#so much range and he still keeps getting cast as the put upon father figure

[stil-lindigo]

when worlds collide

[notabloodmage]

Even then. (DA2 fic)

doin some writing on my canon version of the Hawke family!! this is kind of messy but i needed to get some ideas down  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ anyway listen to me there is nothing in canon that says malcolm hawke couldn’t be an elf @ bioware let me have this

They hadn’t planned to settle in Lothering. Leandra was five months pregnant, the plan was to keep pressing towards the wilds, in hopes of finding a band of Chasind or Avvar that wouldn’t be so opposed to Malcolm’s magical abilities. The prospect frightened Leandra, but Malcolm insisted it was their best shot at a Templar-free life.

The storm had caught them off guard. 

The torrential downpour was on them suddenly, and all at once. Malcolm had enough mana remaining to protect them from lightning, but there was no way for him to subtly shield them from the cold that was creeping in through the wet. Ferelden was not always an easy place to live, but it had to be better than Kirkwall. 

At least that’s what Malcolm repeated to himself as he scooped his firstborn child up into his arms, trying to ignore the way his back ached from days upon days of travel. The long nights of sleeping on the cold hard ground probably weren’t helping either.  

They’d passed several small settlements on the road, but they always tried to avoid contact with other people. People didn’t even need to suspect him of being a mage--being an elf was bad enough for a lot of the country folk. He couldn’t take five steps in a town without being accused of stealing, it seemed. 

They always tried to sleep beneath the stars if they could, or in a tent if they thought it would be well hidden enough. Leandra had accused him of being paranoid, now that they were already so far from home but as far as Malcolm was concerned you couldn’t be too careful. 

He had done so much--sacrificed all of his ideals-- just to get them this far, and Maker be damned if he was going to be caught now. 

Still, in a storm like this exceptions had to be made, and Leandra had spotted an old farmhouse on the horizon. Malcolm, while hesitant, grew more and more at ease as they approached. It seemed to be abandoned. 

The couple trudged through the rain hand in hand. The land surrounding the farmhouse was uneven, muddy, and completely overgrown. Malcolm prayed that the rain would cover their tracks as they made their way to the 

It was a little worse for wear, looking like it had been sitting untouched for years which was a blessing in disguise because all it took was a swift kick (combined with a bit of mana, of course) to break the rusted padlock.

Malcolm guided them in cautiously, scanning the room for any threats. Abandoned didn’t mean safe. He wasted no time setting up wards to protect them-- but Malcolm was tired too. 

Perhaps he’d missed a spot, perhaps he hadn’t been as thorough as he’d thought. Perhaps his wards were weak with his exhaustion as he joined his wife and daughter on a bed of stale hay. Perhaps he’d been distracted with casting a quick warming spell to ensure the most important people in his life slept soundly. Perhaps he’d given in, for a moment, to the sense of hope burning brightly in his chest as he pulled his family close. He slept far too soundly that night. Better than he had in months. 

The high-pitched creak of the barn door swinging open jerked the three of them awake. 

Rays of sunlight were streaming in through the rafters--had morning really come so soon? 

The sight was so peaceful that Malcolm nearly didn’t register the clunk of boots on the wooden floor, and the wide figure stepped towards him, fiddling with the trigger of a small hunting crossbow. Malcolm scrambled back, drawing Leandra closer with one arm while the other fumbled for his staff--lost in the hay. 

“Hold still now, friend, I’d prefer not to use this--”

“Stay away from my family!!” The stranger was interrupted by his daughter’s tiny voice. 

She had leaped out of the shadows beside them, brandishing the pocket knife that Malcolm kept strapped to his belt. 

How did she-- Malcolm didn’t have time to finish the thought. He rushed forward, intent on yanking her back by the shirt collar. He’d been in such a deep state of sleep that he hadn’t even registered her absence. Then again, she was always so sneaky. Malcolm hadn’t the faintest clue where she’d gotten it from, but she had a way of sinking into the shadows and completely disappearing.  

She was only four, and a tiny little thing at that-- shaking in the little booties Leandra had made her. Leaping to defend her family with a . 

So brave, even then. 

“Minerva NO!!” Leandra was shrieking. “Don’t shoot, serah--please!! Minnie get back here--“

For a moment Malcolm thought that all was lost. He pictured himself in chains, being dragged away by Templars-- leaving his wife and daughter alone and penniless in a foreign land. He’d let them down. He’d failed. 

The atmosphere of the room changed entirely, however, when the stranger began to laugh. 

It wasn’t a bad laugh. 

Not condescending. Not cruel. 

It was light and youthful, despite the obvious late-middle-age of its owner. It rang through the morning air like a Chantry bell on the breeze. It was the kind of pure laugh that can only be created by the innocence of a child. In that moment the light in Malcolm’s chest returned, soothing his racing heart. He paused, studying the face of the stranger in the barn doorway as he raised his weapon in mock surrender, humouring the child.  

“Oh my! Be careful with that, little dragonling!” The stranger smiled down at the child warmly, crouching down to her level to look her in the eyes, before his gaze rose to her fathers, noting the matching eyes that seemed to burn with something he couldn’t quite name. Malcolm saw what he hoped was understanding in the old man’s eyes. “Put that there knife away, and settle down. We can talk this out, I promise.”

Malcolm hurriedly ushered Minerva behind him-- the child kept her eyes glued to the intruder, even when she began to cling to her father’s pant leg. Malcolm could feel her trembling, so he reached down and carded a comforting hand through a mop of brown curls that matched his own, trying to be as brave as his daughter. 

A tense quiet had settled over the barn as Malcolm tried to appraise the man before him, who was doing the same. They must’ve been quite the sight--all clinging to each other, covered in hay. Malcolm didn’t dare reach for his staff, he just prayed that wherever the damned thing was it was out of sight.  

Finally the stranger huffed, standing and leaning back on his heels.  

“Name’s Barlin,” The stranger jutted his chin at Malcolm, crossing his arms casually. “Sorry for bargin’ in on ya.”

“Malcolm…” He held his head high, meeting Barlin’s eyes as he introduced himself. “Malcolm Hawke.” 

“Quite the little bodyguard you have there,” Barlin’s voice was genuine. Warm. 

Malcolm’s mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. 

“Small but mighty,” He could feel Minerva nodding against his thigh, as well as the tears she was smearing into the fabric of his trousers.

He called her that a lot, especially when she was little. Such a simple little phrase, but it always made Minerva feel big, in a way.

“Look, I was just checkin’ to make sure you all weren’t bandits, or bears, or something.” The man shrugged disarmingly. “I didn’t come here for a fight. Lothering’s a peaceful little town, and we like to keep it that way.”

“Peaceful? What’s that like?” Malcolm’s sarcastic question slipped from his mouth before he could stop it, and Leandra squeezed his shoulder tightly in warning. 

Barlin merely chuckled, smiling at him wryly. 

“Y’all don’t look like the type of folk who are accustomed to peaceful.” He observed. “I’m just glad you got out of the storm-- it was a good one!”

Barlin took a step inside, eyes travelling upward, surveying how the roof sagged and leaked. The old building had fallen into disrepair, but it wasn’t unsalvageable.

“Look, this place ain’t even mine. It was my brother’s before he moved to Denerim for work. Place hasn’t seen any life in aside from rats and the occasional nug in a while, as I'm sure you’ve noticed.” 

The old man paused for a moment, gaze landing on the family before him. He’d later told Malcolm that he’d had a good feeling in his gut about them, and his gut was just about the only thing he trusted. 

“I run the tavern in town, why don’t you all come back with me and let me fix you something to eat.”

Minerva perked up at that, and even Malcolm couldn’t stop his mouth from watering at the prospect of a hot meal. Leandra looked cautious, but when he met her gaze she nodded slowly. Barlin smiled at that. 

“Come on, while we walk, why don’t you tell me what you know about farming?”

Malcolm would find out through gossip in the years to come that Barlin had been trying to get rid of that property for years, but that didn’t change the kindness. He didn’t ask anything about where they’d come from or why they were running. He asked Malcolm what he did and he’d told him he was an herbalist--which wasn’t a lie, and he suspected Barlin could tell. 

“Herbalism? Farming? Sounds like the same thing to me.”

The old man let Malcolm pay him back for the land over time after they’d settled in and started earning some money. He’d also scoffed at the notion of charging interest. 

The farmhouse was rotting and falling apart, but with a lot of hard work (and a bit of hidden, domestic magic) they turned it into a home. Minerva grew up toddling around the gardens and helping Malcolm till the fields. She’d climbed gnarled tree in their front yard to watch the sun rise every morning since she was six, regardless of weather, much to Leandra’s chagrin. 

His eldest child had grown up far too quickly for his liking, and couldn’t help but blame himself. He knew it wasn’t fair to place her in charge of her siblings, especially with the added responsibility of protecting Bethany--but Minerva would insist that she could handle it. She’d lead the twins on adventures in the fields and forests surrounding the little town-- quests, she always called them. 

They had to work hard, but Malcolm had taught her to always try to make it fun. The children would race each other home, Minerva usually in front, although Carver would occasionally shove his way past her. Bethany was a lot quicker than she looked too--and always smarter than she let on. Malcolm would never forget the looks on Minerva and Carver’s faces the time he’d taught Bethany how to freeze their feet to the ground, nor Bethany’s own wide grin as she’d crossed the finish line (their garden gate), cheering with victory as Carver swore and Minerva laughed alongside her.  

His children were adventurous-- all three of them. Malcolm had lost count of the amount of times Carver and Bethany had burst through the door, shouting that Minerva was in trouble. She had a habit of getting stuck in trees, that girl... Bethany claimed to be the least so, favouring staying inside to study most days, especially as she got older, but even she couldn’t resist the call of a bright summer day. 

Minerva always knew exactly what to say to coax her out of hiding, too. Be it a promise to stop by the Chantry for one song, or spinning a scheme so grand that even Bethany couldn’t resist. Bethany was more competitive than she let on, and Minerva was always too clever for her own good. The eldest sister got herself and Carver into heaps of trouble throughout their youth. They were so rambunctious, and Minerva was always pressing Carver’s buttons on purpose, but never in a way that pushed the lad too far.  

Always so precise, even then.

Malcolm had had to come down hard on her only once. She’d set off a tar bomb in barracks of the local Templars, bringing the Knight Captain huffing and puffing to their doorstep, completely unaware that he was in the presence of not one, but two apostates.  Leandra was beside herself, disguising her frantic panic for Bethany’s safety as being furious at the tar tracked all over their home. Andraste’s Mercy, she had given poor Minerva an earful. Malcolm knew it was mostly for show-- so the templars could believe it was just a well-meant prank by some kid. Malcolm had a reputation around town for being good around a cauldron, and he promised to supply the knight commander with a free shipment of potions, and assurance that Minerva would clean up the mess. Minerva had inherited his alchemic ability. but not his connection to the fade. He’d taught her the recipe himself, so she could help him fix the thatching on their chicken coop. 

He was mostly just mad he didn’t think of this himself--he would’ve done the same at her age. He couldn’t tell her that, though, could he?What he did tell her was that she was old enough to know better, he’d said. Perhaps that was too harsh… For the Maker’s sake she was only ten...

He’d come up to her guiltily that evening, offering her a glass of her favourite tea-- a recipe they’d invented together. She was gazing up at the stars, before she mumbled an apology and he did too. 

He made it up to her by telling a story about a similar prank he played on the templars back at the Gallows. 

“I know they’re the worst, but provoking them won’t do us any favours, Mighty Mini,” The nickname made her giggle. “It’s not your fight.” That made her pause. 

“But…” She looked up at him, eyes full of concern. “They make things just awful for you and Bethany!” She protested. “You shouldn’t have to hide your magic! Magic is good!” She said it with childlike simplicity. He’d taught her well… Maybe a little too well, if he was being honest. 

“I know, Min, it isn’t fair, but that doesn’t mean you should go out of your way to cause problems for the templars. You don’t want their attention. Think of Bethany.” He gave her shoulder a firm squeeze. 

She stilled, gazing at her feet.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He took her up into a tight hug. “It’s just not fair...” 

Always seeking justice, even then. 

Malcolm was far from the perfect father, but, Maker, did he try. At the very least, he was always there when his children needed him. Even years later, he cherished every moment spent outside the walls of the Gallows. 

He was able to give his kids the childhood he’d always wanted-- more or less.

On (idk what the dragon age equivalent to Sundays is but That LMAO) Minerva and Carver would spar for hours, using swords carved out of sticks they’d found exploring woods, while Malcolm, Bethany, and Leandra would go into town. Malcolm would take care of the shopping for the week and the two of them would head to the Chantry for the service. Bethany always tithed her allowance at the Chantry, even when her siblings teased her for it. She was always such a sweet, gentle girl. She wanted to help, and the cloister in Lothering was vastly different from the Kirkwall Chantry. They were a peaceful folk, down to earth. 

Once their farm was in its prime the revered mother even asked to buy some of their harvested herbs for their healers on a yearly basis, and Malcolm given it to her for free--inspired by the kindness of his youngest daughter. He knew the gift of magic weighed on the poor girl, and he wished he could take the burden from her. 

He would’ve preferred they not have to worry about hiding his and Bethany’s magic at all, but he figured that this was as good as it was going to get. 

And it was good, indeed. For a time. 

Minerva grew up with a Father who could coax her down from the trees she’d get stuck in, and catch her when she fell. Bethany had a Father who could guide her in the ways of the Fade and teach her not to fear her power, but to control it with ease. Carver had a Father who encouraged his study of the blade despite having no combat experience of his own. 

Whatever made them happy, as long as they were safe, just, and kind. That was who their father was.

Malcolm Hawke died too young, and too suddenly. 

The fever came when Minerva had just turned seventeen, and the twins were only twelve. The illness swept through their entire family, but it took her Father with it when it left. He was buried beneath the apple tree in their garden as a free man. Not a mage, just Malcolm Hawke. His children worked in tandem to carve a headstone themselves, nestling it with care between the roots. 

Lothering wasn’t the same after Malcolm died. Minerva did her best to fill the void, standing in as her Sister’s keeper, trying to smile her way through the tears the way her Father taught her to. 

Carver left to join the king’s army as soon as he turned sixteen, prying himself out of his mother’s arms with a groan. Leandra drew her daughters even closer in his absence, especially Bethany. The young mage became even more reclusive, afraid to wander too far from home by herself. She became convinced that the Templars in Lothering suspected something, no matter how many times Minerva assured her of how careful they’d been. 

Then, Carver was back, and the Blight was upon them. They’d only had a few short days on the run to cherish their brother’s return before the darkspawn ripped him away from them once more, this time for good. 

The farmhouse in Lothering never received a proper goodbye from the family that had inhabited it for all those years. The Blight fell upon them far too suddenly for them to grab anything more than their most precious of possessions before running for the hills. 

Barlin visits it sometimes, finding the tombstone beneath the trees. The old man hasn’t died yet, even though he’s buried many of his juniors. He chats to the stone as he clears it of moss, pulling out a book with a dwarvish name on the cover.

The eldest Hawke child--the little dragonling who’d stood her ground in that old farmhouse brandishing a knife while shaking like a leaf all those years ago had done quite well for herself, it seemed. Barlin was glad of it. He hadn’t known Malcolm was a mage, but it certainly made a lot about the strange elf make sense. 

Barlin wonders sometimes if the Champion of Kirkwall knows how proud those few that survived Lothering are of her. 

[tothemeadow]

Serendipity [Chapter 2]

Chapter 1

When the kingdom of Ainamoryp falls, a motley crew of unlikely allies must come together to save the country.

warnings: swearing, mentions of death

words: 3.5k

(a/n): All characters range from 19-20. Reader insert, reverse harem.

-

Chanswell Forest, Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 18:30

Off in the distance, the sun begins its descent, bathing the sky in splashes of oranges and pinks. It’s somewhat hard to pinpoint through the thick canopy of the forest, but the last sunrays of the day still poke through the trees. The ivory steed Shouto rides upon walks at a comfortable speed; poor thing had spent most of the day galloping past farmlands and numerous villages, all in hopes of taking the prince to safety.

There’s a watchpoint south of here, hidden away in the woods. Get there, seek for help. The soldiers there will lead you to safety.

That’s what the one palace guard had told Shouto right before he took off. Chances are the guard is long dead by now, much like the rest of Endeavor and the royal court of Dinton Keep. A bitter taste lingers on his tongue, paired with a dull ache pounding at his temples. Bastards, the whole lot of them! If only he stayed, he could’ve saved more lives. It’s his duty to protect the people of his land, to ward off any potential dangers, no matter how big or small. Better yet, he has no idea why the northern land of Nialliv invaded in the first place. As far as he knew, the political relations between the two nations were perfectly fine. While they weren’t the best of friends, they weren’t enemies, either.

“Dammit all to hell,” Shouto seethes under his breath. Whatever the cause of the invasion may be, he had to figure it out – and fast.

As the sun continues to set, the forest darkens evermore. Like his father, Shouto was born with excelled magical abilities, unlike most of the mortals in the land. It was a miracle that both his mother and father passed on their traits, granting him the power of fire and ice. They serve him well, make him quite the formidable opponent when it comes to battle. He creates a flame in his left hand, casting a bright glow around him and the horse as they continue their trek through the forest. Judging by the way things are going, he might have to come to a stop and find some sort of shelter for the night. He hadn’t suspected that the watchtower be so far away from Dinton Keep.

Perhaps it’s the work of the gods or a simple miracle when he spots torches in the distance. Drawing closer still, the dimly lit watchtower comes into view, standing tall and proud. Large, weathered stones make up the walls, iron torches bolted into their sides. It’s an impressive tower, to say the least. A lone guard stands out front, swinging back a lambskin flask and chugging down its contents. He sputters as Shouto’s horse comes forth, its greeting whiny loud through the forest’s silence.

“Aye, bloody hell-“ the guard cuts himself short once his eyes land on Shouto’s face. They grow to a comical size, nearly bulging from the sockets as his jaw falls lax. “Your highness!” he croaks. “You… You…”

“Who’s in charge here?” Shouto demands, voice sharp. “I need to speak with them immediately.”

The guard nods dumbly, scrambling over to the horse and taking a hold of its reins as Shouto hops off its back. “Chances are the main chambers,” he blabbers. Now that he’s up close, Shouto can easily smell the alcohol on his breath. “Somebody inside oughta show you the way.”

With a curt nod, Shouto sidesteps the drunken guard and stalks his way inside. Iron candelabras hang from the ceiling, thick white candles steadily burning away and illuminating the hallways. A duo of guards walking in his direction come to a sudden halt upon seeing him. Like the one outside, a look of surprise dawns upon their faces, yet they still fall to a singular knee, head bowed in clear respect.

“Your highness,” the one on the right says, “what a surprise. How may we be of service to you?”

“I need to speak to whoever’s in charge,” Shouto says simply. “I presume they’re in the main chamber?”

The same guard clears his throat. “Sorry to trouble you, your highness, but Sir Rengoku took off earlier this morning – said there was something of extreme importance that he must tend to.”

Muttering under his breath, Shouto presses a hand to the lower half of his face, heaving a great sigh as he drags it downward. “Is there anyone I can speak with?”

“Prince Shouto! What brings you here, your highness?” a new voice calls out.

Turning around, Shouto is met with another man; unlike the other guards, this man’s armor is built different, the iron plates bent into sharper, more intricate shapes. A set of wings are built into the shoulder pieces and the sides of the helmet, giving the suit a mystical appearance. A plume of bright red hangs from the crown of the helmet, swishing around much like one’s ponytail does. No, this isn’t a regular guard – this is a knight of Endeavor.

The knight tugs off his helmet, revealing a friendly face inlaid with dark red eyes and a burst of burgundy hair. A pair of earrings hanging from his lobes swing as he nods his head in greeting. “Allow me to introduce myself, your highness. I am Sir Tanjiro Kamado, a proud knight of Endeavor.”

Odd – why would a knight of such high status be positioned so far way from the capital?

Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, Shouto perceives Tanjiro with a hard look. “We need to have a talk – immediately.”

_______

Dinton Keep's dungeons, Ainamoryp, May 4th, 492, 05:23

At the first few rays of dawn, you begin to stir awake. For a moment, you wonder why you don’t feel the rock of your ship, but then the previous day’s events suddenly hit you. Ah, that’s right, you think, Endeavor got fucked over and I was put into a cell.

Off to the side, there’s slight murmuring. You recall the freckled boy you met yesterday – the healer, Izuku. What, has he resulted to conversing with himself like some sort of madman? Shifting onto your side, you crack your eyes open; immediately, you spot Izuku standing by the window, elbows propped on the sill. Although the light is still somewhat dim, you can spot the dark circles under his eyes, the sharp curve of his frown. Now that you think about it, he didn’t get any sleep last night, did he? You can’t say you blame him, either; he was present when Nialliv attacked and took over the city. Gods know the horrors he witnessed, the terrifying sounds of people screaming and helplessly being slaughtered.

“Did you find out anything?” Izuku whispers.

“No,” an unembodied voice says. It takes you aback – by the mere sound of its rasp, it’s obvious that Izuku isn’t speaking to himself. “Endeavor’s crawling with Nialliv guards, the royal grounds are bloody as hell, but that’s about it. I haven’t really seen any patrols in the surrounding farmlands, but that’s bound to change here directly. We oughta get going now before we miss our damn chance.”

“Izuku?” you drawl, voice heavily riddled with sleep. “What’s going on?”

Turning to you, Izuku flashes you a soft smile. “Good morning, Captain. We didn’t wake you up, did we?”

Shaking your head, you sit up and rub the tiredness away from your eyes. “I usually get up at dawn anyway,” you tell him.

“Oi, who the fuck is that?” that same, unfamiliar voice speaks. “Who are you talking to?”

Izuku throws an irritated look out the window. “Really, Kacchan? Do you really have to say it like that?”

“Answer the damn question, Deku.”

Izuku sighs. “It’s a pir-“ he stops, then, quickly glancing back to you. Clearly, he remembers the little outburst from yesterday and your reaction. Clearly his throat, he tries again. “A friend. She’s the captain of The Pearl Lady.”

“Kacchan” whistles, long and slow. “Gods, Deku, befriending pirates now, eh? Nice to see you finally have a backbone.”

Annoyance twinges your insides. Whoever this Kacchan is, he seems like an asshole. Scrambling onto your feet, you brush the stray pieces of hay off your clothes and stalk over to the window, taking your place next to Izuku. You forgot how tall he was, your head just barely coming up to his chest. Looking through the iron bars of the window, you’re finally met with this mysterious “Kacchan”; the first thing that catches your attention is the mop of wicked blonde hair, then the piercing red eyes training on your face. His expression is stern, nearly tiptoeing to the point of becoming angry, but he’s handsome, undeniably so. A large pair of clawed earrings stick out from either lobe, and numerous strands of beads hand from his thick neck. Whoever this guy is, you’ve never seen anyone dressed like this before.

Kacchan unashamedly scans his eyes over you, an eyebrow quirking up his forehead. “Captain, huh? Sure as hell don’t look like one to me.”

You scoff. “Excuse you, Kacchan. You look like you rolled out of a barn and mount donkeys for fun.”

His eyes narrow into slits. “What did you just say to me? Fucking brat, I’ll kill you!”

“Hey!” Izuku whisper-yells. “Keep it down! We can’t alert anyone!”

“Fine,” Kacchan spits. “I’ll deal with this bitch properly once you’re out.”

Your mouth opens, ready to rip him a new one, but then Izuku promptly yanks you away from the wall, slamming his large hands over your ears as the wall suddenly explodes. It’s not a large explosion, not in the slightest, but it’s enough to create a hole for you and Izuku to crawl out of. However, you’re guaranteed that somebody had to hear it.

Once the dust cleared away, your heart nearly stops beating within your chest. Kacchan didn’t come alone – no, he sits upon a dragon, a brilliant beast a fiery red, its glorious scales practically glowing in the early morning light. You blame your tiredness for not noticing it earlier.

“Well?” Kacchan says, looking unamused. “Are you going to stand there all day and gawk like an idiot or are you gonna get on?”

Immediately, Izuku crawls through the whole; turning around, he holds out a hand for you to take, a determined gleam in his eyes. “Well, Captain? Are you?”

For a moment, you hesitate. Here are these two men – two complete strangers – busting you out of prison, and for what? Normally, you’d tell them both to fuck off, but there’s something about the look in Izuku’s eyes that makes you think differently.

“I think it came from down there!” a distant voice shouts. Shit, it’s one of the guards!

Without another thought, you take Izuku’s hand and crawl through the wall. A gust of wind strikes your face once you’re outside. Glancing down, you notice how your cell was sitting at the edge of a cliff; the sea slaps at the jagged rocks, almost taunting you to take a fall. Your head feels oddly light, vision beginning to swim the longer you stare at the water. Squeezing your eyes tight, you feel Izuku pull you into his chest, the smoothness of the dragon’s scales as you land on its back.

“Alright, let’s blow this joint!” Kacchan exclaims, cackling wildly as the dragon takes off into the sky.

“Wait, wait, wait!” you shout.

The wind blasts your ears as you pick up speed, your clothes and hair flapping wildly. Kacchan only continues to laugh while you throw curse after curse at him, telling him to slow the fuck down before all of you get killed. Izuku’s chest rumbles as he chuckles, his thick arms tightening around your waist to keep you still.

Gods, you’re really flying on a dragon. They were meant to be creatures of legend, be told through tales of old and new. They’re the work of dreams and imagination, not reality. But no, here you are, zipping through the sky with nothing holding you back.

And by the grace of the gods, you want to be let down.

________

The outskirts of Levalon, Ainamoryp, May 4th, 492, 09:03

“I take it that you don’t get to travel very often?” Tanjiro speaks, tone light. Together, he and Shouto ride side by side on their horses; unlike Shouto’s beautiful ivory mare, his is a simple russet brown in color. It’s nothing to brag about, honestly, but his horse is strong.

Shouto hums in response. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid. My father often kept me busy with royal duties and studies. I hadn’t much of a chance to visit the surrounding villages.”

“Well, then hopefully you’re in for a treat!” Tanjiro chirps. “Levalon is nothing like Endeavor, but it’s a sizeable town! I’m positive you’ll like it.”

“You know,” Shouto says, glancing at Tanjiro from the corner of his eye, “you’re pretty optimistic for a knight. It reminds me of a great friend of mine.”

“I’m glad.”

Up ahead, the stone wall surrounding the town of Levalon comes into view. The bray of a donkey echoes as it passes through the archway carved into the wall, the wagon attached to its harness rumbling away over the pebbled path. It’s such a strange sight to see, this level of normality. There’s a group of kids playing tag in the grass, their carefree giggles carrying through the wind. As Shouto and Tanjiro draw even closer, the chattering coming straight from the market streets is already loud and frantic.

“It pains me to know that this town won’t be like this for much longer,” Shouto comments. Tanjiro remains silent; he knows Shouto is right, but it’s a hurtful thing to even think about.

As the two trek into town, they’re met with hustle and bustle of everyday life; people come and go from the market streets, either rough spin sacks over their shoulders or a wicker basket in their arms, children running down the street, a shaggy mutt following close behind, a hidden figure in a cloak snatching an unsuspecting person’s coin purse-

“Wait a second!” Tanjiro calls, hopping off his horse and hitting the ground with a metallic clank. The hooded person spares a single glance Tanjiro’s way before they take off at a breakneck speed in the opposite direction. Again, Tanjiro yells as he gives chase after him. Sighing, Shouto looks to Tanjiro’s horse; it stands where he left it, shaking its mane and looking around. Ah, so it’s devoted to its master – how lovely. Shouto respects the notion no matter the creature.

The horse whinnies as Tanjiro returns, face flushed and eyes wide. “Dammit, that thief is fast. No matter – I know where to find him.” Cocking his head, Shouto peers at the other inquisitively. Tanjiro merely grins, a finger reaching up and tapping the end of his nose. “Would you believe me if I told you that I have a good sense of smell?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it in the slightest,” Shouto replies.

Tanjiro’s smile grows, his eyes crinkling. “Thank you kindly, your highness-“ Immediately, his smile drops as his nose twitches; oddly, it reminds Shouto of a hound when it’s attuned to a kill, to the fresh scent of spilt blood. Tanjiro cranes his neck to the sky, his mouth falling lax. Following his line of sight, Shouto looks up, his own jaw dropping as well.

Amazingly enough, a dragon flies far overhead, its bright red belly twinkling in the morning light. Shouto’s heard tales of dragons ever since he was a young boy still feeding from the wet nurse, of how they conquered great lands, of how saved the lives of their worshippers. While it’s a common tale that dragons allegedly went extinct, it’s perfectly clear that they haven’t.

“By the gods,” Tanjiro mutters, voice full of wonder, “a real live dragon. Do you think it’s heading towards Dovahkiin?”

“There’s only one person I know who’s of Dovah descent,” Shouto grunts. “Why he’s here, I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t part of the attack on Endeavor, was it?”

“No. The fires weren’t caused by such a beast – they were created by monsters.”

Tanjiro hums. “Well… Wouldn’t you want to ask your friend for help? If you’re planning on taking back Dinton Keep-“

“I refuse to ask him for help,” Shouto interrupts, a scowl pulling at the corners of his mouth. “In fact, I’d rather not see him at all.”

________

In the skies, Ainamoryp, May 4th, 492, 09:10

Kacchan sneezes.

“Ugh,” he drawls, shaking his head. “Some idiot’s probably talking about me.”

“There’s not much to talk about,” you say offhandedly. Izuku snorts in amusement, but it quickly turns into a cough to cover it up.

Kacchan jabs a finger in your direction. “If it was up to me, I would’ve thrown you off a long time ago, sweetheart. Don’t press your fucking luck.”

After flying in the air for a few hours, you’ve grown used to the feeling of the dragon’s muscles flexing underneath you, the strong gusts of wind continuously hitting you in the face; however, you refuse to look at the trees and fields dotting the land below. You’ve also grown used to Izuku’s and Kacchan’s presence, although the latter is a bit too sour for your liking.

