#swinging by my neck / I chopped off all the branches | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

philliamwrites · 2 years

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SWYAATL 07: Apple Seed

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x fem!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, explicit depiction of a dead body (none of the main characters), vomiting (not reader)

Summary: You wait for Eren to let you go. He doesn’t. He looks conflicted over something—desperate even, but whatever he wants to say appears to be stuck in his throat. His tongue darts out and swipes over his lower lip, leaving it pink and glossy. You blink, dazzled. What is it that you want from me? you want to ask, but the answer frightens you.

Notes: [01] || 06 | 07 Masterlist ○ SWYAATL playlist ○

A/N: Thank you so much @samsaurwrites for beta-reading!!

I recommend reading this using InteractiveFics! The values are [Name] [Last Name].

If you read the story on AO3, I edited the previous chapters and inserted somes fun/informative footnotes because I'm a nerd like that.

Also playing with the ideas of inserting side pairings because all character's dynamics are so great and fun to write. They won't become a major part/focus in the story, but I just want to give them all some love.

Btw, someone asked if Reader's Gunther is the same as Levi's and noooo, they're different characters, I just forgot a Gunther already existed lol, so I changed our Gunther's name to Michael!

07: Apple Seed

“Stop following me!” Jean’s voice dissipates in the wind as he dives under a thick branch mid-flight, smooth like an arrow. “I’m sick of you guys stealing my kills!”

“Fly faster, Jeanie!” you call after him, your voice ringing out crystal clear as you weave swiftly through the branches, your feet finding their hold on strong, unyielding wood before you jump off and your anchors find their next target. “Or else I’ll get you!”

“Fuck off!” he screams back. A wild panic sets in his eyes at the sight of you hunting him down, practice blades raised as if you’re ready to chop him down once you get close enough. That will teach him not to sneak into the woman’s barracks to steal Ida’s handmade soap just because it smells better than whatever Felix sends him in their monthly package.

“You can run, but you can’t hide!”

His curses thrown your way scatter in the wind as your anchor-hooks whirl through the air and embed into the next tree, launching you over branches that reach for you with crooked, dark fingers and lush, green nails. You dodge them at a breakneck pace, brain running on overdrive as you focus on manoeuvring through the woods and not crashing into the next trunk. The wind is good for today’s exercise. There’s barely a breeze stealing through the forest; the trees remain silent.

You change the angle of your wires and gain momentum as you dart out onto a clearing, overtaking Jean who has lost speed because he turned to see if you were still following him. As if a starving cat would retreat so easily after it has finally found the mouse. Eyes set on the large wooden contraption built after a 15-metre Titan, you move into the right position and let the compressed gas propel you up, up; higher and faster. You swing your blades and slice off a neat chunk of the back cushion serving as a Titan’s neck, relishing in the satisfying feeling of how smooth your blades slice through the material like a knife through butter. That’s another two points for you.

A shadow rushes past you. Jean steers across the clearing and lands on a branch. His pissed mood blares like a warning signal even from this distance. “You asshole!”

You bounce when your wires reach their stretching point, and find a secure spot against the side of a tree. “It’s not my fault you’re too slow!” you shout back. Not that he’s still figuring out how to move his body or where to ease off the gas at turns. Jean excels at ODM gear use, but he is still holding onto that reasonable part of his brain that tells him better safe than sorry. When it comes to ODM, you’ve never had that to begin with.

Jean looks like he wants to chuck his practice blade at you. Stay. Away, his mouth forms before he falls backwards and allows the forest to swallow him. You consider following him again to leech off his eerily good instinct when it comes to finding Titans and how to approach them. Group tasks and assignments are going to start sometime next week where no instructor supervises you, and you hope you can stick to his heels and let him do all the work.

Moving on, you detach your hooks and continue down the forest path. You’re pretty sure you’ve spied Mikasa zipping with lightning speed through the forest a little to the west, but trying to mess with her would be stupid at best, suicidal at worst. You let her be and turn down a different path leading away from her. The woods turn darker here, the emerald-needled firs outnumebr the broadleaves, standing tall and proud in their century-long vigil that will last for countless more years when you are no more.

You land on another branch to check out how much gas you’ve left—you’re only allowed to replenish it twice and have to kill as many Titans as possible within that time. You’re halfway done after only five kills. Maybe you should ease off the gas a little, though who can hold it against you. Flying is just too much fun, and moving through the woods makes you feel like a little bird flitting from branch to branch. No one can stop you. Except Shadis when he finds out you’re the first to go back and replenish gas because you waste it too fast.

Better take a look at how things are going on the other side of the river. Let Mikasa compete with the rest at the top, wherever they are. Even if you find 3-metre or 7-metre Titans that are only worth one point, everything counts. Not that you aim for the Top Ten; already you’ve been pushed off the ranking, this time by Sasha. You just need to beat Jean now and then to rein back his ego.

You turn, thumbs grazing the buttons to shoot the anchors, when sunlight falling through emerald crowns blinds you for a second. The flash is sudden like jarring lightning, making you throw up a hand to shield your squinting eyes. Through your splayed fingers, you can see the lances of sunshine piercing the canopy of the woods.

What is the word for that? Dylan Thomas, a poet from Ehrmich District, wrote: And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves / Trail with daisies and barley / Down the rivers of the windfall light.

Windfall light? No, that doesn’t sound right.

“You know what they also call them?” Emil said, pointing up at the rays of sunlight flitting through the trees. “Komorebi.”

You stared at him in awe as he stood tall and regal against the warm light—his silver hair turned into a golden halo—swallowed your anxiety, and asked, “Who are they?”

—children’s laughter echoes through the canopy of trees, slamming a brake on your thoughts. How did children get here? The whole military area is closed off to the public by high wooden fences and regularly patrolled by second and third year cadets. As you strain eyes and ears in that one direction you’ve heard the laughter come from; become so intent on contemplating how they could have gotten here, you don’t immediately notice the quiet—how the birds don’t sing. How the trees go mute and still in the breeze that cools your sweaty, heated face, watching what your next move will be—

A hand touches your elbow. Your foot, too close to the edge of the branch, slides off and you jerk, losing balance as the world spins and you slide off. A broad, warm hand moves to the small of your back to catch you, and your fingers quickly latch onto the next fixed, stable thing that gives you hold—which is Eren’s military jacket.

You stare at his confused, questioning face, his green eyes wide with shock. Heat scalds your ears. Quickly letting him go, you step away after you’ve regained your balance. “What do you want?” you snap, and if your body weren’t locked tight from tension after almost falling off the tree, you would flinch back at the venom in your voice.

Eren’s surprised face immediately closes off, a door banging shut. “How about ‘Thank You’ for saving you from dropping to your death?”

“I didn’t need your help. Stop slacking off before Shadis catches us and thinks we’re both lazy.”

He makes an incredulous sound. “You were the one standing around here and spacing out, staring into nothing! I just thought—” Clamping his mouth shut, he glares into the woods. “Doesn’t matter what I thought. Clearly, I was wrong.”

You don’t have time to overthink what Eren doesn’t want to say. “I wasn’t spacing out! I heard little kids laughing somewhere nearby.”

Eren turns his gaze back to you, his eyebrows two horizontal, doubting lines. “There aren’t any kids here.”

“Yeah, duh, there shouldn’t be kids here. But I heard them! I heard them coming from over there.” You point in the general direction, the sound of their voices still clear in your head.

Eren grabs your wrist and slams your arm back down to your side. “Stop joking,” he hisses. “That’s where I came from. I’ve been standing here for a whole minute talking to you but you just kept staring into nothing. I should have known this was just a joke—”

A thick tendril of panic unfurls like a leaf inside your chest. “I am not joking.” Someone has to believe you. Even if that someone is Eren. “I didn’t just imagine it, I’m not hallucinating or anything, I swear I heard—”

Eren doesn’t listen to you. He’s pulling at his hair because the alternative could be closing his fingers around your throat. “God, if I end up having a worse score than Mikasa because of you—”

“Then you shouldn’t have bothered!”

“You’d be flat as a pancake if I hadn’t found you.”

“Go suck a dick, Jaeger.” The panic blooms into full-blown fury. You are not crazy. You didn’t just imagine it. The laughter was real, those kids are real because—

Because …

Because they sounded like you and Emil.

You quickly turn away before Eren notices the hot veil of tears welling behind your eyes when a scream tears through the silence of the woods, followed by the cracks of breaking wood. A flock of birds shoots off into the sky from where they were perched on a branch watching you two, now chirping in outrage that their entertainment has stopped.

Eren and you share a quick glance. He’s grown pale as a birch stem. Without a word, you both launch towards the vicinity where the scream came from. When Eren had found you, he must have been in the midst of changing his blades. They scratch inside their sheaths as he draws them now, his face set into a grim mask. You don’t know what he’s preparing for … it’s not like Titans would suddenly be inside the Walls … you hope, and draw your blades as well, just to be prepared for anything.

Deep within the forest, you almost miss the little group of cadets who have circled around something. Suddenly, your heart beats into your throat as you manoeuvre towards the tall, lanky figure you immediately recognise as Jean. What if … what if they found the children. Injured, helpless. Scared and crying for their parents—like you did three years ago when the Armoured Titan broke through the Wall and killed Mom and Dad.

You land beside Jean, barely sparing Eren any more attention as he moves to the other side of the crowd where Mikasa stands.

“What happened?” you demand, tugging on the sleeve of Jean’s jacket urgently.

Jean pulls a face. “Someone didn’t pay attention, I guess. Fell from that tree up there.” He points up, and you tip your head back, staring up at the broken branches. When you look back down, you see the remains of what used to be a person—a cadet just like you. A boy lies face-down on the ground, his legs twisted into unnatural angles, white bone sticking out where it broke through skin. Dark tufts of hair, sticky with brain parts, soak in blood where his head is split open on the moss-grown forest floor, the earth soaking up his crimson blood. You wonder what will grow in that spot. If anything will ever grow there again.

One cadet standing in the front line groans, then bends over and vomits onto his shoes. Jean makes a gagging noise. You’re inclined to agree. Across from where the body lies, Eren stares at you like That could have been you. You make a point to look away—and catch Armin staring with wide, horrified eyes at something. Someone. You follow his gaze and find Victor looking down at the dead boy. His blank face is cut out of marble stone, unmoving and impassive, but ice-cold fury swims in his eyes. His lip curls for a moment—a wolf flashing his razor sharp teeth—then he turns and disappears in the crowd of onlookers.

Shadis, who’s been kneeling by the body, finally rises to his feet, his face grim but set into clear control of his emotions. “See what a moment of carelessness will get you?! Let this be a lesson to all of you who still think this is a game! We are not playing soldiers, we are soldiers and every single one of your sorry lives is on the line if you don’t pay attention! Put all you have into training and you won’t end up as batter your comrades have to scrape off the floor!” He fixes his eyes on every single one of you. You don’t find regret or sorrow in them, just immovable acceptance. How many trainees has Shadis lost over all those years before their service for the people inside the Walls had even started?

When he barks for everyone to scatter and return to base for today, you approach him slowly as he’s ordering a third year cadet to go and let the other instructors know so they can retrieve the body later. You try not to take a closer look, but red has always been hard to ignore—God’s favourite colour—and when you catch the cadet’s face, you blanch and immediately turn away, feeling bile rise in your throat. Jonathan.

Shadis snaps his fingers under your nose. “Keep your breakfast in your stomach, squirt. What do you want?”

“There’s …” You swallow down the lump in your throat. “During the task, I heard children in the forest, sir. I’m worried they might have sneaked onto the compound and lost their way.” And they sounded like they enjoyed it, you don’t add.

Shadis considers you for a long minute, his eyes narrowed and scrutinising without any mercy. “That would be hard, as there are no settlements and villages around for miles.”

“I—I know what I heard, sir.” You hope he doesn’t hear your voice shaking. “With your permission, I’d like to search for them. Bring them back home if they really got lost.”

Shadis crosses his arms in front of his broad chest. His eyes sweep over Jonathan’s body, then back to you. He clicks his tongue, then turns to the rest of the third years who’ve been picked to supervise you today. “Sweep the forest. You find anyone lurking about, you immediately report back to me. Move it!”

The cadets spring into action. It is a load off your mind, though you hoped Shadis would have tasked you to go with them to show them where you heard the children. He orders you to return to the other first years instead, and help them pack up the gear and gas canisters onto the carts for the ride back to base.

Back with the others, you ignore Jean’s impatient questions and Mina’s worried glances, and work in silence. An uneasy feeling has started to pool at the pit of your stomach, rising and rising with every passing hour that no news get back. When you’ve finished packing up and the sun hangs as an orange globe near the horizon, Shadis returns, his third years in pack. Their exhausted faces glare your way, already telling you the result before Shadis towers in front of you.

“Nothing.” He leans forward, his sour breath fans over your face, but that isn’t the only reason tears pick at your eyes. “We found nothing. Next time, keep it to yourself, maggot, and don’t waste our time.”

The words latch inside your throat as your stomach churns. “Yes, sir,” you reply so quietly you doubt Shadis has heard you. Not that he cares. He turns on his heels sharply, and bellows so loud the muscles in his neck strain for everyone to start moving.

You spend the next few days mulling over what has happened. Was it really your imagination? Did you eat something weird that day? Anything that would give you strange auditory hallucinations? But then everyone else should have experienced the same, and after you spent that evening asking your corpsmates if they had heard anything strange during the mission, you went to bed none the wiser.

“It could have been birds,” Mina had suggested after you told her during a game of skat. She didn’t look like she believed it herself.

“Or ghosts,” had come from Annie. You didn’t know how, but somehow Mina had convinced her to join, and even though Annie wasn’t familiar with the game and its rules, she was very quick to learn and win almost every round. Both you and Mina had stared at her until Annie, with a blank expression, had added, “That was a joke.”

Good one. Because what would haunt you? The ghosts of the past? You had decided that night to just leave it there and not concern yourself with it, until a couple of days later, Mina noted that you had started talking in your sleep.

“It’s just incoherent mumbling.” She had looked up from where she was changing the screws on the main housing of her ODM gear. “You’re really quiet for the most part, but it sounds like you’re searching for something. Are you dreaming, maybe?”

If you are, you don’t remember anything the next morning. Should you go and see one of the doctors at the Main Base? It isn’t affecting your performance or causing you any pain, but just to be sure, maybe you should let someone check it out—

Pain explodes in your forehead. You flinch back and slap a hand against the sore spot. When you look up, Jean stares down at you and drops an apple in your lap. “Ow.”

“You’re spacing out again.” He goes for another round of flicking your forehead, but you quickly turn away, hand splayed over your forehead as a shield. “You got my copy of A Guide to Marching Drills?”

“No, I gave it to Marco.”

“Okay. And what’s this?” He crouches next to you on the grass and pulls a worn softbook from the top of the stack beside you. “Would you look at that. My book.”

“Oh.” You blink and look down at the notebook balancing on your knees. It’s full of drawings of a nine-petalled flower. When did you do that? “Well, there you go.”

Jean purses his lips, considering you for a long, silent moment. You avoid his eyes and look over the grass field. It’s a warm, nice Sunday, the only weekday where cadets get a day off to spend it however they like. You’ve set out to study for the upcoming Special Night Training: two days and one night spent in little groups without any instructors. This drill is different from your other training since it isn’t so much about individual ability, and instead tests your intra-squad cooperative skills and tactical abilities. The goal is to eliminate all Titans in the area, organise the night watch, ration the provisions, and be ready for mock Titan attacks. Even though they aren’t active during the night, Shadis wants you ready for battle at any time, and orders you to figure out for yourself how to plan the shifts during the night.

You’ve retreated onto a patch of grass at the backside of the barracks. The field stretches far beyond the compound’s edges, in its middle stands a willow tree, tall and with heavy branches drooping. You sit under its cool shadow, back leaning against the rough bark. In the distance, you see Sasha, Ymir and Christa move towards the off-side well to fetch water.

“[Name]. [Name].” Jean impatiently snaps his fingers in front of your face. You jerk slightly, then swat his hand away.

“Stop it. I’m not deaf.”

“Might as well be. You’re spacing out way too much lately.” He sags against the tree next to you and pulls off his boots, sinking his bare feet into the cool, green grass. “What’s cooking inside your brain?”

“Nothing.” Your arm brushes his as you raise your hand to rub at your eyes. “Just tired.”

Jean is silent for a moment. He thrums a rhythm on his softbook, his long, lanky leg starts to bounce. You count to three when he finally shares his concern: “Are you having nightmares again? Is it about the memorial day coming up? It’s the first year we don’t go down to the river to set out lanterns.”

You rub at your temples with your fingertips. A dull ache has set behind your eyes, throbbing in tandem with your heart. It can’t be nightmares. “No, it’s not that.” But you also don’t know what else it could be. “Just … nerves. Probably.”

“Makes sense. One of us died a couple days ago, some cadets left because of it. Shouldn’t we get, like … a counsellor or something for shit like that?” Jean stretches his long legs, settling against the tree with his hands crossed behind his head. He’s wearing a simple linen shirt, and you see the muscles in his arms flex as he moves. It’s scary how fast he’s growing, how much muscle he’s built after barely a year.

“Weird though, wasn’t it?” you note, flipping your notebook to a new, blank page. “I always thought Jonathan was pretty good at ODM.”

“Can’t ever know what might happen.” Jean flips his book open. “I saw him check his gear the day before the mission. Might have missed something.”

You don’t want to think about it anymore. For the rest of the day until supper, Jean proceeds to ask you questions about marching drills, and every time your answer is wrong, he rips grass from the ground and throws it in your face.

Afternoon light slants in through the clouds, laying bars of gold across the field. The apple, previously forgotten, glints a delicious red after you’ve polished it on your skirts. Dinner is in just another hour, but you’re famished after Jean drilled the book’s contents into your brain.

Marco is on kitchen duty today, and Jean and you have decided to honour (Jean’s words), or rather pester (your words) him with your presence. When Marco sees you two strolling into the kitchen, he doesn’t say anything, simply laughs, and begins to pluck whatever grass stalks you couldn’t shake off out of your hair and from your clothes.

“You look like you’ve been mauled by a grass field,” Marco says.

You look up at Jean, who looks away. There’s nothing more to say, and that is the beauty of the constellation you three have constructed.

Marco goes very passionately into depth about the possible existence of technicolor squirrels (his favourite animal) after he’s stumbled upon a Scout’s journal from an expedition outside of Wall Maria years ago, when commotion rises from the adjacent dining hall, halting you from finally taking a bite from the apple you’ve been carrying around since noon. Jean peers through the door. His expression darkens. Immediately, you move to take a look as well.

Your appetite vanishes at the sight of Eren trying to get Victor into a chokehold, who’s just laughing like a madman.

“Is that all you got, mama’s boy?” he snarls. He does a complicated set of movements, and moving quicker than anyone you’ve seen, apart from Mikasa maybe, he’s got Eren bend over the table and slams his forehead against the hard surface.

Jean flinches at the loud bang. Marco squeezes between you two, and you feel the other cadets on kitchen duty crowd in from behind to enjoy the entertainment as the two boys beat each other up.

Where is Shadis? Where is Mikasa? Only a few cadets mingle inside the room, but they draw a wide circle away from the boys, hesitating to close in.

Eren grunts something you can’t hear. Victor laughs, takes Eren’s hair in his fist and bangs his forehead against the table a second time. “You call that fighting?”

“What the fuck?” Your breath catches in your throat. “Why are they going at each other like that?”

“Victor has had it out for Eren the whole day.” Marco leans closer, his voice drops. His warm shoulder presses against yours. “Eren woke up after a nightmare this morning, calling for his … his mother. And Victor’s been making fun of him for that. I don’t think Victor knows Eren lost his mother when Wall Maria fell.”

It’s like a blurry picture suddenly snapping into focus. You grow cold all over. You didn’t know either. Not that it had come up as a topic, but you have never given it any thought—but now, now it makes sense: “Three years ago when we lost our home to the Titans, I swore I would kill every last one of them,” Eren had said. “When you said you wanted to kill the Armoured Titan, I thought you were the same.” It explains why on that early winter day last year he followed you outside after you had snapped at Daz that you can’t return to your mother even if you wanted to. Because she is dead. And so is Eren’s mother, and in his book that makes you an ally unlike anyone else. You don’t know what to do with that knowledge, so you tie it up in a bundle and banish it to the confines of unpleasant topics you have to deal with at a later time.

“Of course Eren finally snapped.” Marco’s voice draws you back. “Anyone would. It’s just that …”

Just that any following penalty Eren gets from engaging into fights outside the hand-to-hand-combat training will have him discharged from military service. You don’t know if that’s been Victor’s plan from the very beginning, but he has gradually worked towards this for the last couple of months. Agitating Eren directly until he exploded in front of the instructors, exploiting his unyielding loyalty and care towards Armin, Victor has been chipping away at Eren’s needle-thin restraint, and now it breaks like a causeway.

Jean’s head ducks back into the kitchen; he’s doing it right, not wanting to be there when the flood tears down everything. He only manages half a step away before Marco grabs his shirt and pulls him back.

“We can’t just do nothing,” Marco whispers frantically.

Jean pulls a face. “It’s got nothing to do with us. Let Eren beat him up, or whatever.” He throws a quick glance in the next room, where the sound of chairs dragging across the floor shows no sign of the conflict being resolved.

“They will throw Eren out of the military.” Marco sees Victor manage another blow in Eren’s face and winces. “And it’s not like you provoking him last week has helped.”

Jean throws his hands up. “It ain’t my fault his first reaction is to punch people, me specifically!”

“Well, you do have a very punchable face.”

He ignores your comment, and grabs Marco’s arm when he tries to move to the next room. “Come on, Marco. This isn’t our fight. Let them get each other kicked out. That’s two less to compete with for the top.”

Marco’s mouth twists into an unhappy line. Jean’s grip around his arm tightens. “Marco—”

“If you two are done flirting,” you say, “the cavalry has arrived.”

Their heads swirl around, just in time to see Mikasa bolt through the entrance, Armin hard on her heels. They steer towards Eren, but instead of joining him, who’s currently choking Victor against the wall, they yank at his clothes to pull them apart.

“Calm down, Eren.” Armin, apparently acquainted with Eren’s fighting moves, expertly dodges a stray fist whirling past his head. “P-please, calm down.”

“Can’t you do anything on your own, Jaeger?” Victor’s kick only misses because Mikasa has both elbows locked with Armin and Eren’s, and a quick turn drags them both out of the way. You’ve never seen her this angry before—her calm, collected fury that now sharpens into the point of a lethal spear. “You always need your girlfriends saving and wiping your ass for you? They should have left you in that shithole of a District with your Mom.”

“I am going to kill you, Hoffmann,” Eren growls. The muscles in his arms strain against Mikasa’s hold. “I am going to make you eat your words, you piece of—”

“Then come on, mama’s boy. Punch me.” He takes another step towards Eren. They’re standing so close to each other their chests are touching with every shaking breath Eren forces into his lungs. “Punch me. Don’t hold back. It’s what you want, isn’t it? You love violence, it’s the only language you understand.”

“Eren might get in trouble if he lays a hand on you,” Mikasa says. Her voice is sharp and cold like icicles. “But I won’t.”

“This isn’t your fight—,” Eren begins as Armin whines, “Not you too, Mikasa!”

Victor just laughs. “I will have you both thrown back in the filthy gutter you came from.”

If anyone asked, you’d say you did it for Amin. To wipe away the desperation and fear from his face, to have his unshed tears collecting in his pale blue eyes not be wasted on someone like Victor trying to ruin their wonderful constellation of chaos and fierceness. Their family.

In truth, in deep deep, hidden truth, you smelled danger and for the first time, you aimed straight for it like an arrow, demanding to land true.

“Don’t even think—” Jean grabs for you but you duck under his arm and emerge into the room, still clutching the apple. This time, he doesn’t hesitate and follows you, muttering “Fuck” under his breath, and to Marco he says, “Go get Shadis or any other instructor.”

“I’m surprised, Victor!” you call halfway across the room. Attention chained to Eren and his friends, he flinches slightly at your voice catching him off guard. “When did you grow balls to pick on people all by yourself?” You can feel the force of his anger aimed at you like a gale threatening to knock you off your feet. There is but a short silence in the room. The veneer of superiority Victor has attempted to maintain hangs from him at an angle, skewed, flapping, and distasteful, like a highly wrought gate blown off its hinges, and you have been the storm that has swept through.

Still, he clings to it. “You know, I’m sure that Arlert, your damsel in distress, would just fuck you, if you asked him nicely. No reason to try and leave an impression by standing up for him.”

“The way you’ve been hanging around him ever since we joined seems like you’re the one who wants to get in his pants, Hoffmann,” says Jean, conveniently placing himself between you and Victor.

Armin makes a feeble sound, his pale skin flushing a furious red. “I’m right here.”

“Yes, the whole carnival group has arrived.” Victor claps his hands, the harsh sound as loud as a gunshot. “Which will make it easier to throw out the trash all at once.”

“You can’t just do that,” Jean says, but you hear the slight tremor in his voice. You shoot him a quick look to tell him not to back down. It’s five against one, there is nothing Victor can do to hurt you. But Jean’s eyes are on Mikasa only, and it slightly shifts your understanding of why he has stepped up in the first place.

“I can do anything I want to garbage like you,” Victor hisses. “Do you know who my father is?”

“Why?” You just have to stall for time until Marco gets one of the instructors. “Your mother didn’t tell you?”

Victor’s face is as placid as the surface of a still lake. But you have never seen such fury in his eyes before—dark, the colour of storm clouds and midnight waters. “At least I still have a mother.”

It’s like he slapped you across the face. Jean sucks in a sharp breath, and out of the corner of your eyes you see Eren lunge at him again, held back by Armin and Mikasa so desperately they tear at his clothes.

Jean moves, but you move faster and with a sickening crunch, the apple you hurl at Victor connects with his nose and breaks it. Blood sprays between his fingers, he swallows half of it as he screams in pain, and spits it at your feet.

“You bitch!” he roars, diving for a chair and you can already see him flinging it at you. “I will make you pay, I will make you all pay, you filthy, common whor—”

“Victor!” To everyone’s surprise, it’s Armin’s trembling voice jamming a full stop on Victor’s seething fury. “How did Jonathan die, Victor?”

Victor blanches. The question, thrown in out of nowhere, gives you all whiplash and freezes the tension for a second. You wonder if this whole situation has Armin gone a little crazy, but then you think back on that day. How Armin had stared at Victor, and the realisation of what Armin is hinting closes like an icy fist around your stomach.

Very slowly, Victor turns to Armin, still holding onto the backrest of the chair. “What?”

“How did Jonathan die?”

Slowly, Victor lets go of the chair. Fat drops of blood tumble from his nose to his chin, then to the ground where the apple lies, forgotten and half of its side showing an ugly dent. “I believe you all know,” he says, now calm as the surface of a lake on a windless day. “He was stupid enough to fall off a tree.”

Mikasa and Eren are looking at each other in a way that is familiar to you. It is the way you and Jean sometimes look at each other, exchanging coded glances when you don’t want Ida and Felix to know what you are planning. They then turn to Armin, who is slightly shaking, but you don’t think it is from fear. Something entirely else is going on.

“Jonathan has always passed his flying tests with a success rate of eighty percent. He had an almost obsessive compulsion to check his gear three times to make sure everything was working perfectly.” Armin is talking so fast, but now he takes a deep, shaking breath. “I do not think he was stupid and just fell off a tree.”

“Then what,” says Victor, very quietly, “is it that you think, Arlert?”

“I don’t think. Because I know what I saw, Victor.”

The tension hangs so thick in the air it is impossible to breathe. You can feel Jean’s presence by your side, his quiet mumbling about what the fuck is going on as Armin and Victor stare each other down.

The door to the mess hall flies open. Shadis’ tall frame standing in the entrance is a welcome sight—at least for as long as he is on your side. You hope he is on your side, because judging from Marco’s panicked face peeking over Shadis’ shoulder, you can’t estimate what he’s told your instructor.

Shadis’ face goes through a set of different emotions, and lastly he settles for a look of disgust that deserves its own painting to commemorate it. He takes you all in, eyes lingering on you, Victor, Eren and Armin. It says it all. Why is it you four again?

With an eerily calm voice, he asks, “What is going on, cadets?”

“Nothing,” choruse you, Jean, Eren, Armin and Victor in surprising and probably never-to-be-repeated unison.

Shadis narrows his eyes. “That blood on your mug ain’t looking like nothing to me, Hoffmann.”

Victor takes a deep, shaking breath. “Just … a moment of carelessness, sir. I walked into a door.”

You’re holding your breath. Everyone’s holding their breath. Victor stands, tall and proud, and manages to hold onto his haughtiness as if it is his only lifeline.

Shadis makes a sound of barely contained anger. “And you, Jaeger?”

You can see Mikasa’s bone crushing grip on his arm. He swallows hard. “Same, sir.”

You can all read it on Shadis’ face, the fight within him to discipline you all and make you run until you barf out your guts or even worse. Or just go with your stupid excuse and don’t pursue the matter further. At last, he relents, and slaps his hand so hard against his forehead you think he might be trying to punch it through his skull. “Then open your god damn eyes when you walk, you fucking morons!”

He turns sharply and pushes Marco out of the way, who steps into the room, his shoulders up, chin ducked into his chest as if he’s trying to appear smaller, which is difficult with his height. He dodges to the side when Victor barrels past him, and with him gone, the tension disperses. Finally, you can take a deep breath and relax the hard tension from your shoulders.

“By the Walls.” Marco crowds you and Jean, clasping his hands anxiously behind his head. “Who punched Victor?”

“You can thank [Name] if by tomorrow we’re back in a cart to Trost.” The colour in Jean’s face has vanished as if it has been wiped away, leaving him grey and staring.

“Excuse me, you were about to maul him as well,” you hiss. “I was just faster.”

He drags his hands over his face, rubs over his pale skin as if he’s trying to rub the exhaustion away. Between his slender fingers, he peeks over at the other three. His eyes are lidded, thoughtful, and then he straightens and walks over. You share a quick, confused look with Marco.

“Arlert,” Jean says. Three heads turn towards him. Armin has to lean his head back to meet Jean’s eyes, ignoring Eren’s muffled sound of protest. He’s leaning his slender hips against a table, trying to get Mikasa off his case who’s insisting to take a look at the wound on his forehead. A small trickle of blood makes its way between his eyebrows. His body stands at attention, brain still sending adrenaline through his body. The fight isn’t over. We are not your enemies, you want to tell him. “What happened in the woods?”

Armin studies Jean. There is something relentless in his features—his wide eyes attentive in a way that he categorises every piece of information and stores it in the library of his mind until needed. Hints of sharp cheekbones still hide under his boyish, young face, his nose an elegant arch. Only the full thrust of his lips gives any hint of softness. Within almost a year, it has turned into a challenging face, stubborn in its lines. “I passed them by chance. Victor and Jonathan had been talking up on that tree, and Victor seemed furious. I had to change directions for a second, looking away, but I’m pretty sure Victor did something to Jonathan’s gear. When Jonathan fell … when he fell, he tried to use it, but it didn’t work. And Victor just watched. Kept his eyes on Jonathan the whole time until he—” A shudder passes Armin.

“Wait, are you saying Victor killed Jonathan?” Jean looks from Armin to Eren and Mikasa, waiting for someone to explain the punchline. “That’s a joke, right? You got a weird sense of humour going for you, Arlert.”

“Did you actually see it happen?” you ask, feeling a cold settle deep within your bones. “Did you see Victor push Jonathan off or something?”

“I didn’t have a clear sight of it. But the way he behaved after, the way he is acting now. He wouldn’t miss a chance to give us a hard time, so the fact he didn’t tell Shadis straight out what happened here—”

“You took a gamble,” Jean realises, his face going slack with surprise. “You don’t know for sure, but you made Victor think you know what happened. And he pretty much confirmed by covering [Name]. That’s fucking smart. And a little scary, not gonna lie.”

Armin flushes, the praise surprising him enough that he hunches his shoulders a little. “Well, I thought it would be worth a shot…”

“It’s good you have a brain you can use. Unlike someone else in this room.”

“Are you looking for a fight? Now?” Eren cuts in, putting all his energy into propping himself against the table at the same time you bristle, “At least I have bigger balls than you.”

Eren and you stare at each other. Jean tries and fails to stifle a mocking chuckle. “It’s telling that it is you two who felt addressed.”

“But that was as good a lesson as any,” Marco says. He’s rubbing his arms, as if this whole ordeal has scared him enough to chill him to the bone. “Let’s just stay away from Victor, okay?”

“It isn’t us going after him,” says Mikasa after a moment. She’s trying to push Eren’s brown bangs falling into his eyes away to get a look at the scrape on his forehead, but he keeps swatting her away. Finally, she grabs both of his wrists in one hand, and manages to hold onto them with an iron grip, pushing his hair away with her other. His forehead is an angry, painful red that has you wincing. “Something happened. Something that makes him want to get us kicked out. Off the top list.”

“Wait, what number was Jonathan—” Marco starts.

“Seven,” Armin says, very quietly.

Suddenly, you feel sick. “Six months ago, when Anatoliy broke his arm. He was ranked eight. Where was Victor when it happened?”

Armin’s eyes snap to you, a fever setting in them as if he’s glad someone else seems to get it. “On that day? He was in another group being tested. But a day before that, I saw Albert and Edmund talk to Anatoliy. I don’t know what it was about, but he had been anxious the whole evening. As if he was constantly on guard.”

Silence hangs in the room, the axe above all your heads as the headman takes a swing. It’s absurd. It has to be paranoia, nothing more.

“I’m sure there is … a different explanation,” Marco says, hesitating a little. “Preferably one that doesn’t entail one of us …”

Killing. One of you killing those who rise to the top. Of which four are currently in this room. Your eyes take in Jean and Marco, their expressions ranging from doubtful to scared; Mikasa whose face doesn’t betray any emotion, and lastly Eren—who is looking at you as well, so your eyes snap back to Jean. Your heart skitters for a moment. From this distance, his green eyes seem almost dark.

Suddenly, Marco groans, very loud. “We still have to make dinner.” He darts between the tables towards the kitchen, but turns in the doorway and points at you and Jean. “You two, you help!”

“It wasn’t our fault you had to stop,” Jean grumbles, but he’s already following Marco; Jean, who seldom helps out in the kitchen when he knows other people got it covered, but you have yet to see him tell Marco No whenever he asks Jean of something.

You should go too, but for a moment you linger. Like before, your eyes are drawn to Eren, who is surrounded by his friends. Mikasa presses her slender fingers carefully against his wound, leaning close to Eren’s face. There’s nothing weird about that. You know they’re very close, close like family, like you and Jean close, so the tight knot forming in your stomach must be residual anxiety from confronting Victor, nothing more.

“How bad is it?” you can hear Eren ask. Jean hears him too, and stops in the doorway to the kitchen to call back, wearing an insufferable grin: “Don’t worry! You’re still as ugly as before!”

Eren glares at Jean, but finds you in the way of his stare.

You shift your weight from left to right foot, fumbling with your hands. “Uhm,” you say very eloquently, “I’m going to shut him up.”

You don’t make it very far. Just after you turn, a warm hand snatches your wrist. Looking over your shoulder, you find Eren staring at you, surprise flashing across his features as if he isn’t sure himself what urged him to do this. Something like hesitation flickers in his eyes, and he digs his thumb right against the pulse point inside your wrist.

You stare at each other for a long moment.

Finally, Eren says, “Nice throw.”

You swallow, and for a second believe Eren’s eyes to jump down to your throat, catching the movement. “Thanks.”

You wait for Eren to let you go. He doesn’t. He looks conflicted over something—desperate even, but whatever he wants to say appears to be stuck in his throat. His tongue darts out and swipes over his lower lip, leaving it pink and glossy.

You blink, dazzled. What is it that you want from me? you want to ask, but the answer frightens you.

“Eren.” Mikasa’s voice sinks like a hook under his skin and drags his attention back. Immediately, he lets go of your wrist, watches it fall back to your side. You take a step back, then another, and finally you turn and head back into the kitchen. When you look down, you find your wrist ringed with red where his fingers have gripped you, and, almost absent-mindedly, you push your own thumb into it.

***

“We’ll close … target … south and east!” Marco’s voice drifts from the front, barely audible over the sound of wind rushing past you. You change course, a little more to the left. Better. “—have Connie make the kill!”

Connie whoops. You hate to be the bearer of bad news.

“Make it Daz!” you call up to him. Marco, eyes still forward, tilts his head slightly to signal he’s listening. “Connie spent too much gas on the previous two Titans!”

“I still got enough!” Connie shouts back.

“We still have to make it all the way back!” You ease off the gas and let the momentum carry you over a narrow stream cutting through weathered rocks. The forest smells of damp earth and wet moss. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but manoeuvring through them is more difficult after a shower has passed through a couple of hours ago, and you have to pay much more attention where you land, where you sink your hooks in. Good thing it isn’t raining anymore.

“Why do I have to do it?!” comes from Daz, a little behind you. He’s having a hard time keeping up with the rest of you, not necessarily because he can’t but because he doesn’t want to. “Do it yourself!”

“No, if it’s a 17-metre Titan, Marco and I are going for its tendons!”

When there is no reply, you turn in time to catch him parrot you with a grimace. His eyes meet yours and he blanches. “O-okay, I’ll do it!”

That’s what you want to hear.

You plough through the wooden Titan dummies, following Marco’s orders who’s tasked to lead you in this exercise. You’re only responsible to keep an eye out for everyone’s gas and blades. Shadis had explained that throughout the forest, they’ve built five bases where you can go and resupply. You just hope the trigger-happy squad hasn’t gone through all your reserves and leaves some for you—that hope quickly dissolves when you reach the meeting point clearly marked for your group and find two from Reiner’s squad buzzing like flies on caffeine around a 17-metre Titan.

Marco makes a weird sound. It sounds a lot like “Oh no.” You have to agree.

“Come on, Jaeger! Try not to trip up your own group members, will ya!” Jean’s shrill voice is hard to miss. It wakes the instinctual urge that has been with you since childhood to throw something at him. Preferably, something big and hard.

“You’re the one getting in my way, you asshole!” Eren surges forward, trying to break his gas controllers judging from how fast he’s speeding from tree to tree.

Daz lands on the branch beside you, wiping sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “They’re going to get each other killed,” he says, and it isn’t often that you agree with him on something, but this time he’s simply stating facts.

“They shouldn’t even be here.” You change the setting on your controllers to short-distance manoeuvring. “Where are Reiner and Bertholdt?”

“Probably where they’re actually supposed to be.”

“Can we get the kill?” Connie bounces where he’s propped up against the tree. “Can we please get the kill?”

“Not you.” Marco dangles from a branch above your heads. “Daz, go for the talons. [Name], you take the neck.”

Easy. You give a short nod while Daz just groans dramatically. You let the gas launch you forward, grapple hooks sinking into the wood of the Titan to give you a clear access to your target. The distance closes within a blink, you tense your arms in the right position to slice a good chunk off the neck, holding your blades in a tight grip—

With a sudden snap, you hooks detach from the wood. You’re too surprised to scream. The sensation of falling is the worst part; your heart flows up into your throat and your stomach turns to water. You fling your hands out, slam down the levers to reel the hooks back in but they’re too slow. Someone shouts your name as the world flies by in a blur of green and brown, and just for a second a flash of silver like stardust—

A strong arm hooks around your right elbow, stopping your drop abruptly. You feel your breakfast is about to come up again. More voices, one very close to your ear but you can’t hear anything past the loud rush of blood in your head. Another body closes in from the left, and together they lift you up to the safe canopy of trees with their thick, wide branches.

When you’re released from strong, big hands, you have to steady yourself against the trunk, its rough bark a grounding presence against the clammy skin of your palm.

“That was—that was close.” Past the frantic buzzing in your ears, Reiner’s voice finally reaches you. He swipes sweat off his forehead, making his green shirt ride up slightly and show a narrow stripe of chiselled abs. “You’re a pretty reckless one, aren’t you? Way to lose position.”

“Yeah … ugh…” You don’t know if you should apologise or thank him first.

“But everything worked out fine,” says Bertholdt. He looks pale, his inky black hair dishevelled and sticking to his temples. “We really have to be careful around the woods after rain. The hooks can give in at any time.”

Reiner replies something, but you don’t listen anymore. Instead, you peek over the thick branch down to where the wooden Titan stands, still and undisturbed. Nothing silver. Not even any flowers that might have played a trick on your eyes.

The branch shakes when Jean lands on it. He looks as if he’s swallowed something sharp. “Check your gear, and then check it again,” he nearly snaps at you. “That gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“Yeah,” you say, suddenly feeling drained and exhausted now that the immediate threat is gone. “Imagine how I felt.”

“Should we call it a day?” Reiner looks up, probably looking for the sun to determine what hour it is, but finds a grey sky looming over your heads. He scowls. “The other two groups should be done by now.”

“We’ve got … three Titans left, I think,” notes Marco. There’s nothing subtle about his worrying gaze whenever he glances at you. All the attention on you makes you want to vanish into thin air.

Reiner checks how much gas he has left. To the group, he says, “Then let’s clear ‘em out. Jean, you take [Name] back to the meeting point where we split into groups for the night later.”

“I can still keep going.” Anxiety spikes cold in your stomach. You won’t let them leave you behind. “I’ll be more careful.”

“Is your gear all right?”

You jut out your chin. “Of course.”

“Is it?” Eren’s voice coming from your left makes you flinch. With his hooks embedded somewhere above him, he’s propped against the tree trunk, looking slightly down at you. When did he get there? He leans forward, and wedges one of your wires out of its hold, brushing his warm arm against yours. “When was the last time you ground your hooks? Look how blunt they are.”

He’s trailing a finger over one edge, and what should leave a deep cut in his skin doesn’t even leave a scratch. Eren lets the hook go and it snaps back into its housing. “Go back. We’ll be faster without having to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.” And with that, he releases his anchor’s hold onto the tree and lets himself fall, allowing the forest to embrace him as he disappears into the thicket.

You stare after him, feeling the slow trickle of hot shame fill your chest drop by seething drop.

“Don’t worry, [Name].” Reiner gives you a sympathetic smile. “We’ll come up with something different than gear malfunctioning for the report. Manoeuvring through wet terrain is pretty tricky. That should suffice.”

He means well, but you don’t want anyone coming up with excuses for your sake. As the rest moves out again, you inspect your hooks for yourself. It shouldn’t be at the state that it is, and you have made sure everything was in order before leaving for this mission.

Did you?

“What if this was Victor?” you think out loud. A shudder shakes your body. “He could have messed up my gear.”

“You’re not in the top.” Jean peeks down from the tree, his eyes searching for something. Maybe the same thing you have been looking for earlier? His brows wrinkle, and he shakes his head for a moment.

“But he hates me.”

“Well, he hates a lot of people. He hates me, too. I haven’t woken up to him smothering me in my sleep.” Jean hesitates for a moment. “Yet? Maybe we just jumped to conclusions. I don’t think anyone of us can just kill another person that ruthlessly.”

“Maybe.”

You stand there for a moment, listening to a breeze sweep through the emerald crowns that carries another wave of far-off rain.

“Should we try using ODM gear back or do you want to walk?”

“If we walk, that should take us … an hour? An hour and a half?” He doesn’t look excited about that. “Let’s hope Mikasa and the others will be done by then.”

He helps you get down from the tree, and you’re grateful to feel steady ground under your feet. When you begin to march, you fight against the urge to steal another glance back over your shoulder to where you saw the flash of silver.

You can’t stand the silence. “Jaeger didn’t have to be such an asshole about it. Right?” You look up at Jean. He keeps his eyes fixed ahead. “He basically said I’m a liability.”

Jean doesn’t respond. Which means, he’s agreeing with Eren, and that doesn’t just plunge the knife into your chest like Eren did. It twists it.

“We all have our bad days,” he finally says.

You haven’t just had a bad day. You’ve had a bad week and something dreadful sitting in your stomach tells you there isn’t an end in sight yet.

Night falls. The sky turns to ink, blotting out the sun, and darkness cloaks the world. Your little group moves in silence through the woods, raising your voices feels like desecrating the quiet of the forest and the old things living inside it.

Reiner leads at the very front. His torch flickers anxiously as if it is too frightened by the black shadows swallowing you all. Jean and you have been tasked to be part of the four cadets carrying the provisions. Bags heavy and weighing you down with every step, backs sore and aching, you can’t help but turn your head at the smallest of noises coming from the dense woods closing around you. You hear the night sounds of the forest, the crickets, the distant splashes of small creatures by the river, and the wind through the trees. It feels like something is watching you in the thicket, something that isn’t an owl or a mouse or any other nocturnal animal hiding.

“It’s so dark,” you say lamely.

Jean snorts. “You want me to hold your hand?”

You put both hands behind your back like a small child. “Don’t talk down to me.”

“Well, I could hardly talk up to you. You’re smaller than me.” He glances past you, the torch showering sparks and casting dancing shadows over his face as he tracks down the path right behind Bertholdt. You consider tripping him up just to see him land on his stupid face. Or later when the camp is set and he’s put out his sleeping back, you should put stones inside and give him a nasty surprise when he lies down to sleep—

“I know that look, and whatever you scheme, I’m gonna pay it back double.” Jean ducks under a low-hanging branch, its shadow against the ground stretches like crooked fingers into the dark. “Remember when you shot me in the face with a slingshot when we were kids?”

You pull a face, following after him and hope the cadet behind you doesn’t get whacked in the face with the branch. “Yeah. I also remember I gave you five coins so you wouldn’t tell Ida. But you still ratted me out after you spent that money.”

Jean grins, satisfied. “Best spent coins of my life.”

Maybe you should dig for worms instead of stones.

Reiner decides to set up camp near a narrow stream that cuts through the forest, hidden between the tall shadows of fir trees looming over you. While the other cadets build the camp—sweep the forest ground for your sleeping bags, prepare the campfire for dinner—you, Connie and Daz head down to fetch water. A task that potentially increases in difficulty because Daz shakes so much out of fear that you’re worried the torch will go out. When you return, a fire crackles softly, the smell of burning wood and smoke a pleasant change. It stirs a memory awake, years ago when you used to go camping with your family and the Kirschsteins. You try to swallow past the lump in your throat and follow Reiner’s instructions mechanically.

