#and then they act like merlin was some sort of monster to her because they. like. refuse to rewatch the series or something idk. or at least | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deadpcnned · 3 years

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the gamble of the heart | chapter 1 (r.l.)

chapter one: certain uncertainty

series masterlist

pairing: remus lupin x potter!reader

chapter summary: remus reflects on when he lost the person he held closest to his heart.

warnings: swearing

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: hi! this is a new remus series i’m working on. WARNING it’s going to be slowburn. hope you enjoy <33

REMUS LUPIN was never one to rely on the idea of certainty. In his sixteen years of life, Remus had gathered that the way the world worked didn’t allow for anything to be certain. For example, he could have been certain that the only peculiar thing about him would have been that he was a wizard (and really this was only peculiar to unknowing muggles). However, at the age of four, his life went off track and he was suddenly a werewolf and had no understanding of what that meant. It wasn’t always bad, however. Sometimes life was uncertain in a good way. At one time Remus was certain that a life of isolation was a fate he would have to accept, but within his first day at Hogwarts, he was proven wrong.

And so, Remus decided that it was okay that virtually nothing was certain. He had even begun enjoying the uncertainty of life at times. He enjoyed not knowing what crazy adventure his mates and him would journey through next and he even liked the uncertainty of what subjects he would have to tackle next in his favorite classes. Which is why he couldn’t understand why he was surprised by the events unfolding now. His relationship with Y/N hadn’t even been official, yet he was stuck pondering over her recent actions instead of the notes laid out in front of him. He knew he hadn’t imagined the feelings that had been growing between the two of them and he had the image of intimate touches ingrained in his mind as proof of that. So, why? Why had she stopped looking at Remus like he held the stars in his hands? Why had she trained her sight on that lousy Ravenclaw instead? Why was she holding his hands in the halls, when the two of them had never even been so publicly affectionate? But most importantly, why was he so surprised by the uncertainty of it all?

A part of Remus - the part that resonated with his younger self most - knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew it was unlikely that any girl, especially a girl as captivating as Y/N, would have been interested in him for long. Not only was he singularly boring in his opinion, but he was a monster. The other part of Remus - the part he had spent years working on - couldn’t understand why she was suddenly acting like she forgot he existed. He knew they worked well together. He knew that he understood her in a way no one else had. He knew that he was perfect for her. Or at least he’d say he was.

“What did that poor piece of parchment ever do to you, Moony?” A voice behind him pulled him out of his thoughts and Remus’ eyes flickered down to the notes in front of him. He had been holding his inked up quill to the paper for so long it had created a hole that was getting bigger from the severity of his hold. Dropping the quill, Remus looked up to see Peter stood in the doorway.

“Uh, must’ve zoned out,” Remus muttered, sending Peter a lackadaisical smile. “What are you lot up to?”

“Headed to Hogsmeade. You sure you don’t wanna join, mate? I’m sure you’re not gonna do much good just tearing through your notes. Literally.” Remus ignored Peter’s poor attempt at a pun and considered his options. He really wasn’t doing much good sitting at his desk and he needed to get his mind off certain things. No better way to do that than with the three most troublesome boys.

“Alright, yah,” Remus nodded his head at Peter who was frowning. “You’re right, Pete. No point in tearing through my notes.” Content with Remus’ validation, Peter led the two out of their dorm and down to the common room.

“YES! Prongs, we’ve got Moony on board!”

—

Being at Hogsmeade during the start of the year always felt odd. Remus would argue that it was one of those things that only made sense during the holidays. He had gotten into many heated debates with James about whether Hogsmeade could be considered fun this early in the school year. James would start by explaining September was the holidays and Remus would remind him that Christmas wasn’t for another few months. But he didn’t feel like striking that kind of conversation today. Normally, he’d have Y/N to back him up.

Remus entered The Three Broomsticks with his spirits a lot higher than they had been a half-hour ago. As much as he renounced being too sure about anything, he was certain he could never be bored when he was with his friends. He prayed nothing would put a damper on his mood, but the world didn’t work the way he wanted. He had heard her before he saw her. The familiar laugh had him looking over his shoulder and following Y/N’s figure from the door.

The Y/H/C haired girl was walking hand in hand with Mason Tomlinson as they looked for a seat in the corner of the establishment. As though she felt eyes on her, she turned to the table the boys sat at and waved kindly. Remus wanted to roll his eyes at her gesture but thought better of it.

“I don’t understand when that even happened,” Sirius mumbled, his eyes still trained on Y/N.

“Apparently they were paired up for a project,” James shook his head slightly before turning to look back at his friends. “You’d think she’d tell her bloody cousin she was seeing someone, wouldn’t you?” Y/N hadn’t been seen by the group of boys as often as they usually did in the past few weeks and Remus could tell it was rubbing James the wrong way. Actually, all of them seemed annoyed by her absence.

“Two weeks… I swear that’s how long the two have known each other,” Peter commented. “Remus, did she ever say anything about him - OUCH!”

All three boys were now staring at Remus with guilty expressions on their faces (except Peter, who seemed to also be holding his leg in pain). Remus simply shook his head and gave him a shrug in response.

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Sirius started and this time Remus didn’t stop his eyes from rolling. “I really did think the two of you were going to get together.” Remus froze, halting the way he was nervously pulling at his napkin under the table. He had expected pitying looks or impetus questions, but he hadn’t expected that. Remus hadn’t expected to be confronted with the exact thought that had been haunting him. When would he learn he really couldn’t expect shit?

“No idea what you mean, mate,” Remus spoke, trying to appear much more nonchalant than he felt. “Haven’t even spoken to her in weeks. Why would we be together?” The three pairs of eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, before Sirius began to nod.

“Right… Well, boys, I think it's time for some more butterbeer.” Remus’ friends continued with their night, but all Remus could do was stare at the manifestation of his nightmares. Y/N had her elbow resting on the table in front of her and was running her hand up and down the length of Mason’s arm. From what Remus could see Mason's other arm was placed against her hip and he was leaning closer. Within moments Remus’ stomach was lurching forward as he watched Y/N’s lips meet with Mason’s to kiss him passionately. If it had been any other person he would’ve been gagging at the crude disregard of their surroundings, but at the current moment, it was as though he was stuck. He couldn’t look away and he couldn’t vomit the sight away. He was stuck watching Y/N crush his heart into pieces without even lifting a finger.

“Don’t stare, Remus,” James’ words could’ve been taken as a joke, but Remus knew why he was saying them. He didn’t want Remus hurting.

“Merlin, I don’t understand what has gotten into her,” Sirius, seemingly not learning from his prior mistake, was looking at Y/N again. “That’s not like her, she doesn’t mouth fuck people in public.”

“Sirius!” James and Remus had yelled at the same time.

“That’s so vulgar!”

“That’s my cousin!”

“Oh please, Moony. Like you don’t have the mouth of a sailor. James, I do apologize for talking about your very innocent cousin that way, but there is no other way to explain whatever that is.” James smacked Sirius on the back of his head and the two began to argue amongst themselves, but Remus was too distracted to care about what they were saying.

Sirius was right. It wasn’t like Y/N to get into a relationship so fast and even more unlike her to be so publicly affectionate. But then again, he wondered how much of that was dependent on who was sitting beside her. Maybe she was only affectionate when it wasn’t him crowding the seat next to her. Did they even know Y/N? Did he know her? Remus thought back to the first time he had ever felt a sense of mutual understanding between the two.

The Gryffindor common room was quieter than usual as a group of five 3rd years faced the welcoming fireplace. Remus, James, Sirius, Peter, and Y/N had opted to stay at Hogwarts instead of going to Hogsmeade that weekend and were glad they had. Other than his friend group, Remus noted that the common room was empty which meant they could do anything without prying eyes. They seized the opportunity by playing Wizard Chess and munching on some leftover candy Y/N had from a previous Hogsmeade trip.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius whined, as he pushed the table in front of him. “How? Again?” Remus just shrugged as he motioned for Peter to take Sirius’ spot across from him. They had all agreed they would have a tournament of sorts and whoever won would get to be the one who executed their next prank. This prank was especially exciting because it was going to be affecting anyone who was innocently spending time in the Slytherin common room next Thursday.

“No way,” Peter tutted, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’m not playing just to lose.”

“Peter, the rules were the winner plays the next contestant,” Remus argued. He knew he was undoubtedly the best at Wizarding Chess amongst the five of them and he took pride in any moments he could use that to his advantage.

“Moons, just let me play Peter,” Sirius started. At Remus’ look of dissent, he continued, “Come on, do you even care about actually being the one that says the incantation?” Remus considered this. He didn’t actually care, but he did want to win.

“No,” The voice came from the body next to him and Remus looked up to see Y/N shaking her head. “You can’t make the rules and then change them just because Remus is better than you.”

“Shut up, you Hufflepuff,” James taunted. The Marauders had often told Y/N she would’ve been suitable for Hufflepuff because of how highly she valued fairness. Even if it was something as small as a game, she wanted to see the right thing done. Remus admired that. He figured if more people did that, the world would be a hell of a better place.

“Eh, let ‘em play. They won’t let me hear the end of it once I win,” Remus uprooted from his spot on the floor and took a seat next to Y/N. The pair sat back as they watched their friends banter and laugh amongst themselves. Remus had only known the lot of them for three years, but he knew that moments like these would be life-altering for him. He had come a long way from the glum eleven-year-old who thought he deserved to be alone. He still battled with whether he deserved the love he received, but he was slowly learning he did. And the only reason he was ever able to get this far in that journey was because of the four smiling idiots around him.

When James began to chase Peter around the common room, Remus turned his face to the side just as Y/N did and the two of them just smiled at each other. It was like they were both thinking the same things, but Remus had no way of knowing. Y/N and he had always been friends, but they rarely spent time alone the way he did with Sirius and the way she did with James. It wasn’t weird, it was just the dynamic of their group. But at that moment, as they laughed with each other, he felt like he had known her for years. He felt like she was agreeing with him on how much these people meant to both of them. He was probably projecting, but it made him feel warm with comfort. At the time he didn’t know that she would soon grow to be one of the closest friends he’d ever have, but he found solace in that random second of certain uncertainty.

tiny little taglist: @kitkatkl

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin series #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #marauders x reader #marauders imagine #marauders fanfiction #potter!reader #remus lupin x potter!reader #remus lupin angst #andrew garfield #andrew garifield x reader

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ja-khajay · 3 years

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Stuff I read (and liked) this year

As promised, here’s a list of the novels, comics, manga, etc... I read this year, focusing on the ones I enjoyed and would recommend to people. Under a cut, this is going to be a little long.

-------- Books --------

Favorite book of the year: Stranger in the Woods, by Michael Finkel

Non-fiction. Based on the interviews of the man himself by the author, it is about a man who felt so unfit for society he decided one day to leave it, and spent the next 28 years as a hidden hermit in forest in Maine. The book details how he survived there, how he was eventually found, and some of his reasons for doing so. It’s a great reflection on the nature of loneliness.

Indian creek, by Pete Fromm

...Yet another detailed tale of living alone in the woods. This time, the diary of a student who spent a winter in the mountains to help tend for salmon hatchlings, and how he spent the rest of his days hiking, hunting, meeting the locals. It’s a fun little book who, being set almost the whole world away from where I live, was a nice way to travel.

Howl’s Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones

I don’t feel the need to explain this one since everyone and their mom has seen the movie adapted from it. The book, that I first read a decade ago before I actually watched the film, is a less romantized, more spirited telling of the same story. The writing is absolutely delightful and so is the world it paints, and it’s the first time in ages a book had me laughing out loud during my entire read.

-------- Comics (BD) --------

Favorite comic of the year: Monsieur Désire?, by Hubert and Virginie Augustin

A discreet young woman becomes a maid for a decadent, unbearable, byronesque young lord. Caked in the rigid and oppressive social hierarchy of the victorian era, you follow a mental and verbal joust between the two, as the lord tries his best to offend and corrupt his new unrelenting servant, to little success. The writing and especially the dialogues were stellar, drawing me into the tense atmosphere, watching this trainwreck of a character flamboyantly destroy himself. While there’s no precise content warnings that I can give, this is a mature and heavy story.

World of Edena, by Moebius

Anyone who’s followed this blog for over a month knows how much of a Moebius fan I am. Edena combines the vague, dreamlike, wordless storytelling from stuff like Arzach or The cat’s eyes with an actual plot. While I haven’t completly finished the story, the evolution of the main characters and how the story is told have been great to read through, and as always the art is beyond gorgeous. Unfortunately suffers from some good old sexism in the writing that even if minimal, tasted sour

Le roman de Renart, by Joan Sfar (book 1)

Sfar’s work always has a signature vibe of being dreamy and light without being light hearted, of being down to earth but drifting in the fantastical, and this one is no exception. It’s an adaption of a series of medieval folk tales I grew up with, who uses the same characters to tell an original story. If you’re familiar with icons like Renart as well as other mythological big boys like Merlin you’ll fit right in. There is something special in how the dialogues are written, who feel natural in a way that you’d overhear in a street corner and is very special to me.

The mercenary, by VIncente Segrelles

Another one I post about a lot on this blog. The mercenary is a king on the throne of fantasy cheese. The worldbuilding is interesting at times but the writing is a pretty pathetic display of glorious old time sword and sorcery sci-fantasy 10 years too late for it’s prime (warning for ye old sexism and orientalism that plagues the genre, cranked very high...) but you come and stay for the art. The entire thing is drawn in a series of hyper detailed oil paintings with an insane eye for technical detail, from the engineering of the weaponry, to the architecture and weather, to the anatomy of the fantasy creatures... Each panel stands out as it’s own painting which makes even flipping through it without reading the scenario a treat. Click here to see more of the art, in my Segrelles tag.

The ice maurauder, by Jacques Tardi

A short story about mad scientists entirely drawn like a 19th century engraving. In great Tardi tradition everyone is ugly and mean, it ends terribly, it’s both a hommage to the genre of late 19th cent. to early 1900s dramatic adventure novels and a critical eye on it, and it’s morbidly funny. Most people I saw online hated the way this was written but I’m not them and I really recommend this book. Die mad

-------- Manga --------

Favorite manga of the year: it’s a tie between the following two.

Cats of the Louvre, by Taiyo Matsumoto

Most wonderful comic I have read in ages. The story follows a bunch of semi-feral cats secretly living in the Louvre museum’s attic, and the small group of humans who share their life, walking through the museum as the night watch. When the cats are together, they are represented in a humanoid way, but still act like animals, and “become” cats again when a human is nearby. The plot is a sort of supernatural mystery centered around a kitten who walks around paintings. It’s a love letter to art, sincere and beautiful, with a unique art style and great characters.

Memoirs of amorous Gentlemen, by Moyoco Anno

A sex worker in early 20th century paris starts writing down a diary of the clients she meets, in a quest to cope with the troubles of her life. You follow her, her colleagues, and her bittersweet relationship with an abusive lover. I don’t have much words about this comic, but the art and writing both are amazing, it’s the perfect length and drew me in like little series had before. Obvious content warnings as this is an adult story that talks about sexuality, but also depicts both mental and physical abuse.

Hana, also by Taiyo Matsumoto

A very short story, this was not made to be read as a comic originally, but served as storyboarding and visual development for a play, and the way it is written follows that. Hana is a slice of life story set in a fantasy world, of a young boy, his family, his village. Despite the setting being an original one, the character interactions are refreshingly... normal, and there is no huge plot to speak of, just a bit of the life of these characters. The art is beautiful, entirely black and white, with a scratchy style and an emphasis on contrast. Matsumoto is on a speedy road to becoming my favorite manga artist haha

Delicious in Dungeon, by Ryoko Kui

While not marked as my year’s favorite, I still consider this series among my favorite manga ever. The art and writing are amazing, and it’s both heartfelt, well concieved and plain hilarious. The story follows several parties of dungeon diving adventurers each on their little quests with a premise of our protagonists, on a panic rescue mission, surviving in the dungeon by cooking and eating the monsters they come across. From a DnD party turned cooking manual dinner of the week beginning, the plot creeps up on you and slowly thickens. I don’t want to spoil anything about the overarching story of this because it was a delight to discover for myself. While everything about DinD rules, I am especially fond of the design philosophy of the author, who puts great detail in the practicality and biology of what she draws, as well as the character writing. Everyone even side characters has so much charm and depth to them, the cast is so diverse and entertaining...! Each character is just a bit lame enough but endearing, and has their own little backstory that shows in the way they exist. It’s a delight

Chainsaw man, by Tatsuki Fujimoto

I went into CSM expecting a borderline campy hyperviolent dumb fun thing to read and was very surprised to find an uncomfortably well written story about a teenager being groomed. The hyperviolent dumb fun fights are here nonetheless and the series still qualifies as shonen for some reason, but the more mature character writing as well as some truly outlandish visuals make it something very special. If you can’t stand shonen, not sure you will like it, but if you don’t mind it, worth trying.