“Whatever you say, Kacchan,” you bluff. You actually wish that he won’t, but you also refuse to admit that as well.

“For fuck’s sake,” Kacchan hisses, “it’s Katsuki. Only that dumb Deku calls me Kacchan.”

Furrowing your brows, you look over your shoulder at Izuku. “Katsuki? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Laughing awkwardly, Izuku scratches his cheek, an embarrassed flush blooming on his freckled face. “Well, like he said – I’m the really the only one who calls him that, and it’s been that way for years…”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Yeah. So.” Training his vivid eyes on you, he flashes you a sneer. “You’re a pirate, right? How the fuck did that even happen?”

“That’s Captain to you, boom boy. Ever hear of The Pearl Lady? Yeah, that’s mine. And, if you don’t watch your tone, then I’ll happily show you a close up of what a cannon looks like when it’s going off.”

Katsuki laughs, then, a wicked smile curving his lips. “You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that. I like ‘em feisty.”

You scoff. “Damn hog,” you grunt. As much as you’d like to curse him out, he’s similar to Izuku when it comes to size. Katuski is tall – even more so than Izuku, you reckon – and he’s huge, a singular bicep almost the size of your head. He could easily toss you off the side of the dragon if he truly wanted to.

“We should take a rest stop,” Izuku offers. “Plus, we need to figure out a way to get in touch with Shouto-“

An animalistic growl rumbles in Katsuki’s throat at the name; he snarls at Izuku, even lashes his teeth.

“Gods,” you start, eyes going wide, “what the actual fuckis wrong with you?”

“I won’t do anything with that icy piece of shit,” Katsuki snarls. “How do ya even know he’s alive, huh?”

“There wasn’t a body,” Izuku presses, expression going dark. “Besides, I’d think they would’ve bragged more if they killed both the king and prince in one foul swoop.”

The prince? Like the prince of Ainamoryp? Gods, if he truly is missing-

“That’s our only chance, isn’t it,” you say, voice flat. “If Ainamoryp is to stay alive, the prince is needed to take the throne.”

“Yeah,” Izuku tells you, “that’s exactly it.”

You inhale sharply.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Katsuki spits. “I’m not even from this damned country. It’s not business whether it burns to hell or not.” With a shrug, he crosses his thick arms over his chest.

Anger roars in the pit of your belly, climbs up your insides and encases your heart. How dare he say such a thing, especially to yourface? You’ve crossed the seas, visited the lands, but this is your home. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, but you had to do something. Shooting forward, you grab onto the straps of Katsuki’s cape, snarling as you lean in close.

“Born here or not, you don’t get to say anything, you bastard. Lives were taken for no damn reason, and I wasn’t even able to walk around my own hometown without being thrown into a cell. If you hate Ainamoryp so much, kindly drop me the fuck off and get bent.”

Katsuki’s eyes are large as you push away from him, settling back in your spot before Izuku. Surprisingly, neither say a word; instead, Katsuki turns around, shuffles up the dragon’s neck, and takes the reins in hand. With a simple yank, the dragon is making a sharp turn, heading back towards the town you previously flew over.

“If you want to find that stupid prince,” Katsuki shoots over his shoulder, “Levalon’s the best chance you got.”

======

Time for the first choice in this "pick your own adventure" piece! Will you stay behind with Katsuki or go into Levalon with Izuku? Voting closes on June 6, 2021.

[caxsthetic]

PHANTASM BLUES • Suna Rintarou x Reader x Kita Shinsuke

Episode 7: Going Home

Type: TV Series (Multiple Chapters)

Cast: Suna Rintarou, Kita Shinsuke

Storyline: There was no good ending when your heart was bound to love more than one. And up until now, you still asked the universe why you have been given such curse.

Genre: Slice of Life, Drama

“Yes, I did.” You cupped one of his cheek, tracing his skin that reddened a little from your ministration, “I swear, Rin. I swear one day you will see how much perfection you are.” Determination filled your eyes, making his pupil dilated, “Even if it took me a lifetime, I swear that one day you would see yourself like how I see you.”

Suna Rintarou never once thought that someone could change his vision of life. Ever since he blurted his first word, there was a burden that was being thrown towards him. It was as if he was given a perfect path, one that actually craved by a lot of people.

But there was no freedom in it. As if he was being put forcefully on the road with an electric fence that extended high into the sky, leaving him with no choice except to go along with what had been given. And every day, he just had to accept it

It was thanks to volleyball that made him survive the first few years he lived in this world. He still remembered how he walked past the school gymnasium in the first week of Junior High. The squeaking of the shoes sounded so annoying, followed by the rowdy noise of volleyballs being slammed to the hardwood floor.

He grimaced at first and scurried up to just get away from there. Yet the volleyball decided to greet him. Not forcefully that could harm him, it slid with a gentle pace towards him instead. The colour was too bright for his liking when he first saw it; bright yellow and cobalt blue (or is that azure? He didn’t know at that time).

As much as he wanted to just turn around and walked to the gate, something tugged inside his heart. As if he was fated to be there, like he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t walk to the gymnasium. And in the next second, he stood at the doorway with the volleyball in hand.

Up until now, he still had goosebumps once in a while. The day when the universe lowered the electric fence from his path, when an unknown energy was absorbed into his whole body. Volleyball was the only thing that his parents approved of, it was the only thing that kept him sane for the next few years.

And it was the same thing that brought you to him.

A little smile appeared on his face as he daydreamed, didn’t give a damn about how everyone’s eyes fell upon his figure. All the murmur that he heard since he woke up after three days in a coma, all the pity he had received from his family and friends. Him, Suna Rintarou. The flawed son.

Flawed, of course. He knew since the day he was born that he was flawed. Every time his father looked at him, there was only one thing that he could see— disappointment. Because he was the exact contrast of what his old man wanted.

And he swore, he swore when one day he had a child with you, he wouldn’t look at them like how his father looked at him. As if they were a mistake. He was sure that his future would be so different compared to his horrid life that he had been through.

After all, the mother of his child would be a perfect woman, someone that saw everyone more than just their flaws. He would marry you.

You glanced towards him once in a while, making sure that he was alright and mouthed at him to be patient. Then your eyes focused back to the doctor who currently told you all the medicine that he had to drink.

He shuddered as he could taste the bitter pill on his tongue already, how his life from now on would be filled with medicine and stretching routine. Even though he couldn’t play volleyball, it didn’t matter now since you would be there for him.

At least that was what he hoped.

Sweat started to glisten on his forehead even with how cold the temperature in the lobby was. He looked down, eyes darted to his palms that had been used to make contact with volleyball.

His skin was calloused, you always loved to press your hand on his, saying that it was the remembrance of how much time he had spent for something that kept him going. You never once complained about how his finger traced your face, you never complained about how rough it felt on your skin.

“It shows how much you had put for volleyball, Rintarou.” You once said, “It shows how much you love it.”

He grimaced, thinking that one day his skin would feel like a baby’s hand. Soft, silky, a constant reminder that he could never play volleyball ever again. And to live knowing he had to let go something that kept him sane, to let go of the path that he chose—now he doubted that his life would be alright.

“What’s on your mind?” Suna jolted a little when your palms suddenly trailed down on his chest from behind. “Is it me~?” He could hear the teasing tone in your voice, making him roll his eyes—annoyed, but not really.

“You are so cocky you know that?” Yet he snickered either way, letting his head fall to the back to feel more of your warmth.

“Well, if I lived with such a cocky bastard for more than a year, of course it rubbed on me.”

“That’s mean.”

“Oh shush you big baby.”

You leaned your head down to give him a kiss at the crown of his head. His eyes fluttered closed from your affection. The two of you didn’t care about the fact you were in public—and it’s not like you were sharing an inappropriate affair anyway.

Ever since high school though, Suna always made sure everyone knew you belonged to him one way or another. If he was not there by your side (which was rare since he always scurried to your class once the bell rang), you were always seen with his volleyball jacket wrapped around your figure.

And right now, despite the fact that the entire hospital knew you were the future Mrs. Suna, he couldn’t help but tilt his head up, wanting to catch your soft lips with his chapped one (you always forbid him to stop peeling the dry skin, but his unconscious mind always won in the end).

“Ready to go home?” You whispered softly in between the soft kisses that you two shared, fingers sweeping the dark brown bangs away from his eyes.

“Yes, I am tired of being here.” He answered truthfully, causing you to chuckle from how done he looked right now.

“Alright, alright.” You straighten your posture, fixing the strap of your bag that was drooping from your shoulder. “Let’s go to our home, Rin.”

»»————-　♔　————-««

Everyone could have a house. A property, a building with four walls—the place for shelter from the scorching sun and heavy rain. It was the same place where a bunch of people gathered, the place where they eat and rest.

For the first twenty three years of his life, Suna Rintarou lived inside a house. No matter how expensive the heater was installed on his house, no matter how many blankets that covered his body when he was asleep; he never felt the warm atmosphere that he always found inside another resident.

He envied how joyous the atmosphere of the Miya regency was. The twins mother always asked him what kind of trouble that her children had done for today, or how much they fought during school.

At first, he expected to hear maybe a grumble, disapproval, or just downright insult and disappointment when she knew how troublesome the twins were.

But he heard chuckle instead, a gentle smile plastered on her wrinkled face as she put down the knife that she used to cut some carrots. “Why am I not even surprised?” Her words were exactly the same as his father when he informed about him being in class 1.

And yet how both adults uttered the words was so different. One filled with love, tired maybe, but no negative tone could be heard. While the other one, the one that his father muttered, was just—cold.

Resting his head and arms on the kitchen island, his green orbs fixated on the woman that was now standing with her back turned on him. Gentle music filled the entire place, a little hum could be heard slipping from her lips.

She was magnificent, through his eyes, you were magnificent. With just your existence, it was enough to make this house he lived in become a home. A sanctuary where love and affection danced in the air, sometimes even when the two of you were apart.

In every crook and corner in this place, there was always a reminder of you and him. Either it was some of his photographs, wall accessories that you handpicked, lavender scent that could be scented vaguely—this was his home. His and yours.

“I could feel you staring.” You cut the silence that ensued before. “If you keep doing that, I might not finish making the dinner you know.”

The statement made him raise one of his eyebrows in confusion, wondering why did you stop what you were doing solely because of the fact he was staring at you. It was a normal thing, and you never once complained about how his eyes pierced on your figure as if it was the only thing that he could see.

Well, you were the only thing that he wanted to see, to be honest.

You rinsed your hand, dried it with a towel that hung on the iron hook near the sink. And in an instant, your feet brought you to him. He spun the leather stool where he was sitting in to face your upcoming advent.

Before he could ask you what you were planning, you had your arms hooked around his neck. It was so sudden, and he almost fell forward from the force that you put. You rested your head at the crook of his neck, bending your body to make sure he was not the one who felt tired from this position.

“(Y/n)?” He called out, “What’s wrong with you?” His fingers slipped in between the strand of your hair, wondering what was it with you and the sudden affection. You answered him with silence, yet deepening the hug as if it was not enough.

So he decided to just get along with whatever you were planning to do.

He closed his eyes, planting his face on your hair to scent the fresh aroma of your shampoo. Lavender, just like what he loves. When he searched the internet of how to make a bedroom have a better atmosphere in his Junior High days (in hope that maybe he could feel a slight warm from it), he found out Lavender was one of the best choices.

And ever since then, he always hooked with the scent. Even though it was just his mind who embedded the idea, even though it was not real—at least it was the closest thing that he could get when it came to feel like he was loved.

“You always wanted to hug me,” You suddenly broke the comfortable silence, “When I cook, you always slithered your arms around my torso, wanting some affection.”

Well, that was true. And if only he could stand up and walk towards you, he would do the same over and over again, “So now, let me give you a hug once in a while, okay?”

He swallowed a huge lump, letting out a sigh as he wondered about the reason behind your proposition. Was it a pity? Because you knew he could never wrap his arms around you? Surprising you from behind as you were busy with some chores?

“That is random.” He chuckled, trying to coax the bitterness that he had to accept for the rest of his life.

“You always clingy anyway, even when you were not supposed to.” You dropped the fact so easily, and even though he was indeed; the clingiest man that you ever encountered—he never, not even once, labeled himself like that.

“And what? Since I can’t be clingy anymore you want to rub it on me that I can’t give you random hugs again?”

He tensed as he realised how the words that were supposed to be blurted out as a joke, turned into one with a malice intonation instead. You promptly pulled yourself away, taking a step backward with disbelief written all over your face, “I didn’t mean—”

Too much. He leaned a little bit too much.

It was as if everything became a blur when he tried to reach you. He wanted to just walk up and engulfed you, knowing how much pain that his words caused before. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t anymore as the only thing that he would meet was the cold hardwood floor.

He closed his eyes, bracing himself from the impact with both hands securing his torso from the solid surface. But he didn’t feel any physical pain, he didn’t feel any scrape grazed his skin. Instead, he felt like he had fallen into an embrace of an angel.

“I am sorry,” He hiccuped, fingers gripping tight on your shirt, “You have done so much to me—I s-shouldn’t have said anything like that.”

For every single thing that he had done in this world, he never wanted to hurt you, either physically or emotionally. You were the only people that he opened up to, the only one that he found comfort.

No matter how many times he just wanted to leave, no matter how many times he pushed you away. You always came back to his side—uninvited, sometimes unwanted. Yet, it was exactly what he needed.

“It’s alright, Rinrin.” It’s not, “You are just upset, it’s okay.”

It’s not okay. He really wanted to scream it out. You are going to be stuck with me forever. But he only ended up tightening his grip. And yet I already hurt you in the first week.

“Don’t you think I am going to be a burden?” He whispered, slowly lifting his head to meet your eyes, “I can’t do anything, (Y/n). I am just a fucking parasyte—”

“No.” Your voice sounded so stern, like you were in rage, making him shut his lips. “You are not. You are Suna Rintarou. My soon-to-be husband, my love, my everything.” Yet your eyes shone with a mix of love, anguish, a little disappointment.

You were disappointed not because of what he was right now, you were disappointed with how his mind works. For all these years building him up, pushing him to pursue his career that he loved so much, it saddened you that he would even think that his flaw could change anything.

Because it’s not. Not now, not even in a million years.

“Do you know how I see you, Rin?” You asked softly, combing his bangs to the back. He faintly shook his head, eyes still admiring the tender look that he could find on your face, “Perfection.”

He scoffed when he heard your next statement. He was far from it, it was like an insult to the word that someone even called him as perfection.

“How? I was far from perfection even when both my legs worked.” He sighed, averting your gaze and letting it fall to the floor, “All the more with me being total useless.”

The statement irked you, and in a split second he hissed from the pain that he felt on his cheek, “Did you just pinch me?!” He whined, either he hurts physically or mentally, you didn’t know anymore.

“Yes, I did.” You cupped one of his cheek, tracing his skin that reddened a little from your ministration, “I swear, Rin. I swear one day you will see how much perfection you are.” Determination filled your eyes, making his pupil dilated, “Even if it took me a lifetime, I swear that one day you would see yourself like how I see you.”

Hot tears cascading down your cheek out of desperation. You didn’t want him to get hurt like this, he had enough. He had been through lots of hardship in an unhappy environment for all of the years he lived in this world, “I promise, I promise.”

He took a deep breath before burying his face on your abdomen, as if he was telling you that you shouldn’t have lived with his happiness as your goal. He appreciated your love, your unconditional love towards him that even if you could find real perfection, you chose to be with him instead.

So just this time, he really wanted to do something big for you.

»»————-　♔　————-««

You stood quietly on the balcony, lips shaped into a gentle smile as your eyes roamed to the horizon. With a champagne in your hand, you could only hear the waves that collided to each other, totally ignoring all the rowdy commotion that currently happened inside the house.

“Why is the soon-to-be bride standing here all alone?” You didn’t even jolt when you heard the familiar delicate voice, feeling safe since you knew there was no point of having your guard up in front of him, “Shouldn’t you be inside since today is all about you?”

“And Rin.” You corrected him—whose orbs still pierced into everyone’s soul, and sipped the pleasantly sparkling liquor in your hand. Your curt answer made him chuckle a little. He walked up to positioned himself beside you, eyes following your trail of gaze.

You could see anything from here with how the balcony faced the wide ocean. Your orbs could catch what happened in the backyard or how the seagulls flew with the wind. Your eardrums could hear the peaceful atmosphere that was created from the gentle waves rippling on the beach.

That was why it became your favourite spot in the house.

“You are happy, right?” He asked timidly, wanting to make sure once again, “With him, you are happy, right?” Or at least, it was what he needed all over again. Some kind of affirmation—that you would be alright.

“So much.” Your smile widened a little, “I am very much happy to be with Rintarou.” And it's all thanks to you, Shinsuke.

He was satisfied, to know that at least what he did two years ago, the decision of him to let you go—it was all worth it. With the smile that adorned your face, and with how his underclassmen had this joyful look inside his green orbs. Kita Shinsuke now could breathe peacefully.

“That’s good to hear.” He answered politely, “That’s really good to hear.” And he ignored all the cracks inside his heart.

You turned your face to gaze at him, feeling at ease when there was no sadness visible on his facade. Though, you knew damn well that this man beside you could mask everything. But just this one, you wanted to be selfish.

So you shrug at every possibility that might roam his heart at this very moment. Coating your mind that he was perfectly fine, and someday he would find someone that suits him more than you suit him.

Because by doing this, by just seeing the fact that you could only belong to one man, the three of you could find peace of mind.

“Hey, (Y/n)!” You coughed a little when someone suddenly called you out, making the champagne that you sipped a second before bursting on the floor, “Whoopsie.”

Kita chuckled a little from the absurd interaction between you and the Black Jackals setter. You gave him a glare, but turned into a grateful look in a second when he fetched a hankie from his pocket.

Muttering a little thank you, you grabbed the handkerchief and dabbed your lips gracefully. You could feel the gaze that was thrown towards you, a snicker from the blonde made you feel so irritated. As if Kita knew what might happen, he took a step backward—just in case.

“Miya Atsumu.” You called out, folding the hankie in your hand and placing it on your pocket, “Mind telling me the reason why you had to startle me like that?”

Finally turning around to face him, the setter grimaced at the deathly aura that you radiate. One step, two steps, he felt so small as you walked towards him with an intense glare, “If you didn’t give me any kind of explanation, I am throwing you off the balcony.”

Atsumu scoffed at this, making his ex-captain widened his eyes. Both of their eyes meet for a split second, and from the surprised look on the light grey haired man, he knew that somehow, he fucked up.

“Okay that’s it—”

“Sunarin is looking at you!” The poor setter had both hands in front of his face, trying to protect himself in case you were indeed going to do something horrible to him.

And he was so glad when the annoyed look on your face turned into a gentle one by just the mention of your fiancé.

“Oh? Alright, where is he?” Just like that, you came back to your normal self. The happy-go-lucky woman who somehow could make everyone at ease. Before he got any more glimpse of your rage, he immediately led you downstairs to the living room.

You shared a glance with Kita, asking him to go down with you and Atsumu. Turning your head back to the front, you smiled a little when footsteps could be heard from behind—notifying you that he followed the two of you.

When you reached the living room, there was this surprised look on your fiancé, making you walk up faster towards him in worry.

“Rin, you are looking for me?” Your hand found his thumb grazing at the back of his hand as you subtly asked him to talk to you, “What is it? What did these dumb friends of ours do to you?”

You ignored some shout of protest (that you knew so well it was either from Atsumu or Ginjima, or maybe both of them) and the chuckles that ensued in the background. Suna blinked, shaking his head a little before finally focusing his eyes on your facade.

“They uh—” He tried to arrange the right words to say to you, “Uhm, are you free next weekend? Is the wedding preparation done?” You raised one of your eyebrows at the question.

“Yeah, it's all finished. Just need you and me sharing the vows and yada yada yada, we are husband and wife!” You sounded so excited even if you tried not to show it too much, “So yes, I am free. Why?”

Suna trailed his eyes to all of his friends, making you follow his gaze. They now had a sheepish look on their faces, glancing at each other before Ojiro finally took some step forward with an envelope in his hand.

“So,” The Red Falcon’s athlete cleared his throat, “Both of you are dear friends to us, and for a long time ago, we all knew that the two of you are meant for each other.” His eyes flickered for a second to the light grey haired man before focusing back to you and your fiancé.

He held out the envelope for you to take, and you gingerly grabbed the soft paper from his grasp. Glancing to Suna, he gave you a soft nod, and that was enough for you to open it up, “And with how everything turned these past few days, either with you from your memory loss or him with his injury—”

You widened your eyes when you saw what was inside, “We think the two of you deserve to have a time of the life for a few days.” Plane tickets, booking confirmation, itinerary, that was enough to indicate what they were all planning to do.

With joyful tears streaming down your face, you cupped your fiancé’s cheek and kissed him passionately, making all of your friends' cheers and whistles. You pulled away in a few seconds and immediately engulfed everyone in a tight hug, muttering gratitude and showing how thankful you were to have them in your life.

Joy and happiness surrounded the house, your hug lingered a little bit longer as you were in the embrace of your once lover. With everyone bathed in the festive atmosphere, Suna was just sitting there with an appalled look on his face.

“What—” He voiced out, not too loud but just enough to make everyone focused on him, “What do you mean?”

There was something that reflected from his eyes. Agony, regret, once again visible on his face. Everyone stared at each other with a confused look as the green orbs scanned the crowd, as if he was searching for some kind of explanation.

Until it landed on Ojiro, “What do you mean memory loss?”

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[dark-imagine-robots]

Reveritale

((HERE IS THE 900 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION POST!!! In appreciation of so many of you guys following me and sticking around, here is a full/complete story/premise of my new Undertale au! This au also has the role switches based on spinswap, but the story itself and character developments were carefully put together by me and with help of a friend with some parts of it.))

((Questions are welcome, and things will get complicated in certain parts, or a little confusing if you don't read my Fun TOTC Facts posts.))

((This au is also one of the aus that will be involved in the TOTC Epilogue/Undertale Story as well since a character from the au will be extremely important to the plot of the story.))

                There isn't that many alternate Papyruses out there, is there?

                                          Maybe...that will change....

                                          Rendering, one moment.... 

        Ah, Reverie Papyrus... His full name being Gaioharmr, or Imago for short. Imago is no ordinary skeleton, nor is he a monster skeleton of the Undertale underground... he is a Skeleton Demon, a Overworld Skeleton Demon to be more precise. But he is a corrupted Skeleton Demons, a disfigured soul. As the more Bilhelm walks the Undertale multi-verse, the more his imprint infects the multi-verse. All though the multi-verse is not strong enough to replicate Bilhelm himself, oh, it will settle for the easier bits... his species... Skeleton Demons....

                                            The more Bilhelm stays, 

             the more the multi-verse will fully be connected and linked to 

                                                    The Unknown...

                  The story begins with a wandering, young skeleton demon. 

    This young skelly sprout was once told never to wander too far into the forest on the outskirts of his home, as there is a cavern that leads into the roots of the mysterious mountain known as Mt. Ebott. Which not even the humans dare wander to in there surface, as the tales go all the same, one would disappear within the territory of the mountain... 

    Much to everyone's dismay, and the adventurous soul of this skelly sprout, this warning and the tales slipped from his mind as he explored to his soul's content.

                   He ran, without a care in the world, then... he fell down...

    To no one's surprise, the skelly sprout lives, or in other words, survived the fall. All skeleton Demons have the most durable bones with no one other to compare. However, the real surprise here was that he landed on a bed of golden flowers... in a place deeper than his own home.... a place where others lived... a society of monsters... the very monsters that were said to have been casted away by the humans a century ago... oh... but the real REAL surprise here is that someone was near that has seen the fallen skelly sprout.

   Was this... another skeleton demon? No... their soul was unfamiliar and different. Different from those who were back home... What could be gathered was that this other young skeleton means no harm... Another skeleton who may have been roughly the same or a year older than the skelly sprout.

    One thing was certainly however, this other skeleton means no harm... as he helped the skelly sprout up from the soft bed of flowers, he would ask the skelly sprout...

                                           "Where did you come from??

     The skelly sprout did not answer... his home... is what he would have said. But for some reason... those words did not form, he didn't know why... So, the skeleton asked another question...

        "What is your name? If you don't mind me asking that question!! Sorry if asking you a skele-ton of questions isn't helping you since you fell and all..."

    The skelly sprout giggles weakly at the pun, but manages to muster a answer for the other skeleton...

                                                 "My name is Imago..."

     "That's a pretty cool name!!! My name is Sans! My moms would freak out if they saw you!! We never had anyone fall down here. Welcome to the Underground!!!"

     Despite everything, despite being far from home... never to return... this other skeleton seemed to be the only presence of home. The skelly sprout never had close friends, nor did he have any siblings... So it felt nice for someone around his age range to actually help him and be so friendly to him.

    It did not take long until the skelly sprout was taken into the other Skeletons home. The castle of the Queens of the Underground. To no prevail, the queens were indeed shocked to their cores to see their young prince bring in another skeleton. There were no other Skeletons that existed in the Underground except the prince and his biological father, who was the lead royal scientist and San's caretaker. At first, they did not believe the prince that this skelly sprout fallen from above. They thought that maybe there were other Skeleton monsters out there that they overlooked, and this monster tried to climb out from the Underground, and failed. 

    Seeing as the skelly sprout was indeed agreeing with the prince that what he was saying was true, Queen Undyne did not believe them and was getting rather frustrated. She assumed that this other skeleton was just another monster who was playing a trick on her son. Queen Alphys however, did not dismiss her son. She thought it was possible, so she called in Gaster to check the skelly sprout's soul to prove this dispute.

    Dumbfounded, the queens and Gaster did not expect such a soul. As Imgo's soul was not white, nor was it upside-down. It was right-side up with yellow and orange as his colors. The strange thing here is that his soul did not pump, as if it were not alive. This proves the dispute clearly, this skeleton is no monster. 

    Oh... but that did not change the queens perception of the skelly sprout, as he was still a child... a very young child who was far, far away from home. There being no hope on the skelly sprout's return to his home. The skelly was reluctant at first, he did not want to wear what the queens wanted him to wear to show he has any relation to the family. But the queens respected the skelly sprout's delicious on this, as his own clothing was the only thing that came from his own home, along with the fact that if they are going to take him in, they must treat him as a son rather than property. It was only fair to let him wear what he wants and keep anything that reminds him of home. 

    Imago even let them call him by another name, as a thank you. They usually call him Papyrus, only using his real name in the more serious situations. 

    All in all, Imago was a part of the royal family of the Underground, now being the queens' second son and prince's brother. Unfortunately... Gaster has a difference perception of the skelly sprout, as he say him as something to study, research, experiment on. The skelly sprout did not like Gaster, with all his being, he did not like him one bit. When the queens noticed what Gaster was trying to do to Imago, Alphys ordered Gaster to cease his profession procedures as a scientist when in the presence of the skelly sprout, only act in the procedures as a caretaker when around the skelly sprout. 

    Once the two Skeletons began to grow slightly older, their magic became more apparent. All monsters have magic. Since Sans was made by Gaster, his magic was rather strong on its own with little effort.... however... Imago's magic was... different... it may have been stronger than any other monster's, even the prince's. As his magic did not stay in one category of magic,  it was very interchangeable since Skeleton Demon magic is diverse, perfect/signature Skeleton Demon magic for the individual skeleton demon can only be discovered if they kept using their magic to find that perfecter/signature category to use most. Yet... due to Imago not having any other skeleton demon help properly teach, practice, and discover his magics, Imago simply went on to use whatever magic that he may muster to see what the outcomes and results occur himself. All the monsters, the queens, and sans were astonished and in joy of what Imago can do. Never did it ever cross their minds that his magic variety would pose as a threat, that is... until Gaster saw this as both an opportunity and a threat.

     Gaster brought up the perspective that Imago's magic could potentially be dangerous to the royal family and the Underground. The queens were not entirely convinced, especially Undyne, as she found that her son's magic to have more benefits to the kingdom than anything. It took a long royal conference to finally convince her, but she finally allowed Gaster to make something that would essentially lower Imgo's magic and "protect" the Underground.

    As expected, Imago and Sans were not happy with this decision. Without any delay, Gaster took Imago away and into the lab. It was only a matter of weeks until Gaster finally make the "solution to the problem"... gloves... but these gloves were made with fabric material that came far from the Underground... fabric that eases magic to be weaker than the original state of the wearer's magic. To make sure Imago could not take them off, he enforced gold cuffs to his wrists and the gloves, rendering it impossible to simply take off the gloves. Imago was devastated... like something that was a part of him was painfully ripped away from him. From here, Imago's hatred grew more towards Gaster.

    To little to no prevail, Sans was thrilled to see Imago come back after such period of time. Upon seeing the gloves and Imago's emotions however, Sans knew that his magic was no longer able to be in easily accessible use. Along with the fact that having your own magic taken from you is among the worse things that can happen to anyone in the Underground. Sans had empathy, he felt hurt from his brother's loss and pain. But... that did not stop Sans from figuring out a way to make his own brother happy during this time of need. Even though Imago could not use most of his magic, he knew there was some magic he could still use, that being his very whimsical leaps that can send him flying high and down with grace. So, the prince took it upon himself to kind the best shoes in the kingdom, and once he did, he gifted them to Imago. This gift meant the world to Imago, not only do they feel comfortable for landings, but they were from his most beloved and trusted person, his brother. He cherished them with all his soul, and from that day would always do so.

    Oh... When it all seemed calm and peaceful... Something came up... it was all sudden...

   Gaster had the idea, a train of thought, that since his creation, his son, had more apparent magic it was finally time to put that magic to the test. He wanted to see what his creation was capable of, push him to his limits. He took sans from the castle for the day, the queens didn't have to allow it since Sans is his biological father, so Imago didn't know where his brother had gone for the day.

   Sans was painstakingly pushed on and on to use his magic, pushed to use all of his magic to see the power of it all. He was powerful, but not powerful enough... he was pushed beyond his limit to finally show the power his father was looking for.... but... it took so much out of his the prince's soul...so much that it made the prince fall ill afterwards. 

