#what if the death of the author featured everyone beating her off with sticks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alicanta77 · 4 years

Text

Run Away

pairing: y/n x Jaemin

themes: fluff, angst, non idol au

warnings: swearing, violence, fighting, drugs, drug use, overdose, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, depression, suicide attempt, death, character death, anxiety, abusive family, alcohol abuse

words: 12k

Disclaimer: This contains very dark content. Please do NOT read if you are uncomfortable with or easily triggered by anything listed in the warnings.

——————————————————————————

Would you run away to me?

‘Run away!’ Your young voice rang out clearly. ‘Run away before Hook catches you!’

‘Captain Hook will never catch me.’ Jaemin declared, standing on a box to put himself higher than you. ‘Because I’m Peter Pan!’

Yours and Jaemin’s mothers watched the two of you play. Just two seven year olds who had nothing more to worry about than being saved from a giant make believe crocodile.

You fell backwards pretending as though you had landed in water. You flailed your arms and legs around calling out for Jaemin to save you.

Jaemin saw the “danger” you were in and leapt into action. He jumped off of his box, landing in a shaky forwards roll, before picking up into a run and speeding towards you. He paused on the way to grab a large stick from the floor to use as a sword as he pretended to battle the imaginary demon attacking you.

After the monster was defeated, he landed on his knees next to you. Pulling you close to check that you were okay.

‘Y/n? You’re safe now. Nothing can touch you when I’m here.’ He reassured you.

‘My hero.’ You giggled, sitting up properly.

Both your heads turned as your mother called the two of you in for a snack. You took Jaemin’s hand and pulled yourself up.

‘Race you to the table!’ You challenged, sprinting towards the open back door.

‘Cheat! You should have waited for me to be ready.’ Jaemin complained, already running after you. It didn’t matter how much of a head start you gave yourself, Jaemin would always let you win anyway.

You enjoyed playing make believe with Jaemin. The imaginary worlds you created were always so much better than reality. Places where the two of you could be heroes and save people, where you were safe as long as you had each other, where nothing and nobody could touch you.

Unfortunately, you always had to come back to reality.

You father stumbled through the door, throwing his keys in the general direction of the coffee table, and missing. He sent you and Jaemin a withering look before making his way upstairs. He left a strong scent of alcohol behind him, one that you were very used to.

Jaemin’s mother looked towards yours with a sympathetic smile, your mother simply shrugging helplessly back at her. You and Jaemin were too young to properly understand what was going on, but, even at that age, you could tell that it wasn’t good.

Jaemin had always been better at reading people than you were. He could tell from the slightest twitch in someone’s eyebrow as to whether they were angry, sad or confused. The only person you could read like a book was Jaemin. The two of you never bothered to hide anything from the other, knowing that it wouldn’t work even if you tried.

The two of you sat down at the table slowly, your actions speeding up when you noticed the plate of cookies on the table. The two of you smiled at each other, cheeks full of the sweet treat as your mothers looked endearingly at you. At your age you didn’t stay sad or scared for long, making it easier for them to distract and protect you from reality.

---

The afternoon sun was beating down outside, giving out the last of its rays before it descended and the moon took over. You and Jaemin sat together, happily watching as the sky morphed into a painting of pinks and oranges.

‘I like the sky like this.’ You said, resting your tiring head on Jaemin’s shoulder.

‘Why?’ He questioned, hugging his knees with his hands.

‘Because it looks like something out of a fairy tale. Somewhere there are happy ever afters, and everyone gets one.’ You explained as Jaemin nodded in agreement. The both of you were too young to fully understand the depths of the words you uttered.

‘I can’t wait for a happy ever after.’ Jaemin admitted, putting his head on yours.

‘Me neither.’ You murmured, enjoying being near your best friend.

‘Jaemin!’ Jaemin’s mother’s voice drew both your attention away from the sky in front of you. ‘It’s time to go! Say goodbye, you can see each other again tomorrow.’

Jaemin turned back to face you, pulling you in for a quick hug.

‘Bye y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow?’ He asked.

‘Of course.’ You replied, smiling at him.

Jaemin stood up off the porch steps the two of you were sitting on, and walked off with his mum. He turned back to send you one last wave before he crossed the street. You waved back, watching until he disappeared from your sight.

You couldn’t wait for your happy ever after.

---

But happy ever after took time.

You sat in your bedroom, your hands covering your ears as you buried your head in your duvet. You were doing everything you could think of to block out the noises but it wasn’t working. Your father’s drunk screams were echoing up to your room and your mother’s retaliations were just as noisy.

You whimpered as the words got more violent and vicious, the threats becoming more and more severe. It was when you heard a smack and a yelp of pain that you finally burst into tears.

You had never felt more useless in your life. The hopelessness washed over you in tidal waves as you tried as hard as you could to stop the tears. Nothing was working.

Your sobs got louder with each one that escaped you, eventually becoming almost as deafening as your parent’s harsh words to each other. Your young body was shaking, partially from fear and partially from the force of your crying.

The noise from the floor below you quietened, making you still slightly, your sobs turning into quiet cries as you listened.

You heard footsteps climbing the stairs, loud uneven footsteps that you knew were your father’s. You felt your heart start to race again, this time you knew it was in pure fear. A second pair chased up after him, much lighter and faster. That was your mother.

Your father threw open your door, a sadistic smile on his face as he looked at your vulnerable form.

‘How pathetic.’ He mused. ‘Crying because you can’t handle a bit of loud noise.’

You whimpered again, attempting to pull your duvet up over you, as if it was a shield that could protect you.

He stalked towards you.

‘Get up.’ He spat. ‘Now.’

You were to afraid to argue, pushing your duvet down and standing on shaking legs. You wrapped your arms around you to defend yourself from the sudden chill of leaving the warmth of your bed.

You father managed one more step towards you before your mother reached your room.

‘No.’ She commanded, her voice full of an unusual authority. ‘You don’t hurt her.’

Your father turned around, almost amused by your mother’s words.

‘Hurt her? How would I do that?’

Your mother was clearly afraid and not enjoying the teasing looking on your father’s face.

‘Ohhhh.’ He said, realisation taking over his features. ‘You mean like this?’

He moved so quickly that you didn’t have time to react. He whirled his body around and lashed out with a punch. It was so fast and so powerful that it knocked you off your feet.

You hit the floor with a thud, banging the top of your head as you did so. You blinked a couple of times, trying to get the floor to stop spinning. You vaguely registered your mother trowing herself at your father, but he easily threw her off.

You were too out of it to hear his dangerous whisper.

‘You come at me like that again, and I’ll hit that child twice as hard.’

All you noticed was your mother stopping in her tracks, immediately giving up on protecting you. You watched her figure move away, not sparing you another glance.

Your father watched her go, his back to you, and you took your opportunity. You pushed yourself up off the floor, careful not to make a sound and crept towards your window. As you opened it slightly, you heard their conversation ending, you couldn’t quite hearing what they were saying, but you knew that you were out of time.

You finally got your window fully open and had half of your body out of it when you father turned around.

His face changed into pure rage at the sight of you getting away and he ran towards the open window, making a lunge for you. You threw yourself backwards, trying to catch yourself on the tree outside but just missing.

You arms scrambled for random branches and objects to slow your fall and you landed harshly in the buses by your front door. They managed to soften your fall to an extent, leaving you still able to get up and run.

So you did.

You ran to the one place you knew you would always be safe.

You ran to Jaemin.

You didn’t spare a look behind you, not knowing that if you did, you would find out that you weren’t being followed and instead your father was simply watching you disappear from your bedroom window. He was never going to chase you.

Your breath escaped you in desperate pants as you forced your short legs to move faster. For a seven year old, the distance between yours and Jaemin’s house felt like a marathon, each step feeling as though it was taking you further away from him, rather than closer towards.

After what felt like a lifetime, you reached Jaemin’s front door, banging frantically on it. You couldn’t hear anything over the loud beating of your heart, so you nearly jumped out of your skin when the door opened to reveal Jaemin’s mother.

‘Y/n? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?’ She asked, her soothing voice making the tears well up in your eyes again.

You stuttered out a few syllables pointing wildly behind you, not managing to explain anything. Jaemin’s mother shushed you, pulling you close for a gentle hug. You buried your head into her shoulder and cried. You began to sob, fully breaking down onto her as the fear finally escaped you.

‘Mum?’ You heard Jaemin’s voice from further inside the house. ‘Mum, who’s that?’

His mother turned around, allowing you to see Jaemin through the mess of your tears. Even at such a young age, Jaemin was fiercely protective of you, rushing forwards to hug you himself.

‘Come on Jaemin, bring her inside.’ His mother instructed, her tone so refreshing gentle that it made you look up at to check that it was real.

Jaemin kept his hand tight in yours as he pulled you into the safety of his house. The two of you sat at the table while his mother made you some hot chocolate. Jaemin kept one hand on you at all time, not wanting you to feel alone, and wanting you to know that he was there.

You didn’t tell them what happened, not really knowing how to describe the past minutes of your life. You didn’t understand the full extent of the previous events, but somehow, you knew that your life would never be the same again.

---

You lay in Jaemin’s bed trying to get some sleep, while he lay on a mattress on the floor. You could tell that he was worried about you, he wanted to know what had gone wrong and how he could help. But, for the first time in his young life, Jaemin was completely helpless. All he could do was watch as you had to face a harsh reality.

You rolled onto your side, looking down at your friend who was lying on their back. Jaemin opened his eyes and looked over at you, waiting for you to speak first.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ You whispered.

Jaemin’s heart sank. He knew that he couldn’t make you talk about anything that you didn’t want to, but he also wanted to know what he could do to make things better.

‘That’s ok.’ He settled on that for a reply, not really knowing what else he could say.

You let out a deep breath, letting yourself finally relax after the long and difficult night you had tackled. Your eyes slowly shut and you listened to Jaemin’s breathing, matching yours with him. You let yourself whisper one final sentence, something lost in the darkness, only ever to be heard by the boy lying on the floor next to you.

‘Jaemin... I think I need to grow up.’

---

You arrived back home, finding the door unlocked waiting for you. You shut it behind you, listening for the click. You had never thought to do that before. You trudged into the kitchen, looking around, expressionless, at the sight in front of you. There were smashed bottles, glasses and belongings everywhere. Paintings had been torn off the walls and trashed, the coffee table by the TV had been thrown over and even the cushions on the sofa had been thrown about.

You knew that this was simply an argument of your parents’ that had gotten out of control. You knew you should probably react more, but you didn’t. You were going to grow up and accept it. You turned your line of sight to the dining table, where your father sat. You held eye contact for a second, neither of you saying a word as he finished the last of whatever was left in the whiskey he was drinking.

‘Can’t get into the back of the lower cupboards to get another.’ He stared you down while saying that.

Your young face didn’t change, you kept the same expressionless reaction on it as you crouched down and crawled into a cupboard. You pulled out the first bottle you saw, another whiskey that was half full and placed it on the table in front of your father.

‘Good girl.’ He said, nodding at you.

You made no attempt to reply in any way. Instead you turned on you heel and headed up the stairs. You paused in front of your room, listening to your mother’s sobs echoing from the other side of her closed bedroom door. You stood there for five seconds before moving inside your room and shutting the door behind you. You ignored it, knowing that it was your reality and you had to grow up and face that.

Then, you got ready for school.

In the end you got your wish to grow up. But you grew up too fast, the maturity forced on you by the struggles and difficulties you faced, and the trauma that came with them. You learnt very quickly that you either grew up and learnt how to survive, or you suffocated in the hellish mess you call reality.

So you chose to survive.

Would you run away for me?

‘Come on y/n! I’m getting tired of waiting for you. It doesn’t take that long.’ Jaemin whined up at your window.

‘Easy for you to say. You’re not the one climbing out of your window!’ You huffed, careful to make sure that your foot doesn’t slip.

‘Well I offered to climb up but you thought that would be a bit too ‘Romeo and Juliet’, so who’s fault is it really that we’re in this situation?’ He bit back, provoking a large eye roll out of you as you finally reached the ground.

‘Roll your eyes any harder why don’t you.’ Jaemin teased and you stared at him blankly for a second, before rolling your eyes so hard that it almost physically hurt. ‘Alright I stand corrected.’ Your friend grumbled as you laughed and began to skip away.

It was 11pm and both you and Jaemin were supposed to be asleep. But, being the rebellious 14 year olds you were, you decided to go for a walk. Luckily for the two of you, it was summer holidays and your streets were very well lit, meaning that you weren’t really in any danger.

Over the summer holidays, you had found yourself doing this more and more often with Jaemin. Your situation at home hadn’t gotten better over the past seven years, instead spiralling as your mother turned to the influence of alcohol in order to try and find the comfort her husband no longer provided.

Your family consisted of two alcoholic parents, one abusive and the other apparently unaware of your presence, whereas Jaemin’s household included his mother and a father that was attempting to buy his way back into their life after walking out on them ten years earlier.

Jaemin seemed to be the only place that actually felt like home for you, and you didn’t know it, but he felt the same way about you. It was such a blessing for the two of you to have your home as a person rather than a place, considering what state the places were in at the moment, it was probably lifesaving - you just didn’t realise it.

Jaemin jogged ahead of you, climbing up onto a small wall and walking along it.

‘When do you think we’ll get happy ever after?’ He asked, grinning down at you.

‘Get what?’ You laughed.

‘Happy ever after!’ He repeated, yet you still stared at him with one eyebrow raised. ‘What?’ He asked, jumping down and walking closer to you.

‘Jaemin... I don’t really think there is a happy ever after.’ You admitted and his face fell into confusion.

‘What are you talking about? That was the whole goal. We’re gonna grow up together, move away from here and finally get a happy ever after. That was the plan y/n!’ Jaemin insisted, confusion evident on his face.

‘I know it was, but I just think that that’s not really in the cards for me anymore.’ You shrugged, not really thinking it that big of a deal. Jaemin seemed to think otherwise.

‘What? Y/n, I don’t understand where is this coming from? Of course it’s in the cards for you! Do you not remember everything we talked about when we were kids? We used to love to play hero because at the end of it, we always got that happy ever after.’ Jaemin’s voice was turning sad, his face dropping.

‘Come on Jaemin.’ You laughed. ‘There was a reason that was all imaginary. We used to wish for when we could grow up but we had no idea what that really meant. It means letting go of those childish fantasies and facing reality. And reality is, happy ever after doesn’t come to everyone. I don’t want to spend my life chasing something that isn’t even real.’ You said the words casually, almost jokingly as you laughed through it, but they held much deeper meaning that Jaemin seemed to catch on to.

How could you believe in happy ever after when you’ve never seen it?

He nodded, sending you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes before grabbing you by the hand and pulling you into the park.

‘Race you to the swings?’ He challenged.

‘You’re on!’

---

Anything. You really would do anything for Jaemin. When you said he meant the world to you, you were understating it. You only said that because it was the closest description to how you felt. So when the two of you walked into his home late next afternoon to find his father sitting at the table with an innocent smile, you were prepared to do anything Jaemin needed you to.

‘Evening son!’ His father greeted him happily.

‘Don’t call me that.’ Jaemin spat, his eyes hard. ‘How did you even get in?’

‘Your mother let me in, son.’ Jaemin’s father explained. ‘I-’

‘Don’t call me son.’ Jaemin interrupted, his voice threatening calm but his eyes were wild with fury.

His father took a breath before continuing. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Great, good talk. We’re going.’ Jaemin grabbed your hand again and heading towards the stairs.

‘We need to talk son.’ His father repeated.

Jaemin visibly tensed.

‘Don’t call me son...’ He spoke through gritted teeth, his voice not so calm anymore.

His father persisted. ‘Your mother and I have been having conversations and, with her new job, we both agreed that it is best that I move back here for the time being so that there’s someone to take care of you.’

Jaemin didn’t reply to that, his face a picture of rage, disbelief and desperation. You could tell that this was the absolute last thing he wanted to happen. His father’s choice to continue speaking did nothing to calm the storm that was brewing in his mind.

‘Now I know that this is going to take some getting used to, but son-’

‘Do not call me son!’ Jaemin whirled around on his father, the shout erupting from his throat. ‘You don’t get to call me son until you’ve acted like a father! You’re nothing but a coward and I want nothing to do with someone like you!’

With that he walked back towards the front door, opening it and walking out. His grip on you hand never loosened, effectively bringing you with him and you just managed to grab the door handle and pull it shut behind you.

You let Jaemin walk for a bit, just following him as he paced around the town. After a couple of minutes of tense silence, you found yourselves back in the park you were in last night. You opened your mouth to speak, but Jaemin got there first.

‘We should go.’

Your head whipped around, staring at the boy in front of you in confusion.

‘Go?’ You asked, watching as he turned back to you.

‘Yeah. We always talked about leaving, let’s do it. Now.’ You could see in his eyes that he was being 100% serious, and it honestly made you nervous.

‘Jaemin... we can’t just leave.’ You told him, keeping your voice soft.

‘Why not? We can make it. We just stay together, find somewhere where no one knows who we are or what’s happened to us. Everyone in this town known too damn much about each other. I want to be known as something more than just the boy who’s dad didn’t even want him.’ Jaemin insisted, the raw honestly in his sentences were making your eyes sting slightly. You loved him so much and wanted him to be happy and safe, but you knew that you couldn’t run away, not yet.

‘Jaem, I don’t... We can’t just leave. We just 14... How would we leave? Where would we go? How could we survive with just the two of us? I just don’t think that this is the right time for us to run away. But, trust me when I say, we will leave. We will get out of here, I promise.’

‘The same way you promised we would always get a happy ever after?’

Jaemin wasn’t looking at you anymore, instead he was looking at the gradually changing sky, the way he always did when he had a lot going on in his mind. You bit your lip, the words he spoke hitting you as hard as knives. You meant what you had said yesterday, but you wished you had stopped to think about how it would affect Jaemin if you had said it.

‘Do you wanna stay at mine tonight?’ You asked him, moving your hand out of his and resting it on his bicep, doing the same with your other. He looked up at you before closing his eyes and nodding.

You smiled sadly at him before moving your arms further upwards and wrapping them around his neck. You pulled his into a tight hug, relieved when he began to hug you back. He held you as close as he could and buried his head into your neck. You could hear his soft sniffles and your heart clenched at the realisation that he was quietly crying.

‘I just wish... I just wish he would let us be happy without him. Mum was doing so well...’ His voice trailed off and you said nothing, just gently stroking his hair while allowing him to say as much or as littler as he wanted.

‘Can we go?’ He whispered and you nodded, gently pulling away.

You held you hand back out for him, which he gladly took, and began the short walk back to yours.

---

Jaemin had spent every night of the past week and a half at yours. His mum worked night shifts at her job so she wasn’t around to see that her son wasn’t at home either. You never minded as your parents took no notice of you so it was nice to finally have some company.

You were sat in the living room together, watching a film on the tv in front of you. Earlier that day you had gone to the shops to pick up snacks and the table in front of you was littered with food. There was a big bowl of popcorn, along with crisps and food and, not to mention, drinks.

You were laughing at a comment Jaemin had made about one of the characters when the front door burst open. You both jumped at the noise and Jaemin immediately paused what was on TV. You stayed quiet, wondering who was coming home at this hour. You knew your mum was also working a night shift and you assumed that you father was working late, but you were soon proved wrong.

You father stumbled through the door, almost slipping on the wall as he tried to steady himself. You shot to your feet, Jaemin following you. In the past few years you had gained the courage to tell Jaemin the truth about the bruises he kept finding on your body, and he knew that if your father was a drunk as he appeared, things were likely to get violent.

Instead your father broke out into a smile, turning around to look at something behind him and laughing. You and Jaemin shared a confused look before you moved closer to the open doorway, hoping to get a look at what he was laughing at.

What you saw made your entire body tense up with anger.

Jaemin came around behind you and, when he saw the same sight the greeted you, immediately placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Your father was standing in the hall way, making out with a woman who was most definitely not your mother. You watched as he pulled away from her, accepting her hand to bring him upstairs. You watched them disappear at the top of the stairs, turning the corner towards the room that he shared with your mother every night, and heard the door shut.

You didn’t move, filled with so many different emotions that you didn’t know what to feel. Jaemin gently held you by the shoulders, guiding you to sit down on the couch. He sat on the coffee table in front of you, clearing a small space before looking at you. He kept his hands on either side of your face, pushing your hair out of your eyes and wanting you to look at him. The dazed, unfocused look on your face was beginning to worry him.

‘Y/n? Y/n it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, you’ve survived worse than this and I know that you’re going to be okay. Okay? Please just look at me?’ Jaemin begged you.

You focused your eyes on him, one emotion in particular drowning out all the others. Anger.

‘After everything he’s put my mum through, all the pain, all the trauma, and it’s still not enough for him.’ You breathed out, trying so hard to keep yourself calm. ‘Is there anything left for him to do? Any pain he hasn’t put her through?’

You turned and stared at Jaemin expectantly but he just looked back at you, completely at a loss of what to say.

‘I don’t know how much more of this she can take...’ Your voice dropped to a whisper, fear taking over your body.

‘Oh y/n...’ Jaemin moved so that he was sat next to you instead. He wrapped you up in his arms and whispered comforting words into you hair. But you didn’t hear any of them. You lay in his embrace, staring at the food on the table that made you feel sick from the sight of it. ‘Let’s go to mine yeah?’ He suggested, causing you to shoot up and shake your head.

‘No, Jaemin, that means staying in the same house as your dad.’ You objected, not wanting to go back on the only thing you could for him - provide a safe space.

‘Better than staying here.’ Jaemin reasoned.

You opened your mouth to argue but a small bang and squeak echoed through the floor boards above you and made your skin crawl. You scrunched up your face in displeasure and nodded at the boy next to you. He quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the door.

---

You crawled into the mattress on Jaemin’s floor that was set up for you, ready for this day to be over. Jaemin gently made his way around you to climb into his bed. He argued for about 25 minutes about you sleeping on the floor, but you insisted.

He switched off the light and you both lay in silence. You shut your eyes, hoping that would let sleep take over you, but your mind was far to awake to let your body rest.

You began to think about Jaemin’s offer to run away, and how sweet and simple it seemed. Just pack a bag, grab your best friend, and leave this god forsake town behind. Jaemin was right, everyone here knew too much about each other. The whispers on the streets about your father’s drinking, or the bruises on your arms haunted you as you attempted to live your life.

You thought about what it would be like one day. Just you and Jaemin, somewhere completely new, where you could have just him by your side, and always feel safe. Because Jaemin made you feel safe. A place where you wouldn’t have to worry about being afraid of your father. A place where Jaemin didn’t have to worry about his mother or be on his constant guard around his father. You didn’t know where you were going to go, but you knew two things about it. One, it would be a place of peace, where tranquility is in the air. And two, Jaemin would be there. Whenever you thought about your future, in any means, Jaemin was always there. You weren’t ever prepared to lose him.

You opened your eyes again, and spoke quietly.

‘Jaemin?’

‘Yeah?’ He replied, not moving from his current position.

‘I meant what I said last week you know?’ You said.

‘Huh?’ Jaemin opened his eyes, rolling onto his side so that he was looking at you.

‘About our happy ending.’ Jaemin raised an eyebrow at your statement. ‘We will leave here someday. And, wherever we go, we’re gonna be together. I promise you.’ You reassured him.

Jaemin didn’t reply, instead he simply moved over, opening the covers for you in a silent invitation. You immediately took it, climbing out of your covers and crawling into his embrace. He wrapped an arm tight around you and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

‘Promise me something else?’ He asked, his voice just above a whisper and shaking slightly.

‘Anything.’ You whispered back.

‘No matter what happens, you’ll always love me and... when the time comes, you’ll forgive me.’ Your heart clenched at his quiet words.

‘Forgive you? Jaemin what do you-’

‘Just promise me. Please.’ Jaemin cut you off, holding you tighter by the second, waiting for your reply.

‘I promise.’

---

Jaemin walked the route that had become scarily familiar to him in the past few weeks. In the times when he couldn’t see you, he found himself drifting here. He wasn’t sure what kept bringing him to this place, maybe it was the fact that it was only area where he really felt alone. To be honest, he felt alone every day, but at least up here, he really was alone, no one was around for miles.

He’d mentioned it to you in the past at some point, but he doubted you remembered.

Jaemin reached the same place he always did and turned towards the view. He climbed over the barrier and sat himself on the edge.

The bridge he was sitting on towered above a river, one that was twisting and turning with the harsh current that tore through it. Every time he came here, Jaemin told himself it was just for the view, but he knew that that wasn’t the reason he always climbed through the safety barrier and onto the shaky beams.

He knew that the view wasn’t the reason he always looked down at the river, finding it more and more inviting with every trip here he made.

Jaemin reached into the pocket of the hoodie he was wearing and pulled out his phone. He switched it on and was immediately greeted with a photo of the two of you. He smiled subconsciously at the sight of your smiling face.

God he was going to miss you.

But he had faith that you would be okay. You were the strongest person Jaemin knew, you could come back from anything. It wasn’t like he was much to miss anyway.

He opened his contacts and scrolled down until he found your name listed. He pressed on the number and lifted the phone to his cheek, taking a shaky breath to calm his nerves.

You picked up on the third ring.

‘Jaemin!’ he smiled at the sound of your cheerful voice, admiring how you could sound so happy when he knew how deeply you were hurting. ‘Where are we meeting today?’

‘Actually y/n-’ Jaemin cut himself off, having to take another breath to stop himself from breaking down entirely. ‘Actually y/n I think I’m gonna be a little late today.’

‘That’s okay. Why though? You’re not secretly making new friends are you?’ Your joking tone didn’t quite reach him this time.

‘Of course not, you know you’re my favourite.’ He admitted, the words truer than they had ever been before.

‘Good, because I’m not letting you pick someone else over me.’ God he loved hearing your voice, he needed this phone call but it was also making this so much harder.

‘Y/n, there’s a reason I’m going to be late today.’ Jaemin began, listening to how you hummed along to show that you were paying attention. ‘On the shelf at the top of your wardrobe there’s a box.’

‘Yeah I know.’ You cut in laughing. ‘It’s a box of our childhood memories, I made it Jaemin.’

‘I know.’ Jaemin whispered, the first tear making it’s way down his cheek. ‘But I put something else in there. Can you grab it for me.’

He heard you mutter out a response and waited patiently for your next reply.

‘Ok I found it! It’s a letter right.’ You asked, missing the pause from Jaemin that lasted just a second to long.

‘Yes. I need you to read it.’ Jaemin instructed.

‘Ok I’ll do that. By the way, how late do you think you’re going to be?’ You asked casually, not realising the importance and weight of the letter that you held in your hand.

‘I honestly don’t know y/n. I might not make it back home tonight at all.’ Jaemin heard your laughs stop slightly and your voice cut back through.

‘Not make it home? Jaemin where are you?’ He heard a chuckle in your voice but could tell that this one was far from genuine.

‘Just somewhere I come to think.’ He muttered. ‘Y/n do you remember the promise you made to me that night at my house a couple of weeks ago?’

‘Yeah.’ Your voice was small, fear starting to come through.

‘Good. I need you to keep that promise in mind when you read that letter okay?’ Jaemin’s voice was almost breaking, the tears falling down both cheeks.

‘Jaemin, what’s going on?’ Now he could really hear the panic in your voice. Jaemin knew that if he stayed on the call any longer, he would never be able to hang up.

‘Read the letter y/n. And never forget, I love you.’

---

You threw your phone at the wall in panic, your breath getting caught in your lungs as the letter stared at you from where it sat on your bed. You ran up to it, tearing it open and began to read as fast as you could, tears clouding your vision as you prayed that you had read the situation wrong.

My dearest y/n,

It’s strangely poetic isn’t it? The first letter I ever write to you is probably going to also be my last. I’ve always liked symbolism like that. But of course, you know that, you know everything about me.

I suppose I should start with the most difficult but also the most important part, the apology. Y/n, I’m so sorry that I can’t do this anymore. I’m so sorry that I’m leaving you alone. I’m so sorry that I’m not as strong as you are, but I’m just not, and I really can’t take this for much longer. It hurts. Everyday physically hurts and I don’t know how else to stop this pain.

I don’t want you to blame yourself. If you did I would never be able to forgive myself. You’re the reason that I’ve lived as long as I have and I can honestly say that, without you by my side, this would have happened a long time ago. You are the best thing that has ever and could ever have happened to me, and I am eternally grateful that I got to have you in my life.

This isn’t me dying, nor is it me giving up. This is me simply choosing a better life, a life that I can actually manage living and a life that feels worth living. I want you to know that I’m not scared so there’s no need to worry about me. Once I’m out of this place, I’ll be okay. My biggest regret, my only regret, is the fact that I have to leave you behind.

Please keep fighting for me. I know that one day you can make it out of this hellhole and escape the ghosts that haunt us both daily.

And I want you to get your happy every after. You deserve it.

All my heavenly love,

Yours forever,

Jaemin

You hugged the paper to your chest, the tears falling down your face unstoppably. You needed to find him, but the problem was, you had no idea where he was. You thought back to what he said. Somewhere he goes to think...

Your head shot up as you bolted out of your door. You only had one place in mind, and it was a long shot, but you would hate yourself forever if you didn’t at least try.

---

Jaemin stared at the phone in his hands, turning it over and over, contemplating the choices he’s made that led him to this position. He sighed and prepared himself for what’s to come. Instead of putting his phone back in his pocket, he placed it on the tarmac behind him before removing his necklace and gently laying it on top. After all of this, he wanted you to have a memory of him.

He stood up, watching the dark waves beneath him and whispered a few words lost in the winds.

‘Goodbye y/n.’

He ignored the sounds behind him and let go of the beam, preparing himself to fall towards to cold water below that was calling out to him like an icy abyss.

Until two hands grabbed his sweater by the shoulders and pulled him back.

He stumbled backwards, tripping on the safety rail as he was pulled back to the tarmac. He began to struggle, wresting his way out of the person’s grip and trying to make his way back to the edge. It took him a few seconds before the voice that was desperately screaming his name.

‘Jaemin!’ He whirled around and found himself staring into your teary eyes.

‘Y/n?’ He questioned, his voice breaking halfway through.

‘Oh thank god!’ You sobbed, throwing yourself onto him and wrapping him up in the tightest hug possible. ‘You’re alive, thank god you’re alive.’

Jaemin didn’t know how to react, his instincts kicked in and he held you by your waist but didn’t say a word, instead just listening to you cry into his shoulder.

You pulled away, only to whack him, hard, on the shoulder.

‘Ow!’ He yelped.

‘Fucking serves you right you dick!’ You shouted. ‘Why would you do that to me?’

‘How did you find me?’ Jaemin stuttered out.

‘I listen to you, that’s how. You told me that this is where you come to think, so I ran.’ You explained, the tears still pouring down your face.

Only then did Jaemin stop for a minute to take in your appearance. Your hair was disheveled, your cheeks red and your chest was heaving. You were clearly exhausted. He forced himself to look at your face, and when he did, he felt his heart break. Tears stained your cheeks, both fresh and dried and your eyes held more pain than Jaemin had ever seen before.

‘Why did you stop me?’ The broken whisper came out of the boy before he could stop it.

‘Because I can’t lose you, I can’t survive without you. If you were to die, I wouldn’t be able to come back from that.’ You admitted to him, moving close to him again.

Jaemin looked into your teary eyes as emotions of his own started to bubble up. He pulled you properly onto his lap, and held you close by your waist, burying his head into your shoulder as he began to cry. You wrapped yourself around him completely, hiding your face in his neck as well and stroking his hair.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ Jaemin hiccuped through sobs, trying to hold you closer even though it wasn’t possible.

You just shook your head, tightening your own arms as you both sat there, two broken teenagers crying into each other on the side of a bridge.

‘Jaemin...’ You began, waiting for his reply before continuing.

‘Yeah?’ He whimpered.

‘I need you to promise me something.’ You said and felt him nod into your shoulder. ‘Anytime, and I mean anytime, you ever feel like doing something like this to yourself again, come to me. Please just come to me and I’ll sit with you and talk with you for as long as you want or need. I can’t stand the thought of losing you.’ Your voice began to break again at the end of your confession, causing Jaemin to pull his head out of your shoulder and look you directly in your eyes.

‘I promise.’ He uttered. And he meant it, he really would. After seeing how affected you were, he knew he could never do anything like this to you again.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his as you whispered the sentence that became his motivation to survive.

‘Jaemin... there’s no happy ever after for me if you’re not there.’

Would you run away from me?

Jaemin stuck to his word, always coming to you anytime he felt feelings similar to the ones that drew him out to that bridge. You didn’t mind, you were often glad to wake up to a call from him at 2am because it meant that a situation like that wouldn’t happen again. You were sure you could survive it if it did.

Three years later and life wasn’t any better. The 14 year old kids who found shelter in a playground were gone and replace with 17 year old teenagers, who were looking for an escape anywhere they could find it.

Last month, Jaemin’s mother passed away. It was quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened to the two of you, as Jaemin’s mother was pretty much the only figure in your lives who was even slightly paternal. She was the positivity that you both needed, and without her, the two of you were feeling very lost.

Jaemin was now stuck with his father who, now that his mother wasn’t around to make an impression on, had turned back into the cruel, careless man who ran out on the boy all those years ago. As for you, your mother had found out about your father’s cheating. And it turns out, it wasn’t the first time he had done that. He refused to give your mother the freedom she so desperately wanted, so she searched for it somewhere else. You had walked into your house one day, only to walk in on your mother doing Cocain off the kitchen table, trying to find the release that was now only available in drugs.

She had become an empty shell of herself and you often found her drugs lying around the house. Normally you just ignored them, but for some reason, when you found a small bag of Ecstasy in your bathroom, you kept it. You didn’t know why, but it was always there when you reached into your pocket.

You were getting ready to go out with Jaemin, the two of you heading to a party close by. You pulled on your jacket and headed towards your door. You turned back, doing a quick scan of the room to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything and your eyes landed on the small bag of Ecstasy that was currently lying on your bedside table. After a short deliberation you walked back into your room, swiped it off the counter, and headed out to your party. What’s the worst that could happen?

