a fight, but Jaskier’s moved constantly. When he was angry they curled into fists and pointed fingers, elbows tights against his body as he raged at some perceived slight. When he was happy or excited, they darted about him in wide, sweeping gestures, an unspoken language that Geralt thought he might be able to read now without words. When he was tired they dragged, lingering on Geralt’s shoulders or pulling at the seams of his armor as he bullied the witcher into bed. Those moments were almost the worst, picking away at Geralt’s already frayed control, but he found it got to him the most when Jaskier was playing.

To say that Jaskier transformed when he played was not quite accurate. It was closer to say that he became. Jaskier was always intense, bright and focused and vibrant, but when he picked up his lute and stepped onto a stage he was resplendent. When Geralt had first met him, he’d thought maybe Jaskier was a siren, or some kind of incubus, luring men in with his honeyed words and saccharine melodies. He’d quickly realized that no, Jaskier was as human as they came, but it didn’t stop others from acting like they’d been bewitched when he was around. Jaskier performing was Jaskier at both his least and most genuine, distilled into whatever the crowd needed him to be most at that moment. It was enthralling, to say the least, and Geralt wasn’t immune to the draw.

At first watching the lute had been a defense mechanism, of a sort. Watching Jaskier himself was almost too intense, and Geralt felt exposed anytime their eyes met across a crowded room. So he’d taken to watching Jaskier’s hands, flying across the strings of the lute and dancing up the neck. Initially it had been only intriguing, and he’d found himself impressed by the bard’s skill. He was faster and more precise than any other player Geralt had come across, while remaining gentle in his ministrations. Jaskier touched the strings of his lute with such tenderness, as if he were caressing a lover.

One night while watching the bard, Geralt had though, Sometimes he touches me like that. And after that he was well and truly lost.

“I’m just saying,” Jaskier said, bringing Geralt sharply back to the present, “while I would never begrudge your presence, I don’t think the response to Toss a Coin will be as enthusiastic if the titular witcher is off glowering in a corner.” He reached for his doublet, a green jacket picked out with yellow thread that looked like gold in the right light. It was beside Geralt on the bed, and he nearly flinched away from Jaskier’s grasping hands. He thanked every god above that he no longer had the ability to blush the same way a human did, knowing that he would be pink in the face after watching Jaskier lace up his shirt sleeves. The man was actively putting clothes on and Geralt was nearly sweating from it.

“I’m not going to glower in a corner,” he grumbled.

Jaskier gave him a look that displayed an insulting lack of faith in Geralt’s word. “Well,” he said, “at least you’re dressed appropriately.” He’d managed to wrestle Geralt into a black jacket and a pair of dress trousers, though Geralt had won the fight to keep his boots and his swords. It was better, Jaskier allowed, that the people be able to see the tools of the trade. The bard reached out to adjust the collar of Geralt’s shirt. The witcher forced himself to still as Jaskier’s knuckles grazed his Adam’s apple. His skin hummed where they’d made contact.

Jaskier gave him a pat on the shoulder and turned away. “Well, we’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” he said, giving himself one last glance in the tiny mirror. With a grin, he turned to Geralt and said, “If you’re very good I’ll buy you one of those tarts from the market for breakfast tomorrow.”

The words if you’re good rolled over Geralt in a disconcerting way, curling up at the base of his spine and settling like they intended to live there. Shit. He made a slightly strangled sound of agreement that he hoped just sounded annoyed.

As Jaskier reached for the door, Geralt noticed that the ties of Jaskier’s undershirt had gotten twisted around one of the buttons of his doublet. He must have accidentally pushed the clasp through a loop in the laces while he was doing them up. Geralt wouldn’t have noticed unless he was watching Jaskier’s hands, but it seemed like he was always watching Jaskier’s hands nowadays. Watching, anticipating, hoping for the next touch. Geralt reached out and snagged the bard’s wrist before he even really knew what he was doing.

“Um,” Jaskier said, eloquent as ever. Geralt turned his hand over - in for a penny, in for a crown - and started undoing the buttons on the doublet. Jaskier hummed in realization, seeing where the laces had twisted into a knot. Focusing on his task, Geralt bent his head slightly, pulling the thin string loose from its tangle. As he did so, pale, unmarked skin was revealed through the parted fabric, a spider web of delicate blue lines branching out before Jaskier’s warm palm. Geralt’s thumb brushed briefly over the veins, Jaskier’s skin as smooth and soft as fresh rose petals under his rough fingers. He was seized suddenly by an overpowering urge to put his mouth there, to breathe in the scent and find Jaskier hidden under all the oils and the smell of crisp linen. Without thinking too much of it, Geralt bent down and pressed his lips to Jaskier’s wrist, just below the swell of his thumb.

Jaskier gasped.

It was like taking a mouthful of Thunderbolt - the world coming sharply into focus, his mind keenly aware of his surroundings. Geralt nearly jumped back, flinching away from the sound. Fuck. Why had he done that? He’d been helping with a fucking sleeve, it hadn’t required his mouth. Jaskier was going to be pissed. He was going to demand that Geralt stay here while he went to the banquet and then he would find someone to bed for the night and he wouldn't try to find Geralt in the morning, and Geralt would have to set back out on the Path alone all because he couldn’t control himself enough to lace up one sleeve -

“Geralt?” Jaskier's voice cracked slightly. The witcher clenched his jaw, wincing.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice sounded strained even to his own ears. He couldn’t meet Jaskier’s gaze. “That was… inappropriate. Have fun at the ball.”

“You’re not coming?” Jaskier asked, sounding distressed now. His scent was still free of the sour stench of fear and anger, but Geralt could hear his heart beating faster. “Geralt, look at me. Just - Are you alright?” Hands came to rest on his shoulders, and Geralt was startled enough at the contact that he raised his eyes to meet Jaskier’s.

The bard looked nervous, but there was something else in his face too. Something softer. Geralt swallowed heavily. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that,” he said. His face tingled with the phantom of a shameful flush.

Jaskeir smoothed his hands gently down Geralt’s arms. A comfort the witcher certainly didn’t deserve. “I don’t mind,” Jaskier said, impossibly. He bit his lip, his tongue darting out to sooth the spot. Geralt couldn’t help but follow the motion even as Jaskier gave him a wry smile. “I wish you’d do it more, if I’m being entirely honest. After all these years, I assumed you weren’t interested.” He took a breath, as if he was about to launch into a very demanding ballad, or perhaps jump from a cliff. “But I very much am. Interested.”

Geralt stared at him for a moment, allowing the words to sink in. Jaskier was looking at him with wide, expectant eyes. His infuriating fingers played anxiously over Geralt’s, not quite holding on. Unsure of what else he could reasonably do, Geralt kissed him.

Jaskier’s hands flew away from his own, and Geralt had a singular crystalline moment of panic before he felt them threading through his hair. Jaskier twisted closer, throwing himself into the kiss with little of the finesse he was so renowned for. It was too hard and too fast, but Geralt drank it anyway, inviting Jaskier in with his tongue and trying to convince him to stay. His fingers tangled in the loose ties of the shirt sleeve, and he could feel Jaskier’s pulse against them. It was almost more intimate than the kiss itself. Jaskier’s heart beat quick and steady under his hand, a rapid tempo just for him.

Finally Geralt pulled away, breathing hard as he pressed his forehead to the bard’s. “This is a fucking terrible idea,” he said.

Jaskier jerked back a bit to glare at him. “How so? Counterpoint: I think it’s a singularly marvelous idea, actually.”

Geralt shifted slightly, uncomfortable. “I can’t… I don’t want to ruin this. You. What we have.”

“We could have more,” Jaskier said, uncharacteristically fragile. Geralt wanted so badly not to break him. “Anything. If you just want a fuck, that’s fine. We can do that. If you want more than that, I… That’s okay too. Or not. Whatever it is, whatever you want.” His fingers smoothed down the back of Geralt’s hair, just at the base of his skull. A caress, as soft as if he were playing his favorite instrument. Maybe he was.

“I’m going to want you,” Geralt said, like a warning. “Longer than you want me.”

Jaskier looked indignant. It was one of Geralt’s favorite expressions, when it wasn’t directed at him. Maybe even then. “I doubt that very much,” Jaskier bit out. The fingers in Geralt’s hair tightened, and the witcher let out a shaky breath. “I have loved you for almost my entire adult life. I doubt I’m going to stop anytime soon.” Jaskier still looked nervous, but there was more anticipation in it than before. Something closer to hope. “So I’ll say it again: Whatever you want. What do you want, Geralt?”

“You,” Geralt said, leaning in again. He pressed the words against Jaskier’s lips. “Always you.”

“Then you have me,” Jaskier said, and he did.

#my work #my fics #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fan fiction #fan fic #witcher fanfiction #valdomarx

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lastxviolet · 3 years

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The Assistant - Ch. 3

Description: Summary - Her sixth year at Hogwarts was supposed to be relatively peaceful but after an incident on the Hogwarts express, Violet Wilkes finds herself the newest target of the Weasley twins. This, combined with a dark family secret, and the Triwizard tournament, makes her first few months back more exciting and stressful than every year before.

pairing: George Weasley x Original Female Character

warnings: pg-13. slow burn, eventual smut hehe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218804/chapters/69148695

They'd arrived on a Thursday night so Violet spent the long weekend finalizing her class schedule, helping the occasional lost first year, and being restless for Monday morning.

She'd met with Snape on Saturday to go over her O.W.L scores from last year's test and create her schedule. Their meeting was a pleasant one even though she became quite flustered when he'd asked for her after graduation plans. Truthfully, she wouldn't mind taking over for Snape one day but didn't feel confident in telling him. She also felt a longing to become a potioneer and perhaps create her own recipes at an apothecary someday. None of which she shared because there was nothing worse than being less than certain in Snape's presence.

He took her flimsy answer without protest and congratulated her on receiving almost all Outstanding scores, expressing as much happiness as his stoic disposition would allow about having her in advanced potions this year.

"You'll be requiring the use of my classroom for after-hour practice, I presume," her mentor said with a meaningful look.

He was a master at Occlumens but it always seemed as though he could read minds without it.

"That would be very much appreciated Professor," she confessed. "I wasn't able to practice much over the summer. Muggles don't usually have valerian root or infusion of wormwood lying around."

The side of his mouth twitched. "How do they survive? Draught of the Living Dead is most ambitious," he replied, referring to her aforementioned ingredients.

It was, but so was she. She was hoping to be able to create the entire Advanced Potions textbook from memory by the end of the year. Class stopped challenging her during her fourth year so after-hours practice was her only opportunity to flex her knowledge in any way. She'd tried hard for the past five years to become an expert simply because potions fascinated her. There was no rhyme or reason other than being captivated by the things that harmless ingredients could do when stirred together correctly.

They'd only decided on six classes this year, after all, she'd scored out of many courses being offered and didn't want to waste her time. She glanced down at the scribbled schedule Snape had made for her. Potions on Mondays and Wednesdays, followed by Ancient Runes and Defense Against the Dark Arts, respectively. Herbology on Tuesdays, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures on Thursdays. Friday was completely free, as were almost all of her afternoons. Years of packing her schedule and studying deep into the night seemed to have paid off. It was a relief to finally have some free time, even though most of it would be spent studying for the NEWT exams at the end of the year.

She waited for Snape to give her the key to the classroom and raced back to the common room to compare schedules with Sadie.

"You're joking," she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air. "Only one class together? What am I going to do in Transfiguration with a bunch of Ravenclaws, without you?"

"Maybe you can transform yourself into a kind and patient person," Violet joked, masking her disappointment and dodging her friend's elbow again.

Dark, hooded figures surrounded her, making escape impossible. She pleaded, screamed, begged them to hurt her instead. They laughed before turning their wands on Olivia, who was too far out of reach.

Her nightmare jolted her awake before her alarm could. Cruico, rang in her mind even after her eyes fluttered open. She stared at the wall, getting her bearings straight, listening carefully, ensuring that it was just a dream, and wiped the cold sweat from her forehead before getting dressed for the first day of classes.

The nightmare faded from her mind with each step she and Sadie took on the way up to breakfast. She crossed the floor of the much calmer Great Hall, listening to Sadie rant about whether or not she would have any Durmstrang boys in her class and fiddling with her tie. It was ridiculous to have to wear it, especially now that they could all see the much better uniform alternatives from other schools.

"All I'm saying is that I have had to put up with barely there pretty boys like Malfoy for five years," she huffed. "And I feel as though this school owes me a chance at a great love affair with a real man."

A real man. Yeah right, she thought. Judging by the leers and comments erupting from the Durmstrang table as they walked by, these were just slightly older-looking, rude horny gits.

She grabbed a copy of the Daily Prophet off of the Slytherin table and skimmed the Triwizard tournament article on the front page.

How this a school AND government-sanctioned event, she did not know. Muggle schools, as she remembered, called off outdoor sporting events if even one person in the stands saw lightning. Hogwarts, however, participated in an event for seven centuries that had resulted in countless deaths and injuries.

Figures.

"Merlin, people have died?" She muttered.

Sadie shrugged and nodded before recommitting her attention to her oatmeal, and one of the Bulgarian's still looking towards her from across the aisle.

At 8:45, Sadie bid her a dramatic goodbye, blowing her kisses and pretending to cry, the entire walk back out of the Great Hall and into the main hallway. If it had been her first year at Hogwarts, she would've about crumbled at the strange looks from her peers but by now she'd gotten used to it. Sadie was not one for blending into the scenery and although that was what Violet preferred, she let her drag her into the spotlight now and then, like exposure therapy.

She gladly descended back into the dungeons, past her common room door, letting the stone hall guide her to the potions classroom at the end of the corridor. She knew the walk like the back of her hand and could've done it walking backward, with her eyes closed.

The muggy, dimly lit classroom was a welcome sight. Cauldrons, strange beakers, and scattered ingredients had never looked so inviting. The second table to the back had been her seat last year, so she flitted through the familiar room and claimed it again.

As she'd suspected, mostly green and blue ties trickled into the classroom. She didn't mind the company of Ravenclaws in the slightest. Generally speaking, they were able to take things seriously and didn't seem to anger Snape as much as yellow or red ties did. Potions was an incredibly disciplined subject with little instant gratification or convenient use, as their professor liked to remind them, so there was no room for impulse, bravery, or even passion; only precision and memorization.

The second chair at her table squeaked over the stone floor, its shrill noise breaking her away from her internal musings.

Adrian Pucey, a tall dark-haired Slytherin boy, dropped into it and nodded her a polite hello. All things considered, when it came to Slytherin boys, his company wouldn't be particularly minded either. He could be a prick when he was with the rest of their house Quidditch team but alone, he was quiet and harmless. Besides, she knew he'd let her take the lead on all their projects.

Thank god, she thought, there was nothing worse than being stuck with a talkative git for a partner.

Loud laughs from the hallway cut through the comfortable silence. The almost full class let out a low murmur, annoyed at the ruckus. She whipped around and squinted, ready to shoot a death glare at its source. There was a very well-known dungeon etiquette of silence and although she wasn't a fan of most traditions, that one was respectable.

A red and gold tie snapped her out of her hateful trance.

Its owner met her eyes.

George Weasley tugged fellow Gryffindor, Lee Jordan, through the door. Her glare turned into a look of surprise. Surely they were in the wrong classroom. He stopped walking and squinted at her slightly. It took him a few seconds to recognize her face in the dim room and she watched him register her presence. His eyebrows raised in equal parts shock and something that looked like distress. Their eyes lingered until he opened his mouth like he was about to say something and she dug her nails into her palm and spun back around in the hopes that he wouldn't yell across the room.

Four times in one week? She could feel her intestines winding together, twisting her already anxious torso into a bout of nerves. This must be a mistake, she told herself. Snape will come and sort it out, ending whatever scheme they're attempting.

Taking calming breaths, she turned to her table partner, desperate for some way out of the embarrassing scenarios she'd begun spinning in her head.

"How was your summer, Adrian?"

"Oh, it was fine thanks. Actually I —"

The classroom door slammed shut. Professor Snape burst through the room, drawing his wand to shut the curtains and light several candles and a fireplace.

Thank god. She really didn't want to hear about whatever weird, rich, hunting trip Adrian took with his pure-blood family.

Everyone watched as Snape swept aggressively into the room but she could feel Georges's eyes on the back of her head. How was he here? And why was he looking at her?

"Do you two need assistance finding your seats," Snape sneered at the Gryffindors standing awkwardly in the aisle. She glanced over Adrian's ear and watched them rush forward to the table directly across the aisle.

"Not there Mr. Jordan," Snape hissed, looming from his podium with a furious look on his face. "Something tells me you will be incapable of restraining yourself from vexing the rest of us if seated next to Mr. Weasley. Switch with Mr. Pucey."

Violet watched Adrian grimace and collect his things. If he was the least worst Slytherin boy to be stuck with, then she guessed that Lee Jordan was the least worst Gryffindor boy. Especially when considering her other option. Despite never speaking before, she knew he willingly hung out with the twins, almost as much as they hung out with each other. That alone was cause for an evaluation of his mental state, regardless of how harmless he seemed.

She greeted Lee with a smile and a nod. Of course, he returned the small act of congeniality with an otherworldly grin and a friendly nudge to her bicep. She tensed slightly and tried not to grimace. Classic Gryffindor, she thought, give them an inch and they'll take a mile.

Snape, satisfied with the new arrangement, opened his mouth to begin class. She braced herself for his wrath now that he was more tense than normal but his first word was cut off by a loud screech of wood scooting across the stone. She turned to find the culprit and watched George stifle a giggle with his hand, now a good two inches closer to a murderous-looking Adrain. Snape remained silent and glanced back down at his book with an even more sour look on his face.

"In this class," he began. "You will learn skills beyond reading directly from your textbook. Some of you are here because of talent… while others, by dumb luck." He eyed George with disdain.

"To separate the two, we will begin today's lesson by brewing the last potion you learned last year…from memory," he said with a measured, cold voice.

The potion ran through her head as soon as he finished his sentence. She knew it. Of course, she knew it. She watched her classmates look around nervously, and tried not to smile and out herself as a know-it-all. It was always a balancing act. Staying in the good graces of such a harsh man like Snape and keeping up appearances around her fellow students.

"You have an hour — present the potion to me when you have finished," he concluded, taking a seat at his desk.

Lee's stared at her wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. As she had suspected, this was not his best subject. She turned and glared at him, suspending him in panic for one more second before smiling. She thought about winking but didn't want to give him any reason to think that they were friends. Lee squinted at her in a mixture of confusion and realization.

"Bloody hell," he breathed. "You know it, don't you."

His expression relaxed significantly, and he looked as if he'd just won the lottery. She didn't acknowledge him further and calmly reached underneath the table and pulled out a bottle of standard potion water, pouring it into their pewter cauldron with the burner set to low. It would be boiling by the time they got the ingredients so she quickly scribbled them on a piece of parchment and motioned for Lee to follow her. He did so wordlessly, and with more pep in his step than she'd ever seen a person muster.

"Alright Jordan, if you want to help, you can carry these," she said.

Lee gladly carried the powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills, and powdered unicorn horn from the shelves back to their table, blocking the labels as he passed Adrian and George bickering behind their cauldron.

"Sorry Georgie, no cheating," Lee whispered across the aisle, with a smug smile.

If he wasn't best friends with the Weasley's then it might have been an ok setup. Clearly, he had no clue what he was doing, meaning he would stay out of her way, but also seemed rather eager to follow instructions. Regardless, she was sure he'd find a way to annoy her before the term was up.

She watched George stop fussing and stare daggers into his friend.

"Shove off," he hissed, bristling with agitation.

He'd always been so easygoing in herbology but she guessed that she'd never looked hard enough to see the anger, frustration, and competitiveness bursting within. Probably what happens when you have seven siblings, she thought. Thank god she only had Olivia.

His eyes met hers for a brief moment with the same look he'd had on his face when she'd shrunk her tongue on the train. Evidently, she was in fact, not the only one with whom he had quite a temper.

Lee burst into a fit of laugher and she dropped her eyes back onto the task at hand.

"Quiet," Snape snapped.

She focused back on stirring the first round of powdered moonstone in a clockwise pattern, waiting for the mixture to turn blue and let the repetitive motion ease her mind.

