#she had to be a magical tardis baby who was raised to kill him and threw a tantrum to get him to marry her

[songprof]

current struggle in putting together my ideas for this portrayal is being unable to decide just how chaotically divergent i wanna get

[lostinquotation]

Genasi / The Witcher (Part One)

Summary: After the King and Queen of Sasheira refused to sign a treaty with Nilfgaard, an assassin is put on the Queen and her unborn child. While the King remains in Sasheira to fight, Queen Y/N, a gifted air Genasi, is forced into hiding with a man who is rumored to be able to kill anything, Geralt of Rivia.

Author’s Note: Hello everyone!! This is my first Witcher’s fic and the first fic I’ve ever posted! Please like, reblog, follow, and feel free to send me a message!! OH and this fic slow burn... Like SLOW burn so buckle up! It’s gonna be fluffy, angsty and everything in between. I’m excited lol. 

Warnings: Slight angst. A dash of smut but literally barely

Word count: 3k (unedited)

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The sound of children laughing filled the air in the garden as little legs and feet ran around and around, their dirt-covered faces grinning brightly as they played. The gardeners smiled as well, participating in light-hearted conversations with one another. It was a beautiful day to be outside in the sun and you, the Queen, decided that the best way to enjoy it would be with a picnic with your husband, King Vario.

It was warm and bright but not overly hot thanks to you, who created cool breezes every now and then. You laid on a yellow blanket, enjoying fruit, juice, and cheese that sat on a nearby table, engaging in conversation with nearby gardeners, butlers and maids. You wanted your last sunny day to be clear of stress and anxiety. You wanted to spend it laughing. Warm. Surrounded by your loving husband, caring people and their children. 

The children would come by and grab some food, say their hello’s, and then run off again. The servants sat with the couple as well, telling jokes and stories, some real and some not. They asked about the pregnancy and if you had decided on any names yet. You were with child, the first heir, but you weren’t too far along, just under two months.

“Your Majesty, would you like me to fill your glass?” One of the butlers asked, noticing your empty glass.

“I’m quite alright, thank you,” you smiled up at the man and leaned into your husband’s chest. He wrapped his strong arms around your frame and rested his head against yours, breathing deeply.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked.

“Yes,” you responded, looking around the beautiful garden. “I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss you.” He placed a gentle kiss to your temple and you intertwined your fingers together. “How long do you think we’ll be gone?”

“Hard to say, me aine. Hopefully not too long but…” He wasn’t entirely sure how to finish his sentence, but he knew he didn’t need to for you to understand. 

You sighed, “yeah… At least we have today. One last beautiful day.” He hummed softly in response and began to lightly rock back and forth with a hand on your stomach, causing a blissful smile to spread across your features. You sent out a wave of wind for the workers around you, a few ‘thank you’s’ following.

“Showing off one last time, I see,” he teased, earning a strong gust of wind in his direction.

“I’ll always show off,” you responded with a smirk and turned to face him. “Gotta keep you impressed, of course. The little guy likes it too, I think.” You looked down at your stomach.

“Keep me impressed? You’re the most magnificent person to ever grace this planet… I’m the one who needs to keep you impressed.”

You raised an eyebrow and spoke sarcastically, “yeah, if it weren’t for your blood you never would’ve stood a chance.” He jabbed your side, causing you to squeal loudly.

“Take it back,” he beamed as you erupted into giggles as his hands tickled you. 

“Stop! Me aine!” You laughed loudly, hitting his chest. “I take it back! I take it back!”

He pulled his hands back and climbed over you, “I’m gonna miss that laugh… Sarcasm not so much, but that laugh…”

“You love my sarcasm, it’s part of my undeniable charm,” you winked up at him.

“Undeniable that is,” he leaned and planted a loving kiss upon your lips. You smiled into it and kissed back tenderly, bringing your hands to cup his stubble cheeks.

“Ew!” A few of the children exclaimed at the sight but were quickly hushed by one of the maidens. She whispered to them and they all quickly bolted away, deeper into the garden. You both chuckled and stared at each other for a moment, taking in the moment. A perfect moment. A happy one. 

You traced his jawline all the way to his lips, where he gently kissed your fingertips. “I love you,” you said, locking eyes with him.

“A horrible decision, really,” Vario said, making your mouth fall open dramatically. 

You whacked his arm, “you ruined the moment!” 

“I just wanted to see you smile again! I can’t help myself sometimes,” he grinned at you cheekily and you sighed, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Gods, you’re impossible. Seriously, I’m telling you it’s because of your blood… possibly your dashing good looks too. Without them, you’d be nothing,” you spoke teasingly.

“Oh, and without your beauty and your blood, you’d be one scary woman who could kill me in an instant, though I find that endearing in a woman,” he spoke, making you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“Yeah, remember that in case you get any wild ideas on the battlefield and decide to get yourself killed. I’ll personally bring you back to kill you again, you hear me?” You asked, pushing him off yourself. “You will not leave this child fatherless, clear?”

“Crystal,” he held up his hands in defense. “I love you.”

“Till the day I die.”

“Till the day I die, me aine” he repeated, placing his forehead against yours.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” the steward, Edgaris, approached them.

“Yes?” Vario looked up at the man.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but the Witcher is here,” he said, causing both you and Vario to sit up from the blanket. 

“Did he just arrive?” Vario asked as he stood and Edgaris nodded.

“Moments ago. He is in the main entrance,” the three of you began to head inside.

The Witcher, a famous monster slayer, known for being able to kill anything. Strong, magical, and an old friend of Vario, he was the perfect protector. Capable of keeping you safe. The baby safe. 

Sasheira was at war— or at least close to it. After refusing to sign a treaty with Nilfgaard, a treaty that granted them most of Sasheira’a land and resources, Nilfgaard threatened to pull their alliance.

King Vario stood his ground, thinking of what was best for his own country and his people. Nilfgaard’s ultimatum did not work and an assassin was sent out to not only kill you but the child inside you as well.

Fortunately, the assassin failed to do his job and was killed mercilessly. A final declaration of war was in the works, but wouldn’t be made until you, the Queen, were safe. Vario would stay back and fight with his men and lead them.

You hated everything about the situation, but this was war. There was nothing to love about it.

You and Vario entered the main foyer and there stood a large man with white hair in dark clothing. He was talking with the King’s advisor and the Stewardess. Their conversation came to end upon their royal arrival. 

You stopped in your tracks, your stomach sinking. You grabbed your husband’s wrist, “are we sure about this?”

He gave you a reassuring smile, “everything will be okay, I promise.” You nodded silently and let him go so he could speak with the man first.

The stranger bowed respectfully, “Your Majesty.”

“Geralt of Rivia, wonderful to see you again,” Vario spoke, extending his hand for the man to shake. You approached and forced a small smile. You could feel everyone’s uneasiness, the heaviness in the air.

Vario and Geralt had met before, the circumstances of which were not pleasant. Deadly, to be specific, but that’s all you knew about the situation. Vario never went into the details, only ever saying that protecting you was Geralt’s way of returning an old favor.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed again.

You extended your hand, “ceádmil.”

“Come on in, let’s get you situated. Jesyka,” Vario called for the Stewardess, “his chambers are ready, I presume?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she responded.

“Good. Make yourself at home. Dinner will be around vespers. We hope you are hungry,” Vario spoke cooly, comforting you. His confidence in the situation made you more at ease. It was one of your favorite qualities about the dark-haired man.

“Thank you. I apologize for my late arrival. I had to take care of something before I came,” the Witcher explained his tardiness.

“Not a problem at all. We were just enjoying the outdoors. Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Vario said and the Witcher only grunted in response. “We really appreciate you coming at all. I can’t leave my lovely wife in the hands of just anyone,” he grinned over at you, taking your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“She’ll be safe with me, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to her,” though Geralt said it to Vario, you felt as though it was for you. To reassure you that you’ll be safe. Protected. “And if I fail to do so, I can assure you that I will already be dead.”

Vario cocked an eyebrow, “good to know that the consequences of her blood on your hands has gone unspoken.” Geralt smirked with a low hum. “Jesyka, please show him to his chambers please.”

“Right away, Your Majesty,” Jesyka bowed and motioned for the man to follow her. “This way Sir Geralt of Rivia…” and the two left the room.

“How do you feel, me aine?” Vario asked Relanara.

You shrugged and spoke quietly, “I’m not sure. Guess I just don’t like the idea of not being here with you is all.”

“I know but you know you can’t-”

“Can’t stay here. I know. I’ve heard that speech already. Doesn’t mean I like it,” you frowned, wrapping your arms around him in an embrace. He hugged back, resting his chin on your head before kissing it. You could feel his own anguish.

“No one likes it.”

****

The two of you returned to the garden after that and spent the rest of your time there until seven o’clock. All the servants and the children headed inside for one final feast, an idea you and the stewardess came up with. One last feast for everyone in the castle to enjoy with their Queen. One last feast before the soldiers and knights left for battle.

The throne room was filled with tables and chairs, the bards and musicians were playing their instruments joyfully and took turns to enjoy the party. Once the cooks brought out all the food and wine, they joined in on the feast as well. No one was working that night, even the knights rotated hourly so they could enjoy themselves as well.

The men and women danced and ate the delicious food; there wasn’t a single frown in the crowd. You and Vario joined in on the dancing, laughing loudly with your servants and friends. The dancing wasn’t anything formal— it wasn’t a formal party. 

Vario spun you around, beaming at the sound of your giggle, gusts of wind erupting from your body, causing him to laugh lovingly. He dipped you down, joining your lips together in a slow kiss. He lifted you back up and spun you once more. He stopped moving for a second, his eyes falling upon the Witcher who seemed to have just arrived.

“Ah, Geralt! So glad you were able to join us,” Vario greeted warmly.

“This… is dinner?” Geralt asked, looking around.

The King laughed, “have a drink! Have a dance!” Geralt grunted, walking over to a table and began to grab some food. You watched and frowned, stomach twisting as you thought about why he was there in the first place. You were snapped out of it at the sound of loud cheering of a classic folk song, a favorite in their country. It was a song that describes a specific dance, though there were no lyrics in the version they were playing, the people still knew the moves.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down before putting smile on your face. The people participating in the dancing all instinctively joined hands and began the classic dance.

It wasn’t long after that before you needed a break and some water as to not push yourself. You thought it might be a good idea to sit with the Witcher, get to know him a little better before their long journey together.

You approached the brooding man who sat at an empty table near the back. “May I join you?” You asked and he nodded. A moment of silence fell between you both before you finally spoke again. “So, you either hate parties or are just permanently stuck brooding. Maybe both.”

He smirked slightly, “both. Are you at least having fun?”

“As much fun as someone who’s leaving tomorrow with a complete stranger while their husband fights some bloody war can possibly have.”

His eyebrows rose, “can’t imagine that it’s a lot then.”

“It’s enough. I want to enjoy tonight. You should try too. Don’t know when you’ll get another night like this,” you looked towards the sea of dancing bodies.

He shrugged in response, taking a sip from his cup, “I’m enjoying the ale.”

You scoffed but smiled, shaking your head, “if that’s the extent of your enjoyment here then drink all the ale you want.” He didn’t say anything but silently looked at you. You wondered what he was thinking. You couldn’t feel what he was feeling like you normally would against a human, but this was another magical being. You couldn’t feel it. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“At a party? Never.”

“Hm, very funny. I mean, will I have someone other than my son to talk to the next few months?”

“It’s a boy?” He asked.

“So he has curiosity,” you smiled and he rolled his eyes slightly, grumbling to himself. “What was that?”

“You remind me of someone,” Geralt said.

“Oh? Who? Was she as beautiful and powerful as me?” You held your shoulders up.

“He was a pain-in-the-ass bard,” he responded simply and your mouth fell gaped.

“He’s got wit too,” you shook your head lightly before continuing, “but yes, it’s a boy. A mage told us.”

“Have a name in mind?” 

“Tylan.”

He seemed to have approved of it, though took a moment to respond. “I’m sure he’ll be a fine ruler like his father… and mother.”

“I hope he turns out more like his father… But I want him to be a Genasi. Keep the bloodline strong.”

“Hm,” he smirked, “the heir that can bend air.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you looked over at Geralt who had an amused look on his face. “You’re alright,” you gave a small laugh.

****

You spent the rest of your night right next to your husband, savoring every moment you had with him. The party eventually ended and the two of you made you way to your grand chamber. A fire was lit and the two of you laid on the large bed, his arms wrapped around your frame, your head on his chest.

“I don’t want this night to end,” you said quietly.

“I never want my nights with you to end,” Vario responded and you smiled.

You lifted your head and placed a gentle kiss to his lips to which he gladly returned. He deepened the kiss, hands cupping your cheeks to bring you in closer. You crawled on top of him, straddling his waist, kissing down his jaw. When your top was discarded to the floor, you quickly sat up, receiving a confused look in return.

“Remember me like this, because there’s a chance that the next time you see me I’ll be fat or have saggy breasts and stretch marks,” you said and he erupted into laughs.

“Gods, I love you. I’ll take you with any of those. It doesn’t matter,” he kissed you again.

“Till the day I die.”

“Till the day I die.”

****

You sat at your windowsill, watching your beloved capital work and play. The children outside were running, laughing, bouncing about with smiles on their faces. The adults were either taking a nice stroll in the warm sunlight or were busy buying and selling various items. Cheers from the local pub erupted suddenly and you silently wondered what they were cheering about. An engagement? A new job? A baby on the way?

You were fascinated by your city and the citizens that lived there with you. You wondered who the people were, their stories and secrets. It pained you to know that this was going to be the last time you would be able to admire them from afar.

A knock sounded at the door, followed by creaking hinges. “They’re ready for you, Your Grace,” you heard her stewardess say. Your eyes remained on the outdoors, smirking when you saw a smiling little girl get trampled by who you assumed were her brothers. “Your Grace-”

“Yes,” you turned your head to the side before slowly returning your gaze back to the outdoors, “thank you. I’ll just be a moment more.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” You heard the door close again. A staggered sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes. You tilted your head back and brought your hands under your chin, whispering a short prayer. With one last deep breath, you left your chambers.

Jesyka was waiting patiently, a packed bag in hand, her eyes full of tears. The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment, neither needing to speak in order to understand each other. And at the same time, both of you fell into tears, embracing each other in a tight hug.

“It’s going to be okay,” you whispered, frame shaking. “I’ll see you again,” you pulled away and rested your hands on the woman’s shoulders, “stay safe, please.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

“Good, and Jesyka...” you paused, “thank you.”

Jesyka nodded, more tears falling, “thank you, Y/N.”

After collecting yourselves the best you two could, you both made your way down to the main gate where a plentiful of knights and soldiers stood, along with you husband and his steward. The Witcher was there too, of course. Jesyka handed Geralt the bag and he put it on his horse.

“Ready?” Vario asked, pulling you to the side.

