#no one is allowed to die now for a minimum of five years please

[hylianengineer]

I need my family friends to stop dying please.

#just found out we lost one of my mom's very old friends #and her best friend died a year and a half ago #unfair #no one is allowed to die now for a minimum of five years please #I'm tired of being sad and more tired of watching my mom be sad #I'm okay we weren't super close but i will miss him #he was basically my adopted uncle. he was a jerk but he was our jerk. he argued constantly for attention. #i swear every time i saw him he told me i should have gone to the rival university that i hate and made fun of my school mascot #he gave me shit for being a vegetarian and called my lunch rabbit food #and oddly yes these are fond memories. because he was never doing it to be mean. i don't think he knew another way to interact. #i really did enjoy arguing with him. I'm gonna miss that. #death tw #vent post #hylian rambles #he always got my mom the rudest old age birthday card he could find. and my grandma too. of course my mom gave as good as she got.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples. 

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism 

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?” 

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.” 

His wife looked quite pleased with herself. 

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.” 

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.” 

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-” 

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.” 

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?” 

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?” 

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out. 

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live. 

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.” 

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.” 

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.” 

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because. 

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili. 

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction. 

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.” 

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...” 

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting. 

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.” 

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.” 

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child. 

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere. 

#hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #cult girl #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate

[cosmiclatte28]

7 Minutes in Heaven (Jaehyun x you) 🔞

Okay this is suggestive and not suitable for under 18 readers, so please continue only if you’re going to bear the consequences. No it’s not super smuty, it’s just not a good thing to copy :) 

Warning : don’t kiss random strangers, don’t drink, don’t smoke, wrap up or you’re skipping a nine month bloody day :”)... Jungwoo is your bestfriend, Shy!Jaehyun and you’re bold enough to try new things...

anyways this has been in my laptop for a while, wanted to post it on Halloween but didn’t finish it back then... soooo embrace yourself for a new journey of how it might be like to play 7 minutes in heaven with Jaehyun 

here goes my (suggestive) fanfic... hope this won’t make you cringe

________________________________________________________________

“So…you're saying the boys think I am a pure innocent girl?” You scoff and laugh upon the remark Jungwoo just said.

“Well they don't believe me when I said you're totally different outside campus.” The man with blue hair bashfully looks around the canteen.

You pick up your fork and continue poking in chicken chunks to your small mouth, “And why are you telling this exactly?”

Jungwoo deadpan looks at you and leans closer, “Why don't you proof them wrong? They've labeled you as the boring mechanical engineering girl!”

He slams the table a bit dramatically, to which you shudder.

“Easy… you'll break the table! Well sorry, but they're not totally wrong. I'm a regular mechanical engineering girl, boring, studying all the time, nerd, and just never coming to parties!” you give him a dry chuckle.

“Look this is not the true you! I've known you since high school! I know how crazy the boys were whenever you pass by! I'll be honest there were like 5 hot guys who had crush on you in high school, just that sorry I told them you're not allowed to date yet.” Jungwoo trails off and feels a bit guilty when he finally spills the beans he has been hiding.

Your eyes fly open and your mouth too, you drop your spoon and grunt, “Say that again… you cock-blocked me?!”

Jungwoo closes his eyes and inhales a deep breath, “I'm saving your future! I just don’t want them to you know use you and throw you away…”

You hit the spoon to the metal tray, and it made a good “BANG"

“Surprise surprise you told me this after like I don’t know five years maybe. You made the men who liked me back away before even trying to reach me out! Jungwoo all my life I thought I was the one with problem?! I thought no one likes nerds like me; when I myself believe I am a fun girl!” your rage bubbles up from within.

You feel like crying, all these times you thought you were imperfect, you were never a crush for men, you've dealt with your insecurities. You overcome dark times when you see your friends walking through the hallway, having the spotlight on them. You thought you can never be that just because you're an A-grade-student. You did have Jungwoo standing by your side through high school, and he's a good friend who you cannot see as a man.

Your friendship with Jungwoo is indeed a beneficial one, since both of you love science and calculations. You have a study friend and voila you both made it to you best engineering school!

Just as you thought campus life will be lit, since you can “reset" your image, be the fun student on weekend, and study well on weekdays.

But no. You’re overworked with the tasks and quizzes, and to ensure your scholarship is still there, you need a minimum of 3.0 in GPA and that means you’re saying goodbye to parties and hello to enough sleep.

You're mad now when you think of it. Jungwoo has been a cock-block since grade 10 and maybe until today when he finally realized what he had done.

You massage your temple and look in disgust at your unfinished food.

You push your chair back and stand up, “I am mad at you. I don't feel like eating. Good bye Jungwoo..”

“WAIT! i'm sorry I know I was a jerk… but please let me fix it… give me a chance..” he begs you

Your mind is set already, and you shake your head, “I can fix it by myself. So long” you wave and quickly run to the bathroom.

There you let out your emotion in one of the locked toilets and you pull yourself back when you figure a way out to proof them wrong.

You're not the typical book-worm boring mechanical student. You’re you and that will blow the house on fire tonight.

You wash your face in the sink and pamper up yourself from the messy state. You're a fan of make up and you've always had natural looks over your pretty face.

Quickly you draw back your mascara and eye liners, one smack of lip gloss and you're smiling all the way to your next class. Writing.

Johnny greets you in front of the lecture class, he tells you about the upcoming party Lucas will hold this Saturday and Johnny suggests you come and see what it feels like to have some relaxation and fun. He knows midterm has just ended and he is sure you don't have lies to excuse yourself from the invitation.

“Great guess I can make it. Need that fun nights you know. Any theme?”

“Oh, it'll be a costume party since it’s Halloween.” Johnny explains.

You smirk already having lots of ideas in your mind. “Okay see you there then!”

“Nice! Dress up nicely, it's a competition!”

You give him two thumbs up.

--

“Sooo what are you going to wear?” Jungwoo finally gets to talk to you after trying so hard to win your forgiveness.

“I am not going as your couple okay.. I’m going simple this time. I don't want to try too hard.” You smile remembering how you're always prepared for costume parties.

“Let me see, I’ve won Bonnie and Clyde costume… last year we showed up as marry Poppins. Now I just want to enjoy the party.” You plop into your bed and stretch. The party is tomorrow night and Jungwoo is staying over tonight because he needs to finish his costume.

“What? Tell me…” he asks while sticking his props to you don't really know what costume is he going with.

“see me tomorrow okay…”

Jungwoo rolls his eyes when he sees what you appear with tomorrow.

“Seriously?! You’re keeping it a secret. Just to come to the party dressed as a Ravenclaw student!”

You turn around to final check your appearance. Well coming as a Ravenclaw is what you want today.

Jungwoo is by your side ready in his F1 racer costume.

Everything as fun and cool you're having a blast when you see Jungwoo's frats brothers. One man caught your attention when he looks so cute in his Slytherin costume. Your eyes dilate when he flashes a smile to another person, but you caught the smile.

“Whew that is hot.” You whisper to yourself and keep your eyes on him. You never hear Jungwoo talking about him, but seeing him seated nicely between Doyoung and Taeyong, you knew he belongs in that frats. Doyoung and Taeyong are the boys from your music class and they're your best friend.

“hey (y/n)!! Come! We’re playing spin the bottle!” Johnny calls you over to join the table full of 23 men and several girls lounging over the empty seat.

You bring yourself to the seat next to Jungwoo and you're face to face with the cute slytherin boy.

You fix your skirt and calmly cross your legs while watching the man's reaction across you. He was caught watching you but when your eyes met, he quickly averts his gaze away and drinks his cup.

The game starts and you're drowned in alcohols. Well when they ask you stupid personal questions, you're shy to answer, you choose to drink.

Jungwoo keeps on telling you to stop, “Hey enough! You downed three shots .. too fast girl.” He holds your hand before you chug another shot.

Johnny sends a smug look, “Hey Jungwoo why don't you be her dark horse? If you think she drank too much, take a double shot.”

Jungwoo is not the best alcohol drinker and he needs to make sure you got home safe, before he can open his mouth a deep voice makes the whole room move their head to face him.

“I'll take her shots.” The Slytherin boy downs two cups like they were nothing and you catch his ears turning red.

“Thank you…” your voice trails off.

“It's Jaehyun,” he winks.

You pop your lips, “Yeah Jae, thanks!”

The room cheers and starts throwing cat calls to the two of you. You remain calm while deep inside your heart you're dying to squeal and bury your face. Jaehyun on the other side is also turning red, but his sweet smile is still there.

The bottle spins again and this time it points to Jaehyun and he chooses dare.

“Okay Okay this is gonna be fun!!” Mark claps his hands after him and Johnny whisper about the plan.

“Jae, you and the person across you go in that closet and do the 7 minutes in heaven thing… or drink” Johnny clicks his tongue. The room cheers and you can see it's you they meant ..

“Across me?” Jaehyun rubs his neck slowly, he somehow feels shy around you.

“Yeah (y/n)!” Doyoung punches his shoulder, “I'm doing it if I were you"

Taeyong claps his hands and pushes Jaehyun to stand up.

“Just do it!” someone else is also pushing you, it was Lucas.

You did not object and just shrug your shoulder.

Without further ado, you and Jaehyun are forced into the small closet.

They close the door and gosh you hear a click.

It’s dark inside, but somehow there’s a good air circulation at least you two won’t die out of breath.

You can’t really see him, but with the small lights penetrating through the space, you swear your heart is beating super fast. He looks ethereal.

“You good? Sorry they did this to you.” Jaehyun starts the conversation.

You let out a small chuckle, “No..it's fine. I'm okay… I’m not claustrophobic nor afraid of the dark.”

He laughs nervously, “Nice, me too.”

“Thanks for taking my shot earlier.” You try to break the thin air.

“No problem,” he fidgets with his fingers.

“So… are you gonna kiss me or we're keeping this safe?” you slap yourself for saying that out loud. Jaehyun swears he thank the darkness that his burning red face is hidden.

He chokes and coughs, you quickly apologize “Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you. Look, I thought you were the kind of guys who will just be straight forward and keep things casual.”

Jaehyun laughs, his laugh sounds sweet you almost melt.

“And I thought you're a shy quiet innocent girl.” He licks his lips. Well he's fast in reading the atmosphere and he knows if the time is right, he'll get that lips he has been eyeing since you entered the room.

You feel your cheek warming, “Ah.. yeah sorry Maybe you don’t see me interesting. I'm just the boring-"

“no. You're not. Girl you're not what people say.”Jaehyun cuts your sentence.

His hands cup your cheeks, “You're brave and oh I am the shyest boy here and I just like girls like you.” He blurts it out.

You feel your heart clench, really a handsome man like him who can win every girl's heart with one smile and wink… is a shy boy?

“You're telling me... you're a shy boy.. even when you can win the girls with one wink and a smile.”

He blushes, “Well… did I win your heart like that??”

You sigh, “Actually you won my heart with the Slytherin coat and you did toss me a smile. My heart somersault when you took my shots.”

He chuckles, “Can I make a confession?”

You nod, “Sure, what happens here stays here.”

He leans closer and whispers, “I've never kissed a girl before and you too look cute little Ravenclaw.”

Your eyes linger to his plump wet lips, you bite yours. Oh gosh you were also a virgin! You've never kissed anyone, but you're going to break that image, right? Tonight, Is the right time you guess.

“May I?” you ask. Fuck the stereotype girls can also start kisses.

Jaehyun did not reply anything instead he brings his hand to cup your face and with one hand in your chin he leans in to mold his lips into yours.

You feel electricity running in your body and your mind is full of stars. Your stomach is doing things and oh you regret not kissing him sooner. His lips indeed taste good and the way he holds your neck is enough to make you squirm.

You open your mouth and his tongue slips in. You're loud. You swear anyone could hear the two of you making out. But his soft touch and his slow head movement makes you crave more.

He almost pulls back thinking you don't want this, but you're faster. You push yourself to him more and run your fingers to his hair. You play with his hair according to how your body tingles by his kiss.

He pulls back to take a short breathing and you smile when the two of you just lean on the walls and take in as much air as you can. Jaehyun feels like crawling into a hole, he just had an intense first kiss with you, the girl he secretly put interest in for the last six months.

“Was I good?” he glances to you.

You smirk, “If this is what I’ll get every time we kiss, I’m addicted already.”

He scoots closer and in that small room, he manages to pull you up on his lap. You chuckle but follow his game.

“Can I taste that soft cherry again?” he whispers hoarsely, and you shudder. Hey, weren’t you going to show how not innocent you are but why are you so pliant and shy under this Shy Slytherin boy?

You peck his lips, “I'm afraid our seven minutes timer is up.”

He brings his hands to your waist, “No one is opening the door yet for us. Might as well seize the opportunity.”

You chuckle, “Good at bargaining huh?” and you lean in for another hot make out session.

“So… can we two be a thing?” he asks with his wet swollen lips.

You put your hands on his shoulder “I don't know. Can a Ravenclaw date a Slytherin?”

He laughs at your obsession of Harry Potter. “I don’t know. Should we test it?”

You bend your neck and hide it on his neck. Inhaling a quick whiff of his musk cologne.

“Well I don’t see anything wrong in trying..”

“I wish I could see your face now. Because right now.. my face is burning… “

“I can feel your heartbeat Honey,” you giggle as you plant your palm over his fast heartbeat.

“Slow down or you'll get a heart attack.” You rub his shoulder blades

“It's getting hot here or is it just me?” he fans his hand

You knock your hand to the door and yell, “Hey guys it's been more than seven minutes! We need air.”

You hear someone shuffle to the door and unlocks it.

You did not move from his lap, you wait til that person is out and when you hear no one else is in the room, you kick the door opens.

Lights come into your peripherals and you quickly close the big room's door.

Jaehyun tosses you a questioning look

You shrug your shoulder, “Happiness can be found even in the darkest place when one turns on the lights.”

“Such a fanatic here!” he picks you up and pushes you to the wall. You can see his starry eyes now under the lights and oh gosh they were so pretty.

You can see his deep dimple showing whenever he gives you a side smile and your hands find their way to cup his face.

Like casted by the love potion you bend your neck to kiss him. His lips is an addiction and you're blaming the alcohol for whatever happens afterward.

“I guess you're going home alone Woo,” Lucas said when he passed by the locked room and his face turns red upon hearing the sinful noises.

Jungwoo chugs down another drink, “Let her, she's big enough to take care of herself.”

“And why are you not bringing her to parties sooner? I thought she was the regular boring student.” Haechan was jealous of Jaehyun. Hell, he found you super intriguing too.

Jungwoo smirks, “Told you she’s not like the others.”

Lucas pats his shoulder, “And you're not the one getting laid. Be patient okay…”

Jungwoo laughs out loud, “Hell no, we're bestie since long time. I can’t see her as a woman. We’re good. Jae can have her.”

Jaehyun looks hot without his coat and after climbing down the high. The best one you two ever had. You were laying down on the big mattress staring to the ceiling and catching breaths with Jaehyun beside you.

“Do you think Jungwoo will hate me?” Jaehyun picks out a cigarette box he found in the closet earlier.

You shake your head, “He'll be happy I got laid finally.”

Jaehyun huffs a cloud of smoke, you ask him “you think the boys will think of me as less? Like maybe they see me as the same cheap sl-"

Jaehyun presses a finger over your lips “No. They don't and won't. They are not that type of men. They respect women's choices. In contrast, I’m sure if they hear our story, they’ll be jealous.”

A small smile comes to your lips, the naughty side of yours is awake. “Oh yeah? Then try it. Tell them about us and see if they're jealous.”

Jaehyun offers you the stick of cigarette, you're not a new smoker. Actually, you smoke sometimes to relax, you smoke a special herbal one… and this is one of it.

“Whaoh you're not a newbie?” he sounds surprised when you did not cough after taking the first smoke.

“I did sometimes the herbal ones.” You blow a cloud of smoke.

“Funny how we have a lot in common, but we just know one another tonight.”

You smile, “in seven minutes actually.”

He hugs you from the side, “Yeah the best seven minutes in heaven.”

*op hides in the corner* end 

how is it??? aaaa I guess it’s soo bad :”)

#jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun smut #jaehyun suggestive #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x oc #smut #jaehyun hot #nct smut #nct suggestive #nct imagines #nct oneshot #nct masterpost #nct jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic #nct jaehyun imagines #jaehyun oneshot #nct jaehyun smut #jaehyun fluff

[bxebxee]

What I have to say: This is really not what I typically write, but please allow me my self-indulgence. Also, I am rusty and unpracticed, but this made me happy to write. 

What this is: Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school. 

What this wants to be: Romance

What this warrants: Rated R for Rotten Relationships (and other things) 

You hold your sister’s new baby reverently. The baby is so small, and you’re scared that your bad morals would somehow seep into the skin through contact diffusion. 

“I feel like I’m already the irresponsible aunt,” you whisper, shooting your sister a terrified look. The baby isn’t even sleeping, but what if your bellowing voice would upset him. “Are you sure-” 

“Yes,” she says firmly, “You’ll be a good godparent. There’s literally nothing to do except spoil your nephew every now and again.” She pauses, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Unless we die. Then I guess you’d have to be more of a parental figure...” 

You and your brother-in-law interject at the same time in a cacophony of protest. 

“Okay, we are not dying,” he sighs as your octave increases by a half-step, “Please do not say that as I hold your offspring in my arms. I can’t feel them by the way. Seokjin, can you take him? I don’t want to drop him.” 

Seokjin takes the baby, and you feel bereft of warmth. It’s a weird feeling to note that considering your firm No Babies Policy. You miss the baby already. This is witchcraft. 

“It’s just a fucking hypothetical, relax,” your sister laughs, her eyes softening considerably as she sees Seokjin coo over his son. 

“If our baby’s first word is ‘fuck’ I am not taking responsibility,” Seokjin says mildly, eyes never leaving his baby. You don’t really blame him. 

“And you’re not blaming me either. I’ve been good,” you say. 

“Oh please, everyone curses younger these days anyway. I’d rather my son know than not know, you know?”  

“You’re pushing it,” Seokjin warns. 

“You’re such a dad,” she scoffs. 

“And you like it,” he counters. 

“Yeah,” she admits. “Yeah, I do.” 

You check your phone for the time, and it’s thirty minutes before the official start of the baby gathering. Time for you to leave. 

“Hey, it was good to see you guys. And the baby,” you tell them, hugging both lightly so as not to disturb the tenderness of the moment. Bear hugs were for a different day. “I have to head out, but I’ll come visit a lot, okay? I’ll even babysit. For free.” 

“Not staying for lunch?” your sister asks, looking very sad and disappointed, but you steel your heart. The two of you have inherited your mother’s knack of guilt-inducing looks, and you’re not about to fall for it. 

“Not today, no.” 

Seokjin nods, bidding you to take care. He knows why you want to leave before the crowd gets too heavy. 

Unfortunately for you, cosmic luck was not on your side because as soon as the front door shuts behind you, the elevator dings and Yoongi steps out, clad head to toe in celebrity black and holding five Burberry shopping bags. There’s no one around, so you don’t particularly feel the need to stand on the niceties of greetings and choose instead to brush past him in favor of the elevator. 

“And hello to you too.” he remarks sarcastically. 

“Go to hell,” you reply, wishing that you didn’t have to be in a close fucking hallway because you could smell his cologne. 

“Oh come on-” 

You press on the close door button rapidly, and the doors shut out Yoongi with a soft, muted click. 

Twelve hours later, you get a text from an unknown number. Coward is all it said. You stare at your phone screen in bed, seeing typing bubbles start and stop and start and stop. Mister Unknown Number finally settles on silence because nothing follows after the one-word epithet. 

It feels like a dare. 

--

Yoongi finally puts his phone down. You were too smart and too self-respecting to try this all over again with him, and he wants to kick himself for ever thinking that goading you would work when you were clearly over him-

His phone vibrates intensely and consistently. You’re calling him. 

“Hello,” Yoongi says, picking up the phone after just a single ring. Desperate, to be sure, but he wasn’t positive you’d wait for five rings anyway. 

“You changed your number again,” you say without preamble. 

“I’ve actually had this number for two years now,” Yoongi says. “Been getting hacked less and less. Guess you never saved the number.” 

“Why would I?” you ask, petulance peppering every syllable of your words. 

“Why didn’t you stay for the luncheon?” he asks instead of answering your question. 

“And sit in a room with you for a couple of hours pretending everything’s normal? No thanks,” you scoff. “And luncheon? Really?”

“You missed out on the shrimp toast.” 

“I think I’ll live.” 

“So why’d you call?” 

You could take the easy way out. Save your pride and your face, and pretend that you still don’t carry a torch for Yoongi. You could lie and say you just wanted to call and make sure it really was him. But you were always a glutton for pain, and he was all too happy to oblige to your needs. 

“You wanna come over?” you offer, not feeling an ounce of trepidation that he’d reject you. Yoongi always came when you asked. 

“Where do you live?” 

“It’s the same place as last time.” It’s a test. Let’s see if he even remembers my address-

“Be there in thirty.” 

--

He’s late by a few minutes, but Yoongi explains through interrupted kisses and hasty undressing that there was traffic, and he showered- 

“You could have showered here, you know,” you mutter, pawing at his dick and biting down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Yoongi always like a little pain.

“I’ll shower here after.” (After he fucked you at least twice, minimum. After he got to see you naked and temporarily his. After he was somewhat satisfied but much too sweaty for sleep.) 

And then it’s No Talking Time for a short while because he has your face occupied with inhaling scant oxygen against the mattress while his own head was buried between your asscheeks and legs, lapping and sucking at you like he had something to prove. Could this count as some form of asphyxiation? Probably. You don’t expect his mouth to make you feel close to losing control. The act had always unnerved you, but you found yourself uncaring of past discomforts and losing yourself into the feeling of soft, insistent lips. 

Yoongi eats you out with soft grunts, hands holding your thighs apart and firm. Don’t move, his hands say. His tongue up your cunt isn’t any sort of giving on Yoongi’s part; this was all selfish. He wants you to cum and feel starstruck and ruined, wants you to get it through your head that your flesh craved his flesh in the same animalistic way he needed you. 

You turn your head around just enough to be able to get out, “You can sto-” 

But he silences you with a warning slap on the ass. You are not to be deterred. 

“Stop with the tongue,” you order. 

“You’re insane,” he hisses, pulling away and shamelessly licking his lips. “You can’t ever just let me-” 

“Put it in now,” you demand. 

Yoongi lets out a terse sigh. “I should just leave right now,” he grumbles, getting up on his knees to rub his dick against you and nudges the head on your opening. “I shouldn’t be here.” He presses inside at “here” and wrenches a moan from your lips. 

“Then leave,” you sigh, pressing your ass back against him, relishing in the feeling of being filled again by Yoongi. “Just go home and jerk off instead. That’s what you’re good at, right? Leaving me?” 

“You’re a bitch for bringing that up during sex,” Yoongi says, fucking into you steadily and slowly, resisting the urge to pound into you like his baser instincts demanded. He was going to enjoy you for as long as he wanted. He knew you wanted it rough and bordering on violent, but he wasn’t going to add more ammo to your already large arsenal of Reasons To Hate Min Yoongi. 

Yoongi leans over completely, letting his torso lay flush against your back, unbothered by your sweat as it mixed with his own. You were going to feel every last inch of him inside and out. He pumps in and out slowly, sucking on your neck and breathing into your hair with audible moans of enjoyment. 

“I’m not leaving,” he groans, reaching over to rub your lower stomach gently, as if comforting you. The intimacy of this wasn’t lost on you, but you can’t find the words to tell him off. You missed his heat and the familiar weight. You are only human, after all. 

Yoongi threads his fingers through your unkempt hair, stroking gently before balling his fists into a pronounced grip. He turns your head to the side and kisses you, your neck straining from the awkward, uncomfortable position. But it reminds you of the beginning - of the before times when things were easier in the shadows of his success and unavailability. 

It’s impossible not to feel things when he fucks you this way, and kisses you, and moans soft nothings into your ear like you’re the only woman he’s ever done this with. You are atrocious at protecting your heart, and even after two years of icing him out, Yoongi barges into you like it’s nothing. 

“Don’t stop,” you moan, heart thumping against your chest. You really, really can’t stand to want him so much. 

“I won’t,” Yoongi reassures, kissing the corner of your eye. He doesn’t speed up, and instead chooses to test the limits of your patience with languorous but firm strokes. “Not until you tell me to.” 

There was nothing that compared to this - not heated fucks with attractive strangers, or money, or getting crossfaded by the Han River. When Yoongi did this to you, you almost felt like he loved you. 

--

Yoongi sleeps silently besides you in the sunlight, completely worn out after an emotionally exhausting round of sex that made him cry when he came inside you. He’s usually sensitive to the light, but he’s out cold and completely drained. You hadn’t expected that part - the crying. You thought it was just sweat until you heard rattling breaths and a hiccup. 

You watch him breathe silently from your place in his arms, unwilling to leave the small cocoon of warmth. You’re the opposite of him, and right now, you’re wired. You’ll probably end up crashing sometime later in the day, but for right now, you’re content to just watch him sleep in your bed, on your pillows, smelling like your body wash. 

You’re too old to be scared, and yet this moment fills you with dread; that once the spell of sex and yearning was broken, everything would tilt back to its regular axis, and you’d be all alone again. If you were younger, you might have up and left already. Leave him before he leaves you. And it’s not like you haven’t done that before. Your entire relationship with Yoongi is always filled with one person leaving behind the other one because nothing about the two of you ever lined up properly. 

But this time, you’re too tired to run away. So you close your eyes and pretend to sleep until it finally comes to claim you. 

#bxebxee comeback season #lol jk #drafts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yes its vague #yes it can be about anyone #but i just have a lot of thoughts and feelings and maybe i'll have another part

[whumpersdump]

Project Rebirth - CH4: Final Touches

Content! From Whumper’s POV. (They’ll get a title soon btw, I just haven’t decided on a name yet).

[ Previous ] -- [ Masterlist ]

TW: (None of these are graphic) Restraints / blink-and-you-miss it use of  “it” as a pronoun / dehuminization / non-con surgery (non-graphic, whumpee isn’t awake) / lab whump / pet whump / sedation / sensory deprivation (not from Whumpee’s POV) / brain-fiddling? (he talks of an implant that restricts basically everything from speaking to moving. It’s mentioned, not shown)

Everything is set for the first practical stage of Project Rebirth to begin. All that is need is some final surgical attention, and a last talk to Whumper’s new investors. Also no editing we die like Toby’s previous owner...

Whumper sat next to Subject One, like he had every moment of spare time in the past five days. The last two, they barely twitched a muscle. Of course this was in part because of the starvation, but it was nice to have achieved nonetheless. Even if would wear of. Their body may be still, but the occasional twitch, hitch of a breath, told him their mind was racing.

He already picked out a name for them. Their masterpiece, even if it would take nine months before he would see their frantic eyes again. Everything was prepared. Their nursery—which was a rather misleading name, but it fit the process, and the marketing—was almost done, the housing facility would be complete in three months.

Subject One was the only one who really needed to be in the container for the sake of the time that it would give Whumper, but the aspect fit the aesthetic his investors expected. It would be what kept the program running for decades to come.

Subject One shuddered. They’d gotten the message. He’d chosen one of his newly acquired sponsors to deliver it through the earpieces. Not because it needed to be. He could just as easily move, then sedate the subject. Make the chaos in their mind spike just before they’d awake in ominous calm. Comforting calm, though it would take a while for the subject to feel about in that way. They had nine months, it would be enough.

The sponsors needed to feel special anyway. Some of them could make perfect pets, the way they seemed to crave special attention. He could try it someday. With this Project, even they could be reborn.

He nodded at Toby. “Bring them to the surgeon. It’s time for stage 3.”

Toby exited the corner he’d been standing in for the past day. It was a test, to see how obedient he really was. So far, Whumper had been pleased. Sure, seeing pets shiver at the thought of accidentally moving a muscle without permission could be rewarding, but it didn’t bring the type of productivity he needed. Toby’s compliant personality, in combination with Whumper’s training, did.

Toby reached for the subject’s shoulder like he always did.

“Not anymore, Toby,” Whumper commanded. “No more touching of any kind. You can move them, tube and all.”

Toby obeyed. With precision, he took the hand truck out of place and rolled it over to the doors that opened to the medical wing. Subject One would feel this, but it wasn’t enough to skew the results. If anything, it could amplify the result he was looking for.

He followed behind Toby, but entered the door to the watching room instead of the OR like Toby did. That’s where his funding was waiting. He hated having to care about it, but money was simply necessary for him to scale up the Project. “Thank you for coming back,” he told the seven investors waiting for him. “As I’ve said before, most of the program is completely tailored to your pet and the pet you wish they become. That means, no program looks or feels the same. This part though, they all have in common.”

He guided their gazes down to the OR—where the surgeon had sedated the subject—and begun the procedure. Toby watched from his corner, as Whumper had told him to. This would be the only time he was allowed this close to a subject before Rebirth, so Whumper made sure he knew as much as possible. The pet didn’t lie. He used to, but his previous owner trained it out of him.

If he were to fulfill any purpose at all in the future, he would have to learn to. Knowing about the stages before meeting the Reborn subjects was a good way to teach them. After all, he’d be the one to truly push the subject’s minds over the edge.

The investors patiently waited for Whumper to explain what was happening. “The implant all subjects receive is what makes this project so realistic. Like a newborn child, they have to learn everything. Eating, speaking, resisting, if you want them to. All in an effort to recreate them into the pet they were always meant to be. Now of course, some of them have skills we do want them to keep. Take Toby down there, he’s a master on the piano. For each pet, the implant’s functions can be customized.”

One of the investors raised her hand. “What are your plans for this one then?” she asked. “Does it have anything worth keeping?”

Whumper smiled. “In a less dire situation, we might have chosen to keep certain parts of them, but as you’ve noticed this is not the average pet we’re talking about. They will be reborn a blank slate. The only thing any pets are allowed to keep is their understanding of language—so they can obey commands, and their ability form minimal amounts of coherent thought and memory. We’ve found that this process works best if to some extent, the pets are aware of the changes. A risk, I know, especially with this one, but it will prove efficient.”

He straightened his tie. “This one in particular has quite the mouth, and they tend to use a bit too much of what they hear against their trainers. For that reason, we’ve limited their access to their vocabulary a bit more than usual. They’ll be able to understand simple sentences, but we won’t have to worry about their natural perceptiveness.”

“What’s he doing to their eyes?” a second investor asked.

Whumper’s heart fluttered. He’d hoped they’d ask. “Those, are highly sophisticated remote-controlled lenses.” They weren’t necessary, they function was mostly aesthetical from the subject’s perspective. They helped make it all a bit more realistic on both sides, though.

“They don’t have to be removed, ever. Which is why we’re putting them in so early. They control the subject’s ability to see color, and light. Like them implant, we can control them from behind the scenes. They aren’t vital, but they smooth out the transition from the Rebirth into the following stages of the program.”

He glanced down into the OR, where the surgeon was finishing up, and the other staff had begun to prepare the subject for stage 4’s container. “I’m afraid that I can’t show you anymore at this point, so my staff can take on this challenge with as little distraction as possible. However I’m happy to answer as many of your questions as I can.”

Several hands shot up. Whumper smiled.

“What are they doing?” Was the first question.

Whumper gazed down. Four people were removing the restraints and the jacket, and outfitted the subject in the thin white suit that would help keep them healthy and alive throughout the following stage.

They connected the dozens of tubes and wires that would take care of everything they couldn’t handle from outside the container, as he called it. “I’m afraid this is another one of those trade secrets, but what I can tell you is that in spite of how it looks, this will make the pre-Birth stage as realistic as it can be.”

“What about these nurseries that your people kept going on about. I’m sure they’re important, but it all sounds a bit too… human for my taste. I prefer my pets are used to the necessary restraints and housing conditions, so to speak.”

Whumper nodded. He wasn’t surprised to hear this investor thought his standard approach too kind. She’d demanded her pets were kept muzzled and bound at the facility’s daycare, even though they were among the most compliant creatures he’d ever seen.

“As I said,” he answered. “Everything can be customized. This subject I believe, will gain more from approach that teaches them that as a placeable pet, they will be cared for as long they don’t resist. Should you trust us with your pets though, if we decide after the evaluation that another approach may achieve the desired results more efficiently, we’re prepared. We have nurseries of all kinds, and our staff is prepared to fulfill any role they need to play.”

That seemed to please them. Whumper turned to the last question.

“How long does this program take?”

“We have multiple options. The standard program Subject One will go through can take up to sixteen years starting at the Rebirth, with a minimum time of three years. Now of course, that is a long time for a pet to be away. We have two accelerated programs that last either a few months, or even just a few weeks. You’re free to choose, but after the evaluation we will provide you with a suggestion. Not all pets need the full experience. Especially if they’re not old enough to be placed, a longer program can harm the natural development.”

A frown formed on a few faces.

“I can see you’re worried about the results I’ve promised you. You won’t have to wait long. The program may be an intense procedure, but the results will start to show after just a few weeks. The rest of the Project is about making them last, so these—” He dangled the subject’s bright red collar in front of them— “will soon be no more than a reminder of what I’ve solved.”

Whumper clasped his hands. The subject was moved out of the OR, into the container hall. “I must go now. My assistant will be up shortly to escort you out. I should mention Toby’s not allowed to be too talkative around strangers, but he’s still learning. If he breaks any rules, please contact me. He doesn’t respond well to strangers punishing him, he’s a bit too loyal for that.”

Taglist (asks are open if you wanna be added or removed): @suspicious-whumping-egg

#whump #pet whump #non-con surgery tw #lab whump #Project Rebirth #Toby is next up #After that the 'creepy whumper' aspect is really going to start rolling #Also I should mention that 'pets' aren't just used as pets in this universe #Toby for example is a genuine lab assistant. Whumper doesn't care about pet beds and the like #There is a power dynamic and he longs to keep it in place. Period. #Doesn't mean he won't play the part though

[metataxy]

Darth Maul post Order 66 fanfic, #17

After Order 66, Darth Maul accidentally acquires a child.  Spoiler alert, it’s Seventh Sister.

This isn’t going on AO3 until I finish and edit the shit out of it, but you can read what I’ve done so far here:

Maul 1, Maul 2, Dathomir 1, Maul 3, Dathomir 2, Maul 4, Dathomir 3 , Dathomir 4, Maul 5, Maul 6, Maul 7, Metane 1, Maul 8, Maul 9, Maul 10, Maul 11, Lothal 1, Seventh as a Nightsister

This is set after Maul 11.  

Warnings for this segment: MORE fighting between Maul and Ventress, amputation, people die.

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

<i>The Seeker</i> emerged from hyperspace a mere klic from a Venator.

Metane, propped atop the copilot’s chair, nearly dropped the blaster she’d been reassembling as a message came out of the staticky comm.

“Unidentified spacecraft, this is Imperial Star Destroyer <i>Peacemaker</i>.  Please state your vessel’s name and clearance codes.”

Maul blinked, thought fast, and prepared to lie as well as he ever had in this particular situation.  

“<i>Peacemaker</i>,” he affected a mid-Rim accent, softening his consonants, “this is Zeke Menuel of the trade vessel <i>Centennial</i>.  We’ve been on the Far Rim past few months.  We were raided by pirates and took some damage.” He tweaked the dial on the receptor—not enough to lose radio signal, but enough to introduce some static to his transmission.  “We need to set down, make repairs, maybe get some supplies.”

“Rough luck,” the officer sympathized, but Maul heard some murmuring in the background.  No doubt a supervisor providing instructions.  How unhelpful.  “<i>Centennial</i>” the communications officer repeated, more assertive now, “Identify your port of call?”

“Black Spire Outpost on Batuu,” Maul offered easily.  <i>Centennial</i> was a real vessel, one of several whose specs and records Maul had memorized in the two years since he’d regained his sanity.  The real <i>Centennial</i> belonged to a respectable trader in the Outer Rim who dealt mostly in exotics sourced from pre-industrial worlds in the Far Rim and Unknown Regions.  It wasn’t unlikely that the real Captain Menuel wouldn’t know about the regime change, given that his previous trade missions tended to last a year minimum.

More murmuring in the background.  Maul caught a few words—“ask him”—and scowled at the tedium.  Was he suffering this scrutiny because of a <i>training exercise</i>?

“<i>Centennial</i>, please state how many persons are aboard your vessel.”

“Just myself and my copilot,” he told them, glancing down at Metane.

A moment.  The Venator drifted closer.  “<i>Centennial</i>, our scans indicate another lifeform aboard your ship.”

He’d forgotten the trooper.

“Live cargo,” he demurred.  “An interesting zoological specimen I’m hoping to sell in the Core.”

Were the hangar bay doors opening on the underside of the Venator?  It was impossible to tell from this angle.