Of course, Snape would choose Draught of Peace to do from memory, she thought, silently giggling to herself. Not only was it complicated, but it required precise stirring patterns for a particular amount of time. Also, its deceptive name wouldn't make anyone suspect that if it was brewed incorrectly, it quite literally turned into an elixir of death. He probably didn't mean it as one, but she appreciated the morbid joke.

"Pass me the hellebore," she whispered to her table partner.

Lee looked a little shocked that she was speaking to him but reached into the pile regardless. He looked around the room and stealthily handed her the small vial. "Ah, yes, the goats spell," he said a little too loudly.

A few of their peers stood up to go to the ingredient cabinet and she bit back a giggle, not wanting to egg her partner on.

She usually wouldn't call herself amused during potions class but Lee looked like he was having the time of his life and it was nearly impossible not to feel somewhat entertained. He exaggerated every movement when she asked him for an ingredient or stirring spoon, and acted accusatory towards anyone who glanced over for too long. He was a lot less intrusive than the twins but his energy level was the same, along with the way that he had to turn every single moment into a joke or a laugh. It looked exhausting but he seemed to be having fun.

After nearly an hour, she added the final ingredients and stirred the solution in a clockwise motion, watching the potion turn turquoise, purple, red, and a myriad of other colors before finally turning a glowing white with the addition of powdered porcupine quills. The potion illuminated the room with shimmering white light for a few seconds before she took it off the burner.

"Merlin's beard," Lee exclaimed under his breath.

Suddenly very aware of the silence in the room, she tried not to think about all the eyes on her, especially the ones she knew were focused on her in contempt.

"Go put those back," she hissed at Lee.

He jumped from his chair, scooped up the ingredients, and skipped down the aisle with probably the biggest shit-eating grin Hogwarts had ever seen, on his face.

While all attention was on him, she quietly ladled the concoction into a vial and scurried up to Snape's desk. He took one glance at the now light turquoise potion and pocketed the bottle seemingly unsurprised to see her although his face had been hidden underneath a book for the entirety of the class.

"Miss Wilkes, can you please tell your peers what potion they should have attempted to make?"

Her stomach sank. The rest of her classmates had stopped fiddling with their cauldrons and were staring at her with annoyed expressions. It was to be expected but that didn't make it hurt any less. Except for Lee, who was exuberantly giving her a thumbs up, and George, who just looked dumbfounded and a little pissed off. Maybe he'd thought she was kidding about potions.

"Draught of Peace," she announced to the cold room.

"Which does what, exactly," Snape said, questioning her further.

She knew he was just trying to make a point but hated being used as the one to make it. The label of know-it-all was no longer a worry, now they would just skip straight to teacher's pet.

"It relieves anxiety and agitation," she said, avoiding eye contact.

"I am sure you will all want a dose before our next lesson," Snape said in a scolding tone. "Please come to class on Wednesday prepared, or your grade and house points will suffer…tremendously," he hesitated and turned towards her. "50 points to you Miss Wilkes for Slytherin —class dismissed."

She squeaked out a quick goodbye to her mentor, before rushing back to her desk. His praise meant the world to her but it also put a target on her back. In past years, it at least took a few periods for the class to realize she was on good terms with him. Now, it just looked like they'd colluded to make everyone else feel stupid.

She jumped a little as Lee cut her off before she could make it past his chair, trapping her in the aisle.

"That was totally brilliant!"

Not in the mood, she thought. His praise meant nothing. He was just thankful to not receive failing marks for the day.

"Move," she hissed, keeping her eyes on the ground.

He stumbled back against the table a bit but turned to let her through before continuing.

"How on earth did you do that…I heard if you get Draught of Peace even the slightest bit wrong, you could kill somebody!"

She shoved her books back into her bag, frantic to leave without further incident but wasn't fast enough as Adrian and George appeared in the aisle.

"Then it's a shame you didn't drink ours," Adrian snarled at her table partner.

Great. Now they could all fight like snakes and lions were meant to. She just wanted to leave and be done with this nightmare class.

"Awh Pucey, you didn't enjoy our romantic time in your dungeon together," George said, swinging an arm around his partner's shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Adrian shoved him off like his touch was poison, making the Gryffindors chuckle.

"Thanks a lot, Wilkes," Lee said, dawning the same smile he'd given her at the beginning of class. At least it was a little more warranted now.

She eyed him suspiciously but nodded in acceptance.

"So you really do know your potions," George mused, still looking at her, his eyes gleaming competitively. "I'm surprised."

The look told her straight away that her plan had backfired. Entertaining the twins on the train had not in fact made her immune to interacting with either of them for the rest of the year. She would just have to try something else.

"That makes one of us. You're just as daft as I suspected."

She ignored Lee's cackling and stared at the redhead. She could've just left, or let Adrian deal with him but something flared inside her at the chance to challenge such a smug man. It felt good. It wasn't often she felt equally matched, even now she suspected that George was quite a bit beneath her but the opportunity was too enticing. His anger, although she'd only been privy to it once, was addictive.

It must have felt equally as strong for George because his face got darker again and he leaned closer, ready to retort. His eyes searched hers and she could tell that he was going to make it personal, perhaps even try to be hurtful but Adrian cut him off before he could say anything.

"Shove off Weasley."

Something seemed to snap and George's face switched back to a jovial smile and mischievous eyes.

She stared at him in shock. What was his problem? Adrian was much more infuriating than she was but he barely even seemed to register his words.

"Until next time my love," he cooed at Adrian whilst he and Lee fell into a fit of giggles and pulled each other out of the door.

She and Adrian followed silently after them, walking together out of courtesy, rather than friendship. One of the perks of such a historic house with noble bloodlines was the occasional show of chivalry

They walked down the corridor and back up into the main hall. "Thanks for the 50 points Wilkes," he said, turning to part ways. "Can't believe I'm stuck with a bloody Weasley."

He flashed her a smile which she returned with a polite nod before making her way to her next class, trying to ignore the hustle and bustle of the students around her.

She plopped down in Ancient Runes a few minutes later, still annoyed about the less than peaceful potions class.

Professor Babbling said something about Ancient Runes, best-serving students, as an independent study but she couldn't focus on her open book and unfinished translation. The class was always appreciated seeing as quiet moments throughout the day were rather rare outside of the library. The opportunity to spend several hours with just her thoughts and meaningless translations was a much-needed break from the day-to-day busyness.

George's comment rang in her head. What was his problem? He exuded arrogance without reason. She'd outsmarted him on the train and although she'd technically outsmarted him in potions, it was entirely out of her hands and not meant as an insult to him in any way. Maybe his ego was bruised, even though the only witness on the train was his brother, who she seriously doubted cared about intelligence. Either way, he seemed to be taking their encounters entirely personal.

Whatever it was, he needed to get over it, and quick. Usually, potions class was the only hour and a half in her day where she got to gather her thoughts and methodically apply her knowledge with little disturbance. She would rather deal with the consequences of forcing him to leave her alone, than sacrifice it.

Even after an entire afternoon and evening in the library, George's smug face still taunted her as she went to sleep.

#george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x original female character #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley smut #dating george weasley #george weasley fic #george weasley imagine

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sxvxrxssnape · 4 years

Text

Coffee & Tea

Snapetober 2020: Day 11 - Scars

There’s more than one type of wound that needs to heal for them to move forward, but Minerva is determined to help however she can. They just have to live with the scars.

The wound pains her even though it is not hers.

Minerva watches as Severus unwraps the bandages around his neck for the final time. She has been watching Poppy unwrap blood-soiled bandages and replace them with fresh ones time and time again, not just on Severus, but on several others, as the days have ticked past.

This time, as the wrappings come undone, there is the barest hint of rust tainting them. The wounds have finally closed. There is a small table beside him, laden with an assortment of potions and a scrap of flannel. She watches as he opens the first bottle, pours the anti inflammatory onto the flannel and attempts to pat the wound.

“Let me help.” she breaks the silence, surprising him out of his reverie. She wonders if he was even aware of her presence. He eyes her hesitantly and she can feel the despair rolling off of him in waves, can see the brokenness in his dark brown eyes.

He nods.

She closes the distance between the two of them and thinks about how this is the first time in over a year that she’s stood so close to him. She takes the flannel and starts to dab at the puncture marks on his neck, wincing in sympathy when he flinches.

“What’s next?” she asks, eyeing the line-up of colorful bottles.

He hands her a bottle she does not recognize, but she trusts him. The thought sends her reeling as she pours a tincture that smells of eucalyptus and witch hazel onto a clean corner of the flannel and repeats the process of gently patting the wound. She trusts him.

And, oh Merlin, does that make her ache.

She studies Severus carefully as she puts her hand out and waits for the next potion. He looks as if he’s shrunken into himself, rumpled and sickly and pale in his grey hospital robe. Exhaustion sits so heavily on his face, she wonders if there is enough rest in the world to help him. His hands are trembling, one more than the other, and she knows it’s permanent. An unfortunate aftereffect of a prolonged Cruciatus; she doesn’t know how long ago that happened, doesn’t know how to ask. He hands her a small pot of healing cream.

With gentle fingers, she rubs the thick paste into his skin until it disappears. He cannot stop himself from hissing in pain and she makes soft noises on a whim. She wants to say something, has wanted to say something since they first found him in the Shrieking Shack barely clinging to life. Ever since her stomach twisted and her heart skipped when Harry was facing Voldemort for the final time.

“Severus Snape was never yours.” Harry had yelled. “He was always Dumbledore’s.” She’s hesitant to admit her head has been a little fuzzy ever since. She wants to say something, but she just doesn’t have the words.

She hated him.

He had betrayed them all, had killed Dumbledore and stood by Voldemort’s side as they seized the castle. She hates herself a little, for never realizing the truth. How long had she and the man in front of her been friends? How many times had she depended on him to help her out, back her up, or just plain be there for her?

“I can hear you thinking.” Severus croaks out and he sounds absolutely wrecked.

“I’m sorry.” Minerva sighs and accepts the strip of bandage dipped in Essence of Dittany. She drapes it over the snakebite and keeps it in place with a temporary sticking charm. He moves his hair back, covering the small square, and looks relieved to be able to do so. “Severus, I -”

“Please, don’t.” he whispers, and even as soft spoken as those two words are, his voice is still dry and gravelly, making him cough. There are two untouched potions left and he picks up the pain reliever, swallowing it back once he’s able to breathe.

The lines of pain fall from his face, but he still looks weak. It will be another few days of bedrest before he can stand on his own again. The venom that coursed through him nearly finished him off, but his body will heal, and so will the wounds on his neck.

Minerva wonders if their relationship is far too broken to fix, or if time will heal that too. She holds nothing against him, knows the truth now and understands. Still, she cannot look at him in the same way anymore, fears they will never be the same.

He reaches for the final potion and Minerva recognizes the orange of the Invigoration Draught. She takes it from him and puts it out of reach. “You should rest, instead. There will be plenty of time to take this later.”

He nods and lays back down, sleep already settling in.

–

The scars pain her, even though they are not hers.

Minerva watches as Severus wraps a light grey scarf around his neck and tucks the ends into his buttoned up winter coat. The scars are faint, a bubble of light pink that barely sticks out against the paleness of his throat, but she knows they feel larger than life to him.

He still dabs them with Dittany every night, but it hasn’t made a difference in months now. Still, she knows it brings him comfort so she says nothing about it.

They walk the path to Hogsmeade together, their boots crunching over day-old snow and their breaths creating faint wisps of silver in the cold air when they exhale. December has arrived and with it, Christmas is creeping. There are boughs of holly decorating the lamp poles that light up the still-dreaming streets of the small town.

They look at each other and share a look, thinking of how quickly the wizarding town has bounced back from the events in May. It makes something warm burst inside of her. They enter the Three Broomsticks and choose a corner table.

It is still early, especially for a Saturday. They left the students in the care of Flitwick and Pomona, decided they could use a break for the morning. Running a school is a big responsibility, so they do it together now; headmaster and headmistress.

“We should allow the students a Hogsmeade weekend before they go to break.” Minerva brings up, as she flips through the menu Madame Rosmerta has brought. It feels pointless, considering she always orders the same thing.

“Stock them up on sweets and then send them home to their parents?” Severus asks, a faint smile on his lips. “Better them than us.”

Madame Rosmerta returns with mugs full of hot coffee and tea, confirms they want their usual and leaves them alone again. Minerva sips her tea and pretends not to notice when Severus sloshes a bit of coffee as he picks up his cup. His hands still tremble, despite the many nerve regeneration potions he’s taken.

They sit in silence and it still feels a little off. They’ve finally talked about what happened, about the nightmare of the year they both experienced. They finally grieved the loss of Albus together, finally shared what they had been thinking whenever they passed each other in the halls that wretched school year.

They had gotten very drunk off of Lucius’ expensive whiskey (and that was a strange relation that had been formed after Voldemort’s end. She thinks he’s only trying to save what little reputation they have left, by throwing money and expensive gifts at every avenue they can think of. She’s tired of carrying hatred in her heart and so she accepts his gifts, accepts his request to reinstate him onto the Board of Governors, and lets Lucius Malfoy be) and she saw Severus break down in tears for the first time in years. That alone was her proof that he trusted her still.

She just needed to trust him.

Their friendship has been shaky, as if the foundation has been rebuilt upon uneven ground. Some days she looks at him and all she can feel is hurt, but she reminds herself that isn’t him. He didn’t come back from the brink of death feeling like before; there are scars he’s desperate to hide, but he’s done what he can and now he has to learn to carry on.

Their friendship feels the same way.

They have to learn to carry on, for both of their sakes. Madame Rosmerta returns once more and she sets plates in front of each of them before taking her leave again. Severus pulls out a small vial of potion and she frowns as he drinks the pain reliever.

Healing will take time, in every sense of the word. She wonders if it’s the nerve damage in his neck that’s bothering him today, or if it’s his left arm. She knows he won’t answer in such a public space, despite the near-emptiness of the room, so she doesn’t ask.

She cuts into her poached egg, watches the yolk break and spill over crisp bacon and toasted bread. Their silence feels off, but it’s also as comfortable as it’s ever been. She watches him cut into his own breakfast, smiles faintly at his choice of pancake toppings, and wonders if the scars in their friendship are there to stay, or if they can heal a little more.

Minerva has missed his presence in her life, is glad to have him back, sarcastic comments and sharp tongue and all. Perhaps things will never be as they were. Still, as the honey drips from his lips and he struggles to close his mouth around the comically large bite he’s just taken, something in her lifts.

She cannot help but laugh at him and he scowls at the sound, but his eyes are soft despite his furrowed brow and she knows they will be okay.

——–

A/N: After grief, I needed something…soft.

I needed to FIX things.

#snapetober 2020 #snapedom #pro snape #severus snape

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fashournalist · 3 years

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Chess has never been my thing, but boy, how I loved The Queen's Gambit.

The cinematography was definitely superb that I enjoyed watching every match even when I didn't understand anything about the sport (I was more into dama/draughts/checkers when I was a kid, but I think that's not even a sport). So many tournaments have passed but each of those matches were shown in different, creative ways/montages! Here are some of my favorite moments from the series.

I have loved several scenes, but of all the notable moments, my favorite one was when Beth cried after seeing her picture with Mr Shaibel, I really got teary-eyed at that point :( You see, that's the only moment she cried, for someone who has gone through a lot...from losing her real mom to losing her foster mom. The only time shown in the film where she cried was when Mr Shaibel left. :( And that board where he kept all newspaper clippings? That moment was so precious. He watched her grow all along. He was the first mentor, the unsung hero, and he didn't seek recognition—he was just happy seeing her succeed and celebrating her victories in his own crib, the same room where they used to play. Seeing that board was such a touching, and painful moment. Honestly, it bothered me all along that Beth didn't give back the 10 dollars she promised. I hope she was able to say Hey, thank you, I owe my career to you. But I understand Beth is a woman of few words, I just really wish she got to see Shaibel again. I also hate that the press never printed her interview when she mentioned Shaibel early on, so I like it when she said in the finale, "now can you promise to print that?" (Then again, he couldn't read it anymore. But at least he can still get, posthumously, the recognition he deserves.)

I love that Jolene came back on the last episode and played an integral role—not just being Beth's childhood friend. And I'm proud that she's on her way to law school! (I'm proud of Harry who works while being a college student, too.) Jolene's scene with Beth after playing tennis was touching. They're family after all.

I love how Beth's opponents became her friends and helped her out in the last episode—that's teamwork—even when, as Benny says it, Americans are individualists. It showed support, instead of being envious of the one who defeated them, they shared her joy and victory. Her win became their win, too. The way they jumped when Benny signalled Beth won was priceless. I couldn't stop smiling. And I kept being reminded, oh yes, this was during the days when there was still no internet, no Facebook live, no tweets, no way of getting instant updates. So the excitement—and anxiety—they must have felt during Beth's game must have been huge.

I love the moment Borgov hugged Beth after the game! It showed sportsmanship and humility, which can coexist with competitiveness. I love how Luchenko was such a sweet opponent, too.

I like how Beth answered Mr. Wheatley with composure even though she was debunking his arguments. Standing up for oneself without losing one's temper can be difficult, but Beth nailed it.

And boy, how my heart soared when I saw Townes again! I've been waiting for his comeback all along. That moment he said "from the Lexington herald paper", I was over the moon because I can't wait for Beth and Townes to meet again!

I have more favorite moments (such as when the twins questioned Harmon's ability and then became surprised when she beat Beltik; every moment Alma played the piano; how the crowd became bigger and bigger in Moscow asking for her autograph—oh how the Russians love chess!), but these moments I listed are the ones I love the most.

This film (or miniseries) is just so well-made. The direction is on point, the casting was great, and I truly love the film score.

I've observed many adaptations often get the comment "the book is better", because of course, 99% of the time, it's true. But, in this case, I still haven't seen a review that mentioned that. I haven't read the novel, but it seems this series has been a beautiful adaptation, excellently executed, based on the feedback from critics. I can see why it has a 100% rating on Rotten Tomatoes and 8.7 score on IMDB.

I giggled a little when I read this somewhere on Reddit: "Please don't give us season 2" Haha. I'm really hoping for more but I understand some (or most?) masterpieces should stand on its own to avoid the risk of ruining it. Especially since it's based on a book after all. It's hard to extend the narrative of the original material (whatever happened to 13 Reasons Why? The first season was remarkable...and then the rest happened) But with a team as creative as the team behind The Queen's Gambit, I think we'll still get a beautiful season 2, if there will be one.

...Now excuse me as I go back to this series' subreddit while listening to my favorite queen's latest album, Evermore.

#the queen's gambit #netflix #series #binge #review #reaction #favorite moments #reddit #watch #chess #elizabeth harmon

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but-first--tea · 4 years

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Catching Only Rain

Argent lounged near the waterfall of the Endless Draught, feeling the spray on his face even at the distance the balcony was as sunset approached. Eventually, he sat on the bench, pensive.

In his mind, he ran through several different possibilities, plans, and outcomes. He was on edge, and actually loving every minute of it. He lounged, but his body felt alive and he wanted to do something.

A noble however wasn't prone to dance through the streets, or go seeking a pick-up in the local saloon nearby for some fun to blow off steam. Especially when he had an appointment.

Sometimes playing a part was so hard.

Kaya arrived at the appointed hour, and not a moment before, looking like she had arrived from a party that she had not invited him to. The long black evening gown was in a style that reflected her Doman heritage in a far more, well... daring way than he'd seen on her before. Her style seemed to change as often as her mood.

She stepped across the cobbles for all the world as if she were simply taking an evening stroll, admiring the view and leaving him choosing between waiting, or meeting her halfway.

Argent heard her approach but only glanced behind him from the bench he was sitting on and waited surprisingly patiently for her to walk up. When she did, he finally stood, spun on his heel and nodded low to her.

"Lady Omori," he said, glancing about. "Nice view."

Kaya tilted her head up at him, raising her brows as she looked him over, letting the obvious response go entirely unsaid. She was quite sure he'd chosen his place in the dramatic lighting on purpose, and any comment of her own would only be superfluous. "I like this spot. The waterfall reminds me of home."

She moved to the railing, leaning on it just a little as her gaze shifted to the west, and the warmth that had already begun to sink quickly beneath the Goblet's edge. "You said you have news?"

Argent arched a brow over his spectacles. "Yes, I do."

He stepped to the side and stood in a way that his arm almost touched her shoulder, but not quite, and looked at the waterfall in the fading light. "What reminds you most about home? And just at dusk and the evening? Or even in the bright glaring harsh reality of day?"

