#there is a saying you can't set yourself on fire to keep the village warm

[7-wonders]

Christmas Traditions

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Though you haven't been to very many Christmas parties before, you have to say that the New Inn's staff Christmas party is setting quite the bar for all proceeding parties you might attend in the future.

Morpheus found it very important that he introduce the two humans closest to him in his Endless life. Lucky for him, you and Hob Gadling got on like a house on fire, so it was really no big chore when Morpheus told you that you and he had been invited to this event.

The New Inn is all decked out for the holiday season, but it's not the gaudy commercialism of modern Christmas decor. No, Hob's chosen to channel his over six hundred years of experience to decorate his pub. Dried fruits and winter foliage are strung up in festive lines across the ceiling, while the cinnamon smell of a simmer pot wafts through the building. A menorah sits in the window, candles light for the proper night of Hanukkah, and festive music plays lightly on the speakers.

Everyone that works at the pub is just as warm and hospitable as their boss, and you find yourself quickly welcomed into their group. You're more than happy to socialize a bit, and they're all very eager to ask you questions about Hob's "mysterious stranger" that they were shocked to see here tonight. You try your best to keep Morpheus an enigma, but you can't resist letting slip the (vague, of course, you're not about to mention years or anything) tale of their fight when Hob dared to call Morpheus his friend, only because you think it's cute.

You're pleasantly buzzed from the holiday sangria that's making your body feel nice and warm, so when Morpheus finally leaves the table that he and Hob always occupy whenever they meet here to come over to you, you're happy to lean into his chest and allow him to hold your weight.

"Hi," you say, looking up at him and smiling.

Morpheus kisses the top of your head. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Of course, Hob throws a great party! Are you two having fun...I don't know, talking about the wonders of electricity, or whatever old people talk about?" He shoots you a withering glare, and you laugh. "Sorry, I saw the opportunity and I had to take it."

"No, we were not talking about electricity. Rather, we were reminiscing on Christmases past."

"But you don't celebrate Christmas?" At least, you think he doesn't. Why would he observe this sort of holiday when he's quite literally as old as the first living thing that ever dreamed?

He shakes his head. "Dreamers tend to shape the Dreaming, especially with holidays that are so prevalent in the dreams of so many. For a couple hundred years now, the Dreaming looks like a Christmas village in the weeks leading up to the holiday."

You imagine the most picturesque Christmas movie you've ever seen, with fluffy white snow falling and blanketing the fir trees and lights strung up on all the houses. Carolers go from door to door, and there's a large town square with ice skating and Santa visits. With this in mind, you assume the Dreaming's version of this is a hundred times prettier.

"So while I do not celebrate Christmas, I am aware of certain traditions."

He looks up before smiling at you with just the slightest twitch of his lips, so naturally you follow his gaze to see what you're now competing against for Morpheus's rare smiles. Surprisingly, a sprig of mistletoe is tacked on the eave above you, one that you're pretty sure was not there just five minutes ago. The bright red berries shine in the dim lighting, nestled among the green plant.

"Mistletoe?" you question.

"So it seems." Oh, he's not subtle at all. Even with this lack of subtlety, you still find yourself flushing at the proud look on his face and the knowledge of what's to come from being under this plant.

"This is one of those traditions you're aware of, then?"

Instead of answering you with words, Morpheus kisses you. It's little more than a peck, Morpheus not being too fond of any PDA, but he's kissing you under mistletoe. Considering you've never had a mistletoe kiss before, you're pretty pleased you're experiencing one in the first place. By the look on his face when he pulls away, he's pleased as well.

And if you return to the Dreaming tonight to find a suspicious amount of mistletoe hanging up in the castle and the surrounding grounds, with a smirking Morpheus somehow under each and every one and ready to kiss you much more passionately than he did in the Waking, then surely it's just a happy coincidence.

[monochromaticwriting]

@beevean reminded me that there is a criminal lack of Zobek/Gabriel and Zobek/Dracul, so I want to try and fill that gap. These aren't going to be linear, but I will try to at least follow the story lines for LoS1 and LoS2 a majority of the time. In this AU, Zobek has been traveling on and off with Gabriel. I'll flesh it out more later.

"Why don't you rest a minute, Gabriel?" A voice pulled Gabriel back to the present. The sun was setting and it was getting colder out, the snow and ice mocking Gabriel's body. Gabriel turned his head to study the warrior behind him. Gabriel forgot he was being followed by Brother Zobek, a senior member of the Brotherhood of Light, and someone he has looked up to since he was a boy. Zobek was a perfect warrior. Humble and kind, honestly, an ideal husband, though Zobek has never shown interest in any of the women who would try to woo him.

Gabriel blinks, suddenly remembering that Zobek asked him a question.

"I don't need to rest. There is plenty of daylight left, and we need to get to Wygol Village before dark." Gabriel stated firmly. Though when he turned around, he stumbles from his vision nearly going out. Zobek was quick to catch him, and gently lowered the knight into a sitting position.

""Don't need to rest," huh? Sit there and unpack some rations, I'll get a fire started and some water to warm." The elder said, his voice not allowing any room for arguments. Gabriel huffed, but did as he was told. They worked in silence, setting up a camp to keep warm in the frozen mountains.

"Tomorrow, we should be able to get to Wygol village, and then you can sleep in an actual bed," Zobek states. There was a concern on his face and in his voice as Gabriel just nodded and took a bite out of his bread. A fire roared to life under Zobek's hands, and Gabriel stared into it tiredly. His eyes started to drift, desperately crying out for the rest he so dearly needed. He kept shaking his head, forcing his eyes to stay open and mind to stay awake. He would not hurt another friend. He wouldn't.

Sudden movement from his left made him jerk back into awareness. He grabbed a knife, prepared to throw it, before realizing it was just the elder knight grabbing snow to melt over the fire. Zobek raised an eyebrow at him, making Gabriel sheepishly lower the knife.

"I apologize Brother," Gabriel apologizes, ashamed at almost turning his knife against one of his Brothers. Zobek shook his head and put the pot of water over the fire.

"It's to be expected, we are equally prey as we are the hunters. With the journey you've had so far, it makes sense why you would be so jumpy," Zobek states, before pulling something from his pack. Gabriel craned his neck to figure out what the item was, before quickly pulling back when Zobek looked back at him sharply.

"It's tea, Gabriel. Nothing more." Zobek says, pouring some of the boiling water over the pack of leaves and flowers. "Tell me Gabriel, have you had tea before?" He asks suddenly.

Gabriel nodded, "once. It was a bodyguard mission for a merchant. His wife offered me a cup. Though I can't say I found it very pleasing to the taste, it was nice to have the heat from it." Gabriel takes the cup offered to him, and sips at it as Zobek makes his own tea. The combined heat from both the fire and the tea made Gabriel start to nod off again. He kept jerking awake, trying to finish off his tea. Tea was very expensive, and Zobek offered it to him to keep him warm. Gabriel would be damned if he wasted such an expensive gift just because he couldn't stay awake.

Zobek's eyes were trained on him, and he felt a little ashamed at being so tired from his journey. Zobek simply shook his head again, like a parent scolding a child.

"I'll take watch tonight. You rest before you collapse on yourself," Zobek's voice chided him.

Gabriel snapped his head up, alarmed by Zobek's words, "Brother, that is too long to stay up. Allow me to take at least half the night!" He would feel worse if Zobek lost sleep just because Gabriel was adverse to sleeping. He was used to the lack of sleep by now, and Zobek was far older than him. Zobek shot him a glare that made him almost wither.

"Are you implying that I'm too old to take a full watch?" His voice challenged.

"No, not at all Brother! I just," well, how did Gabriel want to put this, "I just worry. I do not want you to feel obligated to take a full watch, just because I do not choose to sleep."

Zobek countered, "I'm not obligated to do anything, Gabriel. I choose to do so, because I want to do so. I am your ally, your Brother in arms. We will be in Wygol village by tomorrow afternoon, where we both can properly rest. So for tonight, allow me to keep guard over you."

There wasn't much Gabriel could say to that. Instead, he sighs and drinks the rest of the tea, before setting the cup to the side. Gabriel had not kept any of his camping gear since... Since Claudia. He shudders at the memory, though he tries to pass it off as just being cold. Zobek passed him a blanket, having been better prepared for the weather than Gabriel had.

"Thank you Brother," Gabriel thanked Zobek before he takes the blanket gratefully, and wraps it as well as he could around himself. He was asleep as soon as his head touched the ground.

Gabriel's eyes opened slowly. He felt drunk as his body lifted itself up. His eyes were unfocused as they stared up at Zobek, who looked down at him confused. He could see Zobek's mouth open, though he couldn't hear anything that came out. His hands find one of his knives and he stands up walking closer to the elder. Zobek was alarmed now, standing up, ready to defend himself. Gabriel felt like a puppet on strings as his arm flailed out to stab Zobek, though the elder knight dodged and countered, easily pinning Gabriel against the forest floor and knocking the knife out of his hand. The world was still swimming in Gabriel's vision, and he tried to squirm out of the other man's grip, though there was a sudden weakness in his muscles.

Slowly, he woke up, finding Zobek still had him pinned and he was staring into Gabriel's eyes with a concerned expression.

"Are you back with me?" Zobek asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Gabriel was confused, looking around before the glint of a knife caught his eyes. Oh... Oh no...

"Did I hurt you?" Gabriel asked, his eyes shooting back at Zobek. They wandered his body trying to see if he managed to hurt Zobek in any way, though the man shook his head.

"No. The tea made you too tired to be able to do much," Zobek explained, "what happened, Gabriel?" He asks, before following with another question, "has this happened before? Is that why you don't sleep?"

"I.... I don't know what happened. My head is fuzzy and it hurts, and my body feels heavy," Gabriel started, the tea clearly works its magic in making him tired again, "I hurt Claudia... I was sleeping... People get hurt... I don't want to hurt people." Gabriel couldn't contain the tears any longer.

Zobek pulled off of him, though now, Gabriel surged forward and wrapped his arms around Zobek's midsection, crying into his stomach. The elder was taken aback by this display by the normally aloof man, but sighed deeply and carded his fingers through the auburn mess of hair in his lap. No more words were shared, not with Gabriel having cried himself to sleep in Zobek's lap.

But this brought about a new problem for Zobek. His sleep hypnosis could cause problems for himself if he wasn't careful, especially as Gabriel grew stronger. Zobek sighed, shaking his head again. He could refocus on his own mission once they get to Wygol village, and he could get a room away from Gabriel to think. He looked up at the night sky, thinking about the time. If he played his cards right, they would be in Wygol by tomorrow afternoon, and then they could rest the rest of the day. They could investigate the Abbey's Catacombs and then the Abbey's Library. There Gabriel will take the Holy Water, and they'll leave the pitiful Abbey to Carmilla's brood. Then, if Carmilla wasn't already preparing an ambush attack for them, they could rest again, and then they would get through the Castle's sewers.

So much to plan for, so much to sneak around and do. Looking back down at the sleeping man, Zobek smirked. If he played his cards right, he would receive all the knowledge in the world. Just one more Lord, then he would send Gabriel on his way to the land of the dead.

"You'll be with your Marie again. Consider it a return gift, after you give me what I want." Zobek chuckles darkly.

[edaross]

ChatGPT plays "The Hobbit"

I wanted to see if ChatGPT could play another classic text adventure, and it seems it could:

I am playing the text adventure "The Hobbit". You provide the setting and I will provide input so wait for me to type the input. You do not enter input yourself - wait for input from me. Then you will output the results and wait for me to provide more input and that will loop until the game ends Sure, I'd be happy to help with that! Just let me know when you're ready to start and I'll provide the setting and description of the current situation. Remember that I am a large language model trained by OpenAI, so I don't have any information about the text adventure "The Hobbit" beyond what you provide. I'll do my best to help you imagine the scene and respond to your actions, but ultimately it will be up to you to determine what happens next. Are you ready to begin?

Wake up You open your eyes and find yourself in a cozy, dimly-lit room. You're lying in a small bed, covered in a warm blanket. The room is cluttered with all sorts of knick-knacks and trinkets, and you can hear the faint sound of a fire crackling in the distance. As you sit up and look around, you see that you're in a small hobbit hole. A door leads out into what looks like a bustling hobbit village. You're not sure how you got here, but you're determined to find out. What do you do next?

Get breakfast You head to the kitchen and find a pot of porridge simmering on the stove. You help yourself to a steaming hot bowl and sit down at the table to enjoy your breakfast. As you're eating, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement and adventure. You're not sure what lies ahead, but you're ready to face whatever challenges come your way. After you finish your breakfast, you head outside to explore the village and see what you can discover. What do you do next?

Shout for Gandalf You call out for Gandalf, but there's no response. You search the village, but you don't see any sign of the wizard. You're not sure where he is, but you're determined to find him. You continue exploring the village, asking anyone you meet if they've seen Gandalf. After a while, you come across an old hobbit named Bilbo Baggins. He tells you that Gandalf is currently on a journey, but he might be able to help you on your quest. What do you do next?

Talk to Bilbo You approach Bilbo and introduce yourself. He seems surprised to see you, but he's happy to talk. He tells you that he's been on many adventures in his time, and he's full of stories and advice. He listens intently as you explain your situation, and he offers to help you on your quest. He tells you that he knows of a secret entrance to a hidden underground world, and he thinks it might be the key to finding Gandalf. Do you accept his offer and ask him to show you the entrance?

Yes Bilbo nods and leads you to the edge of the village. He points to a small, inconspicuous rock at the base of a nearby hill. He tells you that if you push the rock in just the right way, it will open up and reveal a hidden entrance. He warns you that the underground world is full of dangers, but he believes you're ready for the challenge. Do you trust Bilbo and push the rock to open the entrance?

Yes You push the rock as Bilbo instructed, and to your amazement, it swings open to reveal a dark tunnel. Bilbo leads the way, and you follow him into the tunnel. The air is cool and damp, and you can hear the sound of running water in the distance. As you walk deeper into the tunnel, you start to feel a sense of excitement and adventure. You're not sure what lies ahead, but you're ready to face whatever challenges come your way. What do you do next?

Ask Bilbo if we can rest and eat Bilbo stops and looks back at you. "Of course we can rest and eat," he says with a smile. "We've been walking for quite a while, and it's important to keep our strength up. I have some food and water in my pack, and we can make a small fire to cook and warm ourselves. What do you think?" Do you agree to rest and eat, or do you want to continue on without stopping?