    It was easy to lie to the queens, his excuse being that Sans was already sick and that's why he took him to his lab early that same day. Imago... Imago instinctively knew Gaster was lying. ALL Skeleton Demons can see through all souls, and Gaster's soul was rotten... he was lying... he did this to his brother. 

    Oh, how Imago's hatred grew more and more and more and more and more....

     It was then when Imago decided to sneak out into the lab, his hatred grew into destructive behavior as he bashed and destroyed the lab machinery and equipment with his bare bones. That us until he found something... books.... these books didn't seem to be from the Underground however... they were different... The way they were crafter, so perfectly, the writing was more professional than any other writer of the Underground. A book on Skeleton Demons, they're myths histories, and inner workings. With the book was also research from Gaster, confirming how Imago was a Skeleton Demon and what he gathered from him all these years. Upon reading he book and the research... Imago finds our on his own that he could have been able to save his own brother, cure him of his sickness. Oh how he wanted those gloves off now, he wanted them off, but... he couldn't get them off... he just cries into them in defeat. But that hatred... His Hatred... it grew monstrous... his instincts were to kill Gaster...

    The next day... it was the royal feasting. A gathering of the kingdom where everyone eats together in a harmonious celebration. Imago was not hungry however.... he had his sights on another game... The queens, Imago, gaster, and the royal gaurds were sat at their own table that faced the other tables that the kingdom's people sat upon. After a speech from the queens, and when everyone is settled with their own pick of drinks and food, Imago waited. Gaster only got a single cup of tea... when Gaster left his tea unattended for a moment, Imago took the opportunity to taint the tea with poison. After a few minutes of Gaster's first sip of the tea, the poison eventually kicked in, killing Gaster slowly and painfully. Alphys tried room come to Gaster's aid, but he dies anyway... as she did not know what was wrong until he finally dies and dusts. Imago watched it all, not in horror, but in terrifying and twisted satisfactory and joy. No one noticed Imago reacting this way.

    Queen Undyne was furious, this was no accident. It was murder, a assassination to her... everyone in the castle were frightened, but also outraged from this incident. They all knew... they knew that upon killing the head royal scientist, the prince would die... as Gaster was the only one that knew how to cure his own creation... This realization then came to Imago. He didn't want to accept this... but it eventually sunk in when he realized his brother isn't getting better... after months of still being ill... the prince was only getting worse... he was dying... slowly.

                           The Final Day... Their Final Day... His Final Day...

    Imago, being a Skeleton Demon, knew that his brother wasn't going to make it... Skeleton Demons knew when souls were going to die... Imago knew that today was going to be the day that his brother will be the taking his final breaths... It was only a matter of time. But... Imago could not bare the loss of his brother, not now, not today, not the next, and... not ever. Since Imago was not raised long enough in his own home, he would have been more accepting that his brother was soon passing away... but having been raised in a home that was not his own.... Death was not accepted... He didn't want his brother to go... and he was ready to risk his life in keeping him alive... 

   But having he guilt that he killed Gaster, and it being his fault that he killed the only person that could have helped his brother in the first place... it weighed him down. He did not regret killing gaster, but indirectly killing his brother is what ate him up from the inside out... it was his fault that Sans didn't get better... while he plans to save his brother, he also plans to justify himself...

    Imago picked up his dying brother from his bed, and began making his way out of the castle. The queens were at the lab, desperately trying to help assist on creating a cure for their son. So they would not be able to witness nor stop what was going to happen next...

   Once those castle doors opened, revealing only the skeleton demon holding his brother in his arms at the top steps into the castle, it caught the attention of every monster of the kingdom....

                                            It was that Imago wanted...

                               Then... he opened his jaws, and confessed.

                  "I Killed W. D. Gaster. I poisoned the royal lead scientist, our caretaker... I am the reason why your prince will not be able to live tomorrow... I am the reason         why he is not healthy and well today... Do as you must, as all of you are the                                       only ones to put my actions to judgement..."

    Everyone of the kingdom... we're outraged... they were all filled with hatred for Imago.... he did this, he did that...... it was all his fault.... he is not monster... he is an abomination from hell... a demon from the heavens.... a demon of death....

    Imago accepted all the insults and words, as he began to walk down those steps and into the raging, violent crowd. He didn't care what he did to him, as long as they let him walk to his location, and let him carry his dying brother in his arms. 

    As he walked, he simply looks down at his brother has he walked into the crowd, which the crowd was now brutally beating Imago as he continued to walk and watch as his resting brother gave raspy breaths. One of these brutal blows ended up damaging and knocking Imago's head back away from the sight of his brother. He was a deep claw slash to the skull... his blood.... he bled sunflowers and Goldflowers...despite letting them all reduce imago to low health....he could not die....but his soul slowly shatters....... his head straightens up and back to his brother... Imago could no longer see his brother, but he could still feel that he was still holding him... as long as he hasn't dusted yet... until he gets to the final location... everything will be just fine.... just perfect... he had been in the Underground long enough to remember where the location was without having to see... he knew he was still going the right way...

    They Reached it... they finally reached it... the crowd was gone... it was only Him and his brother.... the flowerbed... the same flowerbed where they first met... the flowerbed where the sky of the surface can peak through....

    Imago gracefully fell to his knees with Sans in his arms... it was finally time... this was it... 

    Sans slowly and weakly opened his eyes, to see the sky that peaked through e Underground, the flowers.... and then up to his brother... Imago couldn't see it, but sans smiled at Imago before he began to turn to dust. Imago can feel the Sans begin to dust... his gloved hands began to tremble and his sockets produced tears... he doesn't want him to go.... no... his fingertips..his claws... now that he was older... his claws were sharp enough to tear open the tips of the glove... so, he gripped what was sans tightly enough that it tore the gloves... then Imago gave it his all into using his magic to save his brother... it almost seemed too late... as sans complete dusted and Imago could no longer feel his brother in his arms. But... he sensed that his soul was still there, it was working... he kept using his magic, but the strain... the strain on his own soul that was shattering... it was going to give in... so Imago gave it his all to make sure his brother's soul did not dust...

    Upon doing so... Sans' soul remained to be alive... but Imago's soul bursted... his body, his bones... became a lifeless shell...inanimate... 

    Soon after that, the queens and the new lead scientist found Imago after what they have heard... despite what Imago has done, he was still their son... however, the queens did not notice Sans' soul... the lead scientist takes it before it could be discovered... 

                                   The Queens lost two children that day... 

    They would have prepared two different types of funerals, but they only could                                                            prepare one...  

                                        as Imago's remains disappeared...

                  They assumed he dusted too... but that is far from the truth...

((REBLOGS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED, PLEASE, THANKS!!! I LITERALLY FINISHED THIS AT 1 AM, GUYS.))

[skygirl5]

12 Prompts of Christmas - #9 Eggnog

This is a continuation of the previous chapter’s universe (behind the jump due to length) 

NINE - Eggnog

On his first morning waking up in the isolated cabin, Rick wished to sleep late, but he couldn’t because he woke up before dawn absolutely, positively freezing. His normal sleeping attire for winter was boxers and a t-shirt because he generally kept his apartment fairly warm. He’d thought the blankets on the cabin’s bed would keep him warm enough, but evidently that was not the case; all his extremities felt like ice. Rick shivered so bad he could hardly pull on his jeans and button-down from the prior day before hobbling to the potbelly stove in the main room of the cabin and fiddling with it for ten minutes before he could figure out how to get a fire going inside of it once more.

Knowing warmth would soon come, Rick grabbed a blanket and tried to lay on the couch, which was the closest place to the stove on which to lay, but he was too miserably cold to fall back to sleep. Figuring maybe an afternoon nap would be more productive, he made coffee and sat with it cradled in his hand while wearing a blanket as a cape as he tried to warm up.

Though it took an hour, the cabin soon almost became too warm, but given how cold he had been Rick chose not to mind that too much and did his best to get some writing done. He wrote a few pages, but soon found it difficult to focus, and decided to go on a walk around the lake for a distraction. He also thought perhaps he might run into Kate, the intriguing woman whose mitten he found the day before, but he sadly did not. He did bump into an older couple who had a very friendly yellow lab and chatted with them for about ten minutes, but that was all the human interaction he had.

Back in his cabin, he called Alexis once it was a reasonable hour on the west coast. Unfortunately, their conversation was quite jumbled due to very poor reception, but he was at least able to confirm that Meredith had picked her up from the airport and was taking her shopping that day.

Since speaking with his daughter reminded him once again that she was not going to be with him for Christmas, Rick distracted himself by eating the pre-made salad he’d purchased for lunch and turned back to his writing, which was actually successful that round. He found himself so “in the zone” that he didn’t even notice how late it was getting until he got out of his chair to go to the bathroom and realized most of the cabin was completely dark.

Satisfied with the amount of work he’d done, Rick decided it was time to make himself dinner. He’d purchased some chicken cutlets which he planned on stir-frying and with some vegetables he purchased and so he began rummaging in the kitchen cabinets for the tools he’d need. He found a cast iron skillet and cutting board to use to prep his food. He’d purchased oil just in case the cabin didn’t have any, which ended up being a good call because he didn’t find any in the small pantry.

After pouring the oil into the skillet, he set it on the two burner stove so that it could heat up, but when he turned the knob to ignite the burner, he heard a click, but no flames appeared. Twisting his lips to the side in concentration, he crouched down and proceeded to fiddle with the knobs and burner for several more minutes to no avail; he could not get the stove to turn on.

Not too worried at that point, Rick decided that the best thing to do would be to call the cabin’s owner, Chip. He was a friendly older gentleman who had talked to Rick for nearly an hour when the cabin booking was made. Evidently the cabin belonged to Chip’s father, who was an avid fisherman. After his father passed, Chip inherited the place, but didn’t enjoy fishing as much, so he mostly rented it out. He’d told Rick not to hesitate to call if an issue arose, and Rick decided to do just that—even though it was technically Christmas Eve.

Rick walked over to where he’d left his laptop at the table. There, he’d left his phone as well as the contact information for Chip. Before he’d even begun to dial, Rick frustratingly realized his phone displayed a “No Signal” error. It hadn’t been that long since he’d spoken to Alexis, though admittedly the call had been cutting in and out at that time.

Figuring the reception had to be better outside, he put on his heavy coat and then dialed Chips number on the phone but didn’t hit the “send” button. Then, he stepped outside the cabin and was immediately knocked back by a wall of bone-chilling cold. The stinging temperature of the air was so great that he actually yelped, but then tried to recover as quickly as he could so he could get his phone call over with. Rick wandered around the area in front of the cabin for several minutes with his phone above his head waiting for the “No Signal” to vanish and bars to appear, but they never did.

Frustrated, Rick stomped out further into the yard, chasing an elusive signal. Just one bar!! He only needed one bar!!

He was about fifteen feet away from the house when he realized that small snowflakes had begun to fall from the sky above. He glanced up briefly, but that far after dusk it was almost pitch black outside. He was stumbling around only from the ambient light of the cabin’s exterior lighting, which at that distance was minimal at best. Yet, Rick remained determined to get a cell signal.

“Uhh Rick? Are you okay?” Rick heard after about seven minutes of wanting around in the freezing cold darkness.

“Wha—huh?” Startled he spun around until he saw the beam of a flashlight approaching, though due to the darkness he could not see the face of the person speaking to him.

“Are you okay?”

“I—who are you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The woman moved the flashlight beam from the ground to point straight upwards. It barely illuminated her face, but he recognized her immediately. “You found my glove yesterday; I’m-”

“Kate,” he breathed, still a bit shocked to have met up with her by the lake near his cabin. “Yeah, I remember.”

“So…are you alright? You don’t have a flashlight…”

He grumbled. “I didn’t mean to walk this far from my cabin I just—I’m trying to get some cell reception.”

She hummed. “Well, you might not have too much luck with that, especially with this snowstorm coming in.”

Rick frowned. “Oh…I…hmm…sorry,” he added quickly when he could see Kate’s brow tightening in confusion. “The stove in the cabin stopped working and I tried to fix it, but, frankly, I have no idea what could be wrong, so I thought I’d call the cabin’s owner but…”

“Right.” Kate nodded. Then, after a beat added, “I can take a look if you want. I was just taking a little walk so it’s not big deal.”

“Oh—oh!” his tone elevated with surprise when he realized she was offering to help him, a total stranger, without being asked. Then again, he had found her glove earlier, so they weren’t total strangers, just mostly strangers. “Sure. That would be—that’d be great, thank you. Thank you so much.”

She shrugged and the followed him across the crisp ground towards the cabin. “It’s not a problem. The stove my parents had for years was…something. Probably a terrible fire hazard, to be honest. I finally made my father replace it a few years ago, because I was convinced one of the times he tried to fry up one of the fish he caught the whole place would go up in smoke.”

“Fair enough,” Rick chuckled as they reached the cabin’s porch.

He led the way inside where Kate scuffed her boots against the welcome mat and unzipped her coat as she slipped through the narrow doorway. She gazed around for a moment, but then immediately walked into the kitchen on the left. “Oh, yeah, this one is just like ours—only smaller,” she proclaimed upon looking at the stove.

“So you know all its secrets,” he concluded, hopeful.

“Let’s hope so,” she said, smiling at him over her shoulder before setting to work. Rick tried to ignore the tingles that smile sent down his spine as he leaned against the kitchen table, wanting to stay out of her way and feeling a bit awkward that he was unable to assist.

Rick watched as Kate checked dials and plugs and arched her body over the top of the range unit so she could presumably check the wall connection. Then with a quick, “Be right back,” she walked outside the cabin once more and he could see her walking around the house through the small window above the kitchen sink. She was outside about five minutes before she returned with a frown.

“Well, I have good news and bad news.”

Suspecting he knew the bad news, Rick concluded, “You know what’s wrong, but can’t fix it.”

Giving him a sad smile, she said, “No, I can’t. For whatever reason this stove uses a different fuel tank than the one hooked up to the water heater and furnace and that fuel tank is very empty. The owner must have forgotten to have it refilled; I’m sorry.”

Rick huffed out a breath. “Well considering its Christmas Eve I don’t think I’m going to get a fuel delivery

“No, I don’t think so.” After a moment she suggested, “You could make a fire?”

His immediate reaction was to cringe. “Ah… at the risk of sounding unmanly: I don’t know that I could successfully cook chicken that way without either burning it or giving myself food poisoning.”

She laughed and nodded, “Yeah, I guess I couldn’t either.”

They stood side by side in the tight kitchen silently for a moment before Rick said, “Well, that’s okay. I’ll just cut my trip a little short and go home first thing tomorrow morning, but I really appreciate your help, Kate.”

She stared at him for a few seconds before trapping her bottom lip between her teeth and glancing over to the kitchen counter, where his packet of chicken and vegetables were sitting beside the stove, waiting patiently for him to finish prepping them. After nearly twenty seconds of silence she finally concluded, “C’mon—grab your food; you can use my stove.”

Now taken completely aback, he held his one hand up defensively and stammered, “Oh—I—I wasn’t-”

“I know, but it’s Christmas, right? C’mon.”

Nodding, he hurried to the counter and began gathering what he could and shoving it back into the shopping bag it came from. “Thanks—thanks so much. Should we drive to your place, or…?”

She nodded. “Might as well. It’s only going to snow harder as the night goes on.”

Ten minutes later, after grabbing his food, other necessary cooking items, and his coat, Rick was following Kate’s directions to navigate his Mercedes towards her family’s cabin. The journey was short and she soon was leading the way into the warm, rustic space. Her cabin was significantly larger than the one he was renting. The living space was more expansive and from the length of the hall he could see in the rear, he guessed it had three bedrooms not just two. Unlike his cabin, which was decorated with mostly generic fishing or rustic décor, this was clearly a family cabin with knickknacks and family photos adding to the warmth.

“Oh, wow this is really nice.”

Kate shrugged as she took off her coat, “It isn’t much…mostly just a little escape.”

“Yeah, but it’s still great—homey.” He smiled at her for a few seconds then put his grocery bags down while he took off his coat, too. “Well, uh, I won’t take up too much of your time. Can I make you something, too? As a thank you.”

“Oh, um…” she hesitated for a moment then threw her hands out to the side in a ‘giving up’ gesture. “Sure, why not. I saw you had chicken and vegetables…”

“Yeah, I was going to put them all together in a stir fry.”

“I have some rice to make.”

“Perfect!”

For the next few minutes they both busied themselves in the tight kitchen. It was a delicate dance as there was not too much counter space around the stove, even though it did seem, as Kate had implied, that the space had been renovated recently. They managed it well enough, and after Kate started the rice, Rick chopped the vegetables and dumped them into the skillet before turning to the chicken cutlets and slicing them as well.

“So, tell me Kate, what is it that you do?”

“I’m a police officer.”

His brow arched as he pushed the chicken off the cutting board and into the pan. “Really? So you’re used to saving people in distress?”

She laughed airily. “Something like that.”

He washed his hands at the kitchen sink and then, after turning off the water, he told her. “I’m an author.”

“I know.”

Startled by her words, he did a double-take in her direction and nearly dropped the towel he was using to dry his hands. “You…do you read my books?”

Kate’s cheeks turned slightly pink as she confessed, “I might have skimmed through one or two.”

Assuming her dismissive comment was just meant to be a way to avoid some embarrassment, Rick smiled as he turned to their skillet meal, picked up a spatula, and began pushing around chicken and vegetable pieces so nothing burned.

So, Kate was, presumably, a fan of his books. How else would she have recognized him from just his first name? That also made sense. Since she was saving him from going hungry that evening he hadn’t wanted to question it, but he did find it slightly odd that a young woman such as herself would invite a strange man back to her cabin, which was isolated in the middle of nowhere. Maybe that was just his writer’s mind used to spinning dark scenarios but…well, thinking about his daughter, he hoped that she would not make the same decision in a similar circumstance for the sake of her safety. Finding out she was a police officer made a bit more sense; her training presumably made her feel more comfortable with self-defense, but if she knew him as a public figure, she would have been more likely to feel safe around him—not that he would have ever thought of hurting a woman, but sadly he knew that was not always the case with others.

Feeling in the mood to tease her a little bit more, he said, “So that’s why you wanted to have dinner with me? Because I’m one of your favorite authors?”

When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that she eyed him skeptically. “I’m not sure that’s what I said.”

“It was implied.”

She laughed. “I see.”

Silence hung in the air for several moments before he changed the subject with, “So you live around here?”

“No, Manhattan.”

Now even more pleasantly surprised he proclaimed, “Oh! You’re NYPD?” After she confirmed with a nod, he said, “That’s amazing. How long have you been on the force?”

“Oh, not long. I graduated the academy in August.”

“Ahh well if you’re willing, I’d be all too happy to hear all your rookie stories as we eat.”

Ignoring his question, she instead offered, “Do you need help with anything? I feel bad I’m just standing here.”

“Nonsense,” he said casually. There really wouldn’t have been room for her to join him at the stove; the space was too tight. Besides, he didn’t mind. “I really enjoy cooking; it helps me think and plan my writing usually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, because it keeps my hands busy, but my mind free to wander.”

“Hmm…makes sense.”

A few minutes later their meal was complete. Rick divided the stir fry and rice between two plates and then carried them over to the small dining table tucked in the corner of the room. As he set the plates down, he noticed a photo hung on the wall of a family: a man and a woman with a young girl about seven or eight standing in between them. The photo was clearly older and faded, and both adults wore sunglasses, but the woman had long dark hair and distinctive jawline and the man lighter brown hair and a soft smile. All three wore lifejackets and the lake—presumably the one located just a few feet away—could be seen behind them.

“This is you and your parents, I assume?” he asked, thumbing towards the photo.

“Yeah.”

“Where are they at? Don’t tell me they took a tropical vacation without you?”

She gave a soft smile as she picked up her fork and began to eat. “No, nothing like that.”

“You’re lucky, though—getting Christmas off,” Rick said in between bites. He didn’t imagine that was common for a rookie officer.

“I have to work Christmas day in the evening. And…I’ll be in Times’ Square on New Year’s Eve,” she explained.

“Oh! And you’re…not excited about that?” he guessed based on her tone. She gave him a look and he let out a small laugh. “Ah, right, I suppose not.”

“It’s only supposed to be fifteen degrees out!”

He nodded, sympathetic. “I know, I know; I don’t envy you at all. I’ve done it a few times as a spectator and it was never too bad as long as I’d had plenty of alcohol to warm me up.”

“I’m sure.”

They ate quietly for several minutes before Rick asked, “Did you spend your Christmases up here when you were little?”

“Mmm no. This place was usually my dad’s escape. His father and uncles purchased it when they were all young men. Now, they’ve all passed, and the cabin became my father’s, so he’s the one with the most connection to it. We used to come up here at least one week every summer to do things with the lake and just get out of the city, but almost never in the winter.”

Rick considered her comments as he slowly chewed his meal. He wondered why, if Kate’s father was so connected to the cabin, the elder man hadn’t joined her for the holiday? Furthermore, why hadn’t her mother? Sensing the question may have been a bit too personal to ask with that moment, he decided on a slight change of subject.

“I, um, I think I need to come up with some good holiday traditions for my daughter. I used to make sure I got her picture sitting on Santa’s lap every year, but this year she outright refused because she’s figured out that Santa isn’t real, so she’s a little salty about the whole ritual and refused to humor me. That’s literally what she said to—‘Dad, don’t expect me to humor you.’”

Kate laughed. “How old is she?”

“Six.”

Kate laughed again, harder that time. “Six?!”

“Yeah: six going on twenty. I think she’s already too smart for me and I fear that will soon be a pretty big problem.”

Kate nodded. “Yeah, it might be. Where is she spending Christmas?”

Sighing, Rick set down his fork and said, “With her mother. Last year, we’d just separated, so we tried to have a joint Christmas and it…didn’t go so well.” He involuntarily shivered at the memory of the wildly inappropriate phone conversation Meredith had with her new lover during their shared meal and their fight thereafter. “So, this year we decided to split the winter holidays: I got Thanksgiving and Meredith got Christmas.”

She nodded and said, “That must be hard.”

Unable to verbalize just how much his heart was breaking, Rick tried to stay positive. “I suppose it’s unfair of me to complain. I have primary custody, so I have Alexis nearly all the time, but Christmas…it’s my favorite holiday. My favorite time of the year. What’s worse is I had to send her to California by herself. I did get to take her through security to the gate and the assigned chaperone was extremely nice and gave her a candy cane but… it was still really hard to walk away.”

“I can’t imagine,” Kate said. When he met her sympathetic gaze, Rick did have to admit to feeling slightly better. Still, his heart was heavy.

“Sorry to bring the mood down.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t even worry about it.”

Finishing his glass of water, Rick continued with, “It’s, ah, why I came out here. Being in my apartment without her just felt like something that was too sad to bear.”

“I get that. It’s one of the reasons I’m not doing Christmas in the city this year.”

Surprised, his brow rose sharply. “You have a child?”

“What? No—sorry. Sorry. My mother…died.”

His eyes widened and his chest constricted with sorrow. Though he knew he didn’t do it directly, Rick did feel bad about bringing up a subject that was sensitive. “Oh—oh Kate I’m so sorry.”

One corner of her lip tugged upwards in a sad half-smile in acknowledgement of his comment. “This is the fourth Christmas without her. She, ah, died in January. Just after the holidays and…and my dad and I haven’t really celebrated since. He…we don’t even talk about it. We just don’t celebrate, which is…well, it is what it is, but being in the city makes it harder—walking past all the places where we made memories together as a family. And then this year…” She paused for a moment and took a deep breath, almost as though she needed to reset herself. “The reason I even got to take off work at all was because I had to take him to rehab.”

“Oh god,” Rick sighed, now feeling even worse. There he was complaining about not getting to spend a few days with his kid, who would be back before New Years’, and poor Kate had lost one parent forever and the other was struggling to the point where he was unavailable to her as well. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Kate.”

She gave him an appreciative smile. “It’s been bad for a while. I knew it. We both knew it. He’s been trying to get a handle on it on his own and been insisting he didn’t need an in-patient program, but it just wasn’t working, you know? Finally, I got him to agree to go as a Christmas present to me. Some present,” she added wryly.

“It will be if it helps him,” Rick pointed out in a soft tone.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that. It’s just…hard.” She sat for another moment before pushing herself up out of her chair suddenly, walking over to the refrigerator and pulling out a cardboard carton, which she held up to him. “Want some?”

Even from that distance, Rick could clearly read the word “Eggnog” printed on the side and said, “Sure. Why not? It’s Christmas Eve.”

Kate poured two small glasses and handed him one. At the first sip he choked, his palate shocked by the alcohol, which he hadn’t expected since she poured it from a store-bought container and to his knowledge the store-bought kind was alcohol free. “Wow,” he croaked. “Your recipe could give my mother’s a run for her money.”

“Sorry—I should have warned you. I, uh, got a little heavy handed last night when I poured the whisky in the container.”

He shook his head in as an indication he didn’t mind, but he did make sure to take a more delicate sip the next time.

“So, your mother—will you see her for Christmas?” Kate asked.

“Ah, no, actually. She’s an actress and she’s touring with a holiday production. Their shows run through January second and she’ll come back home after that.”

“And your father?”

“Never met him,” Rick replied casually, taking another sip of eggnog.

Kate’s eyes widened. “Really? Never?”

Rick bobbed his head, knowing his untraditional backstory was a bit hard to process for most people. “Yeah; I don’t even know who he is. I was the, ah, product of a one-night stand.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Rick shook his head. “’s okay. I’ve had over thirty years to process it.”

“Still…to never know a parent…I can’t imagine.”

He nodded. “Most can’t—and I’m glad. It’s certainly not something I would wish on anyone, but yet it’s also something that made me who I am.”

She nodded approvingly. “That’s a very healthy attitude, Rick.”

He raised his glass in salute. “Well, thank you.”

For the next three hours they drank the remainder of the quart of eggnog and chatted about an amalgamation of subjects: their jobs, the holiday season, life. Though he didn’t exactly acknowledge it at the time, looking back Rick was almost stunned how easy it seemed to talk to her about anything. Over the course of his life, he’d found himself having quick and easy connections to people he met several times, but each one was unique in its own way. With Kate, their conversation flowed effortlessly. They bounced around to a variety of topics and then back again without feeling like the conversation was too disjointed or nonsensical. It was all smooth and connected, like she was one of his oldest friends in the world instead of a woman he’d met by pure chance the day before.

Once the eggnog was finished, Kate offered Rick some water since he was driving, but he declined when he realized how long they’d been talking. By traditional standards it wasn’t that late, but he felt as though a holiday such as Christmas Eve had an exception. He didn’t want to displace whatever existing holiday plans she had for herself that night, particularly since she was returning to work the following day.

“I appreciate it, but I really should get out of your hair.”

“Ahh, yeah okay. I…I don’t think I realized what time it was,” she said with a light laugh.

“Yeah me neither. I, um, I really appreciate you letting me use your stove.”

She nodded. “Of course. Thanks for making dinner. It was…nice to have someone to eat with.”

Smiling, he agreed with, “Same,” and then stared at her for a moment, unsure of the proper way to say goodbye. A handshake seemed far too impersonal, but would a hug be too much? Deciding he shouldn’t over think it and that it was probably okay considering the intimacy of their conversation, he stepped up and gave her a brief one-armed hug, which she thankfully reciprocated. “Merry Christmas,” he said as he backed his way to the door, where he’d left his coat.

“Yes, Merry Christmas.”

Now zipping his coat, he reached for the door handle and smiled back over his shoulder at her, “Goodnight Kate.”

“Goodnight, Rick,” she echoed. Then, with a nod of his head, he disappeared out into the freezing snow-covered night.

[walkingshcdow-a]

Things That Happened in the Last Three Days at D&D, According to My Notes

Finnegan’s mage hand carried one of Victor (Trevor’s) molars down into a castle ruin because Victor can use his hexblood magic and own body parts as “bugs” to spy on others. There was minimal, “Mmm, that’s gross, babe,” from Finnegan. 

Once Victor relayed all the info, Carlotta went down alone while Finnegan waited for his BF to come out of his magically induced blindness. This meant Lotta taunted the guards into fighting her and killed one almost immediately, then, looked up and said, “Next?”

Finnegan and Victor join for battle. Victor slices a guard in half. Finnegan, hanging back (because sorcerer and also asshole) is very impressed with his boyfriend’s display of swordsmanship.

For a few rounds, Finnegan fails to hit anything. This wouldn’t have sucked so much if one of the Grells didn’t get its poison tentacles in Lotta. And then Victor. Victor passes his con save, but Lotta doesn’t. Incensed, Finnegan begins to firebolt the shit out of the Grell and critical rolls. That son of a bitch is dead and not hurting his loved ones anymore. 

We go back to fighting cultists but that other Grell is around and Finnegan decides it’s going to be his problem as it comes towards him, except Victor rushes it to defend him and stabs it hard. Finnegan puts the cursed thing out of its misery with a swift Chill Touch and rots it on sight with another crit. 

Victor heals Lotta, who is the only one very damaged. Finnegan? Not a scratch. The perks of speciailizing in ranged fire magic. 

Victor realizes the weird symbology the cultists wear match nothing recognizable. 

We find a study and look for useful things. Lotta and Finnegan study a book call “Retribution of the Ancients” and Finnegan gets to tell the party religious facts that don’t have to do with the Selandrine for once. He still defers to Victor for more knowledge because of course. 

Victor finds a chime of opening... and a secret passage full of a cult sweatshop. No thanks. 

We go the other way and find a room with a very dodgy summoning canvas and dozens of bones upon it. While Lotta runs back upstairs to get the book, Victor and Finnegan move the bones off the canvas and discuss the horrors of the cult. They agree Finnegan should take the canvas to disrupt the ritual, since none of us can figure out how to make it summon a friendly god instead. 

We go down the hall and find a prison filled with townsfolk and the knight we met at the beginning of the game. There are also students under instruction by a cultist. One of them looks familiar - the innkeeper’s son! Victor tells him his father wants him to come home and rolls a Nat 20 persuasion. The young man is ready to come with us... but his teacher refuses to let him. We fight.