She chuckled at that, looking back at him again. "Do you really want to talk about the precise manner in which the light hits the mist of the waterfall, or are you just trying to keep me in suspense?"

Argent said in a quiet tone, "I'd like to learn more about you, yes." And he didn’t elaborate.

Kaya turned to face him fully, and with a bold, challenging expression at that. ".... Whatever for?"

Argent only turned his head to look down at her and said with an eyebrow up, "He's dangerous. Honestly, my advice would be to ignore him. So I'm just curious as to why you care, and thus would like to know more about you, Kaya."

Her eyes flashed at that, and the rapidly fading light did nothing to hide the tension in her shoulders. "I know he's dangerous. That IS why I care. I will not be prey, and certainly not for the likes of him. As long as he has the city believing that Domans are nothing but meek little rabbits to be fed upon by anyone who comes along, they won't see me any differently either, no matter how fashionable my company might be this season. Lady Yugiri brought them here and then simply... left them to their own devices, with nothing. I have the resources to do better, for them, and for myself."

Argent took her in for a moment, face sort of impassively calculating, and he pursed his lips. He stared down at her in silence for what could be considered an uncomfortable silence, saying nothing, arms crossed.

But Kaya wasn't about to be cowed by him, either. "Besides, he started it when he insinuated that if I didn't become his mistress he'd make sure I was never accepted here. Like I said, I will not be prey, and he has no idea what I'm capable of. If you don't think you are capable of moving against him, then just walk away now. The rest of my team will suffice."

Argent smirked finally, and looking very pleased, "You have a team?"

He turned and leaned one arm on the edge of the balcony, leaning over her a little but still being very, very careful not to touch her or invade any kind of personal space, "Can I be on your team?"

She blinked at that. "You didn't think I was going to take a few rumors and do it myself? I have no intention of ever letting him know that it was me who destroyed him. The last thing I need to end up with is someone with nothing to lose and hell bent on revenge. And as for you... well that depends on what you found out, and how much use it will be."

Argent smirked again and nodded, leaning on his arm, and he gestured with his other palm out, very close to her hair, but again not touching her. He did weave his fingers around and about, though, as if perhaps giving off the sensation he wanted his long fingers buried in there. "He has no exploitable vices. Everything he takes seems in the usual moderation, aside from food, but he has a taster that follows him about. Did you know that?"

She sighed at bit in disappointment. "Well, it's not as if I'd planned to poison him, but you wouldn't have brought it up unless you thought it was something I could use.”

Argent grinned at her as if he had something he hadn't shared yet, "No, I did find... one exploitable vice, Kaya. I'm just not sure you have what's required to exploit it... properly."

Kaya stared back at him flatly. ".... Again with the suspense. You overindulge in dramatic flair sometimes, you know that?"

He leaned his head down and looked at her over the rim of his colored glasses. "And you like just getting right to the point.”

“Funny," he added and then he gestured with fingers in the air next to her. "Gambling. He has quite the weakness for gambling, especially when he's sure he can win. He beat several of those invited that night after I had bowed in 'defeat' and nursed my drink. He ruined one man entirely, but if that man had won, he would have been close to ruined himself, I'm sure. But he just knew he would win, that idiot was TERRIBLE."

Kaya frowned faintly. "Again, I have no intention of facing him directly. I'll have to utilize a proxy to present him with a sure investment, hedge against it secretly, and profit from the failure in order to recoup the losses of the initial upfront costs of the setup. This will take some time to do properly..." The wheels in her head were clearly already performing the necessary calculations.

He added casually, "Well you definitely need something for him to bet on that's exceedingly high stakes that is both something you control and that he thinks he controls. Any ideas? I assume I would have to broker the suggestion and handle some transactions as well. He won't take a bet from YOU, but from me, perhaps?"

Kaya smiled at that, "Well, you did say you wanted to be on the team, didn't you? And I have no intention of putting myself back in his line of sight again. As for what, specifically to tempt him with... I'll have to put some thought into it. Something tells me I'll only have one chance to pull this off."

A fork of lightning cut across the sky and drew the Doman woman’s attention. She never quite understood how this was a desert, and yet it somehow rained more here than over the forests of Yanxia. "Well, seems like you'd best get back for now, though, unless you want your tailored suit to be rained on."

Argent reached down and lifted his pant leg up. Attached with leather straps was a rod of some sort, also wrapped up it appeared. He unclasped it, and untied something, and then the rod sprung out and up popped an umbrella, blue, that he held over them both as the rain began to patter down.

"I come from a land of constant snow and rain, Lady Omori. Trust me when I say I am prepared for nearly anything."

Kaya laughed outright at that. "Maybe I should have searched you for weapons at dinner after all. I might have found the most entertaining things."

He grinned and of course he just had to move closer to make sure she didn’t get her nice dress wet and said, "I did suggest you do it, after all." He glanced at the desert rain, "Suppose we'll have to wait it out, unless there's someplace close by you know of."

Kaya gave him a look of disbelief. "You've met what I'm pitting myself against, and you think I'm afraid of ... rain??" She spun out from under the umbrella, her face turned up to the sky and.... began to dance in the rain. Apparently she wasn't so worried about the dress, after all.

Argent actually blinked. It was a real, genuine blink. And then he just let the umbrella rest on his shoulder and rain pattered onto his face as well, slowly making his hair plaster to the sides of his face and forehead. He looked utterly at a loss at his new development, and rather bemused, watching her dance in the rain for a moment.

He then tossed his umbrella aside and held out his hand to her, the other moving behind his back.

Kaya laughed again and took his hand, though she stood there and admonished him a moment. "But Ser Renard, YOUR SUIT!" She adopted an expression of utter dismay, the sort he would have expected from the Lady Omori Kaya had she not already been thoroughly drenched herself.

It only lasted a moment, however, and she spun inward to stand against him. The only thing missing was music. "Five count, three steady, then two half-beats." She spun back out again.

"Can you pull it off?" Smirk.

Argent, secretly an accomplished bard, had no trouble pulling this off. Were his gloves off, the callouses on his fingers in fact would give him away if she was thinking too hard. No nobleman would have callouses like he did.

At just the right count, he twirled her back in against him so firmly that the wetness of their clothes splashed both their faces from below slightly at the tight impact, and he said down to her as they moved into the three count step before the two half-beats, "I could easily do that, Lady Omori," And in his lapel was her hat pin and when he swept them around for the two half-beats his motioned his chin down to his chest, "But the scandal of a knight pledged tearing his Lady's dress off in the rain would be too much for you to bear, I feel."

Kaya smiled slyly back at him. "Now now, we mustn't have a scandal. Appearances are everything, after all."

With that, she twirled back out and twisted her fingers from his, stepping quickly out from under the radius of the lamplight and into the shadows.

Argent laughed and then stopped, holding darkness and blinking in the rain. Drenched, he stood there, and then tried to peer through the driving droplets to find the paleness of her face, arms, or thigh which were the only bits he was really able to see as she misted away.

For an elezen who had excellent night vision, she was entirely gone. He just stood there, hand outstretched, catching only rain now.

#silver and gold #Argent Renard #Omori Kaya #RP transcript #Balmung RP

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canid-slashclaw · 4 years

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The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapters 10 and 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16 , Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29 Chapter 30

Several months later...

"A little more to the right, darling. Oh wait. That just won't do. Nevermind!" Ariyana shouted as she directed several of her workers to re-hang some garlands.

Moments later, her mate Jestin arrived. "Cakes have arrived, dear. Where would you like them?"

She smiled at her husband then pointed towards two large banquet tables. "Put them right there."

"Wait. Isn't that where Ludrick's smorgasbord is supposed to be?"

Ariyana shook her head in frustration. "Gah! So many things to do and so little time to do them in. Use your imagination, my love. I'm sure you can work out something beautiful in that pretty little head of yours."

***

Daniel Grimwald and Ludrick Crushblow rode atop a wagon as the two of them headed towards the grassy meadow that was adjacent to the base of Thunder Falls. Brad, Cynthia, Navina and Krenesh were there to greet them as the wagon pulled into the pavilion area.

"The meat wagon has arrived," Daniel said as he reached over and pulled off the covers. "Thanks to Ludrick here, everything has been put on ice so it doesn't spoil."

"Crap! That thing must weigh a ton," Krenesh commented as he helped unload the contents.

"One and a half ton, to be exact," Ludrick stated while Navina and Cynthia helped him off the wagon.

Brad chuckled. "You gals got the easy part - helping two hansom males, while, Kren and I are stuck carrying a heap of slaughtered carcasses."

"Good and tasty carcasses at that!" Krenesh reminded him.

"Don't let your friend eat everything before you get to the banquet hall," Cynthia commented.

"Bah! With all the work we've been doing, I just might be tempted."

"She wasn't referring to you, numbskull!" Navina quipped.

"If I find Ama's blowtorch anywhere, I might just make an instameal outta this yummy good stuff."

"Do it and die, Brad!" Cynthia chided as she handed Ludrick his cane.

***

"Mom. This dress makes me look like a bloated quaggan," Rachel grumbled as her mother examined the outfit.

"It looks fine on you, sweetie. Now be a good girl and take those audiophones out of your ears."

"But my favorite band just released this single. I'm one of the first in Claypool to even hear these songs."

Her mother looked around for a styling comb. "Have you seen Katie anywhere?"

"Um. I think she's with your soon-to-be daughter-in-law."

***

"This blue flower looks so pretty in your hair," Katie said as she placed a blue violet in Amalthia's golden mane.

"Can you find me a mirror? I would love to see what it looks like."

The little Grimwald clamored off her lap then was off to find a shiny reflective object.

"Oooo. Shiney! I'm a skritt!"

Amalthia smiled at the precocious child as she coaxed her into holding up the mirror to her face. "Why that's lovely. You know that my people love to eat skritt and I'm going to do the same!"

She laughed then playfully nibbled on Katie's head with her large canine teeth. Kaleb's little sister adored the attention that his mate had showered upon her.

Moments later, Ariyana stepped in. "Darling! You look splendid!"

"Ari! So nice to see you!" Amalthia picked Katie up, carefully planted her on the floor then walked over and gave her friend a big hug.

"I see you have a little helper," the sylvari said, eyeing the little girl.

"Oh yes. I could not have done it without her."

Katie found the wedding veil and ran over to place it on Amalthia's head. Kneeling down, the bride-to-be accepted the gift.

"How's that!"

"Oh my. She is going to put me out of business if she keeps that up," Ariyana said with a laugh.

Shortly thereafter, Cynthia and Navina walked into the room each bearing gifts. After a round of group hugs, the presents were set aside and everyone began to get ready for the upcoming event.

"You really outdid yourself, Ariyana. If my man ever gets around to popping the question, you better believe I'll be paying you a visit," Cynthia smiled as she examined Amalthia's bridal gown.

"I still don't get these human rituals. but hey, if it makes the two of you happy then I'm all in," Navina said with a chuckle.

"Kal is gonna die from a serious boner after seeing you in this. Dang girl! Maybe I should find a wizard who can make me grow horns, fur and a tail. Cause you look drop-dead sexy in this getup." Cynthia jested.

"Oh. I'll be giving him plenty of those both on and after our wedding night," Amalthia said with a wink and a wicked grin.

"What's a boner?" Katie asked innocently.

Everyone was at a loss for words.

***

Kaleb wandered around carrying a half-empty stein of lager while eyeing the tent that his soon-to-be wife was residing in. He took another draught just seconds before Brad approached from behind then clapped him on the shoulder. "The man of the hour! How ya doin' bro?"

The slightly inebriated Kaleb shook his head. "Couldn't be better. It's too bad I can't steal a peak at the misses."

"Don't you know it's bad luck seeing the bride before the wedding?"

Moments later, Daniel, Ludrick and Krenesh made their way to greet the groom-to-be. The elder Grimwald looked at his son, shook his hand then took a carnation from his lapel and placed it though one of Kaleb's buttons.

"That suit fits you well, son. Think you'll be sober enough to say your vows?"

Kaleb nodded and smiled. "I'm just nervously tipsy, that's all. I'll be fine once the ceremony starts."

"You are looking well, Kaleb. I'm sure my cub will agree once she sees you," Ludrick said as he handed the young man a flask of herbal coffee. "This is a quick cure for any hangover. Trust me, I've used it plenty of times."

Krenesh stepped in and shook his head. "You and Ama have got to be the oddest couple on the face of Tyria. But even that is secondary to this even odder ceremony. Bah! This thing is so tight around me I can't even move properly."

Brad and Kaleb laughed.

"I can hunt down Ariyana. I'm sure she'll be able to modify the outfit a bit for ya," Kaleb said.

"Nah. I'll be fine. Besides, the sooner I get out of this thing the better."

Suddenly, Brad burst out laughing as he pointed towards a lone male charr who was dressed in what appeared to be a bridesmaid outfit.

Kaleb looked up and said. "Isn't that..."

"...Tovu." Krenesh buried his head in the palm of his hand and closed his eyes.

"A male charr in a woman's outfit. Now I've seen everything," came Daniel's response.

Ludrick clapped the elder Grimwald on the shoulder and said with a half-chuckle. "I think you and I are going to have to follow your son's lead and have a nice strong drink together."

Daniel nodded in agreement.

"Oh man! I'm never going to forget this day!" Brad said in between his uncontrollable bouts of laughter.

"I wish I could," grumbled Krenesh.

"I seriously wish I could."

***

"Tovu! Over here," Bogo shouted as he beckoned for his partner to come join him.

Being careful not to soil the gown, Tovu gingerly stepped over the tufts of grass trying not to trip in the process.

"You look ravishing in that outfit, Tovu."

His partner frowned. "You think so? Everyone looks at me funny. It's not like our females even wear these kinds of outfits anyway."

"Oh, pay them no mind, you silly furball. My suit is rather plain compared to yours," Bogo said somberly.

"Nonsense! That tie brings out the color of your eyes so well."

"You think so? I think it makes me look kinda drab."

Off in the distance, someone was shouting something about where the other bridesmaid was. Tovu's ears pricked out upon hearing the message.

"Sorry big boy. They're calling me. See you at the altar, you big snuggly beast!"

Bogo waved back and winked at his partner. "Give Ama my love!"

***

Amalthia busied herself putting on the finishing touches to her wedding gown. Everyone else had gone to their respective dressing rooms in order to prepare for the upcoming ceremony. As she was braiding the last lock of her long golden mane, she heard someone scratching at the other end of the tent door.

"Come in."

When she looked up, she saw the Grimwald middle child standing before her. She had a pair of audiophones plugged into her ears and appeared to be jamming out to some type of music.

"Oh. Hello, Rachel."

There was an awkward silence for a moment before the teenager responded.

"Hi."

Amalthia smiled then handed her a comb. "Mind helping me with this last strand? It's always a bitch to tame."

The teen was taken aback by the charr's crassness. "Uh, okay."

"I won't bite. I promise," Amalthia said with a noticeable display of her large teeth.

Rachel summoned her courage to speak.

"You don't have rabies, do you?"

"I got my shot yesterday. Doctor said the medicine should take effect within the next week."

"So you do have it."

"You assume much about me, don't you? I never said I did or did not have what you thought I had. Now are you going to help me with that braid or are you going to just stand there wishing you really could just tell your mother to screw off," Amalthia said with a smirk.

The girl was completely speechless.

"Oops. Did I let that slip? Oh well, it must be lagers in me," she pointed to an empty stein by her vanity.

"You really are a lush," Rachel said laconically as she slowly reached her hand towards the charr's golden mane.

"Eh. You can blame my mother for that. I sure do."

"So is your mom mean?"

Amalthia closed her eyes and grinned. "She is as sweet as cyanide in a wine glass and as pleasant as an acidic enema."

Rachel couldn't help but laugh.

"So your face is capable of cracking a smile," Amalthia said.

"Well, even though I don't like you, at least we have one thing in common. My mom pisses me off a lot," Rachel said angrily.

"So what is it about her that pisses you off?"

Rachel shrugged.

"She makes me attend church and tells me the music I'm listening to is made by a bunch of blasphemers."

Amalthia looked closer at the audio box that Rachel was listening to. She noticed the name of the band that was stamped on one of the removable cartridges.

"SynR J-TX. I know their music."

"You do? I'll bet you haven't heard their latest album. My friend knows a friend who knows a friend who works with the band. I was able to get a fresh cut of their latest release."

Rachel switched to another track and began jamming out on that. Amalthia reached over then clicked on the audio box, switching it to another track.

"Hey!"

"Just listen. You've heard the extended release, right?" Amalthia asked.

The teen shook her head.

"They did a remix just recently. So recent, in fact, it hasn't even been cut yet."

"And how do you possibly know this?"

Amalthia gave the girl a wide grin. "I do live in a tavern. It's amazing what I hear sometimes."

"I like their fifth track. It's got a really cool beat."

"It does. Can you dance?"

Rachel nodded. "Well, yeah. Can you??"

The bride-to-be stood up then offered her hand to Rachel, inviting her to dance.

"Watch me!"

Both girls were dancing in sync. Rachel showed one of her moves while Amalthia mimicked her at every step. Soon, they were dancing like a pair of professionals in harmony with the rhythm of the beat.

"How much do you hate your mother?" Rachel asked as they were choreographing their moves.

Amalthia stopped dancing then beckoned for Kaleb's sister to come over to the vanity. She, then' pulled out an old parchment that featured an array of images that she drew when she was still a cub.

"When I was in my fahrar, we were asked to draw what we would do to our enemies once we were old enough to go into battle. Everyone else drew either, Flame Legion, humans, ogres or some other hideous creature," Amalthia smiled deviously. "I, on the other hand, was a bit more creative."

She handed Rachel the parchment that depicted a child-like drawing of one charr cutting off another charr's head.

"That was me beheading my mother with a broadsword. I colored the blade brown in order to depict the blade as being rusty and dull."

Rachel looked at the images, stunned. Amalthia pointed to another one that appeared to show a charr getting blown to pieces by an explosion.

"Oh. I drew that one hoping my mother would, someday, step on a land mine and blow herself up. See the bones and entrails?"

"Um. Dare I ask what this one is?"

Amalthia looked at the image of a darkened charr and laughed. "That one was Mother getting charbroiled by a flamethrower. Get it? Charrbroiled?"

"You are one sick kitten!" Rachel said in her characteristic monotone voice.

"If I am then why haven't you run away?"

Rachel shrugged. "I dunno. I guess you are like a shipwreck. Horrible to watch but I can't take my eyes off it."

"I have the suspicion it's something else. My guess is you resent your mother but are too afraid to tell her so openly," Amalthia stated.

"How would you know? You no nothing about me!" Rachel retorted angrily.

"Oh. I know a mother-hater when I see one. Trust me on this."

"I don't hate my mom."

"But you do resent her for what she's done to you. Always being obligated to live up to those expectations, while your brother doesn't seem to give a damn?"

"Well, maybe. Mom always did get on Kals case about doing things his way. I hate him for being able to resist our mom's authority," Rachel said as tears began to well up in her eyes.

"It's okay, Rachel. Let it out. That's what I did when I was a cub. I let out all my rage and anger through my drawings. Looking back, it was very therapeutic for me," Amalthia said as she rolled up the illustrations then put them back into the drawer.

"Okay, okay. I really think you aren't so bad now. I thought your people were always evil. But in talking to you like this, you seem almost human."

Amalthia smiled and gently reached for Rachel's face in an attempt to wipe her tears away. "I've learned that all intelligent races share the same basic emotions. Even though we each express them in different ways, all of us still feel love, sadness, apprehension and loneliness."

Rachel broke down then cried as she buried her head in Amalthia's chest. The charr gave her a gentle hug as she switched tracks to a more melodious song and began a slow dance with her future sister-in-law.

***

Ulfgar thumbed through the sermon, doing some last-minute revisions as needed. Daniel walked up to the massive norn as his son helped Ludrick navigate across the uneven ground.

"Ah. Three of the finest gentlemen I know. Are you ready for the big one, boy?" The old norn said with a hearty tone.

"When is anyone ever ready? I can't wait to see what Ama's dress looks like. Any idea where my sister's at?" Kaleb asked as he anxiously looked around for the ring bearer.

"Amalthia is giving Rachel the rings now. I think you'll like her attire, Kaleb," Ludrick said with a satisfactory nod.