---

You and Jaemin laughed as the music deafened you. You were drunk beyond the point of no return, and you knew that you wouldn’t be remembering any of this in the morning. The music turned from a heavy beat drop EDM track, to a slightly more sensual number and you, in your drunken state, had no control over your instincts. You pulled Jaemin closer by the neck and wrapped your arms around him. You registered the familiar feeling of his arms snaking their way around your waist and you sank into him more. He moved his head to your neck and nipped gently at the skin there.

You were too wrapped up in the music and being close to each other to notice anyone else around you. You lifted your head off his chest and looked at him. He followed your actions and soon you found yourself staring into Jaemin’s brown orbs, completely mesmerised by the colour in front of you. His hot breath was fanning your face and you found yourself subconsciously leaning in.

‘Yo!’ A random guy yelled, approaching the two of you. You leaned away from Jaemin and turned to the guy who appeared out of no where. ‘Don’t mean to interrupt bro, but do either of you want some Molly? We got masses spare and it’s going out for free to anyone here.’ He held out a bag with some pills in it.

You stared into it, licking you lips at the thought of being even more out of it than you already were.

‘Go on baby, you know you want to’ The unnamed guy in front of encouraged.

You were too far gone to comment on the pet name that, if you were sober would have made your skin crawl, and instead reached into the bag and pulled one out. You surveyed it in your fingers and made eye contact with Jaemin. He stared at you for a second before pulling out one of his own.

He reached forward, nodding at you and you opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue slightly. Jaemin placed his pill on his before repeating the actions himself, allowing you to give him your pill. You both swallowed and fell back into each other’s embrace.

You weren’t sure what you and Jaemin were anymore. He was still the one person you felt safe around, the one person that you wanted in your future, but he had also become so much more than your best friend. Nothing had ever gone further than a few drunk kisses and you never had the courage to ask him what they meant the next morning. All you knew, was that you thought of him as more and... the drug was really starting to take effect.

The surroundings faded into an almost blur, yet the colours became much more vibrant at the same time. The only thing that was fully in focus was Jaemin’s face in front of you, more importantly, his lips. You found it hard enough to stop yourself staring at them when you were sober, meaning it was twenty times harder when you were this far gone.

You didn’t waste any time, choosing to immediately move towards him, pressing your lips onto his. He quickly responded, kissing you back. The alcohol and cigarettes you had shared throughout the night were the only thing you could taste, yet, somehow, you could still taste Jaemin.

There was still so much of him in the kiss that you needed more and more of it. You could feel Jaemin thinking the same thing, his kisses getting more and more desperate, before he broke away and leaned down to your ear.

‘Shall we get out of here?’ He asked over the music.

Instead of straining your voice by replying, you nodded, a grin taking over your face. Jaemin slipped his hand into yours and began to pull you out of the warehouse. You made your way outside, stumbling slightly on the stairs before you were blinded by red and blue lights.

‘Shit.’ Jaemin murmured, pulling you out of sight of the police car heading towards the front entrance.

‘Seems like we got out just in time.’ You slurred slightly and Jaemin nodded in agreement. The two of you ran down a side passage before being greeted with the metal fence that would give you a short cut back home.

Jaemin climbed up first, offering a hand for you which you gladly took and helping you over. You landed safely on the other side and began to walk off, laughing at the close call. If you were more sober than you would have begun to feel bad for all those still stuck in the warehouse, most of them definitely being charged with drug possession, but right now you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on anything but you and Jaemin.

‘Y/n, I don’t think we should do anything when we get back.’ Jaemin blurted out of the blue.

‘Why not? It’s just fun isn’t it.’ You shrugged.

‘But if anything else happens between us, I’d prefer us to remember it.’ Jaemin said, his words serious but the drugs in his system forcing a laugh out of him.

‘I’m always gonna remember you...’ You whined, leaning in to him more.

‘Y/n we should have control over what we’re doing and saying. Sober consent is needed you know?’ Jaemin couldn’t stop himself from laughing now, causing you to start as well.

‘No, you’re right.’ You giggled, trying to calm yourself down. ‘It’s not a good idea. Don’t want to ruin our happy ever after.’ You nudged him.

Jaemin scoffed, rolling his eyes at that.

‘Happy ever after? Really? Come on y/n I thought we were beyond that.’ He looked down at you, suddenly making you feel very small.

The drugs and alcohol in your system were making your adrenaline pump, giving you a major confidence boost, something that you assume was also happening to Jaemin right now.

‘Now you don’t believe in it? Now it’s not okay to want that? What about when I didn’t want that? No, if one of us believes in it so does the other.’ You stood your ground, staring back at the boy in front of you.

‘Grow up.’ Jaemin spat, making you visibly flinch at the tone he used on you. ‘We’re not children anymore, happy ever after isn’t found in a town like this.’

‘God you don’t have to be a pessimist all the time, you used to be so positive.’ You muttered, venom lacing your words.

‘Positive? Neither of us have ever been positive or happy in our entire lives! Do you know why y/n? Because our lives suck. Maybe happy ever after doesn’t exist. Or at least, maybe it does for some, but for others, like us, maybe it’s just the thing that we read in stories, something for us to dream about. Something to distract us from the reality of what really happens. Where things just end. You don’t always get that moment, that final showdown, the big turning point where you realise how to fix everything and its all gonna be okay. Sometimes things can’t be fixed. Sometimes things aren’t going to be okay. Sometimes life just ends.’ Jaemin was full on yelling at you by the time he finished his speech.

His final words hit you like a ton of bricks, sobering you up quickly. You were still very drunk, but your mind was clear enough to read between the lines and realise that he was talking about his mum. You stepped forwards gently, placing a light hand on his shoulder.

‘Jaemin-’

‘Get off me!’ He bellow, throwing you hand off him with such force that you stumbled to the ground. Your body was still foggy, causing you to hit the floor with a much harder impact than you normally would have.

You lifted your head off and stared at Jaemin who was looking at you, an expression of pure horror on his face.

‘Y/n-’ He slurred but you scrambled away from him.

‘Stay away from me!’ You shouted, your voice cracking as the tears easily fell down your face. You felt like the same 7 year old girl who took her first hit from her father. ‘Don’t step any closer.’

Jaemin put his hands up in surrender, his face and voice pleading.

‘Y/n, please, I didn’t mean it, I would never hurt you. You have to believe me.’ He was begging you, almost on his knees.

You stared down at him, the boy you loved in more ways than one. The boy who had always made you feel safe. But right now, he didn’t make you feel any of those things. You felt as though you didn’t know him at all.

You turned on your hell and ran. You left Jaemin standing alone in the dark and ran the full way home. You burst in through your front door, ignoring the yell from your father about disrespecting his privacy and headed straight up to your room. You shut the door behind you and fell onto your bed.

You sat straight up again, the drugs taking over your system and pumping you with adrenaline. There was just one problem, it wasn’t enough. Your hands fumbled in your pocket and brought out the little clear bag with your mother’s pills in them. You popped some more in your mouth, relishing in the alien feeling of happiness that it brought to you.

You watched as the bag started to swirl around, the colours dancing in front of your eyes. Time seemed to fade out of existence and you felt yourself completely disassociate with the world around you.

You stood up, hoping to go to the bathroom but as you attempted to move you found your mind incredibly foggy. You shook your head, attempting to get rid of it, but it persisted. This wasn’t the same, slightly unaware fo your surroundings foggy that you had felt in the warehouse, but instead an, everything around you is fading out of existence kind of foggy, and it was staring to scare you. A sudden chill violent shook you, making you whole body tremble where you stood.

You felt yourself begin to sweat and you pulled at the top that you were wearing. The collar seemed to be getting tighter as the room and floor began to spin. You clawed at your chest as you reached the door to your bathroom, falling over in front of it.

You felt hands on your shoulders and you flinched away in fear, until your brain registered who they belonged to and you slumped into Jaemin. He kicked open the bathroom door and pulled you in after him, sitting you against the bathtub and getting you a glass of water. He pushed the cup to your lips but you flinched away, the thought of drinking any water making you feel physically ill, yet Jaemin didn’t let up.

He eventually got a small amount of water down your throat, and you realised just how parched you were. You grabbed the cup out of his hands and began to gulp at the cold liquid. You pulled at your top again, crying out in frustration when it didn’t tear off you. Jaemin noticed your struggle and grabbed the hem on it, gently pulling it over your head. He had only got it halfway off when your arms took over, aggressively ripping it off. You took heavy breaths as Jaemin fetched you another glass of water.

You sat on the cold floor of that bathroom for who knows how many hours, drinking water, crying and clawing at the aching parts of your body. By the time you eventually started coming back around, you could see Jaemin’s fingers uncontrollably tapping anywhere they could reach. He was still on the come down from his high, yet refused to leave your side.

You reached out a feeble hand to him, and he quickly pulled himself close, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting your head on his chest.

‘I’m so sorry.’ He whispered to you. ‘If I hadn’t overreacted then you wouldn’t be in this position.’ He placed a kiss on the top of your head, making any previous fears you had had about him evaporate. You knew that you had your old Jaemin back, the one who would do anything to protect you.

‘It was the drugs, not you.’ You croaked out. ‘But promise me something?’

‘Anything.’ Jaemin replied, his fingers finding their way into your hair to run through it soothingly.

‘Neither of us do drugs again.’ You let out a hoarse chuckle.

‘Deal.’ He said with absolute certainty in his voice. He leaned down again, giving you another kiss on the top of your head.

‘Jaemin?’ You whimpered.

‘Yeah?’ He responded.

‘I don’t know how to be happy, how am I ever going to get a happy ever after?’ You asked him, the question spilling out of your exhausted state before you passed out in his arms.

Jaemin was almost thankful that you had passed out immediately after asking that because, for the first time in his life, Jaemin didn’t know how to reply.

---

It had been three days since your encounter with drugs, and Jaemin hadn’t left your side. You were so thankful that he hadn’t however, as the constant drug use in your house done by your mother, was making it difficult for you to go about your everyday life without having flashbacks to that night. That was the worst you had felt, physically, in a very long time.

Jaemin had gone through your entire room and bathroom with you, gutting the areas of any alcohol and drugs. He also removed any substances or objects that can be used against yourself, making sure that he could protect you as best as possible. You knew that without him, you would never have had the strength to do any of this.

Even though he had seriously scared you on that night, every time you looked at him you saw the person he truly was, not who the drugs had made him become. You knew that that night you had seen the worst side of Jaemin, the side of him that he kept locked in a cage so tightly, he hoped he would never let it free. But when under the influence, he hadn’t had control and the anger inside him had reared it’s head.

He wasn’t perfect. He was far from perfect. He was sad and angry and, by every definition of the word, he was broken. But he was yours. He always had been yours. You had seen him through the absolute best and the complete and utter worst. And he had seen you through yours. You had seen him when his father walked back into his life without warning, the look of betrayal that took over his features as he stared at the man in front of him. He had seen you when your father first hit you, the fear in your eyes and the bruises on your body, you didn’t trust anyone else with them. You had seen him when he tried to end his life, the utter pain and heartbreak in his eyes when he told you he couldn’t handle it anymore. And he had seen you three days ago, shivering and crying on the floor while you tried desperately to hold onto yours.

It wasn’t romantic. Nothing about what the two of you had gone through screamed romance. It was hell, pure unedited hell, but somehow, somewhere along the way, you fell hard for your best friend.

He was safety, warmth, home and hope and rolled into one. If there was anything that you had learnt so far in life, it’s that as long as you had Jaemin, you could handle anything.

---

You walked towards the park, listening as the swings slightly creaked in the breeze.

‘You know if we’d come here a couple of hours later this would be a horror movie in the making.’ Jaemin’s sudden voice from behind you made you jump.

You turned around to look at him, a smile on your face.

‘So this isn’t you coming to murder me? God don’t get my hopes up.’ You joked, watching as you got a smile in return and he moved towards you. You both sat down on the swings next to each other, sitting in silence for a moment.

‘How are you feeling?’ Jaemin asked, concern clear on his face.

‘Better.’ You replied honestly, sending him a reassuring smile. ‘How are you doing? Your dad still being a pain?’

‘Yeah.’ Jaemin sighed. ‘He’s a nightmare, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.’

‘I’m proud of you.’ You told him, your voice quietening as if it was a confession.

‘I know.’ Jaemin smiled. ‘I’m proud of you too.’

‘I know.’ You whispered, blinking away the tears that were threatening to gather at this moment. You knew he was proud of you, but actually hearing someone say the words out loud reached your heart. ‘Jaemin, we’re still getting out of here right?’

‘Of course. Just me and you.’ Jaemin nodded.

‘Somewhere no one knows us.’ You found yourself say the same wishes that the two of you had been making consistently throughout the years.

‘Where we can start fresh.’ Jaemin murmured, watching the clouds pass.

‘Somewhere we can be more than this place allowed us to be.’ You closed your eyes wistfully, thinking of this paradise.

‘Somewhere we can be together.’ You opened your eyes at Jaemin’s words, only to find him already looking at you.

‘Somewhere we can be together.’ You repeated, your body taking over your mind as you began to stand.

Jaemin followed your actions, lifting himself off the swing he was perched on. He moved towards you, reaching out with an arm and you stepped closer to him.

He pulled you in, one arm around your waist and the other cupping your face and he looked down at you. You fit so perfectly in his arms, as if you were made to be there. Jaemin’s eyes glanced down at your lips, and you nodded slightly, giving him permission.

Jaemin leant down, pausing for half a second before finally closing the gap. He pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with all the love he had in his body. You kissed him back, desperately hoping to convey your feelings for him through the kiss. You pressed your body into him, feeling Jaemin’s arm wrap further around your waist in response

You broke away slowly, keeping your faces close as you both gently caught your breath. Your eyes opened, looking up into the brown ones that had always brought you comfort. You found Jaemin looking down at you, with so much love on his face that it made you shy.

You couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on your face, the feeling of happiness that you had been deprived of your entire life, finally taking over your being and filling you to the brim.

You leant back into Jaemin, wanting more of this feeling that only he could provide. He was more addicting than any drug you’d ever taken and more intoxicating than any alcohol you’d ever consumed. You were completely and utterly addicted to the feeling of being loved and being in love.

Would you run away with me?

Three years later, and the two of you have fulfilled your promise and said goodbye to the town you grew up in. You felt freer than you had ever felt before in your entire life, and you never wanted to lose that feeling. The ghosts that had haunted you everyday were now nowhere to be found, allowing both you and Jaemin to start a completely new chapter together.

A couple of months after the death of Jaemin’s mother, lawyers came knocking at his door. They claimed to have her last will and testimony, something that Jaemin’s father didn’t know existed. It turns out that all her assets were left to Jaemin, and since Jaemin was now an adult it meant that he got everything. He ended up having the house, the car and a couple of shares that his mother had stored away. This angered Jaemin’s father immensely, but at the end of the day there was nothing he could do.

It finally seemed as though Jaemin’s troubles had a solution. His father had never gained any legal rights to Jaemin after relinquishing them when he left, so there was nothing the man could do to try and stay in his life and gain any access to the assets.

He was gone by the next morning.

A much happier Jaemin appeared at your door, immediately pulling you in for a hug when he told you the news. You couldn’t believe it. For the first time, things started to actually go your way. Then, Jaemin told you of his plan, it was only thanks to this plan of his that you were ever able to actually get away.

He put the house up for sale and cashed in the shares. The money he would gain from both of these gave you the chance to find a place for the two of you to live. You decided that, as soon as the house sold, you would get in the car and go.

The two of you searched and searched for the area you would move to, wanting to find the right place and, after a while, you stumbled upon it. An apartment just on the edge of the city. Close enough that it would easy to get in for any job you managed to get, yet far enough out that you still felt the privacy of it just being the two of you.

You started looking for jobs in the city, managing to find an opening at a large company. You quickly interviewed for them and were waiting to hear back from them. Jaemin was overjoyed with this news, it looked as though nothing could go wrong.

Then your mother passed away.

It was ruled as an overdose, the copious amounts that she was taking eventually became too much for her. Your father was in charge of organising her funeral, but he did nothing. It ultimately fell to you, and with Jaemin’s help, there was a small ceremony to lay her to rest. You knew you should probably feel worse about it than you did, but over the past ten years you had drifted so far away from her, that it felt as though you were burying a stranger.

Arriving back home after the funeral felt strange. Even though you felt nothing for your mother, you were still glad that you went. However, instead of mourning her death like everyone else there, you mourned the woman who was lost in the haze of drugs and abuse. You mourned the woman who used to sing you to sleep or bake you cookies on a sunny afternoon. You mourned the woman who, sadly, died a long time before her body did.

Your father took this as an excuse to turn his rage onto you. The morning after the funeral, he raised his hand at you, swinging blindly. But the blow he landed on your side was nothing compared to the counter attack that Jaemin launched on him. Jaemin had only been coming around to pick you up and witnessed first hand what your father was capable of. He called the police and you both watched as the man was dragged away in cuffs.

His trial was short. Like Jaemin had said, everyone knew everything about everyone in this town, so your father’s tendency to lash out wasn’t unknown. You watched him with no remorse, wishing him to stay out of your sight, mind and heart for the rest of time.

Then it was only you and Jaemin.

Like Jaemin, you gained ownership of your house and assets, allowing you to sell them as soon as possible. And, once the final offer on yours and Jaemin’s houses were accepted, you did as you’d decided to and climbed into his car together and took off, watching the town you grew up in shrink in the rear view mirror until it eventually disappeared.

You left everything behind, choosing to only bring with you a couple of prized possessions and each other. There wasn’t anything about that town that you would miss or regret leaving behind. Except, maybe that park.

There were whispers everywhere you went, reminding you of everything you had gone through and it was impossible to escape from anything when you were constantly surrounded by it. You couldn’t cross the bridge without thinking of Jaemin, you couldn’t pass the warehouse without having flashbacks of the night you both took Ecstasy and you couldn’t even walk around you own house without thinking of all the things you’d seen there.

So you ran away.

You often thought back to the days when you were children, playing Peter Pan in your garden and praying to grow up so that you could get your happy ever after.

Well, here you are, all grown up and still searching.

You’ve learnt that things take time to fall into place. Sometimes you have to wait a lot longer than you want to, a lot longer than you think you’re capable of, in order to find that perfect moment. You’ve learnt that you cannot be brave, without letting yourself be vulnerable. But you’ve also learnt, that when you’re vulnerable around the right person, it’s easy.

You don’t know what’s going to happen next. And, to be honest, you don’t want to. Life is an adventure for you now, and it’s one that you’re enjoying living. You know that you haven’t reached your happy ever after yet, and that’s simply because, your story isn’t over. But you didn’t mind, because you weren’t searching for it anymore. As long as you had Jaemin, happy ever after was always going to be right there.

218 notes · View notes

donttouchmeimwriting · 3 years

Text

Argo ch. 1

Friday the 13th - Friendship/Romance - Jason Voorhees/OC M/M ship

2897 words, 3rd person POV

This is not following canon closely at all and I'm kinda blending bits of Jason's personality between original movies, the remake, and fan versions so this is pretty solidly AU. I hope you enjoy!

Cross-posting on FFN under PyroTheWereCat

There was no pleasure in killing. It was a task, like any other, but one that had to be done adequately. Even if it took several tries and the body was mangled by the end of it, the life had to be gone from their eyes.

"We can't have them coming back to hurt us, can we?"

Mother was right. Mother was always right. She was the only one who cared. She was the only one who knew kindness. It was her idea and her decision to take revenge against the wicked counselors of Camp Crystal Lake, and what she wanted, she would get.

She had nearly died herself trying to punish the ones responsible for her son's drowning, and so the pair needed to live in hiding, deep in the woods surrounding the camp. It took over ten years of teaching and training, but it was finally time. Mother knew best, and Jason Voorhees was willing to serve her every command.

Four years ago, Jason began his killing spree. He picked off the counselors one by one, catching each in a deadly infraction. He worked carefully at first, making the disappearances look like believable shirking of duties or horrible accidents. That year, authorities ruled the camp could reopen for the next season with some extra safety precautions. Jason was praised so lovingly that year.

The second year, Jason continued his streak, but allowed himself to get a little sloppy. The murders were attributed to one of the staff members, and no one was the wiser to his presence (or, more importantly, his mother's). The camp was forcibly closed for the following season, and Jason's mother prayed it would stay closed and they could be free of the evil of the counselors who knew no compassion.

But, as an investigation cleared the camp of outside interference, further cementing the falsely accused staff member as the murderer, Crystal Lake reopened for another season, forcing Jason out of hiding once more. He did not want to go back, having enjoyed the peaceful summer with his mother last year, but he knew he had a job to do. He dusted off his mask, sharpened his machete, and set out for Camp Crystal Lake once more.

This year already felt different for Jason. Perhaps it was the time off, or perhaps he was growing tired of killing, but this year he decided to approach things in a different way. He spent the first two weeks of camp watching from the shadows, identifying the counselors and their habits. There were eight of them: four men, four women. Their ages were uncertain, but it seemed the youngest was about seventeen and the oldest was about twenty-five, the majority being roughly twenty-one. College age, Mother had said, was the worst age for most folks. Leftover rebellion from their adolescence and newfound freedom created a sinful breeding ground for debauchery and cruelty that needed to be punished. Jason was of this age now as well, and he had promised to not let himself lose sight of his task.

During the weeks Jason watched the camp, he noticed a few important details. First, he noticed that ghost stories about the murders he and his mother had committed were being told at nightly bonfires, embellished to near supernatural lengths. This excited Jason to some degree, seeing that his hard work had noticeable impact years later. Second, he noticed there were no hikes on the outer trails and strict curfews were imposed on both the campers and the counselors, keeping the grounds barren between the hours of 9PM and 7AM. This rule would make Jason's work difficult if he planned on making any of these deaths appear accidental, but he could improvise if needed.

The third detail, and the most curious of all, Jason noticed that out of all eight counselors, one stood out as unique. The first distinctive feature was that he was shorter than the rest of his coworkers, somewhere close to five feet tall. Jason almost mistook him for a camper at first, but the back of his shirt clearly read 'COUNSELOR'. What truly set him apart from the rest, however, was how attentive he was to the campers. He made sure every voice was heard and no one felt left out. He kept a bright and supportive demeanor no matter the circumstances, and helped the campers with every activity. Furthermore, he did not seem interested in sneaking off to sacrifice his job duties in favor of more lecherous behavior. Jason found himself growing fascinated with this counselor, and opted to watch him a little more closely to see if he had any damning secrets that would confirm his impending death with the rest.

Another week dragged on, and Jason regrettably had lost track of time. He followed this seemingly kind counselor as he engaged the children in their activities and lent a listening ear to those who had problems or concerns. What could he be hiding? Mother was certain that anyone who took a job at this camp was a bad person, and Mother was always right...right?

"Alright, everyone!" the strange counselor called one morning, catching the attention of his group, "It's Friday tomorrow, and that means s'mores night!"

He allowed for a brief cheer from the kids before quieting them down again to continue,

"S'mores are really nice, aren't they?" Whoops and words of agreement rose from the group. "Do we agree that nice kids deserve to have nice treats?" More affirmations rang out. "That's right! But it's come to my attention, as well as the other counselors, that there's been some of you who haven't been as nice as they should be."

Jason leaned forward from his seated vantage point on a log, listening curiously to the counselor's teaching moment. Would he punish the whole group of kids for a minority's bad behavior? Would he revoke s'mores privileges? Would he try to drown some of the children in the lake? That last one was unlikely, but the thought still crossed Jason's mind. The counselor continued,

"Here at Camp Crystal Lake, we value honesty, teamwork, and what else?"

"Accountability," the children chorused.

"Exactly right," he praised, "And if one of us is being picked on, it's up to the rest of us to help them feel included, right?"

"Right!"

The counselor clapped his hands together, smiling kindly at the group.

"I don't want anyone to feel like they're in trouble, so we're gonna make this into a game, okay?" he proposed, "We're all detectives looking for clues on whodunnit. We have to solve the mystery of who's being a bully and have them apologize by tomorrow night, or all the s'mores will have to go away until next week. Does that sound fair?"

"Yes," the kids answered, somewhat anxious now that the promised snacks might be withheld.

"Awesome! Here are the rules of the game: you can't force someone to give you a clue if they don't want to. That would defeat the purpose of the game! You also can't point any fingers until the bonfire is lit tomorrow night. If the person who was mean wants to come forward on their own, they have to come to me or one of the other counselors so it doesn't spoil the end of the game. Once the person is revealed, they have to apologize to the person they hurt and will spend the weekend making it up to them because, here at Camp Crystal Lake, we want everyone to have a great time. If one of us isn't having a good time, we all have to work together to help them so we can leave here at the end of the summer with the best memories and the best friends. So let me hear it from you guys: are we ready to go out and have a great day?"

The kids burst into another round of cheers and the counselor shepherded them off to their first activity of the day. Jason propped his elbow on his thigh and rested his chin in his hand. He frowned in contemplation. This counselor was so dedicated to the kids...could he be an exception? Could Jason's mother have been wrong? He would have to catch this counselor alone to find out more. He still had plenty of time to dispatch the whole staff, he figured, so he had the time to learn what he could about this one counselor.

Jason stalked the counselor over the next few hours, watching him be the perfect role model for the kids as usual. Finally, sometime near midday, the counselor took a break after passing his group to another and announced he was going to check the nearest hiking trail for debris before he took the kids on it later. One of the female counselors offered to walk with him, and Jason detected signs of flirtation in her body language, but he refused, claiming it would be a short trip. Jason felt his heart beat faster with anticipation, following him just out of sight as he walked the trail, moving any large sticks or rocks from the path. Jason flexed his fingers on the hilt of his machete, wondering if he should kill him now despite having no evidence yet that he was a bad person. He resolved he would wait until they were far enough away from the camp where screams would not carry, then he would decide.

The counselor moved at a brisk and energetic pace, enjoying his time alone. He seemed so full of life and vigor...Jason almost felt bad that he was planning on murdering him. The counselor stopped at a fallen branch blocking the path and looked it over, his hands on his hips.

"That's a big one," he commented to himself, "I hope I can get it out of the way on my own."

With that he bent down to lift one end of the branch, stepping backwards to drag it off the trail. From Jason's position, he could see another, smaller branch on the ground behind the counselor, twisted and gnarled, but big enough to pose a hazard. Jason watched as the counselor caught his foot on the hidden branch and tumbled backwards, rolling through the leaves and sticks as he fell down the slope. He went over a slanted rock near the bottom and crumpled on the other side of a rotting log, his ankle caught in a hole in the log. Jason slowly approached, minding his steps down the slope so he would not fall as well.

The counselor grunted in pain as he pushed himself up on his elbows and attempted to free his leg from the log. He had dirt on his face and debris in his hair and, as Jason drew closer and could see more clearly, cuts and scrapes all over his arms and legs. Unsuccessful in his attempts, the counselor fell back on his elbows, breathing hard. He craned his neck to look over the log, having heard the approaching footsteps, and his eyes met Jason's, mere feet away.

"Oh my gosh, you startled me!" he greeted, "Thank goodness someone else was on the trail! I'm okay, by the way, I'm just a little stuck. Can you help me out?"

Jason froze as the counselor addressed him. Oddly enough, he didn't seem afraid, despite Jason's hulking stature, out of place hockey mask, and freshly sharpened blade in hand. He tilted his head to one side, puzzled. He hadn't been this close to another person (aside from his mother) in almost two years, but he distinctly remembered every person he had been this close to fearing him on sight. He looked down at his machete, wondering what was holding him back from stabbing this man and walking away. It was all so easy before...

"Ooh, yes, you came prepared!" the counselor said, noticing the machete as well, "If you're careful, you can probably hack around the opening so I can get my foot loose. If you want, I can get you some free food back at camp for helping me out. It's not much, but Miriam makes a mean chicken salad."

He smiled up at Jason, and Jason felt his heart stop for a moment. There was not a single flicker of fear in the counselor's eyes. All he could see was the same gentle expression shown to the kids back at camp. An unfamiliar feeling came over Jason and, for the first time in years, he felt compelled to help. He raised the machete, his eyes focused on the counselor's trapped leg. His breathing hitched, one part of his mind urging him to kill as Mother instructed, the other begging him to show mercy, just this once. He glanced back at the counselor's face, at that warm smile, and made his choice.

The machete swung down and struck the wood of the log, sending a spray of splinters into the air. The counselor winced, shielding his eyes from the shower, and tried to wiggle his leg loose.

"Still a little stuck," he announced, "I think one more whack on the other side oughta do it."

Jason wrenched the blade out of the wood and swung again on the other side of the counselor's leg. As predicted, the counselor was able to maneuver himself out of the weakened structure. He brushed the splinters and dirt off of his skin and shakily stood up, clearly in some pain from the fall.

"Thank you," he said to Jason, his smile returning, "Really, I would have been in some trouble if you weren't here, so thanks a lot. My name's Lijah."

He extended a hand to Jason to shake, but Jason was too caught off guard by his own response to the situation as well as Lijah's genuine friendliness to return the gesture. Lijah lowered his hand, unfazed by the lack of reaction.

"Not a talker, huh? That's okay," he noted, then became visibly nervous, "Oh, cripes, I'm sorry, are you deaf?"

He made some strange hand movements with that last sentence, gesturing to Jason and to his own ear. Jason shook his head, slowly coming out of his confusion.

"Ah, gotcha," Lijah said, relaxing, "That works for me. I'm not very good at signing."

He laughed at this, and Jason felt a pang of....something. Lijah's laugh was light and pleasant sounding...it reminded Jason of dappled sunlight through trees. He couldn't explain it, but he wanted to stay near Lijah for a while longer.

"In all seriousness, what is your name?" Lijah asked, "I'd like to know who my hero is."

Hero. That wasn't a word Jason thought would ever be associated with him, but it felt surprisingly good to hear Lijah call him that. He looked around himself for a moment, then up the slope at the trail. He motioned for Lijah to follow him and made his way up to the flatter part of the forest floor. Lijah had some slight difficulty following him, being so much smaller and having mild injuries, but he made it up the slope all the same. Jason waited until Lijah had caught his breath and stood next to him. He held his machete out to the ground and drew the letters of his name into the dirt. Lijah read the name aloud once he had finished and looked up at Jason brightly.

"Jason!" he chirped with delight, "Like the Argonaut in Greek mythology!"

Jason tilted his head, frowning. His mother had told him many stories as he grew up, but they were all from the Bible. He wasn't familiar with the character Lijah was referencing, and Lijah could see his bewilderment.

"He's a hero in his story," he explained, "well, for the most part. He goes on adventures with his crew and they see and do all kinds of amazing things together."

Jason nodded, liking the sound of this hero with the same name as himself. And the fact that he was not entirely virtuous...that struck a chord with him. He gestured to Lijah, who seemed to understand that he was asking about his name.

"I was originally supposed to be Elijah," he said, emphasizing the 'e' at the beginning, "but my little sister had trouble saying the whole name, so I changed it to just Lijah. By itself, I don't think it means anything special, but it's pretty special to me."

Jason stared at Lijah. How was he so good-natured? Even with an intimidating stranger like Jason, he managed to keep his upbeat attitude and unselfish way of speaking. Was he stupid or genuinely that benevolent?

"Hey, walk with me back to camp," Lijah encouraged, setting off in that direction, "I owe you lunch."

Jason felt a small stab of panic and shook his head. He looked over his shoulder and back at Lijah, who nodded.

"You've got somewhere to be - that's fine! Don't worry about it, big guy! But, if you find yourself back this way, come find me at counselor cabin 5 and I'll get you a meal to pay you back for helping me. Thanks again!"

He waved goodbye before turning and walking back towards the camp, the pep in his step dampened only slightly by the soreness in his legs. Jason watched him go and wondered wildly what had just happened. Had he somehow accidentally made a friend?

#argo fic #friday the 13th #jason voorhees #canon/oc #slashers #slasher fanfiction #friday the 13th fanfiction

21 notes · View notes

andoqin · 3 years

Note

Hi there! I'm obsessed, OBSESSED with Qiang Jin Jiu from your recommendation, would you mind recommending other novels that might filter out some of these obsession, because I don't think it's quite healthy at the current pace

Yay, glad you’re liking QJJ, isn’t it great? Cezhou really is couple goals!

I’m presuming you want Danmei? I can give you some great Baihe or BG novels too!

Well, if you want something that has a similar ratio of plot:horniness I would recommend To Rule in A Turbulent World (Luan Shi Wei Wang 乱世为王 ) by Fei Tian Ye Xiang. LSWW’s main characters are You Miao, young, insouciant, spoiled son of a rich merchant sent to the capital to make connections and Li Zhifeng, Quanrong (sex-)slave. YM buys LZF from a friend who was about to beat LZF to death on a somewhat rebellious impulse and also because he’s kinda curious about the sex stuff. He quickly frees LZF though, because YM is not really the sex-slave having kind of person, but they do have sex before parting initially - mostly bc YM is curious about it and well, he’s already paid money - but thankfully their separation does not last long and they realise how much they mean to each other pretty quickly.

LSWW starts out as a somewhat quiet novel about maintaining and fixing your own farm, but both YM and LZF aren’t really meant to just sit back and watch history pass them by.

As they become increasingly embroiled in the happenings of the world around them, they never lose sight of each other though and just like QJJ it’s pretty much accepted without comment that YM and LZF are a unit and no one comments on it. The translation by Suika is, as always, amazing and the main story is close to being done (61/75 chapters)! So now is a great place to start imo!

Next I would rec Thousand Autumns ( Qian Qiu 千秋) by Meng Xi Shi. It is not as horny as QJJ or LSWW although I guess that could be debated, because Yan WuShi is prime DILF material, and the couple doesn’t actually get together-together until the end of the novel/the extras. I’m still reccing it though, because the plot is pretty great and I really like the world that MXS draws up in her novel.