Witch hat atelier, by Kamome Shirahama

The oh so elegant fantasy seinen every cool kid started posting about this year, who I also succumbed to and fast. Witch hat is hard to explain, as most of it’s plot revolves around the rules of the world it’s set in, specifically the regulations around it’s magic and the social and historical reasons for them. It’s about growing up, learning, disability, making art. You follow a little girl taken in by a witch as an apprentice, her magical education, and learn little by little why her lovely teacher is so willing to break a lot of rules... While a bit too gentle and pretty for my taste at times, Witch hat has great worldbuilding and explores sensitive themes I rarely see in manga, much less in fantasy. And Berserk wishes it had art this good

#j #long post

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sergeantsporks · 3 years

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Look, I know that she’s sort of the fandom darling, but can we at least take a second to acknowledge that some of Claire’s behaviors can be kinda... problematic?

I know I’ve actually seen a post calling her out for this one, but the fact that she told Jim that there were better ways to end a fight besides punching someone in the face. In response to him punching Steve in the face... when Steve was PHYSICALLY ATTACKING HIM. Yes, there ARE other options. But when you’re put on the spot like that and someone is attacking you? You’re really going to shame Jim for fighting back? And again later with the “he’s not worth it” to Toby. In general, you’re right. Don’t respond to verbal taunts with physical violence. But when someone is physically assaulting you? (Steve was pushing him into lockers, kicking him, etc.) You pop that sucker in the face, moral high road be damned, your safety is more important, and Claire shouldn’t act like you’re the villain for defending yourself.

She spied on Jim and snuck into his house because he was acting a little sus??? I’m sorry, but that seems kind of... violating, I guess? Like, yeah, there WAS stuff going on, but she got basically told by Jim that “oh yeah those monsters I fight are in my head, it’s totally like. Depression and stuff” and she decided that what she really ought to do is sneak into his basement and spy on his family dinner between him, his mom, and the teacher who, for all intents and purposes, seems to be his confidante. Right. This doesn’t seem weird or creepy at all.

When she refused to bring Toby down (in the gravity episode) until he apologized. Yes, Toby was a jerk that episode. Yes, he needed to apologize. But she literally??? threatened to let him float into the stratosphere??? if he didn’t apologize??? Does no one else see her threatening his life over a few verbal taunts as a red flag??? No??? Okay. Apparently her “better way” to end a fight is to threaten to let someone die if they don’t apologize. The more you know :)

Telling Steve his problems weren’t real problems??? Yeah, they’re not as imminent and life threatening as the other stuff that was going on, but they’re still real problems that are causing Steve emotional distress. Just because they aren’t her problems doesn’t mean they’re not real, and just dismissing him like that was.... not cool of her

Look. I love Jim. I do. But quite frankly, I think it was unreasonably selfish of her to risk dooming the world to get him back. I get it, he’s your boyfriend, he’d do he same for you, you love him. But for all intents and purposes, Jim was BASICALLY dead. They had NO IDEA if they could get him out of the mind control-- it wasn’t like when Claire was possessed and Strickler had a handy-dandy “this is how you get her back” step-by-step guide. If it had been a hostage situation, sure, fine, because there’s a definite “we can get him back” there, but in the mind control situation, you don’t know that you can break him out safely. We all know true love is a cop out and in-universe, they don’t know that it’ll work. Even if they DID manage to “snap him out of it,” there would always be the looming threat that Arthur could take him over again. That wouldn’t be fair to Jim, who you KNOW would have internalized that and probably would’ve ended up isolating himself to protect them. It wouldn’t be fair to the other guardians, who would have had to constantly watch him/be worried about him getting controlled. And if the only way to get him back had been to trade Nari, well, Nari’s a person, too! It wouldn’t be fair to her to throw her back to the order that she betrayed just so you can get Jim back. And even if they DID trade Nari for Jim, Jim gave himself up so they could get away. You think he’s going to feel GOOD and NICE that you traded Nari for him? No! He’s going to feel raging guilt and maybe the raging guilt is better than the mind control but only one of those comes with a side dish of the apocalypse. And then when you DID try it, you got Merlin killed and all of your friends hurt for something that didn’t even work. So yeah, it was kind of selfish of her, when you think about it.

Anyway, none of these flaws make her a bad character, necessarily, but what IS bad is that no one-- in universe or in the fandom-- seems to acknowledge them as such, and I don’t know, that just sort of... really bothers me.

#toa #tales of arcadia #character analysis #claire nuñez

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voidsentprinces · 3 years

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FGO is a mythological fanfic clusterfuck...

Prologue: You are an unassuming man or madam who briefly meets their classmate, Mash. And angers their tsundere superior in Chaldea. An organization made to stop the end of the world. The one guy standing around and dressed like “I am an evil villain”. Turns on Chaldea and all the people suppose to go get blown up before they can embark on their first mission. This explosion sends you flying into Fuyuki with your Tsundere Superior and your classmate turned servant. You are the worst choice to save humanity from the end of the world. But now the only option.

Storyline of Fuyuki: Ah, good to be back in OG Fuyuki. Except everything is one fire, most of humanity is dead, and you have to escort a tsundere superior around while your classmate learns how to be a servant. Everyone is evil except Cu Chulainn who is a wizard and is your drunk uncle here to impart wisdom and snark.

Storyline of Orleans: Jeanne D’Arc comes back as Darth Vader leading an army of other historical villains including Elisabeth Báthory , Dracula, Marie Antonette’s Executioner, the Phantom of the Opera, and Darth Lancelot. You team up with Jedi Master Jeanna D’Arc as well as a younger for some reason dragonkin version of Elisabeth Báthory (just to make thing confusing), Marie Antionette, Motherfuckin’ Mozart, Kiyohime and Sigfried to stop her. Also dragons are everywhere. Darth D’Arc exists because Bluebeard wanted to give her catharsis.

Storyline of Septem: What if Emperor Nero wasn’t completely off his fucking rocker, came back as a fashionable wife, and has to fight previous Roman Emperors to get back Rome? Including a rotund Julius Caesar, an incoherent batshit Caligula, a young Alexander the Great and his hapless future successor who is an adult and just as confused as you, and Romulus. Whose death spawns Attilla the Hun as a space dressed waifu. And just to make their roles in history null and void. You enlist the help of Boudica and Spartcus to aid you. Also Jing Ke and mecha Lu Bu are there too.

Storyline of Okeanos: What if Francis Drake was a big tiddie pirate wife. Alright what if previously to your arrival she 1 v 1′d Poseidon and WON!? Alright now what if after getting her help, you fought Eric Bloodaxe, got trolled by Euryale to re-enact the myth of the Minotaur. But then the Minotaur turned out to be a good boi and joined you. Also Artemis carrying around Orion, Atlanta and David, King of Israel is there. So is Jason and some of the Argonauts but like just Medea and Heracles. Replacing the other Argonauts with Hektor from the Trojan War. Also you have to punch Blackbeard with Mary Read and Anne Bonny.

Story of London: There’s fog every where. You have to join forces with Traitor Knight, Mordred, Doctor Jeckyll, a kid Hans Christian, and Frakenstein’s Bride. Contending with Jack the Ripper, Mephistopheles, Hoienheim, Mecha Babbage, a bunch of Mannequins, and then the Mist of London just sort of summoned Nicoli Tesla and Darth Arthur to fight too. At the very end Tamamo no Mae and Sakata Kintoki arrive just to exit stage left immediately.

Story of E Pluribus Unum: Medb wants to fuck Darth Cu Chulainn but he’s not that interested. So she decides to fuck up Wild West America instead. Making Beowulf the Warden of Alcatrez, Fergus mac Roich the Heavy, and then kidnaps Rama’s Wife before mortally wounding him. Also she has to fight against Lion Headed Mecha Edison, Helena Blavatsky. The two of which are using Karna, Son of the Sun as the Bouncer. You convince a germ manic Florence Nightingale to aid you, pick up a wounded Rama on the way, as well as Robin Hood, Billy the Kid, young Elisabeth Báthory again, Geronomo and Nero who is trying to be an actress to fight them all. Also Scathach, Fionn Mac Cumhill and Diarmid are there too. But they just do things at random and Li Shuwen randomly shows up too.

Story of Camelot: What if the entire round table was just a bunch of psychopathic zealots who worthship the ground Arthur walked upon. And then got into a fight with Ozymandius and Nitrocris for the lulls while launching a magical tactical nuclear strike on the entirety of Crusader State Middle East. All the legends of Hassan is trying to stop them but Arash is there too. Tawara Tota is also there to distribute a shit ton of rice. Nothing you do here really matters. But Bedivere shows up to aid in the lackluster ending. Xuanzang Sanzang is also there.

Story of Babylonia: Not Enkidu answers to giant Medusa who is pretending to be Tiamat. Bringing about a massive army of demons and monsters to wipe out humanity in prehistoric Mesopotomia. Leonidas, Ushiwakamaru, and Benkai are doing their best to fight off the hordes. After three Demons go out like bosses before your arrival. Also young Medusa and Merlin are there cause why not? After befriending a woman in a tiger kigarumi, Quetzacoltal, Ishtar, and Ereshikigal. You find out defeating giant Medusa was a ploy to summon the real Tiamat and shit goes down. You eventually drop Tiamat into the Underworld where the First Hassan dewings her after which Ishtar, Ereshikigal, and Gilgamesh work together to defeat her. Ushiwakamaru is captured and comes back as an evil version of herself but with the aid Nekai and Quetzacoltal going out in a blaze of glory you defeat them all.

Story of Saloman: Every servant shows up to fight off Soloman and his Demons, turns out Soloman is the daemon Goetia possessing the corpse of Soloman. And the true Soloman is actually your acting director and base medical doctor. After your classmate sacrifices herself you defeat Goetia and Soloman decides he’s good for now and peaces out taking Goetia down with him and restoring humanity. Bringing your classmate back to life in the process.

But wait THERES MORE! The remaining Demons who survive the Goetia fight decide they’re mad they lost. So create some singularities to air out their grievances. Trapping you and the staff of Chaldea in a time space continuum until you hunt down and take them all out.

Story of Shinjuku: The League of Evil comprising of James Moriarty, Yan Qing, Darth Emiya, the Headless Horseman riding the Spirit of Vengeful Wolves, and the Phantom of the Opera take over 1990s Shinjuku for the fun of it. You have to enlist of the aid of James Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes, Darth Jeanne D’Arc, Darth Arthur Pendragon, and Edmond Dantes. Turns out Moriarty that was your ally was actually the true Moriarty and the one leading the League of Evil was the Demon you’re looking for. Summoning the power of all Fictional Detectives you defeat Moriarty. I shit you not.

Story of Agartha: Welcome to the Center of the Earth. Where the vast open plains are ruled by Darth Francis Drake, Penthesilea, and Wu Zetian. You are joined by Astolfo who takes the form of a cute anime girl but retains his gender, Chevalier d’Eon, and a young Fergus. Fighting the Queens and their respective empires with the aid of...sigh, Christopher Columbus. Surprising no one, Columbus turns out to be the true villain and with the aid of Shahrazad and a Demon almost Colony drops the Center of the Earth on top of the actual Earth, Age of Ultron style. But the power of friendship you win. Also Godzilla Heracles is running around.

Story of Shimosa: What if just after or before the Warring States period: Ashiya Doman, Yagyu Munenori, Minamoto no Raiko, Tomoe Gozen, Mochizuki Chiyome, and Shuten Doji showed up to fuck everything up? Including corrupting Hozoin Inshun just to be absolutely asinine? You get the power of a time traveling woman using the legend of Miyamoto Musashi to get into shenanigans. Also obtaining the aid of Fuma Kotaro and occasionally a robotic mecha Kato Danzo. The Demon sort of just appears backing Ashiya Doman.

Story of Salem: The Salem Witch trials but if done like the VVitch in a horror film manner. Not so much about the battles but about the atmosphere. As you, your classmate, Robin Hood, Charles Henri-Sanson, Nezha, Mata Hari, and the witch, Cirice posing as Medea for a few seconds there. Have to pose as a traveling circus of storytellers and entertainers. While the suspicions of the towns people grow darker. Ghouls and spirits begin to haunt the night. There are executions and the Demon turns out to be the one you least expect. The soul of a child is used to open up a gateway for an Outer God and shit goes down.

But wait there is even MORE!

Story of Prologue: You’ve hunted down and killed the demons. And now the world is back to normal. When a new force arrives to take over Chaldea in your stead. One of those new arrivals brings along an army to slaughter Chaldea and activates the end of the world by way of Alien Invasion. You get out of there in the nick of time via a magical meguffin mobile and now have to track down Lostbelts. Each one controlled by a King, a Master who was your former colleague who previously got blown up and now is now revived by the Aliens, and their servant as well. Good fucking luck chuck!

Story of Anatasia: Russia is fucked. Russia is SO FUCKED! That its been stuck in an Ice Age since the reign of Ivan the Terrible. The Russians are forced to use a magic to turn them into anthropamorphic beings and have been surviving barely due to the machanations of Saleri, Ivan the Terrible, Anastasia Romonov, the Master of this Lostbelt, and a particularly sadistic fox woman. With barely anything to go on and running out of fuel. You have to venture out into the eternal Russian Blizzard to get the aid of one of the locals, Avicebron and Darth Atlanta to defeat Anatasia, Ivan, and tear down their cosmic eldritch tree to restore humanity in that sector.

Story of Gotterdammerung: You made it out of Russia and into the Netherlands, where it seems on the cusp of Ragnarok. You are immediately facerolled by Sigurd being possessed by Sutr. Who is under the command of a master there. Enlisting the aid of Napoleon Bonaparte you fight back against Frost Giants, Valkyries, and Sigurd. Also enlisting the aid of Brynhildr to do so. You also have to contend with a girl made up of several goddesses and Scatach taking on the manter of Skadi.

Story of S I N: Out of the frying pan and into the China if it never left or evolved beyond the Qin Dynasty. Except for the Emperor who has become a giant space base, artifical intelligence reaching immortality. After having close calls with mecha centaur Xiang Yu, Qin Langyu, an older Li Shuwen, Lanling Wang. The Emperor sees you teaching peasants how to read and coloney drops a piece of himself on the village. You send Spartacus to punch to meteor...I shit you not. And with the aid of Mordred, Jing Ke, Red Hare, and Chen Gong. You impress Emperor Qin to come out of his shell and reveal his butterfly god form. Also the Master in this Lostbelt is actually a fucking vampire.

And that’s all I’ve gotten to so far.

#{ FGO is bizarre...really really REALLY fucking weird }#{ words from beyond }#{ i forced myself to play it so no one else has to }

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ladynestaarcheron · 4 years

Text

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Twenty-three

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me @rinad307 @superspiritfestival @cass-nes @ireallyshouldsleeprn)

oh my God. here we are. chapter twenty-three.

what is there to say but thank you all so much for reading?

beware, this chapter’s monster sized. around 10k. also...relatively graphic birth scene.

thank you all. so much.

---

August 23 - Year of

In the end, it was not Cassian's fault she made the decision to leave.

Later, much later, she would wonder if he blamed himself and she almost wished she could tell him otherwise. Because even in those last months they spent together, he was good to her. Better than anyone else had ever been. Sweet and teasing and kind. Such kindness. Who had ever treated her this way? Who smiled like this when she walked into a room? No one had ever been happy to see her. And from the way he looked at her and the things he said, she knew he felt the same way.

So he probably didn't realize anything was amiss.

For Nesta answered every kiss with one of her own, tugged his hair right back, pinched him affectionately when he interrupted her reading.

It ran deep. More real than blood, more concrete than any vow. Late at night, in the bed that had become theirs, she told him of her deepest wish as a child, how she had done everything her little mind could think of to win her mother's praise and love and how it had destroyed her when she had died without truly giving it to her. He had far less family history to share, but he told her in turn what he could: how Rhsyand's mother had been the first person to show him any kindness, how the hero of that children's story, about the thief who stole the night, was all he wanted to be when he grew up because of how he built for himself what he was not given, even how cheap the first female he'd ever been with made him feel when she revealed she never wanted to acknowledge him in public because of his status.

Bit by bit, nightly, Cassian would bare his soul to her a little more, and she'd feel guilt as she didn't share all of herself in return. There were things she could not say.

He knew, though. Of course he did. He knew her better than anyone, saw right through every layer she had wrapped around herself. That was why he'd ask her, from time to time. A sweet kiss, a cup of tea, and a simple question: What's wrong, Nesta?

Answers varied. Nothing or headache or you're irritating me, won't you let me read in peace? or a myriad of other things.