"Father. Where's mom?"

"She's paying your future wife a visit. It's one of those mother-daughter sort of things." Daniel looked at his son with an air of pride and smiled.

"Take a deep breath, lad. This is supposed to be a legendary occasion, not a funeral."

"Sorry about that, Ulf. It's not the wedding itself that has me uptight so much as seeing so many folks here all in one place. I know that things started off very rocky for everyone, and this whole thing still feels so unreal. Never in a million years did I think we would ever come this far."

Ulfgar patted Kaleb on the shoulder. "And come far, you did. You and Amalthia are the first marital union in Tyira between human and charr. That is no small feat in and of itself."

His father gave him a reassuring hug as well. "Ulfgar's right, son. Through everything, you've never wavered in your conviction. This is as proud a day for me as it is for you and your bride."

Ludrick gave his future-son-in-law a pat on the shoulder as well then saluted with his fist to his chest. "Kaleb. Two years ago, you walked through that door in my butcher shop and everything I had ever known changed forever. You brought light into my cub's heart and hope to this old warrior once more. Even though you may not have fur, large teeth or horns, I feel that deep down you are as much of a charr as I am. If there is anyone on the face of Tyria who is worthy of my cub, it is you Kaleb Grimwald."

Everyone heard a noticeable sniffle coming from the mighty norn. "Baw! You've done and gotten me all sentimental ya old warbeast."

Kaleb gave the charr a tight bear hug as tears dribbled from his eyes and onto his future father-in-law's dark orange fur.

***

The usher called into Amalthia's tent letting her know that the ceremony would begin within the hour. As she was finishing up some last minute details, the usher also stated that Shirley Grimwald wanted to see her privately.

"She may come in."

The tent door opened and in walked Kaleb's mother, who was dressed in a conservative plain long dress. She approached her soon-to-be daughter-in-law then quietly pulled up a chair as she sat directly in front of her.

"That sylvari did an impeccable job making that dress," Shirley said as she began straightening out the pleats along the front.

Amalthia helped her with the hem. "That she did. I really like what she did to the backside. It doesn't bunch up around my tail at all. Not that such a thing is an issue with your people."

Shirley paused for a moment before responding. "About that topic Miss Steelblade..."

"Grimwald-Steelblade, if you don't mind. And Mrs please. It's a title we will all have to get used to," Amalthia said without looking at Kaleb's mother.

Shirley struggled to make conversation. "Please understand, Amalthia. I know you and I do not see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. But I also know that my son thinks the world of you, even though I have yet to understand what he sees that I don't."

"And your point, Mrs. Grimwald?"

Shirley could no longer contain her emotions. "Dammit! I still don't understand why my son picked a woman who is as rude and crass as you. If I were a man, I would object to this whole affair before either of you could take your first vows. That's what I would do, Miss Steelblade."

Amalthia shook her head then said in an unemotional tone. "But you are not a man, thank Pyreshot. I would like to like you, Mrs. Grimwald, but what you've presented me so far hasn't given me reason for changing my perception of you."

"So just what is your perception of me, Amalthia?"

"I think you are a woman who is deathly fearful of change. Look. I did not choose to intentionally seek out a human lover. My love for Kaleb just happened. Not everything that we are taught is necessarily the right path. There are some among us, of all races in fact, who travel to the beat of a different drum. Kaleb and I are such people. The sooner you accept that fact, the sooner you will feel a greater sense of happiness."

"I am trying to accept this, I really am. It's just so hard knowing that he is giving up his chance of having children who are his own. You are giving up your chance as well. Who's to say if this whole thing wears off you won't go..."

"Stop right there, Mrs. Grimwald. In case you were never informed, I cannot even bear children of my own. A war wound saw to that. Here, I'll show you. I developed an infection in my uterus that all but ruined my reproductive ability." Amalthia promptly lifted up her dress then showed Shirley the small scar that crossed her lower abdomen.

Stunned, Mother Grimwald said nothing as she reached out to touch the scar tissue.

"I... I'm soo sorry. I didn't know... Please forgive me for making such a cruel statement," she began to cry once more.

"Ignorant, yes. Cruel? No." Amalthia lowered her gown then reached out and held her soon-to-be mother-in-law by the shoulders, as she looked her in the face. "I don't hate you Mrs. Grimwald. You raised a fine son and I'm very honored to be his wife. Once you get to know me, I think you may actually grow to like me just a little."

The usher stopped by once more indicating that the ceremony was close at hand. Both Shirley and Amalthia waved him off as the two ladies smiled at each other for the first time.

"Be a good wife to my son, Amalthia."

She looked at her future mother-in-law in the eyes and said in a resolute voice.

"I will."

***

Ulfgar stood at the podium all dressed in his finest regalia. Below him, stood Kaleb who was anxiously waiting for his bride to come down the aisle. To his right stood his best men - Brad, Krenesh, Jestin and Bogo. Their outfits were designed to match in spite of the physical size and proportion difference between human and charr. To Ulfgar's right stood the bridesmaids - Cynthia, Ariyana, Navina and the most unusual of all Tovu.

The aisle was lined with soldiers from both the legions and the Seraph. Each one instructed to hold their swords aloft in criss-cross fashion when the bride walked down the aisle.

Moments later, the final wedding theme began to play. Katie began dropping petals of jasmine and lilac flowers as she walked by followed closely by her older sister, Rachel (who was the ring bearer).

Once the two girls found their places. The ode to the wedding march began. Soldiers from both Seraph and legions drew their blades and meshed them together in staggered formation. Kaleb could see the swords withdrawing as his bride drew closer.

Amalthia strode lightly across the pedal-laden carpeted aisle as the last blade drew back from either side of her. She glanced up at Kaleb then gave him a wink. For his part, Kaleb was awestruck by her beauty. The gown she wore accentuated her best features, and reflected the amalgamation of two vastly different peoples. In spite of his old injuries, Ludrick summoned strength to walk his daughter down the aisle.

She helped hold him steady his gait the entire time until he found his seat at the front row. Once she had helped her father to his seat she stood next to Kaleb as the both of them turned to face Ulfgar.

The old norn smiled upon the bride and groom just as he was about to deliver his sermon.

"Today a legend is born. For today, for the first time in recorded Tyria's history, we are gathered here today to unite two souls from two very different peoples. On this special occasion, a human and a charr will be joined, not in bloody combat with each other, but in sacred matrimony."

Ulfgar turned to Kaleb. "The young man standing before me is one whom I have known since he was a pup. Never have I met a soul who is more good-natured, witty and willing to go the extra mile than this young man. I have seen his courage, his generous heart and his willingness to sacrifice himself for the sake of others. Kaleb Grimwald was a boy who did not know what his future would be. He was brash, independent and in many cases, foolish. But all that changed when he met the one soul who gave him a purpose."

The old norn then turned to Amalthia. "This young lady is like no charr I've ever met. In spite of her rather small size, she has the heart of a norn. She is bold and completely unafraid to say whatever's on her mind. Only she could tame the heart of the wayward boy whom I've known since he was pup."

Ulfgar gestured for Kaleb and Amalthia to face each other while holding hands. He took the rings from Rachel then handed the first one to Kaleb.

"There are no words, no ceremonies, no rituals that can adequately express what is about to transpire this day."

"Kaleb Grimwald - will you swear to give Amalthia your heart, your soul and keep her well in sickness and in health? Will you be there to comfort her when she is sad or downtrodden? Will you be there to bring joy and happiness into each other's lives? And will you promise to do these things for the rest of your days? What say you, lad?"

"I do," Kaleb said as he looked lovingly into Amalthia's eyes then slid the ring onto her finger.

"Amalthia Steelblade - will you swear to give Kaleb your heart, your soul and keep him well in sickness and in health? Will you be there to comfort him when he is sad or downtrodden? Will you be there to bring joy and happiness into each other's lives? And will you promise to do these things for the rest of your days? What say you, lass?"

"Of course!" She smiled as her ears twitched and she slid the band onto his finger.

"Then by the power vested in me and the Great Raven Spirit, I now pronounce you man and wife."

Ulfgar, then, smiled and said with a wink. "You two know the rest."

Kaleb and Amalthia embraced in a passionate kiss as cheers erupted from the crowd. The old norn waved for the newly married couple to face the audience then announced in his resonating voice.

"Behold, Kaleb and Amalthia Grimwald-Steelblade. May they both share many happy years together!"

Shortly thereafter, both were given plenty of hugs and well wishes by various friends and family. Kaleb, then, grabbed his wife by the hand and said. "You know what comes next, right?"

Amalthia and her new husband said in unison.

"Get toasted!"

(All chapters have been posted to AO3. Chapter 30 is posted here.)

#gw2 fanfiction #tyrias-library #the outliers #guild wars fan fiction #kaleb and amalthia #charr and human #inter-species love

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aidanchaser · 4 years

Text

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero, @magic713m, @ccboomer, @somebodyswatson, and Aubs

Chapter Thirteen The Secret Riddle

Harry did not make a habit of reading textbooks in bed first thing in the morning nor late into the evening, but he’d made an exception for his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It wasn’t the potions notes that had him so intrigued, it was the notes around the potions notes that Harry found fascinating. The Prince wasn’t just interested in brewing a perfect Draught of Living Death. He seemed to have a fascination with all sorts of curses.

In the margins of a diagram of Fluxweed, Harry had discovered a hex that made toenails grow suddenly and uncontrollably, which he’d used on Crabbe. Scribbled underneath a note about Veritaserum, Harry found a jinx that caused the tongue to stick tightly to the roof of the mouth, leaving the victim effectively tongue-tied. He’d run into Filch shouting at some first years for tracking mud into the hall, something Harry had experienced all too often after many dirty Quidditch practices, and thought some revenge was owed. It had worked flawlessly.

The spell Harry found to be the most useful was Muffliato, which left an impossible to identify buzzing in the ears of would-be eavesdroppers. It was excellent for holding conversations during class, though Hermione had found everything about the Prince intolerable, and refused to participate in a conversation if she knew Harry had cast the charm. Harry thought she was being perfectly unreasonable. It did not help that Neville supported her argument that hand-written charms were not Ministry-approved, and could be very dangerous for caster and target, but Harry didn’t think much of Ministry-approved anything these days, and ignored their arguments.

Most recently, Harry had discovered Levicorpus, a purely nonverbal spell. He’d tried it out Saturday morning before their Hogsmeade trip and had accidentally given Ron a rather rude awakening, by hoisting him into the air by his ankle. Hermione had given Harry a harsh upbraiding for this spell, but Harry wasn’t sure it was as bad as she said. After all, he’d seen his father use it in the Pensieve in Snape’s memories, and he remembered it being used on himself, by Remus, Sirius, and James. He’d been an excitable toddler who wandered often, and he’d just as often been retrieved by his ankle. Granted, there had been a lot more giggling on Harry’s part than he’d seen in Ron or Snape, but Ron had seen the humour after he’d been safely let down by the counterspell.

Despite Harry’s thorough investigation of the book, he’d come no closer to discovering the author’s identity. He had, unfortunately, ruled out his favourite guesses. His father and Sirius were not half-bloods, and though Sirius might joke about being a disinherited prince, it was unlikely he would have given himself such a pseudonym. Remus was a half-blood, but again, prince seemed like a title Remus would avoid. And Remus had never been decent at Potions, so he was an unlikely author as well.

The one Harry wished it was, more than any of the others, was his mother. He had gotten out his birthday gift and flipped to his mother’s potions recipes to compare her notes to the Prince’s. Though the handwriting was different, so much of the wording was similar, or in some places, even identical. Though his mother was not a half-blood and not a prince in any fashion, he could not help but feel his mother had known the prince. He wondered if she’d learned potions from this book, too.

Harry had considered, several times during their weekly-ish conversations, asking her about the book, but he always hesitated when the moment came. He was unsure how she would feel about his use of someone else’s notes in his Potions. So far, he’d told her his success was because of her help and her notes, which was partially true, considering how similar her notes and the Prince’s were. He thought that he might show her the book at Christmas, but if he did that, he risked her taking it away. The safest course of action would be to wait until after the holidays, when he could ask her about it without fear that she could get her hands on it.

On this particular Monday morning, however, Harry was not poring over Advanced Potion-Making. He was instead investigating the Marauder’s Map. His conversation with Tonks after Katie’s accident had been embarrassing and illuminating. Harry had spent his summer doubling-down on his studies of healing magic and defensive spells. He was preparing for an insurmountable task, the task of defeating Voldemort, and Tonks’ quick lesson had shown him just how little he was actually prepared for Aurorship.

Moody had known of the Marauder’s Map, but had not confiscated it as a professor ought to, as Remus had during his time as a professor. Instead, Moody had handed it right back to Harry, and told Harry it was an invaluable tool. Harry wished he’d thought to use it sooner. So far it had told him three very important things.

Firstly, he was unable to find Draco Malfoy in the Slytherin dormitories, nor the Great Hall, nor anywhere on the map for that matter. That told Harry either Malfoy was sneaking off to Hogsmeade or elsewhere, or that Malfoy had found a way to conceal his movements within the castle, though he had no knowledge of the map. It was suspicious either way.

Secondly, Katie Bell was no longer in the hospital wing. She was not on the map at all, but had instead been transferred to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Harry knew she was lucky to be alive, and he wished he knew more than that, but it seemed no one had answers.

Finally, though Harry scoured every inch of the map, he could not find Dumbledore. He did find Fabian Prewett on the fourth floor, and he remembered what McGonagall had said about the school being in good hands. Tonks was not the only Auror who was patrolling Hogwarts castle in Dumbledore’s absence.

The only part that truly concerned Harry was that Ginny had delivered him a parchment with the date of Dumbledore’s next lesson, scheduled for that very evening. Harry wondered if Dumbledore would return in time. He certainly hoped so, because if Dumbledore did not return for the lesson, Hermione was certainly going to drag him to Slughorn’s supper, and Harry knew which of those two meetings he preferred to attend.

As Harry did not hear anything about Dumbledore canceling nor postponing, he headed past the gargoyles and knocked on Dumbledore’s office door promptly at eight o’clock.

“Enter,” the Headmaster’s familiar voice said, and Harry pushed the door open.

Dumbledore was seated at his desk, just as he had been the last time Harry was here. His blackened, disfigured hand rested on the desk, and Harry thought he looked exceptionally exhausted. The Pensieve was on the desk as well, but the locket and the ring were no longer laid out on the desk.

With his usable hand, Dumbledore smiled and gestured for Harry to take a seat.

“I understand you’ve had a busy time while I’ve been away,” he said. “I believe you witnessed Katie’s accident.”

“Yes, sir. It was lucky Tonks was there.”

“I don’t know if it was luck as much as it was foresight on my part. Though I heard you handled yourself appropriately as well. Rushing for Hagrid’s help was quick thinking on your part.”

“Er — I don’t know about that, sir. I mean, it was, but I should’ve been more helpful. Tonks reminded me to be more careful of my surroundings, to pay attention to who’s near me, even somewhere like Hogsmeade, or even Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore nodded. “A wise lesson.”

He considered telling Dumbledore that he’d decided to carry the Marauder’s Map with him as surely as he carried his wand and cloak, but decided the Marauders would not approve of the Headmaster of Hogwarts knowing about such a mischievous item, so instead, Harry turned to the other point of conversation he was far more interested in discussing. “She also seemed confident that it was a woman who cursed Katie but — er —”

“You believe differently?”

“I think it was Draco Malfoy — sir.”

Dumbledore’s face remained unchanged. He seemed neither surprised by nor critical of this accusation. His lack of response urged Harry to keep talking, to explain himself and fill the space.

“He knew about the necklace. He saw it in Borgin and Burke’s. And — Professor, I think he’s a Death Eater.” Harry, though he did not give Dumbledore the details of skulking down Knockturn Alley with the Invisibility Cloak, told Dumbledore he’d overheard Draco show Borgin something on his arm.

This information, too, did not disconcert Dumbledore.

“It may interest you to know, Harry,” Dumbledore finally said, “that Malfoy spent his Saturday in detention with Professor McGonagall.”

Harry did not care for this crushing bit of information. “Someone could have done it for him, though.”

This comment seemed to amuse Dumbledore; at least, Harry thought there was the tiniest twitch in the corner of Dumbledore’s mouth.

“I shall see to it the matter is fully investigated. For now,” Dumbledore reached into his cloak and pulled out a vial full of viscous silver memories, “I am most concerned with our lesson. Shall we?”

Harry was not quite ready to set aside his suspicions of Draco Malfoy, and thought Katie’s accident far more pressing than old memories of Tom Riddle’s family. “Sir — I just want to know — will Katie be alright?”

“I am afraid that question does not have an answer any more sure than the question of who cursed her. I can say she was relatively lucky. Tonks’, Hagrid’s and of course your own quick thinking got her help as quickly as possible, and her only contact with the necklace was through a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put the necklace on or even held it in an ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly. Luckily Professor Snape was able to do enough to prevent the rapid spread of the curse, and the staff at St. Mungo’s are now doing everything they can for her. They are sending me hourly reports, and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery, in time.”

As if that closed the conversation, Dumbledore used his wand to uncork the vial and poured the contents into the Pensieve. Harry, though, had one more question.

“Where were you this weekend, sir?”

“I would rather not say just now. However, I shall tell you in due course.”

“You will?”

“Yes, I expect so. Now, you will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort’s beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort.”

“How do you know she was in London, sir?”

“It is an interesting coincidence that you mentioned Mr Borgin, for our evidence in fact comes from Caractacus Burke.”

This time, instead of taking Harry into the memory, Dumbledore waved his wand over the Pensieve and the small figure of a silvery old man rose out of the shallow bowl.

“Yes,” the figure said, “we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along… Going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin’s. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time. ‘Oh, this was Merlin’s, this was, his favorite teapot,’ but when I looked at it, it had his mark alright, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn’t seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!”

Harry blinked. “Ten Galleons? For a locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin?”

“Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity,” Dumbledore said. He was neither critical, like Harry was, nor sympathetic. “So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo’s treasured family heirlooms.”

Harry shook his head, confused. “But she could do magic, couldn’t she? She could have got food and everything for herself that way. Didn’t you say she did all the cooking at home?”

“Ah,” Dumbledore nodded, “perhaps she could have cared for herself. But it is my belief — I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right — that when Riddle abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic. I do not think she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers. I believe you have witnessed that first hand.”

Harry thought about Tonks, and how she had been unable to change her appearance when she had visited that summer. He wondered what it must be like to love someone so desperately that nothing else, not even magic, mattered. It sounded dangerous to throw oneself into a single person.

But Harry also remembered the strain it had put on his parents to be apart while his mother was a professor. He remembered what he had been told about the night Voldemort had attacked his parents while they were in hiding, how James had stood between his mother and Voldemort, wandless and defenseless, and wondered how different things might have been had his father died there, and it had only been Harry’s mother who had survived.

“It seems like a dangerous thing then, to put so much love into someone who you could lose in an instant,” Harry said quietly.

“It is tragic,” Dumbledore agreed, “to love someone and lose them unexpectedly. Merope, in her distress, chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but before you judge her too harshly, Harry, remember she was greatly weakened by long suffering. She did not have the love and support that you have enjoyed, and while you are right to be wary of throwing your whole self into one person, remember that the reward for that risk is even greater. You perhaps know this better than most wizards.”

Harry ran his hand over the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Love had saved him and his parents from Voldemort. His parents did not discuss Peter Pettigrew, but he could only imagine the kind of love and courage it would take to choose to face Voldemort to save someone else’s life.

“I don’t know if I could do that — I mean, I’ve faced Voldemort, but never —”

“Do not sell yourself short, Harry. Did you not stand between Tom Riddle and Ginny Weasley in the Chamber of Secrets? Did you not risk yourself last summer in an effort to save Snape, someone whom you do not share much love for at all, as I understand. You are brave, Harry, and you do not like to watch others suffer. Now, if you will stand….”

Harry was startled, but stood as Dumbledore stood. “Where are we going, sir?”

“This time we are going to enter my memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. After you, Harry….”

As he had done a handful of times before, Harry leaned over the Pensieve, pressing his face into the cool silver, and fell into a memory.