QQ is about Shen Qiao, disgraced former leader of a righteous Daoist sect, who is defeated by a challenger from the Turkic Steppes. He falls off a cliff pretty much directly into the hands of Yan Wushi, leader of an “unorthodox” sect who just came out of a 10 year seclusion. Shen Qiao initally does not remember who he is, so Yan Wushi takes the opportunity to fool him into thinking he is SQs Master, but although Shen Qiao doesn’t remember, he’s not dumb and that ruse is dissolved pretty quickly. The main thrust of the novel is SQ now trying to make his way in the world when everyone thinks he’s disgraced himself through his defeat and has now become YWS’s boytoy for safety.

Yan Wushi however didn’t take SQ in out of the kindness of his heart, or because he wants to fool him a little but because Shen Qiao is pretty much a kind person at heart and YWS just doesn’t believe someone can be as idealistic as SQ is so he observes and maneuvers situations to find out where SQs bottom line is. He... does something that is pretty much completely despicable and unforgivable to Shen Qiao (if you want to know exactly what it is, ask me and I’ll put it in a spoiler), but SQ is able to a) save himself and b) YWS pretty much gets hit by the karma stick shortly thereafter, so despite this the way their relationship develops in the novel is not unbelievable or impossible to me.

What I really like about QQ is that Shen Qiao is around 30 (I think?) and YWS is close to 50 (doesn’t look anything like it though obviously), so they’re both adults and their characters are firm enough that they don’t change throughout the novel, they just gain a new perspective that lets them process stuff in a new way while still remaining true to their core personalities.

I’ve linked carrds with corresponding translations, so I hope you like either or at least one of the two novels that I have linked! Please let me know if you do :D

Edit: I think all the carrds feature links to the JJWXC origins of the novel and I urge anyone who reads fantranslations to go and support the authors, the novels are so cheap and chapter prices are dependent on the length, but can be discounted through numerous ways, so you can buy even novels like 2ha for like 10$.

#asks #cnovel #i rec stuff #qian qiu #thousand autumns #to rule in a turbulent world #lsww #Anonymous

29 notes · View notes

darklingichor · 4 years

Text

The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton *Major Spoilers*

I did not plan to revisit this one because I still have it mostly memorized from when I read it over and over as a teenager.

I loved this book so much, even though my life was worlds away from Ponyboy's, I related to him.

This is probably the most influential book I've ever read. I found out it was written when S.E. Hinton was a teen and I thought "Maybe I can do it too."

I soon found that I was far too sensitive to let people read what I wrote, I couldn't get around the idea of pouring part of myself into something and having someone tell me it sucks.

Now, I realize that's pretty rich considering this blog, but I couldn't do it as a kid and even now it feels a little like saying "please judge my spleen for your liking. If it is found lacking, by all means throw it in the shredder. Fear not, I will feel every cut."

This is why very few people have ever read my fiction.

That's also why, with a couple of exceptions I try to be very respectful of every book I read.

Anyway, what made me return to The Outsiders was that I discovered that there was a 50th anniversary edition. This hardcover has extras, my finger was hitting buy before I even registered it.

So, reread it for the first time in a long time.

I sank into the sweet nostalgia of the story. Reading this book is like sliding on a well worn pair of jeans. This book introduced me to Robert Frost.

I taught myself to type using the poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay" because I had it memorized and would never get tired of it.

I still love the friendships and family bonds presented in the story. I still got a knot in my throat when Johnny died and Dally lost everything. I cried when Ponyboy found Johnny's letter. By God, but I still love this book.

I did notice that some things hit differently now than they did even when I read it once in my 20's.

The first thing I noticed is akin to when you watch The Little Mermaid as an adult and Arial says that she's sixteen and not a kid

and you laugh out loud because, girl, you are a zygote, shush!

When Cherry says to Ponyboy, she could fall in love with Dallas Winston so she hopes she never sees him m again. When I was a kid reading this,familar with The Breakfast Club, Grease, etc, this seemed like a natural statement.

Now? My first thought was "Oh honey, you're more screwed up than I remembered." Because from their first interaction, Cherry would fall in love with a catcalling construction worker.

Ponyboy says that Dallas said something "Really filthy". In the movie, he asks Cherry howhe was suppose to know if her hair was really red, like her eyebrows were. A roundabout way of asking if the carpet matches the drapes. Bad enough and in the context of the 1960's that might have been dirty enough to be censored from the orginal manuscript, but I always imagined it was worse than that.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, after all, Dally wasn't so much a step up or down from Bob, as a step to the side.

Honestly when I was fourteen and reading this for the first time, I didn't think much of Cherry, I thought she was fake, and very stupid. She was older than me, but I knew it was massively fucked up not to admit she dated a bad guy.

I see her as sad now, and she's a much darker character She's painted as someone with integrity, someone with principles.

She wouldn't take a Coke from Dally.

She tells Bob that it's her or the booze.

Won't take a pop from a hood, threatens to break it off with her boyfriend if he continues to drink. Okay, understandable.

Realize he beat the tar out of, and pschologically scarred a kid for kicks?

He was sweet sometimes.

What?

He was something special.

She says to the kid he and his friends attempted to murder.

"He wasn't just any boy."

Right you are, Cherry. Incidentally, did you have any pets disappear while you dated him?

She's a mixed up girl.

I had many a head cannon for the characters in this book when I first read it.

I thought Ponyboy would grow up to be a writer, Darryl would open his own roofing business, Soda and Steve would work for him while fixing cars on the side. Two-Bit would work with them when he felt like it, or he would end up hitching to California to be a stand-up comic.

I thought Cherry would end up married to someone who worked for her father, who I imagined was a lawyer.

After this read through? I adjusted that future.

We met Randy again in That was Then, This Is Now. He's a hippie, which makes perfect sense. I see Cherry running off to Haight Ashbury. I don't get farther than losing sight of her red hair on a crowded, sunny sidewalk, but I get the same spooky vibe I always got after reading Rumble Fish.

Something else that hit differently, the relationships between the boys.

It hit differently for me because I know now why I love it so much.

I remember being in a major reading slump before I picked up this book. See, I couldn't get into the books that were marketed to me. I wasn't in to RL Stine, except for the history of Fear Street books. I couldn't get into Christopher Pike at all.

I was reading mysteries and westerns, but I really wanted something that had people my age in it that wasn't a romance or sick lit. I'd read enough of those, and I thought that if I read one more book where boy meets girl then one of them croaks I would scream.

So I went to my mom's bookshelf, and found her copy.

I really loved that the real connections that are focused on, are between friends and family. These connections were not treated as being less than a romantic relationship. In fact, just the opposite, the gang see each other as their cement relationships. Soda and his girlfriend Sandy break up, he's hurt and it adds to an already rough time, but it is not a focus.

I suppose it could be argued that the reason for the lack of focus on romance has to do with the fact that Pony states that he's not thinking of it yet. But seeing how all of the gang look out for each other from Darryl keeping the Curtis's door unlocked in case one of the boys needed a place to crash, to everyone looking out for Johnny, to Johnny staying with Pony when he was upset after his fight with Darry, and looking out for him when they were in hiding, to Dallas helping them find a place to go after Bob was killed, to Pony sticking by Johnny after the killing, to Two-Bit sticking up for Johnny when his mother came to the hospital and how broken up he was when Ponyboy got sick, and finally how one of Johnny's last acts was to write Ponyboy a letter that he hoped would help both Pony and Dallas.

These are not friendships that end when everyone starts dating.

This seems like a "duh" statement, but you have to think, so many things show friendships as training wheels. Something you use until you reach the next level and find a romantic partner. And, maybe this was just my small town, but that was very much the way things went around me, it was expected.

It was great to read a book about kids around my age who didn't see friendships as inferior to romantic relationships.

Now, knowing that I'm Aro Ace, I think I liked it because it spoke to what I thought was important without making it seem like something I needed to grow out of.

The extras were cool, letters between the author and the editors when the book was in the works, letters from the actors who played Pony, Johnny, Soda, Dallas, and Randy.

It was interesting to read the actors' feelings about characters they played so early in their careers. I was half hoping Matt Dillon would apologize for choking on, and embodying that gigantic piece of ham during the death scene, but one can't get everything in life.

I could read the other SE Hinton books, and talk about the connections between them, but I will likely skip That was Then, This is Now and Rumble Fish.

See, I didn't like That Was Then This Is Now very much when I first read it. A big reason? I didn't like Bryon. There was just something about the character that rubbed me the wrong way.

He's... I don't know... he's like Two-Bit without the charm. Plus, Ponyboy is featured, but Bryon hates him. It seems out of jelousy because of all the stuff that had happened in The Outsiders. And he hates him even more *because* he's quiet about it. I get distancing the last book from the next and that was an effective way of doing it, but when I was younger it just made me not like the character all the more.

I've read it a few times since I was younger, wondering if it would improve as I aged. It didn't.

Bryon is still mostly unlikeable. Plus, I grew up in the Frying an Egg, Diving into an Empty Swimming Pool, DARE, era of drug awareness. The whole book felt like a PG-13 version of The Buttercream Gang. Now that I have sufficiently aged myself...

Rumble Fish, I loved, but like I said, it's an unsettling story and one that left me oddly unsatisfied.

I really enjoyed the next two, Tex and Taming the Star Runner so I may revisit those.

#books #book #s.e. hinton #the outsiders #spoilers #revisit 5 #Book blogging 2021 #revisit

12 notes · View notes

capsironunderoos · 5 years

Text

Little One - Part Three: “This is the way.”

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X Reader

Summary: Din Djarin is sent to collect a bounty that he has limited information on. What he finds on the journey is unexpected, complicated, and even a little green.

Warnings: Flashbacks to the first chapter. This is based off of The Sin, so it gets real tense. Real sad boy hours out here.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author’s Note: This was actually a lot of fun to write, and I’m in a Mando mood now. I hope to have the next chapter out soon because the fourth episode of the show was my absolute favorite. Anyways, we’re learning a bit more about our characters, but we’re still following the plot of the show for the most part. If you want to be added to the tag list let me know! Thank you to everyone who reads, you guys mean the world! (Also, a little bit more hints at a possible romance with Luke Skywalker, if you know how to look closely...)

Oh and I haven’t said this before, but if he’s referenced as Mando, then it’s the readers POV, and if he’s referenced as Din, then it’s his POV.

This is a link for the last chapter:

Little One - Part Two: “I have spoken.”

And this is a link for my master list, where all the chapters are located:

capsironunderoos masterlist

When the Razor Crest leaves hyperspace, your heart plunges to your stomach.

Actually, you think that if you looked down, you’d see it laying in your lap.

Nevarro has come into view, and as beautiful as the planet looks from the cockpit of Mando’s ship, you know the scum living on its surface is as thick as the smog that clouds its skies.

Little One coos from his spot in the Mandalorian’s lap, mouth wrapped around the small metal ball from one of Mando’s many dashboard controls.

You wonder if this was the planet Kuill had referenced. Maybe this was where your story was to take place.

When Mando lands his ship just beyond the entrance into the city, you know he doesn’t plan to be on world long. He’s close enough for a quick departure.

He stands from the pilot seat and turns, stopping when you look to Little One held carefully in his arms.

Both you and the small green being look up to him, and you can almost sense his conflict.

Time seems to freeze as the three of you simply observe the other.

Mando breaks first, moving Little One into the crook of his left arm so he can wrangle the pod from off of the floor and into the seat beside you. Little One lets out a screech of protest, because he knows going in the pod could mean the doors being closed again.

“Let me carry him so he isn’t scared.”

You command, and the Mandalorian responds by placing Little One in the pod and turning to you. Even though you can’t see it, you hold his gaze, and neither of you flinches when he presses the button on his wrist that slams the pod doors shut.

“I don’t know who else has a fob for him. He’ll stay hidden until we arrive in the presence of the buyer.”

He then reaches into a cubby above your head and drops a piece of cloth in your lap.

“That goes for you too. Cover up those tattoos and wrap this around your face.”

You don’t argue, knowing that any number of groups could have placed a bounty on your head as well.

The Empire, the Resistance, the Guild.

You were not stranger to bounty hunters, or bounties for that matter.

When the Mandalorian is satisfied with your cover, he activates the pod and you exit the ship.

The short walk into the dingy town leaves you anxious, and you wonder what the plan is. Surely Mando doesn’t intend to actually trade you off for a lousy stack of credits. But, if those weren’t his intentions, then Nevarro would have never been your next stop.

He comes to a halt in front of a random door and you notice something move out of the corner of you eye.

Are you being watched?

Your eyes flicker to the pod that holds Little One.

A camera droid sticks itself out of the wall and Mando doesn’t say anything, just stands in view of it, holding up a card. It slams into the wall at the same time the door slides open, revealing two stormtroopers.

Your mind instantly takes you back to Alderaan and you are ten years old again, panic rising in your chest and choking any breath you held out of your lungs.

Mando must sense something is off, because he turns to you and grabs your wrist. You shake your head and his grip tightens as he pulls you into the dark hallway with him.

It takes everything in you not to reach for the blaster resting against your hip.

Not like you could anyway, with two sets of stormtrooper eyes watching and the death grip Mando has on your right wrist.

A thought suddenly pops into your mind and you glance over at him.

He’s scared, or nervous maybe, you can feel it, somehow, rolling off of him in waves.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist isn’t just to keep you in line, it’s for his sake as well. It’s working to ground both of you to your current situation, to keep you present, alert.

When you reach the end of the hallway, a trooper moves to activate the sliding door and you step into a room that resembles a bar, but now holds a desk where a man in Imperial robes sits behind it.

The trooper beside you moves and grabs the pod, pushing it forward and closer to the man behind the desk, who is holding a tracking fob similar to the Mandalorian’s that is beeping wildly. He stands and glances between you two before looking at the pod.

“Yes,” he starts, moving around the desk and holding the fob closer to the still closed pod, “yes yes yes.”

Mando inches forward, finally releasing your wrist and pressing the button on his that activates the doors of the pod to slide open.

Little One remains quiet, simply looking at the man standing in front of him.

Another man joins him, dark lensed glasses now trained on Little One as well. They seem excited and on edge, as if they can’t believe they are staring at this small green creature.

You don’t share their emotions.

The man wearing the glasses moves a tool that emits a red light over Little One’s face, and you step closer to Mando to see what they’re doing.

Little One flinches away from the lights that seem to scan his facial features, but they don’t stop, a smile working its way onto the man’s face. The man in imperial dress looks up at him as if he’s demanding answers.

“Very healthy,” he states, and cuts the light off.

You hadn’t realized it, but you had latched onto Mando’s arm, standing on your toes to see. Tears had begun to prick your eyes as you witnessed Little One’s discomfort.

They both rise to look at you and Mando and you slowly release him, once again standing flat on your feet.

“Your reputation was not unwarranted,” the man in imperial robes states, still refusing to acknowledge your presence.

“How many fobs did you give out?” Mando asks and it seems to irritate the man.

“This asset was of extreme importance to me. I needed to insure it’s delivery. But, to the winner, go the spoils.”

He moves back behind his desk, reaching for a container and placing it on top of the table. It’s heavy, you can tell by the way it’s impact echos. He presses a button and the container opens, revealing a large stack of Beskar.

Tears prick your eyes once more as you glance between the reward and Mando.

How could you have ever thought he wouldn’t turn you in?

He would be a fool to turn down such a profit.

He leaves you and Little One then, stepping to the desk and picking up a piece of Beskar. He seems to weigh it, and you wonder if he’s deciding if it’s real, or if he’s deciding whether to accept it for two innocent lives.

“Such a large bounty, for such a small package.”

The man remarks, and you can feel your blood beginning to boil. The blaster on your hip comes to mind again.

Movement beside you pulls you from your thoughts of an escape attempt and you realize that Little One is being escorted from the room by the man wearing glasses. He cries as he looks over the edge of the pod as you and Mando disappear from sight.

The sound breaks your heart and you jump forward, arms extended in his direction. A trooper behind you grabs you around your waist and you yelp in alarm.

“Wait!” You yell and the room freezes.

Mando looks over his shoulder at you as the scarf wrapped around your head has fallen down to rest on your shoulders.

“You can’t have him! He’s mine!” You cry, tears flowing freely now as Little One begins to wail too.

The man standing near Mando looks to him, anger etched into every wrinkle of his face.

“What does she speak of?” He asks through gritted teeth and Mando moves to look back to him instead of you.

“She is his caretaker.” He responds, and the man glances from you to Little One.

“Please!” You yell again and the stormtroopers grip tightens on your waist.

“We can take her off your hands, Mandalorian.” The man states, and your heart drops.

A beat of silence, and you swear you could hear a pin drop, when Mando nods.

The man glances over to the stormtrooper and he lifts you off the ground, beginning to pull you into the room behind Little One.

You thrash against him, spitting curses at the Mandalorian who doesn’t seem phased in the least.

A last minute effort cues you to take the blaster from it’s holster on your hip and you expertly aim it at the trooper holding you, who drops to the ground as soon as your finger finds the trigger. You aim again at the trooper across the room and he drops too, the blaster shot echoing against the walls of the room.

The Mandalorian still hasn’t moved, and you train your blaster on him this time, hands slightly shaking.

You could kill him, right here.

Grab the Beskar and Little One and escape and start a new life.

It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it, and it wasn’t as if you hadn’t done worse things in your life.

Before your fingers squeeze the trigger, you feel a pinch in your neck and the room grows blurry.

When your knees hit the floor, the last thing you hear are Little One’s wails.

—

Din watches as you fall to the floor, knees coming into impact with the dirt below you before you’re caught by a stormtrooper.

The trooper sweeps you into his arms, handing the blaster to the man across from him.

Din doesn’t say anything, just watches as you disappear into the hallway with the child.

“What are your plans for it?” He asks.

“How uncharacteristic of one of your reputation. You have taken both commission and payment. Is it not the code of the guild that these events are now forgotten?”

Din watches the man as he speaks, and notices the stormtroopers that enter the room.

“That Beskar is enough to make a handsome replacement for your armor.”

Din nods, closing the container and leaving the room.

As he makes his way back down the hallway and into the alley he entered through, he pauses for a moment.

Had he really just condemned you and that child to certain death?

He had witnessed the creature lift an entire mudhorn as if it weighed nothing, surely that could be a threat to someone of Imperial status.

He had no hand in the fall of the Empire, but he had not fallen deaf to the stories of the Jedi and the Sith. He had simply chose not to believe in them, until now.

His foot mindlessly taps into the dirt beneath it, stirring up dust around him. He shakes his head and begins moving again.

He had completed his job, and what happened past him collecting the bounty for it wasn’t any of his concern.

As he steps into the tunnels below the city, he swears he can still hear your screams and the Childs cries echoing against the temple of his helmet.

—

You watch beside a stormtrooper as the man with glasses, who you assume to be some sort of medical official, straps Little One to a table.

Your emotions are all over the place.

You’re seething with anger at the Mandalorian for thrusting you and Little One into what may be your final prison, if the blaster pointed in your side is any indication. But you’re also fighting tears as Little One screams uncontrollably. You’ve never heard him in such distress and it’s tearing you apart.

The doctor seems irritated as the screams drag on.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he barks through gritted teeth.

You watch as he sticks a needle into Little One’s neck and you wonder if it’s the same as whatever they injected you with, your hand subconsciously moving to rub at the still tender spot on your neck.

A moment later and he has grown silent, his big brown eyes lost behind his eyelids.

The silence bothers you more than his screams. At least when he was screaming you knew he was alive.

You’re surprised when you feel a slight breeze move across the room.

The hair on the back of your neck bristles and your eyebrows scrunch together. It’s stronger this time, but as you look around the room you can tell no one else feels it.

But you’ve felt it before, on the planet where you and Little One were held captive for so long, when you contemplated abandoning him.

It seems as if it wraps around you once more, and you sway slightly, which cues the trooper beside you to grab your arm as his blaster burrows further into your side.

You snarl in his direction, and turn to face him.

When you do, the wind shifts, and he is thrown against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

Your eyes widen but the wind seems to grow stronger around you.

The doctor has stopped, his back against the table where Little One still sleeps.

You slowly raise your hand, channeling whatever this strange wind is in his direction. He begins to rise off the ground, struggling but never falling.

“Please! Don’t do this!” He yelps, and your grip only tightens.

“If something happens to me you’ll both be killed!” He bargains and your eyebrows furrow once more.

“What do you mean?” You spit, and he breathes heavily.

“While you were sleeping, I was instructed to dispose of the both of you, but I talked them into letting me run tests. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

“Then let us go,” you ask. He nods furiously.

“If you let me down, I’ll release both of you.”

You somehow release the feeling of the rampant energy wrapping around you and this doctor, and it seems as if all of the air is sucked out of the room with it.

As the doctor falls to his knees, you bend and grab onto yours, trying to catch your breath.

In the moment you have your back turned, the butt of a blaster is rammed into your temple and you fall into darkness once more.

—-

Din makes his way through the dark room, blaster ready for fire and eyes trained to search for any more troopers.

He’s already taken out too many to count, and when he rounds the corner he stumbles into a room with Imperial medical supplies and machines.

A trooper shoots him but the blaster fire bounces off of the new Beskar resting against his shoulder.

He fires expertly and the trooper falls.

He sees a medical droid hovering over the child pinned onto the table under some sort of binder and he is infuriated, both at himself and at the ones who’ve done this.

He shoots the droid and turns.

The doctor is standing near the table, and Din aims his blaster at him.

“Please! Don’t hurt him! He’s just a child!”

Din is taken aback by his words, but doesn’t falter. He marches over to him and grabs him, throwing him out of his way and onto the floor.

“What did you do to it?” Din demands and the doctor squirms on the floor when he sees the blaster once again aimed in his direction.

“What did you do to it!” Din demands once more, voice more aggressive this time.

“I- I protected him! I protected him! If it wasn’t for me he would be dead! Please!”

The doctor has turned away from Din now, burying his face into the metal bucket he has grabbed onto.

While his head is turned, Din takes the chance to grab the child and leave the room, entering the hallway once more.

The creature rests in the crook of his left arm, still sleeping.

He has to find you now, because he knows if he leaves you, he won’t have any clue of how to care for the baby. He also thinks, deep down, that maybe he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night either.

He quickly hides from two troopers who are discussing plans for transport of a prisoner, and he automatically assumes it’s you. He fights his way through a cargo room, surprised that the creature still sleeps.

When he enters yet another hallway, he blasts a trooper behind him and turns to one in front of him, who shoots in his direction but misses. He ignites the flame thrower on his wrist and burns the trooper until he lays lifeless on the floor.

He hears a coo and looks down to see big brown eyes staring up at him.

At least he knows the child is still alive.

He sighs and is on the move again, blaster raised as he enters the room where the earlier negotiations took place. His eyes sweep the area but he realizes it’s empty now.

Din moves across the room quickly and quietly, jolting to a halt when the door opposite the room opens to reveal two stormtroopers, with two more entering from the doorway he just left.

The two behind him have you in tow, possibly to be used as either a bargaining chip or a shield, whatever the situation warrants first.

“Drop the blaster!” One instructs and Din moves his empty hand to signal surrender.

“Wait,” he starts, “what I’m holding is very valuable. Here.”

He crouches then, placing both his blaster and the young one on the floor below him.

He hears a scuffle behind him and glances over his shoulder to see you restrained by a trooper, shoulders still shaking from the escape attempt.

“Stand up,” another commands and he triggers the whistling birds on his wrist, their blue lights flicking on.

“Duck,” he states and you drop to the floor as he shoots them off, each one perfectly hitting their mark.

The troopers drop to the floor and you stand, watching as he grabs his blaster and Little One. You grab a blaster discarded by the trooper beside you.

You follow Mando into the alleyway, relief and anger flooding through you.

“You couldn’t have done that sooner?” You whisper harshly, but he doesn’t respond, just continues in the direction of the Razor Crest.

Something keeps you on edge, and you sense that you’re being followed, but Mando doesn’t slow down.

You notice his hand resting just above his blaster at the same time you notice the group of people beginning to gather behind you.

You hesitantly pull the scarf back over your head.

When you leave the alley and enter the open area just before leaving the town, you hear it.

The faint beeping of a bounty puck.

The Mandalorian still doesn’t slow his pace, although you can tell he sees the bounty hunters gathering around the three of you.

When he notices their raised blasters he finally stops and you pause just behind him, your finger resting on the trigger and your other hand grasping the barrel of the blaster. Your gaze shifts past the Mandalorian as a man steps out from behind a group of bounty hunters.

“Welcome back Mando. Now put the package down.”

Mando’s hand still hovers over his blaster, which is holstered against his thigh.

“Step aside,” he says, “I’m going to my ship.”

The man smirks, chuckling lowly at the demand.

“You put the bounty down and perhaps I’ll let you pass.”

“The kids coming with us.” He states, his voice still unfaltering.

You try to ignore the way your heart picks up when he says “us.”

“If you truly care about the kid then you’ll put it on the speeder and we’ll discuss terms.” The man demands again.

You both glance over to see the speeder and it’s droid. Mando looks back to the man.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Because I’m your only hope.”

The man responds, and his choice of words almost knocks you off of your feet.

The last time you had heard talk of hope had been in that Imperial droid repair shop all those rotations ago.

This day had been full of too many reminders of the past and you were ready for it to be over. The anxiety of the moment rests itself in your fingers, as they tap against the barrel of the blaster you hold.

Mando slowly begins to move towards the speeder and you follow his lead, staying close and in step with him.

When he reaches the speeder, you watch him and follow his gaze as he looks to Little One, who has fallen into sleep again.

In one swift movement, he aims his blaster and fires on a bounty hunter before jumping into the back of the speeder. You follow suit, jumping in after him and landing roughly beside him.

You both continue to try and shoot as the crowd around you begins firing on the speeder. The Mandalorian places Little One down in-between the two of you and rolls over onto his forearms, aiming his blaster at the droid.

“Drive!” He barks and the droid whirs out a noise of defiance.

“Drive!” Mando yells this time and the droid beeps loudly as he turns and begins driving the speeder out of the open courtyard.

As he picks up speed you and Mando take turns jumping up and shooting anything in sight.

Mando takes out a man on the roof above you and you can see the Crest growing closer and closer.

You’ve almost made it to the entrance of the city when a blaster bolt shoots out from the left and hits the droid piloting the speeder. The speeder crashes onto the ground and you and Mando glance at each other before he grabs his rifle and slowly muscles it into position. The whir of it powering up is almost equal to music at this point, and you watch him now as you did in the desert.

One by one the crowd around you disintegrates into nothing at the hands of the Mandalorian.

When the remaining hunters have hidden out of reach, the man from earlier begins to speak again.

“That’s one impressive weapon.” He calls and Mando turns in the direction of his voice.

“Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to walk to my ship with the kid, and you’re gonna let it happen.”

You watch him as he makes his command, and you can feel it again, the fear from earlier. Not as strong now, though, as it’s mixed with a pang of hope that this plan somehow works, and that you three make it off of this lousy planet alive.

“How about this,” the man starts again, and you cue Mando to the creature moving behind the speeder, “we take the kid, and if you, either of you, tries to stop us, we kill you. And then we strip your body for parts.”

Before he can finish his sentence, Mando kicks one of the supply containers into the creature who is now completely visible to the both of you. He falters and Mando shifts quickly onto his knees to shock him with his rifle. Another creature takes his place but you shoot him, as Mando falls back onto the speeder beside you.

The shooting starts up again and your thoughts of any escape are completely eradicated.

Mando shifts beside you and you don’t want to give up, but you’re beginning to run out of viable options.

Before you register it, he is on his knees again and igniting the flamethrower you weren’t aware was strapped to his wrist. You watch in silent awe as he lights up the hunters closest to the speeder. Some of them fall, but most of them simply move out of range.

When the flame sputters Mando shakes the machine to try and jolt any more flame into action. But it doesn’t work, and he hangs his head as a sigh of defeat escapes through his helmet.

The blaster fire begins again, and you watch as he pulls Little One just under him, making connection with those big brown eyes.

As you watch them, you know he is accepting defeat.

You can tell by the way he rubs the cloth of the brown blanket Little One is wrapped up in between his fingers that he is silently begging for forgiveness.

The war raging on around the three of you seems to fade away as Little One coos up at Mando.

You drop onto the speeder now, back coming into hard contact with the wood and eyes cast up at the sky as you begin to accept defeat as well.

When a streak of light blasts across the sky above, you sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows. Mando lifts his head. You both watch as the streak of light hits a hunter on top of the roof and he falls.

Suddenly, Mandalorians begin appearing from behind the buildings, wearing jetpacks and wielding blasters. They begin firing and the hunters aims are moved from the speeder onto them.

You watch as they effortlessly blast away anyone with ill intent, and Mando has begun firing again too.

A large Mandalorian lands beside the speeder, rapidly firing as he looks over to you three.

“Get out of here.” He states, and his voice is altered in the same way Mando’s is, but it’s gruff and hard.

“We’ll hold them off.”

“You’re going to have to relocate the covert.” Mando says, and the large Mandalorian looks at you again.

“This is the way.” He offers in response, and Mando nods.

“This is the way.”

Mando doesn’t even look in your direction as he scoops Little One into his arms and jumps off of the speeder. You follow his actions, stepping in his footsteps as you make your way to the Crest.

You’re both running now, and the carnage behind you is slowly fading away.

When Mando reaches the bottom of the ramp, he holsters his blaster and you lower yours.

You quickly run up the ramp and a sense of relief floods you so quickly that your knees almost buckle.

A shuffle behind you alerts you, but a voice cues you both to stop.

“Hold it, Mando.”

You turn to see the man from earlier stepping off of a ladder, blaster raised in your direction.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” he says, and you think of all the ways that he caused it to come to this.

“But then you broke the code,” he says, and Mando glances to the left of where you stand.

A quick flick of his wrist and a small hook attached to a wire shoots out, pressing one of the buttons on the control panel in the wall next to you, and smoke instantly fills the cabin.

The man becomes scattered, shooting wildly in your direction. You cover your face with your hands, and glance to see Little One looking up at the Mandalorian.

Mando slowly raises his blaster and shoots the man, perfectly hitting his mark and sending him flying out of the Crest and onto the dirt below it.

You both make your way to the cockpit, Mando moving to sit behind the control panel while you return to your earlier seat. He sets Little One on the floor, cueing him to sigh at the loss of contact with Mando.

You never thought you’d be so happy as to see the inside of this filthy ship again.

As you leave the planet behind you, you both glance to your right to see a Mandalorian flying along side the ship. He salutes Mando and falls away.

“I gotta get one of those,” Mando mumbles and you find yourself smiling.

Neither of you has realized it, but Little One has found his way onto Mando’s lap as he reaches for the same silver ball from earlier, reattached to Mando’s control panel.

Mando unscrews it and drops it into his hand, eliciting a squeal of happiness from Little One as he begins the jump into hyperspace.

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #Mandalorian #Little One #emwrites #underooswrites #star wars #star wars x reader

170 notes · View notes

badchoicesposts · 4 years

Text

In a Land of Myth...

Chapter 9

Summary: When Selene, a young sorceress, arrived in Stormholt she had every intention of remaining anonymous. King Constantine Rys had strict rules on sorcery. The act itself was punishable by death, and she had no desire to be burnt at the stake for her “crimes”. However, it becomes increasingly difficult for her to remain unseen when she becomes Prince Liam’s personal maidservant, and it seems that it’s her job to protect him from everyone that wants to kill him.

Disclaimer: This AU is a cross between TRR, The Crown and The Flame, and BBC’s Merlin. Merlin follows the tale of King Arthur and the sorcerer Merlin. Merlin comes to Camelot where magic is outlawed and is made Prince Arthur’s servant. You do not have to watch the show to understand this fic, but it is based on the BBC show Merlin so the story line will be similar. I don’t own the plot to Merlin or any of the TRR characters.

Word Count: 3,533

Author’s Note: This series is finally back and with a new mood board! Thanks so much for being so patient with the fact that it took so long!

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @bobasheebaby, @alexintheskyy, @slytherincursebreaker, @kingliam2019, @furiousherringoperatortoad, @goldenbirdcrystalcage, @burnsoslow, @zilch3, @desiree-0816, @sanchita012

Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist!

Catch Up: Masterlist

Wind whipped against Selene’s face as her horse raced forward. A loud laugh escaped her lips as she pulled on the reins, causing the animal to stop just in front of the castle.

“I win!” she called back to Liam and Drake as they came to a stop on either side of her.

The three of them had gone for a ride after lunch, and in efforts to make the trip back more interesting, Drake had suggested a race.

“We let you win,” the man grumbled under his breath as he dismounted his horse.

Liam chuckled at his friend’s words and swung his leg over his horse to lower himself to the ground as well.

“Don’t mind him. He’s a bit of a sore loser,” he whispered in Selene’s ear, loud enough for Drake to hear and shoot him an annoyed look.

The three of them were pulled out of their peaceful afternoon by the sound of heavy footfalls descending the palace steps behind them.

“Prince Liam, your father requests your presence in the council chambers immediately,” the guard said urgently.

Selene and Drake shared a nervous look as they raced to catch up behind Liam’s retreating form. She bit back a groan at the thought of another crisis. Couldn’t they just have a normal day for once? They entered the throne room behind him and were taken by surprise upon seeing a man lying unconscious on the floor, Xinghai bent over examining his body. A few members of the council were scattered around the room, glancing around nervously.

Selene moved closer to the physician, Liam standing protectively in front of her. She gasped in shock as she took in the man’s condition. His skin had turned a light shade of blue and his veins were now prominent on his face. His eyes were wide open and completely white. Selene had never seen anything like it before.

Xinghai straightened up and looked towards the king.

“Well, what is your diagnosis?” Constantine asked, concern expressed clearly on his features.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before, sire. The victims are dying within twenty four hours, and the disease is spreading fast. It will take more time to properly examine the bodies, but…” he trailed off.

Selene looked over to where Bastien was standing behind Constantine, and the two shared a knowing look.

“What is it?” Constantine prompted, although Selene could tell that he already had a suspicion.

“I believe that it may be the work of sorcery,” Xinghai concluded, causing Constantine to recoil.