A flare of the magnetic field on his console screen was all the warning he had.  He juked the ship upwards, out of range of the tractor beam.

“<i>Unknown ship</i>,” came a familiar voice over the comm.  A clone.  “Imperial records indicate the <i>Centennial</i> was apprehended five days ago and its captain held for questioning.  This is your final chance to identify yourself.  Compliance will allow us greater leniency—”

Maul juked the ship out of the way of an ion beam that would have fried their circuits.  Somewhere in the ship, something clanged loose.  Metane gripped the armrests.  A flight of headhunters sped out from the ship like a cloud of hornets.  He hit the shields and, for not the first time, cursed the size of the Seeker.  A laser aimed to disable deflected off the rear shield as he made a run for the planet and the whole ship shook, the lights flickering widely.

He concentrated on the field outside.  He didn’t have strong enough premonitions to outfly most Jedi, but he could outfly most any non-Sensitives, even at these numbers, as long as he focused on the task at hand.  He wove and darted even as the faster snubfighters gained on them.  He pressed harder on the accelerator, even when his foot had it tight to the floor, as though he could Force the ship faster through sheer will.

“—we will presume guilt and open fire—”

The hit came, but not from where he’d expected.  

A blaster bolt took him in the shoulder.  He reeled back in his seat, the pilot’s yoke twisting with him.  A second laser hit the ship, sent it spinning so fast the gravity couldn’t hardly keep up, and that was the only reason the next bolts missed him.  Instead, they slammed into the console.  

For a moment, he didn’t know what had happened.  Then—

“JEDI!  THERE’S JEDI ON THIS SHIP, THEY KILLED EVERYONE, HELP—”

A surge of <i>agony</i> and <i>disbelief</i>.  Then, a blaster bolt in the cabin, and the trooper went quiet, just before they impacted a satellite too large for the shields to deflect.  The lights flickered, the hull screamed but held, and the blinding light as they burned through atmosphere lit up the cabin.  

The trooper lay prone against the wall, eye smoking.  His apprentice, shaking, dropped her gun.

“Crash restraints,” he ordered, hitting buttons, trying to bring some shields online.  The frontside shield was still active.  He pulled harder, harder, on the unresponsive yoke and finally closed his eyes and felt for the steering system and <i>pulled</i> it into alignment and barely soon enough.  The ship crashed front-first into a hill and the whole front hull finally buckled down and he blacked out of all of a second.

He opened his eyes to the red glow of the emergency lights and the smell of smoke.  He <i>felt</i> for the girl wildly.

She was fine.  She was fine and unbuckling her restraints and climbing over the back of her seat.  He unbuckled his restraints with hands trembling with adrenaline and tried to get up and couldn’t move, and why couldn’t he move?  

He couldn’t think why.  Black spots filled his vision.  Why couldn’t he think… 

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

Aboard the <i>Peacemaker</i>, the shiny natborn did his best to look unperturbed as the staticky transmission came through.  

“… THERE… SHIP!  … KILLED EVERYONE…!...”

More sounds of blasterfire, and then the transmission cut out.  The natborn’s white skin paled further.  “Pirates, sir?” the man asked him, swallowing.

Attachment, clone communications officer of the 234th Battalion and reluctant trainer to the shinies who’d been sent to replace brothers killed in the Jedi uprising, nodded.  “More than likely.  The brothers on the bridge will snag it with the tractor beam before it gets loose.”

They watched on screen as the cruiser clumsily dodged the tractor beams.

Attachment took out his holocomm and texted a message to his batchmate on the bridge.

<i> Vod, you drunk or something, a CADET could catch this ship </i>

The ship put on an impressive burst of speed, then careened out of control, hitting a few civilian vessels on the way down.  The explosion lit up the screens.

A moment later, his comm beeped.

<i> A cadet is better than these fucking shiny natborns.  </i>

And wasn’t that the truth, Attachment thought.  His comm officers weren’t bad, but they took forever to learn even the basics.  He supposed it was a necessary cost-cutting measure, since you could get requisition 20 natborns for the price of a vod.  If it had been up to him though, he’d have chosen quality over quantity.  

A second message.  <i> Not getting any readings from the surface.  Ground security and the planetary defence forces will check for survivors, but doesn’t seem likely.</i>

And that was the result of replacing professional soldiers with natborn civilians.  Three shiploads of innocent civilians and any hostages on the pirated vessel, all dead now.  He almost hoped they decommissioned whatever useless shinies on the bridge had fucked this up.  They weren’t his problem though.  He turned back to his own natborns.

“Now, at what point should Officer Kol here have realized something was wrong…?”

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

He started awake at the jab of something sharp.  He thrust out reflexively with fists and the Force.  An autoinjector slammed against the far wall and shattered.  His apprentice dodged his physical blows but the Force wave flung her aside, along with anything else in a two metre radius that hadn’t been secured. She <i>shrieked</i>, shoving her irritation down their bond, and Maul snarled at her return.  Sidious would have beat him for taking such liberties with their connection.

He wasn’t Sidious.

His heart raced and his thigh stung from the jab of the epi autoinjector, and the bruised little girl now glaring from across the cabin had just delivered on so many of his expectations.  

He glanced down at the bar of steel protruding from his upper chest and tore it free.  The bacta the girl had smeared around it itched as it tried to knit the wound.

The alarms in the ship blared louder.  He smelt fuel and burning plastic.  He didn’t need the Force to tell him of the danger.  If the fire caught the leaking fuel-lines, the whole ship would go up in fire.  He rushed to get up but didn’t.

The front console had caved in, pinning his legs.

No.  

He tried to move them, to twitch them just a little.  They didn’t even respond.  He reached out with the Force and his fury and shifted the console.  It buckled outwards, exposing the ruin of his prosthetics, unresponsive and broken beyond any use.  He breathed in his fury and desperation and tasted the acrid scent of Metane’s fear; turned, and saw her still there, staring at him in horror.

“Get OUT,” he snapped, flooding their open link with a fear channeled from the last moments of a hundred of his victims.  To his rage and pride, she held out long enough to throw him an absolutely disgusted look before bolting from the cabin.  

Good.  His apprentice could indulge rescuing him (or who or whatever else she wanted) if she survived to be canny or strong enough to overcome his attempts to dissuade her.  He threw the medkit over his shoulder and looked at his legs.

The limbs Mother Talzin had gifted him felt and functioned like extensions of his own body.  Their sensitivity to pressure and simulated sensation baffled the most advanced engineers.  For all that, they lacked certain features basic to mundane prosthetics, like a simple means of detachment.  Talzin, in her infinite wisdom, had somehow managed to graft the steel right into the stubs of his femurs.

Which meant there was only one way the damned things were coming off.

He tugged his saber loose from his belt and ignited it, hesitated, cursed Kenobi for his hesitation.  

He swung down midthigh.  

It burned just as badly as it had the first time, with his real limbs, when Kenobi had cut him. Curse him.  His vision blacked from the pain, before he channeled that energy into his flesh.  He stowed the lightsaber in his belt and clambered awkwardly from the chair on his hands and the stumps of his legs.

The Force blared in warning.  Smoke filtered up into the cabin.

Coughing on the fumes, he shuffled on his knuckles like an ape towards the side of the cabin and carved a hole through it with his lightsaber.  He knocked the side out with the Force, and abruptly, the fires came racing up behind him.

He leapt through the open hatch.

The ship exploded.

He shielded himself against the shrapnel and the fire and hit the ground rolling.  He tumbled down the burning slope of the hill.  He tried to pull himself up onto his knuckles and faltered. It hurt to breathe.

Sight darkening, he felt for his chest.

The bacta hadn’t completely closed the wound from the front.  It had to be worse from the back, where Metane wouldn’t have reached his shoulders flush to the pilot’s chair.  

He couldn’t feel his fingers.

He raged.  He could not die now.  Not here, in this backwater, at the guns of some faceless Imperial shooter.  Not when he had survived Kenobi and Lotho Minor, had survived Sidious again and again and again.  He would not die this way.  He would not.

But his vision darkened, darkened, until the last light left to him was the ungentle glow of Metane, burning with a rage that equalled his own.

And then, he saw and felt nothing at all.

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

Notes: 

1. Oh my goodness, I wrote the scene with Maul getting shot down MONTHS ago and it’s only now that I managed to write up to the point where the scene would make sense.  AND WE’RE FINALLY AT LOTHAL.  THANK GOD.

2. Thanks to all of you who have liked these crazy posts and left comments on a story that’s still very rough and incomplete <3  You’re the best.  

#darth maul #seventh sister #clone troopers #post order 66

[janeofcakes]

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 7

Happy Friday, my friends! I'm so sorry for making you all wait so long. It has been a busy week with lots of travel and time with the kids. Parts of me are SO sunburned. Haha! I hope all of you are having as much fun.

This chapter is shorter than some of the others, but it's a good one and I think you'll agree that it moves things in a positive direction. Let me know what you think at the end!

---

The fresh produce aisle at Tesco is far too busy for three o’clock on a Thursday afternoon. John Watson inches his way in between two older women to grab some apples with a minimum of dirty looks. Once he extracts himself again, he glances down the way and debates on how he’s going to get his hands on some oranges. After a moment of seriously considering bananas instead, a hole clears out in front of the display and he hurries to it. John just slips in before a woman speaking loudly on her mobile can take the spot and she glares at him all the while until John has his bag of oranges. He knows her type - can’t be bothered to wait for anyone else or show any consideration - so he makes sure to take his time and gives her a false friendly grin as he turns to walk away.

John heads to dairy and the refrigerated sections for milk, cheese, yogurt and eggs. He takes a jaunt through frozen foods and catches the bread before starting down the coffee and tea aisle. Plucking two of his favorite kinds of tea off the shelf, he makes his way to the coffee. How he and Gracie managed to run out of so many things at once, he has no idea.

The coffee section is as ridiculously full as fruit and veg was, so John waits off to the side a minute or two until it clears out. His eyes are scanning the shelves for his brand when the corner of a basket pokes him in the side. When he turns his head, he is greeted by the face of the loud woman from before. John can’t stop the frown on his face and she must remember him too because she gives him a sour expression before turning her back on him. John turns back to the coffee and tries to tune out her noisy complaints to the poor bastard on the line.

John just has the coffee he wants in his hand when a basket shoves up against his back again. The woman’s shrill voice still in his ear, John rounds on her with every intention of putting her in her place. He has dealt with more than his fair share of pompous idiots over the years and will not put up with it in bloody Tesco.

“Do you mind?” John demands, every inch of him exuding Captain Watson, but he stops before saying anything more. The rude woman is a good six feet away and heading up the aisle, nearly shouting into her mobile. It couldn’t have been she who bumped into him. To John’s surprise, directly in front of him and holding the offending basket is Greg Lestrade. John blinks once, a movement mirrored on Greg’s face as they stare with slackened jaws.

“John? John Watson?” a grin blooms on Greg’s face in an instant. He moves his basket aside and offers his hand, which John shakes without hesitation. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hello, Greg,” John greets warmly. “It’s good to see you. It’s been a long time.”

“It’s been bloody years,” Greg exclaims as he shifts right to let a shopper pass by. “How have you been?”

“Well, bit of a rough start, but good. Very good,” John tells him, angling left for a passerby.

“Glad to hear it,” Greg remarks with a nod.

“What about you?” John asks before Greg has the chance to continue. “I heard you got a promotion, Chief Detective Inspector.”

“I did at that,” Greg laughs good-naturedly. “I don’t get out into the field quite as much. Paperwork’s a bitch, but it gives me time to take a day off for shopping. It’s good for my DIs to muddle through on their own every once in a while.”

Greg pauses a moment to let a woman with a pram pass and John mirrors his motions. The aisle seems twice as full as when John set foot in it.

“And you?” Greg asks when they have a bit of room again. “You’re back for good?”

“I am,” John puffs up his chest, genuinely pleased. He had wanted to move back to London as soon as Mary left. “Sort of inherited a practice from an old friend, so here we are. My little girl and I. Gracie. She’s eight now.”

“Fantastic. You’ve settled in and all? Been here a little while then?” 

Before John can answer Greg, an irritable man pushes past them and they both find themselves a little off balance and cursing.

“Bloody hell,” John says loudly as the bloke hurries on. When he turns back to Greg, the CDI is holding his basket in the space between them to allow more room for people to pass.

“Look, you’re almost finished, yeah?” Greg begins and John nods once. “So am I. No perishables and you can run yours home. We’ll meet for coffee in an hour. D’you know the Division Cafe?”

“I do,” John replies, relieved for the good fortune of Greg’s picking a place he is familiar with. “Sounds great. I’d like to catch up, but what the hell are you going to do for an hour while I drop this lot?”

“Take a leisurely walk to the cafe,” Greg chuckles as they start for the front of the store to cash out. “It’ll give me a chance to check in on the office.”

“Oh no, don’t do that,” John jokes. “No need to spoil your day off. I don’t want to be responsible for that. How will I sleep tonight?”

“All right then,” Greg tells him wryly. “I’ll just tag along with you. We’ll have plenty of time to get back up to speed before we even get there.”

“If you insist,” John is delighted by the suggestion. He has truly missed the CDI over the last ten years and often considered phoning to talk, but never did follow through. Now with Greg in front of him and plenty of time on his hands since Candace is scheduled to watch Gracie after school, he is loath to refuse his friend anything.

“I do insist,” Greg laughs as he places items on the conveyor belt for checkout, “and I’m buying.”

John grins and shrugs.

“Who am I to refuse?”

The next hour passes quickly as they catch a cab to John’s flat and make their way to the cafe. Not a moment is spent in silence. John tells Greg all about Gracie and their flat in Bath. He touches on Mary and Rosie, but quickly jumps ahead to the move back to London. For his part, Greg fills John in on his biggest cases over the years with an emphasis on those that brought about his promotion. By the time they reach Division and sit down with coffees, Greg has just gotten to the cohabitant Sherlock had mentioned in the park. John has the sneaking suspicion that Greg wanted to wait until he was sitting down before mentioning it, so it should be pretty good.

“I heard you were with someone,” John sips from his mug. “Anyone I know from the old days?”

“Uh, yeah,” Greg answers, running his hand up the back of his own neck and wearing a sheepish smile. “Mycroft Holmes.”

“What?” John’s eyes are wide. His lips remain parted in disbelief as the right corner of his mouth quirks up in a half smirk. Greg shrugs in affirmation. “Now that I did not expect.”

“Five years now. Actually,” Greg hesitates and John can tell he is trying to contain a really brilliant smile, “I asked him to marry me only last Sunday.”

“Oh my god. Congratulations,” John declares. “Greg, that’s fantastic news! Tell me, has he mellowed over the years?”

“He has, actually,” Greg answers, reigning in his laughter. He bites the inside of his cheek and looks John over with trepidation in his eyes. His friend eyes him quizzically from behind his mug. Decision made, the CDI picks up his own cup and brings it to his mouth as he says: “Being a doting uncle helps too.”

John swallows and places his coffee cup on the table between them. His brows arch briefly before falling again.

“It’s hard to imagine,” John says ruefully, not meeting Greg’s knowing gaze.

“No more than his baby brother having a child,” he remarks easily, watching John closely. The doctor shoots him a sharp look and chuckles under his breath as he leans back in his seat. With a sardonic smile, John looks down at where his hands rest on the table with his fingers wrapped around the mug of dark liquid.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” John mutters. He raises his eyes to his friend’s face to see Greg’s lips turned up on one side in a crooked and very amused smirk. John doesn’t say a word, giving him ample time to explain.

“Is it?” is all Greg says, his smirk growing more satisfied. John huffs a quick laugh and shakes his head slightly. Straightening up in his seat and leaning his elbows on the table, John fixes Greg with an incredulous face.

“Come on,” he begins and is unable to keep the touch of a plea from his tone. “You can’t say something like that and not fill in the blanks.”

“What? He didn’t tell you?” Greg replies coyly, turning his cup on the table and picking it up by the handle.

“You damn well know he didn’t,” John huffs again. “We ran into each other at the bloody park after ten years of not speaking.”

“Yeah? And whose fault is that?” Greg mutters grimly. 

John stills instantly, lips parted with words that die on his tongue. Greg doesn’t look angry exactly, but he certainly isn’t pleased. Of all the people John expected to hold onto any animosity toward him, Greg Lestrade wasn’t even on the list.

John takes a shaky breath and closes his mouth. How can he even explain? It doesn’t even make sense in his own mind anymore. He swallows audibly, the very beginnings of sweat blooming at his temples. Greg is asking him to do what Sherlock could have in the park. What he still could, but probably never will. Not the Sherlock John knows.

“Mary was done,” John’s voice is choked and quiet. “With London and the surgery, but most of all with Sherlock. Revealing her secrets to me was the last nail in the coffin.”

“Funny you should say that,” Greg leans forward, his eyes ablaze and his voice low. “She shot him, John. She killed him. Stubborn bastard brought himself back from the dead and for what? His best friend to run off with his killer.”

“She was my wife,” John croaks barely above a whisper. “She was carrying my child.”

“You were married for all of two months,” Greg’s brown eyes are hard and bore into John’s very being like a hot poker. “She was a liar from the beginning.”

Greg clenches his teeth as if to stop himself from saying something and John has no doubt the words would cut him to the core. The muscles beneath the skin stretched across Greg’s jaw work constantly as he struggles to keep his cool in the crowded cafe. He sits back ever so slightly, pulling his elbows closer to the edge of the table, his intense gaze pinning John to his seat.

“When she left you,” Greg growls, trying to keep his voice even, “you could’ve called him. Hell, you could’ve done it before that. You knew where he was. You knew his number. He had no idea where you were and it nearly destroyed him.”

Silence hangs heavily in the air between them, even with the noise of the milk steamer and patrons all around. As much as John wants to look away in shame, he cannot break away from his friend’s furious glare. The source of Greg’s ire is suddenly crystal clear. Sherlock may have refused to hear Mycroft’s news of John’s life over the years, but Greg obviously hadn’t and it fueled his anger as time went on. John clears his throat, wincing at the sting of its sudden dryness.

“He started using again?” John’s heart sinks to his feet as he asks it. He had hoped against hope that Sherlock wouldn’t fall into oblivion without him. Greg lets out a mirthless laugh.

“No, he didn’t bloody use,” the words are a sneer and his lips curl. “But he was miserable. He disappeared into the flat for months and looked like hell when he resurfaced. He worked cases, but he was on auto-pilot until he met Jessie.”

“Jessie?” John asks, desperately curious. This, this is what he wants most to know. Olive’s mother. Sherlock’s wife? Where is she? Who is she? How did they meet? John has a thousand questions and now he knows for certain that Greg holds all of the answers. John need only ask, or so he thinks.

“No,” the CDI shakes his head and leans all the way back in his chair. He chews on his lip and puffs out an angry breath. “If you want to know, you’ll have to ask him. I’ll be damned if I give you an easy out.”

“You’re right,” John breathes out his shame in a sigh. “Anything I want to know should come from him.”

He raises his troubled eyes to Greg’s face and sees some of the anger on it has dissipated in favor of irritated approval. John straightens his spine and scrubs his hands through his short, silver-blonde hair. Pressing his lips in on each other, he inhales deeply and shakes his head. 

“God, how I failed him, Greg,” John murmurs. Words he has thought often and never actually uttered. “I was so tired and felt betrayed and he kept saying I should stay with Mary. That I should forgive her because she’d actually saved his life by shooting him. It’s such bullshit.”

“He wanted you to keep her close for Rosie’s sake,” Greg tells him. His eyes are softer than they have been since they walked in the coffee shop. “And for yours. He knew you would never live in 221B again, but you and Rosie were worth it. I don’t think he realized Mary would convince you to leave.”

“Her final revenge,” John mutters angrily as Greg sighs.

“Just...don’t make the same mistakes twice, John. Don’t shut him out,” Greg advises sagely, finally raising his coffee cup to his lips again and taking a quick sip. “Olive says she and Gracie want to have a playdate at the flat, but you’re holding them up.”

John watches Greg uneasily. Memories of 221B start skipping through his mind and with them, feelings he has left buried for ten years. John shakes them away and wraps his hands around his own mug.

“I don’t know if I can go back there,” John says.

“It won’t be easy,” Greg tells him, placing his cup on the table. He leans in and fixes John with a very serious gaze. “Stop running, John.”

With those three words, John’s mind clears. The simplicity of it is stunning and utterly heartbreaking. How many years would he and Sherlock have been friends again if John had just faced his fears, accepted responsibility for his mistakes and reached out to the detective? What the hell had happened to him and when had he let go of Captain Watson? John had lost half of himself all these years and never seemed to take notice. Sure, he had thought that Sherlock didn’t care anymore, even after Rosie died, but when had the man’s moods ever stopped him from horning in before? He punched him in the face as a cover, fucking wrestled him to the ground because he was angry with the git. He tried to comfort Sherlock when he thought he was in love with Irene Adler, for Christ sake. John Watson...always by his side and ready to kick the shit out of anyone who would touch him.

Filled with a new resolve, John squares his shoulders and meets Greg’s eyes. His own are determined and set, the decision made. He will accept Sherlock’s invitation and take Gracie to his old home. Maybe he’ll even invite himself in for tea and see if the man who was once his best friend will allow him back into his life. Maybe Sherlock will let him try to repair their friendship. God, John hopes so.

---

All I can say is Greg Motherfucking Lestrade, the dark horse in this story. Hell, yeah! 

Thank you so much for all the love and support. I definitely wouldn't be here without all of you! Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock fanfic #sherlock loves john #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #John loves Sherlock #Mystrade

[bonjour-rainycity]

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 4

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623116614605357056/the-long-way-around-chapter-3

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 2092

Warnings: None

Y/n’s POV

The next three weeks pass in a now predictable sequence. I spend the majority of my time getting to know my new roommates, for lack of a better word. Esme, who is quickly becoming my favorite, does whatever I want with me. We read books, watch movies, go for runs in the woods. The doctor, Carlisle, isn’t home very often. He and Edward spend a lot of time in town making sure the Cullens are not suspect in my disappearance. They decided it would be best to continue ‘business as usual’ to avoid suspicion, but also so they don’t have to give up the advantageous location in the woods and risk moving with me. Bella tends to keep to herself, though she does occasionally join Esme and I in our book club. Alice and Arthur are quite friendly, and I enjoy spending time with them, even if Alice does treat me like a Barbie doll. I swear, I’ve never owned more clothes in my life! Rosalie is slowly warming up to me. She’s not rude, exactly, but I can tell my presence is hard on her. Her husband, Emmett, is a whole lot of fun. He invites me for races and arm wrestling matches which, obviously, I win. I suspect that won’t continue forever, though. Once my newborn strength fades, he will likely be the strongest in the house. 

Then, of course, there’s my shadow. Jasper doesn't say much, but he is a constant presence. I can tell he doesn’t trust me. The minute I get frustrated or upset he invades my personal space and uses his ability to calm me down. I do resent it slightly, but I understand the need. It’s as he says: I’m dangerous. It amuses me though to know that, as Jasper has taken the task upon himself to never leave my side, he has to do everything I do. So he watches sappy movies with Esme and I, he sits quietly while Emmett and I play board games, he sulks in the corner while I ask Alice endless questions about her psychic ability, and, of course, he hunts with me about four times a week. 

My bloodlust is insatiable. This newfound life and the thirst that accompanies it keeps me in a near constant state of pain. My throat burns badly, and, even when I am drinking animal blood, the burn remains. I have a feeling that, at this stage of life, not even human blood would satisfy my thirst. 

At the thought of human blood, a delicacy so far denied to me, venom pools in my mouth. From across the room, Jasper shifts uncomfortably, feeling my desire. I imagine it must be harder for him than the others, because he not only has to fight his own bloodlust, but everyone else’s. 

He eyes me evenly. “Do you want to hunt?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. We just went yesterday, and I feel like a burden asking people to go with me constantly. I usually have an entourage of three minimum when I hunt, and I can tell it interrupts the daily flow of things. 

Jasper’s eyes don’t leave mine. “Taking you hunting isn’t a burden. Trust me, we would much rather go with you twenty times a day than have you get too thirsty and lose control.” 

I purse my lips at his uncanny ability to know what I’m thinking. I know his emotional radar detector must help, but seriously, sometimes he rivals Edward. 

“It would probably be a good idea,” I acquiesce. “I’ll go see if anyone else wants to go.” I push myself off the kitchen floor-I had been busy reading through one of Esme’s architecture journals-and walk into the living room where Emmett, Rosalie, Carlisle, Esme, and Arthur are gathered around the TV. 

“Hey does anyone wanna-” My words die as I register the news anchor’s words. 

“The search continues for local Y/n, Y/l/n, who was reported missing over three weeks ago.”

It feels like the breath has been knocked out of me. I grip the back of the couch, grief ripping through me. Five vampires turn their wary gazes at me.

“Turn it off.” Jasper’s command comes from behind my shoulder. 

“No,” I breathe, deeply hurt but desperate to know what my friends and family could be seeing.

The anchor continues. “Authorities say they have a man in custody who confessed to stabbing the woman, though claims he can’t remember what he did with the body. Witnesses to the crime seem to suffer the same memory loss. Police have refused to offer further comments, though locals speculate a conspiracy or the presence of illegal drugs. While the two witnesses to the crime, Kaitlyn Myers and Blake Hannigan, have faced backlash surrounding their involvement in the case, police have cleared them as suspects at this time.”

The couch snaps under my grip. I take two quick steps back, shocked by what I just heard and the jarring display of my physical power. 

“Oh, sweetie.” Esme is in front of me instantly, reaching out to envelop me in a hug. Before I can even blink, Jasper is standing between us, acting as a barrier to Esme. 

Hurt pierces through my gut. He only sees me as a threat.

“I’m not going to hurt Esme, Jasper. Back off!” I wish my words didn’t waver. 

His voice is hard when he responds. “You don’t know what you’ll do. Newborns are governed by their emotions more than anyone else. I’m not taking any risks.”

“Well how about getting to know me instead of just generalizing?” I throw my hands up, properly yelling now. “I’m sick of feeling like I’m a prisoner with you. Everyone else is giving me a chance, so why can’t you?” I spit the words out, my hurt growing by the second. 

“We’re hoping it’s all a terrible dream, that we’ll wake up soon and everything will be alright.” 

They hadn’t turned off the TV. On the screen is a video of my parents. Hearing my mom’s tearful voice is like a kick to the stomach. I sink to the floor, gasping for air I don’t need. 

“I just want our little girl to come home.” Mom’s voice breaks, and she stares into the camera. It’s like she’s staring right at me. 

“Jasper, it’s alright, really. I appreciate your concern very much but I promise, it’s alright.” Esme’s soft voice vaguely reaches me through my sobs. 

A pair of arms-Esme’s, likely-envelopes me, but I barely take notice. I only feel the pain. It’s so much worse than the burn in my throat. It almost has me wishing for the fiery torture I felt while becoming a vampire. But wishing very seldom equates to reality, so I’m left to allow the gaping hole in my chest to consume me.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, only that it’s dark when I finally regain control of myself. Esme never left my side, and even Rosalie had come to join us at some point. She says nothing, only rests her head on my shoulder and holds my hand. 

Jasper is noticeably absent. 

“I think I scared him off,” I mumble, guilty. 

“He’ll recover,” Rosalie replies, sounding unconcerned. 

“He’s coming from the right place,” Esme assures. “Jasper is a very passionate person who gives his all in everything. This is no different. I think he sees keeping you and us safe as a chance to redeem himself for his past indiscretions, though those are long-ago forgiven. He’s trying to keep you from making the same mistakes he did.” 

I look at the floor, mulling Esme’s words over. I don’t really know what to say to that.

Thankfully, Rosalie saves me from having to craft a response. “Do you still want to hunt? I can go with you.” 

I smile and shake my head, exhausted from the recent emotional turmoil. “No, it’s okay. I think I’ll just go to bed.” I say the word lightly, knowing I’ll probably just spend the next eight hours reading or something to keep my mind busy. 

I stand, intending to exit the room. On the way out I see the poor couch, broken in two. I grimace. “Sorry about the couch.”

Esme smiles sweetly, waving it off. “Don’t worry about it. It just gives me an excuse to go shopping.” 

I give her a quick hug, grateful for her endless kindness and patience. 

Once upstairs in the room Alice and Esme courteously set up for me, I flop on the bed, grabbing the nearest book. I do my best to let my mind go blank and focus only on the words in front of me. About two hours into this exercise, I hear a soft knock on the door. 

Jasper stands in the frame, looking repentant. “I’m sorry. You were right. I haven’t tried to know you. But I’ve got some time now if you’re free.” It’s then that I realize he means to do this now. Not wanting to smile because I really am still upset with him, I bite it back. 

I decide to play coy instead. “I suppose I could clear my schedule. Though, a little more groveling might help…”

He smiles softly, almost hesitantly. With exaggerated movements, he gets on his knees and clasps his hands together in an excellent show of desperation. “Please do me the magnificent honor...of telling me your favorite color.” 

Now I can’t help but crack a smile. “You may approach, peasant, but remember that my good grace can easily change.” I pat the foot of my bed, and he sits, facing me. “It’s green. Like trees and moss and emeralds.” 

“What’s your favorite thing about this new life?”

“The running. I had asthma as a human but now I can run for as long as I want and be completely fine.” 

He nods, filing the information away. “If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?”

I answer without hesitation. “London. The culture, the history, the accents.” He chuckles, teasingly exasperated. “I bet it’s amazing.” 

He smiles, a faraway look in his eyes. “Oh it’s great. I was there back in the ‘90s...I bet it hasn’t changed too much though.” He grins. “Maybe in a couple of years we’ll all be able to take a trip.”

I look down at my fingers. “Maybe a few more years than a ‘couple’. I can’t even think of human blood without…” Venom floods my mouth. I offer a humorless chuckle. “See?”

Jasper shakes his head emphatically. “No, you’re really doing good.” I try to protest, but he shakes it off. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. You are doing remarkably well for three weeks in.” 

I sigh, ready to tease him a bit. “Well I couldn’t do so well without my shadow micromanaging my every move.” 

He smiles sheepishly and looks at his lap. “I’m sorry I seem a bit…,” he sighs deeply, “intense. I will try to ease off.”

I grin, pulling my knees up to my chest. “Thank you. I’ll try to be a little less emotionally hectic. It’s gotta be hard on you.” 

Too quickly, he shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. You’re going through a lot, it’s okay.” 

I chuckle, feeling much lighter now, either thanks to his ability or the natural resolution of tension between us, I don’t know. “Yeah well I could stay away from the movies that make me feel all the things.” Now he grins, raising his eyebrows. “Next time we’ll try something bland, like High Noon.”

“Hey now.” Jasper raises a hand, a comically disbelieving look on his face. “High Noon is a masterpiece, don’t knock it.” 

I grin broadly, smacking him on the shoulder with a pillow. “I knew you were a Western guy! Gosh, that’s gotta be like, what, forty percent of your personality?”

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking the pillow from me. “Mhm, somewhere around there.” 

I like this Jasper, I decide firmly. This new, witty, freer Jasper is so much more fun to be around. I could stand to have this Jasper follow me around all day. 

As if he has come to the same agreement, that Jasper stays at the foot of my bed well past the time the sun rises, talking and joking. We get to know each other. 

And, for a while, I forget about how sad I am and the near constant burning in the back of my throat.

A/n Thanks for reading! I’m having so much fun with this story and I’m glad you guys are enjoying it, too! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

xx, 

Bjr

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623283543296049154/the-long-way-around-chapter-5

Tag list: @puer-de-infinitate @charliestuff @hindustani-diaspora @one-thread-can-save-a-life

#jasper #jasper hale #jasper cullen x y/n #jasper whitlock #jasper whitlock hale #jasper twilight #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale imagine #jasper twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock fanfiction #jasper cullen fanfiction #jasper x reader #jasper x y/n #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x y/n #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale slow burn #jasper twilight slow burn #jasper cullen slow burn #jasper cullen x you #jasper hale x you #jasper whitlock x you #jasper twilight x you #twilight fanfiction #twilight reader-insert #twilight renaissance

[xlovelyyoongix]

the no-harm list| kty

Prompt: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy’s life, not knowing that he is the Crime Lord’s son, and you have just joined the No-Harm List.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Mafia 

Word Count: 1660/ One-Shot

Date Posted: 5/18/2020

Warnings: Violence, death, blood and gore 

Rating: M

It was a typical afternoon in Tucknott City. The loud shots of gunfire, slicing through the air in the distance, police sirens blaring as their vehicles race down crowded streets, and the usual exhausted expression plastered across citizens' faces as they bypass one another, dreading the experience of living in a vile place like Tucknott. 

Believe it or not, Tucknott was once a lively city. Musicians on every street corner, markets booming with fresh fruits and vegetables, and children playing on the playgrounds. A city that was once a habitable place to raise a family now plagued with organized crime and gang war.

Once the death toll of residents reached an all-time high, people were evacuating Tucknott by the hundreds, deciding to raise their families any other place but here. 

But for those like yourself, with a minimum wage job that barely paid the bills, and school that left you in debt, you had no other choice but to try your luck in the city and simply pray you'd wake up to see another day. 

...

Working your corner-store job, you sit behind the counter, pencil tapping agitatedly against your open textbook, mind riddled with utter confusion as the unanswered math equation tautly stairs back at you. It was moments like these that made you want to drop out of school; hell, you even considered quitting your barely minimum wage job to become a stripper, making just enough to pack up and leave this godforsaken town. Too bad your parents raised you to have morals, or you'd already be on an oiled down pole in some sleazy club. 

The bells hanging from the entrance door jingles, alerting that a customer has entered the shop. "Welcome to Steve's Convenience Store," You announce boringly for the 100th time today, sliding off your stool to stand and greet the guest. 

"Ma'am, please help me!" A boy, no older than 7, stops in front of the counter, frantic. His black hair glistening with sweat, thick blood streaming down his face as his chest heaves heavily, gasping for air. "T-they want to kill me!" His brown eyes wide in fright, small body uncontrollably trembling. 

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down " You assure, body moving from behind the counter. "Who? Who is trying to kill you?" You place a soothing hand on the boy's shoulder, hoping to ease his shivering frame. 

"T-the Triple Threats, they're chasing after me." He manages to say through a stuttering dry throat. 

Your heart sinks as soon as the boy mentions the name. The Triple Threats weren't just some petty group of thieves, they were mafia and also the cause of this city's spiraling turmoil. It was apparent this kid was in grave danger, and soon, you would be as well. 

With no time to think, you grab the boy by the hand and rush him to the back of the store. "Hide in here. Without a keycode, they can't get in." You quickly finger the 5 digit pin, unlocking the door to the freezer. "It's a little cold, but I'll come back for you." You fumble the jacket off your body, wrapping it around the boy's shoulders for comfort and warmth. 

"W-wait!" His small hands grip onto your uniform shirt, eyes glossed with fear "W-what about you?" 

Right. What about you? What exactly was your plan? With everything happening so fast, you had no idea what would happen next. Still, you muster a courageous smile, assuring the child. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." You say, fighting back the nerves and anxieties swirling within you.

The child nods, taking a step back, allowing you to slam the metal door shut. "Okay," You breathe out an airy sigh as you manage to the font of the store.

With the rush of panic coursing through your nerves, heart-wrenching thump dances within your chest, breath becoming uneasy and body shaking in place, you can only pray that the Triple Threat Mafia don't walk through the door. 

Unfortunately, the sound of the front door bell's jingle again. Five men, dressed in black suits with red ties, parade into the shop, knives, and guns in their hands.

"W-welcome to Steve's Convenience Store," You announce shakingly, holding back the terror riddled within your body. 

"Where is he?! Where is the little shit?!" The man you assume to be the group leader spits angrily as he takes authoritative steps towards you. His sizeable round body towering over your frame, his jaw clenched angrily, displaying a row of yellow stained teeth.

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about..." 

"DON'T PLAY DUMB WITH ME, BITCH!" His booming voice yells, hot saliva slapping across your face. "We saw him run in here!" His meaty hand reaching for his slacks, pulling out a polished black handgun. "Either you're gonna tell us where the little bastard is..." He cocks the weapon threateningly with a hard clank. "Or my bullet is gonna find a new home in your head." The gun now firmly pressed between your eyebrows. 

Your heart stops. 

Your blood runs cold.

 Your body feels incredibly heavy. 

This was it; this was the moment you were going to die. Your many years in this godforsaken city would finally come to an end... but is that what you wanted? To die? 

Maybe you should hand the boy over? Even in this damn city, you had so much you want to live for. Graduating, getting married, starting a family of your own, you'd be able to do all the things you wanted, and all you had to do was get the boy from the freezer. 

What would you do? 

What would you decide?