She could not tell him because she could not admit it to herself.

Here is what she could not say: I cannot love you because I will inevitably lose and you and you're the best thing I've ever had so that will destroy me even more than everything else already has, and I know that I will lose you because you can never put me first above your duties to the Night Court and your High Lord and I will not settle for second to him.

In the end, she didn't have to. And that was not Cassian's fault either.

It was her sister who spared her the act when she knocked on the front door.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

It wasn't the pain that woke her up. It was the wetness between her legs. An odd, gooey sort of substance. What was that, Nesta wondered. Was she bleeding? With that thought, she kicked off her blanket, but with her sudden movement came a definite tug from deep inside her-oh.

It was happening.

Nesta took a deep breath and raised her nightgown. No blood, she saw, and her shoulders relaxed. Just the mucus, tinted pink slightly.

Nesta had read enough on her own and asked Amorette enough to know: this was early labor. It had just started at...fifteen past four in the morning. It could be anywhere from an hour to a few days before active labor started. Logically, she knew she could take a bath, go back to sleep, and wait till a reasonable hour to call for Amorette, but logic wasn't what spurred her. The faelight was in her hand before she realized it.

As she loosened her fingers around it, her heart rate picked up. She would be doing this alone. Her mother would not be here. Her sisters would not be here. How had she not considered that before? Why had she gone through with this? Why hadn't she terminated the pregnancy when she'd had the chance?

She forced herself to practice her breathing. There was no use in panicking now. Far too late for that, anyway.

On her twentieth slow exhale, she heard the door downstairs open and shut, followed by quick footsteps up the stairs.

"Nesta?" Amorette said from the hall, voice clear and strong despite the ungodly hour.

"In here," she called, in more of a wheeze.

Amorette was at her side almost instantly. "Are you in pain?" Her blue eyes ran up and down Nesta's body, hands going to feel her cheeks.

Nesta flushed. "No," she said. It was stupid to call her, wasn't it? "Just...my water. But no pain...yet."

Amorette drew her hands back in surprise. Then her face broke out in a wide smile. "Congratulations," she said, cheery. She draws a chair close to the bed. "Let's have a look, shall we?" Amorette folded the blanket up from Nesta's toes to her knees, so Nesta couldn't see what she was doing, which she greatly appreciated.

"So," she said, folding the blanket back down. "You probably know this, but you're in one of the first stages of early labor. You're just barely dilated."

"Do you know how long until..."

"Well, there's no real way for me to know for sure," Amorette said. "But seeing as you haven't felt any real pain yet, and this is your first birth, we probably have at least a few hours to go. You can take a shower or a bath now, then maybe do some light exercise with me. We'll take it as you feel it." Her eyes crinkled, genuine warmth spreading across her face. "Let's just do what we can to help you relax, Nesta! You're having some babies today!"

All the forgotten gods. If there were any sentence that would not help her relax.

---

August 23 - Year of

Nesta hadn't been expecting Emerie, but sometimes people from the camp came by to tell Cassian something. Of course, he hadn't been home in three days, but perhaps they didn't know. Maybe they had to drop something off or leave him a message.

So Nesta wasn't too concerned when she opened the door.

Her lungs seized in her chest when she did.

"Hi," Feyre said softly, inclining her head forward. A lock of hair slipped out from behind her ear and swayed in front of her face, caressing the corner of her lips. She was the slightest bit darkened by the sun, contrasting prettily with the brightened gold of her hair. "Can I come in?" she asked. Her voice was sweet, calm, laced with something that wasn't there when they were growing up.

But Nesta could say nothing in reply. All she could do was stare at her sister. She wasn't even trying to say anything, or grasp at her thoughts, or make sense of this. She was...dumbstruck.

"Nesta," Feyre said, concern tightening her brow as she took a step closer and reached out a hand. "Are you all right?"

It was Feyre's touch that spurred her back into herself and let her jerk backwards and say, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," she replied. "Can I come in?"

Nesta only stared in disbelief. "Can you come in?"

"All right," Feyre said, smoothing her hands over her legs. "Let's get you something to drink."

And with a measured, leisurely step, Feyre backed Nesta into the house.

How did that happen?

"Some water," Feyre said, making her way to the kitchen sink.

Had she been here before? Had she...had Cassian...told her to come?

Feyre turned, bringing the glass into the living room. "Sit with me," she said.

Nesta did not sit. "What are you doing here?"

Feyre set the glass down on the table, next to Nesta's face down book. "It's been nearly a year," she said.

Since they exiled her out of Velaris. Yes, she was aware.

"I know that you're...doing better," Feyre said, and Nesta's heart stuttered. What had Cassian told her? Had he-had he shared what was theirs? "And I thought, maybe now...we could talk."

Her sister gazed up at her, earnest and patient. How regal she looked, there on the couch. Ugly, she'd always thought, with its faded blue pattern. Nesta recalled leaving her tiny apartment in Velaris back in September and wishing she could pick out furniture of her own someday.

But there were no throw pillows or rosewood bookshelves or pianos dancing in Nesta's mind today. There was really only one thing she could think of.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Feyre raised an eyebrow-Nesta didn't think she had ever swore in either of her sisters' presences before. She didn't like to, as a rule, but, well. Desperate times. Insane, radical, maniacal times.

"I'm not," she said. "But I understand-"

"You clearly do not," Nesta cut in, "if you think that there's any chance that I want to talk to you."

"Please just listen, Nesta-"

"Or what? You'll kick me out of Illyria, too? Send me off to the Hewn City, perhaps? Do I only get to live my own life if it's out of your court, is that it?"

"No, Nesta, please," she said, standing up too. "Look, I think-you needed space, all right? You know you did, and now that you're-that you've got it, now-"

"Don't you dare," Nesta said, raising a finger and making Feyre flinch. "Don't you dare take credit for any good space has done me. It's only because anything would have been better than-" Nesta bit her tongue to stop herself from finishing the sentence, but it didn’t matter.

But Feyre clearly didn't plan on leaving until she'd said her part. She blinked the hurt out of her eyes and said, "I don't care about the reasons. I'm happy you're doing better, but it's not enough. I know you still haven't taken control of your magic. Amren can help-"

Nesta laughed, cold and mirthless. So different than how she'd laughed just a few days ago with Cassian. "You are out of your mind." Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "If you think I'm ever going back there, you are completely out of your mind."

Feyre sighed. Folded her arms over her chest. "Well. We still have to do something. What do you propose we do?"

Nesta's eyes narrowed. She drew herself straighter. "There isn't a we," she said, voice like ice. "You made it perfectly clear you wanted nothing to do with me when you banished me from your city of love."

"Nesta, you know that isn't true-"

"I'm going to ask you again. Can I stay here in Illyria without being further accosted by you and yours, whenever you decide it appropriate to meddle?"

Feyre clenched her jaw. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Nesta."

She didn't hesitate. "Then leave."

Both sisters stared at each other. How odd was it, to look into her own eyes in Feyre's face. Nesta still remembered the night she was born, how she had marveled at them. Little Elain had had brown eyes like their father, and she had blue-grey like their mother, and she had wondered how the baby was going to look. She thought she might have one blue and one brown, but then she had come, and secretly, Nesta had been so pleased. Another pair of eyes just like hers.

How far they had both gone.

Feyre broke away first, as Nesta knew she would. "You don't have to worry about me coming here to accost you," she said as she turned to leave.

Nesta said nothing as she opened the door and closed it behind her.

But she didn't believe her. Not for a moment.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

Amorette had arranged to stay with Nesta till noon if her state did not progress at all, and if it did to then make a decision on how they should proceed. Nesta told her she'd do whatever she thought was best, but she wanted to keep her visitors to a minimum. So of course, promptly at seven, the door downstairs swung open again.

"Breakfast, Nesta!" Zeyn announced. "Oh, hello Amorette-oh! Nesta!"

Zeyn's deerlike ears shivered in excitement as he took in the view before him. While Nesta had been in the bath, Amorette had transformed the room to a midwifery. Nesta's bed had been pushed closer to the wall to make room for a massive pool, with four steps up, filled with water slightly warmer than the air in the room. A table on the far side held a number of bowls, towels, and more scary-looking supplies like scalpels. Far more terrifying than that was the small pile of pale blue blankets, hats, and pacifiers, all dotted with tiny maroon sugarberries.

"You-you're in labor?" Zeyn grinned broadly at her.

"Not quite yet," she said.

"Early stages."

"But that's wonderful! Oh, Nesta, congratulations! I'll tell Miri and-"

"Be sure to have everyone send their well wishes and drop jam by the door," Amorette said, "but I insist that the only people who have entrance to this house as soon as active labor begins are myself and my staff."

Nesta shrugged at Zeyn and shot Amorette a grateful look when he turned.

"I'll make sure there's always someone here on standby," he said. "Just in case."

"It might be as long as a few days, Zeyn," Nesta reminded him.

"I don't mind," he said. "I can wait all night."

Nesta softened. He was sweet. She'd give him that much.

"I'm right in assuming you don't want anyone else here?" Amorette asked, checking with her after Zeyn left.

"Definitely." Sugar Valley was full of welcoming people, but...Nesta wasn't one of them.

Amorette nodded, keeping her mouth firmly shut.

"What is it?" Nesta asked, wary.

"I know you don't like to talk about it," Amorette said apologetically, "but are you sure there's no family you'd like me to contact now?"

Nesta locked her jaw. "Positive."

"All right," Amorette said, nodding. "Please don't hesitate to let me know if you change your mind."

Nesta didn't answer. She had nothing to say.

---

August 24 - year of

Nesta was seated on the couch waiting for Cassian when he arrived. The glass Feyre had poured was still on the table where she had left it, next to the book Nesta had not touched.

"Hi," he said, heavy. He sat down across from her.

Across from her. Not next to her. There would be no mindless touches, no distracted kisses for this conversation.

"Did you know?" she said eventually.

He swallowed. "I knew...that she wanted to. I knew she was going to eventually. I only knew specifically when I arrived in Velaris. And I didn't know what she wanted to say."

Nesta stared at a spot on her skirt, brushing away lint that wasn't there.

"What did she say?"

Nesta ignored him. "What did you tell her about me?"

"Nothing..."

"What did you tell her about us?"

"I didn't. Nesta. I didn't."

"But she knew."

"You shine off me," he said boldly. She looked at him. "Anyone who sees me knows."

That much was true. They had made their marks on each other. Permanent and stark as the battle tattoos he had up and down his arms all over his chest.

"So you never talked about me?" she pressed.

He hesitated. "I used to. In the beginning. When we...when we first came here together."

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing real. Just that you got a job. I didn't even tell her you and Emerie were friends."

She fell silent again. How much of Cassian was really hers, she wondered. She knew she wouldn't be allowed to have him all the time-he'd always go back to Velaris for Solstice and Starfall and whenever their Circle willed it. But when he was there, was he hers? Or was he a version she wouldn't recognize?

She'd never know. And it wasn't fair because-look at her. Every part of Nesta was so clearly Cassian's now. Her heart beat after his. "There are things I have to do, Nesta, you know that," he said, begging still.

"You're nearly six hundred years old," she snapped, so different from the joking manner she normally said that in. "You make your own decisions."

He winced. Didn't argue. Because he agreed with her or because he didn't? "Nesta, we both know how we feel about each other. So if we just stay here...can't that be enough?"

She met his eyes, pleading and caring. She knew that even though his soul was tied to this land and this Court, tonight his body would be hers. And he would be receiving of all she agreed to give him, now and forever.

And no. It was not enough.

Because Feyre was right. She was better now. Time and space had a certain persistent kind of magic, reliable and true. She was not broken and scared.

So in the end, it was not even Feyre that made the decision for her.

It was her own choice.

"Yes," she lied, not even regretting it. She stood and crossed the room to sit by him.

He was gentle and anticipating when he brought her face close to his and kissed her, but she could no longer marvel at how someone could know her so well and stay with her. Instead she mourned what she could no longer hide from: she was not enough for him. He was never going to choose her over this Court.

And just like that, while she kissed him back, the choice was made.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

The morning's progression was slow and almost imperceptible until seven minutes past nine, when Nesta cried out in pain for the first time.

Worse than her cycle. Worse than the practice contractions. A sharp twist starting low and getting lower, matched with movement, with one the-babies-jerking downwards.

"Nesta," Amorette said, holding both of her hands. "Look at me. Match my breathing...there you go..."

Nesta gasped and tasted salt. Was she crying? This was pathetic. It had barely started and she was already crying! "I can't do this. Amorette, you have to-"

"Shh, just breathe with me. There you go."

Breathing was easier said than done. Her lungs were being held in chokehold. Surely this wasn't right-surely this wasn't supposed to happen-

And then it faded. Nesta exhaled.

"All right," Amorette said. "That was good. You did very well, Nesta."

With her head slack against her headboard, Nesta managed to focus her eyes on the clock.

Eight minute past nine.

Less than sixty seconds of a contraction, her first real one, and she was already sweating and crying.

"I can't do this," she said again, miserable.

"Yes, you can. You already did, see?"

"I can't. Is this-is this active labor? It wasn't supposed to happen yet. I was supposed to have at least another day."

Amorette smiled warmly at her. "No one promised you that. You're fine. You're well-prepared."

Nesta's pulse quickened. Amorette didn't understand. She was not. She had no one, nothing, and she couldn't do this. She knew her limits, and hers was a very short distance from where she was now.

"Nesta," Amoretta said kindly. "Remember everything you've read. You're smart and strong and capable. Remember I'm here with you, and my team will be here soon, too. People less-equipped than you have given birth before and survived. You're going to be more than fine. I promise."

Nesta's eyes welled up with tears again. Amorette didn't understand. She couldn't understand. Nesta would not survive this. There was too much wrong with her. She was going to die in labor or right afterwards or live to fail these children that she didn't ask for.

No one understood, no one would ever understand. Nesta wasn't herself. There was a part of her that wasn't her own. There was the Cauldron, and it was inside of her and it was going to kill her one way or another. Probably the babies, too.

And she would die alone and unloved.

Amorette squeezed her hands. "Close your eyes," she said, "and let it out."

"Let what out?" Certainly not-the babies?

"Whatever you're feeling."

Nesta let out a strangled laugh. "I doubt you want that."

"I assure you, Nesta, I am familiar with birthing rituals. Let it out."

"Let what out?"

"A scream. A sob. Sing, if that's what you want. So long as it comes from inside you."

Nesta opens her eyes. "It's not very motherly of me."

Amorette smiled. "Whatever you've got, I've seen worse."

Nesta pursed her lips. Gave a small shrug, almost subconsciously. And burst into hysterical tears.

She had made up her mind, on her birthday, to put her past behind her, but today she cried for all that she had been through. For her mother's cold distance and death and her father's failures and her own and the loss of the relationships with her sisters, again, and even for Cassian.

And for the three little creatures, struggling inside her, to make their way into the world.

And for herself.

And sometimes for the pain, too, as it grew worse and more frequent as the hours went on.

It was nearly ten before Nesta calmed down, and by then Amorette's team had arrived. Two young female healers, who, Nesta had to give them credit, did not so much as blink at Nesta's sobs.

"How-how far apart are the contractions?" Nesta managed when she had calmed down.

"A little over three minutes," one of Amorette's assistants answered smoothly. "Would you like some tea?"

"Thank you," she said, taking her proffered mug. The sweet strawberry taste did her good. "Are...am I still all right for a water birth?"

"You are," she answered. "Everything's going just fine."

Nesta looked to Amorette, who smiled at her.

"Really, Nesta," she said, nodding. "All is as it should be."

Nesta wiped at her eyes. The other assistant handed her a towel. "Should I...should I get in the pool now?"

"If you'd like," Amorette said encouragingly.

"Are you going to get in with me?"

"Not just yet. Only for the births."

Nesta shivered. Births. And they were soon.

The second assistant held Nesta's hand as she helped her up and walked her in. Amorette had told her, when she had first expressed interest in a water birth, that many females liked to experience it naked. She was, obviously, not going to do that, and wore a night dress that had a tie for the skirt at her waist.

"Water's warm, right, Nesta?"

"Yes."

"We're keeping it at this temperature so the babies have an easier transition."

Transition out of her body and into the world. "All right."

"Hungry? Want anything in particular?"

"No..."

"Jam?"

"No."

"All right."

They kept talking to her like that, calm and collected, asking her if she'd like food or music or to get out of the pool or if she wanted to go over the birth procedure again. For another two hours.

And then the minutes between her contractions disappeared, along with her life as she knew it.

---

October 16 - Year of

There was nothing particularly dramatic about it. Nesta spent the next few weeks with Cassian and Emerie as she normally would, if perhaps a little quieter.