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

Cedric —

I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. There hasn’t been much to tell you. Everything was quiet until this weekend. You probably heard that Katie Bell got cursed. Tonks was there, and she helped save Katie — at least, I hope Katie’s safe. I’d never seen something like that before. I remember when the Death Eaters lifted the Muggle family into the air at the Quidditch cup but this was so much worse. Katie was screaming, and in so much pain. I felt so helpless. It was sort of like being back in the Department of Mysteries, watching people get hurt and being unable to do anything about it.

Dumbledore thinks she’ll be alright — well, he said he hopes she’ll be alright. It’s even scarier to think there are things happening that even Dumbledore doesn’t know about. He doesn’t seem to believe that Draco Malfoy is the one who Imperiused Katie to take the necklace into Hogwarts, but it’s got to be him. I saw him in Knockturn Alley in the shop where the necklace was. I know he showed Borgin a Dark Mark. I didn’t see his Dark Mark, but why else would he roll up his sleeve to Borgin to convince him to help? And he wouldn’t let Madam Malkin roll up his sleeve when we were purchasing school robes. I don’t know how exactly Malfoy’s involved in it all, but I know he is. I just wish I knew what his plan was.

He’s even leaving the school somehow. I’m sure of it, but I haven’t figured out how.

I told Dumbledore that I think Malfoy’s responsible, and he said he’d investigate it, but he wasn’t very convincing. I don’t think he believes me any more than Ron, Hermione, and Neville do.

I had my second lesson with Dumbledore last night. He showed me what Tom Riddle was like as a boy. It was strange to see him as a child. He was just a kid in an orphanage, but still — he was odd. And violent to the other kids in the orphanage. He was suspicious of Dumbledore, and he knew the lady who ran the orphanage didn’t trust him much. He had even taught himself a good deal of magic and had control over it, especially for someone who’d never been to school. He was polite with Dumbledore as soon as he knew Dumbledore was a wizard, though. It was strange to watch him change from angry to polite so quickly…. It was hard not to remember the graveyard.

Dumbledore found a bunch of toys that Tom Riddle had stolen from other kids in the orphanage, and he scolded him for it, and told him that there were magical laws. I don’t know that Tom Riddle really cared, but he seemed to pretend to. And when Dumbledore told him about Diagon Alley and needing all his school things, he insisted on going alone.

Dumbledore said that he knew he ought to keep an eye on Riddle while he was at Hogwarts. Obviously he didn’t know that Riddle was going to become Voldemort, but he didn’t like how he was using magic to punish and control the other children in the orphanage. He also wasn’t sure about how secretive Riddle could be.

When we were done with the memory, Dumbledore pointed out a bunch of things about Tom Riddle I hadn’t even noticed, or I didn’t think were all that important, but when Dumbledore laid it all out it made sense. It made me realise, again, just how much I have to learn if I want to be an Auror like you and Tonks.

Dumbledore said it was important to remember how Riddle didn’t like his name Tom, and that he hated anything that made him ordinary. I guess that’s why he felt the need to change his name to “Lord Voldemort.” He also was secretive and isolated himself from others. I thought this sounded contrary to someone who has a group of followers, but Dumbledore says that the Death Eaters don’t truly know him, that Voldemort does not confide in them. Dumbledore said Voldemort has never had a friend, and he doesn’t think Voldemort has ever even wanted a friend.

He said it was important to know that Tom Riddle took things from the kids he bullied, but I don’t know what that has to do with anything. Dumbledore just said it would be important later. I can’t imagine why.

That was all Dumbledore told me. It felt so useless, honestly. But I didn’t really understand why the first memory was important, and you were able to dig up all sorts of information on that. I don’t know how much you could do with a Muggle orphanage, but I expect Dumbledore will explain it all eventually. I don’t know why he waits so long between lessons if they’re so important! I don’t know where he keeps going, either, but he’s definitely leaving Hogwarts for some reason. I suppose the Ministry wouldn’t know, either, would they?

I hope your Auror training is going well. The Prophet makes everything look bad. Is it really all that terrible?

— Harry

#harry potter #hbp #harry potter everyone lives #hp everyone lives au #harry potter and the half-blood prince

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impracticaldemon · 5 years

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Hijikata’s Holiday

by impracticaldemon for @nollatooru ~ from Your HakuSanta

fandom: Hakuouki words: 1500 (laugh track)(oops, no) ~ 5100 words read also on: AO3 | FFN [added December 27, 2018]

Author’s Note: This story is intended to take place in the winter after my story Do As I Say (also for nollatooru, so this isn’t just a shameless self-reference). I was thinking December 1865, which could work; however, although Itou and his faction joined the Shinsengumi in late 1864, they are not mentioned in this story. The word count was already out of hand with the original cast alone. Nollatooru requested Hijikata, HijiChi, Okita & cats, or anyone & cats. I’ve tried to deliver. Posted first on tumblr!

tags: @shell-senji @eliz1369 @rainylune @nalufever @petri808 @hidetheremote @resshiiram @kondo-hijikata @hakuyamazakisensei @flower-dragon @shibuemiyuu @writer-appreciation @sabinasanfanfic @eheartangel @hakuokisecretsanta2018

Hijikata’s Holiday

It started with an absence of noise. Still half-asleep, Hijikata turned puzzled eyes on the window screen. How odd. Judging by the light filtering through the thick paper, it was past dawn—in fact, it was past his usual time to get up. Today was a festival day, but that usually meant more of a clatter, not less. There wouldn't be captains and sub-officers nursing hangovers until tomorrow.

He sat up reluctantly. Winter in Kyoto was cold, and he felt no inclination to leave the warmth of his futon to go find out what could account for the strange silence. Given the time, he'd probably missed his chance to write, which dimmed what little enthusiasm he had for facing the chill weather, today's major and minor headaches—Sōji usually accounting for both—and the dinner meeting he had with the new Sub-Comptroller of Kyoto to discuss the Shinsengumi's urgent need for extra rations over the winter months.

It took several moments to register that the room wasn't cold. In fact, it was quite pleasant, if not precisely warm. A glance at the brazier told him that somebody had tended it during the night. The fact that he hadn't woken was worrisome, but he wasn't altogether surprised. He'd recognized the tea that Chizuru had brought him last night as Sannan's 'special' blend, which meant that it was laced with soporific. He would have objected, but the girl had poured it with a soft smile, and murmured that "Kondō-san sent his best regards, and would Hijikata-san please rest well this evening." The last time he'd refused the evil brew, Kondō had brought it himself, tricked him into drinking it, and then refused to let him work late for a week straight. (1)

A quick—and slightly apprehensive—look around the room gave him a modicum of reassurance that although somebody had been in his room, it was more likely Saitō than Sōji. He'd like to think that he'd have woken for anyone less familiar, or less soft-footed. The whole thing was idiotic anyway—what kind of military force gave their Vice Commander a sleeping draught?

Huh. He'd misplaced his inkstone yesterday, but now it was sitting on his desk. And... there was a small bowl containing an evergreen sprig and something leafy with red berries. He doubted—really doubted—that the arrangement was Saitō's. Not that the art of flower arrangement was necessarily beyond Saitō, but there was an air of subdued festivity about it... if there was such a thing. He refused to accept even the possibility that Sōji might have made it for him. For Kondō maybe. If he lost a bet. And even then, he'd cut the greenery with his sword.

It was quite a quite an attractive grouping, actually—

The enduring fir supports the crimson berry that braves winter's chill.

He was out of bed and reaching for his writing materials before he realized it. Well, damn. He glanced again at the window. Nobody had come for him yet—or been sent by Sannan, in a fit of hypocritical concern. The man had once told Yukimura to wake him, on the pretext that he was late for breakfast. He'd been dressing when she'd arrived, which had annoyed him and flustered the hell out of her. Although... her comments to herself in the immediate aftermath had been pretty funny, poor kid. Yeah, but you didn't mind the admiration, did you? He had found it very... honest... after the careful flattery of the Shimabara geisha, and the half-fearful simpering of the city girls.

Hijikata couldn't see, and would have denied, the reminiscent smile that hovered on his lips. Meanwhile, he had drawn his writing book from his desk, and was quickly preparing ink in the ceramic tray. Minutes passed, while he inscribed his new haiku. Satisfied, he set aside his materials, replaced the book under the patrol log kept on top in the (so far utterly vain) hope of keeping his hobby from prying eyes, and took out fresh linen and his carefully folded hakama.

He was half-way through changing when there was a polite "Shitsureisimasu, Hijikata-san, Yukimura desu," at the door. (2) For one, wild moment, he was overwhelmed with déjà vu, and some part of him contemplated not saying anything just to see what would happen. Happily—probably—the moment passed. A second, soft, "Hijikata-san?" got him out of his fugue.

"Just a moment, Yukimura." Then, impelled by the gods knew what: "Unless you'd prefer to come in while I'm dressing?"

There was a pause—the kind of pause that you can hear—and finally, "I will wait, Hijikata-san."

Unlike last time, there was a murmur of conversation, and he realized that somebody—presumably one of the captains, was with Yukimura. Annoyingly, that brought a touch of heat to his cheeks, but it faded quickly, and he stalked over to the door and slid it open with a snap.

It turned out that Yukimura had been expecting him to call her in. She was standing just outside the door, a tray with tea and breakfast—both still miraculously hot and steaming—clasped tightly in both hands. Thanks to her lack of inches, and his expectation that she'd be farther from the door, he saw Saitō before seeing Yukimura. …Not only Saitō. Yamazaki was there as well. They stood behind Yukimura on the engawa, looking for all the world like retainers to some under-dressed, underfed princeling.

"Saitō? Ohayo, Yukimura, Yamazaki."

Fortunately, Saitō didn't seem to mind, or care, that he'd been missed from Hijikata's "good morning." Indeed, Hijikata rarely found Saitō's lack of expression to be off-putting; most of the time he found it a welcome calm in the daily drama that running the Shinsengumi entailed.

"Ohayogozaimasu, Fukuchō. I will come in with Yukimura, if I may."

Hijikata stepped out of the way, but his gaze was irresistibly drawn to the garden beyond the wooden walkway. There was a fine layer of snow on everything, but it lay completely undisturbed, with the exception of the footprints of—presumably—his companions. He observed that Yamazaki had taken up a position not far from his door, but the whole morning was beginning to take on such a surreal aspect that he couldn't quite bring himself to ask about it just yet.

Once the men were seated opposite each other, and Yukimura had set down his breakfast tray—he felt his eyes widen a little at the carefully-prepared meal—Saitō began his report. Not that it was precisely a report, it was just that Saitō made everything sound like a report. He was a first-rate swordsman, and an excellent officer, but he couldn't tell an interesting story to save his life. Nagakura swore that he loosened up when he was talking to inanimate objects, but that only happened when he was very drunk, and Hijikata was rarely around for that kind of serious drinking these days.

"The Commander was concerned by your absence at dinner, Vice Commander. As you requested, I told him that you were speaking with officials at the Comptroller's office in order to set up a meeting to discuss the current shortage of rations."

"Did you remind him that the last load of rice we received was not only short-weighted, but full of freaking weevils?! We had to toss out four bags, and decontaminate the kitchen storage area!"

"Commander Kondō remembered the incident, Vice Commander."

"Excuse me, Hijikata-san—your tea. Saitō-san—your tea."

Hijikata automatically thanked Yukimura for filling his cup, then felt his brows contract inward—well, further inward—when he saw her look furtively at Saitō, who clearly blinked in return. It reminded him to pursue his original question, once he'd wrested back control of the conversation.

"You flirting with Yukimura now, Saitō? Didn't expect it from you."

"No, Vice Commander." Saitō left it at that, but Yukimura reddened and leapt at the bait.

"Oh no, Hijikata-san, o-of course not! But Kondō-san said that Saitō-san shouldn't let you get too worked up—I mean, too worried—about the rice, because—"

"Colonel Sannan has already agreed to pursue the matter on behalf of the Shinsengumi," interposed Saitō, in his uninflected voice. "He said that he would be delighted to attend the dinner meeting this evening."

"Delighted," muttered Hijikata.

"Sannan-san said that he hadn't had the chance to meet the new staff at the Imperial Comptroller's office. He truly did seem very pleased, Hijikata-san." Yukimura smiled cheerfully, and just as Hijikata was concluding that she had no idea how scary the soft-spoken man could be, she added thoughtfully, "I realize that the last official quit after Sannan-san investigated the Shinsengumi's rice allocation, but we didn't have problems for many months after, right?" Her expression had become unusually serious. "Sannan-san said he would do whatever was necessary to protect the needs of our men, and Kondō-san agreed that healthy food was very important."

Hijikata risked a look at Saitō, who met his gaze without comment. Yukimura could be surprisingly fierce when it came to looking after the Shinsengumi, and Hijikata should have remembered that she'd taken the latest food shortage to heart.

"Fine. But why are you two here explaining all this to me anyway?" He gave them both a 'don't mess with me' look, or tried to. Chizuru was too busy pouring him more tea to notice—she had a way of making it just the right temperature from the start, so that he tended to finish it quickly.

"The Commander suggested that you would appreciate a holiday," said Saitō. "Yukimura, Sōji, and I were given the task of ensuring that you are able to enjoy the day." Being Saitō, he stopped there, having expressed the salient point.

"A holiday?! No, wait—Sōji is supposed to make sure that I enjoy a holiday?" Hijikata automatically looked around for the green-eyed… man. Menace to my existence is more like it… Not even Kondō would expect Sōji to—well maybe—no, surely not?

"Hai. Along with Yukimura and myself." It took Hijikata a moment to recollect himself and realize that Saitō was answering his question.

"But everyone is helping out," Yukimura rushed to reassure him. If 'reassure' was the right word. "Kondō-san was worried when you missed dinner—as Saitō-san mentioned—because it was the third time this week." Hijikata thought there was a disapproving edge to her voice, but her expression was as sweet and earnest as ever, gods help him.

"Yukimura noted the frequency of your absences," murmured Saitō, gazing down into his tea.

"R-right! But Sannan-san agreed to go to the dinner, and Nagakura-san and Harada-san said they'd conduct an early morning patrol today, and no drills, so that nobody would be around this morning—but also because it makes sense to check that things are safe for the holiday crowds—"

"Uh-huh." Fascinated despite himself, Hijikata began to calmly eat his breakfast. The room was warm enough that his delicately flavoured miso soup was still remarkably hot. It was obvious that Sōji's help—whatever it was—hadn't extended to breakfast, thank the gods.

"And I asked Heisuke-kun if he'd be willing to hunt ducks or geese this morning so that I could make us all a nice holiday dinner later this afternoon before everyone goes out for the evening. He thought that was a great idea until—um…" Yukimura suddenly stopped talking.

"Sōji reminded Heisuke of the last time that we shared a meal of Yukimura's duck hot pot." All three people present shared a moment of silence as they each visualized Heisuke's piece of duck flying through the air and hitting Hijikata square in the middle of the forehead. It had not gone well for the cheerful Eighth Division Captain after that.

"Y-yes, well, Okita-san just said that this was Heisuke's chance to make up for it, and so—and so, that's all settled!"

"Really, now?" Hijikata couldn't quite visualize how such a comment would settle anything, but he was willing to bet he would find out.

"I needed to discuss a scheduling issue with Sōji at that point, and I believe that Yukimura arranged any further details with Heisuke, Vice Commander."

"I see. So Harada and Nagakura just happened to volunteer for an early patrol—"

"That is correct, Vice Commander."

"And Heisuke's off hunting ducks, or geese—are you sure he'll be safe? The marsh area is very cold this time of year." Heisuke was a lot tougher than he looked, but he was also a magnet for disaster—according to his own view of things. Most people felt he invited disaster in with open arms, although he was ably aided and abetted by his brothers in idiocy.

"Shimada-san went with him, Hijikata-san. He said that he would be happy to spend time out bird-hunting with Heisuke-kun. I made sure to pack them a good lunch, and I included a few sweetened rice cakes."

Saitō didn't bother to elaborate on this, since Shimada was known for his love of sweets, and was very fond of Yukimura. He also adored Kondō, and had probably stepped in quite willingly to help out with this wild scheme to "give" Hijikata a holiday.

"I'm still a little puzzled on a few points," Hijikata said, with an air of polite inquiry. Like, what the hell is Sōji up to?

"I made sure that this courtyard was secure overnight," noted Saitō placidly.

"Oh—oh yes. And Yamazaki-san will be on duty this morning. To… to make sure that the courtyard remains secure—and peaceful, as is proper for a holiday."

"Needed to get some use out of the scarf, Saitō? Or did it dawn on somebody that leaving me defenseless to assassins for the sake of a few hours of sleep was less than optimal?"

Yukimura looked suitably concerned by the mention of assassins, but Saitō obviously felt that he had already dealt with that topic. He addressed Hijikata's first question with no trace of the sarcasm with which it had been asked.

"I was adequately equipped for the cold. The Commander allocated me extra coal for a brazier." Saitō bowed. "Please excuse me, Vice Commander. Sōji and I will be sparring together this morning over at the Mibu Temple grounds, and then we plan to visit a swordsmith who is reputed to be better than average at sharpening blades."

"You won't be sticking around Saitō? What will Yukimura do if I suddenly try to exert myself by doing my job?"

Saitō said nothing, and Hijikata finally relented and waved at him to go. Yukimura was very slowly tidying his now-empty tray.

"Since I have my writing things, am I at least allowed to get through some of my back-log of reports?"

Yukimura shook her head, looking anxious, but determined.

"Kondō-san asked me to bring him your list of reports to be filed."

"And?" How did Yukimura even know that he had that list, or where to look? Although technically she was his page, and these days she managed to spend some of her time running errands for him, despite his original plans for her (or lack thereof).

"He said that only the marked items were to be dealt with today." She brought out a piece of scrap paper—his scrap paper—and handed it to him.

There were only two marked items, and one of them had clearly been added by Kondō: 'finish summary of important points to make perfectly clear to the goat-fucking asswipes at the comptroller's office'—that hadn't been meant for Kondō's eyes! Or Yukimura's, now that he considered it—and 'buy a new coat'. Seriously? Buy a new coat? They needed food! And they were still dealing with the reputation as deadbeats foisted on them by the late, unlamented Serizawa Kamo.

"Yukimura."

"Hai!"

"Did you see this list?"

She obviously had. It showed in little ways—such as how she was practically staring at the admittedly threadbare haori he'd brought with him from Edo. But if he didn't let its condition bother him, then what was the problem?

"Kondō-san told me which items to point out to you, Hijikata-san."

"I don't need a new coat. The coat I have is fine. And when I'm out on patrol I've got my blues."

"You never wear your coat when you go out, Hijikata-san, even though you dislike the cold."

"I don't mind the cold."

There was a long silence, during which both combatants reconsidered their tactics. As a junior, and a subordinate, Yukimura should not contradict Hijikata. Or as a woman, especially since she wasn't his wife. Another good reason not to get married, as if I needed another one. Anyway, it had been tactically unsound for Yukimura to say that he disliked the cold. A true warrior didn't let the elements bother him, and he knew that she didn't want to offend him.

"…Hijikata-san?"

"Yes, Yukimura?" He held out his cup for more tea, feeling that he could be gracious in victory.

"I asked Kondō-san whether it would alright for me to improve your old—I mean, current—coat, by adding a new lining."

"You asked Kondō-san? But why—" Hijikata broke off, perturbed.

"Well, Kondō-san and Inoue-san were discussing the time you all spent together at Shiei Hall, as they sometimes do, after dinner two nights ago, and I happened to be cleaning up the dining hall, and Kondō-san asked me if you still had the haori you used to like so much. I asked him what it looked like, just to be sure, and then Inoue-san described it, and he told me that it was made especially for you by a good tailor, and that you were very fond of it."

Hijikata resisted the urge to smack his hand into his face, but it was a near thing. Unfortunately, Yukimura continued on, nearly tripping over her words as she tried to get it all out.

"And I was surprised to hear that, because you never wear that coat, so I asked Kondō-san if maybe I should fix it up a little, but Inoue-san said that you preferred to wear nice clothes, that weren't patched, and then Kondō-san agreed. So I suppose that's where it all started." She was slightly breathless, but added: "And even if you don't mind the cold, I worry that if you don't wear a coat in this weather, then you will get sick."

Many words floated through Hijikata's head, mostly unprintable. He drew a deep breath, and tried to ignore the half-anxious, half-stubborn look on Yukimura's face that always reminded him of—oh, his sister, his sister-in-law, his aunt, and the countless other women he'd grown up with. It didn't work, so he reined in his temper—because at the end of the day he was a practical man—and turned and examined his old coat. The truth was that he didn't wear it because it looked shabby, and fucking Serizawa—he rarely thought that name without an epithet—had been right about appearances, but he really didn't like being cold, even if he wouldn't say so.