It’s a short fight. Lotta kills the teacher and hits a cultist. Finnegan “holds” (re: paralyzes temporarily) the other two cult students and tries to persuade them that if they stop fighting, they will let them live. Somehow that works! 

Finnegan asks the baby cultists their names. One, Tayathanu almost refuses to give her name because she sees it as a sarifice for her god. Victor tells her that any god worth serving will never ask her to give up her identity because that god will see the value of her. The other one, Steven, just came for the free spaghetti dinner and has been stuck here. He’s glad to leave. We try to reason with Teyathanu but she has gulped down some of that Kool-Aid. We also try to heal Steven, but we’re not good at it, so Victor tells the innkeeper’s son to take everyone to the healer. Lotta opens the cell with the chime of opening. 

Finnegan recognizes one of the women as the mayor’s sister, Yaeda and she probably has pneumonia and is #Done with this shit. He tells her that her sister is waiting for her and she says, “No doubt with a lecture.” Lotta accuses her of being pregnant with the cult leader’s baby. She (probably?) is not but is definitely insulted. 

As they go through the halls, Victor keeps finding rooms full of bones. Somewhat petulantly, Finnegan says he doesn’t want to go into another bloody room of bones - mostly because he’s carrying the summoning canvas. However, it almost sounds like he thinks Victor trying to perform funeral rites isn’t worthwhile so they squabble. Finnegan has instant regrets, but what’s he gonna do? Overexplain and apologize? Of course not. Instead, he snarks with Lotta in the hall, asking what witty one-liners she plans to use when she kills Vialis. 

The go into a small room and find chests filled with weapons and personal artifacts from the prisoners. Victor takes Sir Veckan’s longsword, the money, and the fancy earrings. 

In the hall, Finnegan invokes his Inspiring Leader Feat and tells the other two essentially that they are badass and there is no one he’d rather kill cultists with. (I didn’t write down what he said). This gives everyone temporary hit points. 

Lotta invokes her Master of Intrigue Feat to disguise herself as a cultist.

Finnegan makes himself and Victor invisible and then sends him a quiet message: “I’m sorry.” Victor finds his hand and holds it in the quiet before battle. 

Finnegan and Lotta stealthed into the "chapel”. Victor went unnoticed by the sheer distraction of the cult leader and his followers. 

Victor shoves a long sword into Lord Vialis, the cult leader. Lotta shanks Vialis. Finnegan shoots scorching ray at Lord Vialis, a Grell, and Faerl, his archenemy who wanted to byuy his house. Vialis is barely standing and Faerl passes out. 

The fight continues until Vialis stuns the party, blinding Lotta in the process.

The effects of the stunning wear of and Finnegan casts scorch ray at the fanatics and Faerl and kills Faerl. He then turns to the cultists and grins menacingly. “That was satisfying,” he says. “Don’t try me.” He successfully intimidates them. 

The battle continues for a few rounds. Lotta stabs Lord Vialis with her rapier and pins him to his own altar. “This is for Sarah,” she hisses. “Sarah?” he sputters and then dies. 

The cultists and grells continue to fight the party, even without a leader and are shown no mercy. 

When the enemies are nothing but blood and corpses, Finnegan takes Faerl’s hat as a spoil of war and heads north. As he leans against a wall, hoping to look cool for his boyfriend, Lotta rings the chime of opening and he falls backwards into a library. Everyone sees him look like an idiot. Then, Lotta and Victor explore another secret library that opened up. The find Vialis’ journals and his family’s ashes, which he’d been using as an arcane focus. Finnegan finds books. 

Over the next few days, there are celebrations in Greenfast for those who have been freed from the cult. While the party clean out the libraries for interesting books, Finnegan asks Victor about vacationing in Greenfast one day and they joke about building a summer home. Funerals are held for those sacrificed by Vialis. Then, upon returning to Waterdeep, the party hosts a funeral for Sarah and the Yellowcrests. Their ghosts appear to say silent thank yous.

Victor says to the party, “If anyone should ask what happened, we shall tell them the greatest story of how Sir Veckan of the Broken Helm defeated the Cult of the Burnt Tongue.” and Lotta and Finnegan, who have too much vested interest in no looking like they killed a Waterdhavian noble eagerly agree. 

@professor-of-predators - DM

 @tinfoiltemplar​ - Victor Trevor

@dirusso - Carlotta Dirusso

@walkingshcdow - Finnegan Silverguard

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 56

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Peach led the way towards the bunker. It looked mostly the same as the one built near Mistral. Dented in places from the Grimm, a sign that there was nobody home. Merlot wasn't here at least at first inspection.

The front entrance was just sitting open, though. It wasn't torn into like I would have done. It seemed from an open fuse box that somebody had wired their way inside.

They had to know about electronics much more than I did to do something like that. And it wasn't likely that Merlot would have to wire his way into his own facilities. Unlikely but not impossible. Especially if he hadn't visited in a while.

A harsh wind howled around us. It was quickly whipping up into a blizzard. I pulled my pipe out and smoked it. I struggled to get my lighter to work and I sniffled against the cold.

"This is it. But it wasn't open the last time I was here," Peach said. "Well not here here but near enough to see it."

"Stay here Peach. Be on your guard," I returned. "I'm not sure what we'll find inside. Merlot is rather famous for his experiments on the Grimm."

"On the Grimm? Why?"

"Why indeed. I suspect that he likes it but I haven't had the chance to talk to him about it. Maybe that changes today."

I rather doubted it but it was always possible that he was really here. Somebody had wired that door open.

Neo took a step forward and together we walked into the laboratory. Some Grimm had made their way inside and we collapsed on them easily. I pulled my shorter longsword and Neo used her stiletto. I cut down a creeper and paced my way over a hexagonal tiled floor. The lights were on unlike the last place we'd been to so I didn't need to use my soul to cast light on the place.  

A Beowulf came upon me and I easily sliced it and it disintegrated into ash and the usual Grimm goo. My heavy boot falls rang out against the tile. Even Neo's heels disturbed the sound of the place with little clacks. It was as somber as a crypt inside.

I stomped on a Creeper. I easily crushed the small monster under my heavy boot. They'd gotten inside and had started to tear the place up a little. Some of the glass tubes were broken and frayed wires sparked.

I felt a warning in my soul. My sixth sense called out to me.

"Someone is here. Or was here very recently," I murmured to Neo. There were giant tubes and inside them were Creepers. They were frozen in a strange blue fluid. It wasn't glowing from within like the experiments in Mistral had been, however.

It was incredibly macabre, even these monsters in the tubes rather than the malformed 'human' Grimm of Mistral. The chamber we were currently in was tall and triangular. But it went on past these white and blue suspension pods and deeper inside. Large electrical lights were on above us. They must be dust run, this far from civilization.

The laboratory had to be totally independent of the rest of Atlas and Solitas.

A creeper oozed from the blue liquid from one of the recently broken pods. It was blue instead of white but only in places. The transformation was splotchy and incomplete unlike the green ones we'd run into near Mistral.

It let out a groaning noise and crawled toward me and I put my sword down through it and into the hexagonal tiles. The ground sparked beneath where I sliced it up after the Grimm dissolved into goo and died.

A voice was coming from further in. A low male voice from the baritone of it.

"Come on. Let's see who's up ahead."

As I walked I sliced apart the tubes we came across with Creepers in them. They disgusted me. Perhaps I saw a bit of the experiment that had created me in these. It made my blood boil with hatred. Not just for the Grimm and their ilk but also for Merlot. And for whoever was making noise up ahead.

It also, and I realized that it probably wasn't healthy, made me hate myself.

I didn't like me. That had been true before I learned the kind of monster I really was. I wasn't my biggest fan. I hated what I had to do to get by.

Even before I killed Ren and Nora I hadn't been fond of me. I'd gotten what I deserved more often than I had bad luck. I was disgusted with myself. At Beacon, I hated my weakness. I think that was when it really started.

When Ruby loved me I couldn't believe it. How could she? How dare she, an angel like her, love a monster like me. How could she do that to me? It was, in a self detrimental way, incredibly cruel of her to care about me so. Even before I knew what I was I had been like that. I loathed myself and it fucking showed sometimes.

But then again smoking wasn't healthy and I was doing that. I was also hell bent on this path of revenge. Had been bent on revenge for a long time now, between Cinder and Merlot. I probably just figured something else would kill me long before smoking did. My lifestyle plus the enemies I had made ensured that I was probably going to die young. Salem sort of sealed that deal for me, too, by being an immortal goddess.

My self hatred was there. It was present even in the things that I loved and in the relationships I formed with the people who loved me.

Then I started killing people. I became good at it too. I hated me for that even more than ever. I hated hiding it from Ruby when I killed Eminence and her Seifer.

Now that I knew that I had been right to hate me all along though… now that I knew I really truly was a monster… Now that I was doomed to die fighting with a goddess in my brain after she made me kill my team I just had all the more reason to hate myself.

If before I didn't like me, then of late I despised myself.

I tortured people now. I hurt them because I could and they… they couldn't stop me. I'd chosen blood and violence and when Wutai burned I'd thought about finishing the job just because I could and they couldn't stop me.

I wanted to kill Raven Branwen. She'd never done anything to me personally. Except through Vernal she'd never done me wrong but I wanted her dead all the same. Still, I wanted her dead. She'd only narrowly escaped me and I hungred for her blood as much as I did any of the others just because I could. I knew it was wrong.

I wanted to destroy Cinder Fall. I wanted to eviscerate her for all that she had done. For what she did to me personally when she took Pyrrha from me. Whatever could have been, whatever had been supposed to be, it was no more because of her. She took that from me. I was robbed.

Her minions like Emerald and Mercury would have to go too. That went without saying but they weren't at the top of my list of people to nix. If I ran across them and they got got, so be it. But I wasn't hunting them like I was the others.

Tyrian I had killed for so much as looking at Ruby wrong. The wounds he'd left on my body was meaningless beside what he had wanted to do to her. He tried to take her from me and bring her to Mother. He had to die for that. He did die for that, whether he himself knew that before the end was irrelevant.

Ren and Nora wouldn't want this for me. Pyrrha wouldn't have wanted this for me. She wouldn't have wanted me to seek my revenge against Cinder either but damn it, I wanted that too.

I'd chosen blood over friendship in my heart a long, long time ago. Especially relative to how old I was. One year old and I was committed to revenge.

Ruby's love had been too much for my Grimm blackened heart to bear. In my depths I wanted the boot and the sword. I wanted it.

Mother needed to go too. I wasn't sure how yet. I wasn't sure when but she'd suffer by my hand. As much as she was capable of suffering. However much that was she would experience it. I was going to cut her into pieces.

She had her fingers in my brain. It made me want to slam my head into the wall over and over. There was nothing I could do about it. Her claws were in me. Nothing could keep me safe from her. I was born doomed to go through this.

My cursed father Merlot who even now I hunted would also know my spirit. He would know what it meant to bring a monster into this world. He would know what he had truly wrought. How dare he? How could he?

It was all their fault and I hated them as much as I hated myself. I was a sword. I was meant for this vendetta. My power which allowed me to grow stronger with each beat of my hatred would allow me to strike them down.

We grew closer to the voice. A low aristocratic murmur. It was distant in this place and echoing beside our footfalls. We would be upon the source at any moment.

I suspected it wasn't Merlot but it could be. It could be… and then I'd give him to Neo. Or worse or something, anything worse. I'd split his limbs. I'd tear his eyes from his skull. I'd-I'd… I was working myself up into a tizzy.

I exhaled lowly and slowed my beating heart. It wouldn't do me any good to get jumpy. I breathed in and out, nice and deep as we crept up on our target.

This hall contained suspended Beowulfs now. I continued to spear them. I refused to be cornered by these monsters should the worst come to pass. Whatever purpose my father had intended the blue fluid to have on them was rendered utterly meaningless. Just as I would one day rend his heart.

I moved around a corner, and out a blast door. I came out into a huge open room sword and shield at the ready. I gazed up over a series of computers up at a man in a deep navy blue suit trimmed in yellow. He was speaking into a scroll and abruptly stopped at my presence.

He tapped a few buttons on one of the computers and a shimmering barrier appeared between us. Sealing me and Neo into the cavernous room and himself in the smaller control room.

"And who are you?" His voice boomed into speakers that surrounded me.

"Are you Merlot?" I demanded.

He laughed. "No, I'm not mad Merlot. Now what's your name?"

"I'm Jaune Arc," I announced.

"You… you're Merlot's creation. You're Salem's son!"

I glowered through the barrier at him. "I gave you my name. What's yours?"

"You have… you have the relic of knowledge! I thought your sisters would reclaim it."

"You know my sisters?" I demanded.

"My boy," he drawled. "I created your sisters. In my own laboratory. I suppose if Merlot is your 'father' then I am your 'step-father.'"

I stared at him. "Your name."

"I don't see the point in giving my name to a failure . In fact, I don't see much point in continuing this conversation. I will be taking that relic, however."

"Not from in there, you're not." I glared and turned my semblance on. "Come fight me."

"Oh," he mocked with a lazy yawn. "Shiny." He started tapping away at one of the control panels before him.

"Neo, do you think you can teleport in there and shut this barrier down."

She looked at it and shook her head.

I guess there needed to be a little bit of open space for her to move through and that shimmering barrier allowed her none. Some semblances had rules like that. Like mine had plenty of laws. Mine was even defined by its rules.

A gate began to open up in the floor in a spiraling fashion. I hadn't really taken stock of it but it was earth beneath my boots rather than the hard hexagonal tiles that made up the rest of the facility.

From the pit a giant Deathstalker emerged. It was slightly splotched blue like so many of my wretched father's other wretched specimens in this place.

It was enormous, at least as big as the one in initiation, if not a little bigger. It lowered its brightly colored stinger at me and I raised my shield and sword. It slammed it's stinger forward but I met it with the cold hard strength only my semblance could provide. I didn't budge. Back in initiation I'd been pushed back by that Deathstalker's claws but I was so much unbelievably stronger now than then.

I slashed out from behind my shield at the stinger where it met the rest of the white, blue, and black tail.

It screeched at me as I bit deep into its vulnerable flesh and it pulled back. It came at me with its claws but Neo and I vanished with our speed. She backflipped over it, picking at it's exposed eyes as I slid at it hard and sliced at its mouth.

"Neo cut the tail!" She landed next to me and I saw her nod. The tail was now hanging by a twist of flesh and little else. It was vulnerable there. I doubted we'd hammer the stinger into its own head, probably kill it some other way.

I dashed forward and I met its claws. I held it steady while Neo flipped over it and cut its tail off. It screeched again and the Deathstalker reared back.

I cut at its claws where they met dark flesh and the blueish pincers retreated from me. It then charged me and slammed my body against one of the grey walls. I pushed back against it with a heavy boot.

The tail came around and smashed me in the chest, knocking me to the ground. I picked myself back up and met the pincers again with my shield. I slashed around it, trying for the eyes and mouth but it must have seen that trick before because it held me far away with the pincers.

Like an oversized lobster. I tried again to take off one of the pincers. I bit deep into the black flesh between blue and white flesh and it flailed pressing against me.

Neo flipped into place again and stabbed it in one of its eyes. It roared with rage, the mouth parts frothed with spittle and I felt nothing but disgust for it.  

This thing was just reminding me of better times with my friends. Not that I had anything against Neo, in fact I probably had the least against Neo out of anybody alive on the planet. She just wasn't a good replacement for my teammates and friends. She just didn't do it for me like Pyrrha, Ren, or Nora could. You know? It was nothing personal. I'm sure she felt the same way about me and Roman.

I dived and brought my sword down two handed against the claw and took the tip off through the armor. The tail came whipping around and I jumped and hovered in the middle of the air and Cross-Slashed its face and tail.

It writhed to get away from my combo and it screamed in agony as I took its tail off and left deep gouges in its carapace near its face.

There wasn't that much room for it to escape me from. I was guessing things in here with it were more locked in with it and less having it locked in with them. I was turning its usual situation on its head.

I stabbed down through an eye as I fell and it writhed and tried to shake me off. I twisted Crocea Mors and shattered its shell around where Crocea Mors was buried.

It cried and began to dissolve into dust and goo.

I walked up to the barrier that guy was on the other side of and banged on it four times. Gong. Gong. Gong. Gong. I began to recharge my semblance.

"Little pit, little pig, let me in." He began to back away from his control panel. I stood and charged for a long time. I got my hands on my semblance again and swung at the barrier as hard as I could, burning my semblance with it in a wild attack.

The barrier failed for a moment and lights on his side of the barrier blared.

"I'll huff and I'll puff." I menaced from outside. "What's it going to be Mr. Man."

He ran away, the enormous coward. I couldn't believe it. He was just leaving us locked in here. I charged up my semblance and rattled the barrier until it broke. I banged at it over and over again and then I Cross-Slashed it after putting my sword together with the shield and getting the broadsword. But whoever the man with the mustache was, he escaped.

I swore and I screamed and I slashed up some of the computers in my rage before I had the sense to calm down and remember I might want to look through them.

Then I marched down the passageway after the mustached man. It eventually led out a back entrance to the laboratory. I sighed. He was stone cold gone. Along with any chance I had of learning about my sisters.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[wegoingsofthours]

Banished ♡ Hwang Hyunjin (Part 1)

Warnings: Mentions of violence in later chapters.

Member: Hwang Hyunjin

Genre: Royalty AU, Fluff, Angst

Summary: In which an ancient feud causes the split of two kingdoms, each side being left to their own accord.

Word Count: 2.5k+

one || two

The land across from the forbidden river had always been a mystery to you. Not that it was the real name for the river, you just happened to believe the title you provided it with had been apt considering its purpose. 

The two kingdoms had been separated for as long as you could remember, both closer than ever, but distant in it’s hateful relationship. The ancient feud had baseless to you and the younger generation of villagers, however, due to the loyalty members of the kingdom had felt, the feud had still occurred, with the main purpose of it long forgotten. From what you had heard, it had originated from one kingdom having stolen property from the other, yet you hadn’t been sure whether to believe the biased narrations dictated by your father. Since that day, both kingdoms had been separated by a symbolic barrier, it’s visual location being the forest in between the two places, a river positioned in the middle as if to show that crossing over the fores could not be accidental.

The treaty declared by the two nations had been each kingdom were to remain to their individual sides. The sanction for crossing the barrier being punishable by death, considered as an act of treason. 

You couldn't help but wonder how drastically situations would change for both kingdoms, hadn't your ancestors start off this futile argument. You believed the kingdoms would come a long way if they had united, but you had known it to be only merely a desire as it could not be justified in the eyes of the rulers.

The ruler of your kingdom had been a righteous man, who had been just with the laws held in place as well as the punishments carried out. You had been fortunate to be within the village of such a king. The other king however had been a cruel man, longing for nothing but power and wealth. Or so you heard. But you classed this as likely considering the amount of people that had tried to escape from his kingdom. Not a single one of them had been victorious in doing so as the forest had been guarded by the palace men. Although the forest could be used for both parties, it had been unconventional for anyone to visit it, as it generally signified retreat.

“Sir, do you ever wonder what the other kingdom is like?” you asked the merchant who had provided you with your daily necessities, while gazing across in the direction of the forest.

“From what I’ve heard, I don’t think you should be considering going there. You are aware of the punishment for it aren’t you”

“I’m aware of it. I’m just curious” you replied, guaranteeing you would not be reckless enough to go past the boundaries.

“Curiosity can cause you a lot of trouble Miss. Especially at a place like this. And just think, you’re at an advantage to be on this side of the kingdom. The other side of the kingdom despise us”

“Your Highness. Are you willing to take on this responsibility?” one of the guards had asked, seeking assurance.

“It’s for the good of the people, I think I’m positive of it”

The prince had taken the responsibility of guarding the forest, considering that there had been a shortage of guards present to carry out this duty. Although the job role could be replaced by one of the other noblemen of the kingdom, the sense of adventure had been seen as a privilege to Hyunjin, hence why he had accepted the offer. With the vigilant eye of the king, confining his ability to visit other places, the world out of the castle walls had been a mystery to Hyunjin, excluding a few expeditions. As the prince had turned into a legal age to take on an occupational position, he had seen the offer as a perfect opportunity to do so. 

The prince had settled on the back of the raven horse, which had been chosen specifically to intimidate any trespassers. But due to Hyunjin having previously built a connection with the horse, he had seen it rather obedient as he had tamed it to follow his commands. 

“Guards, if you would do me a favour, do not reveal my identity to the people. I would rather keep my position a secret. Address me without any formalities when we step out of these boundaries”

“Of course Your Highness. But would it not be better to bring in  trained horse. I fear this one will not be capable enough to stand still for two long”

“I know she’ll be able to listen to my commands. Don’t worry too much”

The people had not known anything of Hyunjin, despite the fact that he had been the king’ son. His face had not been known by anyone as to ensure that he would not be threatened for the merciless acts carried out by his father. Although his father had known of the way in which the public had spoken about his brutal nature, he had not implemented this in his daily life, believing a King should be feared to maintain sovereignty within the village. The king had failed in brainwashing his son with his way of thinking, brushing it off with the excuse that he would realise it when he comes into power. But Hyunjin had covertly made a vow against this.

The castle gate had become unlatched, while all the guards had put on their masks. It was time to begin.

You had began your ordinary trek through the forest. You hadn’t intended on doing anything against the law of the land, you had just believed the forest had mainly been barren, making the walk easier for you considering the vast amount of people within the village. Not only had this been the reason behind your unusual pathway, you had also found the dark ambience of the forest to alleviate you of any stress you had felt throughout the day. 

You skipped down the familiar trail, contemplating on the various thoughts running wildly through your mind. Although each thought had been purposeless, you pondered over them as a way of keeping yourself occupied.

You noticed the guards standing on the side of the forest, each appearing menacing with their dark aura and attire, but you had known not to fear them as it had merely been an act to ward off people. You had known behind the masks, they had been generic people. You watched as each guard separated to their allocated positions, each horse composed in it’s movements. That had been until one of the horses had come galloping towards you at a rapid pace.

Your first instinct had been to run away, but with the delay of your flight response, you stood frozen to the spot, trepidation taking over every limb in your body, causing a numbing sensation. You had braced for the impact when the horse had only been a few feet in front of you, but had been left with nothing of the sort as the horse had come to a halt.

“Woah. Slow down” the person seated on the swift animal had said in a calming technique. The voice had been soft which had contradicted the dark presence the guards were meant to have, symbolising the man underneath had been of a soft nature. He had chanted a mantra of words to sedate the dismay the horse had felt. Upon concluding his words, he stepped down from the animal, focus directed at you out of worry.

“My apologies Miss. Did she hurt you?” the figure asked. Even though a mask was worn on his face, you could tell he had a concerned look on his face underneath. The mask had been embellished with small jewels, only covering the eyes of the guards. This guard in particular had received the mask with the jewels as the other members had a rather plain variety of them. He ran his fingers through his inky, windswept hair to tame it back to it's original state. He stood towering over you, from both the heeled boots he had worn and the fact that he had been taller in general.

“No, not at all” you reassured. You could see a soft look in his eyes, showing you that he had been genuine in his approach. You were hesitant in your words, considering you had never met with anyone from the other kingdom, unknowing of a way to approach them, or whether any form of communication was tolerated.

“Are we even meant to be communicating with each other by law” you wondered. None of the guards had been in close range to you during your strolls through the forest until today. But you had assumed that communicating with the opposite kingdom had been off limits.

“According to the law, presumably not. But I could not let anyone get hurt by my actions” he replied.

“You’re different from what they say” you disclosed, the man taken aback by your words.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean” 

“Don’t you detest my kind of people?” you questioned.

“I’m sure you’re referencing the law. I don’t believe in having ill feeling towards anyone due to some sort of distant feud. And based on this conversation, I don’t believe I have any right to feel that in any way considering you haven’t done any sort of act to allow me to have hatred towards you” he replied. You found truth in his words, as it had been the belief that you stood by.

"Sir. Have you found an intruder?" one of the guards had asked.

"No need to worry. She's not an intruder" the guard replied tentatively "I really should be going, it's just my first day and I've already caused this" he said, lips casting a smile to shield his worry.

"Don't think of it that way. I wish you luck on your duty. I figure you'll make an admirable guard" you replied with certainty

"I appreciate that. My apologies again. I'll be off then, it's been a pleasure meeting you Miss. Do you have a name I should call you by?" he asked.

You replied to his request as he mentally noted what your name had been.

"You may call me Hyunjin. I'll make sure this type of encounter doesn't happen again. But do you always stroll around this forest" he asked as even though he had been secluded most of his life, he had been aware of how rare it had been to step foot in the forest, let alone walk through it.

"For as long as I can remember, I come here almost everyday" you responded, noting the hint of astonishment in his look.

"Then I believe I shall see you again one day. But take caution when visiting this forest, you wouldn't want to be mistaken for trespassing"

"I'll make sure of that. Farewell Hyunjin" you stated. To him, the way in which you pronounced his name was of ease to him. Throughout the course of his life, not even his own father had called him by his name, and with the demise of his mother, his father grew distant enough to cut off most communications, besides a few small conversations regarding the village. Along with this, everyone had believed formalities was a crucial part of royalty, therefore adhered to these customs religiously. You, in contrary, had been clueless regarding the societal position he had held, meaning you had disregarded this custom unknowingly, making you the first person to use his generic name.

"Farewell" he replied, covering up the elation he had felt from just the mere mention of his name.

"How did it go Your Highness?" one of the palace servants asked. With the relationship Hyunjin had with them, he had considered the servant a companion and deemed him more highly in this way than he considered him to be working for the castle. Compared to the other servants within the castle, this one in particular had been close in age to Hyunjin, therefore becoming the closer to him in their relationship.

"Very well. I stumbled across a particular incident but it's no matter of concern" Hyunjin responded, as not to go into detail of the situation, mainly due to the fact it could easily be misunderstood to be an act of misconduct, which he believed wasn’t severe enough to need tending to.

“If you insist. Had there been any retreats?” 

“Not at all. I suppose that everyone fears the punishment set up so there hadn’t been a single retreat. Is there really any need for guarding the forest”

“To your father it is said to be one of the most significant tasks within the kingdom. Do you believe otherwise?”

“I just think there’s no need for too many guards to be in one area. It should be enough to be guarded by one member” 

“I fear you may be right. The issue lies in the hands of your father, since he has the most control”

That had been one of the boundaries in Hyunjin’s life. The King. It had been true that the public held extreme views regarding the King, a majority of them which had been negative, however, the views had resembled Hyunjin’s also. Throughout his life he had been told constantly he could ‘do such a thing once he became king’.  And with the contrast in views between him and his father, disputes had been a natural occurrence which the King had always won due to his reigning power. 

Trivial days went by for the both of you. The prince had still remained on guard for the forest, as you continued your regular visits to the market for essentials. After that one day, you hadn't met up with Hyunjin again, as you both had been expected to be at different points of the forest, with your kingdom differences.

"Your Highness, is there an issue?" One of the guards asked in an almost inaudible voice, as not to let anyone in surrounding areas aware of his position.

The guards seemed to notice the way in which Hyunjin would be distracted with your presence. They had memorised the times in which you would step foot in the forest, wandering through the same path each day. Each day the prince would cast his gaze in your direction, longing for the chance to talk to you as you were unaware of his position, meaning he'd be treated as a generic person. You'd been the only person outside the castle that had approached him, meaning you to be his only connection to the outside world. Although he had been through the village numerous times, he'd never had the courage to communicate with anybody, afraid he'd lose his identity.

"There's no issue" Hyunjin lied, clearly unfazed by the words of the guards.

"It's the girl isn't it"

"How did you know?" he chuckled in response as he was not inconspicuous in his actions during the encounters.

"You've been looking out for her everyday"

"Well. I guess it's no use. My father will never let me talk to a villager, let alone someone from the other kingdom. After all. Curiosity killed the cat. I'd rather the both of us remain alive"

Masterlist

[calliecat93]

ST: TNG S5 Watchthrough Episodes 18-21

Cause and Effect: Who’s ready for the ST equivalent of Groundhog Day? Yep, we have a time loop episode. This is actually my mom’s favorite episode so I’ve been waiting for this one XD.So the episode opens with the Enterprise blown up… and after the titles we have a poker game as though nothing happened. But Crusher begins to have deja vu and as the loops continue, so do the others. So... If you’ve seen time loop stories you more or less know how this goes. Though unlike most of the oens I’ve seen where just one person becomes aware of it, while Crusheris the first the others also begin to take notice. The don’t remember everything, but they start picking up on it and figuring out that something’s up. Again, I appreciate the cast being written as competent and not stupid cause it’s very easy to do with this kind of plot. Not sure I at all understand Data’s explanation on how he figured out how to end the loop... but hey, it ended. So it was good. Nothing mind-blowing but very much enjoyable. Any time that Crusher gets prominent screentime I’m happy, but again I just appreciate the cast being intelligent. Also the Kelsey Grammer cameo at the end, Hell yes~! 3.5/5.

The First Duty: Okay Wesley, second guest star appearance. Let’s see how it goes. Which, haha... it’s not a happy episode for him. There’s been an accident at the Academy and while thankfully Wesley is alright aside from an injured arm, one of his classmates has died. Well… that’s sad. That n and of itself could fuel a story all its own. But as a hearing is held, it becomes clear that something more is going on. As it turns out, Wesley’s teammate died because the entire squadron not only performed an illegal flight procedure… but lied about it. First that it was an accident, then that the accident and his own demise was his own fault. Why? To save their own skins. Now to be fair it’s clear that they’re scared, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re essentially lying/disgracing a dead person to save themselves. Even the kid’s own father gets convinced of this, which only adds to Wesley’s guilt. I actually felt really bad for Wesley and I kinda feel like Picard, upon confronting him, was… pretty harsh. Wesley’s actions were wrong, but again he was clearly scared and felt guilty for it. Thankfully he does ultimately do the right thing, accepting the consequences. Hopefully, Wesley can push through it and grow from it if he shows up again. My mom doesn’t like this episode I guess because of how it portrayed Wesley, but honestly? I like it for that exact reason. Welsey isn’t portrayed necessarily as bad, he’s reacting like… well… a scared nineteen-year-old. He made a major mistake, and he paid the price for it, though it certainly wasn’t the worst punishment that he could have received. While Picard was rather harsh when confronting him, it was the push that Wesley needed to do the right thing. I think that this was the kind of episode that Wesley needed, where he commits a huge screw-up and unlike when he was a regular, pays the consequences for it… it’s just a shame that they did it after he stopped being a regular. I can see why some may dislike this one because of Wesley’s portrayal, but I think it was good and was long overdue for the character without villainizing him. He’s intelligent and capable of greatness, but he’s got a lot to learn, especially after this. Let’s hope that he does. 3.5/5.