Dinner is dry crackers and canned beans that taste like bland gums. They have the same texture too. You envy the other group where Sasha is, who is surely hunting something down for dinner. As you chew and chew until your jaw grows sore, not listening to the quiet mumbles of your comrades, you just stare into nothing. An owl sits on a narrow branch above your heads, looking down at you all. Blinking lazily at you. You blink back. Make a face at it. Very unfazed, it shakes its plumage in response, and continues its silent vigil over your group.

The first shift is taken care of by Reiner and Daz. Jean keeps yapping about why Marco and you are adamant to sleep apart from him, to which you both share a silent, understanding gaze. In the end, Connie decides to huddle up next to Jean, and you can’t wait to see Jean beating him up in his sleep. Bertholdt, too, is steered clear of by the other cadets. Marco simply whispers to you, “You’ll see in the morning.”

Exhaustion rolls over you the moment you lie down. The forest ground is hard, you can feel a pine cone digging in your back, but too tired to move even an inch, you let sleep take over.

No matter how often you tried to explain to Mom and Dad why you didn't want to play with Marianne and the other kids, they argued that you needed friends, and parents knew what was best for their children. As it was.

Stubborn adults, who did not understand your reasoning, so of course you did what they said, and every day you met up with the same neighbourhood’s children to play the same games.

On the day everything was to change, Lisa from that pretty, tall house down the road with vibrant tulips in their window boxes wanted to play hide-and-seek. Seven out of nine children assembled groaned.

“Didn’t we play that like … two days ago?” Michael asked. He always liked tag more because then he could push children and pretend they had stumbled over their own feet.

“We could go down to the river bed and see who’s coming out from Shiganshina,” Marianne offered. She always liked playing near the river so she could catch frogs and put them inside the other children’s clothes.

“Hide-and-seek.” Lisa stomped her foot. She loved it because she would only find those children she liked and forget all about the other kids who would hide and hide and keep hiding until it was late into the day and time to go home. You all played hide-and-seek a lot more during winter. “And today, the new kid can join us.” She pointed at the frail figure of a boy who stood a little apart from the group. He seemed much more interested in the weeds growing next to the road.

Michael pulled a face. He was the tallest of you all, and according to the logic of children that allowed him to command everyone else. It was clear from the very beginning, he did not like this boy at all. “What’s wrong with your hair?”

A couple heads turned his way. The boy shrugged in the manner of an adult who was not in the mood to indulge little kids’ questions about the birds and the bees.

You didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. It was unusual, maybe—a bright blond nearly fading to silver, the colour of stardust. It was definitely prettier than Michael's unruly mop of black hair.

“Let’s plaaaay,” Lisa whined. She had never cared much for anyone’s hair except her own and how it had to sit in perfectly curled twig-tails on her shoulders. “Today, we’ll have you, you, and you hide—”

“How about we make things a little more exciting?” Everyone’s head turned towards the boy with stardust hair. Now, he smiled. “We can make a bet. I’ll hide and you all try to find me.”

Stunned silence. The boy’s smile grew. It reminded you of a cat’s smile, a moment before it swatted at your hand with sharp claws after it had tricked you into petting it.

“But that’s too easy,” Michael said at the same time Lisa asked, “What do we get if we win?”

“My parents gave me some coins. I could buy you something from Schmidt’s Bakery—”

“You’ll go down to the soldier’s outpost and steal their smelly booze,” Marianne cut in, smiling back at the boy in a mirror smile of his own.

Mumbling rose around you. Whoever got caught taking something from the Garrison soldiers got a solid beating—young and old. You caught Fiona’s gaze. Her head twitched weirdly, your best interpretation was that she was trying to prompt you into saying something reasonable. You didn’t know when you had become the voice of reason.

“What do you get if you win?”

The boy pivoted his gaze to you, and for the first time your eyes really met. They were blue like the sky, like someone stole a piece of the horizon and gave it to him. He saw you.

“Well,” he said. “That depends on who finds me.” He held your gaze for a moment, maybe challenging you to look away. You couldn’t. His eyes were too mesmerising. Too pretty. “But we play by my rules,” he continued. “Or else this will be too easy for you.”

Michael and Lisa exchanged looks with the other kids. “We’ll decide after you tell us,” Michael said, kicking at pebbles before his feet. When he accidentally hit one of the other boys, making him cry out, Michael ignored him.

“First, you have to stay where you are. And you can only move again and start looking, when I tell you to leave.”

“But that will make it super easy.” Marianne groaned, looking as if she already regretted having him join in the first place. “We’ll hear you wherever you are and know where to find you. Do you even know how to play hide-and-seek?”

“That just means you’ll have an easy and quick win. Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

Marianne understood that much. She slapped her hands over her eyes, and everyone else followed. They boy waited. You were pretty sure Michael was cheating.

“Stay where you are,” the boy said. It sounded as if he was standing right next to you, whispering into your ear. You shuddered. “And then leave.”

You lowered your hands, turned your head over your shoulder.

But the boy was gone.

Three hours later, you climbed over the high fence that separated the main road from the meadow that stretched on towards the river bank. Sunlight glittered on the surface like thousands of diamonds, ambers and rubies. The boy sat in an almost perfect circle of wildflowers in every rainbow's colour, staring down at them as if he saw flowers for the very first time. You almost fell off the fence, unexplainable joy and excitement blossoming in your chest, the feeling similar to whenever you looked forward to eating Aunty Ida’s apple pie.

You straightened your clothes, scratched off a dried crack of dirt from your skirt, and took a deep breath. “I found you!” you called over, and that changed everything.

The boy froze. He turned his head, slowly, until he found you looking down at him—and then he stared at you for a long, uncomfortable minute. Stared. Stared some more. Maybe you had some dirt on your face. Or he found the hair cut Mom had given you last week funny.

Eventually, he turned around again, back to the flowers as if they were his only true friends. To them, he said, “I have heard about how Lisa and the others play hide-and-seek. When did they stop looking for me? After an hour?”

Shame scalded your cheeks. “Twenty minutes.”

“You didn’t have to look for me. You could have stopped, too.”

“I know.” You crouched beside him to see what was so captivating about the flowers. A bee tumbled off a white, star-shaped flower with a golden crown in its middle and buzzed past your head. It was the only white flower in this circle. “But I wanted to.”

The boy shot you a look you were familiar with because that was always how your mother looked at your dad when she knew he was lying about taking a day off to visit Shiganshina for a family trip even though he had promised. So doubting. So shielded, protecting themselves from disappointment and hurt. You wanted to gently brush that guarded look away from his face.

“Why?” His voice was quiet, a little resigned, like stars that made their peace as they burnt a bright trail on their way down through the skies. “What do you want?”

His question confused you. When you looked at him, a soft breeze caressed his hair. You wanted to touch it. “Be my friend.”

Three small words. But they were not three words that would change the world. Those would follow later, much later.

He was taken aback, you could immediately see. As if you demanded he carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Genuine surprise flitted across his face, comical almost, as if he couldn't believe anyone would ask him that. “Why?” he asked again, like a broken record. Like he didn’t know anything else to say.

And since ‘Why’ carried the most complex of reasons, you had to answer with the simplest of explanations.

You looked over at him with your honest, honest face—an honesty only a child could wear because it didn’t know of any betrayal and hurt yet.

“Because.” Two could play at this game and you gladly showed how competitive you were. “Is there anything wrong with wanting to be your friend?”

“Well…” The boy looked as if he had stepped onto a little wooden block. “I’m just not good with …” He waved a hand at you, then stopped himself from speaking further. Did he mean to say girls? What a silly boy. Jean and you showed perfectly that boys and girls could be friends, too. Even though Jean did eat your chocolate sweets once and you pinched him until he had cried. Still, you had made up. You had always made up, no matter how silly or mean the fight had been.

Looking at the boy, he did not seem like someone who would steal from you. Or hurt you. His face had the soft lines of the marble angels in the church in Shiganshina, and angels were always benevolent creatures, kind and loving. Later, you would learn this not to be true—after reading the stories about their cold righteousness. Their indomitable will to stand against anything that is wrong, as inerrant in their presence as with their purpose.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I’ll help you figure it out.” The boy pulled a face as if he had bitten into a sour lemon. That consent was good enough for you. “Come on then, let’s go.”

The boy frowned. His hands clung to the flower stems spread before him, their heads bowing in the wind as if he was their prince. But he didn’t move to pull them out—it seemed that he was just holding onto them. “Go where?”

You were already up on your feet. “You said you’d buy whoever found you something from Schmidt’s. Or did you change your mind?”

He gave another resigned sign, but this time something else thrummed within. “No … let’s go.”

“Nice! Let’s hurry before they’re all out of Apfelstrudel! I’ll share with you, don’t worry.”

He mumbled something under his breath, and then a little louder so you could hear him, “You don’t have to share with me.”

“I know. But I want to.”

Back then, everything was that simple. That was long before you knew nothing was simple when it came to him.

Charging halfway up the hill, you remembered something and came to a full stop. When you turned, the boy was following you at some distance, hands in his pockets. He wore a thoughtful expression, and you wondered what he was thinking about so hard. Maybe how much coins he would be left with until his parents gave him more?

“Your name.” You pointed at him. “What’s your name?”

His thoughtful, blue eyes brushed over you like a caress. “Emil,” he said. “My name is Emil, and I guess I will be your friend from now on.” He sighed, wearily, but it didn’t sound like his heart was really into it.

You beamed at him. “Really?!”

“Yes, really.” Emil looked at you with his kind, blue eyes. “Because you found me.”

It takes a long minute to realise the reason your vision is blurry lies in the hot veil of tears clouding your sight and not Jean trying to shake your brains out of your head. Dizzy from sleep, you push onto your elbows, hands scrubbing over your face.

“Finally. Come on, wake up. Wake up for real, [Name].” You don’t immediately hear the panic in his voice. Is it because it is night? Jeanie used to be so scared of the darkness, always insisting to sleep with candles burning in every corner of his room. Maybe he’s had a nightmare and needs your help with something.

One hand swipes across your wet cheeks and collects the tears spilling from your eyes. Why are you crying? The worry on Jean’s face grows. His hand is a vice around your arm, an anchor to support you.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low. Tense.

What a weird question. “Yeah … yeah, of course.” You wipe your wet hands on your shirt. “I’ve had the weirdest dream … I can’t even remember half of it.”

“Well, you’re awake now.” The urgency in his voice is like a whip surging the horse onward, like he has to be done with this conversation no matter the cost.

You scratch at your forehead. “Yeah … yeah…” You squeeze the ring around your finger, its beautiful red gleaming in the warm campfire’s light … wait … campfire? You completely forgot you’re out in the garden camping with the Kirschsteins. You look up and find Jean’s eyes. “What’s wrong?” you ask, rubbing your eyes. Why are they wet again? “You scared of the dark?”

“Oh, ha ha,” Jean replies dryly, but a wry grin steals back on his face, only to be shattered when you ask, “Where is Emil?”

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taglist: @arisu003, @brooki

A/N: Got y'all again, this is actually Jean/Everyone, he is the main pillow princess, it's his harem

NOT ME FINDING ACTORS!AU OF AOT AND CONSIDERING WRITING LITTLE EXTRA SNIPPETS FOR ACTORS AU WITH OUR READER

#aot x reader #snk x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x y/n #aot x oc #eren x oc

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 4 years

Text

Fury of Their Scales

m.yoongi / reader

genre: dragon!au, wyvern!yoongi, human/herbalist!reader,

warning(s)!!: isolation/alienation, mentions of war, injuries/blood/violence, dragon boy yoongles is stuck in a trap bc he’s dumb, y/n is so sO pure, protective dragon yoonyoon, villagers physically bully y/n a lot :(, unfair situations, y/n takes so much shit like a champ she deserves an award, dragon boy is a dragon for the first half of this (sorry, not sorry), don’t be scared there's actual humor and wholesome stuff too :D, slow burn (kinda)?

w.count: 17.7k

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: T]

synopsis: a world of dragons, demons, devils, gods and ghouls- humans were of small number. you’ve lived on the outskirts of your human village in the woods ever since you could remember. living alone in a small cabin with nothing but woodland trees, ponds, lakes and animals was like a small paradise- with the occasional bump in the road. as someone who’s studied and experimented with nature to make all sorts of concoctions- your home was ideal. it didn’t matter that your village didn’t like it or that they rejected your life of medicine. what did matter, however, was the dragon stuck in a trap not too far from your home that you just discovered.

a/n: i literally haven’t sat down to write fanfiction in over a month bc my brain was fried and i got sucked balls deep into a fandom of an anime i dont even watch (yet). It took me three hours to edit this bc i pass tf out, pls be easy on me LOL

A shrill whine echoed through the woodland area. Bouncing off trees, echoing in caves, spooking off wildlife of rodents and critters that crept along the ground with far too many spindly legs. Rustling in the wind, entangling with the leaves that blew and then erupting when a campfire crackled, settling in it’s burning pit of wood and stone.

-x-x-x-

You shot awake in bed, the morning light peeking in through your bedroom window that was covered in a beginning to tear curtain. You breathed out a heavy sigh as you flopped back down onto your mattress that squeaked at your movement. You really should be getting a new bed sometime soon. This one was old and did nothing for your pressure points or back while you slept. What was the point of a good night rest when you wake up feeling like you just wrestled a bear and lost?

You looked at the small streaks of light that soaked into your wooden home as you closed your eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again before getting out of bed. You threw your covers off, your nightdress coming down to your knees as you started to stretch. Your arms reached above your head as you stifled a yawn.

You could hear the birds outside and from the way the sun angled into the room through the drapes, you assumed it was still fairly early. You hated that you could never seem to sleep until later into the morning, but you couldn’t help the fact that when you're up, you're up for the day unless you’re ill.

Walking to your window, you drew open the curtains and immediately shut your eyes. Peeling them open slowly in a squint, the morning light was brilliant until you finally adjusted to the sudden light difference. Letting the morning sun warm your room with sunspots, you started to change.

Tossing away your nightdress, you changed into your everyday- not at all flattering- attire.

A dress of a faded moss green skirt and a stretched, overly used leather corset around your waist that tucked around the white top half of your dress. Tying your hair back you slipped on some socks.

Leaving your room, you immediately dashed to your fire place where a kettle of day old water hung from the single hook inside the top of the pit. Striking a match, you ignited the wood that had not yet been completely burnt and noted to refill the kettle with fresh water later on- too lazy to do it right off the bat.

You walked around your small, cabin home jumping place to place with small tasks or chores that took a mere few seconds to complete to start your day off waiting for your kettle to whistle with hot water. When it finally did, you carefully took your kettle with a cloth wrapped around your hand and set it on your countertop. Grabbing a clay mug from your cupboard (that you made on your own to your pride), you dropped in a few leaves from a box of herbs you had and poured the steaming hot water over them.

“Alright,” you assured yourself as you left your kettle to cool off again. After a handful of minutes, you took your mug and sat yourself at your small table that was made for two- but only occupied by yourself. You lifted open your window and let out a breathy sigh at the fresh air. You placed a small plate of grain and food on the open window seal and soon enough, birds were flocking to it to grab something.

“Good morning you guys,” you chuckled as you basked in the small moment of peace before the day ahead. You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there in your spot of sunlight and birds with the occasional squirrel, but after the sun had shifted just enough to get you to notice, you deemed it long enough.

Getting up, you set your mug into your sink and took the plate that was previously filled on the widow as you walked to your door. Grabbing a white cloak to tie around your shoulders, a small gathering basket and placing a pair of worn down, brown boots on, you were leaving your home. Grabbing the key that hung on a nail beside the door, you locked your cabin door behind you and placed the key around your neck.

Taking a list from beneath the small cloth in your basket, you started reading aloud to none other than yourself. You kept yourself company, that’s the only way you stayed somewhat entertained in your lonesome cabin.

You lived on the outskirts of your village, having been born in this cabin and growing up in it even when your parents left you there as a child. You found out quickly how to grow and live independently and by now it was just second nature. Sure, you had your rough days of work and weather, but it was manageable. At least you didn’t have neighbors that stressed you out- only the occasional bird, bat or squirrel that got stuck in your chimney that you had to chase out.

“I need to find some goldenrod for sure,” you muttered. “I’ll need to make sure not to grab yarrow in its place; although, I guess it wouldn’t be all that bad if I did.” Your knowledge and interest in medicine was also another reason why you never branched further into the village as a person. All they did was ridicule you for not following the status quo. “I need honey too, but I’d have to go to the village for that unless some merchant runs into me while I’m out.” You sighed, “I doubt it. I’m never that lucky.”

You started your way off, passing by the small well in your front yard and bypassing the small station of firewood you had yet to cut and move. A pile of logs sat sliced into thirds under a tarp beside your front door. The hardest part of your life was building the muscle and stamina to cut your own firewood, not to mention swinging and actually hitting the wood with your axe instead of magnificently missing it and getting the blade stuck in the stump you used to chop on.

As you walked away from your cabin, the trees becoming thicker as you followed the dirt trail further into the woods, you started looking around. Scanning for any signs of any herb that you may want to snag along the search for the days main goal: goldenrod. You started off the path and began walking between trees and away from small holes from rabbits and moles so you don’t jeopardize your ankles and fall.

You were searching for a while as you were knelt into the grass, scanning leaves and flower petals to identify what was what when you thought you heard something. From somewhere beyond the trees, past the wall of foliage, you though you heard a sort of... whining? Or maybe howl?

A sense of deja-vu washed over you. Had you heard this whining somewhere before? Was it a wolf cub or maybe a bear? No, it sounded too rough to be either of those. A cry echoed after a moment of silence and then the whines from before returned shortly after.

A part of you wanted to forget about it and leave the area immediately. Something about the way it seemed to bend and mold the air around you with it’s unfamiliar cry made your skin crawl. However, the bigger part of your heart that knew that the cries you were hearing were cries for help made you think otherwise.

Rising to your feet, you tucked your basket to your side closer in a pitiful sense of self-comfort as you made your way towards the cries. The trees became less dense and soon you were approaching a small opening. You could hear the sounds of metal clanking together along with the loud cries and whines. Perhaps an animal had gotten snagged in a trap? If that were the case, you wondered if you should free it or not.

Although you felt bad for the animals in the moment, you knew that they were someone else's food source or something important to help somehow; whether it be a pelt for warmth or their claws for weaponry. You had no right to free an animal that wasn’t your prey- so you decided that if it was an animal you’d leave no matter how much your heart ached.

When you could see the clearing ahead, you slowed your footsteps and slowly crept up behind a tree to peer around it. As you did so, your breath caught in your throat as you gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from choking and making a sound. You spun around, nearly dropping your basket from your arm as you hid behind the tree you had peered around and pressed your back firmly to it’s trunk.

Your breath shuttered, shook, halted and repeated. You couldn’t remember how to breathe properly as you tried to be as quiet as possible. Around that tree trunk and indeed caught in a metal trap was no animal.

It was a dragon.

You racked your brain trying to be reasonable. Perhaps it was just a trick of the mind? A hallucination? Maybe the leaves you boiled earlier that morning were hallucinogenic and you were simply too careless about what you were brewing in your morning daze?

You peered one more time around the tree trunk to verify and your entire body ceased up again at the same dragon from the first time you saw it. You didn’t hide immediately this time. You stayed hidden, tucked away but examined the situation the best you could; even if every orifice of your body was telling you to run.

You weren’t too well versed on the dragon race, but this particular dragon you had read about before in a book once- but only briefly. A wyvern you think it was called.

The creature was large, as tall as the trees- one not quiet fully grown yet you imagined. Or maybe it was because the creature was folded in on itself, crouched to the ground as it tugged on it’s trapped legs- so it appeared smaller en masse.

A large bear trap had sunk it’s sharp metal teeth into the scaled leg of the mighty creature. With nowhere near enough space to try and fly away- trap attached or not- and no room to try and back away, shake it off or even break the chain that held the trap in place, the dragon was ultimately stuck in whining pain.

It’s scales were that of ashen red; the color of a fine blush, but rough to the texture like brick. It’s arms were large and folded inwards, the talons of one digging into the earth to steady itself and the other crawling at the trap futility. It’s long tail was curled around it’s back and the length of it disappeared behind the tree line where you suspected it was barbed at the end. It’s head was long, thin and had three horns- one on the end of its nose and two on either side of it’s head.

Needless to say, it was a wonder to witness. A dangerous wonder, but a wonder no less.

Dragons were a very rare sight around human territory. They hated the human race and for reasons that you couldn’t blame them for. Years ago, you had read about a war- if you could call it that- that took place between human and dragon.

The humans in their invincible high from all sorts of discoveries and conquering of other places had decided to set their sights on the dragons. If they could tame the mighty beasts of the skies and elements and use them as war creatures- the people would reign over all. That’s what they had assumed.

They had no idea just what they had signed themselves up for when they marched into Dragon Country. The doom that took place was instantaneous for the first brave and foolish group of marchers and it only got worse.

A group of nearly 400 men were slaughtered at the hands of just a few dragons who were the first to be approached as mere animals. Burned alive, crushed, eaten, slashed into ribbons- the humans stood no chance in hell.

Then, the dragon’s returned the favor. If the humans wanted war, so be it. The dragon race was smart, far smarter than the average genius human being. With magic on their side along with their mighty strength and numbers, they took to the Humanlands and burned it to the ground.

This pathetic war lasted no longer than a week and nearly one-third of the human population was blown away from the very beasts they had wanted to tame and use.

The two had long since left each other alone, no one wanting to repeat the past. Humans fear dragons due to the stories- that was unavoidable. However, dragons live long and hate even longer. They can hold a grudge longer than that of a devil or demon.

That is what shook you to your core as you gazed at this one single dragon caught in the woods of the Humanslands. Why was it so far from Dragon Country? Had it wandered here because of boredom? Perhaps it was banished by the king of dragons you had known about. Or maybe this dragon was just foolish. You weren’t sure and you less sure if you’d stick around long to find out.

The creature was a terror and the snarls and whines and cries that came from it were something that would surely haunt you in the middle of the night when you hear the wind howl. Regardless of that however, you felt pity for this dragon.

As of the moment, it had hurt no one and you had heard no word of any dragon attacks. It was just stuck, injured and helpless. Before you could muster up the conscience to quietly leave, you stepped forwards just an inch and knocked a small rock from its place on a tree root.

The dragon’s head whipped up, it’s sensitive nose finally catching a whiff of a different scent that wasn’t of Woodland descent now that it wasn’t as preoccupied with the stupid bear trap.

It’s black coal eyes narrowed as it’s mouth opened to show its rows of white fangs that could easily devour you. A violent shiver ran through your entire body as your eyes connected with its own. You were discovered and there was no going back down.

Swallowing the lump in your throat felt like a massive stone was lodged inside. You took a few more shaky steps forward, showing your entire body to the beast. It’s winged arms lifted in defensive as it’s head lowered; it’s chin becoming level with the ground and still growling. You could see plumes of steam coming from its mouth due to it’s hot breath.

It was clear this particular creature wanted nothing to do with you- a human- and you couldn’t blame it. You didn’t want to be here either. This situation could end with you getting killed, but your morality and ability to sympathize with the weak or injured was larger than the risk of your safety.

Lifting your arms to show you had nothing on you, you started to enter the small clearing.

“Easy,” you hushed softly as the dragon snapped it’s jaw just one time in warning. You gulped again, daring to take another stupid and foolish step. “I want to help,” you said. Earning another growl in response didn’t shock you.

It took several minutes, a handful of snaps to stay away, constant growls and steam filled breaths for you to even get within arms reach of the trap. You were sure that if you made one wrong move the creature would bite you in half- but you had to take a chance.

You think the dragon knew this too. You were the closest thing to an escape it would probably find that wasn’t going to go and tell other humans to capture or kill it. It would cooperate until it was free, you were sure of that- but after? You could only imagine.

It’s winged arms were around you, shading you from the sunlight that the tree’s didn’t cover as your fingers brushed the cool metal of the trap. As you eyed it you wondered why someone would make such a large trap in the first place. It seemed far too large and frankly a bit overkill for a just a bear trap.

You look over your shoulder to see the head of the dragon that was the size of your body staring down at you just above your head. You swallowed for the nth time that morning in nervousness.

“I’m going to try and release it,” you say. “It’s going to hurt.”

You carefully pulled the sleeves of your dress up as you curled your fingers around the thick metal teeth. The scales of the dragon were broken and destroyed as the trap dug into it’s reptilian-like skin.

Blood had already begun to stain the metal. The trap’s teeth were warm- warmer than the rest of the trap due to the dragon's blood being so much hotter than an average animal or human. It’s hot, like steamed bathwater, and it steamed the metal to warm your hands almost uncomfortably.

You took a breath before you started to pull your arms away, fingers aching from pulling on the teeth to try and open the trap. You had been thankful in the moment that you did indeed chop your own firewood because it built up some bit of muscle in the grand scheme of things. The trap began to give and slowly creaked open bit by bit. The dragon’s coal black eyes widened a fraction as it started to wriggle it’s leg.

“Stop moving,” you hissed instinctively. If it thrashed too much, you could loose your grip and then it would just clamp down on it’s leg again. With a whining and grunting mixture of sounds, you soon pried it open enough to where you were almost certain the creature could free itself. “Okay,” you huffed in endurance as you held it open, “move!”

The dragon was quick to rip it’s leg out of the trap and send it, and you, off the ground. The rapid motion tore you away from the trap, the metal scratching your fingers as you fell to your ass and then onto your back in the dirt as the trap snapped shut again away from you. It fell to the Woodland floors empty and bloody as you hissed on your back.

You pain and breathlessness were soon replaced by fear and anxiety when you felt the dragon you had just freed hover over you. It’s taloned, long, winged arms were on other side of your body and it’s hind legs- one of them being the proffered injured one that still bled over it’s brick colored scales- were perched like it was ready to pounce.

It’s nostrils were hovering above your chin as it’s eyes bore dangerously into your own.

This was it. You were going to die, you were almost certain of it now.

The dragon huffed as it opened its mouth. Small licks of fire fanned across it’s tongue in the dark cavern of it’s fang lined mouth and steam pushed from it’s nostrils like a chimney that hadn’t been opened to let out the smoke of the fire in it’s hearth.

You were petrified, frozen in fear and weren’t even capable of breathing. All of your senses were focused on the threat of death inches away from you and you knew that no one would know that you died. No one would find it odd that you weren’t in the village like you were every few weeks or so. They wouldn't find it strange that your cabin was abandoned. And you were certain that they would not conduct a search for you- you didn’t matter to them in the long run.

You were going to die and you were going to do so alone and your body would stay alone until the earth reclaimed it in it’s soil.

The dragon only then opened its mouth further, roared into your face and then sprung off you. It plunged into the tree line, knocking down and busting through the trees and tearing up the soil beneath its claws and talons as it escaped. Running from you and leaving you alive.

“What,” you breathed as you soon let out a strong, almost painful, burst of air that had been held and contained in your chest. Your heart beat strong like it would burst straight from your chest into the sky. You weren’t sure how long you lay in the dirt just trying to regain control of your body that had been previously paralyzed.

When you did manage to pick yourself up- albeit pathetically- you grabbed your discarded basket once again and rushed home.

“No more outside,” you declared to yourself in the clearing of trees and the one bloody trap left behind.

-x-x-x-

Despite the events of the day behind you, once your heart calmed itself and you were able to finally rationally think again instead of assuming you were at death’s door, your mind would flutter back to the dragon and it’s injury.

As you carried in buckets of water from your well or logs of wood for your fireplace, you worried. You felt silly worrying over such a mighty and strong being, but you couldn't stop that cloud from covering your mind. You wondered how it was doing or if it made its way out of the Woodlands- only briefly thinking about the damaged and torn or uprooted trees in its wake.

You went to bed that night far earlier than usual. The blanket of black had not yet completely enveloped the sky of deep orange and red. However, maybe the early bedtime hadn’t been a bad idea, considering you were awoken in the middle of the night anyway.

It was a small noise in the distance. A sound like the padding of paws of a dog running on wood or horse clops on cobblestone. Small and forgettable, but almost irritating and grinding on the nerves of the listener.

Crawling out of bed almost at zero energy levels from your previous encounters, you shook your head to try and shake the sleepiness away. Trudging to your door, you cracked it open to try and see if it was some foxes scraping in the glory of midnight or maybe some critter getting into trouble. Instead, when your door opened, the sounds of an eerily familiar growl filtered through the air.

All tiredness from before flew away as you shut the door harshly and grabbed your cloak to throw over your nightdress. You rushed to your table to grab your glass covered lantern and lit it before blowing out the match and tossing it. Going back to your door you threw it open again and ran out of it. You didn’t even bother locking it, the key still hanging on it’s key as it flopped against the wall from the air of the forcefully shut door.

You ran through the woods, trying your best not to trip on any rocks or sticks. You let out an occasional wince from your bare feet scraping too hard on the dirt or catching on the rough end of a stone. You were going down hill when you saw in the shadows a series of trees uprooted or knocked in two with claw marks on the trunks.

You tried skidding to a stop when the hill started to level out steadily, but there was a fat chance of that happening. You threw open your arms and snagged a tree trunk to forcefully stop yourself from going further. Your legs flew out in front of you far too dramatically for a spontaneous run in the woodlands at midnight as your lantern nearly flew out of your grasp.

You huffed as you heard the same growls you had heard before echo around you. You could hardly see, but you could tell the outline of the dragon in the darkness. You looked around as your lantern had lost it’s flame.

You dug in the pocket you had sewn into your nightdress and struck another match, lighting it again as the fire dimly lit up your face. You were now fully aware you were seen- even though you knew it already to begin with.

The dragon had previously been nipping and lapping at it’s wound with it’s split tongue before you had interrupted it’s silence.

“I knew it,” you whispered as you saw the same dragon from before. You slowly approached it, somehow feeling a little more confident than earlier even though it still growled at you. “Hey,” you soothe, “you know me. Just let me see,” you said as you walked around it’s curled body to it’s injured leg. Lifting your lantern up to see better, you weren’t shocked to see the scales still wet with troves of blood. Just how much blood did dragons have?

If a human bled this much for this long, you were sure they’d be long dead by now.

You carefully set your lantern aside and worked around your neck to remove your white cloak from your shoulders. “Hold still,” you instructed as you started to rather sloppily wrap the wound. You couldn’t let it just keep bleeding and it wasn’t like you had anything else to try and wrap it in- you’d just have to sew a new cloak or buy a new one in the village.

You didn’t even take the time to be shocked that the dragon once again let you do as you pleased in aiding it’s unfortunate situation. In fact, it was silent. There was no growling or snarling, just the sound of hissing when you brushed against the wound or wrapped your cloak around it too tight.

When you finished, you almost pouted at the sight of your cloak already starting to dot with the dragon’s hot blood seeping through the fabric. A loss, yes, but you felt like it was worth it from the relief you felt in your chest at the dragon’s ease of tension.

“If you stay put,” you started, grabbing your lantern again and looking up at the dark eyes of the dragon you were becoming almost familiar with, “I can come back in the morning with something to help you.” The dragon showed no sign of obeying or denying you and you weren’t going to stick around and press the issue.

At the end of the day, it could still very well tear you apart.

You soon left the dragon’s side, the fire of your lantern lighting your way back home. You’d come back just as you said you would and if the dragon was still there, then you’d try and help further so that it can eventually go back home. Even you knew that it had a home somewhere and you were sure that home was missed to some degree.

When you returned to your cabin, you breathed a small sigh of relief when you saw that in your haste of not locking your door behind you- no nightcrawler had snuck in and wrecked your home or stole anything. You walked inside, shutting and tightly locking up behind you as you set your lantern on your table.

Wincing at your sore feet, you wrapped them in cloth and a paste of herbs you had in a jar to help soothe aches and pain before you tucked yourself back into bed. Hopefully, you could stay asleep until the sun rises this time.

-x-x-x-

You were pleased to see that when you opened your eyes again, you could hear the birds and see the sunlight of what looked like late morning. At least you managed to get some decent sleep- although you weren’t all too surprised looking back on the last 24 hours. A lot had happened and to say it was taxing was an understatement.

You were slow moving this morning; another thing you weren’t shocked about.

Trudging around your cabin, you walked around in your nightdress gathering small jars of salves and ointments that could be useful to the dragon in the woods that may or may not still be there with your- no doubt- beyond salvaging cloak.

When you finally got changed, you threw on a dress of a fairly unflattering shade of brown since you may be kneeling on the ground or thrown into the dirt again from the dragon. You wrapped up a new layer of paste for your still sore feet before pulling them into your boots. You grabbed your basket with your half-hazardly thrown together first aid treatments and left your cabin- actually locking the door this time.

It was all a blur on what direction you rushed to last night in your sleepy, adrenaline pumped haze, but you were able to clearly see where your footsteps pressed into the soil. Following your own trail, you carefully descended the hill you flew down the night before and when it all leveled out, you smiled at seeing the dragon sleeping peacefully in the same spot you left it.

“Good,” you breathed happily. You were glad it stayed put- whether it was because you asked or not didn’t matter. You would be able to help more now and nothing filled your chest with more glee than being of use to someone, or rather something in this way. Healing was your passion after all.

You slowly padded up to the sleeping dragon and decided against working on it while it slept. It could spring to life and attack you out of instinct for all you knew. You sat a good distance from its body and in view of it’s line sight for when it woke up you wouldn’t be hidden. You sat on the ground, you're back against the trunk of a tree as you started digging around your basket for the folded and wrapped up herbs you had.

You weren’t sure how long you sat in the tree shaded morning sun plucking, grinding and mixing different herbs together in a cloth draw pouched you had with you. Eventually you started to hear groans from the dragon ahead of you. You figured that if the first thing the creature sees when waking up was you staring at it, then you’d push away any future idea of treating its leg. So, you kept yourself occupied with your herbs until it made a noise of awareness.

A handful of minutes pass when you feel a warm wind push towards you. Instinctively, you look up to see the dragon’s dark eyes looking at you. You smile at the mighty beast, the polar opposite of yesterday’s fear stricken paralysis.

You finished grinding a handful of mint smelling herbs between your palms to sprinkle into an oil you had with you as you swashed it around in it’s cork plugged jar. It was odd, doing your everyday tasks with a dragon for an audience.

When you finished, you stood up after placing the jar back under the cloth of your basket and brushed off your dress’s skirt. You fumbled around to grab the small oval container of salve before you started to approach the dragon.

It didn’t growl and it didn’t snarl. It extended it’s winged arms as it’s head dropped to the ground and it’s leg that was wound with your cloak that was now a deep shade of red was pushed out further for you to inspect. You didn’t want to let it get to your head that maybe, just maybe, this dragon was learning to trust you.

You knew that dragon’s had to have good instincts, so maybe it just realized that you weren’t a threat.

You carefully unwound your awfully tied cloak as you tossed it to the ground in a heap. You were glad to see that the hot blood that had been continuously seeping through brick red scales had finally stopped. You twisted open the container and began to smear the salve over and between the thick scales to the broken skin beneath.

You had expected them to be cooler to the touch like a lizard’s skin, but the scales and skin of the beast was warm like a freshly doused warm towel.

The dragon let you work in peace as it watched you without disruptions or growls. It didn’t even twitch if you touched a particularly pain-sensitive area.

When you finished, you placed the cap back over the salve and looked up at the dragon to address it. “The bleeding looks to be done, but we should cover it with something.” You looked down at your soiled cloak. “We can’t reuse that, it’s already used and we can’t put dried blood back on a wound.” You started to walk away to your basket to place the salve back and maybe take your cloth in your basket to try and at least tuck it into it’s scales or something when something snagged your dress skirt.

Yelping, you spun around and took a moment to process that the dragon had moved it’s winged talon to step on your dress to keep you from moving. Looking up to its face, you saw it looked at you with a calm expression flitting through its eyes and it shook its head.

“What?” You asked more to yourself than the dragon. “You don’t want it to be wrapped?” The dragon only moved it’s head back to look at it’s leg before lifting it’s arm back up and freeing you. You trotted back to the dragon’s leg and squinted at it like he was trying to tell you to.

You gasped at seeing how the wound already looked way better than it had just twenty minutes ago. You saw the damaged scales start to repair themselves as the skin below it’s scaled armor pulled itself back together and became covered again. You looked back to the dragon’s face, relief evident in your expression as you breathed out a sigh of happiness with a hand on your chest like a weight had been lifted off you.

“Oh, thank goodness. I’m glad that the rumors of a dragon’s healing potential are true at least.” You went back to your basket, dropping the container of salve inside as you lifted it back into your arms. “I’m going to be on my way then,” you said. You felt a little bad for leaving so soon, but you had hardly gotten anything down yesterday because of your meeting with the beast, so you were already behind on your own personal tasks.

You still needed to find some goldenrod and if you were honest, plucking some stuff to replace the amount of salve you used on the dragon’s leg wouldn’t be so bad either.

As you left into the thick Woodland, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched. You peered over your shoulder several times and from somewhere you could almost tell that the dragon was watching you from beyond the trees. Dragons had eyesight far stronger than human eyes, so when you felt a stare on your back, you didn’t doubt it.

It was obvious that it couldn’t travel through the Woodlands like you could without plowing down trees in its wake and it wasn’t exactly spacious enough to spread its wings and take off in this section of the woods.

When you left a location you could feel the eyes following you and even heard stomping in the distance of the dragon moving so it could keep you in it’s sights. You wondered briefly why it would be following you around if not for it wanting to eat you, but you just shrugged it off.

It was just past midday when you had finally started to depart back to your cabin. As you unloaded your basket inside your cabin and began to put everything away, you went back outside to gather a bucket of water from your well and you nearly jumped out of your skin from the sounds rustling behind your home.

If the glimpse of horns and wings was anything to go by, you knew that the dragon had somehow squeezed around the trees and followed you back to your cabin. Even closer to human territory. You crept around the cabin and met the dragon face to face for yet another time as you just smiled at it. It seemed relaxed and at ease to your surprise.

“Are you going to follow me around now?” You playfully asked as all it did was let out a small huff. “I know you can understand me,” you teased as you looked it up and down. You felt bad mentally referred to it as ‘it’ all this time, but you had no idea how to tell what this wyvern was. “If you’re going to follow me around girl-” your sentence was stopped short at a small growl. You perched your brow up at the dragon as it glared down at you. “Boy?” You corrected as the unpleasant look left his eyes.

You ticked your head a bit, nodding to yourself.

“Okay, that settles that.”

Throughout your day, you had the company of a dragon sitting in your yard watching you work. When you were inside, you kept the front door propped open with a piece of wood at the bottom and the windows were open so the dragon could still see you and you could still talk to him.

You rambled- a lot. It felt silly to be having a one-sided conversation with a dragon, but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want him to feel left out- as odd as it was to say in terms of the beast- so you talked about a lot of things. Your hobbies, the process of making an ointment or what herbs to crush and mix with something to get the smell of berries. How you cooked and what it was; you even offered him a loaf of bread; he denied it (which you were glad for because that would have been an expensive sacrifice).

“I actually live here alone,” you speak aloud from the inside of your house so he could hear you through the open window his head rested next to on the ground outside. “I’ve lived here all my life practicing medicine and plants. I take care of myself decently well considering I live in the Woodlands.” You paused, mixing some broth with a pot of steamed vegetables and spices you had been boiling. “My village doesn’t exactly like me or my studies all that much, so my life here works out in the long run.”

You wondered if he found your babbling annoying since he was just stuck listening to you ramble on about whatever came to mind to keep him somewhat entertained. Spilling your life story wasn’t a thrilling tale, but it was a silence filler. You figured he didn’t mind as much as you may think since he stuck around.

When the day was ending, he made a sound of disgruntled groaning that wasn’t exactly a growl, but a sound of attention. He was apparently announcing his departure. You waved the dragon off through the open window as he left back into the Woodlands and you assumed that this would be the final time you met him.

You would be wrong.

Because that following day as the sun was high at just past midday, there he was again. Steadily, he was visiting you often and he became a normal part of your life.

-x-x-x-

“Hey, Suga,” you called when the dragon came into view from your window as you read in the morning light. You had started calling him by the name weeks ago when you caught him sniffing through your window at whatever you were baking at the time and accidentally sucked a bag of sugar up his nostril. You would have called him Sugar, but he just growled at the soft sounding name, so removing the R was the best deal you could cut him. He didn’t indicate what his name actually was, but you couldn’t just keep calling him ‘dragon’ or ‘wyvern’.

You had some decency.

You shut your book, setting it in the open window as you got up and made your way out. The leg that had been injured weeks ago had healed like it wasn’t hurt in the first place. No scar left behind and no scale left tarnished- it pleased you in all honesty.

Walking to him, he lowered his head to the ground with a small sigh through his nostrils as you brought you hand to run along the scales of his nose and head. It was like having a giant lizard fawn over your touch- or rather that was exactly what it was.

“Good morning, I haven’t seen you in a few days. Did you have a safe trip?” You asked as he just let out a small swooned dragon sound. You had gotten good at deciphering what his sounds and noises meant to a certain degree.

You had noted that every so often he would disappear for days on end and then return- be it a few days to a week or more later. He would travel to Dragon Country and then return to check and visit with you, or so you highly assumed. You knew that was his country and his home, so it was no shock to you that he went back. The shock was that he kept coming back to your cabin in the Woodlands.

You had read dragons were loyal, but this was astonishing. If regular visits with a mighty dragon was your reward for treating and freeing him from a trap, you had no regrets in doing so.

You stopped your ministrations on his head as you turned to go check off whatever chore you had left to do this morning off your to-do list when you felt his nose push into your back. Shoving you playfully forwards, you stumbled on your feet as you turned around with a playful smile and lifted brows.

“Oh you wanna play that way, huh?” You riled as he just huffed steam into your face. Your hair and dress whipped behind you as you just scoffed and jumped at him. The dragon shot to it’s legs and winged talons, skillfully dodging your puny, human lunges.

When you snagged your foot on your dress skirt and was ready to take a tumbling, ungraceful fall to eat dirt, his nose shot under you and caught you before you even made it close to the ground. Hooking your wasit with his horn, he nudged you back up to your feet as you just laughed at him and stroked his nose once again in gleeful thanks.

Suga almost purred- if dragon’s could ever.

As you spent your day with your companion, the sky started to tell you that night was coming and Suga’s departure once again was near. You were out in the yard, sitting on the grass with your basket beside you and all sorts of herbs, a grinding stone and jars and jugs to mix and create with. Suga lay behind you, curled around you like a protective wall, lazing away silently, but not sleeping. Just relaxed.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” You asked as you sprinkled some flower petals into a bottle of clear oil. He whined- a signal for no. “Going back to Dragon Country already, huh?” He huffed in agreeance as you chuckled. He sounded so sulky. “Will you be gone for a while this time?” He made no noise, but his head moved to affirm a yes. Another handful of quiet, dragonless days were in your future it seemed. “Well, be safe on your way. Watch out for traps,” you teased as he moved his body back just a bit for you to teeter backward from where you were leaning against him.

When he left you that night, his nose pressed against your torso as your arms wrapped around it in farewell. He had only started doing that recently- after his last trip back to Dragon Country in fact.

You always felt a little bit colder when he left you like that.

Four days passed and on the morning of the fifth, you had walked out of your house early in the morning with a freshly sown cloak of brick red and an empty basket. You dreaded going into the village for a great many reasons. But you simply couldn’t push it off any further and you needed things that only the merchants and shops in town would have.

It helped that when strangers would come into the woodlands and see your house, they would almost always knock on your door from curiosity and you’d always take any chance to sell something of your creation for a decent amount.

Locking your cabin door, you started your trip. You sighed. Hopefully, you’d be able to get into town and then get out just as quickly.

Suga had returned that day as he approached your cabin. He heard nothing inside and saw no sign of you around. Peering into our windows, you weren’t inside from what he could tell and he pouted at not seeing you. He lay at the side of your cabin, his head lay by your front door as he waited for you to come back.

A few hours passed and his ears picked up on the sound of your footsteps- he had familiarized himself with the sound and weight you put into your steps- as his eyes opened ready to greet you. However, a growl slipped past his fangs as he saw you come from the dirt trail between the trees that lead further out of the Woodlands.

You were shocked to see him back so soon as you wiped some sweat off your brow. Sweat that was mixed with dirt and the smallest dried patch of blood.

You had forgotten that Suga had never seen you go into and back from your village before, so the growl pulled from his throat made you shiver. Your forehead had a small cut about the length of your knuckle and your lip had a split in it. Your dress had grass strains in the knees and up the side of it as specks of dirt spotted your face and neck.

You walked to your door, setting your basket down with a cloth over it, the items you had gotten covered as you walked to Suga and placed your hand on the horn at the end of his scaled nose.

“What is it?” You ask, oblivious that it was your current state of disarray that made him fume with unease. He pulled his horn from your palm as he moved to nuzzle his nose into your torso. You stretched your arm to stroke under his eye as you soothed him. “Suga?” It wasn’t until he refused to move that you realized he was wondering if you were well and then you realized. “Oh,” you breathed, “I’m alright.”

He finally moved away from you and stared at you. You moved to pat his horn once before your fingers went under his scaled chin to lazily rub there. He almost hummed at the actions as you smiled with your split lip.

“This happens every time I go down to the village. Don’t worry too much, Scaly Hide.” As you soothed him, you weren’t completely aware of just how your injures made his dragon blood boil hotter than usual. You had been nothing but kind and vulnerable and truthful to him- a dragon- for no other reason than that’s just who you were as a person. Seeing you all cut up because of others? He found it absolutely preposterous.

As you rubbed beneath his chin, you started talking again. Your voice taking on a small wave of emotion he hadn’t heard from you before.

“I’m almost jealous of you,” you told him. His barbed tail twitched at your words. “I don’t know what the world of dragons is like, so I can’t say whether or not you understand the scorn of others. The prospect of you not having to deal with other humans though is one to be envious of.” Your eyes had a far off look of sadness that riddled his scaled body with pain.