You shook your head as tears pricked the back of your eyes. Your voice was quiet, “Var, I- I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Stop. Yes, you can. You are the strongest person I’ve ever met. We’ll meet again soon,” though his words were nothing but affirmations, you could feel his sadness and anxiety.

You nodded slowly, “anytime you feel a breeze, think of me.”

“I’ll think of you no matter what,” he pulled you in for one last kiss, placing a necklace in your hand. You looked down at it, confused. “For Tylan.” 

Your knees nearly gave out right there in his arms, completely crumbling. “Vario, what- No! You will meet your son!”

“Till the day I die, me aine,” he kissed the top of your hand as Geralt began to pull you away. 

“You will meet him!” It didn’t matter how many times you said it. One of you wasn’t coming back from this war. Maybe neither.

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Part Two

Author’s Note: Please let me know what you think! Oh and yes, Genasi as in the Dungeon and Dragon’s Genasi (mixed with a little air bender action from Avator). I’ll explain her powers throughout the story when necessary. I didn’t want to dump everything on you all at once as I know how annoying that can be lol.

[saiilorstars]

Falling in Temptation

Previous chapters • Sequel to Stars Dance

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 11th Doctor/ Female OC

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Ch. 11: A Different Wire

Chapter summary: The Doctor charges on to find Amy and her baby. He's taken every precaution possible to keep everyone else safe, including putting Avalon into a lockdown. He's determined to keep his word to Rory and keep Avalon safe but when the battle seems to be over on Demons Run, they learn that the Silence has not only been watching Amy closely...Avalon has also been under their careful eyes.

Fairy Tale Memoirs (Companion story)

A little fairy comes at night,

Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown'

with silver spots upon her wings,

And from the moon she flutters down.

She has a little silver wand

And when a good child goes to bed

She waves a hand from right to the left

And makes a circle round its head.

And then it dreams of pleasant things,

Of fountains filled with fairy fish

And trees that bear delicious fruit

And bow their branches at a wish.

Of arbors filled with dainty scents,

From lovely flowers that never fade,

Bright flies that glitter in the sun

And glow-worms shining in the shade

And talking birds with gifted tongues

For singing songs and telling tales

And pretty dwarfs to show the way

Through fairy hills and fairy dales.

A little fairy comes at night,

her eyes are blue and her hair is brown

With silver spots upon her wings

And from the moon she flutters down

Amy held her baby daughter in her arms as she recited the poem she knew by heart. It was a stupid poem - lullaby - that her own mother used to sing to her before bed. Amy would never tell Avalon that, though. That woman thrived on fairy tales it was ridiculous. But now Amy could see why her mother would tell her the poem. It was soothing and magical. It calmed her daughter each time she read it. Maybe when this was all over, Avalon could take over in the fairy tale department because Amy felt like her voice lacked the talent Avalon owned.

But for the meantime, Amy had to do things on her own. It was a scary job to do when she had no idea where she was and the fact she didn't own one weapon against the people holding her captive. She could only hold her daughter close to her when she was allowed to carry her.

Melody was the only thing keeping Amy sane. At one month the baby girl was a cheery one, a gurgling one, and she never seemed to cry. It was as if Melody knew that things were tough and she didn't want to add more to the problem. Melody would attentively listen to the things her mother would tell her, from the sweet poems to the inspirational speeches. She loved them all.

Amy tried not to think about the soldiers inside the room she was in, all packed even with the eye-patch woman, Madame Kovarian.

"I wish I could tell you that you'll be loved. That you'll be safe and cared for and protected. But this isn't a time for lies. What you are going to be, Melody is very, very brave," Amy was quiet with her words, but only because she didn't want Melody to pick up on her stressed tone.

Madame Kovarian - the eye patch lady - was waiting at the front of the room, just like she always did. "Two minutes," she warned, not that Amy would look at her.

"But not as brave as they'll have to be," Amy continued with Melody close by. "Because there's someone coming. I don't know where he is, or what he's doing, but trust me. He's on his way. There's a man who's never going to let us down. And not even an army can get in the way..." She trailed off when she saw the soldiers with Kovarian coming for her again. Not her, but her. Melody. Amy instinctively backed away a couple steps. "Leave her, just you leave her! Please leave her! Leave her!"

It was the same thing each time, and each time Amy fell for it.

Kovarian took Melody from her and returned the infant to the bassinet at the front of the room. Amy was right on Kovarian's trail though and stole a last look at Melody. "He's the last of his kind. He looks young, but he's lived for hundreds and hundreds of years. And wherever they take you, Melody, however scared you are, I promise you, you will never be alone." She leaned down and kissed Melody's forehead. "Because this man is your father."

~ 0 ~

A grim Avalon awaited in the console room for the Doctor and Rory to return, practically at the doors. Eventually, the two men entered the TARDIS and took a long breath. It'd been another close one but a very good success.

Avalon and the Sapling had promptly waited for them to return, but the former looked close to bursting from anger.

"Good moment?" Avalon crossed her arms with a raised eyebrow. "Success? Victory?"

"I think you know," Rory pointed at her, moving to give her a hug but Avalon stepped back, making him sigh.

"You don't get hugs until my lockdown is lifted," she snapped and looked at the Doctor next, "Goes for you too."

"Ava, we've been through this," the Doctor began as he followed her towards the console with Rory.

"Give it a rest, big brother, it's not gonna work," Lena Reynolds poked her head from behind the console rotor. "Better spend your time over here to get that location the Cybermen told us."

The Doctor grumbled under his breath but followed Lena's suggestion. She'd been recruited after ganger Amy had been deactivated in hopes of finding the real Amy faster. Apart from that, Avalon had been set into a deep, serious lockdown in the TARDIS after the events in the ganger factory. Avalon literally screamed, thrashed and at one point was locked in her bedroom, but nothing would get through to her. They were trying to keep her safe and in return she wanted to kill them.

The only thing that somewhat calmed her was bringing Lena along. It'd worked so far but Avalon already had thin patience. One month was about it.

~ 0 ~

"C'mon, at least let me help get the people," Avalon was following the Doctor around the console, resorting to bugging the hell out of him until he agreed, like always. The screaming hadn't helped and the fact she'd kicked him in the shin definitely didn't do any favors.

She would resort to old fashioned begging.

"Avalon, you know the rules. You need to stay in here for your own safety."

"Oh c'mon! You've sent Lena to pick up a Silurian! That right there was very irresponsible!"

"Vastra is an old friend and she wouldn't hurt anyone...anymore," the Doctor kept his gaze fixated on the controls because the moment he met Avalon's begging eyes, he would fall right for it.

"This is ridiculous! You can't keep me in here, you know!? I do have rights! I should know, I've been in an actual jail!"

"I could very well drop you off at UNIT," the Doctor warned, or threatened, whichever one would make her understand. "I'm sure an old friend of mine wouldn't mind keeping an eye on you."

"What?" frowned Avalon. "You are beyond ridiculous! I can't believe you're not using one of your biggest assets to get Amy back! This is beyond me - this is about our friend who was kidnapped! With her baby!"

"I know that!" he snapped, finally turning to her. At least she wasn't begging anymore. "And it's because I've already lost Amy that I'm not risking you! Never you, Avalon."

Avalon paused at his sudden softness. "Don't do that," she said after a moment.

"Don't do wh-"

"-don't go all soft and mushy on me when it doesn't mean a damn thing," she snapped. "I'm tired of it. At least your ganger had the decency to be honest before we let him die."

"Oh, here we go again!" the Doctor flapped his arms in frustration. Every damn time they had an argument, his stupid ganger would come up in the conversation. It drove the Doctor crazy not knowing what his ganger had told Avalon just before they escaped the Flesh. "If you're going to keep bringing that up, the least you can do is tell me what he said that got you so riled up with me!"

"It's the fact that he was able to be honest with me and you can't! That's incredibly sad and each time I remember it hurts, do you get that? It hurts. You hurt me."

Her words punctured each of his hearts. Her eyes had watered up as soon as she said them. That's what got him. She wasn't angry with him, she was disappointed and hurt. Hurt because of him. And he had no idea how to fix it, especially when he didn't have the context.

"Ava," he slowly touched her cheeks until he had successfully cupped her face without being slapped for it. "You need to understand that everything I'm doing is to keep you safe. I can't lose you too. You have to be different."

"Different from what?" she begged for at least one answer to her millions of questions.

"From everyone before you," he smiled sadly. He wanted to change the story so badly, he wasn't letting himself think about himself for one second. All he allowed himself to think about were the people that had come before Avalon who had suffered terrible fates because he hadn't been careful. "Have I ever told you the story of Donna Noble?"

"No, who is she?"

"She is the woman who used to travel with me before you and the Ponds. She was my best friend. She saved the 27 stolen planets from being destroyed. She was so loud and so courageous - you remind me of her sometimes. You even have the ginger hair to match."

Avalon felt the 'but' coming soon. He had never talked about his previous companions and she'd never really dared to ask considering what their endings had probably been. "...what happened to her?"

The Doctor sighed and let his hands drop from her face. "I happened. I was selfish and I wasted a regeneration and put all that energy into a jar. Donna absorbed that energy in what we call a metacrisis. She became part Time Lord and that could never be. She nearly died if I hadn't wiped her memories."

"She...lost her memories?" Avalon gulped. This is what many of her stories of the Doctor didn't contain: the tragic endings of his trips and his companions. "Like...everything?"

"Everything that had to do with me and her travels. Avalon, she was the most important woman in the universe. Different alien species still sing about the Doctor-Donna because of what she did and who she saved. And I had to erase everything from her head. She's off living her life on Earth and I can never see her again. And she can never remember what she did in her travels." It was the first time that Avalon saw true, genuine tears in the Doctor's eyes. He was reliving that terrible moment of his lives, firmly believing it was his fault. "She was my best friend, Avalon, and I lost her. And I've lost people I considered more than a friend. You want to know where the last person I had feelings for is at right now?"

"No-" Avalon's voice had turned frail, full of guilt.

"She's stuck in another universe. I did that to her. Twice. She can never come back."

Avalon felt the twinge of guilt double in that one second. Okay, maybe she hadn't been thinking as logically as he obviously had, but in her defense he wouldn't let her. She just wanted to be with him, be happy together. "I'm sorry," she whispered, bringing one hand to rub her other arm. "I-I didn't think about that stuff. But I mean...Doctor, you never say anything about your past. I stopped asking questions because I assumed that with time you would trust us to tell us on your own."

"It's not about trusting you, it's about how you'll react to it. There are horrors that come with me. Tragedies. And no matter how much I try, I can't stop them. Amy and Rory have already become part of that list- their daughter who was unborn is already on the list. I'm not gonna make that mistake with you. You are where the cycle ends."

Now this Avalon could appreciate because now she knew what he meant. He stopped being cryptic with her and just told her the truth. It was a truth she couldn't discard so easily because it was so important to him, but she wasn't going to let it ruin what she knew could be so good for them both.

She would just need to prioritize first. Her patience could last a bit longer now.

"Okay, I hear you," she said, stepping closer to him. She brought her hands to his face now, smiling encouragingly. "But I'd also like if you heard me."

"Avalon-"

"I propose that for the moment we set aside our differences and work together to get Amy back. Afterwards, we can resume this conversation. Sound fair?"

The Doctor would nod if he didn't already know what her proposal consisted of. "You can't go outside."

Avalon's smile wanted to falter but she kept it right on her face. "You'll find that I do as I please. Besides, it's been one month and they haven't done anything else. I bet their minds are so preoccupied with Amy that they don't even remember about little ole me. Now c'mon, I know who's next on that list of recruitment and I so want to be the one who picks her up."

"No, Avalon. It's just too dangerous."

"It's literally a prison - how much safer can it get? I don't think whoever's behind this is stupid enough to go barging into the highest maximum security prison, do you?"

The Doctor swayed his head, able to see that clear logic. "Well..."

"Please? Please? Please? Please? Please!?" the ginger clung to his arms as she begged, though now she did with a wide smile, "You can even send Rory or Lena with me, if you want. Or you can come, or-"

"Fine," he covered her mouth. See, he shouldn't have looked into her eyes. "But only because it's a prison and I know if River tries anything she'll be shot down."

Avalon took his hand off her mouth and frowned, "Since when did you become so doubtful of River? She's done nothing but help us every time we see her."

"Yeah and half the time it's because she made the mess," the Doctor pointed out. They all loved pointing out how many mistakes he made that River had to come and help fix. "Plus, there's things I've learned about her, things that make me nervous."

"Like what?"

The Doctor gaze on her was long. There was no way he could tell her that a good part of his reluctance with River stemmed from the fact River was meant to harm Avalon. "Future things."

Avalon rolled her eyes. "Oh, well, please, that's more than enough explanation. I completely understand. But you know what, I'm taking Rory to go get River. Thank you!" she gave him a quick hug then started shouting for Rory as she ran into the hallway.

The Doctor really hoped he hadn't messed.

~ 0 ~

In Stormcage, alarms blared as River Song, dressed in a Victorian gowm, swayed her way towards her cell. It nnver got old how frantic the place would get whenever she would pop away for a trip. It wasn't like she wouldn't come back! She stopped in front of a wall phone and picked it up, "Oh, turn it off. I'm breaking in, not out. This is River Song, back in her cell..." She was about to hang up when she thought of something else and pressed the phone back to her ear. "Oh, and I'll take breakfast at the usual time. Thank you!" She finally hung up and continued down the corridor but stopped when she saw two silhouettes in the dark, one specifically dressed as a Roman. "Oh, are you boys dressing up as Romans now? I thought nobody read my memos."

Avalon stepped out of the shadows first with an amused smile, "Your memos are about Roman costumes?" she glanced at Rory, snickering, "This is why I like her!"

Rory shook his head at her and got to business. He wasn't pleased that the Doctor had broken his promise and allowed Avalon out, even if it was to a prison of maximum security. Rory wanted to get out of there fast and return Avalon back to the TARDIS. "Dr. Song? It's Rory, and Avalon. Sorry, have we met yet? Time streams, I'm not quite sure where we are..."

"Yes. Yes, we've met," River nodded, sounding rather sad. Avalon could tell, despite the darkness that surrounded them. "Hello, Rory, Avalon."

"What's wrong?" Avalon asked her, taking a step forwards until Rory gripped her arm to keep her from taking another one.

"It's my birthday," River nervously laughed.

"Oh, happy birthday," Avalon smiled, now understanding her current attire, "That's why you broke out, then. Where'd you go? Victorian London?" River nodded her head. "You know, the Doctor's yet to take us there."

"You'll be there soon enough," River promised, though she didn't look very happy about the idea. Avalon presumed this was another 'spoiler'. River knew something that they couldn't know about yet.

"I hope you didn't go alone, though," Avalon said, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere lighter. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to do much.

"Um...somewhere, with a special someone," River nodded, still forcing a tight smile on her face. She couldn't tell Avalon anything of where they'd gone for her birthday. If she did, she'd have to explain why it was only them two and no Ponds nor Doctor.

