#so it's actually nice to see this shift away from these couples with uneven power dynamics

[xskyll]

Back in the day, Akuroku was THE Kingdom Hearts ship. I remember on FF.net (this was before Ao3 was created), they were the top pairing at some point. That's right. Even more than Soriku. The Deviantart front page was always full of Akuroku fanart. YouTube had a plethora of Akuroku cosplay skits.

So imagine how odd it is for me, after living through that period, to have my dash full of content where Axel/Lea is married to Isa and Roxas is his son. 😂

[laurore-stormwitch]

the demon and the witch

Here’s the second chapter my first fan fiction! This is from Zoya’s POV which was so much harder to write. Hope you all enjoy it! 

word counts: 4392

You’ll find it in full in AO3

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Zoya hissed while trying to strengthen the bandages on her wound, through which a small flower of blood was already blossoming through. Damn those kerghud and their blades. She checked her sides too, finding with relief she was not in much pain. At least the healers were able to take her of that; but the poison the Fabrikators found on the kerghud’s knives was slowing down the process on the deep cut on her shoulder.

You still prevailed, rumbled Juris inside of her. You took down all of them on your own. The voice was beaming with his pride.

And got thrown against a tree for good measure, she answered grimly while examining her wound. It could’ve been worse. Still, it wasn’t a good sign; the Shu were supposed to be their allies now. Why did a pack of kerghuds attack her? They really didn’t need another thing to worry about. She sighed, opening the windows and letting the cold air revive her a little. The ride back to the palace had left her sore; it took her hours and standing on a horse with a throbbing chest and blood all over her hadn’t been pleasant. She arrived after dinner only to be welcomed by a furious and shaken Genya who had tried to cover for her absence and had immediately taken her to get patched up. Not really an ideal day.

She was pondering whether to drown her sorrows either in bed or in wine when she heard some strained voices in the corridor; they sounded rushed, worried. Someone was giving orders to her guards to stand down and resign their post, sending them away. Oh, for Saints sake, not now, she thought as the door slammed open and Nikolai Lantsov stomped in her room with a weary expression, stopping in front of her. Of course he found out.

“What the hell happened Zoya?” She glanced at him, both annoyed and warmed by his uneven breath and messy look; he seemingly ran through the whole palace to get here, already in his more comfortable clothes for the night. Armour in place, her words were clipped and sarcastic.

“Did anyone never bother to teach the future King of Ravka the subtle art of knocking?”

Nikolai looked exhausted; he released a long breath he seemed to have been holding for ages while he carefully skimmed her for injuries, lingering on the bandages on her shoulder and upper arm with a worried look. She quickly put her kefta back on covering them, uncomfortable under his gaze. When he seemed to have assessed that she wasn’t going to die in the next couple of minutes, he relaxed, releasing the tension in his shoulders, shoving the worry away and regaining his usual merry attitude.

“No one thought I’d actually be the future King, you know. Maybe that’s why they skipped it.”

His tone was light, but he took a couple of steps in her direction, still checking her. She rolled her eyes, making a good show of being irritated. He was being overly dramatic. She knew that whoever told him of her little excursion would also have told him that she was safe and sound and healers already had tended to her; he had no reasons to put up these theatrics.

“I’m fine.” He huffed in response, casting his eyes heavenward too.

“You broke three ribs.”

“Two”, she corrected, “And they’ve already been healed.” He didn’t flinch, taking another step forward and gesturing to her arm.

“What about that?”

She shrugged her shoulders ignoring the stab of pain the movement provoked.

“Are you here to question me or do you actually need something?”

Nikolai grinned, leaning against the wall next to the balcony. She shifted unconsciously away from him. He was too close, only a couple of feet apart from her. And they slipped inside their usual banter too easily: everything came too easily with him. Her look wandered outside the window, averting his amused eyes still trained on her with an intensity she didn’t want to consider.

“Ah, there’s the spite. You’re really fine then.”

There was an affection in his voice that was hard on her nerves. What was he doing here? The whole point of her actions was to keep the distance; this didn’t exactly fit with the plan, the two of them alone in her chambers at this hour of the night. She collected her strength, making the decision to ignore him. His smug face was making her want to shove him out the door. The silence stretched and she waited with hope that he would just leave her be, sensing her irritation. But Nikolai was Nikolai after all, seemingly untouched by her demeanour.

“I already sent word to the Shu. We…I’ll take care of it.” She sensed him stop before adding something else, no doubt avoiding saying Ehri’s name and leaving her out of the conversation. Zoya shook her head, even more unnerved by this unwelcome caution in her regards.

“It doesn’t matter. They’re going to say it was a rogue attack. I took care of it.”

Meaning I burned them all.

“Just tell our dear princess to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Somebody else could’ve gotten really hurt.”

“But they found Zoya Nazyalensky instead. What a stroke of luck for them.”

She didn’t react to his praise, so he just kept talking, keeping an easy attitude. But she knew him well, and she could hear the strain in his voice, the turmoil he was trying to keep hidden.

“Do you care to tell me why my most valuable general decided to take a stroll in an open field and almost got herself killed?”

Fine then, so ignoring him was not the correct strategy; she resorted to her ruthlessness and his guilt.

“Most valuable.” Zoya scoffed. “Thought you’d be satisfied; you’d finally have the perfect excuse to replace me.”

She turned to him while speaking, holding a firm gaze; so she was able to see the shadow of shame and pain that swept through his eyes at her words.

As hurt as she was, their fight the other day served her right. It was bad enough to convince her that staying away from him was the sensible thing to do, and now it gave her a weapon to use to keep distancing him. Also, she really didn’t intend to linger on the topic and explore the reasons why she made what she knew had been a reckless decision. Lately, the palace was far too crowded for her liking; it had begun to feel suffocating, and not only because avoiding Nikolai was growing harder and harder by the day. The dragon inside her craved the sky; the power in her was constantly rumbling, pretending to be unleashed. She still didn’t understand it, the force of it, the craving for destruction that came with it. It was slowly changing her: each and every day her senses got stronger, her hunger got deeper. It demanded to be used; there were times she didn’t know how she kept still, moments in which the air around her crackled without her control, nights in which thunder boomed and clouds darkened the sky as her mood grew more sour. So she started taking these rides outside the city, trying to find places where she could test her abilities without risking destroying the Little Palace. In a time that seemed long lost, she would’ve liked to confide in Nikolai with this. But he wouldn’t understand now, he wouldn’t get what she feared to become if she kept searching for more. And she made a choice after Isaak’s death, the choice to give up on her foolish hopes and dreams and be a general after all. That choice included letting Nikolai go, which he was making hard to do.

They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity. A pang hit her throat, and she felt an unfamiliar prickle in her eyes. Why did she want to cry now? She searched for her anger, trying to bury the feeling of despair that was troubling her mind. She prayed for him to say something spiteful, or to turn on his heels and go. Instead, he came even closer, moving a delicate brush of his fingers over the bandages that peaked near her collarbone, sending a shiver through her. Too close. Get away.

“I’m sorry, Zoya.”

And why for all Saints on earth did he have to say her name like this? It was almost like a prayer. A soft whisper full of honesty, not even an inch of his casual arrogance or boldness. She sucked a breath in, holding her pose, arching a brow in his direction.

“Nice speech. Bet you practiced it a lot in front of the mirror.”

He waved a glowing smile at her, while she pondered wherever this good mood came from.

“I had a nice speech, you know. And yes, I also practiced it. But then you went on to put yourself in danger and I got a little distracted.”

She glanced at him. “I’m not a helpless girl whom you needed to run to and save from a monster.” I may easily be the monster myself, Nikolai. Leave. He didn’t back down.

“I didn’t say that, as a matter of fact. I said I got distracted by you being hurt.”

You’re still too close. Get away. Her feet didn’t seem to listen to her brain, which was sparring with her heart for dominance. She turned to her side, away from him.

“Get out, Nikolai.”

“I don’t think I want to.” She was going to kill him.

“I want you to go.”

“And I want to be more handsome than I already am, but some things are just too hard to get.”

Her glare would have made every man on earth shiver with fear. It was apparently useless on Nikolai.

“Enough childish games, Nikolai. Say what you have to say and then leave.”

He sighed. “Just listen to me, please? I really did have a speech. I was out of line the other day, and I didn’t mean a single word I said. I reacted in the worst possible way and I hurt you. And I’m sorry, both for doing it and for waiting too long to realize it.”

She stopped him with an irritated laugh, her eyes slitting silver. How arrogant of him.

“You didn’t hurt me. You were just being the harsh leader you may finally be growing into.”

He shook his head, ignoring the remark, determined to go on with this charade.

“It’s more than that. I should’ve said something sooner. What happened in the Fold...we never got the chance to talk. I don’t know how you are, what you’re going through.” Maybe punching him in the face was not a bad option. Alina did it after all, if she remember correctly. “I let you drift away and I regret that.”

The conversation was steering in dangerous territory. She clenched her jaw and her fists, equally intent as him to stop this.

“You’re gonna regret this if you keep talking.”

“Why?” His controlled tone slipped a bit as he threw his arm in the air, getting more nervous. “What’s wrong with talking? What’s wrong in saying that I was an idiot to behave like I did, that I need my general by my side? That I don’t like all the distance you’re putting between us?”

“There’s no us, Nikolai.” She spatted, fists still clenched, trying to keep the hold on her power already rising inside her. She sensed where this was going and desperately tried to prevent it. “You shouldn’t even be here at this hour. You are going to marry your Shu princess, and be the King Ravka needs. I am your general, as you dutifully pointed out, nothing else. Stop acting like a fool.”

Oh, how well do you lie to yourself. Are you ever gonna stop? That was not the moment for Juris to chide her and mock her, doubting her decisions. She hushed him, trying to focus. Nikolai looked struck at her words; he opened his mouth and then closed it again, seemingly deciding what to say. She narrowed her eyes, an uncomfortable suspicion creeping in her mind. Speechless Nikolai Lantsov was never a good thing.

“Maybe I’m not.” He cleared his throat at her confused look. “I’m not marrying Ehri.”

Juris roared. Zoya widened her eyes in shock: a wave of outrage flooded her thoughts, along with an unwelcome strike of hope she suffocated.

“Nikolai.” His name was said much like a threat. “What on earth are you saying?”

He held up his hands, speaking slowly, trying not to set her off and appease her wrath.

“I need you to trust me on this. I may have another solution, one that doesn’t involve forcing me and Ehri in a loveless marriage we both despise. One that still assures me the alliance.”

She was not having this. The air around them started to feel more dense, the smell of a rainstorm filling the room. Her voice grew louder, her temper brewing.

“I hope you’re joking, or you’re more of a fool that I ever thought possible. Whatever she told you, she’s tricking you. What are you thinking? Ravka is on the brink of destruction, why would you risk your country?”

“It’s not about Ravka.”

"You don’t get to choose, Nikolai. You are a ruler. You have a duty.” He let out an exasperated sound, coming even closer. There was barely the space of a breath within them. She kept going. “You are our King. I won’t let you do something so reckless.”

Now he was losing his temper too, flames burning in his eyes. He caught her wrist, his grip like steel.

“Why do you run from this? Why do you deny yourself of happiness when there’s another way?”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Everything! I don’t want to marry her. And I don’t want to see my country fall.”

“You think you can have it all? Then what do you want, Nikolai?”

He shot her a pleading look, his soul pouring out of his eyes. Her heart missed a beat, as she shook him away and took two steps back, finding herself with her back on the wall. No. She regretted her question in an instant.

You know what he wants. You know who he wants. Juris wasn’t backing out either.

A whisper rolled out of Nikolai’s mouth.

“Zoya…”

“Don’t.” He came towards her. They were dancing; she cast him a warning look.

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no coming back if you say it!” She was shouting now, shivering with rage and dread. “Because I will believe you if you say it and it won’t change anything!” Tears threatened to fall again, her whole body was vibrating with power. She couldn’t hold back anymore, she would’ve hurt him. And yet this stupid boy was not yelding his steps, not afraid of the woman in front of him.

“I’m not giving up on you.”

“Please, Nikolai.” A sob escaped her. Was she pleading with him now? But as much as her, he had made a decision, and he wasn’t gonna abandon his resolve. He went on, unforgiving, holding her gaze and his chin as he spoke.

"You need to hear me. And you can trust me."

"Stop." She was losing.

“It’s always been you, Zoya. You’re the only thing I want.”

The sword drew through her hearth, cracking it open.

Show this boy king what you are.

She threw her fist open unleashing the storm, tears streaming on her cheeks, and shot a speeding gust of wind in his direction. It knocked Nikolai over, trashing him on the floor; he hit the wall, the current howling and holding him in place. The window on her side shattered as lightning fell from the sky, leaving a trail of smoke in their wake. Papers were rustling around the room, a cold breeze sweeping over them; she watched in horror the destruction she brought. Abruptly, the air fell still as she drew away the power, not wanting to meet Nikolai’s eyes and the disgust she was sure to find there.

“Go away, please.”

He heard him breathing heavily, getting back up on his feet. His uncertain steps crunched on all the letters left on the floor.

"Zoya, it’s okay. I’m here."

"Shut up."

Juris wasn’t finished, too. He growled. Don’t be a coward. You should be the Queen.

“Shut up!”

The scream rose from her sore throat and she fell on her knees, hitting the pavement and catching her head between her hands. Her heart hurt. Her lungs hurt. She made a desperate attempt to fight back the pain as she grasped the last bit of sanity in her mind, huddling on herself like a child. Electricity ran through her skin and a final thunder rolled over the room. Everything stopped as the place grew silent, Zoya shaking on the floor.

“I’m not leaving.”

His voice floated to her like they were underwater; it didn’t even tremble, it was calm and firm, not the one of a terriefied man just taken on by a summoned storm. He slowly walked to her again, rubbing the back of his head a little. Did she hurt him? Shame towered over her. He lowered himself down to her; his movements were delicate, attentive, as if she was a wounded animal he needed not to scare. Another whisper came to her and she grasped at it like an anchor.

“I’m not leaving you.”

She felt his hands on hers, his touch soft as a feather as he circled her wrists and he tried to pull her back on her feet with a soft tug. He caught her elbow, steadying her; instinctively her other hand tightened around his shoulder as her vision blurred and focused back on him; she let her head lean on his chest, catching some air. They stayed like that for a while, Nikolai’s tender eyes waiting for her to get back to herself. He gently tilted her chin up to look at her, brushing some strands of hair away from her face and sighed.

“I missed you.”

The words fell on her like an avalanche. There was a fierce purity in this ordinary admission, spoken like a confession he knew she wouldn’t be able to take. There was so much more to this; it spoke of all the things they never allowed themselves to say, of all the stolen glances and forgotten truths; of how they belonged next to each other, the peace and quiet they found together, how hard it was to be apart; of the times she saved him, and the ones he saved her.

Stop fighting, General. Lower your weapons.

She was tired. Saints, she was so tired. She wanted to rest in the comfort of his arms. She felt herself beginning to surrender.

He is yours to keep. She trembled in his hands, shaken by the conviction in Juris’ voice.

Zoya looked at the boy in front of her, still gently grazing her cheek with his knuckles, at his tousled flocks, at the glowing rays of sun hidden in his eyes. She moved one hand to his stunning face, tentatively touching his lips. A shiver went through him, but he stayed perfectly still while a look of confusion and yearning flashed through him.

He has always been yours. Juris roared, sending flames scorching her chest.

Zoya of the broken heart. Be whole again. Take him.

And once again, just like she did in the Fold, Zoya let herself fall.

She pulled him to her with a hand on the back of his neck, closing the distance between them, crashing her lips onto his, releasing the hunger and the despair that plagued her. When they met, it felt like a war. It felt like a blessing. She registered her king reacting in a split second, without even a hint of hesitation: the hand that was on her arm went to hug her waist, drawing her closer than she thought possible with a desperate need, while the other one was now entangled in her hair. He was holding onto her for dear life, as if she would break if he let her go.

Kissing him was a thousand lives and a single fleeting moment, time stretching in this suspended bliss; she broke free, gasping for hair, drowning in the shock of what happened. Nikolai wasn’t a fool, and he knew her all too well; he knew it would only take her the fraction of an instant for realization to dawn over her, so he didn’t let her slip. He pulled her to him again. But that flicker of oxygen to her brain was enough for fear and remorse to clench at her soul. She pushed lightly onto his chest, and this time he got the hint, leaving her mouth and backing up just what was necessary for them both to release their breath. Good, she thought. At least one of us still has some semblance of control . If it really was up to her will, once so unbreakable, she would’ve never stopped.

“Saints, Zoya.” The words rolled out of his mouth in an ushered tone, as if speaking too loudly was bound to break the enchantment cast upon them. She mustered the courage to look at him: he was watching her in awe, the golden freckles in his eyes darkened by a sheer desire. He may have stopped kissing her, but his hands were still keeping her flushed against him, his uneven warm breathing grazing her neck, making it almost unbearable to try and form a coherent thought. Her heart was aching.

“We can’t.” Her voice was barely audible, devoid of every resolve she had hoped to still have in herself. She trained her look on the floor, the pain squeezing the air out of her lungs. What did I just do? Zoya sensed Nikolai shifting closer, brushing his lips on her lashes, her cheekbones. He rested his forehead on hers. Was he smiling? Why was this damned boy smiling? She cast her eyes up; he really was smiling, cocking his head slightly on one side.

“What?”

“You’re really stubborn, you know.” He teased her. Zoya marvelled at his confidence, at how unfazed he seemed at the fact she was basically rejecting him after shoving him against a wall and possibly giving him a concussion. Not that she felt herself being convincing: all ruthlessness seemed to have left her body. She still didn’t trust herself much to talk; each word was agonizing to get out.

“I just told you we can’t do this. Why are you smiling?”

“I know you don’t mean it.” He shrugged his shoulders, still refusing to let her go. Like the truth was as simple as that, and he had the gift of knowing. Fighting this was tiring; the moment their lips met, every carefully hidden thought, every feeling she locked away flooded out with an overwhelming strength, knocking down each and every one of her defenses.

“How come?”

“You haven’t pushed me away. And you did kiss me, just so you remember it.” Zoya’s lips curled a little before she could stop herself, rolling her eyes. Bold as only Nikolai could be in a moment like this. “Someone told me you were going to find a way to surprise me” He mumbled under his breath, lost in thoughts for a second.

“Besides”, he added. “I’m not in a rush. I’ll convince you eventually. You know my charm has no limits.”

She huffed, but didn’t find it in herself to step out of his grip. She was still falling, and he was the one to catch her. Zoya let her hands rest on his chest: she could feel his heart pounding like it was about to take flight, echoing in her mind and sending waves of soothing calm over her. His certainty was endearing.

“You’re insufferable.”

Nikolai looked perfectly at ease, beaming with confidence. He let out an amused chuckle and placed a soft kiss on her hair.

“Don’t run from me.” He turned serious, placing both his hands on the sides of her jaw, keeping their eyes locked together. “I need you with me to face all of this. We’ll find a way; I know we can. We’ll figure everything out together. And we can do this right.”

General Nazyalensky knew better than to trust fragile promises of peace. And yet the hopeful girl she’d been held onto this one like it was a long awaited shore in a storm-swept ocean. She could regret this tomorrow: for tonight, maybe she wanted to be that girl. And against every belief she had, she really did trust him like no one ever before. She found herself nodding lightly, slightly amused by his hint at doing things right. Nikolai and his idiotic sense of honour. The dragon inside her had spread his wings, roaring his power. Bolts of desire were still shooting through her, leaving her brain a mess, and she could see the feeling mirrored in Nikolai’s eyes. She didn’t know that freeing her heart from the cage it was trapped in would taste so sweet and terrifying.

You are the dragon, Zoya. You will bide your time. And you will have it all.

She brought her hand on one of his, still wrapped around her neck, intertwining their fingers. Deep inside of her, the stone hit the bottom of the well: waiting there for her there was a quiet feeling of belonging, a home in which she could be safe. A place full of light in which she could rest. Someone to hold her. Someone who loved her. As the fall stopped, Zoya handed over the fight, easing herself in the embrace of the boy that tore down her walls and built her a fortress.

Tell him to stay. She didn’t know if it was Juris or her heart demanding it.

“Stay with me tonight.”

A breath-taking soft smile enlightened his features. Nikolai leaned towards her, whispering an oath in her ear, a secret to share in the midst of night.

"Always.”

He caught her lips and kissed her again, deeper, with more urgency, leaving whatever sense of self-restraint they were keeping to shatter in a million pieces as the silk of her kefta slided away from her shoulders, wrinkling through his darkened fingers, the demon and the witch.

And the world went on fire.

[drowningbydegrees]

This is my @thewitchersecretsanta gift for @kat-atomic, who mentioned liking modern AU’s with witcher powers etc. and humor. I hope this delivers! Thank you so much @goodheavensgwen for betaing this! <3 Note: This is largely fluffy and ridiculous, but there’s some canon typical mention of blood and injury.

Read on AO3

There are very few things Jaskier can genuinely say he enjoys about working the night shift at the diner. There’s the 3 a.m. rush of customers when all the bars close who usually tip pretty decently. There’s the fact that Triss, the night manager, doesn’t mind if he spends his downtime writing music when his sidework is done. And there’s the occasional regular Jaskier finds himself enamored with.

Like the one on the sidewalk just outside, for instance, who Jaskier privately suspects is some sort of cryptid. With good reason! He only ever seems to turn up in the quietest part of Jaskier’s shift. He doesn’t look old by any stretch of the imagination, and he doesn’t strike Jaskier as the sort to commit to any sort of high maintenance beauty regimen, all of which is at odds with the silvery white hair that falls just a touch past his shoulders. If the hair weren’t noteworthy enough, his unnaturally gold eyes are haunting, like nothing Jaskier has ever seen. Not that he means to look, mind you, but they’re the kind of thing that sticks with Jaskier long after the man is gone. Appearances aside, there’s something about this particular customer that discourages questions and he always pays with cash, so despite coming in on a somewhat regular basis over the last year and a half - not often enough that Jaskier can work out any sort of pattern, but enough that there’s a table Jaskier has more or less decided is his - Jaskier doesn’t even know his name.

The blood is new though.

“Holy mother of- Are you okay?” Jaskier asks when he looks up and sees the man trudging through the door. Is that a limp? It’s hard to tell if he’s hurt or just exhausted. It seems like maybe hurt because that’s definitely blood matting his hair. Probably. Jaskier vaguely remembers hitting his head on the slide when he was little and it looking a bit like that, anyway. And if that’s blood, it suggests that the substance making the guy’s shirt stick unnaturally to his body is also blood, which kinda tracks with the fact that one of the sleeves is ripped to shreds.

The guy freezes, leaving Jaskier with the distinct impression that he’d hoped to come in unnoticed. As much as Jaskier enjoys listening to his gravelly voice, there’s nothing comforting about the reply. “It’s not mine.”

“Right. Okay. That’s- That’s a completely normal and not concerning thing to say. Also, I’m going to go ahead and call bullshit because your arm is… umm. Oh fuck! Your arm. Just, uhh… hang on a sec, okay?” Jaskier rushes off to the kitchen for the diner’s first aid kit, a few bar towels, and, after a hurried explanation to Triss, one of the work uniform button down shirts. First aid isn’t something that was really covered in training, but leaving someone bleeding in the foyer is almost certainly some kind of health code violation. Whatever the case, not wanting his favorite customer to bleed to death in the middle of his shift wins out over entertaining the notion that said customer might possibly be dangerous.

The foyer is empty when Jaskier returns, which admittedly makes more sense than the guy having stayed put. He’s undeniably mysterious, but he doesn’t seem unhinged enough to just wander in here like that without some kind of reason. Jaskier pokes his head into the restroom, assuming the man has gone there and… isn’t wrong. It’s just that he’s also not in a state of dress Jaskier would expect in a public space. The tattered remains of his shirt sit in the sink, and without the fabric to hide it, the gashes at the back of his shoulder, just where it meets his arm, are rather prominent. Oddly, that quells any real concern Jaskier might have had about what events led him here because they look like claw marks rather than anything human. Equally prominent are a really quite alarming number of other scars that litter the man’s back and chest from what Jaskier can see in the mirror.

The man has never struck Jaskier as particularly polite. He speaks very little. He never smiles. He always looks vaguely put upon when Jaskier tries to be nice to him. So it’s strangely endearing to see that, despite Jaskier being pretty sure he communicated he’d be right back, the man still looks sort of surprised to see him. That surprise only grows more visible when he sees the supplies Jaskier is holding. “I thought you might want to get cleaned up.”

The look the man gives him, like he’s expecting some kind of catch, makes Jaskier’s chest ache. Honestly, who does he interact with that getting help when he’s clearly injured is… not the expectation? The guy offers a quiet thanks that is very, very at odds with the whole possible (but probably not) serial killer vibe he’s got going on at the moment when Jaskier sets the supplies on the counter and starts to head back for the door.

“Do you need me to call someone for you… uh, sorry, I don’t actually know your name,” Jaskier finds himself asking, not sure why he can’t bring himself to just leave.

In the mirror the man’s brows crinkle in confusion, or maybe exasperation and he shakes his head. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Jaskier asks, watching the man awkwardly try to balance a pad against his wounded shoulder and wrap gauze around it without nearly enough hands. “It kinda looks like those might need stitches.”

“I said no.” Definitely exasperation this time, probably at Jaskier, but maybe also at his current predicament. Tape would be better than the roll of gauze, but there isn’t any.

“Right. Okay…” The reasonable thing to do would be to go back to work and just leave the guy to it. It’s not his job. They don’t know each other. The guy’s insistence on not wanting him to call for assistance should probably be suspicious. But, Jaskier has never done the reasonable thing once in his entire life and he doesn’t intend to start now. If he can’t get the guy actual, maybe qualified assistance, he also can’t bring himself to walk away. “Can I help?”

The man shifts in obvious discomfort, but eventually he concedes with a terse nod. He silently holds the pad against his shoulder while Jaskier unrolls the gauze and tries very hard to keep his eyes mostly averted. It’s that or Jaskier is going to end up ogling the guy’s quite frankly gorgeous everything and this really doesn’t seem like the time for that.

“Geralt,” the man says sort of out of the blue as Jaskier winds the gauze around the injury. It startles Jaskier into looking up. “My name.”

“Oh!” Geralt. Jaskier repeats it in his head. It’s nice to finally have a name to go with Geralt’s unfairly pretty face. He’s being rude though, Jaskier realizes, and shakes his head and ties off the bandaging. “I’m Jaskier.”

“I know,” Geralt says softly, like it’s some sort of confession.

Right. Of course. He’s probably introduced himself a dozen times. But customers usually forget his name, so it makes Jaskier smile anyway.

“So… Geralt. I don’t want to pry or anything.” The way Geralt tenses, Jaskier is sorry for opening his mouth. But, contrary to what everyone else in his life seems to think, he is not entirely without a self-preservation instinct. He’s not blind to how weird this whole situation is, even though he’s pretty sure Geralt didn’t actually kill anyone. “Did something happen? You’re not in some kind of trouble, are you?”

“No.”

“Right.” It seems whatever strange set of circumstances made Geralt inclined to talk to him has passed. “Well, that’s illuminating.”

Geralt’s expression scrunches like he’s just bitten into a lemon. “It’s not important.”

Inexplicably, that hurts. Not for his own sake. Geralt has no reason to confide in Jaskier specifically. It’s just that it seems like Geralt’s default assumption that he won’t be trusted, coupled with literally everything else Jaskier has seen tonight, paints a sort of lonely, heartbreaking picture. Or, maybe that’s just Jaskier’s inner poet talking. He’s never entirely certain. All the same, he offers what he hopes is a friendly smile. “Suit yourself, but you should know if you don’t tell me, I’m going to make something up and it will be absolutely ridiculous.”

Geralt’s expression smoothes out into a careful sort of indifference. Jaskier is sort of tempted to linger, but there’s really no excuse, and the longer he stays, the more likely Jaskier is to say something that’s just going to embarrass them both. Reluctantly, he steps away. “Well, I’ll just, you know, leave you to it.”

***

By the time Jaskier comes back out into the dining room, Triss looks like she’d been about thirty seconds away from coming in to check on them herself. As he assures her that it’s not actually as bad as he’d first thought, and no she really doesn’t need to call an ambulance or anything, Jaskier finds himself very, very glad he had been in too much of a rush to share his initial concerns with her or he suspects this conversation would be going very differently.

But Triss lets things be, and Jaskier tries to get back to normal.

It’s very convenient, Jaskier thinks, that Geralt always orders the same thing. In retrospect, that might be because he’s some kind of world champion at avoiding conversation at all costs, but Jaskier assumes he’s just a creature of habit. Probably. Either way, Jaskier puts in an order and pours a cup of coffee, glad for something to busy himself with while he waits.

Much to Jaskier’s surprise, Geralt looks more or less himself when he emerges from the restroom. His hair is wet, probably from rinsing the mess out of it, but with long sleeves covering the gash Jaskier had patched up, only the slight unevenness in his step gives away that anything is wrong at all. That and the heavy sigh he breathes out when he finally sits down in the diner booth. Jaskier has heard that one before and wonders if Geralt makes a habit of coming in here when he’s hurting or if that sigh is just one born of exhaustion.

Geralt’s expression does a funny thing when he sees the coffee mug. It might be surprise, but Jaskier can’t think for the life of him why. “Thank you.”

It’s the same quiet, sort of reluctant tone Geralt had thanked him with earlier, and dear lord is no one ever just kind to him or something? Nevermind that this is literally Jaskier’s job. He wants to ask, but he can’t imagine the question going over well, so Jaskier leans against the side of the bench opposite Geralt and smiles, gesturing at the uniform shirt. “It’s a good look. You might have a real future here.”

By some miracle, that pulls what Jaskier thinks might be a smile from Geralt. It’s a small, subtle thing like Geralt isn’t quite certain how the expression fits on his face, and gone almost immediately, but it was there, if just for a second. “I’ll keep it in mind if I ever need a new line of work.”

“I mean, if my line of work tore up my wardrobe like that, I’d probably have noped out already,” Jaskier jokes.

“Hmm,” Geralt replies, staring resolutely into his coffee mug.

“So, I gotta ask,” Jaskier ventures when a few seconds pass and Geralt doesn’t glare at him for lingering. “Not that I mind, but there are like, a dozen places I’d be more apt to patch myself up than a diner bathroom.”

“Everything else is closed,” Geralt says from behind his mug, amber eyes briefly fluttering shut.

“Of course. That explains… Wait. That doesn’t explain anything. There’s literally a hospital two miles down the road. I’d probably-” Jaskier pauses when Geralt’s eyes crack open again, fixating on him. Something about it makes Jaskier far less certain of what he’s saying, and it comes out with a questioning sort of uptick at the end. “You know, try… there?”

“They don’t tend to be keen on my kind,” Geralt replies gruffly.

Jaskier has no idea what that means. “Uhh… uninsured?”

“A witcher.” Geralt glowers at Jaskier, but he says the word like it’s physically painful, a mouth full of broken glass.

Jaskier has never met a witcher, he’s pretty sure, but he’s heard the stories, same as everyone. Witchers are supposedly nearly as dangerous as the creatures they hunt, more monsters than men and never to be trusted. They’re not quiet and unobtrusive and startled by acts of kindness, surely. So, either Geralt is not what he seems or the stories are bullshit, and given the way this particular witcher looks like he’s braced for a blow, Jaskier is willing to bet it’s the latter.