"So I'm supposed to buy a new coat?"

"Yes?"

"Because to hell with rice, you're worried I'll get a cold?" He was giving in, but determined to go down fighting.

"Sannan-san will deal with the rice situation, I believe in him. Also, he is taking Okita-san with him this time."

"…As long as they don't tell me where they hide the bodies."

"Hijikata-san?" Yukimura had that reproving look again. "Okita-san said that he would smile and be very polite. He knows that we don't want you to worry."

He stared at her, but she seemed genuinely confident about the whole thing.

"And is that Okita's contribution to my, ah, day off?"

"Okita-san said that he wanted to help in any way that he could."

"Uh-huh."

"And Saitō-san said that the best way to help would be to stay out of the compound."

"Good man. I'd give him a raise, but I need to buy a new coat."

"…Yes? So I'll go get ready then?" Yukimura looked both relieved and pleased.

Hijikata debated telling her that he could damn well shop for a coat on his own. But the look on her face… She'd be crushed, probably, and he had a feeling that Kondō had already told her to go with him. So for her sake, and Kondō's—since they'd obviously spent so much effort on all this—he'd take her along. She'd slow him down by staring at all the people in town for the festival, but he'd manage. And if he was going to spend the money it would cost for a decent coat, then he could afford to spend just a little on a couple of sweets for her, and maybe a small souvenir.

"Right—go get ready, and I'll meet you at the gate. I need to add a couple of things to this memo for Sannan-san on the… rice situation." And I want to tell him to make damn sure Sōji doesn't 'accidentally' kill anyone.

"Hai!" Yukimura immediately stopped fussing with the tray, and hurried off as though Hijikata might change his mind if she didn't leave fast enough.

Chizuru spent a blissful morning and early afternoon out shopping with Hijikata. She made sure not to talk too much—although Hijikata-san didn't seem to mind her questions, for once—and she tried not to skip—something that Okita-san had teased her about in the past when she'd been excited about leaving Shisengumi headquarters—and whenever they stopped to look at coats she tried to remember to behave like a boy, and not a girl. She was extremely embarrassed when one shopkeeper told her that she obviously admired the Vice Commander a great deal, but that he, for one, didn't think that boys should be recruited so young.

They saw both Harada's and Nagakura's patrols in the distance a few times, but somehow, they never actually crossed paths with one. Even Chizuru began to suspect that this was not just by chance (or mischance). Fortunately, Hijikata-san seemed to find it amusing, so it didn't turn into a problem.

Eventually, Hijikata-san chose a coat. Or rather, he chose a style, and a material, and paid to have a coat made for him, which impressed Chizuru a great deal. After that, they stopped at a shop for tea, and although Chizuru meant to serve the tea, Hijikata-san said not to bother, so she didn't. He said that if others found it strange for the Vice Commander of the Shinsengumi to stoop to having tea and snacks with his page, then so be it.

"I suppose you should get back so that you can cook dinner," said Hijikata, when they left the tea shop. "Although it's optimistic of you to believe that Heisuke can catch anything but a cold. I predict you'll be trying to find yet another way to cook salted fish."

"Heisuke caught two excellent ducks last time."

"Ah, but flailing around in the water I can see. It's the patience required for winter hunting that I'm not so sure about."

Chizuru firmly quelled a momentary qualm or two. "He'll be fine. He has Shimada-san with him. They'll come back safe and sound, with food."

"Hm. Well, Shimada is very reliable; but he's with Heisuke, so who knows what will happen."

When they eventually returned to headquarters, they discovered that they were both wrong, or alternately, both right. Heisuke had caught not one, but two birds—migrating geese—and poor Shimada had slipped and fallen into the swampy muck. The big man brightened up considerably when Heisuke assured him that nobody needed to know about the incident—other than Chizuru, who wouldn't tell—because he could keep his mouth shut, and knew what it was like to be teased by certain people who should be kinder to their fellow officer. Chizuru declined Heisuke’s help with dinner, but praised him so effusively for catching the geese that he left to warm up in excellent spirits.

Harada and Nagakura popped their heads into the kitchen part-way through the afternoon, to say that all was well, and that Hijikata was sitting calmly at his desk writing—though whether it was personal correspondence, or work, they didn't know. Chizuru bowed to both of them, and thanked them earnestly for their hard work that morning. They exchanged knowing looks over her bent head—they'd seen her out and about that morning—and when she straightened, they were both grinning affectionately at her. As tired out as she was from all the walking, and now the dinner preparations, she had to smile back.

"He was in a damn good mood just now, Chizuru-chan," Nagakura told her, "so maybe we're the ones who owe you—he even said not to worry about curfew tonight." He paused in the act of turning away, to add, "Although I still don't know how you kept Sōji out of his hair all day, especially when he was so annoyed over the whole coat thing, and Kondō-san fussing about Hijikata-san not coming to dinner."

"Um, I—I'm not sure what you mean."

She looked so uncomfortable that Harada grabbed his friend's bicep and hauled him away. "Come on, Shin—let's go congratulate Heisuke on providing dinner without either getting hurt, or ticking off the boss."

"Yeah, fine, but you're curious too, Sano."

Their voices trailed away, and Chizuru turned back to her cooking, feeling relieved. She'd promised not to tell, and even if Okita-san thought he was just threatening her, she knew it was very important to keep her promises to him. And he had been a bit upset over Kondō-san saying that Hijikata-san should have a new coat. She didn't completely understand why Hijikata-san and Okita-san didn't get along, since both of them cared so much about Kondō-san and the Shinsengumi, but for now it was enough that she was learning not to be so alarmed by their disagreements.

In the few minutes of quiet time after dinner was prepared, and before it needed to be served, Chizuru took advantage of Inoue-san's offer to watch over things, and slipped away to a smallish gardening shed near the wall of the courtyard. The door slid open before she could knock, and Saitō pulled her quickly inside.

"They're all fine," he said, tilting his head toward the back of the shed.

There against the wall, and carefully concealed from the door by a rack of large burlap sacks, was a kind of nest made up of discarded rags and soft paper. In the center sat a thin black cat with a white muzzle and a white belly. It couldn't be called an attractive cat, since one eye was swollen shut, and it appeared to be missing part of one ear. The four kittens nestled around it—or rather, her—didn't seem to care. They mewled and gently bumped her with their heads, and periodically peered around her legs at the quiet, green-eyed man who was holding out a dish of meat scraps to her.

"It's quite a feast you got her, Chizuru-chan," commented Sōji, watching as the black cat delicately picked out another morsel of goose innard. "Just what she needed."

"I'm glad she's doing better, Okita-san. And oh—the kittens are so sweet!"

"Oi, don't move so fast, or they'll run again. They're not too quick, but it's a pain to catch them, and then mama here fusses."

"Sumimasen, Okita-san." Chizuru put her hands behind her back to keep herself from scooping up one of the fuzzballs for a cuddle.

"Ehn, it's okay—they'll probably be more up to playing tomorrow, ne, Neko-sama?"

Chizuru laughed a little, then quickly covered her mouth. "I'm sorry, Okita-san, but she doesn't look much like a court lady…"

Okita shook his head at her. "You shouldn't be so quick to judge, Chizuru-chan—you don't look much like a lady either, you know."

"Um… that's true, I suppose."

"Anyway, she's a fighter, like the onna-bugeisha."

Chizuru just nodded. She wasn't especially familiar with the women warriors of the samurai caste families, and she still thought the mother cat looked more like street fighter than a noble lady. Not that Chizuru minded, though. She thought the little family needed all the help they could get—and if Okita-san wanted to look after them, then she would help Okita-san.

"Yukimura must return to the house, Sōji. And Sannan-san will be expecting you soon."

"I know, I know." Okita turned to Chizuru.

"You promise to come by with food again later? I don't want to leave any because I don't know if she's up to handling another fight right now."

"I promise."

"And you'll check the water?"

"Hai!"

"Sōji."

"Fine, fine. But we have a deal, right, Chizuru-chan? You don't tell anyone, and you help me look after them while it's so cold."

"It's a deal, Okita-san. And I haven't told anyone."

"Well, I guess we'll see how it goes."

Okita stood up and stretched, his green eyes glinting in the faint lantern light. He almost asked about Hijikata's new coat, but then decided it wasn't worth it. He'd gotten to save the cats—plus a chance to go out with Sannan-san, which might be entertaining, although there were sure to be some dull bits—and Chizuru and Kondō-san were happy, so… he could let it go. Besides, the spar with Saitō had gone well, and he hadn't felt too out of breath, for once.

"Okay, oyasumi, neko-sama."

They all filed out of the shed, careful and quiet in the cold, dark courtyard. And if Hijikata happened to see them returning to the house, and happened to check in the shed before going in to dinner, well, almost nobody knew about it. The one silent observer had been aware of the whole thing from the start, having watched the various comings and going of the headquarters' inhabitants throughout the day. However, since Saitō-san already knew about it, and Hijikata-san didn't seem inclined to interfere—had even appeared to be smiling, just now—Yamazaki certainly had no need to do more than wish, very briefly, that he too were getting a new coat.

End Notes:

(1) See Do As I Say (not just shameless self-referencing, since nollatooru did say she'd enjoy another similar story!)

(2) "Excuse me, Hijikata-san, it's Yukimura"

A/Note: As always, your comments and reviews are very much appreciated. Please never think "I have nothing interesting to say." While a detailed review is a wonderful, precious thing, you can make an author's day with a simple "This was great!" or "Thanks, really enjoyed this!" or even "Eep!" Knowing you're out there, and enjoying my work helps so much! (To those on tumblr: yes, I read all the tags)

I'm taking the time to say this now, because I'm seeing fewer reviews and comments than ever, whether it's on tumblr, FFN, or AO3. I know it can be hard to figure out what to say, but if you can find a minute or two to type some positive feedback, it can help a writer to want to write again. And if you have constructive criticism, or you've seen a typo? All the authors I know, myself included, are grateful for that kind of feedback as well, although it's even better if you can do it directly by private message or something similar.

Note to reviewers/ those who comment: I try to write back to everyone, but it's taking me longer these days. If I haven't written back, I sincerely apologize. If you comment on Anon or Guest, I can’t write back directly, but thank you! Please know that all of your feedback is important to me, regardless.

#hakuouki #haku fanfiction #hijikata toshizo #hijichi #hakuokiss #impracticaldemon #imp writes #nollatooru #haku gift exchange 2018 #i hope you enjoy it!#i enjoy your art and sketches and comics so much!

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missizzy · 5 years

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Ficlet: Aleta Ogord, Two and a Half Weeks Later(Guardians of the Galaxy)

“Just a few more moments,” Martinex calls from the top of the cave. “Everyone get out from under the circle.” Everyone looks up, and those underneath the circle he’s drawn on the ceiling scurry back, Aleta included.

It’s a very controlled explosion that he’s set off; only a small part of the ceiling falling down in pieces to its floor. It’s still enough dust that several people on the circle’s edge cough. Aleta glances around to confirm the children are all safely further back.

Though the Riggistian next to her sounds very young as they ask, “It is safe to go up there?”

Aleta answers honestly: “No, but we can’t survive down here.” Even so, she smiles as the light from the planet’s suns floods her; the small lamps they had with them can’t compare. It feels like a long draught when she’s been dying of thirst.

The next part’s easy, even when she’s a little weak from hunger, with so much light. She gathers it to herself almost on instinct, filling her body back up before she starts to make the cart, the floor of it first, followed by waist-high walls on three sides. Many of the refugees who didn’t know about her light-manipulating ability stare in disbelief. “It’s all right,” Martinex tells them from above. “It’ll be quite solid.”

The first Riggistaji to step onto the cart bend down to feel the floor; Aleta sees some startled expressions as they encounter resistance. But she can’t pay much attention; she has to concentrate on keeping the light doing what she wants. When about half the refugees have filled the cart, she told them she was going to lift it before she did so, but so many of them still jumped they were lucky no one fell out.

Lifting the other half of the refugees out, as well as herself, Aleta’s definitely feeling the strain, but being now directly in light helps. So does the sight of Stakar standing next to Martinex.

“Looks like you managed to keep most of them alive,” he comments, impressed, as she brings the cart to the rocks they’re standing on with the first half of the Riggsitaji, and gently lets it disperse around them. “And there’s some good news: they’ve forcibly stopped the genocide down in the south. Seems the Polu down there didn’t want to kill their Riggistian neighbors. We can fly these people to safety no problem.”

He sounds relieved, too. He didn’t really object to them intervening here once things got bad enough, but he’s reminded them more than once this do-gooding isn’t supposed to be their scene.

Now’s probably not the time for Aleta and Martinex to tell him about the conversation they had down there. About how this may not be the only planet they land on where a majority species will react to what happened by turning on a minority species, or other terrible things will be happening. And losing Charlie-27 and Krugarr, and seeing and hearing about so much death, including other Ravagers and possibly also Quill and his crew, well, it’s changed what the two of them, at least, want to do with themselves and their lives, at least for a little while. There’ll be time enough for stealing shit and such later, when the universe’s people have recovered and started to regrow.

For now, Martinex just chimes in, “Mainframe’s already working on routes that’ll minimize how much we’re seen. Ship’s in good shape; we can go as soon as everyone’s on board and we choose one.”

#marvel cinematic universe #guardians of the galaxy #aleta ogord #martinex t'naga #stakar ogord #infinity war

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nezzfiction · 5 years

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ENMY Chapter 89 - Fourth Crusade (Part One)

Chapter Synopsis: The Kingdom of Vacuo is about to enter its most daunting challenge since its conception. Salem is launching the Fourth Crusade. A war to end some of Remnant’s greatest warriors, including Team ENMY. Assistance from Atlas is on its way, but will the Fleet arrive in time to make a difference?

Only one thing is certain. Whatever happens in Vacuo will echo the events to come for the rest of Remnant.

Series Synopsis: Team RWBY is disbanded, and Yang must find herself new allies. For her, that might very well be yesterday’s enemies. Joining up with the likes of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo, the four will comprise Team Enemy(ENMY).

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below

Fourth Crusade (Part One)

Well, I looked my demons in the eyes, laid bare my chest,

Said, “Do your best. Destroy me. You see, I’ve been to hell and back so many times, I must admit,

You kind of bore me.”

“Have you finished relaying the situation?” Temujin asked.

“Ran your people the basic play by play,” Emerald answered. “Cuckoos gone, some of their loved ones gone, hordes of Grimm, plus, a giant freakin’ butterfly making a beeline for us.”

“Moth.”

“What?”

“It’s a moth.”

“Right. Behemoth. I get it.”

“Have you modified their emotions?”

“Tweaked them just a touch. They were as angry as you wanted them to be and ready to war without it.”

“That will do. Wake them. And connect my thoughts to theirs.”

“From sweet dreams to full-blown nightmare. This is gonna be a scene.”

As the mental connection secured, Temujin stepped onto the balcony of the Hanging Gardens. She sat on her small stool, and took her familiar horse-fiddle in her hands. As she touched the bow to the strings, her throat opened and she drew strength from her diaphragm.

Another tragedy to carve in these old bones one last time.

One last burden.

One last sin.

Temujin bore her soul bare to the untethered sun and the desert’s hot air.

Answer me, one last time.

My Kingdom of Blades.

A low, soulful song reverberated into the skies above Vacuo. Its volume began low, but slowly and surely, its melody became a crescendo that shook the heavens. The citizens roused to its sound. The voice of their Great Khan, the voice of their Kingdom. It called them to arms.

I failed you.

I deceived you.

I betrayed the Code I set for you all.

But will you answer me once more?

If this is our end, will we stand together?

How will we march into the darkness?

With fear?

Or will it be with Wrath in our hearts?

A single command coursed through the minds of her people. A pure emotion of most unmitigated rage. A sweltering draught that drowned away their sorrows.

All across the city, the citizens of Vacuo stirred. They stood tall with their chests out. Their weapons drawn and raised high.

“An Eye for an Eye.”

X X X X X

Despite the conference room in Atlas HQ being something the size of a small theater, all its occupants were struck silent. None could watch the floating projection, and not be horrified by what was displayed.

Finally, a lone, timid voice spoke what they were all thinking.

“They’re doomed.”

The digital map zoomed out to show the Vacuo capital and its surrounding lands. Rounding to hit the city from the North and South were hosts of Grimm almost twice the city’s size A flood of red markers filled the edges of the map, but the more imminent threat was displayed by the monstrous Behemoth flying directly from the West.

Murmurs began flooding the room. Mutterings of disbelief and fear rose with a rising tide.

“How can that many Grimm be controlled?”

“If something like that attacked us, would the Aegis and Javelin System be enough?”

“We should order our Fleet back. Strengthen our defenses here.”

“It’s all over for them.”

A hand slammed loudly onto the table. Cinder’s furious gaze silenced the room and brought order to the staff.

“How far is the reinforcement Fleet?” she asked.

None made a move.

“How far are they?!”

They all jumped, and one officer rapidly tapped her tablet.

“Still a day’s flight, ma’am! Twenty hours estimated!”

“Is there any way to shorten the travel time for the remaining distance?”

“They could possibly cut down a few hours by traveling at maximum thrust. However, that would only be possible for a small portion of the Fleet.”

“…”

“It would be advised not to separate—”

“I know that!” Cinder shouted in exasperation.

“……Ma’am, I think we should consider withdrawing the reinforcements.”

The Black Queen offered no response to the suggestion. She remained quiet, studying the scales and balances in her head. There was a tough call to make in this. The future of Atlas, and more importantly Remnant’s, would hinge on the actions she took now.

We didn’t expect Salem’s resources to be so extensive.

Can Vacuo hold until the Fleet arrives?

Even with the little aces up our sleeves, the chances of victory are too low to entertain.

Initiating the fight with Salem backfired.

No, it would have been worse to wait. At least, the Cuckoos have been removed from the board.

Is the situation still salvageable?

…

The smart move would be to recall our forces.

By the time they arrive, Vacuo will likely be overrun to a point they cannot recover.

…

Team ENMY must be evacuated.

Cinder looked up to the officer-in-waiting.

“Sortie the light-traveling transport marked Swordfish ahead to retrieve—”

“Belay that order.”

Cinder turned in surprise to Weiss’ sudden interruption. Her surprise quickly transitioned to smoldering fury.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“We aren’t sure Vacuo is lost yet,” Weiss answered.

“With all due respect, my fellow Queen, Vacuo can’t possibly hold out against that,” Cinder motioned to the projection. “Not until reinforcements arrive, and even then, the chances of victory are too small to consider.”

“We need to contact Team ENMY.”

“We will give them the order to evacuate—and they will follow it.”

“Cinder…”

“…What?”

The Black Queen squinted, as the White leaned closer to speak loud enough so only they could hear.

“You know, better than I, the things Team ENMY is capable of.”

“I do,” Cinder nodded. “They can perform the impossible given the right circumstances. With adequate preparation and strong mental grit, they can and will perform outside expectation. But what Salem has brought to the board is completely out of their depth.”

“I want to hear what they have to report first.”

“And we shall, but do not hold out hope.”

“At this point, hope might be all we have.”

Cinder went quiet for a moment.

“I detest the idea of abandoning our allies more than you would believe, and this miscalculation frustrates me to no end—but we cannot afford to be stubborn at this juncture. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“I doubt we can outsmart the Witch, if that’s what we’ve been trying to do.”

“…”

“She’s had decades to prepare and plan and manipulate the variables, Cinder. We can’t win that way.”

Weiss’ words rung deep with the Black Queen. It was a thought she fought hard to abate, but seeing the might Salem brought live on the projection, Cinder could only face the truth. If this was a chess game, it wasn’t fair to begin with. The Witch had too many pieces from the start and moved several times before her first turn came.

It was enough to dishearten anyone.

But that was not what Cinder saw when she met her coregent’s eyes.

“…What are you thinking?” she couldn’t help but utter, almost disbelievingly.

“I’m not sure myself,” Weiss shook her head. “I think we have a choice, Cinder. It’s the choice you and I have been dreading without really knowing what it was.”

“…”

“I can feel it. We have to make a stand here. We have to.”

“…Is that your head speaking, or your heart, I wonder?”

“Both.”