"We need your help," Rory declared. Things weren't moving fast enough.

River nodded and went to her cell, pulling out her diary to pinpoint their timelines. "Where are we then?"

"They've taken Amy," Avalon said just as River pinpointed their timelines.

River froze for a moment then turned around with widened eyes. "Demons Run."

"How...how did you know?" Rory blinked as did Avalon.

"I'm from your future. I always know," River tried to keep herself calm as she glanced back at the two, "Why on earth are you wearing that?" she eyed Rory's Roman garbs.

"The Doctor's idea."

"Of course. His rules of engagement," River rolled her eyes, "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."

"Look ridiculous," Avalon remarked with a smirk.

"Have you considered heels?" River joked.

"They've taken Amy. And our baby," Rory was in no mood for jokes at the moment, "The Doctor's getting some people together, we're going after her, but he needs you too."

"I can't," River mumbled, her eyes teary. "Not yet, anyway."

"River?" Avalon was confused by the change of attitude that took place in the brunette. She'd fought so hard with the Doctor to let her come get River and now the woman was going to leave them hanging!?

"This is The Battle of Demons Run," River neared them, "The Doctor's darkest hour. He'll rise higher than ever before and then fall so much further. And...I can't be there till the very end."

"Why not?"

"Because this is it," River shuddered a breath, "This is the day he finds out who I am, when everyone finds out."

"Timelines," Avalon could understand the reason and had to resign her insistence. But just as River had explained, her expression turned frantic.

"Avalon you need to stay away from that place! Demons Run is where everything happens - it's where you are in most danger!"

Avalon groaned. "Not you too, River. You're sounding just like everyone else."

But River was adamant to be heard. "I am serious! You know why the Doctor will fall the hardest here than any other time he's had battles? Because of you."

Avalon's eyebrows knitted together, frankly offended that now it was all being blamed on her. "What, so it's my fault things go wrong?"

"No, it's mine," River didn't hesitate to answer, startling both Avalon and Rory. "I should've been more ready, but I wasn't and now I need the Doctor to step up and keep you safe. You need to stay in the TARDIS until it's all over." River's eyes flickered to Rory, pleading him to heed her warning.

Rory didn't need to be told twice what he already knew. But now if River was begging for the same thing, then there must be a serious good reason. "She's been in the TARDIS this whole time. She only came for you."

"Yeah and you're making me look bad here," Avalon folded her arms, deeply scowling. "What the hell, River!?"

"Tell the Doctor that he needs to listen to me," River told Rory as if Avalon wasn't shooting her daggers.

"You got it," Rory nodded and this time held Avalon's arm tightly as they headed back for the TARDIS

~ 0 ~

This time there was no getting discussion with the Doctor. Once he heard what River told them, he had no hesitation to shout like Avalon - making it an interesting fight when they both matched volumes - until she got the point that she wouldn't be leaving the TARDIS.

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Avalon was as red as her hair, possibly more. "You can't just bench me!"

"Oh I can and I am," the Doctor leveled her glare with his own. And given his age, he had a better one than Avalon...but not by much. "You are staying here with Lena-" he gestured to the woman in question who was being forced to watch the entire argument unfold, "-and taking control of the TARDIS."

"Avalon, if River says this is what has to happen then we should follow it," Lena chimed in only to get the same hard look from Avalon. "She's from the future, she knows what happens."

"Today's the day I start hating River," Avalon resolved. "Only question is will you be added to the list?" she landed her hard, blue eyes on the Doctor.

"If it means keeping you safe then so be it," he resolved as well. "I told you I wasn't making the same mistakes again."

He could practically see the smoke coming out of her ears at this point. She walked up a few steps until she could better look him in the eyes. There were so many words running through her head right now, but she wanted to find the words that would sting the most. It was one of her flaws. She would default to hurting people one way or another in retaliation.

"You know what?" she raised her head, allowing him to see how serious she was. "I bet that when you had to wipe Donna's memories you didn't give her a choice either, huh?"

The right words indeed.

She saw the pain strike across the Doctor's face in two seconds flat. There was a hint of betrayal, asking her how could she turn that against him when it was such a difficult memory to share.

She tilted her head to the side, letting him know that she was studying the effects of her words on him. "Remember me when you're out there, winning or losing. I'm supposed to be your friend, someone you value apparently, yet you won't let me make my own choice. Some Fairy Tale Man you are." She turned around and stormed into the hallway.

The Doctor was left to process her strong sting until he remembered Lena was still there. She was gazing at him sympathetically, and perhaps sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry about her," Lena felt compelled to apologize on behalf of her sister. Despite not knowing what Avalon was talking about, it clearly hurt the Doctor a lot. "When she's angry she'll say anything to win. Once she's cooled off she'll realize how insensitive she was. I'm not excusing her, I'm just telling you what's going to happen...in case you don't want to forgive her for that."

A brief smile appeared on the Doctor's face. "Please," his sarcastic tone pretty much stated he would always forgive Avalon. "Ava is Ava and that's who she needs to be...who I want her to be."

Lena nodded and did patiently wait for him to finish that sentence but when he didn't, she did. "Because you like her. A lot." For once, Lena was satisfied to be the one who left the Doctor speechless. She didn't have a lot moments like those. "I've always known, big brother," she shrugged. "Just like I've always known where my sister's feelings lie. That's why you're so upset with each other, right?"

"Baby sister, I really think this is not the time to discuss such matters. We have Amy and her baby to find," the Doctor turned to the console. They were about to finally land where Amy was and that required all of his attention.

Lena sighed but gave a nod of her head. "But are you sure you're going to be able to concentrate?"

"Oh, I'm not worried about me," the Doctor said, clearly lying but there was something else he was thinking about it. "I'm worried about you considering you're going to be stuck in here with Avalon."

Lena laughed softly. "Well, the Sapling will be here with me too."

"Oh, he's just as angry as his mother," the Doctor shook his head. The Sapling had gotten both his and Avalon's anger and that was a very poor combination. He might self combust if he didn't calm down soon.

"I'll be okay with them, but to be honest..." Lena tilted her head to the side, "I don't know how long Avalon is going to last in here. She's kind of like you. Staying still isn't for her, much less when someone she loves is in danger."

The Doctor solemnly nodded. He knew that too, which was why he needed to work fast.

~ 0 ~

Madame Kovarian was an astute woman, not to mention an incredible actress. Her base was being overran by the Doctor and his army that foolishly thought they were winning. All she had to do was pretend to be afraid that her plan was going to ruins.

"I need to get off this station," she ordered the nearest soldier with her. "Bring me the child and prepare the Silence."

"Yes, ma'am," the soldier nodded and went off with another soldier to retrieve the infant.

"Ma'am, the Silence?" another of the soldiers reluctantly asked. None of the soldiers - none of the army for that matter - were that happy with Kovarian's decision to work with the Silence. From the very beginning they felt like the Silence would do whatever they wanted, dismissing Kovarian's orders. For the record, they hadn't yet, but no one trusted those creatures. Who could trust a creature they couldn't remember?

After they'd been killed off on Earth - yet another warning from their Colonel to keep their eyes peeled when it came to the Doctor - everyone figured Kovarian was done with the Silence. After all, they'd done their part in the job. They cared for the child while she grew up. They were supposed to be over now.

"They're not done here," Kovarian rounded into a new hallway, quickening her pace each time she heard a different bullet downstairs. "The Silence has yet to retrieve the girl for me."

"But we have the child, ma'am," the soldier insisted, briefly exchanging glances with his other comrades. They were all just as nervous. "The infant. Isn't that what we needed?"

"Yes, but I want the other one too," Kovarian said and finally stopped in front of the airlock that would bring her to her own private ship. She turned around and prepared to wait for the infant to be handed over. "I cannot leave with just one."

"So the Silence are still here, then?" the soldier, just like the rest, started looking around with nervous eyes.

Kovarian smirked. "They never left. They will do the other job and bring me the girl. All we have to do now is wait. And watch." Her smirk widened at the thought of what was coming. "Watch how the Doctor will 'win' before he truly falls."

~ 0 ~

"This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong!" Avalon shouted at the TARDIS monitor as if the people on the other side of the screen could hear. Her hand was gripping the console in utter fury.

"Avalon, stop that," Lena scolded her sister and had to physically pry Avalon's hands off the console.

"Mother, I've never seen your face get so red!" the Sapling said and because Avalon caught his fearful face, she calmed down a bit.

"Sorry," she apologized and exhaled heavily. "I just...I should be out there! I should be helping!"

"Yeah, me too," the Sapling folded his arms and pouted like only a child would. "I can literally grow up like a giant and Father still didn't let me go out!"

"First of all, you're a child," Lena wagged a finger at him. "And second of all, Avalon, you know they're just trying to help and I think you were fairly rude to the Doctor. In fact, you were horrible to him." Avalon rolled her eyes but even as she looked away, Lena could see the guilt on her face. "I don't know what the hell you were talking about in the end, but I know that really hurt him."

Avalon's gaze slowly fell to the bright floor. Of course she knew she'd hurt him. That was the point. She turned back to the monitor and watched through their security feed the battle that was unfolding on the main bridge. The Doctor had disappeared after causing mass pandemonium. The strange part was that they'd lost visual on Kovarian too. She started switching through the security feed, watching Vastra the Silurian and her human wife Jenny basically kick soldiers' asses near the control room and in the next were several soldiers running down the hallway with a bassinet in hand.

"They have the baby!" she exclaimed.

Lena rushed to her sister's side, as did the Sapling, and saw the same thing Avalon had found. The bassinet bounced with each step the soldiers too. "We have to let them know!" Lena said.

Avalon moved along the console with natural speed, her fingers already knowing exactly which controls to use. Lena raised an eyebrow at her sister, her expression question enough.

"He finally taught me how to drive the TARDIS," Avalon answered quietly, momentarily pausing.

"Oh Avalon," Lena sighed. "You really have to control that tongue of yours."

Avalon blinked away the tears in her eyes and focused on getting through to someone. "Yeah, I know, I'm an outright bitch."

"I didn't say that-"

"You didn't have to," snapped Avalon, but not necessarily at her sister. It was information she already knew based on everything she had lived before coming to the TARDIS.

"Are you calling father?" the Sapling trailed after his mother, nonethewiser of the conversation around him.

"I'm trying but as usual he's not answering," Avalon groaned. "Maybe he should have a cellphone or something! Nobody's answering! Lena!" Lena flinched at the sudden call of her name. "Watch the monitor! Tell me what's going on!"

"Right!" Lena hurried back to the monitor and started going through each camera. "Uh, well, I see Rory! He's gone off with someone else in the hallway! Oh! Vastra and Jenny have gotten into the control room! Ah! Those monk things - they've nearly taken care of an entire room! Don't look Sapling." She ushered the Sapling away from the monitor. "Avalon, they brought the bassinet to Kovarian!"

"They did what!?" Avalon screeched. "That's it! I'm going out there!"

"No you can't!"

"The Doctor can yell at me all he wants - I deserve it, I know, but it's a baby! And more importantly, it's Amy's and Rory's baby! I'm going to be good for once!" Avalon turned and dashed for the doors.

"Avalon, please don't!" Lena went after her but Avalon yanked open the doors.

"Just stay inside, Lena. You and the Sapling will be just fine in here!" Avalon smiled at her sister and child before running out.

"Oh God, my big brother's going to be very crossed with me," Lena hurried for the monitor in hopes of finding where the Doctor was at the moment. She kept going through tabs again until a Silence popped on her screen. She yelped and stumbled back as if the creature would come out from the screen. "Not you again, definitely not you again..."

'I know you can see me, Reynolds,' the fact it was actually talking to her made her yelp again. 'You have come to us just like you're meant to. Now you will come with us. Tick, tock..."

"Aunt Lena, he looks like the Scream," the Sapling had moved over to the monitor but as soon as he did Lena pushed him away.

"No, you stay there! And listen to me, Sapling, because right now you're the only one who's going to remember. You can't see him which means he can't affect you. Remind me that I saw him, and that he's threatening to take my sister."

"But how do you know he's talking about Mother?"

"Because it's always about my sister," Lena regrettably said. "I don't know what it is about my sister but there's always something threatening her, like-like she's just destined to be. Just remind me, okay? Remind me when I look away. We need to find the Doctor."

The Sapling nodded.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor had made his way to the control room where Vastra, Jenny and another old friend(ish) Dorium were in. They were so close to finally getting the hell out of that place, but he had to admit the dark satisfaction he felt knowing that the entire was but one step away from crumbling into nothing.

He sat in front of the controls and turned his chair just as Strax the Sontaran brought in Colonel Mantel, the leader of the army they'd basically destroyed and were now mere stragglers. "Sorry, Colonel Manton, I lied. Three minutes, 42 seconds."

"Colonel Manton, you will give the order for your men to withdraw," Strax ordered.

"No. Colonel Manton... I want you to tell your men to run away," the Doctor told the man instead.

"You...what?" Manton raised an eyebrow, not quite following.

"Those words. Run away. I want you to be famous for those exact words. I want people to call you Colonel Run-Away. I want children laughing outside your door, cos they've found the house of Colonel Run-Away," he stood up and pointed at him, "And, when people come to you, and ask if trying to get to me through the people I love... is in any way a good idea... I want you to tell them your name. Oh, look! I'm angry. That's new-" his voice hardened, as did his eyes. He walked up to the man and looked him in the eyes, his lips curling into a smirk when the Colonel visibly gulped. "I'm really not sure what's going to happen now."

Two more Silurians walked into the control room and with them came Kovarian. Despite her situation, she didn't seem that upset. "The anger of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules," she had the foul decency to speak.

The Doctor slowly looked back at her. He forgot about the Colonel and moved onto her instead. "Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many."

Kovarian glanced at Manton calmly. "Give the order," she surprised everyone in the room with that statement, "Give the order Colonel Run-Away."

~ 0 ~

Amy was surprised as she heard a knocking on the door. She was pretty nervous given what was going on downstairs. Quickly, she tried to find something to use for protection, "Who's that? Who's there?" she called and picked up a thermometer, eyeing it with hesitation, "You watch it, cos I'm armed and really dangerous and...cross!" Of course once she heard Rory's voice she froze, wondering if it was truly him. "Rory?"

"Yeah, it's me!" he called back, "Hang on a minute."

"They took her. Rory, they took our baby away," she explained with shame, feeling like it was her fault her baby had been taken away. She should have fought stronger for her daughter.

But the doors slid open to reveal Rory holding Melody in his arms. "Now, Mrs Williams...that is never, ever going to happen."

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God," Amy dashed for him and Melody. She took her daughter into her arms and quickly checked her for any visible injury. "Where's she been, what have they done to her..."

"She's fine. Amy, she's fine. I checked," Rory promised her. As soon as he had his daughter in arms, he made sure that she was safe and clear of any mark. He didn't want to let her go until he was with Amy. "She's beautiful. Oh God, I was going to be cool. I wanted to be cool. Look at me." The tears just kept pooling in his eyes.