Jaskier can’t help wanting to understand what kind of life Geralt must live that this is where he ends up in the small hours of the morning, injured and seemingly alone. It makes him privately furious, but somehow he doesn’t think the spectacle will be appreciated, even though it’s on Geralt’s behalf. Maybe especially because it’s on Geralt’s behalf, judging by the efforts the witcher goes to to be unobtrusive. So, Jaskier doesn’t say the first thing that comes to mind about how rotten humanity is. Instead, he says the second thing that comes to mind, which is equally unfortunate. “Well, that explains your eyes.”

Geralt’s expression goes stormy, and Jaskier only belatedly realizes he must have taken that as an insult. But about the time Jaskier opens his mouth to explain, Geralt seems to gather that he might have misunderstood. His brows crease as he looks at Jaskier, as if trying to puzzle something out. “What about them?”

“They’re beautiful,” Jaskier blurts out, which, oh that was not what he meant to say at all. Melting through the floor would be great about now. Or maybe disappearing entirely. Really, anything but standing here with Geralt staring at him like he’s grown a second head. Scrambling for an excuse to leave that won’t look like he’s running away - even though he definitely is - Jaskier forces a smile, taking a step backwards. “I’ll just… go get you some more coffee.”

Suddenly discovering his escaped sense of self-preservation, Jaskier doesn’t come back with coffee. His curiosity is tempered by embarrassment, so he stays away until Geralt’s order is up and he has an actual legitimate reason to drift back to the guy’s table. Jaskier does his best to straddle the line between friendly and professional as he sets down the plate. He has every intention of leaving Geralt to eat in peace, so Jaskier startles a little when Geralt speaks up before he can leave. “It was a basilisk.”

“A… like the ‘turn you into stone’ kind of basilisk?” Jaskier turns back and sort of wishes he hadn’t because Geralt looks rather sorry for having said anything.

“That’s just a myth. They don’t do that,” Geralt counters. Jaskier waits for him to expound on that further, but he doesn’t.

Jaskier has never seen a basilisk either, so it seems entirely natural to ask, “Then, what do they do?”

A funny thing happens. To Jaskier’s complete and utter surprise Geralt talks. Not in the teeth pulling miserable way he’s said most everything else, but like it’s a conversation he genuinely doesn’t mind having. Jaskier keeps half an eye on the door, but it’s Monday night, so it’s no great surprise that no one else comes in.

In the absence of other customers to tend to, Jaskier eventually just slides into the seat across from Geralt to listen. It’s not subject matter that Jaskier has ever considered, but it’s interesting if only for how it relates to Geralt. Huffing out a laugh, Jaskier cuts in. “To hear you tell it, people are as stupid and superstitious as they are… unkind. I suppose next thing you’ll be telling me is that vampires don’t actually burn up in the sunlight.”

Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs for definitely not the first time tonight. Honestly, Jaskier is coming to be just a bit fond of it. “They don’t.”

“Wait, really?”

Jaskier is thrilled to discover he doesn’t even have to press for details. Before he knows it, he’s learned more about vampires than he even thought there was to know. Along with fiends, leshens, and what might possibly be the entire list of contracts Geralt has taken in the last month. There’s a consistent thread through all of it that leaves Jaskier warm and maybe a bit embarrassed that he’d ever thought Geralt could be dangerous. “You don’t talk about them like they’re things you kill.”

“I don’t if I can help it. It’s not their fault humans sprawl out into the places they live.” Geralt thumbs at the handle of his coffee mug, staring at the contents that have long since gone cold.

Desperate to drive off the strange sense of melancholy creeping in, Jaskier grasps for some other direction he can steer the conversation. Hastily, he runs through what Geralt has talked about already, and gets a bit stuck on a concerning thought, given how often the witcher is here. “So, are there a lot of monsters around here?”

Crisis averted, Jaskier thinks. Geralt’s shoulders tense across the table, but at least he doesn’t seem sad anymore. “Not really.”

That really just brings more questions than it answers. “Oh, well that’s a relief, I guess. I’d hate to be out hiking and get eaten by a noonwraith or something.”

“Noonwraiths don’t live in forests. Don’t even live, really. They’re...” Geralt makes a face that Jaskier assumes means he’s caught on that it was a joke. That said, Jaskier admires his commitment to finishing anyway. “More like trapped spirits.”

“You’re the expert,” Jaskier says agreeably, not quite managing to stifle the urge to laugh. “So what is it that keeps bringing you here, then? Do witchers have territories or something? Do you live around here? Actually, no. That’s a stupid question. If you lived around here you wouldn’t have wound up here like that…”

He expects the look of annoyance he seems to have gotten very good at drawing from Geralt so far. What he doesn’t expect is the way Geralt’s gaze darts away, looking at pretty much anything but Jaskier. “No.”

“No what?”

“All of it. This is just on the way to a lot of the places I end up,” Geralt clarifies with a heavy sigh. It’s a lie, Jaskier is pretty sure, because this podunk down isn’t really on the way to anywhere, and the rest of Geralt’s answer confirms as much. “... ish.”

“The coffee isn’t that good,” Jaskier teases. He doesn’t get it, but he does like Geralt, no matter how taciturn the witcher might be.

“It’s not.” Geralt tenses where he sits, and Jaskier thinks maybe he ought not to have pressed. As strange as today has been for him, it’s probably been awful for Geralt. Only Geralt doesn’t look upset. If anything, he ducks his head, a bit sheepish, muttering something under his breath.

Jaskier doesn’t even realize he’s leaned in closer until Geralt’s eyes widen just a fraction. “Sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

The way Geralt scowls, not at Jaskier but just in general, he thinks he’s not going to get an answer. He especially doesn’t think he’s going to get this particular answer, and yet Geralt very abruptly surrenders. “I don’t come here for the coffee.”

Oh. Jaskier bows his head to hide the smile that tugs at his lips. Somehow, it’s comforting to think that Geralt, who faces down monsters and seems generally put together is as awkward as he is. So much so that it takes him a second to even realize Geralt is maybe flirting with him. Definitely trying to judging by the vaguely terrified, deer in the headlights expression on the witcher’s face.

“I’m much better off the clock.” Jaskier immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, but it’s far too late. This is the point where Geralt realizes he’s made a terrible mistake. This is the moment where he decides maybe not to come back.

Whatever Jaskier expects, it’s not Geralt’s laughter, a surprised huff that sprawls out into something more concrete. It’s the loveliest sound Jaskier thinks he’s ever heard, and he can’t even bring himself to mind that it’s a little bit at his expense. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before Jaskier can say anything, flirtatious or otherwise, there’s the familiar chime of someone coming through the door. Not that he needs the door to alert him. The raucous laughter does a good job on its own. That’d be the 3 a.m. crowd.

“I should… get back to work,” Jaskier reluctantly concedes and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t imagine the faintly disappointed look on Geralt’s face.

“Jaskier,” Geralt murmurs just as Jaskier is about to leave, softly enough he almost misses it. When he turns to look, the witcher’s jaw works for a moment before he says, “Thank you. For all this.”

“Any time,” Jaskier replies, not entirely surprised to find he means it. Even if nothing comes of their newfound camaraderie, maybe he’ll get a song out of it or something.

The 3 a.m. rush keeps him busy after that, and Jaskier only really makes it back to Geralt’s table to refill his coffee and bring him the check. By the time things slow down, Geralt is out the door, which is a good thing, honestly. He’s gotta sleep some time, Jaskier supposes.

Jaskier watches Geralt’s car disappear before he goes to clean up the table. As always, Geralt has left everything neatly stacked (yet another reason he’s Jaskier’s favorite customer). There are a few bills, and it’s only as he’s pocketing them that he notices writing on the receipt Geralt left behind.

A phone number is scrawled across the slip of paper, but it’s the note underneath that makes Jaskier grin as he pockets it for later.

Just in case you run into any noonwraiths in the woods.

(Fic Masterpost)

[spellbound-banshee]

The Afterparty - Tom Holland

Summary: You’re one of Harrison’s best friends from his childhood, and you finally decide to go to one of his small parties. There, you meet his friends...

Warnings: literally just fluff haha

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

You were one of Harrison’s best friends, the mystery girl that he always talked about but rarely had over. Being another actress, you were always moving around, trying to find jobs and get a steady job. You’d known Harrison since middle school, but you had to move away once you got to high school, never giving you the opportunity to meet his current best friend, Tom. But that would change tonight.

For the first time in a while, you actually accepted an invite to hang out with Harrison - it was never because you didn’t want to, it was just because you were always so busy. And it felt nice to keep in contact with him, even after all these years and many years apart.

H: hey, what time you heading over? Y/N: leaving now, darling H: seeya in a bit x

You smiled brightly and placed your phone down, brushing the last bundle of knots from your hair as you gazed at yourself in the mirror. Harrison didn’t tell you if it was an actual party or just a hang out with a couple of people, but either way you wanted to make an impression. When you arrived to a quaint house - apparently Tom’s - you could feel the nervous excitement bubbling in your veins. You’d seen Harrison in pictures of course, and you obviously knew who Tom was, but it felt like 50 years since you’d seen Harrison in person, and meeting new people made you especially nervous. Especially if that new person was Tom fucking Holland.

“(Y/n)!” Harrison’s surprised voice greeted you as he opened the door, taking a moment to take in your appearance.

“Haz!” You replied, wrapping him in a big hug, one he quickly and gladly returned, swaying you back and forth slightly. “So good to see you finally!” You beamed, pulling away and also taking in his appearance - taller than you remember, and much more... model-y looking.

“You too, missed you.” He smiled down at your smiling face, “you look absolutely beautiful, just as stunning as I remember.” You beamed at that, nodding your head and accepting such a gracious compliment.

“You don’t look so shabby yourself.” You smiled, and he shoved you to the side, rolling his eyes but wrapping his arm around you to urge you inside. 

“Come in, come in. Welcome to Tom’s place.” The uneven weight shifted onto you made you giggle hysterically as he practically dragged you inside - it felt like home, just like old times. Your smile widened as you remembered the fond memories you had with your best friend, but it stopped for a moment when you saw who was inside.

Wow, he’s even better looking in person.

Though you tried to stay cool, you felt your heart skip a beat when you saw Tom on his couch, who immediately stood up once he made eye contact with you. “Oh! Hey, (Y/n), right?” He began to walk over and Harrison dropped his arm from your shoulder, shoving you playfully with his pointer finger. You shot him a playful glare and rubbed your arm, pushing him away with a bigger amount of force.

“Yeah, hi! Tom, right?” You replied, taking his hand which he stuck out to shake, and despite the professional gesture it felt strangely informal. “It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much and obviously... seen so much.” You gestured towards the TV as if it was playing one of his movies, which would actually be comforting in the moment.

He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck and dropping his hand. “Yeah I’ve heard a lot about you to.” He nodded his head, quickly spinning around and outstretching his arms. “Uh... this is my brother Harry.” Harry looked up and shot out a peace sign, giving you a bright smile but comfortably glued to his spot in the couch.

“Hey.” You nodded back to him, smiling at the hand gesture. “Your place is so nice.” You said, looking around as if it was a museum, taking in the sort of old-fashioned English aesthetic of the living room.

“Oh, thanks. Do you... want a tour?” He asked, pointing around his shoulder as if the rest of the house would be revealed. You took a second to look at Harrison, who was watching the two of you intently with a big, teasing grin on his face. He nodded his head (as if you needed his permission) and gestured for the both of you to go on, and you gladly accepted the offer.

-

As nighttime rolled around, a few more people had come over, a few mutual friends of all three boys staying at the house. Naturally, you felt a bit out of place, but you and Tom had really begun to hit it off, talking up a storm. He mostly felt bad and wanted to keep you company since you only really knew Harrison, but you were starting to grow on him. Not that he didn’t think you would, any friend of Harrison’s would surely be a friend of Tom’s.

He loved that you didn’t only want to talk about him and Spider-Man, of course you asked a few questions about it but he admired how you wanted to get to know him. Not Tom Holland, who nearly every girl found attractive and fantasized about, but just Tom, Harrison’s friend. You were also beautiful, god you really threw him for a loop. And you seemed like a powerful energy, you knew what you were talking about and weren’t easily intimidated, he loved it.

“Is anybody gonna dance or like...?” He heard your voice, snapping him out of his dream-state, realizing he was literally thinking about a girl he just met - and staring. He didn’t want to seem like a dick or freak you out, as if all you were to him was a pretty face. Of course, you were a pretty face, and he’d only known you for a couple of hours, but he felt if a strongly and he hoped you did too.

“I mean... there’s only a handful of people here so... I guess not.” He laughed nervously, running his hand through his hair, unable to make eye contact. Now he really felt like Peter Parker - speechless in front of the pretty, confident girl.

“Wanna dance?” You asked, putting your nearly finished beer on the counter and giving him a bright smile. You could tell he was about to protest, but you interrupted him before he got the chance. “Oh come on, Holland. Harrison tells me you’ve got moves! I’ve seen the lipsync battle.”

Tom audibly groaned at this, dragging a hand down his tired face. “No, don’t bring up the lipsync battle, please.” He practically begged, but you just smiled and shoved him playfully, nearly knocking his elbow off the counter.

“Come on! Fuck everybody else let’s just vibe!” How could he say no to someone so beautiful as you. He rolled his eyes, taking a large drink of his beer before sighing submissively, allowing you to drag him somewhere close to the speaker. “The song is kinda slow.” You shrugged, unable to find some sort of beat to dance to, and Tom felt his heart sort of skip a beat as your non-chalantness. “We’ll make the most of it.” You smiled, placing your hands on his shoulders, a silent ask for consent to wrap your arms around his neck.

Tom was frozen, but he felt his body nod, allowing your arms to find a home around the back his neck. Your other hand grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your waist, and though he flinched back a bit he tried not to put it anywhere you would find offensive or suggestive. You just shook your head and giggled at the sheer closeness and awkwardness of it, but you weren’t complaining, it felt nice to have someone in such close proximity.

“Relax, Tom. We don’t have to leave room for Jesus it’s okay.” Tom burst out laughing at your comment, and you instantly felt the atmosphere lighten as he brought his head back down to see you.

“Sorry, pretty girls make me nervous.” He teased with the same amused smile on his face, and you laughed at his compliment, tapping his shoulder twice.

“Charming.” You teased, and he just chuckled, finding a rhythm with the song that seemed too fast for an occasion like this but too slow to jump around to. Neither of you were complaining though, especially not Tom.

At some point both of you just closed your eyes, feeling the moment and not caring about anyone surrounding you. It was just you, him and the music shaking your bones with each subtle bass hit. Somehow, you both opened them at the same time, and made a strange sort of eye contact that knocked the wind out of both of your lungs. But you thought you were crazy, Tom Holland being attracted to a girl he just met, in your dreams - literally.

You pulled away flustered, and Tom quickly worried he’d done something wrong to ruin the moment. But you just shook your head and said, “I’m going to go get some more beer from the cooler, do you want anything?” Tom seemed surprised by your reaction to him, pulling away with a small blush on your cheeks, just like his probably had.

“Uh... no, no thanks. I’ll uh... I’ll be here.” He said, casually leaning against the fridge and running a hand through his hair. You nodded awkwardly and began to walk away, mentally face-palming as you opened the screen door to the porch. Harrison was out there and seemingly preoccupied with a girl, but he saw you come out, looking distressed and confused. He instantly thought the worst, and put his conversation on pause with an apology, walking over to you.

“Hey, (Y/n), you alright?” You saw your concerned friends face and quickly tried to ease his mind.

“Yeah Haz, I’m okay. I just...” You shook your head, reaching down into the cooler to grab yourself another beer. “I think I just made things awkward with Tom like... we were just dancing and I got... flustered.” Harrison just started laughing, letting it go on a big sigh that just oozed teasing. “What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Dude, you didn’t ruin anything. Tom’s literally been ogling at and about you since you walked through his front door.” You froze, really? You shouldn’t see him as a higher up, but Tom Holland... checked you out? Possibly more? “He’s been flustered this whole time, he’s definitely geeking out for you right now.” You blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and giving a nervous chuckle. “Aw, you’re blushing like a rose.”

“Shut up, dickhead.” You punched his shoulder, and he dramatically mouthed ‘ow’ and stepped away. “I think you’re lying.”

“And I think I know Tom way better than you. And he... definitely likes you.”

-

“Hey.” You greeted as you walked up to Tom again, who’d been on the couch nervously looking at his phone since you left.

His face lit up as you sat down with two beers in your hands, “hey,” he replied, turning his phone off and hiding it under his thigh.

“I got you a beer anyway, they were running low so I figured... might as well.”

“Oh sweet, thank you.” He smiled as you placed both beers on the table in front of the couch, no real intention of drinking them in the moment. It just seemed like a conversation starter. “Sorry about earlier if I made you... uncomfortable or anything it wasn’t my intention.”

“Oh, god no. You didn’t make me uncomfortable I just got... a little flustered is all.” You felt tension leave Tom’s body as he heard your words, nodding as they began to sink in. 

And you sat in comfortable silence for a while, shoulder to shoulder, practically daring each other to rest your heads against them. “Hey uh... thanks for keeping me company this whole night. I’m sure there are other... more interesting people you could’ve interacted with tonight but... thank you.”

“More interesting?” He seemed shocked, looking down at you, “I think tonight I’ve discovered you’re more interesting than most of the people here. So, it was truly my pleasure. You’re so easy to talk to.” You smiled, blushing and putting your face in your hands, feeling like you were in middle school all over again. How could someone you just met already be giving you an entire zoo of butterflies in your stomach?

“I try.” You replied, shrugging your shoulders, and you felt a light pressure on your upper back, which was now exposed since you were leaning over.

“You don’t have to.” He smiled when you took your head out of your hands to look at him, and you swear he stared at you like you were the only woman in the world. Damn.

“Would you mind if I kissed you?” The words just came out before you could stop them, and based on Tom’s surprised reaction, he wasn’t expecting them either. You were about to pull away and apologize, then go out to curse Harrison on his false predictions, but then...

“Mind? Hell, I’ve been working up the courage to ask you that all fuckin’ night.” Tom replied, rubbing the back of his neck and only liking you more due to the forwardness. You laughed happily, finally relaxing as you dopily shook your head, feeling a weight of awkward tension being lifted from your shoulders.

With a smile, you began to move closer to him and leaned in, putting a hand on his face to assure he was still there and he wasn’t going to pull away. When you stopped at his lips, he just smiled and closed the gap between you, his hand travelling to your lower back to also reassure himself you weren’t going anywhere.

When your lips touched, he felt the fireworks, that’s for sure. He didn’t think he could have a such strong connection with someone he’d met only a few hours, but he felt it. Tom felt it in his heart fluttering, in the way adrenaline coursed through his veins when you opened your mouth slightly, giving him silent permission. He gladly took it, and slipped his tongue into your mouth, the fading of mint gum and cheap beer entering his nervous system.

You felt the fireworks, everywhere. Once the kiss got more heated, you found yourself losing control of your instincts, every atom in your body pulling you towards him. Your hand travelled to his hair, scratching your nails up the nape of his neck, and although you couldn’t hear the probably glorious groan slip from his mouth, you could feel the vibrations on your lips. You weren’t sure if you were dreaming it, or if it was the music, you didn’t care, you had him in your grasp.

“Fuck.” He articulated as he pulled back a bit, but he didn’t want to lose the connection so he kept your foreheads pressed together. “Stay.” He practically pleaded, trying to catch your breath and suffocating on each other’s air.

All you could do was nod your head against his, leaving a kiss or two on his cheekbones and on his jawline, unable to resist the temptation. He just smiled at the way your lips seemed to tickle his skin, still holding you close as the world blurred around him. “Holy shit.” He heard you say, and with a mutual breathy chuckle you both pulled away.

Suddenly the confidence left the both of you, and you sat there in brief silence anxiously waiting for the other to say something, anything. “Do you maybe want to get a drink some time?” You smiled and returned the eye contact with him.

“I’ll have to think about it.” You teased, ruffling his hair a bit as a shocked expression filled his face. “Of course I will, idiot.” He just smiled, hand still on your back as he began to circle tiny patterns over your shirt. 

“Will you stay tonight?” You widened your eyes at the sudden question, but he quickly drew back, stuttering, trying to find his words. “Oh god I didn’t mean like- I don’t want you to get the wrong idea I just meant- I don’t know... where you’re staying and I-” He was cut off by your hysterical laughter, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. “You know if you keep up with the sarcasm you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“Of course I’ll stay, and don’t worry, I won’t get the wrong idea.” He just nodded and put his arm around you, coaxing you to lean on his shoulder and you gladly took the opportunity. However, before you could, you heard a loud banging coming from the outside against the glass door.

You both whipped your heads around, only to see Harrison giving you both a thumbs up and cheering like an idiot. As you both looked back at each other to make eye contact, you both burst out laughing, shaking your heads. 

“Dickhead.” The two of you shared the same insult.

-

[whelvenwings]

I Thought You Knew

Dean’s doing great with social distancing - or not bad, anyway - and then Charlie just has to try to put him in contact again with his old crush, Castiel. But they’re going to be able to keep things strictly professional and ignore their history - right?

~5k. Content information: this fic is set right now and mentions some small difficulties with self-isolation, but contains no mention of the pandemic itself.

Read here on AO3 if you prefer!

—————————————

It was all going just fine until Castiel got involved.

Well, for a given value of ‘fine’, anyway. If Dean was honest, social distancing wasn’t proving to be a picnic. At first he’d been sure he’d have no trouble – thought he’d have time to relisten to all his favourite albums, learn to cook brisket. First figure out what exactly brisket even was, actually, and then learn to cook it. With the world in such a state, and with so many things to worry about, Dean had thought that he’d at least be able to deal with being isolated.

Dean could really, really not deal at all with being isolated.

He was climbing up the walls by day three. There was something about only having himself for company, only his own face in the mirror to see and only himself to talk to, that seemed to flick some kind of switch in his brain. When he took his one piece of exercise a day, he made it a walk instead of a run so that he could go slowly and smile at people as he went. Him. Dean. Smiling at people on the street. Exchanging small talk about the weather with them.

It was only the fact that a whole lot of other people seemed to be doing it too that gave him any reassurance he wasn’t going completely soft.

By day five, he’d messaged Charlie so many times that she’d decided he needed some kind of project.

And that was how Castiel came into it.

Because Dean and Charlie had been due to move in together, had even put a deposit down on a place. It was there, ready for them. They just had to wait until isolation wasn’t so necessary to be able to move in. And so Charlie’s project for Dean was to figure out the interior decoration of their new place.

“I’ll suck at it,” he told her over the phone.

“Right,” Charlie said disbelievingly. “You think I haven’t noticed your tasteful curtains? The counterpane on your bed?”

“The hell is a counter-pain?”

“It’s the thing on your bed,” Charlie said, with more patience than Dean would’ve expected, which made him narrow his eyes. There was some part of this that he wasn’t going to like, and she hadn’t told him yet, and she was being nice so that he would be nice.

“Right. Well, anyway, yeah,” he said, deciding to agree now while the part he wouldn’t like still hadn’t come up, so the agreement to that part would be a separate issue. After all these years of knowing each other, Dean had his tactics. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it. Consider our place’s design sorted.”

“Cool,” Charlie said quickly. “Cool, cool, cool. Um, so I’ll just let Castiel know, then, and you guys can –”

Dean, who had been walking from his kitchen to his living room, tripped over his rug. He grabbed the door frame to catch himself.

There was a moment of silence on the phone.

“Are you alive,” Charlie said after a second, tentatively.

“Castiel,” Dean said. “Castiel Novak?”

“Um. Yes?” Charlie said, trying to sound small and charming.

“Charlie, you’re kidding me.”

“I know,” Charlie said, drawing out the ‘o’ into a little understanding wail. “But after we graduated he went into interior design, and he’s so good at it, so back when I thought we’d be too busy to, you know, do the decorating ourselves after we moved in, I just sort of… spoke to him about it… and he said he’d do it for a really reduced rate, and scrap the consultation fee, so we’d basically just be paying market prices for whatever he chose, and…”

She kept rambling, filling up the space so that Dean couldn’t get an argumentative word in edgeways. He wasn’t sure he even had the words to be able to protest with, anyway. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and then looked down at his toe, which hadn’t enjoyed the trip on the rug.

“But you know I hate the guy,” Dean said when Charlie finally ran out of things to say. He’d meant it to sound jokey, but it came out just a bit too quiet.

There was a little rush of static down the phone as Charlie sighed.

“I know,” she said, in the gentlest tone of voice she had. “I know you do.”

“Can’t I just do it all, now that everything’s like it is?”

“It’s just… the deal he’s giving us is really good,” Charlie said, and he could hear the wretchedness in her tone.

“He can still do the deal?”

“Oh, yeah. His business is doing okay. You know what he’s like. He’s always got seven strategies for everything.”

“Right.” Dean bit out the word. He did know what Castiel was like. Or rather, he’d thought he did.

“But what with… everything… we won’t be able to afford any decent interior design if the deal with Castiel falls through. Which is, like… the least important problem in the whole world right now, maybe. But when this is over I want to live in a nice place with you, dude. Like we always said we would.”

Dean let out a breath.

“A special place of our own…” Charlie wheedled.

Ugh.

“In the centre of the city,” Dean said, after a second.

“With a kitchen island for you –”

“– and a gaming den for you –”

“– and a giant TV for both of us,” they finished together. They’d been wanting this since their first year of college. They’d worked so hard for it, to be able to live together and away from the pasts they’d struggled to leave behind.

Speaking of a past that Dean wanted to leave behind –

“But… Castiel Novak,” he said.

“Dude, listen. It’s going to be like, one Zoom call. Maybe two. Everything else you guys can do via email. And he’ll be completely professional, I’m like, one hundred percent sure.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Huh. Okay. So, you don’t think, just for example, just say, I don’t know…”

“Dean,” Charlie said, trying to head him off, but Dean was in full swing now.

“You don’t think he’ll, say, pretend to be really enjoying the job, and keep spending loads of time on the job, and definitely seem like he’s ready to start doing the job on a more permanent and exclusive basis, and then suddenly have a one-eighty and decide not to do the job at all?”

“Dean,” Charlie said again, and her tone of voice hovered between understanding and amusement.

Dean swallowed. He didn’t want to put any of it into words – how much it had really meant to him, what he’d felt growing between him and Castiel back in college. How happy it had made him when he’d thought that Castiel felt the same. And how much it had hurt when Castiel had blown him off for their first date, twice, to hang out with other friends.

“Listen,” Charlie said, “I swear. A couple Zoom calls, some emailing, that’s it.”

“Is he still…” Dean didn’t know how to phrase his question.

“Kind? Polite? Occasionally grumpy? Yeah. But he’s super not hot anymore, so.”

Dean made a sound of disbelief.

“When you’re emailing,” Charlie said, “you can just pretend it’s someone completely different, anyway, right? And I’ll help any way I can.”

Dean narrowed his eyes.

“Any way?” he said. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you have to be there.”

––––––––

Sitting in his lounge at noon the next day, Dean logged onto his Zoom, and started the meeting.

He’d insisted that he be the host. Castiel had apparently protested that he had a Zoom enterprise plan and he could host the call, but Dean got a business account through his work, and somehow it made him feel better to be the one arranging the time and starting things off.

He was calm.

He was in control.

He was going to talk to Castiel Novak about interior design.

And it was going to be fine. Years had passed since those days in college when Dean had felt so strongly for him. He was a different person now, and so was Castiel. This wasn’t going to be a big deal.

Someone logged into the meeting, and Dean’s heart skipped heavily, thudding hard and uneven in his chest. He squared his laptop on his coffee table, sat up, resisted the urge to look down at himself on the screen and check his hair –

“Hey, Dean,” Charlie said, and Dean breathed out.

He looked down at himself, and checked his hair.

Still fine. He looked fine. Just normal.

“Dean? Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” Dean said. “Sorry, hey.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Charlie’s picture on Dean’s screen was a little grainy, but he could see the half-grin, half-grimace on her face. “Look, I’ve been thinking, and it’s probably really unfair of me to just –”

“It’s fine,” Dean grunted, waving a hand. The last thing he needed was for Castiel to log onto the meeting right at the point when Charlie was reassuring him through this encounter with his years-old crush. “It’ll probably be good.”

“… Okay?” Charlie said, with the confusion of someone who was getting away with something much more easily than they’d expected.

“I get veto power over any weird crap you try to put into the design, though.”

“Like you wouldn’t assume you have that anyway,” Charlie said. Dean made a face, and then sent her an expletive via private message. “Charming,” Charlie said.

A third person joined the meeting.

Dean felt his heart rate soar. There was only one other person who had the invitation. This had to be him. Dean licked his lips, cleared his throat, brushed at his nose, shifted on his sofa, and then tried his best to sit still and look relaxed.

The picture flickered to life. There he was.

Castiel Novak, on Dean’s laptop screen. His hair was still unruly, and his narrow-eyed expression as he waited for the call to load was a familiar one. Familiar enough to make Dean’s chest ache.

“Hello?” Castiel said, and Dean was gone. He was gone. That low, rumbling voice was just the same as it had always been. If Dean had known how to breathe a second ago, he was now having trouble remembering exactly.

“Hi, Castiel,” Charlie said easily, as Dean typed out a quick salvo of messages to her.

>> fuck you he’s still exactly the same >> he’s still hot >> fuck this

“Dean, you can hear Castiel, can’t you?” Charlie said, her tone edged with an instruction. Be polite.

“Uh.” Dean looked at Castiel on his screen. He didn’t know why these words were so hard to say. When he spoke them, they came out far too soft. “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel blinked. Some of the tension seemed to go out of his shoulders.

“Hello, Dean,” he replied.

Dean almost wanted to laugh. He almost wanted to leap through the screen to where Castiel was. He definitely wanted to shut his laptop and throw it out the nearest window.

He settled for ducking his head to hide the slight smile he couldn’t repress, and the hurt that he knew had to be showing in his eyes. How did this feel so good and so bad all at once?

“Okay,” Charlie said, her tone bracing. “Thanks for coming to the meeting, guys. Dean, you’re recording this so we’ve got a transcript for later, right?”

“Sure am,” Dean said.

“Castiel, you’re comfortable with that?”

“Of course,” Castiel said.

How could Castiel be sitting there? Just sitting there in front of his bookshelves, looking that good and talking and moving like a real person? Dean had spent so long after they’d stopped talking just thinking about Castiel, arguing with him in his mind, picturing what could have happened if things had gone better between them. If Dean hadn’t been wrong about the way that Castiel had felt.

But now Castiel was just there. Dean could yell at him, right now. He could ask him what had happened. He could demand to know if there had ever been a time when Castiel had wondered if there was something going on between them.

Or he could just sit back, and listen to Charlie and Castiel get started on talking about paint and sofas and styles of wooden flooring.

>> you’re not talking >> say something

Dean read the messages from Charlie in the chat and blinked, and tried to focus on the conversation. Castiel was explaining the initial thoughts that he’d had about their place, and how they could use the space. Dean made an attempt at being able to interject with something relevant. Castiel’s voice sounded so good in his ears. Seriously, the guy could read the phone book and Dean would be on one knee. How had he forgotten the way that Castiel’s mouth moved when he spoke? The shape of his lips?