Rest and eat Bilbo nods and sets down his pack. He pulls out some dried meat, bread, and water, and he starts to build a small fire. You sit down next to him and help him gather kindling and twigs to feed the fire. Soon, the fire is crackling and the food is cooking. You and Bilbo enjoy a satisfying meal and take a much-needed rest before continuing on your journey. What do you do next?

Sleep You decide to take a nap to rest and recharge. Bilbo keeps watch as you drift off to sleep, and he wakes you up after a few hours. You feel refreshed and ready to continue your journey. Bilbo leads the way, and you follow him deeper into the underground world. What do you do next?

Ask him where we are going Bilbo stops and looks back at you. "We're heading to the Lonely Mountain," he says. "It's a treacherous journey, but it's the only way to find Gandalf and complete your quest. Are you ready to continue?" Do you want to continue on towards the Lonely Mountain, or do you want to turn back and try a different path?

Yes, continue You nod and follow Bilbo as he leads the way through the dark tunnel. The journey is long and difficult, but you persevere. After several days of travel, you finally reach the entrance to the Lonely Mountain. It's a massive, imposing fortress, guarded by a fierce dragon. You know that entering the mountain will be dangerous, but you're determined to complete your quest. What do you do next?

Sneak in a side entrance Bilbo leads the way to a small, hidden entrance on the side of the mountain. He carefully opens the door and motions for you to follow him inside. You enter the mountain and find yourself in a dark, damp tunnel. Bilbo whispers that you need to be quiet and stay hidden, or the dragon will hear you and attack. You creep through the tunnel, trying not to make any noise. After a while, you come to a fork in the tunnel. One path leads down, and the other leads up. Which way do you go?

Down You and Bilbo follow the tunnel down, deeper into the mountain. The air grows colder and damper, and you can hear the sound of running water in the distance. After a while, you come to a large chamber filled with treasure. You see piles of gold, jewels, and other precious items, glinting in the dim light. In the center of the chamber, you see a massive dragon sleeping on a pile of treasure. You know that the treasure belongs to the dragon, and you're not sure what to do. What do you do next?

Sneak past You and Bilbo carefully make your way around the edge of the chamber, trying not to disturb the sleeping dragon. You can feel its hot breath on your skin, and you're terrified that it will wake up and attack you. But you're determined to complete your quest, and you keep moving. Finally, you reach the other side of the chamber and make your way out of the mountain. You're relieved to have escaped the dragon, but you know that your journey is far from over. What do you do next?

Ask Bilbo where we go next to find Gandalf Bilbo looks at you and shakes his head. "I'm sorry," he says, "but I don't know where Gandalf is. He's a powerful wizard, and he can go wherever he pleases. You'll have to continue your search on your own." He offers to give you some of the treasure from the dragon's hoard to help you on your journey, and he wishes you luck. Do you accept the treasure and continue your search for Gandalf, or do you want to turn back and try a different path?

Accept You accept the treasure from Bilbo and thank him for his help. You bid him farewell and continue on your journey, determined to find Gandalf and complete your quest. The path ahead is long and treacherous, but you're ready for the challenge. You know that with determination and courage, you can accomplish anything. Good luck on your journey!

----------

I'm sure I could have continued from there, but I had to get on with real life.

[wroteonedad]

Watching Twin Peaks When It's Cold

The sun begins to set earlier in the afternoon, I can feel the cold breeze hitting my face and I begin to put on more layers. Suddenly, as if overnight, the breeze is freezing cold and I’m getting my yearly dry air nosebleeds. It feels that life is in complete turmoil and as those days get shorter, I begin to feel less motivated. I want to escape and go somewhere, I want to be able to enjoy a cold season without getting the seasonal depression that comes with it. It always begins so well, the leaves start to fall off the tree and everything begins to go amber and I fall in love for a bit. I know that summer is ending from there and that excites me. Suddenly, Halloween rolls around and then November hits and everything just begins to feel a little bit dull. So this year, I was finally forced into watching Twin Peaks for the very first time and I feel like such a late bloomer to the party. I can't lie, it took me ages to get through that first season. I didn't understand it, the quality wasn't high enough, my internet kept dying, I hadn't realised I fancied Cooper yet and the red room ???? ??? ???

Mind you, I'd literally just finished watching Breaking Bad for the first time too and so I think I was a little bit braindead after watching such a heavy show, was I really ready to delve into another one? And it's funny because I was so braindead that I stopped watching Twin Peaks mid season 1 to binge watch Sonny With a Chance. I'm going to get tomatoes thrown at me for saying that, I just know. But I ended up coming back to Twin Peaks and suddenly I've managed to binge up to nearly the season 2 finale in the space of about 2 weeks. That sounds like a long time to binge watch something, but just hear me out I work full time. 

The hue of Twin Peaks is so attractive, it makes me feel the same way I do when I watch the leaves change colour on the trees as they slowly drop to the ground. The hue works in such a clever way with the rich autumnal shades and the naked tall trees billowing over the characters. The fog covered mountains allows for the mystery to hang over the top of what looks like a silent village, sleepy people going about their quiet peaceful days; which is of course how the show begins initially. Every place the main characters spend their time in are made of log and other woods, The Great Northern, a classic example of this. I can’t explain it, but the hotel looks cold. When you enter a space that’s so full and surrounded by so many people, and yet you feel so lonely and cold. The only warmth that oozes from the wood covered walls, floor and ceiling is the natural heat radiating off the human bodies that are surrounding you, and when they’re not you’re cowering by the log fire trying to keep warm.

It’s the type of hotel that you prepare yourself to enter, you know it’s the type of place that requires you to pack extra layers to stay warm. It’s the type of place that feels warm and welcoming as you check in through the concierge, no matter who you are. The hotel keeps a reputation of being haunted, mysterious and a little bit corrupt. Spirits flow through the long wooden corridors as the lights go out and the lack of any form of security is a little bit terrifying. Ben Horne is barely to be seen, slipping through secret back doors to avoid the guests to attend to other business matters while Audrey floats between the walls to eavesdrop on conversations. The hotel has more secrets and spirits than it does guests. Alas, the place stays afloat and you have to ask yourself how on earth it happens, especially if you were a guest who had no idea of the corruption of Ben Horne. 

Upon the initial look of Double R Diner, it is as typical as American culture gets. Walking into an American diner is like walking into the mother American diner, suddenly they’re all the same. Open at the crack of dawn while also closing late into the night. The tacky outdated 60s style that hasn’t been changed due to lack of budget, it’s enough to send anyone crazy. At least the saving grace is the warm delicious food. One of my friends has a theory that every Greggs is the same, and I believe it applies with every American diner. You walk into one Greggs and then you’ve seen every other Greggs in the country, just like that. 

Next there’s the Roadhouse, which before The Return of the show, attracted only a specific type of people and only had a very specific style to it. In The Return, the Roadhouse looks like any other bar with its regular customers, however pre smartphone era this bar had a dark vibe to it. The place full of bikers, the type of people I would expect to see prowling the streets in The Outsiders, as in dangerous people I wouldn’t dare to mess with ever. The floor looks cold and sticky. The walls are wooden and cold and I know that the Roadhouse smells crazy inside, like cigarettes and sex (not to be confused with the band Cigarettes After Sex). This place is the type of place that you would sit in while trying to get away from the freezing cold rain to have a Jack Daniels on the rocks, or perhaps with a ginger ale. You meet with your friends when you are underage or find yourself indulged with an older man, suddenly you start seeing things you aren’t supposed to be seeing at your young and pure age. 

I’m not sure there could ever be enough words to describe The Black Lodge and how it makes me think of the cold. A place at first thought that you would think is a dark and cold lodge placed in the middle of the bare cold woods. The type of lodge that you wouldn’t go out of your way to search for, it sounds dangerous. Perhaps it could be a fun place to go during the summer, but it could never happen because summer never seems to happen in this town. It is an entire climate that doesn’t exist, couldn’t ever exist until all of the spirits (good and bad) all leave. It’s not the type of lodge that you expect to be situated within a circle in the middle of the woods and that it is in fact not a physical dark lodge.

An endless bright realm where you are faced with all of your worst fears all at the same time. If you’ve made it so far where you’ve ended up in the Black Lodge then you’re gone, and you may never come out again. Perhaps, this is physically the least ‘cold’ setting of the show. The rich red colours, the gaudy floor and the luxurious chairs are all indications of warmth and comfort to me, but not in the way where you feel warm and safe. It feels more like an environment where you are being suffocated and you can’t breathe because it is so warm, like you are having a panic attack for the rest of eternity. The plain, classical statues and the characters of make believe, all so horrifying in their own sense that you feel like you’re in a Halloween movie, not a funny one though. This is not Hocus Pocus or The Addams Family.

The characters of this show? *Chefs kiss*. You have every type of personality to ever exist within the Twin Peaks show. My personal favourite was seeing Audrey on screen for the first time and being like that’s Curley’s Wife !!!! Thank you GCSE English, I will never forget having to watch the 90s version of Of Mice & Men and every boy in the class getting their first little crushes on a woman.

Psychopaths, relatable women trying to live their lives, drape runners, mass murderers and at least three main characters with every personality trait of a Gemini, the cast feel like every type of character you could come up with for a Halloween movie, which is very autumnal. 

We begin with The Giant, an odd type of spirit throughout the show, or is he a spirit? I’m really not sure. Through the show he becomes a part of Agent Coopers brain and trying to guide him as he figures out the mystery and death of Laura Palmer. He’s tall, blunt and quite spooky looking, though this may have something to do with him starring as Lurch in the original Addams Family. I was never scared of him, but very unsettled. Most of his appearances would be in Coopers old room at The Great Northern or at public events, where nobody else except for Cooper knew that he was there, which makes me come to conclusion that he was a form of good spirit trying to look out for the man. The Giant makes many appearances in the show in the Black Lodge as well, with a few scenes featuring The Arm / Man In Another Room.

Trying to unpack the character of Windom Earle would once again take a whole essay to be able to explain. I hated him, more so I think I hated the way he laughed because of the way it made me feel. This guy spent the entire show plotting ways to kill people through on and off moves through a chess board. As weird as this sounds, I think I began to understand chess a little bit through this giant killer story. I think that Windom is somehow one of the strongest characters within the universe and trying to push the overall narrative of the show forewords, even if he is such an unlikable guy. There’s something about coming across a man who is trying to kill another man because he fell in love with his wife that is so insane to me, but it also somehow makes perfect sense. The secret war between the two men is something that is fairly normal in life, just without the insane murdering and plotting part. He is genius at his plans as he is also a former FBI agent, but I am more than certain that he was another character that had fallen victim to the possession of Bob.

Bob. Gotta literally be the scariest guy ever. I’ve never been too keen on horror movies, but I’ve seen enough movies with their origin villains in them and Bob has to be by far the scariest and most iconic of them all. He’s tall, he’s a crazy murderer, and worst of all it’s pretty much impossible to close a case under his name because he’s the most evil spirit of them all. But through the original show, Bob is never given an origin story, through the story the only thing you really learn about him is that he needs a human to use as a host. These people who he possesses are unaware of the things that they are doing because it’s technically not them who are doing these things. If there was a Bob in every horror movie that was ever made, I don’t think I would ever sleep again. The only thing I can give him any bonus points for is that there isn’t many people I know who can rock double denim like he does.

Laura Palmer is THE poster girl for a classic horror movie. Blonde, blue eyes and the way which she shows fear is a classic approach. Her style, the red lipstick and her corrupt past. Everything about her links in so well when it comes to the idealistic way an autumnal character would be portrayed all the while being different to the rest of the main cast of the show. I can't go as far to say that Laura Palmer would be considered a pioneer character of horror by any means, but I think this character has become the pioneer of all things modernism, zany and mythological all mixed in together. Something that is so complex, but something that works so well.

Which leads me on to the fashion of the show. Like the settings of the show, both exterior and interior, the characters are all styled to fit the overall fit of the show, and it’s effective. It became so effective that high fashion started to take inspiration from the characters and brought it out to the rest of the world. 

Laura Palmer and Donna Hayward.

These two outfits scream I'm not like other girls, I'm actually really into Nirvana and I like to sit on my rooftop and chain smoke. I saw a Winona Ryder film that one time and I thought it was cool so now I'll dress like her. This is meant in the nicest way of course. The oversized grunge shirts, grandad cardigans and knee length skirts were so in. It's all about being comfy, warm and fashionable at the same time. These outfits work so well that I've seen half the fine art kids from my old university wear this exact same outfits now and every time I see anyone wearing anything like this in public, I think they're the coolest people ever.

Shelly Johnson.

I'm convinced that nobody had a better wardrobe in the show than Shelly Johnson, her outfits are very hyper feminine the way that it's in fashion now. Sheer shirts, matching tartan two piece sets and chunky hairbands are all part of the look. I would argue that Shelly was ahead with her time in the way she dressed because I'm sure I've seen all these outfits on everyone in Gossip Girl. The layers are well matched together, creating the type of autumn outfit where you know how to layer lots of small layers together so you still look cute, but you're also warm.

Audrey Horne.

The original femme fatale of television. Audrey's style I feel is very classic in comparison to the style of everyone else. I feel her style is more based around the types of fashion of the 1950s. The shoes, the tight fitted short sleeve jumpers and knee length tartan skirt all tying it in well together. Mixing that with the short permed hairstyle too, Audrey looks like she could come straight out of a Coca-Cola advert from the 50s.

Josie Packard.

I feel the clothing that Josie wore through her time in Twin Peaks has made a huge comeback over the last year or two. Donning loosely fitted shirts, tight suit trousers, it's very I'm the powerful woman core. It works for her. Another character that was way ahead of her time in the way that she dressed.

Bonus points also go to, every 'bad guy' wearing leather jackets, mostly Bobby though. This links back to the comment I made about The Outsiders in the post earlier on, the way Bobby dresses makes me feel like he was designed to be in that movie. Bob sporting double denim through the scenes he is in is both very brave, but also spot on to capture both warmth and fashion during the early 90s. We don't speak on Harry because I don't think we ever saw him in anything that wasn't his sheriff uniform, but it's okay because it suited him.