“Very well, Weiss. We will delay ordering the retreat.”

Weiss blinked in surprise.

“Really?”

“As I said before, your counsels are always welcome. No matter how naïve or ludicrous they may be.”

“Hmph!”

Seeing her fellow Queen pout brought a slight smile, as well as lighten Cinder’s mood. She turned to the adjutant and gave the following order,

“Mobilize all the light transports. Few reinforcements sooner are better than none too late. Have the rest of the Fleet maintain course. Inform Trafalgar and Ironwood of the situation and our decision.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” the officer saluted, and tapped at her tablet.

“And open a direct channel with Team ENMY in real time. Priority one.”

“Ma’am, it will take some time to construct a secure line.”

“It doesn’t need to be encrypted. I don’t care if Temujin eavesdrops on our conversation.”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away.”

Cinder breathed a quiet sigh and glanced at Weiss beside her.

“This is quite the gambit, my Queen.”

“You could have overruled me easily. You are, as you’re so fond of reminding me, director of all affairs military.”

“Indeed. But if I had to say…”

“I also think, a stand must be made.”

X X X X X

The throne room of the Hanging Gardens was instantly converted into a war room. Various communication equipment had been rigged around the chamber to coordinate their armies.

Ilia was busy giving sortie orders to the city wall’s hangars and garages to mobilize airships and other modes of transport. Nai had left earlier to join the battalion heading North. Minerva was dividing her students between those transported to the safety bunkers and those who would join the battle in the South.

Meanwhile, Temujin, the Rakis siblings, and Team ENMY had their attentions concentrated on the bigger picture.

“You’re sending an awful lot of your people to cover the armies at the flanks,” Emerald commented.

“Yes,” Temujin answered simply.

“But Behemoth was going to hit the city first. You want to take the fight to the other fronts, outside the walls.”

“Yes.”

“We were supposed to be locking down siege defense after we got rid of the Cuckoos.”

“We were.”

A tense silence filled the atmosphere.

“……You’re abandoning the city?” she whispered low.

Temujin didn’t give Emerald an answer. She rechecked how Vacuo’s military was being divvied up. It appeared none of the staff officers noticed how none of their forces were being devoted to Behemoth. The only way that was possible was if…

Emerald felt the stares of the Rakis siblings on her. Mouse and Knives were the most senior commanders just below Temujin. Minerva and Nai weren’t around, hands full with their own tasks.

“You knew you would have to abandon the city?” Emerald asked, remembering the Precognition Semblance the siblings had. “This was a future you guys saw?”

Mouse and Knives nodded slightly.

“So, what?! We went through with Operation Gun Dog for nothing?”

“It served its purpose. We also believed it might cause a deviation in the future they saw,” Temujin explained. “But it seems our gamble did not pay off on that venture.”

“Great! Thanks for clueing us in this late in the game. We knew Salem’s army wasn’t fucking around, but the wonder siblings didn’t see that big ass, Mothra-fucker coming?”

“The Witch did well to hide it. If you studied the material on our Grimm, you know Behemoth was outside expectation.”

“Yeah, it’s only in its adult form seven days out of the whole year. It also works on a strict timeclock, so you spawn-kill it as soon as it hatches out of its cocoon, far away from the any settlement.”

“There were measures to exterminate it months from now. In the worst case, we would have waited until it exhausted its lifespan.”

“Looks like there’s a new worst case now.”

“It is near impossible to defeat in fair, open ground. If the brunt of our forces were used to counter it, there would be nothing left when Salem’s main army arrived.”

“FUCK!”

Emerald continued to trade glares from Temujin to the large moth taking up the monitors. Poisonous powders spread beneath the Grimm’s shadow. Its toxins carried into the gusts of its wings. Once in a while, a few scales would drop from its body, unrolling into giant, armored caterpillars.

In addition to its other absurd traits, the Grimm possessed one other ability.

“You guys see any new visions of the future?” Emerald asked.

“…Yes,” Mouse squeaked out an answer.

“Let me guess. If you kept all your people behind the walls, and concentrated your attacks on Behemoth, it would’ve suicide bombed the city.”

Upon the Grimm’s death, it shed all of its scales, which caused an unfathomable amount of carnage in the surrounding environment. It was another reason the Vacuo military tried to lessen the damage by disposing it elsewhere.

“Salem won’t waste time. She’ll have it belly flop the city anyway,” Emerald bit her thumbnail. “That’s what I’d do. It’s too slow to wipe a good percent of a moving army, but it can level a lot of your standing fortifications. Salem’s trying to weaken the siege defense for the later game.”

“We have come to similar conclusions.”

“Any chance we can bring it down before it gets inside the walls?” Emerald continued to press.

“My sister and I foresaw something else, which our scouts have since then confirm.”

Mouse touched a nearby monitor and enhanced the image on the screen. Zoomed onto the back of Behemoth was a small army of Grimm. The groups seemed to be crowding something at their center like a shield wall. When the image was further enhanced, Team ENMY saw what was there.

A few of the Grimm Clan Leaders were identified. Camlann, Azkaban, and Combine were commanding their brethren from afar, while riding Behemoth’s back. The combination of area effects between Azkaban and Combine alone were enough to deter any real resistance. Their abilities were much more potent than the average Cuckoo or Daemontor, and their effect radiuses even wider so.

“…Crap. Then, what’s the plan?” Yang spoke up. “You guys do have a plan, right?”

Temujin looked to her goddaughter strangely, and sighed.

“A course of action is in place. Behemoth will be allowed to detonate within the city. After its death, our armies will retreat back behind whatever is left of the fortifications and initiate siege defense as planned.”

Yang threw Temujin an accusatory look.

“But the other citizens…!”

“Some will survive.”

“More will die!!!”

“Our warriors will fight all the harder.”

“You can’t be serious!”

Just then, Yang felt the oxygen empty from her lungs. She coughed violently from Temujin’s sudden activation of her territorial Semblance.

“I am deadly serious, my foolish goddaughter. It is the only way my people will survive.”

“By offering some of them on a silver platter…!” Yang forced her voice through. “I didn’t know you had such an ego…! I didn’t know you were so cold…!”

“You have no idea.”

“You’d sacrifice anything to win! What makes you so different from Salem?!”

“…Not much I suppose.”

“Bullshit!!!” Yang turned, and stormed from the throne room. Her team followed after.

Once ENMY was gone, Temujin bade a forlorn gaze to Knives and Mouse. Both were positively fuming and biting the edges of their lips to keep silent.

Good job holding back, you two.

We can’t have them staying behind, if they knew the truth.

Yang is right, though.

I would sacrifice anything to win…

Even myself.

X X X X X

As Yang stomped angrily out into the hall, her team caught up to her—right as she punched a hole through the nearby wall.

“Yang,” Emerald said with a hint of disappointment.

“I know what you’re going to say, Em.”

“Yeah, well. I’m going to say it anyway. Temujin’s making the right call.”

“I don’t know about ‘right’.”

“Either some die, or they all die together. Minus one is better than minus a hundred. The math isn’t hard to figure.”

“Or, we can make it’s minus zero.”

Yang stared at Emerald meaningfully, while the team leader narrowed her brow in return.

“Yang…”

“We can bring down Behemoth, Em.”

“Not after the gas we just spent on Operation Gun Dog. Not in time, anyway.”

“We can do it.”

Emerald held her head like she was massaging a migraine.

“Do I have to remind you how this is supposed to work? We frontload our hand on Operation Gun Dog. THEN, we rest a tic to recover what we spent. And only after, do we actually get in on the real fight with Salem’s army.”

“Except there’s no time to rest, because Behemoth is going to cannonball the city! We’re the only ones with enough firepower and mobility to stop it!”

“Alright. So tell me, what happens when we burn ourselves down to the felt taking down Behemoth—which is a little more than an impossible ask, by the way? You think Salem’s gonna pass up the chance to ghost us while we’re catching breaths in-between suicide missions? We know a certain somebody won’t.”

“We have to, Em! Innocent people will die!”

“You and I both know the safety bunkers might hold up,” Emerald crossed her arms with a suspecting stare.

“We don’t know that,” Yang argued back.

“Some of them will.”

“A lot of them won’t!”

“Yang.”

“What?!”

“I should be asking you that.” Emerald stepped close to Yang’s face. “What’s with you? Since when were you so touchy about people dying?”

“Since always!”

“No, not when we had to fight on Dracul. Not when we were making enemies in Vale. And definitely, not when we were taking over Atlas. I mean, you did, but not like this. So, what gives?”

Yang gave Emerald a long, pleading look, before answering.

“…Because this was our chance to do some good.”

“…”

“Hehe…! Stupid me, right?” she chuckled sadly. “After all the shady things we’ve done, I just wanted to do some good—some actual, honest good. Save lives instead of being the reason people lost them. Guess I should’ve known better.”

“Yang.”

“I know, Em.”

“It’s not how our team does things.”

“Yeah. We’re the enemy. We attack. Protecting and saving people isn’t our rep.”

“I’m…sorry.”

“No. Nothing to be sorry about.” Yang gave a vague shake of her head. “I’ll get my game straight in a second. Just let me know when we’re moving out of the city. Till then, I’ll take a rest. Gotta refill the reserves, right?”

As the girl dragged her feet off with drooping shoulders, Neo braced her waist with a comforting hand. Together, they went to look for a private room. Emerald and Mercury were left alone in the hallway.

“…Don’t say anything,” Emerald said, after a time.

“What?” Mercury put his hands up innocently. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Stop. You go weak whenever Yang pulls that ‘puppy dog that just got kicked’ look.”

“More like, ‘you just kicked that puppy dog’s dreams’ look, but same difference.”

“UGH!”

“What are we gonna do?”

“What do you mean?! I just said what we were going to do!”

“Yeah…but what are we really going to do?”

Emerald glared fiercely at Mercury’s passively waiting demeanor. The staring contest lasted for a couple of unblinking seconds.

“AAARRRGGHHH!!! DAMMIT! FUCK!!!” the team leader vented her curses.

“You’re getting softer, boss.”

“And who’s fault is that?! Stupid, moral, nobility craphat. Annoying, blonde, bullshit, punchy…”

As Emerald continued to mutter endless profanities under her breath, her scroll gave a soft ring.

“Welp, saw this coming.” She coughed to clear her throat, before answering. As soon as the line went live, Emerald tried to make her tone as professional as possible. “Let me guess, we’re being ordered to ditch Vacuo?”

“…The matter isn’t finalized,” Cinder’s voice came from the other end. “There is no shame for you and your team to retreat.”

“Yeah, I’ll say. Shit’s not about to just hit the fan here, it’s going to—am I on speaker?”

“Yes.”

“Whole room?”

“Fortunately, only Weiss and myself.”

“Great.”

“Your report.”

“It’s bad, Cinder. Real bad. I know you probably have an idea, but it’s nowhere close to what we’re seeing here.”

“So, Vacuo is lost?”

Emerald thought for a moment.

“……These people are strong,” she gave an uneasy laugh. “I saw Salem’s army with my own eyes—it’s like signs of the freakin’ apocalypse! But these people, they want to fight. They will die fighting.”

“You cannot let their behavior influence your own.”

“I know, I’m trying to say something different. Cinder, Vacuo is worth saving. We shouldn’t abandon them. We need them on our side.”

“They are that valuable an asset?”

“They are. This alliance is the most important investment Atlas needs to make.”

“Sounds like a sales pitch. Tell me what truly whispers in your heart.”

“…” Emerald braced a hand to her chest. “Team ENMY is going to take down Behemoth.”

“So soon after your previous mission?”

“I know we were supposed to take a power nap before the next big fight, but you see that thing.”

“You intend to accomplish this by yourselves?”

“Temujin’s diverting all her forces to the North and South.”

“She plans to forfeit the city. A calculated choice.”

“We’ll manage.”

“This is reckless,” Cinder ended with a short pause. “What would you do if I ordered you from doing so?”

“……I’ll always listen to you, Cinder. If you tell me to take my team, and get the hell out of Vacuo, I’ll do it. I’ll drag Yang back, even if she hates me. You say the word, I’ll listen. Always.”

“…”

“But I’m asking you to trust me. Let me make this call. My team can swing this.”

For a moment, Emerald swore she heard Cinder’s breath stifle with emotion. A second later, the other spoke again.

“You are ordered to return to me,” the Black Queen commanded almost angrily. “Alive and in one piece—but at a time of your choosing.”

“I promise!” Emerald answered quickly. “I promise I’ll come back!”

“Hmph. You are aware any infidelity towards your Queen’s orders incurs the highest of penalties.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“So, how do you plan to perish the creature?”

“…”

“Emerald?”

“I have an idea.”

“So, speak it.”

“You guys might not like it.”

“……Speak it.”

Emerald took a searing deep breath between her teeth.

“We might have to use a couple of the aces we’ve been banking.”

X X X X X

A few miles south of the capital, Vacuo’s military made first contact with the Grimm army. The battalion was tasked with eliminating the enemy’s first wave and slowing their advance towards the city. A part of them knew it would be no easy task.

But they did not know how difficult it would be until they saw the head of the horde.

“My, aren’t these some familiar faces?” the cold voice lingered.

While countless Grimm smashed into the lines of Vacuo’s warriors, a smaller battle was waged in the midst of chaos.

“Tai!” Glynda called.

“I know!”

The head of a Grimm King Taijitu struck at Glynda and Minerva, trying to snap the pair of sorcerers in its jaws. But Taiyang was able to position himself in time. His hands gripped each fang firmly, and slid his feet to a stop. Tattoos covered every inch of his arm, signaling the activation of his Semblance.

While their vanguard held down the threat, Glynda and Minerva aimed a set of spells at the source. A storm of raining ice and flames fell before them. Their target, pelted with blizzardous hellfire.

“Hm. That was much less than I expected,” the chilling voice came again.

Undaunted by the Magic spells, an enormous tortoise shell remained when the sand clouds dissipated. It was white, bony, and jagged. And as the Grimm barrier cracked open, it revealed a dark silhouette underneath. Their arm still connected to the King Taijitu head grappling with Taiyang.

“It seems my Crusade will be easier than I anticipated,” Salem taunted. “I knew you would be lost without Ozpin—but I didn’t quite know how lost.”

She gave her arm a tug, and from atop the Taijitu’s skull, a scorpion’s tail sprouted. The stinger snapped towards Taiyang’s head, but the man was able to dodge the blow at the last second. The tip caught his collar, but even then, it only left a small mark on his reinforced skin.

“That all you got?!” Taiyang shouted.

“Typical,” Salem scoffed.

The Witch materialized a long, ornamental hairpin from her robes. Its end was decorated with an elegantly jewel-crafted butterfly. Then, without any hesitation, stabbed the point of the needle into her collar bone, matching the placement with the scratch inflicted on Taiyang.

At the same time, blood spewed both their bodies. The man let out a scream of panicked anguish before steeling himself enough to leap back to safety. His hand clutched the base of his neck, where blood dribbled between his fingers.

The Witch on the other hand, showed only indifference to the curse-inflicted wound. She continued to observe her three opponents without paying mind to the black liquid spraying out. Only after a few seconds passed, did Salem spin a web from her fingertip to bandage the gash.

Taiyang badgered himself for his carelessness and forced his wound close with his Semblance. Though it stopped the bleeding, the fix was only skin deep. Regardless, he took a fighting stance, showing he was ready to go, but a gentle hand rested his shoulder.

“Assist the others, Tai,” Glynda spoke with consolation in her voice. “Leave this to me and Minerva.”

“This battle will no longer take place within the confines of this realm,” the Headmaster of Shade added.

Taiyang wanted to argue back, but prior experience held his tongue.

“Yes, run along now, little lionheart,” Salem condescended with a brushing gesture.

“Only certain performers are allowed to share this stage.”

X X X X X

“This is the best we could do, huh?” Yang asked.

“Yep. Everything’s zeroed on this spot,” Emerald replied.

“Couldn’t make it any farther out?”

“Considering all the last-minute strings we had to pull to make this puppet show dance, I’m surprised we made this much space at all. Let’s just be happy and take what we can get, shall we?”

On the farthest edge of Vacuo’s western wall, Yang and Emerald plopped down to take a seat. Their feet dangled off the side. Neo and Mercury joined them shortly. The four stared passively at Behemoth encroaching their position. They could see armies warring at the corner of their peripheries to the left and right.

Although they were aware of the violent events transpiring, and those to come, the team basked in the oddly-serendipitous moment of peace. For them, nothing would happen for the next few minutes. All manner of dangers were far or on their way. All they could do was wait. And likely, due to repeated instances of high intensity, even a few minutes of waiting was enough to bring a calmness to their nerves.

Neo pulled out an apple, and sliced off a few pieces with her sword. One by one, she passed the slips of fruit to her teammates. And the four munched on the small snack, while watching Behemoth beat its wings towards them. Nothing left, but to bide their time until the omen of destruction’s arrival.

“So, everyone around’s been cleared out?” Yang started.

“Yup. Zero possible casualties, except for maybe us. Just the way you like it,” Emerald replied.

“See? Doesn’t it feel nice to do the right thing?”

“Fuck the right thing. That’s not why I did this.”

“Oh? Then, why did you do it? I thought your self-proclaimed moral compass was broken.”

Emerald glared at her silently.

It is broken.

I mostly did this cause of you…

“Still, thanks for doing it.” Yang beamed with a warm smile. “I mean it, Em.”

Yang was about to pop another apple slice in her mouth, when Emerald snatched it midair. Taking it as some abstract price exacted, the girl didn’t make a fuss. Only taking replacement from Neo, who was performing her own magic trick of producing endless fruit out of thin air.

“Hey, Em?”

“Yeah, Yang?”

“Did Temujin seem…weird to you? You know, back there?”

“Temujin’s always weird.”

“Yeah, but… evasive.”

“Temujin’s always evasive.”

“You know what I mean,” Yang groaned. “Back when she told us she was abandoning the city, and even when we told her our plan, she just okayed it like it was nothing.”

“You prefer she argue with us? We practically handed her a ‘we’ll save your city for free’ card. Maybe, she just didn’t want to look a gift horse in the anus.”

“Uh, it’s teeth.”

“What is?”

“The saying. It’s ‘gift horse in the teeth’.”

“Oh. Mercury lied to me.”

“No, it’s definitely anus,” Mercury mumbled, stuffing more apples into his mouth. “That’s how you tell the horse’s age.”

“Okay! But you know what I’m saying,” Yang brought the topic back. “What futures did Mouse and Knives see? And what else aren’t they telling us? Temujin doesn’t seem the type, but she looks kind of like she’s given up. What else are they hiding?”

“Who knows,” Emerald shrugged.

“I know you’ve thought about it.”

“I got a few ideas, but nothing concrete.”

“This isn’t the time for our sides to keep secrets.” Yang let out an exasperated groan before popping another slice into her mouth. “Cinder and Weiss are ready to pull us out. Temujin has to know that. She needs to be open with us.”

“It’s not like we tipped all of our hand to her either. Still gotta play a few things close to the chest. Distrust goes both ways.”

“I thought we were in an alliance.”

“I think this is about as much two Kingdoms can trust each other without actually merging. And that’s without all the bad blood between Vacuo and Atlas.”

“We need to be on the same page, Em. Salem found a crack in our team, and pried it apart. What do you think she’ll do to two Kingdoms?”

Emerald paused, and then bit into the next crunchy morsel Neo handed her.

“True. If Vacuo somehow gets out of this intact, I wouldn’t put it past Salem to turn one of the Kingdoms against the other. You have an idea bouncing around that noggin? Or do you just like adding new problems to my ‘shit I gotta figure out’ list?”

“We need to have a sit down with Temujin. At the least, we need to hear everything the siblings predicted so far.”

“Yeah, she’s kept us in the deep dark about their visions. Not just us, but her own people, too.”

“And if we’re learning anything, whatever Temujin hides is worth finding out.”

“Emerald,” a voice came over the Enchantress’ mental link. “Are we ready to begin?”

“Yeah. Just about,” she responded, and got up.

At that moment, a number of transmissions reached Team ENMY’s communications.

“Alrighty. Time to set the world record for taking down a bunch of Nightmare Class Grimm in a row, maybe!” Emerald announced.

“All boss speedrun!” Mercury fake cheered.

Yang turned to Neo with a loving stare.

“Got my back?” she winked.

Neo smiled widely.

Yup.