Nearly a year ago, she had decided to work to book passage on a ship to Gilameyva. That dream had altered slightly: she would book passage away from Prythian the fourth day after Cassian left her. Three days without him, and she would be gone.

It was like a deal she made with him. Tell me you can't bear to be apart from me and I'll stay.

But of course, he didn't know.

Cassian left the morning of the twelfth. "I'll see you soon, Nesta," he whispered against her lips.

"I'll miss you," she said, heart breaking a little.

He didn't come home.

Again.

And again.

But she already knew that was what would happen.

So when she left Emerie's shop that night, it was just as she always did.

And in the morning when she awoke, and emptied her bank account and made her way to the docks, bag of meager belongings in hand, it wasn't hard. It was easy. It was right. It was finally someone putting herself first. Even if it was only her. Even if no one else had.

By noon Prythian slipped below the horizon. There was no trace of her left on that island, save for a note and a pair of grey-blue eyes in someone else's face.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

Nesta was hyperventilating.

Somewhere, someone was holding her hand. "Breathe," she said. "Breathe."

It all came rushing back to her. The room stilled around her. That was Amorette there, in front of her, in the pool with her. And-all the forgotten gods-it was time. It was happening.

"I can't do this!"

"Follow Lyra's breathing," Amorette said, voice smooth and calm. "There you go...Nesta, don't you see? You're already doing this...and you're doing a wonderful job..."

"No," she said, sobbing, "no, no, no no no no no-oh!"

"That's it, Nesta, just like that...you're going to do this, right? For your babies?"

Nesta gasped. Nodded once.

"Excellent. Just follow Lyra's breathing...Ama, you have the towel ready...yes...all right. Just keep breathing Nesta. Just like that. Perfect."

Nesta most certainly did not feel perfect. Her breathing was more strangled gasps. And she was being split in two.

"Something's wrong," she said.

"I promise you, Nesta," Amorette answered, patient as all goodness. "Everything is fine. You're doing wonderfully. And in just a few moments...you're going to push."

"No-no-no-"

"Shh, Nesta," Amorette said, holding her head. She smiled warmly even as Nesta sobbed. "You're doing a fantastic job. And it's almost over. You're almost done. And you're going to have your children."

"No-"

"Keep breathing for me, Nesta. I promise. Do you trust me?"

"Amorette-I can't-"

"Listen to me, Nesta," her voice only getting quieter with every octave Nesta's rose. "You have been through worse. You're going to do this. It will hurt, but in just a few minutes, you'll understand. But you have to trust me. All right?"

Nesta's breathing quickened, but she forced herself to match the young healer-Lyra's-patterns. She had made this decision herself. She had to do this. In a few minutes, she could tell the females to take away the babies and give them to someone else, someone better-and then it would be over.

But she had to do this first.

"All right," Nesta said, in between breaths.

"Good," Amorette said. "Keep that breathing pattern...keep up with Lyra...all right. Perfect. Now...push."

How Nesta's body knew exactly what to do when Amorette gave her order, she would never understand. But it did, and she pushed, even though she wanted to stop every second she was doing it.

In all her life, Nesta had never felt something like this. It was like the worst of her cramps multiplied by a thousand plus being ripped in two.

She let out a strangled cry.

"Excellent. Excellent, Nesta. Now...push."

Nesta cried out, but again, even though it killed her, she pushed. And pushed. And one last time, one last horrible, miserable, blinding time, and it was the absolute worst pain there had ever been in all the world, and she was going to die, and there was a massive influx of blood in the pool from inside of her, and there was something small and black-a baby.

Amorette caught the thing as it came out of her. Why was it...she was bringing it up slowly...the cord still attached to it-what would happen? Would it tear?

And then Amorette brought the thing up out of the water, and it screamed, and she held it before Nesta-and the black--the wings-unfolded--and it was her daughter.

The pain disappeared out of Nesta's mind. Everything disappeared. Everything was gone, stripped, nothing had ever been there at all. There was only her. And then Nesta's arms stretching out to hold her.

Nesta let out a small noise as she brought her close to her chest.

"Archeron daughter, eldest of triplets, high noon," Amorette said, somewhere far, far away. Distantly, she was doing magic, cleaning the pool.

But all Nesta knew was the soft pink skin of her little girl. Tiny fingers...on both hands...and a small nose...and eyes she could barely open...and black wings...and a shock of dark hair...and just-the most-perfect-thing-

Nesta was not giving her to anyone else, ever. She would be-she would do everything, she would split the seas and take down the moon. She would do everything.

"I swear it, Avery," she whispered to her.

"Avery Archeron," Amorette said. "All right, Nesta, dear."

Nesta looked up at the hand on her shoulder.

"There, there...a handkerchief, Lyra...yes...didn't I tell you? You see? Now...we're going to give her to Lyra-she's going to be right over there, see? And you're going to deliver her placenta...and then we're going to do this again. All right?"

"Yes," Nesta said firmly, even as she shook. She could do this. And she would. For her...for her sons.

It was utter rubbish that she had to deliver a placenta in between babies, but no matter. She vowed to do everything and that vow would start now.

Later Nesta would not be able to recall if that part of labor had caused any pain. She assumed it had, but all she could remember was bliss and anxiety and love as she looked over at Avery-Avery! A real person with a nose and shoulders and eyelashes! To say nothing of everything inside of her body and mind!-and impatience as she waited for Amorette to finally let her push...for her son.

The pain was not nearly so bad the second time around. Nesta took care to clamp her mouth shut-she didn't want to scare Avery with any screams. And besides, what was pain to this? To the girl over there, wrapped up in a blanket, opening her eyes to her first day on the planet?

The sooner Nesta could finish this, the sooner she would enjoy it with her.

For the second time-finally-like someone pulled a plug out of Nesta and blood came pouring out into the pool...and then her son.

It took everything in her not to rip him right out of Amorette's arms, and it was only not to disturb the other boy still relying on her that she did not.

It was just like last time. Amorette raised him out of the water. Black wings cocooning him into the ball she pushed him out as unfolded to reveal...her son.

She was not prepared. It didn't even matter that it happened with Avery mere moments ago. It was happening again. It hit her, again. And she realized it would be that way when she saw the other boy, too, which only further spurred her tears.

And then she was holding him. He did a better job of opening his eyes than his older sister-Avery was an older sister! He was a younger brother! And soon he would be an older one, too!-and his eyes were hers. The same eyes...her own. Right there, in his perfect face.

Surely it couldn't be. Surely...but this must be it. She had been through hell and back, and for this. She had to pay to experience this, and she had, and now, he was hers. She had him. His little eyes...her eyes...but his. And the way his lashes flutter up at her as he cried-the same way Cassian's lashes did.

And she knew his name. The little boy who would want for nothing. Nicholas. Any night stealing for this one would be purely recreational.

"Hello, Nicholas," she whispered.

Was this her life now? This-this joy? Forever? Every single day of forever? It couldn't be. There had to be some sort of catch. Surely no one got a life like this.

"Nicholas Archeron, second of triplets, eight minutes after noon," Amorette said. "All right, Nesta. You see how wonderfully you're doing?"

Well, she must be. If she had gotten Avery first and now Nicholas.

"So you're going to give little Nicholas over to Lyra...and she's going to take good care of him right next to Avery...and we're going to do this, Nesta. Your third baby. Are you ready?"

"I'm ready." She didn't know it, but she had been born ready for this.

"All right. Kiss goodbye to Nicholas...here we go, Nesta. Placenta and then your third baby."

Once again, Nesta was extremely irritated with the function of her body. Who the hell cared about this part? Her babies were over there on that table. And she wanted her third.

Finally, like an angel singing out from the heavens, Amorette said, "Now...push."

It was different this time. Sharper. But Nesta didn't care. All the pain in the world couldn't stop her from this. She was addicted to that feeling, and she was going to have it once more. She was going to see him, hold him, once more...now!

Even more blood this time, but she figured that was to be expected. Because everything would come out now, right? Perhaps the placenta had come out with him this time-and she wouldn't even have to wait, she could just get out of the tub and be with them.

Amorette caught him through all the gore...brought him up...broke him out from under the surface of the tub...and handed him to Ama.

And stepped out.

Nesta blinked.

"Scalpel, now. Lyra, stay with them, we're all right."

"Amorette?" she said, not understanding. What was...what was...why did she take him? "Amorette, you didn't let me hold him."

But Amorette didn't answer. No one spoke. Even her babies had stopped crying.

Then it hit her.

Her son had not cried.

"No," she said, desperate. "No--no--no--"

Had she really thought the pain of labor was worth crying about? Had that been her, mere minutes ago?

This couldn't be happening.

Couldn't.

A horrible thought occurred to her-was this the price she had to pay? To have two perfect babies, did she have to lose this one?

"No, no, no, no no no no please please--"

Who was she begging?

"Please please PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE--"

"Nesta--please--"

Avery and Nicholas cried as she shrieked. Could they feel it? Could they feel what was happening-to their brother?

She would do anything. She would--could she die instead? Surely, this Mother they all worshipped, surely She would let--was she not a mother? Did she not understand? She would do it, she would die a thousand deaths, a million, if someone would just let her--

And just as Nesta drew breath to scream-scream louder than she ever had before--there it was.

A third cry.

Tinny. Weak. Gasping.

But it was there.

"You see, it's all right," Lyra whispered in her ear.

"Here we go, here we go, here he is," Amorette said, bringing him to her. Too slow--far too slow--

But then he was there, small--so small, and weak, and a wing that did not look like the others', but alive, and right there in her arms--and--and--

"You're strong, Ollie," she said to him, as she met his eyes for the first time. "I promise. I promise you, you are. You're so strong."

"Ollie Archeron," Amorette said. "Third of triplets, thirteen after noon."

"Ollison," Nesta sobbed. "His name is Ollison Bailey."

For the strength her father had shown at the end of his life--for human strength. The most enduring kind.

And now it was her turn. She would do it. She would be strong, for all of them, forever.

"We had to cut the umbilical cord a little early with him," Amorette said gently, running a hand over Nesta's ducked head, "so Lyra has to take him now...you're just going to deliver the placenta-"

"Please, please, can't I-"

"It's a few minutes, Nesta, I swear to you, and then you have the rest of your lives together. All right? Can you give me these few minutes?"

Nesta took a deep breath. "Yes," she said. She squeezed Ollie close to her as she kissed his forehead and gave him to Lyra.

This one was the worst. They were all there, on the table, small and in need of their mother, and there wasn't even a good reason for her to still be in this pool.

"Oh, Nesta, cheer up!" Amorette laughed, right in the middle of the afterbirth. "You're almost done, just a minute longer...and then you'll be on the bed and holding the babies! And I promise you, Nesta, they're fine."

Finally, finally, finally, she could climb out.

Except she couldn't, because she could not bear her own weight out of water.

"Amorette-"

"Hush, dear, give your body a minute. Here...we'll bring them around..."

And they did. Each healer holding one, presenting them to her. Nesta couldn't decide what to look at, her eyes just darting wildly around. There were Avery's ears and Nicky's fingers-he closed them around hers!-and Ollie-Ollie-

"I promise you, Nesta, if I saw reason to take him to the hospital, I would have immediately," Amorette said gently. "He's fine. He's going to be fine."

Nesta nodded, but she said, "I don't believe you."

Amorette laughed. "Well. That's your job."

After a few more minutes, Nesta gained enough power in her legs to climb out of the pool and collapse on her bed.

The healers sat with her.

"Did you want to breastfeed?" Ama asked her.

Nesta looked at Amorette. She had initially told her to bring the stuff for the bottle. "Can I try?"

Amorette grinned. "Of course you can."

Hands shaking, Nesta brought little Avery closer to her. Ama and Lyra suddenly found the boys very fascinating as Amorette helped her take her top off.

The sensation was...not magical.

"All right," Amorette said. "You'll both get the hang of it eventually...or not. It's really all right, Nesta. You can try with the boys later or decide not to."

"I want to try."

"All right. We'll keep trying. But we can stop whenever you'd like."

Nesta nodded. Perhaps she would stop. Or...perhaps Avery would never like nursing this way. It didn't matter.

A laugh escaped Nesta as she realized it-it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing except for these three. Avery, Nicky, and Ollie. She would feed them one way or another. Whichever way they liked best.

And as the the beautiful sunshine of the year's longest and most perfect day faded out her window and moonlight spilled in...as neighbor after neighbor and new friend after new friend came to visit Sugar Valley's newest residents...Nesta knew what she had to do to protect them.

They had not answered her letters. They had rejected her.

That was fine.

But she would not let anyone--anyone--reject her children.

And the only way to ensure that was to ensure that they never knew them at all.

So Nesta did the only thing she knew was right: she reached to grasp onto her magic, deep inside of her...and after a day of pushing, pulled. Right over her head. To cover her like a shield.

There. No one would find her now.

And if no one could find her...no one could hurt them,

And that was all that would ever matter again.

---

October 18 - Year of

Once, Cassian had come home and Nesta had not been there and his heart had fallen right out of the sky. Now it was normal, even comforting. Nesta was not at home because she was at work where she was enjoying the day with her friend.

So he didn't think anything was amiss when he arrived and knew she wasn't there. Almost didn't notice that her scent was too faint to have marked her presence there that morning.

Almost.

But he was just a little too tuned to Nesta's being to miss something like that.

"Nesta," he called, even though he knew there was no point. No books in the living room, no dishes on the sink. No cardigan strewn around. And when he opened the door to their room, the bed was cold and untouched.

Save for the the letter on his side, with his name written on it in beautiful script.

His hands shook as he reached for it. Had anyone ever written his name with such care? He doubted it. But she had, he knew. He knew.

Cassian, she wrote,

I've gone. I won't come back. Leave me be.

I'm sorry.

Cassian flipped it over. Nothing.

She didn't even sign it.

That was all he could think as his soul folded in on itself.

She didn't even sign it.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

Elain knew her disinterest in learning about her power irritated Amren, but she didn't mind. It didn't bother her that Feyre was disappointed in her, either, so why should this?

She knew they thought it was a waste of her potential. She just didn't care. Trying to See...it felt unnatural. Invasive. She didn't like it. It made her feel like some of the old women on the edge of human towns like the one she had lived in, practicing all manner of dark, forbidden things.

Azriel had cautiously tried to bring it up. He told her how his shadows had frightened him, at first, but with patience and time, he had learned to wield them however he wanted.

And that was lovely for Azriel. Really. She was happy for him, proud of what he had overcome. But this...didn't appeal to her in the least. It didn't even matter to her.

Until the Summer Solstice, when she awoke in a guest bed in the Summer Court, a scream in her mouth and cold sweat on her face.

Feyre and Rhys burst in her room--Az was there, Cassian, someone was running down the halls, but she couldn't see-she couldn't See.

"What is it?"

"She's crying. Feyre, is she--"

"Elain, dear, let me see. Are you bleeding?"

"What is it? Who screamed?"

"Did someone break in? Why is Lady Elain...I'll get some tea."

"Elain, look at me. What's wrong?"

"Which way did they go?"

"No one saw anything. There wasn't anyone here."

"Elain," Feyre whispered to her again, squeezing her tightly. "Elain, what is it?"

"Everyone out," Rhys ordered.

"It's-gone," she sobbed. For even though she had not used it, it had always been there. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

Through her tears, she saw Feyre and Rhys exchange bewildered looks. Azriel sat down next to her, covering her shoulders with something soft and blue.

"What's gone, Elain?" Azriel asked her quietly. "Is it Lucien?"

"No," she sobbed, in between gasping breaths. "It's--it's--Feyre--she's--gone."

Across the room, she could feel Cassian tense. He understood, even if no one else did.

"What?" Rhys asked him.

Cassian's voice was low, blank. "It's Nesta. She can't See her anymore."

Feyre dropped in front of her, squeezing her knees. "Elain. Look at me. Please. What do you mean? What did you See?"

"Where was the last place you Saw her?"

"Was she-"

"Enough," Azriel said, calm and cold, as he always sounded when he talked to anyone but her. "Let her catch her breath."

He sat next to her, hand firmly on her back. Someone handed her a cup of tea. After a few minutes, she calmed down enough to drink it. Shortly after that, she managed to speak.

"I never...really Saw her. I wasn't looking--you all know I don't like to." Elain paused to take a shaky breath. Azriel's fingers moved up and down on her back. "But I always...felt her. And now. Just now. She's--gone."

This time, when Elain sobbed, there was no accompanying concerned chatter. It was her alone.

And that's how it always would be. Because her sister...

"Elain," someone said at her side. Not Feyre. Not Az. "Elain, look at me."

Elain picked her head up and looked into Cassian's eyes, reflecting the same pain she felt.

"We're going to find her," he said, voice low like it was before but decidedly un-blank. "I promise you."