Taking every aspect of the weird and wonderful Twin Peaks and breaking it apart to wonder why it seems people tend to watch the show again every autumn makes so much sense. By looking into its cold and overcast setting through the weather alone and delving into how all the settings are created, it's not difficult to piece together that the town is always dark and murky. And when it's that dark and murky time of the year, what better way than to watch a show that is dark, murky and probably has a higher crime rate than your town. I don't think I could ever imagine a single episode of this show being based in the summer, I think its murky weather and setting adds to the mystery of the town and I think that is what makes it perfect.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch. 11 (NSFW) (END)

Ch.1 Ch2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

If you are curious to know what my version of Alexia looks like, check here

All maids are dismissed from dinner at night.

The doors are kept sealed shut. It is clear whatever the Dimitrescus are discussing is not for ears outside of their family's to overhear.

You are thankful for the windows you have to focus on repairing while they talk. It keeps you from overthinking and that keeps you sane.

Once everything is fixed, the only physical sign of the nightmarish day you had is Cassandra's sickle, still embedded within what is no doubt a priceless painting.

You approach slowly, as though the weapon has a will of its own and can turn right around to finish the job of gutting you. Your fingers close around the leather handle. The first pull does nothing. The blade is so firmly lodged it won't budge an inch.

But you are nothing if not determined.

That is what you busy yourself with until you see a familiar fly come to land on your shoulder. It doesn't cut at your flesh, but it does bite and tug on your shirt. You understand the silent command to follow.

The insect leads you to the dining room. The table is cleaned, but the daughters are all still there, talking in hushed tones among themselves, poker faces adorning their expressions.

Three sets of yellowish eyes immediately fall to the sickle in your hand. Bela raises an amused eyebrow. The redhead whistles. "That looks sexy on you~"

"Can't imagine it would look as good in me." You give Cassandra a pointed look as you pull the chair beside her, but she only shrugs and leans back, motioning for you to hand it over.

"No... did you throw it at her?" Daniela guffaws. "And you missed?"

A sour grimace comes from the brunette. "I wasn't trying that hard..."

"What if I hadn't dodged?" you ask.

"...well. It's good that you did." Cassandra looks down at her manicured nails, as apologetic as she'll let herself be in front of her sisters.

"Do I want to know what was hit instead of Alexia?" Bela carefully asks.

"You really don't." Cassandra shakes her head and they leave it at that for both their sake.

"So." Bela speaks up after a brief moment of silence. "After our discussion with mother, we are to inform you that you're free to come and go from the castle as you please. Cassandra's key is as much hers as it is yours, now. But. Should any other maid escape using it or learn of our weakness, we'll have to do something nobody here wants."

"We'll have to brutally murder you to make an example. And whoever knows." Daniela cuts in and Cassandra gives her a glare. You aren’t looking forward to learning what their interpretation of the word ‘brutal’ is like.

"Yeah I... I could have guessed that." you reply.

"But I'm sure you're smart enough to not let that happen." Bela states. "This settles everything, I think."

"Not everything." Cassandra retorts, a shadow around her eyes.

"Cassandra, drop it. You heard what mother said." The blonde's tone grows harsh.

"What did she say, other than what we already knew?" comes the sharp bite back. "Why is she so vague every time one of us asks how we came to be?"

"I'm sure she has a good reason. What does it even matter about before?"

"Because I'm sick of having nightmares about people I don't remember!" Cassandra slams her hands onto the table. Both you and Daniela flinch back a bit.

You could have already guessed Alcina is not their biological mother. But a lot of puzzle pieces fall into place before your eyes now. And this new picture you're starting to see of the Dimitrescu family isn't a pretty one at all.

The tension between the two siblings is enough to electrify the air around the table.

"Did you ever consider it's probably for the best that you never do remember them?" Bela asks, her irritation ice-cold as opposed to Cassandra's sizzling fire. "Maybe there's a reason nightmares are all that's left."

You can see your lover's jaw clench. Cassandra's fingers curl into white-knuckled fists as she sits back down. "Don't you get these flashes? These almost-memories?"

"No." Bela says as she stands to leave. "I don't get them. And even if I did, I don't much care for leftovers."

"Daniela?" Cassandra asks, turning to her younger sister.

"I uh... I gotta go do a... thing. Bye now!" The redhead disperses into a swarm right there, before any more can be said.

Cassandra huffs in an exasperated, 'of course' manner. Only the two of you are left in the gigantic room, but you're not sure if you should speak up. You're not exactly confident in your ability to comfort others, nor can you tell where she and you currently stand. It doesn't look like either of you has the energy for any type of loaded talk.

You need each other, that much is as certain as the sun’s rise and fall.

And that's enough, for now.

-

-

Within the next few days, Cassandra and you take your time gravitating back together.

You let the thought of her ripping you in half slowly bleed away and she probably does the same with the notion of you using her weakness against her.

It starts with little touches, on your shoulder or your hand, as you make plans to spend a night or two in your house at the village once the temperature allows it.

Then one evening she comes to your room complaining about Daniela just like the old times and it feels only natural to rub her back like you used to.

Cassandra leans into you like a purring cat.

"Oh, you're so warm..." she sighs, resting her head atop your shoulder.

Absent-mindedly, you bring your travelling fingers up to her nape, pressing at a tiny knot of tension there with your thumb. A little moan slips past her lips –you're aware of just how close to touching your neck they are– and it hits you straight in the gut. You've missed drawing these sounds out of her.

Cassandra shifts against you and every minuscule brush of her lithe form on yours brings sparks to life. Her finger reaches under your chin to tip it her way.

"If you want us to stop here I need to leave now." she speaks with that impatience in the edges of her voice you recognize well.

"What happens if you stay?" you ask. It's not just your body warming at the thought of keeping her close.

"Don't tempt me, Alexia." Her lower lip just barely traces yours as she says it. "I'm not good at resisting and you know it."

You know it. Maybe that's why you tempt her with another almost-kiss in the first place. You could never deny how badly you wanted her and that certainly hasn't changed.

Cassandra crashes your mouths together hungrily, like she's been left without it for too long and now she can't go another second without having you. Her leg crosses over yours to lift herself into straddling you, two strong thighs bracketing your hips tight.

She's trying, you can tell, to not tear both your clothes off and have what she craves hard and fast and right there.

You keep a smirk to yourself when you slip your tongue into her mouth and unhook the buttons of her outfit extra slow. Her nails press into your shoulders. You refuse to speed up.

"Can you go any faster?" she breathily pants once you trail your lips to her neck.

"I can." you say. And lightly bite her.

She's one step away from ripping your shirt off, you can tell from how her fingers curl on the fabric. So you make the smarter choice and distract her with another little bite where you know she likes it best, just underneath her ear, then guide her clothes off of her.

Cassandra pushes you back into the mattress and kisses you again while her cool hands make short work of your clothes. You let her grind her hips into you for some measure of relief as you continue to suck and nibble on her flushed, sensitive skin. Her hands find purchase on your sheets when she no longer trusts her control to have them on you.

"Will you touch me already?" she growls into your ear. You can feel how badly she needs it from the way she shakes on every caress near her center, but this is your payback for that sickle throw.

"I am." you give her a smirk, then lightly push a fingertip into tight, wet heat to cut off her response.

"Ah. I— fuck Alexia!" You've never heard her curse before. And you can't figure out why it's so sinfully hot. “Oh, yes, darling, there!”

As much as she deserves to be tormented for the fright she gave you, you can hardly contain your own lust when she's moving on top of you like this, calling you ‘darling’ and hers.

Both of you come undone not long after, gripping at each other, her soft cries of pleasure filling the room until she lowers her head over your heart, completely spent.

Your fingers gently comb through her wavy hair. For quite some time, Cassandra looks so relaxed you think she has fallen asleep on you.

Until she lifts her head up and nuzzles your jawline, in a way she probably knows kills you every time she does it. Her teeth trap your earlobe. That spells trouble even before she speaks up:

"You didn't think one round would do it, did you? After all, I have yet to pay you back for sneaking into my room and stealing my key, darling…"

Well.

It turns out you won a battle and started a war that lasts throughout the night. And it's only the first, you're sure, of many to come.

For once in your life, you can't wait for what's next.

[archerofthemists]

Phantom Pains

TW: Blood/severe injury/loss of limb/mentions of suicide

Sparring was a very common pastime at Evernight Castle. If they weren't out on an errand or mission given by Salem, then her followers may as well be keeping sharp in their skills. 

Watts preferred to work in his lab, designing weapons and other useful tools. 

Emerald and Mercury, being the youngest and seen only as Cinder's underlings usually only had one another to spar with. 

Althea, having only recently risen in the ranks, still trained with Tyrian, her former master and now partner. 

Hazel, with his size and strength, typically wouldn't fight against any of his "teammates". 

And then there were the Grimm. Salem kept various breeds of them penned up for the sole purpose of training, but only Hazel and Cinder ever liked to use them for practice. 

However, ever since Salem had promoted Althea to her inner circle, the archer had felt the need to prove she was worthy of keeping the position. She had killed plenty of Grimm in her life, she'd gone to Beacon Academy for the God's Sakes. Killing the Grimm in her village had given her a spot in the damn school to begin with, to give her a chance to become a real huntress. 

Although, ever since she'd fled the school and had been living on her own, isolated and answering to no one, she hadn't had as many opportunities to fight Grimm. She'd had to save her energy, because she never knew when she would eat next, so she just did her best to avoid the damn things completely. 

But now that she had a purpose in her life again, it was time to get her head back in the game. 

Tyrian kept her on her toes plenty when he was still her superior. Surprise attacks right and left, whether he leapt down from the rafters onto her or hid under her bed at night, the man had had her looking over her shoulder constantly. 

Hazel was a behemoth that Althea had to beg to get him to spar with her and she was pretty sure he was holding back when he finally would give in. 

Watts didn't really fight, at least not in a style that was compatible with Althea's, but when he needed to test out a new weapon she was happy to play guinea pig for him. 

Cinder saw herself as "above" the rest of them, being a Maiden and she didn't like sharing her "disciples". 

So Althea began using Grimm for practice. She realized how rusty she was against the creatures, but it was any skill; you never really forget it. She had forgotten just how good she was at it though. But damn it...she never knew when to quit.

Taking on two Beowolves was a little ballsy to do by yourself, but Althea wasn't exactly alone. Hazel and Tyrian had grown accustomed to watching her when she practiced killing Grimm, out of the way and behind the safety of the pillars that supported  a balcony.

Tyrian, because he enjoyed the show and he was a little proud of himself for finding such a treasure as Althea. 

Hazel, because God's, there wasn't anything else to do around the castle at the moment. And plus he couldn't deny, the woman had skill and watching her certainly wasn't boring. He glanced down at his scroll and frowned; her aura was getting far too low, and one Beowolf was still alive and kicking. 

"She needs to stop." He glanced at Tyrian who looked almost mesmerized by his former disciple. "Her aura is almost gone. One of us should step in and finish it."

Tyrian waved the larger man off, not taking his eyes off the archer as she easily dodged the Beowolf's large paw as it swiped at her. "If she can't handle it then she will ask us for our help. Don't insult her abilities, Hazel." 

But Hazel grumbled softly and reached for the dust crystals in his pockets. "You shouldn't overestimate her abilities either just because you've got a crush." 

Tyrian's eyes flashed purple for a moment and his tail twitched. He growled to himself as he watched Rainart stab a couple of crystals into his biceps. "You just hate seeing people enjoy themselves, don't you?" The faunus sighed. 

"No, just when it's you. You're not denying the crush either, I see." Hazel remarked. 

Tyrian locked the man with a seething glare that would have made the average person shrivel up inside, but Hazel just scoffed. "Good, cause no one would believe you if you did deny it." 

He turned and stabbed his arms with the lightning dust, wincing only slightly as it spread through veins. "Althea! You're done, I'm gonna help you!" 

"I've almost got this!" She yelled before firing an ice-dust tipped arrow into the Beowolf's back legs, freezing it in its place. With a running start she used the Beowolf's back as a springboard to leap high into the air above it. 

Her plan was to deliver the killing blow from above - a dagger right through the Grimms eye as she had spent her last arrow immobilizing it. She had just grabbed the hilt, began to twist in the air, when the Beowolf had reared up on its frozen back legs and its jaw came down on Althea, taking her right leg in its teeth before falling back down on all fours, slamming her against the floor with the full force of its body. Her aura broke in an emerald swirl and she went rolling across the chamber floor. 

Most of her that is.

The two huntsmen were frozen in shock for a moment, gold and hazel eyes locked on Althea's motionless and bloodied body. 

Hazel was the first to snap out of it, the gnashing of the Beowolfs teeth as it swallowed the limb it had just torn asunder. It had broken the ice around its back legs loose and was completely free as the giant of a man began to charge it head on. 

When Tyrian began moving towards his fallen partner he didn't even realize it. His legs felt numb and yet they were still carrying him over to her crumpled, discarded body. 

The blood was everywhere, splattered and smeared on the chamber floor in morbid patterns that the faunus usually found pleasure in. 

 

The next thing Tyrian realized, he was running down the halls of Evernight, the dead weight of Althea bleeding out in his arms didn't slow him down in the slightest. 

It didn't completely register in the scorpions brain that he was running to Watts's office until he was bursting through his door. It was just purely instinct. Automatic. Where else would he possibly ever go?

The Doctor was at his desk, bent over some new contraption he was working on like always. His head snapped up at the intrusion, annoyance written on his face until he fully registered the scene standing in his door.

Tyrian covered in blood, cradling Althea's pale form, showing no signs of life. Where her right leg had been, was nothing but a bloody stub. 

"Help." It was the only word that left Tyrian's trembling lips, raspy and desperate. 

"Get her on the table. NOW!" Watts was on his feet, stripping off his jacket and tie as he helped Tyrian carry Althea into the small adjoining room that had been converted into a meager OR. However Arthur hadn't dealt with such a serious trauma in a long time and he'd certainly had more equipment, more help. His mind was racing as he tried to mentally inventory what he had, what he could use to save Althea's life.

"What the fuck happened?" Arthur pulled on a pair of surgical gloves with a loud snap, his emerald eyes surveying the damage.

"She...she was fighting Beowolves and…"

"More than one?!"

"Her aura was low and we thought she could handle it…"

Arthur sighed harshly as he gathered gauze and began to try and stop the bleeding of Althea's remaining leg. "You promised you'd never scare me like this again!" 

Tyrian could do nothing but stand and watch, his whole body beginning to tremble as he watched. He couldn't hear Watts yelling at him over the ringing in his ears.

"Tyrian! Tyrain, God dammit I need an extra set of hands!" Watts felt guilty for a fleeting moment as he tossed the box of latex gloves at the faunus. They bounced off his bloody chest but it did the job in snapping him back to reality. 