Amy laughed at him but she was crying too. "Crying Roman with a baby, definitely cool. Come here, you!" she grabbed him with her free arm and kissed him.

The Doctor had found the room but not with a pretty view. "Ugh, kissing and crying, I'll be back in a bit."

"Oi, you," Rory snapped his fingers at him. "Get in here, now." The Doctor shrugged and happily came into the room. "My daughter. What do you think?"

The baby could barely blink at him but she did squeal, although he didn't think it was for her. She was just happy to see people that weren't so mean to her mother.

"Hello. Hello, baby," the Doctor waved at the baby girl.

"Melody," Amy cut in.

"Melody! Hello, Melody Pond! "

"Melody Williams," Rory was getting tired of the name switches.

"..is a geography teacher," Amy shook her head, "Melody Pond is a superhero!"

The Doctor leaned over to listen as Melody gurgled, "Well, yes, I suppose she does smell nice. Never really sniffed her, maybe I should give it a go. Amelia Pond, c'mere!" he hugged the new mother.

"Doctor!" she exclaimed.

"I'm sorry we were so long."

"It's OK, I knew you were coming. All of you," Amy smiled but her eyes did search behind the two men. "Well, where's Avalon? She needs to meet my daughter. She's got a lot of singing to do cos this one-" she nodded to Melody, "-likes the singing!"

"Um, Avalon's a bit indisposed right now," the Doctor's eyes flickered to the side. "Actually, I was thinking of letting her burn this place down afterwards and see if that'll cool her down."

Amy arched an eyebrow at him but since he was looking at her now, she turned her attention to Rory. "What did you two do?" she assumed they were both in on it, otherwise Rory would be upset.

"The necessary," Rory answered without hesitation. He stood by all the choices they'd made so far. "Avalon's going to be safe."

"Doctor! Take a look," Vastra entered the room, "They're leaving," and she pointed at the large glass window on the side of the room, "Demons Run is ours without a drop of blood spilled. My friend, you have never risen higher!" she cheered while the Doctor looked out and saw the army leaving the base.

Though behind him, Rory swallowed hard when he remembered River's words earlier.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor had made a hasty return to the control room, along with Vastra, when he heard Lena's voice frantically calling through the speakers. When the hell did Lena get out of the TARDIS? And if she was out of the TARDIS then Avalon...

"I'm so sorry!" Lena practically cried to him when he reached the control room. "She just...she saw the soldiers taking the baby and she ran out to help!"

"Course she would," the Doctor rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay, okay, it's fine because..." he laughed nervously, "The soldiers are leaving anyways and-and everything is safe. Everyone is safe. She is safe."

"Um, Doctor?" Dorium called from his seat. "I've hacked into the software. Wasn't very complicated given that I sold it to them. But I've, uh, I've found something interesting."

"More interesting than this entire place and plan of that woman's?" Lena asked, thinking it probably paled to everything they'd gone through so far. "And did you know there's Silence here? The Sapling told me that!"

"There are no Silence here, Lena," the Doctor said dismissively as he gazed at the screen.

"I thought that too but the Sapling was very adamant that I told him to remind me."

"Lena, let's focus on the plans here and then we'll see about the Silence."

Lena agreed but only because the Doctor already seemed so lost on whatever was on the screen. "So, what is it, then?"

"It's records about the child," Dorium replied. "They are very extensive."

"They've been scanning her since she was born and I think they found what they were looking for," Dorium pulled up a tab on the large screen with a DNA module.

"Human DNA," the Doctor assumed as he moved closer with Lena.

"Look closer," Vastra instructed, "Human plus. Specifically...human plus Time Lord."

"But that's..." Lena looked at the Doctor, "Did I get my biology wrong or..."

"She's human," the Doctor blinked, just as confused as Lena was. He didn't even know why they were having this conversation in the first place. "She's Amy and Rory's daughter."

"You told me about your people. They became what they did through prolonged exposure to the time vortex," Vastra reminded, "The untempered schism..."

"Over billions of years, it didn't just happen!"

"So how close is she? Could she even regenerate?"

"No, no! I don't think so..."

Vastra raised an eyebrow, "You don't sound so sure."

"Because I don't understand how this happened!" the Doctor snapped at her and looked back at the screen again with no clue in his mind. None of it made sense!

"Which leads me to ask... when did it happen?"

"When?" Lena raised an eyebrow, "Are you really asking that?"

"I'm afraid so," Vastra nodded.

"When?" the Doctor still hadn't caught up.

"I am trying to be delicate...I know how you can blush," Vastra pointed and Lena couldn't help but giggle, "When did this baby... begin?"

The Doctor's face did indeed flush at the question, "Oh, you mean..."

"Quite."

"Oh c'mon you guys, you're not really gonna sit here and try to pinpoint a time of conception...are you?" Lena looked between the two, almost laughing if the situation wasn't so dire.

"She's right," the Doctor pointed at her, "That's all human-y, private stuff, it just sort of...goes on. They don't put up a balloon, or anything."

"But could the child have begun on the TARDIS, in flight, in the vortex," Vastra began.

"No, no, impossible!" the Doctor cut her off, "It's all running about, sexy fish vampires and blowing up stuff. And Rory wasn't even there at the beginning. Then he was dead, then he didn't exist, then he was plastic. Then I had to reboot the whole universe...long story. So technically the first time they were on the TARDIS together, in this version of reality, was on their..." his eyes widened as the realization struck him.

"Oh..." Lena had also caught up on the date.

"On their what?" Vastra dreaded to ask.

"On their wedding night," the Doctor swallowed hard, "But that doesn't make sense! You can't just cook yourself a Time Lord."

"Of course not, but you gave them one hell of a start and they've been working very hard ever since."

"And they truly have," Dorium agreed before pulling up another screen. "Kovarian's team spreads through time and space, Doctor. They've been keeping record of somebody, alright. Take a look."

The screen page he had was full of a list of names, titles, for documents. Upon a closer look, they were discovered to be videos too.

"Big brother," Lena suddenly called, her voice frail with newfound fear, "Why do all of these have my sister's name on them?"

The Doctor had noticed that detail straightaway. He didn't answer the question as instead he practically pushed Dorium's chair away to take reign over the controls. He started scrolling through the page, finding it to be endlessly filled with different videos and documents. He got more frustrated the longer the list became. Finally, his finger accidentally clicked on one title.

Avalon was a teenager, perhaps fifteen or so, and she was in her school uniform. She was angry as hell - which was confirmation that this was truly Avalon - and raging to Rory about something. The audio wasn't very comprehensible but it was clear when she managed to make a dent against a street pole with her bare fist. The act froze Avalon, and Rory, in her spot. She brought her fist, which was turning purple fast, and then checked the pole to make sure it'd been her who did it.

"She was always so freakishly strong," Lena whispered, eyes fresh with tears as dread took her over.

"...as are some Time Lords," Vastra made her comment knowing the reaction she would get from the Doctor.

"Don't you even go there," he pointed a finger at her face, nearly poking one of her eyes out. "I won't hear such a stupid idea, such a-a completely insane idea!"

"You said the Silence had been after you and your friends for months," Vastra continued calmly despite having the wrath of the man radiating towards her. "Who's to say that they weren't after just one of you? They already had Amy..."

"But this is Avalon!"

"Precisely. What exactly are her medical records?" Vastra's eyes flickered to Lena for the answer.

"U-um, well...I don't know?" the woman meekly answered, shrugging her shoulders. "I mean...I never really saw them. But..." she hated where she was going with the conversation, "There is the fact that she's adopted."

"Really?" Vastra raised a scale-green eyebrow at the Doctor. The man refused to even entertain the idea, so he turned away. "Adopted?"

"Yeah," Lena nodded her head. "I mean, we don't know who her birth mother is and we're not entirely sure if my Dad is her Dad so..."

"There is a possibility that the child..." Vastra purposely didn't finish until the Doctor would finally give her the attention she needed.

"No!" he snapped at her and basically everyone in the room. "Absolutely not! Avalon is not a Time Lord! She's from New Earth! She's not - she's not their daughter! I think I would have noticed if I was carrying the whole family!"

"...but would you have, though?" Lena's meek question made him pause.

He was growing angrier by the second, but his anger wasn't exactly directed at them. It was more to himself. If this was real, and he had missed it...he would never forgive himself. "She can't be Melody because...because her name's not even Melody," he stuttered the answer as if he was now just trying to convince himself it wasn't real.

"Pull up her records, Dorium," Vastra commanded the blue alien. "The infant's and the woman's. If they are the same, Doctor, then this is most certainly not over. In fact, don't you think this was too easy?"

The Doctor's body nearly shook. He couldn't have missed this, no he couldn't have. His head was spiraling though with all the details he knew about Avalon, the ones he couldn't figure out back then.

Her insomnia?

Time Lords didn't need that much sleep. He went about a week or two without it. Avalon went days without it.

Time Lords had more strength than the average human. Avalon had always displayed her 'freakish' strength in situations. She wasn't in control of it sometimes but she always made a good show of it.

Time Lords' brains were far different than other species.

"I see things differently, I think differently, my brain is just...wired differently. And nobody seems to be able to catch up." Avalon had told him on the first day she came into the TARDIS that she felt like she was ahead of everyone else, and he didn't see it.

The wire. The wire in her brain that was connected differently, that set her apart from everyone else. Why could she remember things that nobody else could? Amy and Lena forgot about the Daleks and the 27 stolen planets, but Avalon didn't. It was in the back of her mind. Amy forgot about Rory after he was erased from existence, but Avalon was aware that she'd forgotten things.

"Big brother?" Lena cautiously touched his arm. He'd gone off in silence and little by little, the expression on his face changed. "What do you think?"

For a few seconds, everyone waited for him to answer.

She's outside of the TARDIS. His eyes zoomed to the door. 'In fact, don't you think this was too easy?' She was outside. And it was too easy.

"AVALON!" He erupted into terrified screams. He bolted out of the door and ran as fast as he could. "AVALON! AVALON!"

[unapologeticallyjaylos]

descendants halloween week - day 4

prompt: werewolf 

pairings: jay x carlos 

rating: T for references to abuse 

----

“Werewolves are the epitome of the duality of magic,” Fairy Godmother explained from the front of the room. “Can anyone tell me why?” When no one answered, she rapped her stick on the desk gently. “Students, let’s wake up, shall we? Chad, can you answer my question?”

Chad shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Uh - the full moon turns them into vicious creatures that will rip out your throat?”

“Very good,” Fairy Godmother nodded begrudgingly. “And how does that illustrate the double-edged sword that is magic?”

“The magic causes a transformation that is… dangerous. The beasts are violent, you know. They hurt people.”

Carlos listened to the exchange, his pencil pausing in its neat strokes across the paper. He enjoyed taking copious notes on the classroom discussions, but today, he was bothered by Chad’s comments. Chad wasn’t known for being especially kind, but his harsh generalization rubbed the freckled boy the wrong way.

“Mr. de Vil?” Fairy Godmother’s voice brought him back to the classroom. “You look confused? Do you not understand?”

Raising an eyebrow, Carlos resisted the urge to laugh. He understood their lessons perfectly fine - maybe better than most of the kids in the room. “No, I get what he’s saying,” he answered, twirling his pencil between his fingers. “I just think he’s wrong.”

If the rest of the class had been zoned out before, they were definitely awake now - their eyes flicking back and forth from Chad to Carlos. Even Fairy Godmother was staring at him like he was out of his mind.

“Wrong?” she marveled. “And why is that?”

“Because.” Carlos looked around the class. “I just think it’s wrong to say all werewolves are vicious. Have you met every single werewolf? Can you confirm that they all wish to destroy throats?”

Chad was staring at him now, looking almost disgusted. “Why would I ever want to meet a werewolf? They’re all violent. I told you; they’ve ripped throats out.”

If only you knew, Carlos thought, shaking his head. If only you knew who you were talking to.

------

“Boo!”

Carlos would’ve jumped if he hadn’t seen Chad sneaking up on him out of the corner of his eye. For some reason, the prince was dressed in a furry suit and gloves which made sneaking rather impossible on his part.  

“Come on, de Vil!” Chad called, still walking in stride with him. “Don’t you see my costume? I’m a werewolf!” He roared obnoxiously and pretended to claw at Carlos’ books.

“That’s not funny, Chad.” Jay appeared out of nowhere, coming around the corner. From his movements, Carlos figured he had about two seconds before his boyfriend shoved Chad into the lockers.

“Jay!” Carlos grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “Don’t. It’s all good. Jay! I’m serious! Lay off!”

Chad looked a little less smug now, eyeing Jay warily as he took a step back. The oversized fur gloves really did look ridiculous on him.  

“Isn’t he terrified of dogs?” Chad asked, narrowing his eyes. “A werewolf is basically a big, snarling dog, right?”

“Don’t you have four tardies this week already?” Carlos ignored his jab, pointing to the clock with one hand. “A fifth is detention, and Audrey is gonna kill you if you’re late to her cheerleading competition this afternoon to serve a preventable punishment”

Cursing under his breath, the Charming boy threw him one last dirty look and took off down the hallway - nearly slipping on the fur slippers as he went.

-------

“Chad is a moron.”

As consistent with their usual nightly routine, Jay and Carlos were sitting side by side on their dorm room couch playing video games. Carlos had triumphed over Jay three times so far that evening, and he was starting to think there was something on Jay’s mind: apparently, he’d guessed right.

“You’re still thinking about that?”

“Well, yeah!” Jay looked surprised. “Dude, why aren’t you more pressed about it? He’s completely -”

“- wrong,” Carlos nodded. “Yeah, babe, I know. I already told him that in class.”

“He’s just grossly uneducated,” Jay said hotly, tossing his controller down. “If he only knew -”

“But he doesn’t.” In the grand scheme of the world, what Chad Charming thought about him didn’t matter to Carlos. “He doesn’t know, and I’m okay with that. Let them think whatever they want; we know they’re wrong. All it takes is one counterexample and the whole theory is dissolved. Like my mother and her generalization about dogs.” To prove his point, Carlos stroked Dude - who was curled up in his lap comfortably - and smiled. “Not all of them are evil monsters.”

“You’re not an evil monster.” Jay leaned over and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, the warmth rushing up Carlos’ arms and neck.

“No, of course not,” Carlos joked softly. “Unless you steal my chocolate, in which case I might rip out your throat like he said.”

Lifting his finger, Jay gently touched it to Carlos’ lips, tracing them around and around. After a moment, Carlos parted his lips and let Jay feel the small fangs in his mouth.

“You’re not vicious.” Jay said it with so much conviction, so much passion, that Carlos felt himself flush. “Your mother was just… fucking stupid.”