>> earth to dean, what is going on

When the new message from Charlie came through, Dean frowned. He’d tried to talk, but it wasn’t working. Instead, he typed out,

>> he’s just still the same

He hoped the message would be enough of an explanation. He saw Charlie glance towards the chat, and then launch into talking about her own thoughts on how they could repaint the exposed brick in the kitchen. Castiel nodded along seriously.

“And a kitchen island,” Dean blurted out. Charlie and Castiel both stopped talking. Charlie rolled her eyes, while Castiel’s mouth flicked upward in a smile.

“Ah, yes. The kitchen island. Of course. There are a few options for the shape…”

Of course, Dean repeated in his mind. Of course.

He typed out to Charlie,

>> I think he remembered I want a kitchen island?

Castiel kept going, mentioning a few websites that he thought Dean might like to look at and then sending them in the group chat for everyone to see. Dean nodded at them, and made filler noises as Castiel talked some more about different countertops.

Dean pressed his lips together hard for a second. It was messing him up that Castiel remembered something so small about him as the kitchen island thing. Who remembered that about someone they didn’t think was special? Someone they didn’t actually care much about?

>> Dean?

Charlie’s message was simple. He must be looking upset. Dean steeled his jaw, swallowed hard, and typed back,

>> just wish we’d’ve worked out.

On the screen, Charlie’s eyes narrowed into the briefest of winces. She replied to Castiel, giving Dean the space to be quiet.

The rest of the call was uneventful, because Charlie made it so. Castiel shared a couple of pictures with the two of them, and they both nodded enthusiastically. For half an hour, they talked about fabric colours and feature walls and where to put the TV.

Dean spent most of the time thinking about the kitchen island, and Castiel’s hair, and what it had felt like when Castiel had ditched him.

“Okay,” Charlie said eventually. “You’ve given us a lot to think about. Loads of great stuff, Castiel. Thanks so much.”

“My pleasure,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, thanks, Cas,” Dean said. Even those three words came out stilted and husky.

“You’re welcome,” Castiel said, and looked as though he were going to say something else, but then didn’t.

“Dean’ll send you the transcript, just so we’ve all got it for reference,” Charlie said. “Okay. I’m gonna sign off now. Bye, guys!”

“Bye,” Dean said, hurrying to end the meeting with a click, not wanting to be faced with even a second of screentime with just himself and Castiel. He tapped to ring off, just as Castiel said,

“Goodb-”

Dean stared at the screen for several seconds, in the sudden quiet of his lounge. He looked around the room, trying to find some solace in the familiarity of his own place and his things, find the ground under his feet again. That had been Castiel.

They’d talked. They’d actually spoken.

He’d still been so –

So Cas.

Dean gritted his teeth. He knew where that line of thought and feeling went – somewhere Castiel didn’t want to go. Somewhere that would leave Dean on the end of a phone in the middle of the street with a pit in his stomach and a reservation at the nicest restaurant in town that no one was going to keep.

He clicked across his screen, grabbing the transcript and firing it off in an email to Castiel. There. Done. Finished.

––––––––

Two days later, Dean got an email from Castiel, to schedule a Zoom meeting.

“I told you,” Dean growled at Charlie over the phone. “I wanted to be the one hosting.”

“I know,” Charlie said. “But look, he’s got it all figured out. Can we just go along with it?”

Dean closed his eyes. No, he wanted to shout. No. I want to feel like I have a handle on this, even if it’s just the tips of my fingers. No. I need this –

He ground his back teeth together, and lifted his chin even though no one could see him.

“He better have some great suggestions for storage,” he managed.

And so here they were, three days after the first Zoom call, with Dean being the one to open up an invitation to a meeting, this time. As the screen loaded, he took a gulp of the beer he’d put into a mug. It was eleven in the morning, and he needed it.

He needed it through the discussion about the bathroom surrounds.

He needed it through the debate over curtain colours.

He needed it every time Castiel pulled a thoughtful face, or smiled, or licked his lips – god. Then, Dean drank twice.

“If that’s all,” Castiel said, “I have another call in fifteen minutes.”

“Perfect,” Charlie said. “And Dean, you’d better check the transcript for this one. I could see you spacing out over there.”

Dean opened his mouth to defend himself, and then realised every defence he could make was something that he couldn’t say in front of Castiel, and closed his mouth again.

“Fine,” he said mutinously.

“Great. Bye, guys!”

Dean rang off without a word.

He went and ate some food to settle himself. Once he had an entire plate of pasta inside him, he felt slightly more able to go back to his laptop and open it up and check his email. Sure enough, there was the transcript in a message from Castiel.

With a roll of his eyes, Dean opened it. If he didn’t, Charlie would start making all kinds of decisions about their new place without him – and through all of this awkwardness, he still wanted to be able to have a say in the decoration of their apartment.

Hello, began the transcript. Good to see you again thank you for coming can you both hear me well…

Dean read on a little way. At one point, Charlie started talking at length about the pattern she wanted on the wall in her bedroom, some kind of stencilled effect; Dean almost skipped ahead, but stopped and frowned. Intercut with Charlie’s speech were some messages – messages from Castiel.

>> Dean looks good today. >> Like he always does.

Dean felt a flush race from the top of his head to his toes, and then bounce back up. He read the messages over again, and then again, his eyes wide. Was – was this a mistake? Some kind of glitch? But the messages were right there, in black and white.

Castiel had thought that he… looked good?

As he stared at the screen, something caught his eye. Dean sat forward on his sofa, gripping his laptop as he scrolled down further. Another message.

>> I’ve missed him so much.

One hand raised involuntarily to cover Dean’s mouth for a second. How had he missed these messages when they came in? Dean read back over them once again, even more carefully, and felt a second rush of hot static go through him.

These weren’t messages to the group chat. These were private messages. Messages that Castiel had sent just to Charlie, during the call. Dean kept reading.

>> Ever since the last time we spoke, there hasn’t been one day that’s passed that I haven’t thought of him.

Dean swallowed hard. These – these weren’t casual messages, thrown into the conversation. These were – these were – Dean didn’t have the words for it. Were they true? Were they real? Surely not, how could they be?

>> Even when I’m not thinking about him, there’s always a part of me hoping he’ll call. And I hate phone calls. But I wouldn’t from him.

That was the last of them. Dean set down his laptop carefully on the end of the sofa. He could feel that his cheeks were bright red. His heart was racing. He was too – it was too much for him to be able to smile, or text Charlie, or even move.

What did he do now? Castiel had sent all those messages privately. Did that mean Dean had to pretend he’d never seen them? Dean grabbed suddenly for his laptop, pulled up a search browser and typed in Zoom call private messages printed transcript.

A few seconds of reading later, he set the laptop back down. His hands were shaking slightly. So, it was because Castiel was the host of the Zoom call that the transcript automatically put all his private messages in, as well as –

Dean stopped.

The transcript.

It printed out the host’s private messages.

This time, it had printed out Castiel’s messages. But last time –

Last time –

Dean dropped his head into his hands.

“No,” he said out loud.

He looked up, around his lounge. The lounge that had been the same after he’d seen Castiel again three days ago. The lounge that had been the same after Dean had seen Castiel’s private messages. And the lounge that was still the same, even now, when he realised Castiel had seen Dean’s.

What was it that he’d said? Something about Castiel being hot. And – Dean covered his face again.

“No. No. No,” he said. But he couldn’t make it untrue. Castiel had seen the message that Dean had sent to Charlie, wishing that things could have worked out between him and Cas.

The shame was like a punch to the gut. Castiel had been only too clear about his feelings in college, when he’d taken care to escape both the dates that they’d set up.

Except… except Castiel had read those messages, and he’d – Dean stopped trying to suffocate himself with his own hands for a second. Castiel had read those messages, and he hadn’t run away. He hadn’t awkwardly ignored them. He hadn’t asked Dean to stop.

He’d responded in kind. He’d sent an answer, of a kind.

Dean grabbed for his phone, and pulled up his messenger. He scrambled to find his chat with Charlie.

>> Charlie??

He hovered his thumbs over the screen. He couldn’t think of what else to say – but the response was immediate.

>> Call him >> Trust me

She sent a phone number.

Dean stared down at it, his mouth slightly open. Was this happening? Was any of this real? Before he could wake up from the dream, he tapped the number on his phone screen and hit Call.

The phone buzzed in his ear, just once, and then the call was picked up.

“Dean?”

The single word was so heavy, so weighed down with feeling, that Dean took a second to be able to respond.

“Cas,” he said.

There was a moment of quiet. Dean didn’t know how to breathe again. He seemed to keep forgetting.

“Got your messages,” he managed.

“I got yours,” Castiel said.

His voice was so good to hear – so good. But Dean was twisting up inside.

“Look,” he said wretchedly, “Cas, you gotta just tell me. Has something changed for you? About… about us?”

“Changed?” Castiel said. “No. Nothing’s changed.”

It was a blow. It was the sudden dousing of a spark of hope. Dean felt his chest go hollow.

“Oh,” he heard himself say. “Oh. Right.”

“But… something’s changed for you,” Castiel said. “Hasn’t it?”

“For me?” Dean managed to say through his dry throat. “No, Cas.”

“… Oh.”

Dean wanted to hit something. This – what was happening? Castiel – he’d read Dean’s messages – he’d sent those messages back the same way – but now it turned out Castiel still felt the same as he had in college, he still didn’t want to date Dean. How could he? Surely when he’d sent those messages, he’d have known what Dean would think?

What he’d hope?

“Um,” Castiel said. “I thought this would… I don’t understand. When you sent those messages, I thought it meant that you… that you felt…” His voice trailed off.

“You know how I feel,” Dean said, and the anger was burning through in his tone of voice. “I don’t get why you’d send those messages, if you didn’t… you know… the same. Feel. The same.” Anger gave way to awkwardness as his sentence stumbled.

“I sent them because I thought – I thought you felt – I thought you’d want them,” Castiel said. “When I read yours, I wanted to reply the same way, I… I didn’t want you to be embarrassed.”

“You thought you’d save me from being embarrassed,” Dean said, “by making me think you liked me like that? When you don’t?”

“Liked you like what?” Castiel said, sounding startled over the phone. Dean made an actual grunt of frustration.

“Like… c’mon, Cas, really? Like that. Like, like like.”

“But I – I do,” Castiel said, so quietly that Dean barely heard it.

Dean’s chest seized.

“No,” he said. “No. You just said you still don’t feel that way.”

The hiss of static on the line was painful. But then –

“Dean, I’ve always felt this way.”

The noise Dean made was involuntary. He put his hand over his mouth again, just for a second, to try to catch it.

“You didn’t know?” Castiel said, and Dean knew him well enough to be able to picture the look of disbelief on his face. “But Dean, I… I thought you knew. I was so obvious.”

“Cas,” Dean said, “you ditched me for our first date. Twice.”

“What? You’ve never asked me out on a date.”

Dean’s mouth fell open.

“Are you kidding?” he said.

“Are you?”

“Cas, I asked you to meet me for dinner. I booked us a place. First time, you said you had to help someone with their homework. Second time, you said you got invited to go see a movie.”

“That – you – that was a date? No, I – I’d remember –”

“First time was right before midterms,” Dean said. “Second time was right after. You did homework with Meg, and then you went to a movie with Uriel.”

“Oh…” The penny seemed to drop. “But – no. That wasn’t a date, those weren’t dates – it was just going to be another group night… like we always had, with Charlie and Billie and everyone?”

“Group night? Cas, I booked us a fancy dinner, I was dressed up –”

“You didn’t tell me,” Castiel said.

“I invited you to dinner!”

“We were always asking each other to come over to eat together, and it was never a date,” Castiel said. “But – but it – but you – some of them were?”

Dean could feel his world crumbling. No – no, not his world. Just some parts of it. Just the spiky, painful, horrible part of it that had grown up twisted and aching because of Castiel ditching him.

“I thought you left me,” Dean said. “Twice.”

“I would never do that,” Castiel said. “You were the one who stopped talking to me.”

“I thought I had to be making you uncomfortable… trying to date you when you didn’t feel… but you would’ve – you would’ve said – yes?”

“If I’d known it was a date,” Castiel said, “I would have gone through Hell to get there.”

What could Dean say? All of these years of silence, all of the hurt, all of the worrying and thinking and arguing with a ghost, and the whole time Castiel would have said yes. He would have been there. He just hadn’t known. He tried to reach for words and nothing came. He tried to parse his own feelings but it was overwhelming.

“You didn’t say a word to me,” Castiel said. “You didn’t even give me a chance to explain.”

Dean opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He stared around the static sameness of his lounge as though anything he saw there could possibly have the answers.

“I was wrong,” Dean said, his voice hoarse. “I’m so – I’m sorry, Cas.”

Castiel breathed out, a huff of static down the line.

Maybe it was broken, Dean thought. Maybe even though – even though they both – even still – maybe they’d broken it too much to fix it now.

“I could have tried harder to talk to you,” Castiel said softly. “I thought you must have figured out how I felt and decided you were better off dumping me. I could have tried to talk to you about it.” There was a pause, and then he said, “I’m sorry, too. Sorry I let you go.”

“You really… you really feel…” Dean couldn’t even put it into words. “I mean, those messages…”

“I said I missed you,” Castiel said, in that perfect low rumbling voice.

“I missed you, too.” It was so much truth in so few words that Dean felt his own voice give. “Cas, I… fuck. Is it too late now? For this?”

Castiel took a moment to answer.

“I’m surprised every day,” he said, “that I still want you just as much as I did on the day we stopped talking. I kept waiting for it to fade. Waiting for myself to finally realise you weren’t coming back. But it was like it didn’t matter. Like the time passing didn’t matter. Like it couldn’t touch us.”

Dean couldn’t smile. He couldn’t do it. Now was the time, if there had ever been one, but it was too much, way too much.

“I get it,” he said. “I get it. I want you too.” It rose in him like a rush of heat. “I want you so much, Cas.”

“I’m here.” A pause. “You can have me.”

“Fuck… Cas, I… I…” The sensation was only just starting to feel like happiness, a happiness so huge that it was devastating.

“When this is over…”

“Come on a date with me,” Dean said. “Cas, date me.”

It was silent on the line. For a second, Dean’s certainty wavered.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Now.”

“What?”

“Now.”

“But – we can’t – nowhere’s open, we’re not allowed to –”

“Now,” Castiel said. “We’re on a date. Right now. This is it.”

Finally, finally, Dean managed to smile.

“Okay,” he said. “Now.”

––––––––

A week later, Charlie sent him a text.

>> Haven’t heard from you in an entire twenty-four hours. Did I do good finding you a project?

Dean, on a Zoom call with Castiel, grinned down at his phone.

You did fine, he typed. You did good.

[hecohansen31]

To Kill A King

Ivar+Saxon Princess! Reader

The Stupid Believer:

Just when I thought I was Running out of time The King stood trembling at my bedside

“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy

(Masterlist) (Previous Chapter)

(A/N): Hello there lovelies!

I know that nobody reads this, but I just wanted to tell you two things:

1) THIS CHAPTER SUCK! (I mean... fluff and angst not mixed properly together+me overthinking everything...=utter shit) (so I am sorry, I hope the next one will be better!).

2) I might disappear a bit in the following days, because of personal reasons (related to tumblr and outside) so if I don’t reply/am very active, I am sorry, but I am doing what I think is best for myself.

As always: this series means so so much to me, so any feedback is more than welcome, everything starting from comments to reblogs, just LET ME NOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Feedback makes our fingers write faster and our heart beat faster!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY:  Pushed up to confront your previous 'owners', you delve in the joys of marital bliss, although nothing seems to last truly. Innocence and dreams even less.

WORDS: 19 K

WARNINGS: Arranged Marriage, Mention of Domestical Abuse and Rape, Violence (Strong Themes), Sexual Harassment, Slavery, Historically inaccurate, Blood and Period.

The ride on the chariot, this time, had been silent and although you weren’t sure, you had the sensation that Ivar went slower this time, almost as if he didn’t want to bring you there, as he held you against him, his own breath being uneven.

You thought about what English men wanted from you.

You almost dreaded the thought of being wanted back.

It made you feel like an object.

Nothing more than a vase to be traded.

The brothers had started off before you, to allow you the privacy to converse in peace and finish what they had interrupted, but Ivar hadn’t said anything, the intimacy you had owned a few moments before completely shredded to pieces, as he harshly suggested you adjusted your hair.

Strands of grass were in them, alongside the evident traces of Ivar’s kiss, since they had been evidently brushed up by Ivar’s bigger hands.

He still looked for your hand as you were finally ready to face the English warriors, and he had helped you again on the chariot, making sure to dust off the remaining of grass from your clothes as you did the same on his own.

You almost wanted to say comforting words, such as the ones you had saidion the small private piece of heaven, Ivar had offered you.

But this wasn’t the time.

And you couldn’t promise Ivar to stay if your father wanted you back.

You hoped it wasn’t what would have happened, since it would have certainly awakened the war you had been sold to finish.

Your father wouldn’t have been that stupid.

You hoped.

You met the English warriors at the border of the camp and you immediately recognized them as the border patrol unit, a rather smaller one in the English army, mostly travelling to make sure the borders and treaties were respected both by the heathen and both by the lords of England, that might use a moment of instability to gain more lands.

Like your father.

Gosh, he was quite clouding your mind, since you couldn’t help but feel like whatever was happening, he was for sure involved in it.

Nervousness flickered through you as Ivar beside you held his most unimpressed expression, something that made you uneasy, since this way he was quite difficult for you to understand him.

You wanted to hug him, since the feeling of his strong body was almost comforting to you, but it would have been highly inappropriate, even more now that you were faced with your own old motherland.

You quickly moved in front of the brothers, although Hvitserk, made sure to stand beside you on the side that Ivar didn’t occupy already, gently pushing an hand on your shoulder, as if he understood your uneasiness.

And then you were fully in front of your previous kinfolk.

And you didn’t recognize a single one of them, almost as if entire years had passed since you had started your new life in the Viking settlement.

It was better to get this over before nervousness got to you.

“I am princess (Y/N)” you screamed in order to be heard by the scouts, since a lengthy distance was between the two armies, with the Vikings seemingly ready to attack at any moment, meanwhile the Saxons looked quite fearful, even more because they weren’t in the slightest enough counterattack the heathens “… why have I been summoned, here?”.

Your words seemed more annoyed than you had intended them to be, but the memory of Ivar’s lips on yours was still recent, and the way his hand gently pressed its way in your arms, already made you missing of the intimacy you had shared.

No cunning thoughts or mischievous plans between you two.

You had expected a few soldiers of your father to appear, although none of them wore its emblem, but then the crowd of soldiers opened, revealing, finally, a familiar face.

A fair-haired boy walked in front of the army, his light grey eyes searching for something, till they set on you, as his steady body finally seemed to relax.

Alexander appeared in your full view, and for once since all this meeting had been announced, you were happy to see a Saxon face among them, as he moved closer to you, walking the lengthy distance between the two formations, till both Hvitserk and Ubbe stepped up to stop him.

Your arm immediately shot up to the younger brother, as you pushed him back lightly, even going as far as to pull his hair to catch his attention and you whispered in his ear that you knew him.

And Alexander’s eyes, now, spoke of a similar recognition.

And soon, his hands moved to do what his eyes spoke of, as he, after both the brothers had been reeled back, pushed you in his arms, lightly raising you off the ground, making you giggle.

He twirled you laughing of happiness, making you completely forget where you were.

And then when he set you down, you had forgotten all around yourself.

Not many people, back in the castle had been your friends, truly.

But Alexander had been your dearest friend.

And your first crush.

Although that ship had sailed and sunk long ago.

“… what are you doing, here?” you giggled softly, as you tried to adjust your hair behind your ears, meanwhile Alexander regarded your strange outfit of the day, something that made you blush, but you coughed lightly to bring his attention back to your question.

“We are actually here for you, (Y/N)” he spoke softly, before he straightened up his back, pushing himself in a more honorable position, as if he hadn’t just broken the entire castle etiquette, in hugging you in that way “… we are here to check on you, princess (Y/N)”.

“Why?” you were honestly surprised to discover the reason, mostly because it made you almost feel like you had done something wrong.

Was your father not happy of the little information you had given him?

Alexander lightly lowered his stance, almost conspiratorially.

“… we have heard news that you had been accused of having poisoned a prince and were facing a trial for that…” realization hit your face, as you lightly moved to turn your head back, recognizing among the many Viking faces Heahmund’s one, who looked honestly relieved at seeing the small Saxon army.

And then your eyes fell onto Ivar, as your head made to turn to Alexander.

His mouth was slightly agape, as his eyes held a brokenness in them that made you shift your whole attention to him, as you noticed that his hands had been left around in the position they were when he was holding onto you.

You immediately reached around, pushing one hand between you and your heart broke at the eagerness Ivar showed in taking it, before his face became again impossible to understand, as he shifted his eyes away from you, as if he hadn’t been bothered by your intimacy with Alexander a few minutes before.

“It isn’t anything too bad” you mumbled lightly in Norse “… he is a friend”.

He just grunted, and knowing that he wouldn’t hear any explanation, you turned heavily to Alexander, glad that Ivar’s hold on your hand was still a small link between you.

“… I was” shock appeared in Alexander’s eyes “… but it was all a plot against Ivar, all the accusations fell quickly yesterday and my life is alright, I am sorry you had to come here for nothing, my father must have been truly annoyed to have to send..”.

“It is not your father who sent us” your friend spoke and you were immediately surprised, shock written all over your face “… our God-blessed king Alfred asked us to check on you, to make sure that you were safe”.

“I am”.

You wanted all of this to cut itself quickly, since you could feel the tension between the two armies, because although they were in no one’s land, it didn’t mean it couldn’t be conquered.

“I’d like to make sure of it myself” spoke Alexander, as he grabbed on the hand that Ivar didn’t hold, making effectively the worst move possibly, because as he gripped forward, Ivar gripped you back to himself, effectively overpowering your friend.

And you cursed yourself for being stuck between two men.

“… my wife told you she is fine, Saxon, now go back to your lands” Ivar’s words were a veiled threat, and although you didn’t like his tone and sent him an harsh glare to remind him of his tone.

“I said I’d like to prove it myself” replied in an even more hissing tone, Alexander, holding himself as arrogantly as he could, something that always fascinated you, but right now, against Ivar’s sheer power, he looked like a boy who was challenging a man.

“And I do think that I have a saying in this” you surprised the two men, pipping in, as you broke away from both grips, meanwhile Hvitserk behind you giggled at the ridiculousness “… Alexander, has my tongue ever been anything less than truthful?”.

He shook his head at your reprimand as Ivar shook his head, already tasting victory, and you decided to take advantage of it, turning to him, as you joined your hands together.

Truly the portrait of the perfect couple.

“… I’ll walk with him to make sure that he comes back to the army, I won’t leave your view, don’t worry” you knew it sounded almost pathetic, but Ivar didn’t already seemed pleased to solely leave your hand “… it is a necessity that I show him that I am not hurt”.

“I would never hurt you” spoke tenderly Ivar, as his hand broke away from the hold of yours, lightly caressing your face to reinforce the concept, a gesture that made you smile softly, as you leaned in the simple touch “… he dishonor my land and men saying that”.

Why with men it was always about honor?

“… I know” you spoke softly “… but they don’t know it, so just let me show them that I am happy with you”.

The words seemed to hit him deeply.

But never as much as they hit with you.

Because they were the truth.

You had been happy with him.

Not always and sometimes he could be quite a pain in the ass, but…

… he made you smile.

“… I swear that nothing will happen” you promised “… I swear it on the crown”.

That seemed to get to Ivar, whose tense expression disappeared in a smirk, as his other hand went to your waist, something that made you breathe out at his boldness.

“… are you using my ideas against me?” he commented with that insane arrogance, that made you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

Oh Gosh, wouldn’t you have liked to be still there in your own private heaven, on top of him, tasting him as he explored your body.

And at the same time, shame brought a slight blush all over your body, starting from your neck and pushing itself on your cheeks.

“Am I not supposed to be your smart wife?” you retorted, and he seemed to enjoy it.

“… that’s more like cunning” he replied, before he brought your hand to his lips, a mark of possessiveness in his reply that made you smirk softly “… walk him back and tell them to leave”.

You nodded, as you turned to Alexander, who tried and failed to hide his confusion, and you suddenly noticed that you had spoken in Norse, without even noticing it with Ivar.

“… let’s go, my proud knight” you commented offering him his arm, as both Hvitserk and Ubbe were told to back off by Ivar, who turned his back to you, going back to his cart, meanwhile his brothers trailed after him, something mischievous in Hvitserk’s eyes.

You were glad you didn’t have to deal with his annoying questions.

Alexander took your arm, almost as if he didn’t believe it fully and gently started walking, at a slower pace than your own.

You kept in silence, till you were a bit away from heathens and then Alexander moved to talk, finally:

“Is it true that you aren’t in danger, anymore?” he asked “… Heahmund sent a letter and your sister Kathleen received it…”.

That explained the urgency and fear in Alexander’s arrival at the camp.

Gosh, it made you miss Kathleen.

With all the turn of events and the need to desperately win Ivar over, you hadn’t thought much about the love you had for your sister.

The loyalty that bound all of you.

“… and she convinced king Alfred to send a dispatch of border soldiers to check on you” Alexander continued to explain, as a small smirk appeared on your face.

“How did Kathleen manage to convince father and him?” you asked, honestly surprised, because although you knew that your sister Kathleen could drag the Devil away from his throne, you didn’t know how much a man like king Alfred might be pushed to agree on such a deal.

It made you wonder what was going on in the castle, during your absence.

“… it’s Kathleen” he commented tightly, shooting you a look as if to say ‘you know how she is’ “… she never wanted to play Guinevere’s parts when we played ‘The Legend of Arthur’, insisting she’d make a dashing Lancilot”.

“That she did”.

And that had always let Abigail be Guinever, meanwhile you were the witch Morgan, always being fascinated with such creatures, since it had made you feel powerful in your own way.

You had never been as strong as Kathleen or as cunning as Abigail, so to have magical powers…

… it had been a dream from you.

Imagination had been your sole weapon against your dull reality.

Alexander was the son of one of your father’s lords, a smaller one, cursed by the fact that that he was the second male child, hence he wouldn’t inherit much, unless he forged his own Destiny.

He would have been the least adapt match for you, according to your father.

But that had only invigorated the love that you had felt for him.

Although right now, with the knowledge of past facts, you knew it wasn’t anything more than an infatuation.

It was puppy love: you had always admired the strength of Alexander, the way he was so bright and funny, in a way that charmed anybody who had ever come upon his path.

But you had soon discovered that you weren’t the sole one charmed by him.

You had once caught him with one of the kitchen servants, and that had been the end of your first ever love story.

You had been heartbroken, mostly when he always promised you to run away with you, away from your father and his cruelty to be his own Guinevere.

But that had never happened.

And your dreams had been shattered.

From then on it had been simply a good friendship between you, although you hadn’t had much time to spend together since he had been enrolled against the heathens, even going as far as being sent to Ireland in some scouting missions, so you hadn’t seen him in quite some time.

Your mind had been quite troubled lately so the thought of him hadn’t crossed your mind, even more since your love for him had become a more tender affection.

“… and you are safe, aren’t you?” he asked, as he gently made you to turn around to face him “… they don’t mistreat you, do they?”.

“They don’t” you commented as you breathed out, trying to keep yourself the absolute calmest “… they have been welcoming, if you don’t count the fact that I was involved in a ploy to belittle Ivar”.

“You call him Ivar?” almost disbelief spoke in his eyes as you said that.

“What should I call him?” you shot back “… I do call him ‘husband’, if you are curious”.

“I am just…” he seemed at lack of words at your reply “… and you have even learned Norse, I just… feel like…”.

“I did what I had to do to survive” you commented, a flare of anger appearing in your eyes at Alexander’s questions, which reminded you of Heahmund, alongside the accusation hid behind them.

That you had turned away from the rightful way to the heathen’s one.

“That is right” Alexander commented, his uneasiness finally calming, as he moved to softly grab onto one of your hands “… I am sorry I wasn’t able to stop this from happening, you didn’t deserve it”.

“… you didn’t know, and you couldn’t have done much, knowing my father” you replied lowly, as you gripped back onto his hand, gently rubbing your thumb on the back of it “… I am actually surprised that you are here, I thought you were in Ireland, during your own scouting duties”.

“Alwin died” he replied and finally his eyes became darker with grief and you weren’t able to stop surprise from appearing on his face, at the news that Alexander’s older brother and heir to his father’s lands had died “… fighting against the heathens, although father didn’t want him to”.

“My condolences to you and your father” you spoke, measuring your words.

Although Alexander and Alwin had never been truly tight-knit brothers, always in competition for their father’s attention, you knew that it must have destroyed him to have that news, even more when his eyes showed the guilt of not having been able to protect his brother.

You understood him all too well.

“Father then had me coming back, although I told him I’d still be in the scouting legion, even more when I discovered what had happened to you” his eyes spoke of a true pain at the knowledge of what had befell on you, and you smiled trying to reassure him.

“… although this isn’t my ideal life, they treat me well, I swear it on the Holy Virgin” you promised him softly “… they haven’t ever hit me and Ivar…”.

‘… and Ivar kisses me like I am the only woman in the whole world for him’.

Your cheeks reddened at that thought.

“… he is gentle with me”.

Alexander didn’t look convinced and you knew that you hadn’t much time or options to convince him.

“… just give me more time” he suggested softly, as he pleaded to you, grabbing your hands with the same gesture Ivar had done not too long ago, and his deep grey eyes faced you, surprising you even further when he lowered himself on his knees “… please, my brave gentle princess, accord more time to me, so that I can let your sister know that you are safe and sound”.

Although the entire set-up was almost comical, this might have been quite the problem, because Ivar had clearly shown up that he didn’t like in the slightest the thought of Saxon men on his borders, but at the same time Alexander was stubborn.

You knew it all too well.

“Settle up for the night, I’ll talk with my husband” you pointed out the last word, as Alexander nodded eagerly, bringing your hand to his lips, and although you blushed at the silly gesture you couldn’t help but feel hollow from the small crush you had felt before.

“… you are an angel, princess”.

“I better be, because I’ll need a miracle to convince Ivar”.

---

“This is an insult!” in fact screamed Ivar, as you and his brothers held a private council in the main hall.

You had informed Ivar of everything on the chariot and although his focus hadn’t left for a single moment the control of the horse, he had stilled underneath you.

He was actively avoiding to let his anger feast on you, but he was bitter and he wouldn’t have had such a dishonoring command over himself.

“… and the people won’t have it” added Ubbe, sending you a small look as if to say ‘it is all your fault’, something that made you turn a bright smile at him, as you adjusted in the chair next to Ivar.

“I know” you commented, trying to calm all the souls around you “… but also the Saxons wouldn’t have left, if I hadn’t promised to try to let them stay and see me”.

“We can fight them” commented Hvitserk, drinking heavily from his horn, as you sent him an unbelieving glare, but immediately Bjorn backed him up, indeed reminding you that the Vikings had a completely different mindset from the Saxons.