It was bloody awful work getting Althea's leg to finally stop bleeding. Once Watts was satisfied with her vitals and felt she was stable, he moved her into the tiny recovery room. Hooked up to various machines that would start screaming if her pressure bottomed out. 

So he gently led Tyrain into the adjoining shower and turned the water on, waiting for it to warm up. They were both covered in Althea's blood and Watts was tempted to just throw his clothes away, burn them maybe. He had plenty of other clothes.

Watts automatically began to help Tyrain out of his stained jumpsuit and harness, and the faunus didn't resist in the least. His body was still gently trembling and Watts hoped that this incident wouldn't scar him too deeply. He didn't know what Salem might do if her best weapon was permanently damaged like this.

In the back of Arthur's mind, he was already planning the schematics of a replacement leg for Althea and oh Gods...someone was going to have to inform Salem about what happened. How would she plan to punish Althea for this? Because she surely would.

"One thing at a time…"

He unbraided Tyrian's hair, finding more sticky dried blood in it as well. Steam was beginning to spill out of the shower so he gently helped Tyrian under the water before Arthur got undressed himself and joined him, knowing that Tyrian was in no state to bathe himself. 

For a good long moment the only sound was the hissing of the shower and Tyrian's occasional sniffle as he pulled himself back together and Watts scrubbed the blood out of his long hair.

"What did you mean earlier?" He finally asked, so softly that Arthur had to take a moment to be sure he had heard him correctly. 

"About what?"

"When you said that she had promised to never scare you like this again, what the fuck did you mean?" Tyrian turned around to face Arthur.

The Doctor was quiet for a long while, staring into Tyrian's golden, begging eyes. There was never any easy or kind way of saying it.

"A few months ago, Althea tried to kill herself." 

He watched his words take time to register completely on Tyrian's face. A choked off whimpering sound escaped his throat. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"She asked me not to. She didn't know what Salem might do to her if she found out. And now this…" Arthur sighed. "Gods why did she take on two Beowolves at once?" 

" She tried to kill herself…" Tyrian murmurs gently and Arthur could tell that he was on the verge of losing it all over again. 

So Arthur pulled him close against his chest and let him.

Everything was fuzzy. Her head, her vision, even her body felt fuzzy and disconnected. And her leg...God's her leg….

"Don't move too much." Arthur's voice. Althea felt his hand gently stroke her forehead and she tried to make her eyes focus on his face.

"What...hap'n…" 

"You had an...accident." Arthur sighed "Although that word doesn't seem appropriate for what happened...because it wasn't an accident was it?"

"I...I had it…" Her throat felt raw, everything ached except...why couldn't she feel her right leg?

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING." Arthur hadn't yelled at her like that in a long time. Althea was ashamed to admit that she flinched a little. 

"Arthur…" Tyrian's voice.

"You lost your leg, Althea!" She may have heard a quiver in his voice that time. She wasn't totally sure.

"Guess that explains why I can't feel it." Althea couldn't remember a lot about the incident. She'd been twisting in the air one moment and the next she was waking up here. She vaguely remembered Tyrian rushing her through the castle.

"You were careless, reckless and for what? You promised you would never do something like this again." Arthur's voice was a little steadier now as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed.

"I promised I wouldn't hurt myself again." Althea hissed as she hoisted herself up in the bed a little more, her vision clearing enough to see how upset her partners were. 

"And so you've gone and replaced it with reckless endangerment of yourself!" Arthur looked like he hadn't been sleeping. How long had she been unconscious? 

"It wasn't like that." Althea wiped the sleepy gunk from her eyes as she got her bearings.

Tyrian was curled in a small chair by her bed, wrapped in a comforter. He looked just as tired and drained as Arthur. God's, what had she done?

"I should have stepped in sooner." Tyrian sighed. "Hazel, the sentimental giant, warned me. We knew her aura was low and…"

"You just didn't know when to stop." Arthur sighs. "Or you were hoping to get hurt."

"I wasn't trying to get hurt! Damn it!" Althea looked down at the bandaged stubb that had been her right leg and she swallowed the lump building in her throat.

"Don't worry, I'm already designing you a new one." Arthur sighs.

"Don't. I don't deserve it." 

"Well you bloody well can't work for Salem on one leg, can you? And if you can't can't for Salem she'll kill you." Arthur stood up. "Although that's probably exactly what you want."

Althea watched him leave and she rested back in the hospital bed, keeping her tears at bay.

"I'm sorry." She finally murmurs to Tyrain. "I really didn't mean to…"

"I should have stopped you." Tyrian crawled out of the easy chair and up alongside her in the bed. "When your body got slammed into the ground I…" 

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry I…" yeah keeping the tears at bay wasn't working very well. 

No, Salem had not been happy but she hadn't been nearly as angry as Watts had expected her to be.

Thankfully Hazel had been the one to tell her for the very first time, right after he'd finished off the Beowolf. Although, who the hell knew? She could act so calm and collected before the storm finally hit.

Watts had nearly had a heart attack one night when he'd gone in to bring Althea some dinner and Salem was right there, sitting at the foot of her bed and talking with her. It was an odd sight to say the least: a tall, ancient and immortal being just sitting there in the tiny recovery room. So out of place and somehow so horrifying. 

Apparently Salem had wanted to see how Althea was doing with her own eyes and it hadn't looked like she'd gone had hurt the injured woman in any way.  Perhaps Salem would see the loss of leg as enough punishment and leave it at that.

Tyrian hadn't left Althea's side once, getting her what she needed and Althea had started reading to him a lot to pass the time. Thankfully Salem hadn't sent him away on any missions. Arthur wasn't sure if the faunus would have been able to concentrate if she had.

Recovery was not going to be easy. Arthur had drawn the perfect schematics for a new leg and he had been coming and going from Evernight to trade for some of the parts he would need. 

Althea's phantom pains had started and were becoming almost unbearable. A mirror method had helped, but Arthur hoped that a new leg would do more good. Althea's balance on crutches was horrendous, and her ability to actually walk could be therapeutic in and of itself. 

Finally when he was satisfied with his work on the prosthetic, he showed it to her. Shiney and silver with green accents along the joints and toes and a small "W" engraved on the upper thigh. Watts always left his signature on what he created in one way or another. 

"The good doctor does such wonderful work doesn't he?" Tyrian mused as he looked the new limb over, his own shiney tail clicking behind him. 

Arthur smirked softly, he certainly didn't mind having his ego stroked. 

"I would have had this done sooner if you hadn't lost the leg above the joint." Watts sighs.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Althea chuckles dryly. 

"There won't be a next time." Watts says firmly as he prepped the stubb of her leg. "Right?"

Althea smirked down at him and nodded gently. 

"Don't you dare ever scare us like this again. I mean it." 

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 12

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

3rd Person POV

The days creep by, and there is no doubt that Fluffy is still alive and well behind the locked door.

It is sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watches them turn a mouse into a snuffbox - points were given for how pretty the snuffbox is, but taken away if it still had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while Harry, Ron, and Hermione remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion, and when they finish, watch as (Y/n) practically sweats her whole body weight as she is instructed to make a Fire Protection Potion.

(Y/n) walks out of the Potions classroom an hour after everyone else and trudges up to lunch, her robes sticking to her. When (Y/n) slumps down at the table between Hermione and Harry, the other five look at her.

"How'd it go?" Hermione asks as (Y/n) grabs a peanut butter sandwich.

(Y/n) sighs. "Well, Snape didn't exactly say anything good or bad about it, so," she shrugs. "I could have failed or just achieved the highest grade of any first year ever." (Y/n) pulls a vial of blackish purple liquid out of the pocket of the robes. "I could set myself on fire and then drink it."

"Not a good idea, (Nickname)," Fred says, passing by and sitting across from her. "Everyone might not like you much, but you don't need to solve that problem by setting yourself on fire."

"For once, my brother's right," Ron says.

"If my potion worked, I wouldn't be setting myself on fire," (Y/n) points out, smiling for the first time in weeks, and everyone else seems to cheer up at the smile.

Over the last few weeks, (Y/n) and Harry had been trying to ignore the stabbing pains in their neck and head, respectively, which had been bothering them since (Y/n)'s trip into the forest. Neville thought Harry was having a bad case of exam nerves because Harry couldn't sleep, but the truth was that Harry kept begin woken by his old nightmare, except that is was now worse than ever because he was now seeing a hooded figure dripping blood in it that (Y/n) had described.

Maybe it is because they hadn't seen what (Y/n) had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their necks or foreheads, but Ron and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harry and (Y/n). The idea of Voldemort clearly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying that they didn't have much time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to.

Their very last exam is History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invested self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful wee until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns tells them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harry can't help cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," says Hermione as they join the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds.

"We didn't need to study the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or Elfric the Eager," (Y/n) adds.

The two always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron says this made him feel ill, so they wander down to the lake and flop under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan are tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which is basking in the warm shallows.

"No more studying," Ron sighs happily, stretching out on the grass.

"You two could look more cheerful, (Y/n), Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet," Hermione adds.

Harry was rubbing his forehead, and (Y/n) had her hand pressed to her neck, rubbing slightly.

"I wish I knew what this means!" Harry bursts out angrily.

"Same, my scar keeps hurting," (Y/n) adds. "It's happened before, but not this often."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggests.

"We're not ill," retorts Harry. "I think it's a warning . . . it means danger's coming . . ."

Ron wouldn't get worked up, it's too hot, "Harry, (Y/n), relax. Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy."

"It's not Snape," (Y/n) interjects but Ron just continues.

"He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

(Y/n) nods, but she can't shake the lurking feeling that there is something she'd forgotten to do, something important. When she tries to explain this, Hermione says, "That's just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one."

(Y/n) is sure that the unsettling feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though. She watches an owl flutter towards the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in it's beak. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluff . . . never . . . but -

(Y/n) suddenly jumps to her feet.

"Where are you going?" asks Ron sleepily.

"I've just thought," (Y/n) says and Hermione studies her sister, who's face had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" pants Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," says (Y/n), sprinting up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid want more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if they're against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, right? Why didn't I see it before?"

"What are you talking about?" asks Ron, but (Y/n), sprinting across the grounds towards the forest, doesn't answer.

Hagrid is sitting in an armchair outside his house, his trousers and sleeves are rolled up, and he is shelling peas into a large bowl. "Hullo," he says, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," answers Ron, but (Y/n) cuts him off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," answers Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off." He sees the six of them looking stunned and raises his eyebrows. "It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head —that's one o' the pubs down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

(Y/n) sinks down next to the bowl of peas, "What did you talk about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," replies Hagrid, frowning as he tries to remember."Yeah . . . he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here. . . . He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after . . . so I told him . . . an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon . . . an' then . . . I can'remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks. . . . Let's see . . . yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted . . . but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home. . . . So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy. . . ."

"And did he — did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asks, trying to keep his voice calm

"Well — yeah — how many three-headed dogs d' yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep —" Hagrid suddenly looks horrified. "I shouldn't a told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey —where're yeh goin'?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and (Y/n) don't speak to each other until they come to a halt in the entrance hall, which seems very cold and gloomy after the warm, summery grounds.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," says Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak - it might've been easy, once he got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

They look around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.

"We'll just have to —" Harry begins, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

What are you four doing inside?"

It is Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," says Hermione, rather bravely, the others think.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeat, as though it is a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

Harry swallows - What now?

"It's sort of secret," he says, but he wishes at once he hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flare.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she says coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's gone?" asks Harry frantically. "Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time -"

"But this is important."

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?"

"Look," says Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor - it's about the Sorcerer's Stone -"

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she is carrying tumble out of her arms, but she doesn't pick them up, so (Y/n) darts over, picks up the books, and silently holds them out to her head of house, but she doesn't take them.

"How do you know -?" McGonagall splutters.

"Professor, I think - I know - that Sn - that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk with Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall eyes him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she says finally. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But Professor -"

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she answers shortly. She takes the books from (Y/n). "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

But they don't.

"It's tonight," says Harry, once he is sure Professor McGonagall is out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"But what can we -"

Hermione gasps softly, and the others wheel around.

Snape is standing there.

"Good afternoon," he says smoothly.

They stare at him.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he says, with an odd, twisted smile.

"We were -" Harry begins, without any idea what he is going to say.

"You want to be more careful," says Snape. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

(Y/n) flushes. They turn to go outside, but Snape calls them back.

"Be warned, Potter - any more nighttime wanderings and I personally make sure you are expelled," Snape then turns to (Y/n). "(L/n), come with me," he says and she nods.

Snape strides towards the dungeons and (Y/n) jogs after him.

Once in the Potions Master's office, Snape sits down at his desk, and gestures for (Y/n) to sit down across from him. (Y/n) sits down nervously as Snape opens a folder and slides it in front of her.

The Potions Master nods encouragingly, and then (Y/n) takes a hold of the folder, gazing down at the paper inside.

Name (Last, First): (L/n), (Y/n)

DOB: October 31st, 19879

Year: 1

Exam: Potions 1

Score: 327%

Next Class Recommendation: Potions 4

(Y/n) stares at the score, "How?"

"You automatically get an extra hundred percent added because you took a harder exam," Snape tells the girl.

"What about the other 127%?" (Y/n) asks doing quick math.

"It's for making a Third year level potion," Snape says.

"So next year I'll be taking Forth year Potions?" (Y/n) asks and Snape nods.

Then the Potions Master smiles, slightly unsettling (Y/n). "I've impressed by your performance this year, (Y/n)," Snape says. (Y/n) beams at the compliment from the teacher that never gave compliments. (Y/n) stands up to leave and when she gets to the door, Snape says something, "You look a lot like your parents, you know? You have your mother's eyes," (Y/n) turns around, a sad expression on her face.

"Nobody's ever told me that before," (Y/n) murmurs her eyes flashing silver, walking back to stand in front of her Professor's desk.

What the two didn't know was that Hermione was waiting outside the door, listening - not on purpose, of course - to the conversation.

(Y/n) sits down in the chair across from Snape and the Potions Master continues. "I was friends with your mother when she was at school." (Y/n) sits straighter in her chair, interest flickering in her eyes. "(M/n), she was a Gryffindor," (Y/n) smiles at the thought. "Even though they were from different houses, you could never separate the two. (M/n), she was best friends with Lily Evans, who married James Potter," (Y/n) could sense her Professor tense at Harry's father's name.

Snape, looking at the girl, notices her eyes slowly turning back to their brilliant emerald green.