"I already told you...," You swallow down the anxious lump that grew in the back of your throat, hands nervously clutching into tight fists. "I don't know what you're talking about." As soon as the words left your  lips, you knew you made the right decision. It is a decision that meant sacrificing your life to save another, and knowing that, you could leave this world without any regrets. 

"Tch," The mafia man groans at your statement. "You stupid bitch." Unremorfuly, he cocks his gun, seconds away from pulling the trigger. "Now, you die." 

Your teeth grit into the flesh of your lip, eyes slamming shut, allowing the memories of your friends and family to plague your mind. Your heart drops at the thought of them depressed and mourning your death. You wish you could apologize for this, to tell them not to worry, that your final moments on this earth were spent thinking of them...

Bang! 

Your body flinches at the loud pop ringing within your ears, soon followed with the sensation of warm, thick liquid splattering across your face. 

Bang! 

Bang! 

Bang!

Bang! 

As the loud shots of gunfire continue, your tense body remains frozen, eyes plastered shut, afraid to make any sudden movements. 

"WHERE IS HE?" You hear a man yell desperately, his large palms tightly gripping hold of your shoulders, shaking your hazed brain awake. "Where is my son?!" 

Still terrified, You slowly open your  eyes. A male with wavy black hair, honey skin, and piercing jet eyes, staring relentlessly into yours. Your lashes flutter, ears still ringing with white noise as you try and process the reality of the situation.

You were still alive. 

"Answer me, please!" His deep voice ripping through the air. "Where is my son?!" He yells again, voice shaken with fright.  

You looked past the male, observing the pile of dead bodies lying in a pool for their own blood. A horrific scene you had only seen in horror and action movies. Which could now never compare to the real thing. 

It was him, he was the one that did this. Killing every single man that threatened to take the life of his son. Realizing it was now safe, your shaken finger points to the back of the store. "I- I hid him in the freezer," You stutter through a dry throat.

The male releases his hold on you, tightening his lips into a line while huffing out a breath. "I'm sorry for being rough with you." He takes a step back, casually walking over the dead mafia littered across the floor. "Could you please take me to my son?" 

Unable to fully process the situation, you slowly nod, making way to the back of the store. As soon as your fingers enter the passcode, the metal door opens, revealing a terrified boy crouched down with hands over his ears.

"Beakhyun!" The man that saved your life crouches down to embrace his son. 

The boy opens his eyes, the moment he realizes he's safe, he jumps into his father's arms. "Daddy!" He yells, smile gleaming from ear to ear. 

The male picks up his son, carrying the boy on his hip, only to face you. "You risked your life to protect my son." His thick brows furrowed thoughtfully. "And for that, I indebt my life to you." 

Finally, the cloud that once fogged your scattered brain brought you back to reality, now fully able to process the situation that just took place. "I-I, uh..." Stuttering, you were unable to find the words to say. One moment you were seconds away from death, and now a handsome young father with a silver pistol hanging off his hip was thanking you. "I-it was the right thing to do." A heavy breath exhales your lips in a mutter.

The handsome young father chuckles, finding your comment amusing. "You speak as though your bravery shouldn't be praised." Placing his son on the ground, the male walks towards you. His thin black suit splattered with the tasteful blood of his enemies. "I am Kim Taehyung, leader of the Red Blood Mafia. And you, my dear girl...," His lean body now towering over your own as his palm cups the side of your cheek, thumb swiping away splattered blood. "Have just joined my, No Harm, list." 

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung mafia #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x reader #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts #bts one shot #kim taehyung oneshot

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Death Note

I’m watching this show specifically because of that text post that said, “Watch how quickly this one guy decides to be the worst person ever” and he has killed two people in the first ten minutes

Though 2 be fair he’s killing people to save people so it’s a trolley problem kind of thing for now

“In fact I’ve been waiting for you... Ryuk” ok weird flex Light but u do u

“You’re the first one to use to this extent in five days” WAIT DID HE MURDER ALL THOSE PEOPLE IN FIVE DAYS I THOUGHT HE WAS JUST LOOKING AT A LIST OH MY GOD??

“So there isn’t a price to using Death Note?” said Light, as if killing people is just a normal thing that we all do

Fhkjfhfkjb Ryuk really went ‘u used the book so we’re friends now’ 

I was wondering why the book was in English, and I guess that makes sense British and American imperialism really Did That

“I can write down the names of criminals, and slowly reduce the number of evil people” uhhhh doesn’t u being a Book Murderer also make you a criminal Light

“Human lives shouldn’t be taken so lightly” bah dum tss

Also I guess that revelation lasted about thirty seconds for you huh

Update from 15 seconds later: Even less than that

“I would create a world of earnest, kind humans” really because I don’t think places that allow the death penalty are generally nicer societies 

It’s interesting that they use English in the classes and the notebook but the conversation at Interpol takes place in Japanese (despite the implied internationality and Ryuk’s aforementioned claim about English being most common) 

Huh I won’t lie I do think it’s confusing that the main characters are L and Light, which also starts with L

“I am justice” I mean if anything this show just proves that no one should be allowed to use the death penalty on apprehended suspects in criminal justice cases ever 

OH SHIT PLOT TWIST HIS DAD’S A COP (IT WAS IN THE TEXT POST I THINK BUT I FORGOT)

Wow this show is full of mind games already I guess I can see why like, crime show fans would dig it

“But I’m going to say this as your roommate” OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES KJHRGKJHKJHG

Interesting that someone is following Light specifically already

I mean not to poke too many holes in your plan Light but wouldn’t it clash with your plan to become God if you die at like 35 or smth 

“You’re already much more of a shinigami than they are” Ryuk said my friends are BORING I want to hang out with this MURDER TEEN

“I may not look it, but I’m pretty popular” Light is exactly the kind of guy who ends up in a true crime special where a bunch of people say he seemed like a nice, charismatic young man

Man this poor girl that Light brought on this date is going to be straight traumatized after this

I mean isn’t it MORE suspicious if someone dies around someone with direct ties to the police even if it’s not a heart attack

“You were indeed a brilliant FBI agent once, but now you’re my fiancée” kjhfkjhg WHAT FBI AGENTS CAN’T BE MARRIED 

“Once we have a family, you’ll be so busy that you’ll forget that you were an agent” I’m not a fan of Raye Penber 

What’s the point in killing Raye at all???? He told you he was part of a special investigation so clearly he’s not that suspicious of you

Light sure is bold to announce his Killing People Experiments in the middle of a busy sidewalk 

Incredible that consistently no one notices Light’s increasingly threatening declarations????

Fjkfkfhk these five cops finding out their Hail Mary is this strange little goblin man,,,, wow

This woman has really pushed Light to the brink just by giving a fake name, I admire her tenacity

Cops wearing fake IDs really did not age well oh boy

SERIOUSLY HOW DOES NO ONE EVER HEAR LIGHT SAYING SUSPICIOUS THINGS IN PUBLIC THOROUGHFARES HE LITERALLY JUST SAID “I AM KIRA” AS A DETECTIVE WALKED BY, WHILE HE WAS TALKING TO SOMEONE HE KILLED IMMEDIATELY AFTER

Wow it really took only eight episodes for L to track Light as close as one of two families

“You have a wife and daughter, right?” “I know!” I mean..... not 2 be that guy but... cops

 “To me, apples are like... Well, like cigarettes and liquor to humans” Vcvhcjhj every once in a while Ryuk says something that really tickles me

I know the word sociopath is kind of outdated but man does Light have actual interests outside of school or does he just do stuff to fill the void of his lack of interests (outside of murder)

JKHGKJHGKJHKJHG I cannot believe that this has turned into a fake classmate situation first of all 1) are you going to become friends and 2) How old are you Ryuzaki/L?

“Where is that rich kid from? And he’s even at the top of his class? What a jerk” honestly a mood

I DESPERATELY want Light’s mother or sister to overhear his evil cackling will someone finally eavesdrop on this god complex

“If I sit normally, my reasoning skills drop by 40%” weird flex but same 

Sidenote: I can’t believe how many episodes of this show I already have watched

Ngl I was VERY shook that Mr. Yagami had a heart attack. Also does Light care if his family lives or dies or is he kind of neutral on the subject? 

“If Kira is an ordinary person who gained this power, then he is a very unlucky person” Dad and L said ‘if u ARE Kira could you please stop murdering thank you <3′ 

Light really underestimated how much cops hate anyone who has killed a cop oops

OH SO IT’S NOT LIGHT I WAS WONDERING WHY HE HAD NOT MADE AN APPEARANCE THIS WHOLE EPISODE U MEAN THERE ARE TWO GUYS WITH THIS EXACT SAME IDEOLOGY AND PLAN? INCREDIBLE

Update from ten seconds later: Two people, I guess

Well this explains the girl in the short dress which serves as the Netflix thumbnail of this show I was wondering when she would show up 

Also she sounds like she’s very young? Clearly Shinigami don’t have a minimum age of informed consent when it comes to their Murder Eyes Contract 

Hahah I bet Light didn’t imagine that his petty and fucked up apple joke would bite him so quickly in the ass

Dhkjdhdkjhd Misa is so bold dropping her Death God deets in a video for anyone to see 

“The way to kill a Shinigami, is to make them fall in love with a human” does this mean that Ryuk is going to fall in love with Light or Misa? Both would make me uncomfortable

Oh wild guess Misa became a Death Note Wielder through the Power of Unreciprocated Voyeuristic Love

“Yeah, I have a girlfriend now,” said Light, after a girl contacted him through a series of anonymous video tapes implicitly vowing to be his disciple 

“No one could tell who he’s attached to if I’m with this many people” [20 seconds pass] “Found him!” HAHAHA the funniest part of this show is consistently watch Light going “got ‘em” before it immediately is revealed that he doesn’t got ‘em 

Why is Light so incredibly searchable??? I think the only way people people could find my height online is if I happened to answer it for one of those Facebook note memes in 2007 lmaoooo

“There are many places that will go and sell your personal records” ah, data breaches; a problem that has not gotten any better in the last 15 years since this anime came out

HKJHFHKJFHF Light immediately jumping into fake-dating his weird disciple in front of his mom... what is this show

“Please make me your girlfriend” OH MY GOOOOOD

This is one of the weirdest romantic dynamics I’ve seen in recent memory but you know what? Whatever, at least it’s not Anxiety and Murder

“Does that mean I’ll have to deal with her until she dies?” Light is truly exuding some Ladybird Book of Dating Energy rn: 

The fact that to kill L all Light had to do was get an obsessive girlfriend... astounding

Beautiful that it took Misa less than a week of knowing Light to ruin his whole 15 episode game plan and also life

“I think I may be Kira” Well this show keeps taking one escalation after another this is exhausting why can’t Light just be a normal person who found it, tried it out of interest in the occult, discovered he’d committed a horrible atrocity and then went to therapy for the rest of his life only to confess to Magical Murder on his deathbed while his family goes, ‘Wow, Grandpa’s crazy’

Does L not think that keeping three different people imprisoned for days on end will lead to some psychological repercussions for him

FOR WEEKS ON END????? OH MY GOD???? The fuck L, I know two of these people are murderers but there are some minimum conditions of correctional facilities and this seems a little Stanford PE

THE DRAMA OF THIS EPISODE I KNEW IT WAS GONNA BE A BLANK BUT HOW FUCKED UP TO PUT EVERYONE THROUGH THIS L I THINK YOU NEED THERAPY!!!!!!! I MEAN LIGHT AND MISA ARE MURDERERS BUT FORCING A MAN TO HOLD HIS SON AT GUNPOINT AFTER IMPRISONING THEM FOR OVER A MONTH IS REALLY A REFLECTION OF A COMPLETE LACK OF EMPATHY (especially when you think that this version of Misa and Light don’t know anything!!! Oh my god!! The fuck)

“I will make arrangements so you and I are together 24 hours a day” call me crazy but I would not want to spend 24/7 with the man who imprisoned me for over a month while playing cruel psychological games all the while

“I’m one of those people who’ll accept Kira, I’d think of ways I could help him” Misa said Bimbo Rights

“I could never toy with a woman’s emotions like that” Light’s dating life and personality has gotten a LOT funnier since he forgot he was a murderer I kind of wish THIS could be the whole show 

Also: Nice to know Light USED to have standards of how to treat women

Honestly fair play to both L and Light they both deserved to be punched and it’s funny to see eighteen episodes of mind games culminate in punching and kicking each other in the face

“Matsuda’s being an idiot again” “Well, Matsuda is a natural at that” wghkjhgkj what has Matsuda done to any of you

"He’s punishing criminals as a front, and killing people for the benefit of this company” is Light unknowingly going to solve the murder chain he himself started... inspiring

“I was testing you” this is why Light is your only friend, L, Aizawa has kids and it’s a dick move to ask him to put his convictions before them

Poor Matsuda realizing he’s got the least to offer to their team... me in high school science labs 

I understand Aizawa’s moral crisis but why do NONE of these cops care about their wives or daughters they’re just kind of like, ‘I will provide for you but I have no interest in or fulfillment from being part of your life’ (ACAB)

Matsuda is truly about to die for being dumb and eager to help 😔 Rest in Pieces

“We must not allow Yotsuba to figure out that we are investigating them,” said L, just after it cut from Matsuda being obvious about investigating them. Oh Matsuda 😔 you’re so bad at your job 😔

MATSUDAAAAAAAA oh thank goodness; Bimbo Rights save the day

“I can’t go along with your idea, it’s wrong!” said Light, despite the fact it took him 15 seconds to get over murder the first couple of times he did it 

Staaaaaaaaay Good Light, I don’t want ur Deathnotesona I want this young man with moral convictions!!

The level of hubris it takes to answer a phone call during your secret Murder Meeting while people continue to talk about their Murder Plans is just out of this world

“If I die, you could probably become the successor to the ‘L‘ name,” said L, to the person he has been trying to catch for twenty episodes 

“I won’t say anything under any kind of torture” “Yes that’s true” Which he knows because he tortured her for six weeks!! You see that that’s fucked up, L, right? RIGHT??? RIIIIIIIIGHT? (LIIIIIIIGHT???)

Seriously not to beat a dead Shinigami but Light is so much better like this. He doesn’t want to throw people’s lives away for the investigation! He wants to protect Misa! He thinks Kira is wrong! Why does he have to be a murderer!!! Why can’t this show be about a nice young man!!!!

“Hey Ryuzaki, that’s messed up!” THANK YOU LIGHT AGAIN I KNOW YOU BOTH HAVE KILLED PEOPLE BUT YOU DON’T KNOW THAT RIGHT NOW SO FOR ALL MISA KNOWS HE’S JUST A GUY WHO TORTURES HER AND TELLS HER CRUSH WILL DIE IF SHE DOESN’T HELP

Wow Rem is so ride or die for Misa protecting Misa from creepy Higuchi, giving her info and telling her to trust Light, that’s love bitch

Props to Misa for getting a confession out of Higuchi after one (1) car ride 

Why do I feel like L is going to be responsible for reawakening Bad Light is it because he psychologically tortured him for six weeks? Had his dad hold him at gunpoint? Forced Misa to investigate on his behalf? Constantly and unerringly presses him on what Kira would be thinking as he’s handcuffed to him 24 hours a day? Maybe!! This is like Build-a-Bear but he’s customizing his Teen Murder Friend 

“Only Mr. Matsuda can do [the mission to lure out Higuchi!Kira]” Death Note really said the Himbos, Herbos and Thembos shall inherit the Earth 

They keep saying they don’t know how he kills but it seems pretty obvious that he writes down their names to kill, they literally saw him do it

I really don’t want any of the investigation team to die but things are not looking hot :(

“Ryuzaki, I never knew you could fly a helicopter” “It’s just intuition” what does that MEAN

“Those aren’t allowed in Japan,” said Light, about a gun, as if he had not killed probably thousands of people without one 

In spite of this fact I really do want Good Light to stay 😔 Why! Can’t! This! Show! Be! About! A! Nice! Young! Man!

Also they really are playing into this father-and-son duo I will be very sad when the dad inevitably dies as I’m sure he will 

Family side note: I’ve been wondering this since the prison ep but where do Light’s mom and sister think he IS now that he’s dropped out of first year uni to be a teen criminal investigator handcuffed to a maladjusted homebody private eye

AIZAWAAA and also the other two guys I guess there was a plot relevant reason for him to rejoin the police huh

Well what a clean ending to this Kira arc. No one died and the killer was caught! Yikes that the next ep is called ‘Revival’ tho 😔 Rest in pieces Good Light

Also a new and very threatening intro???? What happened to the Twilight Apple Hands 

BOOOO I knew Light would get his memory back but I was hoping it would at least fuck him up for a while he sorted out his two personas but I guess all roads eventually lead to Bad Light 

Full disclosure I stopped watching for a few days just after Light got his memory back and let me tell u coming back later hasn’t made it any more tolerable I am truly not built for this EUGH

“Do you really want to halve your life a second time” “Well, that can’t be helped” REALLY???? CAN’T IT BE HELPED MISA??? WHY ARE YOU AND LIGHT SO CRAZY

Oh I guess we’re back to Light saying incredibly suspicious things right near the investigators lmao what if those cameras secretly had audio or you know, L simply knew how to read lips 

“Misa, let’s make a new world together” Remember a bunch of episodes ago when Good Light was all ‘I could never toy with a woman’s emotions’?? What was the reason!!!

“Have you ever told the truth at any point in your entire life” L cutting straight to the core lmao (also the answer is obviously ‘no’)

This show has taken a jarring tonal shift why are they having a post-rain-confrontation massage and towelling each other off this is a level of intimacy I was not prepared for I NEED PEOPLE TOOK LOOK AT THIS:

OKAY OKAY OKAY I KNOW THAT IT WAS PROBABLY NOT THEIR INTENTION BUT THE ONLY WAY I CAN READ THIS SCENE IS AS “Don’t kill me Light~ 🥰 I’ll fuck you~ 🥰” 

I guess L knew he was forcing Rem’s hand to kill him if he disproved the rules written in the book?? But to what end omg how does this help anyone 

“In April 2012, Light Yagami, age 23, joins the National Police Agency” should’ve known we’d land here eventually (ACAB)

Ah, I see another person who doesn’t know how to sit, clearly they will inherit the L title next lmao

Update from the first few mins of the next ep: “Near should succeed L” told you

“There’s no way I’m letting Sayu marry a detective” ahjfkhkjf he’s a little old for her I think but it wouldn’t be the worst thing this show has done romantically lmao; maybe Sayu would get to investigate her brother

“I might’ve considered going out with you, if you were a little younger” HA GOOD FOR HER

“[...] the Japanese police are unreliable. In order to solve this case, we want you to hand over the notebook to our country.” Of all the Japanese-speaking Americans in this show, this is the most accurate jkhfkhf the US government really is Like That 

Ah, so that’s where Mello’s gone, oh how the turn tables 

Also way to sell your subordinates out immediately, NPA Director, will you give them the Kira task force’s home addresses too

The real question is if Light actually cares about his sister enough to prioritize her over the notebook

“Call me... N” Oh my good L... M(ello)... N(ear)... Oooooooooooooooo

It’s my saving grace that I only need to get through 9 more eps but as always I must wonder where this is going will Light just die and end up in Shinigami purgatory while the people who knew him after the fact go, ‘hey, that guy was fucked up’

“If things get bad, I’ll have to kill Sayu” well I guess that answers that question, my expectations of Light are so low and yet he continues to find new ways to be awful

Good for Mr. Yagami and Sayu for getting out of that alive I guess but hoo boy I think this is going to have some psychological repercussions for both of them 

Uh oh this episode is called ‘Father’ I’ve been dreading this one bc I think that means Mr. Yagami is about to die 😭😭😭

“It was an institution for brilliant children, to raise them to become L‘s successor” okay calm down Professor Xatari that’s not what children are for lmao 

Well I guess it’s a lot easier to track down info about these two guys than it was to figure out L lmao

HAHAHA Sidoh haunting Ryuk to ask for his stuff is a fun addition to this madness  

“He’s scary for a human” jkhhfjh how unhinged does Mello have to be to threaten a literal Shinigami 

I truly don’t understand the logistics of how they revealed Ryuk to the police force isn’t the second Kira notebook supposed to belong to Actual Kira, in the police force’s eyes????? I do not understand how Light can just turn up with another notebook and everyone’s like ‘sure cool’ did I miss something 

Mr. Yagami killed for being unable to take human life ugh this is the worst 

“You’re not Kira. I’m really glad.” WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO SAD MR. YAGAMI NOOOOOOOOOO THAT’S WHY HE RENOUNCED OWNERSHIP OF THE NOTEBOOK 

Neither Mello nor Near seem overly concerned with the lives of people around them does being a Super Genius Investigator also mean you have to be a dick (is this Benadryl Coddleswab Sherlock syndrome)

Lmaooo genuinely love how it’s constantly apparent that Light is the least smart of all of the smart people Light spent five years working on his reputation and it took Near one (1) phone call to destroy it 

Ghjkhgkhgkgjh Light outsmarted by Near yet again never think people will prioritize principles over money

Lol yeah Aizawa needn’t have given a name after he said the “Deputy Director Yagami would kill Kira and then himself” thing, you don’t do that just for anyone who was he fooling 

How does Light keep track of all the renunciations and notebooks bc I certainly can’t 

Ffhkfjhfj Mikami truly looks like the son of L and Light it’s like Light missed him and was like, “Miss u boo :( (even tho I kinda killed u) I’ll adopt An Evil 27-year-old in ur honour :)”

Is Mikami’s story really, ‘I got bullied in high school and have mommy issues so now I think people I don’t like should die’ ok Shonen Snape 

“I just want you to meet with me and hear me out” Light really proving to Aizawa that he can lie AND manipulate people’s feelings 

“The truth is, she’s not smart enough to be my partner” first of all Light I think this show has proven you’re not that smart, and Misa’s Herbo Energy is effervescent and will outlast you, and third of all go to jail

“He’ll look suspicious if he doesn’t say something soon” “Ide, have you ever been in love” Matsuda continues to be the only good part of this show

“You’re the only man I’ve ever respected and admired in my life” GET SOME THERAPY KIYOMI

“You’re going to be the goddess of the new world” so it’s not enough for Light to be a murderer he must also be a cheater

Lmao Near’s powers of perception do seem a little B/BC S/herlock because L tried for literally months to work out the possibilities and Near is just like ‘I KNOW IT NOW’

“The only thing I can deduce from this is that Light Yagami is popular with the ladies” HEAVEN KNOWS WHY (PUN NOT INTENDED)

Every moment Aizawa gets closer to proving Light is Kira is another step closer to death 😔

“This is definitely Mikami’s handwriting” Not to be a know-it-all, Near, but handwriting analysis has been proven faulty many times in multiple courts of law

This truly is a game of Cat and Cat. All these hidden plans give me a headache fkjhkfjh call me Misa-Misa and spin me sideways I don’t have the braincells to spare

Well this is definitely some kind of s*xual assault absolutely fucking hate it wow this show truly just drains the life out of you 

“Matt, I never thought you would be killed” why wouldn’t you think that at this point anyone who comes close to this investigation eventually dies (also wjkhkjhgk why is Matt special didn’t you kill all those thugs you had before -- Mello said ‘the lives of my allies are only important if they are drawn in handsome protag style’) 

As of yet I haven’t really talked about Near’s wild toymaking but hoo boy is that L finger puppet something to observe

“Everyone who knows about the existence of the notebook will die” I’m still pulling for their survival, particularly Matsuda (himbo rights!!!)

Imagine if they just shot Light Yagami on sight how ironic would that conclusion to all these mind games be 

“I’m waiting, for the one who will solve everything, to arrive” Lmao if it turns out L is alive I’ll pee laughing this show is so fucking stupid 

Take a shot every time there is a Humpty-Dumpty-in-Puss-in-Boots style explanation about how everything actually happened

“I’ve won, Near” I bet/hope what gets Light caught is his inability to hold in his hubris for one (1) minute

Although the last episode is called New World, in which case maybe he wins in a very weird ending to a very weird show

Sjkfhkjhfkhfkjhf well I guess what gets Light caught is that the person he invited to be his murderous disciple keeps calling him God

“A second ago, you said ‘I win.’ That’s as good a confession as any” HA hubris strikes again also bold of Aizawa to clap Light on the shoulder knowing he is a mass murderer

Ohhh Matsuda he’s so nice and believed the best of Light :((((((((((((

Watching Light become increasingly desperate and crazed is very uncomfortable give it up dude u’ve been beat (though I suppose there is time for everyone here to be murdered still lmao)

LMAO LIGHT SAID “IF YOU CAN’T BEAT ‘EM, CONVERT ‘EM”

Yeah I figured if one of them was gonna shoot it would be Matsuda :( :( Good for him for not killing Light tho!!

Huh I guess that’s the end of the show I thought Light would die but I did think we’d at least get to see him in Shinigami Purgatory or smth... what a wild ride. This certainly was a show.

#ayesha talks anime #ayesha liveblogs dn #liveblogging #long post #sorry for any dn fans who stumble across this lmao i don't have the constitution for it

[scurvgirl]

Live

Holy moly I actually wrote something. And while in grad school no less.

Zevran/Male Surana; my boy’s name is Faleris (Fal)

Synopsis:  A mage's phylactery is a leash, and they are done with leashes. All they ever wanted was to live, free of the Crows and of the Circle. Fal freed Zevran from the Crows, and it's time for Zevran to return the favor.

Warnings for: Blood, self-harm (for blood magic purposes), near death experiences, implied sexual content

This is also available on AO3 under the same title.

Please remember that reblogs and comments make a content creator’s world and will prompt content you like!

__________

It did not escape his notice that of all the buildings to sustain damage during the battle, Denerim’s Chantry was one of the least hit. Not to say it wasn’t damaged, but it wasn’t rubble. There was a smudged but clear ring of darker dirt surrounding the abbey, marking the place where so many people decided they would die fighting to protect the Chantry. He could contemplate the sadness of the loss of life, but now was not the time. Rather, it was fortunate for him and his purposes this night.

Zevran slipped into the Chantry, quick and unnoticed, the shadows concealing him like a familiar coat. His steps made no noise, his eyes were quick, his decisions quicker. Not so long ago, he would have been reveling in this, the knowledge he was in a place he wasn’t supposed to be, about to do something many did not want to happen, but also something some did want. So much had changed in a short amount of time. He wasn’t that man anymore, and thank the Maker for that.

“The elvhen word for love is vhenan.” Fal whispered, gently running his finger down Zevran’s arm.

“A pretty word,” Zevran murmured sleepily.

“I think...I think my father was Dalish, because he would say that sometimes. I remember him saying my name and that. Vhenan.”

“Amor…”

“And this word, I want it for us. I want it for you...vhenan.”

The corridor was lit with the bare minimum number of candles, casting large shadows that made this easy. None of this was easy though.

The door he wanted was located in the Revered Mother’s quarters. Zevran happened to know she was currently occupied at the palace, praying over the brave souls who risked their lives during the battle. The Chantry had unfortunately been too small to house all of them, and the newly minted King had graciously allowed the use of the palace to serve as an infirmary.

Zevran opened the door with the key he had swiped from the Mother earlier in the day. The door lead to a dark downward sloping staircase that Zevran descended swiftly. There were no sounds of activity, but there was another barrier he would need to pass in order to reach his destination.

His ears pricked and he stopped, listening carefully.

“I love your ears,” Fal purred, nibbling at the sensitive lobe.

Metal scraped against stone - Templar. A lone one given the limited sounds and the fact that he knew that the Templars were largely called to assist in other areas of the city that had sustained significant magical damage.

Relying on his hearing and hands, Zevran finished descending the stairs. The landing was small and the templar stood guard at a wide, metal door. There wasn’t much room to maneuver, but Zevran was nothing if not skilled. Leveraging all his quickness, Zevran rounded the edge of the room, maintaining himself in the templar’s blindspot. He dropped to the floor behind the templar, struck out with his legs, knocking the guard to the ground.

“Oomf!” Zevran grabbed hold of the helmet and slammed it into the ground once, twice, until he was sufficiently knocked unconscious. There. He’ll wake up with a nasty headache and bump on his head, but he wouldn’t be dead unlike many of his fellows.

Zevran picked up the key loop from the templar’s belt and went to the task of opening the door. There was a total of four keys to open the damned thing, but he was determined.

“You’re quite talented, you know,” Fal said, fully clothed in broad daylight, watching Zevran sharpen his knives.

Zevran quirked a brow, “I am happy to show you my talents.”

Fal rolled his eyes, “Outside of lovemaking and death. I mean, your mind, you’re clever.”  

The door swung open and there he was, standing inside a vault full of blood, but he only wanted to find one.

“I wish I wasn’t a mage sometimes,” Fal confessed, his body turned away from Zevran’s.

“Why? Your magic is beautiful, and quite enjoyable.”

“It’s a leash. No matter how good I am, how much I try, they’ll always hunt me down if they so much as think I’ve stepped out of line. An elven mage? We’re hunted.”

Zevran turned over and wrapped his arms around Faleris, holding him tightly, angry at a world that seemed determined to villainize his lover. “I won’t let that happen.”

There were thousands of vials, hallways full of racks of blood with neat labels. His skin itched from the magic permeating the air, making him angry at the hypocrisy. It was blood magic, using a mage’s own blood to track them, not that the Chantry would ever admit it.

Fal relaxed in Zevran’s arms, “When I don’t dream of darkspawn, I dream of them. I prefer the darkspawn.”

As clever as Fal believed him to be, Zevran had no idea how the vials were organized. He started with the obvious thought, alphabetical, but it there were only clusters of alphabetized vials. There were no consistent...wait, there. He gently moved a vial to the side, finding a plaque reading “9:1 Dragon”. Of course, they were organized by the year each mage was harrowed. Fal had told Zevran of the Harrowing, how they stuck demons inside of apprentices and expected them to resist it otherwise they were killed. Or even worse, they weren’t even Harrowed and were made tranquil.

Zevran moved through the racks faster after that, checking the dated sections, going further back and to the left until he found a half-full section labeled “9:30 Dragon.” This was it, Fal’s phylactery had to be here...and there it was. There weren’t many phylacteries for the year, given the state of affairs, but there was Fal’s - a small, glass tube that looked like every other vial in the room. The blood was bright red, the stopper laden with magic.

“I want you to feel something,” Fal whispered, leaning over Zevran, already naked and wanting.

“I already feel it -

“Not that, silly! But this.” Fal ran his hands down his sides, incredible pinpricks of energy and pleasure sinking into his skin. Zevran gasped then groaned.

“It’s my magic, for you. I want you to love it like I do.”

Zevran flipped them over, kissing Fal deeply, “Oh I love it.”

There was no pleasure with this magic, but the prickliness was familiar. The blood was familiar too, though he wouldn’t have known it if it were not for the label. All blood looked the same, but this...this was taken from Faleris when he was just a child, to be tracked if he ever deigned to leave the confines of that prison they call a Circle. Or if he dared to use magic they deemed wrong.

This was it, Zevran thought, this was how he died. It was terrible too, just when he had decided to live again, when he discovered what it was to love and be loved in turn.

“Vhenan! No! No! You can’t, you can’t!” Fal...he was crying and screaming.

“Shh, shh, amor, it’s alright.” He tried to speak, but there was too much blood in his mouth. He knew they were out of the healing poultices. He knew that Fal had no real skills as a healer. He was so gifted in his magic, but healing...it wasn’t one of them. And Wynne wasn’t near.

“Vhenan, I...I won’t lose you. Just...just hold on for me, please.” How could Zevran not do as Fal asked when he sounded like that, when he looked like that - broken and crying, the dirt and blood on his face making his hazel eyes stand out even more?

Fal reached down and pulled out a knife Zevran kept on his belt, and before Zevran could process it, Fal was dragging the knife across his palm. Forbidden words slipped past his lips and the blood spilling from his hand began to move. The pain in Zevran’s body faded slightly, and Fal cut himself again. More pain faded. Another cut. Less pain.

It took five cuts for Zevran to find the strength to reach up and snatch the knife away.

“You will not kill yourself because of me!”

“I’m...fine.” Fal collapsed in Zevran’s arms, bloody and exhausted but alive.

Back at camp, Wynne healed them both and she thankfully said nothing about the obvious carnage done to Fal’s hand.

Zevran left the vault with the vial tucked into his cloak. He had “accidentally” knocked over a couple of the other vials in the vault to make it less obvious that Fal’s vial was missing. After everything Fal had done for the world...the world owed him his freedom at least. Zevran knew that the world wouldn’t give what wouldn’t be taken, so he took it for Fal.

He sneaked his way back into the palace, up to the private bedrooms where a specific elven mage lay unconscious and healing.

He closed the door to the bedroom behind him and took off his outer layers, palming the small vial.

“I know it’s late, mi amor, but when has that stopped us?” He asked the silent man.

“Mm, yes, the Deep Roads. You hated it there, never in the mood for anything fun if you couldn’t feel the sun the next day.” He climbed onto the bed and kissed Fal’s temple gently, careful not to touch any of the bruises that still colored his body.

“I love you, how can I...even if I liked that, how...would you forgive me?” Fal asked, pain clear on his face even in the low light of the fire.

“Mi amor, you have found a way to live. I beg you, live.”

Fal had taken Morrigan’s gamble, and still he was here in this bed, nearly motionless, breathing shallow, and barely clinging to life. Zevran would have hunted the witch if he didn’t know that even this much was a miracle thanks to her.

Zevran crawled into the bed, careful not to jostle Fal. He took Fal’s right hand, pausing to run a thumb over the ugly scar that marred his palm. He kissed the scar for what felt like the  hundredth time, hoping it wasn’t his last. He took the vial out of his shirt pocket and pressed it to Fal’s palm.

“You’re free, amor, they won’t ever be able to hunt you. You’re safe.” He kissed Fal’s lips, his heart hurting terribly in his chest. “Now, please, live. Live. ”

#zevran #zevran arainai #zevran x surana #zevran x warden #warden #dragon age #fanfiction #fic #my writing #faleris surana #angst

[ace-t-fic]

This a Peter si fic I started (its purely 'feel good' no eye roll moments) but never found out what I wanted to do with it. This hasn't been grammar checked ethier.

The yearly trip to science industries (after the fiasco concerning OC labs) was heavily guarded by the gpa efficiency minimum and it was usually 123 Seniors at Midtown high each year. That only left less than 30 who had the gpa needed in order to attend the field trip. But with detentions and tardies that often brought it down to 25 added in with the people who actually turned in their permission slips drop that number down to a solid 13. That usually  meant the whole decathlon team, one jock, the Sat acres and people with tiger parents. 

So when the paper was only passed to Peter and Flash in their homeroom he wasn’t surprised who qualified for the field trip. 

Last year's field trip the students all got to go to Tesla and returned the day after. Liz said it was a fun experience and even one of the kids was later offered an internship available to him after their graduation. Liz herself wasn’t all that interested in the company herself but she said the experience was an enjoyable one. So Peter would have been lying if he said he wasn’t practically buzzed for when his senior year trip came. 

He wondered if they would be able to tour the new labs Wakanda had set up. He wanted to go for a while but their outside personnel was strictly limited to certified personnel and those with names that ended with Stark or Banner or Avengers. But the name staring back at him was just laughing at him, “congratulations, you have qualified for this year's exclusive Senior trip to SI inc.” an all paid expense to visit his work. Now instead of taking the City bus he could just catch a ride on a big ugly yellow one. 

Not that this was a let down it was still an amazing opportunity many would kill for. He thought gazing behind him to stare at Flash who fist bumped the air. The attention caught his attention and he made brief eye contact with Peter with a smug little smile on his face. Peter only flashed back his before the flash rolled his eyes and no longer paid him attention. 

Flash still didn’t partially believe Peter's internship-neither did anyone else really- but flash was the most put out about it. He would be lying if he says he wasn’t rooting for Peter the night of his junior year party. He even helped Diana, the maid clean and dust just in case Spiderman really did show up. And when he didn’t show up he told Peter exactly how he felt about it with a new string of nicknames. Added on to the occasional passive agressive shoulder shove but nothing more or less beyond that. Sure he was a dick but he wasn’t a good fighter, just richer than Parker he was beating him in the fight of life. 

Peter only rolled his eyes back, shoving the paper into the back of his class notebook. 

The minutes ticked by steadily as Peter waited to meet Ned at his locker. He’s almost deadly positive Ned received one too and is waiting to shake the life out of his shoulders. Peter may work at Si but Ned’s never been and the experience in itself is quite entertaining. Things are always different when best friends are involved. 

“Anyone who received a field trip paper will have to have it signed and returned to me, the office, or Mrs. Meyers up to five days before the date of the field trip. Other than that we will continue on with the stock market Tomorrow!” The teacher screamed over the rustling papers and scraping chairs as he let them out a minute early, if you ask anyone on campus that made him the cool teacher.