And you were stuck between them, trying to find an agreement,

“You might, but it would destroy the peace my marriage sealed” and you sent a pleading look to Ivar, whose eyes still kept away from you, making you damnably nervous “… and you might defeat a scouting legion, but it’ll just put you to risk”.

“People will question this decision” Ivar simply commented, as he sent you a small look as if to ask you whether you realized the chaos that would ensue by your decision.

“… and you aren’t exactly popular among them” replied tightly Ubbe, something that this time got him a harsh look from you, as Ivar said a quick ‘don’t talk like that to my wife’.

It made you dizzy, to know that he defended you like that.

“… it isn’t exactly my fault for that” you commented “… but we could use the celebrations as an excuse: we invited the Saxons over to show them our victory over them, hiding this behind the semblance of a peaceful negotiation”.

The brothers didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, although they agreed begrudgingly, knowing that neither the opponents would have backed down and this was the best option for both.

“It isn’t enough” mumbled Ivar darkly, as he shot you a small look “… we don’t gain anything from this, and nobody of our warriors will celebrate next to some Saxon”.

“Then say that it is for an agreement for new lands” Ivar looked at you confused “… I have some lands to my name from my mother’s side, exclusively, say I have given them to you as a wedding gift and the Saxons are here to ensure the sanctity and rightfulness of the agreement”.

Your mother had bounded, before dying, some lands to your and your sisters’ names exclusively, to ensure that no matter what befell you, you’d have something for your dowry or to survive.

The question of these lands had annoyed your father, because he couldn’t have them and neither he could have used them as his own, as they were exclusively yours and they could be controlled solely by you, when you had come of age or married.

They weren’t as big as your actual dowry, but without a doubt they could have seemed quite the deal for Ivar, who simply looked at you surprised at that revelation, risking of choking on his ale, but he immediately composed back, agreeing to this with a tight nod.

“… then send the message that the Saxons are staying simply for that” he announced to his brothers, and you could see a similar grimace appear on both Bjorn’s and Ubbe’s faces.

They didn’t like that their younger brother chose for them.

But they didn’t say much, excusing themselves to spread the news, meanwhile Hvitserk stood in the room, painfully unwanted, till Ivar told himself to wait for you outside.

He had to exchange a few words with you privately and then Hvitserk would accompany you back to your tent, in order for you to write a letter to the Saxons, alongside talking with Heahmund, something that you didn’t tell Ivar, although it was high on your list of things to do.

Hvitserk trotted back, quickly, although he shot you a light smirk, as if he knew what you meant to do in your free time, and you weren’t able to stop the slight blush from appearing on your face.

Ivar did share a bit of red also on his cheeks, but his eyes were sharp till Hvitserk moved away, and then they settled on you, extremely tame with their thoughts making them appear like a storm, held back solely by wind.

“… I won’t take your lands” it was a bare answer, a whisper of indeed a storm that was starting, and you felt shaken to your very core by that revelation.

“What?”.

Any man would have seized all your belongings without a second thought or even asking you for your opinion, something that you personally found barbaric to say the least.

It was how court and wives worked.

It was how life had always worked.

Women were just the means to gain more lands and properties.

“… your lands will stay yours” he promised “… I’ll give them back to you as a wedding gift”.

“There is no need…” you started, but Ivar’s eyes shut you up quickly, as a hand of his went to thread itself in your hair, making you look up at him.

“They are your mother’s, aren’t they?” he searched your eyes for the truth, but you still nodded to assert it “… then they’ll never belong to me”.

“Thank you” you couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture that made you smirk softly, as you joined your hand with Ivar’s, gently bringing it to your lips, as the boy in front of you smiled softly.

“… and I have no interest in lands in England” he commented, trying to move away the attention from the gentleness he had showed “… Kattegat is my home”.

And soon it would have been yours too.

---

You adjusted yourself on the chair to the table you had been sat on for the previous half an hour, the letter meant for Alexander half-written, as you played around with the tip of the feather you were writing with, constantly annoyed by Angelika, who stood on your bed.

The handmaidens had all been excused, once you had arrived back in the tent, except for Turid who had been sent to retrieve and give an hour to bishop Heahmund, in order for you to meet up and tell him what would have been happening next.

What had happened now that you knew where his loyalties laid.

You also wanted to reinstate your strength and power over him, since he had seemed to forget about it.

As much as you damnably appreciated his attempt in helping you, the fact that he had sent a letter for your father without helping you or contacting you first, showed much of the true purpose of his staying beside you.

Something that you couldn’t have when you were stuck in the Viking settlements solely with him as your ally.

“… so, was you day with prince Ivar good?” Angelika asked you as you were rereading the last line you had written, almost throwing the feather out of your hands at the boldness of your handmaiden.

“None of your business” you replied, sharply, trying to focus again your attention on the letter, but Angelika smirked like a feline who knew that had hit a sore spot.

“… oh c’mon… don’t you want to tell me all the lovely moments you shared?” she continued on poking on you “… is he even able of some romance?”.

“Why isn’t Lia or Arabella here?” you wondered, raising your eyes up to the sky, annoyedly, although you were almost tempted to confess her the way you had felt for Ivar.

You had never had friends to who you could confess your own emotion and thoughts.

Your father’s court was a nest of snakes.

You had learnt early not to trust anybody with most of your thoughts.

You had grown up guarded, except with your sisters.

And without them you found yourself uneasy, both because you couldn’t talk with anybody about how you felt and both because the sole thought of confessing everything that was going through your mind tempted you and hurt you at the same time.

“… they are at training” she explained, although that annoying smirk didn’t leave her face.

“Why aren’t you there with them?” you commented, spitting the same softened venom you used for her.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt myself” she shot back tightly, and then she moved to highlight her face “… I wouldn’t want to ruin the only precious thing I own”.

“Dashing” you muttered, but it was only partially venomous, since you couldn’t help but notice the sad truth in her words: women truly didn’t own much but their beauty in this sick world “… it was nice… with prince Ivar”.

Her eyes caught fire at that small affirmation.

“Did you kiss him?”.

Now you were burning red hot and the letter was forgotten on your desk, and you turned quickly to her, definitely giving her the answer she was looking for and with a very ungraceful movement, she fell with her back on the side of your bed, laughing loudly.

“Oh Gosh! You kissed the heathen!”.

“Lower your voice, Angelika” you ordered her, although it was more an ashamed shriek, as the handmaiden didn’t even try to shut her sharp mouth “Somebody will hear!”.

“As if kissing your husband was something to be ashamed …” commented the same girl who had called your husband a ‘monster’ “… unless he is a bad kisser that is”.

Your cheeks reddened further and Angelika sent you a look as if to ask if she had guessed right, but you just shook your head, leaving your chair and your letter, since your head didn’t seem to have any idea on how to continue, your mind taken back to what it had felt with Ivar.

The gentleness and the respect his exploration had given you, as he softly took your lips in his, in a soft pressure that almost made you taste heaven.

And yet that same kiss opened the doors of hell beneath you.

But had you ever cared for that?

“… he is very good” you commented, not knowing fully why your lips were felt so loose all of a sudden “… but… I am not… as versed as him…”.

“… why doesn’t that surprise me?” replied the other girl, before she made you fall with a quick grab on your waist, so that you were at them same level, something that made you extremely nervous, never having been this close to another girl that wasn’t blood-related with you.

And after Caryn’s betrayal, the proximity hurt you even more.

But Angelika’s eyes were captivating and soon the embarrassment slowly eased up.

“… I could teach you” now they held the same wickedness of a big cat “… we could practice together”.

The suggestion made you redden significatively and you threw her a shocked expression, immediately raising yourself up, as she erupted in laughter.

And although you knew she was teasing you, it wasn’t insulting.

“Thank you for the suggestion, but no” you commented tightly, as you adjusted yourself, in a seated position, right when Turid opened the tent to check in whether you were comfortable to talk with Heahmund.

You blushed but nodded, excusing Angelika off, as you adjusted your hair, already knowing that your outfit of the day would have shocked enough the bishop, since you hadn’t changed from the outfit you had worn for your walk with Ivar.

Angelika moved annoyedly away, meanwhile Turid pushed Heahmund in, taking her leave, alongside Angelika, although her eyes shone of wickedness and you weren’t sure about whether she’d just leave, or she’d spy onto the conversation.

“… it is good to see you safe and sound” commented tightly the bishop, as he immediately came to you, kneeling before you and kissing your hand as a sign of respect, but you kept your eyes tight on him, steely and royally pissed “… I have heard that the scouting army came to check on you, my lady…”.

“Thank to you” it was a sarcastic mutter, and Heahmund soon noticed it, raising his head, to finally notice your bad humor.

“You aren’t happy with my actions, princess” his voice was almost a reprimand in itself and you held his glare, as you pushed out your breath, straightening your back.

“… not in the slightest, bishop” you replied, hissing through your teeth, something of your stance taking after the postures you had seen in Ivar “… you called my father, before even trying to help me”.

“I wouldn’t have done it, had I had any other choice!” he protested “… the Vikings wouldn’t let me see you and neither hear me, and let me tell you I couldn’t think of any other choice than to ask your father”.

Although you absolutely recognized Heahmund’s reasonings, his act had damaged you greatly, almost making you risk your life again.

Had he been truly worried for you, he’d have asked anybody but your father, since it was instead clear that his letter hadn’t been a scream of help for your own health, but a worry for your purpose in the settlements.

And it hurt you, although you knew that to your father and him you didn’t matter much more than for what you could give to them both.

“… next time you have to send a letter to my father, you’ll ask me or my handmaidens before” your voice this time didn’t ask for any replies, as it became steely rigid and strong “… and from now on if I ever catch on any information I’ll be the one to send you letters, there will be no need for you to come here”.

Heahmund’s eyes spoke of his complete humiliation at those orders followed by a blinding rage, but he simply nodded, bowing and taking his leave without being excluded.

“Bishop Heahmund” you called him one last time “… my father might not care the destiny that befell me, but let me tell you that I am much more influential than my position might let you think. For now, I have the strength to make this mission end well or badly, and I won’t undervalue it”.

“Understood” that was what you wanted to hear, and you excused him, dropping on the bed, as you had done with Angelika, feeling a series of emotion that made you almost nauseous for the various shifting they did in your mind.

You had always known that your life mattered little in your father’s hands, but you hadn’t thought it was that little, enough that you weren’t in charge of your own decision.

And that if you had overstepped your boundaries, your father would have gladly left you to die.

It hadn’t passed unnoticed to you that Alexander had said that it had been Alfred who had sent the army, because of Kathleen’s talks.

You already knew that your father didn’t care for you, even more for the shame you would have brought on his line, getting caught so early, before you could be truly useful.

He wouldn’t have taken you back, ever, now that you were tainted.

You knew that if you didn’t die on this mission by Ivar or his men’s hands, you father would have taken the thing in his own hands.

And had he ever taken pity on you, he wouldn’t have allowed much more than a shed in the wood, with no help except yourself to witness your slow death.

You had never thought that your Destiny would have been so horrible.

But now all the signs showed that no matter the momentary peace you were having, you would have had an unhappy ending.

You had been too busy with making Ivar like you at first and then protecting your own ass, but now that you thought about it, it just…

… it made you feel hollow.

Not because you were scared of death.

In death you would have found your mother again, and you would have been free from the pain of your earthly body.

But did your life matter so little truly?

A few weeks ago you thought that your life did matter so little, since in the end there wasn’t much you could bring to the table, still now you found it difficult to find yourself worthy of your title and life.

But Ivar’s words spoke to your mind, alongside the small goals you had accomplished in the camp, defeating Halfdan and Harald, creating your own court and making yourself known, as you spied on it.

You were training, your body was becoming stronger and you had found yourself being smart enough to find a solution, to talk with Ivar and be appreciated by him, because although he might not have felt love for you, he clearly admired your ways.

You could have allied with Ivar to avoid such a pitiful ending.

You could have confessed what you had been obliged to do, hoping in his anger he might see the advantage of having you by your side, although you couldn’t offer much more than your brain and your pretty face.

But what would have been of your sisters?

They would have been left to rot, maybe your father would have killed Abigail, since she wasn’t useful to him or his heir.

And you wouldn’t have survived it.

One thing was to play with your life, another was to play with your sisters’.

“… are you alright?” you were brought back by your awful thought by Hvitserk, as you immediately pushed yourself in a seated position, trying to shift away a grimace from your face as he walked in “… did the priest annoy you? Ivar will have him killed…”.

“That’d be a relief” you commented darkly, surprising the ever-cheerful Hvitserk, but then a pure look of focus fell onto his face “… I was joking”.

“Just give me the order, princess”.

“… I won’t forget it” you smiled at him sadly, as you got up, thinking that if you had spent more time with this situation on your mind, you would have probably ended up with your head growing as big as an oak.

It was better to train a bit to release the feeling of dreariness your heart held at the moment, ignoring the unfinished letter, since you didn’t know anymore what words to find.

“… did you and my brother fight?” he asked, trying to urge you in talking, seeing that you were quite unresponsive “… because I thought you looked pretty cozy back then, in the field…”.

You blushed red till even your ears were of that color.

“No, we didn’t fight…”.

“Then did you kiss?” now you were going to surely pass out from your overheated cheeks, since you couldn’t help but be embarrassed as you remembered the notion of having been caught in such a compromising position.

“… why is everyone so obsessed with knowing the details of my private life?” you muttered loudly, sending Hvitserk a pointed look, but he, exactly like Angelika didn’t back down.

“Oh please” pleaded Hvitserk, pushing his hands in a mocking pleading pose “… pretty please (Y/N) give me something to tease my brother with”.

“You won’t find an ally in me for annoying your brother” you retorted, with a tight smirk, as you pushed him lightly away, gaining a gleaming look from Hvitserk.

“… oh, pretty please, my princess” he insisted making you huff out loudly.

“Annoy your brother and not me” you simply finished the conversation, although you couldn’t help but be feel yourself a bit calmer.

But those horrible thoughts you continued on having quite the influence on you, hanging on your head like a Damocles’ sword.

“… then at least let me know when you and Angelika will practice kissing”.

You couldn’t help but be shocked by this confession, even more as you realized what Hvitserk had to do to hear those words.

He had listened on your conversation.

“… did you…” your voice choked in worry, and you tried to shove it down “… did you overhear what I was talking about with Angelika?”.

Hvitserk seemed to feel your uneasiness and quickly pushed up his hands as if to defend himself.

“… I just was by the tent” he commented tightly “… I left before the priest entered, wouldn’t want to ruin the secret of your confession?”.

A tight grimace was welcomed by a blanker expression, as you tried to calm yourself down, glad that he hadn’t heard of your talking with Heahmund.

“Don’t listen on any of my conversation” you replied biting your lips, as you pointed out each word “… because if you do, I’ll put poison ivy in your bed”.

“Oh, I am used to it, it won’t affect me anymore” he grinned wickedly, but you had another idea, as you raised up from the bed, knowing perfectly that Hvitserk would follow, as you exited the tent.

“Then I’ll curse you” your words were light and easy, unlike his meaning.

And Hvitserk’s grin dropped quickly.

“… how… how would you do that?” he asked, as you simply moved forward, and he kept on running after you till the stable, meanwhile you muttered something in Latin.

‘Rosa, rosae, rosae…’.

And he simply looked at you with worried eyes.

“… what was that?”.

“Just a little warning” you commented, getting Bukefalos out of his stables.

“… you are joking, aren’t you, (Y/N)?”.

But you ignored him, and before you knew it you heard him cursing loudly as he accidentally pressed his boot in horse shit.

Sometimes curses didn’t have to be real to work.

---

Training with Nanna had destroyed you and as you had been forced to attend dinner in the main hall, you had almost fallen asleep with your head in the soup.

Nanna had insisted on training double, since you hadn’t attended the previous lesson, something that left you breathless and tired, even more since you had been forced to move from the defense to attack stances, something that made you uneasy, to say the least.

You didn’t feel comfortable in the slightest using violence against anybody, because not only being attacked reminded you of your father, but knowing how to kill wouldn’t have made you similar to that man you dreaded the absolute most?

‘Why do I have to learn how to attack others?’ you had muttered to Nanna, as the woman tried to teach you how to properly punch somebody, reminding you of taking the thumb out of the fist.

She had seemed to almost take personal offense to that.

‘… how do you expect to maintain your throne if you don’t fight’.

You had explained to her, that you had your own throne set up and you hadn’t much to worry, although all your thoughts of the previous afternoon weren’t comforting in the slightest.

‘… you should actually worry about your throne, even more with an husband like that’ her comment about Ivar had appeared bitter and you had tried your best to nod your head softly, taking in what looked like interesting information ‘… Ivar wants the crown’.

‘He already has it’ you had mumbled ‘… he is a prince, with numerous victories and conquered lands on his part’.

‘… and he wants more’ she had simply replied, her lips turning in a bitter expression ‘… he wants the crown of Kattegat, which Lagertha, the current queen of Kattegars, his father’s land, is withholding away from him, and believe me, he’ll fight for it and you’ll have too’.

You hadn’t replied anything anymore, although the knowledge of Ivar’s plans didn’t make you in any way more comfortable or less at uneasy about this entire day, and you almost wished it’d just be over soon.

But it certainly all explained why the brothers’ relationships were so tense among them.

And why Ivar had called you ‘queen’.

You felt him nudging you lightly, as you stood with the spoon so close and yet so far away from your mouth, stopped midair.

You quickly pushed the soup in your mouth, grimacing at the fact that the soup had grown cold, but forcing a few more bites of it on your mouth, because although you weren’t hungry, your body needed some food.

“… want me to feed you” commented Ivar, with a smirk on his face as he drunk a cup of ale, meanwhile you sent him a light glare, through your hooded eyes, pushing a final spoon past your lips, keeping it there, as you sleepily looked for a small towel to clean your face “… it has been a tough day, we’ll go to sleep, as soon as you are done with food”.

“Can you pass me your crutch? I might need it to go back” you mumbled, as you leaned lightly on him, for the simple fact that he was damnably warm and you were lightly cold from the bath you had done before coming there, your hair lightly damp, but pushed in a soft updo to dry them faster.

“… you certainly didn’t lose your humor alongside your appetite” he laughed, before he took in your hand to help you up, excusing you and him from his brothers, who barely sent him a look, except Hvitserk who told him that ‘he shouldn’t work you so hard’ and ‘he should give you a break’, in a way that seemed to reference to something that you and Ivar had never done together.

“… Hvitserk, want anymore horseshit?” you mumbled, unable to withhold any curtesy, something that got to Hvitserk quickly as he sat back down, meanwhile you felt Ivar hide a small smirk behind his hand.

The rest of the walk was done in silence, as you slumped next to each other, your handmaidens welcoming you inside, and you dismissed them, giving them some orders for tomorrow, as you felt a strange agitation brewing among them since, the following day, you were supposed to be choosing a dress for the party that was to be held in three days.

The girls had been told that they could have chosen a dress each in order to properly take part to the celebrations, and they had been thrilling happily for the whole afternoon, and you doubted they’d be able to sleep, too excited for the dresses.

Unlike you.

You unfastened Ivar’s braces, noticing that although he had humored you back at the dinner table, he now seemed almost distant to you, and you didn’t know if he was simply tired or there was something more.

But at the same time, deep down, you knew that with Ivar there was something more.

He was already in bed, when you finished brushing your hair and you were in your nightgown, dragging your heavy limbs towards the bed, as you sat on its end, being able to face Ivar, who looked extremely surprised by your position.

“Is anything wrong?” you thought about asking, although Ivar simply shook his head “… is it… is it for Alexander?”.

You had hit straight up in the bullseye, with the way his eyes shone of true annoyance.

“… we are solely friends” you commented “… I was a lonely child and he was the only one who indulged in silly games”.

Still silence, and you thought that if it had to go on like this, you had to drop the big news.

“… and I did have a slight infatuation on him, back then”.

This got to him, finally.

He simply moved to push himself in a seated position.

“… do you still like him?” it was a demand that made you laugh, as Ivar looked at you extremely serious.

“As a friend, but nothing more than that” you simply stated “… I… was a gullible girl, back then… and he was so handsome…”.

“I am not interested in hearing it” he commented with a rather sour tone, and you couldn’t help but smirk lightly, as you moved to settle closer to him, till you were eye-to-eye.

He tried to push himself away, but you held him in place.

“… it wasn’t love, it was a simple crush” you explained “… he broke my heart and I realized how hollow my feelings for him truly were. And from then on, it was only friendship from me”.

Ivar’s gaze seemed to lightly calm itself, although he didn’t look convinced.

“You have nothing to fear, truly”.

“Yeah, the cripple has for sure nothing to fear” he commented grumpily and you brought him instead to look at you in the face, not wanting this to push something between you, when you were so close with him.

Your life was a mess and strangely that blue-eyed heathen was the only relief you had been getting, lately.

The only good thing.

And this close, you wanted to kiss him.

Again, and again.

“… if it makes your ego feel better, I found you more handsome than Alexander” you confessed, as you gently moved an hand on his partially unbuttoned tunic, gently nearing the naked skin, as you felt Ivar take a sharp intake of breath.

“Don’t make fun of me” he commented loudly, making to turn around, but you stopped him and you made him look at you in the eyes.

“… I don’t” you muttered “… from the moment I saw you, I just found myself fascinated with you”.

He blushed, although he didn’t look convinced.

“I now love Alexander, with the same intensity I love Hvitserk, so you shouldn’t worry” you adjusted yourself to slip under the cover, moving closer to Ivar to make him avoid pushing you away “… there isn’t anything you should be worried about”.

“… because you are so enamored with me” he uttered sarcastically, and although you knew that it was damnably wrong both for your beliefs and both for the fact that you would have to betray him, you were starting to slowly feel something for him.

“I am starting to be…” you admitted, and you knew that any disbelief Ivar had pushed itself away, at your tender expression, something that you wouldn’t have been able to fake.

Gently a hand of his threaded its way through your hair, as he brought you closer, pressing softly your lips against his, something that made smile brightly, as you embraced him loosely.

If this life of yours would end up in a painful way, you’d enjoy all the pleasure you found.

That tender kiss was followed by a few more, till you were comfortably snuggled in Ivar’s arms, as you giggled at his bold gestures, eventually settling on a kiss to your forehead, insisting you both fell asleep, before it was too late.

But your body ached for more, definitely awake.

“… but seriously Ivar, I don’t… I don’t feel bad for you, and this isn’t pity” you muttered, tantalizing brushing your lips together, as he tightened his grip on your hair “… you are… different that is right, but you aren’t… you are more than anybody else because of that, I am sure, I swear it on the crown”.

He looked at you intensely and again you couldn’t understand what was going through his head, but you knew you had to say it.

The knowledge of your imminent death suddenly making you bold.

“… you are starting to blabber silly things, wife, you must be truly tired” he commented, but his eyes shone of true thankfulness, as he kissed your nose, tickling you softly, as he brought you closer, almost as if you were his own pillow “… go to sleep, lovely”.

“I like it when you call me that” you softly muttered, but closed your eyes and sleep took you over.

---

You slept comfortably, although it wasn’t anything more than an endless slumber, black but relaxing.

Your limbs felt as heavy as iron, and as you moved on your side to find a more comfortable pose, grimacing at the pain that shot from a small hit you had received the previous day, meanwhile you were training with Lia.

The handmaiden had tried to apologize, but you had simply complimented her on her strong right hook, making her laugh awkwardly, as she checked your face for any improper reply.

You felt Ivar matching your movements, bringing you back to his chest, as he softly moved you closer, making you smirk.

A week before he had been so cold with you, enough to make you feel at great unease, but now…

… he was cuddling you closer, as if you were of extreme value.

“… would you mind staying still?” he commented, making you well aware that he had woken up at the same time you had turned around, his grouchy voice making you rub unconsciously your legs together.

“It is late” you commented, seeing the sun pouring up through the thick veils of your tent, but what made you aware that you had both overslept was the fact that you could hear the life of the settlement moving up all around you.

Something that you strangely found familiar.

“… don’t you have some mischievous plan to plot?” you teased Ivar, feeling him growl annoyedly at your comment, as he turned on his back.

“You are devious” he lightly pinched your side, making you elbow him right back, although you laughed loudly “… and I do have things to do, but I don’t… I don’t want to get up”.

The confession made your body tremble lightly, because it felt truly heartfelt.

You knew that Ivar had some kind of infatuation with you or with at least the artificial version of you he had in his mind.

And you had survived for that, among the Vikings.

But his latest comment felt damnably true, as if both your feelings for each other were becoming… real.

And it almost scared you.

“… me neither” you mumbled, as his head shot to you, surprised by your own admission, finally bringing you closer as you felt the cleavage of your nightgown slide down and the part on your legs riding up “… but if I don’t bring my handmaidens to Hilde, this morning, they’ll organize a conspiracy against me”.

“I doubt it” protested Ivar loudly, pushing himself softly onto you, to physically prevent you from raising yourself “… they are all enamored with you”.

“Uh uh” you nodded lightly, as your eyes twinkled lightly “… I can actually think of a few people that don’t want me here”.

His eyes became sharp, as you commented that, a threat in them.

Not against you.

But against anybody who had dared hurting you.

Part of you almost wanted to confess him the pain your father had made you undergo, alongside the one that would happen when all of this was over.

Because you knew that he’d shelter you form that.

“… you are very much wanted here” he breathed on your lips, as he lightly pushed your hair away from your face, with a delicateness that made you blush, as you leaned in his hand “... please stay this morning in bed”.

“I can’t” you bit your lips, feeling like it was a true ache to your chest.

But you knew that you couldn’t indulge any longer.

You had to finish the letter to send to Alexander before lunch time, since you had asked him to join you for lunch and you had to go to Hilde, since she had already sent you a small note to let you know that she had a dress for you.

The fact that you hadn’t asked one made you a bit confused by the request of the tailor, but you loved deeply the creations she had gotten for you, hence you couldn’t deny her.

“… what if I made you stay” and then he was on top of you, a pleasurable oppression, that made you laugh, as his hands went to tickle your side, a playful side of him coming out as you tried to kick him away, completely exiting the fight disheveled, but victorious, once you put one of your cold feet on his chest.

“I won’t tell anybody that I won” you promised him with a teasing smirk on your face, as you finally managed to slip away from his hold, although you had to admit that it was definitely less warm than Ivar’s arms, who simply pouted at you.

“… I let you win” he stated, with a stubborn look, as you simply showed him your tongue, making him crack a laugh “… ok ok, I’ll let you go, but give me a kiss first”.

“Say ‘please’ ” it was almost natural, the banter between you, and Ivar shot you a quick look, before he added:

“… give me a kiss, please” and you did.

You leaned in, being the first one that initiated the kiss between you, and it was tender, as Ivar this time was mindful of his tongue, preferring to suck on your upper lip and then bottom one, before you tried something, something that you had solely read about: you bit his lower lip, dragging it through your teeth, as you moved away from the kiss.

Ivar growled and soon he was yanking on your hands, not delicately in the slightest, but you found yourself not caring at all, when he returned the favor, biting you back, although his hold didn’t bruise, but it certainly made you moan softly.

And then he was away from you, your own punishment for having chastised him away quickly this morning, having denied him.

“… don’t you have somewhere to be?” he teased you, as you shot him annoyed look, but eventually moved out of the bed.

“You are impossible” you retorted, but before you turned completely, you saw the way his eyes flickered with interest for you.

“Don’t spend your entire dowry my wife” he commented, staying in bed like a playful cat, as he stared up at you.

“Fear not, husband” you replied tightly, as you moved to the chair in front of your private desk, brushing away your hair, and you adjusted back the few jewels you had started wearing, gently opening the tent to tell the awaiting handmaidens, Arabella and Angelika, that morning, to wait a few more minutes, giving Ivar the chance to hide in his private alcove, and set himself up.

You got ready quickly almost on your own, since you hadn’t chosen a particularly complex dress, knowing that you’d have to try another one on, so you settled for a simple cream-colored gown, with golden accents, but nothing that was too tight.

Although the fabric was rich, since you had to meet up with Alexander, having finished the letter, meanwhile Angelika adjusted your hair (she was strangely good at it) and Arabella made you choose which essence to wear on your skin, it wasn’t one of your most luxurious dress.

You had pushed it into Arabella’s hands, assuring her to give it to one of the guards for Alexander, hoping that they wouldn’t read what was inside, although you hadn’t written anything scandalous.

Once you were ready to go, Ivar exited his own private quarters, revealing that he had bathed himself, and was again pushing himself in the braces, adjusting them on his own.

“… I am leaving and I’ll be back again for dinner time” you saluted him, coming closer to him, till you were face to face, and he pushed a light kiss on your hands “… have a blessed day, Ivar”.

“You as well, lovely one”.

You blushed, before you moved with the two girls on your tail, Angelika again shooting you a knowing look, meanwhile Arabella moved to send the letter out.

You moved to Hilde’s shop, the small woman welcoming you eagerly, as the handmaidens slowly appeared, all knowing the hour to meet you at the stop, as quite the crowd gathered around.

“My queen, you look more beautiful each day passing” Hilde bowed to you, as you ushered her to stand, denying her words gently, but accepting her compliments “… and you certainly do not lack of a loyal entourage”.

“… and they are all excited to try on your dresses” you commented excitedly, as the woman quickly moved to look at the other girls, as if she was searching what might fit them more.

“Oh yes, I know” she commented, as she moved to look up at you “… I saw in my dreams a flock of swans coming to my lake, and I knew that you wouldn’t have been alone today, sweetheart”.

You blushed at the affectionate comment, before Hilde moved away from to you, to examine each girl, as they reacted strangely meanwhile the smaller Nordic woman went past them, pulling on their hair or grabbing their hands to see the inside of it, muttering things such as ‘royal blue would suit’ or ‘green eyes for a golden gown’.

You smiled, feeling a bit at ease seeing your handmaidens starting to chat among each other, almost as if nothing had changed from their courtly life.

Almost as if they had settled in, like you.

You were quickly distracted, finding yourself to think that although you had been damnably scared by the Viking life, you were slowly growing into it, with their loose dress and most importantly… pants.

Although you were still uneasy about the entire ‘godly parts’, mostly their rituals.

Talking with Ivar during dinner last night, you had discovered that they’d be offering a sacrifice to the gods, that to your honor would have been an animal and not a human.

The sole thought of a human being sacrificed made your stomach turn around, and you were grateful you hadn’t done breakfast, hoping to eat something at the small market in the settlement.

Thankfully your head was pushed away from this by Hilde’s hands, grabbing onto yours with a tight grip, as she dragged inside her small tent, getting a piece of fabric down from a metal hanger in the semi-darkness of the tent, allowing a bit of privacy as she closed the tent behind herself.

A clear invite to try on the dress, which you found quite difficult to fit on your body, unused to this shape, and when you got out, all your handmaidens came around you, Angelika and Arabella barely holding back a laugh, meanwhile Caryn moved to adjust it alongside Lia.

Solveig, instead, lightly combed your messed-up hair with her wrinkly fingers, laughing at you, and when you were halfway settled, you turned to look at yourself in the small mirror outside of her tent, and… blushed.