"Your mother was a great Quidditch player, and excelled at Transfiguration. She was an amazing friends" Snape's voice turns wistful and (Y/n) studies her Professor with gentle eyes.

"Thank you for telling me about her, Professor," (Y/n) says.

"It was no problem," Snape says gently, he and (Y/n) standing up, (Y/n) grabbing the Potions Exam paper, and the two walk out of the classroom and are met by Thora and Hermione standing on either side of the door.

"What are you doing here?" Snape asks sharply.

"I came to wait for my sister," Hermione answers.

(Y/n) flashes her a questioning look before nodding to her Potion's Master.

Hermione walks slightly behind (Y/n) as they walk up to the Gryffindor Common Room.

The portrait of the Fat Lady swings open and the duo walks in, Harry and Ron turning to look at them.

"I'm sorry, Harry!" Hermione wails from behind (Y/n); (Y/n) sits down on the arm of Harry's chair. "Snape came out and asked us what we were doing, so we said we were waiting for (Y/n). We don't know where Snape went."

(Y/n) groans in exasperation, "You really think it's still Snape?"

"Yep," Harry says.

"So, that's it then, isn't it?" (Y/n) says finally, as a stab of pain pulses through the scar on her neck.

The others stare at her. (Y/n) had turned pale and her eyes are glittering.

"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first," (Y/n) says, a frown on her face.

"You're mad!" says Ron.

"You can't!" says Hermione. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"

"So what?" Harry shouts.

"Don't you understand?" (Y/n) asks, her voice softer, her gaze flickering silver. "If whoever gets the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over?" The others gaze at her, eyes wide. "There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it! Losing points doesn't matter anymore?If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to find somewhere else to go," catching Hermione's shocked glances, she continues, "I'm not letting anyone else I care about die for me." (Y/n) swallows thickly, "It's only dying a bit later than I would have. I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you can say is going to stop me!"

"I'm going too," Harry says and (Y/n)'s silver gaze shifts to him. "Voldemort killed my parents too." (Y/n)'s gaze softens.

"You're both right," Hermione says in a small voice.

"We'll use the Invisibility Cloak," says Harry.

"But will it cover all four of us?" asks Ron.

Harry turns to Ron. "All - all four of us?" Harry asks.

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?" Ron asks.

"Of course not," says Hermione briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and look through my books, there might be something useful . . ."

"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too."

"Not if I can help it," says Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me and (Y/n) in secret that we got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

After dinner, (Y/n), Harry, Ron, and Hermione sit apart from the other three in the common room. Nobody bothers them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to (Y/n) anymore, after all. This was the first night she hadn't been upset by it. (Y/n) darts upstairs, and pulls out the small trunk where she keeps extra potions. The only one she had was the fire protection, which she pockets into her hoodie, pocketing her wand and she straps small knife in a sheath on her left forearm, making sure her hoodie covered the sheath.

(Y/n) scampers downstairs and over to her three friends, who were standing around the Invisibility Cloak.

"We'd better put the Cloak on here, and make sure it covers all four of us - if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on it's own -"

"What are you doing?" comes a voice from the corner of the room. Neville appears from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looks as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," answers Harry, hurriedly putting the Cloak behind his back.

Neville stares at their guilty faces.

"You're going out again," Neville realizes, looking into (Y/n)'s green eyes.

"No, no, no," says Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go back to bed, Neville?"

Harry looks at the grandfather clock by the door. We couldn't afford to waste any more time, Harry thinks, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.

"You can't go out again," Neville tells (Y/n), "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand," says Harry, "this is important."

But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate. "I won't let you do it," he says, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll - I'll fight you!"

"Neville," Ron explodes, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot—"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" retorts Neville. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to us," answers Ron in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."

He takes a step forward and Neville drops Trevor the toad, who leaps out of sight."Go on then, try and hit me!" says Neville, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"

Harry turns to Hermione."Do something," he whines desperately.

But it's (Y/n) who reacts, drawing her Alder wood wand out of her pocket, "I'm sorry about this Neville." She raises her wand, "Petrificus Totalus." Neville's arms snap to his sides, and his legs spring together. His whole body rigid, he sways where he stands and then falls flat on his face, stiff as a board.

(Y/n) runs to turn him over. Neville's jaws are jammed together so he can't speak. Only his eyes are moving, looking at them in horror.

"What've you done to him?" Harry whispers.

"It's the full Body-Bind," says (Y/n) miserably. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."

"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," says Harry.

"You'll understand later, Neville," says Ron as they step over him and pull on the Invisibility Cloak.

But leaving Neville lying motionless on the floor doesn't feel like a very good omen.

In their nervous state, every statue's shadow looks like Filch, and every distant breath of wind sounds like Peeves swooping down on them.

At the fit of the first set of stairs, they spot Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispers in Harry's ear, but Harry shook his head. As they climb carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turns her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything.

They don't meet anyone else until they reach teh staircase up to the third floor. Peeves is bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" Peeves asks suddenly as they climb towards him. He narrows his wicked black eyes, "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?" He rises up in the air and floats there, squinting at them.

Harry has a sudden idea. "Peeves," he says, in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost falls out of the air in shock. He catches himself in time and hovers about a foot off the stairs. "So sorry, you bloodiness, Mr. Baron, sir," he says greasily. "My mistake, my mistake - I didn't see you - of course I didn't you're invisible - forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," croaks Harry. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," says Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you." And he scoots off.

"Brilliant, Harry!" whispers Ron, an impressed look on (Y/n)'s face.

A few seconds later, they are there, outside the third-floor corridor - and the door is already ajar.

"Well, there you are," Harry says quietly, "Snape's already got past Fluffy."

"It's not Snape," (Y/n) hisses, never feeling more correct after her talk with her Potions Master earlier.

But seeing the open door somehow seems to impress upon all four of them what is facing them. Underneath the Cloak, (Y/n) turns to the other three.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," she says softly. "You can take the Cloak, I won't need it now."

"Don't be stupid," says Ron.

"We're coming," insists Hermione.

Harry reaches over and pushes the door open the rest of the way.

As the door creaks, low, rumbling growls meet their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniff madly in their direction, even though it can't see them.

"What's that at it's feet?" Hermione asks in a soft whisper.

"Looks like a harp," replies Ron. "Snape must have left it there."

Deciding not to argue anymore about Snape, (Y/n) keeps her mouth shut.

Harry puts Hagrid's flute to his lips and blows. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note, the beast's eyes begin to droop. Harry hardly draws breath. Slowly, the dog's growls cease - it totters on its paws and falls to its knees, then it slumps on the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warns Harry as they slip out of the Cloak and creeps towards the trapdoor. They can feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as the approach the giant heads.

"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," says Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!" Hermione snaps.

"I'll go first," (Y/n) whispers. She steps carefully over the dog's legs. She bends and pulls the ring of the trapdoor; the trapdoor swings up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione asks anxiously.

"Nothing - just black - there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop," (Y/n) whispers. She swings her legs into the trapdoor. She looks directly at Hermione, meeting her sister's gaze. "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the Owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, okay?"

Hermione nods, a flash of fear showing in her brown eyes.

"See you in a minute, I hope . . ." (Y/n) slides the rest of the way into the trapdoor and lets go. Cold, damp air rushes past her as she falls down, down, down and -

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump, she lands on something soft. She sits up and feels around, her eyes not used to the gloom. It feels as though she is sitting on some soft of plant.

"It's okay!" she calls up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Ron and Harry follow right away. They land, sprawled next to (Y/n).

"What's this stuff?" are Ron's first words.

"Dunno, some sort of plant thing," (Y/n) rasps. "I suppose it's here to break the fall."

"Come on, Hermione!" Harry calls as something snakes it's way up (Y/n)'s neck and (Y/n) tries to pull away, but whatever it was, tightens around her.

The distant music stops; there is a loud bark from the dog, but Hermione had already jumped, landing on (Y/n)'s other side.

"We must be miles under the school," Hermione comments.

"Luck this plant thing's here," Ron says.

"Lucky!" shrieks Hermione. "Look at the three of you!" She leaps up and struggles towards a damp wall. She had to struggle because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist, snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for Harry and Ron, their legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing.

(Y/n) however, had the tendrils had wrapped around her neck and Hermione watches in horror as the three fight to pull the plant off themselves, but the more they strain against it, the tighter and faster the plant wounds around them.

"Stop moving!" Hermione orders them. "I know what this is - it's Devil's Snare!"

(Y/n), panicking, begins to strain more, and the Devil's Snare tightens around her chest. (Y/n) thrashes around in the plant's grasp and the Devil's Snare tightens painfully around her, the vial in her pocket pressing into her stomach, ready to shatter.

(Y/n) begins feeling faint from the loss of air, hears Ron bellow, "HAVE YOU GONE MAD? ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

A few seconds later, the three feel it loosening its grip as it cringes away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unravels itself from their bodies and they are able to pull free.

(Y/n)'s chest heaves as she regains her breath, Harry holding up her up.

"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," (Y/n) rasps.

"Yeah," adds Ron, "and lucky (Y/n) doesn't lose her head in a crisis - 'there's no wood,' honestly."

"Only my breath," (Y/n) jokes, once her breath completely returns, though the others could see the dark bruise beginning to form on her neck. "Right, this way," says (Y/n), pointing down a stone passageway, which is the only way forward.

All the four can hear, apart from their footsteps is the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passage way slopes downward, and Harry is reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembers the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon - Norbert had been bad enough . . .

"Can you hear something?" Ron asks in a soft whisper.

(Y/n) listens, hearing a soft rustling and clicking noise seeming to come from ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?" Harry wonders.

"I don't think so," (Y/n) answers. "It sounds like wings."

"There's light ahead - I can see something moving," Hermione adds, exchanging a look with (Y/n).

They reach the end of the passageway and sees before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high them. It is full of small, jewel-bright things, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the room is a very heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" wonders Ron.

"Probably," answers Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once . . . well, there's no other choice . . . I'll run." He takes a deep breath, covers his face with his arms, and sprints across the room. He expects to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any second, but nothing happens. He reaches the door untouched, and he pulls on the handle, but it's locked.

Hermione and Ron follow but (Y/n) gazes up and around the chamber.

"Guys!" (Y/n) calls, her voice echoing around the room, and the other three turn to look at her. The three catch (Y/n) gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling. "They're not birds! They're keys - winged keys." Her emerald gaze studies the chamber again and she catches sight of three broomsticks. "We've got to catch the key to the door." (Y/n) jogs over to the door and studies the lock.

"But there are hundreds of them!" Ron exclaims.

"We're looking for a big, old fashioned one - probably silver, like the handle," (Y/n) says. "Probably has a crumpled wing," she murmurs. (Y/n), Ron, and Harry grab brooms and soar into the midst of the cloud of keys.

Not for nothing, though, was (Y/n) the youngest Seeker in a century. She had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, she notices a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole. "That one!" she calls. "That big one - there - no, there - with bright blue wings - the feathers are all crumpled on one side.

Ron goes speeding in the direction that (Y/n) is pointing, crashes into the ceiling, and almost falls of his broom.

"We've got to close in on it!" (Y/n) calls, not taking her eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above - Harry, stay below and stop it from going down - and I'll try to catch it. Right, NOW!"

Ron dives, Harry rocket's upward, the key dodges them both, and (Y/n) streaks after it; it speeds towards the wall, (Y/n) leans forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pins it to the stone with one hand. Ron, Harry, and Hermione's cheers echo around the high chamber.

They land quickly, and (Y/n) sprints for the door, the key struggling in her hand. She rams it into the lock and turns - it worked. The moment the lock had clicks open, the key takes flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" (Y/n) asks the other three, her hand on the door handle. They nod, and she pulls the door open.

The next chamber is so dark they can't see anything at all, so (Y/n) casts the Lumos charm, but then light floods the room to reveal an astonishing sight, (Y/n) extinguishing her wand light.

They are standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller then they area and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, across the chamber, are the white pieces. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and (Y/n) shiver slightly - the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispers.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" says Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces they can see another door.

"How?" asks Hermione nervously, (Y/n) placing a comforting on her friend's shoulder.

"I think," (Y/n) says, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

Ron walks over to a black knight and puts his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone springs to life, the horse pawing the ground and the knight turns his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we - er - have to join you to get across?" Ron asks. The black knight nods and Ron turns to the other three. "This needs thinking about . . ." Ron mumbles. "I suppose we've got to take the place of four of the black pieces . . ." The three stay quiet, watching Ron think. Finally, he says, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of the three of you are that good at chess -"

"We're not offended," says Harry quickly.

"Just tell us what to do," (Y/n) says gently.

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go there, instead of that castle, (Y/n), you take that knight there."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be that other knight," answers Ron.

The chessmen seem to have been listening, because at these words both knights, a bishop, and a castle turn their backs on the white pieces and walk off the board, leaving four empty squares that Harry, Ron, (Y/n), and Hermione take.

"White always plays first in chess," says Ron, peering across the board. "Yes . . . look . . ."

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron starts to direct the black pieces, occasionally asking (Y/n) for advice, but mostly on his own, the pieces moving silently wherever he sent them.

Harry's knees are trembling, What if we lose?

"Harry - move diagonally four squares to the right."

The first real shock comes when their other bishop is taken. (Y/n) lets out a cry as the queen smashes the bishop - who was beside her - to the floor and drags him off the board, where he lies quite still, face down.

"Had to let that happen," explains Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you to take that bishop, (Y/n), go on."

Every time one of their pieces is lost, the white pieces show no mercy. Soon there is a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed that Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) were in danger. He himself darts around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," Ron mutters suddenly. "Let me think - let me think.

The white queen turns her blank face towards Ron.

"Yes . . ." says Ron softly, it's the only way . . . I've got to be taken."

"No!" Harry, (Y/n), and Hermione shout.

"That's chess," snaps Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I'll make my move and she'll take me - that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But -"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron -"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative.

"Ready?" Ron calls, his face pale but determined. "Here I go - now, don't hang around once you've won."

He steps forward, and the white queen pounces. She strikes Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashes to the floor - Hermione and (Y/n) scream but stay on their squares - the white queen drags Ron to one side. He looks as though he's been knocked out.

Shaking, Harry moves three spaces to the left.

The white king takes off his crown and throws it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen part and bow, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, Harry and (Y/n) and Hermione charge through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's - ?"

"He'll be alright," (Y/n) soothes, trying to convince herself, as well as Hermione.

"What do you reckon's next?"