“Do you know how to treat this?” he asked.

“Until I know the source of the disease and how it is being spread amongst its victims I can not determine the cure,” he responded.

Constantine called Liam forward and the two whispered quietly amongst themselves.

“Search the town and find the sorcerer who has caused this. Leave no crevice unsearched, no stone unturned. Conduct door to door searches if you have to,” he said as Selene stepped towards them under the guise of approaching Bastien. “This is the kind of magic that undermines our authority. The person responsible seeks to spread fear through the people of Stormholt and make us look weak. We have to put a stop to this before the people begin looking to magic for a cure. You must find the sorcerer quickly.”

“Yes, father.”

~~~

Selene watched with increased agitation over the next few days as more and more people fell victim to the illness and Constantine’s men patrolled through the town, knocking down doors and searching through houses and stables. She had taken to spending as much time as she could with Xinghai and Hana as they searched for a cure, neither one of them able to come up with the answer.

“It’s getting worse out there and the guards are only spreading more fear,” she observed, as she looked out the window of Drake’s small kitchen.

He had invited her over for dinner, and she had quickly agreed, wanting a few moments to distract herself from the guilt and worry she had been feeling since all of this began. She could help all of the people infected, but doing so would risk exposing her magic, and Bastien had practically banned her from doing anything about it. The guilt had been eating away at her since the very first body had been discovered.

“Xinghai and Hana haven’t figured anything out?” he questioned, as he passed her a knife and some vegetables to chop.

“They think it may be stemming from the water supply, but they don’t know anything for sure yet. The guards have to realize that they’re not going to find anything by searching the town, though. Someone powerful enough to do this isn’t going to be sitting around waiting for knights to knock on their door,” she said, bringing the blade down onto the vegetable.

Drake gave her a curious look, and she frantically launched into an explanation.

“I just mean the person who caused this obviously wouldn’t stick around and leave evidence of what they’ve done. That would just be stup- OW!” she yelped as she looked down to see that she had accidentally cut her finger.

She dropped the knife, and Drake motioned for her to sit down as he grabbed a handkerchief to wrap around her finger. He kneeled down in front of her as he used the soft fabric to stop the bleeding, his touch gentle against her skin.

“You were saying something about being stupid?” he asked with a small smirk, causing her to punch his shoulder playfully.

“This is a really nice handkerchief,” she said, observing where his initials were hand stitched into the fabric. “I’m sorry to get blood on it.”

Drake looked up at her with a soft smile, before rising back to his feet and resuming her abandoned task.

“My sister made it for me.”

The sound of a knight instructing a group of younger guards to search behind a chicken coop interrupted their conversation and caused them both to roll their eyes.

“I can’t believe I actually used to dream about becoming one of them,” he said quietly, gazing out the window absentmindedly.

“You did?” Selene questioned.

“I grew up around the knights because of my father. To me they always symbolized strength, the ability to make a difference and do what was right,” he said.

“Bastien said that he felt the same way,” she said, noticing how similar his words were to Bastien’s from the night she first met him.

Drake looked down at the chopped vegetables in front of him before turning to face her, a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Yeah, I guess he’s the one that really taught me that. When I was a kid I wanted to be just like him. He and my father were close, so I spent a lot of time with him after he died.”

“How did your your father die?” she asked quietly.

She had been unsure of asking him in the first place, but in the end her curiosity got the best of her. She knew from Bastien that he had died for Constantine, but he had never heard the full story.

“He was at the palace delivering some weapons to Bastien and a few other knights when there was an attack on Constantine’s life. He ran to his defense and got injured in the process. It cost him his life,” Drake responded, looking everywhere but at her face.

“I’m sorry, Drake. It sounds like your father was a great man.”

“He was. Anyway, that’s how I met Liam. Constantine had a funeral for him, and the entire family attended out of respect. We were just kids, but Liam came up to me and said that he was sorry my father had to give his life to save his father. He’s been my best friend ever since,” he concluded, turning away from her again.

“I think you would make a great knight, Drake,” she said, approaching him from behind and resting her hand on his arm to get him to look at her.

“I gave up on that a long time ago,” he mumbled.

“I’m serious, Drake. Just because Constantine has them looking for a sorcerer behind chicken coops doesn’t mean that being a knight doesn't give you the power to help people. They just need a leader who actually knows what they’re doing.”

“I don’t have noble blood. Liam’s begged his father more times than I can count. Apparently, it doesn’t matter that I’m one of the best fighters he’s ever met if I’m still a commoner,” he responded with a roll of his eyes.

Selene raised her brows at him in amusement.

“Liam’s words, not mine,” he defended, causing her to laugh.

“That may be Constantine’s rule, but he’s not going to live forever,” she said, leaning her back against the small counter he was facing.

“God forbid,” Drake said with horror.

Selene slapped his arm playfully.

“You’d make a really great knight, Drake,” she repeated, her fingers brushing gently against his as he turned his head to look down at her.

Selene’s heart began to beat rapidly in her chest when she realized how close their faces were. She began to lean in closer, unconsciously pushing herself up to her toes to make herself taller. Their lips were mere inches away from each other when Drake abruptly moved away from her, loudly clearing his throat in the process.

“Dinner is ready. I’m going to go get Savannah,” he said, practically running out of the room.

It took Selene a minute to realize what had just happened. She had almost kissed Drake. The young woman nervously bit her lip. The guilt and confusion she had been feeling about her feelings for both him and Liam came to the forefront of her mind once again. She was soon pulled out of her troublesome thoughts,however, by the sound of Drake frantically yelling his sister’s name.

Selene ran into Savannah’s small bedroom to see the woman lying on the floor with Drake leaning over her. Savannah’s skin was the same unsettling shade of blue as all of the other victims. However, the two of them could still hear her shallow breathing, indicating that the sickness had not yet claimed her life.

“I need to speak to Xinghai. They have to save her,” Drake said, rising to his feet and wiping a few tears from his eyes with determination.

Selene nodded her head and began following him to the castle, already knowing that Xinghai and Hana didn’t have a resolution, but that this wouldn’t stop him from seeking one out. They had just made it to the castle when they ran into Bastien, who was heading inside after a long day of training new recruits. Selene subtly motioned for him to follow and the three of them headed to the physician’s quarters. Drake threw open the door to their chambers without a second thought, frantically looking around. His entire body was practically vibrating with nerves, and Selene could see that he was actively trying his best to hold back more tears.

“Xinghai, please tell me you’ve found some kind of cure,” he practically pleaded with the old man, his eyes filled with desperation.

Xinghai looked between the three of them sadly, confirming what they already knew.

“I’m sorry, Drake. We haven’t been able to find a solution,” he replied, his voice soft and sympathetic.

“No! You have to figure something out! I can’t lose her!” he exclaimed, his voice full of grief as he begged for a way to save his sister’s life.

“Drake, why don’t you have a seat,” Hana said, grabbing a hold of his arm and leading him to the table at the corner of the room.

“I can’t!” he said, angrily slamming his fist down on the wooden surface and causing everyone else in the room to jump. “I can’t just sit down and let he die! There has to be something I can do!”

Drake abruptly pulled his arm out of her grasp and stormed out of the room. Selene made to run after him but was stopped when she felt a strong hand rest on her shoulder and pull her back.

“Give him some time,” Bastien said solemnly.

He nodded respectfully to Xinghai and Hana and rested his hand on Selene’s back, guiding her back to their chambers, where she immediately began pacing around the room, Chance chasing after her heels. She had never seen Drake so distraught before. Even Bastien, who had been so strong and stoic since she met him a few weeks ago seemed to be affected. Of course he was. He had helped raise Savannah and Drake. She couldn’t even imagine what must be going through either of their minds.

“I know what you’re thinking, Selene. You can’t,” he said, sighing heavily as she sat down at their table.

“I have to,” she said, stopping her pacing to look at him.

“Selene,” he began sternly.

“No! I can’t just sit by idly and let her die, Bas! I have the power to stop this, and I should use it. You know that it’s the right thing to do!”

“That doesn’t matter right now!” he argued back.

Bastien had never raised his voice at her before. She was taken aback by it for a moment, but didn’t let it stop her.

“Have you ever seen Drake like that before? Losing Savannah would break him! He doesn’t deserve that! Hell, losing Savannah would hurt you too! You practically raised her, and I know you love her. So, why are you so content with sitting back and letting her die?” she yelled back.

“Because I can’t lose you either!” he responded, getting to his feet and gripping her shoulders tightly. “I can’t choose between losing you and losing her, Selene.”

Selene didn’t miss the meaning of his words, the implication of how much he cared for her. But, she also couldn’t help but wonder what made her life more valuable than all of the other lives that had been lost because of him forbidding her from saving them.

“You don’t have to choose,” she said softly, breaking away from his grasp and running up to her room.

She began immediately searching through her magic book for something that could help, for anything that even slightly resembled something that could help. After a few moments of searching she finally found what she needed. She grabbed her cloak and slipped down the stairs.

“Where are you going?�� Bastien asked, jumping up when she made another appearance.

Selene looked over at him and placed a forced smile on her face.

“I’m going to see if I can help Hana and Xinghai,” she lied.

Well, her words weren’t a complete lie. She was going to see them.

“Selene, I-” he began.

“Don’t,” she smoothly interrupted. “I know that you’re doing your best. I know that you’re trying to protect me. These are just difficult circumstances, and it can be frustrating to sit back and do nothing when you have the power to help.”

“I know that this is difficult for you and unfair to the people who have lost their lives, but Constantine-”

“Is the worst?” she offered, causing the other man to chuckle.

“Be careful where you say that. Some people may view that as treason,” he said, seemingly more relaxed now.

“I’ll be back soon. Come on, Chance!” she said, closing the door softly behind her and making her way to the physician’s quarters for the second time that day.

She gathered all of the herbs she needed from Xinghai and wrapped them in a piece of fabric before fastening the top with a piece of string to form a poultice. She hid the item in the pocket of her cloak and made her way to the small house Drake shared with Savannah. She let herself into the house, knowing that Drake probably wouldn’t answer the door if she knocked, and found the two of them in Savannah’s room. Drake had moved his sister onto her small bed and had brought one of the chairs from their kitchen into the room for him to sit on. Selene watched with sadness as she saw how broken he looked sitting there holding her hand.

“Drake,” she called softly, causing him to look up at her in surprise.

He wiped his face roughly as she moved to stand next to him, resting a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. Chance jumped up on his legs, causing him to let out a forced laugh and scratch behind the dog’s ear before straightening up in his chair again. He rested his hand over hers and looked back to where Savannah was laying on the bed.

“I’m sorry this is happening,” she said quietly, to which he only nodded.

Selene looked around the room anxiously. She needed to get Drake out of the room to plant the poultice, but Drake showed no signs of getting up anytime soon. Savannah’s breathing was shallow, and they both knew that she didn’t have much time left. She walked over to the other side of the bed, and busied herself by tucking the covers closer to Savannah’s body. When she was sure Drake wasn’t looking in her direction, she stared out the bedroom door to the kitchen and used her magic to knock a glass off of the table. Drake jumped up in shock, and Selene pretended to do the same as well.

“What was that?” she asked, playing her part convincingly as Drake made his way out of the room to look for the source of the crash.

Selene quickly placed the poultice under Savannah’s pillow and mumbled the incantation softly under her breath. She watched in silence as a blue mist surrounded the woman’s face momentarily before dissipating. Savannah muttered softly in her sleep, and Selene bit back a smile as Drake re-entered the room.

“I left a glass too close to the edge of the table. I guess it fell over,” he said, sitting back down on the small chair beside the bed.

“I should get back to the castle before it gets too late,” she said wanting to get out of there before Savannah woke up. “I hope she feels better soon.”

She called Chance to her side and the two made their way back up to the castle, slipping inside and up to her chambers for the night. She was buzzing with nervous energy for most of the night only getting a few hours of sleep.

The next morning she was up early, already making her way to Liam’s chambers not long after the sun had risen.

“Rise and shine!” she called happily as she threw open the drapes covering his windows.

Liam groaned loudly and pulled his pillow over his head to block out the sunlight.

“Come on, Liam! It’s a gorgeous day!” she said, pulling his covers off of his body.

“Why are you so happy?” he mumbled, reaching in vain for the covers that she was keeping away from him.

“I just have a good feeling,” she said with a smile. “Today’s going to be a good day.”

Liam moved the pillow away from his face and looked over at her in curiosity, his bright blue eyes still squinted as they adjusted to the sunlight.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you this cheerful,” he said, finally getting out of bed.

“I’m always cheerful,” she said, throwing his covers back down onto the now deserted bed as she began to help him dress for the day.

Liam raised his brows at her in amusement.

“No, you’re not.”

Selene scoffed playfully.

“Yes, I am!”

“Selene, I like to think that we’re friends, so as your friend, I feel the need to tell you that you’re not a cheerful person. You’re extremely sarcastic and pessimistic,” he said.

“Okay, fine. I’m not usually a cheerful person, but I am happy today. Don’t question it,” she said, bumping him with her hip as she passed by him and made her way back to the bed to straighten out the sheets.

The two carried on their morning routine as they usually did, everything going off without a hitch. They were just about to separate as Liam went down to check in with the guards that had been searching the town for the sorcerer when one of the knights approached them.

“Prince Liam, your father requests your presence in the council chambers. He believes they have found the sorcerer responsible,” the man stated, looking at Liam nervously.

Liam nodded his head solemnly and began making his way to the council chambers, his shoulders tense the entire time. As Selene followed silently, she felt a certain feeling of dread wash over her. The knight did not seem happy that the person who had caused the illness was found.

She gasped in shock when they entered the room and saw Drake kneeling on the ground, his hands shackled together behind his back. Constantine was looming above him, glaring down at the prisoner in disgust, clutching Selene’s poultice tightly in his hands.

#the royal romance #the royal heir #trr #trh #liam x mc #liam #king liam #drake walker x mc #drake x mc #drake walker #my fics #playchoices #choices fics #playchoices fics #bastien #trr bastien #bastien lykel

25 notes · View notes

overlordofawesomeness · 4 years

Text

A Man for Himself (Norton xEli)

Genre: Romance, Thriller, Horror, Fantasy

Rating: R-18

Pairing: Norton x Eli | Prospector X Seer

Chapter Trigger Warning/s: N/A

Chapter 3

Darkness. Norton opened his eyes only to witness himself surrounded by darkness. The candle on his helmet barely provided light. It didn't do much of a help. However, upon examining his surroundings, he's able to identify his current location. He's inside a tunnel. And it wasn't an ordinary tunnel. This was the site where the tragedy had taken place.

His chest tightened. Suddenly, Norton felt claustrophobic. He's aware that this was merely a dream, but everything seemed real to him. He could feel the rough floor underneath his boots, the way it ground against his sole as he walked. The air felt damp and smelled like mud, like he was inside an unstable man-made cave that could collapse any second due to heavy rain. They were all too familiar sensations to him.

The tunnel seemed to go on endlessly whichever way he went. He tried to keep himself calm despite having a hard time breathing. Panicking would only burn whatever remaining oxygen he had around him. But then again, this was supposedly a dream. Dreams couldn't hurt him.

After a while of walking, the miner began to pick up his pace until he found himself running at full speed as if something sinister was after him. He dared not look back, afraid to confirm his imagination and be devoured by his fear. Running felt like an eternity to him until he tripped over a rock and fell. Or at least that's what he thought it was. He was out of breath, so he could only manage a soundless gasp when he realized that he'd fallen on a pile of decomposing bodies, their foul smell making it harder for him to breathe. Those were the corpses of the miners.

Norton picked himself up, but he slipped and fell as soon as he got up. He staggered back in panic, a scream he never imagined he'd ever make escaping his throat and echoing throughout the lonely tunnel. As he was trying to process everything, the burn scars on his face and body began to hurt as though they were fresh.

"You belong with us, Norton," said a voice in his head, sounding like it came from the abyss. "You should've died with us."

The miner began shaking, his hands gripping his head as if the action would get rid of the voice all the while kicking at the undead corpses that were starting to crawl towards him.

"No! Leave me alone!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, trying to push the bodies off of him. "It was an accident!"

Yes, it's all an accident.

A corpse that had gaping sockets for its eyes managed to get on top of him and sit on his chest, squeezing the remaining air out of his lungs. In its bony hands was a large chunk of stone. It raised the stone in the air and was about to smash it onto his head when he managed to pull himself back to reality and wake up with a strangled scream.

Norton was drenched in sweat, his hair disheveled and his eyes wide in shock. The dream was over, yet his heart still beat so fast that it almost wanted to escape his ribs. Taking a few deep breaths, he ran his hands over his face and looked to the window. The light shone through its heavy white curtains, illuminating the entirety of the room. Somehow it gave him a sense of safety and security. It's good even though it's false.

"Had an eventful night, eh?"

Norton searched for the source of the voice and spotted the same gray-haired male from last night sitting in his bed across from his. He wouldn't have noticed his roommate's presence if he hadn't said anything.

"Who are you again?" the prospector inquired, blinking away his sleepiness.

"Your resident embalmer," the other responded as he secured his gloves. He seemed to be getting ready to leave. "Your teammates for today came over. They said they wanted to eat breakfast with you before the match," he continued. "I'm Aesop, by the way. I prefer working in peace, so I hope you won't be making noises in your sleep again." He stood up and picked up a case from his bedside table. "Norton, right? Stop living in the past. You're attracting Death. Don't make the same mistakes again."

He never left any room for Norton to respond. He walked out as soon as he finished his quick introduction. Norton figured his roommate wasn't a fan of social interaction. Not like it mattered.

Still groggy from his nightmare, the miner didn't want to waste time overanalyzing Aesop's ominous words. He stood up and took a towel from his drawer. A shower would help on clearing his head.

* * *

"Good morning, Mr. Campbell!"

Norton wasn't expecting himself to be invited to a morning tea party when he was told to meet his teammates. There was a stone pavement outside the manor house that led to a large pavilion. A few tables were set up and one of them was occupied by three women wearing fancy clothing. He felt a little underdressed with his dark green button-down and trousers.

The one who greeted him was a brunette wearing a blue hat, a frilly white blouse and a billowy skirt that was just as frilly. Her green eyes shone bright with her cheery smile. Her spirit seemed too high for someone who would be participating in a deadly game.

"Take a seat, please," she invited, standing up from her seat and pulling an empty chair for him, which he found surprising.

So polite. He gladly took the seat and smiled at the expecting faces.

"I'm Emma." She offered her hand and sat down. "And these are Helena and Martha. We'll be your teammates for today."

Norton shook the brunette's hand and scanned the faces of the two other women. One of them was a redhead, wearing a pink hat that resembled a cake with wafer sticks on top of it. Her dress was of the same shade with a mix of pastel green and had frills and ribbons. Overall, Norton had to admit that she's adorable and eye-catching especially when she tried pouring tea into empty air next to a cup in front of her. Hot water was about to spill from the pot when the woman next to her guided her hand in the right direction.

Helena giggled softly. "Oops. Sorry."

Norton didn't notice it earlier; but upon closer look, the girl appeared to have glassy eyes behind her round glasses. She's blind, and the stick that resembled a long lollipop resting against her chair was her cane.

How could a blind person join this game? How could she even decode those machines?

As if sensing his doubt, Emma scooted over and whispered, "Don't worry. Her blindness does not stop her from being an outstanding decoder. She's fast. But, of course, we need to protect her. And that's why we have Martha."

The miner turned his attention to Martha, a well-built woman with a curly side ponytail. Her hair seemed to have been dyed blue to match her clothes. She's wearing a white blouse with frills and a long white pencil skirt with blue stripes. Unlike the two girls, Martha had an air to her that made her different. Perhaps it's the pistol that sat next to her teacup. She seemed to radiate an aura of power and authority. A leader.

Still, Norton wondered why they were all dressed up for a party and why he wasn't given any notice.

"I'll do my best to keep everyone alive." Martha smiled in Helena's way, but the ginger wasn't aware of it. "Especially Helena. We can't lose her, so I'm counting on you to protect her." She faced Norton. "And you. I've heard that you've done a great job on your first match. Don't let us down."

Norton nodded and took a bagel from a woven basket at the center of the table. "I'm not promising anything, but I'll do my best."

He would never promise anything.

Eventually, he started to relax in his seat, enjoying the taste of pastry and sweetened tea. He might as well take his sweet time since he might not be able to get the chance to do it anymore after this.

"Good morning, Mr. Clark! Good morning, Mr. Subedar!" Emma stood up from her seat and waved her hands wildly in the air.

Norton's eyes followed the direction where the cheery girl was looking and found Eli and his grumpy buddy walking their way to the pavilion. Like the girls, they seemed to have received the notice to dress in eye-catching clothing.

Eli was wearing a gold-trimmed robe in a lighter shade of blue. It had patterns that resembled constellations. As if to complement him, Subedar was wearing formal clothes of the same shade. A suit with a hood and ruffles. On top of that, his hair seemed to have been dyed blue as well to match them.

"Aren't they just perfect?" Emma sighed dreamily, her eyes glued to the two men. "I had a chance to be on the same team with them before. They're amazing."

Eli waved back and smiled in their direction momentarily before turning his attention back to Naib. They were headed to a vacant table. Naib didn't seem to like when Norton looked at them as he shot daggers his way and moved to block the view of his partner.

"Hey, Emma." Norton took a sip from his cup. "Who's that guy with Eli?"

He'd already heard about Naib from Eli, but he didn't really know much about him except for the fact that he obviously didn't like Norton.

"That's Mr. Subedar," Emma answered. "He used to be a mercenary from what I've heard. He doesn't really interact with anyone that much except with Mr. Clark. They're always together; so if you want to know more about Mr. Subedar, you may need to ask Mr. Clark himself."

"I see." Norton nodded slowly.

Is he seeing me as a threat to their bond? Now that makes things more interesting.

Two more people joined the two men: William and a woman sitting on his shoulders. She was wearing a headdress that resembled the horns of a goat.

"Is that Fiona?" Norton asked, remembering the name from a conversation he'd heard from the previous night.

Emma nodded. "Ah, yes. Ms. Fiona Gilman."

"She's pretty," the miner commented, studying the woman's features.

Fiona had her red hair tied in a single side braid. She's wearing a purple hood over a black dress that had slits on either side that were too high Norton wondered if she was wearing any underwear. William had to be a saint to be able to endure that.

"Yes, she is," Emma agreed. "Makes us wonder why Mr. Clark still hasn't asked her out yet. We've been rooting for them since both of them get along really well when it comes to mysticism. You should see them when they talk about their gods. It's like we don't exist to them. But it seems like they're not interested in each other. After all, Mr. Subedar is always keeping Mr. Clark to himself."

"I think I understand why," Norton muttered under his breath. "It's not easy to find someone like Eli."

Eli was a gem. And Norton hated that fact.

* * *

Two cipher machines left. The last time Norton encountered someone from his team was when he saw Emma dismantling a rocket chair near a carousel. After that, he never saw any one of them again.

They were at an abandoned theme park. It's a large walled area that was divided in half by a river. Communication was impossible. He only knew that there were only two machines left since he heard multiple popping sounds. As to who the hunter was or where it was, he had no idea.

Inside a large tent, which he assumed to be previously called Circus Hullabaloo because of the sign outside, he was halfway on finishing a machine when tapping sounds caught his attention. He looked up to see that it was Helena limping towards him. Her pastel pink stockings were soaked with blood. There was a clean cut on one of her legs that seemed to have been made by a sharp blade.

"Help," she gasped, catching her breath.

Behind her was a large creature that resembled a large mechanical spider. Its large body was covered with a filthy rag. There were movements from underneath the cloth which made Norton's hair stand on end. Its legs were a combination of ball-jointed doll hands and large metal blades. What made it more hideous was the head that had a face of a marionette doll. It was terrifying.

Norton stepped out of the way when Helena reached her arms out to him. For a moment, he didn't say anything as if he's trying to conceal his presence from the blind girl. He was determined to abandon her; but in the end, he decided to grab her and lift her in his arms. He could've easily left her there, but it would be too cruel to leave a helpless blind girl in danger. He wasn't that remorseless.

One cipher machine popped. One more left. He had a bleeding girl in his arms, and they were both running for their lives.

#mara writes shite #fan fiction #idv #identity v #seer #prospector x seer #prospector #norton campbell #norton x eli #eli clark #norteli

5 notes · View notes

dylinski · 5 years

Text

Doppelganger Series

(moodboard made by @fan-child ♡ ♡)

Spitting Image (Part Five)

Warnings: Language, mild violence, graphic depictions of death (not a main character), the sheriff has a mental breakdown, stiles has a minor panic attack, LOTS OF ANGST, but also some funny shit, inappropriate use of “doppelganger sandwich” (don’t judge me)

Relationships: some Lytch (Mitch/Lydia)

Word Count: 10.2K (#sorry not sorry - don’t expect them to get any shorter)

Author: @dylinski

A/N: here’s the next part. took me a while and i kept changing things and adding things and removing things so apologies. theres just so much going on and so much i want to say. this chapter explains a lot more about the druid and who he is, although i may leave you with new questions lol. im trying to throw some romance in for you guys, but its just not really fitting in so i’ll keep trying. who do you want to see together?? not to sound like a comment whore, but feedback is tremendously appreciated since i’ve almost abandoned this story numerous times. heh. ALSO, big thanks to @sterekficrecs for proofing this chaotic mess for me. ♡ ♡ ♡

Lydia ran over to Scott who was holding Stiles’ limp body as Mitch followed close behind. She fell to her knees and grabbed his arms while examining him. Mitch looked over to Thomas who was standing stiffly, hugging himself, and shot a hard look before he heard Scott shouting his name.

“Mitch! Stiles’ dad is coming with the cops. You need to take Lydia and Thomas and get out of here. NOW!” Scott’s voice was strained and panicked. Mitch just gave him a curt nod of understanding and reached down to tentatively touch Lydia’s shoulder.

They were all panicking, honestly, after what they just saw. Stiles, weak, skinny and defenseless Stiles, just lit up like a Christmas tree and took out a swarm of armed guards and a whole building, but there was so much happening that none of them had the time to process it correctly. Lydia was whimpering next to Stiles, clinging to him and begging him to wake up. Mitch went in to grab her, but she pulled away not wanting to leave his side. Scott and Mitch exchanged looks when the alpha decided to speak up.

“Lydia, he’s okay. I can hear his heart beating. He’s breathing. Ambulances are going to be here any second and I’ll make sure that he gets to one, but you need to go with Mitch and Thomas. We can’t have two doppelgangers running around Beacon Hills alone.” Mitch pursed his lips at the boy and rolled his eyes, but Lydia nodded and stood up. She chewed on her bottom lip and looked at Mitch with anguish. Mitch would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous, but he also understood. They were close and everything pointed to Stiles being hopelessly in love with the girl.

Lydia walked over to the third doppelganger who was lost in his own mind. “Thomas?” He jumped at her light touch on his arms that were cradling his chest. “We should go. You can come with us.” Still not entirely sure what was happening, or if any of it was even real, Thomas nodded and followed them to Lydia’s car.

“Isaac,” Scott called out, “I’m going to stay here with Stiles. Go find Allison, I’ll call you if we need anything.” Isaac took the orders from his alpha and nodded as he turned on his foot and ran towards the building to find his girlfriend.

One minute later, sirens were blaring and the first cop cars pulled into the large backlot with their flashing lights veiling everything in reds and blues. Stiles was still unconscious, laying in Scott's arms. Scott waved to the vehicles, signaling them to his position as the Sherrif’s SUV stopped. Stiles' dad jumped out before the thing had even fully stopped, door wide open and the engine still running.

“Stiles! Stiles!” He ran to his son and leaned down, pulling him from Scott’s arms. “What happened to my son!?” The sheriff’s words came through gritted teeth that were laced with fear and anger.

Before Scott could answer, Stiles was swept up into his father's arms and being carried away towards an ambulance that had just parked. A paramedic climbed out of the back and met them halfway. They laid Stiles on a gurney and were running tests and making sure he wasn’t injured or bleeding. Scott cautiously lingered nearby to make sure his friend was, in fact, okay. The medic was asking the sheriff some questions about Stiles’ medical history when the boy groaned. Everyone stopped and jolted their attention to him. The medic was throwing questions at him, “Stiles? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?” He shined a light into his eyes and Stiles raised his hand to block it out.

“What?” He sat up on his elbows and everything started to come back. “Yeah. Yeah, I know where I am.” He groaned again as he moved, his whole body aching like he just ran a ten-mile marathon. The paramedic checked out Stiles some more before he was satisfied with the boy’s state, then he headed towards the group of other boys being guided out through the gaping hole in the building.

“Stiles…” Noah spoke softly to his son.

Stiles adjusted himself again, wincing subtly while sitting up, “I’m okay dad really--”

The soft look of fear on his father's face turned to rage when he was content with his safety and he cut off his son. “What were you thinking!?” Stiles halted and his eyes grew wide as he stared at his father. “If you think I don’t know it was you who left the ‘anonymous’ tip, you’d be sorely mistaken. What were you even doing here, Stiles?” His father finally took a breath and the young boy pouted his lips with raised eyebrows, waiting to make sure it was safe for him to speak.

“We were…” Stiles looked over to Scott as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to soothe out a kink. Scott just gave him a face that read, ‘don’t look at me’. Stiles rolled his eyes and looked back to his father who was still fuming. He opened his mouth to speak when deputy Parrish ran up.

“Sheriff, we found forty-nine boys in the sublevel basement…” Parrish tore his eyes from Noah and looked to Stiles for a short second, “...just like the anonymous tip said.” Awesome, Jordan knew it was Stiles who called too.

The sheriff scrunched up his features, similar to the way Stiles does so often and turned back to his son. With a pointed finger, he spoke harshly, “I’m not finished with you,” then he followed Parrish to the building.

Scott walked over to his friend and started to chuckle. “Shut up, man,” Stiles whined as he reached out with yearning fingers for his friend to help him off the gurney. He hopped down and wobbled a bit before he found his balance. They started to walk to the jeep when Stiles looked over to the missing wall of the building, stopping in his tracks. He turned to Scott with a questioning brow and eyes full of confusion.

Scott looked just as baffled, “What?”

“The wall! What happened to it?” Stiles gestured towards the hole demandingly.

“You don’t remember?” Stiles shook his head, thinking he would never forget something like that. They both started for the baby blue vehicle again when Scott asked, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Stiles stilled abruptly and tipped his head in thought, “We were running from the guards with Thomas and— Wait, how did we get out?” Scott looked at the ground and scuffed his shoe against the pavement thinking he really didn’t want to poke that bear right now, especially since he didn’t fully understand what had happened himself. Stiles picked up on it and shrugged his shoulders as they took the few steps left to the jeep and got in, headed for his house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lydia used her key that Stiles gave her forever ago to unlock the door to the Stilinski home and they went up into Stiles’ room. Mitch guided Thomas by his bicep up the stairs and gruffly pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed as Lydia paced back and forth. Mitch walked over and blocked her path as he grabbed her shoulders and held her at a distance. She was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and picking at her cuticles apprehensively.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Lydia was avoiding his gaze, but Mitch touched a light finger to her chin, lifting her head up to meet his eyes half-heartedly. “It's going to be okay. He’s going to be okay.” She gave him a soft smile just as Thomas cleared his throat and stood up.

“Is anybody going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Thomas was beyond confused and frustrated. It was like being thrust into the maze all over again with no memory, but this time his only memories were that of the world he had left behind, a vague fog veiling them like a distant dream.

Lydia walked over to him and took a deep breath, composing herself. “We need to wait for Stiles, he’ll explain everything when he gets here.” “Who? Crazy glow stick boy!?” Mitch snorted at the statement and Lydia shot him a hard look before she turned back to Thomas and rested her hand on his shoulder.

“Yes. He knows what happened to you, but we don’t, so we’re going to just have to wait.” Lydia offered assurance.

Thomas let out a long huff and frustration filled him to the brim. “Why won’t anyone tell me anything!? This is bullshit! You guys know something! Why did Stiles call that kid with the red eyes a werewolf? Why did he have red eyes? How did he have claws? What happened to Stiles? Why did he light up? What the hell is he? Why do I look like him? Why do I look like you? What the hell is a doppelganger and why did the glowy eye kid call me one? Why was I in that place? Why can’t I remember anything other than the maze? What were they doing to me?”

Thomas was shouting his spew of questions and stepped too close into Lydia’s personal space. Before he could spit out any more queries Mitch was at him in less than a second. He pushed the smaller boy back onto the bed hard, stepping between him and Lydia. He let out a small growl at the kid’s face immediately melted into compliance.

Lydia groaned and pressed her hand to her forehead. She glowered at Mitch and he rolled his eyes, then turned to the other boy to make a threatening glare and stepped away. Thomas responded with a mocking face and crossed his arms.

“Thomas, we’re going to answer all your questions, okay?” Lydia’s voice was soft now and she gave him an easy smile. “We just need—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We just need to wait for Stiles.” Thomas rolled his eyes and was done talking to both of them.

There were a couple of minutes filled with silence before they heard the front door open then two sets of hard footsteps trailing towards the bedroom. The door swung open and Stiles halted in its frame, giving Lydia a look of confusion. “Whaaaat are you guys doing here?”

Lydia flared her nostrils and looked to Scott who just shrugged. When no one said anything, she threw her arms up and finally answered. “Well, I’m not taking them to my house. Where else am I supposed to take a bunch of doppelgangers?”

Stiles nodded in annoyed agreement as Thomas stood up in frustration. “There’s that word again! What the hell is a doppelganger!?” Mitch started towards the boy, but Lydia held her arm out to stop him. He relaxed at her touch, but only slightly. Stiles was about to answer Thomas when the front door opened again and everyone froze.

“STILES. GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE.” It was his dad.

Everyone stood in motionless silence as eyes traded skittish glances between the five of them. When no one moved to come up with a solution, Stiles rolled his eyes and groaned. “You three stay here and be quiet.”

Lydia shot him a look and whisper-shouted, “Well, obviously.” Stiles made a mocking smile and walked off, then Scott closed the bedroom door with his lips in a thin line and followed him downstairs.

Stiles rushed down the steps and saw his father standing in the living room with his fingers holding the bridge of his nose. He looked up to see the two boys as he pulled in his lips and shook his head. He waggled his finger at them, “You two…” Stiles held up his hands in surrender as his father pointed to the couch and ordered them to sit down. His dad followed and sat in the armchair diagonally from them.

They all sat in silence for a time while Stiles’ father collected his thoughts, making no attempt to mask his fury. Eventually, his father found enough strength to speak calmly, but his voice was still jagged and laced with ire. “What were you two doing there?”

Stiles and Scott looked perplexed as they exchanged glances. “Would you believe we were in the neighborhood?” Stiles shrugged with an optimistic grimace. A throaty grumble sounded from his father.

Obviously, Noah wasn’t going to get a straight answer, so he moved on to the next question. “How did you know about the kids?”

Stiles winced, “Lucky guess?” His father lost the little composure he had left and shot a look that could kill at his son.

“Would either of you like to explain to me the missing wall!?”

Stiles raised his hands and smirked, “Uh, that one I actually have no idea.” The sheriff looked to Scott who was scared shitless. Again, not poking that bear yet. Stiles just rolled his eyes at his friend, not understanding why he won’t tell anyone what happened.

Noah huffed and was growing more irritated by the second with the lack of cooperation. “Well, what am I supposed to do with you two? Huh?” Stiles shrugged again and seemed unphased by his father. Listing each item off with his fingers, Noah spoke, “We have breaking and entering, theft, destruction of property, assault, kidnapping…” Stiles jerked his head at ‘kidnapping’ and donned confusion. “Yeah, kidnapping Stiles. There were fifty beds in that basement and we only found forty-nine boys.”

Stiles looked at Scott and gulped visibly. If his dad wasn’t sure if they knew anything before, he was positive they did now. Stiles turned to his dad, his voice uneasy, “We have no idea—”

“Stiles!” His father cut him off and held up his hand. “I’m done playing these games. You need to tell me what the hell is going on right now before I lock you up myself. Is that what it’s going to take to keep you out of trouble? Because I’m getting tired of this, son.”

Stiles looked at his feet and picked at his fingers as the guilt hit him hard. He never means to cause his father this much stress and frustration, it just kind of comes along with the package of having Stiles as a son. He looked up at Scott who shrugged a shoulder and gave a sympathetic smile. Stiles knew Scott thought it was a good idea to tell his dad, he had told him that when it all started, but it wasn’t his place to.

Stiles looked to his father, took in an agonizing breath and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. How do you tell someone this? How do you even start? ‘Hey Dad, I’m one of three doppelgangers, that we know of, of an evil druid who’s thousands of years old. Oh yeah, he’s immortal too!’ This isn’t something you can just say to your father. How is he supposed to tell him that his eyes, his mother’s eyes, aren’t actually his?

His dad used to drink after she passed and when he was drunk one night he mentioned how he looked just like his mother. Her eyes, lips, nose, and especially her smile. How does he tell him those aren’t even his? Is there a good way to tell someone that their son isn't their son because he’s not even sure if he’s a real person himself, but just some copy of the original?

Tears started to well in Stiles’ eyes and his voice croaked when he spoke. “Dad…” The word sounded foreign in his tongue like it didn’t belong to him. Was he technically still his son? His father reoriented in his seat, his posture changing from offensive to concerned. “You have to promise you won’t freak out, okay?” Stiles peered at his father from behind his clasped hands, filled with trepidation.

His father leaned forward onto his knees, more disquieted than angry now. “Son, it’s okay. You can tell me.” He saw the fear in his child's eyes and wanted nothing more than to snatch it away. He wanted to take it all, all the pain and hurt Stiles had ever felt and will feel. That’s his son and he has a primal need to protect him, but he felt like he’d utterly failed in that department. He keeps trying, but he can’t protect his son if he doesn’t know what the threat is.

Stiles continued to struggle with his words and Scott noticed. He nudged Stiles’ knee with his own and gave him a soft smile of reassurance. “It’s your dad, Stiles. He’ll love you no matter what.” As if his best friend could read his mind, that was exactly what he needed to hear.

Stiles cleared his throat and sat up straight, “Dad, I’m a doppelganger.” His father's face turned to confusion and Stiles realized his dad had no clue what he was talking about. “A doppelganger is like...a copy of someone else.” His father’s face was even more distraught. Okay, that explanation didn’t help. Stiles sighed and looked to Scott for help, but was offered none. “A doppelganger is like having a twin, dad, but the two people aren’t related. They’re exactly the same; their face, voice, everything.”

Noah held his chin as he processed the information provided to him. He let his hand fall as he opened his mouth, but only silence escaped. He adjusted himself in his seat and Stiles started to bounce his leg with nervousness. “So...you’re a....dobble wanker?”

Stiles sat up straight with wide eyes and waved his hands outwards, “Oh God, dad, no. That’s— No just— That’s not it at all.” His father made an unamused face at him. “Doppelganger. It’s doppelganger. Please never say that again.”

His father groaned and wrapped his fingers around his brow in frustration, “Stiles, I think I would know if my son was…” He was struggling with the word again so he motioned vaguely, “...one of those things.”

“Well dad, you would think that, but I had no idea myself until about a week ago.” His father shot him a glance and Stiles immediately cringed, realizing his mistake.

“A WEEK!? THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR A WEEK?! Oh, it all makes sense now. The staying out late, not answering my calls or texts, answering my questions with more questions or changing the subject. The half-truths and talking in circles. But I still don’t believe you’re a...whatever you call it.”

Stiles’ head fell into his hands as he realized his father wasn’t going to believe him without any evidence. While his father was well aware of the supernatural world and the creatures that lived in it, he was a man of facts and logic. The type of person who needed to see in order to believe. He groaned because the last thing he wanted to do was bring Thomas or Mitch downstairs. He was convinced his father would have a heart attack if he saw one of them, but alas, what other choice did he have at this point? “I can show you. There are...three of us that we know of if you’re not including the original.”

“Three!? What do you mean there are three of you? Original? Stiles, for the last time, you are not a dingle wacker.” Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, not even bothering to correct his father this time.

“Give me a sec.” Stiles pushed off the couch with haste and lost his balance for a short second, forgetting how weak he really felt after passing out earlier. Scott grabbed is hip to help balance him, but Stiles brushed him off and mouthed ‘I’m fine.’ His father was shouting his name as he made his way up the steps, protesting him leaving. He got to his room and opened the door to see Mitch and Lydia arguing in hushed tones in the corner while Thomas was still sitting on the bed like a child who just had his toy taken away. “Mitch.” The older man looked up with question and Stiles just jerked his head towards the hallway. All of them knew what Stiles was asking so Lydia looked to her friend with uncertainty, but he gave her a forced smile.

Stiles turned and winced as it took all his energy to dredge himself back downstairs. The last thing he needed was everyone worried about his physical state in the middle of this chaotic muddle. Mitch followed him to the top of the staircase until Stiles stopped and held out a hand. “You look like shit.”

Stiles sighed and looked at his reflection in Mitch’s eyes. They were like dark brown oceans that could swallow you whole. “I’m okay.” Mitch huffed and crossed his arms, not believing him.

Stiles turned and descended down the steps to prepare his father.

“Okay, I know you don’t believe me, because honestly, I wouldn’t have believed it myself, so I’m going to show you.” Stiles paused and took a deep and reassuring breath. “Dad, you have to not freak out because the last thing I need is you going into cardiac arrest.”

“Stiles, I am not going to have a heart attack. What are you talking about?” The sheriff had his arms crossed over his chest and rolled his eyes familiarly.

His son waved up to the top of the steps and a body slowly came down. When his face came into view, Stiles swore everyone in the room could hear the sound of his heart beating outside of his chest. The room was so silent that is was deafening, and everyone was too scared to break it. Mitch stood next to Stiles with a bored face as he crossed his arms and looked to the old man sitting in the chair. Stiles looked between Mitch and his father, but there was nothing. It was like they had frozen in place and he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. He looked to Scott who was just as terrified as he was.

His father finally stood up and walked over to the identical boys. He stood in front of the older of the two and looked him over, invading his space. He was taller than his son, but not by much. His hair was longer too, and the presence of a beard and mustache where Stiles still couldn’t manage one. There was a permanent line on his brow, something that was etched into his skin from the constant furrow of his forehead.

Noah crossed his arms and squinted like he was trying to read one of those posters with the letters when you go to the eye doctor. He started to make noises of curiosity here and there, lightening the tone of the group. He was analyzing Mitch like someone would a sculpture in an art museum.

Stiles’ eyes widened as he slowly made his way to Scott, his father not even noticing. He whispered from the corner of his mouth, refusing to break his lock on his father and Mitch, “Scott, what’s happening? Why isn’t he saying anything?” His friend shook his head, just as perplexed as him.

His father finally broke the silence and everyone looked to him. “Alright. Okay.” He started to walk towards the chair. “This is okay.”

“Uhm, yup. I broke him. He’s broken. My father has officially lost his marbles.” Scott just quietly chuckled at Stiles’ discomfort and despair.

“We’re all okay.” Noah sat down in the chair and let out a long sigh and the room fell quiet again, but only for a moment. His father let out a loud and unending scream that drew shock from the whole house.

“Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! This is worse! This is much much worse! Scott, make it stop! How do I make it stop!?” Stiles was frantically babbling and beginning to have a minor panic attack, his breaths becoming uneven and short. Scott just tried to comfort him.

Mitch looked to Stiles and then his screaming father and rolled his eyes as he spoke, “Great, it’s genetic.”

Lydia sauntered down the steps and tried to speak over the shouting and panic, “What is going on?” Both of the Stilinski’s were too self-involved at the moment to even notice her presence.

Mitch sighed and pointed to Stiles, “Well that one is having a panic attack,” He pointed to the older man, “and that one is having a mental breakdown.”

Lydia sighed and turned as she heard Thomas hopping down the steps two at a time behind her and Mitch. “I told you to stay upstairs.”

Just as Thomas went to speak, Noah turned and saw the third doppelganger. His shouts had died down, but they picked up again and were now laced with profanities. He was babbling nonsense and holding his head for fear it would roll off his shoulders. Thomas was starting to panic and become defensive. Everything in his body made his legs twitch and beg him to run, just run as far away from all of them and this ridiculousness as you could and not look back.

Lydia had enough of all of them, so she used her banshee voice, a demanding and humbling tone. “ALL OF YOU, SHUT UP.”

As if it had flipped a switch, everyone shut their mouths and it was silent again. They all looked to her submissively and in awe. “Now, are you all a bunch of children? Because that is exactly how you’re acting. Stop throwing your tantrums and use your words.” She turned to the sheriff, “Yes, Stiles is a doppelganger. This is Mitch and the other one is Thomas.” She turned over to Stiles, “Pull it together. You’re not helping your father, he needs you right now.” Then she turned to Mitch who was laughing under his breath. “And you, this is not funny. Just because you have this whole I don’t care thing going on doesn’t mean that everyone else doesn’t.” His ever so slight smile disappeared as he took offense to her words. “Since everyone has been put in their place,” she grabbed her coat off the chair at the kitchen table, “I am going home because I am way too tired and unprepared to deal with all of this.” With that, she walked out of the door and left the men to fend for themselves in stunned silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Allison opened her eyes and saw nothing but black. She was lying on the cold rigid floor with her hands bound behind her back. She couldn’t help but run her tongue across the cloth that was between her teeth to muffle any noise she would attempt to make. She managed to sit herself up and started to wiggle her shoulders in an effort to shake the ropes loose. She went to pull a small knife from her arm when a chilling and familiar voice broke through the darkness.

“If you’re looking for the blade in your sleeve, don’t bother.”

Allison froze and searched the void for the person who spoke, but she couldn’t see more than three inches in front of her face. She had other weapons hidden on her person, but it was safe to assume that the man found them all. She continued to blink, trying to differentiate the darkness from movement, and could have sworn she saw something red pass quickly.

Her body stiffened when she felt a contrasting warmth to the air of the room, becoming aware that the man was now close to her. He must have been squatting behind her because he was whispering into her ear now. “If you’re still wondering what my name is, I have two. My given name…” he sounded disgusted by the thought, “...and my chosen name.” He was much more satisfied with the idea of the chosen name. He circled around in front of her and loosened the fabric in her mouth, letting it fall around her neck as she wet her dry lips. He squatted back down so they were now face to face with only a small distance between them.

Her eyes, now adjusting to the obfuscation of the room they were in, she could just make out her captor’s face. “I’m assuming you want me to ask you what they are?” Allison’s throat was sore and cracked when she spoke, the dry air not a friend to her parched mouth.

The man chuckled and stood to tower over her. “You can call me Morfran.”

Allison pulled in her brows. “You chose that?”

“Why are you so surprised?” He was genuinely curious as to what her thoughts were.

“Morfran was the name of a soldier to King Arthur in Welsh mythology. His skin was charcoal black and so hideous that no one would strike him in battle for fear he was a demon.”

“I’m impressed. You know your welsh mythology. You forget what the meaning of the name is though. Morfran, great crow, bringer of death.”

Allison shuddered at the idea. “So is that what you’re going to do? Kill me?” She held back her fear, but it was still evident in her voice.

“Maybe.” Morfran seemed indifferent on the matter like he hadn’t entirely made his mind up yet.

“Then what are you going to do with me?”

Morfran was squatting next to her again, close enough to feel his hot breath against her cheek. “You’re going to tell me about your friends.” Allison opened her mouth to protest, but before she could get out any words she felt a sharp pain in the back of her neck and a silent scream escaped her lips. Her eyes rolled back into her head and everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Lydia left, Mitch and Thomas went back to Stiles’ room while he continued to explain everything that had happened during the last few days to his dad. When his father's head was thoroughly spinning, he tried to absorb what he could before he left to finish his shift and the mountain of paperwork his son had just caused him. Stiles was drained and tired on top of still being in pain, everywhere. He was going to kick the boys out of his room so he could sleep. When he got up from the couch with Scott, Isaac flew through the door and looked like he was about to break down into tears.

Scott ran over to him and grabbed his shoulders. Isaac was trying to speak but his breaths were shallow and deep like he had been running for hours. “Isaac, what is it? What’s wrong?”

He looked at Scott with weary eyes and a forehead full of lines. “She’s gone. I can’t find her.”

“What? What are you talking about? Who’s gone?” Scott was trying to calm the beta down while pressing for answers.

Just as Isaac was about to speak, Stiles cut him off, “Allison.”

They got Isaac to the couch and he explained to the two other boys what had happened. “After you told me to get Allison, I went up to the roof, but she wasn’t there. Her bow and knife were on the ground, but that’s all I could find of her. Not even a scent. I thought I could smell another wolf, but I assumed it was just me since I’m still not very good with tracking and scenting. I just don’t get why I couldn’t catch hers. I went to her house to see if she was there, but it was empty. I got one of her shirts and followed the smell to the edge of town, but then it just disappeared. When I lost it, I came right here.”

He looked between Stiles and Scott who were standing in front of him, waiting frantically for a response. They were both fixated on the floor while deep in thought. Isaac was growing impatient, so he shot up from the couch and raised his voice. “Well!? We have to find her!”

“Woah, Isaac. It’s okay.” Scott reached out to comfort his beta, and it seemed to help. Isaac relaxed a bit and slumped back down into the cushions.

Stiles looked up while rubbing his chin and gave Scott a worrying face. He darted his eyes towards Isaac and then back, implying he didn’t want to say what he was thinking. He jerked his head towards the kitchen and Scott lead them in that direction. Stiles spoke in a hushed tone, “What if…” He took a staggering breath and knew he would immediately regret it after he said it, but continued, “What if it’s the druid?”

Scott’s eyes grew and he was shocked, the possibility never occurred to him. Stiles side-eyed Isaac on the couch, picking at the end of the armrest perpetually. “Scott, we need to go look for her. We can't leave her out there with him. We know nothing about him. He could be capable of anything and from what Deaton told us, or lack thereof, he doesn’t sound like a nice guy.”

Stiles went to grab his coat he had tossed onto the kitchen counter when Scott took his arm. “No, you can’t.” Stiles shot Scott a baffled glance and Scott shook his head. “You’re in no condition, and Isaac and I would have better luck anyways. You need to stay here and rest, talk to Thomas. I can hear his heart all the way down here. He reeks of anxiety and stress.”

Stiles let out a small sigh, thankful for the suggestion, but he still felt the guilt in the pit of his stomach. He should be out there, she’s his friend too. Scott was right though, what could he do but slow the wolves down? He nodded and watched as Scott called out to Isaac. His friend gave him a reassuring smile before the two of them left.

Stiles sat down in the kitchen at the counter and closed his eyes, allowing himself to finally breathe. A flash of white invaded the darkness of his lids and he jumped up, his whole body rigid and tense. “What the hell..?” He looked down and examined the tops and bottoms of his hands, then shook his head like it was all just a dream.

His attention was grabbed by the sounds of arguing upstairs and he slouched, rolling his eyes and letting his head fall back. “Seriously?“ The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was his two twins. Twins? Triplets? Or just doppelgangers? Honestly, Stiles wasn’t sure what to call them but all he could focus on was his bed and how ardently it called to him. He dragged himself to his room sluggishly and opened the door to shouting.

“What is wrong with you? Did someone shit in your shoe or something?” Thomas was standing chest to chest with Mitch, both of them fuming and locked in their gaze. Despite the obvious four inches Mitch had on the boy, he didn’t seem to be intimidated.

Mitch pulled his lips into a thin line and his eyes widened like he was preparing to headbutt the sucker, just as Stiles ran over. He pushed his way between the two of them and shouted, “Hey, hey, hey! Now, let's not all overreact.” The other two were still staring at each other and Stiles was now stuck between them like a doppelganger sandwich, instantly regretting the impulse to put himself in this position.

Through gritted teeth, Mitch refused to give any headway, “I’m not the one overreacting.” He pressed in further, pushing Stiles tighter between the two of them.

“Oh my God,” Stiles whispered under his breath. Despite all the fighting Stiles had learned to do over the years, it wasn’t natural to him. He was a lover if he really thought about it, but these two, they were undoubtedly born and bread fighters. All Stiles could think about was how he was going to be some sort of causality of war. He managed, somehow, to wiggle his way free and was now standing lateral to the others, forming a triangle.

“Guys, guys. Just take it easy, okay?” They both turned to glare at his unwelcome antics and Stiles took an unknowing step back. Come on, he just wanted to sleep. He was so exhausted, still not entirely sure why, not to mention his body in a constant state of aching.

“This kid won’t stop asking questions!” Mitch seemed less assertive than five seconds ago, but that wasn’t saying much.

Thomas crossed his arms over his chest defensively and spouted out yet another question. “Why are you acting like such a dickhead?” He turned to Stiles, “Sergeant asshole and the redhead kept saying I had to wait for you to explain everything. No one will tell me shit!”

Stiles opened his mouth to speak and raised his hand while the other rested on his hip, but he stilled. Glancing over at Mitch, he closed his mouth and pursed his lips not entirely sure where to start.

A look of annoyance was growing on Thomas’ face and Stiles knew he had to answer his questions. He sighed and got light-headed, both boys leaning in to catch him as he started to keel over.