The dress was of a deep purplish red, the color of royalty, set up on your middle with a golden belt, that tightened the dress, although it was left lightly puffy on the chest, in asymmetric cut that resembled the many dresses you had seen in the pictures of books about ancient Greece.

The lower part wasn’t tight but held a slit  to allow you a more comfortable walk, but also exposing so much skin that you weren’t exactly sure would have been thought to be appropriate.

And it made your nervous.

It was beautiful.

But you had never worn anything like this.

And you weren’t sure it fitted you, rightfully.

Although it highlighted perfectly your body, you weren’t sure you had been able to bring justice to it.

“… Hilde it is beautiful” you commented softly, as you turned to her, who smiled at you”…but I am not sure… I mean… I am not sure it is made for me”.

Hilde had seemed shocked and almost offended, and you had immediately tried to explain to her why you didn’t feel like this dress belonged to you, although it was one of the most beautiful you had ever worn.

“… my queen” called out to you Hilde, with her usual emphasis on your title-that-wasn’t-yet-your-title “… I see insecurity in your own body, your eyes tell me that you aren’t used, but you have nothing to hide. You shine with beauty inside and out”.

You couldn’t help but be taken back by that comment, although you weren’t fully convinced, looking at yourself again in the mirror and noticing every little flaw of your body, as you had always done.

“… the crazy tailor is right” commented Angelika in English, making you blush lightly, as you were surprised by her words “… I hate to admit it, but you are prettier than me in that dress”.

“Girls! Check her temperature!” you joked to try to shimmer away the blush you felt on your cheeks “… she must be sick for what she is saying”.

“… but you look very very pretty, princess (Y/N)!” commented one of the youngest handmaidens, making you smile, as you bowed lightly.

“Believe me that dress fit you perfectly, girlie” added Solveig, adjusting the dress so that it could flow around you more perfectly “… many years to adjust dresses and I know when one just is… the one”.

“Ok ok” you ended up saying, unable to think of another way to refuse the gentle women “… I’ll take it”.

A chorus of laughter and mumbles of assent welcomed you, as Hilde then moved to offer various suggestions to the girls, as they entered her tent, leaving it as gorgeous princesses and beautiful ladies, as they commented all on the easiness of the dresses, comfortable as they twirled barefooted.

You hadn’t ever thought of being able to laugh like this, without your sister.

And suddenly something felt heavy on your chest.

Abigail and Kathleen.

What were they doing right now?

Did Kathleen know already you were safe and sound?

You’d have to suggest to Alexander to send her a letter to let her know you weren’t at risk of death anymore.

The morning soon passed in a whirlwind of fabric and you insisting to pay Hilde at least for the dresses of your beloved handmaidens, to which the woman agreed, as she clasped tight onto your hand, making you lower yourself closer to her.

‘… hard times are coming for you, my little bird’ she spoke with a tender tone, as her eyes were truthful ‘… that’s why I want you to feel like a queen, because that’s what you are, and you should never ever forget it’.

And although you had never believed this kind of thing, the words left a bitter taste in your mouth, as you moved to the place where you were supposed to meet Alexander, accompanied by Eleanor and Caryn, as always keeping her promise of serving you, and although you wanted nothing more than to go back to the intimacy you had.

But it seemed impossible.

“Princess, do you think that it is proper to meet another man without prince Ivar’s approval?” asked softly Eleanor, the more demure of your handmaidens, with soft hips and an amber gaze, and although you cherished her sweetness, you shot her a slight look, before you commented.

“… if you won’t say anything, I won’t either”.

And Caryn’s eyes spoke of a complicity that you recognized.

And hope wouldn’t be mistaken.

You knew that asking Ivar Ivar’s permission would have been as useful as trying to make a hole in the water, and that if you hadn’t done this, Alexander would have thought that you were still under the influence of Ivar, and he would have prolonged his staying here.

And as much as it didn’t weigh on you, it certainly did weigh on your reputation among the Vikings.

And Alexander’s staying was damnably painful.

It reminded you of past times, of different times that wouldn’t have ever come again.

Thankfully Alexander was a gentleman and didn’t make you wait, as your handmaidens moved to adjust everything to leave you a bit of privacy, and your best friend courtly bowed to you, kissing your hand, as he took in your curious appearance.

“… might I say that I haven’t still wrapped my mind around the Viking fashion?” he commented making you laugh light and blush painfully as you felt inadequate in your dress “… yesterday you wore pants”.

“They are comfortable” you tried protesting “… but we aren’t here to talk about me”.

“We are, I mean… I was sent to see if you were in brilliant shape which I might confirm” he commented dashingly “… you look beautiful, my princess”.

A slight blush spread on your cheeks, but nothing in you fluttered the way it did when  Ivar gave you a compliment, to prove further the fact that you didn’t feel anything anymore for Alexander.

“… I am happy of this” you replied “… they treat me well, they haven’t hurt me”.

“You have been involved in a conspiration because of your husband!” he tried to shout, as you shot him an apologetic look.

“:.. wouldn’t it have happened also if I had remained in court?” you shot back, knowingly, as Alexander lightly hung his head between his shoulders as if he had been defeated.

“That’s why I told my father that I won’t take on his role till he dies…” he mumbled, as his eyes shot away from you and onto the land that bordered the Viking settlements “… I don’t want to be corrupted by any of that…”.

“… shit?” you tempted him, as this time it was his cheeks that blushed lightly.

“They corrupted you”.

“Actually… Kathleen taught me that” you replied, as he shot you an even more surprised look.

“Oh Gosh, have I missed you princess (Y/N)”.

---

The lunch had been quite satisfying and you had been glad to spend some time with Alexander, although the notion that he’d go back to England, and that you’d stay here was almost painful.

Training and the harmless chatter among your handmaidens felt comfortable to forget, but when you were left alone to wait for Ivar, who planned your return to Kattegat with his brothers, bad thoughts crowded your mind.

Not even your beloved books could satisfy you, and you were left to do nothing more than think about what would have happened if anything had happened to you once all of this was over and how guilty you felt at betraying Ivar, although you were doing it for the greater good.

Or at least this is what you said.

You were readjusting yourself on the bed for the fifth time, after you had sent both Turid and Solveig away, although the latter had made a small herb brewing to ease your soul.

Turid, instead, had been a quite peaceful presence, although you had started learning her way of communicate her needs, mostly noticing the way her eyes would follow lingering closer prince Hvitserk, when he came to eat with you in your tent.

And you had the good thought to tell him to keep his hands to himself, if he wanted to keep them.

Ivar caught you in a rather awkward position trying to read, as he walked in, unable to withhold a small smirk, as you readjusted with your cheeks full of red blush, trying to shimmer away the attention, telling him that Hvitserk had dropped some dinner also for him…

… hadn’t he decided to steal it, at the last minute.

‘… what a thoughtful thing’ he commented, joining you on bed, as you scrunched your nose to tell him not to drop anything on the clean sheets, since as much as you wouldn’t be the one changing them, you didn’t like to use Solveig or Turid more than necessary.

They had also had a dress, although both had insisted against it, saying they were low thralls born in slavery who had both grown up with nothing as precious as the dresses, but you couldn’t deny that they were part of the familiar group you had been slowly creating.

Turid with her comforting presence and Solveig with wisdom.

“… I’ll be careful” he commented softly, a light shiver going down your spine at that scruffy mumble “… but is everything alright with you?”.

“Just too many thoughts in my little head” you mumbled, softly, meanwhile Ivar basically ate the whole piece of meat in one bite, turning to you at that affirmation, as you moved to come to his side.

“… your head isn’t little, I think it is quite the contrary” he replied, gently kissing it, once he cleared his mouth ruthlessly on his dirty tunic, and you giggled scooting away, although the gesture had been quite welcome “… but that can be a curse, because it does indeed open us to too many thoughts and it is tiring”.

“You can say that”.

“Can I help you with your thoughts?” spoke tightly Ivar, as his eyes looked at you as if he wanted to know them but knew not to step further on your boundaries.

“I don’t think that there is much that will help me” you muttered sadly, leaning lightly your hand on his shoulder “… do you know something that might make me think about everything else than what is stuck in my mind”.

“… I might have a few ideas” and a few moments after you were set in front of a chess board, one of the many gifts that your father had brought to Ivar for your hand in marriage.

The figures were refinished but also long-lasting, as you examined through your fingers, meanwhile Ivar started to explain you the game and you felt the utter satisfaction of tell him that ‘you did know how to play’.

‘Who taught you?’ he had asked, meanwhile he adjusted the pieces on the board, him being the black ones and you the white ones,

‘Nobody, except myself. My father would have me and my sisters in the same room with him, meanwhile he played it, and I slowly took in his playing and strategies’.

What you were less happy was the fact that Ivar played much more brilliantly than your father, and soon you had two lost games on your shoulders.

‘This doesn’t make me feel better in the slightest’ you mumbled annoyedly, meanwhile Ivar set up the board again, laughing at your comment ‘… you should let me win’

“… that wouldn’t make it very fair”.

“But it would make me feel better”.

He laughed, before leaning in and pecking softly your lips, for the first time without you asking or igniting the kiss, something that made you cherish its sweetness and the comfortable way he was starting to make you feel around him.

“… just focus a bit more”.

And you did, trying to focus on the strategy that Ivar used, since although he was brilliant, his schemes were recurring and you had to break them, playing dirty as you smirked at Ivar, lowering lightly one sleeve of your nightgown, adjusting it meanwhile Ivar lost his bishop.

And then his king.

He looked displeased of having lost, but it didn’t take him long to calm himself, as he saw the sweet smile that appeared on your lips, and you had to admit that your mind was a bit less clouded, as you asked him again to play another game.

‘… I am feeling giddy over having won the great Ivar The Boneless, now you can’t seriously expect me to go to sleep’.

And you had played till very deep in the night, enough that you had both fall asleep on the board, risking a few pieces falling down the bed as you woke up with your back aching but strangely relaxed, Ivar’s hands having drifted gently onto yours, almost touching.

“… if anybody asks…” he muttered, before you both dove under the covers “… we slept like this because we were both tired and not because we spent the entire night playing chess”.

“Understood, my prince” you commented, finishing the deal with a soft kiss on his cheek, as he blushed, laughing lightly “… we could have breakfast in bed, I’ll just have to tell Turid, if you want to readjust the covers in the meanwhile…”.

“That seems lovely” he commented, before his gaze caught onto you “… you are lovely”.

“I doubt it” you moved away, to hide your blushing cheeks, meanwhile Ivar instead brought you closer to him, pushing you onto his laps, as you immediately hid your face between your fingers.

“… you look beautiful” he tried to push your hands away, meanwhile he brought you closer “… (Y/N) the Lovely, that’s what they should call you”.

“That sounds tantalizing delightful” you commented, trying to get away from him, as suddenly your mind became awake with horrible thoughts, thoughts about the fact that Ivar didn’t know that your beauty was nothing but a front.

Whatever he found beautiful in you, would have been his damnation.

“You are tantalizing delightful” he said it in English, making you tremble at his thick accent, before he let you up, a slight blush on his own face, as you felt his lower body against you, a sensation that made you giddy, but you quickly set up to your own mission, meanwhile Ivar did his.

You covered yourself with a thick woolen mantle, not trying to think about the sinful way you had almost wanted Ivar a few minutes ago, but you honestly should stop, if not for yourself, for some correctness for him, who seemed thoroughly enamored with you.

And he was starting to like you for you.

And it was a beautiful sensation for somebody who had never had something like that, but you felt like you were leeching on that love.

And it pained you.

Turid was already awake and was more than happy to steal a few sweets from you, meanwhile Solveig gave a few orders around, mostly because Hilde had sent the dresses and they had to be adjusted and brought to its rightful owner.

You were glad to help her a bit, not fully knowing why you didn’t feel comfortable approaching Ivar yet, not after your small dialogue.

“… slept well, my lady?” piped in Angelika, strangely already awake, as she set beside you and Solveig.

“Heavenly” you muttered, hissing through your teeth.

“… you should learn when to speak and when to keep your mouth closed” muttered in Norse Solveig, getting surprised when Angelika shot her an annoyed look, obviously annoyed and completely understanding what the Viking thrall said.

“And you that I can completely understand you” retorted Angelika with the fakest smile, as Solveig shot her one poisonous of her own, something that made you move between them, before things could escalate.

“… calm down” you commented to both “… it is just morning”.

“It is never too early for anything” Angelika replied, before moving away, as Lia came to get her in an attempt to avoid any fights, for which you were thankful “… and I am joining you this afternoon, for the training”.

She said it almost as if she was the leader, the princess of the castle, and you were able to simply nod.

You were almost thankful when Turid came back with the breakfast, warning Solveig to avoid Angelika, as the old woman simply shot you another look as if to say that ‘she had handled worse’.

You moved back in the tent, surprised not to see Ivar, but you quickly heard water splashing, as your private bathroom was lightly closed by the rough piece of fabric that divided it from the rest of the tent, thick enough to hide from the gaze.

But not from the ears of others.

In fact, you heard a few grumbles, that became suddenly more animalistic gruntles, something that made you question whether Ivar was hurt, as you lightly called out his name, the noises from the bathroom completely disappearing.

Ivar replied tightly, his voice slightly high and feminine, as he invited you to start eating without me.

‘Just leave me something, little beastie’.

‘Don’t even try’ you replied, forgetting quickly about the strange behavior of Ivar, simply thinking that he was bathing, and the grumbles and grunts were due to his strain in moving around the bathtub.

On his most tired days, he’d need also help.

It was confirmed as Ivar came back, his hair lightly wet, as he slithered around the bed, since he hadn’t worn his braces, to come up to you, raising himself onto the bed, solely through the help of his arm, a show that made you hot and bothered, as you blushed at that wondrous sight.

“… did I ruin your appetite?” mumbled grumpily Ivar, as he saw that you had stopped eating to observe him, something that made you almost choke on what you were eating “… well that is the most dramatic reaction I ever got”.

But he gently offered you ale, that you refused, and once you were able to breath without tasting the sweet in your nose, you moved to softly lean in, closer to him, reassuring him physically that he didn’t disgust you, since you were slowly starting to understand that with him anything physical was more effective than words.

“I was actually admiring you” you commented coyly, seeing a slight blush appear on his cheeks.

“… admiring me?”.

“Yes” you nodded softly, as you took one of the sweets, and moved to feed it to Ivar, who seemed an hungry and curious beast, looking at you with smart eyes, as you moved to gently slip the sweet past his plump lips “… you must have noticed that I might have a slight fascination with your muscles”.

“You do?” there was genuine surprise in his eyes, as you lightly retreated the sugary treats from his lips, before they could wrap around it.

“… I do” you were now suddenly the one all blushy.

And Ivar looked all smug about it, as he moved to softly bit onto the treat in your hand, but you quickly moved it away from him, before pushing it onto your mouth.

He shot you an offended look and then he turned to you and before you knew it, he pushed you down the bed, playfully, properly pinning you down, as you laughed softly, but were quickly shut up by Ivar kissing you.

And he chased the taste of the sweet in your mouth, as you laughed softly, at the affection.

“… you are an hungry minx” he commented, as he grabbed a sweet, meanwhile you were too taken aback by the kiss to properly react like a human creature “… but I am glad you like my muscles”.

“Don’t push it” you muttered, knowing that you had dug your own tomb.

“Oh, I will” he replied, kissing your forehead “… I’ll walk shirtless simply for the pleasure of teasing you princess”.

“That’d definitely help me with my bad thoughts”.

You both erupted in laughter, as you exchanged sweets and kisses.

And then Ivar left you, surprising you one last time, as he told you that he had taken it upon himself to invite Alexander over for dinner, which surprised you, but Ivar simply told you that it was better ‘to keep your enemies closer’.

And although you were glad that you hadn’t to undergo anything unknown to Ivar to see your friend, you had a bad feeling about it.

But you didn’t say much more to Ivar, as you said your ‘goodbyes’ to him with a soft kiss, that Ivar deepened dirtily, making you moan softly, something that brought a beautiful color on your cheeks.

That Hvitserk noticed immediately as he come to lounge in your tent, in a vague attempt of stealing the leftovers of your breakfast with Ivar.

‘… you got the hots for my brother, don’t you?’ he commented, before he seemed to rethink over the words he had said ‘… I never thought I’d say that’.

“Then don’t say it” you mumbled, trying to appear busy as you wrote letters to your sisters, hoping that Alexander could bring them to their recipients “… don’t stick your nose in my business or…”.

“… or you’ll curse me, I know… I know” he muttered under his breath “… it is just that… I haven’t seen Ivar this happy in… so much… since…”.

“… since what?” you asked, your spying personality finally coming up as your ears peaked up, although your father’s own purposes were quite away from your own, in that moment, and you wanted to know it all just to make you understand more Ivar.

As a lover would do.

“… since our mother’s death” Hvitserk’s growl let out much more emotion than his eyes did, a tight smirk replacing his usual open smile “… he hasn’t thought about much else than his revenge, actually”.

“Revenge?” you felt almost dumbfounded discovering all of this “… on who?”.

You couldn’t help but feel a shrill of worry and fear, as if you were suddenly travelling in unknown territory and you weren’t sure to have the means to exit it.

“… on Lagertha, our mother’s murderer” he explained, almost as if it was a bitter bite, too much for him, sadly “… Ivar took it at heart especially, he and our mother, Aslaug had a close bond”.

“I am sorry for your loss, still” you commented softly, as you moved a hand to grip on Hvitserk’s one, who simply smirked sadly at you, exiting quickly your hold on his hand.

“It didn’t… it didn’t affect me as much as it affected Ivar” he simply justified it “… to me his crazy plan to get revenge is… crazy, indeed”.

You couldn’t help but see uneasiness and eagerness in Hvitserk’s eyes, almost as if he hadn’t ever been asked his opinion about this, and at the same time he ached for it, in a way that made everything unsolved.

“Christians frown upon revenge” you said, softly “… but I lost a mother and although revenge wouldn’t bring her back, I sometimes… I do understand why Ivar feels like that”

You knew that this was a deep confession for you, since you had never dared to admit your feelings against your father to anybody.

You knew that although he hadn’t killed your mother, his constant beatings had made her frail health even more at danger, and then one day they had been too much.

And your mother laid lifeless, white as a lily on her bed.

And you had cried your heart out.

Also fear had always shone in your eyes, and it had been confessed to your sisters, but you had never commented the anger against your father that brew inside of you, and suddenly was let out, as Hvitserk sent you a small surprised look, before you shook the bad feeling away from your face, feigning again innocence.

“… it is just that sometimes Ivar can be extreme”.

“On that I agree”.

“… is he also extreme in bed?” Hvitserk lightly wiggled his eyebrows, as you elbowed him, something that stole the breath away from the young boy.

“Why are you all so noisy?”.

“Because you are the wife of a prince” he smirked, before assuming a royal tone “… your own life doesn’t belong to you anymore, but to the people”.

“… that seems utter bullshit” your profanity made Hvitserk shoot a surprised look at your profanity “… I learned from the best”.

“I can’t believe that you think I am the best at something” Hvitserk crooked a soft a smile at you “… but this won’t avoid a talk about all the things that could embarrass my brother”.

“… you should stop doing that” the mutter left your mouth, and your brother-in-law looked at you confusedly “… trying to embarrass Ivar”.

“It is just brotherly teasing” he almost seemed annoyed by your noisy invasion.

“… not it isn’t” you commented tightly, because although you didn’t want to annoy Hvitserk “… I have sisters, and although you think that we, women, are tamer than you, believe me we are as ruthless as males if not more… and we don’t… sometimes with Ivar you seem a bit too mean”.

“… you don’t know him” Hvitserk’s anger shine his own words, and you knew that you should have kept your mouth shut.

“… I just know that it should be teasing and not anger” you commented and Hvitserk’s eyes lowered, almost admitting that you were right “… but what can I know, I am simply a stupid woman”.

That’s what your father would have told you.

But Hvitserk simply grabbed your hand this time.

“… you are a blessing, princess”.

---

The rest of the day had slowly moved itself in a monotonous pace, something that had made the dinner the most interesting part of the day, but as soon as Alexander moved in, completely closed off, you found yourself revaluing your excitedness.

‘Come, lord Alexander, or at least that is the title that my wife told me you own…’ commented Ivar, with a snobby smirk that made you also uneasy, and you shot him a light look to tell him to be ‘nice’ ‘… sit beside us, it’ll be our honor’.

Alexander hadn’t reacted in a better way, nodding as he bowed to you, but not to any of the brothers, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Ivar and Ubbe, both grimacing, meanwhile Bjorn looked too drunk for it as he talked with Halfdan and Hvitserk was already staring at a few of his ‘victims’ of the night.

You welcomed Alexander with an attentive mind, as he complimented your choice of dress, a deep maroon one, bordering with red, and lined with argent details, something that gave you a mature look, definitely more Saxon.

“… are you having a nice staying?” you asked softly, as you turned to Alexander, knowing that not many would approach him and that Ivar had already started a conversation with Ubbe, in Norse, probably talking shit about Alexander, if you were understanding right.

“I am, and the men are used to worse” joked Alexander “… the settlements seem… truly a work of art or… of the Devil”.

“That’s because you haven’t seen the marketplace” you commented gingerly, gaining an amazed look from Alexander “… I told you: they might be Vikings but they aren’t heathens”.

“And silly me who thought they were the same thing”.

The dinner continued among your chatters and your soft laughs, as Ivar sometimes would gently grip your hair or rub  your thigh over your dress, almost a confirmation that you were still there.

That you were with him, beside him.

And you would answer, turning for a sweet smile solely for him.

And Alexander would roll his eyes.

But what got truly a reaction from him was when you revealed to him why you would be hosting celebrations, for the lands that you had given up on Ivar, as his eyes showed true offense.

“… why did you?!”.

“It’s no big deal, Alexander” you replied, trying to calm him down, meanwhile you saw heads turning to you and since your popularity rate was negative, you tried to avoid a scene “… he told he’ll give me back those lands”.

“… your lands, exactly!” he shouted, and Ivar behind you stiffened, his hand tightening around the knife on his side, and you comforted him with a quick look, as you invited Alexander out, your tight and strong tone surprising him enough that when realization kicked in, you were already out.

“You don’t understand Alexander” you commented once you were out of earshot “… I did this to keep you protected”.

“I should be the one doing it” also his tone was a bright hiss “… and I have been failing miserably at it”.

“I don’t need protecting” you replied tightly, surprised at those words, because had Alexander uttered the same words a few years ago you would have fallen in his arms.

But you had undergone so much that you felt numb.

And that you knew you could handle yourself.

Although it was ungrateful.

But Alexander’s behavior was out of line, completely.

“… it doesn’t seem so” his tone surprised you, because although you knew that Alexander could be arrogant, his tone now was down right derisive “… you have been involved in a conspiration and you have had to give up on lands that belonged to you by birthright”.

“But I am still alive!” you shouted, in exasperation, as he backed away from you “… it might seem idiotic, but let me tell you… I have survived so much that I know how to take care of myself”.

You hadn’t ever been that knowing of your willingness to live as in that moment.

And you had never felt that strong as in that moment.

And you looked like it straightening up your back.

You weren’t a pawn in this game anymore.

Since the conspiracy had set a target on your head, you had taken a more active role.

And you wouldn’t relent it.

“My father will probably has explained you why I am here truly…” you whispered lightly, trying not to be heard, although only night was around you “… he bargained my life with the devil. And let me tell you that I thought I’d have been destroyed, but I am here, I am still here”.

This was your own kingdom and you wouldn’t relent the crown easily, although you knew your role and you’d follow your father’s orders, but you wouldn’t tolerate the prejudices and prohibitions everyone around you gave you.

And then suddenly, before you could register his movements, Alexander was onto you.

He was kissing you.

And you were too surprised to react properly.

But something settled in you.

Dreariness of having been forced in the act, that made you immediately push away your old best friend, as you would have done with an attacker, focusing on the strength of your arms hitting him on the chest with your elbows, since he was stronger than you.

And then you felt free.

For the rest operated his surprise.

And soon he was off you.

And you couldn’t deny your surprise

As a feeling of hollowness settled on your stomach.

It was matched by the disgust on your lips at such a gesture, something that seemed more an arrogant claiming of you than a true kiss.

And you didn’t belong to anybody.

“… what?” you asked him, as you brought a hand to your lips, wondering whether it had happened or not, but the look of pure hurt on Alexander confirmed that he had indeed kissed you “… we can’t”.

“We could run away” now his eyes moved into an almost manic state, something that made you nervous “… we could run away and hide in my own lands”.

“We can’t” this time you weren’t hesitant and neither merciful “… we would be caught and believe me I just can’t leave now…”.

“… you don’t have to be your father’s spy” Alexander promised you “… this isn’t something that you have to do anymore, don’t you understand it? We can live in freedom”.

“As long as my father lives, there won’t be any freedom for me” your eyebrows furrowed annoyedly at the fact that Alexander just couldn’t understand.

You didn’t belong to anybody, but your body followed your father’s orders still.

But there was more behind it.

You didn’t want Alexander.

You weren’t in love with him.

And it wasn’t something you could fake.

“You have changed” his tone seemed almost a bittersweet reprimand “… before I left for Ireland, you wouldn’t have thought about running away with me”.

And as much as your words hurt you, you felt like they were the most appropriate.

“Before you left Ireland, I was in love with you”.

Before Ireland had been an era away.

If you had thought that entire years had passed since you had last been in England, among Saxons, and it was enough to change you completely.

But the truth is that you hadn’t changed much.

You had just scraped away the convictions and insecurities that had kept you tame.

Those words shocked Alexander, and this time he was the one who pushed himself away from you, shooting you a tight look, almost wounded, but you couldn’t live in a lie, even more when your heart was steering towards Ivar, although it shouldn’t.

You had to admit that you felt guilty for the kiss you had briefly shared with Alexander although it was unwanted.

“… and you aren’t anymore” he almost seemed heartbroken, as he got back from that angry stupor.

“I don’t think that it was love from the start” your voice were almost cutting in your own mouth “… and I know that you didn’t love me back then, we were simply good friends, and I had a crush on you, but you chased somebody else’s skirt”.

“You are bitter because I didn’t notice you back then?” his tone seemed almost spiteful, almost as insult for you.

“No, no” you spat back “… you did break my heart, but this doesn’t mean that I am trying to make you pay for it. I just… this isn’t… this isn’t anything personal, but my heart isn’t yours”.

“Is it that heathen’s?” this time his words were straight up insult, as he spat on the ground between your feet, making you tremble on your place “… I hope you won’t cry when he stabs you in the back”.

“Wife?” Ivar appeared behind the flap of the tent, right on time, as you shook your head to push back tears, walking across Alexander as you shot him a quick look “… is everything alright?”.

“I am just tired, me and Alexander have talked about important matters…” and you turned lightly at Alexander as if to tell him to keep his mouth shut “… thoughts that made me nostalgic”.

“Then I’ll lead you back to our tent” Ivar clashed his teeth together, as he sent a sour look at Alexander, as if he wanted to punish him for having made you sad, and Alexander withheld his gaze, and for a moment you thought there would be a blown out fight “… let’s go”.

You were glad to follow Ivar, feeling a horrible sensation in your chest due to Alexander’s words.

They made you feel like a traitor.

But you knew you were right.

You couldn’t reciprocate his feelings and it wouldn’t have been right for him to fake them.

Even more when he wanted a life that you couldn’t give to him.

“You look truly troubled” mumbled tightly Ivar, as he saw you dropping without too many ceremonies on your shared bed, his eyes following you attentively and you tried to shift away all those bad emotions, for a tight smile.

“I just miss my sisters and Alexander reminded me of them” you faked, although your tone sounded honest, since it had been something that you had been thinking lately, the date of your departure coming closer and closer.

Alongside whether your father would have acted before Ivar’s departure or he would have let you go away, in a new land, that was unknown to you.

“… you could visit them one day” Ivar’s words were careful, but meaningful and they surprised you, as you raised lightly to look at him in the eyes, to see if he had spoken the truth “… I know that you’ll miss them when we’ll be in Kattegat. We could visit the castle,or they could come here”.

“That’d ease my mind greatly” you replied softly “… thank you”.

Ivar’s lips gently blessed your forehead, before he went to change.

“… of course, they are your family, after all”.

And that was the last thing that you had heard before a quite slumber took you.

---

The following day had been intense, something that you had been grateful since this meant that you didn’t have to overthink Alexander’s words and that feeling of guilt you had in your chest.

You almost understood why Hilde had blessed you with that dress.

You were feeling truly shitty.

So, you were thankful when during the middle of the afternoon your handmaidens and you started getting ready for the feast, the girls all twirling in their dresses, once they had ruthlessly pushed both Ivar and Hvitserk away.

A few took care of your hair, making sure that the crown Ivar had gifted you shone in them, meanwhile others adjusted you in the dress.

You had allowed the handmaidens to borrow some of your jewels, and you had almost risked your arms being cut off when you opened the box with your most precious jewels, eventually settling up on one for each girls, trying to avoid fights.

It felt almost as your own court, with no envy and no injustices, no fear and no ignorance.

It almost made you feel pride for what you had done.

In the end you had chosen to wear the dress Hilde had gifted you, almost as a reaction to Alexander’s hateful words.

The dress would be your smart rebellion.

And as you shot one last look, once your hair was pushed up around the crown, meanwhile you wore the dress, matching it with deep rubies earrings, that brought attention to your face, giving it a clean look exposing every detail of your body, as Angelika reddened your cheeks with some natural color and Caryn highlighted with expertise your eyes with a bit of kajal.

Angelika wore a royal blue gown, which you found quite fitting for the royal-looking girl, sporting a necklace with a small sapphire at its center, bringing attention to her cleavage.

Meanwhile Caryn’s dress was light almost white, highlighting the darkness of her precious skin, in a contrast that would have blinded any man, hadn’t her beauty blinded them first, matched with a collier of silver gold.

You looked like a mix between heathens and Saxons, in something that you felt didn’t fail to represent the duality of your nature.

And you felt almost good, as you exited your tent, right in time to take part in the sacrifice, with a fur mantle on your dress, hiding it completely since that night was cold and wet, as your handmaidens scurried behind you, Solveig grabbing the light train of your dress to avoid it dirtying.

First of all, you knew that there’d be the ritual sacrifice, which would happen outside and then the dinner would happen, something that you were honestly looking forward, but for the entire ritual sacrifice, you stood by Ivar’s side, trying to keep your eyes on the killing of an innocent animal.

You already felt sick to your stomach as you witnessed that.

The killing of a human wouldn’t have been something that you could stand, but you took one step at the time.

Your eyes moved around searching for Alexander almost scared to face him again, but you knew that there’d be no Saxons, at least for the ritual.

They’d join you on the dinner, and you almost hoped that Alexander wouldn’t be there, because you didn’t know what to say, how to approach him.

Had you been the previous princess, the one that desperately strived to satisfy everyone, you would have apologized.

But now the words were rough on your tongue.

Ivar’s clutched your hand as he felt you wavering away and you simply nodded at him, as the sacrifice was finished and the priestess, the same one who had officiated your marriage, moved to deck blood onto all the brothers, starting from Bjorn and moving onto Ubbe, Hvitserk and  Ivar.

And you, as she stained your forehead with the blood, then lightly dipping some on your mouth, something for which you had to hold back vomit, but you did gratefully bow at the priestess, who also stained with the blood your furs, right onto your belly.