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare," Hermione begins.

"Flitwick must've put charms on the keys and McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive," (Y/n) continues.

"That leaves Quirrell's and Snape's," Hermione finishes.

They had reached another door.

"All right?" (Y/n) whispers.

"Go on."

(Y/n) pushes it open, her wand drawn.

A disgusting smell fills their nostrils, making the three of them pull their robes over their noses. Eyes watering, they see, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they tackled, out cold with a blood lump on its head.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispers as they step carefully over one of its massive legs.

"Tell me about it," (Y/n) mutters.

(Y/n) pulls open the next door, the three of them hardly daring to look at what comes next - but there is nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," Harry says. "What do we have to do?"

They step over the threshold and immediately, a fire springs up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shoot up in the doorway leading onward. They are trapped.

"Look!" Hermione seizes a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry and (Y/n) look over her shoulder to read it:

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, Two of us will help you, whichever you would find, One among us seven will let you move ahead, Another will transport the drinker back instead, Two among our number hold only nettle wine, Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line. Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore, To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: First, however slyly the poison tries to hide You will always find some on nettle wine's left side; Second, different are those who stand at either end, But if you would move onward, neither is your friend; Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; Fourth, the second left and the second on the right Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

Hermione lets out a great sigh, and Harry, amazed, sees that she and (Y/n) are smiling, the very last thing he feels like doing.

"Brilliant," says Hermione.

"This isn't magic - it's logic - a puzzle," (Y/n) continues.

"A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever," Hermione adds.

"But so will we, won't we?" Harry asks nervously.

"Of course not," says Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper, and with our Potions expert."

"Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple," (Y/n) says, then pulls the vial of Fire Protection Potion out of her pocket. "And this. Who knows which fire this'll get us through."

"But how do we know which of the seven we can drink?" Harry asks his friends.

"Give us just a minute," Hermione says, exchanging a look with (Y/n).

The two read the paper several times. Then walk up and down the line of bottles, exchanging soft words and pointing to them. At last, Hermione claps her hands.

"Got it," (Y/n) says. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire - towards the Stone."

Harry looks at the tiny bottle.

"There's only enough there for one of us," he says. "That's hardly one swallow."

They look at each other, (Y/n) fiddling with the top of the vial in her hand.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?" Harry asks and Hermione points to a rounded bottle at the end of the line.

(Y/n) walks over and uncorks her vial, studying it. It does look a lot like the smallest bottle's potion, (Y/n) thinks. She drains the little bottle in one gulp. She shivers, it felt like ice. She puts the empty bottle in her pocket and braces herself. She could see the black flames licking her body, but can't feel them. For a moment, all (Y/n) can see is nothing but dark fire, then, she's on the other side, in the last chamber.

There is already someone there - but it isn't Snape like the others though. It wasn't even Voldemort.

Word Count: 6766 words

[fire-angel]

DRAGON HEART

Firebender x ???

Hey guys, just anted to say that if you want, you can request one shots. Also dm me if you want to be tagged to be updated with this series.

Also the parts are somewhat long because I try to fit a whole episode in each part.

Prologue       Part 1

PART 2

A few days ago we left the Northern Air Temple, so much happened in the little time we stayed there. I was starting to get along with everyone, except for Sokka that is, we always seem to argue and maybe it's because he hates me??? Because I was Fire Nation, but that's my past. Anyways, the people living in the air temple gifted me a new set of clothes and even warm coats for my journey to the North. I am so thankful for them.

We are now headed towards the North Pole so Aang and Katara can find a water bending master.

"I'm not one to complain, but can't Appa fly any higher?" Sokka says indeed complaining.

Appa does seem tired, we're getting lower and lower to the ocean.

"I have an idea-" Aang says looking back "-why don't we all get on your back and you can fly us to the North Pole?"

"I'd love to! Climb on everyone-" he wiggles his butt at everyone "-Sokka's ready for takeoff!"

Momo jumps up on Sokka in response to his invitation.

"Look, we're all just a little tired and cranky because we've been flying for two days straight." I tell them and Katara agrees.

"And for what?" Sokka exclaims "We can't even find the Northern Water Tribe. There's nothing up here."

Suddenly a noise is heard up ahead. Ice is moving rapidly towards Appa. We all scream and Aang pulls Appa's reigns and avoids the ice, but almost tips us all off the saddle. Appa then moves as another jet of ice erupts out of the waves, but this one slams into Appa's underside, who drops in an uncontrolled spin into the water. Out of the icebergs several ornate wooden skiffs come to surround us.

"They're waterbenders! We found the Water Tribe! " She shouts with excitement.

------------------------------------------------------------

Aang gets up " There it is! "

"The Northern Water Tribe..." Katara continues

"We're finally here..." i whisper in awe.

The water benders leads us into their village and through the canals.

The city is loaded with beautiful streams, waterfalls and fountains. They pass another boat with a waterbender and a beautiful young Water Tribe woman with white hair, Sokka focuses on her, blushes and tried to follow her by running down Appa's tail.

"This place is beautiful." Katara says

"Yeah, she is." Sokka replied while looking dreamily at the girl from the boat.

I roll my eyes and look away. From what Katara told me, it seemed to me like he was friendly with a girl from Kyoshi Island a few weeks ago. I start to chuckle.

Sokka turns to me with a serious face "What's your deal?"

"Oh nothing nothing" I wave him off.

Later on we were invited to see the Chief because he wanted to celebrate the Avatars arrival. Katara and I finished getting ready and met up with the boys outside as we started to head out towards their palace.

--------------------------------------------

We arrive and we take our seats at the table, Katara to my right and Sokka to my left.

I'm admiring everything around us until i hear Sokka whisper.

"You should probably keep to yourself that you're a fire bender-"Wow is he trying to look out for me- " we don't want you scaring people off and ruining the mood if everything"

Ouch. How can he say that? I feel my skin starting to get hot as I was starting to turn that sadness into anger and noticed I was starting to melt a hole on the table and I quickly took my hands away.

"And what's the deal with you literally burning up like some-" Sokka was gonna continue but the Chief was about to speak.

"Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of our brother and sister from the Southern Tribe, and they have brought with them someone very special, someone whom many of us believed disappeared from the world until now. The Avatar! We also celebrate my daughter's 16th birthday. Princess Yue is now of marrying age.

Princess Yue is walking towards us.

Sokka looks at her with wide eyes.

"Thank you, father. May the great Ocean and Moon Spirits watch over us during these troubled times."

"Now, Master Pakku and his students will perform! " the Chief indicates.

As the waterbending show continues, a figure walks behind us and sits down next to Sokka. It’s Princess Yue.

"Hi, there. Sokka, Southern Water Tribe. " He says trying to act all cool.

Princess Yue smiles and bows slightly "Very nice to meet you."

"So... uh... you're a Princess!” She nods and smiles “You know, back in my tribe, I'm kinda like a Prince myself!" He says

I just couldn't hold it in " Ha! Prince of what? "

Now an angry Sokka looking back at me "A lot of things! Uh, do you mind? I'm trying to have a conversation here!"

With a smirk on my face I mock a bow "My apologies, Prince Sokka."

Sokka turns to Yue and attempts to flirt by asking her to do an "activity" or something. What the spirits

Very smooth.

------------------------------------------------

It's the morning and I'm left alone to wander around the town. Aang and Katara are getting trained, Sokka went to find the princess and I am currently walking up a mountain of ice so I can be high enough to feel the Sun and do some meditation.

I come back to our place at nightfall to see everyone except Sokka is back.

"What did you do today Y/N? Practice your fire bending?" asked Aang.

"No, I was told to not even try that while I'm here, so I just did some meditating"

"What? Who told you that?" Aang asked me seriously concerned "Momo I told you to be nice"

"Don't worry” I laughed  “it wasn't Momo and I understand"

Sokka walks in all mopey.

"How's warrior training going?" Katara asked.

In response Sokka kicks a bag on the floor in anger, falls to his knees, and then flops on the bag, using it as a pillow.

"That bad?" Aang asks him.

"No, it's Princess Yue. I don't get it. One minute she wants to go out with me and the next she's telling me to get lost! So how's waterbending training?"

I sit up excited to hear about how it went, but Katara flops onto her sleeping bag, depressed.

“Master Poophead won't teach her because she's a girl." Aang replied.

"Why don't you just teach her, Aang? " I suggest.

Katara raises her head with a smile "Why didn't I think of that? At night, you can teach whatever moves you learned from Master Pakku. That way you have someone to practice with and I get to learn waterbending. Everyone's happy!"

"I'm not happy." Sokka cuts in

"But you're never happy. Come on, Aang."

They go off.

"Hey Y/N, I’ve been thinking about it and I'm sorry about what I said yesterday. It isn’t fair to you. It's just, we've never had a good experience with fire benders. Katara and I personally, we lost our mother because of the Fire Nation..."

I just listen to his story without saying a word until he finished. He tells me about how his mother died and how they are being constantly chased by the Fire Nation because of Aang.

"Look Sokka, I understand the fear and the hate, I really do. I know how dangerous and destructive fire bending and the Fire Nation can be. When I was young, my parents died giving their life for the Fire Nation and so I was raised by my grandfather Jeong Jeong. Growing up I had many try to train me fire bending but they all quit on me because my fire bending was ‘too different’ and at times ‘out of control’. They thought of it as a weakness for the Nation and their pride.....You've seen it first hand, my emotions is like some kind of fuel to it. I burn up every time my feelings get strong and sometimes lose control over it."

"Yeah, like what happened back with Master Jeong Jeong after Aang burned Katara" Sokka recalls.

"Yeah, I end up hurting the people I care about" I look down and take a deep breath before I continue "With time my grandfather realized how wrong the Nation was and their beliefs and decided to escape with me. We barely made it out alive. My grandfather later trained me to have some control over my bending through meditation. He says I'm more powerful than I realize, and that that's why the Nation didn't want me, because they were afraid or something...but now he's gone too."

"Hey, you have us now. We'll be your family and we can help you." He reassures.

"Thanks Sokka. You did have a point though, I should try to keep myself under cover because if the Fire Nation finds out who I am, then we'll be an even bigger target."

"Yeah, we'll protect you Y/N. I promise" he smiles.

Suddenly Aang and Katara comes in with a face with mixed emotions. They sit down and tell us what happened when they tried to train and how Master Pakku caught them and kicked Aang out from his training. We decided to go the next morning to talk to the chief and try to negotiate.

---------------------------------------------

"What do you want me to do?" says Chief Arnook "Force Master Pakku to take Aang back as his student?"

"Yes – please!" I try to reason for them.

"I suspect he might change his mind if you (looking at Katara) swallow your pride and apologize to him." He says.

"Fine." Katara says clearly unhappy.

"I'm waiting, little girl." Master Pakku smugly says.

"No! No way am I apologizing to a sour old man like you!" As Katara speaks, cracks open in the floor beneath her. She ends up by pointing directly at Master Pakku, her finger almost in his face.

"Uh, Katara..." Aang begins to say

Katara has a look of challenge on her face "I'll be outside – if you're man enough to fight me!"

You can hear a group of gasps

"I'm sure she didn't mean that." I try to say.

"Yeh, I think she did." Sokka replies.

We start to go after Katara this is halfway down the steps of the palace.

"Are you crazy, Katara? You're not gonna win this fight!" Sokka tries to knock some sense into her.

Katara takes off her coat and throws it at Sokka, hitting him in the face "I know! I don't care!"

"You don't have to do this for me. I can find another teacher." Aang tries to reason

"I'm not doing it for you! Someone needs to slap some sense into that guy!" She tels them.

The boys look at me for some help.

"Guys She has a point, I mean if I had a chance to show my old teachers that I was worth bejng taught, I think I would have"

As we reach the bottom of the steps, Master Pakku appears.

"So, you decided to show up?" Katara starts to say but He walks past her "Aren't you gonna fight??

"Go back to the healing huts with the other women where you belong." He says without even glancing her way.

3rd POV

Insanely angry, Katara draws a water whip out of the ground and whips Pakku on the back on the neck. He stops

Master Pakku finally faces her " Fine. You want to learn to fight so bad, study closely! "

He begins to bend and Katara runs towards him but he flings her backwards.

Master Pakku mockingly says "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you!"

Pakku creates a whirlpool and it begins to constrict, but before Katara is knocked back down she swings her arm, almost as if she were swinging a baseball bat, deflecting the wall of water off on a different trajectory. Cut to a shot of the spectators, including Aang and Sokka. The errant wall of water hits Sokka

“OW!”

Katara runs at him with a water whip. He raises a ramp of ice in front of her which she slides up and then back flips off, landing neatly on the guardrail of the citadel steps behind him. Pakku liquefies the ramp and throws it at her while catching her feet in ice. The wave breaks around Katara, however, as she bends it out of the way.

"You can't knock me down!" She says

The crowd formed starts to cheer

"Go Katara!" Aang shouts.

"You got this Katara!" Y/N encourages.

The fight goes on and Master Pakku is still decided on not teaching Katara.

Katara now standing in front of Pakku, but Master pakku sends shards of ice towards her, the shards land closely all around her. She is trapped. She struggles in vain against her prison of ice, her hands and arms unable to move.

Master Pakku walks towards her "This fight is over."

"Come back here! I'm not finished yet!" Katara yells.

"Yes, you are." he replied. He stops in surprise, picking up the necklace that fell from Katara's neck during the fight.

"This is my necklace!" He says with wonder.

"No it's not, it's mine! Give it back!" She tells him."

"I made this sixty years ago – for the love of my life." He continued saying.

Katara's ice prison liquefies behind him, freeing her "For Kana."

"My Gran-Gran was supposed to marry you?" Katara says in awe.

Master Pakku still holding the necklace, sadly says "I carved this necklace for your grandmother when we got engaged. I thought we would have a long, happy life together. I loved her."

"But she didn't love you, did she? It was an arranged marriage." Katara says.

The Princess' eyes water.

Katara walks up to Pakku "Gran-Gran wouldn't let your tribe's stupid customs run her life. That's why she left. It must have taken a lot of courage."

Proncess Yue begins to cry openly and runs away.

"Go get her." Y/N tells Sokka and nod to her direction.

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please like and reblog. Also follow me if you are a big fan of ATLa because I want to follow back others with the same interests.

[thirst-order-confession]

heeyyyyy not to be a big bother or anything but... i was going through the monster au tag... and was wondering when part 2 of the hux story was going to come out? because i'm kind of in love with this little series and can't wait to see mooooar

Well, it just so has it. Your call has been answered. I actually had part 2 mostly done for awhile now and was looking for a good opportunity to post so... thank you. 