She could only cry in response. Because how could they find her? Her sister's being cut off from her sight like this could only mean one thing.

But Nesta would do anything-had done everything for her. So this, surely, was the least she could do in return was...everything.

"All right," Elain said, swallowing her cries. "We'll find her." She clenched her fists tightly.

I swear to you, Nesta, she vowed silently. I will do everything I can.

---

4 years after - February 21

Not two hours after Zeyn brings the children back, they are in Velaris.

They're thrilled to be back. There's a celebratory meal at Feyre's riverfront mansion. Pictures of her children now decorate the walls more than anything. They are gazed at, passed around, adored. Nesta can hardly blame them. Still, she doesn't have to enjoy it.

Cassian is at her side through all of it. And he holds her hand on the way down to the carriage. Right there, in front of everyone. He had never done that before. She catches a look he exchanges with Rhys, but she can't tell what it means.

As usual, he offers to bathe the children while she unwinds, but she chooses to join him. Is this not the point of this...endeavor? Co-parenting together?

"I want the blue bubbles!"

"I want green!"

"It's my turn!"

"Then I want my own baths!"

Nesta blinks. Can it really be time for their own baths? Are they...going to be bathing themselves soon? That can't be. She remembers the day they were born still, like yesterday.

But...somehow, they are nearly four.

Four...children learn the alphabet at that age. Will they be...reading soon?

It's all she can think of while Cassian tells them the bedtime story they choose. When had he learned them all? Just by watching her?

"Goodnight, ladybug," she whispers to Avery.

Across the room, Cassian says to Ollie, "Good night, little lieutenant."

Her heart leaps as she kisses Nicky and Ollie both. He has nicknames for them. They have a relationship with him. Each of them individually. And from each sleepy Goodnight, Appa, she hears...it only confirms it: these children know they have a father and they know who he is and what he is to them.

He takes her hand again as they shut the door behind them. She wonders if he's going to lead her to the bedroom. It wouldn't be the first time Cassian has mistaken her intentions for the evening.

Not that she--well. She's tired. Tonight. But--she doesn't know.

He takes her downstairs, instead. To the living room.

Considerably more decorated than it had been when she had first arrived for Solstice three months ago, but not quite a home yet. Getting there, certainly.

"Let's talk, Nesta," he says, pulling her next to him.

Nesta takes a deep breath. "Let's," she agrees.

"Who first?"

"I'll go," she says, because she's still too scared to hear what he has to say. "What...you want to know why I kept them from you?"

"I want to know why you hid yourself from me."

Semantics, she thinks, but no matter. They're adults. They're capable of having this conversation.

She takes another deep breath. "You didn't write back. You rejected me." Her voice catches slightly, but she powers on. "I didn't know if you were going to do the same to them. And I couldn't let...couldn't let the happen to them. So I hid us. To keep us safe...from losing you." She had started off strong, but she ends in a whisper, eyes sinking down to her skirt. It is a while before she looks back up to see him staring at her.

They don't say anything, and she isn't sure how much time has passed before he breaks away, standing up and turning around.

He runs his fingers through his hair, but the gesture isn't slick or arrogant: he's frustrated. Angry. He fists his hands in front of him and kicks at the ground.

"Dammit," he says, the word half a growl under his breath. "Dammit, Nesta."

He turns around to face her again. Still, she does not change her cool expression. She doesn't care if he was worked up. She isn't. She has worked hard to move past her anger, her hurt. Built up her indifference like a carefully constructed barricade, after he had destroyed the first one she had spent her whole life crafting painstakingly, nearly five years ago. She cannot let herself feel that again...even though she knows she has to. Knows it's coming.

She doesn't know what she expects him to say. Probably something like I'm sorry or What will it take or It's just not fair, I didn't know, Why can't I, Why won't you, but he doesn't. He surprises her.

"If you honestly thought you could tell me to my face you were pregnant, and that I wouldn't immediately drop everything and take care of you, I failed...miserably in loving you. I did a horrible job."

She tries not to let anything through, on either side: she does not want to let herself feel what his words mean and she certainly does not want him to see the impact upon her. But she can feel her apathy slip from her face as her heart beats faster and blood rises to her cheeks.

He has never told her... he has never said...

"And you'll never know how much I hate myself for letting this happen, Nesta. I've become everything I hate and everything I worked against. I left you pregnant and alone." He is looking at her, but as his eyes narrow, Nesta knows he isn't seeing her. Like there's a screen separating them, like he is seeing someone else.

"I know I just..." he sighs, wringing his hands. "And you're just," he says, now waving them at her. His wings tighten and flare out.

She has never seen him so out of his element-she has never seen him out of his element, out of control, uncomfortable. Cassian acts like everywhere he stands is exactly where he's meant to be.

Except now, with her, apparently. She drops her gaze, staring at the floor. She's rarely comfortable, anywhere, but once she had been...so at peace, with him. That's gone.

"I know I keep fucking up with you," he says finally.

She looks at him. She feels the heat that had risen to her cheeks drain out and then come back in again. She still doesn't say anything. She doesn't trust herself to open her mouth.

"I let them send you to Illyria. But even before that... I promised you time. I told you we would have our time and I didn't keep that promise. I should have fought harder. And then I should have shot them down when they suggested Illyria. And then I should have stayed with you every day. I should have helped you wean yourself off drinking. And then I should I have followed you to Gilameyva. And then I should've rubbed your feet. Or your back. Or whatever it is you needed when you were pregnant. And then I should've held your hand for the births. And then woken up with you when Nicky had infections, or Ava had a fever, or Ollie with his coughing. And then I should've listened to you. And-and given you everything all the while. Everything you needed. Everything you wanted." He moves towards her, suddenly, faster than he did when he wasn't on the battlefield. He's a few feet away from her, and then he's clutching her shoulders, pulling her to her feet, closer to him.

"Nesta," he says desperately. "Say something."

She traces the lines of his face with her eyes. Her hands are clasped in front of her, so close to him now, but she does not touch him. She breaks them apart to hover her fingers over the siphon in the middle of his chest, just barely grazing the tip. He clenches his jaw and scrapes his nails against her arms.

"You..." she says, looking into his eyes. Her daughter's, her son's. The most beautiful eyes she has ever seen. The most beautiful eyes in the world, now with a glimmer of hope.

"You locked me up," she whispers. And there are tears on her face and in her voice.

His hope vanishes. "I know," he chokes out, tears in his voice, too. "I know, sweetheart."

"I didn't want to go."

"I know."

"You let them..."

"I know."

"I had nothing--I was scared--"

"I know. I know."

"And you left me."

"Yes."

And then she says it-what she's been waiting for. "Why didn't you ever write back?" She holds her breath tightly, half wishing she could take back the words, still too afraid to hear his answer.

He doesn't look away and he doesn't let her go. "Because you hurt me and I was angry and I wanted to hurt you back."

She sobs little, trying to keep it inside but failing.

She knows that. She's known all along. And it might not have mattered, might have been understandable, forgivable...were it not for the circumstances. Three tiny circumstances.

"Nesta. You'll never know. You cannot-you have been a perfect mother. The whole time. You'll never know how sorry I am."

Nesta coaches herself on her breathing. That's the best she can do right now.

"Listen," she says, after a few minutes of this. "I think we both know...we can't pretend to start over." She reaches up to touch his cheek and her angles his head closer to her hand, closing his eyes. "But we can...work with what we have."

His eyes fly open. "What do you..."

"I'm going to be splitting my time," she says, "between Sugar Valley and Velaris. We're opening a location for Sugar Books here...I'm going to be Head Archivist."

"Nesta, that's wonderful--congratulations-"

"And in the meantime...for now...I'm going to spend some time on myself...and I think you should too."

He blinks. Clenches his jaw.

He's a warrior, her Cassian. He never lets anyone see his pain.

But she can see it. She's always been able to see it.

"For now," she repeats. "I think...it would be...prudent."

"Prudent."

"It means sage."

"Yes, thank you," he says, making her laugh slightly. Even through it all, he's still making her laugh.

"I don't have a timeline," she says. There are things she wants to do. Work on her magic with Ameren--maybe repair what she had with her. Accept who she is as a female so she can help Avery do the same with herself, when that day comes. And the shop. She'll be Head Archivist. She can make it out to be whatever she wants. "I can't tell you when...but I want you in our lives. And they want you in their lives." Because the best thing for children is to have both of their parents. Not having their parents together...not if that takes away from one of them, makes them less in some way. Only if it makes them more.

He nods. "I know...this isn't your home. And I know that Sugar Valley gave you what I failed to. But...you know...you know I love you?" His voice cracks at the end.

She nods, holding back her own tears. It's not forever, she wants to say. It's just to start. And it's for them. It might change. We might change.

But she doesn't have to, because he knows. He always knows what she's thinking.

He sinks to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his and bringing them to his lips: slowly, gently, trembling.

She swallows hard. "Come on," she says, tugging him up, voice firm. "Let's go to bed."

---

A few hours later

Cassian stands in the doorway of his bedroom-Nesta's bedroom? Their bedroom?

The bedroom where Nesta is sleeping, at any rate. Where he is invited to sleep, too.

He's not sure if he will yet. He knows she wants him there, but it might be too hard for him. To spend the whole night by her side, and yet...not be with her.

He'll take it day by day, he supposes. That's all he can do. That's what Nesta wants.

She's asleep. Everytime he sees her like this, he's struck by how truly young she is. He forgets, sometimes. He's nearly six hundred years old, as she always liked to say, and she's his better in every way that matters, so.

He walks down the hall to crack open the door to his children's room. Nesta caught their argument in the bathtub, too, he knows. Tonight they sleep peacefully together, but it won't be long before they want their own rooms, their own space.

He wanders back to the other room. Nesta stirs slightly as the floorboards creak under him, but she doesn't wake.

Reaching down into his pocket, he pulls out a small box and opens it.

It hadn't been a full hour, the Solstice years ago, that he dove down into the icy Sidra, cursing his own rashness. Stupid to throw it out like that. Obviously, she wasn't going to want anything to do with him then. And it was selfish of him, he knows. He knew that then, too. He didn't want her to have it, he wanted to be the one to give it to her.

And, he thinks with a rueful grin, that's still the case.

Nesta's mother's ring had not been easy to track down, but one look at an absentminded sketch of Feyre's had been all it took to keep it lodged in his mind until the day he finally held it.

He's not quite sure if it's Nesta's style or not. They've never browsed jewellery shops together. She has the necklace he gave her, sure, but she loves that because she loves anything to do with the children. Will she like this for the same reason? For her parents...and for him?

It's wrong to give it to her now. She's made herself clear and he'll listen this time. He'll give it to her...eventually. Later. When she's ready.

And maybe it won't be an engagement ring. Maybe it'll be a here's how much I love you, I'm willing to scour every human jeweler and pawnshop and the whole world until I find what you want ring. Either way, he can't give it to her now. She needs time. They both do.

No matter. After all, he's nearly six hundred years old. He knows how to wait.

And Nesta's worth waiting for.

#nessian #acotar #acotar au #nessian fic #AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#brain dead! can't tag anything!

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

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Written In The Stars CXX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m learning to drive and the anxiety it gives me should be illegal why can’t we just apparate -Danny

Words: 2,883

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Listen to: ‘Already Gone’ -by Sleeping At Last

Chapter Eighteen: Inside His Mind.

"Not that I'm complaining," She heard Fred's voice from where she was, her arms tightly wrapped around his middle. "But I thought you wanted to be discrete?"

"This is just a hug," Mel murmured. "I'm sad."

"I see that," Fred was reading through the list of materials for his new products. "You shouldn't be sad though, you got a place in the team, didn't you? We're hoping you'll make us proud, Ginny as well."

"Thank you," She said. "But that's not what worries me right now. I just heard that Flint's Grandad... he's gone."

Fred stopped reading.

"Really?"

"Yeah, he'd been ill for a while... Erick looked terrible."

"Well, that's how you look after you lose someone."

"I acted like an idiot," She groaned. "I just stood there..."

"For the best, if I'm honest," He continued. "Some people don't react well to hugs when they're in shock. What if someone had walked in on you hugging a Slytherin? That's bad for everyone involved."

"I'm her friend, to hell with the gossip..."

"I wasn't talking about the gossip," The boy replied. "He's been helping us a great deal by keeping the prefects of his house away from the D.A. I'm really sorry about his Grandad, he helped us to get a great deal for a little flat on Diagon Alley, but we have to be careful; if someone sees him acting too friendly with any of us that wouldn't help him, would it?"

"I guess not," Mel propped herself up and away from his chest. "I still think I could've done more."

Fred gave her a serious look.

"Your schedule is full all the time, you barely have time to sit and sulk on me!"

"That sounds terrible," Mel blushed.

"Well it's true, you only come to your dear boy-friend," He smirked, knowing how flustered Mel got, "to complain about how hard life is. I don't mind being a shoulder to cry on, but maybe you could compensate afterwards?"

"How?"

His smile widened.

"Get out," Mel slipped away from his grip, crossing her arms. "Leave before I hex you."

"Oh, c'mon!" Fred laughed. "Not even a good night kiss?"

"Fred!"

He laughed louder, standing up and lifting his hands in surrender, his notebook under one arm.

"Fine," He sighed. "I'm just saying, you'll miss me during the next weeks, you'll be all alone in Grimmauld Place and I'll be at the burrow..."

"I've created a monster," Mel groaned, feeling her face burning.

Twenty minutes later she was finishing her History of Magic essay, her eyes slowly giving up in the dim firelight. Ron was laying across the rug and Hermione was next to her, writing the longest letter ever to Krum. Harry was nowhere to be seen, but she didn't worry about it, if he were in danger she'd be able to feel it.

He came back eventually and sat down quietly in front of the girls.

"What kept you?" Ron asked.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione glanced at him, noticing his silence.

He didn't answer, Mel lifted her gaze. Harry was pale.

"What's up?" Ron insisted, leaning on his elbow. "What's happened?"

Harry shook his head slightly, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He glanced at Mel nervously, and she was surprised when he immediately darted his eyes away, his hands closing into fists to avoid shaking.

"Is it Cho?" Hermione asked knowingly. "Did she corner you after the meeting?"

Mel had noticed the Ravenclaw staying behind, staring at Cedric's picture, but she didn't think much of it because her mind was already swirling, too busy to focus on the girl Harry had a crush on.

Ron let out a silly giggle.

"So — er — what did she want?" The boy asked.

"She —" Harry started, but when his eyes found Mel's again his voice faltered and he had to stop to clear his throat. "She — er —"

"Did you kiss?" asked Hermione bluntly, trying to finish with it as fast as possible for the sake of her friends' sanity.

Ron sat up and accidentally pushed his ink making a mess on the rug. None of them moved to fix it.

"Well?"

Those ten seconds felt like a lifetime. Harry stared at Ron, then at Hermione. When he gathered the courage to look at her, he frowned slightly, a short and silent nod making its way out.

"HA!"

Three second-years that were sitting near them jumped. Ron's laughter filled the room and for the first time in her life, Mel didn't follow. Harry was waiting for her reaction, which was weird considering she'd hidden away when Harry found out she'd kissed Fred. Didn't he know it was awful to ask for her opinion?

They had spent months in blissful secrecy, escaping to secluded places and holding hands, he couldn't lie to himself saying he'd never felt something for her. Yet he was, and she was doing the same thing. This whole thing felt like a joke, but she had to be fair and give him the same freedom he'd given her, no dirty looks, no insults.

Harry had every right to be with someone when they hadn't worked out. Even if she was bitter, at the end of the day she wasn't planning on giving up whatever she had with Fred, and who knew? Maybe Cho would be a better match for Harry.

"Glad to see she finally worked up the courage," Mel said lowly. "You should've seen the way she would stare at you during every meeting..."

Harry was too transparent when it came to his emotions, and at that moment, a little smile crept up his face as he looked down, clearly pleased.

"Well? How was it?" Ron's laughing fit finally stopped, and now he was looking at his best friend with eager eyes.

Harry's smile faltered and he frowned.

"Wet," He replied shortly.

Ron made a noise between a snort and a groan, Mel looked at Harry with mild confusion. Surely he had a better way to describe a kiss than just 'wet'?

"Because she was crying," Harry explained further.

"Oh," Ron said, then his face filled with pity. "Are you that bad at kissing?"

"Dunno," His expression changed, panicking. "Maybe I am..."

"No, you're not!" Mel blurted out.

"How do you know?" Ron asked her, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Because Cho spends half her time crying these days," said Hermione, saving her without noticing. "She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place."

"You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer her up," Ron joked.

"Ron," Hermione straightened in her place and took a deep breath, "you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

Mel snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean? What sort of person cries while someone's kissing them?" Ron argued.

"Yeah," said Harry, still worried. "Who does?"