‘… next month may you not bleed, my princess’ she spoke and she bowed, before moving away, Ivar and you blushing lightly at the implication, but Ivar also mumbled a few thankful words, and then you moved inside, Ivar disappearing from your side, as Hvitserk brought him away, and Bjorn took your husband’s place, guiding you towards the Great Hall.

Thankfully Angelika wasn’t much behind you and Caryn was at her side, Turid trailing after them, something that made you feel more comfortable as you moved in the already full, main hall, many people setting their eyes on top of you and Bjorn moved inside, with you by his side, making idle conversation.

‘How are you finding yourself, here?’

‘Well, then I hope that you’ll say the same in Kattegat’.

‘Does your husband have any intension to overthrow my mother?’.

You feigned innocence at the last question, glad that you had reached your seats, your handmaidens, waiting to take off your fur.

You were thoroughly surprised that Bjorn had been so direct, even more when he had been so disinterested in you.

But you had learned better from your awful experience with Halfdan.

You had your barriers up this time.

“… does it look like Ivar involves me in his plans?” you commented harshly, trying to tell Bjorn to ‘mind his own business’ and ‘back off’, something that took him back, probably since he was used to women smiling their way into his pants “… and even if I knew, why would I tell you?”.

“Because you care to survive” he spoke, his tongue cutting but his eyes unfocused as if you weren’t anything else than a body, and you were happy not to have shed your fur yet “… Ivar won’t win against my mother, believe me, and I do know that you are smart enough to want to survive”.

“Maybe you overvalued me, prince Bjorn” you commented softly, appearing tamed, as you remembered what Nanna had taught you about attacking others, as your eyes became sharper “… and how can you be so sure that it’ll be your mother who’ll win?”.

‘Always hit where it hurts the most’.

And with that you turned around, facing a smirking Angelika, meanwhile Caryn gently pushed your fur off your shoulder, as Turid untangled the bow at your neck, and soon you were simply in your dress in front of the blonde prince, his eyes following every line of fabric as you turned around to face him again with a small smirk.

And then you moved to take your seat, as Bjorn set himself beside you, muttering a simple ‘lucky bastard’ and you couldn’t but smirk as you turned to Caryn, Turid and Angelika, who were at a different but not-too-distant table.

They all smirked brightly at you, proudly, as they exchanged laugh and you almost wished that you could damn etiquette and join them, feeling at unease without a familiar face by your side.

Even more when your eyes caught glimpses of Alexander not too far away, his eyes ignoring you, as they settled on the cup of ale in front of him.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem to hate that beverage anymore.

Nanna came onto your table to chat with you and with the side of your eye, you caught Angelika looking at her with interest and a questioning look and you shot her a devilish look of your own, the other woman simply shaking her head annoyedly.

And then Ivar appeared on the threshold, moving closer to you, who raised up to welcome him.

And to show him your dress.

As you did, the room went quickly silent, as everybody’s eyes were suddenly onto you.

And you didn’t know whether it was for the beautiful dress or for the way your crown caught onto light, coming to live.

Or whether it was for you.

For a moment you almost thought it was for you.

The excitement of the crowd quickly thrumming in your veins, as your eyes set up on Ivar’s surprised face, before a smirk came on his own face, his eyes were fixed on you, genuinely looking at you as if you were the most beautiful spectacle of nature.

And then he was in front of you, separated simply by a table, as you gently bowed your head at him, but he held your chin between his fingers to keep your face up, as he stared in your eyes.

“Apparently Freya blessed us with an appearance” his smirk was playful, and hadn’t you been in public you would have very much liked to kiss it off.

“My prince you make me blush with your compliments” you commented softly, moving to gently grab onto his hand, as he smiled back, kissing your forehead.

He then sat beside you, the entire room having been silent the entire time, as eyes looked at you, no glares or bad eyes, but simply glances of curiosity to the wife of their youngest prince.

The one they thought they’d never see smile at a woman, like that.

You were the unified front that your deal had wanted.

He settled himself down beside you, as soon as he could, walking with a fierceness that made you laugh, and he grabbed your hand under the table, as slowly the clatter of the room came back, helped by Hvitserk who asked ‘when dinner would be served?’.

Dinner was a whirlwind of conversations about nothing and everything, as Ivar gently caressed the back of your hand he held with his thumb and for a moment…

… for a moment you wished this moment could last for ever,

“… you do look actually more beautiful than Freya” commented Ivar in your ear, as he leaned in, making you blush as you shot back a small ‘flatterer’ “… you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met”.

“Then you mustn’t have seen many women” you teased him, as he boldly kissed you with a light laughter “… you have a way with words, husband…”.

“… and you love it” it was a bold comment, but it was rewarded with a quite smile from you.

“That I do”.

“Prince Ivar” some soldier called out, ruining your moment.

Lightly embarrassed of your actions, you immediately pushed your stare onto your plate, as Ivar left your side to converse privately with the soldier, something that you allowed with a small kiss to his hand, as you were instead dragged away by your handmaidens to dance, something that made your feet and cheeks ache, from dancing and smiling too much.

You hadn’t had so much fun… in for ever.

Once you were tired of dancing and you made sure that all the girls had rightful partners for the next few dances, the Saxons having joined in although shyly, you sat down waiting for Ivar to come back, wanting to breath a bit and not feel the stench of sweat and beer attaching itself to your body.

And you were drinking ale, as you felt somebody sitting beside you.

Ubbe.

You recognized him as you raised your eyes to him, finally realizing that his gaze wasn’t set up on you, as he started to speak with you, but on Ivar who was talking surrounded by a few of his most trusted soldiers, from which you recognized his own private guards.

“… whatever deal is between you two, I am impressed that it is actually working” someone commented loudly, as they sit next to you, and when you turned you realized it was Ubbe, his insinuation making you blush.

“... or maybe we are simply enjoying the wedding bliss” you replied tightly, trying to match his disinterested tone “… you should know about it, Ivar told me that you have a wife”.

You knew that you had hit him, as you felt his teeth clatter together and tighten his jaw, but it was only a minute before that calm storm reappeared in his eyes, and you should have seen coming that nothing pleasant would happen next.

“I do think that it started all out as a deal between you two, I know my brother enough to know what he is like…” he commented as if he already knew all about it, but you just tried to ignore it, hating the way all this men seemed to know everything about you, thinking they could do better.

It reminded you of your father’s controlling ways.

“… but I think that somehow you are slowly falling in love with him” Ubbe’s admission was what your heart had hidden you in these days, almost since the start of your marriage with Ivar “… that’s why I want you to know this before anything gets further with my brother”.

You expected Ubbe to tell you about his plan to dethrone Lagertha or how moody Ivar can be…

But what Ubbe said next hit you so strongly.

“Ivar killed our brother, Sigurd”.

You choked on your own breath, as your eyes finally turned to Ubbe, almost expecting him to admit that it was a terrible joke, that he had played because he was jealous of Ivar’s happiness, but Ubbe looked back at you with a strong gaze, withholding your panicked look.

“… Sigurd and Ivar’s relationship wasn’t always good, but once, meanwhile we were also feasting Ivar threw an axe at Sigurd, and he hit him, he killed him”.

“Why are you telling me this” your voice was choked, and you couldn’t hide it.

“… because think what he did to his own blood, without any remorse…” Ubbe’s eyes were hungry for your pain “… you might own his heart, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t kill you if you betray him”-

Your feet moved on their own, as you got up, raising yourself so fast that for a moment you were startled, but your body seemed to know better, since it brought you out of the room, in the dizzyingly cold air of the night.

Somebody followed you.

Later you discovered it was Hvitserk and Nanna.

And Ivar.

“(Y/N)!” he called out to you, as you stopped in your steps, him coming closer to you, as he gently touched your shoulder, something that awakened a fear in you, and you moved startled away.

“… is it true?” your words were a simple tremble, a bare whisper, and Ivar looked at you not knowing what you meant “… did you seriously kill your brother?”.

Because if he did, any stupid illusion you had created in your mind broke down.

The silly thought of a life with him wouldn’t be broken by your own father’s ambitions, but by the fact that if he had murdered his brother, his own blood, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same for you.

And your love couldn’t overshadow fear in that moment.

In those days you had lost yourself in a beautiful fantasy, forgetting the harsh reality.

Alexander would have laughed loudly at this, his own prophecy coming true.

“… we can talk about it” he choked on his own words, his blue eyes hiding themselves away from yours, almost as if he was scared of your scrutiny.

And in that moment, you realized how stupid you had been.

How blind.

It didn’t take much as you looked in Ivar’s shadowed eyes to realize it was the truth.

You had lied to him, but he had also left out important pieces.

And now you were left broken.

---

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[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 6 Review/Remix

The day finally came, and for some it was far far too late coming. Personally, I think this was a damn good time to get the story we got, but to each their own. It’s time to weave a wicked fairy tale, a twisted Cinderella Story without a happily ever after. Join me, won’t you?~

We open on a sight not terribly unfamiliar this Volume, young Cinder washing and scrubbing a wooden floor in raggedy clothing. A single tear seems to fall among the water, but she continues on. For a split second, we see a woman’s lower half as she walks through this barn setting before getting an exterior shot that yes this is a barn on what looks to be a very sparse farm. We get several quick cuts like this, and from what we see in them it becomes quite clear what sort of life Cinder is living. An orphan ostracized and bullied by other kids, already with a violent streak as she’s shown tackling one of her aggressors rather than passively taking the pain. She’s still fairly weak and starved compared to the others, since she gets pulled off her victim and tossed aside easily, and a closeup of her face shows some gaunt features. All that misery seems like it might turn around when the mystery woman we saw briefly decides she’ll take Cinder. Next thing she or the audience know, Cinder is in Atlas, standing outside a big fancy hotel and staring at the opulence with no small amount of wonder. Immediately, my thoughts shift from Cinderella to little orphan Annie and I gain some small measure of hope. But it cannot last, and the Madame (as she is solely credited despite clearly being our Lady Tremaine in this story) sternly ushers her inside the Glass Unicorn (I’d like to thank the person who helped me read that cursive golden light lettering). Once inside, Cinder is rather awestruck at the lavish lobby and all the happy people she sees within. (Meanwhile I took notice of the sign on the front desk openly declaring that they do not serve Faunus. Hooray for blatant systemic racism...) But she doesn’t have much time to look around, because she’s again brought deeper inside to the kitchen where we meet her new stepsisters. And what a pair, green eyes and light brown hair just like their mother, with devilish smirks of condescension. All Cinder can think about as she’s given her list of grueling chores is the platter of bread and cheese behind the twin devils. Priorities in a palace of plenty like this. You might think to yourself, well now that’s a little harsh for a couple of girls we’re literally just meeting. But don’t worry, they immediately prove how spiteful and cruel they are by laughing at Cinder for asking for food, and laughing even harder when the Madame throws a bread roll for her on the floor she just said was filthy. Great first impressions indeed, and I don’t think there’ll be a direct to DVD sequel to redeem either of them through time travel shenanigans... god I’m old.

We get a montage of Cinder in her new working uniform doing various jobs around the hotel for very little reward or praise. The guests don’t care, her stepsibs give her a slap on the wrist for trying to snack on one of the strawberries she was decorating a cake with... only to turn around and have one of them eat that same strawberry herself right in front of her, and any painful accidents she suffers in the line of duty are met with only disapproval and mocking laughter. She eats guests leftovers, and it seems like she’s the only employee here besides her new family, not that they’re doing much of the work. What really ties this sad montage together is an as of yet unnamed song to that has been serving as Cinder’s leitmotif for years but now has lyrics. Those lyrics, as poor luck would have it, are insults and orders that Cinder must have heard everyday in this life of slavery and misery. “Do your chores, rub my feet, no one said that you could think, no one’s ever loved you, etc.” There’s obviously more of an order and rhyme to them, but I wanted to lay out some of the harshest kickers. We see a particular instance of suffering where she’s cleaning the carpets on the second floor and her sisters start stomping mud right in front of her just to mock her with “You missed a spot~” and give her more work to do. Cinder has taken just about enough now, and her Semblance kicks in for what might be the first time as she starts heating up the wet brush in her hand. She throws it at them in anger and it creates a cloud of steam and possibly smoke depending on how much of that wooden brush she burned. This gets the attention of her stepmother of course, but also that of a mysterious huntsman who had been showing off a new sword in the lobby much to Cinder’s earlier distant amazement. The Madame is none too happy with the scene Cinder has just caused or the fact that she lashed out against her actual daughters. So she gives the poor girl a necklace... with a stone of electric Dust in it. It’s a shock collar, and every time Cinder acts out from this point on, or just doesn’t do well enough for her stepmother’s standards, she will be painfully shocked and forced to apologize with a mantra we’re now all too familiar with. “Without you, I am nothing...”

Next thing we see, Cinder is crawling through a vent into a secret room in the back of the hotel. Based on the tons of furniture covered in sheets back here and the mattress with a couple pillows, I’d say this is what passes as her bedroom with how little fucks her adopted family gives. The Huntsman from earlier is heard being rather pissed that one of his swords is missing, and I get a small amount of sick satisfaction hearing one of the stepsisters panic in the face of his complaints and deliver a trademarked customer service line, “I apologize for the inconvenience”. I hear that every damn day in my day job, and I know how it feels to be where she is. After tormenting Cinder, they deserve to squirm. Naturally, Cinder was the one who took it, but is caught admiring it in her little hideaway by the Huntsman it belongs to himself. In the credits and subtitles his name is revealed to be Rhodes, and the public opinion on him becomes... mixed at best as time goes by. At the very least, here he confronts her without fighting her and disarms her with reassuring words. He knows she’s getting an awful deal here, but hurting these people and running away will solve nothing. She’ll be running for the rest of her life if she did that, never having a place to safely call home. He offers her an alternative, one she seems to pick up on quickly. Becoming a Huntress and gaining her freedom through that official title. But here we get a real sudden kick in the teeth. At this point, Cinder is only 10 years old. No 10 year old should be suffering the way she is, and if I were Rhodes I would try and have the Madame exposed and arrested for her abusive crimes. But we unfortunately don’t know if any child protective services exist that he could go to about this problem, and instead he tries a different approach. He’s not going to be staying here forever, but he’ll be back and forth over the next 7 years, and during that time he’ll train her to be ready for the Huntsman exams. This sounds like a good plan on paper, but then you realize what it means for her. Enduring 7 years of this abuse and pain, on the dangling carrot promise that she can leave one day and finally have some chance at decency. It’s the bare minimum effort on his part, and it makes him feel like a hero without having to actually inconvenience himself and fight for her freedom. She deserves better, but she’s sadly not getting it. Still, she does get training. 

We see time pass, he comes and goes, she keeps getting shocked and her resentment keeps growing. She gets older, her uneven pigtails become a short ponytail, and one day he gifts her the sword she had once stolen. She’s earned it, and in a couple more years she’ll be free to use it for her dream job. Too bad this was entirely the wrong move on his part. Cinder has something nice, and the stepsisters won’t stand for that, especially since it’s a dangerous weapon. They tattle to the Madame, and Cinder’s punishment is soon to come worse than ever before. Or so they would like to think. They go into the back to confront her at 11:40, and Rhodes walks in the front door at 11:56. There’s no one to greet him, not a sound to be heard until he gets to the front desk and picks up a distant crash. He gets to Cinder’s room, all too late. The stepsisters lie dead on the floor while Cinder is choking her stepmother to death with her bare hand. She tries in vain to subdue her with the remote for her shock collar, but the pain is just a stinging motivator she’s grown to tolerate. She may have been made to feel like she is nothing without the opportunities given to her by this woman, but now she is EVERYTHING because of what hell she has been through. Cinder snaps her neck and tosses her aside to be faced with her mortified mentor. The clock is striking midnight, and Cinderella did not use her gifts wisely at the ball. But it’s okay, right? Now her tormentors are gone and she won’t have to run anymore, right? Right, Rhodes??? No. Now he’s decided she’s too far gone and he has to fight her, to arrest her for the triple homicide that was most assuredly a mixture of self defense and cathartic revenge. Cinder realizes that even this man she trusted is her enemy, and with the last chime of the clock the spell of her temporary happiness is broken. The two fight, and seem evenly matched for a time, Cinder countering his Semblance of turning his skin to metal by using her own to heat the metal and still hurt him. I should like to point out that this power of his makes for a great layered pun, as it is similar to the mutant power of the X-Men character Colossus, and there is a famous Greek statue of the sun god Helios known as the Colossus of Rhodes. Back to the fight, Cinder temporarily blinds him by throwing a sandbag that he slices into, and in that confusion swipes his second sword so they can both dual wield since he primarily uses a set of maces. She gets a few clean slices in and takes out his Aura, but he bashes her away to hit a chest and there goes her Aura in return. He assumes the fight is over and goes to collect her unconscious body, but she was playing possum and stabs him in the gut with both swords. In his final moments, he lays a hand on her head as if saying he’s proud of her for growing so much. You may have had good intentions, Rhodes, but you were not a very good person and didn’t do enough to call yourself a Huntsman. I can’t imagine what kind of hell a Chaotic Good huntsman like Qrow would have done if he had been the one to find Cinder, but it probably would have been better than the surface level hero work this guy did. As things stand, we know Cinder is heading down the bad path and takes one last sad moment to finally tear her necklace off and cry a single tear up at the moon. 

We cut back to present as she wakes up in what I assume is her room aboard Monstra. Emerald is happy to see her awake, but Cinder chastises her for bringing them back to Salem emptyhanded. Em tries to assert that she put her concern for her mentor above the mission and its the sole reason they’re free and alive at all, but Mercury comes in to remind her that a repeat failure like Cinder doesn’t deserve that help. Em tries to stand up for her boss, to say that she was right to go attack Amity because the goodie goodies were up to something and they did a lot to stop it, but Mercury lays the heavy truth bomb on her again. Don’t defend Cinder, you’re not gonna win her love and support because she doesn’t give a shit about you. Cinder shuts them both up and dismisses them until she has need of them, much like the dismissive way Salem treated her a few episodes back. But Mercury got promoted, Cinder’s not his supervisor anymore and he doesn’t have to listen to her. Hearing that takes some wind out of Cinder’s sails, and she’s left alone to stew about this turn of events as Merc tells her everyone is needed on the bridge cuz something big is gonna happen.

Shifting to another room, Oscar is lying on the floor with a black eye and some blood on his lip, and probably a bunch of broken bones and internal bleeding. This poor poor kid... He and Oz are having a discussion about who should be the one in the driver’s seat for these beatings. Oscar sure as hell doesn’t deserve it, but since he’s not the one Hazel is mad at he’s not getting roughed up quite as much as if Oz was present. Oz wants to take over, to try and get them a way out of here, but Oscar thinks they have a golden opportunity if they stay. Oz is initially unsure what that means, but Oscar has some solid reasoning. Salem doesn’t do the fighting herself, she turns people to her side and has them fight her battles. Her spies sow seeds of chaos and discourse among her enemies, and now Oscar can do the same. They can try and talk some sense into Hazel or the kids and turn them against Salem. She won’t be beaten, surely, but she’ll be crippled without her eyes ears and devious hands. No time like the present, as Hazel comes back in for round... idk, maybe 10? Oscar gives Oz control again and Hazel is immediately pissed to recognize that tone of voice again. He assumes Oz had been hiding inside Oscar and forcing the kid to endure the pain instead of him, not realizing it was the reverse and Oscar was being selfless. But rather than argue that, Ozcar tries to get Hazel to see the cruel reality of it all. He won’t deny he has done wrong by this man, but how is Salem somehow the better choice? He should be fighting to stop her and her evils. Hazel stops for a moment, reveals his feelings on the matter. She can’t be stopped, he’s seen that himself. She’s an unstoppable force, and Oz is the worse of the two for knowing this and still sending people to try and stop her. Oz argues that someone has to at least try, that yes she actually can be fought and slowed and steered astray. But if she gets what she wants and gathers the relics... well, he doesn’t get a chance to reveal that much because Salem herself enters the room and welcomes her old love back to the grace of her company. It’s time to bring him to his front row seat for the impending show. 

It begins with a show of force and loyalty, all her underlings bowing before her on her throne. Em and Neo are off to the side and Hazel is forcing Oscar to bow too, but Mercury Cinder and Tyrian have all taken a knee right in front of their queen. Good news everyone, Watts presumably got Ironwood’s Scroll working and reported his successful takeover of Penny back to Tyrian and thus to Salem. Both men have proven their value, while Cinder’s rogue stunt has put her worth to the cause in serious question. Just like so many years ago, Cinder starts writhing in agonizing pain, this time inflicted by her own Grimm arm. Good to know Salem’s gift of a new limb was also a way to enforce punishment... But unlike the Madame, Salem claims to blame herself for Cinder’s disobedience. She’s been stifling Cinder’s drive for power and freedom, it’s no wonder she did what she did. She should be giving her chances to grow and rise, and so now she is. Cinder’s new mission is to go free Watts from jail and with his help murder Penny for the Winter Maiden powers. But it will be a challenge to prove herself, because Salem is also sending the Hound for the very same job. Both outcomes will result in Cinder getting the powers and Salem getting the Staff from the Vault, but only one will truly be an earned victory for Cinder and she damn well knows it. Ozcar tries to object, to say getting the Relics will doom them all, but hush now little fool~ You’re too late.

Cutting immediately away from that frightening situation, we get Winter and the Ace Ops flying out over the tundra in search of Penny. Elm is complaining about having to retrieve “broken junk” and how they shouldn’t trust Watts or his technology. Good point about trusting Watts, but we’re well past that problem now. Winter barks at Elm to stop whining and act professional. They pick up a comm signal, and it turns out to be from Jaune warning anyone who can hear it about the Grimm river. They head for the source of the signal, and the two groups cross paths under the most tense of tenses. Jaune gets to business and tries to get these professional huntsmen, public servants of their kingdom, to come deal with this unprecedented threat. But Harriet just wants to know where Penny is and refuses to acknowledge any problem except the one she was sent to deal with, so she blames these three kids who haven’t seen Penny in like 12 hours for whatever danger there is. Thankfully, she shuts up when a tremor rocks all of Mantle. The tremors keep building, even the Grimm take some amount of notice. Then it stops again. Then the biggest one yet hits, and suddenly the riverbed is empty. A geyser of primal Grimm goo blasts up into the side of Atlas, and it’s persistent enough that a big splash of it gets through the Hard Light shields. Out of the goo comes a swarm of centinels, who crawl up to the towers projecting the shield over the Kingdom itself and burrow into the ground around one of these towers. An airship blasts a laser down, but it can only get one target at a time and the rest burrow in. Down plummets one tower, and with it goes the entire shield. It’s like a string of Christmas lights with a single bad bulb, and that’s not a design flaw you want in the first line of defense around a major metropolitan area. As people across the Kingdom, including the team hiding out in Schnee Manor and a for once knocked off kilter General Ironwood, watch on in horror, Salem makes her move. Monstra swoops in and crests beautifully over the edge of Atlas, and then comes crashing down in the midst of the farmlands on the edge of the city with a bellyflop. The colossal aquatic mammal of the air opens its dark maw, and out floods a wave of more grimm sludge. From that primordial ooze arises just about every variety of Grimm we have ever seen with the exception of Kevin, Jim&Randall, Levi, and the Hound. The battle for Atlas has begun, and there are a wardrobe’s worth of white Atlesian military pants to be darkened. And this isn’t even the mid-season finale! So there’s even worse things sure to come! Can’t wait~

[flightfoot]

Dragon Falls Ch. 2

AO3

Light filtered through her eyelids.

 Kagami groaned.

 Sadly, groaning didn’t actually cause the sun to reverse and go into hiding.

 Against her wishes, she woke up the rest of the way.

 And very much wished she hadn’t.

 Every part of her body ached. She felt like she’d just been hit with a sledgehammer between her eyes, and her wings…

 She tried to shift them.

 Big mistake.

 Searing pain ripped through her, forcing her to let out a yelp. Craning her neck around, she got a good look at them.

 They appeared intact, but the joint of one of her wings was severely swollen.

 She winced.

 Dragons healed quickly, but an injury like that was likely to take a week or more to recover from. In the meantime, she was grounded.

 What even HAPPENED?

 Casting her mind back, she tried to recall.

 The memories were fuzzy, as they always were after a raid. The queen’s compulsions dulled higher order thinking, replacing it with her own will - mostly “get food”. Sheep were her favorite.

 While she’d been off hunting for the Queen numerous times, this was her first time going up against humans. These were by far the most dangerous hunting grounds.

 And now here she was, alone, in a valley, badly injured, unable to fly away, and-

A face swam across her vision, blond hair and a smirk, and then-

 The structure collapsed on her.

 She shuddered. Well, that explained the injuries. But what happened after that?

 Branches brushed against her, uneven ground occasionally causing her to stumble. 

 She didn’t pause, just getting up and running some more.

 All she knew was she needed to get far away from there, to somewhere safe.

 A short fall, trying to spread her wings and finding one wouldn’t move properly-

 And then she was on the ground.

 She faintly heard leaves rustling, but couldn’t bring herself to move.

 PAIN.

 Something CRACKED, going back into place.

 Flailing a little, she opened her eyes.

 THE BOY.

 Tried to get to her feet-

 And fell.

 He ran.

 She passed out.

 That crack… did that boy relocate her wing joint?

 And he hadn’t come back with backup, even though she was unconscious and helpless…

 Though that part might be due to it being night at the time. She had decent night vision, but from what she’d heard about humans, theirs was atrocious.

 Hauling herself up (and grimacing a bit at the soreness) she set about investigating her surroundings.

---------

 This area she’d fallen into was pretty nice at least. Only one entrance in or out (unless you could fly or felt like falling fifteen feet), with a small freshwater pond and some nice spots for sunbathing. 

 The single entrance made things tricky. On the one hand, it meant she couldn’t be surrounded by vikings. On the other hand, it meant that she had no escape route.

 Probably best to avoid it except for getting drinks of water. 

 Her stomach made her other needs known, giving out a rumble.

 She sighed. Hopefully prey was plentiful.

------------

An hour later she’d caught and eaten three rabbits and a squirrel. 

 Turns out they weren’t used to being sprayed with water or electrocuted. 

 No fire blasts. While that would certainly have done the trick as well, setting the forest on fire while she was in it didn’t seem like the best idea.

 Her ears pricked.

 Voices floated up from somewhere close by.

 She hid behind a bush as well as she could. Even injured, she’d probably be able to fight off a couple vikings, but best to gather intel first.

 “...you think it’s still there?”

 “Probably. It was hurt pretty badly.”

 A flash of yellow caught her eyes.

 A boy and a girl traipsed into view. 

 The boy… that hair looked a lot like what she remembered from before, with the attack.

 The brown-haired girl was new though.

 She darted out of the bush. The brunette raised her axe instinctively.

 Keeping an eye on her (the axe probably wouldn’t do MUCH damage, but it partially depended on where she was hit…) she faced the blonde. “Why didn’t you kill me before?”

 Both the humans’ mouths dropped open as their eyes bugged out of their heads.

 She tilted her head to the side. 

 What were they doing? Was this some human signal?

 She had a difficult enough time reading DRAGON body language, did she have to master human nonverbal communication as well?

 “YOU CAN TALK?!”

 They didn’t know that? “Of course I can-”

 Wait.

 They only ever raided the humans when under the Queen’s influence.

 And while being controlled by her, they were little more intelligent than the prey they hunted.

 “You’ve never heard us talk before.”

 The boy stared off into the distance. “Those sounds I heard you making before, the screams… I… I thought they sounded too human. I- I guess… I guess now I know why.”

 The girl put her hand on her chin. “I’ve been through a lot of dragon raids. One of the first things I learned was how indistinguishable dragon cries were from human cries and I just… no one ever thought, even CONSIDERED why that might be.”

 Blinking, the boy snapped out of his daze. “Well there was Alix’s brother’s theory.”

 “Jalil’s… oh right!”

 She turned to face Kagami. “Uh… you’re not secretly a banished viking, cursed to wander the skies in the shape of a beast, right?”

 Humans were weird. “I am fairly certain I am not.”

 “So why can you talk? Why haven’t any dragons talked to us before? Oooh can only SOME dragons talk? Why have you guys been raiding our town? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS.”

A squeal emanated from somewhere close by. It took her a moment to realize it came from the girl.

 “Do- do you know what happened to my mom?” a voice asked quietly.

 His voice quavering with hope, the boy looked up at her, almost seeming to plead for her to say ‘yes’.

 She hated to disappoint him.

 But lying would hurt more. “This was my first raid. I know nothing about any specific humans.”

 He went quiet, looking down at his feet. The girl put an arm around his shoulder.

 “As for the other questions, it does depend on species. Most dragons can talk, but there are a few who do not have the intelligence required to do so, as well as a few others who communicate through other means. All of us who are sent to raid your village are able to talk, however.”

 The girl frowned. “Sent?”

 “By the Queen. She bends us to her will, forces us to hunt for her, to please her. Some have tried to escape-” She shuddered. “But few have succeeded. She- she can hypnotize us, make it so we have to follow her commands, even miles away. Anywhere her voice can reach, she can take control. And it can last for awhile - up to a day. Your village is just outside the edge of her sphere of influence.”

 She looked down. “While under her power, we cannot speak, can barely think. If we could keep our wits, keep our sense of self-” she spat, “-then we might be able to oppose her, to throw off her control. Her call suppresses that part of us entirely.”

 The two humans looked at each other. “The dragons - every time we’ve captured one, my father’s ordered them killed almost immediately. They- they never got a chance for the Queen’s influence to wear off!”

 The color drained from the boy’s face. “They were killed… and they weren’t even in control of themselves at the time.”

 The girl nodded. She looked like she’d hurl if she opened her mouth.

 A low growl escaped Kagami’s throat. She’d heard stories of the dragons who’d never made it back, mourned the fallen. 

 While she’d saved some of her ire for the Queen for forcing her subjects into such a dangerous situation in the first place, she’d also harbored some fear and anger for the humans who actually killed the dragons involved.

 But they hadn’t known.

 To them, it was no different than her killing those rabbits.

 “We’ve got to tell everyone!”

 The girl turned, started to head back. The boy caught her arm. “Wait. I want to stop this as much as you do, but do you really think they’ll believe you?”

 She let out a frustrated noise. “Well if a dragon’s TALKING, they’ll have to, won’t they?!”

 He shook his head. “If they see a dragon in the village, do you really think they’ll all sit down and have a conversation with her? Or just attack immediately?”

 “I am not entering the village,” Kagami interjected. No way she was being kept out of this conversation. “My wing is still injured and I do not know if I can trust them to just talk. And while you two seem friendly, I have not forgotten how often you humans have hurt or killed us. I accept that you may have done so based on limited information, but they are still dead.”

 The girl looked away and sighed. “Yes, but… but what about next raid?! I- I don’t want to watch someone get killed if I could’ve prevented it!”

 They all stood looking at each other awkwardly.

 She turned around and started loping off.

 “Wait, where are you going?!”

 “It does not look like anything will be settled here and I must explore the rest of the island, try to find a better resting spot. I do not wish to risk being discovered and murdered by a random human.”

 The boy called out again. “But- but how will we find you again?”

 She stopped, closing her eyes. 