Petter grabbed his folders, having lost another backpack he was sure laid webbed to the building and exited the room. He easily made it to his locker before Ned did and even got to close it before he was approached

. 

“Dude you can show me your lab.” he whispered to peter. 

“Actually I can’t, my lab is Tony’s and that's only because Bucky has been keeping him away from the lab.” Peter announced before he got his hopes up. “We’re probably gonna tour below mid level, I don't think they allow anyone without a permanent badge into any of the labs.” 

“Do we get to meet any of the avengers?” 

“Probably Bruce, he’s usually chilling with all the other scientists. It’ll be cool though you know i haven’t actually met him? The dude has to be dumb smart, you know Tony scraps ideas if he can’t get Bruce to sign off on them.” Peter gushes, before an arm is roughly swung around his shoulder. “Ow-no.”

Flashes pffts, “give me a break i hate this as much as you but apparently since I’m friends with idiots i have to slum it with you and- I’m sorry what's your-”

“Ned”

“Yeah Ned, that sounds familiar for the trip. I asked more about it and this might be a good time to turn in our submissions for the upcoming Intern conference. We get in ahead and we can probably impress him enough for our stuff to actually be looked at. Peter, I know your tech smart, I do numbers and possibilities and Ned we’ve been in coding since middle school together so we can definitely do that.” Flash rambles.

“What are you talking about?”

“We’ve been coding together for 6 years and you just barely remembered my name?”

“What I’m talking about-Peter is welcome to the winning team. Listen your smart parker you may or may not have an internship although its kinda sketchy that out of nowhere you a loser 17 year old defies all social laws and pops on the popularity chart” Understandable he still cursed Ned for saying anything right before he asked Mary jane to prom god that was embarrassing. 

You know that fancy stuff doesn’t bother me Peter. If I wanted to solely date you for your internship I’d hope someone would’ve knocked sense into you to get over me. 

“But I honestly feel as if we wow at least one impressionable person. They'll seek us an audience with Stark before the rest of the crowd.”  Flash continues. 

“You know that honestly doesn’t sound bad?” Ned finishes unsure over the look of alarm on Peter's face. Because yeah it’s not a bad idea and that expo meant the world to the real science losers around the GLOBE. And Ned really did want to be involved beyond the guy in the chair way before Peter turned into Spiderman. Peter would probably still be hands deep in his theories if he hadn’t gotten bit by some escaped lab spider. This expo at one point in his life -sophomore year- was the only thing that was gonna get Aunt May out of the nearly slumps. 

And flash…. Well he’s just a fucking nerd to put it lightly he was just rich, and since he was rich and gushes this much about being a intern of all things meant he might’ve been worse then both Peter and Ned when they first envisioned running coffee for Tony stark. 

Plus it would be kinda unfair to see if he could pull strings for Ned instead of proving that he was capable of it far more on his own. “Fiiiinn-”

“Whoop! You might actually not be so bad penis.” and with a clap on his shoulder disappearing with the ringing of the bell. 

Peter clenched his jaw shooting a ‘why’ look at Ned, “Oh don’t give me that look, you think I want to work with him. He has money and resources and he is good at real numbers not technical of coding, look you're an spaceship mechanic, he does the landing the thrust or whatever they do and I’m the guy who counts down which is honestly better then both of those jobs-” 

“Please Ned you're embarrassing me '' Peter laughed as he and Ned made their way through the day. 2 months until the field trip that was more than enough time for three geniuses to at least come up with a concept and a prototype for something cool. 

Scrap that they’re screwed. 

“I almost died.” Ned said, sitting in a shock of foam. “You guys just sat there, you were gonna watch me die.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Ned reared back at Flash's comment, “Dramatic! I just went up in flames!” 

“Hey, it was your boy Peter who made it. Plus maybe if he didn’t bail early last  Monday we could’ve caught that our numbers weren’t matching up with his” Maybe if some assholes weren't trying to rob F.E.A.S.T after their charity event he wouldn’t have had too. 

“I told you things happen Flash, I do in fact have a life.”

“MJ tell you that”

“-oo burn”

“Ned!- ok listen in order for this hoverboard to work we have to make sure everything is matched up. It shouldn’t have done that so something else must’ve gone wrong too.” Peter explained grabbing the notebooks and tossing them on the Flashes workbench. Hoverboard and back to future stickers on the covers.

“Might be the fact that it isn’t Hovering. But that's just me.”

#peter parker #flash tompson #ned leeds #si feild trip

[concussed-to-pieces]

Return At Dawn

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri Blaiddyd/F!Byleth (Dimileth)

Rating: Holy shit M

Word Count: Nervous sweating around 34k

AN: I would like you all to bear witness to this...behemoth.  I have played over two hundred hours of this game, my life is chaos, and the post-timeskip cutscene is the sole reason why I wrote the entire thing. Obviously, spoiler warning for the Blue Lions route. Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment deals heavily with death and various, vivid post-traumatic scenarios. Stay safe!]

"Come in old man, I'm just washing up!" The muffled reply to his knock threw Dimitri for a momentary loop. She must have assumed he was Jeralt coming to check on her.

  "Er, Professor Byleth?" He called, gingerly easing the door to her quarters open. "It's me, Dimitri. May I…?"

  "Prince Dimitri, head of the house, right?" Their new professor emerged from the tiny luxury that was the en-suite washroom, wiping her hands on a towel. The remains of some soap suds clung to her cheek, which Dimitri chose to ignore as best as he could. "Here to try and scare me off? I warn you, I'm a force to be reckoned with."

  "Not at all!" Dimitri hastily assured the newly-minted professor, bowing on reflex. 

  He hadn't expected her to be so outspoken. When she had been with Jeralt, she kept the chatter to a minimum. Even if she hadn't though, normally once people found out he was a prince the stiff manners ensued. 

  The hand that warmly clasped his own was calloused with abundant scarring across the knuckles, a telltale sign of her successful mercenary career. "I just wanted to see whether you were having any issues settling in." The prince continued.

  "No problems so far, give me a few days to get lost in this place and I'm sure I'll have the layout memorized." She said it with a straight face, but Dimitri felt as if he were being joked with. 

  "Would you like a guide? I'm certain I can assist you in navigating the monastery on your first day." He offered cordially.

  …

  Dimitri jerked awake. 

  He was still where he had dropped last, his back pressed to the wall behind him. The end of his lance was wedged into the cracked marble underfoot, propping it upright. His grip on the heavy weapon hadn't loosened, even in his momentary doze.

  The once-princeling raised his remaining eye, taking in his handiwork. Butchered Imperial soldiers littered the cathedral floor in front of him, victims of their own foolishness. A chilling breeze blew through the enormous archway, but he doubted he could feel any colder.

  In the five years since Byleth was lost, her voice had been added to the burden on his soul. Along with his father, his stepmother, Glenn, Dedue...all of them screaming for vengeance, redeem us Dimitri, why couldn't you save us Dimitri .

  He was a shambling corpse, a beast driven mad by blood-craze, the wild boar suited for nothing but destruction and slaughter. How Felix would laugh, if he could see what depths the once-prince had sunk to. 

  The shaft of Dimitri's fearsome lance, an enormous thing intended for use by mounted cavalry, was tacky with half-dried blood. He wanted to feel nauseous. Maybe that was the hunger talking. When had he eaten last?

  What was I dreaming about?

  For the first time in what felt like years, he had dozed off. And instead of being tormented by memories of fire or the loss of Dedue, he was granted a bittersweet respite in the form of recalling his beloved professor's first foray into the academic life.

  Grief tore at him wildly, making him hunch into himself once again. The pain was so sharp and vivid whenever he thought of her ; he couldn't stop his body's reaction to the perceived assault. His grip on his lance tightened and he clenched his jaw, refusing to make a sound. Mourning was a luxury reserved for someone far better than he was. All he deserved was to suffer agony in silence.

  Overwhelmed with weariness, his head pounding, Dimitri closed his eye again.

  …

  "The professor is gone, but I do not believe she is dead!" Dimitri yelled fiercely as he sawed at the reins of his destrier. The horse whinnied and pawed the earth nervously, fighting the prince every step of the way. "We will save Professor Byleth!"

  "He's right, there's no way she's lost to us!" Ingrid agreed, her own mount giving her no end of trouble. "Blue Lions, if there is a way for us to get her back, we must try!"

  "Our professor lives, I know it!" Dedue announced firmly, the other students on foot rallying behind his shield. 

  Dimitri spurred his horse forward, going at a breakneck pace across the battlefield. " Solon! " He shouted, readying his lance. "I'll slice you into a thousand pieces as you watch with horror! You will know true pain before I finally allow you to die!" The flames of Duscur seared his soul; the dead cried out for vengeance and he must give it to them. Such was the burden of the living.

  "How trite!" Solon sneered. "But! If you wish for pain, I shall oblige."

  Dimitri's horse thundered onward relentlessly, the prince disrupting enemy formations left and right as he rode. Sylvain and Felix were close behind, with Dedue and Ingrid maintaining the rear guard. Just like they had practiced, Annette and Ashe used Dedue's shield as cover for their respective spells and arrows while Mercedes and Flayn kept a vigilant eye out for any injuries. 

  Dimitri advanced on Solon, his lance gleaming in the sunset as he prepared to strike him down. "Die, monster!" The infernal darkness that had dogged him since Duscur wrapped around his soul like a hand, squeezing, squeezing-

  Brilliant light erupted in the air directly in front of him and his horse reared, nearly unseating the prince. A red-hot blade seemed to pierce the sky itself, a rift tearing open to reveal…

  Professor Byleth! The Sword of the Creator was ablaze with a fiery glow, so bright it pained Dimitri to behold it. For one fleeting moment he felt fear, as though he were a damned sinner who was about to be judged by the Goddess herself. Then, the darkness fled from his mind, clarity returning as surely as his professor had. 

  "Professor Byleth!" He said gladly, raising his lance in a knight's salute to her. He paused, however, as his eyes grew accustomed to the light. Her hair...and her eyes! Such a strange shade of green they were, like sunlight filtered through forest leaves. What had happened to her in the brief time she had been away from them? What torments had wrought their havoc upon her? 

  Solon appeared just as confused as he was, babbling about the Forbidden Spell and how the professor shouldn't have been able to escape from it. 

  "We were sure that you would return! Please tell me all that happened to you later. For now, it's imperative that we kill the demon!" Dimitri urged his horse into a canter after Professor Byleth nodded to him. More enemies had appeared on the field, no doubt brought there by Solon's foul magics. But the Blue Lions would not lose their professor again.

  He would not lose their professor again .

  …

  The soft tread of someone entering the sanctuary roused Dimitri to awareness once more. He didn't so much as flinch, steadying his breathing. Better to not draw attention to himself ahead of time, after all. 

  The sky outside had begun to brighten to a steely gray with the dawn, the wind even colder than before. 

  Dimitri lifted his gaze and was duly horrified by what he saw. Another apparition, another shadow come to torment him at night. Had his delusions truly worsened so, that she would linger even in the waxing dawn? 

  Her strides were cautious. She practically tiptoed. So unlike his professor. 

  Dimitri's remaining eye narrowed. An impostor, then. No doubt sent by Edelgard to gain his trust. How transparent of the Flame Emperor. "Stay where you are, interloper." He rasped. "Unless you wish to be cut down."

  She did not speak. The witch had done her research, it would seem. All she did was carefully pick her way around the corpses, heading towards him. 

  "I should have known, that one day you would be haunting me as well." Dimitri leaned forward, lance braced on the ground. "I will warn you only one more time, trespasser ." The former prince spat, the sharp blade of his lance glinting in the first fitful rays of morning sunlight. "Stay back ."

  The hallucination or impostor had the audacity to look distressed with him, shaking her head. The sunrise suddenly poured into the room in earnest, robing her in golden splendor. 

  Dimitri momentarily closed his eye against the onslaught of memories. The Blue Lion brooch the class had gifted her on her birthday so long ago was securely pinned to her bosom, the beast's inlaid sapphire eyes sparkling in the dawn. That Edelgard would go to this extent for authenticity-! Had that monster found where the professor's final resting place was and robbed her grave to lay claim to the bauble? Or-

  Byleth touched his cheek and his eye snapped open. All the other apparitions were so cold, but her hand was warm enough that he could actually feel it on his chilled face. "Leave me, you foul demon! Why do you dog my footsteps? Why did you come to this wretched place?" Dimitri hissed. "Just to torment me, to remind me that I failed? I will kill that woman, I swear it! Do not look upon me with scorn in your eyes!"

  "I'm so sorry." 

  Oh! Her voice! The dead heart in his breast gave a weary little beat at the familiarity of it all. How many times had they sparred? How many times had she praised his monstrous strength instead of critiquing his enthusiastic, graceless way of moving?

  How many, how many, how many …

  "Why have you come here?" Dimitri asked again, his words quieter this time. "If you are truly alive, here , then you must be an Imperial spy. That's the only way you could have survived. Have you come to kill me, cur of Edelgard?" He snarled. "Answer the question."

  "Of course not." She murmured, her thumb brushing some dried blood off his cheek. He must have been injured during his previous fracas with the Imperial soldiers. Dimitri had felt no wound over the constant throbbing of his head, however. Her eyes searched his own, probing, concerned . "What happened?" 

  What happened to you, what happened to the monastery, what happened to me. Dimitri was unsure of what she was asking and she wasn't elaborating. 

  He could have dropped his lance and crushed her skull with the strength of his hands alone. Yet...hesitation. Doubt. Momentary weakness while Dimitri extended a hand and traced the side of her face, cheekbone to jaw. He was ashamed of how his fingers trembled. She was real. Tangible . No impostor could mimic her this well, nor could the Imperial magisters. So she must be a spy in the Emperor's pocket. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved that his mind hadn't slipped further into delirium or enraged that Edelgard would conceive such a bold-faced scheme.

  His armored palm curved against her cheek, not gentle enough to be a caress but not nearly harsh enough to be a shove. "You should not be here." The fury had seeped out of his words, leaving them hollow. He felt abruptly drained.

  Her hand covered his own on her cheek and healing light washed over him, banishing the weariness that had befallen him after his last pitched fight with the Imperial soldiers. He had been wounded, then? His memory must have gone patchy during the conflict. "I'm glad you're alright." She whispered.

  "Am I?" Dimitri pulled himself upright, impatiently waving off the hand she offered. "There are rats and thieves , crawling in the ruins below that I must remove." He muttered. "They are drawn here by the promise of treasure. I will...kill them all. Until Edelgard runs out of soldiers and has no choice but to come find me herself. Someone must put a stop to this cycle of the strong trampling the weak." Pretty words. He did not actually believe them. 

  "Your Highness-"

  "Do not refer to me as such. As far as the kingdom is aware, I died four years ago in Fhirdiad." Dimitri shook himself bodily, trying to free his form of the stiffness and morning chill that clung to him. "I must rid this place of its rat problem."

  "How many of them are there?" She was cautious again. She should be.

  "It doesn't matter." Dimitri snarled. "All that matters is killing those who deserve to die."

  …

  "It smells of blood and sewage." The prince mused, a smirk upon his face. "It seems I've found their nest."

  Byleth looked up at him, thoroughly concerned by the undercurrent of excitement in his tone. This was not the same young man she had once taught in the classroom. He seemed rabid and fixated at the same time, the sinister grin he sported twisting his stern features into a terrible mask. 

  He glanced over to her. It was impossible to miss that somewhere along the way he had lost the use of his right eye, the space now covered by a dark eyepatch. She had tried to stay on his left while they slunk through the dawn's shadows down to the monastery's edge, where the thieves were at their thickest. It would do her no good to approach on his blind side and be run through for spooking him.

  For just a second, she could have sworn his expression softened slightly. "Shall we go rat hunting, Professor?" 

  Professor, professor…

  She had never imagined her title could sound so bitter and forlorn. "Would you rather I move to your right and guard you? Or stay within sight on your left?"

  Dimitri hesitated before responding, "Do as you please. I am accustomed to protecting my blind spot. Opponents always believe it to be a weak point."

  "I will guard your right as we push forward, then." Byleth said firmly. "One less thing for you to worry about." He did not thank her, and she did not expect him to.

  Dimitri moved like a wild animal in a feeding frenzy. Mercilessly cutting down the thieves, whirling his enormous lance around his body as if it weighed nothing. He had gotten even stronger , and unfortunately, far better at killing.

  Even when the enemy managed to land blows upon him he shrugged them off, single-minded in his advance. The leader of the thieves had ensconced himself in a half-collapsed cupola and it did not take an incredible strategist to know that this man was Dimitri's mark. " Out of my way! " The once-princeling roared, the next blow from that mighty lance splitting the very flagstones with the force he put behind it. "Interlopers, thieves, scum! You will pay for your foolhardy destruction of the nearby village and your ransacking of my graveyard with your pitiful lives!"

  Byleth deflected an arrow aimed at Dimitri's blind side and the blond swung his lance over her head with a grunt of exertion, slaying the archer that dared to try him. True, the two of them were strong, but their adversaries were numerous. Even with both of their skill sets, this could prove to be a fruitless struggle.

  She suddenly heard a loud rattle of armor behind her. "His Highness! And...the professor?" Gilbert sounded shocked, and well he should.

  "I know it's been five years, but I never expected the monastery to end up like this ." A bowstring twanged and an arrow sang overhead. "This place is a wreck!"

  "Ashe!" Byleth said gladly. Ashe strode forward. He was taller and broader now but had that same boyish grin, another arrow nocked and ready to fire.

  The embodiment of gentle grace herself seemed to materialize out of the morning mist beside Byleth, Mercedes reaching up to pat the professor's shoulder. "I haven't seen any of you in such a long time. I'm so glad to see you're alive." 

  Gilbert advanced from the rear guard, Annette perched securely on his shoulders. From her lofty vantage point, she launched furious gouts of magic that leveled foes. "It's over, thieves!" She announced with fervour. 

  Dimitri seemed bewildered by the sudden arrival of his old classmates and allies, actually pausing in his assault. "Why...why are you here?" He asked, clearly confused.

  "No time for that now, your Highness!" Mercedes aimed a fire spell beneath his elbow, taking down a thief who had been attempting to sneak by the group. "We can catch up later."

  "And we definitely will!" Byleth couldn't help her laugh, utterly thrilled by the appearance of their friends. 

  Galloping hoofbeats signaled another approach and Sylvain thundered past the group. "C'mon guys, we've got a nest to exterminate!" He yelled over his shoulder, reining in his horse. "Nice to see ya', Teach!" 

  A pegasus swooped by overhead, Ingrid's lance gleaming in the early morning light as she rocketed onward. "We'll catch up later!" She called.

  Grateful tears filled Byleth's eyes and she hurried to dash them away. "You're all just-"

  "Now is not the time for sentiments." Felix grumbled from her elbow, loosening the sheath binding on his blades. "We're all here because we made a promise to return. That's that. Don't waste your breath thanking us, Professor."

  Dimitri looked a strange combination of outraged and grateful, the tall young man clearing his throat and then raising his voice. "Listen up! We must end this quickly." He still commanded some form of respect it would seem, as Byleth's former students took heed of his orders and arranged themselves accordingly. 

  …

  It felt like several lifetimes had passed since Dimitri had seen the faces that rallied with him. And yet they followed orders just like they had when they were nothing but children, classmates, friends . 

  A brief flicker of self-awareness crushed him in its grip. Nausea, bringing with it a wave of fetid bile to sour his mouth. I will use you all to suit my ends, until I can use you no longer and discard you. "Seal off their escape routes! Leave none alive! Those who would strip this place must pay the ultimate price!" Dimitri shouted hoarsely.

  He was no longer the noble, chivalrous prince who led his forces to victory, but the ravenous, slavering beast who craved nothing more than to see his enemies utterly broken before him. Dimitri had thought he came to terms with this long ago. However, having Professor Byleth witness his behavior was...it made it seem more real , somehow. It solidified his fall from regal poise into brutal, blood-soaked chaos.

  He wanted to hate her for it. Dimitri wanted to loathe her for holding them to such high standards, for always encouraging them to do their best…

  For leaving him all alone.  

  He hadn't been ready! When news of her disappearance had reached him, he had gone into a blind despair. They relied on her, depended upon her, and now she was gone? There had been so much he wanted to say to her. His heart had screamed the agony he refused to voice, the maybe I could have s keeping him up long into the night.

  It felt like a cruel joke.

  Then, Dedue perished as his whipping boy, thanks to Cornelia's elaborate frame job of the only surviving member of House Blaiddyd. The last fragment of his tenuous humanity sacrificed along with his stalwart friend, Dimitri had slaughtered guards of his own kingdom to steal their weaponry and then vanished into the wilds. Let Cornelia do as she pleased with the battered kingdom of Faerghus, he no longer cared. All he wanted...all he lived for, was his revenge.

  Dimitri took to terrorizing and harassing Imperial troops wherever he found them. With every soldier killed it became easier to rationalize his horrific actions. 

  Because they're Edelgard's, and everyone connected to her will suffer until she comes to atone.

  His prior clean ways of dispatching enemies dissolved into gory bloodbaths. The once-prince no longer worried about causing unnecessary pain; instead, he focused more and more on the fear . Everyone would die as his family had died, as Dedue and his dear professor had died: with terror etched into their souls and no mercy given.

  Dimitri struck out for Garreg Mach upon learning Imperial troops were sent there regularly, the soldiers tasked with handling thieves that menaced the nearby village. That the Knights of Seiros were too damn preoccupied with their search for their precious archbishop to offer any sort of assistance came as no surprise to the once-prince. After all, when it came down to brass tacks, the church served the church. 

  It had given him a certain, sadistic pleasure to cleanse the monastery's cathedral of its Imperial infestation, though he had done so at a great cost to his own body. If Byleth had not returned when she had…

  Regardless, she was a gifted healer and strong warrior. She would serve his crusade for revenge well.

  Dimitri steadfastly ignored the soft voice in his head that added and we won't lose her again .

  …

  Byleth strode past Dedue and Dimitri without so much as a nod. Dedue hailed their professor, but she didn't seem to hear him.

  Dimitri's brow furrowed. "Dedue, have you ever known our professor to ignore a greeting?" The prince asked his stalwart companion. "She even greets a majority of the knights by name."

  Dedue tilted his head, visibly puzzled. "Perhaps she was deep in thought, your Highness?"

  "Professor?" Dimitri called, getting as much of a reply as Dedue had. He noticed with a start that she was in her armor, as though she was heading out on one of their missions. But nothing had been issued that he knew of. And he was the head of the house! If a mission had been given, he would know about it. "Dedue, we must gather the others and follow her. This bodes poorly." Dimitri decided. 

  "Of course, your Highness. I will alert our classmates. It may take some time to get mounts saddled, however-"

  "We have to hurry, otherwise we will lose track of her. Use your best judgement and have everyone meet at the gates." 

  The professor moved as if she was in a trance. One foot in front of the other, unaware of her surroundings. It was so very peculiar, yet no one else seemed to take any notice of it at all.

  Dimitri followed at what he deemed a safe distance, but it was soon apparent that there was no need for any sort of attempt at stealth. She either expected to be followed or simply did not care if she was.

  Professor Byleth made her way to the garrison stables and took the nearest horse, not even bothering with saddle or bridle. The beast didn't seem to mind, waiting patiently by the mounting block for her to climb aboard and then quickly setting off at a brisk canter. 

  Dimitri swore under his breath, scrambling to saddle his own mount.

  "Your Highness! What's going on?" Ingrid queried, swinging open the stall door.

  "We must be swift and cautious, Ingrid. It's probably nothing, but I fear there may be something sinister at work. Make haste." The prince ordered, settling into his saddle and gathering the reins.

  "Of course. Shall I wait for Sylvain?"

  "Yes, and I tasked Dedue with gathering the others. From what I saw, the professor was heading in the direction of the Canyon. If something changes, I'll leave a message at the gates."

  The professor had a head start and Dimitri realized that she had not, in fact, taken a random horse. She had taken a fast horse. It might have even been Ferdinand's prized mount, but there were several chestnut horses in the stables and Dimitri had a difficult time differentiating between the animals on a good day. He knew that as a member of the gentry, he ought to be a good judge of horseflesh. Due to his heavy-handed strength however, he had never gotten much use out of fleet-footed, leggy mounts.

  His destrier was worked into a lather by the time he reached the Red Canyon. The powerful beast slowed to a trot with its ears flattened against its skull, its nostrils flaring as it sampled the wind. 

  A fierce roar echoed through the gorge and Dimitri jerked the reins, quickly halting his steed. The roar had come from deeper in the canyon. Where the professor was.  

  Sylvain paused beside him, the redhead's own mount fidgeting nervously. "So your Highness, we headin' in?" Sylvain asked, loosening the strap that secured his lance to his side. " Whatever that was, it sure as heck didn't sound friendly. If Professor Byleth is in there…" He left his words hanging pointedly.

  "I am well aware, Sylvain. I merely wished to wait for at least one more person. Charging into a situation without any sort of backup is foolhardy."

  "I live to serve." Sylvain threw the prince a roguish wink, slapping his stallion's neck with the reins to encourage it forward. 

  Dimitri rolled his eyes and nudged his destrier into a loping canter, quickly overtaking his friend. Ingrid came up on the left, her gelding tossing its head and showing the whites of its eyes. "The horses are uneasy and I don't care for it!" Ingrid observed over the racket of pounding hooves. "Best that we find the professor quickly!"

  Dimitri nodded curtly, mentally willing his horse to go even faster. He bent low against the steed's neck, slacking the reins and feeling its gait stretch out into a smooth gallop when he gave it its head to run. Sylvain whooped, following close behind.

  Finding the source of the roar was an easy enough task. A huge demonic beast accompanied by two enormous wolves snarled and snapped at the professor, the woman dodging them nimbly on foot. Her horse was nowhere to be seen, doubtless fled in panic.

  "Hallo Professor!" Sylvain yelled, waving his arm over his head to get her attention. "Looks like you're in a bit of a jam! Mind if we cut in?"

  " Sylvain …" Dimitri muttered, thoroughly exasperated with his lackadaisical friend.

  Not only were there the massive beasts trying to savage their professor, but even as the three students advanced, monstrous hawks closed in from the rear. 

  Luckily, Dedue and the others were not far behind. The Duscur man looked a bit green from his hurried horseback ride, but gamely got his axe right into the swing of things. Felix rode up past Ingrid and Sylvain, tossing Ingrid a lance as he went. "Forget something?" The black-haired young man asked her, his tone annoyed as ever.

  "Thank you Felix!" Ingrid replied, almost sarcastically. Dimitri wanted to laugh at their easy dynamic, though this situation was no laughing matter. 

  Felix's blade flashed through the air like lightning, the swordsman scoring a deep gash in the shoulder of the closest wolf to draw its attention. "Hie, you dumb beast!" He shouted, "you're no match for me! Face me and meet your end!"

  "Easy Felix, the professor is our priority!" Sylvain chided, lowering his lance and preparing to charge the other wolf. "Ingrid, lend me a hand? Two lances are better than one!"

  Dimitri thundered forward through the opening his friends had created, the prince facing down the largest demonic beast. "Professor, are you harmed?" He called to her, relieved when she shook her head. "Please assist me in dispatching this foe!"

  Despite the size advantage, the multitude of strange beasts were no match for the student's coordinated efforts. Ashe felled the last hawk with a grunt of exertion, having overdrawn his bow to reach the high-flying target. The bowstring snapped, making the young archer yelp in a combination of surprise and pain.

  Professor Byleth started visibly at the noise, shaking her head as if she was dismissing something. "Are you alright?" She called to him, sheathing her sword even though it still steamed with ichor. 

  "Fine! I'm fine, it just caught my face." Ashe assured her, rubbing his cheek gingerly. Mercedes descended to heal over the silver-haired boy's injury, her fingers tracing the welt the bowstring had left. 

  "Professor, I know it is not my place to chastise you," Dimitri began sternly, his hands on his hips.

  "It seems I put you all in danger." Professor Byleth observed ruefully. "I didn't expect anyone to follow me here."

  "You did not exactly make it a difficult task." The prince scolded, "Never once did you check to see if you were being tailed! Honestly Professor, what on earth were you thinking?! Coming to this dangerous place with no one by your side!"

  "I felt drawn here, your Highness. As though I needed to come. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't explain."

  "Next time you feel such urges , I strongly encourage you to find me first. If not to talk some sense into you, then to offer my lance to defend you!" Dimitri snapped, perhaps a bit sharper than he had intended.

  The professor was silent for a moment and the prince busied himself with roughly cleaning his lance. "You feared for me." She said finally, her voice soft.

  "Of course I- we did!" Dimitri erupted, thoroughly exasperated. "By the Goddess, have you no sense of preservation? There were at least six enormous monsters intent on ending you!" The haft of his lance groaned in warning before the metal abruptly snapped from the pressure of his grip. The prince swore in a manner that was most unbecoming of a gentleman, barely resisting the urge to throw his now-useless weapon as far as he could. 

  Professor Byleth put a hand on his arm and he shot her a glare, opening his mouth to continue berating her. But her expression stopped him dead. She looked more distraught than he had ever seen her, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched slightly. 

  The prince's combined indignation and relief leaked out of him. In its stead, he heaved a heavy sigh and placed his gauntlet over her hand on his arm. "What's done is done. You are safe, as are the rest of us. But I meant what I said. Should you fancy to wander, tell me . It will do us no good to lose you, my dear professor."

  ...

  They had all returned to the monastery just as they had promised five years ago. The millennium feast day, and not a pilgrim in sight. Byleth sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. 

  The monastery was a mess. Annette had thrown herself wholeheartedly into cleaning up, Ashe and Sylvain at her side. Ingrid and Felix seemed thoroughly invested in restocking the moldering larders. Mercedes flitted from group to group, offering a hand wherever it was needed. Gilbert was still making his rounds, examining the state of the dilapidated fortifications and trying to prioritize what to mend first. 

  Dimitri however, appeared utterly disinterested in assisting with any of these reconstructive efforts. The prince simply stood in the middle of the cathedral's sanctuary, his arms folded across his chest. Anyone who attempted to engage him was met with silence and an icy glare. 

  Byleth thumped her forehead on the rickety desk when that cheerful information was relayed, making the knight who had delivered it snicker quietly. "Alright, thank you for the update." The former professor mumbled, already leafing through the next mountainous stack of parchment. Requisition orders, provision plans, drill schedules...Gilbert certainly wasted no time whipping everything back into shape, herself included. What was a five year gap among friends?

  "My apologies for the skewed workload, professor. We are at war and the man who should be overseeing this...appears unwell." Gilbert's delicacy when mentioning Dimitri didn't go unnoticed by Byleth, the young woman beckoning the elder knight close.

  "Is he entirely lost to us?" She asked worriedly.

  Gilbert hummed, stroking his stubble thoughtfully. "If not for the way that he attends to you, I would have said yes." He finally answered. "The solitude he has inflicted upon himself has clearly done his mental state no favors, as has his obsession with the Emperor. Yet…" Byleth flushed, cursing inwardly at the way Gilbert studied her. "He listens when you speak. That may be our only hope thus far, but it is a formidable one all the same."

  Byleth sighed. "I hope I'm up to the task."

  "If anyone could pull him out of this darkness, it is you." Gilbert stated firmly. 

  …

  The cathedral was silent. Aside from the birds that rustled in the rafters, all was peaceful. The perfect area for Dimitri to hold his forum with the dead. Glenn, his father, his stepmother, Dedue, they all had a say in his next move and they all clamored maddeningly loud for Edelgard's demise.

  His resolve was thrown into question by these beleaguered phantoms. Over and over Dimitri found himself frantically reassuring his dearly departed that he would tear Edelgard apart for them, that he would secure their salvation no matter what it cost him personally. 

  Their visages floated just out of the edge of his limited vision, forcing Dimitri to turn this way and that to try and keep them within sight. Always so close and yet, so very far away.

  The day's events had thoroughly exhausted him at this stage. Gilbert hadn't verified the structural integrity of the second floor of dormitories, and as such the once-prince was without a concrete sleeping location. He ended up simply stretching out on the marble floor of the cathedral, his heavy mantle spread over him. 

  Dimitri stared up at the stars through the destroyed roof. Even from his far-flung position, he could dimly hear the noise of the soldiers in the dining hall. It was so strange to sense motion and not be overly concerned about it, yet he did not fear any sort of assault. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that , the sense of complacent security he had.

  He knew better than to think he might actually sleep , but to his surprise, he actually found himself dozing.

  …

  "It's kind of pathetic to think about it all these years later, but can you guess what I gave her as a parting gift?" Dimitri grinned in anticipation of her attempt, happy that he wasn't the only one who would embarrass himself this evening.

  "Don't tell me." Professor Byleth's expression had gone deadpan once more. "You got her a dagger, didn't you."

  Dimitri was taken aback by her rapid, correct reply. 'Horrified' was probably a better term. "Huh. Good guess, Professor. But I swear it came from the heart. How on earth did you know?" He asked sheepishly.

  "You're a practical sort. Self defense, or something a little more abstract?"

  "I-I mean...well, both? In Faerghus, we've long considered blades as tools of destiny. As a way to cut a path to a better future." Dimitri failed to keep the wistful note out of his voice. "She was being dragged all over, unable to live the life she wanted. I thought the dagger could help her cut a path to the future she dreamed of." He sighed heavily. "However, that was many years ago. I'm sure she's forgotten all about the boy I was back then."

  "It's not too late to reconnect. Perhaps you should invite her to tea? Something small, so you don't make her wary." Byleth suggested gently. 

  Dimitri shook his head ruefully. "I'm afraid it's far too late for that. Things are different now. She's different. I'm different." 

  He rotated his arm, his shoulder still a little stiff from all the dancing. Holding rigorous posture was never an enjoyable experience, especially when he dwarfed all his partners (other than Claude). Professor Byleth said nothing in response to his quick dismissal of rekindling a sibling relationship with Edelgard, and Dimitri was immensely grateful.

  "Anyway, I'm feeling a bit out of place here. Festivities like this don't suit me." He glanced at her from beneath the curtain of his messy blond bangs, knowing that his hair must be utterly hopeless at this stage of the evening. "Professor, will you join me for a stroll? You must be tired of the ball yourself, seeing as you wandered out here for air just as I did."

  Byleth nodded and Dimitri offered her his arm.

  The Goddess Tower was so quiet, far from the commotion of the main hall. Dimitri found his palms sweaty inside his gauntlets and he grimaced. What a fool he was, inviting the professor to come along with him to this place. He had never paid much mind to the children's tales of wishes at specific locations. The Goddess would never intervene for him, that much was clear. Why waste time with this nonsense?

  Yet...here he was. Inches from the moon, he fancied, with Professor Byleth at his side. He was silent for a time, but she didn't seem to mind. If anything, she appeared grateful for a moment of respite. She sat on the railing, the two of them looking at the stars.

  "What a wonderful night." Byleth murmured. "I know I'll be paying for all that dancing, but that's a problem for tomorrow."

  "I am pleased that you enjoyed yourself, professor." Dimitri replied. "The peace here is appreciated after all that hubbub." 

  He shifted to face her, asking conversationally if she knew the legend of the Goddess Tower. He was surprised when she nodded enthusiastically. He hadn't pegged her as someone who put stock in nonsense fairytales and he said as much, making her laugh.

  "Your Highness, it's alright to be a little childish sometimes. I may not believe there's any truth to it, but it's fun to think about." She explained. Then, "You don't believe your wishes will come true, if you stand here and wish with me?"

  "Legends are legends, nothing more." Dimitri murmured. "I doubt there are many who truly believe that wishes can be granted." He cleared his throat. "Though...I suppose there's no harm in passing the time with silly legends." His melancholy dismissed for the time being, Dimitri extended a hand to his professor, smiling. "What do you say, Professor? Care to make a wish? We are here on the night of the ball. Why don't you try wishing for something?"

  "After you!" Byleth teased, her playful tone encouraging Dimitri to believe in the magic of such an endeavor, if only for a moment. She hopped off the railing and looked at him expectantly.

  "A wish of my own…" the prince mused, stroking his chin as he thought. "I suppose...my wish is for a world in which no one would ever be unjustly taken from us." He paused, realizing how serious that sounded. "Or, er, something along those lines." He hurriedly amended.

  Her hand rested beside his own on the railing and he was graced with another one of her soft smiles. "I will wish for the same."

  Dimitri's gratitude threatened to make him teary and he glanced away, clearing his throat again. "Thank you, Professor." He forced himself to smile winningly, looking back at her. "Although, at a time like this…perhaps it would make more sense for me to wish that we'll be together forever! What do you think?"

  She stared up at him in silence for several agonizing seconds. Dimitri slowly realized that the words he had spoken were incredibly weighty and he frantically scrambled to think of a way to defuse the dangerous situation he had created. How could he have said something so foolish?  