“She wanted a puppy.” Carlos rubbed his arm with a sigh, trying to erase the chills that had sprung up at the thought of Cruella. Thrilled with the prospect of collecting enough magic to turn the horrid child of hers into something far more useful, his mother had failed to understand the workings of the barrier. The potion she’d requested from the Evil Queen didn’t hold enough potent, active magic to completely transform her son into the puppy she’d always desired (or rather, pre-coat skin); instead, he became a puppy only once a month - forever locked into the half-baked enchantment she’d forced down his throat as a baby.

“I love you. No matter what ‘you’ entails. Dog, boy… I love all of you, okay?”

Love. Carlos sucked in his breath. Jay had never told him that before. His eyes welled up and blood pounded in his ears.

“You… you do?”

Jay - looking almost nervous - managed a nod. “Yeah, Pup. I do. You might be a werepuppy, but you’re my werepuppy.”

In a sudden swelling of emotion, Carlos kissed Jay hard on the mouth. He couldn’t help it; no one had ever expressed anything close to adoration for him. For a long time, he had no idea what he’d been missing. But now? Now he knew - or was starting to, at least. Every single time Jay looked at him, his dark eyes shone with something wild and loving, reckless and perfectly sweet.

And as Carlos finally pulled back to catch his breath, he whispered it back - low and breathless:

“I love you, too.”

[alagaesia-headcanons]

Morzan AU 2: Electric Boogaloo

(I know this is late, but I almost doubled my word count from what I had when I thought I was almost done, lol)

(Also, this is so long I posted it on AO3 here. Read it there if you want to.)

Guys... if you think that one Morzan redemption au is the only one I have... I’m bout to show you what’s what.

And guess what?????? ROLE SWAP AU! LET’S GO!!

This AU follows canon up until Murtagh’s birth. Like last time, for the sake of this AU I’ll specify that Morzan wasn’t the one who killed the first Saphira.

-

The news of Selena’s pregnancy brings Morzan no joy. He doesn’t believe in happy families. He puts no faith in family at all. To learn that he’s being forced into one he never wanted is... less than thrilling.

His mother resented him from the moment he was born and did all she could to get him out of her hair. He would say that she raised him alone, if not for the fact that she barely raised him at all. Her affection was miserable and her punishments harsh, but she taught him one invaluable lesson: the world is cruel.

All those kids he trained with, Brom and the rest, with parents who visited them and spoiled them, were all full of shit. They were faking it. They just pretended they weren’t fucked up like he was so they could feel better about themselves. So they could look down on him.

Morzan’s aware, in some suppressed part of his mind, that with this mentality, he’s shaping up to be just as terrible of a parent to his unborn child as his mother was to him. But whenever that thought worms its way back into his mind, he pulls open a new bottle of wine to drown it away again.

Selena’s not much better. She had taken to Morzan’s missions with a fervor, and she resents the child for forcing her to give them up. She itches to return to her work in service to the Empire and grows more and more irritable every day.

Arguments between Morzan and Selena grow more frequent and more dangerous. Their relationship, unhealthy on its best days, frays thinner than ever. The serving staff desperately attempt to stay out of their way; it seems like every other day one of them is on a warpath. By the time the baby is almost due, the tension has mounted to near unbearable.

Morzan stays as far away from the labor room as he can. He drinks through the whole birth. His hand shakes as he raises the goblet to his lips and he will never admit, not even to himself, how afraid he is. He’s not ready for this. He’ll never be ready for this.

By the time his child comes into the world, Morzan’s blacked out.

The next day, he puts off seeing the baby for as long as he can under the excuse of tending to his hangover. When he finally goes to the nursery in the late afternoon he finds Selena resting in bed and the baby in the arms of a nursemaid seated in the corner. He’s startled to see her, he thought that Selena would want to nurse her own child for at least the first day. Though, once he sees it, he can’t fathom why he thought she’d be interested.

He makes his way to the corner, ignoring a biting comment from Selena about his tardiness. The nursemaid offers him the baby, sleeping peacefully, but he stirs when Morzan lifts him into his arms.

He squirms and swings a chubby arm into Morzan’s face. He grabs the offending limb to push it aside, but the sight of his tiny, delicate hand in the grasp of his thick, calloused fingers freezes him in place. A heavy weight seems to settle on his shoulders. An unexpected sense of responsibility goes through him as he realizes how easily he could hurt this child, how fragile it is.

A playful squeal shakes him from his thoughts and for the first time Morzan meets the big gray eyes of his son. Something tugs in his heart that he’s not sure he ever knew was there. Without thinking, he lifts a hand to brush his finger over his little nose and smiles when his face scrunches up. He burbles and catches his finger with a clumsy hand and tugs. Morzan lets him hold on as he studies his baby with fascination for another minute.

Then he squeezes his eyes closed and starts to cry and Morzan abruptly feels extremely guilty. The nursemaid tells him he’s probably hungry and he lets her pry him out of his arms with surprising reluctance. He stares a moment longer then turns and walks out as fast as he can, feeling even less sure of himself than when he’d entered.

The next day, Selena announces that she will be leaving in a few days. As soon as she regains her strength to use her magic, she intends to leave on her next mission. Morzan barely stops himself from gaping at her. How can she possibly focus on that? He’s been so distracted he couldn’t even sleep last night! 

Morzan had picked over his food and, for the first time in a long while, barely sipped at his wine. He readied for bed, mind fully occupied by those moments with his son. He stood hovering at his bedside for a long time before abruptly striding out of the room.

When he had picked the child up that time, he didn’t wake and continued to doze in Morzan’s arms. He held him for several minutes, examining his indistinct features and stroking his little hand with a thumb, until his pride would allow it for no longer. He handed him back to the nursemaid and realized he knew nothing about her. He had nothing to do with her selection and now he regretted it. With a cold glare, he threatened her extensively should she ever let harm befall him until he was satisfied with her terror. He left.

But when he finally settled into bed, he found no rest. It was as if he’d left his mind behind in the nursery and it couldn’t move anywhere else. He tossed back and forth restlessly, head filled with thoughts of the baby and heart filled with emotions he didn’t understand. To be frank, he didn’t want to. This single day had thrown everything he’d felt for the past eighty or so years into disarray. He hoped this was some sort of fluke, that tomorrow, he’d wake up feeling the same as he always did and things would return to normal.

They do not. Morzan continues his unusual behavior, surprising everyone, including himself, up until Selena’s departure. Morzan watches silently as Selena packs her belongings for this latest, bloody outing, arguments building on the horizon like storm clouds. For once, instead of breaching them, Selena just says, “I’ll be back in a fortnight. You’ll look after the baby?” “Of course!” Morzan barks, a moment before he realizes her tone was condescending and mocking.

Her eyes widen at his response then she snorts at him. Morzan scowls and spits, “I do what I want, woman,” although, he doesn’t quite know what he wants right now. Or maybe he does know and just doesn’t want to admit it because, after Selena leaves, Morzan’s feet carry him back to the nursery.

The staff are confused, even wary, at the sudden changes in the head of the household. They shy away, almost suspecting some sort of farce. All of them notice, including the old gardener in the one room cabin on the grounds.

Brom’s first several years disguised at Morzan’s manor were much the same. Eavesdrop on the staff, spy on the Black Hand’s outings, watch Morzan drink himself near to death every couple weeks. It was routine. All these things surrounding Murtagh... he wasn’t counting on this.

He sees the first time Morzan brings him outside, up on a balcony overlooking the gardens. He has little Murtagh hoisted in his arms and his eyes go wide as he brings him out into the great wide world. Brom’s too far to hear his words, but his look of fondness while he murmurs to his son is one Brom never thought to see on Morzan’s face. When Murtagh starts to cry after a while, Morzan gently brings him back inside and Brom realizes his jaw is hanging open.

He’s there about a month later when a commotion breaks out around the side of the castle. When he wanders around, he finds Morzan bellowing at a carriage driver and a few work hands that had arrived. They bow and scrape but Morzan doesn’t stop shouting until he’s chased them away. Only as Brom watches the retreating carriage does he realize that it was the regular delivery of wine, which Morzan would have rather killed than go without. At least, he would have before...

(This one concerns him. He’s built a good disguise, but he also counts on Morzan’s perpetual drunkenness to keep him from being recognized.)

He watches as Morzan and Selena storm onto the balcony of their room, arguing explosively one night. Morzan has Murtagh, crying, tucked against his chest and Selena keeps gesturing to him as she shouts. After a time, she lunges forward and grabs at Murtagh and Morzan jerks back. Murtagh starts wailing louder than ever. A painful moment passes where Selena glares and Morzan gapes, then he whirls back inside. Brom cranes his neck futilely to see inside, and wonders if the child was hurt.

He sees Morzan introduce him to his dragon for the first time in the enormous courtyard in the grounds. Murtagh squeals with glee and reaches his little arms out as far as he can. Morzan lifts him up and the great red beast lowers his head to meet him. Murtagh wraps his arms around the small span of his snout that he can muster until the dragon gently pulls back. Despite Murtagh’s obvious joy, Brom sees sorrow in Morzan’s eyes as he beholds his mindless partner.

He’s there when Morzan brings him out into the garden, holding his hands as he totters along. He laughs as he chases after butterflies and encourages him to befriend the garden cats. But Brom also sees his glances up at the balcony when Murtagh’s back is turned and sees his apprehension. He wonders what Selena’s relationship with her son is like.

He knows when Morzan’s resolve fails and he descends into the cellars because he finds him passed out, breath stinking of wine, on one of the benches outside to avoid bumping into Murtagh in that state. With his face relaxed, Morzan looks more human than Brom has ever cared to see. One especially cold night, Brom brings out a blanket and lays it over him without stopping to consider the gesture.

He watches when Morzan returns from one of Galbatorix's missions and heads straight for his son. Murtagh shouts and runs to him the moment he sees and Morzan sweeps him up in his arms. He showers him in kisses as he giggles and squirms and he tells him how much he missed him.

And he wakes up in the middle of the night one night when he hears a knock on his door.

His heart rate spikes when he opens the door to find Morzan, but before he can react, he's grabbed his chin and tilted his head back. Brom manages a "Can I help you?" but when Morzan continues to turn his head to examine his features, he knows the jig is up.

Morzan's voice is surprisingly calm when he says, "Hell, it really is you. How long have you been living here, right under my nose?" There’s a pause, and Brom nearly bites out a caustic response when Morzan says, “Gods, I was terrible to you. I should have treated you better. I should have never left you to join that rabid traitor. I’m sorry.” He releases him gently.

Of all the things Brom expected, an apology was the very last one. He takes a step back in shock, and Morzan takes it as an invitation to come in. “So you’re spying for the Varden, I imagine?” Brom regains his wits and snaps, “Do you expect me to tell me anything?!” “No, I suppose not...”

The silence lasts until, suddenly, Morzan is talking. He’s discussing Galbatorix’s most recent plans, the Varden outposts they’re aware of, the mission Selena is planning next, and more. Brom just stares as he divulges this veritable treasure trove of information; he would be salivating if he didn’t feel so suspicious.

When Morzan finally trails off, Brom asks, “Why would you tell me any of that?”

“Because I was wrong. And damn me, it took nearly a century to realize it, but I was wrong the whole time. Everything Galbatorix has done has made things bad and worse and nothing makes up for it. Not the power I gained, not the grudges I settled... None of it was worth it. You were right all along but I never bothered to stop and see it. Maybe I can make it up to you, even just slightly.”

“And Murtagh?” Morzan sighs sadly. “I know that if anyone can make a better world for him, it’s you. God knows I’ve just fucked everything up. But I’ll do what I can now.” “You’ve changed enough?” “For the first time in... ever, I’ve realized the value that life has. How special it is. Yes, my Name’s changed; he’s changed it.”

Then Morzan swears in the ancient language that all the information he gave was true and Brom’s opinion of him, which had been in limbo for months, snaps into something like respect. So they settle into an agreement where Morzan will report to him and Brom will send his information on to the Varden.

It’s a precarious and dangerous game when surrounded by such dangerous and intelligent people as Selena and Galbatorix, but Morzan manages to hide his shift in allegiance. Luckily, it’s not terribly difficult to sneak out of the manor, considering how often Selena is away on her missions. So, some nights, Morzan goes out into the ground to discuss matters with Brom in the little, one room cabin.

At first, their relationship is completely professional, they go over the matters that they need to, then go on their way. But it doesn’t stay that way. For one thing, it has been a very long time since Brom could converse with someone who knew who he was, and he can’t help but give into the temptation to tell Morzan about his experiences, to complain, banter, and laugh.

(After one cheeky complaint about living with Morzan’s miserable pay grade, Morzan actually does give him a raise. In fact, he gives all his staff a raise. He claims that it would be too suspicious to give it to Brom alone, but Brom sees it for the kind gesture it is.)

Morzan, for one, relishes in finally having someone he can brag about his son to. He’ll talk about Murtagh for as long as Brom will tolerate it, which is actually quite long because he finds it sweet (though he won’t admit it). Even after witnessing everything that he has, it’s these late night conversations that really reveal to him the true scope of change Murtagh has inspired in him. It’s a strange feeling to observe the man he could have been all those years.

At first, Brom is bitter, thinking it unfair that Morzan has only changed now, after so long, after so much damage had already been done. But he can’t ignore how hard he tries- he sees it every time- how much Morzan wants to make it worth it now that it’s happened. It’s in the back of both of their minds, that it might be too late now to make a difference. Morzan does everything he can to prove that wrong.

In the end, Brom chooses to focus on who he is now. He can’t change what happened in the past anymore than Morzan can, but he can aid him now. He can report his news to the Varden, he can deflect probing questions from the rest of the staff, and he can hold his hand when he chokes up as he talks about his dragon.

He helps Morzan help himself, and just maybe, it might ease some of the burden long resting on his heart as well.

The atmosphere between then starts to pick up strain each night they meet, until one night, when they remain after having discussed the tactical and the not so tactical. The uncomfortable silence lasts until Brom finally snaps, “Well are you going to kiss me or not?” Morzan frowns, “Do you want me to?” and that settles it. The old Morzan would have never asked, just taken what he wanted, so the fact that he asks now... Brom kisses him himself.

After a time, Brom mutters, “Damn you... Damn you for pulling me back into this, after so long...” Morzan pulls back. “You’re the one who kissed me.” “I know.” And he kisses him again.

Returning to his and Selena’s bed gets harder after that. The nights that she’s there are few enough, but she’s a cold, hard woman. His betrayal only adds to his stress and his paranoia keeps him from sleeping soundly with her at his side. He’s afraid he’ll wake up one morning with his throat slashed.

Increasing arguments don’t help either. They both fight frequently over how to raise Murtagh. Selena cares little for his tender age or childhood. She scorns his love of playing outside and his budding interest in the dusty, old piano. Whenever she catches Morzan playing with him or doing a project with him or telling him fantastical tales, she rages that he should be starting classes: learning about history, politics, and strategy.

Morzan tries to shield little Murtagh from all this as much as he can, but he can only do so much. Inevitably, Murtagh will seek out Selena on his own without Morzan there to defend him. He longs after the love and approval of his mother. The results of these exchanges are always fruitless and sad. Sometimes even dangerous.