 These humans honestly seemed like they wanted to help. Like they didn’t mean any harm.

 But she also barely knew them.

 “I will find you. My hearing and sense of smell far outstrips what you are capable of. If I deem it safe, I will appear.”

 She didn’t completely trust them yet.

 But she wanted to.

 Turning around again, she got two dragon-lengths away-

 “WAIT!”

 Again?

 “What’s your name?” the boy pointed at himself and then at his companion. “I’m Adrien, and this is my friend Alya.”

 Adrien and Alya…

 She mouthed the words for a moment, getting used to the feel of them.

 It made this feel more… official somehow. 

 They weren’t just “those humans”.

 They were Alya and Adrien.

 And maybe, just maybe

 In the future she might call them ‘friends’.

 “I am Kagami.”

 She raced off, this time without interruption.

 They all had a lot to think about.

[ununniliad]

Burst Beetle Tweseveny #4: "2007: The Limits of Infinity and the Time on One's Hands!"

With a PWEEYOOM! a pair of burning tire tracks blasts across the asphalt, and in a stream of flashing colors, Burst Beetle Tweseveny appears!

"Aha! Back to action, and... um..." Tweseveny is alone in a back alley, her only companions a garbage can, a recycling bin, a soiled, broken bottle of Mister Paprika Code Indigo that was clearly supposed to have gone in the recycling bin, and a poster for a slam poetry event. "Hm."

She looks around carefully, and pushes the little red gem below the clock face on her belt, armor disappearing in a burst of amber light. "Well, I suppose one should explore before jumping into a situation."

Burst Beetle Tweseveny takes two confident steps out of the alleyway! And a newspaper flies thru the air and smacks her in the face! "Ackpth!"

She flails around blindly, trips on a banana peel (left there by fellow time-traveler Comedic Banana Peel Man, visiting from the 1940s), and falls backwards into a pile of trash bags.

She peels the newspaper carefully off her face. "Oh... ow." She stares up at the sky for a while. "...ow."

...she stares up at the sky for another while. "...didn't think this sort of thing happened to net.heroes."

Burst Beetle Tweseveny heaves a big sigh, gives a crooked little smile, and stands up. "But I'm still here, and still free." The fingers of her left hand stroke softly over her belt buckle and the phone inside. With her right, she holds up the newspaper and squints at it. "April... 272nd? Wh-- Oh! Of course, this is 2007! It's the Infinite April!"

<<<*>>>

Every day, the Legion has a new leader! Every night, at the stroke of midnight-- they disappear!! Over the days and weeks of an unending April, the Legion struggles to uncover the mysterious force causing them to disappear one by one! Will the dwindling forces of net.heroism be able to overcome this Infinite Leadership Crisis--

                        --before the last Legionnaire vanishes?!  

<<<*>>>

She hops to her feet, tossing the newspaper aside and running her hands thru her hair. "Well, well! It makes sense that if I traveled to 2007, I'd hit April - it was over a year long! What an event!" She looks around, limbs filling with enthusiasm. "So! First off, I'm going to need a shower. But where will I find  some good samaritans who will be open to helping out some random person?"

She turns, looking across the street, and her gaze falls on a building that takes up a whole city block, a building shaped like a cross between a grand hotel and an upside-down computer monitor, a building radiant with the spirit of heroism - the headquarters of the Legion of Net.Heroes, literally right there in front of her!

"Ah!" She grins, striding confidently forward through the revolving door! Within, an expansive, sunny foyer, studded with friendly succulents and the Spectacular Spider-Plant, and featuring a large, round desk in the middle, with an "INFORMATION" sign hanging above it!

And there, sitting behind said desk - a friendly-faced young Hispanic man! His hair, a faded pink with dark roots and a shaggy, uneven cut! His T-shirt, white, with doodles all over it in various colors of marker, continuing onto his skin as temporary tattoos in pen and ink! Two of the nails on his left hand are painted neon green, and three on the right are ebon black, all ten with gold sparklies on top! On his shirt, a handmade button that says "LEADER" in purple sharpie!

He looks down at his phone, brow furrowed in concentration! "C'mon, c'mon, daddy needs a Fanficuno..."

"Ah, excuse me?" says Tweseveny, stepping forward.

"Bvwmeep!" The young man slams! the phone on the desk, sitting up straight. "Hello, nice to meet you, my name is Time-Waster Lad, interim leader of the Legion of Net.Heroes, how can I assist with your emergency?"

"Er..." Tweseveny blinks in momentary startlement, and then a return to solid purpose! "I was wondering if I could take a shower here!"

"Oh!" Time-Waster Lad sags in relief. "Sure, definitely. We have some community showers in the Non-Peril Gym that Weight-Lifting Lady had built when she was leader. C'mon, I'll show you down!"

Time-Waster Lad guides Tweseveny through a door at the back of the foyer, leading to a long hallway. So long, indeed, that Tweseveny can barely see the other end - it seems a football field away, far far too far for the building she'd seen on the outside, and she thrills! The transcendent, ever-changing architecture of LNHQ! She gets to experience it, in person, as a person!

Today, the carpets are lush and thick, in bright colors speckled with triangular patterns, like a bowling alley. The walls are a cheerful sky blue, but in the distance, seem to shift towards a soft pink. Dozens of doors line the hallway, labeled as leading into various rooms; "Monitor Room", "Plot Device Room", "Peril Room", and many others. Dozens of other hallways intersect with it, often at strange and improbable angles. It is lit with warm LEDs, and occasionally, a geographically improbable window to let in the sunlight.

"There certainly don't seem to be many LNHers around today," says Tweseveny,  admiring a framed portrait of Tsar Chasm in a Napoleonic pose.

"Ah, well, they're all out on missions," says Time-Waster Lad, twirling a lock of hair. "It's been a while, but remember that press release we put out back when April didn't end?"

"Oh," says Tweseveny, a slight blush of social mistakery coloring her cheeks, "actually, I'm a time traveler - I just landed today. But I'd heard about the Infinite April before."

"Oh, okay, neat," says Time-Waster Lad, as used as any veteran net.hero to temporal shenanigans. "Well, we've been having a lot of trouble keeping up on missions as our team keeps disappearing. We've got those robot duplicates Dr. Stomper made before he disappeared, but they're..." He bites his lip, clearly trying to come up with a diplomatic description! "They're not exactly 100% on the acting right. So we keep them for the small stuff. But most of the team is out doing one net.hero thing or another."

"Gotcha gotcha. It makes sense that the leader would hold down the fort!"

"...haha, yeah, it sure does..." Time-Waster Lad gives a little cough and walks thru an open doorway, into a locker room tiled in warm, bright colors, with birdsong piped in in the background.

"Super swanky!" comments Tweseveny, picking out a particularly bright shower with a rainbow mosaic, stepping in and closing the door behind her.

"Yeah, Sing-Along Lass said that even exercise can be cheerful and nice." Time-Waster Lad takes Tweseveny's clothes as she passes them over, and puts them into the super-speed washer-dryer Domestic Lad had installed when he was leader. "No use putting dirty clothes on a clean body, that's what he told us."

"Excellent advice! You certainly seem to be a good listener!" The warm water cascades over Tweseveny's tired muscles, and she feels her body relaxing, invigorating, mmm!

Time-Waster Lad smiles, leaning against the wall. "Thank you! But it seems like I only listen to the stuff that isn't important. If someone's giving me an order, it slips right out..." He stares off into space, humming musically for a couple minutes. "...oh!" He starts, straightening up. "Sorry, I started just... talkin' about myself!" He rubs the back of his head ruefully.

"Hah! That's all right," says Tweseveny, soaping herself off - gosh, you get sweaty fighting net.villains! "People say I'm a good listener too, and I gotta tell you, I don't mind lending a helpful ear."

"Aw, you're super sweet!" He runs his hands thru his hair, relaxing. "Still, I didn't ask - what's going on with you?"

She works shampoo into her hair, her scalp luxuriating in the stimulation. "I've been bopping around thru time a bit, and just kind of landed in this month."

"Oh man!" Time-Waster Lad shakes his head. "That's not surprising, it's so friggin' long! Like, I was supposed to go for my ADHD screening at the beginning of May, but..."

Tweseveny smiles, filling her voice with encouragement! "Well, I'm from the future, so I know it'll end eventually!"

"Sure," says Time-Waster Lad, with the tones of someone who is trying to be positive but has heard this all before. "But is it our future? Contraption Man said this never happened in his timeline, and Kid Kirby poked at a bunch of alternate timelines before he vanished and couldn't see an end to this."

Tweseveny hums in thought. She's actually read this story, so she knows how it will turn out, but-- actually, come to think, could this be some kind of Elsewhirl, an alternate-universe story? She hasn't considered the metafictional implications of her visit - and there's the lingering suspicion that, sometime soon, she will wake from this sweet dream of being powerful and fighting for good...

She shakes herself out. Dream or not, she's in the story now! "That's fair. So, as today's leader, how are you dealing with it?"

"Heh, well, everybody who can do work right now on the disappearing leaders problem already is, it seems like? So I'm just manning the des... ohhhhh biscuits I forgot I was running the desk! Frick frick frick..." Despite the cuteness of his euphemistic swearing, Time-Waster Lad is clearly freaking out!

"Oop!" Tweseveny turns off the water and does a quick pass with the towel! "Time-Waster Lad, before you continue freaking out, could you please pass me my clothes?"

"Frick frick frick sure..." Time-Waster Lad pulls open the dryer and tosses the clothes underhand to Tweseveny, then starts pulling on his hair. "Daaaaah..."

"Thank you!" Tweseveny gets dressed in a right hurry. She needs to get something more suited to a net.hero than beige skirts and sensible blouses, but there's no time for that now! Boldly, she steps out of the shower, takes Time-Waster Lad by the shoulders, and shakes him a bit! "Snap out of it, man!" Gosh, she's always wanted to say that!

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, I just, I just, I just--"

"Snap out of it more than that, please!" Tweseveny grabs a bucket, sets the shower to Breathtakingly Cold, fills the bucket, rears back, and--

"Okay no I think I snapped out of it now!!" Time-Waster Lad throws his hands up in front of his face.

"Oh, good." Tweseveny puts down the bucket and sweeps Time-Waster Lad into a hug! "It's okay! We shall go back to the desk together and Hang Out and Talk and Relax."

"mmberf" After Tweseveny lets go, Time-Waster Lad draws a deep breath into his body, spreads his hands, and lets the cloud of panic disperse. "Okay. Cool." He shakes out his head. "Thanks."

She takes his hand, and together, the two of them walk back down the corridors of the LNHQ. Tweseveny stays quiet, giving Time-Waster Lad time and space to breathe, to consider, in the sunlight of the nice day, in the warm breezes of the architecturally improbable windows.

As they pass the Plot Device Room, without preamble, Time-Waster Lad speaks. "I miss Miss Translation."

"Miss Translation..." Tweseveny pokes at her memories, of reading the older LNH series, scrolling through her news feed in delighted glee... "She was the alien who had a hard time speaking English, right?"

"Right. Once you learned her dialect, though, she was really easy to talk to. Together, we headed up a whole subgroup, one of the smaller teams within the LNH. She was the one who leapt forward and made things happen, and I was the one who took his time and made the plans and make sure things would work out." A great sigh heaves its way out of Time-Waster Lad's lungs. "And then... we lost a teammate. And the whole team got kicked out. Except for me." He runs his hands through his mop of pink hair. "Because, I guess, the Ultimate Ninja... didn't think I was one of them."

"Ohhh..." Tweseveny feels the weight in Time-Waster Lad's belly. The casual dismissal of the leadership he had been proud of... "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." The corridor ends, and the two of them are back in the foyer. "And then, just to kick everything in the pants?" Time-Waster Lad vaults the back of the reception desk and turns to face her. "They all got lost in space."

"Gosh," says Tweseveny, and means it, leaning her elbows on the desk, putting her face in her hands, and looking up at him. "That's painful."

"Right?" he says, and sighs, flopping into the rolly chair. "Starts-Arguments-For-No-Reason Kid and Sleeps-With-Anything-Alive Girl are back now. Not sure what the story is there... I think they might not remember it, but they definitely don't want to talk about it. When Limp-Asparagus Lad was leader, he sent out invitations for them to come back, along with a lot of other inactive former LNHers, and they did." Time-Waster Lad leans his head back and kicks his feet up, pressing them into the edge of the desktop. "But Ultimate Ninja might just kick them out again when he comes back. If he comes back." He blows a breath out loose lips. "And that was my last experience being a leader, sort of."

"Time-Waster Lad..." Tweseveny reaches for him... but her hand curls in a fist. She doesn't know what to say...

A throat is cleared on the other side of the room. "I'm sorry..."

Tweseveny and Time-Waster lad look up, roused from the depressing discussion! There, having just come in the door - two figures!

One, a tall woman in her early twenties, in a glittering silver dress, pale silver hair with a deep purple streak, an amethyst nose piercing, and high heels. She holds up an hourglass full of silvery sand and grins in manic confidence!

The other, a figure in a hooded robe, his face cast in constant shadow no matter how he moves! His body is hidden by the rich brown fabric, its texture sumptuous and expensive, yet continually exuding a noxious smell; starting off subtle, yet getting stronger by the moment!

"...but is this a bad... time?" the woman finishes, a maniacal glint in her eye!

"You're..." says Time-Waster Lad, eyes widening in recognition...

"That's right," says the hooded figure, working enthusiasm into his voice. "The devilish duo of trans-temporal terror!"

The woman raises her hourglass! "Mother Time and the Time Crapper!"

<<<*>>>

Author's Notes: Finally, Tweseveny returns!

There's a lot of reasons it took me almost two years to come back to this. A two-part storyline ended up ballooning to six parts, as I found more things I wanted to do with it, in terms of emotions, continuity, and cool shit. The continuity required a lot of research, and the emotions required a lot of heavy lifting. But it's done now, and I'm proud of it - I hope you will be too!

In re: Contraption Man: In the first Infinite Leadership Crisis issue, Contraption Man shows up yelling "No future!" and then goes into a coma, but he shows up perfectly okay later. I thought about commenting on that situation, but frankly, I'm going to be doing a lot of continuity-stitching in this storyline, so I'll save that for some other ILC insert.

"berf" as a sound effect of something mildly discomfiting happening is stolen from Questionable Content.

Time-Waster Lad created by Raythrax, Not Reserved.

The Time Crapper created by Jef Kolodziej, Free For Use.

Mother Time created by... shoot, it's not on the wiki. It's Arthur, right? In LNHCP #43? And I'm pretty sure she's Not Reserved and/or Free For Use??

[shadowthrone-ammanas]

The Empress

The metro was the busiest, noisiest place Hat Kid had encountered on this planet so far. All the food carts smelled fantastic, the first day she’d come down here, she’d eaten until she got sick. And almost everyone was cats! And giant cats pulled all the trains. It was all very exciting stuff.

But she wasn’t finding any Time Pieces. Her ship’s sensors said they were down here, nine of them to be precise. How they’d gotten underground was a mystery but they were down here. She just had to find them but how when not even her hat was picking up on their location? That had to mean they were surrounded by something her hat couldn’t sense through. How lame?

“Did you hear about the shiny things the Empress is supposedly collecting?”

Hat Kid perked up to see a small group of cats walking by her bench, chatting; gossiping just a tad too loudly as they tended to do. The term ‘shiny things’ more often than not meant Time Pieces.

“I heard she’d been being secretive about something but not what,” one of the other cats said as Hat Kid slid off the bench to follow them as discreetly as possible. “So what are they?”

“No one knows,” the first cat replied. “Just that they’re shiny and fell from the sky.” Bingo! Time Pieces! “Her uh… employees supposedly brought them to her and she’s keeping them in her vault now.” Surrounded by thick metal, that would explain why the top hat couldn’t find them.

“What do you think she’s going to do with them?”

“I don’t know, sell them maybe.”

The group of cats speculated for a bit, not getting anywhere with it, before changing topics. Hat Kid left them as they went down one tunnel and she continued onto an ice cream vendor she’d just spotted. She’d have to find out more about this Empress lady… ice cream first though.

 -

With a mix of intentional eavesdropping, asking the right questions to the right people and good old fashioned connecting the dots, Hat Kid learned a few things. The Empress owned the jewelry shop in the Main Station. It mostly served as a front to disguise criminal activity though. No one ever said it outright but the way people in the know talked about her and obviously feared her made it pretty clear that she was a crime boss. And she was powerful enough that no one in the metro wanted to trifle with her. One of the cats Hat Kid had talked to even outright told her not to ever get on the Empress’ bad side, saying that people who did tended to ‘disappear’.

Hat Kid wasn’t afraid though. She’d fought a mafia boss, a movie making disco penguin – okay maybe that one wasn’t very impressive sounding – a soul eating ghost who was now her BFF and Mustache Girl all powered up by the Time Pieces. (Also, a haunted toilet but she’d rather not list that as one of her achievements and it hadn’t even been hard, just gross.) So, she wasn’t going to be intimated by some cat lady who sold jewelry even if said cat lady did basically run the metro.

In fact, after another break for ice cream – it was so good, how was she supposed to resist? – she strode right into the jewelry store. It was… just like every other store that sold jewelry with nothing special or unique about it; clean white walls and tiled floors, jewelry displayed prettily in glass cases. Honestly, it was a bit disappointing after all the hushed whispers she’d heard about the place.

The Empress was at least a striking figure. Tall and regal both in stature and clothing, she was a very pretty kitty. Hat Kid immediately wanted to pet her despite the less than friendly look on her face.

“Hello,” Hat Kid said with a wave as she strode up to the counter.

The Empress looked down at her as if looking at a lesser being. “I don’t think this is the right place for you kid. If you’re lost go back out and to the center square because I’m not helping you find your parents.”

“No, I’m pretty sure this is the right place. I heard you have something that belongs to me. The shiny hour glass things. So could you please give them to me.” There was no harm in asking, was there? Maybe for once it would actually work too.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Or not. Why did everyone of this planet have to be like this? It just made things harder for everyone.

“I need them to get back home. So please just give them to me. Save us both the trouble.” Hat Kid held up a hand as if she expected to be obeyed. Such tactics worked sometimes but… not this time.

“They’re mine now kid, so I suggest you find some other way to get home unless you want to ensure you’re never able to return at all. If you know what I mean.” The Empress lifted a hand to flash out her claws as if that were somehow scary.

Hat Kid sighed and rolled her eyes as she turned and walked out.  She’d just come back later and steal them, no need to get violent and embarrass an old lady in front of all her goons. She’d have to find a way into the vault though. The door behind the counter probably led to it but it was probably locked so… she’d figure things out when she got there.

 -

The metro was less busy and crowded at night but not by a whole lot. The trains ran all night apparently. All of the food carts were closed but a few new ones were open… it’d be nice to try them but Hat Kid didn’t have the time. The jewelry store was closed too.

Getting in was easy, there was a vent that led right from the roof to the store area. One day Hat Kid would no longer be able to fit in vents and air ducts and would have to find other ways of sneaking into buildings but today was not that day.

After dropping to the floor she ran over and vaulted over the counter. The back door was indeed locked. But so far locks on the planet were easy to pick. This one quickly proved to be the same.

She pocketed her tools to open the door and peek inside. There were piles and piles of gold inside, glittering in the light cast by the Time Pieces. Bingo! Vault and Time Pieces found. Hat Kid didn’t even need to work much for them.

She pulled the door closed as she went in. She was tempted to take some gold but… that would be wrong, she was only here to take back what had been stolen from her. So with a sigh, she grabbed the first Time Piece. She placed the second one on top, the third on top of that one. Getting them all into her grasp for the port back to the ship was going to be difficult but whatever she was…

The door slammed open. She jumped at the bang, dropping the Time Pieces - none of them broke thankfully – before snapping around.

The Empress stood in the open doorway, glaring at her, anger in her eyes. “Why I am not surprised? Of course a cocky brat like you would try to sneak in. Normally I wouldn’t murder a child, even an ugly one like you, but you leave me no choice.” She stepped in and pulled the door closed behind her as she spoke, relocking it, trapping them inside together.

Hat Kid pulled out her umbrella. “Well you’re an ugly old peck-neck.”

“Eh, cute, a little foul mouth.” The Empress shifted her weight before lunging, flashing her claws. Hat Kid hopped to the side, almost slipping on the gold coins as they clinked and shifted under her feet. It nearly cost her, her chance to whack the Empress with the umbrella.

The Empress gasped more in surprise than pain. It quickly turned into a hiss though. “How dare you?” She grabbed the umbrella by the tip and yanked it up. Hat Kid refused to let go though, yanking back. It was a tug of war that Hat Kid was doomed to lose though so let go suddenly, taking the Empress by surprise, making her almost lose her balance on the uneven ground. Hat Kid took advantage of this by kicking her in the shin and taking back her umbrella.

Before she could respond, Hat Kid jumped back and switched her hat to the brewing hat. She summoned a potion and tossed it. The Empress hopped to the side to avoid it, her eyes widening at the explosion for a moment before she went back on the attack.

Hat Kid really didn’t want to risk having her umbrella snatched away. So she focused on dodging. Switching to the time stop hat, she slowed time, allowing her to get another hit in before jumping back as the flow of time resumed normal speed.

From there, Hat Kid focusing on dodging, getting a hit in whenever she could. She took a couple starches but nothing major. The Empress grew more and more frustrated as time went on. Until eventually…

“I’ve had enough,” she hissed as she drew a pecking sword! In the same motion, she slashed at Hat Kid with it. It would’ve slit her throat if Hat Kid hadn’t raised her umbrella to block it. Something in the umbrella broke, another cut and another block and something cracked. No more of that, Hat Kid needed this thing.

She used the time stop hat again instead to avoid the next slash, jumping over it and onto the Empress’ head, being sure to kick down at her face while she was at it. As time went back to normal, the Empress cursed and swore, slashing at Hat Kid again even as she jumped away. The sword hit this time, grazing her arm, cutting through the sleeve and drawing blood.

She switched to the sprint hat to give her more speed so she could dodge better. And so the fight continued. Getting hits in was harder now but not impossible. The Empress’ growing rage only made her more predictable, making her easier to dodge even as her attacks grew more violent and swift.

The Empress was slowly but surely wearing out; her own violent assault as well as each whack brought her a bit closer to defeat. Hat Kid was tiring as well though. All it would take was one wrong move and her life would be over. But she was confident in herself, she had this fight in the bag. … She had to end it soon though. Just a little bit more.

Using the time stop hat again she got around behind the Empress and jumped up. Right as the hat’s effect wore off, she whacked the Empress in the back of the head as hard as she could. The umbrella broke in half with a loud crack accompanied by a pained grunt from the Empress. Oh no! Without the umbrella, Hat Kid had no weapon and that meant…

The Empress tittered for a second before falling over. “You’ll… pay for that…” she managed to mumble before landing on her face with a clatter of coins.

Panting hard, Hat Kid looked down at her, a smile spreading across her face. She won! Another victory! But… she glanced at the umbrella, well the half still in her hand, her smile faded somewhat. The other half was on the floor, next to the Empress’ unconscious body. Hat Kid picked it up too; it had served her well so it deserved a proper funeral.

Next, she gathered up the Time Pieces. Balancing them precariously in one hand and holding the broken bits of umbrella under her arm, she pulled out her phone and had it beam her back up to her ship. She was going to brag to her BFF Snatcher about beating up a crime boss later, as well as anyone else would listen.

She’d have to be careful if she ever wanted to come back to the metro though since the Empress would have it out for her now. Even if it was her own fault she got beat up, if she’d just given Hat Kid the Time Pieces when she’d asked politely for them, none of this would’ve been necessary. But whatever, she’d been difficult and now she’d been defeated by a child, just like everyone else who’d crossed Hat Kid on this planet. All Hat Kid cared about was having her Time Pieces back.

[awholeotherlevel]

Crime Diary-Chapter 3

By Camille Scott

After work, I took the bus to the address that Kenji had given me.  It turned out to be a gold shop.  I was bewildered.  Plum said that I wouldn’t have to sell the locket.  I hadn’t even brought it with me.  It was too late to try to catch a bus all the way home, just to get the necklace.  I decided to keep the appointment.  If nothing else, I’d just have to go back the next day.

The inside of the gold shop didn’t look much better than the outside.  It was an antiquated storefront space with scratched glass cases running from one wall to the other, along three walls.  The hardwood floors were stained and worn uneven by years of foot traffic.  I was beginning to have doubts about Kenji.  It didn’t look as though he had the finances to buy any of the hulking buildings on my books.

I told myself not to get my hopes up or get too bent out of shape, if things didn’t pan out.  Push come to shove, I could still pawn the locket.  An elderly Japanese woman in a flowered dress was standing behind the left counter, holding up a gold bracelet for a customer to admire. 

I approached them and waited for a pause in the conversation.  The customer was a tall, emaciated looking guy with big, showy rings on four fingers of his right hand.  I could probably pay my rent with just one of those rings and have plenty left over for groceries.

When he laughed, gold teeth flashed in the front of his mouth.  My eyes drifted down to the thick, fourteen carat gold rope bracelet hanging from his bony wrist, then over to the smart phone strapped to his belt.  He was leaning on an alligator skin briefcase.  Definitely a drug dealer.

The woman eventually glanced in my direction and I told her that I had an appointment with Kenji  She gave me the once over, turned towards the sheet covering the doorway to the rear of the store, and yelled something in her native tongue. I shifted uneasily, as her eyes raked across my face once more.

My nervous smile had no effect on her.  She dismissively turned back to her customer.  A moment later, Kenji emerged from behind the dusty sheet.  I was surprised at how young he looked.  He was skinny, but otherwise resembled the woman so closely that she had to be his mother.

When Kenji smiled, he looked even younger.  He offered his hand and I shook it.  Tattoos peeked out from underneath his long-sleeved shirt, when he extended his hand.  I remember thinking how they contradicted his overall appearance. Kenji looked like a college student.  Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his flat nose enhanced the impression.

“I-I have some pictures of the properties that I felt would best suit your needs,” I  stammered, handing over the printouts.  A few tense moments passed, while he inspected the photographs.  The man with the gold teeth began looking at an assortment of gold rings.

“Can show me these properties tomorrow,” Kenji asked.

“Huh? Oh, sure I can.  What time works best for you?” 

The appointment was set for the following afternoon.  I left feeling elated.  Not only would the commission on any one of the properties pay my rent for several months, it would help me regain some of my boss David Canfield’s confidence in me.  Unloading one of my rundown properties might even raise me a few notches in his estimation.  

Maybe I could get enough of an advance to cover my current rent and utilities.  I hastily reminded myself not to get too excited.  Kenji hadn’t seen the actual building yet.  There was a big difference between a grainy snapshot and the real thing.

I went home and took the fire escape up to my apartment, not wishing to bump into my landlord until I had cash in hand.  He knew that payday had come and gone.  Needless to say, I didn’t get any sleep that night.  By morning, I was a bundle of nerves.

Kenji arrived at the appointed time and drove us to the buildings in his gold sport utility vehicle.  I held my breath, when he leaned forward and looked through the windshield at the first old house.  Kenji explained that he was looking to purchase a few homes to rehab and turn into section eight rental properties.  He didn’t say much during the tours.  His face was expressionless, but I could see his eyes taking note of everything.

I trailed behind him, as he moved from room to room.  We went to my office and Kenji retrieved a briefcase from the trunk of his car.  He wanted to buy all three of the houses we toured! It took every ounce of willpower not to leap from my seat and dance around my cubicle.

He wanted to start the transaction immediately and I was only too happy to oblige him.  It would be nice to look my landlord in the eye, when I paid him.  I decided to spend my entire commission on rent and utilities.  A couple of months to breathe, without worrying about those bills would seem like a vacation.  I drew up the paperwork and began filling in the necessary information.

“How would you like to pay for the property,” I asked.

“I’m paying with cash,” came the cool reply.

My hand froze over the keyboard.  Perhaps I hadn’t heard him correctly.  Altogether, the houses cost over two hundred thousand dollars.  My confused mind scrabbled for an explanation.  I decided that he must have meant that he wanted to make the down payment in cash.

“You mean you’re making a cash down payment?”

“No, I want to pay for the properties today in cash.  Is that going to be a problem?”

“Well, I...it’s just that I’ve never had anyone offer to pay such a large amount in cash before.  Let me clear it with my boss.”

I rose, trying to ignore the sinking sensation dampening my mood.  Mr. Canfield’s door was closed, so I knocked softly.  He bellowed permission for me to enter.  I opened the door on an office that hadn’t seen a new piece of furniture since the seventies.  Everything was orange and avocado green.

He was in his shirt-sleeves pouring over ledgers.  I hated talking to the man, while he was working on the books.  It always made him surly.  Not that he was ever really in a good mood, when I talked to him. I got right to the point and to my astonishment, not only did he grant permission for the transaction, he praised me.

His bulldog features actually softened into something that closely resembled a smile.  He followed me back to cubicle and introduced himself to Kenji.  Mr. Canfield accepted the payment and I finished the paperwork.  Kenji walked out with the bill of sale and I got my commission in cash.

Being able to pay my bills felt nice.  So, why did I still feel so empty?  I climbed into bed Friday evening and slept until Saturday afternoon.  That’s when my cell phone rang.  It was Plum with an invitation to lunch.  She knew it was short notice, but could I join her?  Plum’s relief sounded genuine, when I accepted the invitation.

My apartment looked like a tornado hit it, by the time I settled on an outfit.  Rather than let Plum see how I lived, I waited for her downstairs.  My nosy neighbor Mrs. Phelps just happened to be leaning out of her first floor window.  She was always riveted to that spot.  The woman must have slept standing up, with her nose pressed against the glass.

I had the pleasure of informing her that I was waiting for a friend.  Naturally, the suspicious old bat didn’t believe me.  Plum did not arrive at the appointed time and I felt myself beginning to panic.  What if she had just been toying with me?

The thought of her ending the call and laughing made me cringe.  In that instant, I became a miserable, friendless child once more.  Maybe telling my neighbor that Plum was coming had been a mistake.  She would never let me live it down.  I looked over at her creased face and those greedy little eyes crawled all over my face.

“When did you say your uh...friend was coming dear?”

“She should be here any minute now.”

Just then, Plum’s purple Mercedes pulled up to the curb.  I threw Ms. Phelps a triumphant smile and took my leave of her.  I took my time walking to the car, my back getting straighter with every step.  By that same time the next day, Mrs. Phelps would have notified the entire neighborhood about Plum.

I realized that I would do anything to hold onto my new friend.  It was a reckless thought that quickly got pushed to the back of my mind.  I don’t know what was more disturbing, the thought that I would sacrifice everything to stay friends with her or the knowledge that I couldn’t stop myself from doing it, if I tried. After all, Plum probably had hundreds of rich, influential friends.

What did I have to offer her with no money and no power?  I had only the same deep, abiding devotion that my mother offered up to my father.  Of course, that’s no less than what a woman like Plum demands.  Looking back on our relationship, I realize that is what made it work; I worshipped Plum and she graciously accepted my adoration.

The rest of the month was blissful.  Plum called me every day and we hung out together, when her busy schedule permitted.  To someone who never had a friend before, the feeling was indescribable.  She eclipsed my life.  I was willing to go to absurd lengths just to make her laugh.  If I said something that displeased her in any way, I couldn’t sleep until I made things right.