~~~~~~~~~

“What the hell!?” Stiles sat up, putting all his weight onto his right hand while rubbing above his left eye with the other. He heard a groan to his left and saw Thomas pulling himself up from the floor to lean against the end of his bed. He looked over to Mitch and saw that there was no movement. He crawled over to him and looked him over with alarm. “Mitch! Mitch! Dude, wake up!” He wasn’t stirring so he grabbed his shoulders and gave him a timid shake. “Hey, man, you gotta open your eyes, okay?” He leaned down and turned his ear to his nose and mouth and could hear his small, steady breaths. Stiles fell back onto his butt and hands and sighed in relief.

“What was that?” Stiles turned to Thomas who had managed to sit on the bed. He decided he was too drained and whatever the hell had kicked his ass to the ground didn’t help, so he laid down on the floor next to Mitch. He let his right hand slap onto his stomach and he twiddled the ends of his hair with the other which was raised over his head.

“Honestly, I don’t know dude.” Stiles found solace in starting up at the ceiling and, for the first time, Thomas was quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Allison gasped for breath and sat up abruptly in the middle of a green pasture. She looked around, her long hair dancing around her face like a frame. Standing up, she tried to place her surroundings but found them unrecognizable. She could hear people in the distance, so she started in the direction of the voices.

She found herself in a village filled with wooden homes and tents, animals and many laughing children. The women wore long cloth dresses, simple pieces that were sewn together. The men were wearing large shirts and pants that tucked tight around their waists. Everything was primitive compared to the world she knew—simple lives.

None of the villagers seemed to notice her as she made her way through the small grouping and she found a hut tucked away at the edge of the development. Something from inside it pulled at her, so she went to it sluggishly, passing through its entrance.

Inside the structure, a man and women traded hushed whispers. Allison couldn’t quite make out their words. Something about wrong and mistake. They were both undoubtedly frightened as the man tried to comfort the woman.

Allison was completely still, but the world around her began to blur until it moved. She was in the woods, watching four young boys from a distance. Three of the bigger ones looked to be bullying the smaller fourth one. Anger evident on the little ones face, his fists closed and jaw clenched. The others were throwing slurs at him, saying he was puny and weak, and he wouldn’t survive the winter.

The world shifted again, the little boy now standing in front of the same woman she saw before, but older. She was yelling at him to control it. No one could know what he was, what he hid inside of himself. If anyone found out, they would kill him out of fear.

As if she were the boy herself, she felt a hot fury in her stomach. That’s what the boy wanted, to be feared. His mother seemed to change in stature and become more loving, telling him how she feared for him and didn’t know what she would do if she lost him. The boy relaxed as well and they embraced one another.

Everything swirled and Allison was in the woods again but enveloped in darkness, the only source of light beaming from the full moon above her. She heard a reverberating howl from an unknown place and spun her head out of instinct, her hair flowing with the movement. She precipitously felt under threat and discovered her feet moving without thought. She was running through the trees, panting with each step that connected with the ground. Realizing there was no immediate danger, she stopped and looked around. She took in her surroundings in an attempt to figure out where she was.

Movement some feet away caught her attention and she snapped her head in that direction. She heard growling and it was soon met with a figure revealing from the brush. A white wolf, with cutting ruby iris’.

A voice shouted from the distance, “Maccon!” The wolf tore his gaze from Allison and looked to its location. He glanced back at the girl with intrigue and then dashed towards the person who had called for him.

The world around Allison went black and she felt cold, a pain radiating at the base of her skull. Something tore from her neck and she fell over on the ground that was stealing warmth from her body. She was back from whatever journey she had taken.

Keeping her eyes open was a struggle, the room she was in spinning in a dizzying trance. Morfran walked into her vision and leaned forward over her, a devious smile on his lips.

“Maccon,” Allison whispered so quietly it couldn’t have been heard by human ears. Morfran’s cheeky grin melted away and turned down, his nose twitching with anger. Then her eyes closed and there was nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He hadn’t realized it, but Stiles started to drift off. Somewhere in the midst of the haze between consciousness and sleep, Thomas broke the easy silence. “Is Sergeant asshole okay? Shouldn’t he be awake by now?” Stiles shifted his head to get a good look at Mitch whose chest was rising and falling with ease.

“Nah, he’ll be fine. He’s tough as nails.” He could hear Thomas humming in response and let his eyes close again. “He doesn't hate you, you know? He's just...guarded. Doesn’t trust easily. Hell, I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t entirely trust me. Just give him some time.” Thomas thrummed acknowledgment.

“What are we?” Thomas sounded like a small child, but Stiles had no energy left to offer any sort of comfort. He just answered his questions as well as he could while fighting his fatigue.

“Uh, we’re doppelgangers. Like...copies, I guess.”

“Copies?”

“Yeah. We look the same and sound the same, but we’re not related. Clones if you really think about it. Supernatural clones.”

“If we’re clones, who’s the original?”

“We don’t know much about him, but he’s a druid, someone who practices magic. Supposedly he’s some super evil dude who wanted to be super powerful and fucked with some shit he shouldn’t have. That’s how we were made, I guess.”

“Oh.” Thomas seemed unsure of the answers, trying to process it all but everything was so uncertain to him. He had just been ripped from a world he thought was his own only to discover it wasn’t even real. It felt like it was, so how was he supposed to tell if this was real or not either. “How did you find me?”

“A dream, oddly enough. It was like I was you, and I was running in this stone maze. There was this kid running with me--”

“Minho,” Thomas spoke softly when his name passed his lips, almost like he was afraid someone would hear it.

“Yeah, I guess. But we were running and there was this ugly ass monster thing straight out of a sci-fi movie, but I, erm, I mean you killed it. Did that really happen?”

“Yeah.”

“Badass,” Stiles spoke with a smile growing on his face as he heard a breathy laugh from Thomas.

“Why was I there? What was Wicked doing to me?”

“From what I could tell, they were experimenting on you, but I don’t know why. Everything that happened to you wasn’t real. It was an artificial reality, so kind of all in your head.”

“Do I have a family?” This question startled Stiles. He opened his eyes and sat up on his elbows to look at the other boy. He was still sitting in the same spot he had last seen him, looking down at Stiles.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have a family.” Stiles smiled sympathetically and Thomas tried to return it, but it was too sad to pass. Stiles hadn’t thought about that. They had probably been missing him and looking for him. He made it his mission to find his parents in that moment. Once they figured all this shit out, he’d get Thomas home.

Thomas looked towards the window, “Then why didn’t they come for me?” Stiles tried to answer but didn’t have one this time. He just looked the boy over, who couldn’t be more than sixteen. His hair was a little shorter than Stiles’ and his bangs fell down onto his face. He was surprisingly skinnier than Stiles too, but also less lanky. His features were softer than the other two boys like he’d been through a lot but refused to give up hope. Stiles laughed internally, he could use some more of that, always the pessimist.

“What the fuck?” Stiles was shaken from his trance and turned his head to look at Mitch who was grabbing at his head.

“Hey! Welcome back to the land of the living.” He offered a half-genuine, half-mocking smile.

“God, why are you on the floor? Why am I on the floor?”

“Dunno. We all just kinda passed out or something. It was when--” Stiles shook his head and sat all the way up, pulling his legs into a criss-cross. “Dudes, it was when you both touched me at the same time! We were all touching. It must have done something!”

“Great,” Mitch groaned as he pushed himself off the floor and sat in Stiles’ computer chair. “We’ll add it to the list of crazy shit doppelgangers can do.”

“Yeah! Wait, what?” Stiles turned back to face Mitch again.

“The wall?” Stiles stared blankly, blinking his eyes in response. “You know? The big gaping hole in the side of the building?” He shrugged his shoulders, still not understanding what Mitch was getting at.

“You turned into a freaking glowstick!” Thomas grew impatient so he tore the band-aid clean off.

Stiles jumped up from the floor, “I did what!?”

“You seriously don’t remember?” Mitch was still rubbing the back of his head on the spot that collided with the floor.

“Mitch, I think I’d remember turning into a damn firefly.”

Thomas stood up next to Stiles, “Well, you did. You were so bright no one could look at you. It was like this white light and it looked like lightning was shooting out of you. Oh! And you’re eyes were gold.” Stiles was exasperated and his hands flew in all directions around his head as he twisted his features, trying to comprehend what was happening.

“Don’t forget the wall,” Mitch added.

Thomas nodded at him, “Yeah, and you blew the wall off the side of the building with your mind.”

“MY MIND?!” The vein in Stiles’ neck was prominent and Mitch kind of thought he might have an aneurysm.

Mitch leaned forward in the chair and licked his lips, “Stiles, do you remember the book we found in that vet’s office?”

Stiles turned abruptly from Thomas to face Mitch, “Deaton? Yeah. Why?”

“Didn’t it say something about…” Mitch looked up to Stiles like he was failing at finding the right word, “...powers?”

Stiles contemplated and it hit him like a train. “Elements! The three druid elements!”

“The what?” Thomas scratched his head and Stiles turned back and forth between the two of them.

Making a thinking face and an odd noise, Stiles held his hands out in front of him. He turned to Thomas and started to explain using his limbs as emphasizers. “Okay. So, a couple of days ago, before we knew about you, we found this book—“

“Illegally.” Stiles let his hands drop to his sides and emitted a sigh as he turned to Mitch, giving him the stink eye.

Turning back to Thomas, “Whatever. We found a book that said the druid, who mentioned earlier, decided some thousand years ago, or whatever, to get all grabby hands with power and made himself immortal. He used the three druid elements. Calas, things that are physical and how it’s all connected. Earth, land, the body, matter. Gwyar, the ebb and flow of life and instability of it all. Water, the sea, energy, the source of life itself. And Nwyfre, what makes up everything. That bit of us that could be called our soul or spirit. Sky, heavens, mind, and spark.”

“Spark,” Thomas questioned.

“Yeah?” Stiles wasn’t sure where the conversation was headed by the look of deep thought on the younger boy’s face.

“That’s...what you looked like. A spark.”

Stiles’ mouth parted and he pushed out a small gasp, mouthing the word ‘what’. Like two cogs in a machine clicking into place, it all connected and started to work in tandem. He briefly had the thought before and was on the right track. This wasn’t the first time he’d been called that. He closed his lips and gulped, the muscles in his neck moving with the action. “I have a terrible idea.”

Mitch sat back in the chair and rolled his eyes, “Do you have any that aren’t?”

Stiles held up a finger, “First, rude. Second, I think we should all touch again. I know we got knocked on our asses before but that’s ‘cause we didn’t know what we were doing.”

“And we do now?” Mitch raised his arms behind his head, leaning back. Stiles closed his eyes and huffed.

Thomas winced and scrunched up his nose at the idea. Mitch curled in his lips and shook his head, trying to figure out how he was caught up in all of this.

“Guys, come on. Just trust me, I think this is going to work. The book said that the three elements had to come together as one. What if we’re like Voltron or the power rangers?”

Mitch pressed his palm to his face and let his fingers slide down, a groan at his lips. “Whatever. I call black ranger.” He pushed himself up from his spot and walked towards his counterpart.

Stiles perked up and was slightly dazed by Mitch’s sudden acquiescence along with the pop culture reference. He’d been pretty sure this guy was raised in a lab, but apparently that had been Thomas. “Ahh! That’s the spirit.” He waved over to Thomas to join them. The youngest of the three rolled his eyes and started towards them.

They were all standing in a triangle again, facing each other. Stiles held his arms out tentatively and spoke softly, “Alright. Mitch. Thomas.” He nodded at the space between them and Mitch groaned. He wasn’t one for physical contact. Thomas rolled his eyes and grabbed the older man’s hand. Mitch let out a soft grunt in protest but didn’t fight it. Hovering his hands over the other boy’s, Stiles let out a breath. “Okay, I hope this works.”

“Wait! I thought you sai—” Before Thomas could finish, Stiles completed the circle and time stopped. They were all pulled into a blackness of nothing and everything.

Stiles blinked and found himself floating alone in the emptiness, but he felt a buzzing of electricity on his skin, in the air around him, and inside his chest. He ran a hand over the other and a spark ignited. “Oh my god! Cool, bro.” He looked his hands over and a white electricity danced over them. Following the current rolling up his arm and onto his chest, he took a step back. He almost tripped and suddenly the space he was in was now white. He heard someone shouting his name and looked up in response, seeking out the voice.

Realizing where he was, Stiles snapped back into the moment at the Wicked facility. He felt a hot light burning into his very being like he was exploding from the inside out. It had nowhere to go but outward, forcing the energy from his body like a beacon. It shot forward and knocked the men over in front of him, flinging them like rag dolls into the walls. Did he really do that? He turned and faced Scott and Thomas, looking past them to the barrier they faced. He pulled his arms back like he was preparing to throw a punch and pushed his hands forward, emanating a force that drained him dry. He watched as the wall all but vanished, being torn from its place and crumbling to the ground.

Stiles felt like all that power he felt was gone, leaving him hollow and wanting for more. He felt dizzy and couldn’t hold himself up, then blackness.

Thomas let out a breath that echoed into the abyss he was standing in. Despite being unable to see its beginning or end, if there was one, he knew he was in the center of it. He looked up and saw it littered with silver twinkling lights. He saw one in motion and followed it, realizing all the illuminations were connected. He looked down and found brown earth beneath his feet. Roots were lain around him, weaving in and out of the ground and he followed them to a tree. It towered in front of him standing tall and wide, an immovable force of nature.

The young boy stepped forward, raising a hand out cautiously. He touched the bark and his head flew back, shooting his mind up the extent of the tree for what felt like miles until he reached the stars. He felt a fire in his stomach, burning and raging to escape.

Thomas pulled back and for the first time in his life, wasn’t scared. He felt strong and solid like he was the tree itself. He clenched his fists at sides and felt something shoot up his arms. He looked over and saw an emerald flame enveloping his limbs. Holding his hands in front of him, he examined them closely. “Holy shit,” he laughed and noticed the fire wasn’t hot, but deadly nonetheless.

There was pressure around his ankle and he looked down to see the roots of the tree wrapping around his leg. With a yelp, he was jerked down into the earth.

Mitch was shrouded in a never-ending whiteness, almost blinding. Despite being fully clothed, he had never felt more vulnerable and naked than this moment. He wrapped his arms around his belly and tried to hold back the tears that pushed through his ducts. A cold rush filled him to the brim, a raging sea inside of him that pushed at his boundaries, pressing to seep from his pores.

He let out a sad laugh, recognizing that in spite of his controlled and calculated exterior he was a chaotic current and mess of emotions and impulses. It didn’t scare or frighten him, it empowered him. He’d always held back buried everything he ever felt down and hid it away from the world, protecting it. Like an epiphany, he found the power in his emotions and their fierceness. He opened himself up to the idea, allowing himself to feel and found that he was drowning in an open ocean with no land in sight.