Cost of Living: It’s another Lwaxana episode folks… yay. Okay despite my complaints about her episodes, the last one’s issues I had was more due to the subject matter than the character. If anything, she was the best part of it. So maybe this time things will be better. So this time, Worf is having parenting problems with Troi trying to help him and Alexander make it work. Lwaxana is on the Enterprise as she’s getting married, to Troi’s exasperation and Picard’s utter relief, and ends up butting in. Oh and the ship malfunctions because it’s Star Trek. So… it was okay I guess? The Holodeck scene was just utterly bizzare and I’m still trying to wrap my brain around WTF just happened. To be honest, Troi is the best part of this episode. She’s trying to reasonable help Worf with his parenting issues, Alexander with his lack of discepline/responsibility, her mother marrying a guy she never met and bending agains the Betazoid traditions that she usually follows, and she’s clearly just fed up with everyone especially her mother. It makes her such a joy to watch, haha! Lwaxana was… alrigh. On the one hand, it ws not at all her place to butt into the whole Alexander situation especially since Troi was handling it. On the other hand, the episode does go more into how lonely Lwaxana is and make her manhunting/desire tog et married more sympathetic. Te previous episodes always played it mainly as a joke/a condition of her species at her age, but it never allowed her to actually delve into why she’s so desperate. How she’s fears rowing older and being all alone without someone to love her… and gosh I’ve absoluteley seen this before and it’s just sad. Consideirng that this came out the same year that Gene Roddenberry, majel Barret’s husband and of course as we know the franchise creator, has passed… I can only imagine how rough this had to be for the poor woman. But if she wad channeling that into her performance, she did a fantastic job. Also Lwaxana’s fiance? He was played by freakin’ Tony Jay. The man is a freakin’ legend the voice acting world (probably best known as Frollo in Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame, by far his darkest performance yet probably his best) and it’s the first time I’ve seen him in a live aciton role. He plays a snobish asshole and obviousy the marriage falls through in the end, but he made the episode worth it! So yeah, I’m still not a big Lwaxana fan but they are trying to add more to her and overall it was fine. It’s not great, for example the Enterprise’s plot felt tacked on to fill in the runtime, the pacing was rouh, and the storylines were not at all balanced out well. But it was overall fine, though i think Half a Life did her better. Troi, some legit Lwaxana development, and getting an appearance by Tony Jay made it worth it XD 2/5.

The Perfect Mate: While preparing for a peace treaty, the Enterprise picks up two Ferengi, one of which messes with the cargo, and releases a young woman named Kamala, a mutant amongst her kind whose abilities let her become the perfect mate for any man, from suspended animation. She was meant to stay that way until the ceremony... and was meant to be a ‘gift’ to one of the sides. Yeah... that’s not at all messed up. Due to the Prime Directive, the crew can’t interfere... and we find out that there was a more complicated reason as to why Kamala was as she was. This is pretty much the TNG version of Elaan of Troyius from TOS. Kamala is completely different from Elaan, more composed and well-mannered while Elaan was more aggressive and upfront. Looking back I do feel I was too harsh in calling Elaan a brat considering the conditions she was under, but the episode certainly didn’t give he much sympathy from anyone (aside from Kirk) while they do better calling out the arrangement here. Then again it’s been months since I watched the episode so I may be remembering wrong. But it does ultimately end with Kamala entering an unhappy marriage, but she bonds with Picard and ends up acting as his perfect mate, so... hope that goes well. The whole empath/metamorph thing felt necessary as well, you didn’t need a reason to make men attracted to her for this episode to work. Which yes it only works on men, remember this is the 90’s folks. I’m kind of baffled as to why Troi wasn’t in this one considering we have another empath, that could have added a more interesting layer and justified that part. But I shall repeat what I said in Elaan when they put Kirk under that tear-induced love spell: you don’t need those elements to keep a plot spicy. The Ferengi we're also utterly pointless. While I feel that the subject is better done than in TOS and it felt more evenly paced... I’m still not a fan of it. It has more of the nuanced debate on the arranged marriage plot that I was annoyed that Elaan didn’t have... but I’m still pretty meh about it overall. it’s alright, but just that: alright. 2.5/5.

Okay folks, we’re five episodes away from finishing S5. So far... it’s only been alright. There’s been a couple of strong episodes, but overall it’s remained firmly in the average range. Maybe S4 hyped me up too much, IDK. I’m still having fun, but maybe I’m just starting to get fatigued from TNG. But we don’t have much more to go, and there’s still plenty of time for S6 to change my mind, so we’ll see how things go from here.

[crearuru]

The Color of Affection, part 3

Pairing: marthadelle (martha x adelle), bravely default 2

Wordcount: 3,662

Adelle had dressed for the cold, thank to Martha's coat, but she was fortunate enough not to have to deal with another blizzard. The smaller monsters on the way to the Frosty Forest were simple enough, but guarding the entrance to the grove was a Goliath; grotesque, massive, mutated mounds of pink and purple flesh, said to be formed from piles of corpses of those who died on the battlefield. This one must be from the First War of the Heavensbow... What was that, a hundred years back? Two hundred? Edna had mentioned wars as something that humans did, and Lady Esmeralda oft warned of how violent humans could be, but her sister was always hesitant to describe in detail their aftermath. Looking at the Goliath, Adelle could see why. Such gory details would've only stirred up even more worry about humans, and Adelle knew her sister wasn't keen on dissuading the residents of Mag Mell from human interaction any more than they already were.

Adelle steeled herself, wishing to take this enemy out while making as little contact as possible. Her sword was definitely the way to go, if she didn't want to catch Contagion. She analyzed where the connective tissue binding the monstrosity together lay, hoping to incapacitate the creature by amputating it without rupturing any of the purple boils littering its body. The smell of battle was going to be awful...

Initiating a surprise attack only after the creature's back was turned, she stabbed her longsword deep into the back of its right arm, and then used her weight as leverage to slice the blade through. The Goliath roared, Sickly Spittle dripping from its maw. It swung around to see whatever had attacked it from behind, but Adelle's sword was stuck fast, and she clung to it for dear life. The momentum from such a large foe kept Adelle spinning, and with a sickening snap the tendons holding together the creature's arm were severed, sending Adelle careening about thirty feet away, faceplanting in the snow. Stabbing her sword downward and using it to pull herself up, she realized the Goliath had seen her... and it was NOT pleased, to say the least. It charged her, and she realized she would not get another opportunity to disassemble this unholy monument to violence, and so she waited. The beast was 20 feet away now. 10. Right as the beast lunged for her, she jumped up, landing upon its "head" (if such a thing could be said to truly have a head as we would recognize it) with a downwards stab. It flailed blindly, for a moment, but it could not right itself with its arm removed, and so, after a minute of thrashing, the beast fell apart, to dust. It left no items behind.

That's one source of Contagion the world won't be needing to worry about anymore... Cleaning off her weapons in the snow, and dusting off her hands, Adelle made her way inside the Frosty Forest.

The paths wound back and forth, though it wasn't as confusing as the Wayward Woods had been set up to be. The skeleton mercenaries did not seem to notice her, and the Coppices were easily avoided once you knew what to look for, although Adelle had indeed learnt what to look for the hard way. Crossing a fallen tree that had long ago settled into its role as a makeshift bridge, she followed more winding paths until she reached the innermost part of the forest. She was tired from her fights with the lesser monsters, as well as the Goliath, but at least she was warm.

Looking around, Adelle spotted the calmagrass, as expected. It was the only thing resembling grass in the frigid terrain, so it wasn't hard to miss. At least Martha hadn't sent her into a trap. That's a 100% success rate on humans not luring her into a trap so far! That surely bode well, yes? All humans could stand to be more like Martha, or at least, Adelle thought so.

After gathering up a bundle about the size of a folded winter coat, Adelle set back to the Serpent's Grotto mostly without incident... Mostly. She heard voices as she approached the cave, and, fearing a potential confrontation, hid beside the entrance to the cave in such a manner as to not be visible to those exiting.

"I trust there have been no... problems, Guardian Martha?" The voice was drawn out, sounding not unlike an instruments whose strings were pulled too taut. It was a deeper voice than she was used to hearing, from fairies or from Martha, and so she presumed this might be an example of a "male"? The voice certainpy presented itself with a mightier-than-thou inflection. Adelle wasn't sure if it was all male humans who were like that, or just this one, but the voice sounded... Snakelike.

Martha sighed. The new Bishop, Helio, was pressing her for details. How he would've made the rank of Bishop so quickly without understanding that the Grotto was not a streetcorner for gossip, Martha did not know, but he was certainly acting the fool. "No, Bishop Helio, there have been no issues." She did not trust the new man with information of Master Gwydion's injury. Helio practically had TROUBLE writ across his face, in big bold letters. But, he was a fellow priest of high-rank, despite his relatively recent arrival, and a certain respect was due.

"Are you sure? Archbishop Dominec says that the Lord of Dragons has to communicate to him through the ether now, due to failing health. It would be a shame if any harm were to befall the savior of Rhimedhal." The man's face was drawn up in a false smile. He knew he was riling her up.

Martha winced. She had been meaning to tell the Archbishop, but was waiting on supplies for the Master first. She could not leave His side to communicate to others His wishes.

"I'm telling you, Bishop Helio, everything is under control. I'll not let anything bad happen to the Master if I have anything to say about it."

"Are you sure that a... woman, of your make, can really do much? It just seems that I should be able to assign someone more-"

Martha's spear was at the Bishop's neck before he could finish his sentence. She didn't have to put up with this.

"Might I remind you, Bishop, that my father was the Guardian before me. I'll not see his legacy tarnished, I assure you. Now run along before you wake the Master." As she said that, she pressed the spear ever so gently against the Bishop's neck, with enough control to draw only a pinprick of blood. "I must remind you that you are to afford your peers the same respect afforded to them by their positions as you yours." A smile, as she cocked her head. The slight edge to her voice softened, the words she spoke rang like bells as she bid the Bishop: "Now, have a nice day, and a safe trip back to town."

Helio's outward composure was cool and calm, but on the inside, he felt a fury that could not be put into words. This rough, coarse woman is in over her head. As soon as he got the seeds of his plan settled into the hearts of Rhimedhal's citizens, he would have the last laugh. As for now, it would be best to watch himself. Martha carried more sway in Rhimedhal than he did... for now.

"Thank you very much for your... hospitality, Guardian Martha. I apologize for my trespasses. May the Lord of Dragons preserve thee." He took a step backwards, then two more, turning around only when out of the immediate range of Martha's spear.

Once the stranger was gone, the gleam of his golden neck adornment nowhere to be found, Adelle slowly crept out of hiding and into the entrance of the cave. She caught a glance of chestnut hair round a corner into the cavern, and as she quickened her pace, accidentally kick a loose pebble.

Martha, thinking Helio may have come back to harangue her some more, turned on her heel, prepared to give a "lecture" of her own, when she saw Adelle's startled face looking back at her. Martha eased her grip on her spear, and the irritation writ upon her face was quickly cast away in favor of the familiar smile Adelle knew.

"What was that all about, Martha? Who was that?"

Ugh. Martha didn't want to think about the Bishop a moment longer than neccessary. Leading Adelle back towards Master Gwydion's chamber, she figured she owed at least some explanation. "Just a pain in my rear, questioning me because he's got it in his head that he needs to make some big, sweeping changes now that he's got himself appointed Bishop. At least he took a break from rambling on about the 'fairy menace' he's always playing up to the townsfolk. 'Menace' my ass. No one's seen a fairy in hundreds of years!"

Adelle's lips were drawn taut. So, there were humans that still hated fairies. It's true no fairies had left Mag Mell in centuries, save for... the Queen, but humans truly called fairies a menace? At least Martha seemed not to put too much stock in that belief...

"Despite being a mercenary, I haven't travelled all that much yet. Is this 'fairy menace' something most settlements believe is a problem?" Adelle did her best to keep her voice steady. She seemed to be doing a pretty good job...

"Oh, heavens no! It's a load of rubbish that most nations don't put any stock into. When Helio started bringing it up to the town, he had Archbishop Dominec eating out of the palm of his hand. Made him Bishop soon enough. Though, I'm certain he must have other qualities that make him suitable for the position. It's just... strange, is all. Him being promoted so quickly, I mean. I know I've mostly kept to myself in this sacred place, all these years, but you'd think I would've met Helio while I still lived in the capital, while my father tended the Grotto. Never heard the name 'til he started making a stir of things."

Martha didn't say this, but she had read up on fairies, as a child. The children in town used to play games involving 'flight' that had to be shut down pretty quickly. Said they wanted to fly like fairies, whose grace was said to be otherworldly. Oh, Galahad sure was entertaining, being so stern when his sister Gladys would jump down the stairs. Until the incident with their parents, Martha remembered having fun with the rest of them...

It was a shame, truly. There were rumors of a cloaked figure, dagger in hand, lurking around the property. But their parents didn't make it. Throats slashed, in their sleep, red rivers running out the door and down the stairs. Galahad and Gladys had been out late that night, playing fairies, jumping off of forts of packed snow, into the fresh white mounds below. The poor dears came back only to find that accursed trail. They alerted the guards, who followed it, but then when they saw it came out the open door of their home... Galahad was sent away. Gladys was still in town, but...

The children stopped playing fairies after that. It was around that timeframe Martha's da died, and she moved out to Serpent's Grotto. She heard from Gladys once in a while. That someone was putting posters of fairies up around town. More disappearances. They had stopped, about a decade ago. Martha hoped the town was safe again. It should be, right? With more priests to keep the peace?

Adelle, for her part, was too consumed in thought of her own to interrupt Martha's long, contemplative pause. Were humans still afraid? Would they kill her if they knew? Would they kill her if they didn't know? Just how violent were they? Why had her sister expressed such a fondness for them?

Adelle looked at Martha again, and she knew. She knew why the fondness remained. Her chestnut hair, her stunning smile, her emerald eyes, the softness of her skin... Though, there was another color in those eyes...

They reached the Lord of Dragons' chamber. Martha made to examine Gwydion's wounds.

"You brought the calmagrass back. This... should be enough. Thank you, Adelle." Martha resolved to dwell less upon the past, for the time being. She had more than enough time to think on it when she was alone; she needn't sully time with company present. It was such a precious rarity.

Adelle handed over the bundle of calmagrass, and Martha set aside about half of it, then half again of that. She brought it to the stovetop, lit the fire, filled the pot with water from the falls in the back of the chamber. As she set the grass to boil, a minty smell began to permeate the room.

"It smells like... Mint?"

"Definitely doesn't TASTE like mint, I assure you." Gwilym's piped up. "The texture of the paste is almost as bad."

"Oh, Gwilym, there's no need to raise such a fuss. It's not like you're the one who will be taking the medicine." Martha smiled as she pet the top of Gwilym's head for a moment, then sat beside the pot, stirring it every once in a while to ensure the calmagrass didn't stick to the sides.

"So is it to be taken orally, or..?" Adelle wasn't quite sure on how the medicine was to be prepared. It couldn't hurt to learn how.

"It can be taken orally, or applied as a salve. Though, to be safe, I tend to give both kinds of dose when the Master grows ill. It's been a while since the last time he took it, though." Martha looked over to Gwydion at that, the concern on her face writ clear as day. Adelle hoped that all humans might be so empathetic. She wouldn't hold her breath, though.

An hour passes, then another as the two sit, both trying to forget about Helio. Adelle told her companion a story about the time she got stuck in the branches of a tree and couldn't get out until someone noticed the rustling of branches and muttered cursing. Martha, in turn, told Adelle some of the details of the children playing fairies. She left out the more gruesome details, but Adelle seemed... uncertain, hearing about fairies.

If Adelle had indeed looked to be uncertain, well, that would be because she was. How could humans forget the conflict of the Night's Nexus, the very thing which drove fairies into hiding? Were the humans just forgetful, or... or was it that the positive memories of fairies outweighed their perception of danger? Could it be that hatred of fairies was instilled later in life, or was it just a recent development in this region? And what of other regions, would they kill her on sight? Was Martha just exceptionally kind, or was she indicative of the greater portion of humans? The man she heard earlier certainly didn't seem very friendly...

"Adelle? Did I say something wrong?" Martha had gently placed her hand on Adelle's shoulder, in a gesture seemingly meant to comfort her. Adelle shook her head.

"No, I'm just... Interested in fairies, I suppose. Is the Lord of Dragons' paste ready? I still need to ask about my sister."

"Yes, it's just about done. A moment, please." Martha had set about cooling the pot about twenty minutes prior. What was once a hunk of wet calmagrass had settled into a white, gelatinous paste, with flecks and strips of green scattered throughout it. She took a handful of the calmagrass she set aside earlier and approached Gwydion.

"Master Gwydion, it's time for your medicine." The massive dragon stirred, trails of smoke rising from his nostrils.

"Is it time, already? It seems as though I fell asleep such a short while ago..." Stretching out his wings, Gwydion revealed a great sore along the side of his chest. Martha set the raw calmagrass on a stone before him, that he might not suffer the indignity of being hand fed in old age. As he set about attempting to sweep the bitter medicine up with his tongue, Martha began applying the salve to the sore. With this, the dragon winced, before easing back into slumber.

Adelle sat in silence for about half an hour, watching Martha diligently apply and massage the salve into the wound without pause. She wondered as to how best integrate herself in the areas the Lord of Dragons might point her towards. Hopefully it would be somewhere a bit warmer.

The dragon's head rose once more, a rumble emanating from his chest into the stone which comprised the cavern. "You, stranger. You have come to ask of your sister?"

"My sister Edna, yes."

"A moment, then." Gwydion attuned himself to the mountains, feeling the snow, the wind, the cold; he was his domain, as his domain was he. He felt the bones of the earth, mineral desposits stretching deep into the mountains, into the stone below. He heard the wind's whispers, the thud of snow collapsing a tree's branch. The trace of powerful magic, having left but not long ago. Yes, he knew where Edna had gone.

"Your sister has been making quite a journey around these parts. Go to the town of Enderno, west from the southern bridge. You will find supplies there. Or you might go west, to Rhimedhal's capital. If you go to Enderno, you should head further still to the south, to Wiswald. She has been passing these 'heirlooms' around, it would seem."

Adelle bowed to the dragon, appreciative of his help. "Thank you for your help. I'll be going now."

"Adelle wait. Before you go, I..." Martha looked to have reluctantly accepted her time with Adelle was nearly done for the foreseeable future. But she had promised something to her friend. "I promised you, if you brought me the calmagrass, that I would show you something. Before you go, I'd like to make good on that promise, if you've the time."

"I may have the time. What is it?"

"We'll need to wait just a moment longer. The stars should be out soon."

It was late in the day, Adelle thought. I'd already be getting a late start on the day's travels; waiting a bit longer won't kill me. Not with Martha, I don't think.

And so the two waited. As the sun set, they bundled up together, each enjoying the feeling of the other beside them, close, and warm. Another bottle of firewine hadn't hurt things, either.

"The stars should be out now. Follow me." As Martha stood, she pulled Adelle up by her hand, the two leaving the cave together, each with an arm around the other.

"Might I lift you, Adelle?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh just answer the question, silly."

"...You may."

Martha swept Adelle off her feet, and with tremendous force pushed off from the ground, sending the two of them skyward. She was excited to show Adelle what the world looked like from up high.

Adelle hadn't thought Martha could jump this high. She must've been limited by the indoor nature of the cave during our fight. It was surprising to see a human who was able to understand the beauty of soaring through the air, not a care in the world. The wind on your face, cold as it was (though the warmth of Martha's chest she was held tight against helped tremendously with the cold, even despite her armor.) The view of the ground zooming past you, the ruffling of your clothes in the breeze, the way the stars remained just out of reach... Adelle had a feeling the next set of humans she met weren't going to have such a mastery of the skies. Perhaps Martha's skills... not, not perhaps. There was no mistaking that Martha's jumps were a result of training with an Asterisk. It would explain her questionable choice of attire, as well. But... she couldn't take flight from Martha. Perhaps the only human she would ever meet who could grasp flight.

"It's... beautiful, isn't it Martha?"

"Yeah... It is. Have you ever seen anything like it?" Martha clutched Adelle ever tighter against her as they fell to the ground, immediately jumping once more.

"You could say that...~"

"What do you mean, could say that?"

"Hey, I've been spilling the beans about my life for a good day or so. A woman has to keep a little bit of mystery about her, right?"

The coy wink Adelle gave drove Martha batty. She may never know what Adelle meant, but the happiness on her face at the majesty of the winter mountains' majesty was undeniable. The two leapt and bounded across the peaks, the Aurora above providing the perfect backdrop to the night.

Deep into the night, the two returned to the cave, giddy and hotfaced despite the bitter cold of the mountains. They wrapped eachother in blankets and slept peacefully after a night of raucous debauchery, for the firewine tasted so much better with someone to share it with, and despite Adelle's remaining fear of humans... Martha was nice. She was sure of it, even before the wine took the edge off.

In the morning, Adelle woke groggily. She smiled as she saw Martha beside her, but she knew she had to go find her sister.

She knew if she let Martha keep her Asterisk, then she'd have an excuse to come see her again. She gathered her supplies, and, despite giving Martha a peck on the cheek before leaving, otherwise made sure not to disturb Martha. As she stepped out from the chambers, she waved goodbye to Gwylim and Gwydion.

And so she set out for Wiswald.

[nymphl]

In the General’s Bed - Regency!Hux x Reader - Ch. 5 - To misjudge a General

A/N - Hello, darlings! Here I am to update ITGB. I almost didn’t have enough time to come here and update this chapter. Anyways, I don’t really have much time now, so I’ll keep things short... I hope you like it and for the new readers, thank you for leaving notes :) I hope you like this chapter. 

Story Summary: The General is cornered… Upon returning from a successful campaign in Battle of Waterloo, Armitage Hux knows he has no excuses left; he must produce the much-needed heir. The problem is, when the two of you parted five years ago, it was not in the best of terms. Now, he may not find his wife, you, so willing as he first expected, nor keen on taking part in any of his political games. [Hux x Reader – Hux x You – Regency AU].

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: Regency Era; Alternate Universe; Alternate Story; Alternate Universe - Historical; Arranged Marriage; Politics; War; Napoleonic Wars; England - 1815; Married Couple; OOCness; Smut

Wordcount: 7764

PREVIOUS CHAPTER *** NEXT CHAPTER

YOU WOKE UP STARTLED.

Subconsciously, your hands patted the side of the bed looking for Armitage. Empty. He was nowhere to be found.

With a disappointed sigh, you ran your hands through your tangled hair, all the while doing your best not to cry — from frustration or anger or whatever.

The ‘I’m giving you no heir whatsoever’ rule had gone to hell last night, as you could be very pregnant as of now.

A groan of utter despair left you.

A click on the door made you shift on the bed and adjust the blankets over your naked frame. You looked up to see Rae stretching the curtains open. She wore a serious expression — not that you had seen any other, but you thought she was even more I’m-all-business than usual.

“I am assuming you told him.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled the pillow to your face. You usually loved bright mornings, but specifically today you hated it; all you wanted was for the world to end in rain, so you could sleep to the next week till you forgot your miserable existence.

Why did you have to be so foolish? How could you just give in?

Instead, you tried to humor yourself by provoking Rae Sloane, “Oh, good morning to you too, milady.”

As expected, there was no answer on her part. Only silence. It forced you to remove the pillow from your face and sit on the mattress, clutching the blankets to your chin. She sat on the ottoman, not very keen on getting near the place where you and Hux had… well… had sex… made love? You did not know what to make out of it — it is the situation between you and your husband and not Rae’s antics.

If the circumstances were any different you would have laughed at her face and said you had used the ottoman, but aside the fact you would be telling a lie, you could not think of joking right now.

“I feel stupid,” you finally said, looking at her face. If you expected to find comfort there, you would have to look somewhere else. Her expression denounced nothing — not judgment, nor understanding.

“For doing what’s expected of you?” she retorted, not unkindly. If coming from anyone else, those words would have felt like a slap, but you understood what Rae meant. She only said what society expected of women like you.

For loving him, you could have said, but Rae, just like Hux, had no time to talk about love. You doubted she even believed in it.

“Is that why you never got married?”

She nodded.

You opened your mouth to say something, but she beat you to it, “You would. You didn’t want anything else.”

It was your time to nod. You felt the telltales of tears in your eyes. You rubbed your nose and swallowed hard.

“I wanted him to love me…” you commented quietly after a while.

You expected her to be keep her opinion to herself, as usual, but her answer came quick and this time her words were meant to hurt, “Get a grip of yourself, (Y/N). Love is not everything in a marriage.”

You could almost hear Hux’s words.

Marriage is not about love, you should know that by now.

“I married him because I love him.”

Rae snorted.

The sound was so much alike Hux it made you want to throw up.

“You married him because your father needed money and he married you because he needed a title. Feelings had nothing to do with it.”

You swallowed…

…and bit your bottom lip to prevent the need to cry. Her words stung — more than they should have, more than should be right.

Because… honestly, you knew they rang true.

Everything Rae Sloane ever said — to you, to anyone — was truthful. Even if they hurt — she knew how to hurt you, how to hurt people —, she never told a lie. It was against her code — whatever that was.   

“And stop with these childish rules of yours and give him a damned heir.”

You even thought about opening your mouth to protest, but her serious eyes kept you silent. You bit your bottom lip.

“I know you want to be the wife of a Prime Minister. Adopting Lux won’t be enough to convince the King or the Ton of your aptitude as a couple to take such position.”

She rose from the ottoman and opened the door for the drawing room. From the bed, you could see a bathtub in the center of the room and your lady’s maid throwing some perfumed lotions in it.

“Now get up,” she said, her lips pursed into a harsh line. “We shall take Lux to Hyde Park and I need your help with a few decisions concerning the brewery in Ireland.”

You wanted to say she could go to hell together with that brewery of Hux, but you bit your tongue. She said that with the best of intentions in mind. Although she knew she hurt you — she wanted to hurt you —, she had only your best interests at heart.

“Fine.” You clutched the blankets to your frame as you strolled out of the bedroom. “But for the record, whatever decision we make together, I don’t want Hux to know.”

The sides of her lips tilted into a small, barely noticeable smile. You caught yourself mimicking her even before her answer came to fruition in her mouth, “He won’t even dream of it, milady.”

“Mama!”

You shrugged from your thoughts and looked at him. He had his doe, chestnut eyes totally focused on you, his ginger brows arched in confusion. You had been playing quoits for the past half-hour — Lux did not leave any room for you and Rae to have a decent conversation, which frustrated you —, but you have spaced out more than once.

“I’m sorry, Little Lord, I got carried out,” you replied, patting his hair lovingly. He giggled a bit, before putting on a serious façade. He held your hands between his, much smaller and chubby ones, getting you away from his head, “Oh, right!” You smiled. “You’re a grown up and grown-ups don’t have their hair messed up by another grown-up.”

He nodded, very much focused on your fingers. You tilted your head a little, recalling how he used to hold onto them for dear life when he was but a few days old. It was still weird to think four years had gone by since you first held him in your arms and lulled him to sleep. 

“And neither they call someone their mama.” Rae stated, her dark eyes thoroughly focused on you. Her hawk-like attention made you shiver and drop Lux’s hands immediately.

“They… don’t?” he asked in confusion. His brows shot up, his eyes were very much widened. He knew that depending on Rae’s answer, he would have to let go of his first — and favorite — word in the world. “Why not?”

“Because it not part of an adult’s vocabulary.” Another voice — different and so foreign —, with a melodious and almost sugary accent, made the three of you look up. A few meters from you, casting a shadow over the glorious, warm sun, stood the figure of someone you did not expect to see anytime soon.

Before you could help yourself, your hand shot to your womb.

Your action did not go unnoticed by neither Rae, nor Hux. He narrowed his eyes at you; his face growing somber at your gesture. The first, however, was the one to clear her throat, dragging your attention to the matter at hand. Your hand fell to your sides immediately.

“Lady Sindian,” you greeted in a low voice. You bowed your head, but did not give her the curtesy of a proper bow.

She pursed her lips into a thin line. It was crystal clear she simply hated when someone did not follow the proper etiquette, even if this someone was above her social status. As a Marquise, you held more power in your hands than she did with her Countess title.

You could almost say she was seething inside, dying to correct you in your antics. Hux’s eyes were still on you, intense and unreadable.

“Marchioness, what a pleasure meeting you after such lengthy retirement.” She performed an almost dramatic bow. “I hope you found the countryside to your liking.”

You exhaled long and deeply. She was playing a dangerous game and you did not know how long you would be able to control yourself, before you gave the answer she so deserved. You cast an accusatory glance at Hux, not at all surprised to find his face blank and expressionless.

He offered his hand for you to take, helping you to your feet. His hand stationed at the small of your back was no more than a warning for you to think through your next words.

You almost snorted.

He still cared about her opinion.

The need to put Lady Carise Sindian back in her place grew stronger. You swallowed. You really did not care about his past lovers — you knew that contrary to you, he had had others before your marriage —, but this woman could be as hateful as your own father. If not worse.

Perhaps she was hateful because your father was hateful to her in the first place, but at the moment, all rationality had left you.