And also, I would like to thank @ichooseyouprocrastination because she sat down and we fangirled over thinking about Hunter!Hux. So thanks, babers 😘

Also this is like 20 pages long (not really) so I put it under the cut so save some scrolling for those actually on the blog. 

It was later that same night and things had settled down, the sun replaced with the moon in the sky and it seemed that the star had taken its unbearable heat with it. In its wake, there was only a comfortable warmth left behind.

The crickets were chirping in the night air, a distant owl hooted. There was the occasional knock of a woodpecker on its tree far off deep into the woods.

Hux sat on a fallen long on one side of the fire while you lay relaxed back your thin bedroll beneath you, your knee swaying lazily as you watched the fire, your dogs lay snuggled in on either side of you. The two of you had just finished eating; you’d shot down a couple squirrels and had cooked them over the fire.

But now it was nearing the time to sleep and you were watching the redhead from across the flames.

“Why don’t you go to sleep?” You asked him softly when you noticed his eyes drooping, his head slipping from his palm where he sat.

At your suggestion, he was blinking awake and sitting up straighter, “I’m not tired.”

For a moment, you just closed your eyes and laughed softly inside, shaking your head.

“You’re fine to sleep out here. This is the least dangerous part of the forest. Plus I have wards placed around here and there that tell me if something comes through this area. If I’m not worried about it and my dogs aren’t worried about it, you shouldn’t be either.” Still, Hux looked unimpressed, his stare unwavering, “Fine. Do what you want. But don’t nod off and fall off your horse tomorrow. We’re going deeper into the Glade tomorrow.” She smirked over at him, “It would be a shame if you got eaten.”

The redheaded man debated a long moment, his eyes narrowed on your. And then he was sliding from his seat and stretching out on his own mat, his arms beneath his chin as he lay on his stomach, his eyes on the fire.

“Say… I’ve always wondered, by the way, what’s it like up North? I’ve heard it’s cold and cloudy. That it rains a lot. Has lots of dodgy weather.”

Hux was quiet for a moment before he sighed, “Well, you’ve heard correct. Sometimes we can go days or even weeks without seeing the sun.”

You grimaced while you ran your hand back through your hair, “Is it like that across the entire North?”

“Mostly, yes. But we live more to the northeast. It almost seems to be more… concentrated over Arkanis. That’s our… city.”

“How dreary. We at least have different seasons here.”

It was now the redheads turn to huff out a laugh, “As I can tell. This heat is absolutely dreadful.” You raised your eyebrow when you noticed Hux smirking softly from the depths of his arms, his irises shinning in the firelight.

You felt your own lips twitch, “Just wait, then. Winter is coming. You should feel right at home with all the rain and snow and sleet when the year grows late.”

“Mmm, I cannot wait, then.”

“I mean, that is to say, if you even stay until winter…?”

Hux was quiet a moment but shrugged, “My father has not set a date to leave yet. But for now, I would assume so. Only now, it’s June and we have much to learn about your forest and monsters. We don’t know what we are facing yet.”

You reached over into your bag and pulled out an animal skin, one filled with some rich, red wine. You uncorked it and took a sip, the liquid burning a bit as it crossed your pallet.

Hux frowned when you made a face, “What?”

“Wine,” you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, “You want some?”

He sighed, “Well, if I’m to be eaten in my sleep, I suppose I should enjoy what’s left of my life.” He held out his hand and you tossed the skin to him.

The man caught it easily and you watched as he pulled the stopper free and took a small sip first and he too made a face before shrugging and taking a longer pull.

You sat up and crossed your legs in front of you, “You have family back in Arkanis then?”

“Yes. There is still some extended family that lives there. And my mother and younger brother, Domhall,” Hux’s lips pursed but took another short drink, now lounging on his side, “He didn’t join us on our journey because my father left him in charge of our estate and to keep the Guilds connected.”

“Mmm, how strange,” you mused to yourself as you maneuvered around to lay on your own stomach, the heat from the fire warming your face, “Typically the eldest is left in charge of the estate. It’s safer so that the name can carry on…”

Hux kept his face stoic despite the fact that he wanted to wince inside.

“…but that’s the North for ya, I suppose. Strange.”

The redheaded man scoffed, “We’re strange? Says the lunatic of a woman who thinks witchcraft is normal.”  

“That’s because it is normal,” you glowered over at him, “Again, it’s you who’s the strange one. You’d be amazed how much easier hunting becomes when you use even the smallest bit of magic.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“You do realize that’s why the town is called Occult right? That’s how our village is almost suspiciously safe despite being on the edge of the Glade?” You sat up slightly, your eyes narrowed at him. “It’s because we live on a ley line thrumming with spiritual energy and have a witch who protects us and keeps most of the monsters out. Miss Kalliope has been protecting our village as far back as anyone can remember, so you know what—”

“Miss Kalliope?” Hux himself was now the one to look suspicious.

Oh, fucking shit. “Uhm… I-I mean—”

“So there is a witch…?” He took another sip of the wine.

You stared back at him a moment, your eyes hardening, “And you’ll do nothing to her lest my offer still stands.” You reached down and pulled your knife from the sheath on your belt, stabbing it into the soft ground before you. “I won’t have you burning her and then fucking over everyone in the village. I won’t let twelve northerners stand between me and my safety.”

For a long moment, Hux just considered you, his icy eyes glowing in the warm light from the fire.

“You say that she… protects the village?” He played with the animal skin in his hands.

You nodded slowly, your face serious, “Legend has it that Kalliope was here first and Occult settled around her. And she’s the reason why we can all sleep without worry at night. She’s a good witch… looney as she can be at times. She can help you, though. Can protect you a bit when you hunt if you ask her for a ward or charm.”

Hux sighed softly and turned over onto his back, his hand resting on his stomach as he looked up at the canopy of trees overhead as well as the stars shinning in the sky. He took another long drink from the animal skin, the wine warming his insides pleasantly.

However, he frowned softly and lifted his head, his eyes peering out into the dark depths of the woods. And although he saw nothing amongst the trees, he still felt as though something was watching him.

Still, when he glanced back at you and found that you yourself were watching him, he frowned and lay his head back down. It definitely wasn’t… just your eyes upon him.

He had felt the same feeling all day but only now just decided to comment on it, seeing as how it was slowly driving him towards insanity.

“Do you ever feel like you’re not out here alone when you hunt? Like something is watching you?”

Your lips twitched and you hummed thoughtfully, your eyes themselves glancing at the trees, “Sometimes… but I’m used to it by now. And if it were something bad watching me, it would have gotten me by now and it hasn’t so… it’s more of a comforting thing now. To know that something’s watching over me. Maybe even making me feel safe.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I feel at home in the woods. Out here by myself.” You turned over on your side then, your fingers digging into the shaggy hair of one of your hounds as you stuffed your father’s coat beneath your head. “And I’m not overly fond of people.”

You grew silent then and Hux narrowed his eyes, very much wanting to press but decided that he shouldn’t, that it wasn’t his place to ask further.

So he lay back on his own bedroll, his gun at his side, and he allowed his eyes to close and forced the sounds of night to lull him to sleep.

Your brow furrowed as you pulled yourself from unconsciousness, the bright sunlight streaming through your closed eyelids causing you to lift your arms and cover your face. And you lay like that a moment, the hounds asleep at your sides snoring softly, the fire silent before you.

However, when you sat up and turned around, eyes sleepily staring across the little clearing, you found that Hux was gone, seemingly missing from his makeshift bed.

You had ought to be worried but instead turned and gazed through the trees and found that Lucio was still tied loosely to a tree, his head lowered to the ground as he ate. But Minerva was gone, as was her saddle and saddle blanket. You wanted to be worried but found that you couldn’t and instead, you lazily climbed to your feet and saddled Lucio, packing your supplies and grabbing your weapons as you pulled yourself up onto your back. Your dogs lazily rose and trotted behind you as you followed the obvious hoof prints pressed into the soft earth.

It didn’t take you long before you found Minerva, the mare lazily grazing herself and she lifted her head as she watched you approach.

Even from here, you could hear the quiet babbling of the river and dismounted Lucio to leave him by his companion before you trekked towards the sound of the water, signaling your dogs to stay where they were at the top.

And you strode down to the trees, following the boot prints, the river came into view and still, through the sleepy haze of your mind, you shifted your rifle on your shoulder and continued downwards. However, when you lifted your head, your eyes widened and your cheeks immediately blazed bright red as you caught sight of a pale, porcelain ass bent over at the water’s edge.

You immediately ducked behind a tree, your hand slapping over your mouth as you screamed internally. Well… you’d definitely found Hux.

Still, you glanced to your side and found that his clothes were discarded a few feet away on the ground, neatly folded and placed atop his boots.

Swallowing thickly, you slowly peered out from behind the tree and watched as the man rose to his full height, broad shoulders rippling as he rolled them before he stepped into the shallows, his pale bum clenching the further he stepped into no doubt the chilled water.

And then, Gods above, he was fucking turning back towards shore, a rag left on a larger rock near the waters edge and you saw everything.

If possible, you flushed even hotter but didn’t look away as he hurried back towards the shore to grab the rag and soap stored inside of it so that he could properly wash himself, a towel just beside them.

Inwardly, you were cursing yourself, screaming just in general because fuck he was such a stuck up, northern cocksucker but why was he so lean but strong, pale and unblemished expect for the smattering of freckles along the tops of his shoulders and chest, his shock of ginger hair disheveled from sleep. Why was he unfairly beautiful for being someone so ill-tempered and foul?

Why was life so unfair sometimes?

You were about to turn back and hide once more but when you finally tore your eyes away from the trimmed nest of ginger hair and the wondrous thing that it circled, you noticed that he had a familiar chain draped around his neck. He had… He was wearing…

That was your necklace!

You reached into your own shirt and found it to be missing from your neck as expected and you could help yourself no longer as you stepped from the trees just as Hux submerged his most private of parts beneath the water’s surface.

“Good morning, Mr. Hux. How kind of you to wake me this morning!” You snapped as you strode down the bank, the redhead turning his head towards you, his soapy hand scrubbing over his muscled chest. His own cheeks flushed red and he scowled at you, stopping his ministrations for a moment. “And it was also kind of you to take my warding necklace with you. It’s not like I needed it while I slept, defenseless, on the ground in a forest full of monsters.”

“You had your dogs to watch you,” he protested, resuming his scrubbing as he lathered himself up despite your presence. “And I needed to bathe. The bloody heat in your blasted forest makes me stink.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “So then you’ll stink! We’re out in the woods!”

“I’ll only be a minute,” he huffed, scrubbing the bar of soap up and through his hair before he tossed it to shore and began to scrub with both hands. “You could at least turn around. Let me at least have some of my dignity.”

Rolling your eyes, you complied slowly and turned around so that your back was towards the man.

“So… exactly what type of monsters do you have in the forest? What are the dangerous ones?”

You rolled your eyes again. He was trying to make conversation at a time like this?

Still, you sighed and unwillingly gave in, “We’ve got a lot of stuff. You already know about the gehörnte. But then we have the shearshas, sungnerfs, windashes, laelif, lothrosties, werewolves… just to name a few. Sometimes, I think we might also have some saytrs, as well. And then… well, we call them Umbras. But they’re basically these horrible… shadow creatures.”

Hux was silent behind you, the faint splashing having quieted, “The North has shadow creatures.”

Your head lifted slightly at that, “What do you call them?”

“Just shadow creatures. Nothing more.”

Your mind very briefly flashed back to your brother and his bright, smiling face, “Yeah, well… Just watch out for them. Nasty, blood thirsty beasts that they are.”

There was some splashing behind you but you didn’t look, your heart heavy in that moment before something was being draped over your head. You glanced up just in time to see Hux’s pale self striding passed you, the towel wrapped around his waist as he sloshed up the shore toward his clothes.

When you looked back down, you found that it was your necklace, the metal already warmed slightly but the redhead’s skin.

Swallowing thickly, you reverentially took the chain into your hand before you were hiding it back beneath the collar of your shirt, your boots carrying you back up the bank to where your horses waited.

When you returned to the village a few days later, sweaty, thirst for some ale, and in need of a bath, you still were not fond of Armitage Hux. Not in the slightest.

You learned very quickly that he was very arrogant and rather full of himself despite the fact that the first few days had been enjoyable.

You’d spent a few days showing him about the woods, climbing to the tops of some of the lower mountains, explaining the lay of the land to him. You told him about the creatures, explained which ones were most dangerous and which of those were not. You told him about the town and the people, who he should befriend and who he should stay away from.

And you told him this, your voice eerily steady, “Don’t talk to anyone who has traveled off the path and are alone. Don’t even look at them.”

Your father had made that mistake.

Regardless of how pleasant he had been for the first couple of days, you had learned that evidently he only had pride for himself and the skills he had as a hunter. And he was a fucking show off. And it was unfortunate that he was a decent shot and proved to be a skillful tracker and trapper.

You hated him because of it.

Despite his patience with you for the first few initial days, the grace period seemed to rub off and the longer away he was from civilization, the more agitated the man became. And when he was agitated, he was very short tempered and tried to undermine you so many times. And that didn’t sit well with you at all.

Numerous times, you had raised your rifle and threatened him with it. Or better yet, you had threatened to leave him in the Glade. Alone.

He had been rather quiet after that and yet you could always feel his eyes glaring daggers into your back.

You were grateful when you returned home and you could tell that Hux was, too. You’d seemingly had enough of each other and you didn’t want to see the ginger for a good, long while.

Pretentious fucker.

And you didn’t, spending most of your time out in town or in the woods, hauling in carcasses and claiming coin from the Guild for your duties after you had returned, happy to be free of his presence.

However, that didn’t stop you from seeing him in passing during the heat of the day, a new blue roan horse between his legs as he oftentimes galloped into town, rifle shoved into the leather holster on his saddle horn. Too many times, he was shirtless, his pale chest and freckled shoulders glistening with sweat as he thundered into town, his ginger hair tousled and damp with sweat as his leather gloves gripped the reins of his new steed in his palms, his blue eyes still icy hard as he trotted past you.

And you hated the man… because he unwillingly had your respect. And it was very rare that people ever earned something like that.

Not to mention that he was infuriatingly enough, not an ugly bloke either. Probably one of the most pretty and dapper in the village. Someone still unworn and weary from living so near the Glade.