  Dimitri mustered up a weak chuckle. "Well now, Professor! You must admit I've improved in the art of joke-telling!" He grinned. 

  "That was cruel. It didn't sound like a joke." Byleth's eyes were sad and Dimitri longed desperately to ponder on that. Had she wanted him to be sincere? No, that couldn't be it. Perhaps she was more annoyed than sad? Oh, if his improper actions had offended her-!

  "I'm sorry. I guess that was rather thoughtless of me." He apologized earnestly. "Honestly, I do regret saying such a thing. Please, think nothing of it. I've blurted out irresponsible things like that to my classmates. Promises that we'll see each other again and the like." It was not entirely a lie; Dimitri felt his heart sink whenever he inadvertently made the grave error of promising anyone anything from him in the years to come. "I have no business making such promises for the future. There are certain things that I must accomplish, even if it means risking my life. I may not even have a future to promise to someone."

  There. As close to the whole truth as he had ever gotten with another person. It was terrifying . Byleth continued to stare up at him. Dimitri felt for a moment as if she could see into his very soul, could see the engorged falsehoods interwoven with the meager truths he did offer.

  "We should head back soon." The prince finally said quietly, averting his eyes. "It's...rude of me to keep you all to myself. Shall we, Professor?"

  When he offered her his arm this time, she ignored it in favor of lacing their fingers in a much more intimate manner. Dimitri flushed, grateful for the darkness of the tower to hide his red complexion. The professor said nothing the entire walk back to the main hall, but at one point she rested her head against his shoulder. 

  More than anything in that moment, Dimitri wished to stop and embrace her. He wished to believe in the power of his wish. But without a future to promise…

  No. He would not inflict such a pointless burden upon her. No matter how much it cost his heart, it was better this way. He would simply have to value their closeness that much more for the limited time that it was available to him.

  …

  Dimitri spent a good portion of time in the cathedral, muttering to himself and studying the marble floor so intently it seemed he would burn a hole in it. Byleth tried to speak to him, but unless she brought news of Imperial activities the prince didn't reply.

  One such day, after being brushed off yet again, she was surprised to have Felix usher her into one of the alcoves where a statue had once been.

  "Hello." Felix began stiffly. Even that was downright conversational compared to how he usually spoke. Byleth was instantly on edge. "I have a request concerning that... creature ." He jerked his chin toward Dimitri's large form. "I can hardly look at that thing in the state it's in." His eyes locked with Byleth's, the young man's expression dark. " Do something about it ."

  "I'll...I'll see what I can do?" The woman replied slowly.

  "Please do." Felix slouched against the pillar, his attention back on Dimitri. "We tracked the boar for five years . I thought he was dead. In the state he's in, he might as well be." The dark-haired man grumbled. "He's gotten better at killing people, and in exchange, surrendered what little humanity he had."

  Despite his cool demeanor, it was obvious that Felix still cared a great deal for the other young man. "Do you have any ideas?" Byleth asked.

  Felix shook his head. "I have spent far too long pushing the boar prince away. He would not listen to anything I have to offer." 

  "Any input you have is welcome all the same."

  Regret tinged his voice. "My elder brother died in his service, in Duscur. My father, Lord Rodrigue, handled the news in the only way he knew how: by praising my brother's commitment and sacrifice. I, however, lashed out at Dimitri for allowing my brother to die in his stead." He held up a hand when Byleth opened her mouth. "I understand that knights fight and die for their masters. It was merely because it was my brother that I attacked him."

  "Yes, but surely-"

  "Two years later, the prince and I were sent to quell a rebellion of the Duscur people." Felix was almost whispering, as though he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Dimitri was at the helm of the whole affair, to the confusion of many generals. The atrocities I saw that day...we were children , professor. I was just a squire; he couldn't have been older than sixteen, and yet the Kingdom councillors decided that the lone brat with no other heirs to the throne was the only suitable candidate to spearhead the attack." Felix's eyes narrowed. "They essentially set him loose on demoralized troops and watched him clumsily kill. A wild boar maddened with rage and inexperience, enjoying its first rampage." He tilted his head. "It seems incredibly suspect, now that I am older. Even if he was the most decorated man in the entire army, why would you send the last member of the royal bloodline out on such a mundane maneuver?"

  "He mentioned the rebellion to me before. He said it was easy. Too easy. A slaughter." Byleth replied, keeping her voice quiet. "Do you think someone was hoping he would die in that conflict? Or maybe they wanted him to get a taste for blood?"

  He shook his head. "It could be neither or both. It doesn't matter at this point, though I will say that my recollection of the events is not clouded by time or mania . If I had to hazard a guess, it is almost as if the whole rebellion was orchestrated. Duscur warriors were practically throwing themselves into the prince's path." Felix said bluntly. "We know that Cornelia has been scheming for many years. It wouldn't surprise me if this is all according to plan."

  Byleth's head felt as though it was spinning. Could it be true, that the Empire's conspiracy against the Kingdom wove that deeply into Dimitri's troubled past? 

  Felix heaved a sigh, pulling her from her thoughts. "This is all just useless speculation. Look, he listens to you for whatever reason. So again, do something . I don't care what. Imprison him, beat him, whatever it is that you think will work. Anything is better than watching him waste away like this."

  ...

  Gilbert had planned well for their first attempt at staving off the Empire. Though their battalions were much slimmer than the Imperial forces, the elder knight had devised a truly clever strategy. 

  A well-placed firebomb attack thoroughly decimated the horde of soldiers clashing with them. Dimitri could hear Randolph, that snake , shrieking orders to his men to fall back as the monastery forces of Garreg Mach doggedly pushed forward.

  Fire raged all around them, the pitiful scrub bushes reduced to ash in minutes. Several of the dilapidated defense towers had also started to burn, flames licking at the sides. Dimitri's headache intensified at the smell of hot metal and smoke and he winced, pressing a hand to his temple to alleviate the splitting pain.

  His slowed pace led to him falling behind his troops' advance. Dimitri scanned the battlefield, telling himself he didn't know who he was looking for. But...

  There was an ominous creak overhead and Dimitri glanced up, only to be treated to a shower of smoldering debris. To the left of him, Byleth didn't seem to have noticed the danger the weakened towers posed. Either that or she didn't care. 

  The dead heart in his chest leaped. She'll be crushed, burned, trapped-

  Dimitri bolted forward, shouting, "Professor! Get down!" He cursed inwardly when Byleth stopped and turned at the sound of his voice. Crowned with a halo of brilliant orange light, just as she had been all those years ago…

  Goddess-touched, Sothis' right hand .

  The tower teetered and began to collapse, no time left to escape the framework. Dimitri caught hold of her sleeve and managed to take her to the ground, throwing a metal-plated arm over her head to shield her while chunks of flaming debris rained down around them. She stared up at him, eyes wide, not even flinching when a hulking truss beam missed them by mere inches.

  Dimitri opened his mouth to say something, berate her maybe, he wasn't sure what , and then Randolph's form emerged from the hellish smoke. "The one-eyed demon! So it's you! " The general yelled, leveling his axe at him, " You're the one who's been going around killing the Imperial troops!"

  Dimitri bared his teeth and snarled deep in his chest as the commander advanced. "What is it to you?" The tower wreckage still roared with flames around he and Byleth, but it would do them no good if they were both slain. 

  The once-prince scrambled to find a solution while Randolph accused, "You bastard! Life is worthless to you, isn't it?!"

  Dimitri's laugh was an ugly, rasping noise, utterly devoid of humor. "You took the words from my mouth, general ." He abruptly seized Byleth's arm, dragged her upright and simply ordered, "jump." 

  She obeyed without hesitation. Dimitri flung her over Randolph's head with all of his strength, not caring particularly much where she landed as long as she was out of harm's way. 

  The once-prince then brandished his lance, grinning fiendishly at the new look of shock on Randolph's face. "I'll destroy you, dog of Edelgard!" He proclaimed. 

  Another fiery support hit the ground between them, the charred wood splintering loudly on impact. Randolph was clearly unsettled, the commander taking a single step back. "You...you're a monster! You care nothing for the people you've slaughtered!" He stammered. Dimitri hefted his lance, simply waiting for the other man to charge him.

  In a single instant, it was over. One swing of Randolph's axe, one thrust of his lance.

  Randolph collapsed, barely alive at Dimitri's feet. "Capture him." The once-prince ordered coldly after he pulled his lance free of the man's chest. Gilbert appeared out of the haze, lashing Randolph's hands together. 

  "I have family waiting for me. Please...I can't die here." Randolph begged once his axe had been torn from his grasp.

  "A beast of your depravity, prattling on about family? How amusing." Dimitri sneered, using the butt of his lance to shove Randolph onto his back.

  "As though you could understand...such a thing as love. You heartless monster! " Randolph spat defiantly up at him, struggling to right himself. 

  "You are a monster too, general. You have just yet to realize it." Dimitri leaned on his lance, studying the general with one cold blue eye. "A monster who thinks he's a man... despicable . As a general, you must have killed countless souls without a shred of mercy." The once-prince crouched, fisting a hand in Randolph's hair and making the other man look directly at him. "Do you remember the sound of them begging , just as you're begging now? Or, now that your life is at its end, will you hold to the lie that your hands are not stained red with blood?"

  "This...is war. I did what I had to for the Empire, for the people...for my family! " Randolph sounded desperate.

  Dimitri chuckled mirthlessly, releasing the hold he had on the man's hair and rising to stand once more. "So, you are piling up corpses for the people and your family . And I am doing the same for the salvation of the dead." He mused, "After all is said and done we are both murderers, both stained. Both monsters."

  "You're wrong!" Randolph cried frantically.

  "Am I?" Dimitri challenged. "I can smell the rotting flesh upon your hands even now, General ."

  "Enough! That's enough!" The Imperial screamed, shaking his head as if to dislodge Dimitri's cruel observation.

  "I won't kill you right away, my fellow monster." Dimitri continued over the general's pitiful caterwauling. The dead surged forward, gleefully demanding, bony fingers clutching at his shoulders. "Unless you object to watching your friends die. One. By. One ." Dimitri's fingers grazed the patch that covered his right eye. "If so, I will do you the service of removing your eyes first, so that-"

  He had been leaning in, so intent on the look of horrified despair on the dying man's face that he failed to notice Byleth approaching. Her sword flashed once and Randolph gurgled something, a name, " forgive me …" as he expired.

  Dimitri straightened up to his full height, glaring at his former professor. Byleth had stolen that man's fear and death from him. Even now, his grip on his lance tightened. Would he really kill her over something like this? Goddess, he might. What kind of monster was he? 

  "What is the meaning of this?" He gritted through his clenched teeth, struggling desperately to keep a handle on his temper.

  "I miss the Dimitri I once knew." Her voice was so soft, he almost missed what she said. 

  Dimitri barely managed to maintain his composure at that . If he could call shouting at someone maintaining his composure, that is. "The Dimitri you once knew is dead! " He barked. "All that remains is this repulsive, blood-stained monster you see before you. If you do not approve of what I have become, then kill me ." 

  He cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him. Her eyes were so bright, shimmering with tears, but she defiantly refused to let them fall. The sight cooled his rage, but only just. 

  "If you insist that you cannot, then I will continue to use you and your friends until the flesh falls from your bones ." He finished firmly, releasing her and stepping back. 

  As though you could understand...such a thing as love…

  Randolph's words rang in Dimitri's mind long after their troops had dispersed over the battlefield to gather the wounded and bury the dead. The once-prince hated those damn words. He had been a fool . Throwing himself into danger to shield Byleth, only to have her turn around and betray him by killing Randolph herself!

  Goddess, his head ached. 

  …

  Her animalistic wail of agony caught everyone off guard. Their professor, who had only just begun to smile in the presence of her students, appeared to have entirely lost her composure.

  Her father was dead. Dimitri knew the anguish that she felt all too well. He could practically see himself in her, weeping against her father's chest and pleading with Jeralt to open his eyes. 

  Dimitri had done much the same when his own father had been slain, begging and bargaining with anything that might have been listening, don't leave me all alone!

  Gently but firmly, the prince took Byleth's hand and started tugging her to her feet. She tried to refuse at first, clinging to his hand and Captain Jeralt's body with equal fervor. Dimitri managed the task all the same, hesitating for a moment before wrapping the young woman in his arms.

  She sobbed hysterically into his soaked gambeson, her hands clenching into fists in the tough fabric. It was as though something had snapped inside her; the proverbial dam had been broken and now all her sadness came pouring out in a torrent. It was a bit frightening to see her so utterly destroyed, but also understandable. Dimitri simply stayed silent and let her weep, one hand slowly stroking her back.

  "Your Highness," Sylvain said quietly after several minutes had passed. "Ashe and I are gonna' go fetch the knights. We can't leave Captain Jeralt in the rain like this." 

  "Of course. See that you remain vigilant. Monica or whoever she is might still be out there." 

  The professor's hold on Dimitri loosened at his words and she pulled back, taking a shuddering breath. The look on her face broke the prince's heart all over again. She was defeated, in pieces, and he could not think of a single comforting thing to say. He himself had grown indelibly weary of the platitudes of strangers after he had lost every ally and friend to the fires of Duscur. 

  Dimitri shook his head when she opened her mouth. "Don't, Professor. It is better if you do not speak right now." He murmured. "It is still too new and fresh, and it is far too easy to say something you will regret."

  "I'll kill her." Professor Byleth gasped. 

  "That much we can agree on." 

  She went on to sequester herself in her room for several days after the incident. Professors Manuela and Hanneman divided her workload so the students were not left wanting for education. They were , however, left to worry about their beloved professor Byleth. 

  When Dimitri happened upon the young woman in her late father's office, he could tell that she had been weeping recently. She started when he spoke to her, as though she hadn't noticed his approach. 

  "Professor! You're out and about! I was...we all were...er, you've been on our minds." Dimitri tried to keep his voice soft, explaining that Rhea had asked for Byleth's presence. "And after that, why don't you join me in the dining hall? You haven't eaten since...since it happened, have you." Her expression didn't change but Dimitri could feel the nervous energy coming off of her. He quickly backtracked, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Forgive me. I suppose it's too soon to try and coax you back into the normal swing of things."

  "Forgive my absence, please." She said softly.

  "You have nothing to apologize for, Professor." Dimitri replied, perhaps a touch too quickly. "As for what happened to Jeralt...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to stop it. Stay here until you've found some peace." He implored her. "I'll cover for you with Lady Rhea and everyone else."

  "Thank you." The professor sniffled and Dimitri felt his composure waver.

  "We'll be waiting for you whenever you're ready to return to us." He promised, offering her a thin smile. "I don't believe it's a sign of strength to just keep moving forward no matter what. Taking the time to grieve for those we've lost...there's strength in that too." He carefully reached out, and she put her hand into his after a moment. "That's what I think, anyway." 

  "I am so weary of crying, but it's all I seem to do these days." Byleth whispered. 

  "It's also important to remember that no matter how sad you are, eventually your tears will dry up. Eventually you will forgive yourself, as well as forgive your father for leaving you. That's when you have to figure out what it is you're living for. Then, you can cling to that with all your might, and start moving forward again."

  "What I'm living for?" She echoed his words listlessly.

  "Four years ago in Duscur, I experienced the same pain you're feeling now." Dimitri disliked speaking about Duscur. It always reminded him of what he had yet to accomplish. "My father was the strongest man I knew. Someone I loved and admired deeply. That day, he was killed before my eyes. His head severed clean off." Dimitri took a shuddering breath, the memory still difficult to recount even all these years later. "My stepmother, the kindest person I had ever known, left me behind and disappeared into the infernal flames."

  He took a moment to master himself, ashamed at how lacking his control was. His professor squeezed his hand, as though encouraging him to carry on. Even in her sorrow, she was so kind.

  "Everyone who I considered precious...my family and my closest friends. I couldn't save any of them. Not a single one." Dimitri continued quietly. "Now, the burden of the work they left behind falls on me. I must ensure they have no regrets. That's my duty, as the sole survivor of the Tragedy." He admitted, "it's a heavy burden, but accepting it gave me the strength to pick myself up off the ground and start moving again. Start living again."

  Byleth gave a little sob at that.

  Dimitri clasped her hands between his own and held them to his heart, trying to offer some sort of comfort. "Jeralt is gone. So what will you do now, Professor? What must you do? Look deep in your heart and I'm certain you'll find the answer there, indelible and inescapable." 

  She met his eyes for the first time and Dimitri was struck by how fragile she seemed, as though the slightest breeze might rend her asunder. 

  "I've probably bothered you enough for today, but I have just one more thought to leave you with." Dimitri said apologetically. "Even now, Seteth is gathering the knights to begin a full-scale search for the enemy. It may not be right away, but before long they will find their trail."

  "I will kill her." Byleth said fiercely, a touch of her old fire returning.

  The blond nodded his assent. "No matter what happens or what anyone may say, know that I plan to stand by you, Professor. Through anything. Until the bitter end." He swore fervently, his gaze unwavering. "Know that your enemies are my enemies. I will do all I can to help you find justice. There is no one else I can…" Dimitri paused, searching for the right words. "My strength is yours alone."

  "You cannot promise such things, your Highness." Byleth protested. "You must think of-"

  "I will fight as you command. I will kill anyone should you ask it of me." Dimitri insisted. "I would promise this to anyone I hold in high regard, Professor." 

  That was an absolute, bold-faced lie. He had refused to engage in the folly of swearing his time and energy to causes he may not survive to see, but this…

  The distress of his dear professor tore him apart and more than anything, Dimitri wanted to help her. He wanted to be someone that she could depend on, no matter the cost. And so, even though it was against his modus operandi, the prince charged himself with helping to secure and execute her revenge.

  ...

  The cathedral guard waved her over and Byleth approached, slightly apprehensive. "Professor, I...that creature, I saw him interacting with the monastery orphans earlier." He whispered conspiratorially once she was within earshot, doing his best to point at Dimitri without actually pointing at him. "He even pet one of them on the head! I didn't think that someone like him was capable of...I mean, he didn't smile or anything. But still, I found it strange and I thought you should know." 

  Byleth thanked the guard for his report and proceeded to mull the new information over. Many of their ragtag army thought the once-prince a monster, and all of his behavior seemed to confirm their suspicions. So what was this odd flash of humanity? She had feared after Randolph that Dimitri was beyond saving, but perhaps…

  She needed to talk to several people immediately. Starting with Mercedes. Luckily, the other woman wasn't exactly difficult to track down.

  "A choir recital to boost morale and camaraderie?" The normally calm and reserved Mercedes looked like she was about to burst with excitement when Byleth pitched the idea. "That's a wonderful idea! I thought as much myself, but I didn't want to be presumptuous. Are you certain it will be alright if we use the cathedral to rehearse, professor?"

  "Of course. I already cleared it with Seteth." Or I will, anyway . "Your group can have it in the afternoons. In the mornings, I'm hoping I can get Gilbert and Sylvain to help me with another little project. Oh, maybe Felix too…" Byleth trailed off, tapping her chin. "If I were you, I would ask Manuela for a hand."

  "You're absolutely right!" Mercedes agreed with a smile. "And I'm sure Annie will help out too! What's your project, Professor?"

  "We have a lot of children around because of the conflicts. I figure if they're going to be here, the ones who want to learn to keep themselves safe should have the opportunity."

  …

  Gilbert sat atop a large chunk of rubble from the caved-in roof, whittling away at a small piece of basswood. A cluster of younger children gathered at his feet, watching him work with rapt attention. A few of them were already playing with tiny dolls or horses. The old knight had clearly been busy.

  The older children were organized into straggling lines facing where the altar had been. Sylvain, Felix and Alois filtered through the ranks to straighten postures or adjust grips on training weapons as needed, while Professor Byleth led the simple stance drills. 

  Dimitri hovered in the main cathedral entryway, irritated and fascinated all at once. It would seem that the dreary space he had haunted was overrun with excited, chattering children. Was it brighter in the cathedral today, or was that merely his fancy talking?

  Felix was smiling . That image alone gave him a considerable amount of pause. True, it was nothing more than a slight upturn at the edge of his mouth, but that was more than he'd displayed in Dimitri's presence for over ten years.

  "Oh, your Highness! What brings you here?" Mercedes' gentle voice interrupted his troubled musings. 

  Dimitri inclined his head so she would know he had heard her, though he did not face or trouble himself to answer her. She approached on his blind side and Dimitri tensed reflexively, only letting his shoulders drop once she was fully within view.

  "Are you having fun watching, your Highness? I get like that too sometimes. It's a lot of effort to join people, and plus, what would I even say?" Mercedes laughed softly. 

  "Indeed." Dimitri replied curtly.

  "Oh, is the professor waving at you? Or me? Hello, Professor!" Mercedes waved back excitedly and Dimitri seized her distraction to lurch forward into the cathedral, heading for one of the side courtyards. His routine would not be discarded simply because of some misguided training practice, how dare -

  Mercedes words struck him anew. What would I even say? Truly, what could he say? The dead demanded Edelgard, screamed and clamored for her head. He would not let his departed family and friends languish while that witch roamed free. They must be allowed to rest easy with no regrets, regardless of what it cost him.

  Brow furrowed, he continued forward past the pile of rubble from where the roof had given way. Gilbert offered him a silent nod, which Dimitri returned on his way to the door. Once he reached it, he engaged in his pastime of studying the cracked marble beneath his boots and fervently assuring his ghostly comrades that he would be triumphant over Edelgard.

  He could not be sure how long he stood there. His nights were sleepless, melting together with his days in a haze of impatience. He was used to surviving on stolen minutes of respite, the meager times when the dead allowed him peace.

  At some point, the sword practice with children changed to choir practice with adults. A multitude of former students, knights and professors all gathered to rehearse, give well-meaning pointers and seemingly just enjoy each other's company. Though his professor ( former professor, Dimitri corrected himself furiously) had been busy all morning, she stayed for the choir practice as well. 

  Dimitri soon found himself listening instead of brooding, but he kept his gaze on the floor. Some of the songs were old hymns that he had heard in his youth, while others hailed from the Mittelfrank opera stage. A strange combination. His stepmother had loved singing, though the late king and his son shared a mutual tonedeaf gene that threatened to ruin her performances. Dimitri could only just remember the way his father would interrupt her, making her sigh with his noble, kingly attempts to carry a tune. 

  Another bittersweet memory. It felt...precious. Dimitri looked up from the floor and caught Professor Byleth watching him. She raised an eyebrow and made a subtle gesture with her hand. Join us?

  Dimitri turned on his heel and departed.

  …

  Claude turned on his heel and escorted the professor of the Blue Lions out onto the dance floor, weaving between the other dancers in a strange pattern that was absolutely contrary to the stately Faerghus waltz playing. 

  Dimitri had to laugh at the professor's deadpan expression, apologizing to his partner hastily and then moving to intervene. "Claude!" He called, chuckling when the head of Golden Deer rushed to hand Professor Byleth off to Lorenz. "Transparent as ever, my friend!" 

  "Hey, your house can't hog the new professor all the time. I'm just sharing the love." Claude reasoned, slinging an arm around Dimitri's shoulders. The leader of the Golden Deer house then easily swung the prince into a passing semblance of a waltz, the two of them having a grand time trying to dodge each other's feet. "It's nice to see her enjoying herself though." Claude mused.

  "I know what you mean." Dimitri agreed, "I wonder if the mercenary life was too lonely for her?"

  "Probably too boring!" Claude grinned. "We've kept her pretty busy with our antics."

  "That much cannot be denied." 

  Dimitri's mind wandered back to Flayn trying to teach Byleth to dance, the way the professor had smiled , her eyes fairly luminous with excitement. 

  Dimitri had been roped into the lesson as a partner for the professor, Flayn stating that he was the obvious choice due to his height and familiarity with the dances. He was hesitant at first, wary of where to put his hands. He knew , of course, but the idea of actually touching her was-

  He wasn't sure why his heart had been pounding so hard. Even now, as he watched her get passed from Golden Deer to Golden Deer during a rousing folk reel that originated in the Leicester Alliance, his heart tripped wildly in his chest. How peculiar.

  "The Fox Chase, your Kingliness!" Claude said excitedly, bowing and then catching both of Dimitri's hands. "C'mon, stop gawking and get back in here!"

  "Claude-!" Dimitri protested, his discomfort notwithstanding as Claude dragged him around. 

  Abruptly, no doubt due to more wily Golden Deer machinations, the prince and Professor Byleth were side by side. The future leader of the Alliance vanished back into the crowd, leaving Dimitri standing alone. Byleth looked up at him, her cheeks flushed with exertion and her eyes sparkling in the soft light from the chandelier. "Enjoying yourself, your Highness?" She asked, as though they weren't in the middle of a swirling maelstrom of students.

  Dimitri found himself grinning broadly back at her, accepting the hand she extended to him. "I am now, Professor."

  …

  It would seem that his once-solitary space had been permanently commandeered. Dimitri couldn't even find it in his blackened heart to complain, resorting to glowering at the ground in the courtyard doorway instead of the middle of the ruined chancel. 

  One day, a small girl hid under his cloak without him noticing. Indeed, he might have continued being oblivious, had she not giggled wildly when her friend dashed by calling her name. Dimitri grunted, startled by the closeness of laughter as well as the slight tugging on his heavy cloak. 

  He turned, fixing his lone blue eye on the offending party that was currently playing in the thick folds of his mantle. The child froze, seeming to realize she was under scrutiny, and peeked up at him. 

  Her eyes met his own. He watched as they darted to the patch that covered his right eye, yet there was no fear. Slight apprehension, perhaps, maybe she thought she would be scolded. Dimitri was confused by her lack of terror. The knights and monks said horrendous things about him, most of them true. He had become a butcher, a monster. Surely this child had been warned away from him. Surely .

  "You look lonely. Do you want to play with us?" The little girl asked, her words laden with a child's curiosity. 

  "No." Dimitri paused after her face fell, then gritted out, "You ought to stay away from me." Fool, why would you say something like that?!

  "Why? You've been so sad ever since you came back. Is it because you miss your friend?" She queried. "The Duscur man who took care of the flowers?" Dedue . Emotion forced Dimitri to clear his throat. She must be one of the original waifs from the monastery if she could recall Dedue. "You still have your other friends though! I know that the professor wishes you would come over." The child confided, standing up on her tiptoes in an attempt to whisper to him.

  "I'm certain she does. I am not deserving of such consideration." Dimitri replied brusquely. His hand rested briefly atop the little girl's head. "You should run along now." She actually grabbed his other hand and yanked , trying to get him to come with her. She might as well have tried to move a boulder. "Go on." Dimitri ordered, not unkindly. 

  "Nuh uh! Mercedes made sweets today, and you're always standing over here staring at Professor-"

  " Child ." Dimitri muttered, getting down on one knee so that he could attempt to be eye level with the girl. She looked thoroughly incensed at his firm refusal and it made him want to laugh. "Sometimes...there are people like me in this world who are not meant to be around other people." He knew his explanation was clumsy at best, but trying to simplify such a complicated thing was not easily managed.

  "Can I bring you a cake, then? If I run over and get it so you don't have to?" She was bargaining with him, of all things. 

  The once-prince sighed heavily and nodded, waiting until she had started running to Mercedes before he left. Better to disappoint her than encourage her behavior. 

  …

  "You need to be careful." Dedue chastised him, reaching over to try and salvage the mangled flower. "If you are not decisive with your action, you will destroy the plant."

  "I apologize, Dedue. I am not accustomed to such delicate work." Dimitri sighed, abandoning his efforts. 

  "It is alright. These are very small flowers, after all."

  They had been tasked with gathering the centerpieces for the dining hall and Dimitri had been determined to do an excellent job. But his hands were so indelicate that he was doing more butchering than gardening. 

  "How do you manage it?" He asked the Duscur man curiously. Dedue's hands were just as large as his own, yet he seemed to have no trouble whatsoever.

  Dedue did not answer for a moment. When he did, his voice was strangely soft. "My sister loved to coax flowers to life even in the worst terrain. This is simple, compared to that."

  Dimitri fell silent and Dedue worked on, easily separating out sprigs of foliage for them to use. "I...I am sorry, Dedue. I should not be so thoughtless." The prince felt like he ought to be whispering for some reason. Dedue did not speak often of his late family members, all slaughtered in the Tragedy of Duscur.

  "Do not apologize. You have done nothing wrong." Dedue stared down at the bundle of vibrant blooms in their basket. "Through my actions, through my words, they live on. As long as I remember them, they will rest easily."

  "You do her memory such honor, Dedue." The notion of not striking back against the people who had taken his loved ones from him, but instead attempting to spread the knowledge that they had left him with...

  "That is all I can hope for, your Highness." Dedue handed Dimitri back his shears and gestured to another flower with a tentative smile. "Here, try again."

  ...

  He told himself he wasn't avoiding the cathedral, he was simply choosing to aimlessly wander the monastery grounds. People stayed out of his way for the most part, though the children had a tendency to gather and frolic around him like he was some kind of sentient, roaming maypole. 

  Dimitri spent his nights in the cathedral, though he wasn't sure why. The dormitories had been thoroughly examined and found structurally sound. His personal quarters were not wanting, and he certainly wasn't a pious man, especially not now with his hands soaked in blood. Best that he not trouble the Goddess with his pitiful pleas for aid in revenge. She had blessed him with Byleth's return, after all, a truly fine tool for his crusade. What more could he wish for?

  Still he sat in one of the worn pews, night after night, and simply watched the coming and going of worshippers until he couldn't force himself to stay awake any longer.

  He never slept for too long. Sometimes he awoke to find that a small meal had been left on the bench adjacent to him, tied up in one of the many napkins from the dining hall. It vexed him greatly to know that someone had been able to get that close, unconscious though he might be. 

  His head ached constantly. Every day that they spent plotting and gathering their strength was a day that he didn't have Edelgard's lifeless corpse to present to his dearly departed loved ones. Their cries for revenge were maddening, all-consuming; it was no wonder he slept poorly.

  Then came the fateful evening he stumbled upon the professor sound asleep beneath the pews. Byleth was curled up against the chill in the air, and a familiar bundle of cloth on the bench above her caught Dimitri's eye. The tall man carefully untied the knot in the napkin, revealing several rations of bread, one precious sweet bun, a piece of cheese and a peach. It would appear he had found the person who could sneak up on him while he slumbered. 

  The dark circles under her eyes were far too pronounced. They nearly matched his own. She was working more than she needed to, just as she had done when he had simply been her student.

  Dimitri unclasped his heavy cloak before he realized what he was doing. When he noticed, he hesitated, fingers digging into the mane of thick fur. Wasn't this foolish of him? But then, he already knew he was a fool. If he was being honest with himself, if he still had the capacity to feel such things, he was absolutely smitten with his dear professor.

  A beast like him didn't deserve such a vibrant and joyous soul at his side. His hands were unable to be gentle, his humanity surrendered years ago to hone his ability to take life. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, fallen princeling, heir to a fractured kingdom, knew all too well that his greatest shortcoming was his greed. It came in the form of lust for victory, his desire to have his cake and glut himself on it. 

  He scoffed at his thoughts, wrapped Byleth in his cloak and then lifted her from the floor.

  Dimitri had only carried her once before.

  …

  She had been gifted the power of the Goddess herself. Her hair and eyes had shifted to a vibrant green, echoing all the imagery of Saint Seiros. It was as though the old tales had come to life before his very eyes. 

  " Professor! What's wrong?!" Dimitri was concerned when she abruptly collapsed after their battle with Solon, but his worry faded as he realized she was merely asleep. "Professor, now is not the time nor the place for such an activity!" The prince scolded her fruitlessly, unfastening his half cape. 

  It was a simple enough matter to swaddle her in the fabric, but then he paused. Propriety dictated that he should wait until another professor or one of the knights had arrived to manage the situation. However, propriety had never been one of his strong suits. 

  "Looks like you'll be riding with me, Professor. Dedue, please hand her up to me once I've mounted." The blond man vaulted back into the saddle of his destrier and settled the professor's slumbering form in front of him, then picked up the reins.

  Their return to the monastery was slow. Everyone was exhausted, to say the least. Mercedes had nearly lost consciousness due to her focus on healing, and as such was currently being assisted by the stoic Dedue. Flayn was the only one who appeared unaffected by the battle, the young woman chattering away enthusiastically even with Ashe's arm slung over her shoulder. It was heartening to see that she had not allowed the bloodshed to rattle her.

  Professor Byleth seemed so small when she was asleep. She barely weighed anything; Dimitri easily held her steady on his horse with a single arm around her waist. She ended up slumped against his chest, her head tucked underneath his chin. Dimitri forced his eyes forward, attempting to focus on the trail back to the monastery instead of on his professor's proximity.

  He heard Mercedes sleepily ask, "Do you think she'll be alright?"

  "I have no doubt. Our professor is quite strong." Dedue assured the young woman. " You , on the other hand, will need proper food and rest before you attempt such reckless behavior again."

  "Reckless? I was only doing what I was supposed to." Mercedes protested. 

  "You must be aware of your own limitations. Do not forget that I am here to assist as well." Flayn said cheerily. "I feel that we did an excellent job, considering that we were walking into an obvious trap!"

  Dimitri turned his head and very nearly asked what the hell she was talking about, but he held his tongue at the last moment. Flayn was a mysterious creature; she never seemed to have a straight answer for anything . And even when she did answer, it rarely solved the query being posed. Better that he save himself the frustration of her circular replies.

  Eyes forward once more, the prince trusted his destrier to find a path of least resistance as his mind wandered. 

  It must have been a trap, meant to goad the professor into coming alone. Her father's murderers, all in one spot? It was too convenient. The enemy didn't seem to have counted on her returning from whatever spell that had been. The Forbidden Spell …

  Dimitri had no real talent for magic. His family Crest amplifying his strength saw to that. But he knew a few things from his schooling. Such as, the more raw energy or potential put into a spell, the more powerful it was. Solon had ripped the very heart out of Kronya to fuel his dark magics. Dimitri had watched the old man crush the still-beating organ like it was nothing. The memory of the dense purple haze that had arose sent shudders down the prince's spine. There was something innately wrong about such things. Blood magic, sacrificial amplification...it all made his skin crawl.

  Dimitri found himself holding their professor a little tighter as they rode. He wasn't certain why, maybe it was simply his prior trauma talking, but he felt a strange fear about her being taken from them once more. 

  Byleth murmured something in her sleep. On her hip, the seemingly-awakened Sword of the Creator pulsed with light like it was a living thing. 

  This entire situation was so incredibly bizarre. 

  …

  "That is House Rowe's banner. They curried favor with that witch and sold out Faerghus." Dimitri had assumed his supply of disdain had run dry, yet he still felt a sneer curl his lip. "To think that they would vanguard a corpse to fend us off, as if we are nothing but a nuisance ."

  The notion that Viscount Rowe would muster troops, send that decrepit warrior into this inhospitable area to ensure Rodrigue's men would have no Kingdom Army to join...it made Dimitri want to hilt his lance in the dastard's chest. Ailell's heated environment was like Hell itself for anyone in armor, the bubbling pools of lava all around them enough to give the most seasoned of knights pause. Even though Dimitri had dismissed Gilbert's old wives' tale of the Valley's creation, it wasn't difficult to see how the legend might have been born. This cursed place did indeed seem as though it had been brought about by a Goddess' fury.

  The Gray Lion, withered and laughably past his prime, raised his lance in challenge from across the cracked obsidian landscape. 

  "Will you have us meet them in battle, or wait for Lord Rodrigue to arrive?" Gilbert asked the once-prince cautiously.

  "There is only one option." Dimitri bared his teeth in a wicked grin. "How kind of them to save us the trouble of killing them later."

  Byleth opened her mouth, no doubt about to say something foolish like weren't they your allies once or shouldn't we wait for Rodrigue .

  Dimitri headed her off, half-tempted to press a finger to her lips to hush her. "That banner belongs to the Gray Lion of House Rowe, Lord Gwendal. It's a waste of breath to exchange words with one such as him." The young man informed her curtly. 

  "His Highness is correct. He is not an opponent whom we can expect to negotiate with." Gilbert agreed. He then raised his voice to address their meager troops, "everyone! Prepare for the attack!"

  Their formations were bare bones. Dimitri did not fear for their victory though. This would be the final time Count Rowe's loyal dog Gwendal rode out to battle.

  Gouts of fire spouted from either side of the relative pathway forward, the lava agitated by the motions of the two forces preparing to collide. "So, the flames of torment burn your sins, your life, your everything." The prince mused, half to himself. "If you wish to spare yourself the Goddess' wrath, Professor, tread lightly."

  Byleth nodded and readied her sword. 

  Their soldiers fought bravely, and when Rodrigue arrived it offered Dimitri the opening he needed to get within striking distance of Gwendal.

  "The man praised as a lion is degraded to a mere traitor's underling." Dimitri sneered at the mounted knight, adjusting his grip on his lance. Horse first, then man .