The sound of Lux clicking his tongue in a childish manner to distract himself of your tiring and boring grown-up interaction made the three of you look at him. Your eyes grew softer at the sight of him making noises with his mouth.

“Lady Sindian, I want you to know Lux Dameron,” you said, placing both hands on his small shoulders. He stopped making those noises altogether and cast an adoringly glance at you. “Lux, this is Lady Carise Sindian.”

He looked at you, and then at Rae. At her nod, he bowed dutifully — an imitation of a perfect, even if diminutive, Lord. Still shy and conscious of his missing front tooth, he did not say anything. Rae offered her hand to him and he accepted it readily.

“He’s…” She looked at you and then her attention shifted to Hux; her eyes took her time analyzing his face, “got a very remarkable red hair.”

You even opened your mouth to reply, but his hand running soothingly over your arm shut you for once. He took the opportunity to entwine your fingers with his, squeezing them lightly. It made you freeze in place, but conscious of her rapt attention, you did not move away.

Lady Carise narrowed her eyes at the gesture. A small smile lifted the corner of her lips. She knew you were nervous, so you tried to relax in his arms, aware of her curious and so very cunning eyes on you. 

“I admire your attitude,” she started, wetting her lips. “It’s a very touching and beautiful gesture.”

You swallowed, not very keen on giving her any reply, but as Hux squeezed your fingers harder, you forced yourself to speak, “Thank you, Countess.”

She made a perfect curtsy, even though her astute eyes remained focused on your husband. You pursed your lips into a thin line.

“I assume I will be seeing the two of you in two days’ time.”

When she was far away, you yanked your arm from his grasp and turned to face him; your lavender dress floated around you.

“You should have let me give her the answer she deserved.”

He moved his hand to remove a strand of hair from your face, but you took a step back, broadening the distance between you. His arms fell to his sides.

“I would rather not give her any reasons to keep pestering you or Lux.”

“Or Rae,” you replied. “She acted as if Rae didn’t even exist. Just because she doesn’t have a nobiliary title, it doesn’t mean she’s a servant. Or a slave. She treated Rae as if she were a slave, Armitage!”

Actually, she was a servant. She has always been and you knew that. However, you considered her family and you wanted her to be treated as such. Not a lowly servant who became instantly invisible in the company of people such as Lady Carise or even the — ugh, how you hated him — disgusting Agent Terex.

“Rae can take care of herself,” Hux replied quietly.

It irked you.

His apparent concern for your well-being.

You did not need that.

You did not want that.

“I can take care of myself very well, thank you.” You turned on your heels to follow Rae and Lux to the carriage, only to find them already gone. You grimaced. Rae Sloane would pay for that. “That’s what I have been doing for the last five years.”

It was barely an hour after you returned from the park when you found yourself in front of his study room. You raised your hand to knock at the double doors, but held yourself.

You were still angry with him.

You did not want to see his face.

You did not want to be in his presence.

You did not want to talk to him.

However, he had politely asked for your presence.

Not demanded.

But asked.

He knew that otherwise you would just ignore him and mind your own business — which, at the time, involved picking a dress for the upcoming Ball at Lady Sindian’s manor in couple of days. You had no intention of accepting her invitation, but Lady Organa’s small note had you changing your mind and besides, after today’s event, you knew that hiding from her would do your image — Hux’s image — no good.

Breathing through your nose, you knocked on the wooden doors. His voice came shortly after, welcoming you with a firm, even if low, Enter.

You placed your hand on the doorknob and slowly poked your head in. Focused on a series of reports, he did not raise his eyes to face you. And even after you closed the door quietly after yourself and stopped in front of his desk, he merely ordered you to take your seat.

After a few seconds passed in silence, you cleared your throat, “Listen, can we make this quick?” You breathed deeply. You could distinguish the smell of tobacco in the air. “I have somewhere else to be.”

You even turned around, but before you could go far, his voice was finally heard, “I never allowed you to leave.” You looked back at him, your eyes narrowed. “Now, sit.”

“I said I have somewhere else to be,” you replied, doing your best not to snap at him.

“I already asked Rae to take Lux to the eatery in Mayfair.”

You raised your chin, keen on saying that was not where you had to be, but decided against it. It would be a waste of precious time. He already knew the truth. And if he sent Rae away with Lux, it was because he had an important matter to discuss with you.

“Now sit.”

Begrudgingly, you did as he said, taking your seat in front of him. He had a bottle of brandy in his desk, which he opened and poured some into a glass for him. You waited for him to fill a second glass, which did not happen.

You arched a brow...

…and reached for the glass yourself. He held your wrist between his hands a bit more forcefully than usual, making you gasp.

His impossibly blue eyes were narrowed.

“We won’t know until a few weeks later…” you commented quietly, gazing into his orbs. He let go of your wrist and you quickly recoiled it, cradling it with your other hand, your fingers rubbing soothing circles over your pulse.

“We shouldn’t take any risks,” he replied. His voice not giving away any indication of excitement nor hope. It seemed like any other chore he had to perform.

It made you bit your bottom lip to suppress the need to cry in frustration. It had been a while since you last felt this humiliated. You wondered if this day could go any worse.

And as much as Rae Sloane’s words rang true — they always did —, you could not help but regret last night. 

…give him a damned heir…

You rose to your feet.

Easier said than done.

If after your first night together you hoped for a child to be growing up in your womb, this time you hoped for his seed to be as weak as your legs right now. You did not want for it to take root in your body.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice genuinely curious.

You did not look at him as you headed to the exit. You even touched the doorknob, but before you could leave, he was behind you, both hands firmly placed on the wood, caging you between the door and his arms.

It took him a while to say any words, which only made your heart sped at the proximity of your bodies. He lowered his head to yours, his warm breath against your ear as he twirled a strand of your hair in his index finger.

“What is wrong with you?”

Aware you could not break free from his grasp — even if your bodies were quite not touching —, you shifted, facing him. You placed both hands on his chest, to keep him at bay, but that only served to remind you how you sank your short, polished nails in that very same spot last night.

As if burned, you let your hands fall to your sides.

“There is nothing wrong with me,” you finally said, your whispered tone made him inch a bit closer to hear you better. “I am just not in the mood for any games today.”

He arched a ginger eyebrow at your words.

You did not know if he was genuinely confused or…

…if he was playing you.

“I thought that after last night, you would be more pliant to a conversation—

You did not let him finish his sentence, hitting him square in the face. It tilted to the side abruptly. Your eyes widened as he shifted his attention back to you; a fillet of blood tinted his lip. You looked back at your left hand, finding the same crimson color smeared over your wedding band.

“Because of course I would be pliant after I woke up alone in the bed for the second time after you have your way with me!”

His nostrils flared visibly, but he did not express in words how offended he was at your words or your slap. A perfect gentleman, he stepped away from you and returned to his desk. He placed both hands over the wooden surface, his back facing you.

“I trust you had a good morning with Lady Sindian. Thanks to you, mine was unforgettable.”

He did not give you an answer.

Of course he did not.

So you pressed him, keen on yanking at least a loud reaction from him. A sharp intake of breath and nostrils flaring would simply not do. You wanted to make him feel guilty, to make him understand your disappointment and anger. Pain. He had to know what he did to you with his dismissive posture yet again.

“…Perhaps reviving the glorious days of your past with her.”

He squared his shoulders…

…and that was all.

You wanted to take off your shoes and throw it at his head. Perhaps after a concussion he would consider you worthy of his attention.

Instead, you just watched as he lit his cigar and brought it to his lips, inhaling the smoke sharply.

“Your jealousy is flattering, however misplaced.” He exhaled the smoke this time, creating circles in the air. “Now, leave.” His toneless voice was more than enough to make you legs go weak and the tears prick the corner of your eyes.

You wanted him to feel guilty, but all you accomplished was to stroke his ego.

Before he could see you cry — because of him, because you hated him, hated to feel anything for him —, you left the study, closing the door forcefully behind yourself. You had barely taken two steps away in the corridor when you heard a loud noise. It was not needed to be a genius to know he had thrown everything from his desk in anger.

With tears in your eyes, you felt your lips curving into a small, but victorious smile.

At least you managed to yank some fucking reaction from him.

You woke up a good couple of hours later. After that ridiculous fight — which you lost, you were perfectly aware of that —, you felt spent. Exhausted, really.

Heading back to your room, you did not even remove your clothes before you fell on the mattress. You missed lunch and given the darkness of your chambers you realized you missed supper as well.

And even if you felt famished, you were glad you were not there to see his hateful face or endure Rae’s analytical dark eyes over the two of you.

There was a light knock on your door and the whispered voices of Lux and his tutoress made you straighten your dress and your messed hair.

“Come in.” Your voice was still heavy with sleep as you walked towards the anteroom. Behind the preceptress, Rae Sloane stared at you with raised eyebrows. She held a folder closer to her chest, making you wonder if she had some Aesop fables stored there to read for you out loud.

You swallowed, but decided not to give her much attention. You kneeled in front of Lux and adjusted his pajamas.

“I brought him to say goodnight, Your Ladyship,” the tutoress said. “He was worried about you.”

“Aww, were you, Little Lord?” You tapped his small nose, making him giggle. He put both arms around your neck and gave you a tight — or as tight as possible for his diminutive and chubby frame — hug.

You embraced him back, holding him flush against your frame. You kissed his temples lovingly. The moment between you did not last, however, for Rae cleared her throat, dragging your attention to her.

“Your soup will get cold,” she said, motioning for the preceptress to take Lux away. Your lady’s maid entered the anteroom fully, placing the tray with your soup over the coffee table. The young girl excused herself shortly after.  

“I am not hungry.” You tightened your hold around him. What you last wanted right now was another sort of lecture from her.

Sensing the heavy atmosphere, he broke away from you and placed a toffee in your hand. You furrowed your brows, unable to understand his action.

“It’s for Lord Hux.” He leaned into you and whispered in your ear — even if it sounded too loud for everyone to hear — “He is in a bad mood.”

You smiled in spite of yourself.

Bestowing a brief kiss upon his cheeks — which he wiped with his chubby hand —, you prompted him towards his tutoress. He took her hand, and together they left the anteroom.

Rae Sloane closed the door behind herself. You gulped as her words reached your ears.

“We have to talk.”       

It was with some sort of surprise that you found yourself sitting on the bed with Rae behind you, her hands working swiftly in your hair. You even thought about telling her to stay away from you, but decided against it.

She had yet to say anything, and the way her fingers combed your strands into a loose braid made you sleepy all over again. You had just eaten, and the hot soup made you more compliant to get some more rest.

You even dozed off a few times, but a firm tug in your hair made you yelp in pain.

“What was that for?” You turned to face her, snapping her hands away from you.

She glared at you, her face hiding nothing of her discontentment. “I asked you a question.”

“You could have asked nicely again,” you replied. “And if you are going to tell me I was childish earlier, I know that. You don’t have to lecture me nor defend your precious Armitage.”

It was clear she would have rolled her eyes if she were any other woman. If that was not an act bellow her.

“I don’t have time to defend that moron,” she replied, her hands falling to her lap. “But my heart is swelled with pride that you know you were stupid and childish.”

Your mouth opened in a big O.

You did not know if you should feel flattered that she agreed with you — more than a moron, Hux was a jerk and you hated him — or offended that she thought you stupid and childish.

Closing you lips into a thin line, you took the hairclip from the mattress and put it in your tresses yourself.

“And what do you want?” you asked after a few seconds in silence.

“To talk about the brewery.”

You furrowed your brows.

And the next words to leave her lips left you completely flabbergasted, “I need your help.”

What?

“And how could I help you?” You reached for her forehead. She was surely sick. She snapped your hands away harshly. You let out a breathy ouch at her action. “I thought Armitage had Lord Mitaka to oversee his business personally in Ireland.”

You hesitantly accepted the folder she offered. Opening the files, you were startled to see the numbers. In the last two years, the brewery showed a decline in almost every important aspect of production. The sales were compromised and even the production was below average for this time of the year.     

“That’s…” You wetted your lips. “Worse than I expected.” You took a few minutes analyzing the reports she had in her possession, humming here and there as you came across a decline in numbers. The percentage of dismissed employees was astounding, even for a business as large as that. “I was led to believe the brewery was the second most important in the Kingdom.”

“It was,” she replied quietly. “But it was mismanaged the time he spent away in the War.”

You pursed your lips.

Well, he would know if he ever came back, you felt like saying. Instead, you asked, “And what does he intend to do with this scenery?”

Her answer came quicker than you expected, “I am showing you this, so you could ask him.”

You threw your head back and laughed.

“He won’t listen to a word I have to say. You know that.”

This time, Rae Sloane rolled her eyes. She really rolled her eyes. You stared at her agape, letting go of the reports easily as she snatched them away from you.

“You underestimate your importance in his life.”

“You underestimate your importance in his life… As if!” You repeated her words mockingly. Not even her narrowed eyes made you stop. “He doesn’t care about me, Rae! If he cared, he would not have left me this morning to confabulate and gods-know-what with that… Old rag.”

She breathed deeply through her nose. It was clear she lost her patience with you centuries ago.

“That old rag is my age, (Y/N).”

Oops.

You even opened your mouth to apologize. To say she was different, classy and very much young for her age, but you knew that one could not buy Rae Sloane with sweet, fake words. You clamped your mouth shut.

Crap.

“Your jealousy will lead you nowhere.”

“I am not jealous!” You snorted. “Why does everyone think I am jealous?”

“Because you are,” she replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked at you and with a calmer tone, she added, “listen, he was with her this morning because he needed a loan.”

You gasped.

“You are too quick to judge him.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks.

“I am—

“I am not done yet.” Her icy tone made you swallow. You nodded, giving her permission to continue — as if she needed it, “You’re insufferable. You say you want him to love you, but do you love him, (Y/N)?”

You opened your mouth, ready to come up with a reply, but she raised her finger, silencing you immediately.

“I don’t think you do.”

Not knowing what to say, you pursed your lips into a thin line. You did not want to hear her words. She simply did not understand. It was not like she could understand — she did not even believe in love, for God’s sake!

Rae rose to her feet, folder under one arm, and walked towards the doors; gray dress swinging behind herself. Before she could leave, however, she looked at you over her shoulders, “You believe you love him, but you don’t.” She placed her hand on the doorknob. “What you love is this romanticized and distorted image of Armitage you created when you were a child.”         

And just like that, she left.   

You stared at the closed double doors agape. Not knowing what to do with her sudden — and unusual — outburst.

Falling back on the bed, you brought the pillow to your face and hit the mattress several times with your legs. How you wished for a torrential rainy day since morning, you would not even leave the comfort of your room in the first place.

Could this day get any worse?

You had no idea what time it was when you woke up startled.

Once more you reached for the bed, only to find it empty. It filled you with… both relief and disappointment. It was paradoxical, you knew, but you wanted him away and closer at the same time.

Rae’s words would not leave your mind.

Plaguing you with their rawness. She was rude. She meant to be. But she did not want to hurt you unnecessarily. She never did anything without some purpose — even if you could not comprehend where she was headed to with that crudity of hers.

You loved Hux.

Of course you did.

You worshiped the very ground he walked on since you were a child. How could this not be love? Besides, Rae Sloane did not love anyone — except for Lux and Hux himself, but that was different. It was not the same kind of love. They were intrinsically different.

As day and night.

As water and fire.

As earth and air.

Of course you romanticized him — which kind of person would not? Reality was not as beautiful as the fantasy. Any sane person fantasized at least a little.  

You bit your bottom lip.

You were giving Rae’s words more attention than they deserved. There were far more pressing matters, such as Hux’s loan. Why in hell would he get a loan from Lady Sindian when he was wealthier than she was?

He was like the wealthier person you had ever met.

It simply made no sense.

You understood that the situation in the brewery was not looking good. Your father always said that desperate times call for desperate measures, but this was a bit too much. Certainly the numbers were not that bad, right? Not to the point he had to align himself to that hideous, greedy creature.

Grabbing your dressing gown from over your ottoman you set to find him. He was probably in his study room — drinking, or smoking — working on his paperwork. He has always been such a workaholic!    

You opened the door to your anteroom and stepped outside, careful not to wake up anyone. Tiptoeing, you approached one of the windows in the long corridor of the third floor and saw some movement in the stables.

The light was very scarce. It took you a while to identify who was adjusting a saddle on a horse. You squinted your eyes and…   

Fuck!    

He was leaving.

You quickly ran across the corridor — the thoughts of not awaking anybody left your mind completely — and climbed down the stairs, two steps at a time, sometimes three — or as much as your legs allowed you.

It was only when you reached the outside that you realized your improper clothes and your lack of shoes. You almost yelped as your feet met the cold paving stones of the yard. Yet, you persisted, running towards the stable. Towards him.

Breathless, and with your heart on the verge of escaping your mouth, you reached him. Mounting his black mare, he was about to cross the gates. You stopped in front of him, holding the animal’s rein with all your might.

Actually, you did not know if you did it to hold yourself on your feet — you were definitely not used to such intense exercise; running after something, whatever it was, was bellow women of your social status — or to stop him.

In any way, the animal got scared and reared. He yanked the reins from your hands and held onto its large neck to remain seated. He looked at one of the guards, and one of them pulled you backwards, moving you away from the entrance. Other two closed the gates in a hurry. 

It took him a while and some soothing words to calm the mare. The animal trotted a few times, neighing loudly. The General patted its neck twice, in a comforting gesture. Then, he shifted his attention to you.

“Have you gone insane?”

You twisted your wrist, breaking free from the servant. He took two steps away from you and bowed his head in an apologetic gesture. Neither you, nor the General paid him any attention.

Walking back towards the mare, you caressed her muzzle slightly, letting her smell you. When the animal neighed appreciatively, you muttered a low, “Sorry, big girl. It was never my intention to scare you.” To your husband, you merely said under your breath, “Also I am not insane.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, moving the animal aside. He gestured for the guards to open the gates once again, but you held his wrist.

Not keen on causing a scene, he broke free from your grasp — using the same technique you used on the guard; he had been the one to teach you that after all — and merely said, “Go back to sleep. Whatever you want to say can wait till tomorrow morning.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks.

“If you leave, I swear to God, Amirtage, I will get another horse and follow you. Dressed. Like. This.”

He glared at you…

…but did nothing else. He did not leave. He did not say he agreed to talk to you. He knew you fairly well by now to know you would follow him, unclothed as you were.

“Where are you going?” you asked, only to receive no answer. You arched your brows and pressed the matter, “I want to go with you.”

“You are not going (Y/N),” he replied, his patience wearing thin. “Now, move.”

You glared at him.

“Give me your coat,” you said to the same guard who had moved you away from the gates. He looked at you and then at the General, not knowing what to do. “That’s an order!” He started peeling his coat slowly, as if too stunned to act more quickly. “Now, remove your trousers as well.”

“Y-Your Ladyship!” His voice was no more than a shocked shriek. He continued to look frantically between you and the General, at loss for words.

Hux’s nostrils flared.

“Go get dressed,” he told you. “You have ten minutes.” A small smile curved your lips. You had won this battle at least. “I will leave you behind if you don’t return in this timeframe.”

To the scared guard — you would have to make it up to him one of these days —, you said, “Keep an eye on him. If he leaves before I return, you can shoot him.”

The General did not say where you were headed to. He simply set a quick pace over his black mare, forcing you to hold onto his arms around you more forcefully.

Although you could ride as easily as you could breath, you decided not to get a horse for yourself. Instead, you decided to ride with your husband. Your back was to his chest and his breath was directly to your ears.

Needless to say, he was rather displeased when you decided to sit astride the mare, like he did — like a man, what a scandal! — but he did nothing to stop you. Instead, he set a punishing pace over his old companion, expecting you to beg him to go slower.

It only made you laugh.

The wind messed your unkept hair and castigated your face — the ear that was not on the receiving end of his warm breath was about to falling off —, but you would be damned before you begged him to stop.

The faster his mare went, the harder you laughed.

After a while, he brought the animal to a stop. You heard the water running before you saw it. It took you a few seconds to realize he had brought you to Hyde Park. You were currently in a far corner of the park. The moon high up in the sky was reflected over the Serpentine lake, shyly illuminating the scenery.

He dismounted and offered you one of his hands, the other moved to your waist, helping you down. Armitage even tried to break apart at the same moment, but you tightened your hold onto his shoulders, keeping your body close to his.

His warm breath fanned your face, but he said nothing. You could smell both tobacco and whisky. It was not that strong; more of a lingering scent. 

“I am sorry,” you whispered after a while.

Now — after being lectured by Rae and thinking your earlier fight through — you knew that besides having had only a business reunion with Lady Sindian — he could not blame you for keep thinking… —, you knew what he meant when he said the words pliant and last night in the same sentence.

He never meant it in a… sexual way. It was about your conversation and the fact you had opened up to each other last night.

Your heart was heavy with guilty. If only you had thought before snapping at him. If only he had left you a note...

“I am sorry I snapped at you,” you said quietly. “But you have to understand it’s highly traumatizing for me to wake up alone in our bed.”

Hux took the opportunity to break apart and put a few steps between you. He walked towards the lake, watching the calm water with his arms folded at his chest. The mare, called Millicent — a homage to his old tabby cat that died a few days before your wedding —, far too well trained, merely grazed the grass and occasionally neighed happily.

Stepping towards him, you took your time to stare at the moon through the lake. But before you could get closer, you stopped on your tracks as his bluish eyes set on you, “Care to explain your childish behavior?”

You rolled your eyes, which made him inhale sharply.

Clearly, if you were a child, he was far from the fun adult stereotype.

“Why didn’t you tell me about getting a loan with Lady Sindian?”

He snorted.

“I am impressed Rae did not tell you sooner.”

You felt highly offended at his cruel words. Not for yourself, but for Rae. She did not deserve such harsh treatment from him.

This time, his cold stare was not sufficient to make you stop. You walked to him, stopping right in front of him, invading his personal space. If he stepped back, he would only prove he was intimidated by someone smaller than him, younger than him, more of a child than him.

“Believe it or not, she is very loyal to you.”

He did not say anything to that.

He knew the truth.

He may not want to acknowledge it, but he knew.     

Deep down, he knew.

“She came to me about the brewery…” you started, folding your arms at your chest as well. It was a chilly night, and in your hurry to get to him before his ten-minute mark, you forgot to get a mantle.

Always the gentleman, he removed his own and placed it over your shoulders. This time, he did not retreat. He held onto the lapels of his mantle, keeping you close as he whispered, “I wasn’t aware you were an expert.”

You glared at him, but instead of removing his hands from you, you directed yours to his face. If he wanted to intimidate you, he would have to try harder.

“You underestimate me, my Lord.”

When he did not give you a reply, you continued, “You said I am someone entirely different since you left.” You wetted your bottom lip. “You’re right. I have changed, but you have changed as well.”

He did not give you an answer. He removed both hands from his mantle, letting them fall to his sides. You even thought about mimicking him, but you wanted his complete attention. You brushed your fingers against his cheeks, removing a strand of ginger hair from his eyes.

“After you left, I began taking lessons to understand more of your business, in case… you know, I became a widow.”

He nodded, prompting you to continue.

“However, I learned you left someone to take care of the brewery in your pla—

“Rae had total—

“Rae understand about Wars, not about business,” you cut him off, receiving a glare from him. He removed your hand from his face. “At any rate, she was busy taking care of Lux. Like I said, his mother died a few hours after his birth and I didn’t know what to do with a child. Besides, I had to return to my father. We didn’t want him to suspect Lux was well and alive.”

Hux remained in silence for a moment. Calmer now, he brought your hand to his lips, bestowing upon it the briefest of kisses.

His small gesture had your heart accelerating.

“How did Poe come to be Lux’s father?”

You tried to pull your hand away from him, but he held onto you firmly. A gasp left you when he brought his lips to the inside of your wrist, kissing it softly.

“I will tell if you tell why you asked for that old rag’s money.”

His eyes darkened at your words. His caresses stopped instantly.

He let go of your wrist, letting it fall limply to your sides.

A sigh left you. You were back to square one.

Way to go, (Y/N)!

“I just don’t understand. It simply makes no sense,” you started, holding his hands between yours. You shook your head, as if to indicate your confusion, “You have more money than she has, that’s why my father married me off to you instead of taking her as his wife.”

He arched his brows.

It was as if he did not expect such reasoning from you. Whenever you talked about your marriage, you always spoke of it as a union of love — even when he clearly said that love had no space in a marriage. It was probably a surprise to see you talking about it like a reasonable adult.

Being grown-up sucks, you thought to yourself. If only Lux knew, he wouldn’t trade his childhood for nothing in this world. 

Recalling his words, you reached out for the toffee you kept inside your corset. Hux’s eyes darkened at your action. You placed in his hand, closing his fingers around it.

“Lux said you were in a bad mood.”

He snorted, but tightened his hold over it all the same.  

“Anyways,” you began again, dragging his attention back to the topic at hand, “she won’t leave you alone if you allow her to lend you any money. Besides, you know she believes you’re still pining after her.” You bit the inside of your cheeks, unsure where to go after that. You had not planned that far.

He tilted your chin upwards, his thumb eased your bottom lip.

“I am not pining after her.” His words, coupled with how his warm breath caressed your face, sent a shiver down your spine. He pulled your closer, and you stood on your toes so you could brush your lips against his. He broke apart before you could manage that. A defeated sigh left you.

“I’m sure we can find another way,” you whispered, holding tightly onto his hand. If he would not let you kiss him…

“We?” he asked; brows arched in surprise. He brushed his nose against yours, his lips skimming against your jaw with purpose, but he never placed them over yours. It was getting increasingly difficult to have a straight conversation with him at this point. He took your earlobe between his teeth, applying some pressure. A moan of both pleasure and frustration left you. “What do you mean by we?”

You swallowed.

“We’re married, Armitage. It’s time we start acting as such.” You pursed your lips into a thin line. It was time you started acting like the adult you were. If Rae and even he himself always accused you of being childish, it was probably because you behave like that most of times. “We won’t accomplish nothing if we keep fighting every second.”

He broke apart from you.

You were a bit dizzy after his ministrations.

“You are right,” he conceded. “But I have to take her offer.”

“Why?” Your eyes were widened. “Goddammit, Amirtage, haven’t you heard a word of what I just said?”

Holding onto your chin, he brushed his lips against yours. Finally giving you the kiss you yearned so much for since this conversation took a flirtatious turn. He did not linger more than a few seconds, but it was sufficient to make you hum in contentment. 

“I did, my dear wife,” he said, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You sighed. He ran the back of this forefinger over the side of your neck, making you shiver. You bit your bottom lip when he enclosed his hand around your throat — just like he did last night, while making love to you. The mere remembrance made you weak on the knees, “but my damned father made sure I will only have access to the total sum of my inheritance only when I have an heir of my own.”

A/N - And that will be all for today! I’ll see you next Thursday!

[mwub]

This chapter was so hard to write, it’s kinda dark and I want to get it right so sorry for the delay😅

Also I apologize if it’s a bit rough, this is my first attempt at writing something bigger than a Drabble or one shot.

What could have been CHAPTER 2: Changeling

“I hate you, I hate you so much!” Came a loud screech from deep within a reclusive forest near Magnolia.

”I'm so sorry sweetheart, you'll get through this I believe in you!”

”No you're not, you did this to me.” Lucy snapped as another contraction ripped through her body, causing her to curl in on herself.

At that moment Porlyusica had decided to make a rather grumpy appearance, annoyed at the late disturbance.

”Stop screaming the both of you. Yelling won't help your pain girl, the only thing that will help is to keep breathing nd patience.” She barked. ”And you, keep her calm, too much stress is not good for either the mother or your offspring. So stop squealing like a child and get to it!”

“Yes, Mam!” Natsu replied, his voice tight and dry as he watched his pained wife.

Her breaths had become labored now, each exhale seemed to speak a lifetime time of agony as they pulled themselves from her chest, only to start again a moment later. Tears brimmed her glazed eyes as she focused on the moon outside in an effort to distract herself from the pain.

Clouds had begun to gather on their trek to the witch’s hut, a light rain following soon after. Droplets pattered gently against the window as the hours began to pass.

One, two, five, eight, sixteen? Natsu lost track as he paced the edge of the room impatiently, casting furtive glances to Lucy as she seemed to growing steadily more restless.

Porlyusica made occasional appearances to check on the blonds progress, writing the occasional note and mixing herbs into a tea for Lucy to drink before disappearing again down the hall.

“What’s taking so long?” Natsu implored as the Witch once again, flinching slightly at the icy glare that fell upon him in irritation.

“You can’t rush life, child. Life does at it pleases. When your children are ready to join us they will. Your wife is almost dilated enough, just a bit longer brat.”

“...Fine” Natsu growled, slumping down onto a love seat. Staring down onto his scarred knuckles, he clenches and unclenches his trembling fingers.

Never before had he felt so helpless, so useless.

In the past whatever had hurt Lucy, made her cry, he always found a to stop her tears, to put an end to whatever caused her pain. Whether it was with his fists or with his words he would always protect her. His Lucy.

Now however he was faced with seeing her in pain and knowing he was the cause of it, even if she was being his children into the world, made him feel weak.

Getting up and striding over to the cot to her side, he thought she couldn’t be more beautiful. Lacing one hand into her hair gently and the other with her hand, Natsu leaned his forehead against hers .

“You have to be strong Lucy, for our future. For their future.” He murmured softly, pulling back to kiss her hair softly and gaze into her slightly glazed eyes.

“Natsu I-“ Lucy started before cutting off with a groan as another contraction ripples through her body, this time however it seems stronger than the others. They come in faster bursts, barely giving her time to breath in between.

Squeezing her husbands hand in a death grip, Lucy cried out as another wave came and went. Ragged breaths erupting from her mouth as she screamed for Porlyusica to come quickly.

Within minutes the main event had finally begun. Natsu stayed at the head of the bed with Lucy as Porlyuscia went to work. Glasses and tools clinked on a nearby table the witch had set up for the occasion, herbs and spices Natsu couldn’t even name were being sliced and grinder up rapidly. Most of which went into to a boiling cauldron, a bitter aroma filled the room until finally it was poured into a large mug for Lucy to chokingly drink.