I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong.  It was not physical attraction that made longing well up in me, until it caught in my throat.  I’m not sure I can make you understand.  To a certain extent, everyone longs to possess a thing of beauty whether it’s a person, a work of art, a precious jewel or something else.  It is gratifying to feast your eyes upon it.  For those moments, your troubles seem far away.

That’s what it’s like to be around Plum.  She was beautiful and intelligent with a killer sense of humor. Plum had a way of looking directly at you and seeing you for who you are, underneath your public persona. She also had a way of tilting her elegant head to the side while you talked to her and nodding with the sweetest smile slowly spreading across her face.  You feel important, because she’s drinking in every word.

I won’t even attempt to describe her laugh, except to say that it assures you that you are the wittiest person on earth.  The combination of so many pleasing elements is quite bewitching.  I was torn between never wanting to let to let Plum out of my sight and wanting to trade places with her.  Adoration and jealousy were constantly at war inside of me.

My life now had purpose.  Instead of dreading lonely evenings, I looked forward to nightly contact with her.  She was my passport to a world that had previously been off-limits.  I’m almost ashamed to admit literally sitting by the phone.  Waiting for it to ring was agonizing.  Imagine offering a cool drink to someone dying of thirst.  What can I say?  I was extremely thirsty.

Things weren’t all sweetness and light though.  My relief at feeling vital after walking around numb was tempered by frustration.  The more I saw of her life, the more jealousy chipped away at me.  Why did Plum get to be beautiful, popular, and successful?

I was a good person.  At least, I tried to be.  Didn’t I deserve some modicum of success?  The unfairness of it all caught in my throat.  I felt guilty all of the time, because my feelings for Plum were deepening.  It was undeniable though, I wanted power with the naked desire that only the downtrodden can feel.

[ashleyinwondrland]

In my heart of hearts, Ezra Fitz is still A

And this is my take on how it should’ve went down

After Mona went to Radley, Ezra was mad about which direction the book was going in (he was obsessed) so he became A so he could control the story and found it to be more exciting than just writing

He used it to track down Ali and hired Charlotte, and made her think that she was actually Uber A and was the master mind when he was really pulling the strings

He was obsessed with Aria more than the others and wanted to be able to keep her if everyone found out which is why he was slowly trying to isolate her from her friends

When she found out about the book Ezra had to take a break from being A or else they would connect the two, so he hired Shana and handed the reigns over to Charlotte for awhile and orchestrated himself getting shot (tho it wasn’t aimed well) to get back in Aria’s good graces

During the time he gave Charlotte, her working from France at first with Shana, Jenna and others doing her bidding, Charlotte became more obsessed with the power and Ezra lost control of the game

Then the doll house and all that happen

Ezra grows more angry during the flash forward because he still doesn’t have a good ending to his book, not without exposing himself, until Charlotte is released and all the girls are back

He realizes now it’s time to get back in the game but first he has a lose end, Charlotte whom he pushes off the bell tower when Charlotte threatens to tell Ali everything he did

Of course he couldn’t do all of this on his own, he needed someone else who was invested in the girls lives and had access he didn’t (to Radley specifically) and not just a minion, which is where Wren came in

Ezra knew about Wren and him flirting and kissing Spencer so when they happened to be sitting next to each other at a bar and started talking he slipped in that these Rosewood high school girls are such teases

Wren joined team A and gave Ezra access to whatever Radley files he needed and helped Charlotte be able to get in an out without questions

He was already obsessed with the Hastings so working with Charlotte was easy for Wren since she was related to them

It was Wren’s cabin that Ezra used, and also a secondary A head quarters just incase Ravenswood got found

Wren also had his own help, Melissa, who didn’t know quite what she was involved with but she knew it would protect Spencer and Ezra having found out about her burying Bethany when Melissa accidentally confessed it to Wren used it to blackmail her into becoming the Black Widow

As far as Melissa knew, Wren was also being blackmailed because he wanted to protect her and Melissa had no idea Ezra was behind it

Jump forward to when Ezra finally got back with Aria and everyone was happy, he knew it was time to finish the game, the last chapter Which is why he proposed to Aria and tried to rush her into getting married

In his mind she was as in love with him that she would forgive him for everything (which is why he brought the file into play to test her love for him) so as long as they were married she wouldn’t have to testify against him and would also be bound to him

Over time the things Mona had forgotten at Radley were coming back to her and she starts to go off her meds so she can remember

She doesn’t have all the pieces together when she accuses Ezra in front of everyone of being AD, and no one believes her but finding out she is off her medication they decide to get her help and don’t think twice about her accusations

Jump forward a year and Wren goes back to Radley to take care of Mona But Wren doesn’t have the strongest will and Mona convinces him that they need her (same as the show)

Ezra and Aria are about to get married and be all happy so Ezra surprises her with a new house, the one Toby built

Aria is so excited but what she doesn’t realize is the under ground bunker he built, where all his AD stuff is and also would be a comfy place if say your wife finds what you have been up to and you have to keep her somewhere

Spencer goes to the brew and finds Wren there arguing with Ezra in hushed tones (about not killing Mona) she had no idea they knew each other

She confronts them and they make a stupid lie about Ezra spilling coffee on Wren

She asks Wren what he is doing in town and he just says business and tell her he has to leave but they should catch up soon (did I mention the bunker as enough room for two ladies to live comfortably though Wren still isn’t sure which, Spencer or Melissa or hell even Hanna)

Ezra starts acting off, he knows he can’t trust Mona and doesn’t know what she knows, which Aria tries to dismiss as pre wedding jitters but he keeps trying to push up a wedding that’s only two days away

Aria goes to the new house to take some pictures as reference for when she is furniture shopping and such, she goes out back to the tool shed, notices the ground is uneven and finds a secret door in the ground

She goes under and finds everything but what she doesn’t know is Wren is already down there and he hits her over the head, then calls Ezra and tells him they have a problem

Ezra planned to tell Aria everything about the book on their honeymoon and if she reacted badly was going to claim and accident happened where she goes missing but keep her in the bunker (he had practice making someone go missing) but now Aria was in the bunker and he couldn’t just let her out

He goes to the bunker where Aria is terrified and won’t go near him, he thinks she just needs time to cool down

He takes her phone and sends a text to everyone saying “we can’t deal with the wedding stress and everyone arguing, we decided to leave for our honeymoon and elope. I’m sorry and we love you all”

He figures that will keep everyone busy for awhile while he tries to convince Aria to get on board, reminding her how she betrayed her friends for him and how their love story would go down in literary history

In the mean time, the girls are hurt Aria left to get married without them but they understand, except for Spencer who feels like things don’t add up because she had spoken to Aria just a couple hours before and she was excited for the wedding and Aria had invited Spencer and the others to the new house to show them, only giving them the address and not telling them the surprise

The girls all disperse, Emily and Ali talking about how they need to get home to the girls and Hanna to see if she can refashion the bridesmaids dresses into something she can show to a client, though after they leave Spencer realizes Emily’s Fitbit fell off and sends her a text that she will hold onto it til they see each other again and put it in her pocket

Spencer still goes, curious because she recognizes the address and then realizes it is the house Toby built, and even more confused when she sees Wren coming from the backyard and doesn’t even realize Ezra coming up behind her with a needle knocking her out

Spencer wakes up in a cell across from Aria, her phone missing and Ezra & Wren are just standing there

They explain they didn’t want things to work out like this, and once they calm down it is very comfortable and nice in the make shift home they built down in the bunker and when things were settled they could all move away to a much bigger place so the girls would have more room (because they can never actually leave and be free now)

Ezra leaves they each with a book incase they get bored, which is his finished manuscript including the ending he intends to make happen

They jump to the end and read that Ezra plans to be the hero, and pin the entire thing on Spencer, who became AD as a way to keep the girls together after realizing how much she missed them when they came back for Charlotte’s trial and used Charlotte’s death, who she killed, to keep them in Rosewood

He planned to make it seem like Spencer followed them on their honeymoon, making one last use out of Melissa by having her getting on a plane as Spencer so they had her on the flight manifest, and tried to kill Ezra for taking Aria away while confessing she was AD and Ezra, in self defense, pushes her off the side of a cliff

Aria freaks out after reading it while Spencer continues to read through the book, looking for clues about how to get out

Meanwhile, the others grow concerned they haven’t heard from Aria, who should’ve landed and always texts after a flight or Spencer, who wasn’t at home when they checked

Mona shows up and tells them AD is back and is ready to end the game, for good and she knows at least one person helping is Wren but she doesn’t know who AD is yet

They realize at least Spencer was kidnapped and after Caleb can’t pin point her cell phone Emily remembers Spencer has the Fitbit and maybe they can track her with that (might have to bend reality) and Caleb is able to find a location, the house Toby built

The gang minus Mona make their way over, meanwhile Spencer and Aria are trying to break out, Aria tosses Spencer a bobby pin which Spencer can barely reach but manages to get it just before Ezra comes back

He asks how far they are in the book and what they think of it so far, he actually sounds genuine for their feedback

Realizing this is the only chance they might have, Aria tried to distract him by asking him questions about the book while Spencer quietly works on the lock and manages to open it

While Ezra is still facing Aria, Spencer uses her copy to knock him over the head though she knows he won’t be down for long so she opens Aria’s cage and they run not realizing they have no where to go

Above ground, the others get to the house and start to look around when Toby sees the shed and mentions he didn’t build a shed, and why would someone build a new shed before anything else

When they open the shed they see Wren inside who is starting to open the trap door who tries to make a run for it but Hanna manages to trip him and he hits his head on a rock

The guys work on tying him up while the girls look for Spencer, thinking Wren is AD and the bunker would be safe now and they come across Ezra who looks dazed and convinces them that AD kidnapped Aria and himself and that the girls have to get out of the bunker before AD comes back

He starts to lead them out when they run into Spencer and Aria who yell that he is AD, Ezra acts quickly and grabs Ali as a hostage while pulling out a knife

He tells them all to get back to the cells or Ali dies, then tells Ali this whole messes started with her so it should end with her

Behind him is the sound of a gun cocking, aimed right at his head, Mona says “actually this started with me, and I am going to be the one to finish it”

Ezra drops the knife and let’s go of Ali as the police come rushing in and Emily rushes forward to grab Ali

Ezra and Wren are taken into custody, where the both face charges of extortion, stalking, kidnapping, murder, building a creepy bunker without a permit and statutory rape

The girls all agree it’s time to finally leave Rosewood, for good

Forgive me if this sucks, I wrote this during my lunch break on my phone so there may be plot holes by the dozen and grammatical errors but I did this quickly

And I don’t get paid for it nor have years to plan it out but thats another story

[kurogabae]

Prompt: After landing in a strange new world, the kids are kidnapped. Cue Kurogane (and Fai) tearing this world to pieces in order to get them back. No one messes with their brats! (That an okay prompt? If not, I apologize!)

Very okay! Time for some MURDER DADS! Spoilers for Acid Tokyo.

There’s only chaos when they land. Madness chokes the air and drowns out the light and by the time Kurogane and Fai manage to struggle their way free, stumbling haphazardly out of the fray and into the washed out sunlight devoid of warmth things have already gone terribly wrong.

They had fallen in the midst of an army or a raid or a revolt - Kurogane didn’t know. It had been wild and bloody and violent. He hadn’t been able to see anyone, Fai had been the one to appear from the crowd and reach for him, eye frantic and golden, face already splashed with blood. Immediately they set off in search of the children. They stayed close to each other, unwilling to risk splitting off again until they were all accounted for. 

They hadn’t found any of them.

The mass of violence they’d fallen into was moving, the battle seeming to subside for the most part. The ground was dark and uneven, boot prints pressed deep into the earth soaked with rain and blood, leaving no story behind aside from the obvious. 

“Did you see anything that might have been the kids?” Kurogane asked, scanning the roadside they found themselves on.

There was a beat of silence before Fai bothered to answer. “Kurogane…”

“What?” he asked, looking at Fai.

“Can’t understand,” Fai said in broken Nihongo, pointing to his mouth for emphasis.

Something cold gripped his chest and he swung around to look at the rapidly retreating mob. He didn’t know how he knew, but his gut told him his children were there. Fai followed his line of sight and the way he stiffened told Kurogane he reached the same conclusion.

–

“Leave him alone!”

Sakura kicked and twisted and fought against the ropes holding her with all her might, but it was no use, the men who had snatched her and Syaoran up had secured her tightly. She wasn’t going to escape without a knife or some sort of tool. 

Of course that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try.

To make matters worse, Syaoran had gotten knocked out and was now hanging limply from chains bolted into a stone wall, stripped of everything but his breeches and undershirt, both of which were covered in mud and blood alike. All Sakura could do was hope the blood wasn’t his. 

“She’s a lively little thing, isn’t she?” one of the men laughed, stepping up and looming over her. He was immense, as tall and broad as Kurogane was, though clearly not as well kept. He was filthy, his sandy colored hair was long and knotted, and the shirt that stretched over a rotund belly was stained with more than what it’d met with outside. “Cute too. Another couple of years she’d make a nice bride.”

“I’d sooner eat dirt,” she growled will all the ferocity she could muster. She could feel her face burning beneath the mud that caked it and fear swooped sickeningly in her stomach, but she couldn’t show it. She had to be strong.

The men around her just laughed. They weren’t intimidated by her. They hadn’t been phased by Syaoran either. She felt Mokona shift in her pocket and hoped they wouldn’t search her for any valuables beyond the bags they’d snatched away. 

“Let us go,” she demanded again, for what felt like the hundredth time in only moments. “Let us go right now and we won’t hurt you.”

Again, she was laughed at. A different man stood and leaned over her. His breath reeked like rotting and Sakura fought not to openly gag as he spoke. 

“You already tried,” he said, his voice mockingly sing-song. “You an’ yer little pal here didn’t manage nuthin’, so pipe down an’ behave.”

Kurogane and Fai were surely looking for them, but Sakura had no way of knowing how long it would take for them to reunite. She did know, however, that when they found her and Syaoran these men would be sorry. She was only trying to spare them a world of pain. 

“I’m not talking about Syaoran-kun and myself.”

No sooner had she spoken than the walls themselves trembled once, the sound not unlike the rumble of a great beast waking. Sakura could feel the apprehension and fear pour into the air around them, shaking her captors to their core. Their faces paled and they all exchanged uneasy glances.

Sakura smiled.

“Capille, go find out what that was,” the large man from before commanded. Capille hardly got the chance to get out of his chair.

The door at the top of the stairs was ripped off of it’s hinges and tossed down carelessly. Kurogane was the first one Sakura saw. He was covered in blood and ash, behind him she could make out the light of fires burning. He looked inhuman, but Sakura felt no fear. He spotted her in a second.

“Are you hurt princess?” he called, making his way down towards her and the others. 

She shook her head and saw Fai appear in the doorway after Kurogane, equally as messy and just as dangerous looking, single eye golden and burning. “No, but Syaoran-kun is unconscious.”

“Who the hell are you two?” one of the men demanded. He was promptly ignored.

“Do you know which one of them did it?” Kurogane asked. She shook her head. “That’s alright, they’re all going to be sorry soon.”

“Hey don’t you ignore me!” The man charged Kurogane, who had made it to the bottom of the stairs and half way across the room. A single strike and he was on the floor, out cold, as Kurogane stepped over him without a thought.

“I’ll tell you fools what I told the others,” Kurogane said, his voice low and threatening. Sakura had never heard him sound like that before. “You made the greatest mistake of your pathetic lives when you put your hands on my children.”

Before she realized what was happening Fai was by her side and untying the ropes. “Close your eyes, Sakura-chan,” he said quietly, and his voice was just as terrifying as Kurogane’s. “Don’t open them again until I tell you to, understand?”

Nodding, she did as she was told.

She heard the briefest sounds of a struggle, and then the breaking of chains. Next thing she knew she was being lifted, Kurgoane’s arm warm and familiar, a safe embrace that she trusted with her whole heart. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, heedless of the mess of dirt and gore, and allowed herself to be carried to safety. She could feel Syaoran beside her and heard Mokona exclaiming her thankfulness towards Kurogane and Fai for saving them all. 

The cool air of the outdoors was refreshing and Sakura couldn’t stop the single sob that escaped her once she realized they had actually gotten free. She clung to Kurogane and felt lips press to the crown of her head in response before she was gently set on the ground. Syaoran was still in his arms.Finally, she opened her eyes.

The building she and Syaoran had been captive in was in flames, and she watched in mild horror as Fai walked out of it just moments before it collapsed. Unphased, he was wiping his hands clean on a torn cloth that didn’t seem to be doing him all that much good anymore. She could see why he was trying though.

Fai’s hands, more than anything, were soaked in blood.

“Was that all of them?” Kurogane asked. Sakura looked between the two of them curiously.

“Every last one,” Fai said, and Sakura could hear the disdain in his voice.

Kurogane looked sad as he considered Fai for a few seconds. “Thank you. I owe you.”

“You only have one thing I want,” Fai said coldly before heading off down the road, away from the burning remains they’d all just escaped from. “So don’t bother.”

Kurogane and Sakura followed after him quietly, walking and nothing more for more than an hour. When the sun began to sink and they stopped to make camp Kurogane set a hand atop Sakura’s head. She looked up at him, at that terrifying, powerful warrior who had and would still do terrible things for her. 

“I’m glad you’re safe, princess.”

“Thank you.”

[tripstations]

15 high ideas for the proper Galapagos Islands getaway

Teeming with wildlife and landscapes discovered nowhere else on earth, the distant Galapagos Islands are situated nearly 600 hundred miles off the coast of Ecuador. For many vacationers, it’s a vacation spot we dream of experiencing in particular person, although we hardly ever think about the fact of what a go to to this iconic location entails.

So, earlier than you dive in to start swimming with playful sea lions, or have an opportunity to look eye-to-eye with a 500-pound tortoise, or marvel on the dramatic proof of this space’s volcanic origins, you’ve acquired some planning on doing.

Right here are some things to think about to get the very most out of your go to to one of many world’s most original and secluded UNESCO World Heritage websites.

1. Choose a tour that fits your skill

The rewards of visiting the Galapagos Islands are numerous. From Big Galapagos tortoises to Blue-footed boobies, from curious sea lions to marine iguanas, land iguanas and extra — it’s an journey that may stay etched in your thoughts eternally. To expertise all this, it’s necessary to be not less than reasonably in form if selecting a cruise.

Merely getting off the boat and right into a “panga” dinghy, then climbing out of the dinghy on shore is usually a problem. More often than not, will probably be a “moist touchdown” that requires passengers to swivel over the facet of the small boat into calve-deep water. On occasion, will probably be a “dry” touchdown, however even these concerned climbing up slippery stairs.

Then too, there are the walks over tough volcanic fields and hikes that climb to the highest of an island for beautiful views. Given all that, this can be a trip that presents particular challenges for folks with mobility challenges.

However, a big proportion of Galapagos guests are seniors. So, even if you happen to suppose you may’t deal with a sure exercise, you at all times have the choice of having fun with the ships Jacuzzi or bar, or whale-watch, dolphin watching, or just catching some rays out on the sundeck. When you won’t be capable of see the wildlife of Isabela Island or the iguanas on Fernandina Island, you may nonetheless watch Frigatebirds hovering overhead, spot sea turtles and rays swimming off the facet of the boat, or witness Galapagos Petrels miraculously strolling on water.

As a substitute, contemplate a much less bodily demanding land-based tour, the place you’ll get pleasure from your tour whereas staying at an enthralling island lodge.

2. Costume for fulfillment

In case you’re headed to the Galapagos Islands, you’ll more than likely be spending lengthy days climbing, boating or kayaking, so it’s necessary to decorate appropriately.

Subsequently, we propose you pack or organize for the next gadgets:

• Mountain climbing footwear: Whereas land excursions within the Galapagos Islands are usually quick and the paths sometimes straightforward, some walks are over uneven and unforgiving terrain, like fragmented boulders and lava fields with jagged volcanic rock. To cope with this, sturdy closed-toe strolling footwear with thick soles and ankle assist are essential.

• Strolling sticks: These helps are useful, notably for vacationers with any stability points. On up- and downhill climbs, strolling sticks take some strain off your knees, and assist stop falls on slippery rocks when it rains.

• Sandals or flip-flops: These are nice for sporting on “moist landings,” on the town, and on board some boats when allowed (some boats present onboard slippers).

• A hat with a brim: Pack this for solar safety throughout land excursions and kayaking.

• Rain gear: Pack even a reasonable plastic Greenback Retailer poncho. As you’ll typically be exploring distant uninhabited islands, there can be few locations for shelter when moist climate rolls in. Additionally, as you’ll typically be touring on boats and in dinghies, rain showers can happen at any time and the wind can whip up ocean spray into your panga.

3. Take seasickness precautions

Rocking and rolling may be superb with regards to Chuck Berry or Elvis, but it surely’s not one thing you’ll wish to cope with on a Galapagos cruise.

Listed here are a couple of precautions you may contemplate following to make sure you’re at your finest when vacationing within the islands.

• Deliver seasickness drugs: The waters of the Galapagos are usually calm, and crews are cautious to pick out protected spots for anchoring. Nonetheless, those that are liable to movement illness are suggested to carry alongside some Dramamine. What additionally works effectively are Scopolamine patches, that are usually unavailable for buy in South America. These drugs might help chase away the dizziness and nausea typically skilled on cruise ships and the small passenger ferries that shuttle vacationers between islands.

• Select a season with calmer waters: Observe too that the ocean is calmest between January and July, due to a shift within the ocean currents across the islands. When you could wish to contemplate taking your trip throughout this time, needless to say the waves can meet up with you any time of yr.

• Choose a extra secure kind of boat (a bigger vessel or a catamaran): In case you’re prone to seasickness, additionally contemplate the kind of boat to decide on if you happen to’re planning on a cruise. Boats within the Galapagos Islands are restricted to a most of 100 passengers, with bigger vessels being extra secure and maintaining your trip as easy as attainable. Among the many smaller, extra typical boats that sail the Galapagos, dual-hull catamaran yachts are extra secure than the one hull yachts, thereby decreasing — however certainly not eliminating — the rocking that passengers expertise.

4. Pack loads of sunscreen

The equatorial solar could be brutal, and the Ecuadorian mainland and its Galapagos islands lie precisely on the equator. This location magnifies the power of the rays, and most Galapagos excursions are fully uncovered to the solar. So, it’s crucial to carry loads of high-caliber, waterproof, SPF 30+ sunscreen and reapply it each two hours. Equally necessary, carry a sunhat, lightweight lengthy pants and a long-sleeved shirt with an SPF score of 15 or extra to guard your pores and skin.

5. Be ready for a photographer’s dream world

One of many highlights of any Galapagos trip is the prospect for shut up pictures of the extraordinary wildlife that’s unafraid of individuals. Even essentially the most inexperienced photographer will get some exceptional pictures of those unique creatures and the bizarre landscapes throughout.

In any case, listed below are a pair useful pictures ideas for optimizing your Galapagos expertise:

• Deliver an underwater digital camera: To seize reminiscences of swimming with sea lion pups, floating above sea turtles, and diving with hammerhead sharks, pack your GoPro or carry alongside an underwater digital camera. You’ll want one. Keep in mind that flash pictures will not be permitted anyplace on the island.

• Pack loads of reminiscence playing cards: Be sure you take a number of reminiscence playing cards in your digital camera; few conditions are worse than having to determine on which wonderful movies to delete to make room for even higher ones.

• But additionally: Take time to expertise the islands (with out the digital camera) – Make sure you put your digital camera away in some unspecified time in the future throughout every exercise to be sure to’re current within the second, and creating actual reminiscences in your once-in-a-lifetime journey. For instance, by attempting to get an excellent shot of a quickly passing faculty of dolphins, you may simply miss out on the second.

6. Ebook your tour effectively upfront

In case you have time to spend a couple of days within the islands trying round for a reduced tour, you may be fortunate sufficient to dig up a last-minute deal. Nevertheless, because the Galapagos Islands is a significant vacationer vacation spot, it’s finest to ebook effectively upfront, notably for luxury-class excursions, which go quick. Equally, dive boats are inclined to replenish rapidly since there are so few of them.

7. Deliver some money

Whereas Santa Cruz and San Cristobal islands have ATMs, these can typically run out of money; and whereas bank cards are additionally typically accepted at outlets and eating places, on events they’re not. For these causes, it’s at all times good to carry some money – if for nothing else then to cowl the ideas in your naturalist information and crew, which might simply quantity to some hundred {dollars} (NOTE: The official forex of Ecuador is the U.S. greenback)

8. Resolve on a cruise or a land-based tour

There are mainly two choices for visiting the Galapagos Islands land-based island hopping excursions or a cruise.

Land-based excursions: A land-based Galapagos tour entails basing your self on one of many 4 main islands (Santa Cruz, San Cristobal, Isabela or Floreana) and heading out on day journeys. In case you select any such trip, you’ll spend a number of your time within the Galapagos getting out of your lodge, onto a day-trip boat, out to the day’s vacation spot, then again to your lodge.

Galapagos cruises: Vacationers on yachts sleep in cabins on the boat, which does most of its crusing from place to put in the course of the night time. This implies passengers get up in a brand new vacation spot prepared for a full day of exploration. On a cruise, a naturalist information leads your entire excursions and an skilled crew attends to your wants onboard together with the supply of nice worldwide delicacies for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. In addition to offering a spot to calm down on deck and benefit from the sundown with a cocktail, most cruises additionally supply night displays by the naturalist guides regarding island conservation, cultural historical past or Galapagos wildlife. Although usually dearer, cruises permit passengers to get the many of the islands by exploring additional afield, visiting websites exterior the vary of land-based day journeys.

Observe: Most cruises can accommodate for some minor bodily disabilities.

Usually, we suggest a cruise on board an intimate, full-service yacht. Nevertheless, if you happen to’re averse to boats, are liable to seasickness, or dislike the notion of being on a ship for every week, or have a extra limiting bodily limitation, land-based lodges supply viable choices. Think about ones just like the unparalleled Pikaia Lodge within the highlands of Santa Cruz Island, or the Finch Bay Eco Lodge on Santa Cruz Island. These lodges have their very own boats and guides, which suggests you’ll maximize the time you must discover the dwelling laboratory that’s the Galapagos.

9. Select between a bigger cruise ship or a smaller yacht

If selecting to take a cruise by way of the Galapagos Islands Nationwide Marine Park, vacationers ought to know that ships crusing these waters are restricted to a most of 100 passengers, although most boats carry considerably fewer passengers. To pick a ship and a tour that maximizes your enjoyment, it’s value realizing some great benefits of the various sized ships:

Bigger cruise ships: In case you are liable to seasickness, bigger cruises are typically essentially the most secure, adopted by catamarans. For many who need such stability, in addition to additional security, spaciousness and onboard providers (like onboard spas and medical services), these bigger vessels will be the ideally suited approach to go to the Galapagos.

Yachts: A advantage of touring on a smaller-capacity vessel is a extra intimate onboard expertise. With fewer folks, you usually tend to get to know your shipmates, develop a relationship together with your information, and be capable of ask her or him extra detailed questions. One other benefit to small yachts is the truth that typically, massive ships can not anchor or disembark at some customer websites resulting from their measurement or a excessive variety of passengers. Likewise, they’ll be sooner switch instances between your predominant vessel and the rubber dinghies. Along with smaller boats tending to have extra character and historical past, their smaller teams usually have much less affect on the delicate Galapagos surroundings.

10. Resolve when to go to the Galapagos

There’s no “flawed” time to go to Galapagos. Everytime you go to, unique birds, lumbering tortoises and dazzling marine life can be there – every ready so that you can take their photograph. And provided that the islands are situated precisely on the equator, the temperature varies little all year long, averaging between 70°F and 80°F. Whereas it rains a bit extra between the hotter December-to-June interval, it’s hardly ever sufficient to restrict any specific tour.

Nevertheless, the totally different instances of the yr supply various things to see and do, because the diving circumstances range (as talked about, the waters are calmer and hotter between December and July) and the animal conduct varies from month to month – with totally different mating and copy cycles, migration habits, and hatching intervals.

11. Plan for early mornings and lengthy days

To get the very most out of every day within the Galapagos Islands, cruises are filled with actions.

Anticipate early morning begins, with breakfast within the ship’s eating room at 7:00 a.m. (or earlier). From there, you’ll possible gear up for a hike by way of volcanic terrain earlier than returning to the ship to swimsuit up for a snorkeling tour in the hunt for sea lions, manta rays and sea turtles.

In the course of the day, the equatorial solar could be scorching, due to this fact you’ll have an on-board lunch earlier than enjoyable within the Jacuzzi, the remark deck’s out of doors lounge, the bar or the leisure heart.

The afternoon will then see you venturing out on one more land or water tour, earlier than you come to the ship for a connoisseur dinner, adopted by naturalist presentation outlining the next day’s actions.

Lastly, below the fantastic thing about a Galapagos night time full of a whole bunch of stars or maybe a full moon, and wafted by the mild breeze of the rainforest, the multi-talented employees will entertain you with somewhat reside music, when you get pleasure from an after-dinner drink and the tropical Galapagos breeze …simply make sure to not keep up too late – you’ll want an excellent night time’s sleep for the following day stuffed with actions.

12. Anticipate to make new buddies

Most Galapagos yachts carry 16 passengers or much less, which suggests communal dinners and group land excursions – an awesome probability to satisfy fellow vacationers from around the globe.

In case you’re uncomfortable round strangers, journey as a pair or recruit family and friends to affix you on the journey.

13. Web-addict? Put together to go chilly turkey and expertise the world

For many of your journey, you’ll don’t have any WiFi or web service. Nevertheless, this screen-free state of affairs additionally means extra time for observing the wonders round you, an opportunity to really to sit down and chat with others, and much more time to sit back and calm down between outings. (For many who sometimes get a great deal of emails, don’t overlook to place a trip response in your account; this fashion, folks received’t suppose you’re ignoring their messages.)

14. Make the very most of being in Ecuador

As there aren’t any direct flights to the Galapagos Islands, you’ll need to take a connecting flight to the islands from the Ecuadorian mainland. Which means that you’ll have an opportunity to go to extra of this quintessential South American nation each earlier than and after your Galapagos cruise. Whereas right here, you’ll uncover it’s an all-around fascinating vacation spot — full of jungles, volcanoes and color-filled indigenous tradition!

Positively plan on spending not less than one night time on the mainland previous to your cruise; you’ll want it to relaxation up out of your worldwide flight and be prepared for the journey to come back.

Arriving in Quito late and exhausted, get an excellent night time’s sleep, get up for a half-day guided tour of South America’s most well-preserved historic district, leaving you the remainder of the day to relaxation and calm down.

15. Put together to be amazed

The Galapagos Islands are teeming with wildlife and full of wonderful landscapes. An actual treasure, phrases are arduous to seek out to explain the awe-inspiring expertise right here.

Simply be ready together with your climbing footwear, a swimsuit and well-founded expectations of discovering a world like none different.

Alfonso Tandazo is President and CEO at Surtrek Tour Operator. Surtrek Tour Operator is a well-established agency, specializing in custom-designed luxurious excursions in Ecuador, the Galapagos and all through the remainder of South America.

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