He pulled his head from your hand and moved to nudge it behind you. He pushed your body against the giant wall of scales that is his own body as you started laughing at him. It wasn’t hard to understand an awkward attempt of a dragon wanting to console you. You raised your arms, reaching around what you could as you hugged his neck while his head stayed pushed against your back over your shoulder.

Suga didn’t understand how humans could do this to others of the same race. Dragon’s weren’t just comrades in arms in battle, but they were kin. They were branches of family, dear friends and reliant to each other in a way that didn’t just revolve around war and destruction. Of course, his race wasn’t perfect either with the occasional rouge or traitorous dragon, but those specific turncoats were always taken care of.

He couldn’t understand why humans hurt you, and he didn’t want to understand why. He just wanted it to stop.

When you finally stepped away from him and got back into his line of sight in front of him the look on your face made him feel better. It looked like you were already recovering from all the bad emotions that plagued you earlier. He blew a small huff of steam into your face playfully as you swatted at his horn.

“I’ve been curious,” you started, “I read once that dragons have large quantities of magic and even have a second form they can change into. A human form that is different with each species. Do you have one?” His chin dipped as he let out a noise of confirmation. He did have one, though it had been years, maybe even centuries since he last changed into it. He didn’t even remember what it looked like anymore- he had forgotten about it truthfully.

Your eyes light up in excitement at the discovery.

“You do! That’s so cool!” Your over-excitement almost startled the poor beast. You let out a small sigh of contentment as you turned back to head inside and put your things away and to wash off the grime of your injuries. “I kind of want to see what it looks like,” you mutter, unable to realize that your thoughts slipped out in the form of words that were just loud enough for the dragon to hear.

Suga was quiet as he stood guard outside your home for the rest of the afternoon. The only time you left was when you went down to the small lake nearby and washed up. He was a distance away to keep anything or anyone else from intruding on your privacy. He seemed tense, but also not- even if it didn’t make sense. You tried asking him what was wrong with him, but he just nuzzled his head into your chest without a sound.

When you told him goodnight he left in the same silence he had been sitting in all day. It took a little longer for you to go to sleep because of your worry.

The next morning, you woke up and did what you always did. Same old routine with the label of a different day. Though, when you left your home to go and grab a few pieces of cut up wood for your fireplace, you stopped short. Outside your door, sleeping against the side of your house on the ground was a man.

You hadn’t seen this man before in your life and you were shocked speechless as you looked him over. He was dressed oddly, far different than the men in your village dressed.

His body was lean and covered in small scars around his chest, as shown from the absences of a shirt. A long, black cape hung at his back that he used to lounge on instead of the hard, dirt ground as the collar of it was covered in fur that covered his shoulders and brushed against his chin. His pants were brown and baggy that wrapped around his ankles and displayed his bare feet that were no doubt covered in calluses. Red gauntlets ran from his wrists to his elbows on both arms that were crossed against his bare chest.

You were hesitant to wake him up, but this was your cabin and it was early in the morning. If Suga came by to see another man here, he could get defensive and that was a scenario you really didn’t want to witness.

You knelt at his side, the door to your cabin still open behind you just in case he was hostile and you had to retreat back inside in a rush. You reached out and grabbed his shoulder- his skin was hot. You shook him once- nothing.

“Excuse me?” You squeaked as you shook him again. He groaned as his head nodded off to the side before his chin dipped and you saw his brows moving underneath the fridge of his black hair. You retracted your hand when you felt his shoulders move up and heard him take in a breath of awakening. “Sir, are you alright?”

Lifting his head, his eye were narrow and dazed in sleep as he looked up at you. They were beautiful. They were dark, black and shining like obsidian jewels. They were... familiar? You squinted at him as he opened his mouth.

“Oh,” he lazily breathed out. His voice felt like a breeze of summer wind. “You finally woke up,” he told you as you just started inquisitively at him.

“Isn’t that my line,” you quipped back. “Do I,” you hesitated, “have we met before?” He didn’t answer you as he just sat up straighter and raised his hand to your face. His warm hand ran along your jaw to your lip where he pushed against the scabbed over split in it. You flinched away from his touch as you backed away from him, your eyes locked onto his without any will power to break the contact.

“You said you wanted to see what my human form was like,” he point forwardly told you. You looked him over one more time before returning to his eyes. So that’s why they looked so familiar.

“Suga?” You asked with a pitched voice.

“My name is actually, Yoongi,” he smirked as an unfamiliar heat rose in your cheeks.

-x-x-x-

Yoongi’s visits continued and he often stayed in his human form around you now. He would waltz into your home with you and even started helping you with chores around the cabin. He’s taken to splitting your firewood (although he wouldn’t use your hatchet, he’d just rip the logs in half), and would carry things for you when you were moving to and fro. He’d watch you cook and learn if you offered to teach him something.

You had to admit that having him walking and working around with you as a human instead of a wyvern was a lot more convenient. Plus, this way he was able to have actual conversations with you.

The season’s started to change and the cool breath of autumn began to creep into the air. You would often wonder if Yoongi would stop coming to visit when the temperature drops.

“Yoongi?” You called as he sat in the middle of your floor in front of the burning fire. It was late in the afternoon as you were cooped up inside away from the chilly air. He turned to look over his shoulder at you over his fur lined cape collar.

“Hmm?”

“When winter comes, will you still visit me?” You asked as you took a drink from your warm tea before setting it back down on the table with the book you had been reading before. “I mean, you’re still technically a reptile in basic regards, so you must not like the cold that much.”

“It’s true that I don't like the cold,” he said, “I hate it. It makes my scales rough and then that makes it tough to move around.” You let out a small, nearly silent sigh. “However, if you get lonely, I’ll still come see you.” You looked back at him as he was staring at you completely serious.

The conversation died after that, you not having the heart to ask him to keep visiting. You couldn’t ask that of him if he disliked the cold that much. Surely, you’d be okay without him by your side for a few months, right? Besides, you still had until the first snow to spend with him, autumn had just started after all.

Another week passed and you had once more traveled into the village for some items you needed that you had run out of. It was no shock seeing a trip to the village so soon after the last considering you had been feeding and caring for Yoongi when he came to your cabin. Supplies run a lot faster on two figures instead of just one.

Yoongi had been gone the last couple days, so you assumed he’d be popping by anytime now so you went as soon as you could. To your misfortune, when you returned once again roughed up, Yoongi was sitting in front of your cabin door waiting for you. You had half a mind to sneak in through your bedroom window and avoid him for a bit before you let him in to avoid him seeing your freshly beat body.

Though, you spent just enough time in mental turmoil that he had seen you already.

He jumped to his feet, his face an expression of shock as he ran to meet you half way as you walked to your cabin. You greeted him with a smile just as you always did.

“Good-”

“Hush,” he shushed you as he quickly took the basket from your arms and set it on the ground at your feet. He took your chin between his fingers and started tilting and moving your head around in different angles looking you over. Your cheeks flushed as he stared intently at you. You knew it was just an inspection of your wounds, but it still made your heart pound in your chest. “They hit you again,” he growled.

“Yoongi, it’s alright.”

“No,” he seethed, “it is not.” You swore you started to see small wisps of smoke seep from his nose as he breathed steam. He must be really angry, you though. “They cannot just keep treating you like this just because you’re you.” The hand that held your chin moved to rest on your cheek before gliding up to your forehead- pushing your hair back as his hand moved to rest on the back of your head. “Human’s really are cruel,” he whispered.

You couldn't argue with that.

“I’m already used to their treatment,” you attempt to sooth. The physical pain may still occur with each lashing, but you had long since grown emotionally distant from them. They couldn’t break you any further.

“You shouldn’t be. You should be treated with respect and kindness.”

“Like how you treat me,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Yoongi paused, his hand coming down to rest on the crook of your neck, his long nails running over your pulse point as his eye softened.

“No,” he whispered. “I’m the only one who can treat you this way.”

“What?” You were confused. He treated you exceedingly well and he wanted other people to treat you better too, but not like him? “That doesn’t make much sense, Yoongi.”

“It does to me.”

“Well, then the argument is officially over, huh?” You chuckled as he brought his hand off you and reached for your basket. He let a smirk grace his lips as he turned and led you back to your cabin so he could help you clean your injuries.

As he helped treat and dress your wounds and even helped you make the daily meals, he would nit pick about you going into town. He offered to start going with you, or at least waiting on the edge of the village so he wouldn’t make a fuss in human society with his less than human approach to things, but you denied him.

He wanted to argue with you, to let him do as he wanted, but you just told him that you usually only went on days he wasn’t with you. It was never planned, but things just always seemed to fall in that manner.

In the end, he yielded on the subject; however, before he left that night, he presented you with something. A flower-sized, brick red scale. He placed it in your palm before he left you.

“If something ever happens, you use that scale and call for me. I’ll come flying over as quickly as I can.” You laughed at his over protectiveness. Dragon Country was miles off from here, so it would take him more than a handful of minutes to get to your cabin depending on where in the world of his kind he was at in the given situation. You accepted the scale nonetheless, grateful for his tender gesture.

Everything seemed fine again for time, until Yoongi came to your cabin and saw you prepping to go into the village yet again one morning. He scowled as he watched you pull your red cloak over your shoulders and grab your basket as you pulled on your boots. He hid behind the wall of your home as you locked the door and were on your way.

Yoongi didn’t want you to know he was there following you. He stayed behind you as you walked the Woodlands trail back to society and the entire way he pouted that you had once again not told him you were going.

He stood on the outskirts of the village that brought you harm, sitting high up in a treetop to avoid being seen. He knew going into the village after you would get him caught and he knew that if someone even looked at you strangely, he’d probably snap.

He sat there for a while, just waiting and watching until you finally showed up again, ready to head back home. His back straightened as he almost smiled seeing you unharmed. He was going to jump down and greet you, fess up that he had followed you and let you scold him as he walked you back home, but before he could even begin moving, he stiffened.

Knelt on the tree branch he hid behind the brown, red and yellow leaves that hadn’t fallen to the ground and the black of his cape as a group of boys not much older than yourself ran up behind you. You were just at the tree line of the Woodlands when they had taken your basket from you and shoved you from behind, making you fall to your knees with a cry.

He was technically in Woodland territory, he had no problem showing himself outside of your village.

As you rolled onto your back, ready to shove your way to your basket and scurry away just as you had a million times before, something fell from the treetops behind you. Twisting your body, you only saw a blur shoot past you before one of the three boys was on his ass in the dirt groaning.

Turning back to your front, your mouth dropped open.

“Yoongi?!” One boy had helped the other off the ground as the last was squaring up to start a scrap with this random guy who had popped out of the Woodlands. You wanted to shoot up and tell them to stop it and leave Yoongi alone, but they froze before you could even warn them.

The three of them swallowed as they started taking small steps backward in retreat.

Yoongi had tensed his whole body, fingers curled with his claws out. His face had scales trailing from his cheekbones to his chin as his eyes seeped with complete blackness. It was like his hair was standing on end as he snarled and raised his lips to bare his fangs at the offenders. He was daring them to try him.

Anyone with two eyes, even one eye, could clearly see this man was a dragon and nothing short of a fierce one who didn’t know how to stand down. Not willing to pick a fight with a being of that caliber and not being properly prepared to boot, the trio turned tail and ran back into the village.

It was deathly silent as they retreated and Yoongi’s body seemed to relax as you started at his back. His still shoulders went slack as his squared and ready to pounce stance calmed and straightened back out. His hair settled and the small growls you had heard before disappeared.

“Uh, Yoongi?” You call softly, not knowing if he was going to whip around and start yelling at you or not.

He did not.

He calmly walked to the basket they had taken from you, picking it up and walked back to your side. He set it down before he grabbed your arms gently and started to pull you off the ground. Once you stood on your feet, he straightened out your cloak as you brushed off your dress skirt.

“What are you doing out here?” You asked him, but he didn’t answer you. He just placed his hand on the small of your back, turning you around before he gently pushed you forward to start you off back into the Woodlands and back to your cabin.

No matter how you tried to talk to him, he never answered the entire trip. He was completely silent and he didn’t give you any facial ques on what his problem was either. He stayed quiet, a still canvas all the way into your cabin where he sat your basket on your table then sat himself in front of your fireplace that wasn’t even lit yet. It was like the might dragon was pouting.

“Yoongi, please just come over here,” you plead. You walk behind him as you see his shoulders slump in a silent sigh before he’s standing in front of you again. He turns and looks down at you and instead of an angry look in his eyes like you were expecting, you see them shine with unshed tears. “Yoongi-”

He pushes the words from your throat out of you as he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pushes you face into his warm, bare chest. He lets out a small, shaky breath as his hold tightens around you. The hand on the back of your head holding you to him felt desperate and sad. You reach around him and snag you hands on the inside of his fur lined cape behind his back.

“I was worried about you,” he all but whimpers. “I know I shouldn’t have followed you, but you didn’t tell me that you were going to that village again and I just couldn’t stop myself. I was so relieved to see you unharmed as you were leaving, but then those scumbags,” he cut himself off with a harsh breath. “Does that really always happen to you?”

You nod and give a weak ‘yes’ in reply.

“No more,” he tells you. “I won’t let it happen anymore. I’ll keep you safe and I’ll protect you from them. Even when winter comes, I won’t stop visiting you. I’ll keep coming back, I promise.” You wanted to deny him, tell him not to worry about it since he can’t stand the cold. But, you felt selfish and you wanted him to keep coming back. You wanted him to dote on you and to keep you safe like he says.

“I’ll be relying on you then,” was all you told him. When the moment is past, you pull away from his warm chest to look up at him with a playful grin. “You’re pretty pushy when it comes to my safety, it’s almost cute.”

He shoves you at your jest as he tells you to sit down and go unpack your things. He plops himself back in front of the fireplace, huffing a ball of fire to get it going in a hurry. You weren’t sure if it was the light from the fire or not that painted his cheeks pink.

-x-x-x-

You went without village harm for a month now. Just as he said, Yoongi was at your side at least every other day instead of a few days away at a time. He’d always ask if you were alright or anyone had given you any trouble. He knew when you were lying, he had gotten good at telling apart your quirks, so when you told him you were alright he was always relieved.

The weather kept getting colder and you kept getting more concerned about Yoongi’s choice to go against the cold to come see you as often as possible. You always thought about how to tell him to not come after the first winter snow to help his overall health; you just had to figure out a way to phrase it so that he’d actually listen.

It was one of those nights where you hadn’t gotten to sleep very early with your thoughts, and you had just drifted to sleep. You were somewhere between unconscious, yet aware as you briefly heard something in the distance. You weren’t awake enough to care and you weren’t aware enough to think it was something other than the nighttime animals.

A handful of minutes pass when you’re suddenly ripped from your sleep just as you were equally ripped from your bed. A grip on the back of your nightdress yanked you from your side sleeping position and pulled the fabric against your neck as you choked out a surprised gasp.

You kicked your legs in panic, your blanket hitting the floor of your room as you were pulled off your mattress and onto the floor. Hands grasped your biceps and began to drag you backward. You finally found your voice in the form of small screams and protests. You stumbled from the balls of your feet to your heels as you were pulled backward through your cabin before you were through the front door and on the ground.

Laying in the dirt and covered in goosebumps from the cold night air, you rolled to your back and propped yourself up with your elbows to see who just evicted you from your home. You shouldn’t have been shocked to see a band of men from the village, yet you were. You instantly started trying to scoot backward on your elbows and heels.

They were covered in furs and boots with torches in hand to light their way through the darkness. You looked at them in fear and confusion. What were they doing this far from the village and why were they here at all?

“What are you doing?!” You scream, your heels kicked into the dirt as your nails dig into the earth trying to back you away from one oncoming man, a blond one. You squirmed as one of his feet kicked at your wrist and pushed your back to the ground as he grabbed you by the collar of your nightdress. You whined, grabbing his wrist as you grimaced with squeezed shut eyes.

“You witch,” he accused as you peeked open your eyes. “We’ve let you live close to us, but you’ve gone and made a pact with a demon- a dragon!” Your eyes widened. Is this because Yoongi just popped out of nowhere a month ago when he followed you?

“You’re wrong!” You denied. You had no pact with him. He was just- you paused mentally. Was Yoongi a friend to you? You had been unconsciously thinking that for several weeks, but saying that out loud and admitting it to yourself as well as someone else- friendship didn’t feel like it did it justice. Was the connection you had with the dragon you saved from that trap- the same dragon who snarled in your face and decided not to kill you all those weeks ago- really just a friend? You swallowed.

Your breath lurched in your throat when the grip of your collar was released in turn for the hand to now encase around your throat fully. You gagged for a moment as the blond’s nails burned against your skin.

“Ransack the place!” The man who held your throat shouted over his shoulder. The two other men with him ran into your cabin and your squeezed shut eyes opened. You shoved the man’s hand off you, your neck burning as you pushed against his chest. He fell on the dirt as he groaned.

“Don’t! Leave my cabin alone!” You cried as you scurried to your feet. You didn’t get far before your ankle was grabbed and your leg yanked back. You tumbled ungracefully onto your chest, your nightdress riding up your legs and bum as you felt a weight on your back. The blond was sitting on you as you kicked. He held one of your arms behind your back and his other hand pushed your cheek into the dirt, holding your head down. “Stop it!” You cried into the earth as you heard sounds of destruction in your home.

Glass being thrown to the ground and broken, your shelves being pulled from the wall. You heard doors of cabinets opening and slamming shut after everything was pulled from them. The distant sounds of mess told you they were evening throwing things around in your room. You weren’t sure what they were looking for- evidence? But for what? Your connection with Yoongi to use against you?

“Hey!” One called from inside. “I found something!” Footsteps came back outside and stopped above your head. You were yanked up to sit on your knees- nightdress dirty and covered in small tears and frays of fabric- as the blond behind you snagged a hand in your hair pulling your head to look up. You winced as your eyes instinctively shut in pain before your chin was grabbed in a new hand.

A man stood in front of you, brown hair and accusatory eyes. In front of you, he dangled the scale of Yoongi’s he had given you that you had placed inside of a glass locket to keep it safe. You jolted in the blond’s grip, ripping your chin from the brunettes touch.

“Don’t touch that!” You screamed. The blond restrained you tighter. “Stop! That hurts!” You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

You weren’t sure how long those men kept you outside your home as they continued to trash it. You were less sure how long you were out in the cold, pinned to the ground and jerked around like a toddlers ragdoll.

Stomps to your legs to keep you from crawling or getting up and away. Jabs to the stomach to subdue you just long enough to restraining you as you tried to get your breath back. Knocks to the head to try and knock you out as you kept on fighting back. The cold was starting to get to you, your fingers and toes going numb. Scraps on your knees and elbows from the cold, autumn chilled dirt.

You were on your back on the ground, the same blond over your, pushing your face down as your arms were trapped under his knees that pinned you on either side.

You were close to giving up. You were going to lose your home- you expected them to set it on fire- and you were going to no doubt end up losing your life if this kept up. Would they take you back to the village and execute you? Tears trailed down the side of your face as you chewed on your lip.

This wasn’t fair.

“Yoongi,” you whimpered as your palms pushed into the earth, the dirt and rocks pushing into your skin just painful enough to keep you conscious.

It seemed instantaneous to you. It felt like a whirlwind just formed at the center of your small world as the gusts of wind blew around you. The man above you was blown off as he rolled in the dirt away from your tired, weak, and beaten body. Whimpers of terror rang in your ears from the other men as growling accompanied those whimpers.

Stomping and rushes of heat surrounded you with ignited sparks in the night sky. You managed to push yourself over to weakly roll onto your side and twist onto your stomach to look up at exactly what was happening. You didn’t see anything in front of you other than your cabin and the three men all on the ground cowering from the sight of something.

Your dazed eyes narrowed before you heard another growl and the feeling of something massive standing over you. Coming to a stomping halt at either side of you with distance to spare and to not make you feel suffocated, your eyes widened. You felt more awake now than the rest of the evening.

Twisting to look up, you were met with the mighty, giant form of the wyvern you had freed from the metal trap of men. Snarling with bared fangs and small puffs of fire on his tongue, Yoongi stood over you protectively.

Tears ran down your shocked face without your control at seeing him really showing up at your side when you truly, desperately needed him with you. You felt weak, but before your body could slump onto the ground, something grabbed you.

Another new body had looped their arms under yours to keep your chest off the ground and held you to them. You didn't recognize this person as you looked up at them. Another man, but this seemed far more mystic.

Snow white eyes with no iris or pupils to sit in their seas of white. Illuminated scales of white shone on their cheeks and their ears were pointed and finned. Hair as silver as the moon and skin as tanned as cooper. Was this another dragon? You couldn’t tell anymore; all you knew was that you felt safe in this person’s arms with Yoongi above you.

You slumped against them, your consciousness finally starting to fade on you with the adrenaline running low now that you felt a sense of safety. You couldn’t lose it yet, however; you had to calm Yoongi down. The men had stopped their attack in fear, so Yoongi didn’t need to instigate further.

“Yoongi,” you called weakly against the second dragon’s chest. “Don’t,” you pleaded. There was a small hush before the wind picked up and the stomping that was present before was replaced with harsh footsteps. Yoongi had reverted back to human form as he ran at the blond man who had previously held you down.

Yoongi’s long claws tore and pierced through the shirt fabric of the blond’s collar as he brought him up to his nose, snarling down at him. His fists shook in rage as his body trembled with restraint in your presence. Had you not been there, he was certain he would have killed all three of them without hesitation.

He picked the blond off the ground just enough to make his toes leave the grass as he threw him at the other two. He huffed, steam blowing out of his nose as his face remained angry.

“You ever come back here and I, as Y/n’s personal dragon, will tear you apart,” he threatened. “Now, leave!” He roared as the three men scrambled embarrassingly to their feet and down the trail back to whatever hole they crawled out of.

Yoongi huffed, breathless as he quickly heard your whimpers behind him. He spun around, rushing back to your side as he knelt on the ground beside you and took you from the other dragon’s grasp. He ran the back of his fingers along your cheek as you saw him. His calm, worried face brought you a sense of peace as you knew the trouble had left.

“Rest,” he whispered as you finally lost yourself to the unconsciousness that had been choking you around the throat.

-x-x-x-

You groaned slightly as your eyes cracked open. You were on your back as your lidded eyes were blurred staring up at the ceiling of your room. You were in a haze as you looked into nowhere. Thoughts were muddled in your head as you were aware of nothing for a handful of minutes, still high from sleep and drowsiness.

The sun shone through your open window as you heard the birds outside sing. It was bright- far brighter than you were used to waking up to.

It all came back to you all at once like a punch to the jaw. Memories of being dragged out of your bed, your home, to outside and pummeled until you were weak in the dirt as your home was broken into and wrecked.

Your arms shot up from under your blanket as they threw the covers off and you sat up straight as a rob. You sucked in a deep breath that hitched in your throat from the sudden movement that clouded you with a wave of dizziness.

Your palm moved to push into your forehead as your eyes squeezed shut and you hissed. Cracking them open, you felt something burn into your side like someone staring at you. Looking beside your bed, you weren’t wrong.

Sat on a stool beside your bedroom door was that same unfamiliar dragon with snow white eyes from the night before. You stared back at the unmoving dragon. Was he… sleeping? His eyes were open, but his arms that were crossed didn’t even twitch and his body was still as a corpse. He sat straight up and showed no signs of movement.

Did some dragon’s sleep with their eyes open? Yoongi didn’t, but maybe other breeds did.

“It is a relief to see you’ve awakened,” he suddenly spoke. You squeaked in shock, not expecting him to do- much less say- anything. “It has been a handful of hours since you lost consciousness.”

You looked away from him as you looked down at your lap. You scrunch your blanket in your palms, the same palms that you were finally starting to feel the stinging sensation of when you were thrown to the dirt. The small cuts and scrapes on your knees and legs and arms all started to tingle with an indescribably unpleasant feeling.

“So, that wasn’t just a nightmare after all,” you sulked to yourself.

“It seems that Sire holds a great deal of worry about your condition.”

Your brows drew close together in confusion.

“Excuse me?” You asked, confusion painting around your eyes. This dragon with no expression and no irises with the pure white eyes just stared at you. “Sire? Who are you talking about? No,” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “Who are you?” You re-ask, wanting to know this stranger dragon first. He was just sitting in your room watching over you, you figured an introduction wasn’t out of the question.

The dragon brought a webbed hand up to their chest, lowering their head to you in a small bow. You recoiled at such an action. No one had bowed to you before in your life- that was reserved for royals and people of importance. Not someone like you, a Woodlands hermit. The action made a blush fan across your cheeks in embarrassment.

“I am Navia. I work under Sire as the leader of the Dragon Guard of His Majesties palace. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. It is a pleasure, My Lady.” His voice was smooth like the surface of a peaceful lake surrounded by nature. His usage of honorifics only made the embarrassing red cheeks of yours darken.

“Y-you don’t need to address me like that!” You sputtered as you twisted on your bed to slide your legs out of your covers and hang them over the bedside. “Just Y/n, is fine. I don’t need any titles,” your voice wavered in embarrassment as the white eyes of Navia returned to you.

“I do not know if I will be able to address you so casually. It may displease him.”

“You keep mentioning someone; Sire? Who is that exactly?” Navia never got a chance to answer when their was three knocks on your bedroom door before it was opened. The redness in your cheeks was broken and a smile pulled on your lips on seeing Yoongi in your doorway. “Yoongi!” You happily called as he quickly made his way to your bed, kneeling in front of you taking your hands into his own.

“How long have you been awake? Are you in pain?”

“I haven’t been up long, I was just talking to Navia and introducing ourselves. I don’t feel particularly good, but I don’t feel particularly bad either. Though, I feel better than I did if that’s anything to be accounted for.”

Yoongi’s eyes softened at your smile. You talked so easily and so soon after you were attacked so brutally. He wondered where you found the strength to do so. If he was in your position he’d be a pot of boiling rage, but he didn’t sense anything like that from you. Yet, instead he could see the sorrow behind your eyes.

“Navia,” he spoke as the dragon behind him stood at the call of his name. “Give us a moment,” Yoongi’s voice was stern with instruction.

“As you wish, Sire.” You looked at Navia as he left. You looked back down to Yoongi who was already looking at you as if you were the only thing he wanted to look at for the remainder of his life.

“Sire? So, he’s been talking about you?” You quirked your brow as Yoongi’s hand left yours and moved to cup around your cheek. “Yoongi?”

“There is a lot I haven’t told you and there are a lot of things we need to talk about. I didn't mean to lie- to keep it from you, but I just never had the chance to bring it up. Things about me I’ve kept from you.” You remained silent as he spoke no more. You both sat in silence for a while as you gathered your bearing.

Yoongi had taken to tending to you. You showed him once how to properly wrap bandages around wounds, and so he did. He wrapped any wound that seemed painful (which was many to his eyes) before he was helping you off your bed.

“Yoongi, I’m not so hurt I can’t walk myself,” you chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your back to support you. One of your arms clutched at the cape behind him as the other supported your balance on his chest. He held you to his side as he was careful not to rush his steps and trip you up.

“Still, you’re in no condition to be completely independent right now. Allow me to help you.” You almost scoffed at his aid as if you weren’t able to handle yourself, but you did appreciate it- especially when he didn’t need to offer such kindness.

As he helped you out of your room, you were shocked to see not a trashed cabin like you expected, but it was almost completely clean aside from the broken cabinet doors that sat against the wall in a pile. Whatever would have been broken was picked up and things were on the counter and on the table out of the way and where they belonged. A fire was even lit in the hearth of the fireplace.

You looked up to Yoongi. Did he clean it up? He helped you to the table where he sat you down on the chair by the window where you would normally drink something warm. You felt a little bad you hadn’t set out a plate of feed for the birds and critters today- but allowed yourself a pass considering your situation.

Navia was sitting by the fireplace as he watched the two of you. Yoongi moved to sit on the table’s edge- as unmanneristic as it was, it somehow suited him. He was in front of you against the wooden table, his fingers brushing along your cheek that had a patch over it to cover your cuts.

“Where would you like me to start, Scale?” He asked you. Your face deepened when he addressed you like that. Was that his form of a nickname? You shook the thought away as you opened your mouth.

“My cabin, I guess?” You realize you didn’t give him much of a specific answer. “I mean, I was expecting it to be a nightmare, but it’s so clean?”

“That is because I cleaned it up,” he softly told you with a small smile. So, you were right. “The times I have been here, I was familiar with the placements of most of your belongings. Others I admit I guessed, but I couldn’t leave it like it was. You have enough to worry about.”

“Well, thank you for that,” you graciously tell him.

“It was nothing.” You spent a good portion of that day talking to Yoongi where you were. If you wanted to get up and move to take a break from the flood of answers to any question you had, he would help. Navia would walk around and do small chores for you if you were kind enough to ask- or have Yoongi tell him to. The tanned dragon was awfully obedient, yet kind to a fault it seemed.

The shortened days of winter were showing as the sky started to progressively darken. You watched it from the window of the cabin you had been in all day. It had been a long time since you spent all your time inside without much of anything to do. It was relaxing even if under unpleasant circumstances.

Yoongi had handed you a mug of something warm for your throat as you thanked him and took small, cautious sips due to its heat. Yoongi watched you as you watched outside, the occasional chuckles slipping past your lips when you saw birds or squirrels chase each other around.

“Y/n,” Yoongi called as Navia had taken his place back by the fireplace. He was, unsurprisingly, not fond of the cold so he had stuck to the fireplace like glue as often as he could. “Do you want to leave this cabin?”

His question caught you off guard. You lowered your mug to the table top as you looked at him.

“What?”

Yoongi’s mouth was pressed into a thin line as his eyes were narrowed in a veil of anxiousness. In truth he didn’t want you to live here anymore. What happened the night before could very well happen again and what if he didn’t get to you in time next time? What if next time they drag you off or even kill you? He couldn’t handle that. He didn’t even want to think about it.

“If I left,” you chuckled bitterly as you looked back outside, “where would I go? I can’t just live in a cave or in trees.”

“You could come back with me.” There was silence in the cabin’s front room. The sound of the fire crackling and the small sounds from outside your walls. “Come back with me to Dragon Country and live there.”

“That’s impossible,” you told him. “I am no dragon. How could I live there?” You half expected Navia from behind to slip into the conversation and throw in his opinion on the matter. You, a human leaving the Woodlands and running off to live in Dragon Country? There was no way, it was preposterous. “Why take me back anyways?”

“Dragon’s are only able to choose one being to become absolutely loyal to without fault in their lives. We live for years, decades, centuries. The oldest of dragon’s can live for hundreds of human lifetimes, so we are especially picky when it comes to our choice.”

“What does that have to do with me?” You asked.

“I said so before, I am your dragon.” That’s right. You did remember him saying that in his rage the night before. Something about being your personal dragon and threatening the men not to try another attack stunt again.

“So, then-”

“I chose you,” he admitted. You felt your air leave you in silent waves. “Out of all things I’ve met of my years alive, you were the first to treat me kindly without expecting anything in return. You were my first in many things that warmed my being. That is why I want you to come back with me.”

You opened your mouth then shut it again before you shook your head, trying to process his words. You took a shaky breath and looked back to him again.

“Say I agreed, isn’t it too dangerous? I mean, you might be with me, sure, but I’m still just a human woman. What could I possibly do so you wouldn’t have to protect me all the time? Wouldn’t I just be a constant risk?”

“That would not be the case,” he told you sternly. “I would see to it that every dragon be made aware of who you are. Once they know, they wouldn’t dare lay a talon on you unless they’re turncoats.” Yoongi sounded so serious, you almost believed him. “They would treat you better than these humans ever have,” he promised.

“How are you so sure?” You narrowed your eyes at him, challenging his word. He sure sounded high and mighty for proposing something that sounded so risky.

“Because I’m your dragon,” he repeated. You almost groaned and rolled your eyes. You felt like you were running in circles with him.

“What does that have to do with anything?” So what? You get to boss around and rely on a dragon. As legitimately remarkable as that is, you didn’t seem to connect that to your safety in his country.

“Because my Master in question- you- would be commanding the dragon in charge of Dragon Country.” There was a beat of silence.

What.

“So, you’re claiming to be what? The King of Dragon Country? Am I just supposed to believe that?”

“Yes, you are.” He told you with a straight face. There was no sign of lying or hesitation. He seemed so sure and serious of himself that you were questioning yourself of his truth.

“But that’s-”

“If I may,” Navia spoke, cutting you off from behind you as Yoongi shot him a glare for interrupting you. You turned to look at the white-eyed dragon as his tanned skin shone with the fire’s casted light. “It’s wise to know that the King detests liars and lies in general.”

Your eyes widened as you whipped your head back to Yoongi who was still shooting the other dragon a look before he returned his sights back to you.

“Oh my Gods, you’re serious.”

The night concluded a long, well-rounded talk about just who Yoongi really was. Finding out he was a king was one thing, but it was harder to understand that you were now in charge and in command of that king. You felt simultaneously all powerful and powerless.

In the end, you did agree to go back with him; however, under one condition.

-x-x-x-

You sat at your desk in your room, scribbling line after line of ink on a piece of parchment. It had been a week since your ‘unfortunate situation’ as you called it and you were healing well. You fixed your cabin the best you could and moving around like normal again was easier by the day. You could already almost chop firewood again- not that you actually were. You had no reason to stock up anymore.

On your bed was a bag. One that was large and had the flap open to show the contents inside. A few folded dresses and one of your leather corsets that wasn’t completely ruined. Jars and bottles of salves, potions, crushed herbs, flowers, and sacks of roots and leaves. Even your favorite cup and a knowledgeable book about medicine. All neatly packed.

You stretched as you leaned back in your chair and looked out the window to your room. You smiled as a bittersweet feeling fluttered in your stomach.

You looked down at the letter you had just finished as you folded it up and placed it inside of an envelope before writing the name of to whom it would be addressed on the front.

Your windows rattled with a gust of wind outside. You smiled as you got up from your desk and grabbed your bag. You tossed the flap of ti over the bag, the large button in the flap of it looping through a latch to close it securely. You threw the long strap over your shoulder as you grabbed the letter from your desk and opened your bedroom door.

You stopped, turning to look at the room once more. It was clean, bed made and everything neat and tidy. You smiled sadly at your space before you said goodbye to it. You felt silly saying farewell to a room.

When you walked into the main room, Yoongi had already let himself in. He smiled at you when he saw you. Just as you had asked him a week ago, he had left you alone for the last 7 days. That was your condition, even if he grumbled about it. You wanted one last week on your own in your lifelong home- that was all.

He walked to you and grabbed your arm gently before bending to softly push his lips against his cheek. You jolted as you covered your skin with your hand.

“What was that for?” You asked, flushed.

“Simply, because.”

“That is not an answer,” you scowled. “Did Navia come with you?” You asked peering around his back to look.

“Of course he didn’t. I don’t need an escort.”

“Of course you don’t,” you giggle. You walked around your cabin, running your fingers over the surface of your counters, your fireplace’s bricks, your dining table and around the window frames. You took everything into your memory even though this was the only home you ever had. Maybe that was why you felt like crying.

“Are you unwell?” Yoongi asked, coming up behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders. He could see how hard this was for you even without you looking at him directly. He knew this was his selfish wish, but if you really wanted to stay he wouldn’t drag you away.

“I feel like I'm homesick, but I haven’t even left yet,” you chuckle as your eyes stung. One of Yoongi’s hands moved to rest on your head as he pushed his cheek against the top of his hand to lean against your head.

“It will be alright,” he soothed.

“I know,” you chocked.

You spent a little while longer in your lifelong home before you felt like you were finally as ready as you’d ever be to leave. You feared if you stayed too much longer you’d root into your floorboard and then you’d never move again. As you walked out of the house, you took the key that hung on the inside of the door frame and took it out with you. You didn’t lock the cabin door, instead you placed the key on the outside doorknob.

This cabin would be welcoming to anyone who needed it, that was what the key hanging outside the space signified.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Yoongi asked for the umpteenth time, earning him an eye roll from you.

“Yes, now take me away or else I’ll start ugly crying.” He chuckled before he was walking with you out of the Woodlands and when you reached the edge of the lands, he transformed into his wyvern form. You climbed onto his neck just behind his head so you could clutch onto his horns (or his ears, whichever worked best with your grip) before he was flying off with you completely.

Leaving that cabin, the humans and one single letter on the dining table addressed to ‘Villagers’ behind for good.

-x-x-x-

“Father! Look, is this what you were talking about?” A small child cheered as he ran through the Woodlands and came across a small cabin that was covered in overgrowth. The wood had been overrun with vines and moss. Small tree saplings sprung from the wood above on the roof and weeds overtook the ground that was once all dirt. The trunk that had once been used to chop wood years and years ago had a sapling of a new tree ready to grow in the next hundred years.

Nests of birds, holes and burrows of moles and squirrels littered the area.

The child ran around the perimeter of the cabin, eyeing it up and down as small plumes of red smoke puffed through their nostrils in excitement.

“I’ve never seen a human house before!”

“Juilius, come back to me before you trip or get caught in a vine.”

The child trotted back to his father who had come to the Woodlands simply to show his son what the home of a human looked like. Although, times have changed and this is certainly not how humans lived anymore. This cabin was long forgotten to time and nature had long since reclaimed it.

The visit was short and sweet to a degree as the child was soon ushered to be ready to leave. “Your mother wants you home at a reasonable time. We can’t keep her waiting.”

“I’m coming,” the child cheered as he started leaving the Woodlands with his father’s hand in his own. “Will I get to fly part of the way back this time? I swear I can!”

“Alright, you can until we hit the first mountain peak; but don’t tell your mother.”

“I won’t!” He promised.

Landing peacefully in Dragon Country and arriving safely at the palace, the child giggled happily to himself on how well he was able to fly on his own and how his wings were getting stronger day by day.

“Yes, but you still can’t retract your scales yet, now can you?” His father teased. Juilius pouted as his brick red scales refused to fade in his human form.

“Well,” a voice called to them in a happy tone. “You look just like your father when you pout like that with your scales out.”

“Mother!” Juilius cheered as he ran to his mother’s arm, clinging to her as he was picked up and nuzzled into her neck. “Father took me to the Woodlands today. He said that there was a cabin in the woods where you used to live, so he let me see it!”

You blinked down at your blush-cheeked scaled child. “Oh did he? I hope he didn’t let you fly at that dangerous height.”

“Nope!” The child grinned as innocent as can be- keeping his promise to his father in the small little white lie.

“You always assume the worst of me. Don’t you, Scale?” Yoongi teased as he came to your side with your child on your chest as his legs kicked playfully on either side of your hips. He was young, only a decade old. He was still a hatchling when it came right down to dragon ages.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Mother, can you tell me about the humans?”

“You’re always so curious about them. Why do you want to know, Hatchling?”

“Well, you used to be one right? Father said you only got your scales and horns when you came here.”

“Well, then that is going to be a long story. It’s only right if your father helps tell part of it too. It is his fault I became a dragon in the first place,” you looked at Yoongi as he cleared his throat. “Isn’t that right, Your Majesty.”

“I really don’t know what you could be referring to,” he sheepishly retorted, looking away. As Juilius tried annoying the answer out of his father, he just shushed him. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“That’s not fair,” the child pouted.

“My Lady,” your attention was called from Navia who had finally tracked you down. His white eyes glowing down the halls like nighttime fireflies as he approached. “A new hatchling was born in the valley this morning and it’s mother asked if you would be gracious enough to name them.”

Your eyes shined. “I’d love to,” you said as you set Juilius down and kissed his forehead. You moved to kiss Yoongi’s cheek as you allowed Navia to escort you away. The dragon child took his father’s hand.

“So, what mother said about how she became a dragon; why do I need to wait until I grow up to know? Is it some kind of big dragon secret?” Yoongi’s face flushed as he cleared his throat again and was soon leading his son off somewhere else to clean up after his day out.

“I already told you, not until you’re older.”

Who knew that the exchanging of the blood and saliva of the king of dragons was able to gradually change humans into dragons? Yoongi certainly never knew until one morning you woke up with scales dusting your cheeks after a rather specific night.

To which would soon be the outcome of the pestering royal child, Juilius.

-END-

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thatslikely · 4 years

Text

Seasons- G.W. Headcannons

dating George Weasley through the seasons

Warnings: mentions of food, but it's all fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: just thought it would be fun! Let me know if you want this for any other characters!

George Taglist: @hufflepuff5972

if you want to be added to the taglist, reply to this post, send me an ask, or dm me!

I recommend listening to this playlist while reading for the best experience!

----

Winter

On the first snowfall of the season, you two definitely built an adorable little snowman, complete with coal eyes (you probably stole Ron's scarf for his neck). You told George about the muggle story Frosty the Snowman, and he tried to find a spell to recreate Frosty.

The next day, you two gradually started amassing a large snowman army. Inevitably, in the middle of construction, George betrayed you with an icy snowball to your back.

Naturally, this incited a five day-long snowball war that increasingly got more and more intense. George was surprisingly good at building sturdy snow forts, so you never really stood a chance against his defences. He could have probably constructed a 7 foot tall barricade in a matter of minutes!

Even if you two are locked in battle, he'll always take time to admire the way the white snowflakes rest in your hair so beautifully, as well as the fiery determination behind your eyes.

Fiesty battles aside, George always made sure that you were warm and cozy after a long day in the cold, making homemade hot cocoa using Molly's famous recipe.

One day, long after the ‘Snow Skirmish’, you convince him to go ice skating with you; he absolutely fell in love with it. For a while, he had to hold onto your arms for balance, which led to a lot of falls considering he's a giant compared to you.

Eventually he got the hang of it and you taught him how to play muggle hockey, which he picked up quite quickly. He eventually got all the Weasleys hooked, and they held weekly tournaments. You were always George's favorite cheerleader.

If he ever became a little too cocky, he'd fall face-first onto the hard ice, which always brought a small smile to your face. He always laughed with you, too.

On snowless days, however, you two went on 'expeditions', which entailed peaceful walks through the woods, hand-knitted gloves intertwined.

You'd always keep your eyes peeled for birds or foxes, and occasionally he swore he saw a yeti. You were surprised he never got Fred to dress up in a yeti suit, at least not yet.

Spring

One word: picnics.

You spent the majority of springtime down at the Burrow, enjoying the pleasant spring weather. There were huge multicolored flower fields surrounding George's childhood home, making it even more fitting for the season.

Some days, he'd take you down to the creek past the Burrow, and the two of you would stand ankle-deep in the cool, flowing water. Sometimes, if he was feeling a bit mischievious, he’d splash you with some of the refreshing water, you quickly returning the favor.

Occasionally, he'd try to catch a little leaping frog, holding it carefully in his big palms. He was enchanted by the tiny creature, and without fail, he always begged you to let him keep it.

"But Terrance needs a home! We can make him a terrarium and everything! Please?"

Some days, he'd take you up to the Tree, which laid on a soft, grassy hill in the middle of a luscious yellow flower field. A single tire swing hung from its burly and ancient branches.

Often times, he'd sit at the base of the trunk, either dozing off or humming a song from his youth. If you chose to sit with him, however, he'd braid your hair perfectly and pick some colorful flowers to accent it.

"My little Angel, you look so pretty with flowers in your hair."

You'd always pick some petals for his ginger mop, too.

"Now we're matching, Georgie. Daffodils compliment your hair beautifully."

He loved to push you in the tire swing. He was far too big to fit in it now, to your dismay, but he was perfectly satisfied pushing you back and forth in it. It almost reminded him of rocking a baby cradle.

On rainy days, he'd fetch old rain boots from the attic. He'd always wear Bill's old pair, you wearing his'. The area around the small creek was all muddy, and you can't tell me he wouldn't make mud pies. Even if he's way too old for them.

"Darling, would you care for a pie?"

"And what does it taste like, exactly?"

"It's my signature flavor, mud!"

Summer

I firmly believe George is a good cook. He just is (see my chef!George fic for elabroation).

One sweltering day, you and him went out to the gardens and pick ripe, ruby-red strawberries to chop up and make into homemade strawberry ice cream.

His ice cream would surpass Fortescue's by a lot. Like it's scary. From then on, he made it every Saturday morning, even on chilly winter days.

Sometimes he'd turn adventurous and try some new flavors, which were normally pretty good, until he got a little too creative and made caramel watermelon ice cream. From then on, he stuck with the classics.

In the evenings, a small bonfire was lit and all the Weasleys spent the night drinking and dancing. Bill held a guitar concert, George and Arthur grilled up some hot dogs (which were juicy and delcious), Fred set off some fireworks, and Ginny held fiercely competitive broom races.

When everyone went inside, exhausted, you and George stayed outside, listening to the crickets chirping and admiring the clear, country sky. He pointed out his favorite constellations to you, reenacting the myths behind them with you as his co-actor (you can't tell me we wouldn't let you fake-stab him and he'd fall to the grass super dramatically).

Beach days: a must have.

George would definitely wear red/maroon swim trunks, and there would always be a white stripe of sunscreen on his freckled nose, even after he furiously rubbed it in.

He'd always love the bathing suit you sported, whether it was a gingham bikini or a gorgeous silver one piece. He loved you so much, you never felt self conscious around him.

He'd take you to a secret, tucked-away beach, and you two would spend the day building elaborate sand castles, burying you deep in the sand, and searching for pretty sea shells and sand dollars.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mister? You can’t just leave me buried under the san like this!”

“Someone’ll find you eventually. I just want all the icecream for myself, what can I say? Oh fine, I’ll dig you up, darling.”

Autumn

Autumn at the Burrow was like nothing else. There was always a seemingly endless supply of pumpkin juice and apple juice on tap, and traditions were ampted up to the max.

Pumpkin carving was taken very seriously, and you and George were no exceptions. You and him were never artsy per se, but you always tried your hardest together to crave an intricately designed pumpkin. It always turned out pretty decent, to your surprise.

George and Fred would constantly wear scary masks and hide around he Burrow, or plant fake spiders in the cupboards in hopes of scaring Ron. It always worked.

Since the weather was so nice and chilly, he'd always go around the woods with you collecting a pile of some good sticks for a tree fort. He always carried the branches, and you collected the prettiest orange leaves you could find, for a collage or scrapbook.