Hermione looked at the boys with a sad little expression; then she looked at Mel waiting for her to say something. Mel merely shrugged.

"Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?" Hermione asked softly.

"No," said the boys.

Mel rolled her eyes. Hermione, who couldn't help herself, started to explain everything.

"Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out what her feelings toward Harry are anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she's afraid she's going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly."

"I can relate to that," Mel sighed. "Minus the flying, I mean, I managed to get in the team after all—" Hermione hushed her.

"How can you relate to that?" Ron asked in disbelief. "One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode!"

"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," said Hermione sharply.

"That explains why you haven't been kissed, Ronnie," Mel teased.

"You've kissed my brother once, you can't talk!"

Mel had to bite her tongue so she wouldn't say she'd kissed someone else apart from Fred Weasley.

"She was the one who started it!" Harry exclaimed over their bickering. "I wouldn't've — she just sort of came at me — and next thing she's crying all over me — I didn't know what to do —"

"Don't blame you, mate," said Ron, shivers running up his spine.

"You just had to be nice to her," said Hermione, then she stopped writing once more and looked up. "You were, weren't you?"

"Well... I sort of — patted her on the back a bit."

"Dear Merlin..." Mel ran a hand over her face in embarrassment. "Why are you like this?"

"Well, I suppose it could have been worse," Hermione said with contained annoyance. "Are you going to see her again?"

"I'll have to, won't I? We've got D.A. meetings, haven't we?"

"You know what I mean."

Harry's face was a bunch of mixed emotions, she wondered if Ron was seeing what she was seeing, then maybe he'd be able to believe one could possibly feel many things at once.

"Oh well," said Hermione simply, "you'll have plenty of opportunities to ask her..."

"What if he doesn't want to ask her?" Ron said bravely.

"Don't be silly! Harry likes her, don't you, Harry?"

The boy glanced at Mel again and she pretended to be busy putting all her stuff inside her bag.

"Who're you writing the novel to anyway?" Ron asked, saving Harry the trouble of admitting something that could damage their thin bond even further.

"Viktor."

"Krum?"

"How many other Viktors do we know?"

Mel sat there in silence, a mix of second-hand embarrassment for Harry and something like a sharp, little sting in her chest that she was sure had to do with him as well. She thought about Erick and wondered if it was a good idea to plan a meeting for the next day so they could talk about all the things that were happening in such a short amount of time.

"Well, 'night," said Hermione as she finally finished her letter to Krum. "You're coming, Mel?"

"Yeah," She stood up.

Harry got up abruptly as well, Mel froze in place and stared at him.

"What?" She asked.

In the end, he picked up his own bag and nudged Ron's leg.

"Nothing— We're going too, right Ron?"

"Yup!" Ron stood up, his bag already on his shoulder.

"Okay..." Mel said, still feeling slightly uneasy about his behaviour. "See you..."

When it was just the two girls in the room, Hermione sneaked her way into her bed and sat down.

"I think it was nice of you to be kind to Harry, he was quite upset."

"It's not really my place to be rude, is it? I'm with Fred now... sort of."

"Yes, you are," Hermione said in a tone that sounded like she could tell Mel was having doubts. "And you're happy with him. There's no need to overthink it now."

"No," Mel sighed. "I feel bad for him though, their kiss wasn't ideal."

"Well, your first kiss wasn't perfect either," Hermione shrugged. "You simply threw yourself at Fred in front of everyone while he was in a temper..."

Mel's cheeks felt warm. She wanted to reply with 'That wasn't my first kiss.' But that would only provide a context Hermione did not need to know.

The girl laid on her bed and against her own will, thought about the very first night Harry had kissed her. Back then he looked like he knew what he was doing, but she couldn't blame him. Mel wasn't crying when they'd kissed. She was beaming with joy. For only a second, she felt happy that Harry could count that as his first.

Then a bitter voice that would come to her more often than not came to interrupt her thoughts.

'Well, he could've had more of those if only he hadn't tried to play the hero with you. He deserved that! He can't take you back whenever he pleases...'

No, he can't, Mel agreed.

At some point after falling asleep, Mel started to have a very strange dream. She felt her body on the bed, but the setting was slightly different, the light was coming from the wrong side of the room and she was wearing a different set of pyjamas.

A sharp pain shot up her forearm and cracked open her skull, or at least, that's how it felt. She let out a sharp cry, sitting up abruptly. When she opened her eyes she realized she was back on her bed, not only that, but she finally knew why the one in her dream had looked slightly different. It was the boys' room.

She got up, sweating profusely and feeling nausea. Luckily for her, her scream hadn't woken up her roommates, and she could leave the room without them noticing. When she reached the stairs she ran into Neville, who was looking really pale.

"Mel!" His eyes widened in relief. "You heard him? He's really ill..."

"What happened?"

"He–He woke up screaming and threw up..."

"Go get McGonagall," She urged him. "I'll take care in the meantime, go!"

Neville nodded and left, she walked into the room and the boys turned to look at her. Dean moved away so she could get to Harry.

"Harry, mate," Ron was saying, "you... you were just dreaming..."

"No!" He cleaned his face hastily, there was vomit on the floor, next to his bed. "It wasn't a dream... not an ordinary dream... I was there, I saw it... I did it..."

"He's talking nonsense since he woke up," Seamus told her. "He's saying Ron's dad was attacked."

Mel felt something cold run down her back. Harry gawked again and Ron jumped.

"Harry, you're not well," He said. "Neville's gone for help..."

"I'm fine!" Harry coughed, shaking uncontrollably. "There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about — we need to find out where he is — he's bleeding like mad — I was — it was a huge snake..."

"Move over," Mel said in a determined voice.

Ron hadn't noticed her until she spoke, he seemed relieved to have her there.

"Harry," She supported one leg on the mattress, trying not to step on the vomit. "What happened?"

"You have to believe me," He said hoarsely. "I swear it wasn't a dream— We have to—"

"I believe you," She said. "I can feel it, remember?"

Harry blinked, a worried expression on his face.

"Yes... I remember..."

"Good," She held his face firmly and stared into his eyes. "Now, show me what you saw."

"What?"

"Think about your dream," She explained. "I'll see it."

She wasn't an expert at Legilimancy yet, but now was the perfect time to make use of her hours studying the subject. Wouldn't hurt to try...

Harry nodded and stared back at her, his frown deepening as he tried to recall every little detail.

It was the strangest sensation, getting pulled into someone else's thoughts. She saw the dark hall, Mr Weasley's body covered in blood in a place that looked slightly familiar. The weirdest part of all was that Harry had seen it from the creature's point of view— What did he say it was? A snake..?

Mel blinked, stumbling away from Harry and feeling Dean and Seamus holding her so she wouldn't fall.

"Merlin, that was hard..."

"What did you do?"

"I saw... I read his mind," She said dryly.

"You what?"

"Don't go around telling this to other people!" She warned them. "I mean it, this is a secret!"

"Fine!" Ron exclaimed. "But what did you see?"

Before she could reply, Neville and McGonagall entered the room.

"What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?"

"It's Ron's dad," Harry sat up again. "He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen. Mel saw it!"

"What do you mean, you saw it happen?" Professor McGonagall frowned. "What do you mean Mel saw it?"

"I don't know... I was asleep and then I was there..."

"You mean you dreamed this?"

"No! I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid... and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it, Mr Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is..."

"It's true," Mel added hurriedly. "It woke me up— You... you know what that means, right?"

"I'm not lying, and I'm not mad!" Harry insisted. "I tell you, I saw it happen! Mel did something a second ago, she saw my thoughts!"

"I believe you, children," said Professor McGonagall. "Put on your dressing-gown, both of you. We're going to see the headmaster."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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llendrinall · 4 years

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Imagine. 1/2 The war has ended & the Wizengamot are currently holding court & reviewing Dumbledore's memories that he saved. In the span of months they find many containing Death Eater spy Severus Snape, & Ministry spy Percy Weasley. With one dead & the other Missing the British wizarding world is thrown upside down as they review the Memories & realise just how much Percy Weasley was a Mastermind Schemer in saving the lives of many Muggle Borns, Goblins, Half-Blood's and Blood Traitors.

2/2 The Wizarding world are looking for where war hero Percy Weasley is. Especially his family (In this story Percy saves Fred's life & then vanishes). They see that Percy Weasley had worked as an informant during his entire Ministry career, also being the one who thought out Dumbledore's death (Shocking the courthouse) "You're already dying Albus, why not have Severus strengthen his position with the Death Eaters by being your killer?" 'He used every situation to his advantage to end the war'

Ah, the reveal of the wronged hero, what a simple and satisfying trope. It gives us angst, the bitter taste of not being appreciated mixed with the sweet sauce of late recognition and regret.

But Percy doesn’t care about that or any other tropes because he is exhausted. Winning a war is a tiring job and he was being doing more than winning. So as soon as Voldemort keels over and dies, Percy checks that his family is alive (they all are, good job there, Percival) and he makes himself a portkey and goes away.

One wizard can’t make a portkey, you say? It takes at least four? Barty Crouch Jr had to imperius three other wizards to enchant the Goblet of Fire? And portkeys don’t work in Hogwarts under normal circumstances? Well, these are not normal circumstances, there was a battle and Percy has a lot of practice making portkeys, all right? A lot.

(There are less than twenty goblins in Britain right now and it is all Percy’s doing).

He goes to East Asia because Percy is vaguely aware that a single white man in need of enlightenment and self-discovery should go climb a mountain on Asia. Percy doesn’t climb any mountains, though, because he can never do things as he is supposed to. There must always be a twist. In this case, he gets food poisoning twice and spends over a month trying to learn how to play a plucked string instrument. He is harassed by a flock of geese and meets a talking dragon. He fails to realize that there are no accounts of talking dragons in history (at least the history badly learned and repeated in wizarding Britain). Dragons do not talk nor do they speak. Your brother works in a freaking dragon reserve, for Merlin’s sake, Percy. You should know this.

After that Percy goes to the Caribbean, because he feels that his stress-relief and self-discovery journey should also involve a stay in a tropical beach. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the experience because he is a red-head. Also, sand is annoying. He freckles all over, eats a lot of pork, learns to play the maracas, to the locals’ amusement, and leaves.

By the time Dumbledore’s memories are uncovered Percy has made his way to a Greek island. He dresses almost exclusively with a t-shirt tied around his waist like a loincloth and a pair of trainers. He also carries with him a bag made from a t-shirt like some sort of wild instagrammer. He carries all kind of knick-knacks in his bag that he uses to create himself a house at night, as if transfiguring a nutshell into a bed were a normal thing, Percy, you utter maniac.

From time to time he goes to a wizarding community and offers to do some chores or magic in exchange of goods. If a goblin woman sees him, she will give Percy a loaf of bread. He has no idea why they do that but it’s very good bread, so Percy is happy to take it. One time Percy met a male goblin and he gave Percy some salt, that he still carries with him. It is possible that for the last seven months Percy had been eating goblin bread and whatever fresh produce the Greek witches offer him in exchange of doing chores.

It is at this time that the Puddlemere United goes to Greece to do some pre-season training.

(This is something that football teams around Europe do. Go somewhere outside the country to train for a month or two in different conditions. The Manchester United often goes to Malaga, in Spain, for a warm-weather training. I don’t even like football, I don’t know why I know this.)

When Oliver Wood sees Percy Weasley standing around in little more than a loincloth he naturally assumes that he is having a hallucination, a combination of the relentless training under the hot and punishing sun, the hours spent fighting the wind (they don’t know what it is with the wind there, but it will try to kick you off the broom. They are all coming out of this with iron abs) and the constant stories in The Prophet about yet another plot Percival Weasley had conducted, saving a dozen lives.

“Percy?” Oliver asks, sweaty and thirsty and half mad from training.

“Oh, hi, Oliver!” Percy answers, and then, because Percy is simultaneously the cleverest and dumbest wizard alive, “oh shit”.

Percy has not been reading the news. He refuses to. He is on vacation, he is still tired and he has a white hair on his temple. Just the one hair, but Percy is twenty-two and far too young for white hair.

Oliver nods. He gets it. He is still telling the Weasley family that he has seen Percy and that he is not dead at all, only slightly insane. But he will wait until he is back in England. Oliver doesn’t know if all the things in the paper are true, but even if Percy has only rescued one thousand five hundred goblins instead of the fifteen thousand the papers claim, he is still entitled to a nice quiet vacation in which clothes are optional.

Did Percy Weasley stop a goblin genocide in his free time? Does he not realize it? How dumb is this boy?

Come September the owls start to arrive. Letters from the Ministry, from the papers, from his family. Percy watches the owl fly around and doesn’t allow himself to be found. He does read Oliver’s letters and even answers explaining that no, his family is not heart-broken. They were heart-broken five years ago when Percy very publicly acted like an asshole. They got used to it, so there is no need for this new sentimentality now that Percy is on vacation.

Percy might be acting a bit like an asshole now, but he has very complicated and ugly feelings over his family and he would rather not think about them. Mostly, he is irked by the fact that they were so quick to follow Dumbledore’s lead. Perhaps because Percy never worked for Dumbledore, he worked with Dumbledore and had the distinct pleasure of pointing to his face, on multiple occasions, what a sly bastard he was. He has little respect for people who never confronted Dumbledore.

(So basically Percy only respects Aberforth Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall).

Also, Percy always did what he was supposed to: he washed his hands, minded his siblings, got good grades and he yet he was not the favourite son. This is all subconscious, of course, but he resents it.

Oliver keeps writing so Percy keeps writing back.

“Did you actually side-apparate a family with twelve members?” writes Oliver.

“I have no idea.” Percy writes back. “Wait, do you mean the Johnsons? How are they?”

“They are going to give you an Order of Merlin, 1st Class”.

“Surely they realise I don’t want one.”

“I think it is evident they realise nothing, Percy.”

By October it’s getting cold and Percy finds that he doesn’t particularly care about wearing clothes, so he is getting ready to portkey himself to Argentina when Ginny arrives. She has such a driven and purposeful look around her that Percy assumes that she must be in the middle of a very important quest, so he hangs back and follows her as she treks all over the island and vanishes a thousand year old monster. It doesn’t occur to Percy that her quest is finding him and that the monster was merely an unfortunate bystander.

Eventually he reveals himself to Ginny because she is screaming incoherently at the sky and Percy thinks that she might be suffering hypoxia and dehydration. Ginny throws the water bottler at his head.

“I’m not the jerk here.” Percy says. “I needed a vacation and if you hadn’t seen those stupid memories you would have been fine with me being out of the country indefinitely.”

Ginny hexes him seven times, but afterwards she lies on the beach next to Percy and they look at the clouds. They spend a week together, nicely quiet and wild. They go for walks, play on the beach, make a house at night out of random transfigured things (Percy doesn’t notice Ginny’s look of utter bafflement and awe) and eat goblin bread (this time Percy does notice the look but assumes it’s because Ginny loves the taste).

Percy refuses to go back with her but he promises Ginny that he will be there for Christmas. Two days later he does go back to England, the bastard. His correspondence with Oliver has become… heated, to put it some way, and waiting a week for the owl to arrive is intolerable.

Percy thinks this might be some sort of penance. It’s nippy in England and he can’t be dressed in a t-shirt/loincloth anymore. There is a flock of owls permanently following him, trying to deliver their messages from the Ministry and the papers and maybe, even now, from his family. Worst of all, Oliver writes him all kind of randy letters but refuses to shag Percy, even though he is right there, because of sports. Something about turning frustration into spectacular athletic performance, Percy doesn’t know. He is so frustrated that he goes and stops a plan to assassinate Potter all by himself.

On Christmas Eve Percy goes home and he is yelled at, cursed at, cried at and loved, very loved, it’s embarrassing. He is rescued from the madness by Potter who easily admits he has been fuelling the newspapers infatuation with Percy because that way they left him slightly in peace.

(And on Boxing Day he moves in with Oliver).

#asks #harry potter #percy weasley #Anonymous #verse: percy ministry spy

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merlinficprompts · 3 years

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Do you have any Merlin/Knights of Camelot prompts? I desperately want to write a longer fic where they are all together, but don't really have any ideas for a plot. Preferably very action/adventure based, with time for bonding and cuteness. Thank you in advance!

Sorry it took so long to get to this! I actually have a few that are of a lot of them together. I don’t have all my prompts numbered, but I can give you a gist of the ideas of some of the ones that I do have posted and a few that are sorta hc’s for me.

I was looking and found my prompt #9. Where Merlin ends up revealing his magic to Gwaine because they’re in a situation where he has no other option if he wants them to live. You could alter the prompt to be he ends up revealing his magic to some of the knights.