When you next saw him, it was on the night of the summer festival.

The village was lit up entirely with bonfires and lanterns. Every villager was out in the town, dressed in their finest clothes and dresses. Nearly everyone, man, woman, or child, wore a crown of wild flowers on their head.

There had been a feast that day that was still going on, for the hunters had made sure to bring in a lot of kill for the event that night and for the rest of the week: this was only the first night of many and everyone was already in the swing of things, music already pervading the air and filling the silence of the night.

Still, you were stationed near one of the bonfires, the barrel of your rifle clutched in your hands as you stood watch in the shadows of a building, your father’s coat draped over your sweat stained clothes.

You were content to watch and that was all, your hand sometimes reaching for the mug of ale balanced on a barrel between a couple of the log houses.

Just when you were taking a sip, a familiar form walked across the small plot of land between the houses, his fiery hair catching in the light of the flames. And then he was looking at you as if he could feel your eyes upon his person.

And then he was walking towards you and you were sighing internally.

“Well, look who it is,” he was smirking softly as he approached you in the shadows, a mug of ale in his own hands. He paused for a moment out in the light from the fire, his eyes narrowing as lifted his drink and took a sip. “Aren’t you going to join in to the festivities? You are missing so much of the fun.”

For a moment, you took in the sight of him; his deep blue tailored waist coat and a bright red ascot tied around his throat. He wore dark, clean pants and from what you could see, his boots also shone in the firelight.

You shook your head, “Someone has to keep watch. And I volunteered for the week of the festival.”

His eyes narrowed once more, “All week?”

You shrugged your shoulders and shifted your weight on your feet, “The men need a break sometimes. They deserve it.”

“Mmm, highly unlikely.” Hux muttered taking a step closer to you. “My father has had nothing but praise for you, so it seems. He said that he was looking at the records for what you’ve brought in thus far since we have arrived and your work alone overshadows all the other hunters.” He joined you in the shadows and took another sip of his drink as he looked back at the blazing bonfire and the bodies that danced around it. “Why is that?”

You shrugged once more, not looking at him, “There are always monsters to kill.”

“That may be true but like you said before… you aren’t very fond of people. That’s why you would rather be out in the woods than be here in town.”

“You’re right, I don’t like people.”

“You don’t like that people pity you.”

You hesitated a moment before your head snapped in his direction, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I went to the witch like you told me to. And Miss Kalliope told me… Told me about your family.”

Your grip on your gun grew tighter and yet you still just gazed into the fire, “I already have everyone else’s. I don’t need your pity.”

“Regardless, you’re going to get it.” Hux said, placing his cup down near your own so that he could clasp his hands behind his back, the man a towering shadow at your side. “You’ve lost everyone and that’s unfair.”

You were silent a long moment, “Well… I wouldn’t be the same person if things were different.”

“I can almost guarantee that you wouldn’t be so lonely… What with only your dogs and your monsters’ woods to keep you company now.”

You finally snapped your head towards him, “Why don’t you leave, okay? I didn’t ask for your company tonight and now that you’re here, I sure as hell don’t want it.”

Hux was silent for a long moment and his blue eyes scrutinized your face a long moment before he was looking down, glancing over your worn clothes and dirty boots, “Don’t you own anything that isn’t bloodstained?”

Your lip curled in a sneer, “Fuck off, Hux.”

You strode from the alleyway and the redheaded man, your drink long forgotten as you stormed down the street, your gun held tightly in your fists as you willed the burning of tears away from your eyes.

Regardless of what he said, you would show him.

You hastily saddled Lucio and yanked yourself up onto his back, the dark nightmare of the horse snorting noisily and stomping as if he could feel your anger and rage.

And when you went thundering through the town on your stallion, your rifle slung over your shoulder, you caught Hux’s eye still in the alley where you had left him and only now he was joined by his companion Mitaka.

He did not look as smug as you thought he would have been. Instead, his brow was furrowed softly as you fled into the night.

And when you returned to the village a few hours later, you dismounted your horse and all those still at the festival were silent, all eyes on you as you untied the mound of monsters you had been dragging behind Lucio.

You were drenched head to toe in gore from the kills you made that night, your hair stringy and saturated with blood, your face was also stained and splattered with both red and black life force.

Your clothes truly were blood stained but this was the largest set of kills you had brought in in awhile.

You didn’t care who saw or stared. You just wanted their fear.

Again, you found Hux among the crowd, his brow still furrowed with some emotion you didn’t recognize as you began to drag the corpses back through down, your eyes dark and seemingly dilated with blood lust, your features steely as you worked your way through the crowd towards the Guild building.

Two days later, you were saddling up Lucio to disappear off into the woods once more when there was soft knock on the door of your barn.

“What do you want?” You called as you stood up from adjusting the straps, your hand wiping your sweaty brow as you peered out into the barn, only to find the dark haired northerner from before, Dopheld. “Mitaka, what are you doing here? What has Krennic contracted me for now?”

The young hunter flushed a moment, his eyes dropping to the barn floor, “Um, well, Miss Y/N, actually, I myself was just contracted to deliver this package to you.”

From behind his back, Dopheld produced a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine; tucked beneath the neat knot in the center of the package was a bright yellow daisy.

You took it when he extended it to you, a frown on your face, “Who’s this from?”

“I’m… I’m not allowed to tell you.”

You narrowed your eyes. You already knew.

“What’s it for?”

“To show you appreciation for all that you’ve done and will do for the village. It’s… Well, it’s not much on such short notice but it should get the point across.”

For a moment, you glowered at him before nodding his head and the man was licking his lips, nodding in return, and then scurrying off.

Curious, you picked up the daisy and held the stem in your mouth while you pulled on the string hold it all together. You allowed the twine to fall to the floor and when you pushed back the paper, you sighed heavily and touched the fabric, your jaw clenching as you lifted your head and looked out the open barn door, your eyes hard.

You would fucking show him, the bastard.

You tried not to act self-conscious as you strode through the town square where the party was in full swing, your rifle still slung over your shoulder as you made your way to your post, your head held high.

You’d spent all day preparing for tonight, your wild tresses tamed back into a twist back from your face and the daisy wedged into the tie at the back of your head despite the fact that it didn’t match the dress.

The thing wasn’t absolutely horrid, you were disappointed to admit.

It was a deep maroon color with a rounded neck that left your neck and collarbones exposed to the cooler night air, the waist of the fabric gathered in slightly. The uneven, petal like hem of the skirt also didn’t fall all the way to your ankles but instead settled a few inches just passed your knees, leaving your now cleaned and polished boots visible.

You could feel numerous sets of eyes upon you as you made your way through the village yet you tried your damned to ignore them and instead continued forward.

It was also highly known throughout the town that you were unmarried and never had been so you could almost feel the younger lads sniffing at your trail.

Your reputation as a hunter and an ill-tempered woman should be enough to keep them away. You hoped.

Still, you nearly snarled when you reached your post and found that Hux was leaning against the wall of the house where you had been two nights before. And when he saw you, he smirked, his eyes simmering low with a triumphant glimmer.

Tonight, he was wearing a pale yellow waistcoat, a white shirt beneath it, and the same bright red ascot.

“I hate you,” you snarled at him, shrugging your gun from your shoulder as if you were going to shoot him.

Instead, the redheaded man just stepped forward, still smirking, and grabbed the barrel of your rifle and yanked it from your grasp. Not that you were holding on that tightly or anything.

“I know. The feeling is mutual. However… would you care to dance?” He then bent low at the waist and raised his hand in offering.

You crossed your arms over your chest and glared down at him, “No.”

You lifted his head and smirked at you, his eyes seeming to glow in the light of the fire, “Well, that’s too bad.” He quickly reached out and grabbed your hand from where you had it hidden beneath your arm and you growled as he pulled you along.

He herded you toward where the rest of the townspeople were already dancing around one of the roaring bonfires, his hand settling on your waist while the other took hold of your hand.

You were grumbling the whole time, complaining as Hux tried vainly to get you to move to the music being played by the few hunters and women who happened to play instruments and were chosen to play for the event.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked him as he spun you around the other couples dancing to the tune, the song they were playing old and yet known to nearly all those across the continent.

“Because it brings me much joy to see you suffer this torture,” he admitted and your lip curled up slightly when he shot you a smirk as he dipped you low suddenly, catching you off guard so you had to hold onto him, your arms circling around his neck.

And when he lifted you again in his surprisingly strong arms, his body lean yet powerful, you remained close for a moment, his arms curling your waist. And yet you didn’t try to move away from him, your eyes on his.

“Does it really?” You asked breathlessly.

“Maybe... Maybe not as much as you would think,” his own accented voice is surprisingly soft and low, his warm breath fanning over your face. “I must admit, though, you look very nice. The dress fits you well.” You can’t help yourself when you flush, “Not to mention it’s already red so you can’t stain it anymore than your other clothes.”

You can’t help it when a soft huff of a laugh escapes you, “I suppose so.”

“Mitaka said earlier that you were less than pleased when he delivered it.”

“Well, the last thing you asked me before I left was if I had any clothes that weren’t blood stained. And this was after you talked about my family.”

“And I should apologize for that. It’s not very becoming of me to dredge up your past before you are ready to speak about it,” his eyes searched off into the darkness a moment, his irises illuminated by the fire. “And I suppose that I should apologize for the dress as well. I only wished for you to have something nice. For you to take some time for yourself. You are always... gone.”

Again, you felt your face warm, “Well, it is very kind of you. And I like working, I like being busy. It leaves me less time to... to think about things that I rather wouldn’t think about. And I don’t need nice things. If I wanted them, I could certainly afford them.”

You pulled your arms from his neck then, your fingers accidentally brushing his soft ginger hair as you stepped back. He let you go, his own fingers trailing along your sides as you moved.

He folded his own hands behind his back, “Ah, I see. So, you just enjoy living a simplistic life, then? I can respect that... Would you care for a drink?” He offered you his arm suddenly and you flushed once more and smiled, shaking your head slightly. Nonetheless, you took his arm and he led you towards where they were serving ale.

“You may think you are being sly and coy, Mr. Hux but I do not need your sympathy even though you are trying to place it upon me once more. And I don’t need it.” You spoke softly under your breath as you took the mug of ale he offered to you.

His eyes flickered to you and there was something other than iciness that you saw there, “I don’t often give it so freely so you should except it while you can. What happened... it is unfortunate. Unfair. First your brother... and than your father and mother.”

“Life is unfair, sir. Myself and my skills are just a bi-product of that. The village should be thankful that what happened, happened. As I said before, I wouldn’t be the same if it had happened any other way.”

You turned to go but Hux grabbed hold of your arm suddenly so he could whip you back around. He leaned in and rested his cheek against your own, the action catching you off guard so you froze.

“You will take my sympathy. You will accept it and you will stop telling me to keep it. I chose where I place it. And I choose where I place my respect and it’s unfortunate that you’ve garnered that as well as both a hunter and a man. Now, you need to learn to start accepting kindness. There are few others in this world that deserve it more than you.” He was drawing back and kissing you on the cheek suddenly, his lips lingering a moment, “Have a good evening, Miss Y/N. And please, by all means, enjoy yourself.”

He was leaving then, the warmth of his body suddenly gone as he strode across the courtyard, off to who knows where.

Still, for a moment after he disappeared into the Guild building in the center of the town, you remained frozen, your hand slowly lifting to touch your cheek, the sensation of his featherlight kiss upon your flesh still lingering.

Armitage Hux, ever the bane of your existence. Always the beautiful enigma now in your life.

Over the course of the next few months, you interacted with the redheaded hunter off and on. You typically went about your days only seeing glimpses of him. He seemed to be busy himself, teaching his men about the Glade, visiting Miss Kalliope for goods and charms.

There seemed to be a mutual understanding shared between the two of you now. You were civil when in each other’s company. You didn’t undermine each other... most of the time.

Hux still held onto his old world beliefs of treating a lady differently from a man. And that still pissed you off to no end but you tended to deal with that on a daily basis so you were already used to it.

Still, there were times where you could talk, were you could joke if you happened to be in the market on the same day, procuring the same goods. There was a running tradition between the two of you that if you were both out buying bullets, you would buy the other their stock because you forgot your money one day while shopping.

This new sort of companionship built on respect was easy and light. Teasing, more than anything. You sometimes went on joint hunts together but it was never more than that; never more than sharing a meal and a pint of ale afterwards.

And then summer turned into fall and fall turned into winter.  And you were on Minerva’s back, her hooves crunching through the snow as you pulled your were fur tighter around your neck as you passed through town.  

You were going after a wunderbeast, the bastard having become infamous for looting the town of nearly all its chickens. And it was the middle of winter and the town needed as many chickens as it could have.

Just then, Hux stepped out of the Guild lodge, his hair a shock of bright red against the snow. You offered him a nod of your head as Minerva lazily plodded along.

“Going out already? After the snow has barely settled?”

“If I’m to get the wunderbeast first, then yes. If we want to gave eggs through the winter, then yes,” you teased slightly, only pausing a moment to stop.

Hux walked up to you and patted Minerva on the neck, ruffling his hand through her thick hair.

He was wearing a warm, lambskin coat and tanned, leather gloves to protect his fingers from the harsh weather. He wore the same red ascot around his neck once more, the sight so familiar to you now that when he wasn’t wearing it, you were startled.

“You going to be okay to go on your own? Hypothermia exists, you know,” he smirked softly, something glinting in his blue eyes.

“I’ve spent many winters out in the Glade. I think I can handle myself perfectly well.”

“And there I will cease to argue,” he pats your boot as it peeks through the ring of the stirrup, “But, I don’t want to have to lead a search party out to find you...” His brow furrowed for a fraction of a moment, “Be careful.”

“I always am, Hux,” you nod at him and he steps back with a nod of his own to give Minvera space to walk. “I shouldn’t be long today. The tracks in the snow should be easy enough to follow.”

“You’ll be home for supper then?” He joked and you smiled and shook your head.

“I can’t promise anything.” You called over your shoulder as you distanced yourself from him, moving on.

“Very well. Good luck. And don’t miss!”  

This caused a bark of laughter to erupt from you, “Yeah, you can just sod off! And you know I never do.”

If only you had taken Hux with you. If only you hadn’t gone alone. If only you had followed your own advice, the same advice you had given Hux months prior. The same advice you had taken away from your father’s death.

If only you hadn’t stopped to help someone who was alone and had strayed from the path.

Because you did far more than look or talk to them. To him.