All fall, he worked on building a small, secluded tree fort, which was definitely worth it in the end. You two stayed up late into the night, telling ghost stories, kissing, or inviting the whole Weasley clan for a good old fashioned game of Truth or Dare.

As for Halloween, you guys already know he goes overboard. He decorated every inch of every wall with black and orange streamers, fake cobwebs, and little baby pumpkins. It was always really sweet; he'd always wear a proud grin after the whole house was adorned to his liking.

For costumes, I'm 99% sure that you two would always do pun-y couple costumes think him dressing up as a cereal box and you as a killer, or him as a ghost and you a pepper).

You two would also 100% go to a costume store, and buy as much cheap hair gel as you could, all so you two could make each spiky Mohawks (you'd never admit it to George, but he pulled them off).

One time, he let you take him to a muggle farm for the day. You decided it would be fun to do a corn maze. The both of you got lost for three hours. From then on, he just stuck with hay rides.

Spending time with George was always fun, year-round.

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its--fandom--darling · 4 years

Text

The Specter ~ chapter 5

word count: 1,017 chapter rating: PG; warnings: none, fic rating: Pg-13

As the next few weeks passed, Spring started to pry the earth from winter’s cold dead hands and the season has began to change rapidly. Snow still clung to the forest ground that was hidden from the bright, yellow beams of sunshine that drenched your cottage. It was one of the first things that August thought that you would love about the little place. When he’d toured it, the sun had been setting and the sinking sun had drenched the small living room with a golden glow. He’d known then and there that you must have it as you like a flower, always turned your face to the warm sunshine at every opportunity.

In the past few weeks, August had set up a little routine. He’d pick up the slightly rusted axe that he’d found in his new abode and traipse carefully through the woods, chopping up firewood for not only himself but also to slip into your stack of firewood that it would not dwindle and leave you cold. As he neared your property today, an familiar sound filled his ears. The repetitive swishing and thwacking of what he knew to be an axe swinging through the air and splitting logs grew louder the closer he got. By the force of the thuds, it could not be you who was wielding the axe. He set down his bundle of logs and knelt to look through the thick branches of the pines. He could make out a man he’d never seen before cutting and stacking wood. The man split the last log and rested the axe on it’s hook, wiping his hands on his pants as you emerged from the house with a thick cardigan wrapped tightly around your frame.

The man’s face light up and a mix of emotions as hot as lava filled August gut. The man smiled and straightened up, preening as he seemed to explain what he’d done as he gestured to the stack of wood. August heard you offer to pay him to which the man turned down and suggested you going out to dinner with him instead. You blanched and took a step back, shaking your head no before giving a non-committal answer and saying goodbye. You scurried back into your cottage leaving the man, standing there dumbfounded at the rejection. August’s fear that’d you found someone else dissipated in an instant, the emotions settling in his gut like a lump of obsidian. At the realization that you had indeed waited for him, August knew it was time to make a move. As the slighted man returned to his truck and drove off, August noticed that your daffodils that you’d painstakingly planted were beginning to bloom and August couldn’t help but smile. Marching back into the woods, towards his cabin, he determined to set his return to you in motion. Settling his aching body at the small table, he pulled a notebook and a pen from his duffel bag and began to write.

“(y/n),

You knew a version of me once and though I have changed, I hope that when we meet again you will not look at me with fear as the people tend to do now but instead as the man you once knew. I feared that I had been replaced, but I know now, without a shadow of a doubt, that I remain in your heart. Please do not fear me or my anonymity for the time being. All shall be revealed in due time.

Forever yours”

He reads over the note a few times, tapping his pen against his chin before adding once last thing.

“p.s. should you wish to return this note, I would welcome it. Please pin your reply to the clothesline”

That night under the cover of darkness, he returns to your little home and tucks the note into the frame of your kitchen window and returns to his cabin.

The next morning, he makes his way towards your cottage once more and waits to see you appear in the kitchen window as you do every morning. He feels a smile cross his face as you appear, hair done just the way he always adored, your beautiful neck on display and the memory of your soft sigh as he kissed his way up the column of your throat rush back to him. He can’t take his eyes off of you as you turn to look out the window, he sees your eyes widen and your reach a hand up to touch the window. Rushing out of sight, the front door opens moments later as you appear your bathrobe pulled tightly against you to ward of the morning chill and your winter boots on your feet haphazardly as you hurry the muddy grass to fetch his note. You tug it from the frame and open it up right there, your eyes rushing over the words as you stand in the yard. He sees your mouth drop open and your eyes pop up to scan at the horizon before your rush back into the safety of your cottage.

He doesn’t quite know what to make of your actions but reserves himself to wait and in the meanwhile make himself useful around your property so that man from yesterday has no excuse to make himself available to you ever again. He is lost in thought when the door to your cottage opens once more and you appear with a slip of your pale pink stationary in hand. His heart leaps as you walk over to the clothesline and pin the note to the corner of it furthest from the cottage. You turn towards the trees once more and August holds his breath as you scan the trees again searching for a ghost in them before returning to your warm abode again. He waits to catch a glimpse of your once more as you prop open your kitchen window and the sound of John Denver’s “Annie’s Song” drifting out of the window on the breeze before he smiles and slips off into the woods as silent as a specter.

#the specter #august walker x reader #fem!reader #slow burn #angst

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years

Text

there are ghosts in the sky, iii

iii. but can you save a dying sun?

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 15.0k

Warnings: angst, fighting, violence, death, anxiety, mentions of nausea/puking, language.

Summary: a battle for your body and a battle for Sanctum results in shocking causalities, both battles ending in a way you could have never guessed.

a/n: here it is!!! part 3 is here, this au is finished!!! this marks the end of the sub rosa universe (for now), and I have a lot of feelings about that. mostly I am just grateful to all of you, and I hope you’ll stick around to read my next series/other new works! if you would like your sub rosa tag to be converted to a general bellamy blake x reader tag, please let me know!

p.s. sorry for the late in the day upload today, life has been crazy and the day got away from me!!!

au series masterlist // sub rosa masterlist // full masterlist

You only catch bits and pieces of what’s happening outside of your body, but as the barrier between your mind and Josephine’s continues to break down further, you’re able to hear more and more of the outside world. In between catching information from outside of your body, you keep yourself inside Josephine’s side of the mindspace. You know that it’s only going to break down your minds faster, but you’re desperate for information you can use against her later, so you use your downtime to scour through her memories in search of something useful. By the end of your research, the only thing you know for sure is that Josephine is awful, and she doesn’t deserve your body, let alone to resurrect again.

You can tell a few hours have passed since your initial Morse Code attempt, and you weren't sure at first if it worked.

That is, until you heard Josephine begging someone to kick you out of your own head. There’s not much you can do other than wait around and hope that someone is trying to save your life, and you finally get that confirmation later on when you catch onto the tailend of a conversation between Josephine, Clarke, and Bellamy. You’ve gathered enough bits and pieces to know that all four of you are currently being held captive by the Children of Gabriel, and the other three are using the time to ‘bond’, if you can actually call it that. Josephine is moaning about the tragedy of her relationship with Gabriel, and you push the stack of memory books out of your lap and to the side, running from the memory space and into the hidden diner.

You ignore the patrons and head straight for the Christmas lights again, tugging them down and calling out, “Monty!”

He runs into the diner, looking at you in alarm. “What is it?”

“Morse Code, I need your help. How do you say boohoo?”

His nose scrunches as he looks at you in confusion, “Boohoo?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It doesn't matter why, just please tell me what it is!”

He shrugs and grabs the paper and pen you’re holding out to him, thinking for a second before he quickly writes out the message. When he passes it to you, you give him a smile of thanks, listening as Josephine mutters, “I've been in love with Gabriel for 236 years, the last 70 of which he's been trying to kill me. You know, relationships.”

You start working on your light, signaling out the code Monty gave you.

—●●● B

— — — O

●●●● H

— — — O

You can hear Josephine translating the letters for Clarke and Bellamy, before she ends the quip with, “That's harsh.”

You can catch glimpses of your twin’s broken voice questioning the woman who stole your body, hope entwined with her words. “She can hear us?”

“It would seem so. Which means the wall separating our minds is almost gone.” You look around you, at the diner in Josephine’s mind, realizing that parts of it are already starting to fade. Panicked, you run out of the room and back to your side, slamming the red door behind you as you go. “When that happens, she'll stroke out, I'll download, and you can say goodbye to your genocidal fiance and sister.”

You can hear Bellamy’s voice next, thick with emotion. “Let me talk to her.”

“I'd have to give over control for that, so no.”

“But she can hear me?”

“Yes, she can hear you. For God's sake, just say what you want to say.” Josephine sighs, seeming to sense that Bellamy has something he wants to say to you. You stand waiting and listening, eager to hear his message to you.

His message hits you harder than anything he’s ever said to you before this, his voice so broken and mixed with hope when he answers, “I won't let you die.”

Tears instantly spring to your eyes, and you collapse to the floor of the Ark, letting the tears fall down your face as you process Bellamy’s message to you. I won't let you die. You know he means it, and you know that your odds of survival are good with both him and Clarke on your side, both of them desperate to save your life. The moment fills you with hope, and you sit crying alone in the Ark, waiting for your family to save you.

Everything seems fine until it’s not.

You can tell that something has changed, sensing the stress within your own body, accompanied by the overlapping din of voices above you. You can't make out any of the words, but you don't have to wonder for long, because as you sit in the hall of the Ark, Josephine suddenly bursts through her red door and heads straight to you. She looks panicked, her eyes wide, and you pull yourself to your feet quickly as you sense the incoming danger. “What? What is it?”

“They’re about to chop our head off! I need you to take control so we can live.”

You don't have time to answer her, because she turns to her right and types in a code for a locked door, before grabbing your arm and shoving you through. As usual, you are blinded by a flash of white light and then your eyes open and clear, locked on a gray stone wall. Your heart rate picks up when you realize that you’re back in control of your own body, but you’re also dangerously close to losing your life. Your head is being pressed into a stone, and your hands are being held behind your back, and as everything comes into focus, you hear someone say, “The answer is death to Primes.”

You sense movement to your right, and you call out, “Wait!”

You can tell that the person to your right, the one who intends to cut off your head, freezes, and you work on buying yourself some time. “Gabriel loves her, is this what he would want?”

Your words seem to be the wrong ones, because the man yells out, “Don't you use his name!”

And then you sense his movement again. This time, though, you’re ready for it. As he lifts the sword and swings it around to cut off your head, you kick out at the man holding you in place. Your foot connects with the space by his knee, and you can tell that his leg is broken by the sound alone. He releases you, giving you just enough space to avoid the sword that is coming towards you, which clangs against the rock instead. The man looks down in shock, and you use that to your advantage, grabbing his arm and his other shoulder and pulling him down, smashing his head into the rock.

You grab his fallen sword and turn and swing at the man with the broken leg, cutting his throat, and as you look up you see a final person coming towards you. The woman moves towards you and you stalk over to her, swinging the sword out and cutting her neck before she can even comprehend your movements. She hits the ground and you stand in place for a second, panting, trying to catch your breath, brought back to reality by your fiance calling your name.

You look up and meet his eyes, his expression so hopeful, and Clarke watches on, equally as full of hope. You drop the sword and run across the room, grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him into a kiss. You pull away, both of you with tears in your eyes, before you step over to your twin and pull her into a hug, the two of you laugh crying with relief. You only pull away when you hear the sound of approaching voices, and you spin back towards the man who was going to kill you, grabbing the set of keys off of his belt before running back to your fiance and twin.

You quickly try to uncuff them both, but your hands are shaking and anxiety is pulsing through you as the voices grow closer. Bellamy and Clarke are both watching you closely, and Bellamy puts his hand over yours to still your movements. “We don't have time, you have to run!”

You look up at him in alarm, shaking your head sharply. “No! I’m not leaving either of you.”

Clarke reaches out for you, her hand grabbing your wrist, encouraging you to look at her. “Bellamy’s right, there’s no time. Go find Gabriel.”

You look between then both, panicked, but the approaching voices only grow closer, signalling your ticking clock. And you hate that you know they’re right, and you hate the idea of leaving them both, but you know all of your odds are better if you do. Which is why you give them both one last look, the voices just around the corner now, before Bellamy panics and pushes you away, “Go!”

You leave the keys in his hand and you take off running, pushing hard to outrun the voices that seem right at your back. You tear through the woods, leaves and branches smacking you as you go, but you ignore them, trying to put as much distance between you and the Children of Gabriel as you can. You can hear them closing in on you, led by the man that nearly killed you, and you pause and duck behind a tree, trying to catch your breath. You start to run numbers in your head, wondering how many you can reasonably take out before they take you out, and just when you deduce that there are too many of them and not enough of you, you hear the roar of a motorcycle, signaling Sanctum’s arrival.

You look up, watching as the bikes weave between the trees, and you take off running again, choosing the lesser of two evils, heading straight for the riders. As you move, you scream at the top of your lungs, “Here! I’m here!”

The Sanctum riders fly towards you, pulling up to a stop and grabbing their guns, aiming at the group of people right behind you. As you grow closer to the Sanctum riders, the Children of Gabriel grow closer to you, this game of cat and mouse getting a little too close for your liking. When you’re within a few feet of the riders, Jade, Josephine’s guard, yells out, “Down! Get down!”

You drop to the ground without hesitation, covering your head with your hands, hearing bullets whiz by over head. Someone drops to the ground behind you, landing on your legs, but you don't dare to move until you hear the shooting stop. Finally it does, and you hear Jade shout orders to the others, “I’ve got her, you get the rest!”

You hear three motorcycles drive off, leaving you alone with Jade, and you almost shake your head at how perfect this is starting to play out for you. Because when Jade grabs you and helps you to your feet, you lift a large rock and bring it with you, turning and knocking her out before you’ve even stood to your full height. As you drop the rock, you nearly jump out of your skin when a voice behind you mutters, “Really? She just saved your life.”

You spin around quickly, locking eyes with Josephine, who is standing feet from you, a look of disappointment on her face. But you ignore that and focus on the fact that she is standing right in front of you, outside of the mindspace. “Why can I see you?”

“Because it's getting worse, like I said it would. Look, what you did back there was awesome, but don't let it be for nothing. Give me back control.”

You ignore her, knowing damn well that you have no intention of giving your body back to her. Because it is your body. And despite the panic that courses through you as you realize that you are likely nearing the last few hours of your life, you turn away from Josephine and grab the radio off of Jade’s side. Josephine mutters under her breath, “I'll just get it anyway when you fall asleep.”

But when she sees the radio in your hand, she looks at you in confusion. “What are you doing now?”

You continue to ignore her and lift the radio in your hand, remembering one of Josephine’s memories that you discovered earlier in the evening. Josephine sits in front of her father, anxiously twirling her hair. Russell cuts her a look, but lets the habit slide as he delivers the news. “Spies from Sanctum discovered a camp, just on the verge of the anomaly. There’s a sculpture of radios, which they suspect is how the COGs get messages to Gabriel.” You press the button of the radio and keep your eyes locked on Josephine as you say your name and add, “Gabriel, you don't know me, but I need your help. Josephine Lightbourne is in my head. If you can hear this, we're coming to you.”

You stalk past her and head back to the bike, and she follows you the entire time, pleading to your back. “This is insane. He didn't respond to their call, he's probably dead. Please, let's just go back to Sanctum.”

You grab Jade’s discarded helmet and lift the motorcycle, as Josephine crosses her arms and glares at you. “I'll drive. But for that, you do have to give me back control.”

You swing your leg over the bike as she protests, “You don't know how to-”

You cut her off by starting the bike and revving the engine, another useful memory you have stolen from Josephine’s head. Her glare gets angrier as she watches you, “What else of mine have you stolen?”

You smirk and answer her in Mandarin, “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

And then you pull the helmet onto your head, and drive off, leaving her behind in a cloud of dust.

You drive for a while before crashing, thanks to Josephine, destroying your radio in the process. Lucky for you, Josephine knows a place for you to hide, leading you to a bunch of old research outposts nearby. Unlucky for you, you have a seizure almost as soon as you climb down into the outpost, your brain struggling to keep up with the data from two minds.

You have never been more disappointed to wake up in your mindspace, though you’re not sure if that's because of the small taste of control that you got to experience, or the fact that your mind is clearly in disarray. You wake up in your room, surrounded by memories stashed inside of books, but none of them are yours. And as you wander into the hallway, you see that it’s much worse than that. Books are stacked on nearly every available inch of flooring that you can see, and projections from Josephine’s memories wander the halls in various emotional states. Some are angry, some are sad, some are distressed, but all of them are a problem.

You find Josephine not long after wandering from your room, catching as she walks past you absentmindedly. With the two of you reunited, you briefly consider killing her and ending all of this once and for all, but her response makes you pause. She glares at you, just as annoyed at this entire situation as you are, before she bites back your earlier words to her, “Go float yourself.”

The words give you an idea, a way to save the two of you from your approaching destruction, and you and Josephine run around frantically, trying to float her memories to hold off the impending demise of your brain. You only do a few at first, allowing her to pick the memories that she wants to lose, but soon that has to be abandoned in favor of an all out destruction of property. You rig up the outer doors to vent everything in ten seconds, Josephine’s memories now heavily integrated into your own at this point, both of you well past the point of no return.

You and Josephine head back to your room, into the place you shared with Bellamy, the only room safe from the venting into space that is occurring outside your door. You know it works when Josephine disappears, leaving you alone in your mindspace again. You start to panic, wondering if this is it for you, if Josephine really will make it out of here with control of your body, leaving you to truly die. Just as you really start to spiral into a panic, you catch a pair of voices outside, one familiar, one not.

Josephine refers to the unfamiliar voice as Gabriel, and you almost cry in relief when you realize that somehow he found you after all. He's not dead, and he’s here to get his ex lover out of your head. Josephine confirms the familiar voice seconds later when she greets Blodreina, and you smile at the fact that somehow Octavia is alive and she’s here to help you.

Of course, chaos reigns supreme on this damn moon that you hate so much, because as soon as the four of you exit the research outpost, Josephine calls out for the Sanctum guards nearby, begging to be taken back to Sanctum. Gabriel argues and says that Josephine's body, your body, is on the brink of death, and he has to save you now, because neither of you will make it back there. But of course, the guards don't care, and just when Gabriel and Octavia are on the brink of death, they are saved by Bellamy and Clarke, a turn of events that leaves you incredibly thankful to have them in your life.

Unfortunately, Gabriel’s prediction about your impending death is correct, because Josephine collapses, your legs going numb and giving out beneath her, and Gabriel catches her and whisks her away back to his camp. Clarke, Octavia, and Bellamy follow, and before you know it, you can hear the steady beeping of a heart rate monitor, along with the increasingly clear voices outside of your head. Josephine makes a last ditch plea to save herself and wipe you instead, but thankfully Gabriel ignores her and stops your heart.

They quickly work to remove the mind drive in your head and then restart your heart again, which should put you back in control. You see the door to Josephine’s side crack and explode, the wall now turning into just another wall of the Ark. You wait patiently, knowing that means that the mind drive is gone, but instead of waking back up in the real world, you remain trapped in your own head. You look around in confusion, wondering why your heart is still stopped, and why you’re still staring at the walls of the Ark. “Wait. Why am I still here?”

“Because I'm still here.” You turn around in confusion, now facing Josephine, and you have a split second to register the axe in her hand before she swings it towards you, cutting your neck. You reach up and grab your wound, light shining between your fingers, as you shake and gasp and watch the enemy in your head. She drops the axe and it tumbles and lands near your side as she mutters, “Sanctum is mine.”

She looks down at your struggling form with a smirk. “I used the surgical mesh. I'm sorry about the whole working together thing, but I know you, Wanlida. If you came back, you'd kill everyone inside Sanctum. It's what you do.”

You struggle to focus on her words as you realize that your version of bleeding out in your mindspace is visually a lot different than bleeding out in the real world. But the pain and the struggle and the suffering, those are all just as real as the world outside of your head. Josephine kneels down across from you, still smirking, watching as you quickly die. She only turns away when another voice outside of your body, Gabriel’s, tells the others, “I'm sorry, but her brain can no longer support two minds.”

You can hear a counter protest, though your mind struggles to decipher the words, only able to unilaterally focus on the pain radiating out from your neck. And as you sit there dying, you can't help but think about how cruel this is. You survived your initial attempted murder, only for this to be the way you go out? In your own head, and watched on by your body snatcher, no less. But as the seconds pass by and you wait for your death, you realize that at least one person is unwilling to let you go. Clarke’s voice reaches you from outside of your mindspace, calling your name, her voice broken and hurting and desperate. “I can't lose you again, la lune! I need you. Bellamy needs you. Madi needs you. Mom needs you. Now wake up!”

You listen to your twin’s broken cries, quickly replaced by the broken cries from the love of your life as he begs you to fight for your life. “I should have fought harder for you. I should have burned Sanctum to the ground and killed everyone that got in my way, but I’m fighting for you now, god damn it! You're a fighter. Now wake up and fight!”

And as soon as he says it, you know he’s right. You told Josephine yourself that you don't go down without a fight, and you meant it. You’re not dead yet and you’re not going to let her win. Josephine seems to listen on with mild amusement, surely plotting the dramatic return she wants to make as soon as you officially die, but unfortunately for her, it's not a return she gets to make. Because you eye the abandoned axe, discarded and sitting right next to you, and you pull one of your hands away from your light bleeding neck and reach for it. The blade scrapes against the floor as you lift it, drawing Josephine’s attention towards you, and this time she’s the one who has a split second to process the current events before you throw the axe right at her center mass, shattering her projection into a million pieces.

And as soon as you do, it’s like a switch flips, because you take in a large, wheezing breath, pulling your eyes open in alarm, feeling nothing but panic. But there are two sets of hands caressing your face, two voices soothing you as you struggle to catch your breath, two familiar faces watching you closely as they look between you. Clarke is the closest to you, and she tentatively whispers your name, searching for any sign that you are really you. And you respond in the only way you think you can by sitting up and pulling her into your arms, holding her tighter than you’ve ever held her before. She’s crying, you’re crying, the Blake’s are crying, and even Gabriel is crying, though for different reasons.

Clarke releases you so Bellamy can grab you, tugging your face towards him and pressing the most loving kiss to your lips, his mouth telling you everything he wants to say to you in the moment. You kiss him back just as hard, incredibly thankful that you won over Josephine, gaining back control of your body once and for all. And though your heart goes out to Gabriel, you can’t help but be thankful that Josephine is forever gone.

In true ‘chaos of Sanctum’ fashion, it turns out that everyone else that you know and love has been left behind in Sanctum and are now likely in danger. And it turns out that Bellamy’s plan to save everyone was to use Josephine’s mind drive to bargain with Russell, using the life of Josephine for the lives of your people. And it turns out that the very same mind drive that was meant to save your people is now empty, because you vented all of Josephine’s memories, and she jumped ship in order to kill you and take your body instead. Too bad for her that you came out on top.

You make the suggestion of going back to Sanctum as Josephine and freeing your people yourself, but you are swiftly shot down by both Clarke and Bellamy. Which sends all of you back to the drawing board, brainstorming ways to save everyone and inflict minimal casualties. That drawing board, however, is taken over by Gabriel’s Children, who all seem a little too eager to kill all of you, with you and Gabriel at the top of their lists. Thanks to some split second decision making on Bellamy’s part, he figures out a plan that gets everyone what they want: you save your people, the Children of Gabriel get to kill Primes, Gabriel gets to save the rest of his people inside Sanctum. Bellamy’s plan, however, gets him and Octavia sent on a supply gathering mission, leaving you, Gabriel, and Clarke behind.

During which time, you propose to change the plan, a little uneager to release a bomb that will get innocent people killed, this new genocide reminding you a little too much of Mount Weather. And Clarke disagrees at first, uneager to see you march right back to the devil’s side without any back up. But it’s easy for you to convince her, because she's your twin, your other half, and she gets it. She may hate every second of it, but she understands completely the fears you posses about having to carry the weight of another genocide within you. More than that, she trusts you. She knows that you can get the job done and come out of the other side unharmed, which is why ultimately, she agrees.

Once the Blake siblings return, Gabriel breaks the news to them about the change of plans. Octavia doesn't seem to understand why this is a big deal at first, but Bellamy catches on right away. He turns to you with a glare, shaking his head sharply. “No. No way.”

You look at him with pleading eyes, trying to get him to understand why this plan has to happen. “Bellamy, it's the only way.”

“It's not the only way, because we’ll use the bomb as planned. Risking your life when we don't have to is just-”

You cut him off, finishing his sentence, “Is how we do better. Bellamy, I know you’re worried about losing me again, and trust me, I’m terrified to go back there and do this, but I have to. This is how we save lives, and prevent innocent ones from being taken. I know you, and I know you care about that too. If I go in as Josephine and shut down the shield, then Gabriel only needs to use enough red sun toxin to trigger the alarms and kill a few bugs. All of those people, innocent people, will be safe.”

He sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration, before turning away from you to look at your twin. “You’re okay with this?”

“Not really. But it’s how we do better.”

You can tell he’s starting to reluctantly come around, and he turns back to you, his expression serious. “If you fail, if Russell figures out that his daughter is dead, then all of our people are dead too.”

“I won't fail.”

He gives you a look, but he takes note of your conviction, and you know that he believes in you. And just like Clarke, he gives you his blessing, though you can tell that he hates doing it. You all turn to look at Octavia, who’s been quiet during the entire exchange. She looks at you for a long second and then nods, “If we can spare innocent lives, we should.”

You smile at her, nodding in thanks as she agrees with you instantly, and with everyone on the same page again, Gabriel goes back to building the smaller bomb. This time though, he is interrupted by the whine of motorcycle engines nearby. You all look up and at each other in shock, knowing what that means.

Sanctum riders.

Layla and a few other Children of Gabriel storm into the tent, tying all of you up and then gagging you. They spread you out across the room, with you and Bellamy beside each other, Clarke across from you, Octavia to your left and Gabriel to your right. You’re only in there for a few minutes, listening to the fighting outside when you hear a strange scratching sound from the back of the tent. You turn that way, eyes watching as a blade sticks through the material of the tent, dragging down to the bottom, creating a slit in the fabric. You all tense up, unsure who’s about to come inside, surprised when it’s Murphy’s head that pokes through. He steps inside, followed by Jade, a gun in her hand. At the sight of them, you recognize this for what it is: a rescue mission. You know they’re here for you, well at least they're here for your body, and you tense up as you watch Murphy and Jade slip inside.

Murphy steps into the middle of the tent, while Jade sneaks around the back, ducked behind the debris and mess, and once she’s in position, Murphy calls out to Layla, “Hey there.”

Layla spins around quickly, instantly lifting her gun and aiming it at Murphy, but Jade sneaks up behind her a second later and hits her with her rifle, knocking Layla out. Jade grabs Layla’s dropped weapon as she walks past, moving carefully before dropping down in front of you. “Josephine?”

You shift your eyes to Clarke, who gives you a subtle nod of her head, and you know you can't risk looking at Bellamy given his close proximity to you. But you can sense him tensing up, and though you know that he doesn't want you to leave, he’d agree to it too. Which is why you meet Jade’s eyes and nod your head. Jade puts the guns down and pulls the gag out of your mouth, and you make sure to raise the octave of your voice slightly, trying to perfectly capture Josephine’s tone of voice. “Well done, Jade.”

Jade pulls out a knife to cut through the restraints wrapped around your wrists and ankles, and you shift your gaze to Murphy, smirking, “You just can't pick a side, can you, John?”

“The only reason I'm doing this is because Emori dies if I don't.” Murphy turns to look at Bellamy, voice dropping a little. “The others are in trouble too. I promise I'll do what I can for them.”

Jade stands and helps you to your feet, looking between you and Murphy. “Give us two seconds to make sure it's clear, then follow.”

Just then, Layla starts to shift, and Jade grabs and lifts her gun, prepared to kill her. You feel a rush of alarm, and despite the threats she's hurled at you since showing up a few hours ago, you don't want to watch her die. You reach out and put your hand on the barrel, pushing the gun down to lower it, your tone commanding and angry. “No, this one's mine.”

You grab the discarded pistol from the table and aim it at Layla, glancing over your shoulder to look at Jade, who seems content to let you handle this. “Go, make sure it's clear.”

She nods and immediately turns to slip out of the tent, but Murphy stays put, his eyes locked on you suspiciously. “Is she really gone this time?”

“Yes. Boohoo.” You smirk at him, taunting him, using your earlier quip to Josephine and throwing it at Murphy this time. You can see a flash of anger cross his features, but you speak up before he can channel it, reminding him of the danger you’re in, waving the gun slightly. “Now, as soon as I pull this trigger, your little decoy trick will fail. You better run.”

He gives you one last look before he jogs to the cut in the tent and heads outside, and you wait for a full minute before turning back to Layla. She looks up at you with fear, clearly expecting you to kill her, but you surprise her by turning the gun away and then firing a single shot into the floor, keeping her safe. And then you set the gun down and run over to Bellamy, pulling the gag out of his mouth and giving him an earnest look. “I can do this, Bellamy.”

“I know you can. Go get that shield down, and we’ll bring the cavalry.”

You nod and smile, “I love you.”

“I love you more than the stars.” And with that you pull his face to yours and kiss him hard, reminding him of just how much he means to you. You turn and head to the door, stopping in front of Clarke along the way. You pull the gag from her mouth and she whispers, “I believe in you, la lune. Be safe.”

“You too, shining star.”

You give her a quick hug before you stand and look over at everyone one last time before you slip out of the tent and into the cool night air. You look around, eyes searching the woods nearby for any sign of Jade or Murphy, when someone flashes a light at you, signaling their location. You head that way, finding Jade and Murphy waiting for you, and they quickly lead you through the woods and to a pair of bikes hidden underneath a pile of leaves. Jade passes you a helmet before getting the bike upright, and then she waits for you to hop on, expecting you to drive yourself back. You move to straddle the bike, hoping you remember enough to get by as Jade readies the other bike for her and Murphy. And then on her signal, you both fire them up and drive away, heading back towards Sanctum.

You do pretty well on the ride back, and you arrive at the shield of Sanctum proud of yourself, though you can’t show it. As soon as you hop off the bike, it and your helmet are taken by a nearby guard, and the shield is quickly brought down so all of you can enter inside. You are accompanied by no less than 10 guards, all of whom seem wound tight and on edge. And though you feel the exact same with each step that brings you closer to Sanctum, you keep it hidden beneath a casual air of confident arrogance.

As soon as you crest the hill that leads to your first view of the palace, you are met with another group of guards, all standing around Russell. When you catch sight of him, you’re sure you're going to throw up, but you suppress the sensation and look away, pretending to take in the sights of Sanctum. And as a last ditch effort, you reach up and casually twirl your hair between your fingers in the way you've seen Josephine do in the hundreds of memories that you watched. With a small deep breath to steady yourself, you turn and meet Russell’s eyes, which are watching you closely. You smile and quip, “What? No hug?”

“Josephine.” His face breaks into the widest grin when he hears that his daughter is alive, and you’d almost feel bad for him if not for the fact that he's an evil body snatching asshole. Still, he takes you up on your offer and steps towards you, pulling you in for one of the tightest hugs you’ve ever experienced. You’re a little caught off guard by his fervor, but even more caught off by the question he mutters near your ear. “How is this possible?”

He pulls away and you smirk, “It's a long story. Suffice to say, I'm awesome.”

But then you think of the lack of the mind drive in your head and you know that the second he realizes you’re not Josephine you're dead, so you lie and say, “What I'm not, however, is immortal. Gabriel took out my drive.”

Russell’s face falls, but he nods and turns to a pair of guards behind him, motioning to Murphy. “Take him to Emori, and clear the doctor and the rest of their people from the lab.”

Your brows pull together at the mention of your mom and the others in the lab, and the mention of your own mother makes you realize there is another mother missing. You glance around for her and then shift your gaze to Russell. “Where's Mom?”

He lifts his hand, uncurling his fingers to reveal a mind drive, still stained with Nightblood. You do your best to look worried, though you could honestly care less that Simone got what she deserved. “There was an incident, but it's okay. I was just on my way to resurrect her, but that can wait.”

You shake your head, not understanding. “Resurrect her in who?”

He gives you a look, and you remember the bits and pieces you gathered from Josephine before Bellamy and Clarke dragged you out of Sanctum. Your mom, your real mother, was back in space making the Primes Nightblood. “Abby did it. We can make hosts.”

“Yes, but not how you think.” Your stomach drops as he says that, not sure you want to know what that means. But he doesn't notice, and he reaches out and wraps his arm around you, leading you towards the lab. ��Come on, let's get you checked out.”

As soon as he starts to lead you away, he asks for a quick rundown of the events prior to this moment. You keep most of the story the same, aware that bits of the truth will make the lies easier to remember. The only thing you change, however, is the fact that you survived the second mind wipe and Josephine didn't. “Anyway, I killed her in the mindspace. Now here we are.”

As you step into the lab, your eyes fall on a small body strapped to the chair in the center of the room, black blood leading from tubes in their arms and into a small bottle. Your stomach drops even further and you pause a little, before reminding yourself who you are and where you are, leading you to quip, “How about next time, we choose a less crowded host, what do you say?”

As you come around the chair and you finally get a look at who is strapped to it, you have to work hard to keep your expression neutral and impassive, because it’s Madi. Your niece, your little sun, is currently being drained for her Nightblood bone marrow, just like the Mountain Men did in Mount Weather. You try to keep your tone light as you ask, “And what is this?”

You turn to look at Russell with a smirk, channeling Josephine’s unhinged ways, and he answers, “This is how we make hosts.”

You don't get to answer, because Madi starts to stir at the sound of your voice, muttering your name before she asks, “Ani, is that you?”

She sounds so small and hurt and broken and it makes you want to save her and break this whole moon in half. But the rest of your people are out there, and they’re still in trouble, and they're relying on you to get the shield down. So you continue the facade and answer, “No. It's not. She put up a good fight, though, kid. Can't win them all.”

Madi doesn't react well to that, and she starts screaming, “We're gonna kill you! We're gonna kill all of you and everything you love!”

You try to hide the emotion you're feeling as you turn and grab one of the tranq sticks behind you before walking back over to Madi and sticking it in her arm, knocking her out. And then you turn to Russell, curious about how much life your niece has left. “How many doses can we get out of her before she dies?”

His expression changes, and you’re worried you've said the wrong thing, that you sounded too worried when asking. So you backtrack and smile, shaking your head and turning away from her. “You know what? Nevermind. It's time for my new drive, being mortal sucks.”

Russell smiles at you and sets up a chair, motioning for you to sit in it, face hidden from view, giving him access to your neck. As he works on giving you another drive, he tells you about the chaos in Sanctum that occurred while you were gone, including the chain of events that led to the death of Simone, your fake mom. You hum and respond when appropriate, though you spend the entire time anxiously worrying about Madi and Bellamy and Clarke and the rest of your people. As Russell finishes up the stitches on your neck, Madi wakes up again, the tranq stick not working long enough. And as soon as she catches sight of you, she starts yelling again, tugging against her restraints as she rages, “We should've killed you first. Once we're free, you will burn. You will all burn! You will not get rid of us! We are eternal!”

We? Us? You keep your mouth shut during Madi's tirade, terrified that your emotions will make your voice quiver and you’ll give yourself away, but you try to use your silence to process her words, trying to figure out why she's talking about herself in a plural sense. Russell finally has enough of Madi’s yelling and he yells for the guards to retrieve the doctors, which only further fuels your anxiety. Because if your mother breaks down when she finds out that you're not you, you’re worried that you’ll break character to comfort her, getting all of you killed.

You don't have to worry about what you’ll do for long, because the moment quickly comes and the door swings open, your eyes catching sight of three sets of legs. Madi continues to yell and fight until Jackson sedates her, a moment which can't come soon enough. You're able to hide your falling tears as your face is hidden, but you know that the moment will soon be up and you’ll have to face everyone in this room and play your part well. Russell dabs at your neck with a rag and then mutters, “There.”

He squeezes your shoulder, letting you know you're good to get up, and you sit up slowly, your eyes landing on your mother immediately as she stands in front of you, watching you closely. You keep your expression neutral, trying to pretend that you have no emotion or feelings towards her, and she must see that, because she starts to cry. It breaks your heart and you have to look away, distressed at the idea that your mother thinks she’s looking at someone else in your body. Russell distracts you a little by asking, “How do you feel?”

“Peachy keen Josephine.” Your gaze falls back to your mother, who is now crying harder, her face scrunched up and tears rapidly falling down her face. You can't take the sight of it anymore, so you channel Josephine and snap, “Oh, stop it. I'm not her.”

Her sadness morphs into anger, and she walks towards Russell, stopping when she’s close enough to get in his face. “I will kill you for this.”

“I once believed that I would never stray from the moral path, and then I killed my family in the first eclipse. I'd have done anything to bring them back, so I believe you.”

And then he turns and holds out a hand for you, which you reach out and take. He leads you from the room, past your mother and your niece and your friends, and you manage to call out, “Toodle-loo.” before practically running from the room. Russell leads you past the creepy army of skeletons that watched over you as you were nearly murdered, before taking you out of the reliquary and up the stairs to the palace. You walk into a large dining hall together, Murphy and Emori already sitting at a table inside, as Russell turns to you, his voice low. “You must be starving, let's get you something to eat. After that, I need you to handle the Naming Day preparations.”

You shake your head, well aware that if you get sucked into party planning, you’ll never be able to get away and get the shield down. But you know you can't say that, so instead you say, “I'm not hungry and I just got back. Get Priya to do it.”

He looks into your pleading eyes, and you know he’s picturing the first Josephine, the one he killed, the one he raised from birth. And his sentiment is enough for him to swing over to your side. “Fine, I'll get Priya to do it.”

“Good. Now, if I spend one more minute like this,” you motion down to your clothes, the ones that you wear daily, but the ones that Josephine seems to despise. “I will spontaneously combust from the shame.”

Russell smiles and nods, “Go get cleaned up, I'll resurrect your mother.”

From the table nearby, Emori calls out, “Wait, does that mean Echo's still alive?”

Echo. She's the next host for Simone. You rack your brain quickly, wondering how you can buy her time before she gets wiped out for good. You decide to continue playing off of Russell’s sentiment, hoping it’s enough to delay Echo’s murder. “Hey, I want to be there when Mom comes back. Wait for me?”

Lucky for you and for Echo, Russell smiles and nods his head again. “Of course, sweetheart. Be quick.”

You nod and turn and walk out, Jade following you as you go. You almost roll your eyes but you refrain, already working on how to get rid of her. As you reach the doors of your room, she takes up her post outside, and you stop and look at her before you step inside. “I’m gonna get cleaned up and take a shower. Don't wake me for a few hours, I had a long night.”

She nods once, letting you know she understands, and then you turn and head into Josephine's room, closing the door shut behind you. You head straight for the bathroom and turn on the water in the shower before stepping over to the mirror and looking at your reflection. You don't have time to actually shower but you look like hell, and there's no way Josephine would be walking around like this. So you quickly clean your face off and fix your hair, before raiding Josephine’s closet for an outfit that is nicer than your own, but practical enough that you can kick ass in it if you need to. Once you look presentable, you turn off the shower and throw your clothes in the trash, thinking it’s something that dramatic ass Josephine would do.

You ruffle the sheets to make them look slept in, just in case someone walks into this room, and then you head to the window and swing it open to look outside. There’s nothing beneath your window, but there is a series of balconies that zig zag along the wall, starting to your left. And if you stand on the edge of your window and say enough prayers to the Universe, you think you can reach it if you jump out towards it. Thankfully, Sanctum is on lockdown because of the spreading revolution, so no one sees you leaping and jumping your way from the top of the palace down to the bottom. The whole experience reminds you of escaping the throne room in Polis after Clarke destroyed the City of Light, and the reminder of Bellamy and Clarke is enough to fuel your descent down to the ground.

The night is fading when you finally reach the ground, the suns starting to rise in the sky, urging you to get a move on as everyone is likely just outside of the shield by now, waiting for you to take it down. You sneak around the palace and to the front, heading straight for the lab again, the guards opening the door to you without a second thought. You keep your expression neutral and your head high, exuding all the power that you can possibly manage as you step into the lab. Your mom, Jackson, and Raven all jump and scramble apart, clearly up to something based on their nervous expressions.

But you ignore them and jog towards your mom, reaching out and pulling her into your arms, hugging her tight and letting her know you're okay. She freezes and whispers your name, still skeptical, and you feel tears start to fall down your face as you nod, letting her know that it’s actually you. She wraps her arms around you and hugs you back just as tightly, both of you crying as you hold each other. She cries into your hair, “What happened? I thought I...how?”

You both pull apart and you reach up to swipe away your fallen tears. “It's a long story, but I'm okay.”

She accepts that's all you can say for now, before you turn your gaze to Madi, who is still sedated, looking even worse than before. You feel worry etch itself into your features and Raven catches sight of it before she informs you, “It's the Flame.”

You look up at her in horror. “The Flame that I put in her head?”

“It’s Sheidheda. I'm working the problem, but I need Becca's book.”

You look down at Madi, and as much as you hate to say it, you know that getting the shield down is the first priority. Because without any Primes in need of Nightblood, she’ll be safe again. You turn to look at Raven again and you mutter, “That can wait because I need you to come with me. We don't have much time, we have to lower the shield. Bellamy, Clarke, and Octavia are waiting with the Children of Gabriel.”

“I can't go with you.” Raven shakes her head, her eyes dropping down to Madi. “If she wakes up again, Sheidheda will kill her.”

You nod, thinking before you counter, “Okay, I'll use Ryker. The reactor's beneath the machine shop anyway.”

“No.” You look up at her in surprise, her objection coming out stronger than you were expecting. You must look confused because she clarifies, “Ryker turned Echo in, he won't help you.”

“He won’t help me, but he’ll help Josephine. She can be very persuasive.” You turn your focus back to your mom, your voice almost pleading. “Until then, promise me you won't take any more bone marrow.”

Jackson pipes up, “That's not a problem now. There's another Nightblood in the family.”

You look at your mom in shock, about to object, but she shakes her head, reaching out to put her hand on your cheek. “I won't let them take her.”

Jackson recalls the time all of you spent in Becca’s lab, back before Praimfaya, back before body snatching Primes, and he muses, “Like mother, like daughter.”

You ignore him, focusing on your mother still. “I love you.”

She smiles at you, bright and genuine and happy, and you marvel at it, as it’s a smile she gives you so rarely. You tuck it into your memory, wanting to keep it forever as she whispers back, “I love you too, la lune. Now go save us all.”

You nod and head straight to Ryker’s shop to persuade him to take the shield down for you. Unfortunately, instead of Ryker, you find Ryker’s dead body, his skin cool to the touch, meaning he’s been out for a while. You make a split second decision to take his mind drive so you can use it as leverage against Priya, and no sooner do you get the drive out does Russell open the door to the shop and head your way. He seems oblivious to the drive you have stolen, or the fact that you snuck out hours ago, and you frame Echo as the thief of the drive, vowing to get it back for him. Russell agrees and tells you he’s going to resurrect the others in the meantime, giving you enough time to find Echo and the missing drive so that you can end this once and for all. He also forces you to take a handful of guards with you, and you have to hide your annoyance as they are just one more roadblock in your way.

You search a few places for Priya, relieved when you finally find her inside the tavern, stiff and uncomfortable. You assume your Josephine persona and call out to her, “Priya, there you are. I've been looking all over.”

She turns around in shock and gives you a cool smile when she sees you. “Josie. I heard you had quite the adventure.”

“You have no idea, and I'll tell you all about it, but first I need your help with something in the machine shop.”

She looks at you with concern, “What did Ryker do now?”

“More like what didn't he do.” You drop your voice lower, so the others in the tavern can't hear you as well. “Dad asked him to wipe one of the prisoners, but he's completely lost his nerve. It's embarrassing.”

“He's never wanted to face the reality of our situation. Let's go.”

The two of you turn to leave, heading towards the door with your guards right behind you, but you only make it halfway there before a loud yell comes from behind you. You and Priya jump and turn around in shock, just in time to see Echo vaulting herself off the bar, taking out one of your guards. Gaia and Miller jump over next and take out the other two, and as soon as Priya sees that you are both guardless, she turns to the door in fear, yelling, “Josephine, come on!”

But as she tries to run past you, you reach out and punch her, knocking her out, and her body falls to the floor with a thud. You look up and meet the surprised eyes of your friends, and you smile at them, letting them know it’s you. Echo smiles back and whispers, “I knew it.”

She walks towards you and pulls you in for a hug, and she releases you a moment later, allowing you to hug both Miller and Gaia in greeting. With the mini reunion out of the way, Gaia looks at you with confusion. “How are you here?”

“I'll explain later, but first we need to lower the shield. Bellamy and Clarke are out there with the cavalry. We can get Priya to help me take down the reactor, and then we go after Madi.”

They nod in agreement, letting you know they’re with you, and you, Echo, Miller, and Gaia all sneak Priya back to Ryker’s shop and anxiously wait for her to wake up. The suns have already set on this impossibly short day, and you continue to grow anxious with each passing second, aware that a whole bunch of people are relying on you to get this damn shield down so Gabriel can deploy the toxin. Though, you start to think that someone somewhere got the plan mixed up, because you hear alarms go off for the toxin, though the shield is still very much up and Priya is still very much unconscious. You smack her face a few times to wake her up, and you threaten to smash Ryker’s drive if she doesn't agree to cooperate. The threat seems to do the job because she quickly types in the code to take it down before Miller tugs the bag back down on her head after you motion for the group to follow you.

You all sneak down to the base of the stairs to Sanctum, waiting for Bellamy and Clarke to arrive with the others, and after a few tense minutes of waiting, they come running up the hill towards you. They both hug you desperately, grateful that you’re still alive, and you inform them of the danger you’re all in now that Gabriel has deployed the toxin too early. A crowd has gathered outside the palace, and a collective decision is made to tell the truth using Priya, all of you hoping that will be enough to convince the people of Sanctum that they are living a lie, and that the ensuing chaos will be enough for you to get your people out.