Sinking down into the blue water he choked and clawed at his throat, desperate for a source of oxygen. He stopped, concluding that there was no point but found he didn’t need the air. In his stillness, he found a calm he had long searched for, a stark contrast to everything he was feeling only seconds ago. Blinking, he saw a face in the water, reaching out to him. Unknowingly, he returned the action but found they were just out of his reach.

The image came into focus and it was Katrina, like an apparition with the tendrils of light dancing over her form. He wasn’t sad or angry, just was and she smiled at him. He tried to smile back but felt arms wrapping around him from behind. He looked to his chest, that instinct of fear rising in him and was rapidly pulled back, his arms and legs dragging in front of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morfran stood over Allison’s limp body, fighting back his instinct to snarl when a surge of energy coursed through him and his eyes flashed vermillion. His nose twitched at the smell of copper in the air from where he cut into the girl’s neck. There was a tingling sensation over his flesh and he instantly knew what was happening. He was swallowed by the floor beneath him and dropped into a forest doused in tangerine flames.

Knowing it wasn’t real, he flicked his fingers to bring himself back to his body, but something countered it and he landed in a field of violet lilies. He let out a hideous roar and emitted a shadow over the beautiful pasture. He hated the flower. A sliver of light broke through and a breathtaking blonde woman with hazel eyes set a path for him. Her gown flowed in the breeze and Morfran faltered. He reached out to meet her fingertips and she was ripped from him and spun into the forest again, nothing but ash now.

He fell to his hands and knees, covered in soot. He was a small boy again, crying and screaming at the moon. The image of his mother, his anchor, burning and tied to a stake in the center of the village. The screams and shouts of the villagers saying she was a witch and cursed them all. His tiny eyes filled with tears as he watched her, whispering his name, “Maccon,” as the flames lapped at her feet. She wore a smile through it all until the flames took her and enveloped her kaleidoscope eyes and ate away at her golden locks. He slammed his eyes shut and heard the resignation sound of gut-wrenching screams.

That night something in him broke, no one would ever say his name again. It belonged to his mother and no one else. He had no room left for anything but hate for the people who took his mother from him. Druids were known and typically respected, but they used her as a scapegoat for their misfortune. That was his trigger, her death that revealed he too was capable of her abilities. When the fiery power kicked in him, his wolf howled and smiled. The magic gave it strength and the wolf fed the magic. A cycle of unending energy.

The boy, no older than fifteen, screamed and a ring of fire irradiated from him, engulfing the village and the people who resided in it. They would burn with his mother. His soul hung in the balance, teetering between the choice of light or dark. Every druid faced this when they came into their powers. The possibility to be the sun or the void.

With the taste of the newfound strength on his lips Morfran hungered for more, his wolf's belly rumbling and aching for the rush that came with it. The thought of being feared rather than the one who was frightened. He was tired of being nothing, he yearned to be more; more everything. His heart chose the darkness and went down the path of those who came before him known as darach. They meddled in magic that upset the balance of the world, going against their own nature.

Morfran let out a growl laced with a scream and awoke on the floor, leaning back on his hands. He was back with his body, his mind no longer wandering the supernatural realm. There was only one reason this happened to him and it was that the bond was forged between the other three he saw earlier that night. After sifting through Allison’s mind, he knew their names as well.

He looked to the girl across from him and decided to let her live, for what it’s worth, not that she would have much of a life. He stood up and walked over to her, whispering in her ear, “Cadal, nighean òg.”

Previous ← Main → Next

A/N: The last sentence Morfran says is “Sleep, young girl” in Scottish Gaelic. again, please let me know what you thought, theories, things you’d like to see, etc. thank you for reading. it means the world to me. ♡ ♡ ♡

Taglist: @daisyxbuckley @bitch-banshee @wolfmadefromash @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @theholydestiny @2eyesmadeoutofcoal @jasper53fox @stiles-o-dylan24 @shelinski-91 @samslave @peachybrook @juliebean247 @fastfadingfiction @pyro-vixen @katemusic @tete-futue @juliebean247 @allybugg888 @theoneswithoutpacks @raimykeller @ratman83 @mayxsx @ozgirl6 @prettyeyes1202 @xceafh @indecisive-fandom-writer @lawfulgeek @fandom-fairy-tale @catcrown21 @celestialblissx @saltistoosalty @dreamingofdyl @redsalv20 @treestarrrrrrrr @nashapixie @lettersofwrittencollective @behind-my-hazeleyes27 @nitnat6245

#doppelganger series #dopp series #thomas #tmr thomas #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf crossover #mitch rapp #american assassin #american assassin au #american assassin crossover #the maze runner #the maze runner au #the maze runner crossover #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien #DYLANS EVERYWHERE #DYLANS COMING OUT OF YOUR EARS

89 notes · View notes

herwonderland7 · 4 years

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐 》 The Truth

summary 》 Aera goes on a journey to restore peace to King Morian’s Kingdom not knowing the real truth of her own identity in this world.

characters 》 Gae Aera, Grandma Kim, The White Queen (Aerina), Lim Jaebeom, Mark Tuan, Jackson Wang, Park Jinyoung, Choi Youngjae, Bambam, Kim Yugyeom

warnings/author’s note 》 description on getting stab on, mention of being killed, basically Yugyeom found a baby, Aera finding out about her own identity in Wonderland, this is a long one and I tried doing in character’s pov (only Aera’s for now) ;-;

genre 》 fantasy, got7!as!werewolves

“No. ‘Die’ isn’t a word for a goddess like her. In fact, Aera will be returning back to the place where she entered this world, and when the day she returns back to us, that’s when her powers will be much stronger.”

“As the Kingdom of Aerina has been restored to its original state, where now everyone has lived in peace and harmony, it’s time for the princess to restore peace to the Kingdom of Morian. The princess believes that anything would be possible in her presence, not knowing that she would be risking her own self in the future.”

Weeks after she passed out, The White Queen decided to call Grandma Kim to keep an eye on Aera regarding the princess’s health.

Though she was fine after she woke up, joining her 7 friends to accompany them on their everyday lives under the White Queen’s orders, Grandma Kim and the White Queen were closely watching the princess as they knew the whole truth about Aera’s identity.

The White Queen sighed, looking at the 8 figures walking further ahead through the forest with a worried look.

“Aerina, why didn’t you tell her the truth?” asked Grandma Kim as she stood beside the Queen with her iconic wooden stick. She could already read the White Queen’s thoughts that she was concerned for the princess and her 7 friends.

“She’ll find out herself.” muttered the White Queen, her eyes looking away from the forest.

They were embarking on a journey to find the Wolf King and somehow, it was Aera’s idea to solve whatever problem that the Queen had with the Wolf King - which was to restore the Kingdom of the Wolf King, the Kingdom of Morian.

The White Queen suddenly remembered Aera’s words.

“We already restored peace in your kingdom and it will be better to restore peace in father’s kingdom! I mean, we have done it before!”

“But you don’t understand, Aerina. The girl is running out of time,”

With Grandma Kim’s response, the White Queen turned towards the elder one with a deep frown on her face.

She knew Grandma Kim is serious since the elderly’s face showed wrinkles as she was frowning, before slowly turning her back towards the Queen, at the same urging her to talk inside the castle.

“What do you mean? Are you saying she is going to die one day? But it can’t be! She is a—

“Demigod, I know. But her body in the other world is weakening, Aerina.” Grandma Kim turned towards the Queen, seeing her eyes widen twice - she didn’t need to hear the elderly’s next words because she knew Aera was going to die.

“So….. she is going to die?”

Grandma Kim scoff slightly before letting out a sad smile towards the White Queen.

Aera smiled as she was hearing Jackson rambling towards the sleepy Bambam and Yugyeom, as they were in their wolf form. Feeling Jinyoung’s eyes, Aera turned towards him, seeing him smiling warmly towards her.

A few weeks after the intense fight with the enemies of NCT’s clan and apparently having a one-to-one battle with Jaebeom due to both of their egos, Aera decided to avoid Jaebeom - even if she had to miss their usual hangout days.

All of the boys knew why Aera didn’t come as often, except for Jaebeom.

He was clueless in regards to Aera's feelings and thoughts, maybe that’s why the two of them are always arguing.

But Aera knew that she can’t do this forever and coincidentally, she received news from the White Queen - surprisingly, Grandma Kim was the one who reported the news to the White Queen, and here she is, far from the White Queen’s castle and village.

To be straightforward, they were actually on a journey to Morian - to find where the Wolf King is, if his Kingdom and people were still alive and of course, the Wolf King himself.

Aera was nervous because it was the first time that she had to personally ask her 7 friends to join her, although she didn’t want to since the White Queen forced her to.

Youngjae and Jinyoung, who were the only ones who were in their human forms, look through the map that Grandma Kim had given them. With a slight sigh, Jinyoung looked towards the others.

“I think we should camp out here. We have been walking for more than 24 hours.” Jinyoung advised, earning a growl from Jaebeom.

‘I think we should continue, we are almost entering Morian’s Kingdom,’ Jaebeom spoke in his voice of thoughts and hearing his words, there were whines coming from Bambam and Yugyeom, and a sigh from Mark.

Aera turned towards Mark who was somehow behind Bambam and Yugyeom, she caught his big legs shaking slightly.

‘He must be freezing,’

“I agree with Jinyoung. I think we should camp out. Mark is shaking with cold.” Aera commented while going towards Mark, touching his furry legs and a slight growl came from Mark.

‘I’m good, Aera. We can—

“It’s not just you. Bambam and Yugyeom can’t even focus because they lack of sleep, Jackson too but of course his symptoms is talking too much, Youngjae is running out of energy and so as Jinyoung though he is keeping a straight face, and I am about to have sore legs if we keep this up,” Aera confessed as she turned towards Jaebeom, whom nose was flaring while slightly glaring at her.

‘Are you saying I talk too much? I’m hurt, princess.’ Jackson huffed as he plopped down on the floor, his head laying on the floor with a slight whine.

Aera shrugged while walking towards Jaebeom. “Please, Jaebeom. Your friends are tired. I promise we will continue as soon as the sun rises.”

Jaebeom growls rather softly. ‘Fine, I’m doing this only for you.’

Hearing Jaebeom’s voice, Aera’s smile widened as she caressed Jaebeom’s furry black forehead - as she went towards the others who were cheering in exhaustion.

Unlike others who were sleeping peacefully - like Bambam and Yugyeom snuggling each other with their tongues out that was filled with their drool, Youngjae looking comfortable as he was hugging Mark’s furry paw, Jinyoung laying onto Mark’s other legs and Jaebeom somehow sleeping peacefully right at the opposite direction from the since he was previously guarding, here Aera is with Jackson’s head laying on her thigh.

She couldn’t get some sleep, she could only get short naps - which was weird for her. It was as if she was bothered by something.

“Can’t sleep?”

Aera frowned as she heard Jackson’s voice in her thoughts, making her to open her eyes then to see Jackson in his human form - his head facing directly towards her face.

She could only chuckle slightly, her fingers running onto his hair. “Not just today, it’s been like this for a few days now.”

Hearing her response, Jackson immediately sat up as he decided to sit beside her - leaning against the tree.

“What are you thinking about?.. Well, I can’t seem to read you nowadays too.” Jackson muttered slightly, glancing towards Aera’s side profile - seeing her features clearly.

Her eyelashes that was his favorite feature of Aera were long, her brown eyes were usually big although she was lacking sleep, seeing her dark circles getting obvious as days passed.

Jackson knew she was thinking and for the first time, he can’t read her.

Aera turned towards him slightly. “I have this feeling that I don’t think I would live for too long.” whispered Aera, her eyes locking with Jackson’s.

Slowly, Jackson had a frown on his face, eyes searching onto hers to see if she was making a joke but knowing how she is, Aera doesn’t joke around with words relating to death.

“Now you’re just talking nonsense, Aera. You really need to get some sleep,” answered Jackson seriously, urging Aera to lay her head on Jackson’s thigh. She could only give Jackson a small smile before laying on Jackson’s thigh.

Turning towards Jackson, Aera looked towards Jackson - a gentle look which Aera didn’t give for a while now, which made Jackson’s heart beat as twice as previously.

All this while, Aera has been interacting with the others especially Jaebeom - well, she mostly argues with Jaebeom but she noticed that she didn’t get the chance to talk to Jackson.

Yes, they do make conversations with each other but it would always be with the others - they didn’t get to have a private conversation.

Somehow and weirdly, Aera misses Jackson and due to her thinking about Jackson, he was able to read her easily - his response was to caress the princess’s hair, causing her to hum in comfort.

“I love this.. Your hands are so soft and gentle.. And I’m about to fall asleep when I want to talk to you…” muttered Aera to herself as her eyes were getting heavier.

With Jackson’s soft chuckle and hum, Aera was about to fall asleep when she heard his soft voice before she dozed off.

“Oh, Aera.. I don’t deserve to be with someone like you,”

“We’re almost there. Grandma Kim said the village is filled with dark smoke so, everyone focus,” announced Jinyoung before turning his wolf form, as he stood beside Jaebeom ahead.

The 8 of them followed the dirty path which leads to a village - and what Grandma Kim said was true. Through Aera’s vision, she could already black smoke, basically welcoming them, making the other wolves to blow the smoke by exhaling air from their nose.

‘The smell is horrendous!’ Jackson said in his voice of thought, walking beside Aera as she could only shake her head.

‘...Jackson isn’t wrong but I would say it in respect. The smell is somehow similar to a dead body,’ Youngjae added, somehow sniffing the ground.

Soon, they started to scatter in pairs - with Mark and Youngjae, Jackson and Jinyoung, Bambam and Yugyeom, lastly, Jaebeom and Aera which Jaebeom nearly fought with Jackson to be with Aera which Aera finally chose Jaebeom.

Aera decided to go forward together with Jaebeom.

‘So.. why did you choose to go with me when Jackson wanted to go with you?’ Jaebeom questioned out of a sudden, making Aera to slowly look at him. His big golden eyes stared at her, seeing her own face reflect in his eyes with her having a slight frown on her face.

“...Because I know you’re going to give them a hard time,”

‘Well I’m their alpha and you are consider my—

Jaebeom’s words of thoughts were cut off by him, smelling a familiar scent which made his back fur to stand, and his snout wrinkled in threat.

As Jaebeom was about to shield Aera, he was met by a huge weight on-top of him, causing him a growl where his friends would know that it was an emergency.

The smoke that was covering them previously started to disperse, and Aera finally has seen the big picture.

Aera looked around her surroundings to reveal her 6 friends being pinned down harshly, seeing some of them suffering especially Bambam since he was whimpering in pain.

Mark, Jackson and Jinyoung were trying to resist the red eyed wolf followers who were pinning them which both of them nearly got bitten harshly on their muzzles.

Jaebeom on the other hand was glaring daggers towards the red eyed wolf, his ears sticking straight up and out the side, his teeth bared and his snout wrinkled.

The others were just staying still, eyes focusing towards Aera - seeing that she was trapped.

'Lay a hand on her and I'll rip out your head!' Jaebeom screamed towards the wolf - seeing that the red eyed was approaching the princess, and knowing its intentions.

Words of cusses and them warning the red- eyed alpha to not touch Aera were thrown, but it seems the red-eyed alpha ignored their threats.

In Aera ears, this is the first time that they sounded so pissed off - especially coming from Jinyoung, Youngjae, Bambam and Yugyeom since they rarely went mad in arguments or having one to one with another canine.

'I see that you have stepped onto my territory,' The red eyed wolf teased, as his four feet approaches Aera, which makes the others, especially Jaebeom and Jackson to struggle more - not wanting the red eyed bastard to get to her.

"I'm sorry, red eyed one, but this isn't your initial territory. It was supposed to be my father's." answered Aera, her voice sounded confident. Not even a single fear or hesitation was heard from her.

A sharp growl was heard from the red eyed one. 'That's because I was the one who killed your poor father and his followers, my love.'

Hearing those words, Aera's eyes slowly widened, gulping down the lump in her throat as she didn't want to show her vulnerable side.

"An eye for an eye. I would love to be the one to kill you too," Aera glared towards the creature in front of her, teeths baring out which made her hands balled into a fist, somehow reading the red eyed mind.

'You do notice that you, my princess, are unbred, unclaimed? A taste of your—

"Save it." With just 2 words, Aera decided to strike first, pushing the big creature right far from where they are.

And thanks to Aera's first move, her actions gave the others confidence with Jaebeom roughly biting and pulling out the flesh of his enemy.

Mark biting deeply onto his enemy's muzzle and Jinyoung finding ways to escape his enemy's grasp without spilling blood.

Jackson was already tearing out his enemy's body, blood dripping out from his jaw.

Bambam and Yugyeom were fighting together to attack their enemies.

'Jackson! Bambam! Yugyeom! Go find Aera!' Jaebeom yelled through voice of thought, causing both Jackson and the two youngsters to look towards their alpha.

Without even asking for reconfirmation, Jackson went off, followed by Bambam and Yugyeom - following the delta.

Jaebeom could only give a slight glance towards where Bambam and Yugyeom went off.

'Please be safe,'

〖 AERA’S POV 〗

‘You really think you could restore this whole messy universe?’

“With me being here, anything could go back to its original state,”

‘How highly of you to think that way. I’m afraid you are sacrificing yourself, princess.’

With the red-eyed alpha’s last words and my scream, I pierced my sword right through its huge canine body, with blood splattered all over my face.

After exploring around the ruins of the town, I decided to go towards the fronts, where the castle is located. Just like the condition of the town, the castle was also ruined, seeing concrequetes and stairwells that had been destroyed.

Somehow, as I was looking around, I couldn’t help but to feel gloomy.

This was once a home to people, my father’s people, but now, it’s an abandoned, ruined castle.

This is all my fault.

Going to the end of the castle, my attention fell into a few statues, that were the only items in the castle that weren't ruined at all. There wasn’t even a single scratch or marks on it.

As I got closer to the statue, I realised something.

These are statues of Greek Goddesses. The ones that caught my attention were the statues of Aphrodite, Artemis, Athena, Hera and Hestia.

Why are there statues of Greek Gods here? Don’t tell me Father is a God.

Chuckling to myself, I decided to touch one of the statues and out of a sudden, there were sounds coming from the statues and to my surprise which caused me to gasp while walking a few steps back, the statues started to move by itself to the right - which revealed a wooden door.

Looking around, I could only stare at the door, contemplating if I should enter alone.

I could only sigh while taking a step and putting my hand on the wooden door knob.

It could go two ways.

It could be me finding more stuff or hidden secret ways or me getting killed, which I’m somehow okay with the 2nd option, but I never think of the first option that much since the ones who structured the castle know what they were doing, which is Father himself.

With a sigh of confidence, I turned the doorknob and at first, I could only see darkness with a little gap, but as soon as I opened the door more widely, lights suddenly appeared on both sides of the steps - and I realised it was steps leading down.

Without even giving another thought, I went down the stairs, and my eyes widened in disbelief. From where I was, it looked like I was in the 2ns level as when I looked down, there was lots of gold stuff - as I looked around, there were golden plates and cups, golden armors and more.

Running down the spiral staircase, I arrived at the ground level, kind of amazed with what I am seeing as I look around more. But my eyes fell towards a statue, and in front of it was a golden chest box.

The statue forms a man - well to me, because he was wearing a crown, and that’s when I realized.

Isn’t that supposed to be Father?

Well, I’ve seen him in portraits, and the statue right in front of me looks exactly like him.

With a slight frown on my face and without hesitation, I opened the chest box which again I can’t help but slightly gasp.

Just like how I was surrounded with gold, inside the chest box revealed to be all kinds of items like gold armors, a gold shield and a sword that caught my eye apparently.

As I was about to pick up the sword, a looking paper somehow caught my eyes and that’s when my attention fell towards it - from the sword, I picked up the paper, which revealed to be a letter which had a very old handwriting.

It seems you have found the treasure room.

I don’t have much time left, I know one day you would return just like how the prophecy stated and with you finding this letter, it seems that I have passed on. I’m sorry that you had found out the tragic news this way, Aera.

With that, my Aera, firstly, I want you to know that you aren’t an ordinary girl. I’m sure you knew the situation that your mother and I are facing. I know everyone would blame Aerina, but I know she couldn’t help it. She is blinded with the idea of you being gone but again, I know you will return.

To cut it short, as you see those statues right outside this treasure room, I want you to know that you have the blood of the gods in you. It all began with your mother. The White Queen has immortal blood because her ancestor is Athena, the goddess of battle strategy, and wisdom.

I know in the other world, Goddess Athena is a virgin goddess but in this world, your world that you created, it isn’t the same as your other world.

And, I think you deserve to know this but you are an individual that has the ability to learn witchcraft. But you must not let people know that you could do witchcraft as they are rare individuals. That’s why all these years, as you have known her by now, Grandma Kim, lives in the forest-mountains. That’s a way for her to protect herself from dangerous people who had done bad deeds.

Now that the truth has been told, I would need your help along with your 7 friends. With me being dead, my kingdom has been left unguarded, my people scattered in different places and them having no place to live. I need you to find my people, which is also your people, to bring back peace to my kingdom, Aera.

As a result, the throne will be passed to you once Morian has been brought back to its original place.

If my nightmare had one day came true, my throne would be passed to the 7 of Princess Riana Aera’s loyal friends, Lim Jaebeom, Mark Tuan, Jackson Wang, Park Jinyoung, Choi Youngjae, Bambam and Kim Yugyeom.

I trust to leave the kingdom in their hands if the worst happens, which is my daughter, Princess Riana Aera has been found deceased since she is a demigod.

Till then, the crown princess will be Princess Riana Aera of both Morian Kingdom and Aerina’s Kingdom.

When flowers bloom,

When the dead turns alive,

Aerina and Morian would be united again,

And that is the start of the Golden Age.

- Yours Sincerely

King Morian of Morian Kingdom, your father

I didn’t know that I was shedding tears till a droplet of my tears dropped onto the letter which I immediately wiped my tears away.

So it is him.

I looked at the statue, with tears forming onto my eyes, then towards the letter.

He must have known what he was doing.

Everything makes sense now, why I acted differently here ever since I stepped foot on the beach, meeting Grandma Kim there.

I am confident, enthusiastic, I have superhuman senses and the fact that I could fight and I know how to handle swords and archery, importantly, I can handle extremely heavy weights - which explains I have the blood of the gods.

I was about to put the letter onto my breast armor when another letter fell onto the ground.

Picking it up, I was already able to glance onto the words which causes my brow to furrow in confusion and worry.

“It’s a baby,”

I could hear Bambam’s voice upstairs, and I turned towards the note with a small smile.

‘Where is she!?’

‘I don’t know! Let’s split up!’

Following Bambam’s words, Jackson and Yugyeom split up, going in different directions. Being a good hunter, Bambam somehow has the skills to track scents and thankfully, he has found Aera’s scent.

She was the only one out of everyone that has a smell of vanilla in her scents, causing her to be a sweet target - which is why some bad wolves have taken a liking to her. Her scent was addictive.

‘Huh?’

Bambam followed her scent, but it led him to an area where it was filled with statues.

Standing with his 4 feet, Bambam sniffed onto the statues.

‘It has her scent on it….. But where is she?’

‘Bambam. What are you doing?’ Jackson’s voice of thoughts caused Bambam to turn towards him, ear perking up.

‘I found Aera’s scent but it leads me to these statues.’ Bambam answered, still sniffing into each part of the statues, each one of them. Jackson, who was watching Bambam behind, turned his focus towards the statues.

Jackson then realizes something.

‘I don’t know if you paid attention when we were kids, but when we attended school back when we were young wolves, we were taught about Greek gods,’ Jackson brought up, his big eyes eyeing onto each one of the statues.

Bambam tilted his head slightly, before facing Jackson.

‘....Did Aera turn into a statue!?!’ Bambam’s voice turned into worry, as he quickly turned towards the statue - hardly staring at them, kind of worried if what he assumed became true since her scent was on the statue.

Jackson let out a sharp growl. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! How could someone turn into a statue!?’

Hearing Jackson’s dominant growl, Bambam backed away in subordinate since they were in their wolf forms.

The younger one was about to speak when Bambam could smell Yugyeom from far, causing him to turn into a specific direction - that caught Jackson’s attention.

Strangely from afar, he could see Yugyeom in his human but what caught Jackson’s attention was something that Yugyeom was holding onto his arms. Jackson could smell an unknown presence scent causing him to back away quickly, since Yugyeom was walking towards their way.

Which made Bambam to follow Jackson’s action.

“Woah! Hold on, guys! He is harmless! Relax!” Yugyeom yelled slightly from far, as his step turned slower as he went nearer towards the wolves.

‘What is that you are holding?’ questioned Jackson in his voice of thought, then seeing Yugyeom eyeing onto what he was holding with a soft smile on his face.

Bambam, who already heard Yugyeom’s answer in his head, somehow turned into his human form, before walking towards Yugyeom.

“It’s a baby,” answered Bambam as he stood beside Yugyeom, already seeing the baby, causing the young one to coo.

‘A baby? What— How— Don’t tell me that’s Aera!’ Jackson growled towards the 2 young ones, as they were busy cooing onto the baby - obviously their attention was towards the infant.

“No, it’s not. I already inspected the baby and for your information, he has a name.” Yugyeom answered in seriousness, at the same passing a small note towards Bambam, without letting him know the context.

"My name iz Zen Alberto! I am a boy and I have the ability to turn into a wolf!”

“That’s it?” Bambam questioned while turning towards the baby whose name was Zen. In the letter, it just stated his name, his gender and his ability - there was no side note or anything.

Not realizing Jackson has turned into his human form, he joined the youngests on peering onto the baby and the note Bambam was holding.

Snatching the letter from Bambam, his eyes quickly scan the letter before turning towards the baby.

“He is a handsome one. I can tell ladies would want to be with him— You two know that we have to find Aera no matter what right?” Jackson turned towards Bambam and Yugyeom, looking at them seriously.

“And how did you find—

Jackson’s words were cut off as soon there were sounds of concrequetes moving.

The 3 of them, with Jackson automatically shielding Yugyeom and the baby, Bambam already turning into his wolf form, as they stand on guard towards the statues that surprisingly moved by itself - and there reveals a wooden door.

Somehow the door knob turned and the door opened to reveal the one they were looking for.

“Aera!” Jackson was the first one to reach Aera, pulling her into his arms - tightening his grip around her frame.

“Jackson. I’m good, don’t worry.” said Aera calmly, making Jackson let go off her, his eyes never leaving her.

Aera who was smiling towards Jackson as her attention changes towards Bambam and Yugyeom who were quietly watching their moment with cheeky expressions.

Her eyes traveled towards whom he was holding onto. She went towards Yugyeom, peering onto the baby with a soft smile - ignoring the 3 who were staring at Aera.

“It seems you have found Zen somewhere near the forest,” Aera commented while pinching onto the baby’s cheek, earning a slight reaction from the baby.

Yugyeom frowns to hear Aera’s comment. “How did you know I found him there?”

That’s when the 3 of them suddenly noticed what Aera was carrying, which was an ancient looking sword since there were carvings on it, but still it looks brand new.

Bambam who was curious, decided to hold onto the sword - his eyes widening slightly.

“Hey! That’s King Morian’s sword! Where did you find it and how on earth could you carry that? That weighs tons!” Bambam cried out while holding onto the sword, eyeing onto the sword details, staring into the ends of the sword, which was Morian’s Kingdom emblem.

Aera chuckled slightly, as she took out a note, as she handed it towards Yugyeom - he turned towards the note then towards Aera, he was hesitant to read it.

“You found him, I think you deserve to read it first. I mean I already read it… but you get what I mean,” Aera rambled at the end, making Yugyeom pass the baby towards Bambam’s arms - as he began to read the note.

To Zen’s caretaker,

I trust King Morian’s words, and he decided to protect Zen with his last breath.

That was my last wish to King Morian as his butler for all of my life that I have lived in this world.

Zen had been put on a spell where only anyone who is related to Princess Aera could see Zen, and with the spell still onto him, King Morian freezes his age as when you found him, he would still be an infant.

But as soon as you found Zen, the spell would break off and then he would grew normally - just like how human-breed wolves grow.

King Morian put that spell on as he believes Princess Aera would return one day, and I do believe it too, since we have seen the book of prophecies by Grandma Kim.

She will restore peace to Morian.

Along with King Morian, my family has been killed in order to protect our King.

Zen is only an infant and I beg Princess Aera and her 7 friends to take care of my little Zen. When he is at the age where he is independent, you can no longer be his guardian and you could just leave him be, if that is your choice.

All I am asking is for your guidance to raise my little Zen.

- From the Alberto Family

Aera watches Yugyeom’s face, his eyes moving left and right as he reads the letter. After about a few minutes, his eyes began watery - as he tried to suck it up by sniffing while scratching his nose.

Turning towards Aera, Yugyeom smiled softly. “So his family works for King Morian,” Yugyeom commented as he passed the letter to Jackson, then wanting to have the baby back in his arms from Bambam.

Jackson and Bambam read the letter together. At the same time, Aera turned towards Yugyeom.

“I’ll ask for the Queen and Grandma Kim’s guidance too,” said Aera as she folded her arms, earning a slight frown from Yugyeom, followed by Bambam since he had read the letter fully.

“What? Why? The letter said we are his caretakers,” Bambam replied, pointing towards the letter, which made Aera roll her eyes.

“Well, yes. But do any of you know how to take care of a baby? I’m going to be honest...... I don’t.” Aera raised her hand rather confidently, seeing her 3 friends' expressions change a little, as they too could relate to her.

“....Aera isnt wrong. I don’t know how to change a baby’s diaper. Even Jinyoung too.” Jackson muttered to himself.

“See? That’s why we need the Queen and Grandma Kim! And with them taking baby Zen, they would provide him protection if anything goes wrong!” Aera exclaimed as tilted her head slightly.

Out of a sudden, randomly, Aera felt a pain on her chest, causing her to frown deeply while her hands immediately letting go of the sword that was on her hands the whole time.

‘What is wrong with me? My chest hurts,’

“Aera!” Jackson and Bambam yelled, as both of them caught Aera on both of her sides. Jackson peered onto her frowning face. That’s when he could see her chest basically moves up and down rather quickly.

Bambam immediately became concerned, as he turned towards Yugyeom.

“Princess, I need you to calm down, okay?” Jackson said calmly, to only meet with Aera groaning in pain, her hands holding onto his arms in despair.

‘Yugyeom! Call for the others! Quick!’ Bambam said in his voice of thought to Yugyeom as he was already calling for the others in his own mind.

Aera couldn’t describe the pain she felt - it was as if someone was stabbed right through her heart so deep that she could feel the tip of a knife right at the back.

It’s gruesome but that’s how she felt.

Couldn’t resist the amount of pain she felt, Aera’s vision to turn hazy.

‘Something is wrong here,’

As her eyelids were about to close, Aera could hear screams from the voices she recognizes, calling out her name desperately, before she blacked out.

𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 ⇿ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

#got7 au #got7 wolf au #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 wolf imagines #got7 wolf #got7 mark #got7 jaebeom #got7 jackson #got7 jinyoung #got7 youngjae #got7 bambam #got7 yugyeom #got7 wolf scenarios #got7

3 notes · View notes

upfrog · 5 years

Text

So I finished reading Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

This isn’t so much a review, as an attempt to cement some of my thoughts, and to at least write something down, the better that I will not look back in a year and not be able to remember a thing of what I thought of HPMOR. But overall... that was quite a thing.

HPMOR is long. Longer (by word count, which isn’t a perfect method of judging this) than War and Peace, the normal benchmark for “really long books”. I don’t consider getting through it to be an accomplishment, in the sense of say, getting through Homestuck, though maybe that’s only because I have tried, and failed to do the latter several times. It may also be because the plot is, for all it’s time travel and scientific tangents, less complex than Homestuck. I do not expect it to stick in my mind the way the canonical books do. While I do not consider them to be high literature, the canonical Harry Potter books, in addition to being entirely an entirely decent story, had a certain... Depth, of sorts, to them. Some of this may come from the midi-chlorian effect; the workings of magic are never discussed greatly in the canonical books, but much of HPMOR Harry’s efforts are devoted to understanding magic from a scientific perspective. I think it is more likely that it is because HPMOR simply had a more limited scope.

HPMOR set out to be a puzzle, an encouragement of rational thought patterns, a demonstration of how they might be applied to great benefit. And it does this. While potential plot holes and inconsistencies exist, it does this fairly well on the whole. But there isn’t that much beneath it, at least not that I have seen. It’s a good enough story, and the way it chooses to fill in the unfinished coloring book of Rowling’s world creates a compellingly interesting universe, albeit not a pleasant one. It has some good humor at some parts (more on that later), many clever moments, and some moments that are, frankly, just plain awesome, though these often contribute to the monstrously overpowered being that Harry is. Both versions shared the core theme of (spoiler warning: the rest of this paragraph. If you’re interested, I’d really advise you to just read it so that you don’t have the dramatic tension reduced) Harry ultimately triumphing by virtue of who he is. Triumphing by being, as we would describe it, a better human being than his opponent. The difference is that in the canonical books, this is a much more theological process. By the final book, Rowling is pretty much bashing us over the head with a crucifix. I still maintain that, unless the hill you wish to die on is unmarried teen snogging, declaring Harry Potter as heresy for the simple fact that it includes magic is to foolishly ignore the veritable flood of Christian messaging the books contain. I thought I’d made a post about that, but apparently not, so I’ll divert myself to that briefly.

Spoilers for the whole canonical Harry Potter main series in the following paragraph:

The entire story is based on an innocent child who was permitted to live because of the intensely real power and protection offered by the selfless sacrifice of another to protect said child. So there, straight off the bat, right in the premise. And then in the 7th book, Harry does the exact same thing, but more so, and pretty much pulls an Aslan, “dying” willingly to protect others, but not by this being truly killed. And it’s not like the Christian messaging in Narnia is obscure. And at the end of the first Harry Potter book, Dumbledore, the most “good guy” character that the series has to offer goes off explaining how “to the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure”. Then, in no particular order, having not done anything like a read through specifically looking out for these: the primacy of the soul over the physical, the specifically soul-corrupting nature of evil and killing, the power of redemption and forgiveness, the ultimate triumph of good over evil, the concept of powers that, while attainable, will damage your soul forever, and the existence of life after death. Anyway, back to the main matter.