When Murtagh is learning his letters, he gets distracted making a classic child’s illustration of his family. Wobbly stick figures made with an unsteady hand, wide smiles, scribbled hair, and splatters of ink from overly enthusiastic dips into the inkwell. He presents it proudly to Morzan who smiles at the rendition of the two of them holding hands. Murtagh even took care to draw Morzan’s blue eye as an open circle and his black eye filled in. But his heart sinks when he sees Selena’s smile, and then lower when he sees the vague, dragon shape clearly meant to be his partner.

He would have loved him, he thinks.

But Morzan still kisses him and tells him how proud he is and suggests he put the picture up in his room. Selena wouldn’t like it in theirs. It leaves his mind until Murtagh pulls out the parchment again at dinner. Before Morzan can stop him, he’s presented the drawing to his mother and waits with a painfully hopeful expression. The air goes cold as Selena examines it for a long minute. Then, detached as stone, she folds it, stands, and ignites it over one of the candles.

She looks over at Murtagh’s pained gasp and glares. “You should be focusing on your studies, not this trivial foolishness. Your absentmindedness is a disappointment.” Her voice is like ice. Murtagh sniffles. “Don’t you dare start crying. You need to stop acting like a child.” She manhandles him back into his chair. “Now you will stay there, silent, until you finish your meal. If you start bawling, I swear, I will spank you sore.”

This immediately alarms Morzan. He’d never know her to hit him. But the way that Murtagh flinches at the words assures him that he intimately understands that threat. Inevitably, there were times when Selena was at the estate when Morzan wasn’t and it seems that Morzan’s fears about them were justified. Yet, he keeps his mouth shut at the moment for Murtagh’s sake; another argument right now would likely be at his expense.

The moment Murtagh finishes his meal, however, Morzan rises to escort him back to his room. Once there, he starts sobbing into Morzan’s arms, barely able to articulate his grief over the burned drawing. After a while, Murtagh looks up and whimpers, “Why doesn’t she love me?” and Morzan’s heart just stops. Because how can he answer that? How can he tell him that his mother is cruel, cold, simply doesn’t care about him? How can he break his heart like that?

After a long hesitation, Morzan just tells him that there is more than enough love in his own heart for him, and whenever Murtagh needs it, he’ll be there. It feels woefully inadequate, but Morzan doesn’t know what else to do. He squeezes himself into Murtagh’s child sized bed to comfort him as he sleeps that night without bringing him to his own bed with Selena. He manages to coax Murtagh into making a new drawing the next day by making one with him. This cheers Murtagh significantly, but the incident remains in their memories.

Similar incidents continue to occur until the situation comes to a head violently one night.

Morzan has just returned from a mission from Galbatorix that he did his best to undermine without being too obvious. It was exceedingly difficult, however, and when Morzan finally returns, he wants nothing more than a hot meal and a long sleep. Unfortunately, the king had more plans that needed immediate discussing with Selena, meaning he would get no rest any time soon. The two of them storm into the library, then seal it shut, arguing ferociously. Selena, naturally, has come up with the most ruthless and brutally efficient way to carry out Galbatorix’s will, while Morzan tries to steer the plans in a direction less harmful to the Varden.

They spend several minutes in hot debate when a clatter behind them has them whirling around and drawing their weapons. Morzan sees Murtagh trip over the corner of a bookshelf he had been creeping around, a children’s book peeking through its place clutched in his arms. But before Morzan’s muscles even have the chance to relax, he hears Selena shout, “Kverst!” and he can only watch in horror as the blow takes him full across the back, cleaving him from hip to shoulder.

With Murtagh’s scream still ringing in his ears, he roars, “What have you done?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

“He was eavesdropping! If this information gets out, it could damage the Empire! He needs to be-” Morzan doesn’t wait to hear the rest. He scoops up his son and flees the room. Once he considers them far enough, he sets Murtagh on the ground and starts to heal him. He barely makes any progress before he has to stop, hands shaking as they go cold.

He had expended enormous amounts of energy on his mission and he had no chance to gain it back. His dragon had already gone to the hold to sleep, his energy also drained, so he couldn’t rely on his power. He would die before he could save Murtagh, Morzan realizes chillingly. So, with the last of his strength, he carries Murtagh outside, as far as he can before he collapses in the courtyard. And then he screams.

Morzan screams, cries, wails for help, his agonized keening splitting the night air. Desperately, despairingly, deafeningly, he begs and pleads. In less than a minute Brom is sprinting up, chest heaving, and stops dead at what he sees. Morzan, trembling over the broken body of his son, cheeks drenched in tears and hands drenched in blood. “Please, please, save him, save him-!”

Brom knows this could mean his end; this could expose him for who he truly is, but when Morzan shuffles back, revealing Murtagh crumpled on the ground, all his concerns evaporate. He kneels at his side and starts to heal him, his gedwey ignasia glowing faintly beneath the dye on his hand. He works with single minded focus, casting magic unfalteringly until he can do no more. When his hands start shaking like Morzan’s had, he pulls back, examining the wound.

The horrific thing is far from fully healed, but Murtagh’s chest rises and falls steadily and his life is out of danger. Morzan drops his head onto Brom’s shoulder and whispers, “Thank you... thank you...” sounding profoundly exhausted. “Of course,” Brom answers because it’s true. Despite his initial trepidation, he would never leave Murtagh and Morzan to suffer like that.

Soon though, Morzan lifts Murtagh and staggers back inside with him, leaving Brom alone in the courtyard. The couldn’t risk staying together like that. Brom is left to slowly pick himself off the blood stained cobblestones then make his way back to his cabin. Rest doesn’t come easily after all that.

For the next couple of weeks, Morzan doesn’t come out to see him. Instead, he stays with Murtagh, trying to aid and comfort him as he heals. It’s in these weeks that Brom is contacted about Jeod finding a passage into Uru’baen. Brom knows this requires his immediate attention, but it feels wrong to simply leave Morzan without a word. He lingers on packing as long as he can justify. Then, to his great pleasure, Morzan shows up at his door the last night he intends to stay.

Morzan begins by explaining the full situation with Selena and how Murtagh was injured. Apparently, he has finally managed to chase her away from the estate for the time being, though he doesn’t expect it to last long. Brom breathes a heavy sigh of relief when he tells him that Murtagh will recover, but his voice goes quiet as he says that the scar will stay with him for the rest of his life and that they don’t yet know how it might come to pain him. Brom pauses to examine his features and sees how exhausted and defeated he look. He meets his gaze and some of it eases.

“You saved him. You saved his life. I can never repay you for that.” “Maybe you can.” Brom goes on to explain that something arose that he needs to attend to, and that he has to leave. He leaves the details vague, not out of distrust, but out of fear for what Galbatorix could learn if he realizes Morzan’s betrayal. Morzan accepts his secrecy with an even nod. Then Brom asks, “What do you know about where the dragon eggs are kept?”

Morzan frowns. That’s a tricky topic. Even after being released from his oaths from his True Name changing, the location of the eggs is surrounded by so many wards to prevent its disclosure. After some trial and error, Morzan is able to make a crude map for Brom to see. It’s not perfect, especially considering how labyrinthine the citadel of Uru’baen is, but it serves.

Brom knows that Morzan has probably surmised much of their plans from the question alone, but he hopes it’s not enough for Galbatorix to stop them should he find out through Morzan. Besides, he had to take the risk. Better to ask now than to fumble through Uru’baen in search later. Morzan gives him a weak smile and says, “Stay safe. Don’t be reckless.” Brom smiles back. “You too. And keep him safe as well.” “Always”

They linger together a long time that night. A single goodbye kiss is not enough when they’re both aware they may never see each other again. So they kiss gently for a long time and doze lightly in each other’s arms. They rise a few hours before dawn, when Brom departs and Morzan returns to Murtagh.

When Galbatorix summons Morzan a month later, raging over the theft of one of the eggs, Morzan can barely keep a grin off his face, knowing Brom's plan must have succeeded. When the king sends him after it, though, that takes the edge off his happiness. He can't reclaim it, Brom has to get it to the Varden, but if he fails, Galbatorix would examine his mind to find out why. That would most certainly spell his torture and death. But there’s nothing he can do for now but obey, and if he dies in the end, so be it. He’s found something worth dying for.

Soon after he heads out, however, he’s made aware that Brom doesn’t have the egg at all. Apparently, the plan was only semi successful; the thief did manage to swipe an egg, but then he fled the Varden as well as the Empire. Brom is on the hunt just like he is. Learning this, Morzan commits himself to the search. The egg would do no good in the hands of a renegade. If he could capture it himself, he could turn it over to Brom and ensure its safety with the Varden.

The hunt seems to stretch endlessly. Month after exhausting month go by without capturing the dragon egg. Inevitably, over such a long span of time, Brom and Morzan cross paths occasionally. Jeod is more than suspicious about Morzan, but Brom manages to convince him of his good intentions. If nothing else, the tender look in Brom’s eyes when he talks about Morzan makes Jeod too empathetic to demand that they don’t meet. The encounters are fleeting but meaningful.

Seven long, desperate months pass until Brom, Jeod, and Morzan are able to corner the thief in Gil’ead. The resulting clash is chaotic and vicious. The thief, feral as a cornered wolf, fights with nothing in reserve and Empire soldiers attempt to interfere, unaware of Morzan’s true intentions. All this turns the battle into a roiling mass of confusion with deadly consequences.

A reckless and poorly thought out spell of Brom’s goes awry and hits Morzan’s dragon instead of the intended target. He dies instantly.

Morzan staggers to a halt, as if wounded, but before any of his enemies can take advantage of the situation, he goes savage. For a moment, Brom fears for his life, thinking that Morzan went mad like he did when Saphira died, but it quickly becomes clear that he kept his mind in his grief and rage. Fueled by that, Morzan manages to kill the thief and destroy the soldiers Brom had not already taken care of.

A profound silence falls then.

Brom slowly approaches where Morzan collapsed at the side of his dragon. He says his name softly and Morzan turns, head lowered, and sets the egg he had claimed from the thief on the ground in front of him. “I’m sorry,” Brom whispers, and when Morzan lifts his head, he sees tears streaming down his cheeks.

“He was already dead,” he chokes out. “He died when his Name, his mind, was destroyed, all those years ago.” His chest heaves. “He was already dead. I just- never had the courage to put him out of his misery myself.” He whispers, “It’s not your fault...” A long pause follows, then Morzan says, “Go. Take the egg. Leave me to mourn.”

Brom knows he’s right. He must bring the egg to the Varden immediately. After a brief deliberation, he leans forward to place one, short kiss on Morzan’s lips. He tastes the salt of his tears. “I’m sorry,” he says one more time. It’s the hardest thing Brom has done, to abandon that battlefield with the echoes of Morzan’s grief fading in the distance.

After long, uncounted hours, Morzan’s cloud of pain clears enough for him to consider his path now. Returning to the king would gain him nothing but pain. There is no returning to his life a turncloak spy anymore, not after what he’s done. If he is wise, he would flee the Empire and live alone, outside of civilized rule. But when Morzan rises, he looks West, not East.

It has been seven months since he’s seen Murtagh, the longest he’d ever been without his son. He knows that if he runs, Murtagh will be seized and raised by Galbatorix. The thought nauseates him. He remembers the first time he laid eyes on him and how delicate his hand looked within his own. He remembers how easily he could hurt him. Or perhaps... how well he could protect him. He leaves the body of his dragon with one final goodbye, then takes a horse from Gil’ead and races back to his castle.

Morzan isn’t sure whether he managed to return before the news of his betrayal, but Murtagh has not yet been taken to Uru’baen when he returns. He’s not sure he has ever heard better news. Except, perhaps, hearing that Selena is not there, in Uru’baen herself. Apparently, during his absence, the Black Hand took up doing missions directly from the king. This concerns him, but he has a different priority right now.

Murtagh follows his father gratefully a soon as he gets back. Dutifully restraining his questions, he settles in the saddle of a fresh horse in the stables, and they’re both off within the hour. The journey is arduous on account of Murtagh’s age, injury, and the limited stamina of the horse. Morzan pushes as hard as he dares. For what it’s worth, covering their tracks is much easier when traveling by horse as opposed to dragon, but that thought aches, so Morzan casts it aside.

Murtagh is subdued during their journey; he picks up on his father’s pain and anxiety. Although they have not seen their pursuers, they are most certainly out there. Without any Forsworn left to pursue them, the Ra’zac seem their most likely enemies. For better or for worse, Galbatorix already knew the location of the Varden, information Morzan was privy to, so he knows the way to Farthen Dur.

Morzan tries to assuage Murtagh’s fears when he noticed them, but it’s hard to do under the weight of his own stress. He hadn’t had the chance to recover from the loss of his partner either. The pain and paranoia keep building up inside him. One night, Murtagh approaches him cautiously and asks slowly, “Where is your dragon? Shouldn’t he be coming with us?” Morzan simply starts crying.

Morzan feels enormously guilty, revealing his vulnerability when Murtagh already feels so afraid, but suddenly Murtagh crawls into his lap and hugs him, murmuring, “It’s okay...” He continues to spill out little encouragements and Morzan easily recognizes that Murtagh’s just repeating what he himself has told him when he was upset, but it eases the pain in his heart. To know that his son, who he cares for immensely, cares about him in return, touches him. He knows, then, that even though it will take time, he will recover from all that has happened. He needs to, for Murtagh’s sake, for his dragon’s... and also for his own.

Returning Murtagh’s embrace, he declares how much he loves him, over and over, until they’re both giggling from the silliness of it. Giggles turn to shrieks as Morzan ambushes him with tickles as his tears dry on his cheeks. Morzan sleeps better that night than he had since Gil’ead.

The journey continues to take its toll, however. They see the Ra’zac for the first time the next day, mounted on the Lethrblaka far in the distant sky. They don’t seem to know their location, but their mere proximity causes their desperation to spike. Murtagh buries his head in his coat and Morzan hunches over him protectively. Their stops grow less and less frequent as Farthen Dur grows nearer.

One night in the valley leading to the mountain, this proves not enough. Luckily, from having to work with them for ages, Morzan knows more of the Ra’zac’s capabilities than most. He knows they’re undetectable by magic, so he sets up other precautions. And so, when Murtagh screams in the darkness, a single shout of “Brisingr!” has a huge, unlit bonfire flare to life instantaneously.

The Ra’zac shriek and cower in the sudden light. One drops Murtagh from where it tried to lift him from the ground and Morzan shoves him back, further from harm. With Zar’roc, Morzan, manages to wound that Ra’zac quite badly before it can recover from its shock. The other, however, launches an attack as soon as it regains its wits. The following contest is fast and savage. Only lightly armored, Morzan takes several blows before he can injure it enough to drive it away with its partner.