Bellamy agrees to take Priya and the drive and do the talking, since he's always been the best with speeches, and a few minutes later the tides seem to have turned in your direction. That is, until Russell steps out of the palace and gives a short speech about how disappointed he is, seconds before he deploys a small bomb made of red sun toxin. This toxin quickly spreads through the crowd, turning believers against non believers, and the Children of Gabriel that are all around you pass out the antitoxin so none of you will be affected.

As Bellamy returns and you all try to figure out what to do now, Miller catches sight of Raven, Madi, and Jackson being led into the palace, all three of them restrained. Miller and Clarke seem desperate to reach the people you love, but you know damn well that you have the best chance of getting in there and getting them out alive. And though Clarke and Bellamy again seem reluctant to let you go, they know you have the best chance too. So with another tearful goodbye you head to the palace with Gaia in tow, who is pretending to be one of your guards. As soon as you step inside of the large dining hall where the others are gathered, Gaia melts into the background and you look around the room, taking everything in.

Murphy and Emori are dressed in the nicest clothes you've ever seen them in, both of them also wearing makeup, clearly now part of the elite group of Primes. Gabriel is also in the room, surprisingly enough, restrained and being held captive along the edge of the room. The rest of the room is dotted with various other Primes, all recently resurrected. As soon as Russell sees you, he anxiously walks your way. “Thank God. Where have you been?”

“I was looking for Priya, but then I was blocked by a bunch of Gabriel's lunatic children. She's dead, by the way. What the hell is going on?”

A surprising voice answers from behind you, “We're leaving Sanctum until it's purified.”

You turn around in confusion, coming face to face with your mother, dressed in Sanctum clothes. She crosses the room and closes the space between the two of you, and you tentatively whisper, “Mom?”

You already know in your bones that it isn't her, but you pray that she answers you in some way, letting you know that she’s still inside her head. You pray that your mother has not just been body snatched by the asshole Primes, but you already know that she has. Gabriel must sense your turmoil because he answers for your mother, “Your mother murdered her mother. Ironic, don't you think?”

And Gabriel’s confirmation hits you like a train. You want to scream and cry and truly burn this fucking moon to the ground for all they have done to you and your family, but you can't. You have a part to play and you have to play it for your people’s sake. So you turn to Gabriel and mask your sorrow for your mother as sorrow of regret, slapping him across the face as you snap, “Don't you speak to me. How could I have ever loved such a traitor?”

You feel tears run down your face, only visible to Gabriel, and your mother, your bodysnatched mother, puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, not realizing that your tears are for the body she’s in. “Oh, sweetheart. At least you have closure.”

Russell cuts your mourning short as he anxiously eyes the room. “That's enough. Now that we're all accounted for, it's time to go. Have you all taken the antitoxin?”

Everyone nods, you included, but you also shake your head in confusion. “Go? Where?”

“To space, of course. Sanctum has lost us. For now, anyway.”

One of the Primes argues, “We have no pilot. Priya's dead. Maybe if you didn't kill the Lees.”

“That won't be a problem.” Your mother, Simone, turns and grabs a gun from one of the guards, before spinning and locking her gaze on Raven. “We don't need the Lees, do we, Raven?”

“Go float yourself, murderer.”

Simone cocks the gun and points it at Madi, and you have to work hard to keep your fear hidden beneath your neutral expression. “How about now?”

Raven looks distressed, tears streaming down her face, her eyes darting over to you. You can’t say or do anything that will give yourself away, but you have to hope she’s as desperate to save Madi as you are. And it seems as though she is, because she turns her gaze back to Simone, nodding her head and softly whispering, “Okay.”

“Good choice.”

Russell accepts the compliance and begins yelling orders, “Guards, take the prisoners. We're using the tunnel, but be prepared for anything.” Everyone starts to file out of the room behind the guards and the prisoners, leaving you to linger behind. Russell starts to walk past you, but pauses when he reaches Gabriel. “Goodbye, old friend. Sanctum is yours, though I suspect you won't last very long.”

He stalks out of the room with Simone on his arm, leaving just you, Gaia, Murphy, Emori, and a few guards. You start to slowly follow the others out of the room, and Murphy and Emori pass you as you do, heading in the wrong direction. You stop and turn to ask, “You're not coming?”

Murphy is upset, and you can see tears in his eyes, with some already fallen down his face. He steps close to you, his voice an angry whisper. “You killed her. All she did was help and you killed her.”

You feel tears rise to your eyes when you realize he’s talking about you. Everyone's favorite cockroach is expressing regret and sadness for the way things went down with you and your body snatching. You glance at Emori, wondering if she shares the sentiment, and you catch the tears in her eyes before she nods. “We're staying. We're gonna save our people.”

You turn to look at Murphy, figuring it’s safe enough to let him know that you're okay. You smile a little and whisper, “I'm proud of you, Murphy.”

His eyes go wide as he realizes that you called him Murphy and not John, and you see the smallest smile grace his lips before he remembers to hide it. But he lets you know that he understands by leaning close and whispering, “Just so you know, Josephine called me ‘John’.”

You don’t get the chance to say anything else, because Russell calls out from behind you, “Josie, Daniel, Kaylee, is there a problem?”

You quickly wipe away your tears, and put a sneer on your face, turning to face him. “They changed their minds. Cowards.”

“The mind drive is a terrible thing to waste.” He shrugs and then turns to look at you again, “Josie, bring your guards and let's go.”

“Guards, move out.”

As all of you start heading towards the door, Gaia included, Russell catches a glimpse of her and yells out, “Wait, she's one of them! Throw her to the wolves.”

Four sets of guns turn on her, and Gaia looks at you with fear. You do some quick thinking and shout, “No! I saw her in Clarke's mind. Threatening the child may work on Raven, but if I'm right, we need her to get on that ship.”

You turn to look at Russell, trying to convince him that you know what you're talking about, and he finally nods, motioning for the other guards to lower their guns and grab her instead. They comply, and Russell takes one last look around the room before motioning for you to leave ahead of him, as he and the other guards follow closely behind.

You all quickly head to the transport ship and board with your hostages, and Raven flies you up to the Eligius mothership despite her earlier disagreement. You, Russell, and Simone all stand in the airlock with guns to the heads of your hostages, waiting for the doors to slide open so you can begin your negotiations. Some of Wonkru, led by Indra and accompanied by Niylah, all stand at the entrance waiting, guns pointed your way. At first, Indra seems unwilling to let any of you board, but luckily Gaia manages to signal to her mother to stand down, allowing all of you to take control of the ship. All of the people who are awake on the ship are led to the mess hall where they can be easily contained, and as soon as you let Madi and the other prisoners go, Madi yells out for those in the room to attack.

They are quickly shot down, restoring order within seconds, and you cross the room to Madi in a flash, smacking her across the face so hard that you knock her out. You let out a shaky breath, trying to push back your emotions over hitting your niece, though only your people see it because of the way you’re facing. You quickly compose yourself and turn back to your fellow Primes, heading towards the door as you call out, “Let them rot!”

All of the Primes follow you out into the hall, and once there, you start to discuss next steps. One of the male Primes, you don't know who, turns to Russell as soon as you are outside of the mess hall. “Planet Beta. Russell, we don't even know if it's survivable.”

“If it isn't, we go for Gamma, then Delta, then Epsilon. We won't even have to land to find out if it's survivable. Assuming there are no other signal sucking anomalies, we can access the mind drives of the other teams wirelessly from up here.”

Everyone seems placated with this information, everyone that is, except for Simone. She turns to her husband, shaking her head. “Russell, I love you, and I will go with you across the stars and back, but that child is a problem.”

You roll your eyes, hoping you can diffuse the talk of murdering Madi with a Josephine style joke. “Oh, for God's sake, she has the blood. In fact, dibs on her as my next host.”

Russell adds, “Simone, if we kill their leader, they will never follow us, and we need those people to serve us unless you plan on cleaning latrines.”

She sighs, clearly only on board with the idea of keeping Madi alive, because she doesn't want to do the jobs that she thinks she is too superior for. The thought makes you sick to your stomach. “Fine, but we’re killing her sleeping army because I promise you they are already talking about how to wake them. We brought enough mind wiping fluid to erase them all in their sleep, where they'll be perfectly preserved until one of us needs a new host.”

Your mind starts to race, wondering how much longer you can keep up this facade while still also saving the hundreds of Wonkru and Eligius people that are sleeping peacefully on this ship. You miss the agreement of the other Primes, and you're only pulled out of your head when Russell turns to you expectantly. “Josie, what say you?”

You slap a smile on your face and answer, “Are you kidding? It's brilliant! A little genocide, a long nap. What the hell? Let's be explorers.”

Russell sends the other Primes to the bridge of the ship, while you, him, and Simone retrieve the mind wiping fluid from the transport ship and head towards the sleeping army. You offer to carry it for them, and they think nothing of it, passing the liquid to you as they discuss the logistics of how to vent this into the room. The whole way to the cryo chambers all you do is search for an opportunity to run off with this liquid, but you don’t know what you’d do after that or where you’d go. You're stuck on a ship in the sky with no way to fly back down to Sanctum, all while the rest of your friends are locked up on the other side of the ship. So instead, you go along with the plans and discussions, nodding when appropriate, standing near the back as Simone rigs up the ventilation system to hold the fluid. She works quickly, all while you rack your brain to stop this, but you struggle to think of anything useful. Eventually though, time is up, and Simone reaches out to you. “Hand me the serum.”

You pull it away from her outstretched hand, your brain only able to come up with one distraction technique. You look at Simone with concern, before asking, “Are you feeling okay? You look pale. Have you had any nosebleeds or memory flashes that aren't familiar?”

“No, what are you talking about?”

You try to sound as casual as you can when you answer, “Oh, it's something I saw in the mindspace. Her mother had the same neuromesh as she did. I thought they destroyed it with an EMP, but-”

Russell cuts you off, his voice resolute and a smile on his face, as if failed mind wipes are a funny little mistake. “They did, I examined her before resurrection. I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.”

Your blood runs cold, and you realize that this is it. There are no more stops for you to pull, no more tricks. You have to give up your advantage, reveal that you’re not Josephine at all, because that’s the only way to prevent a genocide. So when Simone reaches for the container again, you pull your arm away, backing up and putting distance between you and Josephine’s parents. Russell seems to figure it out first, though Simone is right behind him. His eyes well up with tears as he looks at you with sorrow, and you have another thought that it would be heartbreaking if he wasn't talking about a murdering body snatcher who tried to kill you multiple times, just so she could keep your body. “No, not Josie!”

You back away from the grieving parents, looking between then, shaking your head. “I can't let you kill these people. And believe it or not, I am sorry for your loss.”

You give them both one last look before you take off running, trying to put as much distance between you and them as you can. You don't hear the thundering of footsteps following you, and you start to rack your brain on why they wouldn’t follow you, until you have the horrifying realization that they’re likely grabbing Madi and searching for some way to track your mind drive. Deciding to tackle one problem at a time, you head to one of the hallways that holds an outer door, rigging up a way to get yourself out of this mess. You find a supply closet with a bunch of old and broken items from the ship, including a few discarded safety tethers. You grab them and head back to the lever to the outer door, tying them as tight as you can to a large metal bar on the wall. Then you attach the other side of the tether to your waist, hoping that it’s strong enough to hold you if the Primes call you on your bluff.

Sure enough, a few minutes later the Primes come into the hall, a tracker held in one of their hands, weapons in all the others. As soon as you see them you reach out and put your hand on the lever and yell, “Don't move! I set the inner door to stay open when I pull this, so you can put the guns down, or you can float.”

The Primes all freeze, looking between each other in shock, wondering what to do, when Simone turns her gun on all the others, “You heard her, weapons down now.”

You look at her with hope, lip quivering as you fight back tears, realizing that maybe your mom is okay after all. “Mom?”

She turns to you with a smile, and it warms your entire body. “Yes, it's me.”

The other Primes all put their guns down, and once your mother knows that you're safe, she turns to you with tears in her eyes. “I've been pretending too. Now let's lock them up and go save Madi.”

She turns back to the others, still pointing her gun at them, but something about the situation isn't sitting right with you. You aren't sure what, maybe it's because she didn't use your nickname or hug you or doesn't seem as emotional as she usually would be. Maybe it’s the fact that you remember Russell’s words about how he double checked for a neural mesh and found none, meaning there would be nowhere for your mother to go in the mindspace. Regardless of what it is, you call out to your mom's back, “What's my father's name?”

You repeat his name in your head like a mantra, begging her to say it, but your mother only turns around and looks at you with a blank expression. That’s enough for you to know the truth, that your mother truly is dead, and Simone is just trying to play you. You can tell that she knows you aren't buying it anymore, because she tries to turn her gun on you, but you quickly pull the lever to the outer door, sending all of the other Primes into space. Simone is the exception though, because she manages to reach out for you on her way past, wrapping her arms around your waist and holding onto you tightly as you both move and shift with the rushing air. You look down into your mother’s face, now being worn by someone else, and you swear you can feel your heart rip in half. You killed this woman's daughter, and you know she'll never let you live after this.

Which is why you put your hand on your mother’s forehead and push, sending her out into space with the other Primes. You use the tether to make your way back to the lever, pushing it down so you can close the outer doors again. You hit the ground with a thud, a sob tearing through you for the first time, finally able to mourn the loss of your mother. But then you remember that Russell was not with the group, and he likely has Madi, so you push your emotions aside for now, tucking them away. You untie yourself and head straight for the mess hall in search of your niece. You use Shaw’s failsafe code to get into the room, looking around at the group gathered there as they all stare at you in shock. “Where's Madi?”

Gaia answers, “Russell took her.”

“Oh, no. Oh, no. No, no.” You feel your knees give out beneath you as you realize that this is it for Madi. She is going to be killed for what you've done, and there is likely no way for you to stop it. Raven comes over to you, grabbing your arm, trying to comfort you. “We'll get her back.”

You look up at her with tears in your eyes, “No, you don't understand. I killed his family, and now he's gonna kill mine.”

Before she can answer you, the door to the mess hall slides open. You scramble to your feet and watch Madi and Russell walk in, followed by a large group of armed warriors. Indra mutters, “The demon awoke Wonkru.”

Madi yells, “Kneel if you want to live!”

You are the first one to kneel, tears in your eyes, and she looks down at you with disgust. “They said you were strong, but you're weak. Your love has made you so.”

You feel your tears spill down your face, and you lean over to one of the Wonkru guards nearby, snatching the pistol from his side and holding it to your temple. You look into Madi’s eyes, ignoring the fact that Sheidheda has made them so cold and unfeeling, and you start to beg. “Madi, I know you're in there. Please come back. I lost my mother today, I nearly lost myself. I don't know if Clarke and Bellamy are okay, and I can't lose you too. Please.”

She looks at you with a blank stare and the tears fall down your face as you reach for the trigger. “I'm gonna pull the trigger in 3...2…”

You nearly make it to one, stopping as Madi takes in a deep breath, holding up her hand and yelling, “Take the Prime and his men!”

Wonkru immediately responds and lowers their weapons, only turning them on Russell and his other men. Madi runs across the room and straight into your arms, both of you hugging each other tightly as you relish in the fact that you have saved one of your family members today. But just as you’re enjoying your reunion, Madi starts to seize up in your arms, sending you into a panic as Raven yells, “Get her upstairs!”

Jackson and Indra both grab her and quickly carry her upstairs, and you run up after them, despite not knowing what's going on. They take her into a small medical lab and strap her to a table as Raven lifts an electrical cord and sticks it into the open wound on Madi’s neck, presumably connecting it to the Flame, all the while Madi continues to seize. You call out to her, letting her know you’re here for her, trying to encourage her to fight in the same way that Clarke and Bellamy encouraged you. “Madi, I'm here. Listen to my voice, you can do this! You have to fight, Madi. You have to fight!”

Raven furiously types away at the computer, isolating Sheidheda’s code before yelling, “Got him!”

The code starts to delete from the Flame, uploading onto the other computer in the room. As soon as it’s up and out of Madi’s head, you look down at her expectantly, waiting for her to wake up. But in the same way you didn't immediately wake up after Gabriel tried to restart your heart, Madi doesn't move either. You reach out and press your finger to her neck, your stomach dropping when you barely feel a faint flutter beneath her skin. “Her pulse is too weak.”

Raven looks at you, remembering what it was like after you fried the Alie chip in her head. “We have to take it out like you did with me after the EMP.”

Jackson immediately hops into action and grabs a scalpel, increasing the cut on Madi’s neck before reaching for a pair of forceps. He uses them to pull the Flame out of her head, the AI looking terrible and destroyed as it pulls free from her neck. As soon as it’s out, Madi takes a deep breath, Sheidheda finally gone, her mind back to only holding one Commander. You drop down beside her, smoothing her hair back from her face and smiling as you whisper, “Hey little sun, I’m here. You’re gonna be okay.”

She smiles at you slightly, still weak and exhausted, whispering, “Thank you, ani.”

You transfer your gaze to Raven, who is standing close, looking down at Madi with worry, and you reach out to her and grab her hand, squeezing in thanks, well aware that she did all of the work. “Thank you, Raven.”

She squeezes back, her face full of regret when she counters, “I’m sorry about Abby.”

You nod, still not ready to process the loss of your mother. And with your niece saved and your people saved, you want nothing more than to get back down to Sanctum to make sure that Bellamy and Clarke are safe. Raven agrees to get you ready to fly within minutes, and you assemble a small team to head back down to Sanctum, while everyone else waits it out for a while, allowing you to make sure it's safe for them to follow.

You’re relieved when the transport ship finally lands back inside Sanctum, ready to reunite with Bellamy and your twin again. You and Madi walk hand in hand back to the village, both of you leading the group of your people as you return. Everyone starts to break away from the group and hug their friends and family as they see them, and you're almost caught off guard by both Bellamy and Clarke running your way. Clarke runs straight for Madi and lifts her in her arms, holding her tight, while Bellamy scoops you up in a hug and twirls you, both of you laughing with happiness. He puts you down so he can kiss you, and when he pulls away, he pulls away just enough to whisper against your lips, “I had a whole speech planned, but I can't wait any longer. Will you marry me?”

Your smile grows wider, loving this proposal just as much as the first one, as this one comes off the heels of your nearest death experience to date, and you whisper back, “Yes, of course I will.”

Bellamy smiles and kisses you again, before sliding the ring on your finger, looking the happiest he has in a while. Clarke lets out a little happy cheer, and you roll your eyes at your twin before pulling her in for a hug, just as happy to see that she’s okay, and she hugs you back, celebrating the fact that despite all the odds, you survived. As the two of you pull apart and look Bellamy’s way, he starts to tell you all about the journey that Gabriel has planned and how all of you should go with him. Your mind flashes to your mother and how she’s now dead and gone, floated just like your father, and you desperately want to escape the memory of what you’ve done. Which is why you agree to the journey with Bellamy and the others, hoping it’s enough to take your mind off of things. Your mother’s death is exactly why Clarke agrees to stay, hoping that she can clean up the mess in Sanctum and make her proud. So though it pains you both to separate again so soon after reuniting, you do, both of you needing to process her death in your own ways.

You, Bellamy, Octavia, Gabriel, and Echo all head back to Gabriel’s camp together, exchanging stories of what all of you have missed. Before you know it, you make it back to Gabriel’s camp, and he leads you all inside of the tent, motioning for you to gather around as he pulls the rubber panels that make up the floor away, tossing them to the side, revealing an old hatch. “I have to tell you I'm very excited about this. I've been studying those symbols since we found the stone, we built the camp here because of it.”

He lifts the hatch, revealing a short ladder into the ground, and he climbs down inside. All of you file down the ladder after him, standing at the base of it, staring at the object hidden from the world beneath this camp. It’s a large ball, made of metal, designed in the same swirl on Octavia’s back. The entire thing is covered in different symbols, and somehow, the ball is floating, supported by nothing. All four of you stare it in shock, not believing what you’re seeing, and Gabriel just smiles at you, glad you’re just as enamored as he is.

Gabriel walks towards the stone, Octavia right behind him, as he says, “It's thousands of years old. We have no idea who made it or what generates the magnetic field that holds it up, but we're pretty sure it's what sucks in all the radio signals.”

Some of the symbols on her back are red, it's a code.”

“Very good. We're about to find out what it's for.” Gabriel holds his hand out to Octavia, “May I see the drawing, please?”

She pulls the drawing of the tattoo from her pocket, passing it to him, and he unfolds it, searching the stone for each of the red symbols, and then touching them with two fingers, the symbol humming beneath his touch. As he works, Bellamy asks, “What happens if you're right?”

“I filled 100 notebooks with possible answers to that question.” He comes to a stop in front of the last signal, now standing beside Octavia. He turns to her, a small smile on his face. “The last symbol in the series is called an octonion. Advanced mathematics way above my head, but I don't think it's a coincidence you share a name. Please, it should be you.”

He gestures to the symbol, and she hesitates for a second before touching it, the symbol humming beneath Octavia’s touch. With the last symbol entered, you all stand waiting, staring at the stone in search of what’s going to happen next. Except, nothing happens, the moment stretching on for too long, and Gabriel’s face falls as he looks down at the sketched out tattoo again. “No, no, no, no, no. It can't be right, we must have got something wrong.”

As he turns to look at Octavia, a low rumble starts to shake the ground above, a sound not unnoticed by your fiance. He holds up his hand to Gabriel, gesturing for him to stop talking. “Quiet.”

All of you stand perfectly still, the rumbling growing increasingly louder, a strange green glow coming from the ground above the hatch. Gabriel looks up with a smile, the paper in his hand slipping from his grip, floating to the ground. “Oh, my God. I knew it.”

He bolts past all of you and heads up the ladder incredibly fast, and all of you scurry after him, trying to keep up. When you get into the tent, it’s flapping and shaking like you're in the middle of a windstorm, and a bright green light surrounds everything, casting an eerie glow. The sound is almost deafening, and you yell to be heard above it, “What the hell is this?”

Octavia just ominously whispers, “She's here.”

You look at her, taking note of the shocked expression on her face, very different from the confused expression on your own. She starts to walk forward slowly, and you hear a high pitched whine from the mouth of the tent, seconds before a figure starts to step inside. It's a girl, not much older than you are, her hair done up in two buns. She has symbols like the ones tattooed on Octavia back, except hers are on her face, etched across her cheeks and forehead. Octavia laughs when she sees the girl, a sound of happy shock, and she says, “Hope.”

You all look at Octavia, wondering what the hell is going on, and the girl, Hope, answers, “I couldn't get out of it, he has my mother. I'm so sorry, Octavia.”

They embrace, pulling each other into a hug, one that seems stiff and awkward, and Bellamy watches on, his anxiety growing. He yells, “Octavia, what's happening?”

Octavia leans up and whispers something in the girl’s ear, the words lost to all of you over the roar of whatever is happening around you, and as soon as she finishes talking, they pull apart. Hope steps backwards, a knife in her hand, the tip coated in blood, and Echo yells, “Knife!”

The pieces fall together, and you and Bellamy look at O, who starts to fall backwards, clutching her side. Bellamy catches her, his voice worried as he mutters, “O.”

Echo runs over to Hope and restrains her, along with Gabriel, as Bellamy holds his sister in his arms, you right at their side. You reach out to Octavia, pulling her layers aside to get a look at the wound, and as you do, you hear another high pitch whine, seconds before a bright green cloud slides into the tent, washing over Octavia and then pulling away. As the green glow subsides, you and Bellamy stare at his now empty arms, his sister carried off by the bright beam of light. You look up at each other, sharing a look of disbelief, trying to confirm that you both saw the impossible. He looks back down at his shaking hands, her blood covering one of them, evidence that Octavia was here, and then he turns and heads for the exit of the tent looking for her. You follow him outside, Hope collapsing as you walk past, but you ignore her, following your fiance out into the woods, the bright green light subsiding, returning back to where it came from.

The woods outside are empty, devoid of any sign of Octavia, no blood, no clothing, no nothing left behind as proof that she was out here. Bellamy spins in place, tears falling down his cheeks, his voice breaking with worried desperation as he yells, “Octavia! Octavia! Octavia!”

And there’s nothing for you to do but watch as the love of your life falls apart, his sister now gone. The mystery of Sanctum grew and then subsided, taking Octavia Blake with it.

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 rewrite

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time-to-cause-chaos · 4 years

Text

i protect you from myself

Zuko is Sokka's enemy, but he still knows he'd never hurt him. He'd never want to anyway.

(For @zukkaweek day 2, Soulmates)

AO3 link WC:1,532

Zuko wasn’t trying to actually hurt anyone. The kicks and punches of fire were all set to just graze them and surprise them enough to leave an opening for an attack. The water tribe girl had improved a lot in her waterbending since they had last seen each other, she was holding her own against 3 of his people pretty easily.

Zuko looked around and realized the avatar was gone. He groaned, this area was surrounded by woods and they could be anywhere by now.

Running into the thick exfoliation, he chops at the vines and leaves in his path.

The kid’s an airbender, he probably just flew over all of this. That also meant there would probably be no broken branches or misplaced plants to show where he went, how fun.

Zuko stumbles into a clearing and spins around, hearing a snap in the bushes. Pulling out a sword he glances at the rustling plants and stalks forward.

He’d underestimated the avatar before but he wouldn’t do it again. Kid or not, he was the chosen one and Zuko needed to take him in, then all the killing could stop and everything could become normal again.

He’d go home and would be welcomed into the palace gates with open arms and cheers from the crowd, he’d be respected. He’d gain his honor again as prince of the Fire Nation.

Zuko was surprised as a blue shadow jumped out of the bushes at him, wielding a thick tree branch and swinging it at his head.

Jumping back he sticks his sword up and the tree branch, however thick it was, is sliced clean through.

The shadow isn’t the avatar. It’s his other Water Tribe friend, the waterbender’s brother. But that didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was that he could tell Zuko where the child is.

Zuko easily apprehends him and takes his wrists in a tight grip, holding them behind his back. Growling, he asks, “Where is the avatar?”

For some reason, his grip keeps slacking and Zuko’s struggling to get a proper hold of them. It felt like they were dipped in oil, but the boy’s wrists had cloth hand wraps on them.

The boy-Sokka, his brain prompts, pulling it up from overheard conversations- slips out of Zuko’s grip and manages to take his sword, using Zuko’s surprise to his advantage.

Sokka holds the blade to his chest and Zuko raises his hands.

“Why do you want to get Aang so bad?”

Zuko snarled and jumped, kicking at Sokka’s chest and sending the blade spinning. The weird thing was that the kick barely landed.

Pursing his lips, Zuko punched at his head this time. Same effect. The hits were landing but there was nothing else happening.

It clicked too late.

The look on Sokka’s face shows he already figured it out too.

It wasn’t that Zuko didn’t believe in soulmates, he’d just never thought about what he’d do if he had one. The topic seemed foreign to him, he’d never actually know anyone who found their soulmate and with the little he’d heard about it, a myth seemed like a good explanation for them.

Zuko knew they were real, soulmates had always been a topic he’d push to the back of his head though.

There were at least 3 ways you could physically know who your soulmate is, not being able to harm them was probably the most common one. You could never hurt them.

Zuko gulped but Sokka didn’t look appalled, just surprised. That was weird, they were on opposite sides.

With wide eyes the blue-eyed boy takes one of Zuko’s wrist between his fingers, holding it with a feathery and calloused touch.

Zuko’s too shocked at what’s going on to stop him.

The admittedly gentle hold could be interpreted as hostile if you wanted, the boy could easily bend his arm back and flip him.

...but at the same time, the touch was pleasant and cool. It was his soulmate that was touching him. His soulmate who was on the opposite side of the war. It was the water tribe boy the whole time.

Zuko’s first thought was something along the lines of, ‘Wow”, because he hadn’t realized it before but Sokka’s eyes, they captured his own and held them, staring with wonder and curiosity and other things Zuko for the life of him couldn’t place. The sharp blue was piercing into him and he had never felt so open to anyone before, like his life was on display for anyone who walked by to see.

Zuko realizes his head is spinning. The only thing he can see is Sokka right now.

Sokka shakes his wrist and Zuko realizes he asked him something.

“Why are you doing this?”, the other boy’s voice is soft now, much softer than before. Unbearably calm and smooth.

With a gulp, Zuko takes in the question and with a raspy voice asks, “Doing what?”

A small frown forms between Sokka’s eyebrows, “Everything, hurting people, trying to get Aang”, Zuko considers it, “He never did anything to you, what’ll you get from capturing him?”

If it was anyone else, Zuko would’ve already attacked them, but he’s frustrated. It’s his soulmate, it’s destiny, right?

“I can go back home if I do”, and it’s true, that’s why he wants the avatar; to go home, to not be constantly moving and searching for the avatar’s whereabouts, and to go back to the Fire Nation where everyone will be proud of him, “To get my honor back”

Zuko’s chest is floating and he feels like he’s in a dream.

“Why don’t you have honor?”, Sokka asks. The question makes him falter.

“I talked back, I was disrespectful”

“That’s stupid, I’ve mouthed off before too” the fingers around his wrist tighten, “I knew it was a mistake and I apologized”

Sokka spoke again, “That’s something you get extra chores for, not banishment”

No, that’s where he was wrong. He had to be. Zuko wanted to throw up as dots clicked together in his head, showing a bigger picture.

Zuko doesn’t know how to answer so Sokka asks another question, whispering in a hushed and soft voice this time, “Do you want to be doing this?”

Want.

Zuko doesn’t know.

“Whenever you decide, our group is open for you to join. You can’t let other people decide what you want, that’s all your choice”

“Ok”

“I promised them both I’d get back to them soon and it would be a huge help if you could stop attacking us” Sokka grimaces a smile.

“You’re going?”

Sokka looks conflicted, “Come with me, you can help us and we can help you”

As tempting as it is, Zuko doesn’t think he can.

“I won’t hurt you”, the words seem right, but Zuko doesn’t know where they came from, they weren’t relevant at all. It was true though, Zuko couldn’t hurt him, he wouldn’t and he knows that.

Sokka rests his other hand on his cheek and Zuko tenses at the touch. It was so gentle, he doesn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this.

“I know you won’t”

Zuko nods, “I’ll see you when I see you then” than as an afterthought, “Bye”

Sokka’s breath tickles his cheek as he pulls Zuko into a hug. His first instinct is to pull away but he melts into the touch after a second. Sokka’s shorter than him by an inch but his arms wrap around Zuko’s neck pulling him in, they cling to him and Sokka warmth presses against him like a wave of euphoria. His arms wrap around Sokka hesitantly and the hug gets even tighter.

Brilliant blue eyes are imprinted into his eyes long after they both part ways.

Pulling at the long sleeves of the red robe, Zuko looks at Sokka to find him snickering.

He’d insisted he could get the large wraps of cloth around him by himself and Sokka had watched him from the bed, laughing the entire time.

“They shouldn't make these so complicated” Zuko huffs.

“It’s your coronation, Zuzu” Sokka doesn’t hide his laughs, “They want you to remember it, and I’m sure this is definitely going to be very memorable”

Zuko rolls his eyes and Sokka gets up, ignoring another round of Zuko’s protests insisting he can do it himself, and grabs a length of the thick fabric, wrapping it around Zuko’s torso over his robe.

Zuko pokes him and Sokka falls to the floor in his dramatics, “You’ve wounded me” he moans, rolling.

Zuko drops next to him, getting even more tangled up in his coronation robe, “I thought I can’t hurt you,’ he laughs.

Sokka looks out from under his arms. “But you did” he whines.

Zuko responds with another laugh, “We should probably get going”

Sokka moves onto his side so that they’re both face to face and kisses him gently.

“You’re going to be a great Fire Lord”

“What if I mess up?”

“You will, but I’ll help you fix it, we all will. Even Toph, probably.”

Resting their foreheads together Zuko stares into Sokka’s eyes again. They’re clear and bright and blue, Zuko loves them.

Zuko loves him.

#zukka week 2021 #zukka #moira writes #my fics #sokka #zuko #atla #atla fanfic #avatar #avatar fanfiction #ao3 #soulmate au #soulmates #sokka/zuko #zukka week #zukka fanfiction

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seokiloquy · 4 years

Text

Green or Gold - Sakusa Kiyoomi

AU: Royal + Butler

Requested (I had a Butler Sakusa idea in my head so I'm happy that he was requested)

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader,

Word Count: 13.1k+

“Drat, where is that child? (Y/N)! Your parents request your presence! (Y/N)!”

The poor butler ran around the palace gardens, desperately searching for the young royal through the shrubbery. His white gloves tore as they got caught on the thorns of rose bushes. He sneezed as the pollen got in his nose, mentally cursing the active 4, going on 5, year-old for making him run around without his mask.

“Snip.”

The butler’s dark curls bounced as he looked up. His son, age 7, carried a single-handed clipper in his two hands and chopped off the odd twig and branch that stuck out of the rose bush’s neat shape. The young boy kept his eyes on the pants, meticulously trimming as he sniffed underneath his mask.

The butler, Daiki, sighed. “Kiyoomi, have you seen the young royal?”

The boy paused for a moment, eyes shifting to the side before shaking his head silently. The older man whined.

“That rascal. The king will very well take my head if I don’t find his kid soon.”

The small Sakusa giggled quietly into his mask. His father leaned down to peck his head before standing straight and flicking the sleeves of his suit jacket and running off. Beckoning calls for the young royal followed him.

A small rustle was heard overhead, causing Kiyoomi to look up at the pink petals of the garden’s only cherry blossom tree. Within the bloom, a pair of small legs swung in time to airy giggles.

“Your Highness, you shouldn’t be hiding from the king.”

Your voice chirped like the birds that hopped cautiously around you. “I’m not hiding!” Kiyoomi tilted his head up just in time to see the birds fly off at your little screech. “I’m just not being found.” You let out small harrumphs as you tried to step your leg onto the nearest branch.

The small leaves at the end of the branch rustled as your weight was added. “Ah, how did—?”

Kiyoomi watched your head swivel wildly as you look for your next step. “How did you even climb up there?” Setting down the clippers he came to stand beneath you.

“I,” your bottom lip jutted out, and your brows pinched, “I don’t know! Help me!”

The curly-haired boy sighed into his mask, before pulling it beneath his chin. The pollen, though bothersome, could be dealt with easily. He reached his arms up as high as he was able. “Jump.”

“Jump? That’s scary.” You hugged the tree trunk a little tighter. The bark scratched the expensive material of your sleeves. Looking closer, Kiyoomi could see little tears and stains everywhere.

He sighed. “You don’t have to be afraid of falling.” Seeing you hesitate, he turned to the rose bush, snipping the stems of one of the flowers. Breaking off the thorns, he raised his arm to present you with the bright red rose. “I’ll even give you this flower when you jump down. Don't worry, I’ll be here to catch you.”

“Will you? Forever?” Your hands shifted to let you sit on the shaky branch.

“Forever. Now jump.”

“Now, unlike the king and queen, your position doesn’t hold any power in the legal sense. Many people look your way for social etiquette, fashion, and overall trends,” your tutor drawled on, scratching a small piece of chalk against the dusty mobile blackboard.

The palm of your hand felt warm and plush against your cheek, but the wood table underneath your elbow was not. Your eyes wandered over the tall book filled wall of the library and the ornate carvings on every available surface. The lateral light bathed every detail in a cool glow. An armless statue peaked over your teacher’s board, glaring. You were about to pay attention when a soft rolling sound hit the back of your head and echoed through the giant library. You turned.

Kiyoomi, your ever stoic personal butler, silently wiped down the surfaces of shelves and the covers of books while standing perfectly straight on an inclined rolling ladder. You pinched your lips between your teeth, trying to stop the pointed smile that was inching its way onto your face.

You spun in your seat. “Now, as you turn 19 your participation in such events will skyrocket—” You pressed your left hand into the centre spine of your book, then took your right to pinch the corner of the page. Silently, as your teacher’s back was turned, you ripped the page out. Jotting a quick note onto the lines of the page, you eagerly crumpled the sheet into a ball and turned.

Pulling your good arm back, you send the paper ball through the air and into the back of Kiyoomi’s head.

Kiyoomi, raised in the family that had been by yours for generations, had taken up the very position his parents had been in for decades prior. While his father remained the best friend and right-hand butler to the king, and his mother the same for the queen, Kiyoomi had taken his position by your side. He was the one put in charge of cleaning up your messes and mistakes, all while suffering through the spring as his allergies began to pick up with dust and pollen flying around.

His diligence to his job sometimes pulled him out of focus, eyes and mind frozen on the task at hand until there wasn’t a speck of dirt to be seen. It left him forgetting that, while he always had a job to do wherever he went, he was always in your presence.

The ball of crumpled paper never made contact with the skin on the back of his head. Instead, bouncing off his dark, cheek length, curls and hitting the floor beneath his feet. He blinked for a moment. When he turned his head around to find the source of the paper ball, he was immediately swept up like a relaxed dust bunny under a bed at the sight of your conniving smirk directed his way.

Your hand flicked and brows raised in a pissy manner, gesturing to the white ball on the floor.

You watched attentively as Kiyoomi stepped down from the ladder and picked up the balled paper. Your heart rate picked up as he stood straight, and you smiled.

“Now, what I’m drawing here is the formal wear that you’ll be expected to wear—”

He tossed it into the trash.

You gasped.

“Yes, very exciting. Beautifully crafted.”

You spun around again, repeating the process, and tossing the paper back Kiyoomi’s way. You could hear him grumble before tossing your second note into the trash.

Again, and again, he never read the damn notes. You threw another one just as he was turning around. It crunched a bit as his fingers curled around it.

“Always introduce yourself to the host—”

He threw it. You ducked, and it hit the chalkboard, right where your old teacher’s hand was about to write.

“(Y/N), balls don’t actually have balls in them, not even paper ones. Please, pay attention.”

Your shoulders hiked up as you took in a breath to protest. Only to be met with a light smack at the back of your head.

Kiyoomi sneezed into his mask as he worked on the rose bushes.

“We can go inside, I just wanted to get some sun for a bit, so if your allergies are picking up—”

“It’s fine, I got work to do anyway.”

You huffed, kicking your shoe along the surface of the grass as you hobbled over to the blooming cherry blossom tree. You jumped up to grab a hold of its lowest branch, swinging gently.

The calm wind felt nice washing over the layers of your clothes. You listened to the little petals rustle above your head as you watched the butler delicately pluck away stray leaves. The navy colour of his uniform stood out in the sunlight. He glanced over his shoulder, catching you staring briefly before you turned your head away.

“Hmm, want to go into town later?”

“You're not allowed outside of the palace grounds right now.”

“When have rules ever stopped me?”

“Evidently, less than they should.” He paused for a moment, letting his arms fall from clipping and turning your way. “Do you ever plan to get serious? Actually fit the role of a royal.”

You let go of the thick branch, falling onto your feet and hissing as the small scrapes in your palms. “Well ya, of course.” He watched your playful smirk drop, making his stomach sink with it. “But look at us Yoomi. Someone’s gotta try and have fun while we can. You’re always trying to take care of my messes.”

“If you stopped making messes we could have fun.”

You didn’t respond, causing Kiyoomi to look away from the view of the gardens. Head tilted down and sideways against the tree’s trunk, your eyes drooped, staring at the grass beneath your feet. “I just—”

“Your Highness!”

Your head turned, shooting up to find the maid that was carrying the weight of her skirt as she ran.

“Your Highness, the King wishes to speak with you.”

Kiyoomi watched your lips purse, annoyed at being interrupted before your expression completely changed to a kind one. You looked his way, giving a slight nod as you pushed yourself off the tree and padded dirt off your garment. “I best be going then. Thank you, Lydia.”

Lydia panted, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

“Any idea what it may be about?” he asked.

Idle gossip, though looked down upon, typically came from truths and kept the staff informed on what to be mentally prepared for.

The maid sucked in a large helping of air. “Not too sure, but my guess would be a ball.”

“A ball?” A wave of nerves tickled the back of Kiyoomi’s neck. For what? He wasn’t sure.

“Well yes, it’s common to hold an event for the 19th birthday for a member of the royal family.” She paused, sucking in more air.

“Ah, that—”

“Got to find a suitable spouse, of course.”

The tingles on his neck fizzed out, sending a cold wave of discomfort through his body. He choked on his sentence, coughing harshly.

“Is the allergy acting up? Might want to put your mask back on.”

Through his fit of coughs, he brushed his hair back while pulling the mask over his nose. Between the sharp exhales, he managed to choke out a couple of words.

“Damn it.”

Dinner was quiet. On a large, elongated table, the three royals sat far apart. King (L/N), took his place at the head of the table, on a large seat with an ornate backrest with blood-red fabric and gold detailing. The queen, almost oblivious to the tension carried on eating at the opposite end of the table, on her own special chair.

Kiyoomi stood against the wall behind your small decorative chair, watching as you slowly picked at the food in front of you. An unsettling feeling made a home in his stomach. He sent side glances to his parents, who took position behind their respective royal. They looked concerned but not confused. They knew. His father bit his lip slightly when Kiyoomi made eye contact with him.

Taking in a deep breath, he turned back to studying your hunched posture, watching your decorated fingers reach blindly for your glass. Likely some sort of tea.

“(Y/N).”

You jumped, your hand pulling back too quickly and effectively spilling your drink all over your fresh pair of dress pants. “Shit!”

“Language,” your mother laughed.

Kiyoomi rushed to your side, towel-cloth in hand. Taking a knee beside your chair, he began to pat against your soaked thigh with the towel, hoping to soak in as much of the spilled drink as possible. His focus wavered. Now closer, he could see your hands clench under the table. He frowned slightly.

Your closest hand reached for his under the table cloth and he moved to clean the floor next, pulling it onto your now dry knee. He looked up at you, hoping to get some sort of response to his silent question.

You stared at his gloved hand in yours, watching how his long fingers completely enveloped your hand and covered the bulky rings you wore.

Kiyoomi was made to choke silently as you shifted to weave your fingers between his own, squeezing tightly. He was thankful to still be soaking up the liquid on the floor, worried that without his mask on that the adults in the room would take notice of the sudden heat in his cheeks.

“Sorry,” you knew he hated germs, but for the moment he couldn’t quite care. The warmth of your hand in his was enough to quell any germaphobic tendency. “But thanks.”

He squeezed your hand a little tighter, separating his lips to respond.

“(Y/N), we must speak of your birthday.”

Right, your birthday. The young Sakusa’s stomach dropped. Were you going to be put up for marriage? Buy yourself a spouse, or worse be bought as one? His heart rate picked up.

Shit, shit, shit.

He wanted to say something to you, but it wasn’t his place. Standing to his feet, he brushed his thumb along the back of yours, ready to separate your hands. You reciprocated the movement but quickly held his hand tighter.

He froze, holding his position on the floor next to your chair. Setting the towel down for a moment he held your hand between his, then let go. Kiyoomi grabbed the towel, stood up, and began soaking up the tea from the tablecloth.

“We, of course, will be holding a ball. And On top of celebrating your birthday, we hope that you’ll be able to find a partner among the guests.”

A jolt shot up Kiyoomi’s spine. Not just from the sudden confirmation of the rumours, but also the light pull on his pants as you took hold of the fabric behind his knee, pinching it desperately. He searched your face for an emotion other than desperation. Not saying a word, he straightened his knee against your fingers, permitting you to hold a little tighter.

Your mother spoke up, “We wanted your input on the theme and such, it is your birthday,” she emphasized the word sending a poignant look towards your father, “after all.”

The palm of your hand pressed against his knee for a moment. Fingers pushing through the slick fabric to squeeze his skin gently. He finished soaking up the tea quickly, having to leave your side and face your parent’s questioning gazes alone. He stepped back, making your hand drop. You paused for a moment, taking in a slow breath.

Once back in his position against the wall, one of the working maids rushed over, swapping his damp cloth for a clean one, before running back into the kitchen. His parent’s concerned gazes continued.

“How about a masquerade? And maybe theme it like a night under the stars?” Your hands, now separated from your usual companion, ringed together anxiously. Your teeth felt sharp against the inside of your cheek. “But does it really have to be some sort of spousal search? Is me getting married that big of a deal right now? I’m barely 19 yet.”

“Your father and I started courting at 18, and Kiyoomi’s parents it was 20, isn't that right Ichika?”

Kiyoomi’s mother hummed, “Ya that’s about right.”

Not helping, mother.

The queen spoke up again, “are you sure you want a masquerade? How will you know what people look like?”

You paused for a moment, fiddling with your favourite silver ring out of the gaudy bunch that were given to you by your parents. The simple band spun around your finger. A gift from Ichika on your last birthday.

“The anonymity will help me get to know their personality rather than just judge based on their appearance, no?”

The king hummed, “Not a bad idea, but if that’s the purpose, you better find a suitable partner among them.”

Your heart felt heavy. “Yes, of course.”

“Ooh!” your mother sat straight in her seat. Nearly bounding. “How about a three-day event?”

You looked horrified. You felt it too. “Three days? Mom, that’s—”

“Wonderful idea! That’ll be enough time for you to find a spouse. I’ll go write the letters.”

“Wait but-”

Mr. Sakusa followed him out the door with a surprised look.

“I’ll go figure out decorations! Ichika, your assistance please?”

“Of course.”

You were left standing in front of your chair, mouth open like a fish waiting for food. Your hands shook mid-air. “What just happened?” You turned to face your personal butler.

Kiyoomi looked just as frazzled, shrugging at you.

Kiyoomi switched the fitted sheets as you sat on the windowsill of your room. The moon was half full and letting off a dim blue light. You fiddled with the solid band on your finger while studying the stars.

Kiyoomi had finished fluffing the last pillow when you finally spoke up. “We never did get to go visit the town.”

Standing straighter, he walked to your side and wiped the empty surface of the window sill before sitting down in front of you. “I suppose we didn’t.”

Keeping your head in the same position, you flicked your gaze over to the older man. The blue light made the highlights of his hair look purple. It sharpened his cheekbones and made his old butler’s uniform his regal. The two moles above his right brow pulled your attention back to his eyes.

“Will we be able to?” You looked up again, not seeing his head shift your way.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, forget my birthday ball. I want to be able to have fun, run around and be free. I want to spend more time with you.”

“You already spend all your time with me.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the moonlight or just his imagination, but he could see tears begin to build up in your eyes. You sniffed, meeting his eyes. “I want to keep it that way.”