  "A traitor's underling?! That's upsetting, your Highness!" Gwendal protested. "I am and always have been a knight of House Rowe!"

  "How dare you." Dimitri's voice dipped into a furious gravel. "You are nothing but a lowly beast scavenging for scraps! You have forgotten the dignity of knighthood." 

  "I may be lowly . But this beast is devoted to his master!" The elderly knight proclaimed.

  "Ha! Then I had better kill the pet and deliver its head to that master." After that grim declaration, Dimitri swung his lance with all his strength into the legs of Lord Gwendal's horse. Both man and beast crashed to the ground, and Dimitri wasted no more time with words.

  The blade of his lance pierced Gwendal's armor before sinking home and the old man wheezed, "ah, so I have found a place to die. Young ones...your Highness...I thank you…" There was the barest hint of a smile on that scarred face.

  Dimitri pulled the lance free, shuddering before he could stop himself. He loathed the eerie calm in Gwendal's voice when he had expired, as though this was all the elderly man had wanted. To be slain in battle, just another casualty of war.

  The professor came up alongside him, standing there silently until Dimitri looked up. "Lord Fraldarius is waiting for you, your Highness." She informed him. 

  Dimitri nodded, straightening his gauntlets. His hair was hopeless from the heat and grime, but it was not as if Rodrigue cared about such things. Who on earth was he preening himself for? Beside him, Byleth subtly brushed some ash off his shoulder and repositioned his heavy cape. Goddess, why had he worn the damn thing? 

  "It's been too long, your Highness. But try to temper your joy, will you? This is a war, after all." Rodrigue jibed as he bowed to the prince.

  Dimitri huffed, shaking his head. "To say such a thing at a time like this...you have not changed one bit." His respect for the man across from him took some of the venom out of his exasperated words.

  "Don't let looks deceive you. I've had a rough go of it ever since I crossed blades with those traitors in Fhirdiad." Rodrigue did seem haggard, but Dimitri had assumed that was merely the heat of their locale getting to the older man. "When I heard you'd been executed, I rushed there as fast as I could, blind with fury. Once I got there, I was fed some garbage about not being able to see your body. The next thing I knew, I was gripping my blade and-" 

  Felix interrupted his father's impassioned recounting with a loud snort, seeming to bring the older man back to himself.

  Rodrigue gestured to Gilbert, gratitude plain on his face. "Gilbert, you have done well to locate his Highness. I am truly grateful." He then turned towards Byleth with a smile. "And you! I have you to thank, as well."

  "We were all very fortunate." Byleth replied solemnly, bowing to the noble.

  "Well, we are in your debt. I will repay you for this someday, I swear it." Rodrigue promised. "And you, Felix. You have also done well to bring his Highness here."

  Felix glared at his father and said nothing. Dimitri could feel the irritation coming off the younger man in waves. He decided that they had prattled on long enough, finally asking Rodrigue for whatever information he could give them.

  Unfortunately, the older man had precious little to offer in that regard. Gilbert's own information filled in the gaps in his limited dialogue, painting a grim picture of behind the scenes machinations on behalf of Cornelia and the Empire.

  "So that's been the witch's plan from the start. I should have killed her ages ago." Dimitri growled.

  "Your Highness, Fhirdiad is in a terrible state right now. The tyranny is unbearable, and so the rebellions are endless. Refugees starve to death in the streets." Rodrigue looked pained. "If I may speak freely, your Highness...we should change course for Fhirdiad, and take down those traitors before we embark to Enbarr."

  "There's no time for that." Dimitri replied fiercely. "We must annihilate Enbarr before all else."

  "Think this through," Rodrigue implored. "I understand wanting to destroy the Empire and the Emperor. I want that so much it hurts. But which is more important," he queried, "the dead or the living?"

  For one terrifying moment, Dimitri was uncertain of whether he would kill Rodrigue in cold blood. Everything focused down to a white-hot point, the sound of the nearby troops fading to nothing. " Silence. " The once-prince finally rasped, his arms crossed over his chest.

  "No, Dimitri. You will hear me out." Rodrigue said evenly.

  Dimitri hated the older man's calm, just like he had hated Gwendal's. How could Rodrigue of all people do this to him? "Are you asking me...asking the dead ...to forgive that woman?" The blond man snarled incredulously, jabbing an accusatory finger in Rodrigue's direction. 

  "No. I would not ask that of you. What I am asking is that you allow us to prioritize the Kingdom capital over the Imperial capital for now." Rodrigue put a hand over his heart. "As Lambert's close and trusted friend, I am confident that he would have advised the same."

  At the mention of his late father, Dimitri saw red. He took a step towards Rodrigue, but halted when he felt Byleth catch his arm. He didn't know why. She was not strong enough to stop him. No one was. "Do not dare to put words in the mouths of the dead." He managed to say, livid though he was. "They are your words alone, even if you borrow their lips. Until I offer up that woman's head, Father will remain a slave to his lingering regret and hatred." Dimitri's voice cracked, the young man all but shouting in Rodrigue's face, "Even now he suffers. It is ceaseless . As we waste time with idle chatter, his suffering continues!"

  Rodrigue sighed, shaking his head. Silence reigned for a moment, every soldier no doubt eagerly hanging on what the lord might have to say next. Dimitri was certain this was more excitement than the rabble had experienced in years. "You are my king." The older man murmured, bowing. "Our king. Wherever you lead, we will follow. But your Highness...there are those who take up their sword in the name of revenge, and yet along the way lose the strength and composure to follow through." Rodrigue's eyes had gone steely. Dimitri felt as though his very soul was laid bare to the older man. "You would do well to bear that in mind."

  Dimitri gritted his teeth, looking away. His eye roved the ashen landscape, illuminated only by the pitchy, writhing flows of lava. Such a tumultuous place…

  Byleth's grip on his arm loosened slightly, making the young man glance down at her. She was looking out as well, scanning the edges of the valley. Always one step ahead. 

  Rodrigue whistled to his horse, drawing Dimitri's attention. "I nearly forgot." The Lord Fraldarius began apologetically, tugging at a securely-wrapped object tied to his saddle. "Take this, your Highness. The time has come for it to be wielded by it's true master."

  The dark-haired man handed the long parcel to the prince, who carefully unwound the cloth to reveal an achingly familiar weapon. "Areadbhar...the Hero's Relic once wielded by my father." Memories of his dignified, strong father rushed to the forefront of Dimitri's mind, flooding him with a wave of heartbroken nostalgia. 

  "The very same. I managed to steal it back from one of Cornelia's underlings in Fhirdiad."

  Felix rolled his eyes. "Understated as ever, Father. It must have been a true struggle to get it back."

  Dimitri clutched the haft of the legendary lance, forcing himself not to break down and weep. Had he truly thought mere moments earlier to cut Rodrigue down without a qualm? "I...I am grateful, my friend." He breathed. 

  Rodrigue simply nodded absently and Dimitri knew it wasn't his face that the older man was seeing.

  …

  "We must save them. I beg of you, your Highness." Dedue never asked for anything . The prince often found himself scolding the other man for his selfless behavior, so his request was immensely troubling. 

  Dimitri immediately went to Seteth and did his best to secure their involvement in this particular maneuver. If he could help it, he would prevent another Tragedy from occurring. 

  Now, to ask the professor. He was certain she would not refuse this task. 

  When she had first come to the academy, Dimitri had feared her lack of emotion was a display of irritation towards his class. But as time went on, he came to realize that her emotions had simply been subdued. Whether due to her mercenary work or other circumstances, their professor appeared to keep herself on a very short leash.

  When Dimitri returned to tell Dedue the good news, Byleth was already with the other young man. Dedue had been haltingly explaining his current state to their professor, reiterating that he was from Duscur and that his sparse brothers in nationality were rebelling. "They seek to reclaim their homeland."

  "A request for aid was sent by Viscount Kleiman to the Kingdom capital and the church." Dimitri started to lay out the scenario so that Professor Byleth would have a clear picture, gesturing overmuch with his hands. "He is the one who rules over that region at present. For now, the lords surrounding the Duscur region have sent their armies to help suppress the uprising. However…" The prince trailed off, grimacing.

  "What is it? Why do you both look so fearful? Do they not have enough men?" Byleth asked worriedly. 

  Dimitri shook his head and he heard Dedue sigh unhappily. "They have sufficient troops, and strong ones at that. Our worry is that there will be more unwarranted death." Dimitri replied. "There have always been many in the Kingdom's army who believe the people of Duscur our foes, and hate them because of it."

  "Your Highness-" Dedue protested.

  "You would think they'd refrain from squashing the rebels out of political expediency, but we doubt that will be the case." Dimitri carried on over Dedue, unwilling to indulge in the other man's self-deprecation at this juncture. "If the Kingdom's army and the rebel forces of Duscur collide…"

  "You fear another massacre." Professor Byleth caught on. Dedue nodded, looking doleful. "What can I do to help?"

  "I am glad you asked, Professor. I have just now received the permission that I requested from the church." Dimitri had known that she would not refuse!

  She raised an eyebrow. "Permission for what?" 

  "I asked the church to deploy our class to help handle the situation." 

  Dedue started, his shock obvious. "So we may go?!" He asked sharply.

  Dimitri held up a hand, quelling his friend momentarily. "Not so fast. We still have a responsibility as students of the academy after all. The only one who can truly make the decision as to whether or not we go is our profess-"

  "We're going." Byleth interrupted him. "Help me gather the class. We leave as soon as possible."

  Dedue bowed deeply. "You have my most sincere gratitude." 

  "And mine as well." Dimitr assured their professor. He had heard the hitch in Dedue's voice and his heart ached. This was the most outward concern Dedue had displayed in his presence and the prince found it incredibly troubling. "Do not worry, my friend." He stated after Professor Byleth had departed. "We will make it in time."

  "I pray that you are right, your Highness." 

  ...

  "Your Highness!" A tower shield was abruptly thrust forward to protect his blind side, arrows pang ing off of the sturdy metal. "Apologies for my late arrival."

  Dedue was not dead. Dedue was not dead . Dedue, sporting new scars, green eyes even more brilliant than Dimitri remembered, alive . 

  The once-prince stared at his former vassal, the man who he was certain had perished five years ago. He wondered momentarily if his hallucinations had grown more fitful. 

  There was no time for them to really talk during the battle to control the Bridge. Of course not. But afterwards, with the sturdy man from Duscur standing before him, Dimitri found himself at a loss. 

  Dedue had never been one for words, the heavily-armored knight simply dropping to one knee in front of Dimitri. "Do not kneel! Explain what happened! I thought you--I was certain you had-" The once-prince floundered to ask his many questions and managed to ruin his sentence, grabbing Dedue's hand and hauling the other man up. " Dedue ." He finally said helplessly, grasping the back of the other man's gorget with shaking fingers. "Why-- How are you here? You died, five years ago!"

  Dedue crushed his forehead to Dimitri's, his smile small but still present. "I was saved by my brothers. Men of Duscur. The ones spared during our class' intervention of their uprising."

  "Those people you were with...they were of Duscur? And they saved you?" Dimitri repeated incredulously.

  Dedue nodded. "Your Highness, I asked that you fulfill your long-held desire, did I not?" His gaze strayed to Dimitri's eye patch. "It would seem some things have changed. Still, allow me to once again act as your shield." He placed a fist over his heart, his terminology blunt and refreshingly sincere. "Please, let me witness your triumph. I want to behold the moment your wish is finally granted."

  "Dedue…" Dimitri was at a loss for words once more, mutely clasping the Duscur man's armored forearm. 

  He had thought he would never see Dedue again in the realm of the living, but here he stood, nervously shifting his weight as if he thought Dimitri would scold him or... dismiss him even! 

  It would seem that some of their other classmates had realized just who the mysterious armored man was. Dimitri could see Ashe breaking into a sprint from across the bridge, Annette in tow.

  "Of course," the prince finally continued, aware that his time alone with Dedue was coming to a close. "And in exchange, I ask that you swear something to me, here and now." He glared ferociously at the green-eyed man, "Do not ever throw your life away again. Understood?"

  Dedue looked taken aback for a moment, and then his expression softened. "Understood, your Highness." He bowed deeply after Dimitri released his arm. 

  " Dedue! " Ashe shouted, obviously thrilled to the core. Annette had already started to cry, her arms unable to reach fully around the large man's torso when she hugged him tight.

  Dedue chuckled, patting her head and accepting Ashe's enthusiastic embrace that gripped his shoulders. "I am glad to see you all." His eyes roved to Byleth, who looked delighted to see him but was clearly trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Thank you for taking care of his Highness in my absence, Professor."

  "It was my honor, Dedue. We are overjoyed at your return." Byleth replied graciously, bowing. 

  Dimitri moved away from the teary reunion, surveying the battlefield in silent contemplation. 

  The once-prince deigned to speak only when he noticed Byleth at his side once more. "Idiots. Embracing death for the sake of that woman ." He snarled about the Imperial soldiers, his fists clenched tight at his sides. Uncertainty took root in his chest, making his next words sound less than convincing. "Truly foolish." Were his troops any better? His allies? They all followed him like lambs to the slaughter. He had been upfront about using them, pragmatic even. But was that pragmatism something to be praised or loathed?

  "What troubles you?" Byleth asked softly.

  Dimitri took a moment to answer, trying to determine indeed, what was troubling him. "I...I don't know."

  "Do you regret killing them?"

  Dimitri bristled at the suggestion, crossing his arms over his chest as he scoffed, "they were just beasts with human faces." He turned his head to look at her, irritated that she would question his resolve. But her eyes bore no judgement, only sorrow. "I had no choice but to kill them, and so I did." Dimitri paused, his resentment fading the more he looked at those sorrowful eyes. " That ...that is all there is to it." He finished, less firmly than he would have liked.

  …

  "Were you reconciled with the reality of battle from your first foray?" Dimitri asked. He wasn't really certain why he would ask such a thing. They had just finished sparring, he had been thanking her for her assistance in teaching some of the monastery foundlings basic swordplay and then this . If anything the professor probably wished for a hot bath and a meal, not to be subject to his princely mewlings. "With...the killing part, I mean." He did not make eye contact, instead focusing on sanding down any splinters that had been forced to the surface of his practice sword. 

  "No. It's never easy." Byleth's voice was firm. 

  "I see."

  "And you?" Professor Byleth asked, sitting beside him and reaching for a fresh sheet of smoothing paper. 

  "No. I do not carry that burden well." Dimitri replied quietly. "I doubt that will change, no matter how many years come and go." He inhaled a bracing breath, squaring his shoulders. "The first time I led on the battlefield, I was sent to quell a rebellion in the west. It was not a difficult fight. The enemy was not well-trained and their morale was low."

  The grim memories called to mind the blind terror he had felt as a frontline commander. He had been fifteen, on the cusp of sixteen or thereabouts. He had no idea what he was doing, all he knew was that he didn't want to die that day. 

  And so he fought mercilessly, mindlessly, killing anything that moved. Dimitri could barely remember Felix screaming at him to stop, stop -

  "A swing of the lance, and your opponent falls. A flash of your blade, and a path opens up. That's the kind of battle it was. Easy, right?" Dimitri murmured.

  The professor's hand landed on his shoulder. "It is never easy." She reiterated. "Why were you in a commanding position to begin with? Not to throw your leadership skills into question, of course, but surely there must have been someone more senior than you."

  Dimitri shook his head. He had asked himself that same question many times. His memory was so hazy in the years following the Tragedy of Duscur that he honestly had no idea how he ended up at the head of a battalion. "I am uncertain, professor. It was at the height of the post-war period, I can recall that much. And I can recall portions of the actual campaign. But my mind...seems to shy away from important details. It is exasperating."

  "War trauma is difficult to manage, even for seasoned soldiers." 

  "I do recall coming across a dead soldier's body. He was clutching a locket. Inside was a lock of golden hair." Dimitri felt as though he was in a trance. That image was so clear compared to the piecemeal nature of the rest of the battle. "I don't know to whom it belonged. His wife, his daughter…his mother, a lover? I'll never know." Dimitri put his aching head in his hands. "He was a soldier, an enemy. Someone I had cut down without hesitation. But in that moment, I realized he was also a real person, just like the rest of us."

  "A hard truth to discover on the battlefield, but one that needed to be known all the same." Byleth said pragmatically. She squeezed his shoulder, urging him to carry on.

  "We cannot stand idly by and allow anyone to commit senseless acts of violence." Dimitri reasoned, his words muffled by his hands. "Yet, in dispensing what we call justice, we take the lives of cherished family members and beloved friends." He paused, wondering whether he should even continue and speak about what truly bothered him. Byleth's hand remained on his shoulder and the prince drew resolve from her support. "Killing is part of the job but even so, there are times when I'm chilled to the bone by the depravity of my own actions."

  Byleth was silent for a time and Dimitri kept rubbing his temples, trying with all his might to keep the headache at bay. "I have felt the same way." She finally said softly.

  Dimitri's relief threatened to overpower his sense of propriety, the prince looking back up at his dear professor. "That you feel the same way is...more comforting than you could know." He took her hand in his own, feeling the warmth of it. "Professor, may I speak freely?"

  She nodded, seeming a little confused at how serious he was.

  "When we first met, I thought of you as someone who felt no strong feelings about killing your enemies." Dimitri confessed. "I could never trust someone who kills without batting an eye. My heart won't allow it. But after speaking with you and getting to know you better, I can see you're not like that." He said fiercely, clasping her hand to his breast. "Now I know, with all my heart, that I can trust you. Thank you for that."

  Byleth nodded again and a small smile brightened her face. Dimitri's breath caught in his throat, his blood racing at her nearness, at the way she was smiling-

  He reprimanded himself sharply for his foolish, indulgent thoughts and released her hand.

  ...

  The blood raced in his veins. She was so close, so near. Within arms reach, even. Dimitri wanted to scream with laughter, finally, finally!

  They marched on over the Bridge of Myrddin once more and Dimitri could feel his strength surging. Soon he would have her head to present to his family. Soon, his stepmother, his father, Glenn, they could all rest in peace. Soon-!

  His incensed ramblings to himself grew even worse. Anyone that dared approach him would be treated to a man possessed, talking to people who had long since passed on from this world. Lack of sleep was making him hallucinate Glenn or his father alongside him, their presence disturbing and comforting in equal measure. Dimitri made promise after promise to these silent apparitions, assuring them that he would emerge victorious.

  It certainly caused a significant drop in troop morale, not that such a thing would concern Dimitri. All he cared about was tearing Edelgard's head from her shoulders and removing his oh-so-ambitious stepsister from this plane of existence. Then, he would scour Enbarr from the map, erase it as surely as she and her ilk had erased Duscur. 

  Their meeting on the battlefield would be one to remember. 

  …

  "Is this some kind of twisted joke?! " Dimitri asked incredulously, breathless from his mad laughter seconds before. Staring back at him from the bulk of the Flame Emperor's helm was Edelgard's pale face. He had feared this was the true identity of the fiend since he had found the dagger he gave her, but he had tried so hard to convince himself otherwise...

  She did not answer him and Dimitri leveled his lance, crushing the porcelain face plate beneath his boot with his first stride forward.

  Professor Byleth caught his arm as he stalked by her and he paused momentarily. "Don't be rash, please." The professor said softly. 

  "Rash? Me? I am finally about to avenge the dead and you accuse me of being rash?!" Dimitri snarled, jerking away from her and continuing forward. "I've been looking for you...I'll take your head from your shoulders and hang it from the gates of Enbarr! " He screamed.

  He charged at Edelgard and her soldiers rushed to defend her. So great was Dimitri's wrath that he found it ridiculously simple to strike down the men attacking him, skewering two in one thrust and then slinging his lance at Edelgard with all his might. 

  It buried harmlessly in the wall behind her after grazing her shoulder. Dimitri snapped his teeth in hysterical irritation, nearly frothing at the mouth. The soldiers continued their assault and so he continued his own, slamming one man's face into the stone stairs and then crushing the last soldier's armored skull with one gauntleted hand. 

  He looked up, locked eyes with Edelgard and smiled . Edelgard flinched. Dimitri advanced up the stairs until they were together on the dais, the prince shaking with fury. "Before I break your neck," He hissed at the young woman across from him, "there is one thing I must ask you."

  "Stay out of my way!" Edelgard ordered. 

  Dimitri shook his head. "I don't recall giving you permission to speak. Answer my question. That is all you have left to do." He took another step forward. "Flame Emperor...no, Edelgard . Tell me now, why did you cause such a tragedy?"

  Edelgard flinched again, lavender eyes boring into his own. 

  "You killed your own mother, and yet you haven't even had the decency to stop and consider the reasons behind your actions, have you?!" Dimitri raged, his fists clenched at his sides.

  "I already told you, I had nothing to do with that!" Edelgard protested.

  "It was foolish to think I could reason with a lowly beast ." Dimitri snapped. He heard motion to his left and abruptly two more soldiers were shielding Edelgard. The prince bared his teeth in a fierce grimace and lunged forward just as Hubert appeared in a flash of purple light, the dark-haired man quickly snatching up Edelgard. 

  The Flame Emperor and her retainer vanished.

  Archbishop Rhea's righteous tirade faded to background noise in the wake of Dimitri realizing his folly. 

  She had escaped. Edelgard had escaped . He had played right into her hands, demanded answers first instead of striking her down where she stood and thus allowed Hubert precious extra seconds to rescue her. What a fool he was! His hesitation had cost him his closure, his revenge! Dimitri wanted to scream.

  …

  But not again, never again. He would not allow her to escape so easily.

  " Kill every last one of them! " Dimitri ordered, brandishing Areadbhar and then rushing forward with his troops. Byleth stayed close enough that he was vaguely aware of her presence at all times; flashes of pale green in the corner of his eye. 

  Time and again his lance swung, time and again paths opened up. 

  The battlefield was chaos, a nightmarish cacophony of war cries and armor racket. At some point a fire was started, bringing with it echoes of screams from Duscur. Dimitri's blood pounded in his ears, his headache reaching a new level of splitting agony at the reek of ash and burning flesh. Edelgard, Edelgard…

  The tormented souls of his family clung to him, bony fingers clawing at his throat. Dimitri forced himself onward, storming across Gronder with single-minded intent. He needed her head. They demanded her head. 

  One of the great war beasts lumbered after him and cut off his possible retreat, not that Dimitri planned on turning back. It also separated him from his allies and troops, a fact that should have concerned him. If he had been in his right mind, it probably would have. As such, he barely noticed, his lone eye focused solely on the golden gleam of Edelgard's empirical headpiece. 

  She was surrounded by her own troops. It mattered not. Whether one or one hundred men, it mattered not. Dimitri rushed her guards, impaling three with one jab of his family's Relic. A brittle calm took him, the prince shucking the corpses off the blade and then widening his stance to face her head-on. She waved her guards back, looking resigned. 

  "Stab your chest, snap your neck , smash your head...I will allow you to choose your own death." Dimitri seethed, spittle flying through his clenched teeth.

  "I'm not interested in methods of dying. All that matters is when death takes place, not how." Edelgard replied pragmatically, her axe raised in a defensive position. "And I have no intention of dying today."

  "I'm sure all of the people you've slaughtered so far thought the same!" His calm shattered like glass, the blond man lunged forward. 

  Edelgard lashed out mercilessly as she was forced back, her attacks too random for him to predict. Dimitri endured them, landing thunderous blow after thunderous blow. Madman strength and the voices of the dead in his ears urged him on, their pleas for vengeance spurring him to fight without regard for his own life. 

  The step-siblings stabbed and hacked at one another, their weapons singing through the air with the aggression behind their motions. Edelgard couldn't dodge every attack and she had never been overly sturdy in close quarters sparring despite her armor; it was only a matter of time before Dimitri would kill her. 

  Nausea again, the sick sensation of kinslayer bubbling in his throat. Had he really become such a thing? But then, what did that make Edelgard? They were both monsters at this point, he reasoned, monsters destined to die at each other's hands to bring about their ideal future. 

  Dimitri roared and with one final thrust, Areadbhar pierced Edelgard's side. The Emperor gasped, pausing. Blood began to trickle down the shaft of the lance. 

  The once-prince grinned savagely. "It's over , stepsister." 

  "Just as expected," Edelgard choked, "You're not making my path an easy one." She wrapped her shaking fingers around his lance and took a step back, removing the weapon from her body with no small amount of difficulty. "I must retreat for now. But we'll meet again on the battlefield."

  Like clockwork, her advisor Hubert appeared and swept her into his arms. Dimitri's lance slashed through nothing but empty air, his motions just a fraction too slow to catch the pair before they vanished. 

  The prince whirled around and screamed his frustration to the heavens, launching Areadbhar at the nearest soldier and pinning them to the ground. " You think you can escape, Edelgard?! " He heard a rush of footsteps behind him, but he couldn't even bring himself to give a damn. 

  She got away. Again . 

  Dimitri dug his gauntlets into his hair and pulled , the once-prince so hysterical with despair that he couldn't react properly. Would he never be able to satisfy the dead? Would he never be free of this crushing responsibility, this duty that threatened to leech the life from his body? 

  " I'll kill you, Edelgard! Do you hear me, you witch?! I'll-! "

  His crazed rant was cut short by a blade sliding cleverly between the plates of his armor to bury itself in his side. The once-prince, already badly bloodied from wounds he had not felt, finally lost his balance. He dropped to one knee, barely managing to keep himself from collapsing entirely as the adrenaline that had facilitated his motion utterly deserted him. Dimitri looked up into the wild eyes of his attacker and was momentarily confused. 

  It was the foundling who had begged to join their ranks when they had taken the Bridge. To get revenge on the man who killed my brother , she had claimed. It all became hideously clear to the blond man. He had killed her brother.

  "Have I caught you off guard, your Highness?" The nameless girl jeered, "does it hurt? It's nothing compared to what my brother felt!" Tears started streaming down her face. "You will never be forgiven, you know. I will never forgive you!" She screamed. This young woman stood proudly over his crumpled form and raised her sword once again. "You filthy monster! "

  ...

  The war beasts had taken up a majority of their attention. When the last of them was finally slain, Byleth spotted Dimitri standing alone in the distance. Rodrigue laughed, seeming relieved. "Looks like he's alright. For the moment, at least." He commented, wiping his blade clean on the grass.

  Byleth nodded, her brow furrowing when she noticed a figure all in white on the edge of the field near the prince. The figure darted forward suddenly, there was a flash in their hands, a sword-

  Byleth's eyes widened in panic when Dimitri dropped and she screamed, "Manuela!" The former songstress already had the spell prepared, warping the professor precious feet closer to the woman attacking Dimitri. Rodrigue ran in the opposite direction, whistling for his horse. 

  We won't make it in time , Byleth realized. In despair she cried out wordlessly, a hand outstretched to implore the Goddess even as she urged her exhausted body forward. Spare him, spare him!

  You are so predictable. So willing to give your life for your little ones.

  At a moment's notice. He means everything to me, whole or fragmented. If we lose him...if I lose him...

  Well then. Let's hope you survive this, shall we?  

  Time slowed to a halt, if only for a few precious seconds. Enough for Byleth to get in the way of the young woman's ferocious swing. She could not even raise her own blade to deflect in time, and thus made the decision to take the full force of the blow to her shoulder. Goddess willing, she would prevail.

  The pain was horrendous. The sword was not nearly as sharp as it could have been and as such, tore messily into her shoulder before it lodged in her light armor and robes. Byleth sobbed out a breath of relief despite the agony, the Nosferatu spell crackling to life in her palm. She quickly dropped her sword and instead grabbed the other woman's hilt, preventing her from pulling away with it.

  …

  He had been ready to die, utterly demoralized by Edelgard's flight from their duel. One final stroke of the sword from this unnamed woman (practically a child), and it would be over. Her eyes burned fever-bright with the desire for revenge, just like his own. 

  Her brother must have been so dear to her.

  Dimitri bowed his head and simply waited for the killing blow. For once, the dead were silent. Soon enough, he would be with them.

  " Professor! " 

  The sound of Rodrigue's voice snapped him out of his calm acceptance, the prince flinching and opening his eye again. To his utter bewilderment, Byleth now stood in front of him. Seconds prior she had been clear across the battlefield, how on earth…? 

  She took the blow meant for him to her shoulder and Dimitri gritted his teeth to stifle a cry of dismay at how deep the blade sank. With one hand firmly grappling the crosstrees to keep the young woman from striking again, Byleth snarled, " I will not permit you to take him from me . He is my king, and I will defend him with my life. If you intend to kill him, I refuse to make it a simple task for you!"

  Her free hand slammed palm-first into the other woman's stomach, the explosion of power from the sapping spell staggering her. Rodrigue seized the opening and struck mercilessly from astride his warhorse, cutting the young would-be assassin down where she stood. 

  Dimitri couldn't seem to stir. It was as though he was frozen in one of his many nightmares, unable to react to the horrors he saw. 

  The young girl's vengeful words rang deafeningly loud in his ears, you will never be forgiven, you know. I will never forgive you!

  Byleth was somehow still standing despite the blade in her shoulder, her hands limp at her sides. "Your Highness." She swallowed hard and turned, offering him a wavering smile. It was pitiful , nothing but a shadow of her regular one. Dimitri loathed it. "I'm so glad I..."

  Her legs gave out and she fell to the ground, lifeless. 

  Dimitri found himself able to move again and he lurched forward, gathering her into his arms. His own wounds and weariness faded from his mind as he shouted for Manuela, Flayn, Mercedes, anyone please Byleth don't die! Rodrigue tried to calm his panic to no avail; Dimitri was inconsolable. "I will not lose her! Not again!" He screamed at the man who had been like a second father to him, terror making his voice ragged. "Don't die! Please don't die!" She was so limp, so incredibly pale. "I won't let you, Byleth, please …" 

  His words choked off in his throat and Dimitri pressed his forehead to her own, silently willing her to open her eyes, to say something! Even if she called him a monster, a beast, it would be better than this horrid quiet! 

  You will never be forgiven .

  You filthy monster!

  Tears rose unbidden and for the first time in five years, he let them fall. "Father, Stepmother, Glenn...they all died for me and left me behind. Are you to join the ghosts who shadow my every move?" Rodrigue placed a hand on his shoulder and Dimitri couldn't find it in himself to shrug it off. "This is my fault, Byleth. I...I'm the one who killed you, as surely as though I had wielded the blade." A sob rattled his body and Dimitri bowed his head in grief. 

  "You've got one thing wrong, your Highness." Rodrigue said quietly after a beat. " None of them died for you. Not even Glenn. Rather, they died for what they believed in." The older man gripped his shoulder a little tighter, his words cutting through the fog of Dimitri's grief to strike his very core. "Your life is your own, Dimitri. It belongs to no other, living or dead. You must live for what you believe in, my king."

  Byleth's chest expanded suddenly with a hungry gasp for air, her fingers clawing weakly at the thick mane of Dimitri's cloak. "'Mitri." She slurred out, barely conscious.

  "Be silent ." Dimitri ordered hoarsely. Goddess, ever since the events at Duscur he had not been truly sick, but now he feared he would vomit with relief. She was still alive. He hadn't killed her. She would live. 

  Live for what you believe in .

  Mercedes knelt beside them, her skirt stained with the grass and mud of the battlefield. "Save your strength, my dear professor." She soothed, deftly peeling the layers of cloth and armor away from the wound. "I'll have you fixed up in no time. Flayn, please see to his Highness."

  " Damn me! Flayn, save her !" Dimitri demanded, knocking away the well-meaning hands of the small woman. 

  "Let Flayn..." Byleth whispered.

  "I will accept nothing until I know you are safe!" 

  Lord Rodrigue grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of Dimitri's neck and yanked his head back, unceremoniously dumping the vulnerary Mercedes passed him into the young man's mouth. Dimitri coughed and sputtered, barely managing to swallow without choking on the viscous liquid. " There . That ought to keep you stable until Mercedes can work her magic on your professor." Rodrigue said, giving Dimitri a love tap on the side of his head before releasing him once more.  

  "Rodrigue, I will-" Dimitri tried to stand and failed miserably, getting a little snort of laughter out of Flayn.

  "You will do nothing but be still , your Highness." She scolded, her hands alight with healing magic.

  "I beg of you, waste no power on me until we are certain that she will be alright." Dimitri pleaded. "I... we cannot survive without her."

  Flayn huffed in annoyance and Mercedes laughed softly, though whether at the other healer's attitude with the prince or at Dimitri's own slip of the tongue was anyone's guess. "She will be fine, your Highness. Provided she gets the rest she needs." The soft-spoken young woman assured him. "She is quite weary. The sword went deep."

  "M' alright…" Byleth sounded like she was battling sleep. "Can still...can still...fight..."

  "You can rest, Professor. You can sit and rest ." Mercedes chided. "We must keep her warm during our return to the monastery. Your Highness, forgive my boldness, but-"

  "Take the damn thing." Dimitri cut her off, already fighting with the clasps on his cloak.

  "No no, you are injured as well! I just need you to stay close to her. That way, the two of you can share." Mercedes was as pragmatic as ever. "Your cape is very large, after all."

  The prince marveled that his nearly-dead body still felt the need to flush at her request. "Very well." 

  "Thank you so much!" Mercedes beamed.

  Dedue hovered by Dimitri's side while they waited for the wagon that would carry them back to the monastery. "What am I to do about this?" Dimitri asked, half to himself. 

  "Your Highness?"

  "Had that sword gone just a fraction lower, if that girl had stabbed instead of swung..." Dimitri trailed off, shaking his head. "What a damn fool you are, Professor. Not even our healers could have saved you if you bled out before they arrived."

  "Are you so certain it is the professor who is a fool?" Dedue asked, the query more pointed than it had a right to be. "Your wounds from Edelgard were quite grievous. As though you fought without thinking of defense. Or survival."

  Dimitri wanted to rage at the Duscur man for assuming such ludicrous things, honestly he did. But the words Dedue spoke were damnably accurate. "It should not matter whether I live or die." The prince muttered sullenly.

  "It matters a great deal, your Highness. If I may be so bold, it matters more than you seem to comprehend." Dedue gestured at the destroyed landscape of Gronder Field. "Soldiers and allies fought and died for your beliefs today. Your orders alone mobilize troops and rally legions. You cannot be so careless with your life."

  "I will not sit here and be chastised on mortality by the man who was so eager to throw his own life away for me!" Dimitri spat the words cruelly,  wishing in the next breath that he could take them back. His fingers twisted through his hair in a frantic, nervous gesture. 

  Dedue, to his credit, did not so much as flinch at the outburst. "I am a vassal in service to you, your Highness. One of a knight's many responsibilities is to lay down their life for their ruler. You needed to escape and live on. I am simply a tool to be utilized by your Highness."

  "Your pragmatism grieves me."

  "Your grief is acceptable. Normal, even. You have always been too kind-hearted for your own good." 

  Dimitri couldn't think of a response to that . Kind-hearted? Him? Dedue clearly had no idea of the monster he had become. He stayed silent, musing on his own thoughts. It felt almost as if he had been sleepwalking since the professor's disappearance, but seeing her take that blade for him without hesitation was…

  Dimitri put his head into his hands. " Am I a fool, Dedue?"

  "Pardon?"

  "I've lashed out at everyone trying to help me. I've danced with madness and run myself ragged pursuing Edelgard. I have killed... Goddess , how I've killed." He looked up at Dedue. "Am I a fool?"

  The other man looked uncomfortable. "I am unworthy to judge you as such, your Highness."

  "That's as good as saying yes." Dimitri groaned. 

  When the cart arrived, Dimitri, the professor, and a multitude of other wounded were crammed into it. The ride back to the monastery was subdued. For the first time, Dimitri felt as though everyone was looking at him with reproach instead of fear. And really, how could he blame them? Dedue was right. On his orders alone, soldiers went to war, fought, and died. The orders of a depraved monster had ended so many lives today, all in the name of his mad obsession to separate Edelgard's head from her body. 

  Your life is your own, Dimitri. It belongs to no other, living or dead.

  Rodrigue's words turned over and over in his mind. Dimitri certainly felt like a fool, Dedue's unwillingness to label him as one notwithstanding. 

  The professor was tucked against his side, shivering even in her sleep. Dimitri was not used to her being cold. It seemed wrong, somehow. Despite his own weariness, he struggled to gather her into his lap and then wrapped her securely in the folds of his cloak. 

  Sleep began to tug at him and Dimitri surrendered, too exhausted to put up a fight. He did not wake even when he was removed from the cart at the monastery.

  …

  Byleth kicked her legs back and forth, laughing. On her feet were a set of high-heeled sandals, much taller than the boots she normally wore. "How do you even walk in these?"

  "Years of training, my dear." Manuela tittered. The both of them hadn't seemed to notice the young prince yet. 