HPMOR lacks any semblance of this depth (not that this is the deepest thing in the world mind), at least that I have been able to detect, and this makes it a lesser story to me.

The first ten or so chapters of HPMOR were pretty great as comedy. Harry constantly befuddling the wizarding world, and being befuddled by it, makes for some great laughs. Later on it undergoes a pretty significant tone change, and I had a very hard time adjusting to it, and enjoying the latter portion (which makes up most of the fic) for what it is. I did ultimately reach that point, but it was jarring.

This fic has some pretty obscure references. Have any of y’all read “Negima!?”? The author of this fic has. ( or at least, he’s watched some of the show.) It also had an offhanded reference to Madoka Magica, which is less obscure, but I still appreciate it.

HPMOR Harry just keeps on getting more and more powers. (potential spoilers ahead, less severe): It seems like every month he’s making some discovery of how to do something that the entire wizarding world “knows” is totally impossible. It makes a certain sense, in context, but it certainly does contribute to some Mary Sue-like feeling. But on the other hand, Harry routinely oversteps his cleverness, failing to think things through enough, missing obvious points that would have counter-indicated his action. And some of the consequences are rather severe, so I don’t knock too many points off for it. Harry is powerful, but he is also rather a child genius in this telling, and all things considered, most of his discoveries don’t seem too ridiculous.

I earlier mentioned that the world HPMOR painted was rather interesting. It (mostly) doesn’t directly contradict the wizarding world as portrayed in the common, but it does color in many of the blanks, and this author paints in dark colors. Wizarding britain, as portrayed in HPMOR, would be considered barbaric to most of the people reading this. Or perhaps it would merely be considered “medieval”. It certainly has some things going for it. It is portrayed as a place with relatively little history of institutional sexism, or racism amongst wizards. Even the stodgiest pure bloods find it silly to discriminate based on skin color. Wizarding Britain sees little wrong with homosexuality, and it is entirely un-taboo. But things get worse from there.

It is implied, or at least, I took away the message from my last reading some years ago, that the Wizarding power structure in the canonical books is... incompetent. That the benchmark of being a “fully qualified” witch or wizard does not in fact entail very much true competency, and many of the more powerful figures are somewhat dumb. HPMOR confirms this, and brings it into the light, offering more examples of just how useless most wizards are in matters non-magical. Wizarding Britain is controlled by an incompetent government, which is primarily controlled by one or several “Noble and Most Ancient House(s)”. The extent of Lucius Malfoy’s influence is brought up often in the canonical books, and the same is true here. This is a world where (minor spoiler for something before chapter 10-ish) a young noble raping a girl, and yes, girl is the proper noun here, repeatedly, and getting away with it indefinitely, is an open secret. Where this young noble’s security is secured by: a) the victim and her families’ fear of his familial power, b) memory charms, and c) a court system where the interests of the Noble Houses are often a primary concern.

Wizarding news is minimal, and it seems to primarily toe the ministry (which is to say, aristocratic) line, save for the Quibbler, which... on the whole, isn’t great news either. There is no particular concept of a fair trial at play in this world, especially if your crime was committed against a noble house. Less than three days investigation is considered enough to go from crime to a sentence of ten years in Azkaban. And then there’s Azkaban itself. For all it is a prominent feature in the books, and Dumbledore’s opposition to it is often mentioned, Azkaban doesn’t get much light shone on it in the canonical books. This is likely in part because it is such an incredibly, ridiculously cruel place that it becomes very difficult for many of us muggles to imagine it being an appropriate punishment for anyone. I won’t go into great detail, but there are very few crimes capable of causing enough pain that, even working from a perspective of vengeance, instead of justice or rehabilitation, it becomes very difficult to mathematically justify Azkaban.

To clarify, by mathematically justify, I mean, what percent of the pain a criminal inflicts by his misdeed can fairly be unleashed upon the criminal as punishment. Is a beating a proper punishment for beating someone? What about two beatings? Or three? At what point does the severity of the punishment become so much greater than that of the crime that it stops being sensible? If you slapped me, would I, absent any concerns about self defense or ensuring my future safety, be justified in immediately shooting you? Or boiling you? Or beating you to death? The murders who are so successful that we stop calling them murders and start calling them statesmen might have a shot at a mathematically (if not necessarily ethically) justifiable cell in Azkaban. For everyone else, it’s pretty difficult. And in both versions of the story, wizarding justice is NOT perfect. Innocent people go to Azkaban, and are exposed to this as well. Azkaban is pretty terrible, and most of the wizarding world just sort of... accepts it.

Anyway, I probably have more to say, but I really need to wrap this up. This probably wasn’t very coherent, so sorry about that.

#HPMOR #Harry Potter #book review #ish #upfrog speaks

16 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years

Text

Aladdin Queen fic John Deacon x reader Chap. 9; Paul’s betrayal is revealed

*Author’s note*

Okay so last update for today until I get the next chapter up for you all. Now the gif below has nothing to do with this chapter except for the outfit that you will be wearing later on in this chapter. So I hope you all enjoy the double feature that I have so gladly provided for you :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@psychosupernatural

@waddles03

@ixchel-9275

@georgesgentlyweepingguitar

@queendeakyy

@geek-and-proud

@simonedk

@kairosfreddie

______________________________________________________________

The next morning I was walking along the palace corridors with Abu on my back now that he was back to being a monkey. He was chattering away at me but I told him.

“Don’t worry, when the time is right. I will tell him.” Suddenly two guards stood in front of me and spoke not a word, just continued to glare at me. I looked at them annoyed as I said as Abu hopped off my shoulder. “Morning?”

“Morning.” I heard behind me. There stood the Captain of the English guard. I turned back and muttered,

“Not again.” I was then escorted towards the lower level of the palace while Abu hid behind a large vase.

Next thing I knew, I was being tied to a chair, my hands bound and my legs tied by two of the guards that accompanied the Captain of the guard. They pushed me towards the edge of the balcony and I could hear below me the sea crashing against the cliff’s edge.

“Please, please gentlemen. You’re making a big mistake here. You have no idea who I am.”

“Oh no, no I know who you are. (Y/n).” Paul said as he came into the room.

“(Y/n)?” his parrot soon landed on the arm of my chair as I continued, “I don’t know that name. I’m Princess Ali of…..”

“Street rat.” His parrot mocked me.

“Of Ababwa.”

“The princess of a kingdom that doesn’t exist. Who now possesses a magic carpet from the Cave of Wonders.” Paul spoke as he looked down at a book. “Seems the only way you would’ve escaped was if you were to have found a treasure. My treasure.”

Oh my god…..he…..Paul was the old man that took me to the Cave of Wonders. He must’ve used some sort of potion or spell to age himself to trick me into getting him the lamp.

“Where’s your monkey!?” his parrot squawked.

“Where’s the lamp?” I tried to stay strong and stick to my story.

“Look; there’s clearly been some misunderstanding here. My name is Princess Ali.”

“If I throw you from that balcony, and you are who you say you are. You will die a watery death. Which would make dear Prince John so disappointed, especially if he were to think it was suicidal.” Oh that lying snake! How dare he do that to John. “But if by some miracle you survive, it can only be because of the lamp. In that case I shall have my answer. Now for the last time,”

I looked down towards the sea before quickly looking back to see him place the end of his staff against my chest. His eyes wide with desperation and coldness.

“Where. Is. The lamp?”

“Paul Prenter; I am not who you say I am.”

“Goodbye (y/n).”

“No!” I gasped and I soon felt myself falling backwards what felt like hundreds of feet down towards the sea. I kept flipping over in my chair since I couldn’t move until I suddenly felt the chair break and water consumed my vision as I sunk to the bottom.

*3rd Person POV*

Abu who earlier had snuck past the guards as his master and best friend was taken away raced back to her room and grabbed the lamp before screeching at Carpet telling him that (y/n) was in trouble.

Together the two of them flew off only to soon see (y/n) being thrown off a balcony tied to a chair. Carpet tried to fly as fast as he could but it was too late.

After he had done his deed, Paul looked over the balcony to see if anything magical was about to happen. But when the sea stood still with only the pieces of the chair still floating along the current, he merely shrugged and left his map room.

From the bottom of the sea, (y/n) soon saw the silhouette of carpet just a few inches above the water and soon the lamp began to sink down towards the bottom. As the lamp reached the sea floor, she quickly swam up to it as best she could and tried to reach out with her bound fingers to try and rub the lamp.

Above the sea, Abu nervously chattered hoping that his best friend was going to make it up alive. Unfortunately (y/n) was starting to run out of air as she could feel the lamp getting any closer to her. Soon her squirming ceased and all that came out of her were small amounts of air bubbles before she finally passed out.

Then by some miracle, the lamp got closer to her and her fingers just barely grazed it. It activated and Freddie soon came popping out and he said annoyed.

“Never fails, get in the bath and there’s a rub at the lamp. Alright what is—” but when he looked around to see that he was now in the sea, he quickly turned around to see (y/n) lying on the sea floor motionless. “Oh no (y/n)! Darling listen, hey.” He lifted her up off the ground and said as he held her arms. “I can’t help you unless you make a wish. You have to make a wish! C’mon wake up!”

But no matter how much he pleaded, she didn’t wake up.

“Okay just—just try and form the words for me dear, ‘I wish…’” but as he let her go, she merely dropped back towards the ground. “Oh my darling girl no, this can’t be happening. Oh god, oh god, oh god oh god please no!” He then decided enough was enough, if he didn’t act fast she was going to die. “Okay, okay. Little gray area here but it’s worth a try.”

He made a contract appear and went behind her and placed the contract down and said as he used the ropes that bound her hands behind her back to sign the contract.

“I, (Y/n), being of sound, body and mind. Declare that my second wish is to be saved from certain doom.’ I took the liberty to backdate that a day, I hope you don’t mind.” He hooked the lamp to her side and said again, “Okay my darling, here we go, here we go!”

He then cried out as he quickly spun around creating a whirlpool that could be seen from above before he shot out crying out toward the sky carrying his master bridal style in his arms. Just as he shot up halfway out of the sea, he quickly poofed back into her room and carried her to her bed.

“Oh c’mon (y/n) dear, wake up. Come on don’t do this to me. Please you lovely darling.” It was then a knock was heard at the door. “Oh shit now what?” he quickly phased into his disguise and went up to the door and cracked it open and was shocked to see who was on the other side. “Prince John.”

“Hello Freddie, is—Ali awake yet?”

“She uhh….she’s…..”

“Why are you all wet?”

“I was just in the bath darling, now please I need to get the Princess dressed.”

“I thought I heard a scream come from outside, please just tell me if she’s okay.” When Freddie didn’t respond to John’s question, he immediately barged right inside and was shocked to see (y/n) completely wet from head to toe in her clothes and not showing any signs of life. “Oh god!” He rushed over to her and held her face between his hands. “What happened?!” he demanded.

“Deacy why did you just barge into Princess A—what the bloody hell is going on!?” Brian’s voice soon spoke up.

“What happened to her Fred?” Roger snapped.

“Never mind that just help me with her!” John demanded. Brian, Roger and Freddie raced over to them. John moved her to the floor so that she would be totally flat while Brian checked her pulse.

“It’s weak. I can barely feel anything.”

“Okay, Deacy you’ll have to give her CPR, press your hands against her chest for five beats then exhale some air into her to give her some oxygen.” Roger explained to John. He nodded and proceeded to do chest compressions on her before exhaling some air into her mouth.

“Come on Ali, wake up. C’mon please don’t do this to me.” He continued with the CPR as best he could. By the fourth time and just as he lifted his head up from hers, she suddenly lurched to her right and coughed up some water, right towards Freddie.

“Eww, you could’ve probably done that the other direction dear.”

*My POV*

I suddenly lurched forward and coughed as much water as I could and I heard Freddie’s voice. But the first thing I saw as I opened my eyes was John. The early sunrise giving him that sort of angelic glow as he looked down at me worriedly.

“You okay?” he asked me as I felt him cup the side of my face. I breathed in as much air as I could.

“I think so. You—saved me. All of you……Especially you Freddie.” I softly spoke.

“Well, before the princes came in, it was a team effort.” He said quietly gesturing towards Carpet and Abu who were hiding by the balcony.

“Thank you.”

“(Y/n) what happened? Who did this to you?” asked Brian.

“You wouldn’t believe me…..if I told you.”

“Try us.” Said Roger. I slowly sat up, but my arms were still shaky to support me. So John wrapped his arm around me and helped me sit up and he even allowed me to use his body for support. I rested my head on his shoulder and I said.

“It was Paul.” At hearing his name, all three of the Princes were angry.

“That son of a bitch! I knew he was trouble but never did I—” Brian snapped.

“Welcome to our world Bri.” Roger sarcastically snided.

“Why would he do this to you?” John asked me.

“If I may interject, your majesties,” spoke Freddie. They turned to Freddie and he continued, “Paul has been secretly planning on obtaining all three of your father’s thrones. We have reason to believe that he’s been trying to obtain enough power in order to gain what he wants. He’s fooled everyone, including your fathers in order to gain full trust so they wouldn’t expect him of anything.”

“I’ve had my suspicions. A couple nights ago he wanted to invade my mother’s home kingdom.” Said John. Brian and Roger were in shock trying to process the information, but they too had their suspicions of Paul ever since he came to work for them.

“We have to stop him.” I said as I tried to support myself but John took hold of my shoulders and gently picked me up bridal style and set me back on the bed.

“We will. But right now, you need to rest.” He tucked a strand of wet hair out of my face and the two of us stared at each other.

“We’ll—give you two some privacy.” Said Brian as he got up to leave, however Roger and Freddie stood still and just happily watched the show with know at all grins on their faces. John cleared his throat and eyed the two men who snapped out of their trance and Roger said.

“Oh right silly us. C’mon Fred.”

“Right behind you Roger dear, best leave these two lovebirds alone.” He cheekily winked at us which caused me to blush and soon my bedroom doors closed once more. As a soft wind blew in from the balcony, I shivered suddenly feeling absolutely cold.

“Oh here, let’s get you into something else before you get pneumonia.” He went into the wardrobe and pulled out another dress, this time it was a magenta color. “If you want I can leave for a moment till you’re ready.”

“I can just change in the bathroom. Just—promise you won’t look.”

“I promise.” He said as he raised his left hand up and crossed his heart with his right index finger. I smiled and headed towards the bathroom and removed my wet green dress and put on the magenta dress. When I gotten the dress on, I stepped out and he looked toward me. “Better?”

“A bit, but still a bit cold though.” He stood up and removed his vest once more and just like he did last night, he placed it over my shoulders and he said.

“And how’s that?”

“Wonderful.” I exhaled softly as the two of us stared into each other’s eyes. I felt a lump in my throat and my heart began to race erratically as he leaned forward, his nose gently nudging against mine before our lips once again touched each other’s.

We separated from each other before I fully turned around and cupped his face with both my hands and he leaned in and captured my lips once more in a more passionate kiss. Next thing I knew, we were both on my bed with him hovering over me.

I buried my fingers into his soft, chocolate brown hair and I felt him starting to kiss down my neck.

Oh Allah never have I felt such great pleasure before in my life, my stomach felt like it was on fire as I felt his hands gently move up from my hips, to my sides. He was just about touched my breasts when I snapped back into reality.

“Wait, wait John.” He stopped and he suddenly grew fearful as he backed away and hide his face into his hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Ali I—I really hope you don’t think I’m just trying to sack you. I would never take advantage of you like that. If I did I am truly sorry. I’m a bastard I—”

“No, no John you didn’t. I just….” Should I tell him the truth now? Or should I hold off till after we take care of Paul? “We should take care of Paul first before we—you know.”

“Yeah. Yes of course. We’ll take care of him this afternoon.” He lay down across from me and cupped my cheek in his hand, his thumb gently stroking along my cheek. “He won’t get away with this. I swear it.” I nodded and placed my hand on top of his and kissed his palm before snuggling up into his chest.

I felt his arms wrap around me and his chin resting on top of my head, feeling him every now and then kiss the crown of my head. The two of us stayed cuddled up in my bed for the rest of the morning.

*3rd Person POV*

Later that afternoon in the throne room, John, Brian and Roger had their backs turned to the main door looking at the three thrones as soon entering the main throne room were their fathers, some of the guards and Paul.

“I saw it with my own eyes my lords. Princess Ali and her servant fled into the night.”

“What?” asked King Harold.

“Not only that, but it would seem she will also return with an army to conquer our homeland.” When they saw the three princes’, the kings questioned their sons if this was true. The princes turned around and Brian said.

“You said you saw her leave Paul? And that you heard her say she’s going to send an armed battalion onto our shores?”

“Yes Prince Brian. I saw her with my own two eyes.” Roger hummed.

“If what you say is true Paul,” soon walking in was (y/n) and Freddie as John continued as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Then why is Princess Ali still here?” Iago squawked out as he flew off.

“Uh-oh.”

*My POV*

John wrapped his arm around me and I greeted the kings. Paul staring at me in fake relief but his eyes showed true shock as he said to me in a forced tone.

“Princess Ali……what an unexpected surprise.”

“My kings your advisor is not who he says he is.” I answered as John took my hand in his and I felt him stroke the back of it, giving me comfort and relief because boy did I want to strangle Paul at this very moment.

“Oh. I’m not who I say I am.”

“Father, he tried to kill Princess Ali this morning.” John answered.

“Paul, can you explain this?” John’s father asked.

“Yes, my kings. You know my loyalty belongs to you.”

“Your loyalty……” the kings dragged out almost like they were in a trance. “Your loyalty…..” it was then John’s father turned towards me and he said.

“Princess Ali. You invite yourself here, and we took you in as our guest. But it would seem your actions are—” he trailed off before sneering out. “Deceitful! You have seduced my son like a succubus and have wind him into your web of lies.”

“Father what are you—”

“Silence John! Paul’s told me everything about her intentions.” It was then I took notice of Paul’s snake staff. “She wants our throne!”

“Hakim!” Roger’s father called out but before he continued, I quickly reacted. I grabbed Paul’s staff and lifted it high above my head, then as hard as I could, I slammed it down to the ground, breaking the head clean off.

Smoke and magic evaporated into the air as the kings were now free of Paul’s control.

“Father.” Brian, Roger and John asked their fathers.

“What’s happened?” asked Brian’s father.

“He had you three under a spell.” I answered them.

“Your majesties, she spews lies. My loyalty belongs only to you three.” Paul tried to save himself.

“He wants to bury your kingdoms to the ground so that he can rule all of England.”

“Paul Prenter. You were our most trusted advisor, we took you in when your parents abandoned you and this is how you repay us?! Hakim! Lock him in the dungeons!” John’s father proclaimed. Soon Hakim, the lead guard and a few others took Paul down to the dungeons.

I immediately felt John’s arms wrap around me and he picked me up and spun me around.

“John! John, put me down.” I giggled. He set me down and suddenly kissed me.

“You were brilliant love.”

“Well I—”

“So it is true?” we turned to see John’s father walking towards us. “My son has finally chosen a princess?” John smiled and held me close and nodded.

“My kings I—”

“No, no, my dear we must sincerely apologize. Never did we believe that our own council would be plotting against us all these years. But it took a smart woman like you to realize it.”

“And we are forever grateful to you, Princess Ali.” Answered Roger’s father.

“Actually your majesties there’s…..something that I…..”

“Hold on Ali. If I may, there’s…..something that I would like to say to you.” John interrupted me. He took my hands in his and turned fully towards me. “Ever since coming here, never did I think someone was going to affect me the way you have. Every other Princess in the world has only thought about how our marriage would affect them, but you—you are completely different than what I expected. You’ve shown me so much, and….I feel so complete with you.” He reached into his vest and pulled out a beautiful diamond ring. “This was the ring my father proposed to my mother with when they first met. And he gave it to me, so that when I would find my princess, I would give it to her. So I ask you Princess Ali of Ababwa,” he knelt down on one knee and presented the ring, “Will you marry me?”

“Oh fuck.” Freddie muttered. I was—well shocked isn’t even the word that I would use right now.

“John I—” With everyone literally waiting on baited breathe, and looking down at John’s nervous face as he kept hold of the ring, I knew I couldn’t reject him like this. “Which finger do I put this on?” he choked out a nervous chuckle and he said.

“Wedding finger love.” I swallowed back my nerves before finally saying the most dangerous word that I would ever say in my entire life.

“Yes.” With that the entire room was in applause as John smiled widely and stood up and kissed me with loving passion. After he separated his placed the ring on my left ring finger and held my left hand to admire the ring.

“It looks beautiful on you my love.” He leaned his forehead against mine and embraced me. I smiled forcefully as my heart just sunk to the floor and my stomach churned.

“And in light of this happy occasion, I would be most honored. To call you my daughter.” John’s father came up and cupped my face before giving me a kiss on the cheek and hugged me as well telling me congratulations.

As John took me back into his arms and I nuzzled into his long hair, all I could think of was what the hell have I done?

12 notes · View notes

woo-san-shine · 5 years

Text

Our Way

ateez college au

Premise: You and your best friend from high school move away to a university 3 hours away from your small hometown. You find yourself meeting a strange cast of characters along the way that will help you find your way throughout your freshman year.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Slight language

Author’s Note: A work in progress!!! Mostly just for fun

prev // next

Chapter 4

"Does he really think that sprinting up three flights of stairs is going to be faster than the elevator?" Sooyoung asks, turning to Mingi who was pressing the number 11 button on the keypad.

"Jongho like to display his athletic abilities at every chance he gets," Mingi answers while sweeping his hair over to the side. "Pretty soon he'll be asking you to arm wrestle."

The elevator dings and opens on the 11th floor. It looked almost identical to the 7th, except for a smiling Jongho who was leaning against the doorframe of a room about halfway down the hall.

"I found their room!" He shouts to us, gesturing his thumb towards the door he was leaning against.

"Dude! How the hell did you beat us?!" Mingi yells back. He then proceeds to sprint out of the elevator toward Jongho. He's not a very graceful runner, arms slightly flailing at his sides. This makes Jongho immediately burst out laughing.

Sooyoung and I exchange a skeptical glance as we follow Mingi down the hallway at a normal pace. They're certainly acting a little goofier than they were before. We arrive at the still laughing pair. I clear my throat to get their attention. Mingi quickly snaps out of his laughing fit and straightens up, trying his best to look composed.

"Uh, yeah sorry about that," Jongho says while trying his best to stifle in his laughter towards Mingi. "This is their room," he says, pointing to the door again. There is another whiteboard on this door too with the names 'Kim Hongjoong' and 'Park Seonghwa' written on it. He reaches down to turn the doorknob, but it appears to be locked.

"Should you knock?" I ask.

Mingi knocks twice, waits a few seconds, and knocks again. No answer. He proceeds to press his ear up to the door, eyebrows furrowed. Sooyoung follows this action putting her ear up to the door as well. Mingi is so tall that Sooyoung practically stands directly under him without so much at the top of her head reaching the middle of his chest.

"It sounds like someone is... vacuuming?" she says, slightly confused.

"Typical," Mingi says while rolling his eyes.

Jongho steps forward and proceeds to bang on the door with enough force that surely the door should have split in half. A few seconds pass before the door finally swings open to reveal a boy holding a vacuum in one hand and a bottle of all-purpose cleaner in the other.

"Hey there, Mars. Doing some deep cleaning are you?" Mingi asks smirking at the boy with the vacuum.

The boy, 'Mars', cracks half a smile at the sight of his friends.

"We've been here for how long and you're already cleaning?" Jongho asks.

"They said that these rooms would be cleaned before we moved in, but there was at least an inch of dust inside the closet and the carpets..."

Before the boy can finish, Jongho brings him in for a hug that lifts him off his feet, vacuum and all. This makes Mingi bust out laughing again. From over Jonhgo's shoulder, vacuum boy finally sees Sooyoung and I both just awkwardly standing there.

"Well hello there," the boy says, slightly strained. This is probably due to Jonhgo's death grip around his waist.

At this, Jongho sets him down. "Oh sorry, this is Kim Jaemin and Choi Sooyoung," Jongho says, pointing to each of us. "I met Jaemin earlier today while we were moving in, and Sooyoung is her roommate. We all live on the same floor."

The boy politely bows to Sooyoung and I and we each return the bow. "Park Seonghwa," he says. He shakes both of our hands.

Seonghwa is also fairly tall, but not as tall as Mingi. He has jet-black hair that was short in the back, but his bangs are long and sweep across on side of his forehead. His eyes are a greenish color and slightly hooded, making his expression seem almost... sultry? It was the first word that came to my mind. He had very striking features. He wasn't built like Jungho either, being slightly more in the thinner side. His legs were long and his shoulders were very broad.

"They're both from three hours north of here, and they don't have any friends yet," Mingi states.

"Hey!" Sooyoung says while shooting Mingi a glare. Mingi clearly had no idea he said anything wrong and looked slightly confused at Sooyoung's retort.

"I mean, he's not wrong," I say shrugging.

"Anyway," Jongho says while rolling his eyes. "Can we come in?"

"Oh, yeah of course," Seonghwa says, gesturing his hand holding the vacuum into the room.

Sooyoung and I follow Mingi and Jongho into the room as Seonghwa places the vacuum and all-purpose cleaner next to what I assume is his desk. The room is set up the exact same as mine and Sooyoung's. However, each side of the room is drastically different. Seonghwa's side of the room is neatly organized with a muted color pallet. Everything on his desk has a specific place and his bed is perfectly made. The other side of the room is almost overflowing with decorations, books, and posters strewn about the wall. Various clothes, hats, scarves, and other accessories hang from the bed frame due to the fact that there was no room in the overflowing closet. Atop the desk sits a keyboard and a giant computer monitor. In front of the monitor sit a boy wearing a giant pair of headphones. He doesn't seem to have noticed that he has guests.

Mingi begins to tiptoe over to the occupied desk. He turns back to the rest of us, puts a finger to his lips and goes "shhhhh." He then grabs the boy’s headphones and snaps them once against his head. This causes the boy to whip around in his chair so fast that he almost falls off. Jongho and Mingi start laughing and Seonghwa lets out a little chuckle while rolling his eyes.

"What the hell?!" the boy shouts while simultaneously grabbing ahold of one side of his lofted bed to steady himself. He looks angry at first, but at the sight of a still laughing Jongho and a smirking Mingi, his face breaks out into a wide smile.

"Joonie, always so easy to scare," Mingi says, sticking his arm out to help the boy out of his chair.

"That's a lot, coming from someone who's afraid of his own shadow!" the boy replies, finally taking off his headphones. "I figured we'd see you two eventually, but you could've texted us," he says to Mingi and Jongho. His eyes finally rest upon Sooyoung and I.

"We wanted it to be a surprise! And we brought some new friends," Jongho says gesturing towards the pair of us. "This is Kim Jaemin," he points to me. "I met her this morning during move-in. And this is her roommate, Choi Sooyoung. They live on the 7th floor with us."

The boy immediately steps forward to shake both of our hands. "Kim Hongjoong," he says, clasping my hand with both of his. He does the same to Sooyoung.

Hongjoong had a very unique look about him. He was shorter and smaller than the rest of the guys in the room, but there was something about made him stand out. His hair was a light-brown that was long in the back, reaching the base of his neck. His eyes were large, his nose was small, and his smile was big. His ears were full of different piercings, and the shirt he was wearing looked like it had been drawn and written all over.

"It's nice to meet you both," he says.

"You too," I say shyly. Today had been a little overwhelming in itself, even outside meeting all of these new people. I could tell even Sooyoung was feeling a little out of place due to the fact that she was being fairly quiet.

"Please, everyone have a seat," Seonghwa said. He pulled out the two desk chairs for Sooyoung and I. Jongho and Hongjoong sat down on the floor leaning their backs against the closet, Seonghwa sat himself in a cushioned chair that was next to his desk, and Mingi hurridly climbed up the ladder onto Seonghwa's freshly-made bed. I could see Seonghwa wince slightly as he watched Mingi untuck his comforter.

The four boys were now just staring at the pair of us. I felt a little insecure.

"Urm, how exactly did you meet again?" Hongjoong asked

Sooyoung and I exchanged a quick uncomfortable glance. Maybe we shouldn't have come. I did feel like we were slightly intruding on something.

"Oh, I'm not trying to be rude!" Hongjoong quickly interjected, sensing our discomfort. He looked a little worried.

"Like I said, I met Jaemin this morning during move-in," Jongho said, easing the awkwardness that had fallen over the room.

He flashed me a smile. I instantly felt a little more confident. "Yeah," I added. "I was looking for one of those carts to carry your stuff on, you know? But there were none left. Until Jongho offered to give my family his cart. And then my mom somehow roped him into carrying boxes for us."

"Ooooh how polite our Maknae is," Seonghwa said, giving a side-eye in Jungho's direction.

"Wait, Maknae? Youngest?" Sooyoung questioned.

"Well, out of our group of friends, Jungho is the youngest," Hongjoong explained.

"Little baby isn't even eighteen yet," Mingi cooed. He took one of Seonghwa's many throw pillows that were on his bed and threw it at him. Jongho easily caught it and whipped it back at Mingi, hitting him square in the face. This caused the whole room to start laughing, except for Seonghwa.

"It hasn't even been one day," I heard him say under his breath.

"Wait wait wait," Sooyoung said interrupting the laughs. "How are you only 17 and at University?"

"Ah, well, I was so far ahead on the growth chart during elementary school placement that everyone thought I was older than I was. So I think I technically skipped a grade," Jongho said. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, so much for your height though," Mingi teased again. Even Seonghwa laughed at this one. Hongjoong was basically rolling on the floor doubled over in laughter.

"At least I don't walk around like a fucking baby giraffe," Jungho calmy said, staring up at Mingi from the floor. This caused both Seonghwa and Hongjoong to start tearing up from laughs and Mingi to bury his face into one of the pillows.

Sooyoung and I laughed too. I enjoyed watching them joke together and I could tell this was something that happened often.

"Anyway," Hongjoong finally said after he composed himself. "You two are roommates right?" He pointed back and forth between Sooyoung and I.

We both nodded.

"How do you know each other?"

"We went to high school together," Sooyoung answered. "We're from three hours north of here, so we thought it would just be convenient to live together when we both decided to come here for school."

"Yeah, seeing as we don't really know anyone from around here," I added.

"Must have been pretty hard to leave your homes, right?" Hongjoong asked?

"Oh yeah, I loved it back at home," Sooyoung replies. “I almost had a breakdown this morning while leaving.”

I shrug. "Eh, I was ready to leave," I say. "Of course I'll miss my parents, but I'm excited for a change." I catch Sooyoung furrowing her brows at me out of the corner of my eye, but the rest of the boys are smiling at the pair of us.

"What are you guys studying?" Seonghwa asks.

"I'm going into Engineering," Sooyoung answers boastfully. She absolutely loved talking about her future academic plans, how difficult it was to even get into Engineering at this University, and especially about her scholarship.

"Oh whoa, now way," Mingi said, immediately straightening up in bed to look at Sooyoung. "That's what I'm studying too."

Sooyoung looked thrilled to hear this. "Really? What's your classed schedule like?" The two start eagerly comparing class schedules.

"And you, Jaemin?" Hongjoong asks me.

"College of Art, specifically Graphic Design."

"Oh cool!" He sounded genuinely excited. "I'm minoring in Fine Arts with a double major in Music Production and Composing."

That was really impressive. Two majors and a minor? The keyboard on his desk suddenly made sense. "Wow, that'll be really interesting to study," I say.

"Yeah, I'm so excited to start classes on Monday," He gives me a big smile.

"Me too," I say to him. I pause slightly. “I.. like music and thought about doing something with it but... I don’t know.”

“Do you sing?” he asks.

“Oh god no,” I hurriedly say. “I play guitar.”

“Ahh, I wish I could play guitar, that’s awesome.”

“He can do pretty much anything else, though,” Seonghwa chimes in.

Hongjoong blushes a little and waves his hand in the air, dismissing Seonghwa’s compliment.

“What about you?" I ask Seonghwa.

"I'm in the College of Business, but haven't picked a specialty yet," he answers.

"Fancy boy just likes the idea of getting to wear suits to class," Jongho jokes.

We spend the rest of the evening talking about our intended majors and what we'd like to do once we actually graduate. Sooyoung and I share more about what life was like in our small town, and the boys continue to joke with one another making everyone in the room almost tear up from laughter multiple times. I was really enjoying myself and felt much more comfortable around them than I had when I first entered the room.

Seonghwa gets out of his chair, stretches, and checks his phone. "We should probably be kicking you guys out soon. It's almost midnight."

I hadn't even realized it had gotten so late, the conversation had just been constantly flowing that I wasn't keeping track of the time.

"Yeah," Hongjoong adds, getting up from the floor. "Didn't we all promise to help the others move in tomorrow?"

Mingi groaned. "Do we have to?"

"It'll be the nice thing to do," Hongjoong said to Mingi giving him a stern look.

This made Mingi groan even more as he slowly climbed down from Seonghwa's bed.

"Well, it was very nice to meet you two," Seonghwa said to Sooyoung and I. He shook both of our hand again.

"Likewise," I said.

"Of course we'll see you both around again, right" Hongjoong said.

Would we? I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I smile to him and give a slight nod.

"Oooh maybe once everyone is all settled we could all meet up and celebrate finally being all together again," he says to the others.

"Joon, it's only been like a week since we've all hung out," Mingi said.

"You know what I mean!" Hongjoong says back. "Finally all being at College together. We've all worked hard to get here."

"Yeah, that actually could be fun," Seonghwa said thoughtfully while fixing the pillows in his bed that Mingi has left strewn about.

"You two could come too, of course," Hongjoong said, looking to Sooyoung and I.

"Really?" Sooyoung questioned.

"Of course, ya get to meet the rest of the group," Mingi said, winking in Sooyoung's direction. This immediately made her blush.