For one of my numbered prompts, #20, can you just imagine all of the knights, Arthur, Gwen and Giaus running around trying to keep track of a 4-year-old Merlin and trying to fix what happened to him! Like, 4-year-old Merlin will only let Gwen, Gwaine and Arthur hold him/pick him up unless he expressly makes grabby hands in the direction of the person he wants to hold him. It’s not a lot of action per say, but maybe they find out that they have to go on a quest to visit someone with magic to help reverse the spell on Merlin.

My prompt #17 could be another interesting one. Basically, Merlin creates dream monsters in his sleep and then wakes up to find out “they’re real”, and everyone has to fit them off while Merlin has to figure out how to get rid of them. You could have it be how every one finds out about Merlin’s magic if you want, or just have Merlin sneaking around trying to undo whatever he did in his sleep.

Apparently I’m just picking all my numbered prompts. Prompt #15. The chaos of a drunk Merlin. It’s probably not the best for a longer fic, but it has the knights and Arthur working together to get Merlin drunk, since they’ve never seen Merlin drunk before.

Another one of my numbered prompts, #21. I think it would be so cute to have like the entire castle sort of just adopt this little girl. If you want action/adventure, or to make it longer, have the little girl end up being a magical being or something. Or a witch or something kidnaps the little girl and they all go on a quest to save her.

I have a one-shot premise that I’ve been trying to finish for ages that you could probably make into a longer fic. In the most basic terms, it’s about the others(knights/Arthur/Gwen) finding out about all of Merlin’s scars from all of the things he’s had to do to protect Arthur. It could be drawn out where one of them asks about one at one time, and then someone catches sight of a different one and asks about that one at a different time. They can all tell that Merlin is lying the first few times that he tries to explain any of them away. They all end up bringing it up with each other and then decide to like confront him about it or something, where he finally tells them the truth.

There is a prompt that I reblogged from @caffeinatedflumadiddlebutmerlin that is about the group all coming back (it’s a modern day fic) and everyone is all happy to see each other again, but Merlin is acting weird. Merlin isn’t sure how to tell them that he’s dying, since his job is done. Just like all of them trying to figure out the modern world, and save Merlin before it’s too late.

This is the last one. Arthur gets hit with a spell where he falls asleep (think Sleeping Beauty) and only true-love’s(or soulmate’s) kiss can wake him. Merlin tries to remove the spell with his magic, but nothing is working. It’s been almost 3 weeks, and Arthur is still asleep. Maybe Uther has like different princesses “drop by” and see if they’re the one that can wake him up. It’s up to you who wakes him with the kiss. But just all of them sort of worrying together about Arthur.

If you want any more prompts, just let me know. If you end up Using any of these/any of my other prompts, LMK, I would love to read it and I’d be more than happy to post about it on my blog! I’m excited to see what you end up writing! Happy writing!

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mysterious-prophetess · 4 years

Text

Review: Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarves

It’s finally out in my region so I was finally able to get my hands on it to watch without risking my computer.

Not that I would resort to such....less-than-legal means... <.<

Anyway, I’m glad I did buy it officially. It was every bit as cute as I thought it would be after I saw the new round of trailers and comments by others on tumblr.

I’ll give my spoiler free thoughts now and go into more details under a read more.

So first, I have to compliment the animation. It is so beautiful. The characters all looked great and none of them looked uncanny at all. My favorite character design of the humans was Snow sans shoes, but Merlin in his normal form is a close second. It’s their eyes.

My favorite non-human character design was the magic mirror.

The magic effects were also nicely done.

The plot’s pacing was decent. There were times where it almost felt like they had built in commercial breaks for an eventual network airing from how some parts would cut to black and start a new scene. It wasn’t often and it didn’t really detract from the film.

The characters were all consistent and Snow White/Red Shoes was down right relatable for me. Merlin and the other six Princes were fun and played off one another, though the trio of Pino Noki Kio almost felt like they didn’t need to be three characters since they never acted independent of one another. Whereas Jack, Hans, Arthur, and Merlin all had their own distinct personalities.

Even the Evil Queen had some good moments.

Prince Average felt like an after thought.

The moral of the story, while done before and nearly to death, was given a fresh spin in this film.

Over all this film is charming and the marketing team that screwed them over with the fat-shaming like ad campaign should never be hired by these guys ever again. There is no fat shaming in this film directed at Snow White/Red Shoes.

The lesson is instead a good one.

I heartily recommend people watch this movie. There are some semi-Shrek like elements on occasion (like out of place pop culture references) but overall the film has its own identity.

Another nitpick aside from the weird commercial breaks that kept seeming to happen and that’s the over use of the movie’s main pop song. I liked it the first time but after a few other reuses it started to get a little stale.

Otherwise I loved the music of the film.

Snow White’s journey was one that I loved. She had one mission and one mission only: find her father. In fact her desire to be herself contradicted the shoes magic. She was perfectly happy as her normal self and not the magic enhanced version the shoes transformed her into. That’s a powerful message to send to girls who aren’t skinny or traditionally pretty. Though, Snow White is down right adorable as her true self.

I also liked that the perfectly pretty form wasn’t something Snow White necessarily liked but was willing to use to her advantage to help find her father. I also liked that it had drawbacks as Snow White in her normal state was actually a physically strong woman but as a dainty pretty girl all that strength she had and liked having was gone. Furthermore, the movie showed that Snow White was decently athletic as her real self, which was a refreshing take for a heavier character. Large doesn’t equal flabby, weak, or out-of-shape.

Snow White’s struggles with taking off the magical shoes were reflective of the times where she got insecure about herself. Despite loving who she was, she did sometimes accept the pretty dainty form because of how much nicer people were.

The Magic Mirror was surprised she could even take them off because it meant there was something she wanted more than being pretty. The first time, at Risky Rock in the Fearsome Seven’s house, it was her desire to be herself. In the alleyway, it was a desire to escape the goons. In the river it was her desire to save Merlin. Yet, whenever she wanted to take them off other times, things had happened to make her hesitate on giving up the conventionally pretty form that had made it so others would help her.

As someone who is not conventionally pretty and definitely not skinny, I really empathized with Snow White about this.

On no occasion was Snow’s true self ever treated like a joke. There was the scene after she’d taken the shoes off where guards were harassing her where it almost looked like Merlin and Arthur would ignore her peril because she wasn’t her Red Shoes form, but Merlin came back and helped her. He was even kind of nice to her.

Never even when Merlin finds out about the shoes versus her real form does he call her ugly or make comments about her weight despite being still kind of fighting his own ego while learning the lesson at this point.

Speaking of Merlin (and the others of the F7).

Merlin being the main male protagonist does get the most screen time. Arthur get the second most. Then Hans and Jack, and then the Pinocchio Trio.

At first their dynamics were all clashing and Arthur seemed like a bully and Merlin seemed like a very shallow impulsive jerk. Let’s be clear, all the guys are shallow. Even the trio who are more obsessed with their inventions half the movie. It’s what got them cursed by the fairy princess in the first place. Considering it was a fairy they pissed off, being turned into green dwarves when anyone (who isn’t a magical creature) looks at them was actually getting off mild.

I was surprised that each Prince actually has to break their curses one at-a-time. It’s not a “break the curse for one and you save all” which was a new take on a collectively applied curse. Which was why they were every-dwarf-for-them-selves when it came to trying to woo “Red Shoes” and get a kiss from her.

Merlin’s character journey was one that is usually reserved for the curse breaker in fairy tale movies where a curse indeed is in play. In that he was the one who had to learn to look past appearances. I love that Snow White calls him out on that at one point in the movie too.

Merlin learning to let go of his obsession with looks (his own included) was what allowed him to see Snow White as the most beautiful woman in the world (in his eyes) which was what let her second kiss at the end break his curse. Because he saw her inner beauty which mattered more than any physical appearance she had.

The characters grew and them ending up together at the end felt natural and not forced because the time they spent together always felt like they had chemistry which is hard to pull off.

Moving on to other things: Regina, Magic Mirror, and Average.

Honestly? Average felt like a real waste of time. It was through his lines we got the most Shrek-like throw-away references, it was he who had the least impact on the plot, and he who could have been written out of the flick almost all together. Yeah, Merlin recognizing his tree-i-fied form did hint at what Regina had done to others (and it was after he and his two not-the-Stabbington-brothers-goons became evil ents that I figured out King White was that wood bunny because it was large and cute and that was the White Family’s designs overall).

Average was a throw away character. In many ways he wasn’t even mediocre let alone average.

The worst thing about him is he can be easily written out of the movie.

As the stepmother of Snow White, Regina is queen of the kingdom and all the scenes where soldiers go after Snow White and the F7 could have been her sending people to do her dirty work to spare her magic usage.

Average’s two goombas? Hired thugs who’d never seen Snow White before. Take him out, shuffle a few things around, make a captain character be his replacement in the attack on Risky Rock scene, and nothing of value would be lost in his removal. Average is the film’s only major mistake. He was a dead end that could have been easily written around and the screen time would have been better spent on Snow White and the F7 or maybe fleshing out Regina a little more.

Magic Mirror and Regina both played well off one another. Patrick Warburton as any character will always be an excellent casting choice.

Regina’s schemes made sense from a shallow perspective.

I saw someone compare her to Mother Goethel from Tangeled in a youtube comment on one of the trailers and kinda?

They had the same sort of vanity-wanting to keep their youth and maintain their beauty-and their penchant for cloaks was the same but, Regina to me....was more like Mother Goethel and Triss Marigold from Witcher 3′s fusion. Her younger form reminded me WAY more of Triss than Goethel as did her gown. Plus, it’s canonic in the Witcher-verse that sorceresses use magic to keep young. Also, she’s not the first evil queen of a Snow White retelling to even be obsessed with youth to the point she goes to extreme lengths to maintain it. See Snow White and the Huntsman’s queen.

Regina stands out as her own character despite sharing a name and role with Regina of Once Upon a Time. She’s ruthless, and able to manipulate others with either her words or illusionary magic (though it costs her like the witches from Stardust). She’s also absolutely cold. She just kind of falls flat compared to the Magic Mirror.

No offense to the voice actress or the writers, but up against Patrick Warburton’s Magic Mirror/tree character, Regina is a little less memorable to me. He has more sass and more pure threat to him than Regina does. Sure, she has magic that can turn people into strange tree monsters, but it’s the mirror that gives the F7 the most trouble throughout the movie, and they fought off something that looked to be a whole platoon of guards/soldiers armed with heavy artillery (canons). Granted, it was a close call that relied on their wits and other skills, but they still had less trouble with that fight than they did against Magic Mirror.

Some More Things:

The humor was nearly overplayed but they managed to tow the line between going too far and just right. Mostly this was seen with the F7 and their attempts to get Snow White to kiss them and break their spells, especially Arthur.

They did give him more of a character beyond loud bully, which was that he had a sensitive side and a lot of pride (which was easily bruised). In fact, only he and Merlin felt like they had characterizations compared to the other five. Hans was obsessed with cooking and Jack with jewels and the trio with tech but that’s all they got beyond having their friends’ backs whenever it really mattered and being awesome badasses. Since these other five were mostly side characters, this is more of a nitpick than an actual problem since the film was setting up Arthur vs Merlin for Snow White’s affections.

The fact that Snow White brushes all the attempts of flirting off so easily was very amusing to me and a nice way of showing how she was focused on finding her missing father throughout the whole film (despite the fact that she had already found him). Hilariously, in hindsight, she really had seen him in the woods. If she’d been herself, who knows if he’d have even attacked her.

Finally, I’ll end on what had seemed like an inconsistency but now I realize is a loophole because the fae have those in everything. The guys have to be alone or have the person they’re with close their eyes to be their true selves, except Merlin is still his true form even though he’s not alone with the Magic Mirror or the wood rabbit/King, or the three wood bears/children.

Turns out, once I thought about it, the fairy’s curse was if “people looked at them” which meant, the ones doing the looking had to be people and the wood creatures-despite formerly being people-were considered to be people no longer. The Mirror was probably never a person, which mean he’d never counted as a part of “people” so he could look all he wanted (which was his thing as a mirror). It’s an interesting loophole.

Long story short, I really enjoyed this film. It was very cute and it was done so dirty by its marketing three years ago.

Good film. Good messages. Go watch it! It’s not like we’ve anything ELSE to do at the moment (and it’s not like there are any other worthwhile films coming out right now). Support this film, and this studio.

#red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #rsat7d #red shoes and the seven dwarves #red shoes and the seven dwarfs #review #it's a good movie

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unfortunatelysirius · 4 years

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╰☆☆ ℕ𝕆𝕋 𝕐𝕆𝕌ℝ 𝔾𝕀ℝ𝕃𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 ☆☆╮ [Sirius Black – Marauders Era] [Part 14]

Previous Installments: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13

╰❂╮ prompt ╰❂╮ ☾ ¡Original! ☾ With the perpetrator on their tail, and Sirius’s prejudices no longer something that can be ignored, relationships shatter and a safe way out is near unimaginable. ╰❂╮ author’s note ╰❂╮ Sorry this is so, so late. I hope the installment is to your satisfaction. AND IM SORRY IT’S SO SHORT BUT PLS, FEEDBACK WOULD BE APPRECIATED AND I’LL BE MORE PROMPT ON UPDATES. Will be updating Chocolate Frogs and Love Notes soon. Tell me if you want added to any of my tag-lists! ╰❂╮ warnings ╰❂╮ Angst, Swearing, Violence ╰❂╮ word count ╰❂╮ 2043 ╰❂╮ tag-list ╰❂╮ @kapolisradomthoughts @rageofcaliban @saucyleftovers @bunnymother93 @siriuslyr5 @apareciumimagines @random-quartz @ruefulposts @seabasstiantrash @starlightspidey @pinkettepoet @peppermintspecks @jiongyongguk @bethanystan @raindancer2004 @where-are-my-gummy-bears @cutebutnotinorcent

IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT, and a disturbing sort of cold Y/N thought she might never experience in her lifetime, shivers up and down her spine within the dark, suffocating corridor. The stars were like silver dewdrops splattered across the navy sky, visible through each old window’s silhouette littered around the castle; with every passing step, Y/N caught another glimpse of Nature’s finest canvas. She was curled into Sirius’s side, squished between his subtly muscled body and James’s near-identical shape, both Remus and Peter trailing the three of them by seconds. It was reminiscent of times that seemed so far away.

Y/N thought it was all too good to be true. Everything, from her and Sirius falling back into same-old, same-old routine like they’d never left the honeymoon phase to James looking quite sullen compared to his usual upbeat, enthusiastic self. She wondered if it was all a twist on reality to make her think things were fine when really, Sirius wasn’t anywhere near, James still hated her, and the Marauders were leading her somewhere to hex and discard their latest “conquest.” It made all the more sense the longer she thought about it, but thoughts of the way Sirius felt—flesh, bone, whole—made her realize she was daft, and just a little bit mad.

He was so obviously here, a living, breathing wonder, and she was trying to make it a mirage. She wanted it that way.

Or maybe she’d just went long enough with things going wrong that miracles seemed far too good to be true.

“I have to meet with Regulus,” murmured Y/N into the quiet air, after the silence became a tad bit too smothering. She was also alert of her own negligence, from her delirious daze to her angry soul’s demands for an apology, as Sirius’s arm looped around her became a bone-crushing reality. Not so much a reality she craved anymore, but one that needed multiple bandages slapped across it; the Muggle way of rekindling old flames and licked wounds. Y/N was beginning to grow agitated and nervous, as this reality crushed down on her. As her newly-put-together world fell apart in the wake of unanswered questions. “He—wants to help. He thinks I was Obliviated.”

Sirius glanced down at her, looking unsure, his own face not betraying the inner turmoil running their world ragged. The two of them didn’t know how to approach their current problem, the one that kept them from falling together as happy memories asked them to; Y/N was afraid of what lay in wait, Sirius’s admittance that he thought so lowly of her that for even a millisecond he thought she might have been a slag, and Sirius dreaded the moment he had to let his betrayal out into the open. Neither of them were willing to ruin their reconciliation by simple, trivial ire, the kind that winded up someone alone and heartbroken, the kind that could get anyone and everyone hurt.

Even the most painful of thoughts were best kept internalized, if it meant staying locked tight in a dream.

Even now, the two of them were so different. Differences Y/N once overlooked in favor of what made them compatible.

“Regulus doesn’t care about anyone except for himself,” Sirius snapped at Y/N, the three Marauders looking nervous in anticipation for the argument to come. “He’s a Slytherin. The bloody git is tricking you.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Y/N was never one for confrontation. This was all new territory. She was tired, and depressed, and dying of questions; she loved Sirius, she did, but he was still the prejudiced, arrogant prat he was before they started dating. He’d always hate Slytherins because he grew up in a world full of snakes that rejected him for being who he was, and maybe that was a drawn line for why they weren’t meant to last. He was the charismatic, hateful railroad tycoon, and she was his subdued wife that tiptoed around his temper. Stupid, foolish—she was letting herself use another goddamned Muggle analogy—Americanized, no less. Maybe Y/N was running low on a lucid mind as much as she was excuses.