  The professor was laying on her back on one of the infirmary beds, her legs up in the air in a strange pose. It was surprisingly juvenile behavior for her. Her strong, shapely thighs were on full display due to the short breeches and patterned hosiery she wore; it was clear that mercenary work had been kind to her. 

  Dimitri cleared his throat, certain that his face was a damning shade of pink. "Professor?"

  Byleth glanced over at him, continuing to smile. "Your Highness! What brings you here?"

  "I, er, I had a question about this month's assignment." Dimitri stammered. "I can come back at another time, of course-"

  "No no, your Highness. Your professor was just curious about my footwear. I promise we're not busy." Manuela assured him.

  Byleth got to her feet and wobbled towards the prince, the intense concentration on her face exceedingly amusing. That is, until she tripped on the edge of the rug and nearly fell flat.

  Dimitri swooped in on instinct, seizing her hand and pulling her into his body to steady her footing. "I do not know if those shoes agree with you, Professor." The sandals gave her enough height to nearly be at eye level with him and she took full advantage of that fact. Dimitri wasn't sure whether he should feel uncomfortable, simply staring back at her. 

  Her form was pressed tight to his own, even closer than when he had been roped into showing her how to waltz. There had at least been a level of propriety during that lesson, but here…

  "I suppose not." Byleth sighed. After a moment, she bent down and started untying the sandals. "Would do me no good to break an ankle off the battlefield, after all." 

  "They're just for fun , dear Professor Byleth." Manuela insisted. "You're allowed to enjoy yourself, after all."

  Without those ridiculous shoes on, Byleth barely reached Dimitri's shoulder. She had to tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes as usual. The prince's heart thudding in his chest was becoming regular, normal , and he found himself smiling for no reason.

  …

  " Listen to me, your Highness. Even if you don't wish to hear me, all I ask is that you listen." Rodrigue implored. Dimitri did not turn towards the older man, but he did incline his head. "Thank you, your Highness. Now, I will speak plainly, as I always have with you. Dimitri, you were entirely too reckless at Gronder." Rodrigue scolded. "We could have lost you a multitude of times. It was only through sheer dumb luck that we didn't. With all due respect, this obsession you have with Edelgard will absolutely get you killed."

  "I cannot stop until I have her head." Dimitri said wearily. He felt as though all he had been doing since Gronder was repeat himself. "Father, Stepmother and Glenn...none of them can rest peacefully until I present them with the corpse of the one who ended their lives." 

  "I understand your desires, believe me. I miss my son with every fiber of my being. But throwing yourself into harm's way will not bring them back." Rodrigue took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself. "Killing Edelgard will not bring Glenn back, Dimitri. Nor will it bring your father or stepmother back. In the end, all you're doing is making more corpses and the fact of the matter is that...well, the dead are the dead. They don't ' languish in regret and sorrow ', or whatever pretty things we like to say to justify our own actions. They are...dead."

  Unlike at Ailell, Dimitri felt no heated desire to instantly strike Rodrigue down for his words. "The dead-"

  "You must find something to live for, Dimitri. Otherwise, this war is doomed to fail." Rodrigue pressed on, urging, "Leave the dead to their peaceful slumber, far from our troubles."

  Uncertainty wrapped its icy fingers around Dimitri's heart. "What...what could I possibly…" He stumbled over his words, thoroughly distraught. 

  Glenn's own flesh and blood father , demanding that Dimitri take into account the cost that his wild behavior would have on the army and think . It was jarring to say the least, especially considering that in his impetuous youth Rodrigue had always been the one to encourage healthily rash actions. 

  "I thought...I believed I was doing the right thing." The blond man said finally. "Ever since Duscur I have been haunted by the dead, Rodrigue." The truth must have been plain on his face, for Rodrigue looked saddened. "The screams of torment and that smell , burning flesh, I cannot shake it. I have not tasted anything I've eaten for nearly ten years. My sleep is poor and my headaches...incessant." Dimitri wavered momentarily, clenching his fists. "They demand her life, Rodrigue." 

  "The dead are dead, Dimitri. They cannot demand anything." The dark-haired man reasoned. "I understand that this crusade is what kept you alive up until this point, but you must make a choice. Either you can keep piling corpses up for corpses, or…" Rodrigue trailed off, his gaze far away. 

  …

  Byleth finally managed to hobble her way to the stables undetected. She felt thoroughly henpecked, everyone's concern heartwarming and exceedingly irritating at this point. She was only sneaking off for a little while, just to have some peace.

  The ladder to the hayloft was easily managed even with one arm still weakened, and the former professor snuggled down into the slightly-scratchy bedding with a quiet sigh of contentment. 

  Unfortunately, her relaxation was short-lived. Just as she was being lulled to sleep by the patter of rain on the roof and the soft nickering of the horses, she heard the stable door slide open stealthily. 

  Byleth was instantly alert, rolling onto her stomach and peering over the side of the loft. It was Dimitri of all people, someone who should be resting himself! It had stung her pride slightly when he hadn't visited her at all during her recovery, but she had reasoned he was probably having a difficult time recovering on his own end.

  "Here for the pleasant equine company, your Highness?" Dimitri whirled to face her, guilt plain on his features. He had been saddling his horse. Byleth's heart sank. "Ah." She said listlessly, moving to sit on the hayloft ladder. 

  "What do you want?" His voice sounded strained, as though he had been crying.

  "Where are you going?"

  "It doesn't concern you." Dimitri answered curtly.

  "It does." Byleth shot back, attempting to climb down the ladder. Dimitri caught her around the waist and set her on the ground, nothing but a slight wince betraying his wounds from the battle at Gronder. 

  He appeared confused when she slipped past him, then the confusion changed to irritation as she blocked him from cinching the flank billet on his horse's saddle.

  "Get out of my way. Now ." The young man demanded, reaching out to move her.

  "You're going to Enbarr, aren't you?" Byleth challenged. Dimitri flinched back and she knew she had hit the nail on the head. Anger flooded her. Even after everything that had happened, he was determined to throw his life away. "Do you really think that will appease the dead?" The words were sharper than she had intended and the prince bristled.

  "Silence! You have no idea what you're talking about." He said through gritted teeth. "Death is the end. No matter how much lingering regret a person has, after death, they are powerless. They cannot even wish for revenge, much less seek it out." 

  Dimitri folded his arms over his chest, as if to make a wall between the two of them. Byleth loathed when he shut himself off like this. It had felt like they were making such progress and then he had to go and do something reckless . Like try to sneak off to Enbarr. Alone .

  "Hatred, regret...those burdens fall on the shoulders of those who are left behind." His voice rose in volume, "I must continue down this path! I already told you as much! It is far too late to stop."

  "You're wrong! " Byleth yelled.

  The show of strong emotion startled the both of them into brief silence but Dimitri quickly recovered, turning to leave. "Do not waste your breath with some nonsense about how I should move on with my life for their sake!" He spat. 

  Byleth huffed, storming after him out into the rain. "Don't run away from me, Dimitri!" She said fiercely. The tall man stopped in his tracks when she used his first name and she seized her opportunity. "The living need you! Why can't you see that?" I need you, damn it .

  "Those who died with lingering regret...they will not loose their hold on me so easily." Dimitri tilted his face up towards the sky, rainfall beginning to flatten his matted, tangled hair. 

  Byleth simply stood there, waiting for him to explain himself. After a moment, she noticed his face was much wetter than even the light rain could have managed in such a short time. He was weeping . 

  Dimitri finally muttered, "But you seem to have all the answers. So tell me, professor. Please , tell me…" His voice cracked. "How do I silence their desperate pleas? How do I...how do I save them?" He begged pitifully, refusing to look at her. "Ever since that day almost a decade ago, I have lived only to avenge the fallen. Even my time at the academy under your tutelage, it was all to clear away the regret of the dead. It was the only thing that kept me alive . My only reason to keep moving forward." Dimitri confessed.

  He sounded exhausted and broken, weary beyond measure. Byleth's heart ached for him. "Dimitri...rather, your Highness." She said softly, "do you remember what you told me when my father was killed? You told me to figure out what it is that I'm living for. You said that one day my tears would dry, that I would forgive myself as well as him for leaving me. You need to forgive yourself. Take your own advice."

  Dimitri looked as though he was about to retort, but then his expression changed. He simply exhaled harshly, snapping his attention down to the mud that was pooling around his boots. Byleth took a cautious step closer, only just managing to hear his murmured inquiry of, "but then who--or what , should I live for?" 

  The former professor mulled the question over, wracking her brain for something that wouldn't sound like a useless platitude. "Live for what you believe in." She said finally.

  "Have you spoken with Rodrigue?" Dimitri asked sharply.

  "Um, not today?" Byleth was a bit thrown off by his abrupt change in tone. 

  "Never mind it then." Dimitri stared back up at the sky. "A strange coincidence, no doubt." 

  "Your Highness-"

  " Byleth ." He stressed her name when he interrupted, but he still refused to look at her. "I am a murderous monster , my hands stained red with blood. Could one such as I truly hope for such a life?" Dimitri hesitated, the strength of his voice fading again when he asked uncertainly, "as the sole survivor of that day, do I...do I have the right to live for myself?" 

  They were both soaked through from standing out in the rain for so long and Byleth was certain that they made a pitiful sight. She squared her shoulders, then took a deep breath to steel herself. She wasn't sure what else she could do if he pushed her away one more time. 

  Instead of grabbing him, holding him, shaking the life out of him for being so dense , she simply extended a hand. Dimitri stared down at it and for one gut-wrenching moment she feared he would still leave.

  But then the prince yanked clumsily at the buckles of his gauntlet, divesting himself of both armor and glove in one fell swoop before he cautiously accepted her hand. His hand was trembling, damp and freezing to the touch. She laced her fingers with his own, then brought her other hand up to cover them.

  Dimitri looked shattered, lost. "Your hands are so warm...have they always been?" He asked dazedly. 

  "I think you could use some tea and some rest. Maybe someone to talk to?" Byleth suggested quietly. 

  "I...do not wish to be alone." Dimitri admitted.

  "Would you like me to get Dedue or Rodrigue?"

  "No, I...no. Please. Let me stay with you." 

  Dimitri refused to release her hand during their entire trek back to her room. He only parted from her to allow her to begin toweling off his soaking wet hair. 

  "I feel...I feel as though I've just woken up from a deep sleep." He confided from his spot beside the tiny brazier where the water for their tea heated. Byleth did her best not to think about how close his face was to her own. "I don't know what I am to do."

  Dimitri was clearly distraught and scared, the prince wringing his hands over and over in a nervous gesture. His armor and cloak continued to drip on the threadbare rug. Byleth handed him the towel and urged him into the washroom. "Take the armor off and get dry. You'll never warm up if you don't." She instructed gently. "I'll finish making the tea."

  "Armor off?" Dimitri looked at her like she was insane, clutching the towel to his chest.

  "I'll protect you. We're safe here."

  After a few more assurances and some coaxing, the prince finally agreed to strip down to his padded undertunic. Now, his hair tied back, sitting on the edge of her bed with a steaming cup of tea held in still slightly-unsteady hands, he seemed like a different person.

  The only sound in the room for a time was the quiet hiss of water landing on the brazier, as Byleth had hung the prince's heavy cloak over the heat source in a valiant effort to dry it. She could feel his attention on her even while she settled quietly into her desk chair beside the bed. "Drink your tea, your Highness." She reminded him, raising her own cup to him in a makeshift toast.

  Dimitri twitched. "Ah! Of course, I'm sorry. My mind is...it seems to be in a thousand places." He apologized, dutifully taking a sip. That lone blue eye went wide in what Byleth could only assume was confusion. The prince stared at the cup of tea he had just sampled as though he expected it to bite him. "What...what tea is this?" He asked, his voice shaking.

  "Why, what's wrong?" She replied warily. 

  "I...nothing. Nothing is wrong at all." Dimitri took another tentative sip. "It's delightful. It's so, so good." He sounded strangely giddy. "It tastes incredible."

  "Your Highness, I think you've gone too long without sleep. It's just some run of the mill apple blend." Byleth clapped her hands together decisively. "You need rest, and you will have it."

  Once Dimitri had been safely swaddled in the multitude of blankets in her bed and convinced to rest ' just for a moment or two ', Byleth opened one of the many ledgers on her desk and returned to work. Tonight's progress boded well for the prince's recovery. She dared not hope he would fully regain control of himself so soon, but progress was progress all the same.

  …

  His dreams were still fraught with the demands of the departed. He doubted that would ever change. But every time the darkness threatened to consume him, her hand reached out and saved him. Over and over again until Dimitri ceased to dream, and simply slept.

  He awoke to find her slumped at her desk, her cheek resting on an open ledger. Dimitri carefully rose from the bed he had taken over the evening before, doing his best to be quiet. Without the usual weight of his armor, it wasn't nearly as difficult as had feared. 

  The ledger was opened to a page meticulously detailing all the movements of their troops in the past week, as well as calculations for rations. It also included notes in the margins about bowstrings that needed to be replaced, tack and bridles were wearing thin...

  Shame doused Dimitri's body in a cold rush. She had been doing all the logistical work, the work that was his responsibility, alone , and yet she still managed to keep the troops functional. How long had she shouldered his burden? Since she had returned?

  There was a sharp knock on the door, making him jump out of his skin. Byleth stirred and Dimitri lunged for the door latch, intent on shooing off whatever idiot decided to show up on her doorstep--

  Dedue of all people stood there on the stoop, looking positively fit to be tied. When he saw Dimitri, however, his stern expression relaxed slightly. "Your Highness! I-"

  Dimitri slapped a palm squarely in the middle of Dedue's chest and shoved the other man back a step, hurriedly moving outside and then closing the door behind him. "By the Goddess Dedue, have you no common sense?!" The blond man hissed.

  Dedue had the grace to appear perplexed. "I am not certain I follow, your Highness."

  "She is trying to sleep, and you could have woken her up!"

  "I have been searching for you, your Highness. You never returned to your quarters last night. I checked the cathedral and you were not there. Though your horse was still in the stables, I...I feared the worst. I apologize for assuming that you had struck out on your own." Dedue dropped to one knee. "Forgive me, your Highness. I only worried for your safety."

  Dimitri felt like the world's smallest person. Dedue had probably been frantic, and there was so much ground for him to cover when searching the monastery. "Dedue, no, I should be the one apologizing. Will you permit me to explain myself?" 

  "What could there be to explain? You are, as you have pointed out numerous times to me, a grown man. Perfectly capable of being on your own." Dedue said stiffly, "It is simply my overprotective tendencies."

  "Dedue, please . I must speak with you on this matter candidly." Dimitri seized the other man's arm and guided him to a nearby bench. "I...I feel as if I've awoken . Everything is brighter, somehow. More clear." Dimitri was frustrated by his inability to articulate, his hands clenched on his thighs while he struggled to find the right words. 

  "You have not removed your armor for anything besides brief cleaning in months. What has happened?" Dedue asked worriedly. Of course, that would be the thing he noticed.

  "Last night, I was certain I would be leaving for Enbarr." Dedue's gauntlets creaked and Dimitri held up a hand to stave him off. "I know I am a fool, I am plainly aware. Refrain from scolding me until I am finished, I beg of you." Dimitri was almost entertained by the heavy sigh Dedue heaved. "Rodrigue said many things to me. Much of which I was not prepared to hear. I departed his presence abruptly, conflicted." 

  "You truly would have gone to Enbarr alone?"

  "Had Byleth not been napping in the hayloft...yes, I believe so." Dimitri admitted. "She used my name , Dedue, and followed me out into the rain so she could knock some sense into me. These last few months I have not displayed very princely behavior to friend or foe. I have frankly been miserable to be around. But she-"

  "Your Highness, our professor only has what is best for you in mind. Whatever she said to you, I am certain it was not meant in a cruel manner." Dedue said worriedly. "Did she offend you, your Highness?"

  "No no, nothing like that." Dimitri waved off the other man's concern. "I needed what she said. Just as I needed what Rodrigue said." He muttered ruefully, "To be entirely truthful, I was probably in great need of a stern rap on the head."

  "I had considered it, but I feared your skull might damage my axe."

  Dimitri burst out laughing. He had nearly forgotten what his own laughter sounded like. Dedue smiled after a pause, the large man's relief plain on his face.

  "Enjoying yourselves?" Byleth asked from her doorway, yawning widely post-query. She stretched and Dimitri found his eye straying to the section of bare skin at her hip that the motion revealed. His laughter petered out and he abruptly felt embarrassed for some reason. Surely , he wasn't-

  "I am glad that his Highness was in your custody last night, as opposed to Imperial binds." Dedue said, standing and offering their former professor a deep bow.

  She smiled at Dedue, giving him some modest reply, Dimitri was certain. He didn't actually hear what she said, his attention wholly on that smile…

  ...

  Dimitri bolted pell-mell all the way back to Jeritza's quarters, terrified that he would not make it in time. He cursed his sense of duty furiously as he ran; damn him for not being able to delegate! 

  Professor Manuela would be alright, Hanneman had assured him of that fact. But if something had happened to the others because he hadn't been there to help, if something terrible had happened just like in Duscur-

  Seeing all of his classmates whole and hearty at the top of the stairs was nearly enough to make his knees give out. Dimitri was literally dizzy with relief, taking hold of one of the bookshelves to steady himself. 

  The professor instructed the other students to transport Flayn and the mystery girl to the infirmary, then turned to him with a worried, "What happened?"

  "Professor Hanneman says she'll be fine." Dimitri rattled off the information he had been given, "She had been wounded, but he expects that she'll make a full recovery. The monks are swarming the infirmary as we speak." He grimaced when he heard a splintering noise, relaxing his grip on the bookcase slightly. "I apologize for my posture, Professor. I was so overjoyed upon seeing you all safe and sound, I...I felt weak."

  Professor Byleth shook her head and smiled . "It's alright, your Highness. It was a difficult fight, believe me. You had every reason to be concerned. But we're all accounted for."

  He had never seen her smile before. Dimitri was flabbergasted. She had a lovely smile. "That expression is...could you make it again, Professor?" She obliged after a moment of confusion, smiling at him. The first time he had witnessed her displaying emotion, and it was beautiful . "I don't think I've ever seen your face like that."

  "What, smiling?" Professor Byleth pursed her lips, obviously thinking hard. "Hmm, I guess not. I don't know. I feel like it comes easier now for some reason? When I was a mercenary, life was hard. Not many opportunities for smiles."

  "I suppose that makes sense." Dimitri allowed. "You should do it more often, though! You have a wonderful smile."

  "Do you think so? How strange. I've never really thought about it." Byleth admitted. "Is that a thing I should concern myself with?"

  "Only if it pleases you! If not, simply forget I said anything. I would hate it if you felt forced to smile for my sake." Dimitri felt like he had committed some sort of blunder, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "I am just not used to seeing you display emotion. It was a...a novel experience."

  "Oh?" Professor Byleth tapped her chin in thought and then startled the prince by sticking her tongue out at him. "Perhaps you should pay more attention, your Highness."

  "Ah, I apologize. I've forgotten myself and come dangerously close to teasing you!" The prince laughed, thoroughly embarrassed with his own actions. "Forgive my impropriety, professor. I was merely caught off guard. I've never seen you look so happy before. It's downright mesmerizing."

  "I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you. I'll try harder to smile for you. For the class." 

  "Oh! What are we doing?! We must hurry and share the good news with Seteth!" Dimitri exclaimed, flustered that he had allowed himself to get so very sidetracked. "We haven't a moment to lose, make haste!"

  …

  He threw Byleth bodily, watching in barely-concealed awe as she arced through the air to land gracefully on her feet. She rushed him and Dimitri easily knocked her blade aside with his lance. But she didn't stop like he anticipated. Instead, she let her sword go and slammed her whole body into his.

  Dimitri staggered, only to discover her boot behind his own. Byleth hooked his ankle and they both went down with a mighty crash! . Dimitri coughed, the wind knocked out of him by a combination of the impact and his armor.

  A wooden blade slid beneath his chin.

  "Do you yield?" 

  Of course. Byleth fought like a mercenary. She used every resource she had at her disposal, not just her sword. She had never managed to get the upper hand and floor him though, that was new.

  "Never." The blond man panted grimly. "You'll have to kill me." 

  She leaned in closer as she started to laugh and that was when Dimitri noticed that her breast bindings must have come undone during combat. He froze, his gauntlets digging into the sand beneath him. Her clothes were a mess from their sparring, as was her armor. He could look down the tunic beneath her mail with ease. 

  Numerous nights of his youth at the Officer's Academy had been spent engaging in hands-on musings about his dear professor's body. Back then, Dimitri had pragmatically chalked it up to a combination of his overblown strength and pubescent hysteria. 

  He currently had no such explanation for why he was so fixated on the press of his former professor's unfettered bosom against his breastplate. 

  " ...Highness? Your Highness? Are you alright?" She was speaking to him.

  She was speaking to him . Dimitri jerked his face up, certain he was bright red. Byleth's expression bordered on concerned, the training sword discarded off to the side as she hovered over him. 

  "Did you hit your head? I know all my weight landed on you." She continued worriedly.

  "Ah, yes. Just a little rattled. Apologies." Dimitri tried to play it off, mustering up a weak chuckle. She sat back on his hips, seeming satisfied with his response. Dimitri's breath hitched in his throat at the subsequent pressure on his codpiece.

  "I didn't think I'd knock you over!" Byleth cheered, raising her arms over her head in victory. 

  Dimitri closed his eye, his fingers scrabbling pitifully in the sand until they closed upon the haft of his sparring lance. He swung the lance as if he was going to break every rib she had, but at the last moment he ground to a halt. The shaft of the lance tapped her ribs and Dimitri seized a handful of her chainmail, dragging her down. "Checkmate, Professor." He breathed, flipping his lance so the padded blade was poised to punch into the base of her spine. 

  Byleth squeaked, wriggling against his body and managing free up one of her arms. "Not so fast!" She exclaimed, her eyes still alight with mirth. "I've got my magic, after all." Her open hand glowed with power directly beside his remaining eye.

  "True enough." Dimitri allowed. "You are indeed versatile, Professor." Having her this close was intolerable , yet he kept his black gauntlet tightly fisted in her loose mail shirt.

  "I celebrated my victory too early. I'll do better next time." She promised. 

  "See that you do. We cannot lose you." Dimitri replied curtly. "On my end, of course, I'll have to be more wary of mercenary footwork."

  "Yes, my fancy footwork has been the downfall of many foes!" Byleth said proudly, "You could say it... brings them to their knees ."

  Dimitri couldn't help the bark of exasperated laughter he let out, which set off her own giggles. "Goddess, that's an awful one. You need to stop spending time with Alois." 

  "What?! His puns are great, I won't hear anything else on the matter." The professor scolded, still snickering as she got to her feet and dusted off her hosiery. She extended a hand and Dimitri accepted without thought, allowing himself to be hauled upright. "Oh, I'm sorry. We got your armor all sandy."

  "It's quite alright. It was due for a cleaning anyways." Dimitri assured her, brushing some of the grime off his cuisses. "Perhaps it is concerning for me to think this way, but I no longer fear an attack from every side. Thus, I can remove and clean my armor relatively peacefully." Thanks to you . She smiled up at him and Dimitri caught himself just as he began leaning in. He flinched, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Er, be certain to rest your shoulder. We may have undone some of your healing." 

  The prince left with a haste that was probably unbecoming of a gentleman, his long legs taking the steps to the second floor dormitory two at a time. He somehow, somehow managed to reach his room without incident or interruption, a rarity in and of itself. Normally he couldn't so much as attempt to move from point A to point B before Gilbert or Dedue descended upon him.

  Dimitri locked his door behind him, leaning back against it and covering his face with his hands. His body felt like it was on fire; nerve endings alight with sensations he had long believed were dead.

  He ached and it certainly wasn't from exertion. The pit of his stomach tangled in knots when he thought of their sparring, of Byleth sweaty and smiling down at him like he was the best thing she had ever seen. 

  Goddess , he was such a sinner. It made him want to put his hands on her. All over her. Repeatedly. Unclothed .

  Dimitri bit down on his index knuckle, teeth meeting armor with a dull click . It had been over five years since he had even deigned to think of such things. He was trembling, he realized dimly. His hands were clumsy and suddenly unfamiliar with the buckles and pins on his armor, as though it was the first time he had attempted to undo them. 

  This frantic sensation in his blood, while half-forgotten, was not new. Rather, it recalled to clarity memories of lying sleepless in this very room, working himself into a proverbial lather. The tension he suffered from in his younger years was unbearable at times, and he had sought any way to relieve it if his grueling training failed to exhaust him. 

  Now here he was, a fully-grown man floundering to tear himself out of his armor that he might surrender to his libidinous urges once again. Dimitri couldn't even muster up the will to feel shame at what he was about to do. All he could think about was her healing him, smiling at him, nearly dying for him , her shouting his name and pursuing him when he stormed out...

  Dimitri worked the laces on his placket loose and sloppily licked his palm. Goddess , he was a sinner and a fool.

  …

  "Wait. Do you hear that?" Byleth asked just before they reached the main hall. Her hand left his own and Dimitri mourned the loss before he could stop himself.

  He paused, his brow furrowed. "Hear what? Everyone in the hall?" 

  "No no, not that. I hear...something else." She turned and ducked into the stairwell, beckoning hurriedly for Dimitri to follow her. "Listen."

  Dimitri obliged gamely, cocking his head and straining to ignore the dull roar from the ballgoers. After a moment, he did hear something. "Is that...singing?" He whispered. Byleth nodded, already halfway to the second floor. 

  Dimitri followed behind, feeling...odd. The song was haunting in its melody, familiar and yet not. He knew that his mother had died of the plague too soon after he was born for him to have any true memory of her, but the lonely sound echoing in the stairwell made him wonder if there was something important he was forgetting. Something precious, lost to time itself. Maybe he wasn't even the one who had forgotten it, but he still longed to recall what it was. 

  When they reached the last landing before the third floor, Byleth motioned for him to stay put while she went on ahead. Dimitri watched her go, highly entertained by the way she slunk up the stairs on all fours as though she were a cat.

  She moved out of sight and the prince waited anxiously, all the while hearing that song lilt through the air. 

  When Professor Byleth returned mere moments later, she sat on the bottom step at the landing and patted it, as if encouraging Dimitri to take a seat. "I'd like to listen a little while longer. Care to join me?" 

  The prince hiked up his parade breeches and sat one step above her own, gesturing to his lengthy legs when she raised an eyebrow. "Who is singing, Professor?" He queried.

  "It's Lady Rhea." Byleth murmured. She looked strangely dreamy, shifting over to lean against his leg. "She's on the Star Terrace."

  Dimitri hummed in acknowledgment, not minding in the slightest that he was being reduced to a piece of furniture. Best that he steal every carefree moment he could.

  He could not distinguish any words in the song if they existed. Rhea's voice was exquisite; It was as if she sung to the Goddess herself. Dimitri started nodding off despite his best efforts, body and mind soothed by the gentle melody. 

  The notion struck him that this was as close to truly pious as he had ever felt in all his years. Dimitri was not a man of prayerful reflection. Despite all of Ferdinand's enthusiasm about nobility leading the masses in worship of the Goddess, she always seemed so far away when Dimitri bowed his head. 

  But here of all places, sprawled out on well-worn carpeted steps with his dear professor slouched against his shin, Rhea's song drifting ethereally through the air...Dimitri caught himself fancying that the Goddess was close enough to reach out and touch.

  Byleth finally yawned widely, rubbing her eyes. "Suddenly I am exhausted. We really must retire." She mumbled. 

  "I agree. You have had quite a night of it." Dimitri got to his feet and stretched languidly, then offered her his hand. "May I walk you to your quarters, Professor?"

  ...

  Edelgard lay crumpled before them, the purple miasma of foul magics dissipating from her form. Dimitri hesitated, Areadbhar hanging loosely from his hand. "El." He rasped, voice destroyed from their pitched battle. 

  She looked up, her eyes meeting his own. There was no fear in those eyes even as the prince slowly advanced, only calm indifference. 

  He held out his hand. "El, please . It's not too late." He implored, "I would see that strong future you wish for, joined with my own to make all of Fódlan a better place." Edelgard smiled tiredly up at him, one of her hands sliding behind her back while the other stretched to reach him.

  Dimitri was too close to avoid the dagger she threw. He could barely find the strength to lift Areadbhar as it was, gracelessly shoving the point of his lance into her gut as her dagger penetrated his chest. There was a moment where the two of them simply stared at each other.

  Then, the Emperor slumped forward. It would seem that the dagger Dimitri had gifted her so long ago had failed to cut her a path in the end. The King grunted in pain as he took hold of the hilt, jerking the blade free and letting it fall where it may.

  The knife hit the ground with a hollow clang! , the sound reverberating sharply in the stillness. Dimitri heard motion behind him and he struggled to free Areadbhar before he was attacked again. 

  A familiar head of pastel green hair was ducking beneath his arm before he could finish the motion. The young man sagged into her, releasing his family Relic. "My King." Byleth said softly, reverently, a hand pressed to his breastplate to steady him. 

  Dimitri groaned, inhaling deeply and staring upwards in a vain attempt to fend off his tears. Edelgard was dead. After years upon years of torment, after piling up corpses and falling prey to his darkest desires, he had still emerged victorious. 

  He placed a shower of kisses upon the crown of Byleth's head, half-delirious with a combination of sorrow and joy. "We've done it. Byleth, we've done it." He breathed. Tears began to dampen her hair. "By the grace of the Goddess, we have done it."

  Byleth just held him silently, letting him sob. Everyone he had lost, all the souls that haunted him; Dimitri finally released the burden of responsibility and grieved for them properly. He mourned his stepmother, Glenn, his father, every life lost in the tragedy of Duscur. Even Edelgard found her way into his sorrow. 

  He mourned them, and then he let them go. 

  Dimitri crouched stiffly beside Edelgard's body and reached out, closing her eyes. "Be at peace, El." He whispered, his face damp with tears.

  Byleth's hand rested on his shoulder. She was clearly exhausted, the normal rush of warmth from her healing barely a flicker. Still, it was sufficient to patch the wound left from Edelgard's final attack. "Would you like to pray for her?" 

  Dimitri bowed his head. "I have not prayed in many years, Professor." He rasped. "Not since before the Tragedy. I...I have always been far from the Goddess, especially for a noble of such high breeding."

  "I'll guide you." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm no old hand, but I sat through enough of Seteth's lectures to know the gist. We can do it together."

  Dimitri covered her hand on his shoulder, nodding mutely. 

  Together .

  …

  Between his official coronation, Byleth's acceptance of the archbishop position, and the preparations to begin rebuilding the new Fódlan, Dimitri went months without seeing his dear professor or classmates. Many letters were exchanged, formal and informal alike finding their way to his desk.

  Dimitri was particularly amused to find out that Seteth had proposed to Ingrid mid-battle, the wyvern knight apparently shouting a declaration of eternal love and faithfulness while lance-deep in a foe. 

  Flayn had seen the whole thing, her recounting a little more embellished than Seteth's dry report. If Dimitri was to believe her claims, lily petals had cascaded from the Goddess herself to swirl around the two lovers on the battlefield. The wild tale made him smile, even while he felt a pang of jealousy. That Seteth and Ingrid could find time for love even in the chaos of war…

  Byleth was slated to attend a planning forum held at the castle later that month. The former Alliance leaders had all agreed to meet in the Fhirdiad palace and go over the terms of the amicable Alliance annexation. Dimitri was looking forward to it, even though he loathed gatherings like this. Too much nattering on, trying to soothe ruffled feathers while outside his kingdom was barely held together with a wish and a prayer. He understood the importance , of course. His training had never been lax in any area. He knew exactly why he needed to do this. 

  If he was being honest with himself, he had called for this meeting with selfish reasons in mind. As the head of the Church of Seiros, Byleth was duty-bound be present at certain events to ensure stability and fairness. Dimitri knew that there was no other way to inconspicuously tear her from her current mountain of responsibilities as archbishop. He felt guilty, but at the same time he knew he couldn't say what he needed to say if he was confined to a letter, if only because it could be intercepted or stolen far too easily. Dimitri needed to see her. He needed to have those warm, calloused hands in his own when he finally …

  Well, he was getting ahead of things again.

  The ring sat in its tiny little box inside his boudoir for months. Dimitri had happened across it while going through all the things Cornelia had pilfered from his father's belongings. The prince-turned-king had no real eye for baubles or quality, but he felt as though he was familiar with the piece and had called upon Rodrigue to verify the legitimacy of his faded memory. Instead of being a visit solely dedicated to horseback rides, appraisal and drinking tea, Lord Fraldarius had surprised him by getting misty-eyed. 

  "I wish your father could see this. See you , Dimitri." Rodrigue had held the ring delicately between two white-gloved fingers, letting it catch the light just so. "For all the darkness of your past, your future is remarkably bright." He had smiled fondly up at Dimitri, his eyes clouded with memories. "It was your birth mother's, given to her by your father. An heirloom of the royal family. I'm certain your professor will love it."

  …

  The tables were ridiculously long when they were all lined up in a row as one massive buffet in the ballroom. Tradition dictated the placement, demanding that the king be at the high end of the table and removed from his guests. Dimitri stroked his chin, then sighed and moved one of the servants aside. "We are not doing this." He said firmly, hoisting the last table overhead and heading towards the dais.

  "Your Majesty please! " The servant floundered after him, helpless to halt the king's forward motion. 

  Dimitri moved the tables up and closer together, ending with something a bit more square versus the long rectangle they had been. "We will need different tablecloths…" he mused, staring at the polished wood. An idea struck him and he quickly turned to the servant who had been hovering nearby. "Go to the seamstress who is on the corner by the apothecary. Tell her we need-" The king paused, using his arms to measure the table length. "-three yards times...er, twelve tables." Due to his lone eye, his depth perception had taken a bit of a nosedive. Counting stationary objects was always an interesting process. "All different colors, hemmed. I have no preference for material. I understand that we are recovering. Reward her handsomely for the expediency of her work." 

  Once the servant had departed, Dimitri set to loosely arranging the chairs with the assistance of two other maids. He knew it was unbecoming for the king to be performing such mundane tasks, but he also did not care one jot about the opinions of others.

  Preparations were in full swing. Dedue was slated to arrive tomorrow with the freshly-titled Archbishop Byleth, as were the former leaders of the Alliance. Numerous of his old classmates were amongst the ranks; the new Dukes of Gloucester and Aegir in particular were bound to be wildly entertaining. Dimitri made a mental note to seat them beside each other.

  He had sent Dedue to escort Byleth for a reason. Though their primary enemy was gone, Fódlan was far from sorted. Dimitri knew that the man from Duscur would fight tooth and nail to secure their former professor's safety, should the need arise. Whether brigands, bandits or fiendish mages, he put all his faith in his loyal vassal. It was all he could do, really. It pained Dimitri immensely that he couldn't go to fetch her himself, but there was no justification for such casual endangerment of the last surviving member of House Blaiddyd. 

  He feared he might slide into depression again if he wasn't allowed to wander for much longer. Though his self-imposed isolation had been grim and agonizing to survive, he found himself longing for the freedom he had felt while he haunted the highways. Now it was always, " your Majesty we must go with you ," or " you cannot cavort about the countryside unsupervised ." A truly terrible fate. 

  Rodrigue had only been able to visit him that one time in the span since they had defeated Edelgard, but the dark-haired man had taken the new king out for a lengthy, grueling horseback ride. The Lord Fraldarius always seemed to understand Dimitri, with or without words. 

  …

  "We had to fix the sections of wall destroyed during the riots, but with the help of House Riegan's masons it was done in no time." Dedue continued pointing out the repairs that had been made, Byleth following along gleefully. It had been weeks since she was able to leave the monastery for this long. She almost felt guilty about leaving all the paperwork behind.

  Almost.

  When she had asked to enter the city on foot sans her entourage, Dedue complied without question. The two of them meandered in relative anonymity, Dedue giving her a tour of sorts as they went. 

  A manservant wearing the King's livery caught Byleth's attention and she watched curiously as he struggled to carry an armful of what appeared to be different types of cloth. "Dedue, that man…" Byleth trailed off, leaving Dedue's side and rushing forward to catch the cloth that slipped from the servant's grasp.

  "Oh! Thank you miss, I was certain I would sully them." The man said, throwing her a grateful grin over the top of the bolts still in his arms. 

  "It was no trouble, can I help carry some of these for you? I'm on my way to the palace myself as it is."

  "Ah, you must be one of the new scullery maids!" The man exclaimed, seeming relieved that she wanted to help. Byleth barely kept from laughing aloud, thanking the Goddess that her traveling attire was far less ornate than anyone would expect from an archbishop. "I know his Majesty put out a call for more positions, what with the big meet involving the Alliance folks and all." 

  "I imagine it's been quite the storm of preparations." Byleth allowed, carefully transferring half the cloth bolts to her own arms.