"Let's let these two get to bed, Mars is yawning over there," Jongho said, gesturing towards Seonghwa who was indeed letting lose a rather large yawn. He looked embarrassed when he noticed us all staring at him.

We all said goodbye to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, left the room, and got in the elevator to head back down to the 7th floor.

"They were really nice," I say to no one in particular.

"Yeah, Hongjoong is great with people and Seonghwa can just stand there and people usually fawn over him," Jongho said to me.

Both boys walked us to our room, which I thought was incredibly nice.

"Goodnight ladies," Mingi said with a smile.

"Maybe we'll see you tomorrow?" Jongho asked.

"Yeah maybe, we'll see," I say, not really knowing how to respond.

"Yeah, feel free to stop by anytime," Sooyoung said, but mostly to Mingi.

We head back into our room and start getting ready for bed. I finally climb into my bed and the tiredness that I had been starting to feel all day hits me.

"I had fun talking with them," I say to Sooyoung who was already in bed.

"Yeah I guess. It was lucky that you meet Jongho this morning."

"Mhhhm," I sigh, feeling my eyes starting to get heavy.

"What was with that comment back there, though?."

"What do you mean?" I ask, sitting up in bed to look at Sooyoung in the darkness.

"The whole ‘ready for a change’ thing,"

"When?" I was racking my brain to try and remember what she could possibly be talking about.

"You said you were ready for a change, made it sound like you don’t appreciate our hometown and all our friends back home."

I pause. “I mean... you know things were a little weird right before we left.”

“Do you mean the whole Jihoon thing?”

Jihoon was my ex of three years. We had basically been together most of high school. He had been friends with Sooyoung for a while, and she was the one who had introduced us. He was an overall nice guy, plain and simple. Our friend groups all hung out together and it was really nice for awhile

But things started to get stagnant. I felt like the relationship wasn’t going anywhere. I eventually ended things about a month before leaving for university. He was staying at home to work for his parent’s business and spent most of the last year of our relationship trying to convince me to stay too. He was utterly shocked when I told him I was planning on moving away for university, let alone three hours away. He accused me of being selfish and not thinking about what was best for us. It was hard, but I was doing this for me. I rarely ever thought of myself first, and I still feel guilty about it.

“Yeah, I guess..” I say, trailing off.

“Hmph,” I hear her say in the darkness. Sooyoung had been very against me ending the relationship, mostly because it made things very awkward in our friend group.

“But did you see the way Mingi was looking at you all night?” I ask her, hoping to distract her from talking about Jihoon any further.

“Really?” I hear her giggle slightly.

“Oh for sure, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

"Hmmm you think so?"

"Definitely."

She hums happily. Easily distracted, Sooyoung promptly drifted off to sleep with me following shortly after.

prev // next

13 notes · View notes

tigerlilynoh · 5 years

Text

Almost Got ‘em

Written for the 2019 @spnsummergen. Rating: G Featuring: Original characters, and a couple familiar faces Word Count: 3,143 Warnings: foul language Author's Notes: The prompt was “Early season - demons in hell plotting to take the Winchesters down.” I was immediately inspired by the Batman: The Animated Series episode “Almost Got ‘im.” Summary: Deep in the depths of Hell, a group of demons discuss the two latest pains in their collective ass: Sam and Dean Winchester. Rumor is that the brothers had found the Colt and even killed a demon. Of course, rumors are just big talk— yet a pair of demons patiently listen; their plan is already in action.

Two figures made their way through the halls of the third lowest dungeon in Hell. As they walked the jagged stone walls seemed to close in around them, but their petite, female forms prevented the blade-like rock from tearing at their temporary flesh. Even if they were injured it would be of no importance; they were demons and there was a meeting that they very much wanted to attend.

Both were wearing lean, blonde women who might’ve been mistaken for sisters, but that was the limit of their outward similarity. The slightly older of them wore a gauzy, white dress that, when combined with her delicate steps, gave her the air of a drifting spirit. Her partner was another story. The younger demon’s black combat boots thudded with every step, announcing her presence. Her attire was entirely leather—the cow sort, not human—dyed dark enough to hide spilled blood.

Neither of them said a word as they approached the auxiliary dungeon rumored to be containing an unusual sort of rendezvous. The pair didn’t have anything more to discuss for the moment. They both knew their immediate goals, responsibilities, and when push came to shove, which of them was in charge. They damn well better have known. Between the two of them, they’d spent over a decade putting their respective pieces in order and double-checking their work.

When they reached the unmarked door that they’d heard whispers about, the demon in the white dress pushed it open without hesitation. She stepped through the door with an unassuming demeanor. Her colleague followed her, studying the contents of the chamber with a wary eye.

Inside there were eight lesser demons standing or sitting around a storage room. Three racks had been laid out flat, then pushed together to create an improvised conference table. Five of the occupants were perched on crates of acid, steel nails, and other implements of pain. The remaining three leaned against the far wall, cautiously keeping some distance.

A brutish-looking man with pasty skin, a pronounced brow, and stringy black hair glared at the newcomers from the opposite side of the table. He stared with the intensity of someone who had taken charge—he certainly didn’t hold any noteworthy rank as evidenced by his badly calloused hands that hinted at many decades or centuries of wielding a whip, the shoddy ones meant for working souls.

In a low growl he asked the two women, “What do you want?”

“We heard that this is the place to be if you truly hate the Winchesters,” answered the elder one.

He stared at them for a moment before replying, “Get inside and shut the fucking door.”

The pair entered, closing the door behind them. From the way that everyone turned their attention to a stout demon sitting on a box labeled ‘spiders’ they assumed that it was his turn to speak. The two women settled themselves on a non-technically-iron maiden that was lying along one of the walls as if it were a bench.

The stout demon resumed addressing his audience. “So then I tore the cow apart—six chunks, big ones but still enough to spread around, and some smaller hunks. You don’t want to waste it by piling the whole cow in one corner of the room. You might as well not bother cutting the damn thing up—Anyway, I hung pieces of it throughout the house.” The sound of scuttling inside the box he was sitting on filled the room as he fumed for a moment in anger. “It’s a classic omen! It’s a horror! And the older of the brothers makes a joke about hamburgers!”

“So disrespectful,” muttered a female demon with hollow eyes and frayed white hair. Several demons nodded in agreement with her comment.

“That kind of work takes time,” complained the portly demon. “I’m not a high-caste demon. I can’t just wave my hand and make things move. Do you have any idea how long it takes to cut up a cow? And the first cleaver broke and I had to find a store—”

“Was it a vegetable cleaver?” asked the lean demon with a mangled left arm and long, frizzy brown hair sitting next to him. When he looked up at her face in confusion, she rested her hand on his thigh, then said in a soft voice, “Milmont, sweetie, two kinds of cleavers. Vegetable ones aren’t made for bone.”

“I don’t fucking believe this,” muttered a red-haired demon. He was dressed like Billy Idol but his rosy cheeks undercut the attempt at an edgy look. “Did you fight them or not?”

“I fought them!” Milmont replied indignantly. “I had a knife—”

“Paring or bread?”

“—and I swung at the older one’s neck.”

One of the demons standing in the shadows noted aloud, “Swung means a miss. You got your ass kicked.”

The stoat demon flustered a bit before reluctantly explaining, “He shot me in the chest with rock salt and hit me in the face with his gun—”

“You fell on your ass,” guessed the red-headed demon.

“The younger brother can perform an exorcism really fast,” Milmont said while shifting, jostling the box of spiders.

“You shouldn’t have gone after them,” said the brutish leader of the group. “You’re too weak.”

The stout demon glared as he hissed, “I have every right to go after the prey I choose. I’m allowed to prove myself!” He waved his hand at the rest of the room as he asked, “How many of you have been exorcised by them? If you’re here bitching about the Winchesters on your weekly one-hour break, yeah, I’m guessing they made you look like an idiot too.”

Several of the demons nodded in acknowledgement of the point or murmured agreement. The leader let out a small grumble as he reached into an open crate next to him. He pulled out an unlabeled bottle containing reddish-tawny liquid, then yanked the black cork from it with his teeth. After taking a swig, he handed it to Milmont.

“Corceo.” The stout demon toasted him before having a sip.

“You’re lucky that you were only exorcised,” the hollow-eyed woman told him while reaching out, wordlessly asking for a drink. Milmont passed it to her and she took a sip before continuing. “Rumor has it they possess the Colt.”

“Dajhila, they don’t have the Colt,” replied the demon with the bad arm. “I brawled with them ten days ago and they didn’t shoot me.”

“Maybe you aren’t worth the bullets?” jabbed the rosy-cheeked punk.

With her good hand, she picked a knife up off the ground and stabbed it into the wooden table in front of her, inviting him to fight.

Corceo, the leader, hit the table, drawing everyone’s attention. “Tisha, don’t carve Frey a new asshole. He has plenty already,” he joked, earning a chuckle from one of the demons watching from the wall. “The fact is that they had the gun. They killed Tom.”

“Tom was an idiot,” huffed Frey. “The only reason he wasn’t wading through viscera like the rest of us was because he was Azazel’s son.”

“Apparently he was attacking Sam, and Dean shot him,” Dajhila explained. “There were witnesses.”

Frey shrugged indifferently at Tom’s death. “Silver-spooned nepotist should’ve been the one to get his ass beat before he got shot.”

“I’m fine with the younger Winchester getting that bludgeoning,” interjected Tisha. She snarled, “You know that little shit is a psychic? I was so close to killing them. It took me three weeks to lure them to this abandoned insane asylum. I’d murdered twenty people in there—six hunters came before the brothers finally took the bait. That’s the shit I had to deal with in order to roll out the red carpet for those thick-brained, underwear-model-looking—“

“They aren’t that good looking,” said Milmont.

“They are,” countered Corceo. “Now let her finish or I’ll tear your fucking tongue out.”

Dajhila with the hollow eyes quietly said, “We should’ve kept the talking stick.”

Frey held up the pointy, splintered remains of a blood-stained wooden dowel that had evidently been used to stab someone. The woman shrugged, conceding that it had worked better in theory than in practice. The red-haired demon tossed it aside, grabbed the bottle of alcohol from where it had settled on the table, then gestured to their current storyteller.

Tisha waited a beat to see if anyone would interrupt her before continuing. “I swear on my life, that Sam kid really is a psychic. They knew it was a trap. I’m sitting there with a semi-automatic rifle—I’m not fucking around—and all of a sudden the sprinklers are raining holy water.” Her lips curled downward at the memory as she snarled, “Sam used a megaphone from the parking lot to exorcise me. I only got to see their faces as my cloud was getting dragged back down.”

“Jesus,” exhaled Frey. “A megaphone… and you had a rifle.”

“What weapon did you go after them with?” asked Tisha.

He thought for a moment before finally admitting, “A big rock.” Everyone stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter, so he added, “Sometimes simple is best. We’re stronger than them and there was a big rock right there that I could throw— It was a tactical decision.”

“With genius thinking like that, it’s no wonder we can’t catch a break against them,” said Corceo.

Dajhila commented, “The only good news is that the dad, John, he died two months ago.”

“John Winchester, hunter savante— That piece of shit finally dropped?” Milmont looked around, eyes wide with excitement. “What did ‘im in?”

“I do not know.” The hollow-eyed woman crossed her bony arms. “Margot, down in processing, says his file is classified, but it is there.”

Frey leaned forward with interest. “File— We got him? Fucker isn’t playing a harp?”

“In the pit as we speak,” she replied smuggly. “Rumor is that Alastair’s working him personally.”

“Alastair?” asked Corceo. “They’re breaking out the Grand Torturer himself for a Winchester?”

Tisha nodded slowly to herself as she put together a few pieces. “Well, he is classified.”

The two women silently observing from their place on the iron maiden exchanged a knowing glance. The one in leather subtly placed her hand on a bulge by her belt that was obscured by her jacket, but the woman in the white dress discreetly shook her head and gestured for her to wait. At the order, the younger demon gave a quick roll of her eyes before relaxing her posture. By the time they’d turned their attention back to the meeting, the conversation had switched back to discussing different methods of pursuing the still-living brothers.

“Dean is a hedonist,” commented Dajhila. “Take a meatsuit with a figure as an hourglass and lay yourself in his path.”

Tisha raised an eyebrow. “You really think he’s going to fall for something like that?”

“He’s young and proud.”

Tisha countered, “He’s a paranoid with low self-esteem—“

“Here we go,” muttered Milmont.

“—You all think they’re heroes out of a fucking Greek epic, but they’re just men—feeble, petty little things—“

“Little,” Frey scoffed. “Have you even seen them?”

Tisha slammed her fist on the table. “They are mortal children, too absorbed by their grief and self-pity—Yes, they are little, but that makes them paranoid, partially-psychic, sneaky cunts who use megaphones.” She paused a moment to look around the table at the others, then said, “And maybe they don’t have it now or maybe I wasn’t worth the bullets, but they know about the Colt. They know how to kill us— Kill, not exorcise.”

After a brief, pensive silence, Milmont asked, “When was the last time you heard of one of us getting killed? Cain going nuts and turning traitor? That was almost 150 years ago—Earth time.”

Corceo nodded. “Half the crew in my dungeon wasn’t even turned back then. The sniveling pups thought we were immortal until they heard the news: the fucking Winchesters killed Tom.”

There was a grumble of shared frustration at the indignity. Humans had managed to kill demons, for the first time in over a century—and the bastards hadn’t even had the decency to stick around long enough to be killed in return.

“We have to stop them,” said Milmont quietly.

Frey scoffed. “Have you been listening or are ya’ as dense as iron?”

“Oh, choke on a ball of blades,” Tisha hissed.

The red-haired demon waved his arms, sarcastically miming fear.

“Save it. The enemy is up there.” Corceo waited to see if anyone would interrupt, then continued. “I’m tired of all this theatrical, solo bullshit. We murder them in their sleep. If they salt the door, we use guns. If they ward the building, burn it down. Fucking drive an oil tanker truck into them—this is war. So how do we find them?”

Milmont replied, “Since their dad died, my denmate, Bahshin, spotted them a few times with another hunter: male, middle-aged, reddish-brown greying hair and beard, baseball cap, one of those grizzled sorts.”

Tisha nodded. “I know the one. His name is Bobby—don’t know the last name. I’ve run into him and his partner a few times. He sticks to the north central U.S. Rural looking, lots of plaid. He had an old truck.”

“Fucking hick hunters,” muttered Frey.

The woman in leather sitting along the wall wordlessly withdrew a small notebook and pen from her pocket, then wrote down, “Margot: soul processing department grunt,” and “Bahshin: den-dweller, has an Earth pass.”

Corceo eyed the two silent newcomers from his place at the table. “Taking notes? Dainty little things like you gonna go gunning for the big bad Winchesters?” He laughed. “Well get in fucking line. You come here, don’t say shit, and crib off our hard work— How close have you come to offing them? What makes you so cocky you’re gonna be the ones to kill the bastards?”

The woman with the notepad gestured to her partner, inviting her to address the challenge. The demon in white stood up and smiled, unconcerned by the hostile attitude of the others in the room.

“We haven’t tried to kill them,” she replied. “And we have a plan, the likes of which history has never seen.”

“Ready to shared with the class?” Frey asked. “What brilliant plan are you two peons gonna try?”

“We’re gonna give them what they really want.”

Corceo’s eyes passed over the two women. “A pair of eager-to-please blondes in suggestive clothes?”

The woman in the white dress corrected him. “The only one we’re eager to please is our lord, Lucifer.”

A few of the demons chuckled at the absurd statement. Lucifer was a fairytale, as much as God and angels were to the humans.

“I’ll bite.” Corceo’s mouth curled into an amused grin, punctuated by the occasional barbed fangs. “What are you gonna give them?”

“We’re gonna make them heroes.”

The demons around the table laughed outright at the reply.

“You’re going to make them heroes? Those hunter bastards know about the Colt. They killed Tom. They’ve been exorcising us.” He placed his hands on the table and stood up, ready to confront them. “The Winchesters aren’t scared of us—not the way they should be. We’re demons. That still means something. So I don’t know what crazy scheme you’re thinking up, but it isn’t happening. They don’t get to be heroes. They die.”

“They’ll die when we—” She gestured to her partner “—say they die.”

“Looks like we have something of a race on our hands.” Cerceo walked up to her and stood so that they were only a few inches apart. A head taller than her, he glared down at her before hissing, “You think you can beat me to them?”

Her eyes turned white, causing his jaw to drop. “Child you’re busy boasting and we’re on step fifteen.” Lilith waved her right hand, locking the door to the room. In a quick backhanding gesture, she threw Corceo against the far wall, then turned to look at her companion. “Ruby.”

Ruby stood up and smiled as she drew her knife from the holster on her belt. She systematically worked her way through the room, killing the others while her partner held them in place with telekinesis. Afterward, she placed the bodies on the table, then rested her palms on the topmost corpse. A few lines of Aramaic later, blue flame engulfed the bodies, destroying the evidence.

While watching the fire, Lilith asked, “Is Meg ready?”

“She’s still running recon on the other children. In terms of pressure points so far: four have lovers, eight of them are close to a parent, and we have a few like Sam where the sibling could be an incentive. As of yesterday, she was watching the stoner with imprinting telepathy to figure out his achilles’ heel.” Ruby wiped her bloody blade on the sleeve of her jacket to clean it while asking, “Did you take care of Crowley?”

“I encouraged several of his aides to let a few deals lapse. Numbers are down. He’s dying to get a big deal.” Lilith looked at her. “The second Dean Winchester’s soul comes across his desk, he’ll sign off on the contract just to get his name on something. The grubby-fingered broker didn’t check the fine print on John; why should the son be any different? I’ll hold Dean’s contract and the moment he bites it, he’ll get expedited delivery to Alastair’s dungeon. No official processing. No gossip—” She gestured to the smoldering remains of the demon who had accidentally outed Margot as a leak in the processing department. “—No mistakes this time.”

Ruby huffed an unamused laugh. “The two of us sure as hell won’t have time to clean up any messes once this show gets rolling. Round one we could afford to have things go a little sideways. Once we pop up on Sam’s radar, that’s it. We’re in, and I’m not coming back downstairs on a fucking milk run.”

“It will all turn out,” Lilith assured her. “Our lord wills his return. He cannot be denied.”

Ruby didn’t reply to the pious statement. Instead she studied the charred racks in front of them. “I know he’s your mentor and we couldn’t have done this without him, but Azazel can’t survive this. You know that, right?”

Lilith nodded. “When he finishes aligning his pawns, he’ll throw the fight. He knows how important it is that Sam’s anger be directed solely at me. That means clearing the field for the next generation of nemeses.”

“Don’t worry,” Ruby placed her hand on her partner’s shoulder. “When I’m done with him, Sam will be foaming at the mouth to kill you.”

“I envy you,” Lilith sighed. “You’ll live to see our lord. It’s going to be beautiful.”

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

If you enjoyed this story, check out my Sam/Ruby Fic Masterlist or my Full Fic Masterlist.

#my fic #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn #supernatural #spn ruby #ruby #lilith

2 notes · View notes

fanesavin · 5 years

Photo

Later in the day following the Quiver, further discussions are had.

@teddyaynesworth / @ianncardero / @mayaparker

Fane couldn’t say examining cadavers was a pastime that he saw himself participating in during his time in the Capitol, yet that was what his morning had consisted of. With Miguel’s assistance the body had been examined and a venom determined due to the distinctive markers that had become evident post-mortem. Not that it aided all too much in locating a culprit considering the origin of the snake was that of the High Raj’s homelands. Killed by something of his own origin. Poetic in some sense but a cruel way to pass. Following this, he’d ultimately been down to the prisons to watch the interrogation of Lady Lacroy’s assailant. His face was rather indistinguishable and he’d been hung from his arms for an extended period of time and the threat of worse had been enough for the truth to spill out of him. Fane wasn’t an overly cruel man, not above threatening the use of such devices but not sadistic enough to put them to use. The man was a simpering fool it transpired the plan one of his own design inspired by conversations he’d overheard in the Keep. House Kesley with their apparent designs and resolute stance against any and all agents of darkness. Fane grimaced as he recalled the house’s motto, For the People indeed. Things were… progressing he supposed.

There was one last thing to address. Explaining why he was back at his chambers, cleaning his hands of the grime from the dungeons waiting for his guards to bring Lady Parker to his attached viewing chamber. The very space she’d assured him that there were to be no more lies. Apparently another lie.

Maya had managed to to slip away in the chaos of the meeting’s end last night. She’d paced up and down her room, considering her options. In the morning, they’d be unlocking the gates, meaning she should be able to slip away and disappear into the night. She worried though that leaving would give the real murderer an all together too convenient scapegoat. No, this time she was going to have to stick it out. At least for a little while longer. In the morning, she did slip out though back into the city to get a read on how the common folk were reacting to the news. Unsurprisingly it was a mix with most everyone concerned about the prospect of war close again. She stopped to ask a blacksmith in the Lower City a few vague questions, hoping to find out more about how the crown’s mechanism might work. She couldn’t ask much though, not without revealing the rest of the truth. She returned to the castle before anyone could notice she was gone. Shortly after she returned she was hauled up to Lord Savin’s viewing chamber. “I can still walk,” she snapped as they dropped her off. She huffed before smoothing her skirts, tipping her chin up and walking into the room with the High Inquisitor.

Fane heard the knock before his men walked Maya into the room, and he took the time to make her strew while he dried his hands on a cloth set side the basin. Retrieving his signet ring and slipping it back on his finger he glanced at his appearance noting the sombre drawn features looking back at him. There was a touch of grey beginning to dust his beard, had that been there before? He couldn’t rightly say. Eight and thirty years and he was already beginning to look like his father before him. With everything apparently in order, he walked to the room where he’d made her wait a little while. “No, sir,is what I recall you saying to me yesterday when I asked if there was any further information I needed to be aware of,“ he stated as he shut the door behind him seeing no point beating about the bush.

Maya had expected Lord Savin to be in the room when she walked. He wasn’t. She checked her pocket to ensure that her stiletto was still there. It was better to be safe than sorry. She was forced to wait several minutes before Lord Savin appeared. Blood on his boots didn’t escape her study of him. "And no sir was the truth. My heritage wasn’t something you or anyone else here needed to be made aware of,” she said, dispensing with the usual courtesies.

Fane looked Maya up and down, the truth made a fair bit more sense of the way she behaved and acted. “No? Hm.” He couldn’t say he particularly agreed on that stance, “not even when that particular revelation rather undermined my authority and, rather effectively, I might add, left me looking the fool?”

“You’d have to take that up with the Red Priestess then,” Maya replied, “I had no intention of having my secrets and a tray of wine spilled everywhere last night. At any rate, it’s not relevant to the High Raj’s death or your investigation. I’d hardly spend nearly my entire life running from my title just to murder someone else for theirs now.”

Fane circled around to the front of his desk, leaning his weight to perch on the edge of it. “Perhaps not, but it isn’t hard to paint a picture with it.” Even if it wasn’t true, but that was what these people did, took your secrets and spun them into something so much more. “First you come and tell me that not only did you once work in the kitchens of a man that was poisoned, it now it becomes evident that you are heiress to a Kingdom? A fact you decided to keep to yourself that not only makes me look the fool for having you in my employ in such a fashion without knowing the truth, but equally gives you access to the castle swinging suspicion in your direction. How convenient that a long-lost heiress turns up right as a kingdom is going to ruin.” It wasn’t hard to spin a story, and Maya’s potential culpability innocent or no only weakened his already tenuous footing.

Maya shook her head. “I’m not an heiress. I have no interest in my parents’ crown or anyone else’s. Those things only ever get you killed or old before your time,” she said with a clear conviction. If she had wanted power, she would’ve gone back to Comeádai. Not a small percentage of the population wanted her there. “I apologize for the inconvenience of my birth and I understand if you need to dismiss me or imprison me until the real culprit is found. But if I did it all again, I would only hide the truth better.”

Fane had known Maya long enough to have some measure of her. But equally had he not also been wrong about her this whole time? It was a frustrating issue to face, “whether that’s true or not matters little, especially if someone is looking to shift their own cast of guilt.” Which was ultimately his point, neither of them were interested in power or the responsibility it brought about but equally were now put in the position that they had to deal with it. “Unfortunately, it would equally reflect badly to imprison you without much cause or reason presently… I do not believe you are responsible, but that doesn’t mean others might not consider the possibility. Neither can I let you leave until a culprit is found.” So what was he to do with her was the ultimate question.

Maya waited another moment after Lord Savin stopped speaking. “Then what do you intend to do with me?” she asked. Whether noble or servant at the moment she was still completely under his power, considering his temporary title. While she had no interest in a seat at the table, she might not have another choice. It wouldn’t be long until gossip spread through the castle and the servants no longer trusted her. She doubted though that any of the other nobles would have much interest in what she had to say either. Despite the title it placed upon her, the revelation of her true identity had left her rather powerless.

“That’s a good question,” and in all honesty he didn’t have an answer. Eventually he looked towards the window for a little while prior to his gaze returning to her, “help the investigation and maybe the council… If you don’t wish for a seat…” he pursed his lips, stroking his beard in thought “then act as one of my advisors. You’re smart and you have good instincts… that much I do know…” Might as well make use of them while they were in this situation.

Maya waited. She hated having her fate decided by someone else. The minute this was all over she would likely disappear again. After some time, Lord Savin asked her to be his advisor. She blinked once, surprised. It was not a small thing for him to continue to trust her or at least appear to. “I’ll be your advisor, sir,” she replied after she’d counseled her expression. “On that note, this morning, I spent some time down in the Upper City. Bron, if he’s to be believed the best blacksmith in any land, did the work to restore the crown. Although without the murderous part. His apprentice said that the Commander of the Golden Eagle dropped it off and picked it up.”

Fane wouldn’t go so far to say that he was putting his trust completely in her earlier points still to consider, but presently she wasn’t highest on his list of considerations. So the revelation of the next piece of information had Fane pausing, perhaps she would be useful after all. “So the mechanism was added after…” it wasn’t entirely new information but the crown went on tour almost immediately after it’s renovation… But if it was picked up and left by the Commander and considering the Golden Eagles had supposedly never let it leave their guard… He made a slightly frustrated noise, “then the question is where’s the window of opportunity? Unless the guards were bribed…”

Maya shook her head. “That I’m afraid I can’t answer. And any hope of my overhearing a drunk guard let something slip likely expired the minute gossip of my identity spread. Once it arrived in the Capitol though someone would’ve had to bribe at least six guards,” she said although she expected it was information Lord Savin already had. She paused before adding, “Or have convinced the Commander that the death of his lord was necessary.”

Fane had considered this already but it was the only answer at hand. “I don’t see any other way. I suppose we have a commander and some guards to investigate.”

Maya nodded, “I suppose you do, sir.” While he had yet to throw her out or in chains, she didn’t expect that he would want her present for any proper parts of the investigation.

Fane “Keep your eyes and ears open, see what else you can learn.” With that said he gave a nod of dismissal. He needed to speak to some of the others, to gain a measure of their view of the situation.

“It hardly seems prudent – or believable – that one single article of adornment could signify so much and create such havoc, does it?” Prelate Theodore appeared at Iann’s elbow, his grey habit switched out for a flat raven black coat of mourning. He inclined his dark head towards the throne and the bloodstained crown that sat upon it. “The well-laid and hard-earned plans of so many over so long, all brought to ashes in one terrible moment.”

The tall owl was back, after dealing with many matters concerning the commonfolk, and even his own clergy. Faith lost and hope found and all that, Iann supposed. The royals of the Forty Isles were not particularly religious, but the Cloverry was as good as any other religion, as far as Iann was concerned. Useful, convenient, accepted in Bluesprings. A good shorthand for being considered ‘good’ among the commonfolk and their ideals of belief. Iann stood in the Grand Hall, staring at the Sunlit Throne and the Guards surrounding it. The bloody crown placed back there as a symbol, now that the Inquisitor had completed his investigations on it. Even if he needed it again, it was not going to disappear within the Rajisthangard’s vigilance. “It’s an ugly crown, don’t you think?” Iann said, looking over at the other man. “Do you understand such things as beauty, Prelate? You see that metalwork - the craftsmanship is so very…Sharma. I understand that a High Raj always has a slight bias towards one’s House of course, but if only someone could’ve persuaded something with a bit more elegance and poetry. Not your persuasion, unfortunately. I suppose the Council that he was never able to announce was likely to be filled with grim birds like you.”

Prelate Theodore clasped his hands behind his back. “The very centermost tenet of faith is beauty, Your Highness. Otherwise most religions would have a dreadfully uphill task in appealing to the populace. Although conversely, some groups do appeal to an alternate but no less strong element when it comes to creating a reaction.” Theodore nodded at the Sunlit Throne. “Fear. Even if the crown had been wrought of Summerset ivorygold in the most intricate patterns of the Isles, it would still have performed the same slaughter, once devised.” The Prelate’s voice was gliding and genteely expressive, alighting on certain key words and making other, more dark suggestions as bland as possible. “It’s been my experience that a happy kingdom requires the efforts of grim birds such as myself.”

“Well said,” Iann said, stroking at his trimmed beard, then amended, “About the crown I mean, not the kingdom. I disagree with that, but then - I’ll soon be ascending my own Throne, soon.” If only his father died. He’d heard from the Mothers that the Cardero King was confined to his room now. Iann wanted to be pleased by it, but with the High Raj dead and the realm under an Inquisition, suddenly Iann found himself hoping that his father hung on for a little while more. “A clever device within it, I must say. As ugly as the crown is, its mode as a weapon is quite elegant. His death…was elegant.” Iann looked over at the Prelate. “Did you love him? As a High Raj. You can speak honestly to me, it makes no difference now that he’s dead. It wouldn’t be treason to say you did not, indeed, love him.”

“The tenor of rulership in the Forty Isles has always been of a sunnier nature than here in the mainland, true. But then, the war did not engulf you so wholly as it did the rest of us.” When it came to island nations, it could have gone either way; had the Cardero King allowed his Isles to be dependent on imports, they would have suffered far more than many mainlanders. As it was, the seafaring princes were able to procure whatever wasn’t produced on their own lands. Grimness perhaps did not carry to them the same shorthand for serious dedication that it did in the Cloverry and the Capital. “I’m afraid I haven’t much native sense when it comes to elegance,” the Prelate demurred, a claim put to lie by not only his clothing and bearing but his entire demeanour, “but still, I cannot bestow the word on the base slaughter of our High Raj. I did love him, yes.” Theodore’s eyes grew thin, a gimlet grey flash of intensity. “I loved what it was he represented. What he could have brought about. Does that surprise you, Prince? Were you hoping to catch the Cloverry out for hypocrisy or bloody-mined heartlessness?” Theodore almost sneered. “Or am I the one you’re trying to catch out?”

The imposed confinement of the city had made those within and without restless. The commoners either cowered in their homes, razed in the streets until the guards shut them down, or went about their lives as if their Raj had not just met the Light in a most violent manner. Though they only knew of a death. Not the manner. But now whispers arose all over the city. Whispers that floated here and there, of treachery and deceit. Of conspiracy and murder. She had adorned a dark set of robes in respect for the mandate of the city that the Raj be mourned, and found herself on the walkway with both the prince and the Prelate.

“I was curious on how the High Raj chose his Council. I suspect that all members of his Council were as loyal as you, then. I had no love for the Sharmas personally,” Iann proclaimed this loud and unafraid, but he wasn’t looking at the Prelate when he said it; he was staring right at the Rajisthangard, who did not make any eye contact in return. “But I did respect the Cloverry’s choice.” The Forty Isles was one of the kingdoms who had agreed that the Cloverry should make the decision for High Raj. “The Cloverry chose Avitej Sharma, and then Sharma chose to commission that crown for his coronation.” It was meant to be a crown that would rule for decades, but that was all gone now. A new High Raj needed to be chosen, and a new crown made. “And then that crown killed him. I wonder if the Inquisitor has the blacksmith hanging upside-down in the dungeons for this.”

“Don’t all crowns kill their wearers in the end, your grace?” the priestess asked quietly as she came up to the pair. “Though most usually last a fair bit longer than your dear Raj.”

Prelate Theodore described a short bow in the Red Priestess’ direction as she joined the conversation, continuing, “Sady true. And High Raj Sharma who was, rest his Spirit, had more awareness than most of the burden of the crown – seeing as he wore it through choice and not simply succession.” He drew a long breath. “I believe the Inquisitor’s investigations would be best conducted without overmuch communication between him and the work of the Quiver and the Council, at least for a time being. Whatever interrogations are being performed, and in what manner, they are – for the moment – the purview of Lord Savin.” Soon, there would need to be a meeting to share information. But Theodore didn’t believe that rushing things would be of any use to anybody.

“Hmph,” Iann said, since the Prelate was technically right - the Inquisition’s investigation was separate from the Quiver and Council, particularly since everyone was suspects. Iann looked over at the Red Priestess, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. He laughed then though. “How poetic would it be, if Inquisitor Savin himself was the Raj-killer?” He said this, even though Iann knew full well he was the one who’d proposed Savin resume his role in the first place.

“Inquisitor Savin is … blessedly … without the capacity for persistent duplicity that this deed required. I’d imagine he’s all too relieved to have some task to occupy himself with in the Capital rather than spending his time longing to be back in the North, away from parlay and politicking.” Theodore gave a thin smile. “He’s possibly the least likely suspect. You’ll have to find your poetry elsewhere, I’m afraid, Prince Iann.”

“You see, Prelate - this is why people don’t like you,” Iann said in an arch tone. “You always have an answer for everything.”

Prelate Theodore considered this critique. “I don’t know any poems,” he offered. “Although I could try, if you needed me to be more infuriating.”

The Prelate did that owlish blinking thing where Iann couldn’t quite tell if he was being genuine or not. It was infuriating, but not in a bad way. “Please, spare your tongue the assault. If the Cloverry is charged once more with picking a new High Raj, at least I know the person to appeal to. Namely - any other Prelate but you.” He gave a short, curt bow. “Wind to your sails, Prelate.”

“Fleet be your feet, Prince.”

#got scene

4 notes · View notes