He knows nothing about Regulus, she thought anyway, looking into those silver grey eyes she’d always loved. Sirius didn’t. He refused to talk to his brother; maybe Regulus was growing into himself and losing that part of him that preened and prawned from pleasing his parents. If he was scared, if he was determined to find the truth because he wanted to sabotage dark plans, he never once betrayed it. But deep down, there was nothing else rational to explain his motivations, and Y/N knew he was a scared little boy afraid the monsters would someday catch up to him—

And they’d eat him alive like all wolves just so happen to do.

“Regulus is your brother,” continued Y/N. “He doesn’t want to be part of whatever it is your parents do. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You didn’t grow up with him. You didn’t see him do nothing when his brother was lying on the ground, with their father standing above him,” seethed Sirius. “Don’t act like you know him; you sure as hell don’t.”

Y/N felt like crying, as she wrenched herself away from Sirius’s warm, comforting embrace. “Don’t act like you know me,” she spat. Sirius’s jaw fell downwards, a flicker of hurt flitting across his face. “Go mope in your dorm. I’m getting down to the bottom of this, with or without you.”

Sirius was silent. Y/N continued to watch him, imploring him to say something, wishing he wouldn’t just let her leave. If she left, she could get hurt, and Sirius wouldn’t be her knight in shining armor. They went so long in turmoil that Y/N wanted there to be some sort of compromise; if they could argue and fight for so long, the two a mess with their friends on the fence on how to fix them, then they sure as hell could be soft and melted together, too. Maybe they were different, maybe Sirius couldn’t let his old ways go, but truth be told—Y/N always wanted to show him a new perspective.

She’d tried doing that before things went wrong.

“Really, Sirius?” she said now, staring brokenly at him. “We could finally figure this out, and you’re backing down? Really?”

“Whoever’s done this is dangerous,” Sirius told her. His voice had lost all its shake, all its fury, rendered a new sort of mellow Y/N had hardly ever seen from him. He looked like he itched to hold her and reassure he was just an asshat, but his asshat ways betrayed none of his true love for her, or his need to protect her. None, nada, zilch: right? He was a teenage boy, a prat, but he didn’t mean anything out of his pathetically unfiltered mouth. “I want you safe, Y/N. We should leave this to the professors.”

Those words were foreign out of his mouth. Y/N took a heavy breath and she said, “Sirius, do you even hear yourself? Merlin, what’s happened to you?”

“What’s happened to me? Me?” Sirius’s laugh was humorless. “You’re bloody mad.”

“Sirius, Y/N, this isn’t the best time,” said Remus, looking between the two with apprehension.

“This is the best time, Remus,” Y/N said, refusing to look at any of them. She knew Peter was fidgeting; she knew James was gap-mouthed like a pufferfish; she knew Remus was trying to hide his trepidation. She knew Sirius was silently seething. All of them, they weren’t clearly thinking. They didn’t have their nerves together. Y/N was terrified that solving the bottom of the mystery would never come if they fell apart before they came together. But Y/N could no longer go on if her experience with the love of her life was only going to be heartache and pain, two things she had felt since coming to this God-awful school.

You’re not any better than him, thought Y/N, her brain suddenly going to Ashton. He was dead, and she’d never get to see him again; she’d never get to tell him she was sorry, that she never meant to use him, that he was someone she came to love in her desperation to feel. He taught her about love. He taught her that it was okay to be without for a little while because wholes always regain their lost pieces. Maybe he threw her into an abyss after he broke her heart that left her sad and lost of all hope, but now, with her head on her shoulders again, she could safely say he taught her a lot—yet she gained nothing.

Y/N was happy with Sirius, but he did not teach her anything. He was a fun partner in crime, but when it truly came down to life lessons, he wasn’t a teacher; he was along for the ride, a mere passenger in a bus packed to the brim with faces from the crowd.

Standing in the hallway, letting these thoughts wash over her, Y/N could not do this anymore. She needed to find Regulus and reach the climax of this game. Someone was toying with her and her feelings, and if she didn’t put a stop to it, if she didn’t find a way to draw the villain out and stifle the madness, there was no way for her to get peace—and she’d stay stuck in an endless cycle of being a living ghost.

“I can’t anymore, Sirius,” whispered Y/N. “I can’t.”

She turned around and ran.

The Marauders watched after her, one looking horrified, two looking shocked, and the one this mattered to most—he looked heartbroken.

And none of them even bothered to go after her, as the guilt sunk in and they realized—

Was the love-potion maker truly the villain? Or was it them?

Y/N had stopped running after reaching the fourth corridor. She eventually stopped walking altogether. Her pace slowed until it was nonexistent, her harsh, shaking breaths fell into soundless sniffs, her erratic thoughts slowly but surely came to a close. All she could think about now was Regulus, who was waiting at the library for her presence. And that half-blurry, half-familiar memory of a white-haired girl in the very same forest Y/N was in herself

Y/N knew it mattered. She knew she’d been Obliviated, and she was foolish not to go to Headmaster Dumbledore for help in retrieving her memories… but she was a foolish girl, and foolish girls wanted to figure out mysteries by themselves.

“I’m a bloody fool,” mumbled Y/N to herself, clutching her head like that would heal all trace of confusion, as well as her sadness. It wouldn’t, but it felt like it did—so Y/N continued to grope at her temples and scalp. The corridor echoed with spooky creaks and even spookier whistles. Y/N felt regret seep into her bones, as she realized she was still a bit of ways away from the library—and she was totally, utterly, completely alone.

Y/N heard someone laugh.

“You are a bloody fool,” they said.

Out from the end of the corridor emerged a girl, whose entire face and hair were obscured by shadows—but the pretty little patch on her robes had a snake on them. Y/N knew it was a Slytherin. But all she saw was the patch, as her body and face were near invisible—and even then, the patch’s emblazoning was blurry to her. She felt her head grow light, her eyes squinting to see within the darkness. She was so caught in looking at the patch to even pay any regard to the words the stranger spoke or the wand as it lifted, pointing right at Y/N’s chest.

“Who are—”

The girl flicked her wrist. “Stupefy,” she said.

Suddenly Y/N was knocked off her feet by a powerful spell, the backlash sending her head cracking against the corridor wall, rendering her immobile and near-unconscious.

She felt her body crumble, but only half of the way—a steady stream of numbness shooting through her like lightning.

The stranger walked up, a laugh emptying from her mouth.

��Got you!” the girl sang happily.

That was when things went black.

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manage-mischief · 4 years

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Regulus Black and the Darkest Shadows: Chapter 11

Read on AO3 or FF.net

Summary: Kreacher returns…

Author’s Note: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! You all are the best! I’m pretty sure you all know what’s coming in this chapter, but I hope you enjoy regardless! For excerpts/asks/requests, follow @manage-mischief on tumblr. Thanks to @leahstypewriter for being a fabulous beta reader!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 11: Everything Changes

January 11th, 1979

The next evening, Regulus lounged lazily in the living room, waiting for his parents to get home from work. His arm was thrown carelessly over his forehead as he listened to the quiet popping of the fire. A loud CRACK suddenly ripped through the air. Regulus fell off of the sofa in surprise.

Swearing, he pushed himself to his feet and searched for the source of the noise. In the corner of the room, Regulus saw a small, shivering thing covered in a tea towel. Kreacher. Confused, Regulus approached the elf slowly and kneeled before him. “Kreacher?” Regulus said gently. Kreacher flinched when Regulus placed a hand on his bony shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

The elf turned his head towards Regulus, and peaked an eye out from behind his hands, which were covering his face. “D-d-dead. Army of the dead. Didn’t know Kreacher could escape. Didn’t know Master Regulus had asked Kreacher to come back.” The elf stuttered. Regulus felt cold and empty. He had been so happy to have survived his encounter with Voldemort that he hadn’t even stopped to think about Kreacher’s safety. What an idiot! How could Regulus think for a second that his loyal elf would be safe with that monster? No one was safe! Not with Him.

Carefully, Regulus gathered Kreacher in his arms and brought him to his bedroom. He laid the quivering elf on his bed, and covered him in blankets. Regulus poured Kreacher a glass of water from the jug on the windowsill. Kreacher gulped it down greedily. Regulus poured him some more. “R-Regulus is too kind to Kreacher.”

“Nonsense,” Regulus said, “I am so, so sorry I let you go with him, Kreacher. I-I didn’t know He would hurt you.” Regulus’s excuse sounded feeble, but Kreacher seemed to appreciate the words.

“No. Kreacher wanted to help. Kreacher wanted to make sure the Dark Lord was pleased with Regulus. Regulus was worried. Regulus is in danger. Kreacher heard Narcissa say. Kreacher doesn’t want Regulus to get hurt.”

Regulus was surprised at the elf’s astute assessment of his current predicament. He hadn’t even noticed that Kreacher had been in the room during him and Cissa’s conversation. That made him feel worse. “Kreacher…can you…can you tell me what happened?”

Kreacher’s golf-ball eyes filled with tears. “Kreacher went with the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord took Kreacher to a cave.”

“A cave?”

“Yes. A cave. An underwater cave. Kreacher and the Dark Lord had to swim to find it.”

“And what was in the cave, Kreacher?” Regulus’s mind was racing. Why had Voldemort need his elf to take a trip to a cave in the middle of the ocean?

“Kreacher and the Dark Lord entered a cavern. Kreacher had to cut his hand to open it.” The elf held up his right hand, which, sure enough, had a long gash running across the palm.

“Here, let me fix that.” Regulus carefully took the elf’s tiny hand in his own and began waving his wand and muttering healing incantations. The cut stitched itself back together before their eyes.

“Kreacher thanks you, Regulus. You are the kindest of all of his masters,” said the elf.

“What happened next, Kreacher?”

“The cavern wall fell away, and Kreacher and the Dark Lord entered a larger cavern, with a lake.”

“A lake? In a cavern? In an underwater cave that you have to cut yourself to enter?” Regulus questioned. None of the elf’s tale was making any sense.

Kreacher nodded. “Yes. And then the Dark Lord conjured a boat, and rowed him and Kreacher across the lake, to a tiny island. There was a basin on the island, filled with black liquid. The Dark Lord order Kreacher to drink.” The elf began shaking again. Regulus was furious—at Voldemort for hurting his elf, and at himself, for once again being a coward and doing nothing to stop the pain and misery that Voldemort had caused. Regulus placed a comforting hand on Kreacher’s shoulder. “What was in the basin, Kreacher?”

Kreacher took a shaky breath. “Kreacher does not know. But, it made Kreacher see and feel terrible things. Terrible. Kreacher was afraid. But the Dark Lord ordered him to drink until the basin was empty, so Kreacher continued. And then, when Kreacher was finished, the Dark Lord laughed and placed a locket at the bottom of the basin, and then filled it back up and rowed away.”

“He left you there?”

“He rowed away and Kreacher was so thirsty and there was no water. Kreacher tried to drink from the lake, but…but they pulled him in.” He locked eyes with Regulus. “They-they pulled Kreacher into the lake.” Kreacher broke down in sobs once more.

Regulus’s vision went red with fury. He attempted to steady his voice as he pressed Kreacher for more information. “How did you escape?”

Kreacher regarded the young wizard. “Regulus told Kreacher to come back,” he said, matter-of-factly. “So Kreacher came back.”

“You were able to Apparate out of the cave?”

“No wizard would be able to. But for an elf, it was easy. You told Kreacher to come back when the Dark Lord was finished with him, so Kreacher did as he was told.”

Regulus stared incredulously. None of this made any sense. “Did the Dark Lord say anything to you, Kreacher? Anything at all? Did he tell you why you were there?”

“He told Kreacher that he was testing his defenses,” said Kreacher, “and when he left Kreacher on the island, he apologized.”

“He apologized?”

“He said, ‘I am sorry, dear elf, but I must sacrifice your life this day, so that I may live forever,’” Kreacher said in a perfect imitation of Voldemort’s voice. The hairs on the back of Regulus’s neck stood on end.

“So that I may live forever…”

But what had Voldemort meant? No magic could make someone live forever, no matter how powerful. And if such a power did exist, Regulus certainly had never heard of it. However, if it were possible, if Voldemort had somehow discovered such a power…Regulus’s stomach turned at the thought. If Voldemort could live forever, then they were all doomed. If he couldn’t die, he couldn’t be beaten. He thought of Sirius and his Order of the Phoenix. He thought of Des and the Muggles who had raised her. Of Broderick, the intelligent, understanding Muggleborn. And selfishly, he considered his own life. If Voldemort couldn’t die, none of them would ever be free.

---

The first day of classes after the winter holidays had hardly been remarkable. Regulus felt like a zombie, dragging through the hours, longing for sleep. But he couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t. Not until he knew what exactly Voldemort was up to, and how exactly to stop him. Since he had heard Kreacher’s tale, Regulus had spent every waking moment researching dark magic, hoping to uncover the secret. So far, he had found nothing. Besides the Philosopher’s Stone, which was apparently safely hidden somewhere with its creator Nicholas Flamel, there seemed to be no way to ensure immortality.

But what did the locket have to do with it? Regulus had asked himself this same question hundreds of times in the past weeks. When he closed his eyes at night, the scene of the lake that Kreacher had described haunted his dreams. Ultimately, these nightmares would force him awake in the early hours of morning, during which he would start his day’s research anew.

After he had finished his last class of the day, Regulus headed towards the library, determined to continue working. Pulling out several books from the restricted section, he set up camp at a table and began to read.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Regulus became vaguely aware of someone sliding into the seat next to him. When he looked up, he found Des staring at him, concerned. “You missed dinner,” she said.

“I did? Wow. Times flies.” Regulus turned his attention back to his book. In a flash, Des flicked her wand and the book slammed shut. “What was that for?” he exclaimed, frantically searching for his lost place. “I was reading that!”

“What’s going on, Regulus?” Des crossed her arms over her chest. “You look like you haven’t slept in a year! And now you’re avoiding us! Is this because of what happened before the holidays? Are you…have you gone back to him?” Regulus could sense hurt behind the tough façade she was presenting.

“No! No! Nothing like that at all! I haven’t gone back. It’s sort of the opposite, actually…And I missed you, Des. All of you,” he added. She looked relieved.

“Ok, so, you’re not back with the baddies. That’s good. But something’s bothering you?”

“It’s just…I…I can’t say right now.” He glanced furtively around the library. There were too many prying ears.

Des rolled her eyes. “You know, the fact that you’re acting like you don’t want to tell me just makes me want to know more.”

Regulus hesitated. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to work out a believable lie. Unfortunately for him, his companion was not easily fooled.

Des cocked her head to the side, analyzing him. “You’re really not going to talk, are you? Merlin, Reg, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you murdered someone.” She narrowed her eyes. “Wait, you didn’t…”

“No!” Regulus cried, forgetting he was in the library. He earned himself a few dirty looks from some of the more devoted students. A loud SHHHHHHH echoed from beyond the bookshelves, courtesy of Madame Pince. Regulus blushed. “No,” he whispered. “I didn’t kill anyone, Merlin, Des!”

“I’m sorry, but with all that’s going on in this bloody world right now, you never know.” she spread her hands defensively. “Ok, so, you didn’t kill anyone, and you haven’t gone back to…you know…so, what is it?”

“You just don’t give up, do you?”

“Not when my friend is in trouble.” Des shook her head defiantly. “And you, mate, are clearly in some kind of trouble.”

Regulus put his head in his hands. “I just can’t say! It’s too dangerous. I want to tell you, but I can’t!”

Des bit her lip, deep in thought. Her eyebrows scrunched together quizzically. “There’s a Hogsmeade trip this weekend,” she said, after a beat.

“Ok…?” Regulus replied, suspiciously. This seemed like an odd time to change the subject.

“I know the last time we all went to Hogsmeade was…hectic…but, I know a place where we can talk without any other prying ears. If you want to talk,” she cautiously suggested.

If Regulus was being completely honest with himself, this was not the type of trip to Hogsmeade he would have preferred to be taking with Des. But, he felt he could trust her. At least, partially. There was no way he could reveal everything he knew. It would be too dangerous for her, as she would likely want to get involved. No. This was definitely a journey Regulus had to undertake alone. Still, perhaps, Des would have valuable insights. “Alright,” he agreed. She smiled softly.

“Perfect. Meet me in the Great Hall for breakfast Saturday. We’ll go from there,” Des said, making her way to exit the library. “Oh, and Reg?” she called back to him. “Try and get some sleep. You look like a vampire with a hangover.” Regulus chuckled before returning to his studies.

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