“What is it?”

“Drink child, it’ll help with some of the pain and to help you relax when you push.”

Just like the smell it was bitter as acid, but Lucy chugged it all in desperation for at least some relief.

The last drop had barely passed her lips before the strongest surge of agony that night seized hold of her body.

“You’re ready. Now on the count of three I need you to start pushing for a count of eight and then take a break and repeat, Don’t forget to keep breathing!”

“You can do it sweetheart, I believe in you” Natsu whispered into her hair. Praises and compliments flowed almost absently, from her smile, her laugh, to the way she managed to put up with him all these years. He wanted her to know how much he loved her

“I LOVE YOU NATSU” Lucy’s voice rang, only to be drowned out by a small but powerful voice. Their first baby had finally been born.

“It’s a girl” Porlyusica murmured, gently cleaning the baby before wrapping it up in a clean towel and placing it on a heating rack.

She was a delicate little thing, small smile adorned her red chubby cheeks, her eyes squeezed shut as she wailed. And above it all a small tuft of salmon hair sat atop her little head in a fuzzy halo. She was beautiful.

“Nashi, Nashi Rose Dragneel” A soft voice broke Natsu’s daze as he looked at his exhausted wife.

“That’s perfect, my little Nashi” Natsu whispered, tears falling in a silent river down his cheeks. He had a daughter, he was a father.

“If you haven’t noticed we have one more on the way brats. You can weep later, we need to get this last one out, this one should be easier.”

Eight minutes passed before another tiny voice joined the din.

“It’s a boy” The witch sighed, cleaning off his face and having him join his sister.

Golden blond hair spiked up from his slightly more angular head, a frown gently pinching his face in annoyance at all the light and noise suddenly around him.

“Jonathan, Jonathan Igneel Dragneel.” Natsu said firmly.

“That’s a terrible name.” Lucy groaned, flopping back onto the pillows in exhaustion.

“Hey! You chose our daughters name, it’s only fair if I chose our sons. ‘Sides it rhymes.”

“Alright, alright, fine” Lucy laughed, wincing slightly at the pain still lancing up her sides faintly.

“You did beautiful, I’m so proud of you.” Natsu hummed before placing a quick kiss upon her lips and stroking her bangs out of her eyes.

“I want to hold my babies please, Porly”

“Porly?”

Silence answered them as they turned to look at the witch. Only to find her body laying limply upon the floor in a unconscious heap

A darkness seemed to have creeped into the room unbeknownst to the happy new parents, taking hold and strangling the older woman quietly in a hazy smoke.

Natsu quickly made his way across the room to check her pulse.

She was still alive, for now.

Raising her head with blood faintly trickeling from her mouth, a single word fell from her lips before her eyes rolled back in her head.

“Babies”

Goosebumps erupted down Natsu’s spine as his neck snapped towards the heating where the little bundles should have been.

“NATSU” Lucy cried, scrambling desperately to free herself from the sheets of her cot, terrified eyes locked to the ceiling in horror as Natsu’s gaze followed hers.

A cloaked figure stood stock still on the ceiling upside down, a silver mask concealing its face in the shape of a hideous grinning Fox.

“WHO ARE YOU” Natsu growled, his magic flaring threateningly at the intruder.

The figure only moved his arm in response, moving his cloak to the side to reveal a small blanketed bundle.

“ WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH MY FAMILY, YOU BASTARD.” Natsu roared, lunging forward in an attempt to grab the trespasser. But when he was centimeters away from grabbing the cloak, they seemed to vanish.

Appearing on the other side of the room, the figure beckons Natsu to follow almost mockingly.

Hissing in rage, flames began to lick and crackle up Natsu’s arms as he charged again. However for whatever reason he just couldn’t make contact, when he was sure he had hold of the kidnappers cloak they seemed to slip through his fingers like they were never there in the first place.

“GIVE ME BACK MY SON, DAMMIT”

Crashing through the window with Natsu close in toe, the fox ran deftly through the trees. Thunder clapped loudly over head, light streaking across the sky as rain began to pour heavily, blurring Natsu’s vision slightly.

“FIRE DRAGONS ROAR” Natsu bellowed as he sent a wave of flames after his target, only for them to barrel roll out of the way easily in mid air landing in the tree tops.

“Damn, who is this guy” Natsu snarled as the fox waved its finger back and forth at him before pointing to the bundle in armhold. The bundle was crying loudly now, the cold rain and screaming awoken the previously sleeping baby.

“Why do you want my son?” Natsu snapped, running at the fox again, “Why the hell are you attacking my family!”

The fox only dodged another lunge before grabbing hold of Natsu’s collar and ramming his face into the tree roughly, breaking Natsu’s nose in the process.

“WHY YOU” Natsu choked only to receive a knee to the gut that sent him sprawling several tree lengths away.

A crack echoed in his ears as he clambered to his feet again. A broken rib most likely. Pushing his muddied water soaked bangs out of his eyes he set his burning gaze up his opponent. There had to be a way to get Jonathan away from the fox, there had to.

Ears ringing Natsu ran at the figure once again retreating figure, running as fast as his body would let him. Chasing him through the pitch Black Forest, with only the scent of his child and the lightning to guide his way.

“Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT” The scent was fading with the rain, it was getting harder and harder to keep track which Sven t was the real scent and not fake trails left by the fox.

Kneeling once again to detangle the trail, a Natsu could have sworn he heard his name, standing up again to follow the real trail he heard his name again.

“Natsu!” A crimson haired woman by the name of Erza Scarlet burst from the trees.

“Erza? What are you doing here?!”

“It’s Lucy, she needs you.”

“I know I’m already after that fucking bastard who stole our son” Natsu snapped, attempting to turn back to the trail before Erza forcefully grabbed his shoulder.

“No, Natsu. When Wendy and the other Dragon Slayers heard the commotion they called for me and Gray to come investigate the matter.”

“We found Porlyusica half dead from some sort poisoning and Lucy on the floor as well. It seems she had tried to run after you but to try that much movement so soon after birth she collapsed from blood loss.”

“She’s dying Natsu. She needs you Natsu.”

Sobs began to erupt deep within the mans chest as he took in Erzas words, heart wrenching groans shook his shoulders as he was faced with the greatest dilemma of his life.

“But my baby, I can’t lose him Erza, what kind of Father am I if I can’t even find and protect him?”

“What kind of Father am I if I can’t protect his mother?.”

“What kind of Father am I?”

A slap broke the moment, a sharp sting bringing Natsu back to reality as his vision cleared and focused on his sister figure.

“If you think we won’t find him you are wrong Natsu, I will hunt whoever stole him from you down myself. I will break every bone in their body before I let them hurt a child of Fairy Tail. I promise you that.” Erza finished solemnly,Requipping into her Black Wing Armor, Erza took flight high up into the sky.

“I’m coming Lucy”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Wrought Iron Machine (Part 22)

They are two weeks into the final month before Southern Air Sounds and Azula’s voice is still dreadfully hoarse and she knows that she is pushing herself. Still, she can’t cancel the show, it will only prove to Ozai that he is right, that she doesn’t have what it takes. She can’t imagine that her struggles are going unnoticed; for her last few shows she has done more of their cleaner songs. And for this one she is switching roles with Zuko entirely. Even this is hurting her sensitive throat. She finds it hard to hit and to hold notes. Still she keeps going, if there is one thing her father has done well for her, it is teaching her to carry on until the fight completely leaves her body...and then to push on regardless until the fight leaves her spirit too.

The man isn’t the crowd this time around and she thanks Agni for that. She knows that he can tell when she is having a hard time. She knows that he likes to exploit it almost as much as the tabloids do.

Such news outlets have already taken to addressing certain speculations. They have range from more optimistic theories; that Fire Of Agni is experimenting again, that they will be making an album where Zuko does the screaming and Azula takes the more elegant parts. To dismal ones that touch on the truth; that there is something wrong with Azula. More specifically that something is wrong with her voice. There are even more miserable theories that her voice has already been damaged beyond repair and that she is simply singing until she physically can no more.

She wishes that they would stop the speculation and just see how things unfold.

With every difficult note, Azula knows that her voice is deteriorating a little more. She doesn’t want to skip the encore, but when she places her microphone into its stand, she knows that she won’t be picking it up again to night.

Azula speaks to TyLee if for no other reason than to tester her own vocal strength. There is hardly any power in her words as she asks TyLee if she can sing her parts in the encore song.

TyLee gives a nervous nod and Azula can’t tell if it is attributed to concern for her girlfriend or stagefright grade jitters. She quietly assures TyLee that she will do fine and that, in the brief window wherein the audience is left hanging to build anticipation, that she will have their tech crew fashion TyLee an improvised microphone.

Somewhat anxious Azula speaks to the crowd, thanking them for attending and showing interest in Sun warrior culture. She bids them a good night. It all comes out in a rather unpleasant rasp and she is under the impression that the crowd knows that they won’t be getting a full-scale encore.

She waits behind stage for the rest of her band to continue their encore, filling the time with calling for an appointment with a doctor. Doctor Fing-Sho has an impeccable reputation with fellow musicians. The man has even worked with some of the legends such as the frontman of Wan Shi Tong’s Waltz.

Unfortunately he is booked through the better part of the week. It makes her nervous being so close to Southern Air Sounds. She books herself soonest appointment--a week from now and two weeks from Southern Air Sounds.

That is much too close for comfort. Still, the last thing she needs is to go to a shadier doctor and have her voice truly ravaged. At the very least, from the sound of it, she will be in esteemed hands.

.oOo.

Kuvira is dressed to the nines. She had been anyhow; currently she is slipping out of her heels, Baatar holding her steady as she does so; the baby bump and her altered center of gravity are taking some getting used to. She moves the pair of shoes out of the doorway and begins taking off her jewelry. She slips each piece into her coat pocket starting with the earrings and ending with the bracelet and necklace. She leaves a single ring on her finger.

The ring that Baatar had put there near the end of a rooftop dinner that had gone over well.

It had been a surprisingly sweet ordeal. Kuvira just wanted to talk things over in the loft, but Baatar insisted on a fancier place. She had wanted to question in, but decided against doing so and caved.

She supposes that it would have been lackluster to propose to her--for a second time--in her humble loft.

Mostly they had discussed matters of the band but with a sprinkle of personal issues. She hadn’t realized that she had made him feel insufficient and inadequate, like his ideas weren’t of substance. But Raava did she understand why he had been hurt when he had clarified. As far as Wrought Iron Machine went, directionally, at that point she was pretty open to anything and she guessed that, that alone made making amends less painful. He seemed to have so many ideas and she was willing to hear them out. It helped further that the food had satisfied a craving or two and that Baatar had requested one of her favorite songs to dine to.

All in all, the only hiccup in their night had been the flashing of cameras. She had decided to let it go, under the impression that it was probably a good thing to let the public know that they were working things out.

Kuvira undresses and puts on something more comfortable before joining Baatar on the sofa. The man offers her a glass of wine. It amuses her how painfully oblivious he can be. She denies the glass and notes the look of disappointment on his face. She will clear that up in a moment.

“You said that you had something else to tell me.” Baatar notes once the disappointment subsides.

Kuvira nods. “Yes.” She pauses. “I am glad that you came back.”

“I think that you’ve said that already.” He sips his own wind. “Several times.”

“Yes, well…” She trails off. “It is hard to raise a child and manage a band on your own.”

She is glad that it took him a moment to process what she’d just said, lest he choke on his drink. “Good thing we don’t have a kid.” He laughs awkwardly.

Kuvira raises a brow. “Not yet.” She lifts her pajama top some.

For a relatively short span of time Baatar simply takes to staring at the bump she holds her hand to. After coming to conclude that he isn’t just teasing him he cups his hand over hers and gives her the kind kiss she has missed.

It suddenly seems so ridiculous that she had almost let the man go over a matter so trivial.

She lets him lean against her as they had done so many times before. Much to the annoyance of Gazahn they fell asleep on the sofa, leaving him unable to sit upon it and watch his favorite movers.

.oOo.

Azula rigidly sits in the doctor’s office. Zuko sits across the room with Mai and TyLee is next to her, gripping her hand. Fing-Sho enters with a simple greeting. After introductions are aside he begins with a standard check up. Save for her beaten voice, she is in good condition, not that she had expected any different.

It isn’t until his hands, coated in spirit-vine sap, feel her throat that concern flashes across his face. He is quiet for a moment. “Do you want…”

“I want you to get straight to the point.” Azula cuts in. She doesn’t mean to be rude, yet she needs to know what she is dealing with.

“If the spirit vines have painted the right picture, I believe that you have a cyst on your vocal cords.”

Azula swallows, she can feel tears welling behind her eyes. Logic tells her to ask how it is possible. But she already knows. She knows that she hasn’t quite taken care of her voice. “Can you fix it?” She asks instead.

“I believe so.” He smiles.

It is a relief to hear.

“It will take surgery followed by some vocal therapy.”

“When can you perform the operation?” Zuko asks for her.

Fing-Sho peers at his clipboard and then back up at Azula. “I will place an order for the proper equipment, it should arrive anywhere from two to three weeks from now--most likely three, if you want the best quality equipment--we can begin then.”

The tearful pressure behind her eyes intensifies. Two weeks would land her an appointment during Southern Air Sounds. Three would allow for the competition to pass with her voice still in disrepair. She swallows again.

“Until then, I recommend that you refrain from speaking more than necessary. Don’t put any excess strain on your vocal cords or you might do some permanent damage.”

At this Azula’s throat runs dry.

How can they have come so far only to lose their opportunity at the last minute?

.oOo.

It is a controlled chaos that they have created. A strange blend of brass and classical string instruments with a dash of modern guitars.

They don’t have the luxury of traveling far and wide so they look closer to home. They have happened upon an abandoned and tattered theater and that is strangely perfect for the new, new sound.

It is a jarring blend of orchestra and jazz, sweeping from one genre to the next and sometimes all at once. Hectic and frenzied like the turmoil of having to switch sounds. Such is the nature of their lyrics. The disorientation of trying something new. The fear behind the risk.

The darkness of the theater dusty cobwebbed theater seems to highlight what it means to go in blind. A ray of sunlight filters in through the cracked window. Dust motes sparkle within it, casting an effect that would be pleasant for their music mover.

The sunlight also puts a glimmer on the collar of Kuvira’s dress. She wears a deep green gown that hugs tightly to her figure. She knows that the public will discover her pregnancy on their own so she may as well just make it apparent in her music mover. Next to her, Baatar has himself dressed in a velvet dress coat with copper buttons and a brown top hat. His task is to conduct the orchestra as she sings.

A little over four months along, Kuvira has to take breaks more frequently, with the baby starting to kick and shift with more energy. She seats herself in one of the dusty velvet cushioned chairs. She fixes her gaze to stare out of the window. She is beginning to worry that they still won’t be able to perform at Southern Air Sounds; on occasions the baby will shift in just the wrong way, leaving her short of breath. She supposes that she’ll only have to get through three songs; two old and one new. Even so, by the time Southern Air Sounds rolled around, she will find herself nearly five months pregnant; she can’t imagine that, that will make it any easier.

The rest of her band is mercifully patient as she waits for the ache in her back to pass. Ghazan in particular seems to enjoy being able to take frequent breaks. Baatar ends his conversation with P’Li and comes to stand beside Kuvira. “Orange?” He offers, handing her the fruit. He also hands her a bottle of water. She decides that she will put an end to her break as soon as she is through with the orange. Baatar offers her shoulders a gentle massage.

She is glad to have the man back. Raava knew she couldn’t handle this one on her own. She supposes that she can if she has to, but she certainly doesn’t want to. She stands back up, ready to resume the filming process.

Despite the physical setbacks, filming is easier this time around, more comfortable in a sense. For one, she doesn’t have sand coating every part of her body. For another she feels as though the music and the mover themselves are on par with past works. It gives her a sense of ease to know that Baatar’s vocals are complementing hers once more. That the fandom will enjoy the reunion. That they are looking forward to their redemption music mover.

She still finds it hard to believe that they will manage to finish this video and song in such a timely manner and with almost a whole week to spare.

[the-marvel-imagines-blog]

Madness | Chpt. 5

Requests are Open

Chapter Title: “Thunder in the Rain”

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Word Count: 7,968

Warnings: angst (I mean, when is it not angsty?), new character alert, also some kissing :*

Name Pronunciations: Hjalmar: “He-all-mar” | Aaldir: “All-deer” | Ephinea: “Eh-fin-ee-uh”

A/N: Y’all are my favorite people in the universe. Thank you so much for reading and enjoying what I’m writing. Even if not every chapter is you cup of tea, it means a lot to see that people are leaving likes, messaging me, reblogging, etc. I love you all so much! Also, please note that I have taken and will be taking a lot of creative liberties pertaining to these characters. This will be shown in excess during the upcoming chapters, so I just wanted to give a bit of a warning.

Tagged: @teddyboobear @alledeglyfunny (anyone who wants to be tagged can message me and ask. It’s not a problem at all)

As I walked away from him, a part of me hoped to hear some kind of regret in his voice or anything at all, even. Instead, I heard nothing. He was silent. Maybe I had to do what everyone had been telling me to do all along: let him go. In my heart, I knew what would have been best for me. I knew that I would have been safer and filled with less grief if I let him go and went to Midgard to be with the Avengers and her. I knew that she would undoubtedly fill the void in my heart that Loki left there, as she had been the one to fill it ever since he fell. Still, I felt responsible for him as well as the Nine Realms. I saw the damage he had done to the world we knew as our second home. His suit was black (the absence of light), gold (what had once been my favorite color), and green (his favorite color-the color of my eyes). He attacked the part of Midgard we had last been to together. It was a night of laughter and happiness for both of us and a memory that was now clouded with pain and darkness. He still used the daggers I had given to him before he left for a battle with Thor-a battle Thor talked the Allfather into keeping me out of, as I was still recovering from the last one.

A piece of me wondered if he had a reason. Maybe he truly didn’t care for me anymore, maybe he lied to me all those years, but for what? What did he have to gain from an orphan girl? He was a God, and I was just another Asgardian. There was nothing extraordinary about me. If he wanted to manipulate someone for so long, why wouldn’t he choose someone with more power? I had to believe that it was more than that. I had to believe that there was something else that I just wasn’t seeing clearly. He was still in there. The man I knew was still holding on and fighting back this new version of himself. I didn’t know what happened or what made him turn on me so quickly, but I had a few theories of my own. Perhaps he found out about my secret from Odin that day, but I still didn’t even know how Odin would know in the first place. Maybe he fell out of love with me quicker than I had ever anticipated he could. I didn’t understand, but it wasn’t for me to try to figure out in the middle of the night when I was still sick from the ale that evening.

I made my way up to the training grounds, casting the illusion just long enough to make it past the guards. Once my eyes were dried, I dropped the illusion, finally visible again. I lifted a dulled sword from the rack and walked over to one of the training dummies before taking out every ounce of anger, frustration, and pain on it. I didn’t need to build my skills with the sword anymore. However, I knew to practice regularly to stay nimble. Tonight, however, was simply to hit the dummy as hard as possible to make my muscles sore. I just wanted to make myself tired enough that I could fall asleep for the rest of my life, and if I couldn’t achieve that, I at least wanted to be tired enough that when I laid down in bed, I could fall asleep immediately. I didn’t want to think of his harsh words or the way he glared at me like it was my fault he fell in the first place. I didn’t want to think of the mistakes I had made or the grief I felt over the loss of a man who meant so much to me.

Listening to the loud crack as my sword hit the dummy over and over again helped drown out the sorrow in my heart and the voices in my head that were even more cruel than Loki could ever even hope to be. As I growled, I thought of every moment in my life that I felt anger, every moment I felt alone, every moment I felt weak. I thought of the night he told me he hated me, the fall, when I saw him on Midgard, when I left her, when Tony Stark shed a tear for me, when she cried. There were so many moments, but they all came rushing back as the wall I had built up to keep them away finally broke down and crumbled into nothing. Suddenly, I heard a loud crack and opened my eyes to see that my last swing of the sword had been too successful, as the blade lay broken on the ground.

“For a woman as peaceful as yourself, you sure like breaking swords when you’re angry,” Thor’s voice rang out from behind me.

I whipped around, surprised by his presence. I hadn’t heard him coming, and I certainly didn’t feel him because of my clouded thoughts. As soon as I looked at him, my mind quieted once more. He was a peaceful soul with eyes as deep as the oceans. He leaned against one of the pillars with his arms crossed over his chest. His robes cascaded over his broad shoulders, and he wore a slight grin upon his lips. I shook my head, dropping the handle of the sword, which would be of no more use, “I apologize if I woke you,” I murmured, attempting to walk past him. I was in no mood for speaking as my frustration had not been washed away completely.

He caught my arm before I could pass him, and as my chest continued to heave, he spoke, “you did not wake me, Lady Eva. I figured that after you visited Loki, you would come here,” he said, hinting at the fact that he already knew what I had been up to that night. My mouth gaped open as I searched for any possible explanation other than the one he proposed. Before I could lie, he continued, “my brother has been playing tricks on me since we were children. Do you not think I can tell? Plus, I’ve known you since we were children, and I knew you would go down to see him at some point,” he shrugged.

“I had to. You can be mad, you can tell the Allfather, you can do whatever you need to do, and I won’t be upset. All I ask is that you continue fighting for him the way I have,” I said, straightening my shoulders, “I will accept whatever punishment my King sees fit.”

“Your King will never know,” Thor replied in a hushed but stern voice, “I will not be speaking a word of this to my father. You did what needed to be done, something he doesn’t believe is worth the time or energy. You’ve looked out for my brother since we were kids, and I would’ve been ignorant to believe that you would just stop because of what happened on Midgard. You still see the good in him, and I admire that because I still love him just as much as you do,” he added, “how was he?”

I stepped back over to him, and he released my arm from his grasp. I motioned around the training grounds, “well, I’m out here, so it didn’t go as well as I had anticipated. He’s still hurting, and it continues to break my heart every time I see him. I can feel his pain just as I could before, but it’s amplified.I just don’t know if I can keep doing this to myself, Thor. I don’t know if I can keep trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. It would kill me to abandon him like this. His mind is chaos. He needs a moment of clarity, of peace, but...maybe I can’t give that to him,” I answered the best way I could.

“Who better to show him that moment of clarity than you?” he asked, gazing down at me with eyes that shined like the sun on my darkest day. While every other love I felt paled in comparison to that which I shared with Loki, Thor brought something else into my life, something more beautiful than life itself. He reminded me that life was not about power or status, it was about living. He had a love for all living things that matched my own, and I loved him all the more for it. Thor never pushed me away, “you have done so much for him, Eva. You may not think you’ve done enough, but you’ve done more than everyone else put together. You have sacrificed more than anyone else. All I know is that you need to take fate into your own hands sometimes. Maybe you find that you don’t want to wait for cooperation from Loki or the Allfather. All I know is that you have allowed others to control your destiny for too long, and it’s time for you to take your control back,” he added, “and if you need to talk or cry or scream, you know that I’m always here.”

My eyes filled up with tears, and I pushed them back, having cried more than enough over the situation. It felt like I couldn’t stop since the fall. It was that moment that I made the promise to myself: I would be weak no longer. I would weep over my situation no longer. I could mourn for the man Loki once was or give him no other option other than to accept my help. As my chest continued to heave due to the unchecked frustration, I grabbed the back of Thor’s neck and attacked his lips with my own. It was the only thing that felt right. It only lasted for a second before the shock forced him away from me, and he held me at a short distance. He cleared his throat, color filling his cheeks, “why did-what are you...we can’t do this when you’re still a bit drunk, Eva. I don’t know if this is you or the ale from earlier, but...you aren’t in the right state of mind for this right now,” he noted, chuckling to lighten the mood.

“Does that really matter anymore?” I asked, closing the space between us once more, and he allowed me, ��I want this. Do you want this?” I asked, gazing up into his eyes.

He sighed, “you know I do, and you know I’ve wanted this for a long time. There’s a reason I haven’t done anything since we were young, though, Eva. You belong with Loki, and I don’t want to get in the way of that. I love both of you too much to ruin what you have,” he whispered, his arm snaking around my waist, telling a very different story than the one spilling from his lips.

“What do you think you would be ruining? The rubble of our love? Do you think you can shatter heart we shared anymore? Could you kill a flower that was already dead?” I asked, realizing that, while I loved Loki more than life itself, he loved me no longer, “I will love your brother until the day I die, but he has hurt me so much, I think I deserve a moment of happiness. I deserve to remember the sweetness of love, which is something I have forgotten the taste of for so long. Remind me...please,” I begged, grasping onto his robes in a desperate attempt to let him know that I would not hold anything against him.

He searched my eyes for any hesitation that could have been lingering there, but he found none. He found only loneliness and grief. Perhaps he felt sorry for me, or perhaps he was giving into urges that had lain dormant since our childhood. Either way, he kissed me. I threw my arms around his neck as he lifted me off the ground. I wrapped my legs around his waist, grunting lightly when he pressed me against the pillar he had been leaning on only moments ago. His lips were smoother than I had remembered them, and I could feel the areas he bit when he was nervous. As his left hand grasped my thigh, offering me an extra level of support aside from the pillar, his right hand steadied my face as he kissed me with more passion than I’d ever anticipated.

To my disapproval, his lips departed from mine, and he began to sprinkle kisses along my jaw and down to my neck, a place Loki always loved. As I squeezed my eyes shut, I forced the thought of him from my mind and focused on Thor. When he grazed his teeth against my neck, I arched my body into his, feeling a shiver run through me. As I arched into him, his arms wrapped around my body, squeezing me against him hard enough for me to feel every muscle and every crease even through the clothes. For the first time in such a long time, I felt small in someone’s arms. Aaldir, Hjalmar, and Loki always made me feel that way, like I never needed to worry when they were around. However, she had the opposite effect on me. I was the one to make her feel small, the one to protect her. Ever since her, I had not felt like the small one until now.

With one arm still draped over his shoulder, balancing myself, I grabbed his face with my other hand and turned his head so that he was looking into my eyes. I saw joy and desire and so much anticipation. I pressed my lips to his once more before pulling away and trailing kisses along his defined jaw and down to his neck. His hold on me tightened as I ran my lips along a sensitive spot. As I kissed him, he walked us down the hallway toward his chambers. He opened the doors with his back and shut them with his foot. When we were finally in the comfort of his room, he peeled me off of him and pushed me down onto the bed. I chewed on my bottom lip and laughed as his eyes scanned over my body.

Before I could react or speak, he joined me on the bed, nestling his body between my legs and proceeding to kiss me once more. As soon as I felt his warmth, Loki’s face flashed behind my closed eyes. I tried to blink away the tears in my eyes, but it was like he could feel my hesitance. He pulled away from the kisses and pushed himself off of me in an attempt to figure out where he had gone wrong. I shook my head, trying to collect myself, but I was failing miserably. The promise I made to myself such a short time ago was already being broken as I began to cry, “I’m sorry, Thor. I’m sorry,” I broke down, hiding my face in my hands. I felt so much guilt in that moment, so much anger at myself for being so stupid as to believe that I could just replace the love I received from Loki.

As soon as I began to cry, Thor crawled over to me and wrapped me up in his strong arms, “I know that you don’t want to hear this right now, but as your friend, I need to say it,” he stated as my body quivered and trembled in the arms of the man I wished I was meant to be with. If I was destined to be with Thor, my life would have been so much easier because he would have loved me from the very beginning until the very end. I wouldn’t have felt this pain. Maybe I was just cursed, though. Maybe it was my fault that Loki was hurt the way he was. Maybe I was at the center of his pain. Before my mind could continue down the darkened trail any further, Thor spoke, “I love you, Eva. I have loved you since before I can remember, and I’ve never stopped loving you. For a long time, I wished that you chose me instead of Loki. I wished that you would find happiness with me, but I always knew that you two were meant for each other. Even though it kills me to say it, you and I don’t belong together. You belong with Loki. You always have. And I can’t let my love for you ruin your relationship anymore than it already has,” he said, grief clear in his deep voice.

I shook my head, wiping my tears away as I found the strength to gaze up at him, “you didn’t ruin our relationship, Thor. You had nothing to do with this,” I murmured.

He sighed, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

*Thor’s POV*

I had been more surprised that she stayed after I told her the story of that day, more surprised than I was that she didn’t try to hit me. Instead, we shed tears together, and I sat with her until she fell asleep. After I told her what happened and apologized profusely, she lessened my guilt by being adamant about how it wasn’t my fault. Still, I could see the pain the truth brought her. She was heartbroken, and she went to sleep that way. A piece of me wished I had kept it from her, but it had been two years of her questioning why Loki turned his back on her, and I knew the truth.

Unable to sleep, I found myself with Heimdall in the Bifrost. Though even looking at the Bifrost brought Eva a sense of misery, she spent much time in the very spot I was standing, and I knew that it was because the her fear and sadness over that fateful day paled in comparison to love she had for the Midgardians and...her. She asked about them often, and Heimdall would always fill her in on the health and well-being of each of them. She was always the most concerned about Tony, the two of them having a special connection that I could not understand. Steve also held a special place in her heart, which I could understand much more. He was a soldier and always put the needs of everyone else above his own. He didn’t like to fight, but he did so that others could know peace. Eva did the same.

As I stood next to Heimdall, staring out at the stars, I felt his gaze shift over to me for a fraction of a second, “you told her,” he noted, clearly having cast his gaze upon us when he felt her distress. The two of them were connected the same way her and I were connected. It paled in comparison to Loki’s connection to her, but we could feel when something wasn’t quite right.