The only fortunate thing about the conflict is that the Ra’zac had to abandon the Lethrblaka to sneak up on them and would likely have to backtrack to them before they could follow them again. Pausing for nothing, including healing his own wounds, Morzan grabs Murtagh, mounts their horse, and takes off. He feels Murtagh shivering with fear in his arms, but they can stop for nothing now.

The final push is agony. The untreated wounds keep Morzan in constant pain. Their horse froths at the mouth and staggers with increasing frequency. Murtagh grows restless in his terror, squirming, trembling, and crying. All the while the Ra’zac creep closer and closer in the sky closing in on them, pinning them in this dead-end valley. Caving under panic and despair, when Morzan finally begins to think that he’s doomed them both to death with this desperate venture, Brom rides out of the undergrowth to meet them.

Morzan could weep. He’s never been so happy to see someone in his life. Brom’s talking rapidly, saying something about how he got a report that the Ra’zac had been sent on a hunt and were seen closing in on the valley and he had hoped it could be them, but Morzan barely listens. He’s beckoning them, saying something about a faster way to Tronjheim, as Morzan dismounts with Murtagh. He steps forward and Brom cuts off as he presses Murtagh into his arms. He takes him reflexively, but his jaw drops when Morzan steps back. “What...?”

“Please, take him. The Varden is the only place he can be safe now, you know that. Please, keep him safe. For me.” “But you-” “I can’t go with him! It would only put him in more danger! The Varden will never accept me, you know that. You know what they would do with me. He doesn’t need that. And there are many who would use him to get to me; I won’t put him at that risk! There’s nothing left for me... He has to go with you.”

Murtagh doesn’t understand everything he said, but his expression contorts in distress under the dawning realization that he intends to leave him. Murtagh starts to writhe in Brom arms, trying to escape, reaching out and calling for Morzan. Brom keeps him in place, and asks, “What will you do?” Morzan mutters, “Find some place to die, I suppose,” and when Brom sees the defeat in his eyes, his heart breaks.

Morzan takes two more steps back and Murtagh starts fight harder. Tears spill down his cheeks and he thrashes within Brom’s grasp as he starts to beg. “Please-! Please father, you can’t- please- DON’T LEAVE ME!” Brom can’t fathom how, but Morzan keeps their gazes locked despite Murtagh’s heart wrenching screams. "Promise me you'll do this. Promise me you'll protect him." "Of course, but you..." But Morzan has already looked down.

He strokes Murtagh's hair and kisses his forehead with a sad smile. Murtagh snatches his hand fiercely. "Be good, okay? Always remember that I love you." Then he pulls out of his grip despite Murtagh’s best efforts and another scream of “DON’T LEAVE ME!” Morzan turns away. He starts to readjust the saddle on his failing horse, but before he can mount, Brom snaps out of his daze and lunges at him. When he turns Brom fixes a twisted grip in the front of his shirt. Before Morzan can say anything, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” “Then trust me to protect both of you.” He thumps Morzan’s chest slightly with his fist and his eyes blaze. Morzan feels his throat close. “I promise,” Brom declares. Then his expression softens some, into something so painfully fond. “Besides... Your son does not deserve to grow up without his father who loves him so much.” Morzan only realizes the trap after he looks. When he meets Murtagh’s eyes, puffy and red with tears, his resolve fails. He clasps Brom hand over his chest. His lip trembles. “I’m trusting you.”

They reach Tronjheim through a side tunnel. There, Morzan finally has his injuries seen to, and Murtagh gets a well deserved nap.

Then comes the fallout. As Morzan predicted, Ajihad, the recently appointed leader of the Varden, wants him executed. For one thing, very, very few people knew that Morzan had betrayed the Empire to help the Varden, out of fear the information could be learned by a spy. So, the people of the Varden only know him from the crimes he committed in service to the Empire. They would all demand his head. The dwarf king causes another problem. Hrothgar has never loved the dragons or their Riders; he would never allow one of the Forsworn amnesty under Farthen Dur.

Ajihad argues all this and more to Brom over the following days. Morzan had been detained upon his entry to the city and Brom is left to argue his case. He points all the risks he had taken in the past years to inform on the Empire to the Varden, and how he had undermined his own tasks from Galbatorix to weaken the Empire. As the days drag on, he tries changing tactics, suggesting that, after everything he’s done for the Varden, including founding the damn group, that they owe him a debt. Has he not earned some trust and respect here?! Let him have this!

Nothing sways Ajihad. Brom can tell that he actually agrees with many of his arguments, yet he simply doesn’t find them enough. And so, on the last day Ajihad is willing to discuss this before arranging Morzan’s execution, Brom pulls out his trump card. He brings Murtagh.

Now, Brom has always known Murtagh to be a kind and gentle soul, so it shocks him when he starts with a tirade. Murtagh stands up in his chair and berates Ajihad for being mean and stupid. He tells him that he hates him and says a couple of words that Morzan would not have liked. Ajihad takes everything stoic as stone until Murtagh eventually runs out of steam and falls back into his chair.

Then he starts telling stories about his father, everything Morzan would do for him back at the manor, how he would play with him, tell him stories, teach him new things, how he would protect him from Selena, how he helped him when he was hurt, and everything else. As Murtagh shares all the reasons he loves Morzan (interspersed with some insults to Ajihad), Brom is reminded of how he felt watching the two of them after Murtagh was born. How he felt seeing Morzan’s change and the little boy that caused it.

It might not have worked if not for Nasuada. Murtagh reminds Ajihad of her. His daughter is a year younger, but they’re both fierce, loyal, and loving. As he thinks of her, he can’t bring himself to destroy the last family Murtagh has left, even if it is the most strategic thing to do. After a long suffering sigh, Ajihad declares that if he ever has reason to regret this, he’ll pin the entire thing on Brom’s head. “Deal,” Brom agrees immediately.

Ten minutes later, Morzan’s cell opens and he looks up to see Brom standing in the doorway with Murtagh riding on his shoulders. They both wear identical, wide, self satisfied grins. “Hey, guess what?” Brom says.

-

-

For my own sake, I’ll stop there. I’m not sure what I’d do with the rest of the au anyway.

It occurs to me that this could lead directly into a Eragon and Murtagh role swap as well, with Selena having conceived Eragon either with Morzan right before he took off after the egg or with some other man in Uru’baen. Eragon would be raised in the Empire and Murtagh in the Varden and when their dragons hatch, Eragon is the one enslaved, but that’s a whole nother beast. It could also follow more closely to canon with Murtagh eventually being kidnapped and taken to Galbatoix. I like the added angst levels of being forced to fight the people he grew up with, but I don’t know. This is already by far the longest post I’ve written.

Spare me.

[marril96]

Single White Witch

Chapter 1: Lost

Characters: Rowena, reader, Sam, OC

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: When Rowena gets kidnapped by an unhinged witch, you enlist Sam's help to rescue her.

Editor: @oswinthestrange

Rowena's head was throbbing as if someone had smashed it with a hammer. She felt hungover, as if she'd drunk a whole bottle of scotch and, light on her feet, sedated by the strong alcohol, passed out cold on a bench in a park.

Had she gotten drunk and passed out cold on a bench in a park?

No. That wasn't what happened. She hadn't been drinking. She didn't remember drinking anything other than tea in…

How long was it?

How long had she been out?

She tried to bring her hands to her head, wanted to massage her temples and rub her eyes, but for some reason her arms wouldn't move. She pulled, startlingly weak; whatever she was on, whatever was in her system, seeping through her veins like poison (for all she knew, it might as well have been poison) had numbed her down enough to drown out her strength. Something tightened around her wrist, bit painfully into her skin. Rope, she deducted. Or straps. Some kind of binding.

She was trapped.

Shivers ran through Rowena at the realization, fear cutting to the bone, to her very core. Her eyes snapped open, wide, confused, terrified. She was in what appeared to be a bedroom. There was a closet in one corner and a desk full with a computer and a printer in the other one. The walls were white and bright, freshly painted. On them hung pictures in elegant, expensive frames, the kind used for artworks of great, long-dead painters in galleries.

Pictures of her.

Rowena's blood ran cold as she took the sight in. There were various pictures of her, some drawn, some painted. The majority, though, were taken by what appeared to be a professional, high resolution camera.

She had never seen them before. Had never consented to them being taken. The moments they showed were private. Her smiling. Laughing. Fixing her hair. Flexing her muscles because you'd dared her to. Pouting at your teasing. Holding up a forefinger in your face, a mock threat. All happy, carefree times captured in secret from afar.

Times she'd spent with you, in a sea of many, many more similar ones, all equally happy, equally loving.

The pictures, though, only showed her. Whoever had taken them was obviously obsessed with her. Rowena loved attention, but this person's interest in her went way beyond normal. They were stalking her.

And now they had taken her.

She was on a double bed, head supported by a pillow. Her wrists and ankles were tied to the bed posts by leather belts wrapped surprisingly tightly — that, or she was still too weak from whatever had knocked her out. Her shoes were missing, and so was her jacket, leaving her in a silky shirt and dress pants. She supposed it could have been worse. The creep could have removed her pants.

She tried, once more, to pull her wrists and feet free, but to no avail. A frustrated snarl escaped her, deep and feral. Figures she would get herself in this mess. She couldn't go a month without getting in trouble.

How did she get here, anyway?

She'd been shopping. She remembered that clearly, the mall, big, swarming with people young and old, still fresh in her mind. She'd laid her bags on the backseat of her car, keys tight in her hand. There were three of them, she recalled. Each big and filled to the brim with newly bought clothes. The joys of fake, magically-enhanced credit cards. She was about to open the door and sit down at the driver's seat when…

What happened?

She… she saw someone.

Someone familiar.

Someone she never, on a million years, thought she'd see again.

She wasn't drunk or drugged, she realized. She was spelled. She hadn't had time to react before the hex bag was thrown and words of magic echoed in the empty parking lot, and suddenly everything was black.

The door creaked open, shaking Rowena back to the present. A woman entered the room, her mouth wide in a smile that made Rowena's stomach twist with unease. She was clad in jeans and a black T-shirt with Rowena's face printed on it. Her hair, long, dark, was tied up in a neat ponytail. She looked so plain, so human, so harmless.

Rowena knew she was trouble from the first time she saw her all those months ago. "Martha," she hissed, not even trying to hide the venom from her tone.

Martha flashed a wide, creepy grin. "You're awake!"

What gave her away was the hex bag. It was blue, the pastel shade not many witches would have chosen for their hex bags.

Martha Morgan wasn't like any other witch.

Fear ran deep in your bones, sharp like a razor, cutting you up from the inside with each breath you took, each new thought, worse than the last one, that formed in your mouth.

At first you'd paid no mind to Rowena's tardiness. It wasn't the first time — and certainly not the last — she was late from a shopping trip. Boutiques were one of her greatest weaknesses, second only to sales; if she had come across good deals, she would use them, even if it meant spending the entire day at the store, trying out identical dresses mere hues different in color. Sea green, mint green, teal, and turquoise were different colors, thank you very much.

But when the afternoon sun bled into twilight and there was still no sign of her, you got worried. She'd left early in the morning. Even if she had happened to come across a sale, she should have been back a while ago. She wouldn't have stayed out so late without at least a text message to let you know she was okay.

You'd tried calling her, but her phone seemed to be turned off. Your first clue that something was very, very wrong. Rowena's phone was always on. She knew you worried if you couldn't reach her, and she'd never make herself unavailable on purpose — not unless the two of you parted on bad terms. Today, you hadn't. Everything was fine. She'd even promised to get you something if she thought it would be to your liking.

She wouldn't purposely ignore you. Wouldn't worry you for no reason.

Something wasn't right.

Your suspicions were confirmed when the cab dropped you off at the mall and you rushed into the filled-to-the-brim-with-vehicles, people-empty parking lot. Rowena's Porsche was unlocked. The keys were laid on the driver's seat as if tossed. As if dropped. There were three large shopping bags in the backseat, each a different color with brand lettering in the front. Rowena's favorite stores.

And on the ground, just beside the front wheel, was a baby blue hex bag.

Martha's signature.

Rowena was nowhere in sight.

As soon as you saw the offending object, you dialed Sam's number and, doing your best (and failing) to keep the hysterics out of your tone, begged him to come over. "Rowena's been kidnapped," was enough for him to promise to be right there.

Not an hour later, your doorbell rang.

"What happened?" Sam inquired.

You were shaking, tears falling freely down your face no matter how hard you tried to hold them back.

"She took Rowena," you whimpered. "She took her, Sam!"

"Who?" the hunter asked. You shook your head frantically, trying to chase the bad thoughts away; thoughts of that woman's nasty hands on your girl, doing things you weren't sure you wanted to imagine. Sam laid a hand on your shoulder, a firm but soothing gesture. Kind. Friendly. "Hey, it's okay. It's gonna be okay. Just tell me what happened."

You took a deep breath, then another, and one more before you finally calmed down enough to talk. "Her name is Martha Morgan. She-she's crazy! She took Rowena!"

"How do you know it's her?"

You held up the discarded hex bag. "I found this by Rowena's car." The car that was now sitting comfortably in your garage along with the shopping bags. You didn't dare move them. They were Rowena's to open, Rowena's to show off and gush about. "It's Martha's color. I think she left it there on purpose."

She wanted you to find it. Wanted you to know that the tables have turned, that she had Rowena and you didn't.

Sam frowned at the bag. He took it into his hands, turned it over, observed it like a scientist looking a sample under a microscope. "You're sure it's hers?"

"One hundred percent," you said with a nod.

"Why would she do it?"

"Because Rowena and I turned her away."

Sam raised an eyebrow, prompting for you to continue.

Sucking in a breath, you started the story.

You'd first met Martha a few months ago. She was Rowena's biggest fan, and somehow she'd managed to get in contact with her and had asked her for magic lessons. She was a decent witch, but she'd wanted to learn more, and who better to teach her than her apparent idol?

Rowena, never one to pass up on compliments and adoration, had said yes.

And then things got weird.

While the first time the two of you had met her went okay, you'd decided to look Martha up online, more curious than cautious, and had come across her Twitter profile.

The woman, it had turned out, was obsessed with Rowena.

She'd never mentioned her by name, but it didn't take a genius to figure out she was talking about your girlfriend. Days prior, she'd talked about her desire to meet her. How she'd needed it. Craved it more than air and water. Yearned for it with her entire being.

Mere hours after their first meeting, she'd tweeted that she missed her.

A few hours after that a similar tweet was posted.

She needed her, she'd said. Needed her in her life. Wanted to spend the rest of her life beside her. She couldn't bear to be apart from her; the distance, however short, was killing her.

"Naturally" you said, "Rowena was creeped out."

Everyone in their right mind would have been had they been in her shoes. She'd met the woman once, only to find out Martha had basically considered them soulmates, and was gushing about it online.

"The next day, things went crazy."

Crazy was an understatement of the century.