You listened to the fabric of Kiyoomi’s pants slide against the surface of your windowsill. Watching as he reached to hold your hand, he sucked in a deep breath, chest expanding and pushing against the tight fabric of his vest.

“Forever, right?”

“Yes, forever.” His thumb ran over your rings, settling onto the flat band his mother gave you.

“Even if I get married?”

The cogs turned in his head, imagining up hundreds of scenarios at once, trying to paint the most ideal outcome. He breathed again, nearly choking on the dust that flew around your room. One second, and another. You waited desperately for his response.

“Especially if you get married.”

A knock broke out at the door, “Incoming!”

Kiyoomi strategically rose to his feet dropping your hand quickly despite the fleeting tug you gave his fingers. He heard you sniff again, and wipe your tears away, not that they’d be visible in the dark.

The queen and her best friend. “Ah Kiyoomi, you are here. Could you help Ichika with decorations and accessories?”

Kiyoomi nodded, quickly heading for the door to leave with his mother.

“Accessories?” You moved to stand, only to be shushed down by your mother.

“For the staff, of course.” She sent a wink Ichika’s way. Before the maid closed the door. she gave a nod and smile.

“You’re really going in on the masquerade thing, huh?”

The two of you sat alone, bathed in moonlight.

“I think it’ll be a great opportunity.” She patted your shoulder. “Alright, you should sleep. I got work to do.”

“What kind of work.” You stood up with her, pacing to your bed as she went for the door.

“Oh, just something. Rest up!”

Tailors had woken you up, knocking loudly against your bedroom door. They barged in, pulled you out from out of your covers while you were in a groggy state and had you stand.

Your mother came in a bit later, a new fancy dress hanging off her shoulders.

You yawned. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Well, all the guests are arriving tomorrow and we need your clothes done.”

One of the tailors put the end of the measuring tape to your waist, pulling it down to your ankle and calling out a number to the one with a pen and clipboard in hand.

“Shouldn’t clothes be made ahead of time? Not the day before guests arrive.” You yawned again, looking around the busy room as you tried to find a missing body among them. “Here’s Yoomi?”

“Ah, Yoomi? He’s, uh, helping Ichika and Daiki with organizing everything. They’ve got a lot on their plates, you know. Speaking off, I should go check up on the progress.”

You sighed as the head tailor lifted your arm up.

Later on, once you finally managed to escape fittings, you ran down to the main ballroom where most of the castle’s staff had been. The ornate chandelier had strings of sparkling lights meticulously streaming off it to tie to the walls. The typically red curtains had been swapped out with midnight blue ones, tied back to let the natural light in, and later give a view of the stars.

You found Ichika in the centre, clipboard in hand as she directed the positioning of tables around the back wall.

“Ichika!” You ran over, nearly tripping over unhung decorations. “Have you seen Yoomi? He wasn’t here when I woke up this morning.”

“Ah, Kiyoomi? I have him helping pick out plates and utensils as Daiki is organizing the menu.”

You gasped out a thank you, before sprinting towards the kitchens. You passed by various staff on the way there, doing your best to weave through them as you ran through the hall. A trip happened here or there, but you managed to get to the kitchens without a catastrophe occurring.

Cooks ran around the kitchen, various samples in hand.

“Yoomi!”

He stood at the other end of the room, sleeves rolled up as he inspected the beautifully handcrafted plates in front of him.

Despite the lack of breath, you ran again.

“Yoo—ACK!”

You liked tea, you did. Especially on a cold day, where you could sit in the library and read while Kiyoomi took a break and sat with you. A book with a wandering knight with the power of the moon, any book. Lemon, chamomile, all the soft flavours that were never too harsh for your throat.

You loved tea, just not on your body.

“Hot, hot, hot.”

The cook was quick to calmly apologize, brushing his dark silver bangs off his forehead as he handed you a towel to dry your chest with. It wasn’t his fault, not that he seemed all that worried.

“You clumsy fool.” The wavy-haired butler had come to your side before you even noticed. He took the towel out of your hand and began slowly dabbing at your collarbone, leaving you standing awkwardly with a racing heart (Likely from all the running). “It doesn’t burn does it?”

“Only as much as hot water. Just got shocked.”

“Good.” He pulled the towel back, examining the stain. “You should go change, that shirt should get washed.”

“But I ran all the way down here to spend time with you. I’ve been locked up in my room all day,” you whined pitifully, stomping your heel against the tiled floor.

He didn’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to look at the shuffling feet of the nearest chook as they fed his father samples of the proposed meals. “It’s alright, we’ll have time to hang out later.”

Hands on your shoulders, he began walking you towards the kitchen doors. He held you facing forward when you tried to turn around.

“But the guests will be arriving—”

“Later.”

The door closed on your nose, leaving you in the silent hallway alone. You clicked your tongue, looking down at your feet and pressing your head against the door.

“Damn it.”

"Mom, why do I have to wear a mask? They already know it's us," You huffed, adjusting the stiff costume piece on your face.

"For aesthetic purposes. You're the one that wanted a masquerade remember? Now hush, the last family is coming in," she said as he lightly smacked your hands away from your face. "And keep it on."

"But—"

She interrupted. Making your father chuckle next to you.

“Ah, hello, hello. I see you have your masks on! Did the guards treat you nicely?” Your mother cheered, inviting the incoming guests with open arms.

The next royal family that walked through the door wore masks with warm colours, complimenting their blonde hair. You didn’t recognize them with the accessory covering their faces. Standing just a bit shorter than you, the daughter wore a salmon coloured dress to match her mask. Her heels seemed to throw her balance off.

They were the last family to approach you after all the guests had arrived, and although it was a masquerade, it’s hard to not notice the most overdressed royals in the room. Your father, especially, as he boated a thick blood-red cape that dragged across the floor

You gave the princess a grin and offered her a hand as the four walked over to the food.

She smiled broadly, maybe a bit nervous, before dragging you into the centre of the dancing pairs. Her short hair, braided on one side and pinned to her head, bounced slightly as you waltzed.

You're not sure how long you had danced in total, having switched from one partner to the next with no break. You supposed it had to do with the fact that the ultimate goal of this event was to find you a partner. One other than for dancing.

After being whisked away from the blonde princess and into the arms of a flamboyant prince in teal, you were being passed around the guests like they were playing hot potato. Only the loser happened to be you as the balls of your feet began to ache. Now, with the pain becoming tiresome, you swayed limply in the arms of a dark brunette in a dark maroon suit with gold accents.

You looked over the prince’s shoulder, resting your chin on the soft velvet of his suit. He held you a bit tighter, successfully preventing you from falling or tripping on his toes. You watched the staff on hand as they moved gracefully among the guests, offering drinks and snacks away from the back tables. Kiyoomi wasn’t among them.

You sighed into your partner's neck.

“Is everything alright?” His voice was rather deep, harmonizing with the winding down music that the orchestra played. You stumbled onto his toe, he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Oh, yes, sorry about that. Thank you for the dance, but I best get something to eat.”

He bowed. “Of course,” he said, and then went on his merry way.

Finally. Dancing with —for what you could only recognise as— strangers was tiring. And despite it being the majority of your job considering your position as a royal, you couldn’t help but want to limit your social circle to a chosen few. One, to be specific.

Your stomach rumbled as your eyes browsed over the staff. Sighing again at the lack of Kiyoomi in the room, you started walking towards the slowly disappearing food. Your gaze shifted. Despite the dark curtains being pulled open, it almost looked like they weren’t except for the fact that the stars were shining brightly in the sky. You continued to walk, not noticing the tail of one girl's skirt dragging across the floor.

“ACK—”

Something constricted around your wrist, holding your face a few feet above the floor.

“You’ve taken more than a few fumbles this evening. If you need a cane, I’d be honoured to offer my assistance.” The owner of the smooth voice pulled you to your feet, turning you to face him in the process. “Are you alright, Your Highness?”

His top eyelids hug over his iris’ slightly, making his already dark eyes seem darker. They reflected the ballroom’s lights like the stars outside. His mask, midnight blue like the curtains with light gold detailing around the rim and centre, looked like the night sky and covered all but his mouth and eyes. His dark hair was slicked back, looking neat and polished. The mask’s design carried out through his clothes, a three-piece suit with inner soft gold lining and detailing.

You let out a silent gasp at the moon and star cufflinks he wore.

“You were heading for the food right? Let me accompany you.” He offered you an elbow, letting you slip your arm through at your own accord.

His chivalry felt near fictional. With your eyes still zeroed in on his profile, your mind began to wander into the depths of stories you’ve read.

“You look like a prince.” The words seemed to slip out of you unconsciously.

“Aren’t all the guests here royals?” He smirked, giving a side-eye glance to all the other people in the room.

You laughed lightly, embarrassed by your own mistake. He grinned with you. “You’re right. I just, I don’t think anyone looks as fantastical as you do.”

“Fantastical?” He grabbed a small plate from the table, using the tongs to place various treats on it and handing the plate to you. He didn’t seem to think about which ones you’d like, not that he had to, they were all your favourite. He reached for his own as you took a bit out of a small pastry. “Have you been reading too many fantasy novels?”

A knight? The memory of a dark cloaked saviour in the dead of night popped into your brain. You chuckled. “Possibly.” You faced the large crowd again, searching.

“Looking for something?”

“Huh,” you blanked. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a bit tired. I’m never around so many people at once.”

Plate in hand, he stood straighter offering his arm again. “Would you like to step outside? I saw a nice place to sit in the gardens.” He saw your hesitant glance at the crowd. “They won’t even notice you’re gone, and if you’re worried about me, there are guards at every corner. I wouldn’t dare harm you, Your Highness.”

Though trying to weave through the crowd was difficult, the fresh cool air that rushed into your lungs once you made it outside was worth it. The prince guided you to a bench in the centre of the circular rose-bush, nodding politely at guards as you walked by. You laughed happily as the cherry blossoms went over your head.

You sat down on the bench, stretching your tired legs and back. Standing, and dancing, for hours on end did a number on you, him as well. That masked prince’s clothes blended nicely with the surroundings, looking like a piece of the night sky had fallen to keep you company.

He stretched, raising one arm above his head while the other continued to carry his plate, before taking a seat beside you.

“It’s a lovely garden,” he hummed, watching you take a bit from the plate of food in your hand.

You chewed quickly before swallowing, licking your lip to get rid of leftover crumbs. “It’s one of my favourite places in the castle, along with the library. I spend so much time here my friend has taken it upon himself to keep the rose bushing in top shape. It’s not even his job.”

“Your friend?” he prompted. The gentle tone of his voice told you that he wanted to listen.

A slow sigh rolled off your shoulders. “My butler. Haven’t had the chance to make many other friends than him. He's always by my side.”

“You seem to enjoy his company at least.”

You laughed. “I do. Can’t throw away my only friend, and he can’t escape me either; it’s his job.”

The prince let out a sharp laugh, a bit louder than you expected. The embarrassed look in his eye from making such a loud sound made you laugh along with him.

He took a deep breath, leaning against the bench’s back-rest and throwing his head back. “I have a friend like that.”

“Really?” You rested your arm against the back of the bench, holding your head up as you studied the prince’s mask and listened.

He hummed. “Growing up isolated in a castle isn’t fun, but having someone there for you makes it better. Even if it wasn’t their choice.”

“I guess all royals have some similar experiences huh.”

“I suppose, but we all have slightly different expectations and backgrounds, live in different cities and towns. Each is unique in their own way.”

“What's your town like?”

He turned his head your way, mouth open. His eyes flicked to look up at the cherry blossoms, before coming down to meet your eyes. You didn’t realize how close you had been sitting.

Your propped up elbow rested nearly behind his relaxed head, and his shoulder pressed into your arm. He maintained eye contact as he sat up, taking your plate in his hand and setting them both on the end of the bench. He blinked slowly.

“I— I don’t really know. Thinking about it now, it seems that I’ve only ever gone through but never to visit.” He laughed at himself.

Pinching your brow, you jumped to your feet. “Let’s go.” You held your hand out to the prince, beckoning him to his feet.

“Go where? Aren’t you tired?”

“Yes, tired of not having fun. I’ve been wanting to go into town with Yoomi for days but haven’t had the chance.”

He placed his hand in yours, allowing you to tuck him onto his feet. “Are you sure—”

“Your Highness.” Lydia stood and the opening of the rose bushes, hands held together. “The guests are heading to their rooms. Your parents are requesting your presence.” She gave the prince next to a confused look. “You best head inside.”

“Ah, wait, Lydia.” You stepped her way slightly. “Have you seen Kiyoomi today?”

Her eyes flickered, and her brow pinched together. “Sorry, I can’t say I have.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly. “Ah, it’s alright. I’ll be in soon.”

As the maid left, spun on your heel. A rose was presented to you and the hand holding it was attached to the night prince. The view of him in his dark suit surrounded by a giant bouquet of pink was an image that would be ingrained in your mind forever.

He spoke calmly, a joking undertone pushing through. “I hope I don’t have to vie for attention over this Kiyoomi fellow you keep speaking of?”

“Well, he’s definitely not going to like you picking the roses, that’s for sure.”

The prince laughed, coming up from his gentle bow to place the thornless rose in your hand. He smirked beneath the nose of his mask. “I'm trying to woo his friend here. I’m sure he won’t mind.” He then reached for your empty hand, placing it on his elbow, and grabbing the stacked plates. “Let’s head back in.”

You had been spending a lot of time on your windowsill as of late, staring at the moon as it slowly becomes whole. You sat and stared, arms around your knees, as you slumped against the glass. Waiting.

It was long past midnight when you finally decided to return to your bed for some rest. The door opened when you stepped onto your feet.

Your heart swelled.

“Where have you been?” You ran to the door, wide eyed, as you held the curly-haired butler by the shoulders. His uniform matched those of the rest of the staff, new and crisp with celestial accents. “I wanted to spend time with you, but you weren’t there.”

As he spoke, you wiped off a pink stain from his white collar. “Icing, I was working in the kitchen?”

“You can't cook.”

“But I can bake.”

“Right. I’m still mad at you though, I was alone!”

“Really?” He walked over to your clothes that you had hooked onto the wardrobe. He draped the fancy clothing over his arm before walking to the door again. “I heard from Lydia that you snuck off with a mysterious prince.” He smiled lightly, blinking as he met your eyes. “It’s late, get some rest.”

He spoke curtly, pulling the door.

Where was he going; tugging the door without a thought despite you desperately wanting him around. Your heart seized as your hand reached to try to catch the door before he left you in the cold room alone.

“But—”

The door shut.

Why your mother had chosen a lean fitted, sun orange garb for the second day of three, you weren’t sure. Already standing out amongst the other royals for being the host of the party, the vibrance of your clothes seemed near embarrassing. You couldn’t imagine being surrounded by so many people for another day, but it was too late to change plans.

You flicked the large handkerchief over your waiting for everyone to pile into the dining room. Staff had set up two extra tables for the number of guests, having you and your parents sit at the head of separate ones. You looked to the right and watched the king and queen speak happily with the guests sitting closest to them.

Each seat had a name card on them, guiding people to their assigned seats for the midday meal. You couldn’t read the names from your vantage point, but it wasn’t hard to tell that one was missing.

You looked over your shoulder, hoping to find Kiyoomi behind you, standing against the wall. You sighed at the empty space before waving one of the nearest butlers over. Guests continued to slowly find their chairs.

“Bellamy, is there a name tag missing here?”

The butler leaned down to hear your words over the crowd. He tilted his head, making the grey hairs on his head bounce slightly. “I was certain there was one earlier when we were setting the tables. Do you want me to look?”

“No, it’s alright, they’ll find their way here eventually.” He moved to stand straighter. “Oh, and Bellamy? Have you seen Kiyoomi at all today?”

The old man’s eyes widened and back straightened. “Ah, yes, he was helping lay out the cutlery earlier. I believe he and the other head’s are working in the kitchens. Do you want me to get him for you?”

You bit your lip, looking at the rings on your hand as you fiddled with the solid band. “It’s best not to interrupt him, he’s probably working hard. I’ll see him soon.”

“Not talking about me are you? Did I leave that good of an impression?”

The night prince slid into the unlabeled seat, smiling kindly. He gave a nod to Bellamy. The tails of his coat flicked as he sat down. He wore all black with silver accents, fitting the midnight theme better than you did.

“I was asking about Kiyoomi,” you explained. “This is your seat?”

He grinned, showing off the pearly colour of his teeth in a sharp, thin line. “Trying to get a peek of my name were you, your Highness? That would defeat the purpose of a masquerade wouldn’t it?”

You shivered under his stare as he slid into the seat. “I’ll admit that not knowing your name is turning me into a cat, but I was more concerned about someone not finding their seat.”

“That curiosity will kill you.” You smirked at his anecdotal reply that finished off the little phrase as you reached for your glass of tea. “Besides, any seat next to yours is rightfully mine, so you don’t have to worry about me not finding it.”

You choked on the warm liquid as the plush chair next to you slid back. “Oh my, are you alright? I didn’t mean to frighten you.” It was the blonde princess from yesterday.

A hand held your chin, tilting your head over towards the masked prince. In his other hand held a handkerchief, dabbing the sides of your mouth and chin gently. He looked at the blonde. “Don’t worry princess, they’re just clumsy. Can’t take care of themselves.” His thumb rubbed your cheek before dropping both hands.

Had Kiyoomi been around he would’ve done the job himself. Gentle brushes, making sure that you would be tidied up and presentable without irritating your skin. He would chuckle at your slip ups and laugh at you in a way that the other staff wouldn’t. Would’ve had be not been avoiding your presence like the plague.

Kiyoomi wasn’t here.

Your heart fluttered as you watched the prince's eyes glitter. Heat washed across your chest and rose to your cheeks. It nearly sent you into another coughing fit.

Kiyoomi wasn’t, but the prince was.

“Oh thank goodness, I would’ve been killed for scaring a crowned royal to death.”

You finally stopped coughing as entrees were being placed in front of people. “I really don’t think—”

“It could happen! I’d be an outcast, a murderer to the nth degree!”

You laughed. “Princess, please. Just eat.”

As you reached for your fork, something landed on your knee underneath the table. You took a small bite of the prepped meal and lifted the table cloth as you listened to the other two royals talk.

“Have you ever visited the Bahamas, it’s quite lovely.”

The prince's closed hand rested on the orange fabric on your knee, thumb brushing gently. Giving you a side glance, he lifted his hand but kicked his foot out taking your ankle with it.

Already flustered, you reached over to smack the back of your hand lightly against the prince’s shoulder. He gave you a kind smile in response.

“I can’t say I ever have. I don’t travel unless it’s work matters, and even then I’m typically held up in one building or another.”

Your leg used his ankle as a footrest. Furrowing your brow, you tried to take your leg back, only for the masked prince to place his other one on top of it. You were shackled to the man. You huffed slightly, leaning into the back of the chair as you tried to hide any darkness that had risen to your cheeks. “The most exploration I get is of the town. Like the prince said, even outside of our city, I’m typically restricted to where I can go. I always have Kiyoomi to keep me company though.”

The light on the prince's slicked-back hair glistened as he turned his shoulders more your way, mimicking a similar posture to that the pink princess (now in baby pink) took. “You speak very kindly of your butler. I don't think I’ve seen him around though. What’s he like?”

“Oh please tell.” The blonde smiled, light brown eyes shimmering.

“Huh, well he’s my closest friend of course. I don’t have many in the first place unless you consider the other royals we sometimes visit.” Hitoka and Wakatoshi came to mind suddenly, you haven’t seen either of them in years though. “Those connections aren’t as well built as I would like though. I’m not sure if they’d call me their friend.”

You could see the princess’ eyes darken underneath the cut out of her mask. “I’m sure they do, (Y/N).”

You forgot that the anonymity of the mask didn’t apply to you for a while. You gave her a genuine smile. “Thanks.”

The hand was on your knee again, brushing it in a calm, soothing manner. You reached for the last bite off the plate, swallowing it down quickly.

“Well anyways,” you continued, “Kiyoomi is calm, clean, very clean. He’s always by my side unless I don’t want him to be, which isn’t often. He takes care of me in a way my parents can’t since they have to work all the time. He used to read me stories from the library when I was young. I still use the same old chair.”

You hummed happily and took a sip of your tea as the plates were exchanged for the next course. “I love him a lot.”

The meat looked lovely. You went in for a bite as the hand on your knee pressed into your skin a bit. “I better not have to fight for that affection,” the prince teased.

You only gave with a silent, non-committal, laugh.

After all the food had been eaten (staff taking the place of the full royals to help finish the untouched food) and none was left except for bones, The guests were free to roam and mingle around the castle grounds. Most took it as an opportunity to dance in the ballroom and network amongst the heads of states. Even with the masks, kings and queens could easily tell each other apart.

A hand held your arm back from joining your parents in talking to the blonde princess’ family. The kind smile the price gave you beneath his mask made your stomach flutter again. “You like the library right? Care to show me the best books?”

You tried to choke down an embarrassed yelp as his hand slid down to hold your own. “I’d love to.”

Taking one last second, you looked over your shoulder to the cleaning staff, hoping to find a wavy mop of black hair before you were stolen away.

How this prince managed to take up a vast majority of your time thus far, you didn’t know. Maybe it was the dark hooded eyes that seemed to give people a death stare when they approached, or possibly the lips that seemed stuck in a permanent downturned position.

He seemed to assess the situation of the crowd around him, then turn his attention your way with a small smile. Each expression was minute, letting his posture and words speak for him.

He grabbed a wet wipe from off the librarian’s counter, wiping his hands down as he scoured through the library’s titles. “So, is there anything you’ve been wanting to read?”

“Me? I did finish a book recently but haven’t chosen a new one yet. Anything you recommended?”

He hummed, tilting his head at the book spines, before turning around and speed walking toward the fiction section of the library. It didn’t take long before he wiped his hands again and pulled out a green-covered book from the shelves.

“‘Night Pirate’. Have you read it?”

Standing in the centre of the tall, open room, hands clasped together, you shook your head. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

Coming to your side, he placed his open hand between your shoulder blades, turning you in the direction of the old chairs. He sat you down on the large, plush red one, the one you had claimed since you were little, and took his place in the matching dark green one to your right. The one Kiyoomi had started using once you were too big to share a single seat.

He got comfortable quickly, kicking up one ankle to rest on the opposite thigh. “‘To the open waters of the great unknown, a pirate makes home among the fish and mermaids.’” He paused looking up from the first page. “Might as well get comfortable, the book is 500 pages long.”

You followed the suggestion, leaning your head back against the soft velvet backrest and studied the intricate details of his mask, and how his lips parted as he read each word. His hands looked large against the book, carrying it with one hand, no effort required. You noticed the small spots that decorated the back of his palm with a smile. He pinched the book’s read ribbon tucking it away as he continued. His voice, mellow and calm, reflected the atmosphere that the words in the book were trying to paint.

It was five, maybe six pages into the book before your eyes closed, and another three before you had fully dosed off.

You weren’t entirely sure of how you got to bed, but judging by the warm cup of tea and a new set of clothes for the last day, Kiyoomi had been there. You couldn’t let the warm feeling in your chest settle for long though, because within minutes the tea was gone, your outfit was on and you were rushing down to the banquet hall before the quests could beat you to it.

Today, the food was set up in the middle of the ballroom in a large circular table with a multi-layered cake in the centre of it all. The guests swarmed your and your parents as they waited for the knife in your hand to hit the bottom of the cake. Once it did, deafening cheers that made your shoulder’s scrunch, erupted throughout the castle.

Everyone got a slice, you even managed to get a piece for Ichika and Daiki, ensuring that they each got a bit of galaxy coloured icing and fondant stars.

“Do you like the design? Kiyoomi thought of it, though Osamu did help bake it,” Ichika said.

You looked to the slowly disappearing desert, admiring what was left of the black, blue, purple, and pink layers that got lighter as they reached the top with small star-like details.

“He knew you wouldn’t want anything too extraordinary. I better save him a piece of his hard work.”

You felt something tap your red-clothed shoulder. “Excuse me, you two, but I hope you don’t mind me stealing (Y/N) away for a bit do you?” You looked to the masked prince, who now wore a dark forest green suit with gold accents. The mask remained the same shape but had a chain hanging from the edge near his right eye down to the right point of the mask near his chin.

Butterflies were already fluttering in your stomach.

Ichika gave the prince a wide smile, elbowing her husband. “Of course, of course. We don’t mind.”

Twisting his feet to point your way, he offered his hooked elbow and waited for your silent permission to escort you away.

“What are you planning?”

“Hmm, not much, a small trip.” His eyes shifted your way as he kept his head angled forward toward the castle's nearest exit. “I heard that the town is having fireworks for your birthday tonight. You’ve been wanting to go, right?”

“Well, yes but— How did you know about that? I haven’t heard anything.”

The corners of his mouth flicked up. “The staff like to talk.”

So there you were, with the princely stranger in dark clothes at your favourite cafe in town, definitely sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs. The obnoxious laughing pouring out of you didn’t help keep eyes off, either.

“What do you mean you bleached the crown?!”

“It was a mistake! Luckily, it wasn’t the real one or else my father would’ve sent me to France to be beheaded,” he sighed, and then noticed your raised brow and slow bite into the puffed sugar cloud with a hard shell. It crackled under the pressure of your teeth.

“We— well,” he stuttered, “What happened was, I was helping clean the crown case, and the crown gets swapped out with a duplicate so it can get polished. And I accidentally got bleach on the velvet portion.”

He shut his eyes as if replaying the memory, wincing at your laughter. “I knew you’d find that funny.”

“Of course I would, you seem so put together it’s hard to believe you’d make a mistake.”

“I hope that means I’ve made a good impression thus far.” He leaned forward, setting his crossed arms on the table and letting his elbows carry his weight.

You mimicked the movement, letting your chin rest in the palm of one of your hands. You wore a squinted smile. “Not like you would let me get much of an impression about anybody else.”

“Not my fault. No one else was trying hard enough.”

You laughed through your nose as you drank the last few drops of tea. The cup didn’t make a noise as it hit the table again. The waitress, who had been watching idly from behind the counter, rushed over to bring the check and collect the dishes. Her dark hair swished over her shoulder fluidly. You saw her every time you visited.

“Thank you.”

"The sun is going to set," the unnamed prince spoke as he set a bill on the table. "How about we walk through town and look at the shops before the fireworks start."

Your cheeks hurt a bit from smiling. "Sure."

He offered an open hand to you as you got to your feet. Wiping your hands on your legs first, you graciously took his open palm. Pulling you to his side, the prince led you to the cafe's exit waving at the workers as he did.

“Hmm, How about— Woah!”

You pulled his hand, dragging him towards the slowly moving crowd that grouped around the various shops. His hand shifted in yours, twisting so he could fiddle with the ring on your hand with his thumb.

“Your Highness, if you wanted to steal me away, you could've just asked. Of course, I’d have to tell my parents first—”

“That wouldn’t be stealing,” you snorted, dropping his hand.

You stopped at an accessory store browsing over all the little pieces of jewelry that sat on display, glittering in what was left of the available sunlight.

You jumped as the light near your head flickered on. Hand on your stomach, you played it off by looking for the masked prince among the crowd. Two young boys giggled behind you, running off when you glared their way.

You eventually caught sight of the midnight prince bowing his head to a blonde man who had his hair brushed back and a cigarette balancing on his lip. He appeared to be the shop owner. Soon after he began walking your way, bare hands tucked into his suit pockets. He nudged your side. “Come on, the fireworks will begin soon.”

Slinging your elbow around his, you followed. “What do you do in your typical day anyway?”

He started walking towards the large fountain in the centre of the pavilion. “I typically help the staff where I can. Don’t have many responsibilities as of yet.”

You looked up to the gold chain on his mask, hypnotized by its swaying movement. “As of yet? How old ar—ACK!” The tip of your shoe slammed into a lifted brick, flinging you forward.

“Clumsy, clumsy. Watch where you step, or I'm gonna have a lot of cleaning to do.”

Your trip luckily didn’t end with your head slamming into the edge of the fountain. Which made you breathe a sigh of relief (wouldn’t be the first time it happened). With his elbow still locked around yours, and hand securely tucked into his pocket, the prince had managed to catch your arms between his and his side before you dove into the concrete.

You huffed, taking your arm back and sitting on the fountain’s ledge. “So, how old are you anyway? I never asked.”

He sat next to you as the first —test— firework went off. “Hmm, 21.”

You hummed. “That makes sense, I would’ve been too young to go to your party. I’m glad that you didn’t find a partner I suppose.”

“My parents are rather lenient. I didn’t want to find someone immediately anyways.”

“I can’t say I did either.”

Two pops went off in the air, pulling your attention to the dark sky. The lights flickered, falling as they did before burning out. The burnt-out fireworks were quickly followed by a slew of others.

“I got you this. From the shop.” From his pocket, he pulled out a small box and flipped it open to present it to you. A muted gold band sat in the slit of the velvet cushion.

“Proposing already? I didn’t think you were so forward.”

Even with the ornate mask on his face, you could see him falter. Eyes darting around as he puffed out some hot air. “Think of it as an offer. Who knows, you might regret it later if you fall in headfirst.”

Your heart felt like it was tearing in two, competing on different teams. But when you met the prince’s hesitant eyes that darted back and forth between your own, it felt like the two sides were coming to an agreement. Your whole body scorched.

The feelings you had would always be there, but what could Kiyoomi do if he wasn't around to reciprocate them, and would your heart be able to take it?

You flushed, staring more intently into the prince’s dark eyes. “I think I've done enough falling as it is.”

Looking at your fingers, you paused, thinking, before pulling the ring out of the box and exchanging it for your beloved gift from Ichika. With no warning, you grabbed the prince’s bare hand and slipped the warm metal onto his ring finger. It stuck at the knuckle for a moment before sliding down to the base.

You analyzed the hand that now wore your favourite ring. Holding it delicately, you slid your fingers over the few small dark specials that decorated the back of his hand.

No going back now.

“Well, at least it won’t fall off. Don’t lose it okay, that ring is dear to me.” You looked up to his face, watching as the bright fireworks brought out the green of his mask, and saturated his straight slicked-back black hair with shifting iridescence.

“Does that make me dear to you, as well?”

The fireworks were loud, but your heart was louder. And all you could remember from those few fleeting seconds were the smell of clean clothes and mint toothpaste as your eyes stared into the bleak darkness of your eyelids and the feeling of his lips pressed oh so gently into yours.

Kiyoomi tirelessly worked on the final meal for the departing guests. His shoulders ached as he worked his hands into the bread dough, trying hard not to let any sweat fall off his nose. His curls bounced with each push. He grunted as he flipped the dough over, before yawning.

“Woah there, little Sakusa, what got you all worked up?”

The butler huffed, picking up the large pound of dough and tossing it into the oven. Once the oven started cooking, he made his way over to the sinks, desperately hoping to scrub away the remnants that stuck to his skin.

“Nothing, Bellamy, just trying to get all the bread ready before the guests wake up.”

Daiki entered the kitchen patting down the sides of his suit jacket. “Is there a loaf good to go? The family is awake.”

Kiyoomi cursed quietly, throwing on his signature white cloth gloves and grabbing three plates. Lifting his mask over his nose, he began cutting into one of the loaves.

His father’s brow furrowed as he watched his son rush to cut the bread. He went to collect the condiments from the fridge. “You okay there? You seem a bit stressed.”

“I’m fine, just didn’t sleep until late last night.”

Daiki slathered a large clump of peanut butter on a slice of bread, prepping it for the king’s stomach.

“Hmm, no sleep? I wonder why that is,” Ichika said in a reading manner, walking in with one of the finished loaves in her gloved hands.

Kiyoomi’s head drooped, hair falling in front of his eyes. His straight arms pressed into the counter, causing his shoulder blades to jut out. Having his parents giggle behind his back, quite obviously, made the pit of anxiety that had been growing in his stomach collapse into a ravine.

Ichika coughed slightly, transferring away from teasing her son. She reached for fruits to add to the plates. “Bellamy, gather the staff won't you? We need to deliver breakfast to the bedrooms.” She grabbed the plate with jammed covered toast before wrapping her arm around Daiki’s. “The three of us will bring breakfast to the family. Okay?”

“Of course, Mrs. Sakusa. Right away. Lydia, Osamu!”

Kiyoomi tightened the gloves around his fingers, pulling them tighter and keeping them secure. He took a slow breath, trying not to yawn as he did so, before grabbing your plate.

Kiyoomi had woken you up with his eyes squinted in a soft smile. Though you couldn’t see, you could easily picture the smile itself behind the white mask he wore over his mouth. Camomile tea in one hand, and fresh toast in the other, you walked down to the foyer of the castle to meet your parents with Kiyoomi yawning into his mask by your side.

“Tired?”

His eyes squinted in a relaxed smile again. “Ya, but this morning everything will be done, and I can rest.”

You hummed, swallowing your last bite of bread before taking a sip of tea. You began walking down the large steps that took you into the castle’s main entrance. “Why don’t we go to the library to read after they’ve all gone? There’s a book that I recently started, I can read it to you from the beginning.”

“Hmm? Sounds nice. What is it about?”

“A pirate? If I'm being honest I fell asleep, so I don’t remember a whole lot,” you laughed.

Your parents stood by the large double doors, guards on either side as they finished off their tea and handed the dishes off to Daiki and Ichika. “(Y/N) hurry down. The guests will be leaving soon.”

Kiyoomi stood behind you as you shook hands with the leaving guests, desperately wanting to wipe your hands clean between each interaction. He held himself back though, not wanting his germaphobic tendencies or possessiveness take over.

The queen’s head turned your way. “So, did anyone catch your eye?”

The question went unanswered as the last family came your way. You recognized the short dark-brown hair of the tall prince from the first night. He silently took your hand in his, letting out a deep hum as his chin hit the back of your knuckles. You heard your parents thank the father, and seemingly grandmother for visiting before they headed for the door. Guards opened it for them.

Kiyoomi rushed in front of you, taking your hands in his gloved ones and wiping them clean. Maybe he’s let them take over a little. You didn’t seem to notice though, too fixated on the memory of the unnamed prince.

“Was that the last family?” you asked, brows furrowed.

Your parents' eyes widened. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Kiyoomi’s fingers tightened on yours. Unconsciously, you squeezed back. “There was one. A prince. He had slicked black straight hair. Wore navy colours with metal accents. His mask covered everything but his eyes and mouth.”

Your father hummed before calling for Daiki’s attention. Having been talking quietly to his wife, Daiki and Ichika both shot straight up as the royals turned their way. You sidestepped towards Daiki, letting Kiyoomi join the circle.

“How many guests were on the list.” Your father’s tone was heavy.

“80, your Majesty,” Daiki replied.

“And how many chairs were there total?”

Ichika spoke up, “84.” Her eyes flicked to your mother’s for a moment.

Your father hummed again before calling the nearest guard, a strong looking white-haired man and his red uniform. “Gather the knights, there will be a search for the intruder. And he will be punished for disturbing the safety and peace of the castle.”

You opened your mouth to protest, heart beating painfully at the thought of the man being in danger.

“No!” It was a chorus. It seemed you weren’t the only one. Everyone’s heads turned on swivels at the other’s outbursts.

A puff of hot air blew out of your father’s nose. “What's wrong with all of you? Why not?”

You took the chance to speak before the others could. “I spent plenty of time alone with the, uh, prince. If he wanted to harm me he very well could have.”

“Also,” your mother continued. “Wouldn’t sending out the knights be a bit much? I know they don’t have a lot to do, but that seems overboard.”

Daiki sighed. “Your Majesty. You could ask the guards on watch if anyone has left the grounds since last night. They might still be in the castle.”

The king's posture seemed to slouch. “But what about the knights?” He blinked for a moment before standing straight again. He called for the guard. “Find out if anyone has left since last night. If everyone is accounted for, send the knights through the castle, if not, they go on an expedition.”

The guard only hummed and nodded, before walking off.

Your chest hurt, squeezing tightly around nothing. It felt like you were going to vomit. You lifted your now mostly ringless hand to your mouth in a fist.

“I'm going to write letters to the families, best find out if they’ve seen anything. Daiki?”

The head butler nodded. “Kiyoomi, care to join us? We might need some help.” Daiki gave his son a pointed look and an urgent beckoning wave.

Kiyoomi placed a gloved hand on your back, pushing heat through the fabric of your clothes. He spoke quietly into your ear, dragging down his mask with a hooked finger. “I’ll find you later. Alright? We can read in the library as you said.”

You looked into his eyes, watching how his lids relaxed, and ten the small pair of moles above his brow. You lowered your clenched hand away from your mouth and nodded.

His hand fell from your spine before he was off, following the fathers up the grand staircase and to the king’s study. Your stomach tightened a bit.

“Is that a new ring?” Your mother slid over with Ichika at her side.

The maid gave a teasing laugh. “I sure hope you didn’t toss my gift away.”

“I wouldn’t say toss.” A cold sweat ran down your neck. “You both seem very put together, aren’t you a bit scared over all this?”

“Not at all, I’m sure everything will be sorted out quickly. But isn’t it fun? It’s like you're experiencing your own fairy tale instead of one in those books.” Your mother teased, taking your hand with the simple gold band and lifting it to her face. She paused. “I don’t recognize this one.”

“Oh! Did you?” Ichika bounced like a child despite her age. “Oh, you did, didn’t you?”

“Did what? OH!”

Sometimes you forgot that they were best friends.

“You exchanged rings?!” they both cheered, giving you large smiles.

Your stomach sank more, thinking of how not only did you lose the mysterious prince, but your favourite ring as well. The tightness in your chest continued, and despite it still being the morning; “I’m gonna go lie down.”

You heard your mom chuckle as you tripped on the top step.

You weren’t sure exactly what time it was or how long you had been in your room. But, after stomaching a couple of meals and sitting by the window with a blanket on your shoulders as the sun began to lower with a purple sky following, you could hazard a guess.

A knock vibrated your door. “I’m coming in.”

In a casual white shirt, instead of his authority screaming clothes, your father kept a neutral expression as he sat at the end of your bed. He weaved his fingers together and pushed his bottom lip up in a perturbed pout.

It was silent for a moment.

“So, did you finish the letters?”

“Hmm? Oh, ya. Ya, we did. Had to rewrite them all, but we finished them.”

You sat straighter. “Re-write? Why?”

He hummed shutting his eyes as if replaying a memory before looking up at the moon through the large window. He scratched his neck, mumbling quietly, “We found out who the prince was.”

“You did? Where—?” You nearly shot to your feet. Your heart pumped in your ears and hands began to clam up as they gripped the blanket. If they found out then he must be nearby.

“Calm down.” He clicked his tongue, moving his hand from the back of his neck to his forehead, rubbing away a dull headache. “No reason to get worked up about it right now. I still got to grill the guy.”

The growl that took over the end of his sentence was menacing, like a rabid wolf with a chunk of meat being teased in front of his snout. Your shoulders curled at the sound, imagining the fire that the prince would have to walk though under your fathers scrutiny.

“Please don’t.” If your father was that put out by the man’s identity, you couldn’t help but feel overly curious. Sometimes cats really do need to sedate their curiosity.

Your father let out a deep chuckle before rising to his feet. He walked to your side and placed a large hand on your blanket-covered shoulder, patting it slightly. “There's no need to get worked up about it. Get some sleep; you’ve had a long few days.”

As he walked to leave, you began to climb to your feet, following after. Something tickled the back of your brain at your fathers demeanor, but you hadn’t gotten any answers “Wait but—!”

“Get some rest, (Y/N).” He pulled the door a bit before pausing, giving you a tired and rugged smile. “You have nothing to worry about.”

The door closed behind him.

Despite everything that had happened, the three day party, your 19th birthday, a charming prince that had somehow swept you off your feet, all you wanted was to talk to your best friend. It felt like forever since you were last able to lean on his shoulder.

Maybe tomorrow. You looked at the gold band on your finger, heart swelling as your mind shifted.

You’d search for your friend tomorrow.

Kiyoomi wasn’t there to wake you up the following morning. Only a cup of lemon tea sitting on a dust-free side table, and a clean poet shirt with black slacks, were left to prove his presence in your room at some point.

You yawned, stretching your arms as high as they could go before grabbing hold of the cup’s handle and taking a sip. The smell travelled up your nose.

You noticed that the sour feeling in your stomach had dissipated as you slipped the shirt on and started making your way down to the kitchens, cup in hand.

The wooden door to the cooking domain pushed open beneath your hand, suddenly revealing the same silver-headed chef you had run into a couple days earlier. He stepped backwards.

“Don’t worry, the cup is empty.”

“Not exactly what I was being cautious about, but good to know. Just didn’t want to be in your line of fire.”

You gasped, “Am I really that much of a hazard?”

He looked at the plated onigiri in his hands before holding one out for you. “More to yourself than to us. Want one?”

You huffed but took one anyway, biting into it immediately. Suddenly, out of your drowsy haze, you remembered your search. “Have you seen Yoomi around?”

The chef hummed, “This morning, but not since. Let me take your cup.”

You handed it over sadly, letting your shoulders droop at the news of your absent friend before stepping back into the hallway to begin your trek to the library.

Was he avoiding you? Running around and busying himself with work to keep himself away from your side?

You paused in the large hallway with towering windows that overlooked the front garden. The sun was soft and warm, letting you easily look out the window without being blinded. Lydia stood out in the rose bushing with Bellamy, trimming the hedges and talking happily. The bench underneath the cherry blossoms held a pitcher of iced water and three glasses, both empty.

Did he know? He was with your father helping write the letters. Did he find out?

Your footsteps echoed through the empty wall as you continued your way down to the library.

You froze for a moment. Was he disappointed? Shaking your head, you quickened your pace.

The librarian just so happened to be stepping out as you got near, his light grey hair bouncing as he fiddled with the books in his hands. When he heard your heels hitting the floor he looked your way with a big smile. “Ah, your Highness, are you going in?”

“Sure am. May I ask where you’re heading?” You walked by him, through the doorway as he held it open for you.

“Oh, I'm joining Lydia and Bellamy in the garden.” He lifted the shoulder that was attached to the hand holding the small stack of books. “We plan to take a break and read in the sun.”

“Sounds lovely. Have fun.”

“You do too.” He winked before letting the door go and walking down the hall.

As the door closed behind you, your smile fell slightly and the sick feeling began to eat away at your stomach again.

From across the way, you could see the same green book from the second day of the event sitting on the coffee table in front of the two chairs. Its red ribbon poked out of the spine that became a bookmark as it hid between the pages.

Your steps echoed as you walked through the room, eyes trained on the novel that sat out of place.

Your fingers wrapped around the spine as you pushed your weight back to fall into your red seat. Kicking your legs up on one of the armrests, you twisted sideways to face the matching green chair and tilted your head to rest against the backrest. You opened the cover and began reading out loud to yourself from the first line.

“To the open waters of the great unknown, a pirate makes home among the fish and mermaids.”

You paused, stomach sinking as the sunlight lit up the view of the empty seat in front of you.

The pages shook as you turned them, quivering lightly, sounding like a bird’s wings flapping. Even with the sun’s warmth pouring onto you through the skylight, it felt unbearably cold around you.

You eventually caught up to the marker, pausing as you held the ribbon between your thumb. Your mind wandered off the contents of the page in front of you to the mysterious man’s hand tucking it into the cover of the book.

Shutting your eyes for a moment, you shoved the ribbon back in place before flipping to the next page.

Only once the words stopped abruptly halfway through the page did you notice you had come to the end. Your mouth shut around the last syllable, swallowing the air as the story finished. Flipping the book in your hand to read the spine, you breathed slowly, readying yourself to rise to your feet and put the book away.

“You should read out loud more often, your voice is very soothing.”

The feeling that had dissipated in your stomach came back, shooting into your chest to make your heart race quicker.

Frozen in place, you watched out of the corner of your eye as a freckled hand with your favourite ring adjourned on one finger came over your shoulder with a thornless rose balanced between two fingers.

“I’m sorry I haven't been around as of late.”

“Pri—” You swivelled in your seat, coming face to face with a familiar mask.

His arm now rested fully on your shoulder from the movement, giving you wide eyes beneath the crafted frame of green and gold. His hand lowered and arm moved, dropping the rose so it bounced off of your back and landed behind you, and came to rest on the back of your neck. The ring burned your skin.

His breath was clean, warm against your cheeks. You bit your tongue as his other hand came to obstruct the view of his mask. Fingers gripping the top edge, he pulled the mask back, brushing over what you began to notice were loose wavy hairs. All the air in your lungs was stolen as you caught sight of two stacked moles through the moving eye socket of the mask.

You quickly raised your hand, brushing the pads of your fingers against the skin of his neck and weaving them through his shorter hairs. He breathed calmly as he pushed his forehead against yours. As he held the position you lifted your other hand to rest on the side of his neck, feeling his speeding pulse.

His moving hand dropped the mask, making it drop on the floor, and came to brush your side, gripping the flowy fabric of your poet's shirt between bare fingers.

Your stomach fluttered as his eyes closed and the tips of your noses touched. He hummed a happy sigh.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been rather absent the past few days.” You heard him kick the mask. “If you couldn’t tell already I was working two shifts at once.”

“Shut up. Yoomi.”

You pushed forward, lifting your knees onto the armrest and straightening up to get a higher vantage point, fingers pressing into his skin as you breathed against his lips. He held you tightly in return, pushing his chest into yours as his fingers danced along the centre line of your back. He pulled you closer, pushing your lips against his in a desperate manner.

The opposite side of the chair lifted, shooting your weight forward before falling back against the floor with a bang. You pulled away with a gasp, almost having fallen backwards if it weren’t for Kiyoomi’s arms gripping you tightly against his form.

“Clumsy aren’t you?” He smirked with half-lidded eyes.

You huffed through your nose, leaning toward his again. “I thought I told you to shut up.”

Guest appearances (not just by name) by: Yachi, Oikawa, Ushijima, Osamu, Ukai, Kiyoko, Aone, Sugawara

…..So I did say I’d write a long one. I was originally only going to be around 4k words…. Then I had an idea and kept writing. Normally I would write faster but this one took three weeks total. I’m proud of it though.