I nodded my head, “I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t keep it from her any longer. She deserved to know the truth,” I insisted, feeling guilty that I brought her to an even deeper level of grief but feeling hopeful that it would help her see the truth, that she had done nothing wrong, “she’s become far more destructive since Hjalmar’s death, and I sensed that she was spiraling. She’s lost so much. She blames herself for Hjalmar’s death, and she blames herself for Aaldir’s sorrow. She blames herself for Loki’s turn and believed it to have been her fault, like she could’ve stopped him from wreaking havoc on Midgard. She had every right to know the truth,” I added

“You are not wrong,” he stated, gazing back out at the stars, “she sacrificed so much for Loki, but I fear that she will now try even harder to free him, even if it means committing treason. She has no reason to show the Allfather anymore respect, for she now knows that he played a pivotal role in pushing your brother over the edge,” he added, and I gazed over at his solemn expression. He lowered his grief-stricken eyes, “I fear for her safety if she tries to disobey the orders of the King.”

“You have my word that I will do everything in my power to keep her from doing anything reckless, but she has never listened to me the way she listened to Hjalmar,” I said, thinking of one of my dearest friends, “how is he?” I asked, hoping for some words of comfort about Hjalmar’s new home in Valhalla.

Heimdall sighed, “I...cannot see him,” he confessed, hesitant to speak the words to me. I furrowed my eyebrows, confused as to how the gatekeeper and the guardian of the Nine Realms could lose track of someone. Before I could ask any questions, he turned his haunting gaze upon me, “I have searched for him, hoping to regale Eva with some stories of him when she came; however, I have not found him. I have searched every realm, every planet, every moon. I have searched the entirety of Valhalla, and I even looked for him in the Realm of the Dead. Still, I have found nothing,” he said, turning back to the stars, “I suggest keeping this between us for the time being. There is no need to put her through anymore pain right now,” he stated, strongly.

I nodded my head, “but what if she comes to you and asks about him?”

He frowned, the mere thought of it bringing a sour taste to his mouth, “then I will be forced to break the heart of a princess.”

*1 week later*

After another night spent watching over Eva and getting barely any sleep, I found myself standing beside my father, the man who was the cause of so much of her grief. She knew it now. She knew what he had done, and while I was surprised that she didn’t hate me for the role I had to play in Loki’s downfall, I was unsure of how generous she would be with my father. The two of us watched her as she practically danced around the training grounds with Sif and Ephinea. She hated fighting, but there was a side of her that came out when she fought that I had never seen before. She was skilled in battle the way no other man or woman could ever even hope to be. She blocked the attacks from each of the goddesses, and the two of them pulled no punches. Sif and Ephinea never went easy on Eva, so for Eva to hold her own against the Goddess of War and the Goddess of Strength, respectively, said so much about her skills.

As gracefully as she blocked what would have been a “finishing blow” from Ephinea, she began to take the offensive, swinging the dulled swords and moving like the ocean. I had gotten the chance to see her on the battlefield so many times throughout my life, and it always left me in awe. She had a plethora of her own weapons, many of which Aaldir had crafted for her or helped in the crafting process. He had given her two short swords that she used on occasion, and he also gave her the greatsword she used most of the time. Loki had gifted her a set of daggers, which were delicately crafted but stronger than anyone could anticipate due to their beauty. She danced around Sif and Ephinea, fighting both of them and successfully knocking them down and finishing them. After her success, she helped them back up onto their feet before starting again. I glanced over at my father, “she has grown far more skilled in the art of battle than even you could have anticipated,” I smiled, gesturing to her.

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips underneath his beard, “if this is how you plan to sway my mind on the matters she has brought up time and again, it will not work,” he reminded me.

I shrugged my shoulders, “it wasn’t my intention, but it would’ve been nice,” I stated, gazing upon the girl who was so strong but so broken, “she has a point, you know...about Loki,” I murmured, wanting my words to be between us. I watched as his eyebrows raised in shock, which was understandable as I had always been fairly quiet on the matter, never explicitly taking anyone’s side, “I don’t believe you to be delusional, which is why I think you know-as well as she does-that Loki doesn’t belong in the dungeons. He is far more dangerous around people who think like him. His mind was corrupted far more after he fell. Even if we could get him back to the way he was before, when he was only trying to take over the throne, instead of killing hundreds of innocent people on Midgard, it would be better than leaving him down there,” I explained, hoping that he would listen to me with an open heart and open mind, unlike when he listened to Eva make the same case about Loki.

He gazed over at me, the icy blue eye as solemn as ever, “so, you are proposing the same thing? I release Loki into Eva’s care, knowing that he is a weakness for her? Knowing that she could never do what needed to be done if it came to it?” he asked, “I simply implore you to think through every scenario,” he added, sensing that he had offended me.

I narrowed my eyes at him, knowing that he was not completely sincere, “no, you are asking me to doubt her. You are asking me to trust her less, but you don’t know her the way I do. You didn’t see her on Midgard the way I saw her. You have no idea what she has done-the sacrifices she has made-for the good of the Nine Realms, for the good of Asgard. You don’t see what she has given up, but I have,” I growled under my breath, angry that he would try to plant the seed of doubt in my mind.

He shook his head, “I do not wish for you to doubt her, but I do wish for you to look at this from a place of objectivity. If you did, you would have the same doubts I do,” he replied, a voice as calm as the breeze that morning.

“I can look at this objectively, and that’s why I believe she could take on this task. While we cannot go back and rewrite the past, she can turn the tides in our favor. If she were somehow able to turn Loki back to our side, think of what our strength could be with an ally like him! We would be much stronger with him as our ally than with him as our enemy,” I exclaimed, gesturing out at her, “look at her, Father! Truly see her for what she is! She’s no goddess, but she possesses the same skills as one. I don’t think this is coincidence. I truly believe that she is meant to be much more than another Asgardian woman.”

“You have much to learn about her, my son,” he frowned, trying to force a smile and failing. I watched as the look in his eye became distant, like he was revisiting a memory that brought him pain. He tried to push it away, but it lingered there.

I shook my head, “I know all there is to know about her. I know her better than I know myself most of the time,” I chuckled, gazing out at the woman I was in love with. For a long time, I fancied Ephinea and Sif. The two women were stronger than anyone gave them credit for, but I couldn’t talk to them the same way I could talk to Eva. Eva was just...special. I knew every little thing about her, even though I was sure my brother knew far more, things I couldn’t even imagine. I glanced back up at my father, “there’s nothing I don’t know,” I assured him, thinking of the many secrets she had hidden from him, secrets he would never even know.

“There is so much you don’t know about her, so much that you need to know,” he said, a sad smile spreading across his lips as he gazed out at her once more before stepping away from the railing and turning to face down the hallway, “walk with me and learn,” he motioned, and I obeyed, falling in step with him and casting one final glance back at Eva. Once we were far enough away from the prying eyes and ears of everyone else, he began speaking, slowing his pace, “before you or I, before my father and his father before him, Asgard was created. Where once there had been nothing, we received a land of beauty, peace, and salvation. This was the place where the Asgardians could call home, a place that was more beautiful and rich with life than any other, and we took it all for granted,” he explained.

“The land began to dry up. Where there had once been lush forests and beautiful mountains in the distance, it was barren. The Asgardians who lived her long ago took from the world but never thought to give back. They built this city upon her natural beauty, hiding the plentiful gifts she bore to them. The creeks and streams began to dry up. People believed that it was the world’s way of grieving. She had always provided for them, always gave more of herself than they could possibly take, but they did not rejoice as their ancestors once did. They took the gift of life for granted, and they took this realm for granted. They did not thank the world for her blessings, and they did not live their lives the way we were meant to,” he continued.

“The drought of the world continued. Food was more difficult to come by, and we were running out of fresh water. We began sending people to various realms to acquire what we needed and bring it back here. We had already stripped our world of all she had to offer, and we were doing the same with as many others as possible. Life was dwindling, and we were unsure about the future of Asgard,” he said before letting out a long sigh. When I cast my eyes over to his face, I saw that he was reliving a memory that haunted him, and a sadness came over him that I hadn’t seen before, “I had an older brother growing up, a man I’ve never spoken about, a man no one speaks of anymore,” he confessed.

I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering how it could be that an entire piece of Asgard’s history was lost to me, “I forbid his name to be spoken, and there are not many who remember him, not the way I do,” he frowned, “Cul was older, stronger, and much more capable than I was. He believed himself to be the rightful King of Asgard, and when my father-your grandfather-died, Cul took the throne for himself. My father had groomed me to take his place after he died, but my brothers and I allowed Cul to rule because of his promise to keep us as his close advisors, a promise he broke shortly after his coronation. He picked from a group of his loyal followers to be his advisors. It wasn’t until he took the throne that we saw just how twisted he was, how his desire to rule festered into a madness we had never seen before.”

As we walked into the throne room, he stopped and stared up at the golden throne for a long moment, “he ordered that we strip the other planets of their resources, and if we were met with hesitation, we were to take the resources by force. He wanted to make it clear that no one would stand in his way. A part of me wants to believe that he had good intentions, that he wanted to show the Nine Realms that Asgard was still a powerful seat. However, the more he took from other planets, the faster ours was dying, so my brothers and I did what needed to be done. We stopped him,” he said, frowning at the memory. I could tell that it brought him so much pain even recalling it, so I couldn’t imagine the pain he went through when he lived it so long ago, “there was a bloodbath in this throne room. My younger brothers fell that day along with so many others, and it came down to just Cul and I. He had sent his followers away to spare their lives because he knew I wouldn’t kill him, that I would spare his life because of the ancient rules, rules he never followed but rules I couldn’t break,” he explained, glancing back over at me.

I furrowed my eyebrows, “but you broke them on that day?” I guessed, hoping it to be true.

He shook his head, a few strands of white hair falling out of place, “I couldn’t, and it wasn’t because of the ancient rules. I couldn’t kill him because he was my brother, he wasn’t the King of Asgard, not to me. I couldn’t kill him because I could still remember running around the palace with him and getting in trouble for fooling around for too long when I should have been studying battle techniques. Instead, I banished him to the Realm of Death, hoping that Death would be able to do to him what I could not bring myself to do. It was where he belonged. He delivered so many souls to Death that day alone that he deserved to face them all once more,” he said, glancing back over at the throne and narrowing his eyes, “but if I could go back with the knowledge I have now, I would have killed him when I had the chance because-”

Before he could explain his reasoning, a booming voice caused the entirety of Asgard to quake beneath our feet. It was the first time in my life I saw pure fear in my father’s eyes, “Odin!”

*Eva’s POV*

I stood in the courtyard that overlooked the Rainbow Bridge. Thor and Odin stood side-by-side in front of Sif, Ephinea, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, and I. Behind us were members of Odin’s kingsguard. While I had not wished to even wake up at all that week-let alone see the Allfather-I stood there out of the love I had for Asgard and my willingness to protect the people from any intruder, including the one that stood before us with his battleaxe strapped to his back. He stood the same height as Hjalmar once did, only slightly taller than the God of Thunder himself. The man before us all held himself like a King with his shoulder straightened and his head held high. He looked massive, like he was a force to be reckoned with. I had never met him, but he looked so oddly familiar to me, like a face I had seen only once before.

Dark brown hair that matched his short beard fell in waves nearly as long as mine, but he pulled the strands from his face and fastened them behind his head to see clearly. Even from our distance, I could see myself clearly in his piercing green eyes. Those eyes were filled with so much anger, so much hatred, but they were still so beautiful and pure...a green that matched the colors of spring. My breath hitched in my throat, and it felt like I was going to suffocate. I knew those eyes. I knew them from somewhere, and when he spoke, I began trembling with unchecked fear, “I am Ezra, son of Cul, and I have been sent here by my father, Cul, son of Bor, the rightful heir to the throne of Asgard. I have been instructed to deliver a message to the usurper, your false king,” he spat out, grimacing at Odin. I was shocked by his words, unsure whether or not they were truthful. I had never heard of Odin having any brothers aside from Vili and Ve, and neither of them had any children of their own. It was clear by the looks on the faces of my comrades that I was not the only one who was confused by his claims.

Even if he did, Odin was our King, and for an outsider to show up in Asgard and insult the throne, it was unacceptable. While I was angry at Odin for justifiable reasons, I did not hate him, and I would still fight to protect Asgard and her people. As I made a motion to step forward, Ephinea put out her hand to hold me back. When I tried to pass her still, she grabbed my arm, making her movements as small and unnoticeable as possible to keep from gaining the attention of the the outsider. She gave my wrist a gentle squeeze, trying to remind me without words that this wasn’t the right time. The small motions still pulled the attention of Ezra, and he glanced over at me in particular. His green eyes scanned over my body, and he smirked, “you’re just itching to kill me, aren’t you?” he asked before glancing back at Odin, “I see why you keep some of your best warriors chained up in the dungeons-like your son. It must be terrifying to have this one roaming around,” he said, gesturing to me.

A fury erupted in my chest as he mentioned Loki. I gritted my teeth, my chest continuing to rise and fall at an alarming rate. Still, I remained silent, not wishing to escalate the situation. Odin spoke up, “did you come here to discuss the population of Asgard’s dungeons, or do you have another motive?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow with a mischievous grin. He was pulling a page out of Loki’s book, smiling in the face of danger. It was one of the things that made me love Loki even more, and it made me see Odin as so much more than I had been willing to in the past. In that moment, he became so much more three-dimensional than ever before. While he had forsaken Loki in the past and made his own mistakes, there was a piece of him that still loved the young trickster. When I saw him find his confidence the way Loki did, it made me think of the impact Loki’s actions must’ve had on the Allfather. While I wished to speak with Odin about it, I knew that this was neither the time nor the place for such discussions.

Ezra cast one more glance over at me with a smirk that made me sick to my stomach, but he turned his attention back to Odin when I grimaced at him, “my father sent me with his demands. In his exile, he has been building allegiances with many people within the Nine Realms and beyond, and I can assure you that none of them are particularly fond of Asgard. They would be willing and able to tear Asgard apart at my father’s command, but he is willing to go about this peacefully,” Ezra stated in a menacing tone.

“And what does Cul want in return for his promise of peace?” Odin inquired.

Ezra chuckled, stepping forward, “he wants the throne back, the throne you stole from him,” he growled, pointing a finger at the Allfather, “he demands you hand over the throne of Asgard, and in return, you will be exiled to the Realm of Death just like you did to him. As I see it, you have two options: you can surrender and meet his demands, which will lead to a peaceful life for your people; or, you can resist, which will lead to our return and the subsequent bloodbath that will take place. Either way, we will take the throne of Asgard, but your decision could save thousands,” Ezra said, offering Odin the ultimatum as if he was in any position to do that. He came to Asgard with no supporters behind him and threatened a King with the entire Asgardian army at his disposal.

Odin smiled at the man in front of him, and I saw the condescending undertones, causing me to smile as well. While I harbored some ill will toward him upon recent news, I could not bring myself to hate him or declare that he was a poor king. He held himself with strength and dignity, which was something that would not work in the strangers favor, “you forget the third option,” he smirked, and Ezra cocked his head, clenching his fists, “it’s where I let your armies come, and I defeat Cul just like I did all those years ago. I had no problem doing it then, and I won’t fail now. You do not look for peace, but I pity you if you try to fight us. We know much about what must be sacrificed to maintain peace, and I do not wish for a war. However, I will do what needs to be done should your father attempt to wage a war against Asgard and her allies,” he explained, “so, you can tell my brother that his proposition was met with resistance.”

Ezra chuckled, stepping even closer to Odin. As soon as he was too close, the entire army behind us drew their weapons, but Odin raised a hand, wishing to entertain the boy for even longer. I listened to the warriors lower their weapons, but they did not put them back in the sheathe. I glanced down at Thor’s hands that were balled up in fists. Ezra leaned in close to Odin and spoke, “well, I came here for your surrender, and I’m not about to leave empty-handed,” he murmured before stepping away from the two of them and pointing at me. Once more, his eyes trailed along every piece of my body before locking eyes with me, “I’ll take that one,” he dictated, closing the space between the two of us.

Before he could stand directly in front of me, Ephinea stepped between the two of us, “try to take her, and I will rip you in half with my bare hands,” she threatened, rage clear in her voice. She had always been like an older sister to me, so it didn’t surprise me that she would react like that to someone who was threatening my safety.

Ezra glanced over at her but then back at me, “call off your dog, pet,” he instructed, cocking his head to the side with a smile filled with false admiration.

I scowled at the nickname he decided to give me, and I felt a chill run down my spine at the thought that I could be traded off to ensure peace, even if that peace would be short-lived. Odin’s stunned silence was not helping ease my troubled thoughts, but I had to act with strength and grace just as I always tried to, just as my father taught me all my life. I raised my hand and rested it upon Ephinea’s shoulder as I stepped out from behind her. She gazed over at me, horrified and flustered because of my actions. She had no idea what I was planning to do or why I was planning to do it, but I offered her a short glance that I hoped would set her mind at ease. When I stepped between her and Ezra, he didn’t break eye contact with me. He smirked, one of his eyes twitching ever so slightly as he narrowed them at me.

He searched my eyes-for what, I didn’t know-and when he didn’t find what he was looking for, he grabbed my chin and brought his face impossibly closer to mine, “tell me, what is it you want, pet? Do you wish for acceptance? Strength? Power? A real family? A place where you belong?” he asked, “I’m sorry to break your heart, but you won’t find any of that here, not with the current ruler. And, what about Loki? I’m sure you want him back, too, don’t you?” he asked, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. How did Ezra know about Loki? How did he know about my deepest desires? As I stared up at him with wide eyes, terrified that he was able to pick me apart so easily. He raised his eyebrows, sympathy crossing over his face, “you have so much to learn, beautiful, and if you cooperate, we’ll give you the answers you seek and the opportunity to live out the rest of your life with Loki,” he murmured before grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling me even closer to him, “but should you fail, I will find your girl on Midgard and tear her apart in front of you just for fun!” he growled, my heart twisting and shattering into a million pieces before he pushed me down onto the ground.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Thor’s loud voice boomed, almost like thunder itself. I could barely think of anything aside from Ezra’s threat. I was paralyzed with fear at the very idea that enemies of Asgard knew about her, that they could use her against me. Thor spoke as I tried to collect myself, “you are sorely mistaken if you think we’ll just hand her over to you. Now, we have entertained this madness for long enough. If you try to take her, you will not live to see another sunrise,” Thor promised, glancing down at me and nodding his head. I knew that I would have nothing to fear with Thor by my side. Even if Odin, for some reason, wanted to send me away, Thor would betray his father just to keep me safe.

Ezra chuckled again, laughing in the face of the God of Thunder, “I haven’t seen a sunrise in nearly 300 years,” he confessed, and a piece of my heart broke for him. I couldn’t help but see small pieces of Loki in him, the anger, the pain, the hate. I had nothing to compare Ezra to, though. I knew the man Loki used to be, so I knew that pieces of him were still alive. Still, everyone could be saved, and that included the enemies of Asgard. Ezra continued, “no matter! I’m used to taking what I want by any means necessary, and I don’t lose,” he said before unsheathing his axe in one swift motion and swinging it down toward Thor.

In the split second it took Ezra to begin the attack, I jumped up to my feet and drew Hellbreaker, one of the many swords my father had helped forge for me. Right before his blade could graze my prince, I stepped in front of it, catching the handle of his battleaxe with the blade of my sword and stopping him from hurting Thor. His eyes widened in clear astonishment. I was sure someone like him didn’t anticipate anything extraordinary, especially not from the person he nicknamed “pet” only moments prior. I pushed him away from the Thor and I, “you don’t lose?” I asked, grinning up at the intruder, “well, neither do I!”

[timetravelingheart]

My Side of the Fence Part Three: A.M. Imagine

I know it has been a while, but these next few chapters in the build-up have really stumped me. They’re just not the exciting parts, you know? But I did my best and I hope that you are all still interested in going along in this journey! Also, for being just a build-up, this turned out to be obnoxiously long and I’m sorry! I’m the most wordy person. 

Still no big warnings for this one. Also, I should disclose that I know next to nothing about figure skating schedules or times, Skate Canada, or anything of the like. I’m just a huge fan of the sport and thought it fit well with this story to give the character a career that also takes up a lot of her time and life. Sorry if anyone is frustrated by any errors in that particular area! 

In the week that Auston spent in Arizona, he had thought of asking Mitch for Savannah’s number no fewer than five hundred times. It was his first thought every morning, on his mind constantly throughout the day, and his last thought before he finally fell into a restless sleep. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual, and even that was saying a lot. His parents noticed that he seemed more restless than usual, but didn’t quite know how to approach it. His mother was concerned; his father confused. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed in his childhood bedroom, Auston held his phone in his massive hands and typed, erased, and re-typed variations of the same message over and over again on his phone to Mitch. Frustrated, he groaned loudly and threw himself back on the bed, covering his eyes with his tattooed forearm. How is possible that this girl he met for literally one night was worth this stress? He had already received countless offers for ‘meet-ups’ with girls in his hometown, some from high school, and some who he knew from running in the same circles as his friends. They were all attractive girls with bright white smiles and glowing tans from the Arizona sunshine, and were all girls he absolutely would have been interested in six months ago. Hell, probably even two months ago. But he didn’t want a random hook-up anymore. He was used to getting a release pretty regularly, so maybe that’s why he’s even more frustrated than usual currently, but he really wanted to have something like what Mitch and Steph had, what Jake and Lucy had, and eventually something like what Patty and Christina had. 

He wanted someone to come home to after a tough game or a road trip and just fall into her arms and feel safe. To find a home in someone else that he so desperately craved now. He wanted to find someone who would listen to his fears and vulnerabilities without judgement, someone who would call him on his shit (other than Mitch of course), someone who would love him for who he was and not the sport he played or the money he had. And more than he even wanted to have that kind of love, he wanted to give that kind of love to someone. 

And even though it sounded absolutely, positively, undeniably insane, he felt like that this kind of love was a real possibility with Savannah. And not just someone like Savannah, but Savannah specifically. 

Rolling over onto his stomach, he reached for his phone again and opened his message thread with Mitch. Before he could start typing, his phone vibrated with a new group message invite from Steph. Huh. 

Steph: Hey everyone! Wanted to send out a quick invite to Savannah’s upcoming Stars on Ice show. It’s Friday night at the Scotiabank Arena. Sav says she can probably get us some tickets, but we just need a headcount so let me know if you’re interested! 

Auston couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. This was the perfect opportunity to see her again without coming off as desperate, and without relegating himself to asking Mitch, which was likely to turn into its own version of insufferable hell for the near future. His phone vibrated again as messages from his teammates started to pour through. 

Mitch: I think I know someone who would for sure be interested... 

Fucking hell. He really needed a new best friend. Maybe he should hang out with Tkachuk and Eichel more. 

Actually, scratch that. Either they would be ten times worse than Mitch and actually call him out on his crush in front of his crush, or they would just hit on her themselves. Both thoughts made his whole body flame with two very different emotions. His phone vibrated again. 

Morgan: Definitely in! And Mitchy, leave Matts alone. Any guy with eyes would be stupid not to be attracted to Savannah. 

Kasperi: As much as we’d love to support Savannah, and see Matts squirm, Willy and I won’t be back in the city until the week after! 

Jake: Lucy is currently begging me to say yes. She is apparently obsessed with figure skating (who knew) and is dying to meet THE Savannah Lane. So, I guess you can put us down for two! 

Connor: I’m in, but Zach and I already have tickets sitting with McDavid. Also, Matts has a thing for Savvy? Fuck, McDavid is going to have a fucking field day with this.  

Auston read through each message carefully, rolling his eyes at his teammates’ lame attempts at getting under his skin, and in Mo’s case, his weak attempt at defending him. They all know now, so he might as well own it, right?

Auston: I’m in. 

He went to close the message thread, but thought better of it. 

Auston: And also, fuck all of you. 

Steph: Oh Matty. Let me just say that you are not the first, nor will you be the last, unwitting guy to fall head over heels for my best friend upon meeting her one time. It’s what she refers to as both her gift and her curse. Anyway, I’ll make sure to get tickets for Auston, Morgan, Jake, and Lucy! See you all there! 

Well, Auston thought, hopefully this would be his chance to see Savannah again and get a read on her. He wanted to ask her out on a date, but something about her made him nervous. He was intimidated by a tiny blonde in figure skates. What the fuck. 

** 

Auston had been back in Toronto for almost a week and still had not seen Savannah. According to Steph, who kept him informed without him even having to ask (”I just thought you’d be interested” she said, with a knowing gleam in her eye that would have normally bothered Auston had he not been so thankful for her openness) Savannah was busy with show rehearsals, while also getting back into competition with meetings with Skate Canada, her coaches and choreographers, costume designers, mental prep coach, trainers, and all of the things that Auston did not even know were involved with figure skating. Basically, he wanted to see her and couldn’t. 

So here he stood, wearing black skinnies with holes in the knees, a white tee, black bomber jacket, black and white sneakers, and a black baseball cap, and waiting in the arena who knew like the back of his hand. Steph mentioned that they wouldn’t be able to see Savannah before the show, but that she made sure to invite everyone backstage after. Auston had debated with himself about bringing her flowers (do they do that for these kinds of performances?) but immediately nixed the idea when he remembered the look of hesitation on Savannah’s face when he had merely offered her his hoodie. He still didn’t know why she was hesitant, but he also didn’t want to push or cross any of her boundaries before he really knew anything about that side of her. 

Looking up at his group’s sudden movements, he spotted Connor McDavid, Brown, and Hyman walking towards them. Reaching out to each of them do a quick shake and half hug, Auston immediately felt the amused stare of McDavid. “So I hear you fell for it,” McDavid grinned. Shaking his head, Auston fought to keep a similar grin off of his own face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” McDavid let out a bark of laughter, clearly amused by Auston’s denial. “Don’t sweat it man. She has that affect on just about everyone.” 

The smile on Auston’s face faltered. Who else was in this situation with her before? “She has never really reciprocated anyone else’s feelings though, at least not any hockey players.” Auston let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “She has a thing against hockey players?” he felt himself asking before he could stop himself. “Nah, she just was either already in a relationship or too focused on skating to even notice or care that anyone was interested.” 

Auston made a mental note to ask Connor more about Savannah and her dating history, or lackthereof, when they were alone.

“Are we all ready to go in?” Steph, arm hooked in Lucy’s, addressed the group. “The show starts soon.” 

Hours later, after each performer skated a final lap and took a bow, the group of hockey players and significant others made their way backstage to wait for their star skater. Auston, not really one to watch figure skating before this event, was mesmerized by Savannah. Her group routines to ranged from comedic and sassy to sexy and sultry. And while he loved seeing those versions of her, it was her solo routine to Landslide that affected him the most. It was one of the most beautiful moments he had ever witnessed and heard - or perhaps felt - the chorus of ‘wows’ from his friends and the strangers around him at the end. 

She was an absolute star, and he wanted nothing more than to continue watch her shine brightly. 

After waiting about twenty minutes, the cast finished up their meet and greets with fans and started making their way to their respective families and friends waiting for them. Savannah was now changed into simple black leggings, a Stars on Ice sweater that swallowed her petite frame, black and white Nikes, hair up in a high ponytail, and not a hint of makeup on her face. She looked relaxed, yet elated. Auston thought no one had ever looked more beautiful. 

Savannah’s smile stretched further across her features as she reached their group. “I can’t believe you all came!” She wrapped each person up in as big of a hug as her short arms could manage, stopping briefly to be introduced to Jake and Lucy for the first time, and lastly turned to Auston. Her smile remained just as warm, but something flickered quickly and faded before Auston could place a name on it, and soon enough she was wrapping her arms around his middle to pull him into a soft hug. “Long time no see,” he whispered into her hair as his nose briefly grazed the top of her head. She smiled up at him again, that same flicker there and gone in a flash, before she turned to address the whole group. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” she asked as if she were genuinely concerned that they did not have a good time. “I know figure skating isn’t really that interesting for most of you.” 

“You were phenomenal!” Lucy gushed, as if she had been keeping her excitement bottled up inside for far too long. “Landslide made me cry!” Savannah blushed profusely as Jake pulled Lucy into a side hug. “She’s been talking about you non-stop ever since Steph mentioned that you were moving here and that she was friends with you,” he offered as a way of explanation for his wife’s unbridled joy. 

“That’s so kind of you! Landslide has always held such a special place in my heart. And Steph has told me all about the wonderful partners she’s met and become friends with in the Leafs family, so I was really excited to finally meet you!” 

“She actually choreographed Landslide herself,” Steph couldn’t help but boast about her best friend, knowing that she would never do it for herself. Savannah was confident in her abilities and proud of her success, but she was not one to brag about her accomplishments or even her skillset. 

“That’s incredible!” Morgan turned to her in amazement. “I can’t even begin to imagine what would go into something like that.”

“Thank you, but I’ve had a lot of help along the way to learn the ins and outs of choreography for performances like that. Choreographing for competition is much more challenging, and I haven’t done anything like that yet except give a few ideas here or there.”

“You were amazing,” Auston felt the need to say something, anything, to have her look at him again. So, he opted for complete honesty. Everyone turned to look at him, most with knowing smiles on their faces, Savannah with surprise. “Thank you, Auston. That means a lot.” Savannah’s eyes lingered on his for a moment longer than necessary, as if she were searching for answers to questions neither of them felt ready to ask. 

“So tell me, Sav,” Mitch started conspiratorially, “what kind of underwear do male skaters wear to hide their bulge?” 

The entire group groaned loudly, finally starting to head for the exit. As Steph and Lucy swatted at Mitch, the rest of the crew followed along laughing and joking around. Auston and Savannah held back a bit, just the two of them at the end of the line. 

“So since you’re going to be hanging out with us, I think it’s probably best that we add you to our group chat,” Auston held out his phone to Savannah. “Put your number in and I’ll add you so you can join the rest of us in making fun of Mitchy.” 

Savannah didn’t laugh like he thought she would, or reach for his phone right away. Instead, she kept her gaze forward for a moment, before turning to look at him with wide, questioning eyes. Careful, she thought. 

Just when Auston thought he had overstepped or come on too strong, she reached out for his phone and quickly typed in her number. 

“As if I would ever not want to be part of a group that tears the piss out of Mitchy on a regular basis!” she laughed, and Auston felt his heart squeeze. What a woman.