Martha had shown up on time, just like she and Rowena had agreed. She'd walked in on you telling Rowena about an insane witch you'd met years ago, long before you'd known her. And, in a turn of events that should not have shocked you yet it still had, as soon as Rowena told Martha, as politely as she could, that she would not be available to teach her after all, the other witch pointed the finger at you. She'd assumed you'd told Rowena not to hire her, that you were jealous and had made her out to be a lunatic to keep her away from your girlfriend.

If you had done that, you would have been well within your rights to.

An argument erupted, Martha accusing you, you firing back just as ferociously, until Rowena had had enough and threw the other witch out with a firm warning never to contact either one of you again.

"She still bitched about me on Twitter," you added. "And she was still being creepy about Rowena. But other than that, she left us alone. I didn't think she'd ever do this."

Didn't think she'd cross the line. That she would take Rowena from you, and leave you a reminder to let you know, loud and clear, what she had done.

You should have known. The woman was unhinged; her obsession went further than that of a typical fangirl daydreaming about her idol. She was truly, genuinely in love with Rowena — or whatever sick, twisted emotion it was that she'd mistaken for love — and had finally, after months of waiting, decided to act on it.

"We have to save Rowena, Sam," you said with utter desperation. A few tears spilled down your cheeks, clouding your vision. You wiped them away with the back of your hand. "She's crazy! Who knows what she'll do to her!"

"We will," Sam assured you. His hand landed on top of yours, a gesture of comfort, of friendship. A promise. He cared about Rowena. He wouldn't let some psycho hurt her if he could do something about it. "Do you know where we can find her?"

"When she first got here, she gave us her address." You handed him a small paper, glad you'd forgotten to throw it out. "I looked that area up; it's in the middle of nowhere."

A perfect place for a kidnapper to hide her victim.

"Great! Come on."

Sam headed out, and you followed suit like a faithful puppy. You would find her, you told yourself. She would be okay. She would be safe. Martha wouldn't hurt her.

Even as you thought that, a feeling of unease washed over you, from the top of your head down to your toes. Your stomach clenched, nausea sinking in, your insides a liquid storm turning round and round, a tornado of anguish, of concern. What if Martha did hurt her? Rowena was a proud person, defiant to the very end. She wouldn't let a lowly witch, no matter how insane she was, treat her like property, like an object to be stolen. She would fight back. Kick. Scream. Run her mouth like she always did.

How would Martha react to rejection?

Would she still be infatuated, or would she go into a rage and—

No.

There was no point thinking about it, no point imagining horrible scenarios. Rowena was going to be okay. She was a fighter. A survivor. She could hold her own against a witch centuries her junior.

You slid into the passenger seat. As the car roared to life and hurried in the direction of Martha's house, your eyes were focused on the road ahead.

Be strong, sweetheart, you thought. We're coming. You're gonna be okay.

You swore your life on it.

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[daddysfangirls-marvel]

It just happened (2/2)

Pairing: Tony stark x Sister! reader

warning: suicide, death, implied drug overdose, murder, sadness 

words: 1218

summary: After some traumatizing events Stark Reader secretly becomes a serial killer. Tony finds out, and either has to let his baby sibling go, or kill them himself. Reader decides to jump off stark tower instead.

Part 1 | Part 2

It had been a few days since Tony found out about (y/n) being the violator but he hasn’t spoken to her since nor has he contributed to finding her. He just... he was off and everybody knew it everyone saw that something was wrong but no one said anything or asked because he was Tony and there was a time and a place.

(Y/n) was also a bit down after Tony found out . She wasn’t finding pleasure in her work anymore she felt bad for the first time in 23 years she wasn’t enjoying herself she didn't feel like she had done someone justice. She just felt … sick …. and dirty. 

After her kill (y/n) leaned against the wall across from the bed. Any other time she’d be happy admiring her work but now she felt sick with it. A Husband and soon to be father laid on the bed bullet in his head all she could think was she ruined a developing family. She sighed and jumped out the window.

“Yo Tony you haven’t said anything about this mission Come on man contribute” Clint said finally saying what everyone was thinking. This guy hadn’t done one thing since his sister left.

“Mr. Stark... are you okay?” Peter asked Tony looked at him but said nothing. 

“Fine … Haven’t been sleeping well. I’ll get better. What do we have on this guy now” 

“This girl. We’ve already established that she was a (S/c) female by a few witness. And that’s about it her victims seem to be random from rich pricks to poor thugs. The only pattern is how she kills them and how she leaves them.” Natasha said she was so frustrated this was harder than it was suppose to be.

“Maybe there is another pattern” Tony said 

“Like what” Peter asked 

Like all of them being pedophiles “ I don’t know. Friday pull up phone and internet histories.”

“It appears the internet history was deleted.”

“phone calls. Tell me you have those”

“I do sir and in seem that six different numbers are consecutive.”

“It appears they all have contacted one or another at some point in time” Vision said.

Out of the 9 dozen people that were killed six numbers connected them all going back 20 years. Each of these people were connected to this numbers or connected to a person with these numbers.

“How come we didn’t see this before. Friday who do these number belong to”Six photos popped up five men and one woman. Their name, address, and states came up as well. Two out of the six were dead already. “now how are these guys connected. She’s not doing this randomly. We’ve got to find the reason”. Which made Tony frustrated seeing as she either deleted or took the evidence with her and he couldn’t go get it without outing her.

Everyone was busy trying to put the piece of the puzzle together, while still missing piece, when Tony got a call. It was his sister he stepped out of the room.

“hey” he answered he didn’t know what else to say.

“hey”

“...”

“I’m ready.... I’m ready to turn myself in”

“what changed?”

“I don’t know... it’s not as satisfying as before”

“It was satisfying?”

“Yes, To make sure no one was getting hurt to repay the pain and save the children. Cruel Justice is very satisfying....was” he could hear her on the other end she sounded like she was crying.

“ sweetheart... where are you?” Tony asked just from the sound of her voice he could hear how unstable she was how destroyed she was. “Tell me I’ll come get you. We’ll fix this and we won’t tell anybody. Please let me help you”

“I’m already here... and I’m going to help myself” then he hears the dial. Then the ceiling lights turn blue.

Everyone rush out of the conferences room. “Mr. Stark why are the lights blue?”

“Tony what is this?”

“There blue. It means someone's on the room someone who shouldn’t be” Saying it out loud Tony’s heart nearly stops when he puts it together. “ (Y/n)”

Immediately began running the other started following him not knowing what was happening. They asked Tony questions as they followed up the stairs after him. They didn’t know what was happening but Tony was in distress and in a rush.

“Please, Mr. Stark what’s happening?” Peter asked he was freaking out because everyone else was freaking and no one was telling him anything they were just running. He was unaware that no one else knew what was happening as well but they were ready for anything and just following Tony.

Tony Busted through the door on the roof panting and out of breath. Everyone else filed after him.

“That was fast” (y/n) said. Everyone saw her she was on the edge of the roof with a gun in hand, wearing a white sundress. “ I thought that it would take longer. You guys really are heros” she laughed

“ (Y/n).. what are you doing?” Wanda asked stepping forward but Tony held his hand out to stop her. 

“please we’ll fix it. I won’t tell, they won’t tell. Please”

“you can stop looking for the violator... you’ve found her” (y/n) looked over her shoulder at the others.

“You’re the Violator” Steve said then turned to Tony “and you knew”

“Don’t be mean. He didn’t know until a few days ago. An office in my apartment. I out the key on the kitchen table all the answers are all in that office.”

“(y/n) please”

“I’m sorry” she raises the gun to her head puts her finger on the trigger but before she could pull the trigger Wanda uses her magic to pull it away. That doesn’t stop her ….she falls forward. “ It just happened”

“NOOOOOO” Tony dives off the side of the building after his sister. His suit is deployed and wraps around him as he wraps his arms around his sister.

“I’ve got you” he says as he goes up into the clouds holding his sister bridal style. And he stay there because just looking at her he already knows 

“Sir.... she doesn’t have a heart beat. There’s no pulse sir”

He already knows, he knew it when he got on to the roof. She was (Y/n) Stark she always had a plan A, B, and C. 

Plan C the fall.

Plan B the gun.

Plan A drugs.

She was as smart as she was beautiful. She was just to good to be bad.

“You were going to be a doctor” Tony cried as he held her close to his metal suit. He wanted to feel her warmth.” what happened you wanted to be a doctor”. Tony spent 45 minutes in the air holding his baby sister before he came back down. When he did he saw that all of the avengers were still standing there waiting for her.

It was silent as Tony landed with his sister daggling in his arms. It was clear to some what was happening. But not on others. They all followed him into the building and to the elevator 

“Tony... ” Steve said. He looked up his faceplate sliding up with a stone cold face he said 

“Shit happens”

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[impala-dreamer]

Stitches and Whiskey

SPN FanFic

~Y/N patches Dean up after a rough hunt~

Dean x Reader, Sam

1,164 Words

Warnings: Extreme Sass and Banter between Dean x Reader. Also Fluff. And some wandering hands.

A/N: This sprang from my question of, “Why don’t they just go to CVS and get a real first aid kit?” Thanks to @idreamofhazel and @inmysparetime0 for their help and @jpadjackles for the gif (i’m a mess tonight. lol)

Dean crashed through the motel room door, Sam in his wake, and Y/N close behind. They were drenched in sweat, covered in dirt, and dripping with blood. The hunt had gone just about as expected, perhaps with a few more baseball bats to the face than Dean would have liked, but it wasn’t anything the trio couldn’t handle.

Sam’s nose was bleeding, his lip and eye cut; dried blood stained his flannel and he ripped it off, retreating quickly into the bathroom. Dean collapsed onto his bed and slowly peeled off his shirt. A deep gash marred his upper arm, the flesh torn and oozing. Y/N gasped when she saw it, and ran to her duffel bag.

“You’re gonna need stitches,” she said as she dug through her clothes to pull out the first aid kit from the bottom of the bag.

Dean rolled his eyes, “Ya think?” He touched the cut and pulled back, wincing in pain.

“Well don’t touch it, dummy!” Y/N shook her head and set the white box down on the bed. She sat next to him and gently touched his arm, her fingers dancing around the wound, assessing the damage. “Yup, that’s a doozy!”

“Who even says ‘doozy’?” Dean scoffed, “How old are you?”

“Younger than you, Grandpa. Now, shut up and hold still.”

Dean huffed and let his head fall back, waiting impatiently for Y/N to stitch him up. She opened the kit and carefully laid out what she would need. Dean peeked down at her, “What is that?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she ripped open out a pack of gauze, shaking her head, “A first aid kit. For to administer first aid. Works much better than floss and whiskey.”

“Nothing wrong with floss and whiskey, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well, I happen to know about these magical places called drug stores, and in them you can purchase medical supplies so you don’t die of sepsis after being cut with rusty, jagged pipes,” she sassed and opened the brown bottle of peroxide, holding it to the gauze pad in her hand. “By the way, when was your last tetanus shot?”

“What’s a tetanus shot?” Y/N rolled her eyes and pressed the wet gauze to his skin. He yelped like a child and pulled away. “Holy shit!”

“Relax! It’s killing the germs!” Y/N scolded.

“Why is it bubbling?”

“It’s peroxide. It does that. Now, hold still!”

Dean shook his head, his teeth clenched, his lips twisted in a deep frown. “God damn it Y/N! You’re a crappy nurse, you know that?”

“Hey! I’m the best damn nurse you’ve ever had!” Y/N dabbed at the cut and then turned her attention back to the medical equipment. She carefully chose her needle and thread, and took a deep breath, looking up at Dean. “This is gonna suck,” she cautioned.

Dean sighed, “This is why we use whiskey. I can’t drink that peroxide shit.”

Y/N took pity on him and went to the table by the door, bringing back his bottle of Jack. He twisted the cap off with his teeth and took a deep drink. “You want some?” He asked, holding the bottle towards her.

“That might help actually, it’s been awhile since I’ve done this.” Dean’s entire body tensed with fear as she spoke, but she laughed it away, “Just kidding.” She winked and took a quick sip. “OK, hold still…”

“Wait!” Dean scooted back and grabbed the bottle once more. “Maybe we should wait for Sam.”

“Dean, I know what I’m doing. Hold still.”

“Well just… I like the way he does it.”

Y/N let out a frustrated breath, “Are you kidding me? Hold still or I’ll tie you down!”

A sly smirk formed on Dean’s lips, “Promise?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Y/N shook her head and set to work.

Eleven perfect stitches later, Y/N sat back and smiled proudly. “Looks perfect.”

Dean twisted his neck to look down at her work. He gave a tiny nod of approval. “Not bad,” he praised halfheartedly.

“Not bad?” Y/N feigned shock, “It’s beautiful. I haven’t seen stitch work like this since I had my appendix out in the ninth grade.”

Dean laughed and watched as Y/N went back to the kit once more. She tore open a tiny square package and pulled out an alcohol soaked towelette as Dean looked on, worried.

“What is that?” he asked, his brows knitted in concern once again.

“An alcohol swab.”

“Whoa, I don’t need to be swabbed. What are you swabbing?”

Y/N growled in annoyance. “You are such an infant, Dean! It’s alcohol. I’m gonna wipe your stitches and make sure no nasty little germs sneak in there before I bandage you up. Good Lord, it’s like you’ve never been to a doctor or anything.”

“Hey, just because we have our own way of doing things, don’t make it bad.” Dean hissed as Y/N passed the cold wipe across his freshly sealed cut.

“Yeah and the proper way isn’t bad either, is it?” Y/N asked, titling her head up at him.

“I guess not,” he conceded, his mouth twitching as she wiped him again. “Your way hurts more though.”

Y/N softened, “Does it really?” She tossed the swab onto the floor. “I’m sorry baby.” Slowly she leaned down close to his arm. “I just want to take care of you.” She pursed her lips and blew across the cut, soothing his pain with her warm breath. “Is that better?”

“Mmm… I take it back,” he smirked, “You are a pretty good nurse. And sexy too.” Dean winked and touched her cheek with his free hand.

“You think so? Well maybe I can give you a proper check up.” She teased and placed her hand on his knee, slowly dragging it up to settle against the bulge in his jeans.

“I’d like that,” he moaned as she rubbed her palm down over his crotch. “Do you make house calls?”

“Only for my favorite patients.” Y/N leaned in even closer, pressing her breasts against his chest. Just as their lips were about to meet in that sweet, exhaustion fueled kiss they so craved, the bathroom door popped open, and a fresh-faced Sam emerged.

“Oops,” Y/N laughed, “I guess we’ll have to reschedule your appointment.” She pecked Dean’s cheek and pulled away with a pout.

“Damn it Sammy! Alone time!” Dean shook his head and pulled his shirt back on, glaring at his brother. “You ever hear of knocking?”

Sam returned Dean’s glare with one of his own, raising his shoulders in question, “What the hell, Dean? I was in the bathroom.”

Dean sighed and watched as Y/N cleared away the trash from the bed, knowing his time at the doctor’s office would have to wait until they were back at home. Grumbling, he pulled his shirt back on and sneered at his brother, “Still shoulda knocked.”

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