X X X X X

(An hour ago)

“Are we sure this is wise?” General Ironwood couldn’t help voicing his doubts. “We were supposed to wait until we were closer to attempt this.”

“Drastic measures, General,” Trafalgar answered, next to him on the bridge. “Sometimes, all we can do is take a leap of faith.”

“There are countless variables which can skew the accuracy.”

“That’s why it’s called a leap and not a step, or a modest crawl.”

Ironwood breathed a sigh, before speaking into the console.

“Alright, Penny. Permission to arm.”

“Armed and READY, Mr. Ironwood!” the girl answered with a chipper.

“Execute.”

X X X X X

“……. What the hell are you kids thinking?” Qrow muttered his disbelief.

“I’m thinking we need your help to bring down Behemoth. Is the wax building up in your ears, grandpa?” Emerald replied.

“Don’t call me grandpa!”

“The other guy is definitely a grandpa. As a matter of fact, he’s the grandest of grandpas. So, you gonna help us or not?”

“I thought the plan was to surprise Salem with an ambush.”

“Plans change. Roll with it.”

Qrow breathed one of the most soul-draining sighs in his life, before centering himself to continue.

“Okay. So, let me make sure I got this right. You need me to use Titan’s power to help you kill Behemoth.”

“Yup!”

“But before that, you need me to stick my neck out.”

“You got it.”

“I immediately don’t like this…”

X X X X X

“I think I’m going to like this,” Raven gave a soft chuckle.

“I thought you would,” Emerald shared in the mental laugh. “Shouldn’t be a violation against whatever your contract is with Salem, right?”

“Only you brats could come up with something this sloppy and effective.”

“Compliment received.”

X X X X X

Out in the ocean separating Atlas from Vacuo, the acting reinforcements of the Atlesian Fleet came to a full stop. While the airships hovered as still as possible, their artillery battery raised to a high angle. Tapped into each vessel’s control system and calculating a complex aiming algorithm was a certain android.

“Coordinates fixed. Real-time calculations complete. Trajectory courses confirmed!” Penny cheered.

“FIRNG ALL ORDNANCE!”

X X X X X

(Back to the Present)

Team ENMY turned their gazes eastward, where a flock of glistening projectiles soared towards their position.

“Whoa, that’s gonna be close,” Yang commented.

“Yeah, well. It’s supposed to be,” Emerald sneered, as she elbowed Mercury’s side. “You’re up, top gun. Make sure it’s not us that gets our ass fricasseed.”

“On it, boss.”

Mercury activated his Semblance and felt the surrounding atmosphere come under his control. His senses extended to the oncoming shells. Their trajectories mapped out in his mind’s eye.

Damn. Not a bad shot from fifteen-thousand plus kilometers away.

Just need to sharp it just a little…

Mercury adjusted the turbulence and atmospheric pressure to suit his needs. He played out the simulation in his head, and matched it to the present. Their “back-up” fire would land exactly where they wanted it to on the dime.

“Merc,” Emerald elbowed him a few more times. “Hate to interrupt your beautiful mind moment, but the big bad bug is coming up faster. Maybe, short the fuse on lighting this candle?”

“Sure, just gotta speed up the momentum on more than a thousand combustible Dust shells. No big deal.” The sarcasm exaggerated in his voice.

“I had to hallucinate a whole Kingdom. Don’t get cute with me about making the big plays.”

The crying flock of whistling missiles screamed across the sky ever closer. At the same time, the great shadows and winds kicked up by Behemoth brushed the team’s backs.

Despite being caught between an arsenal of hellfire and the largest Grimm ever recorded, ENMY showed no signs of panic. Once Mercury finished his modifications, he expelled a small sigh of relief.

“Nice,” Emerald smirked, while putting on the sunglasses she took from Coco so long ago. Yang, Neo, and Mercury were producing their own pairs, when she also took out her scroll. She then, held it out and struck a smug pose.

“Are you actually taking a selfie right now?” Yang asked in slack-jawed awe.

“I wanna send a picture to Cinder. It’ll also make a good memory.”

Without wait or permission, the rest of the team crammed into the camera shot. They made random faces, while throwing up a series of hand gestures and middle fingers.

Meanwhile, high-pitch whistling from the Fleet’s artillery was at the peak of its cries when they were suddenly muffled. Bellowing explosions cut the sound off with its own. Raining hellfire engulfed Behemoth’s back in clouds of inferno. It was a carpet bombing of a creature that could have been a small island onto itself.

“Sweet fireworks,” Yang grinned. “Did you get the shot?”

“Got it!” Emerald confirmed.

“I always wanted to help destroy something beautiful,” Mercury shed a single tear.

Neo threw her hands up, cheering with mute excitement.

Fire! Fire! Burn!

“Okay, okay,” Emerald called their attention. “I know that just made the inner pyros inside us cream, but we still got work to do.” She tapped her in-ear communicator. “You there, OG?”

“I’m here.”

Flying above the incinerating back of Behemoth, a black bird swooped down. Its feathers shed upon its descent, giving way to a human form. He aimed the landing of his dive before the intact form of Combine, Chief of the Cuckoo Grimm.

The parasitic bird gave a gross chirp, as it recognized its bodyguards were burned away by Penny’s fire bombing.

“This… really sucks!” Qrow complained.

Sweat dripped down his face. He could feel the life being siphoned from him, leaving his skin cold. If he didn’t possess the Old One’s longevity, he might have died instantly in Combine’s presence.

Azkaban was somewhere near, so Qrow couldn’t activate his Semblance to save himself. But if things went according to plan, he wouldn’t remain vulnerable for long.

…

“How much could I pay you not to save my brother?” Raven posed to Emerald via their telepathic link.

“Discount low five figures,” the quick answer came.

“That was a joke.”

“Was it, though~?”

From her cliffside in the Black Oasis, Raven gripped the hilt of her katana and went into a low iaido stance. Her senses attuned to the combination of Emerald and Neo’s information. There, she saw her brother’s back turned towards her.

“Now, don’t flinch, little brother.”

…

“Neo?” Emerald prompted.

The petite girl poised her estoc in a thrusting motion above her shoulder. A silver light gleamed in her irises. She made out the positions of three key figures: Combine, Qrow, and Azkaban, before sealing the sight into her blade.

Neo took a long-drawn breath, and then emptied her lungs of all its air. She concentrated a majority of her Aura into the ultimate technique she created herself, leaving just a little in reserve. It was the most powerful move in her arsenal, and she would only be able to perform it once for a long while.

The small swordswoman felt traces of Yang’s influence swell in her soul. A bright fire of her beloved’s sun licked heat on her fingertips.

Neo’s hand moved quicker than the naked eye could catch. The sounds of shattering glass only followed after the fact.

In the same moment, Raven freed her blade from its sheath. Her bloody double-slash was going to cut a blazing X across the sky and Qrow’s back. But at the very last second, the move collided with Neo’s.

It was a clash of ultimate sword techniques that resounded across the entire continent. A piercing blade of blinding, silver glass and a cross drawn by a sinisterly, crimson paintbrush cut the sky into pieces. The world itself seemed to tear briefly, like it was made of paper.

Raven’s attack was barely deflected enough from her brother’s back, and guided in the direction of Combine instead. Likewise, Neo’s thrust was diverted towards Azkaban. Both their blades struck their marks down, slaying the Nightmare Grimm with their god-like skill.

Hmph, Raven scoffed with an impressed thought.

Out of the four brats, she might be the one who grew the most in all this…

“Not that I’d tell her that.”

…

“Uncle Qrow!” Yang shouted.

“On it, kid!”

With Combine and Azkaban down, Qrow felt the burden on him lifted. He tapped into Titan’s ability, while harnessing his own Semblance. A pair of great scythes unfolded in each of his hands. A familiar green glow permeated from his body to envelope the burning Behemoth.

The Grimm’s flying motion slowed to a crawl. Time slurred in the space it occupied until the creature stopped just above the wall and Team ENMY. Wind, fire, poison, and intermingled with it, falling caterpillar Grimm froze midair.

Yang and Mercury stared up, before bumping their fists.

The Spring Maiden felt adrenaline rush her veins. A crystallized crown formed its halo around her head. Her eyes blazed with the fire of her Semblance. She watched lightning crack across her vision, outlining Behemoth’s multiple weaknesses caused by redundancies in its anatomy.

“Wouldn’t be easy if we could just strike one spot. We’re gonna have to hit them all.”

The pair rocketed into the sky.

Mercury and Qrow went to work first. The young man summoned a storm to carry him across the Grimm’s expansive mass. Every kick he delivered made the floating island shudder. Likewise, the veteran Huntsman used his Reaper’s Semblance to sow death from atop. Together, they layered a cacophony of craters and trenches into Behemoth’s exoskeleton.

And then, Yang rose to join them.

“Many search the meaning of the shape given to their soul,” she heard Nai’s words echo the depths of her mind.

“I am Poison.

I am a Weapon.

I have lived and learned to become the agent that destroys my enemies’ bodies.

What does your life embody?

What meaning does its shape give?”

Yang jumped from falling debris to falling debris, making her way to the belly of the beast.

For my friends, I’ll be their warmth.

When they are lost, I’ll be their light.

And for anyone who tries to hurt them,

I’ll be the banisher of their darkness.

Yang’s Ember Celica shifted its form. Pistons fired across her entire arm. It rumbled with all the power and force of a jet engine.

I am the Fight that Life brings.

I am Fire.

And I Burn.

The exact moment, the noon sun reached its highest crest, the Spring Maiden’s punch let loose a flame likened to the birth of a new star. A supernova erupted in the center of Behemoth’s stomach, scorching constellations across the vulnerabilities of its body.

The halting of time was no small feat, and Titan’s ability only lasted a breath before reality resumed. But it was enough for Behemoth’s annihilation to be realized.

“Alright! It’s gonna pop!” Emerald shouted. “Clear the area!”

Yang, Mercury, and Qrow escaped the burning wreckage’s vicinity, as the Grimm plummeted down. Its body decomposed into countless scales, which combusted on any contact. The repeated detonations and weight of its carcass drove a crag into the wall and a small part of the city.

…

Yang let herself freefall. Burning cartilage still flew around her. Much of her energy was spent, but not all of it, per Emerald’s orders. But there was no denying the weariness setting into her nerves.

“Well, that was a thing.”

She looked to the side, and saw Mercury speed down to Emerald. Their leader stood on what remained of the wall. Her Uncle was nowhere in sight.

*Sigh* “I really want this day to be over…”

Just then, among the falling scraps, Yang spotted an oddity. It was a little singed, but it stood out from everything else with its white-colored design and the way it spun sharply through the air.

Yang squinted her eyes, and saw it was a playing card.

The Ace of Spades.

X X X X X

“Is this truly all the strength you can muster?”

Salem gave a wave of her hand, and the bright projectiles Glynda and Minerva cast her way dissolved into squirming maggots. As they writhed uselessly on the ground, the Witch made a claw with her hand. Her long nails thrusted in the direction of her opponents.

Suddenly, the sand beneath the sorcerers’ feet coiled like tentacles, pulling them into its embrace. Salem’s hand squeezed, and the prison of silt closed tighter.

“You’re spellcasting is rather rudimentary compared to what I’ve seen over the ages. But I suppose that is the folly of mortals. Not enough age to hone that wisdom, no matter the potential exhibited.”

“Then, perhaps another challenger is in order? One you can’t bully with your tricks.”

A crow flew down, before expanding its form into a man. He snapped his fingers once, and the “living sand” about to suffocate the sorcerers was dispelled.

Glynda blinked, not believing her eyes. The image of the man before her seemed to phase in and out of existence, as if their identity wasn’t solidified.

“Ozpin?”

“Apologies for the tardiness, Glynda,” the white-haired man with small glasses said. “There was an issue that required our assistance.”

“But, how…? What about Qrow?”

“Also, here,” the figure of Ozpin replied with a voice that was not his. “This body sharing thing is more complicated than it looks.”

The immortal’s body flickered between Ozpin’s visage and Qrow’s, and then another Glynda recognized as Beacon’s past Headmaster Myrddin’s. Reality bent, and several iterations blinked in quick succession. Some figures she remembered from historical texts, more of them she did not. The spinning of the forms continued until the image settled onto a small, hunched-back old man. He had the look of a retired farmer and had to use a cane to support him like a third leg.

“Titan…!” Salem snarled with rising furor.

“…Wicked,” the Old One spoke in a grounded tone. His voice was crass, but it dissipated into the surroundings like an earthquake. “Must we continue this vicious cycle?”

“Oh, it will not continue. Not for you.”

“So, it was inevitable. You and I must battle once more.”

“Immortal versus immortal,” the Witch gestured to herself, then Titan. A bloodthirsty Magic coursed her veins, making them pulse black across her pale skin.

“There can only be one.”

X X X X X

Yang was in no position to react. The playing card spinning outside her reach was practically a calling card for her death. All she could do was leave her fate to another’s hands.

…

Fortunately, those hands were the ones she trusted the most with her life.

The sound of shattering glass scattered pieces of Neo’s mirror portal into the falling sky. Her sword was held, outstretched. Its point pierced through the card as a bullet punched a hole through the same middle.

It should have been a perfect killshot. Yang and Neo read the trajectory, and it would’ve drilled right through Yang’s forehead, but Neo’s interference skewed its course.

“Shit!”

Yang whipped her neck as fast as she could, just in time for the bullet to tear a chunk of her hair off along with part of her right ear. Blood stained her cheek and a sharp ringing noise penetrated her eardrum.

“Hey, you. Can you hear me?” Emerald’s voice came from her comms, as Yang could see her leader smirking in the distance. She flipped her the middle finger.

“Told you she’d try.”

“Really, Em?! Now?!”

“Hey, you were the one who wanted to do this, despite my fair and wise warnings.”

“Can we save the ‘I told you so’s for later?”

“Say hi to her for me,” Emerald waved.

“WILL FREAKIN’ DO!!!”

Yang flashed an angry glare to Neo, who gave her a quick nod.

A second later, and her partner conjured a mirror for her to drop into. The portal pushed her into another, and then another, and so on. Each segment accelerated her into the distance.

Yang didn’t aim her fist. She knew Neo would do that for her. All she had to do was swing when the time came.

And at the last shuttle interval, she threw her fist.

Yang’s landing struck the terrain like a miniature meteorite. The target and source of her bullet wound was knocked off her feet, and onto her back. The shooter could have put up resistance, but the looming Spring Maiden erased any thought of that.

Instead, Inna Kao simply smiled.

“Hey, Yang.” She tipped her hat, still on the ground.

“Hey, Inna. Long time no see,” Yang replied unenthusiastically. “Em says, hi.”

“Oh? Tell her I said hi back.”

Yang did a quick sweep of her surroundings.

“No Bean?”

“Nah. I wanted to take my shot away from him just in case. Guess I made the right call on that.”

“Too bad. I wanted to see him.”

Inna stared at Yang for a while, before tilting her hat down.

“Heh… Well, you got me good. Don’t tell me ya’ll fixed that trap for lil ‘ol me?”

“It was Emerald’s idea. We’ve been ready ever since we heard you and Bean were around. We know we can’t underestimate you.”

“Shucks, Yang. Now, yer just makin’ me blush.”

Yang stared long and hard at the cowgirl.

“……I heard about your team. Sorry.”

“Yeah, well. I’ll be joinin’ them soon.”

“Funny thought that.”

Yang grabbed Inna’s rifle laying on the ground, and snapped it in half across her knee. It pained her a little to destroy someone’s personal weapon, but the bad feeling disappeared when she remembered she was missing part of her ear because of Inna. The gun would be repaired eventually. As far as she was concerned, they were even.

“Nothing to worry about if you don’t have your rifle,” Yang tossed the remains at Inna’s feet. “I’m done killing people, especially people I like.”

“…I can’t stop coming for you, Yang.”

“Yeah, you can. All you have to do is stop,” Yang shrugged. “But if you really want to keep trying, go ahead. I’ll be ready.”

“Hm hm! Told you, you’d be sorry, Inna,” Raven chuckled, as she stepped through her portal.

“Mom. Why am I not surprised you’re here?”

“Your little girlfriend actually matched my favorite move.”

“She’s a keeper.”

“I guess.”

“I’m totally telling her you approve.”

“I don’t. And another thing—”

Just then, Raven and Yang’s heads were flooded with an amalgam of information. Rather information, they were a bit like actual memories, but of events that had yet to occur. It was disorienting to say the least, but one thing was clear.

“Hey! Did you get that?!” Raven asked Yang.

“Yeah. What the hell was that, Em?”

“It’s the visions the Rakis siblings have been seeing. Don’t know why, but Knives was suddenly in a sharing mood. But after seeing what was in them, I think we can make a guess!”

“That vision…Temujin…!”

“That’s why you and Raven should get your asses back here on the double!”

“Mom!” Yang turned to Raven, and saw fear there like she never had before.

“Let’s go.”

X X X X X

“Hm. They brought down Behemoth,” Temujin rubbed her chin with an even composure.

The throne room, which was once a bustling war room, was now vacant. The lone ruler of Vacuo sat on her chair with only the Rakis siblings for company.

“Any deviations?”

“With almost all our fortifications intact, more of Vacuo’s citizens will survive by the end,” Mouse answered.

“Haha… They are truly something. Troublemakers. The perfect enemy against Salem and fate.”

The old woman smiled ear to ear, before breathing a contented sigh.

“Everything else is proceeding according to script?”

“……Yes.”

A nearby monitor showed an endless replay of Team ENMY’s assault on Behemoth. Right before the artillery from the Atlesian Fleet struck, a wisp of dark mist engulfed Camlann, and seemingly warped it out of the area.

On a security monitor, three figures made their way through the Hanging Gardens. The colossal armor of Camlann was recognized. Beside the Grimm were Adam and Blake. It wouldn’t be long until they reached the chamber.

“You two should go,” Temujin said to the siblings.

“No,” Mouse refused shakily. “We won’t leave you.”

“You have to guide our people.”

“We won’t leave you!”

The boy now had tears streaming his eyes. He wanted with everything to overturn the future he and his sister saw. A future where the Grimm overran their land. A future where their closest friends died…

…A future where Temujin offered her life to further incite the rage of her people.

“Oh,” the old Faunus put a hand on Mouse’s head. “You know, I faced a lot of criticism for adding that Eye for an Eye thing at the end of the Code. Mostly from Minerva, but whatever.” she smirked. “Who knew it would be the strength our people needed in their weakest hour? Surely, not me.”

Gentle sobs continued to escape Mouse, as Temujin continued.

“No, definitely not me… But if the death of one old woman past her prime can be the rally cry of our Kingdom, I will answer my duty with a full heart.”

“…”

“Go. My time is over.” Temujin announced proudly. “This is goodbye.”

“We won’t leave you!!!” Mouse cried back.

Temujin scratched her ear in frustration, before turning to her other side.

“Knives. I entrust you with your brother. You know what must be done. The both of you must regroup with Nai and Minerva. Notify them of my death. The first waves of the Grimm should be dealt with by then. Fall back here with Team ENMY, and eliminate Camlann. Hold the siege until Atlas’ Fleet arrives.”

The younger Rakis made no move to respond.

“Knives? Did you hear me?! Knives!”

Temujin shook her shoulder, and saw the girl’s expression turn with surprise.

“Oh, right!” Knives answered with wide eyes. Her tone was different from her usual. “Actually, I agree with Mouse there. You really shouldn’t be so quick to sacrifice yourself.”

The elder Faunus was struck speechless.

“There’s a lot of people who would mourn your death, Temujin. They’d be heartbroken,” the girl continued. “I know one person especially!”

“Who…?” the old Faunus could only mutter. “Who are you?”

The girl with the appearance of Knives could only smile brightly.

“There’s always a way to change fate, as well as those who are willing to fight it. You said it yourself.”

“…”

“But they can’t help you if you don’t believe in it too,” Knives held Temujin’s hand in both of hers. “This girl loves you so much. She begged for a way to save you, even in her dreams. That’s how deep her resolve is.”

Temujin continued to stare blankly at the girl. Knives met her gaze, unabashed. The young girl’s eyes seemed to glint with a brighter silver than usual.

Then, Temujin remembered where she heard this speech mannerism before, as well as this unflinching determination.

“Summer Rose?”

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #yang xiao long #neopolitan #emerald sustrai #mercury black #raven branwen #qrow branwen #rwby au #ENMY

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