Also makes me want to do a mini series in this same universe… Maybe. Not sure how I'd have to set that up.

I’m sorry for making you edit so much Kiwi. - Bacon

(Don’t worry about it! It’s amazing! - Kiwi)

Posted: 28/02/2021

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #Haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #haikyu x reader #anime x reader #anime

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youralternantpersonality · 4 years

Text

Bet

Embry x Reader: Bet

***

Embry’s POV

Y/n/n and I have been dating since sophomore year and we were tight as ever. When she moved to La Push in middle school, I had the biggest crush on her. She made friends instantly and sometime, her friends would point me out if I was looking for too long. I turn away as fast as I could without getting caught. I couldn’t help myself. I looked at her the same way I have always looked at her…amaze, admiration, stars trucked, as if she was a breath of fresh air and clean untouched water by humans.

She was slightly competitive (not as bad as Paul, but not as lighthearted as Quil) and tended to say “Bet” when she wanted to prove something; if she was angry, sad, in an actual bet, anything really. I remember the first interaction I had with her. Freshman year, there was a party in Forks and a few kids on the Res decided to crash it. Jake, Quil, and I decided to head over, unknowing to me, so did Y/n and her two friends Natahli and Jerilly. And like most parties, there was games—truth or dare, spin the bottle, beer pong, all of that. And of course, Quil and Jake dragged me into spin the bottle. Which is where I run into Y/n. I could see Quil trying to hold back a laugh, and so was Natahli?

Anyways, we sit and play the game. And like some force or universal divine being, she spun the bottle, and it landed on me. I damn nearly shat in my pants when I saw what was happening.

“What’cha waiting for Em! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Jake started as everyone else followed.

“Let’s make it better! Seven Minutes in Heaven!” Jerilly said out loud. Everyone laughed and agreed. Her friends and mine picked us up and rushed us to the closet nearby. A girl who started the game had a timer and we were pushed in.

“So…”

“Look, I know this might be weird-” I said.

“You don’t have to do this if-” She said at the same time. We were silent and looked up at each other. A few seconds later a smile was on her face and by instant reaction, it was on mine. Soon followed by a quiet laugh. It was dark, so I couldn’t see her next move, but I heard her take a deep breath and I felt her closer to me. Instantly, as if it was a natural habit, my hands went to her waist to keep her close to me. Both of our breathing was hard and staggering. Normally, I don’t make assumptions, but this time was different. I wanted to take my shot and branch out from the comfort-zone I am used to.

So, I pulled her closer to where our nose was touching. Her arms wrapped around my neck and when she nodded her head, I kissed her. It was soft yet powerful. She kissed me back instantly and we both smiled. I couldn’t say we were full blown making out, but I can say that we both were a more confident kissing and smiling at one another in the closet. And as if everyone thought we were doing something more, the door sprung open and a flash went off.

“Awe…I thought it was something more.” A random girl said. Y/n laughed and hid her face in my neck. Her friends were screaming in excitement and we all walked out. We stayed a little while longer, watching Quil get his first kiss with some girl named Jessica and Jake playing rock paper scissors with a guy he landed on. Who ever won, got a beer and we had to play bets on one of them. The other guy won and after that, we went home. Y/n and I exchanged numbers and I already asked and planned our first date.

“So…” I said,

“So…” she said with a smile,

“Would you like to go out with me? I mean, I know we just, you know, kiss, but I don’t want you to feel like, you know, bad or like you have to. ‘Cause you don’t! You don’t have to! I would like to, but if you want to, which you can choose not to, we can go out sometime? Maybe?” I said all in one breath. She laughed and just nodded her head.

“Yes Embry, I’d love to go out with you.”

“Holy shit, really?”

“Yes!” she laughed, and I could do nothing but smile, pick her up and swing her around. Her laugh grew and like it was a habit I was used to doing, I kissed her again. She kissed me back.

“You know, a girl can get used to this?”

“Well, just wait until I take you out, then you’ll see what you’re in for.” I said, face-palming myself. “That came out weirder than it sounds in my head. I mean you’ll have fun; I promise.” I said smiling.

“Bet.”

Now…now everything is different. Everything has changed for the worse. I hate it completely and I want her in my life so badly, but I can’t risk it. I can’t risk losing her physically because of my anger. Emily may have made it out alive, but that doesn’t mean Y/n would if something was to ever happen.

Your POV

I was worried sick about Embry. I had called, texted, and showed up at his doorstep to see what was wrong. His mom was just as worried as I was. She knows that if there was anyone who would know where Embry is or what was wrong with him, it would be me. Or, at least, it should have been.

I’ve been in love with him since middle school. And my insecurities always got the best of me; it was exactly this that scared the shit out of me. I told him my worries one night and, like the amazing boyfriend he is, he reassured me that nothing bad was going to happen.

Well, I think he still is my boyfriend. At this point it has been a month and I received no response. I decided that I was going to make one last attempt (and fully follow through with this this time) to reach out to him and if he doesn’t respond, then we’re done. Just the thought of it made me sick to my stomach and made me want to curl up in my bed and cry for days.

After school I told Natahli and Jerilly that I was going to do my last attempt and like the true best friends they are, they gave me the “bitch, do we look stupid to you” face. They supported me always, but they knew how much it means to me. They understood, they were just pissed (if not more) that Embry was doing this to me. Hell, Jerilly was ready to put her softball practice into motion by knocking his knees—if I wasn’t such a hostile person, I’d be up for the game. But now was not the time to be thinking about that. Now is the time to get answers I deserve.

My nervousness showed and Natahli and Jerilly force volunteered to come with. Me in the passenger’s seat praying that we can work this out and attempting to calm my nerves and not burst into tears. As we were on our way to his house, Natahli sees him with a few of the other guys from school walking out towards the forest. As I watched him, I noticed a big change in him. He was shirtless, grew at least a foot taller, chopped off his hair, and got a fucking tattoo. This is the boy who fucking HATES needles and gets a tattoo after puberty hit him like an 18-wheeler. Without a second thought, Natahli and Jerilly pull over and jump out of the car while I am still frozen solid inside.

“Hey ass hat! Mind telling us why suddenly you can’t acknowledge your girlfriend?!” Natahli screams. It instantly gets mine and their attention. They all turn around and I’m shocked even more. Not sure how he became more beautiful, but hot damn, he succeeded at that. I look over and I see Jerilly brought her bat. I jump out and run up to my psychotic friends confused for a second but that turned into anger as soon as I saw Embry as he rolled his eyes and walked away. Fuck this.

“What the fuck Em!? You want to tell me why you turned on me? Why suddenly your backwards ass decided to just leave?!” I yell. He pauses for a second then replies.

“Go home Y/n. and stop calling me. Stop coming over. Stop all of it.” He says in his calm yet pissed voice that he only ever used when he is extremely pissed. Oh. Hell. No.

“Excuse me!” Jerilly said.

“What the fuck you mean go home! Can I at least know WHY you’re not yourself anymore?! Don’t you think I at least deserve that! After all this time we’ve been together!” I yell at the top of my lungs only a few feet away.

“It doesn’t matter. Go. Home. Now.” He says, only this time he growled at me. Paul Lahote stepped up behind him to block me from him. Jerilly had the bat up to his neck.

“Move son of a bitch or I’m playing softball with your head.” I can feel the tears forming in my eyes and as much as I hate to say it, at this point, I’m begging for him to at least look at me.

“Please Embry! Tell me what’s going on! Did I do something!? Say something!? What the hell did I-”

“I don’t love you anymore!” he says with his back still facing me. For a second, my breath stopped, time came to a halt, and I could feel my heart tearing as my throat being squeezed with maximum pressure.

“Wh-what?” I say in a low voice in disbelief.

“I said, I. Don’t. Love. You. Anymore. Go home Y/n and stay the fuck away from me. No one wants you here,” he says and turns around to look at me, “especially me…” he says. Looking dead into my eyes and all I could do was look back at him. In a quick second, I felt a force, as if someone had pushed me. Where normally I would see a bright future together, in an instant second, all of that crumbled. I was confused, yes. But I was pissed.

Embry’s POV

A lie, I thought to myself. All of this was a lie. I had to lie to the one person that will forever hold my heart. It would kill me to hurt her physically and, as shady as this is, if she wasn’t my imprint. I couldn’t risk it; I couldn’t take that chance. If I was to find my imprint while with her, it would kill me even more. I just couldn’t do it. So instead, I lied.

“I don’t love you anymore!” I roared at her. Trying to keep my composure. Although I was the most “sensitive” of the pack, I had the most control of my shifting—faster than the other guys; even Sam.

“Wh-what?” her voice cracked; I could smell saltwater—her tears. This killed me every second, but it was a risk I needed to take. I look up at Sam and he can see the pain on my face as I tried my best to keep my composure and voice from failing me. Apparently, I succeeded…unfortunately.

“I said, I. Don’t. Love. You. Anymore. Go home Y/n and stay the fuck away from me. No one wants you here,” I tell her as I turn around to face her, “especially me…” I finish my sentence off, but regret everything that millisecond afterwards. I looked dead into her eyes and was hit like a wrecking ball. I saw a vision and an explosion of love, happiness, and eternity with this woman. My heart skipped a beat and I felt just as complete, if not more, with her than I did before.

But before I could respond. Before I could even enjoy this feeling. Before I could even acknowledge the fact that she was my imprint, she hit me with reality quickly. Her face said it all. All the pain, tears, agony disappeared, and hate, hurt, and disappointment took its place. I fucked up. Because the last thing she said to me that day, was the day I knew if I don’t win her back it would literally be life or death with me. That day was the day that I have ever felt deep pain, the day I knew I lost my eternity. The day I lost Y/n.

“Bet.” It was then I knew, I would have to work hard to win her back. I wanted to chase after her, but I was stuck and in shock. I could feel the eyes of the pack watching me watch her and her friends walk away from me. When I snapped out of it, I tried running to her, but was stopped by Paul and Sam. I screwed up, but somehow, I was going to fix it.

And I was willing to bet on that.

#embrycall #embrycallxreader #embry call x reader #embry-call-x-reader #embry call #twilight #twilightsaga #twilightwolfpack #embry call twilight

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darkblueboxs · 4 years

Text

Ursa Major

i.e. the beardrew fic 🐻😉

Read here or on AO3 *

“What brings you to town?” The lodge manager flashes Neil an easy smile as he holds the cabin key in one hand. They clink together just out of Neil’s reach, as though he won’t relinquish them until Neil has provided a satisfactory answer.

“Business,” Neil answers shortly, and reaches for the keys.

“Let me know if you want to squeeze a little pleasure in, too.” The manager, whose name badge reading Nicky is almost lost amongst an array of rainbow pin-badges, winks exaggeratedly. Neil keeps his expression carefully blank as he all but pries the keys from him. “Andrew will show you which cabin is yours. He’s chopping wood out back.”

Neil steps out onto the back porch of the reception building, takes one look at the guy ripping logs apart with his bare hands, and decides that he can find it himself. He tries to avert his eyes, but the man stops to watch him pass, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He looks like such a stereotypical woodsman that Neil wonders for a second if he walked straight out of a Brawny advert, muscles flexing as he heaves a lump of wood half his size onto the log pile, several days’ worth of stubble dusting his jawline gold and a glowing worker’s tan defying the encroaching winter. He’s so stocky that Neil almost misses the fact that the man is somehow shorter than him, and for a moment his brain short-circuits as he tries to match his impossible presence to his impossible height.

Andrew – because this must be Andrew – barely spares Neil’s scars a second glance, eyes catching instead on the camera swinging around Neil’s neck. Neil’s hands go to it automatically – the device is worth more than his life – but he stills as Andrew drops the log with an earth-shaking thud. “Point that thing at me and I’ll break it.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Neil takes a step back, holding his hands in the air as though proving himself unarmed. “Sorry.”

“Whatever.” He turns back to his work, and without looking at him, adds “Yours is the last on the left.”

Neil makes no effort to hide his relief as he turns and heads up towards the row of log cabins, stumbling over exposed tree roots and pushing branches out of the way where the trees have begun encroaching on the dirt path. The place is quiet, which suits Neil perfectly; he didn’t pick wildlife photography because of his love for human company, after all. Of the dozen or so suites clustered around the central building, only two or three appear to be occupied, muddy hiking gear drying on doorsteps, BMWs with kayaks and bike racks strapped to the roofs parked down at the car park below. Neil chose the single bus that runs back and forth to the town across the lake once a day over risking a car rental on the worn dirt track; for better or for worse, he’s trapped there for the night.

Not that he expects to finish his assignment in the span of a day, but old instincts cry out for getaway options. He and his mother spent months in secluded mountain ranges like this one, but they were as much a threat as they were protection. It was easier to hear of visitors as soon as they arrived in the area, but harder to blend in amongst non-existent crowds.

He dumps his rucksack on his bed – he hasn’t broken the habit of travelling light quite yet – and takes in the neat little cabin (cosier than he expected, like it leapt out of a rustic furniture catalogue) before grabbing his kit and heading out into the hills.

He loses track of time quicker than usual, as he always does when he’s in new places, busy taking in the lay of the land, figuring out which trails are worth his time and which are too packed with litter and foot traffic to be of any use. The vistas are breath-taking; glittering pearl lakes studded throughout the endless verdant valleys, mountain ranges that draw across the swirling skyline like theatre curtains. Landscape photos aren’t Neil’s strong suit, but he snaps a few anyway, just for himself. They never had photos on the run, nothing that could be used as evidence, no footprints left in their wake. Neil likes having the mementos now, thin slips of glossy film that prove that he was alive, he was there, that he was real.

Sunset has bathed the woods in rich oranges as he makes his way back to his cabin, legs aching pleasantly with the memory of a good day’s exploration. There’s a packet of instant noodles waiting in his bag and a kettle in his cabin, but the smells drifting from the eatery in the central building convince Neil to forgo solitude for an hour and cough up for a real home-cooked meal.

Either Andrew has shaved since this morning or he has an identical twin; either way, the man who serves him chunky soup and bread does so with the barest pretences of politeness. Neil ignores the chatter of the other guests and staff as much as possible, flicking through the images on his digital display as he chews through a freshly baked roll. Neil’s twin theory is proven correct when Andrew sweeps into the dining room just as dessert is being brought out, windswept and scowling. Neil watches as he begins arranging kindling in the hearth, and soon the room is glowing with dancing light. Andrew stares into the flames, and the flickering glow carves deep shadows into his features, as though his face is transformed by the light. Neil doesn’t do portraits, but if he did, it would be perfect.

He snaps his gaze away as Andrew looks up, unfortunately catching the eye of the man at the next table.

“Photography, huh?” he says, grinning. He’s muscular too. Neil wonders if there’s something in the water here. “Got any good ones?”

Neil hands him the camera in lieu of answering, trying not to twitch his fingers as the stranger handles his most valuable possession.

“Oh, shit. These are seriously good, like, professional standard. Is this what you do for a living?” He hands the camera back and offers a hand with it. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

“Neil. Yeah, I work for National Parks Magazine.”

Matt whistles. “Fancy.”

“I guess.”

“Well, I’m no expert, but those look great to me. What is it, a tourism piece?”

“Oh, no, these were just for me. I do wildlife photography.”

“Plenty of that out here. I come down most weekends, usually see a few hawks, eagles too. We get lots of bird spotters in the Spring.”

“That’s great,” says Neil, “But not what I need for this assignment.”

“How mysterious.” Matt leans his chin on his hand. “Tell me more, Mister Bond.”

“I’m looking for bears, actually.”

There’s a clatter from across the room that cuts off Matt’s reaction as Andrew’s twin drops a stack of plates.

“Did I hear you say bears?” Nicky appears at Neil’s shoulder as if from nowhere. Neil fights back the impulse to bolt. “Mine is working at the reception desk if you want me to introduce you.”

Matt snorts. “Not that kind of bear, Nicky.”

“I heard there were grizzlies up here,” Neil says. “What do you mean, there’s a bear in the reception?”

“Oh, that’s adorable. No, I just meant my boyfriend. Though he gets a bit grizzly before his first cup of coffee most mornings-”

“There aren’t any bears here,” interrupts another voice, and Neil needs to learn to stop jumping if all the staff are going to sneak up on him like this. He turns to see Andrew’s brother wiping coffee stains from his sleeves. “You might as well leave.”

“Aaron,” Nicky says, “It’s fine, he’s a photographer, he isn’t here to hunt or anything-”

“Pretty fucked up face for a nature photographer.”

“Hey-!”

“It’s fine,” Neil cuts off Matt’s objection. “The scars were my father’s doing. He loved hunting. Me, not so much.”

The group falls quiet, which is the usual reaction his explanation gets. He has never gotten used to the awkward silences that his past invariably invokes, even when he leaves out the years of running, capture, his mother’s slow and terrible death at his father’s hands, his last-minute escape, the months of FBI interrogations and his eventual release. His father had deer heads mounted in his study and Neil remembers vividly the glassy, dead eyes that seemed to watch his every move. No, Neil is not a fan of hunting; he has spent far too long being the prey.

It’s at that moment that Andrew looks up from the fireplace, and Neil can tell from his expression that he has been listening. There’s a strange understanding which has no place on this stranger’s face, and for a moment Neil feels as though he’s stuck in the amber gaze like a fly caught in a honey trap.

“Why bears?” Matt says, and his words are like a hook pulling him from a lake. Neil forces air back into his lungs and turns back to the group. Nicky’s expression has softened, eyes still on Neil’s burns, while Aaron has sunk back into disdain. “Surely there’s less dangerous things to photograph.”

“They’re not dangerous if you’re careful,” Neil replies patiently. “Treat them with respect and they’ll do the same. Besides, I like bears.”

“I hear that,” says Nicky. Aaron pops him in the back of the head, but he waves him off, undeterred. “You should talk to Andrew. He might be able to help you-” There’s a muffled thud which sounds suspiciously like Aaron aiming a kick at Nicky’s shins out of Neil’s line of sight. “-or not, you know, whatever,” he finishes lamely.

Neil glances furtively over at Andrew, who has gone back to staring into the hearth. “It’s fine,” he says, wondering why his mouth feels so dry all of a sudden. “I’m used to finding my own way.”

Desert finished and cleared away, Neil sits with Matt on the couches that occupy the other portion of the communal area along with rows of bookshelves and a desktop computer that looks as though it hasn’t been touched since the nineties. Matt flicks through more of Neil’s photos, stopping on occasion to gasp or croon, while Neil accustoms himself to trusting Matt with his camera. The coffee table is stacked high with leaflets on hiking trails which Neil sets himself to memorising as well as pamphlets on good camping etiquette and forest fire prevention. When Aaron returns and announces that the main lodge is closing for the night by abruptly flicking the lights off, Neil is surprised to realise how late it is already. The fire Andrew started in the hearth has collapsed into flaky grey embers, and when Neil steps out onto the porch the thick smell of smoke clings to his clothes.

Neil and Matt part ways for the night, but only after Matt has extracted a promise from Neil that he will let him show him some of his favourite trails the next day.

Neil thinks he may be unconscious before his head even hits the pillow, and the rustle of the forest follows him into his sleep. In his dreams, wild creatures circle his bed, close, curious, watching, waiting.

He spends most of the weekend letting Matt show him his favourite routes that weave up and down the mountain peaks. Neil wouldn’t usually tolerate so much company, but it’s clear from Matt’s eager nature that he likes having someone to talk to, and his girlfriend, he explains, is on a work placement out of state until next month. Neil is surprised to discover that he doesn’t mind Matt’s presence, and at Matt’s insistence he takes several shots of Matt posing with the valley at his back, which Neil promises to email to him for his girlfriend.

Their hike isn’t all sightseeing, however; Neil pays close attention to any tracks and prints that could point him in the direction of bears, making a note on his map of everything he spots in hope of discerning a pattern. He’s surprised to see a lot of marks close to the popular footpaths, and centred around the lodge, too. Bears usually avoid humans unless driven from their own habitat. Neil wonders if the owners have been less than careful with the bins, encouraging raiders into the foothills scavenging for food.

He spends his evenings in the main lodge, where Matt draws him into conversation with the staff and other regulars. Nicky joins them whenever he isn’t working, and will drag Aaron over when their breaks coincide. Kevin, who is renting one of the upstairs rooms in the central lodge, will occasionally be persuaded to look up from his laptop, upon which he is typing meticulous notes about conservation of historically significant ruins in the area, a topic which Neil pretends to understand on the one occasion that Kevin tries to explain it to him. Andrew, on the other hand, shows no further interest in Neil following their first encounter. Other than occasional odd jobs around the cabins, Neil still isn’t clear on what he actually does, if anything. He seems to spend most of his days out in the wilderness, although Neil and Matt never pass him on any of their walks. Neil almost asks Nicky, but thinks better of it, sensing that such a query would be met with more glee than he is comfortable with.

On Sunday, Matt packs his gear into the back of his pickup and rolls his way back towards the main road, promising to return the following weekend. Neil waves him off, surprised by how quickly the quiet chases away the hum of the engine. He distracts himself from the returning solitude by taking himself off the marked trails and deeper into the wilderness, where the trees grow thick enough to block out the sky and the trickle of springs leads him into sludgy banks that threaten to suck his boots from his feet.

Eventually the earth flattens out as Neil reaches the valley floor, and the springs pool into a small lake that winks at Neil through the trees. Neil finds an embankment to set up on, and is so absorbed in fidgeting with his lenses that he misses the faint crack of branches breaking underfoot.

A shadow looms suddenly in front of him. Neil looks up, and goes still, breath caught in his throat.

The bear hasn’t noticed him yet. He – which he must be, going by the size – is reared up on his hind legs, eight feet tall at least, nose twitching. Neil would normally be jumping at such a stroke of luck, but the shocking bright blond of the bear’s fur stills his fingers on the shutter. He would say polar bear if he didn’t know better, but he does, and they’re about a million miles too far south for that to make sense. So maybe it’s the surprising colour, or the surprise of being so lucky as to just stumble across him, but some combination of the two causes Neil to do something incredibly stupid.

He opens his mouth.

“Oh, you are beautiful.”

The bear goes still. Then he turns, hazel eyes fixing on Neil.

Neil suddenly feels very, very small. Rule one of tracking bears – don’t surprise them. Weirdly, though, this bear doesn’t react in typical bear-like fashion. There is no reflexive snarling, no intimidation, no panic. Just the faintest twitch of his ears, a huff of… irritation?

“Sorry,” Neil says automatically, then winces, because he is talking to the bear now, for god’s sake-

Then again, it isn’t like he’s doing any harm. “You are just adorable. I hope you know that you are so cute. Look at those chubby cheeks!”

And, okay, maybe he’s using the same voice he uses to talk to stray cats, but in his defence, how often does he get the chance to baby-talk a bear?!

The bear just sort of stares at him, which is… odd, probably, but as long as he isn’t snapping Neil like a toothpick Neil isn’t too concerned. The gaze is piercing, like the bear is seeing right through him, and it’s disconcerting enough that Neil almost loses his grip on the camera.

Speaking of which…

Click.

The bear… pulls a face. Neil is about to apologise again, but the words die in his mouth when he drops onto his front paws with a thud that shakes straight through the earth. The urge to run seizes Neil suddenly, hand-in-hand with a familiar burst of adrenaline, and for a moment he’s twelve years old, tripping over his own feet as his mother yanks him through the dark with heart-stopping urgency.

You can’t run from bears, is the thing.

Slowly, Neil pushes himself up the bank, leaning heavy on his arms because he doesn’t trust his legs to support him. The bear just…watches. No, glares.

All at once, the fear that seized him so suddenly is gone, and Neil lets out a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” he says, because it seems rude, almost, to do otherwise. He taps his camera. “You were amazing.”

He scrambles up the bank and back into the woods, heart thudding in time with his footsteps.

Back at the cabin, he plugs his camera into his laptop with shaking fingers. He doesn’t stop to check the photo preview on the camera’s digital display, wants to see it blown up on his laptop screen in full jpeg glory.

It’s been a while since he backed up all his pictures, and as the loading bar trickles towards 100%, Neil’s stomach starts to growl. Grumbling, Neil leaves his computer to finish compiling and heads down to the main lodge in search of food.

It’s midweek, so the dining room is emptier than usual, although Neil spots Andrew in his usual place by the fireside almost immediately. They’ve been successfully ignoring each other since the day of Neil’s arrival, but the day’s events spur him to take a seat at Andrew’s side. “Nicky said you know about bears.”

Andrew flicks a scrap of newspaper into the flames. “Nicky says a lot of things.”

“I saw…” Neil winces. This is going to sound insane. “He looked like a polar bear.”

Andrew huffs, although it’s hard to say whether in scorn or amusement. “You saw a Kermode bear. They’re a subspecies of the American black bear.”

“You see a lot of them here?”

“No.”

It isn’t that Neil thinks Andrew is lying, not exactly, but there’s something he isn’t saying. Neil knows the shape of a secret, how it weighs in one’s chest, and Andrew is keeping something big in there, bristling beneath his skin.

“He was beautiful,” Neil says. “The most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t care,” Andrew replies, and this time Neil swears he can see the bristling. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not? I’m a photographer. Finding beauty is my job.”

“Your job is to take pictures of shit and persuade people to pay you for it. Beauty is a construct.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Exactly.”

“But not in your eye?” Neil guesses. Andrew’s brow creases in irritation. He dismisses Neil’s comment.

“What are you going to do now that you have found your precious bear?”

Neil shrugs. “Onto the next assignment. Wherever that is.”

“Sounds like a strange life.”

“I’m used to it.”

Aaron clatters into the dining room, grinding their conversation to a halt. His irritation turns to an open glare when he sees Neil at Andrew’s side, so Neil moves off to take his usual seat.

After dinner he calls his editor with an update, slouched in one of the communal couches and watching as Aaron and Nicky squabble over a game of pool.

“Neil, I’m telling you, there’s no way you saw a Kermode bear.” Robin says as paper rustles furiously on the other end of the line. “You’re on the wrong side of the continent.”

“But I did. I wish you could have seen him. He was so… calm.”

“Neil,” Robin says, “Are you sure?”

“I have the picture to prove it. I’ll send it over as soon as I’m back in my cabin. Is this, like, a big deal? Do you think there’s some kind of undiscovered subspecies, or… I don’t know, this seems like the kind of thing bear scientists would care about.”

Nicky and Aaron’s bickering suddenly falls silent. Neil doesn’t bother looking up to see why, not when Robin is snorting on the other end of the line. “Bear scientists.”

“I don’t know what they’re called. I’m just the dumbass who takes the photos.”

“Maybe they’ll name it after you. The Josten bear.”

Neil winces. “Poor bear.”

“Alright. I’ll be waiting at my desk. But I swear, if this is another prank or something-”

“I would never,” Neil says innocently. “I know you find my pranks un-bear-able.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Robin says, and promptly hangs up.

He’s eager to deliver on his promise as soon as possible, but Nicky catches him on his way to the door. Aaron disappeared at some point while Neil was on the phone, which is the only reason he accepts Nicky’s offer of a drink on the house, even if he won’t be persuaded from his soft drink of choice.

“That sounded like a big deal,” Nicky says, gesturing at Neil’s phone while not meeting his eyes. Once again, Neil’s neck prickles with the sense that something is being kept from him.

“Apparently I’ve found a bear species a million miles from where it should be,” Neil says. “It could be a big deal for you, too. Researchers coming to the area means more business for you, right?”

“Wow, yeah, sure.” Nicky’s smile is as pasty as it is wide. “Brilliant.”

“Speaking of,” says Neil. “I’ll be checking out a few days early. If you see Matt, can you tell him I’m sorry I missed him?”

“Sure,” says Nicky, although Neil isn’t sure he’s really listening. Neil glances at the amber liquid swirling in the bottom of Nicky’s glass and wonders if it’s stronger than it looks.

The temperature has dropped sharply in the time it took Neil to eat his dinner, and as he trudges back uphill to his cabin on weary legs the wind cuts through his light gear like a blade. His cabin windows spill orange on the path, a lamp left on, dumb, wasteful, isn’t he always complaining about light pollution-?

Neil stops dead a foot from his cabin door. He knows, knows, knows, that someone has been in since he last was there. The lodge offered daily cleaning services, but Neil had opted out for the duration of his stay, uneasy about strangers having access to his belongings even now that he has nothing left to hide. He wants to believe that they made a mistake in the cleaning schedule, but the same gut instinct telling him someone has been in his cabin tells him that it was no accident. Something is wrong.

Neil pushes the door open with the lightest press of his fingers. Adrenaline hums through him, old instincts reawakening as he prepares to be attacked.

The cabin is empty. No, not empty; the furniture, his clothes, phone charger, hiking gear, all still there…

But no laptop. And no camera.

Neil swears viciously. Before he knows it, he’s back at the central lodge, even though all the lights are out and they’re clearly closed for the night. Neil’s hand hovers over the bell at the front desk as the haze of his panic and fury lifts. They’re in the middle of nowhere, meaning the thief was either another lodger or a member of staff. Any accusations he makes won’t go anywhere.

Neil thinks of Aaron disappearing after his phone call, and instead of ringing the bell he clenches his hand into a fist.

The staff and permanent lodgers live over the main building, and although Neil has never seen the upper floor he can tell which windows are theirs by the glow on the other side of the curtains. The walls are made of thick, horizontal tree trunks that make for easy grips. Neil barely has his foot lodged against the first rivulet when he is caught in amber torchlight.

“Can I help you?” Andrew says rhetorically.

Neil drops back to the ground, teeth grinding together. If Andrew’s brother has resorted to a life of crime, there’s no way his twin hasn’t noticed. “Just looking for my things.”

“You won’t find them up there.” Andrew’s eyes flick up. “That’s Nicky and Eric’s room. I can only imagine what horrors would await you.”

“Which is Aaron’s?”

“You won’t find anything in his, either.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Neil snaps. Andrew’s expression is infuriatingly impassive, and Neil knows that arguing any longer will be as productive as shouting at a brick wall. “Tell your cousin I won’t be checking out early after all. It turns out I have more work to do.”

Andrew clicks the torch off, plunging them both into sudden darkness. “I’m not your messenger boy.” Even in the dark, Neil can feel heavy hazel eyes burning into him.

“I don’t care.” Neil storms back off to his cabin, not waiting for a response. He sends Robin an apologetic text and drops onto his bed. Half-formed plans buzz around his mind like flies, but when he eventually falls asleep, it’s with the memory of a ghostly-white bear looking into his very soul. * Thanks for reading! Chapter two is on its way. <3

#andreil #all for the game #the foxhole court #aftg #tfc #my fic

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camcorderrevival · 2 years

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THE CANNIBALISM OF THAT HOUSE (on the intertwined identities of the family)

[ what my mother (a poet) might say // Egon Schiele // Letter to my rage // Mary Oliver // Disarticulated Voices: Feminism and Philomela // Philomela and Ovid // Peter Paul Rubens // Succession S1,E10 // Francisco de Goya // Vizma Belševica // Desireé Dallagiacomo (video) // The Ghost is Dead... // Ivan the Terrible... // Egon Schiele // Ilya Repin // Julio Cortázar // Song of the Insensible ]

#this is just a remake of an older post tbh #still familial cannibalism and all that #and that creeping feeling that you'll never really escape your family #because you carry chunks of them inside of you #.....fun #web weaving #parallels #swinging by my neck / I chopped off all the branches #Ovid #Francisco Goya #Mary Oliver #Egon Schiele #art #poetry #literature

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softlass27 · 4 years

Text

Flufftober Day 29 – thunderstorm dedicated to @robertssvgden, because she loves the idea of robron + seb and eve as a family unit, and she deserves nice things x

AO3 link here

As they stood shivering in the schoolyard, Robert glanced above them.

“The heavens are gonna open any second now.”

Aaron tilted his head up to see dark clouds rapidly filling the sky, the wind picking up with every passing minute. They’d been getting weather warnings all day, broadcasters promising that tonight was guaranteed to bring a seriously wild storm their way.

Paddy was stuck on an overnight callout with some heavily-pregnant cows, and Aaron’s mum had called him about an hour ago to say that she didn't feel safe driving on the motorway in this weather, so she was stuck in… some hotel, she was pretty vague on the details. She’d told him she was away to meet with potential new suppliers, but between her terrible lying and the sound of an unexpected male voice in the background, Aaron suspected wherever his mother had gone had nothing to do with work.

Either way, Eve had no one to pick her up or look after her, so his mum had begged him to take her for the night – possibly the weekend. Like she needed to ask.

So now they were stood in their usual spot with the other parents at Hotten Primary, waiting to collect two kids instead of one.

Just as the first few droplets of rain began to hit their cheeks, Eve came out of the doors, her eyes quickly scanning the yard until she spotted them and ran over, schoolbag swinging in the air. When she was just a few feet away from them, a violent gust of wind blew behind her, pushing her tiny body along the last few steps until she crashed into Aaron’s legs with a small oof.

“Windy,” she said, blinking up at them.

“Yeah, squirt.” Aaron took the bag from her before it blew right out of her hand.

“Is Mummy not coming?”

“Her and your Dad are both stuck because of the storm. They can’t come back just yet so you’re gonna stay with us tonight, okay?”

“'Kay,” she nodded, pushing her increasingly wild hair out of her eyes.

“Just need to wait for Seb, then we can get home and out of this crazy weather.”

As the three of them stood waiting for the Year 3's to come out, another, even stronger, gust of wind nearly sent Eve flying to one side; Robert snagging her by the hood of her coat was the only thing that stopped her from tumbling to the ground.

“Right.” He grabbed her securely by the waist and picked her up. “Think I’d better hold onto you before you actually blow away, missy.”

“Wish Seb’d hurry up,” she mumbled, pulling her hood up and tucking her face into Robert’s neck, out of the stinging rain.

“Don’t we all?”

As much as Aaron adored his son, he was a notorious dawdler, always chatting to his teacher or messing around with his mates on his way outside. He’d take the rest of the afternoon to reach the school gates if he could.

Eventually, Seb made his way to the yard, surrounded by his usual gaggle of classmates. Any inclination he’d had to keep chatting to them was swiftly curbed by Aaron’s firm get over here now gesture. He jogged over sheepishly, cramming a beanie on top of his head.

“You get lost or summat?” Aaron rolled his eyes fondly, taking his PE kit from him.

“I went to check if my art project was dry and – ”

“Yep, lovely, you can tell us all about it on the way home,” Robert grumbled, wrapping his free hand around Seb’s shoulder and ushering him towards the car. “We need to get inside before this storm kicks off properly.”

They all clambered in and set off, Robert navigating the usual school run traffic with practiced ease.

“Dad?” Seb asked after a few minutes of driving.

“Hm?”

“Miss Brooks told us this is gonna be the biggest storm Yorkshire’s had in more than 20 years,” he said, wide-eyed. “The biggest since 2003. Was that one really massive?”

“It was, I remember it,” Robert nodded, flicking the windscreen wipers to faster setting. “New Year’s Eve. It put a massive hole in the pub roof n’all.”

“My pub?” Eve chimed in, eyes turning even bigger than Seb’s.

“Yep, it caved right in. I didn’t see it happen though; I was living on the farm, and I had to help my dad get all the animals inside so they’d be safe.”

“Woah.” Seb sounded so impressed, Robert didn’t have the heart to mention that someone had unfortunately died as a result of said hole in the roof.

“2003. That's so long ago,” Eve mused, fingertips following the paths of rainwater sliding down the window. “Years and years and – ”

“Yes, okay,” Robert said loudly. “I feel ancient now, thanks for that.”

Eve and Seb just laughed, like the demon spawn they both were.

“Do you remember the storm too, Dad?” Seb asked, a hand over his mouth failing to suppress the grin on his face.

“Nah, I wasn’t living in the village then,” Aaron smirked. “Was a bit before my time, I’m a lot younger than Old Man Sugden over here.”

“How old are you, Rob?”

“50,” Seb said with a snort.

“100!”

“150!"

“Kids, come on, he’s not a day over 72,” Aaron drawled, only to yelp when Robert briefly took a hand off the steering wheel to swipe at him, which only made the backseat passengers cackle even harder.

The laughter was suddenly cut short, however, when a wayward tree branch hit the bonnet with a loud bang, before bouncing off onto the road.

“Jesus!” Robert jerked the car in surprise, before quickly regaining control and continuing down the road in silence, hands gripping the wheel tightly.

Aaron glanced back to see both Seb and Eve’s smiles had been replaced with slightly nervous looks, Eve biting her bottom lip anxiously.

“It’s okay.” He quickly reached a hand back to pat her knee reassuringly. “It was just a tiny branch, practically a twig, nothing to worry about. We’ll be home soon.”

By the time they arrived in the village, the rain was lashing down, pelting the roof of the car so loudly they struggled to hear themselves talk. There was hardly anyone outside, and the few that were looked like they were quickly retreating indoors. They passed Leyla leaving her office with her head down, tottering unsteadily on her stiletto heels, and David and Jacob quickly pulling potted plants and buckets of umbrellas back into the safety of the shop.

As they pulled onto the drive, the ominous first sounds of thunder could be heard rumbling overhead.

“Okay, inside, go go go!”

The four of them scrambled out of the car and dashed towards the house, Robert fumbling with the keys to unlock the door.

“In your own time,” Aaron grouched, hunching over to shield the kids from the worst of it as best he could.

“Hang on, I can’t feel my bloody fingers.”

Eventually, he managed to get the key in the lock and they burst into the warmth of the house, already drenched in the brief minute it had taken to get inside.

“C-cold,” Seb shivered, peeling off his sodden hat and jacket and dropping them on the rug.

“So cold you forgot how to use a coat peg?” Robert said exasperatedly, picking it up. “Why don’t you two go upstairs and have a couple of nice, hot showers while I get tea started? Eve, you can use our mine and Aaron's bathroom, if you want? Aaron’ll help you turn the taps on.”

“Can I use your fancy shower gel?”

Robert sighed and ruffled her damp hair. “If you must.”

Eve grinned and began to follow Seb up the stairs, only to freeze at a flash of lightning.

“The storm won’t put a hole in this roof, will it?”

“You think Robert would let that happen?” Aaron smiled at her. “Nah, we built our place to be extra strong,”

“Storm-proof, even,” Robert added from the kitchen.

“See? We’re safe as houses in here, I promise. Go on upstairs, I’ll be there in a minute, yeah?”

Seemingly satisfied, Eve nodded and carried on up the stairs. They heard the sound of her feet running along the landing, presumably to what was unofficially dubbed as “her room”, since she spent so much time in it, before the door gently clicked shut.

“What’s for tea?” Aaron sighed, padding over to the kitchen and hooking his chin over Robert’s shoulder.

Robert hummed and leaned back against his chest while he chopped some veg. “Shepherd’s pie, should warm the kids up.”

“So domestic, you,” Aaron grinned, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “I just hope the power doesn’t go out tonight.”

“Me too, otherwise we’ll have to keep them entertained the old-fashioned way.”

“What’s the old-fashioned way?”

“Er… how good are you at shadow puppets?”

A minute later, Seb came downstairs to find his dad frantically plugging every laptop and tablet into its charger.

#robron #my writing #flufftober2020

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snarkwrites · 4 years

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Title: snowbound pt 2 of 3

Theme: holiday party

Fandom / Character(s):Ben Solo/Kylo Ren x Earth!FemaleReader.

Warnings: Honestly, if you read the first part, you knwo already. I am not a medical professional, nor am I a hardcore Star Wars fangirl, merely a casual fan. There is no blood!tw here, but.. There is still an injury!tw, because he ain’t just gonna heal over night. Oh and if you can handle reading my own personal take on Ben Solo (his father’s son, fyi) then you’ll be okay with him being construed as OOC. If not, sorry? Pls don’t murder me?

Word Count: 4k. Shit. I got carried away again, didn’t I?

Okay, so here’s the thing... That first part really got me in the mood to write a follow up. So, here we are. Even if it’s the biggest flop on my entire goddamn blog, I got these ideas out of my head and... materialized somehow. This is my second daily entry for my bb @champbucks over on the @12daysofchristmas challenge blog...

OH YEAH.. for the sake of a timeline here.. This part takes place two and a half weeks later and part three will take part a day or so, maybe two, after part two. Trust me, this needed to be said.

Also, again.. I made the banner for this. Don’t steal or repost.

TAGGING:

@andie01 @helluvawriter and @kyleoreillysknee

@champbucks and @12daysofchristmas

[ about my writing | masterlist | multifandom tag doc ]

“Are you even listening to me right now, Katie?”

My sister’s question and the annoyed tone she asked it in had me shifting my focus from watching Ben chop firewood down in the yard to at least making an honest attempt to keep up with our conversation. I rolled my eyes when I heard her annoyed sigh.

It took everything in me to remind her that I wasn’t a child.

She’s always been like this, and frankly, it has everything to do with why I don’t try to see her more than once or twice a year, when she insists on all of us siblings gathering at Grandma’s cabin to have a family dinner and pictures.

“What?” I asked, gazing out the window already, distracted all over again. Ben had shed the black thermal shirt now, it was tied around his waist. Each swing of the axe sent muscular arms and broad shoulders to flexing and that had me more than a little mesmerized at the moment. I tried to tear my eyes away.

,, just like this morning when we had that awkward moment in the bathroom.” my mind taunted me and I sighed, turning away from the window and wandering into the kitchen. “I gotcha. You’ll do the turkey because I can’t cook. It’s already baking and you guys will all be here at 4:30. I need to have the oven turned on so things can finish. I’m not stupid. We do this every single year.”

“I’m doing you a huge favor, trust me, Katie. You wouldn’t be interested in all of this stuff. You’re barely listening to me now. Did you get the girls what I told you to get them both for Christmas?”

I glared at the phone in my hands, dragging one of them through my hair, tousling it a little. “You do realize I actually cook. And I’m pretty good at it. Oh and by the way… I’m not a child. I’d prefer it if you called me Katherine.”

She paused, hesitating. “I’d… really rather not risk the Christmas dinner on your hurt feelings. I’ll prepare most of it, you can do the potatoes!” she said it cheerfully, as if she were offering an olive branch.

She made it seem as if I were incapable of the simplest tasks. She probably didn’t even trust me to do the mashed potatoes either and that thought had me exhaling sharply in irritation as I pinched the bridge of my nose and grumbled to myself about her always doing this. And honestly, I didn’t care if she heard me or not.

The chopping stopped outside and I saw Ben walking from the pile of wood and up onto the porch. The door creaked open and Ben leaned in the doorway, filling it, gazing at me with a brow raised and arms folded over a bare chest.

I held up a finger and turned my attention back to the phone conversation with my older sister, pacing the area right in front of him as I did, lightly kicking at the little wooden table beside the door when she sighed again and for the fourth time, she reminded me calmly, “We’ll have it at 5. Like always.”

Ben tensed a little nearby and he eyed the phone in my hands as if he were picking up on my tension and current level of irritation. I mouthed to him, “It’s my nag of an older sister. The one you heard me talking to last Tuesday?”

He spoke up. “Katherine, I’ve gotten the firewood cut.” an amused smirk played at lips I’ve only dreamed of kissing practically every single night for the better part of two weeks now.

And almost immediately, I froze, biting my lip. Now, I wasn’t dumb. I knew that I’d have to explain Ben being here to my older sisters, but I just… I hadn’t bothered to do so as of yet.

“Is there someone there with you, Katie?”

“Again, it’s Katherine. And yes. My boyfriend, actually. He’s been staying out here with me. But you wouldn’t know, because you only call before Thanksgiving or Christmas and every night until we get together for those occasions. Now I’m gonna get off here. That oven’s not gonna turn itself on. Bye.” I said it pointedly and before my sister could ask anything else or bother me further, I disconnected the call.

I could feel the weight of his stare, I didn’t even have to be looking at him. And honestly, I didn’t dare.

Instead, I made my way into the kitchen, fuming out loud as I turned on the oven. Then again, as I rummaged through cabinets to find pots and pans and my grandma’s old recipe book.

I was so caught up in my tantrum, I didn’t hear Ben slip into the kitchen behind me.

I turned abruptly and found myself body to body with him.

“Why do you insist on putting everything out of your reach?” Ben smirked down at me as he stepped closer, reaching out to grab the pot that I’d been trying to get. He held it out to me and I swallowed hard. I tried to answer his question, but nothing was coming. All I could focus on was how close we stood. And of course, the way he was staring down at me right now.

I shrugged in lieu of an answer and put the pot to the side. For a few hot and heavy seconds, all either one of us really did was stare at the other. Finally, Ben spoke.

“Boyfriend, hm?”

,, think, think, oh my god, holy shit, think..” my brain was going into panic shutdown mode. I eyed him and gave a sheepish shrug. “It was the first thing I could think of. Trust me, my sister is NOT someone you want knowing exactly what happened to you. She’d probably break her neck to go report it to that damn base. And they’d be down here, breathing down everyone’s neck. It’s… Better this way.” I licked my lips, swallowing hard as I stared up at him intently.

He chuckled, shrugging himself as if it didn’t bother him at all. And why would it, you absolute goof? My brain immediately saw fit to remind me, this is just a ruse. When he’s healed completely and he’s got his ship going again, he’ll just leave.” and the thought had a pout forming. I was staring down at the old wooden floorboards.

Or at least I was until Ben’s fingers tucked beneath my chin and he made me look right up at him, that shit-eating smirk plastered on his face as he did so.

I’ve learned over the course of the past two and a half weeks… Ben’s a little on the cocky side sometimes. When he’s not being all broody and quiet. Or almost borderline teasing me on occasion.

“If it keeps this military you speak of out of my way, I’ll do it.”

And the exact second that his tongue trailed over his lips and he gave that smirk again, it was all I could do not to melt.

I digress, I will be a raw bundle of nerves before he’s all healed and he’s gotten his ship repaired.

We were doing it again, that thing where we wind up migrating closer together. Hips brushing against each other. I cleared my throat and glanced down at the walking cast that Doc had swapped him over to at the beginning of the week. “Excuse me, sir.. But I distinctly recall Doc saying to stay off your foot as much as possible.”

“And I would if I hadn’t seen that our heat source was about to run out, woman. How is someone so small still somehow so bossy?” Ben chuckled, that hint of teasing in his tone. I gulped and managed to grumble a little as I shrugged in answer to what he’d said.

“Go sit down.”

“You come sit down too. If she’s so determined to do it all herself, let her.”

I tensed a little and eyed him. Pretty sure my anger was written all over my face because he chuckled and eyed me, making himself taller. “You let her get to you.”

“I’ve always let her get to me.” I sighed, shrugging it off as best as I could. We were inching closer all over again and my breath caught in my throat as I felt his hand lingering at my hip. “Perhaps you shouldn’t.”

“Oh trust me. After you’ve had her around a few hours later tonight, you’ll see exactly why she gets so far under my skin.”

“Or maybe, she just needs someone who knows how to get under her skin.”

I laughed a little, eyeing him. “Oh, you’re confident now. But her royal naggingness has not arrived yet, either.. Neither have the other two, Margo and Cecilia.”

He chuckled, leaning down a little, his face almost well within kissing distance. “Did you just challenge me,hm?”

“Nope. Just know how crazy my older sisters tend to drive pretty much fucking everyone with their micromanagement and overall nosiness and assholery.” I dared to raise up a little, my face inching just a smidge closer to his. To a point where we lightly bumped noses. But Ben still wasn’t backing away. In fact… If I didn’t know better, I’d almost swear he moved just a little closer. And smirked down at me the entire time he was doing so.

The sound of a vehicle idling outside had me swallowing hard and turning a little, groaning almost the second I realized that apparently, Cecilia had decided to get here earlier than Margo or Dinah. “Well shit. This is a first.”

Ben’s gaze followed mine and he nodded towards Cecilia. Who as usual bought wine and a few presents and was wearing clothing that I honestly didn’t see how she wasn’t going to catch her death in.

“Margo and Dinah are gonna have a field day now. Dinah will have an absolute shit fit, because she wants us all to dress similar in the photos she’s gonna make us take.”

“Photos?” Ben questioned, a brow raised. I held up my cell phone and explained with a shrug, “It’s basically the same thing here as what you all do with your data pads back where you’re from, I’d think.”

The door was being knocked on and I caught eyes with Ben, taking a few shaky breaths. “And we’re up… Are you sure you’re okay with this, Ben?”

“You said this was the only way. And from what you’ve told me about this military, I’d really rather not have to deal with them. Make no mistake. I could, easily. But I’d rather not.” that cocky smirk was back and there was this look in his eyes that I couldn’t quite get a proper read on.

It had my knees feeling as if they were going to go all weak and rubbery on me.

XXX

My sisters had finally all gotten to the cabin. My nieces and my nephew were running all over the yard, with my sisters husbands outside to supervise.

Ben had kind of wandered outside himself, leaning against the side of the cabin, arms folded over his chest as he watched my nieces and nephew laughing and playing. And I felt bad for him because I knew exactly just how much of this kind of thing he didn’t have as a kid. His early years had been all about training. Control.

Dinah cleared her throat and I turned around, facing my sisters. “What?”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Cecilia mused, giving me a teasing grin. Of my three sisters, Cecilia was probably the one I got along with decently. So I knew when she said it, it was kind of her being wistful because she is a magnet… For all the worst guys.

“You’re always saying you’re too busy. And your internship takes up all your time.” Margo echoed, giving a suspicious gaze in Ben’s general direction. I bit my cheek to keep from snapping out an answer at her, because as usual, Margo seemed to be almost accusing me of something.

Dinah eyed Ben and then looked at me. “Where on Earth did you meet him? I mean… He doesn’t seem like your type, Katie.”

I shrugged. Why was it their business? Anyway, I’m at least 90 percent sure that a man like Ben can have his pick of women. It’s highly illogical to think he’d choose me to begin with. And I knew that. I guess that’s why it bothered me so much because my sisters questions since all of them arrived seemed to further imply and echo my own thoughts.

I cut my eyes at Dinah and gave her a dirty look. “It’s Katherine. And what the hell does that mean?”

“Well,I just mean that I always pictured the guy you wound up with a little more like… That guy from X files.. And not an actual hunk.”

“Fox Mulder is a hunk, by the way. But what the hell does that mean?”

“Are you sure you really know him? I mean it seems sudden.” Dinah went quiet, biting her cheek as she shuffled her feet and eyed me expectantly. “You never mentioned him and then Bam, today, you’re telling me you have a live in boyfriend.”

“Oh my god, wait.. You two are living together?” Margo’s eyes widened as she looked at me.

“And she barely knows him.” Dinah interrupted, irritated because whatever she’d been trying to say without saying before was obviously being interrupted and cast to the side.

I glared at Dinah and shrugged, answering Margo. “Kind of. It’s temporary. Kind of like a test drive?” I did my best at being convincing, but the entire time I was saying it, the feeling of dread I’d been having about Ben’s upcoming departure rushed right back to the forefront. But I shoved it down again. I already know I don’t have a shot in hell there, there’s no sense in dreading it or letting it get to me.

Not when we were already such good friends. Anything further would be risking the total ruin of that. And I didn’t want to.

“Since when? And are there more out there like him?” Cecilia asked quietly, staring dead at him and fanning herself as she did.

“Since like… a week after Thanksgiving?” I scratched my head as I thought back. Had it really been that long? My mind was blown because it honestly felt like only yesterday that I was finding the crash site for his ship.

The weeks following seemed to have just flown by. And the realization of just how much time had really passed only made me stop and think about just how much I was dreading Ben’s departure.

“You two don’t act like a couple.” Dinah spoke up, insistent. Margo glared at her and I sighed, shrugging. “Not everybody is into over the top PDA. Why do you always insist there’s more to something than there really is?”

“Yeah, Di? Can’t you just let Katherine be happy?”

“If she didn’t have crap judgement..” Dinah trailed off, glancing at me awkwardly. I tensed and rolled my eyes. “If you ever wonder why we never talk more than twice a year, Di? This. This is exactly why. You’re not my mother and I’m not a fucking child.”

I don’t know what got into me, but I was snapping and storming away before I could bother to censor myself or stop. And it felt so good. I stormed into the house to check on the food and just be alone for a few minutes.

To my surprise, Ben cleared his throat from the doorway of the kitchen before stepping in and sliding the doors closed.

“Are you alright? I heard what your sister was saying.”

I took a deep breath and shrugged. “Just ready for the afternoon to be over. She’s second guessing the whole thing and if she pushes too hard, digs too much I’m afraid that she’ll... “ I trailed off, going quiet. Ben swallowed hard and nodded, giving me this look that showed he understood.

And from the doorway, Dinah’s throat cleared.

“I came to talk to my sister.”

Ben tensed.

“She’s got nothing to say to you.”

His tone came out so calm and yet so angry that it had me glancing up at him. He was glaring at Dinah. Dinah’s mouth opened and closed and she looked from me to Ben. I gave her a half hearted smirk and she eyed us both, almost like she were determined to believe that we were lying and she wanted to dig the truth out.

Ben’s arms slipped around my waist and before I could stop myself, I gasped quietly, sort of melting right against him. “Katherine, all that’s wrong with your sister is that she’s jealous. She’s always been jealous.”

I eyed Dinah and a brow raised when I realized that Ben’s words had hit a very tangible mark. She flinched and her mouth opened and closed, and then when she had nothing to say, her lips pursed and she grumbled quietly, “I don’t trust you, Ben.”

“And I don’t particularly care for you, Dinah.” Ben snapped, giving a shrug when she gaped at him as if she were shocked that he’d dare to speak to her that way.

“You’re going to let him talk to me like this?” Dinah gaped at me and I shrugged, snuggling myself against Ben just a little bit, gazing up at him over my shoulder before turning my attention back to her. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re the one who’s acting like an asshole.”

“I literally cannot deal with you. I’m leaving.” Dinah stormed out of the kitchen, calling to her husband and my nieces. “Kids, get in the car.”

Margo and Cecilia eyed my sister and gave each other a look before hurrying inside, shutting the door behind them.

“Whatever you two did, we’re gonna need you to do it again next year.”

Ben chuckled, shrugging. “I just pointed out that she seemed to be jealous of Katherine.”

“Oh, damn.. That went well.” Margo laughed, smiling as she shook her head. Cecilia turned to me and nodded her head back at Ben. “I like him.”

“Wait.. you two weren’t on her side every single time?”

“What? No.”

“I just never said anything because I know she’s been having problems in her own life for years.” Margo mused and this got her a look from both Cecilia and I. Margo gave a shrug and explained calmly, “Her husband’s leaving her in January. For the secretary at his firm. Not only that, she’s got laid off last year and she decided to do the stay at home mom thing and it’s been depressing her. And when we were kids, she was jealous of you and Cecilia because you two were always doing things and she never really got to do any of that… Especially after dad died…”

“She didn’t have to take care of us? We had grandma. Everything was fine.”

“She didn’t think so. You know what a control freak she is, Katherine.” Margo sighed and shook her head. “I have wanted to tell her to grow up and get over it for years now. Just never had the heart to because I knew why she was like that.”

Cecilia and I shared a look.

Ben cleared his throat.

“Is the food in the oven supposed to be burning? Because it smells like it’s starting to.”

“Shit.”

“Listen.. We all know Dinah’s turkey is dry every single year. Let’s just find a pizza place or something?”

I nodded, laughing. “If she were here, she’d be throwing a fit.”

“You three can’t even wait until I’ve actually left to let everything go to shit?” Dinah wandered back into the kitchen, opening the oven and glaring at my sisters and I.

“You let the turkey burn?”

“I thought you were going home.”

“And I was… Until I realized that grandma would be disappointed in all of us. Me, especially.” Dinah was squirming. She’s never enjoyed apologizing. I laughed and shook my head. “Listen, if Jim is going to walk out, let him. The guy’s a fucking jerk anyway. I just never said so because I thought you liked… that kind of guy.” I advised.

Cecilia dug around in the drawers for the corkscrew to open her wine and Margo spoke up after a few seconds. “Just let everything go, Di. Life’s too fucking short, okay? We’re literally all we have left now.”

Dinah mulled it over, nodding. She eyed Ben, who was hanging back, leaning in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. “Maybe I was wrong about you. I just… I got suspicious because that one,” she nodded towards me, “Doesn’t typically get involved with anyone, let alone let her guard down enough to trust.”

I could feel Ben’s eyes on me, but I didn’t dare look up to meet his gaze, instead, I focused on pouring myself a glass of wine.

XXX

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. “Thank God. That’s done for another year.” I laughed out the words and Ben chuckled quietly. “Wasn’t that bad.”

“I mean..” I trailed off, going quiet. I knew from the little bits about himself that he’d told me, he’d never really been that close to his family. And when he’d chosen the path that he’d chosen in life, they’d only gotten further apart.

I got the feeling there was so much more to it than that, but I didn’t push. It wasn’t my business. Even though I hurt for him, because there had been points throughout the day that I could look at him and tell that he longed to have a family, even if all they did was fight. Like… maybe he regretted whatever he’d done immensely.

I sank down on the couch beside him, staring at my hands for a few seconds, nothing but the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace filling the room.

“I’m almost healed.” Ben muttered. I glanced up at him, biting my lip and nodding, forcing a smile. “You are! Hey, if you want… I can get one of Doc’s friends to come out and move your ship back to the cabin… So you can use the garage and the barn out back to work on it?”

Ben nodded after a few seconds, muttering quietly, “Yes.”

After he’d fallen silent for seconds that seemed to stretch into hours on my end, he spoke up again. “I’ve actually enjoyed being here.”

“Honestly, I’ve enjoyed you being here. And I’m not really a people person.”

Ben chuckled. “Neither am I.”

I scooted a little close, tentatively leaning against him. “Sorry you got pulled into all that crap.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t that bad.” as he chuckled and asked quietly, “Is it like that every year?”

I shook my head. “No, because usually, Margo and Cecilia and I just ignore her. Or do whatever she’s nagging at us to do. Just to keep the peace.”

“Oh.”

“But it’s fine, she honestly needed to hear everything we were all saying earlier. She’s always been… Overbearing.”

“Overbearing is just one word.” Ben mused, making me laugh and reassure him quietly, “I’m fine. I have a thick skin.”

He chuckled and nodded in agreement as he eyed the glass of wine I was sipping. I held it out and he took a sip, spitting it out.

“That’s awful.”

“It’s not!”

“It’s utter swill, woman.” Ben dragged a hand over his mouth and my eyes caught on the movement. I gulped and stood abruptly. Because if I didn’t, if I kept sitting there, I was going to do something dumb.. Like kiss him.

And if he’s going to leave soon, that’s the last thing I want to do.

I’ll only wind up getting hurt if I keep getting too close. I have to remind myself of that a lot lately.

#12 days of christmas #12daysofchristmas #ben solo fanfiction #ben solo fanfic #ben solo imagine #ben solo imagines #my writing; ben solo #my fics; ben solo #my moodboards; ben solo #SUBTITLE HERE: the one in which ben and reader are fake dating

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

There’s A Dragon At My Doorstep

an old AU from last October i found in my school account’s docs

for the record, this is not a DnD AU. i just used some of the races because i thought they were Cool. i have never played DnD in my life

Word count: 6840

------------------------

All things considered, Aragon was doing a very good job at keeping herself calm.

And, honestly, it could have been worse. They could have been dead or used as a sex toy by now, but they were still alive. Really, they were lucky. The rain was steadying up, too.

Aragon and Anne sat beside each other, wrists shackled together with a chain that attached to a tree. There were many hunters around them, and they couldn’t fight them off since their weapons had been taken. They kept exchanging nervous looks, wondering how exactly they had gotten into this big of a mess.

It’s simple. And it was Anne’s fault, really, since it had been her idea in the first place. They went a little too deep into the bad parts of the woods. Now they were chained up and surrounded by mad men.

You see, these weren’t normal hunters. They didn’t track down just animals. They stalk other races that weren’t human and killed them for parts. Lizardfolk for their scales, Aarakocra for their feathers and wings, Leonin and Tabaxi for their pelt, to name a few. It was highly illegal to do this--it was murder--but they didn’t care. They were good at covering their tracks, too. But what did they want with two humans if they didn’t kill them? Simple.

“You’re royals,” Said the leader, pacing in front of the pair. “I’m sure the council wouldn’t want anything to happen to their precious queen and mistress.”

“So you’re going to use us for blackmail?” Aragon spoke, keeping her voice strong. “How cowardly.”

“Would you rather me kill you? Or use you as our personal plaything?”

Death sounded better than being these men’s whore. Aragon shut her mouth and looked back down at the ground.

“That’s what I thought.”

The man was a brute, bigger than both Aragon and Anne. Without their weapons, he could easily take down them both single-handedly. Maybe even when they did have their swords. He had a scarred face and tangled black hair that reached his shoulders. His hands were like bear paws, large and strong, and his eyes could pierce anyone’s soul with a single stare. It would be best to not make him mad.

“What do you hope to gain from us?” Anne decided to ask, taking her turn at speaking. “The throne?”

“Of course not.” The leader chortled. “Why would I want such a thing? To be bound to a velvet chair for the rest of my life? Ha! No, I’m in this for the gold, the treasure.”

“Should have guessed.” Aragon muttered under her breath.

She looked at Anne, who was, once again, trying to pull her hands free from the shackles. Like the other four times, it didn’t work and only achieved skinning her wrists raw.

“Where are you taking us?” Aragon asked.

“Back to our camp,” Answered the leader, looking down at a map. “We have a special something to get ready for.” With a wicked smirk, he unpacked something from the caravan and held it up to the pair of royals.

An egg.

A dragon egg.

The dragons were said to be killed off long ago, in a great purge. The stories said it was for safety, that the creatures would regularly kill people for no good reason. They had to be culled from the land.

“But they’re all dead!”

“Not as dead as you think,” The leader chuckled.

He turned away from the pair to speak to some of the other hunters, probably to discuss plans or directions. Somewhere in the conversation, one of the hunters pointed to Anne and Aragon and said something to the leader, making him look at them, too.

“Joan!” He called out loudly. “Get over here!”

Rustling came from the grove nearby, and then a girl came out. She had sun bleached hair done in a braid that made her silver eyes stand out like bright diamonds in the night. She was clad in furs, a size too big and drowning her petite frame. Her arms were dripping with gore; clearly she had been at a gutting post for dinner. Rivulets of blood ran down too-sharp-to-be normal fingernails, thickly dyeing freckled grey skin. Coils of bramble were caught in her small, branching horns, and mud was staining her long, thick tail, which was tipped with tufts of black fur at the very end.

Aragon blinked at this girl in interest. She had never seen a tiefling before. This one was very young, too. What was she doing with these cut throats?

“Joan, watch our guests.” The leader said. “I’ll get someone else to finish gutting. Chop off a finger if they try anything.” He tossed the tiefling a wickedly curved dagger, which she looked at with a sickened expression. But still, she nodded wordlessly and stood guard beside the tree Aragon and Anne were chained to.

For a long time, it was quiet, aside from the chatter of the men further into the temporary camp. Aragon’s and Anne’s guard wasn’t doing a very good job at watching them, as she was completely focused on carving a piece of wood she had snapped off of the tree. It wasn’t long before Aragon’s mind began to waver, and she drifted off without realizing it.

------

It was raining when Aragon opened her eyes again. The forest was shrouded with grey mist, hanging above the wet ground. Overhead, the sky is obscured by an impenetrable mass of dark clouds. In those early hours of the morning, everyone was asleep.

Aragon stirred in the mud she lay in, jumping when she realized someone’s hands were on her. She instinctively swung her arm up, jabbing her elbow at the person. A hiss let her know she landed the blow.

When the haziness in her eyes receded, she saw the tiefling child crouched beside her, rubbing her jaw.

“It’s you,” Aragon said softly.

The tiefling’s ears twitched slightly in recognition. “I’m going to get you out of here.” She whispered.

Aragon raised a suspicious eyebrow and inquired, “Aren’t you with them, though?”

“Not by choice.”

Joan ended it there and slipped a key out of her fur covers while Aragon shook Anne awake. Aragon then noticed something on the younger girl. She squinted, seeing red marks around her wrists and neck. It looked like painful blisters, ones shackles would usually create.

In a few seconds, the chains binding Anne and Aragon fell off. Joan gave them each a dagger before standing to go get the horses. And that’s when she ran right into one of the hunters.

He was up on his feet in an instant, glaring down at her. Joan struck too late; he had already bellowed for the others to wake when her knife sunk into his chest. His battle cry died on his lips as she pulled her blade free, moving to the next opponent.

She ducked smoothly under a clumsy swing and jabbed her knife up into the second man’s armpit, tearing open a large gash. Twisting on her heels, she hauled the body around to shield herself from an oncoming sword. The blade pierced the hunter’s flesh instead of hers and she released him to bleed out and die. When she was turning to strike again, something heavy smacked into her head.

Joan tottered before sinking to her knees, pressing one hand to her skull while the other clumsily tried to fend off the hunters gathering around her. Her vision began to darken as she was shoved to her back. The leader was above her, a sneer on his scarred face.

“Next time, you’ll stay in the chains.”

Without another word, he swung his boot savagely into her chin, and, with a crunch, Joan’s world went black.

------

“I don’t understand why we’re keeping her alive.”

“She saved us.”

“She’s one of them! Plus, she’s one of those things…”

“Don’t say that, Anne.”

“What? It’s true! You know what her kind--”

“Shh. She’s waking up.”

Aragon lifted the cloth she had pressed to the tiefling’s head and watched as the child slowly came to. Her ears twitched first, then her tail lashed like a snake in the mud, and then her eyelids fluttered before finally peeling open. Joan flinched backwards when she saw Aragon.

“Easy, easy,” The queen murmured, holding her hands out in front of her harmlessly. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart.”

Joan’s ears twitched again, and then she relaxed slowly. She nodded slightly.

“I’m glad you’re awake.” Aragon said. “I thought that rock cracked your skull. You were bleeding.”

Joan winced when she seemed to notice the pain. Aragon pressed the cloth back the area of impact on her temple, and she looked up at her with big, sparkling silver eyes, as if this were the first time she had been touched with so much gentleness.

“What about the other..bandits?” Joan slurred her words slightly.

“Took care of them.” Anne said. She was standing a few feet away, sword in hand, eyeing Joan wryly. “Wasn’t that hard when they all grouped up after you blacked out. Really, it was their fault they died for getting together.”

Joan nodded slightly. With a grunt, she pushed herself up into a sitting position against a tree. From beside her, Aragon made a noise of disapproval.

“What are you going to do with me?” She asked softly.

“Bring you back to the kingdom, of course,” Aragon said. “You saved us!”

“What?” Anne yelped. “Wait, I didn’t--”

“Really?” Joan looked up at Aragon in wonder.

“Yes, really.” Aragon smiled at her.

Anne didn’t have a say in this decision, though she continued to spitter over it on the ride back to the kingdom. Especially when she saw that Joan had grabbed the dragon egg from the caravan.

“She’s going to kill us all, Catalina,” Anne whispered to Aragon. “I hope you realize that.”

“She is not.” Aragon said. “Will you stop being so rude?”

Luckily, Anne shut up for the rest of the trek.

The guards posted around the city and at the castle alike were relieved to see Aragon and Anne return safely, but they all eyed Joan with great suspicion. The girl merely hunched her shoulders and sunk into her saddle, trying to make herself smaller than she already was.

Upon stepping into the grand palace, Aragon and Anne both were bowled into by a furry mass.

“You’re back! You’re finally back! I was so worried about you!”

It was Anne’s younger cousin, Katherine, or Kitty for short. She was a satyr, with neatly combed, light brown fur on her goat-like legs and big, furry ears. Her amber eyes were wide and beaming as she grasped tightly to Anne’s hand.

“Sorry to worry you, Kit,” Anne said, ruffling her hair.

“Are you okay? You aren’t hurt, right?” Kitty asked, inspecting the two.

“We’re fine.” Aragon assured her.

Kitty sighed in relief. “I’m so glad.” She turned her head, “Anna! Catalina and Annie are back!!”

Heavy footsteps thumped down the hall, and then all three of them were lifted off of the floor and squeezed tightly.

“Ack--” Aragon gasped.

“Good to see you, too, Anna!” Anna laughed wheezily.

Cleves set them down and stepped back, grinning widely. She was a large minotaur, with thick red-brown fur, powerful hooves, and long, pointy horns. A golden hoop glittered from her nostrils on her broad snout.

“Sorry about that,” She said. “I didn’t break anything, did I?” Being as tall and big as she was, she had to stoop down to inspect Anne and Aragon.

“Not this time,” Anne said, laughing.

“EEK!!” Kitty suddenly shrieked, leaping backwards in fright. “A tiefling!!”

It was only then that Kitty and Cleves seemed to notice the stranger. Joan stepped back slightly, ears drooping. She coiled her tail in close to her.

“Why is there a tiefling here?” Kitty asked shakily, hiding behind Cleves.

“This is Joan.” Aragon said. “She saved us. That’s why she’s here.”

“And what’s that in her arms?” Cleves questioned.

“A dragon egg.”

------

“No, no, absolutely not.” Jane, an elf, and the queen’s advisor, said, pacing around the library. The dragon egg was sitting on a table, which she kept eyeing suspiciously.

“Wouldn’t it be amazing to have a baby dragon around here?” Aragon said. “We can bring them back!”

“They’re dead for a reason.” Jane growled. “We should kill it.”

“You can’t just kill it,” Bessie, a lady in waiting kenku with messy feathers, said. “It’s a baby.”

“It’s a dragon.” Jane said. “They’re dangerous monsters. It’ll kill us all.”

“Killing it would be like stabbing a pregnant woman.” Bessie argued. “It’s wrong.”

“When did you start caring about things?” Kitty muttered brattily. “I thought crows were supposed to be omens for death.”

Bessie ruffled her already-matted feathers until they were even more in disarray and glared at Kitty. Her talons scraped dangerously across the floor.

“You think we should just let this thing hatch and rain terror down on our kingdom?” Jane said. “So many people died at its claws.”

“I am the queen and my word is law.” Aragon said firmly. “And I say let the creature live.”

------

Two weeks.

For two weeks, Joan watched over the egg, unsure on if it was doing okay. She didn’t sleep very often and barely left her room without the egg in a sling in fear of it hatching when she wasn’t there. She created a nest of her blankets and pillows to try and keep the little thing as warm as possible. Sometimes, it moved. Sometimes, it didn’t. In the third week, that changed.

It was around dinner time, raining. Joan was strumming lazily at a lute she had been learning to play on the window sill when the egg began to jump and shake. Flakes of shell fell from a cracked area. Joan saw a curve of a beak, silver claws, an edge of a foot. As a flash of lightning lit up the sky, the rest of the egg splintered into a thousand glittering pieces, and the tiny hatchling, shiny with albumen, was left before her.

“Oh,” Joan gasped.

He was perfect. Perfect in every single way.

Shiny black scales with hints of dark blue glimmered in the torchlight. Sparkling white wings with a scattering of ebony and emerald and sapphire speckles underneath stretched out and flapped in the air. Tiny horns tipped his elegantly narrowed head. The adorable little forked tail swished across the ground. Big mossy green eyes blinked around in wonderment.

Joan didn’t even realize she was crying until she breathed in shakily and hiccuped. She crouched down, holding out her hand, which the baby dragon nibbled on curiously. She pulled him into her arms, weeping tears of joy and relief.

“You’re alive,” She breathed. “You’re alive!”

Even with the heavy rain and thunder, surely everyone in the castle could hear her cheering.

“What should I call you, little guy?” She paused. “How about Scales?” She giggled. “Silly, isn’t it? Do you like it?”

The hatchling’s tail wiggled in excitement, so Joan took that as a yes. She held Scales close to her chest, tucking his head under her chin.

This meant there was still a chance.

A knock came at her door. Joan jumped and slowly turned her head to the side to see Aragon and Anne peeking in.

“Good Lord!” Anne exclaimed, her eyes bulging. “It actually hatched!”

“It’s a shock indeed.” Aragon said, slowly crossing over to the nest of blankets. She crouched down and let Scales sniff her hand. “It’s adorable.”

“He,” Joan corrected. “His name is Scales.”

“Fitting.” Anne said, slowly walking over.

“How can we help?”

Joan was actually quite surprised upon hearing Aragon’s question. She hadn’t expected them to help her with the hatchling. It made her happy to know some people were looking out for her.

“Some.” Anne said. “We can help some.”

“I need to keep him entertained if I’m not here.” Joan said. “Do you think you can bring some old toys for him to play with?”

Aragon nodded. “I have some lying around. I think he’ll like them.”

“Thank you.” Joan said. “Do you think I could use the training field sometimes to help him learn how to defend himself?”

“Of course,” Aragon said, ignoring the look Anne was giving her.

Joan nodded and smiled slightly. “Thank you. This means a lot.”

Aragon gently rubbed the top of the girl’s head before standing up.

“Dinner’s calling,” Anne said. “Good luck, Joan.”

And with that, they’re gone. Joan’s left alone in her room with a hatchling in her arms. She looks down at Scales and feels her throat tighten. She's never been needed like this. It's just her and him against the whole world.

------

For four months, Joan almost always took care of her hatchling alone. She slipped out of castle business, stole extra food, and forgot what it feels like to get a full or good night of rest. Scales required almost all of her attention, but she didn’t mind, even when he wakes her up wanting to play.

He’s getting bigger. He’s just below her thigh, now. His horns and teeth were growing sharper, too. But even with his natural weapons that could easily tear someone’s throat out, he was like a little puppy. He loved being pet or playing pounce. He was the light of Joan’s life.

The two of them soon became inseparable. Joan taught him different kinds of songs, becoming the best duet England has ever seen. Joan would play her lute or the castle piano if she got the chance while Scales sang in off-tune, but charming keens and whistles. It was hard to see why people wouldn’t love him. But Joan knew that many would feel like that. She knew right away when she decided to take him to a banquet with her.

Many people stared and made disgusted faces at the little dragon perched on the tiefling’s shoulder with his tail curled loosely around her neck. That night, Joan realized how many were against her. She couldn’t find a friendly face in the crowd anywhere. Aragon looked very worried and Anne wouldn’t even make eye contact with her. Cleves at least made an effort to be nice, while Kitty completely pretended like she didn’t even know Joan. But the person who seemed to be the most unhappy was Jane.

Jane was a beautiful, but cold-blooded elf. She was a part of the high council of this kingdom, the queen’s eyes. If you tried anything sneaky, she would probably find out first. It was best to tread carefully around her, Joan decided, or just keep her distance. The woman obviously had some kind of grudge against her.

Attending parties was a rare occasion, but Joan liked letting Scales get used to other people and socialize. Or, try to. Most of the people ignored his clicks and coos.

“They just can’t see how great you are,” She would tell him, scratching under his chin.

One day, Joan was out at the training field, running Scales through a few drills she had made up. He had learned how to fly pretty easily, but still needed some help on using his fire and frost correctly. It would take work, but practice made perfect.

And that’s when it happened.

A group of struggling knights came hobbling into the area, limping and bleeding. It got Joan’s attention, so she inched closer.

The guards spoke of how they were on patrol when they were attacked by something. They fled, but some were left behind; they needed reinforcements.

This is what Joan and Scales were training for. They could finally prove themselves! She whistled to the dragon and hurried over to the stables.

Finding the place wasn’t that difficult, she just headed to the normal patrol spot in the forest and listened. She followed the sound of growling and moans of pain.

Dismounting and peeking through the underbrush, Joan got a glimpse of a large and ugly pig-like creature. It was hunched over holding a mace. A few feet away, lying against some rocks, was a bleeding knight.

This was it.

Joan whistled a command and Scales leapt off her shoulder, claws brandished and mouth open. She jumped out of the bushes to distract the monster while the dragon latched onto its back, sinking his talons and teeth into its hide.

The creature shrieked in pain, swinging its mace around wildly and nearly hitting Joan. She ducked underneath its flailing weapon, slipping in the mud, but balancing herself out. Leaping back, she called another command and Scales let go, taking off into the air in a spiral of black and white. He hovered for a moment before orange and gold erupted from his beak. Even from where she was standing, Joan could feel the heat from the flames and realized how powerful the little dragon really was.

With a final moan, the monster collapsed into the charred grass. Scales landed on its head, grasping its throat between his talons, looking triumphant. His pelt was blood-soaked and, for a moment, Joan couldn’t recognize him as the little hatchling she raised. But this was always going to be his purpose.

Shaking her head, Joan hurried over to the wounded knight. She crouched down, shaking him, smearing blood all over her shirt. He was gasping and wheezing, grasping a gouge in his thigh. Muscles and tendons were dangling out; it was bad.

“I got an idea,” She pulled out one of her daggers, “Heat this, Scales. I might be able to cauterize the wound.”

It would be painful and maybe a little messy, but it could save this man’s life.

Scales obeyed and breathed a small plume of flame on the blade. He was situated on a rock just above the man’s head, looking down at him curiously.

Joan was just bringing the dagger to the gouge when heavy hoofsteps thundered through the forest.

At least a dozen knights, including Anne and even Jane gallop into the clearing. Anne looked horrified. Jane was disgusted. Holding a dagger over a gash while smeared in blood probably didn’t look too good.

“This isn’t what it looks l--” But Jane didn’t even let Joan finish.

“Arrest this murderer!” The woman shouted, her voice dripping with venom. “And bring its monster along, too.”

Before Joan can even think to run, a knight was on her. He’s at least two heads taller than her and much stronger, seizing her painfully by the forearms. She dug her heels into the dirt and struggled, but was still shoved forward.

“Please, listen--” Was all Joan can choke out. The knight backhanded her head hard and shoved her onto a horse, tying her to the back like she was a sack of flour. The stallion took off running, fast.

The world was falling away. Joan was Scales behind her, grabbed tightly, screaming and shrilling. When their eyes met, he squirmed harder and extended his claws to her. Then, even he was gone.

------

There were many rumors regarding the dungeon tower. Some say there were ghosts of the people that had been tortured to death inside. Others talk about how the place broke down a person’s mental stability. Even the guards go mad, they say. After three days of being in there, Joan started to think they may have a point, whoever they were. Everything about her tiny, grimy cell made her feel miserable.

The first day inside, she bawled and wept uncontrollably. The second, a few tears and hiccups would slip. And by the third, she was too dehydrated and exhausted to even cry anymore. Her body just couldn’t make tears. Now, she just sat against the bars or peered out the tiny window.

It was around dusk and Joan was trying to sleep on the dirty rags that made up her bed. Somewhere down the hall, she heard the guards talking, so she got up and moved closer to the bars to listen.

“I’m telling you, that’s the one that had the dragon.” Said a half-orc guard with tired eyes and messy hair.

“And killed a knight.” Added a hobgoblin. “I was there. She was pulling a knife right out of the gash in his thigh, burning his flesh with a heated dagger while also stabbing him. Poor Sir Lance. He didn’t make it.”

He might have if they would have let her help, Joan thought. And she didn’t ever touch him, anyway! These people only see what they want to see.

“Figures,” Sighed the third, a bronze kobold. “Poor man, indeed.”

“Cauterizing, actually.”

The guards turned to stare at the tiefling leaning against the bars to her cell, studying her dirty and bitten claws. She looks up with narrowed eyes.

“If I would have stabbed the knight with the burning knife I had, it would have cauterized the wound instantly, doing no real damage. So, yes, I definitely killed him. You deserve a pie for figuring that out.”

The guards just stared for a moment.

“What? If you’re going to tell a story, at least tell it right.”

“You really think we’re going to believe you?” The hobgoblin said, frowning.

“No.” Joan shrugged. “But you don’t know for sure.”

“Don’t speak to the prisoners.” The kobold said. “You know better.”

With that, the guards turned their attention away and talked amongst each other again.

After that, the night was quiet and dragged on slowly, turning to day, which was just as boring.

Around midday, Joan heard a familiar biting voice from the stairs. She was lying in her bedding, tired. Finally, she felt exhausted enough to sleep, so she didn't move.

“Madam, we were told to not let anyone see her.”

“I don’t care what you were told,” Snapped the voice. “Take me to her at once. I am a part of the high council. That’s an order!”

There were a few more murmurs before heels clacking on the stone floor approach. Someone hit in the bars of the cell, making them rattle.

“Get up, pest. And give me your name.”

Joan stirred and got up, stepping towards the bars. She gave Jane a tired and slightly agitated look. The woman knew her name, but she just wanted to make her obey. With Scales on her mind, the girl does:

“Joan.”

“Ahh, yes,” Jane said. “You came in from a bunch of bandits. And a dirty tiefling. You’re just what I expected.”

Joan said nothing.

“Though, I thought you were smarter than this, really. Why did you do it? Why did you bring a monster to our city? Why did you kill a man?”

“I didn’t.” Joan said. “I didn’t hurt him. I was trying to help. And Scales would die without me. I couldn’t leave him alone.”

“You are a liar,” Jane hissed. “We’ll just torture the truth out of you. Then we’ll kill that abomination you brought in here.”

“No!!”

“Shut up, you poisonous little mite!” Jane spat. “I’ve heard enough.”

Before Joan could reprimand, Jane turned away and strode to the stairs. She listened to her footsteps until even those fade.

It was well past noon now, and, somewhere, Joan heard something screaming. She can’t help but think it was Scales.

Someone new entered the dungeon. A cowl-wearing kenku with highly unruly feathers. Bessie, if Joan remembered her name correctly, the only kenku in the court. Or the entire kingdom, apparently. She was talking to the guards. Maybe she could listen to some reason.

“Hey,” Joan called out. “May I speak to you?”

Bessie looked cautious, but she walked over. Her talons scratched against the stone with each step.

“What do you need?” She asked.

“I just want to talk. Might be the last time. The guards don’t speak to me and it’s not like anyone comes down to visit with me.”

Bessie shook out the feathers on her arms. “Go on.”

“Where’s Scales?”

He was the only thing on Joan’s mind.

“Locked in a quarantine shed, from what I heard.” Bessie said.

“What’s going to happen to him? After I’m gone, I mean.”

Bessie frowned. “I’m not sure.”

Joan nodded and looked at the ground.

“Listen--” Bessie sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you never wanted this to happen. I don’t believe that you murdered that man, but it’s no use what I say. There are too many people against you.” She paused. “The least I can do is give you a request. Is there anything you’d like me to do for you?”

Joan felt her throat tighten and she braced herself for one last difficult conversation.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to say goodbye to everyone. Can you do that for me? And tell Catalina I said thank you for all she’s done for me.”

Bessie nodded. “Of course.” She said, her voice tight. “I have to go now, but I’ll make sure to pass your message.”

She started to leave, then stopped.

“Be brave. This isn’t goodbye.”

------

The next day rolled around, another night of no sleep washing away. Joan stayed up watching the sunrise and wondered if this would be the last time she ever saw it.

When evening came, she was led out of her cell. But instead of being taken to the chopping block, she was guided down a hall.

“Where are we going?” She asked her escort, who was tying her wrists with rope. “I thought--”

“To the trial,” The aarakocra guard said. She was frowning deeply, a look of pity in her eyes.

“Trial? I’m getting a trial?”

“Every prisoner gets a trial. It’s only fair.”

They stopped at a large door; the guard even looked nervous.

“Well, kid,” She said, taking a deep breath like it was her about to be judged. “This is it. I wish you luck.”

Joan gave her a small smile and hummed in thanks. She was very anxious, hands trembling. She had to make a good impression and try to get free. Though, it would be hard to do that when she was still covered in four day old blood.

Regardless, this was it.

The door swung open. Inside is a giant room with marble floors and crimson carpet. On the left side were civilians who decided to attend, sitting on row after row of elevated wooden benches, while the right held nobles and people of higher standard. There was a raised dais at the end of the room where the council awaits. Three council members, Thomas Cromwell, a large leonin, Catherine Parr, a sophisticated-looking half-elf, and Jane. Aragon was also there, with Bessie and Anne beside her.

Joan approached with as much confidence as possible. It would look bad if she came barging in in hysterics.

“Let’s begin.” Jane said. Joan could tell she was imagining how nicely her head would look on a pike.

“Very well.” Thomas said. “Joan, you are accused of bringing a dragon into the city. Do you admit to this?”

“Yes, honored Council.”

“You are also accused of murdering a man. Do you admit to what you’ve done?”

“No.”

There were a few gasps on the side with civilians. Jane sneered. Cathy looked interested and Thomas straightened himself more.

“I see.” He said slowly. “Well, let’s see the beast you’ve brought into our city.”

A set of doors beside the dais open and Cleves led Scales by a chain. There were a series of gasps and murmurs when he was brought in; some of these people had never seen a real dragon before.

When Scales saw Joan, he strained on his chain and reached his talons out to her. He started whistling a song she taught him and, suddenly, Joan was fighting tears.

The guard beside the tiefling sets a hand on her shoulder- a silent warning. But Joan doesn’t listen. Maybe she can show these people how important and beautiful Scales was. She could impress them.

“Easy, boy,” She murmured in a broken, but soothing and velvety voice. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

Joan waited for Scales to settle before whistling and giving a few hand gestures. The dragon jumped into the air and did a few flips, letting his frostbreath stream from his mouth, before landing again. Mist wisps from his nostrils; he looked pleased with himself for the tricks.

There were a few murmurs of approval and even some hesitant claps, but nothing more.

“Refrain from interacting with the beast.” Thomas scolded. He shifted himself in his seat and leaned forward. “I’m sure it was very hard to get your hands on something so valuable. What I want to know is why you decided to take it here.”

“I had nowhere else to go.” Joan said.

“Why did you keep it in the first place?”

“Because he makes me happy and I deserve a little happiness for once.”

It’s not a cry for pity, it’s the simple truth. Joan sees Anne wince off to the side.

“You think your good mood is more important than your life?” Cathy asked, not criticizing but actually curious.

“Yes.” Joan said. “All I do is get ignored and forgotten. Dusk to dawn. Year after year. It’s all the same. I’ve never been needed before. Let me ask you this: do you know what it feels like to be abandoned? To be left all alone to die? Why would I want the same thing for him? I got Scales and, for once in my life, I thought I could be important. I’m going to enjoy him.”

Well, she did.

“We can hardly fault her for that motive.” Cathy said, turning to the other two council members.

“But we can fault her for her crime.” Thomas said.

“Exactly!” Jane snapped. “We can’t let her run around threatening everyone’s lives. Don’t feel bad for killing her. She’s a filthy tiefling.”

“And you’re a snake.” Joan said coolly. “What’s your point?”

There was a small swell of impressed coos coming from both crowds. Scales chortled. Joan felt a small bout of pride, but it didn't last long.

“If it was my choice, you’d be dead by now.” Jane hissed, even more agitated now.

“Enough,” Thomas said sternly. “There’s no need to argue.”

Jane muttered something and sat back against her chair, almost looking like a pouting child. Joan wanted to laugh, but her throat hurt too badly. She wanted to be with her dragon already. His longing stare and soft churrs were killing her.

“If you have any, ask your questions.” Thomas said to Cathy and Jane.

Of course, the elf snapped back up and got the opportunity first.

“I think we’re all skimming over the worst crime. This pest killed a man!”

“That wasn’t a question,” Cathy muttered.

“Actually,” Joan managed a laugh. “No. I didn’t. You see, if anyone in here had any brains, you would have seen how the knight’s thigh was torn, not stabbed or sliced into. The wound was deep; to the bone at least. I was wielding a rather blunt dagger that couldn’t possibly make that wound in such a short amount of time.”

Jane growled and was quick to strike again.

“You’re covered in his blood.”

“Yes, that happens when you try and help someone. It gets on you.”

“Bold and intelligent,” Cathy chuckled. “Though, you must learn when your words will help and hurt.”

Joan dipped her head. Her guard squeezed her shoulder, but she didn’t know if it was physical scolding or for reassurance. Her wittiness won’t hold out for long. She was exhausted and felt dehydrated. Dizziness was coming at her in violent waves; this is what she got for not sleeping.

Finally, she raised her head and was met with three different expressions. Cathy looked both concerned and pitiful, while Jane was annoyed, but amused. Thomas looked rather patient.

“Finished with your nap?” Jane crooned, making Joan wonder if she actually nodded off.

From the side, Aragon dug her nails into the arms of her chair. This was cruel. It looked like the young tiefling was being forced to function through a fever.

“You say your beast can help this kingdom, yes?” Cathy said, finally able to address deeper into the topic. “How can he do such a thing?”

Jane made a soft “tsk” sound when they got off of her topic and crossed her arms.

“Would you like me to show you?” Joan offered, even though it would drag this on longer. But she would do anything to protect Scales, even risking her own health.

Cathy looked at Thomas, who nodded.

With the word given, Joan turned to Scales. Even though her lips were cracked and painfully dry, she whistled a command and gave a few subtle hand gestures.

The dragon lunged forward, ripping free from Cleves holding him back. He was flying for one of the guards, claws out, jaws open. Mere inches away from tearing through the armor, he snapped up, moving as fast as a bullwhip, spiraling into the air. Golden flames leaked from his mouth as he glided back and forth through the room, obviously showing off at this point. Joan doesn’t mind. If it helped them, then he could do whatever he wanted.

When she whistled for him to stop, he started to go over to her, but she looked away- a silent command that he could not be near her. The joyful look on Scales’s face faded and he settled back on the ground, growling when his chain was taken back into a strong grip.

“Very impressive.” Cathy said. “He’s well trained for a beast. He listens better than some of our knights.”

Joan smiled slightly. “He has charm.”

“But I think the decision is clear.” Jane said, glaring at Scales. “This is a killing offense. You just saw what the creature can do. It’s a killing machine. Even if the beast could be used, it’s ruined by this girl. It has to be culled.”

At that, Joan jerked violently, looking like she would attack if she could. She struggled with her arms, like she was trying to get free from her binds. Red began to wash on the ropes. Her tail lashed furiously.

“No!” Joan shouted. “Do whatever you want to me, but don’t hurt Scales!”

The dragon sensed his keeper’s panic and began to keen and shrill loudly, tugging at his chain again.

“How sweet of you,” Jane purred, enjoying the show. “But there’s no other option. We can’t have either of them tainting our people.”

“Please, listen,” Joan said breathlessly. “You don’t have to do this. Please, he’s just a baby! He’s more than some monster you accuse him of being. He can protect the city! Just give me a chance.” The tears were coming back and she doesn’t know how much longer she can fight them.

“Why do you risk so much for this fiend?” Thomas asked.

“Everything I’ve done has been for him.” Joan answered, almost choking on her words. “This is all for him. He means more to me than you people will ever know.”

Scales made a soft churr and Joan smiled weakly at him.

“Please,” She started to speak again. “Let us prove our worth to you.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that filled the room. The court was silently making their choices.

“Well then,” Thomas said, “I think we’re ready to make our decision. Cathy?”

“I don’t want her killed. I’d be a waste. If she can tame a dragon, then she can help us.” The half-elf said.

“It was a baby.” Jane scoffed. “When a dragon hatches whatever the first thing it sees is usually what it gets attached to.”

Joan quirked a brow. How could that snake know that? She doesn’t seem like one to know things about the kind she despises.

“Anyway, I vote to have her killed.”

Thomas cleared his throat as everyone held their breath.

“Joan, while you have done things many of us look down upon, you’ve shown promise. Your life will be spared this time. I hope to not see you in this situation again. I can’t promise you’ll be as lucky.”

Joan was paralyzed. Around her, there are some angry people, some relieved, and a few who are actually happy. She saw Aragon and Bessie celebrate amongst themselves, hugging tightly in relief. Anne actually looked at her like she wasn’t a stranger.

“Thank you,” She murmured hoarsely. “Really..thank you.”

“Mhm,” Thomas said over Jane’s griping. “I hope you heed my words, Joan. We are putting our trust in you.”

“You won’t regret it. I promise.”

The guard started to untie Joan’s bindings. Her wrists were rubbed raw and they would be tender for a while, but it was worth it. When she got the word of permission, she raced to Scales, who rushed to meet her. She threw her arms around the little dragon, holding him close to her chest. She buried her face against his head, weeping softly about how much she missed him.

Whatever happened next, happened. They would do it together.

#six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #six fanfic #catherine of aragon #anne boleyn #jane seymour #katherine howard #anna of cleves #catherine parr #bessie on the bass #joan on the keys #there's a dragon at my doorstep

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