  "Your imagination serves you well. And his Majesty, bless him, is not a hands-off man. He's ordered for new tablecloths, the tables are to be arranged differently...it's strange, and I know people will talk, but I am glad he's taking steps to improve relations with the high and mighty." The servant lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Why, I've even heard that the new Archbishop herself will be in attendance to oversee the rulings! Can you believe it?" 

  "We live in exciting times." Byleth agreed.

  Dedue appeared out of the marketplace crowds beside her, looking a little annoyed. "Your Grace, please do not wander off." He chastised. "His Majesty would not forgive me if something were to happen to you, especially on his own doorstep."

  "I understand. I apologize, I assumed you saw me when I ran ahead."

  The servant beside her started at Dedue's voice, struggling to bow even with his arms full. "Knight-Captain Dedue! You've returned!" Dedue simply nodded as the rest of what he had said seemed to catch up with the other man. "Wait, did you just call her your Grace ? But I thought that..." He trailed off, going pale. "Oh Goddess, are you-?! "

  Byleth put a finger to her lips and gave the man a wink.

  …

  Dimitri couldn't stop pacing . Back and forth, back and forth, he worried he would wear a track in the ballroom marble. Byleth's entourage had arrived hours ago with the news that the Archbishop and Dedue had gone for a bit of a jaunt around Fhirdiad. 

  Which was entirely acceptable, of course. Absolutely. No doubt she wished to see how the people fared, how the rebuilding was coming. 

  Dimitri sighed heavily. At this rate, the servant would be back with the new tablecloths by the time she-

  The door at the opposite end of the ballroom was pushed open and Dedue strode in, moving to hold the door for the two people following him. One of them was the manservant who had been sent to get the tablecloths he had commissioned the day before, and the other…

  Dimitri realized abruptly that he was not prepared for this. 

  When folk spoke of absence making the heart grow fonder, he had thought they were simply waxing poetic. But seeing her again made him want to do something ridiculous .

  Like sprinting clear across the ballroom in a highly undignified manner ( Dedue hurried to take the bolts of cloth she was holding ), watching her face light up in excitement as he went. 

  Like picking her up and spinning her around, a deep laugh finding its way out of him at the sound of her own peals of mirth. 

  Like hugging her tightly after the fact, hearing her murmur in his ear that she had missed him. 

  Dimitri rested his forehead against hers and held her for longer than was appropriate, especially if all he was doing was greeting a dear friend. But she made no move to leave his embrace, a fact that stirred hope within him. 

  Dedue finally cleared his throat with an awkward grunt. "Your Majesty?"

  "Thank you for getting her here safely, Dedue." Dimitri said sincerely.

  "Of course, your Majesty."

  "We brought your tablecloths!" Byleth added brightly. "Where would you like them?" She was wearing the Blue Lion brooch again, the one that Dimitri and his classmates had gifted to her all those years ago. The sight filled him with a strange pride.

  "Ah! Yes, of course. We have the tables already prepared, we're making it a bit more personable this time." Dimitri explained, gladly accepting the fabric. "I'd like the blue for my own table, naturally!"

  …

  The meetings began midmorning the following day and lasted into the noon of the day after. Much was said. Grievances were aired among the lords, hatchets buried and a multitude of trade agreements mingled with fealty declarations exchanged hands and signatures. It all went relatively smoothly, thanks to Byleth's level-headed presence and Dimitri's own willingness to compromise for the sake of a better future. 

  It certainly helped that before Claude had departed on his grand quest, he had entrusted Failnaught to the church. No doubt that was why he had done it in the first place. Claude was not a man to cast resources away on a whim, and Failnaught was the sacred Hero's Relic of his house. A powerful display if nothing else, and a symbol of his faith in the new Archbishop. He must have known the other lords would fall in line, with or without him there to browbeat them.

  The Archbishop sighed heavily once the last carriage had departed down the long drive and out the gates. "I'd say job well done. My father would say that a drink is in order."

  Dimitri chuckled. "It is not even three o'clock, your Grace." 

  She waved him off, "psh, don't call me that. No one is here now."

  "But you insist on calling me Majesty, do you not?"

  "That's a little different-" Byleth began to protest, laughing when he caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I mean, you're the King!"

  "Truly? What other wonders have I missed out on?" Dimitri teased. "Next you'll say that I've solidified fractured lands and the people have dubbed me a savior king."

  "Not alone! " Byleth protested, still laughing. "I saw you almost go after Ferdinand. Let the poor boy talk about tea in peace."

  "Between he and Lorenz chattering about new leaves in their trade contracts, I was lucky to get a word in edgewise!" Dimitri groaned. "I don't understand how they keep it all straight. If I have tea that isn't that apple blend, it tastes like nothing but hot water and grass clippings. I suppose my palate isn't nearly as refined as theirs." He shrugged, his smile a little more rueful now.

  Byleth studied his features in the waning light of afternoon, concluding that his hair being pulled back from his face suited him quite well. He looked away when she complimented him, but he seemed very pleased. 

  "Do you really think so? Felix told me I either needed to take it all off, or tie it back. He feared for my ability to see. He did not say that, of course. You know Felix." Dimitri tugged at a shaggy section of blond hair that dangled over his eyepatch. "I'm afraid I am not the best barber. Sharp things close to my face alarm me more than they should." He said with an embarrassed shrug.

  Byleth nodded in understanding, taking his hand once more and twining their fingers together. Deep down, she knew this was improper behavior, but when it came to Dimitri her propriety seemed to retreat.

  Dimitri inhaled sharply, and then his other hand covered her own. "Your Grace," he began, but quickly corrected himself, "I'm sorry, Byleth . I have...there is something I...er. I would like to ask you something, if I may." He stammered. 

  "Of course, your Majesty." Byleth replied quietly. 

  "I...have you ever considered...that is to say, would you ever consider a...um, a-an alliance between the church and the Kingdom of Faerghus?" Dimitri asked all in a rush, his hands trembling around her own.

  Byleth's brow furrowed, the young woman puzzled by his strange behavior. "You already know that you have the full backing of the Church of Seiros, Dimitri."

  Dimitri looked positively frazzled when she used his name instead of his honorifics. "No, not...like that." He muttered awkwardly. "I-I meant...well, I meant…" The blond closed his eye, swearing under his breath as he released Byleth's hand and started groping in the side pocket of his mantle. "I had everything planned, but isn't that how it always is. Blast, where did I put the damn thing?!" He shook his cape aggressively and a small, unassuming box bounced off his sabaton, hitting the floor with a quiet thunk . 

  The king hastily scooped up the box, brushed it off, and then took her hand once more. Byleth's heart leaped into her throat. 

  "I would love to claim that I am doing this for Faerghus or Fódlan and not myself. I would love to be able to say that I only think of my country and what could better it, but that is not the case." Dimitri's tone was incredibly serious. "I am a wretched man, selfish and stubborn and so, so very greedy. And yet to me, you have always been the one who guided me so kindly. My ally through all. My beloved…" he paused thoughtfully, a wistful smile making its way to his face. "Yes. My beloved."

  Having settled on a term, Dimitri pressed the box into her hands. Byleth fumbled with the lid for several tense seconds as he stood there silently. When she finally managed to get it open, Byleth's eyes widened. Nestled in blue velvet that was faded with age, shining in the light of the afternoon sun, was an absolutely stunning ring. 

  She was rendered speechless, just staring down at the open box.

  "Please, I beg of you, say something." Dimitri implored hoarsely. "If you do not wish to accept it, please just tell me. If so, I will face the truth and walk away." He sounded defeated even as he said it, like he assumed she was about to turn him down.

  "No no! That's not it at all, I swear!" Byleth exclaimed frantically, her fingers burrowing into her waistcoat pocket. She pulled out the ring that her father had given her mother and motioned for Dimitri's hand, carefully placing the far less opulent item in his gloved palm. 

  Dimitri went stock-still. Byleth could feel her cheeks flushing even as she smiled at him.

  ...

  "What is this?"

  He felt like a fool even as he asked, of course he knew what it was. It was a well-worn, delicate band of silver. A ring. She was giving him a ring.

  She was giving him a ring .

  His eye flew up to meet her own, and he saw how brightly she was smiling at him. "I love you, Dimitri. Will you marry me?" She asked softly. "And I'm not asking simply to display a unified front from the church and the kingdom, I promise. I am asking because you are the person that I love."

  "I am the...you love me?" Dimitri did not mean to sound quite so incredulous. He was having a difficult time mastering himself; all he wanted to do was shout his joy from the palace rooftops! She loved him. She loved him . She asked him to marry her! "I...yes, yes of course! I accept! Gladly!" He continued, certain he was grinning like a fool. "Let us exchange them, shall we?" 

  "Absolutely! Here, give me mine back for a moment, and then you take yours out of the box-"

  After several seconds of laughter and floundering, the Archbishop and the King managed to properly wear each other's rings. Byleth's ring looked almost ridiculously fragile on Dimitri's hand, the small flower set with pink and purple gems appearing as though it was made of gossamer. 

  Dimitri cared not, holding her hands once again. They were warm, calloused, just as he remembered them from the very first time she had offered him her hand all those years ago. "These strong hands that have saved me countless times…" Dimitri mused, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "Thank you, my beloved. For rescuing me, pulling me back from the brink with your kind, warm hands. May they cling to my own forevermore." He said fervently.

  Her blush went to the roots of her hair. It was immensely becoming on her. "Always." She promised. Her face fell suddenly. "Oh."

  "What is it, my love?" Dimitri asked worriedly.

  "I...Dimitri, I must return to Garreg Mach tomorrow ." She answered, sounding entirely despondent. Dimitri himself felt a rush of sorrow at her words, knowing them to be true and loathing that they were.

  "I know that I cannot keep you from your duties any longer, but…" he trailed off, raking a hand through his hair. "My heart aches at the thought of being apart from you for even a moment, Byleth."

  "As does mine." She replied sadly. An odd look crossed her face and she sucked in a quick breath. "Dimitri, would you want to...erm, spend the night together?"

  The King's mouth went dry. 

  "I-I mean, I understand that you're the ruler of Fódlan and I'm the Archbishop and nothing about our situation is very... normal . But many a couple, er, anticipates their wedding night." Byleth rushed to add. Dimitri noted absently that her neck was as red as her face. "I would know you intimately, if I may be so bold."

  "I do not wish to tarnish you." Dimitri admitted softly. And there it was, laid bare. His largest fear that their engagement might throw her own virtue or morals into question, due to his previous, utterly reprehensible conduct. "If we do something like that before we are publicly wed…"

  "We will have to at some point and people will create rumors regardless of what we do." Byleth pointed out practically. "I am not some clean linen for you to ruin, Dimitri. I am just as battle-worn as yourself."

  "True. In many ways, you are much more of a warrior than I ever could be." Dimitri hesitated, then bowed and murmured, "Will you join me in my chambers this evening, your Grace?"

  …

  He needed to speak with Sylvain. Immediately . 

  Dimitri found his old classmate in the barracks, the redhead enthusiastically trading bawdy stories with his troops as usual. 

  "Captain Gautier! A moment?" Dimitri called, waving off the hasty bows of the men that saw him. 

  "Your Majesty! Just in time, I was about to-"

  Dimitri grabbed Sylvain's arm and started hauling him out of the room. " Now , Sylvain." 

  "Alright, alright! You'll dent my armor if you keep that up!" Sylvain teased as he staggered along. "So aggressive . What's this all about, your Kingliness?"

  Dimitri wordlessly held up his free hand as he ushered Sylvain down the hall. 

  The moment it dawned on Sylvain was obvious. He yanked Dimitri's hand closer, examining the ring the king wore. "I knew it . Ha! Felix, prepare to pay up!" The redhead announced gleefully. 

  "What?! You two knew about this? Who else knows?" Dimitri demanded, thoroughly embarrassed.

  Sylvain waved him off airily. "No one knew , Dimitri. We all just kinda' assumed. I bet that the pro...er, Archbishop would ask first."

  "I hate to be the bearer of bad news-"

  "Whatever, it doesn't matter, congratulations are in order!" Sylvain interrupted, enthusiastically shaking Dimitri's hand. "You're a wanted man now, your Majesty!"

  "Hey wait, who bet on me then?!"

  "Uh, I think just Felix, honestly." Sylvain admitted. "Something about you being 'absolutely pitiful'?"

  "How comforting ." Dimitri growled. "Listen Sylvain, I don't have a lot of time. Evening is drawing near." He clenched his fist over his heart in a rigid salute. "Please teach me everything you know about pleasing a woman."

  "I...oh Goddess, okay. I was not expecting that. I uh. I need a second." Sylvain squeaked, "You want me to do what? "

  "I need you to-"

  "Wait, no, nevermind. I did hear you right. You... really? Already? Oh , she's leaving tomorrow. Yeah no, I get it now." Sylvain cracked his knuckles methodically, his handsome grin bordering on evil. "We are going to go raid the kitchen for some nice, juicy peaches to consume and then I am going to tutor you in the time-honored tradition of eating someone out."

  "What in blazes does eating a peach have to do with...with what I need to know by this evening?" Dimitri questioned the other man, concerned now.

  "Oh don't worry. You'll find out. All I ask in return is that you tell Mercedes something nice about me. And maybe name one of your royal brats after me. After all, I'm instrumental in their creation-!"

  Sylvain barely dodged Dimitri's gauntlet in time.

  …

  "I don't know what I'm doing." Byleth whispered.

  "That, makes two of us." Dimitri pressed their foreheads together, his attention wholly focused on her lips and the way she was biting them. "May I?"

  "May you…?" 

  "May I kiss you?" Dimitri wasn't sure why he was whispering as well. It wasn't as if they had an audience. "I know that is how one normally starts such endeavors, if Sylvain is to be believed."

  Byleth looked shy of all things, nodding jerkily and then closing her eyes. Dimitri exhaled, feeling a bit lightheaded.

  His mouth met hers for the first time and the King found his hands fumbling to grip her shoulders. Her own hands sought purchase on his armored torso and came back wanting, settling for fisting in the luxurious fur ruff of his mantle. They clung to each other almost frantically, Byleth returning his kiss with more and more excitement. Her mouth was hot on his own, their inexperience doing nothing to dampen the intensity of the moment. 

  "I need to get this damn plate off. Help me?" Dimitri muttered against her lips, chuckling when she rapidly started to fidget with the pins at his sides. "So eager!"

  "I want to see you." Byleth replied bluntly, making Dimitri's face flush. "Get it over with. If we're both naked, what else could we be nervous about?" She reasoned.

  Dimitri felt like all the air left his chest at the idea of seeing her wholly naked. "An excellent point." He managed to say, undoing his mantle and draping it over one of the less than comfortable armchairs. Gloves came next, then the process of trying to maneuver his pauldrons accordingly. 

  Byleth, it seemed, had no patience for proper armor removal. She slid the pins in his sides and nearly took Dimitri's nose off before remembering that the gorget needed to be undone prior to the breastplate's own bonds. Dimitri couldn't help his laughter, cupping her face with his newly-bared hands and kissing her once more. "Be still, my beloved. I am not going anywhere."

  They managed to remove the rest of his armor down to his cuisses without incident, and Dimitri settled onto the edge of his bed to wriggle out of his greaves and sabatons. 

  " Blast this armor." He growled to himself as a particularly stubborn latch refused to budge. 

  Byleth's hand landed in the middle of his chest and she gave him a push, leaving the King on his back. Dimitri blinked up at the ceiling, stunned when she climbed on top of him and pinned his wrists to the bed.

  "Your Majesty." Oh, he liked the sound of that. "May I?"

  "May you what?"

  "May I kiss you?"

  " Goddess , you need never ask again." 

  Dimitri could have easily dominated the situation, inexperienced though he was. But he found himself staying there, his wrists flexing in her grip. She wasn't going to hurt him. This was no Fhirdiad jail cell, no sharp shackles and miles upon miles of chain to try and manage his rages. 

  His arms began to tremble from how tightly he was reining himself in. "Byleth," he murmured between their kisses. "Please-"

  "Please?" 

  "Beloved, please ." Dimitri sat up, shifting her into his lap. He buried his face in her neck, pressing kisses to the skin he found as his fingers fought with the buttons of her waistcoat. "Please." 

  She responded by starting to undo the tiny fasteners that ran the length of his padded undertunic. Dimitri had to take his hands off of her to shuck the offending garment, pausing when Byleth slid her index over the scar from Edelgard's dagger. "Does it pain you?" She asked, her eyes betraying her concern.

  "No. All that is left is some numbness in my hand." Dimitri assured her. "I was very fortunate that her aim was off. Had she hit my heart, I doubt I would be enjoying this time with you." Byleth touched her lips to the scar and Dimitri couldn't help his shiver. 

  The rest of their armor and clothing was slowly peeled away, revealing the two to each other in their full glory. Dimitri cursed his pale complexion, the King unable to hide how flustered he was simply due to the flush on his face and chest. 

  Byleth had never looked more like a divine being than in that moment, Dimitri decided. "You are perfect." The blond man sighed, "I almost fear to touch you. If this is nothing but a dream…"

  Byleth's hand rested on his stomach. "Do you not wish to touch me?"

  " Goddess , I have longed to touch you like this for so long." Dimitri said sheepishly. "Longer than I should admit." His hand laced with her own, brushing their joined thumbs over one of her breasts. "As you can see, I've done quite a bit of thinking on the subject." He breathed.

  Her fingers traipsed experimentally over the head of his cock and Dimitri exhaled sharply. "What does it feel like?" She asked curiously. 

  "It's...I am not certain on how to describe it." Dimitri wasn't expecting to be the teacher this evening. "A strange, primal heat. It tingles and aches." 

  She straddled his hips, her entire focus on his engorged arousal. Dimitri had never been the subject of such study and he found it incredibly difficult to hold still while she ran her fingers over his body. "This is supposed to fit inside me?" 

  Dimitri couldn't hold back his groan. " Yes . Eventually. Hopefully."

  Byleth raised herself up on her knees, a hand questing between her legs. Dimitri wanted to scream, settling for shakily following her fingers. She was hot , the slick he had heard of from Sylvain's lascivious recountings coating her most delicate area. She undulated over him, whimpering when Dimitri stroked her gently. 

  "Those sounds, never stop making them." He demanded, falling in love all over again at the blissful expression on her face. "Sylvain taught me a few things today. I believe I will not disappoint."

  She giggled, "I don't know whether to be concerned or-" 

  Dimitri didn't give her the time to finish voicing her misgivings, the King rolling them over and pressing her back to the mattress. "It is wonderful to have you beneath me without a battle raging around us." He murmured, his mouth making a path down her stomach and hips. His fingers trailed across her collarbone, then stopped at the rough patch of scar tissue on her shoulder. "This wound…" He paused, raising his head. 

  She put her hand over his own, the pressure light but steady. "I would do it again in a heartbeat." Byleth assured him.

  " Please , do not." Dimitri implored desperately. "I cannot lose you again." Her knees framed his head as he sank lower still, "I will not lose you, my beloved." Her body quivered. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." He soothed, vaguely uncertain of whether he could actually promise such a thing. Byleth was as untried as he was, and he was so damnably strong... "If I cause you discomfort, tell me."

  With that, Dimitri's shaking hands urged her legs even further apart. Sylvain had mentioned that he might feel odd upon seeing a woman for the first time, really seeing a woman. But all Dimitri felt was a hunger that tormented his body. He longed to sweep her off the bed and devour her, settling for tender, nibbling kisses instead.

  She whimpered and her hands were suddenly in his hair, caressing the back of his head fitfully. "Oh, please- " 

  Her taste flooded his tongue in a heady rush, spurring him on to messily conquer her with his mouth. Dimitri knew he had no real technique , a single afternoon of licking and slurping produce with Sylvain would not be enough to grant him mastery. But Byleth did not appear to be overly troubled by his lack of experience, her fingers knitting against his scalp helplessly. 

  She was so wet he could feel it dripping down his chin, the knowledge that he did that making him ache anew. If he could arouse her so dramatically, perhaps he could satisfy her. Her hips pitched abruptly and Dimitri hungrily pressed his face to her, giving in to his desire to devour her entirely. She was delicious . After years of not being able to taste anything, her arousal was like a healing downpour on the wasteland of his senses.

  Byleth cried out his name and Dimitri flinched, startled. Her legs were shaking, her nails digging into the back of his neck hard enough to break the skin. "Alright?" He managed to ask, actually feeling her pulse underneath his tongue when he lapped slowly at her sensitive skin.

  "Oh Goddess , Dimitri…" Byleth gasped, her eyes wide. 

  "Didn't hurt you, right?"

  "No, no." She waved off his concern, her breaths ragged. 

  Dimitri rested his cheek on her stomach, still worried that he had caused some harm. "Are you certain?"

  " Dimitri ." Byleth huffed, cupping his face. "It did not hurt. I am not in pain. I have never experienced...not with another person, that is."

  "Ah, so you…" Dimitri trailed off, feeling unnecessarily smug. "You honor me, Byleth."

  She groaned, obviously exasperated with his teasing. "I have done my own research, you know." She informed him, rolling her hips up to press against his cock. Dimitri choked, looking down to watch her move.

  "That is...you are very talented." He remarked faintly. "Incredible." 

  "May we attempt?" Byleth's shy request rang in his ears and Dimitri hid his face in her neck, his hips rocking down into the cradle of her thighs. 

  "As much as you can endure, my beloved." He had never thought that he would experience this with someone, much less with the woman that he loved. Dimitri was overwhelmed with emotion, his self-control fraying. "I would prefer that you are on top of me if we are to...attempt."

  "On top? Is that not a bit strange?"

  "If I have you beneath me, I am unsure that I will be able to refrain from bruising you. And if I am too much for you, I would rather that you were able to easily withdraw." Dimitri explained delicately. "I will do my best, of course, but I am unsure of how well I will... manage myself once we are...erm, intertwined." 

  Byleth muffled her laughter with her arm. "You just had your mouth in a place that no one else has ever seen on me, how can you still be so bashful?"

  "I am not -" Dimitri began to sputter, finding himself licking his lips absently to catch her taste again. "I am just...I am simply warning you!"

  "I'm not afraid of you, Dimitri."

  Dimitri shook his head. "I know. I just don't want your bravery to be the reason I damage you. You know how accursedly strong I am."

  "We are simply coupling with each other, not clashing on the battlefield. You will not hurt me. You cannot damage me." Byleth assured him, her eyes beautiful in the dim glow of the candlelight. "You would never do anything to cause me unwarranted harm."

  " Goddess ." Dimitri rasped, the word half-prayer, half-curse. "Permit me, then."

  "You are permitted." 

  "Tell me if I hurt you."

  In reply, Byleth reached down between their bodies and gently wrapped her fingers around his manhood. "I love you." This was a claim, as sure as the sunrise. Dimitri's shoulders snapped taut, his whole form yearning for their joining. 

  "My beloved," he gasped, feeling her graze the head of his cock over her slit. " Please , Byleth." Her fingers guided him safely in and Dimitri finally breached her with a moan. He could not stop the savage snarl that built in his chest upon feeling her wet heat close around his shaft, and he fought to hold himself still. "Are you alright?" He asked raggedly, stroking her cheek.

  Byleth nodded, her expression dazed. 

  "My beloved, are you certain?" Dimitri was unsure what to make of her face, even as his instincts screamed for him to plunge himself deeper, deeper- -His fingers gripped the luxurious sheets beneath them. "Byleth?"

  She crooned to him, closing her eyes and arching her back. Dimitri's breath caught in his throat when she moved, her body accepting more and more of what he had to offer her. 

  "Goddess," The King growled, " yes ." He could do this, he realized suddenly. He could make love to the woman who had his heart and not hurt her. She could enjoy him fearlessly. He shifted his weight over her and cupped her cheek, a tender caress. "Would you like more, my dear professor?" He asked her softly. 

  Byleth's hand covered his own on her cheek, as it had when she had returned to him in the cathedral. 

  "Teach me, my love."

  …

  She woke just as the sun was beginning to pink the horizon. Byleth's body ached sweetly from the night's exertion, making her moan as she stretched.

  Dimitri's heavy arm was slung over her hip, the King still deep in slumber. His fingers twitched fitfully. Byleth carefully rolled over so she could see him and was utterly mesmerized. When he slept, the raw edge of him seemed to smooth ever so slightly. Here, lit only by the soft hue of reluctant dawn, his blond hair fanned out on the pillow, he looked like a sleeping prince from a fairytale. 

  Aside from the numerous love bites that littered his neck and chest, of course. Those gave him a bit of a different look, somewhat less chaste and sterile. Byleth flushed as she realized her own breasts were peppered with similar marks. Neither of them had been particularly subtle in their affections, she supposed, still a little giddy about everything that had transpired.

  Dimitri groaned in his sleep, muttering something and then wrapping her in his arms once more. Her head slotted beneath his chin like it was made to be there and she smiled, closing her eyes. "I love you, Dimitri." She whispered, kissing the underside of his jaw.

  His mouth turned up at the edges and he snuggled her tighter, mumbling more nonsense words in her ear. The sunrise slowly illuminated the room, bathing the two drowsing lovers in a rosy glow. Soon enough, their work would intrude. But for just a moment longer, they ignored responsibilities and titles in favor of basking in the contentment of each other's embrace. 

  The Savior King and the Guardian Of Order .

#dimileth #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #byleth eisner #Blue Lions Route #F!Byleth #post-timeskip #god this got out of hand #fire emblem: three houses #please just take this from me #the gang's all here #blue lions spoilers #so many flashbacks #this is one big cutscene #forgive me #mutual pining #eventual happy ending #this game killed me #first times #my first work in this fandom #how exciting! #enjoy!

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass-Chapter Four

                     A special thank you to @statell​ for your help and wisdom

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Four

Claire and Molly were hopping from one farm to another in Lexington when Claire announced she had to make one extra stop. They were done for the day and she filled Molly in on her date for the weekend.

“Chad Remington called out of the blue and asked me to dinner. High profile date, lots of press I’m sure. Chad gave me a one hundred dollar minimum to buy a dress. Will you help me, please?”

Molly looked confused and finally found her voice, “what about Dusty?”

“What about Dusty?”

“He would …”

“Dustin and I are best friends Molly, nothing more.”

Molly watched Claire’s eyes and saw compassion, maturity, and truth. “Okay, I didn’t know how you were together. So it’s like brother and sister then.”

“I don’t know about that, I never had either, or a Mother and Father. I don’t have anything to compare it to. I just know that Dusty put me first and for the first time in my life, someone knew I was in the world and cared about me. And I cared for him the same way. You watch, when we spy on him in the coming year, I will bet money he’s in love before his GPA is 4.0, the little brat. Let’s go”

Molly was young but she had a great eye for fashion from looking at hundreds of magazines. It was her guilty pleasure fueled by sitting in waiting rooms of salons, waiting for no one, consuming every page that the magazines offered. Claire tried so many dresses on but Molly scrunched up her nose. The saleswoman began shooting darts at the young woman, so she took over and looked through the evening wear pulling dresses as she went. She handed five dresses to Claire.

Claire’s eyes went wide as dress after dress fit perfectly, hugged her curves in the right places, and was fashionably short.

“Well young lady, now I have the opposite problem of having too many choices. What do you think?”

Molly pulled the best fitting dress and walked to the shoes, pulling a gorgeous heal with straps that exposed almost her entire foot. She grabbed a pair of silk stockings on the way to the register.

“Straighten your hair and put this in it.” She handed Claire a beautiful cubic zirconia hair clip that would sparkle against her dark hair.”

“Straighten my hair? Like how?”

“I’ll help if you want.”

“Yes, I think that would be really nice if you don’t mind.”

Once back in the truck, Molly got very quiet and seemed preoccupied with something troubling. She said goodbye to Claire and got into her car, but Claire stopped her. She leaned against her truck and looked down at Molly as she prepared to leave.

“Something is troubling you, Molly. I don’t want to impose but is there anything I can help you with?”

Molly locked her hands on the steering wheel and looked at her lap shaking her head. Claire waited, giving her the time to decide if she wanted to speak her trouble or not.

“Last night I was harassed by the police. They said I would be arrested if they caught me again. I don’t want to go to jail but I probably will because I have nowhere else to go.”

Claire watched the tears streak down Molly’s sad face, and she was ready to offer this sweet girl whatever she needed.

“Whatever it is Molly, I will help you, I promise.”

“I lost my job a month ago and I have no more savings, so I had to leave my apartment.” She blushed crimson talking about her poverty. “Can I park here tonight and sleep, so the police will leave me alone? I can tell them you allowed me to stay here. I won’t be back until after dark, I promise.”

Claire pulled the young girl out of her car and helped her up the stairs. “Molly, are you an orphan too?”

Molly looked at Claire through her bleary eyes, “no I have an aunt and older brother but neither of them can take me.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen. I’m too old to collect the welfare that kept me going my last year of high school, my church helped as well.”

“Did your parents die sweetheart?”

“I don’t know. They just left and never came back.”

Molly cried in earnest, apologizing to Claire as she was led into the house.

“I won’t hear another word about it, young lady. You need to bring your things in. You can wash what you want and take the extra room. See? No one has ever used this room, so it has been wasted. If you sleep in here it will not be an empty room anymore. I hate empty rooms, don’t you?”

Molly looked around and Claire could see her mind working on being a burden.

“So, what I need you to do is get your things from your car while I make dinner. I have needed a roommate, but I don’t know anyone in Kentucky. I would like a roommate so will you stay with me?”

Claire had talked so fast Molly hardly had time to formulate an answer and her bulldozing boss was suddenly her benefactor, offering her safety from the cold dark night.

Claire was pushing a warm plate of food at Molly and bringing in blankets and pillows. She sat across from Molly and ate from her plate in silence, watching the poor young woman inhale her dinner.

“Molly, I won’t accept any money from you, but I need your assurance you will be honest with me about what you need.”

Molly grabbed her hand and struggled with her tears, shaking her head yes.

“That is good enough for me dearest. Get some sleep, and there is more on the stove if you are still hungry. Good night love.”

Claire was intimately familiar with orphan’s pride. Many households took her in and fed her, gave her a room, and reminded her of their generosity every day after that. Uncle Lamb died and left her alone at sixteen with no one to care for her. It was the loneliest time of her life, more so than the eleven years she spent traveling the world with Uncle Lamb because then, she always had him.

Claire retired to her room and prayed that Molly would have the fortitude to give this a chance. This was a match that needed to happen, and she was the best advocate for this young girl, because she understood what she was going through.

The food was left on the stove to encourage Molly to eat. Claire heard noises in the kitchen and relaxed knowing she was fed and warm. Before she made it to her patio for Yoga the next morning, she noticed her sparkling kitchen and all dishes put neatly away. This was going to be easy she thought as she pressed into her first pose.

As the week progressed, Molly made fewer mistakes and pulled a small notebook out of her pocket each time Claire asked about the treatments. Molly would look at her notes and Claire would write furiously as she worked through the files. Claire let several monumental wins go by without noticing them because she was locked in her head.

She was so excited about seeing Chad at the end of the week she hardly noticed anything. The ripping of paper brought her mind back and she watched Molly deftly pull a syringe out of the sterile sleeve and twist a needle on before plunging it into a bottle of Penicillin. Claire walked over and looked at the medicines, bandages, fecal collection cups, and gloves she would use for treatments this morning.

“Wow Molly, you are certainly getting the hang of things. I am very impressed. Claire leaned back on a stall as she talked bringing the horse forward to nibble her hair. She reached up and ran her hand down his cheek hearing him complaining of pain. Claire opened the stall door and looked at a trough full of food from earlier in the day. He wasn’t eating, his head was hot, and his mouth hurt, according to him. Claire asked to look in his mouth and he finally obliged. There was a large abscess on the roof of his mouth. Most likely from a bur in his hay.

“Oooh, that looks nasty my friend. Molly, I must find the barn manager and see if they want me to lance it today. Be right back.”

Claire came back with several men who all crowded into the stall to help hold the suffering horse. Claire took the halter from one of them because she would be far gentler getting it on. She asked Molly to watch the men, and how they held the horse still.

The horse was not happy with the searing pain in his mouth, but Claire had it lanced quickly and flushed with peroxide. She could tell the pain was improving when she put her hands on his cheeks. A stiff shot of antibiotics and they were on to the next horse.

Molly wanted to know how Claire understood to look in his mouth but decided not to ask. She was still fresh to Claire’s treatments and would know her ways soon enough.

They quit early on Friday so Claire would have plenty of time to freak out before Chad picked her up. On the patio, a small cat cowered in the corner and they almost missed it. Claire picked it up and stroked it while it sat in her lap. Molly was bringing groceries into the house when Claire got up and asked her to drive the cat home.

Molly followed where Claire directed, and they watched the cat run toward a house. Claire followed, rang the doorbell, and when the door opened the cat ran inside.

“Sorry to bother you, your cat was lost and crying so we brought it home. Have a nice day.”

Since the homeowner did not know how far they had come, she figured Claire had seen the cat in her yard at some point. Molly, on the other hand, could not understand how Claire could know, so she asked her and got her mind blown.

“You, you hear them tell you things? Is that what you said? Cat’s don’t talk so how do you hear them?”

Claire did her best to explain the images she sees and using the cat as an example, she pointed to the clumps of Black Oak trees and told her she saw the cat climbing one of them.

“I have only seen these trees here, so I thought it was a good start. We got lucky.”

Molly was quiet. Another doubter, she thought. This was something she was used to, and silence was always Dustin’s response to her truth. She dropped it and turned her thoughts to Chad, not a hard thing to do because she found him very attractive. The only man who could top his looks was Jamie Fraser, she thought. Now he was off the charts. She thought about Jamie for the rest of the trip home and wondered why he hooked up with such an awful woman.

Later, Claire and Molly sat on the porch watching the sky turn its Kentucky colors. The sunset was distracting enough to let Chad slip up the stairs and watch the women for several minutes. Actually, Molly got a passing glance, but Claire was studied from her feet to the top of her head.

“I’m a bit speechless. I’ve never seen you out of your scrubs.”

Claire stood up quickly, shocked to hear his voice right behind them. She introduced Chad to Molly, smiling the whole time, so excited to be going somewhere fun. Molly waived and sighed at the charming Chad Remington. When he smiled at her she almost swooned. He was a beautiful and elegant man. She forced herself to go inside because staring after them was just plain weird.

Chad admired Claire’s shiny straight hair and the little black dress, long legs and killer shoes as they walked through the restaurant to their table. The conversation seemed to have no end as they got lost in the others back story. Chad’s brother came to their table and sat with them for a while. When the food reporter for the local news wanted to interview him, he suggested an open place right next to their table. While that was going on, Claire turned her attention back to her handsome date.

After dinner, they walked the downtown area because there was so much more to talk about.

“You have a hopeful for the road to the Kentucky Derby? What exactly does that mean?”

“Claire, I’m surprised you don’t know the term since you doctor these horses every day.” He was teasing her.

“No one’s ever had the time to tell me. Now might be a good time.”

“All the breeding farms you visit in this area are working toward one thing, to drop a foal that will be the next Secretariat. When I decide on my breeding matches for the year, it’s a bit like a mad scientist mixing genetic material to produce a super runner. At least that’s what it feels like to me. Once in a great while, someone produces a foal that was born to run faster than all the others and it’s like magic watching him win race after race.

“So the road to the Kentucky Derby?”

“The road is a group of races decided on by Churchill Downs. They are stakes-grade, minimum one mile, and the top four finishers win points. The second phase of the road to the derby is called the super six. Stakes-grade, tough races, with fierce competition because so many horses drop out during the first phase. Owners can nominate their horse for the Triple Crown as early as January. Right before the race, the top twenty point winners are chosen to run for the roses. Just getting to that point is a star in your breeder crown that will never dim, it’s a permanent elevation to elite breeder. It’s all I’ve ever aspired to, producing one of those twenty horses.”

“My preference for racehorses was a carryover from my Uncle who raised me. He loved the sport and talked about it constantly. He spoke of the Triple Crown winner Secretariat with such reverence I would giggle sometimes. He was quite a horse according to my uncle.”

Chad stopped walking and pressed Claire to the wall of a large retail building. His hands were on either side of her head and she was thrilled to the bone because he might kiss her any minute now.

“Claire, I really like you, really like you. Would you mind if I kissed you?”

“I do not mind, that would nice.”

She barely had time to finish her sentence when his lips pressed rather hard on hers, flatly, and unmoving, then released her.

“Well, that was something awful I think. I just rushed it, and I am very rusty. Can I try again?”

“Of course.”

This time, he looked into her eyes and took his time getting to her lips which Claire found very exciting. They kissed three more times and each time was better.

“My God Claire, did you feel the earth move a bit when we kissed?”

“Umm, no actually.”

“Me neither. I think that is okay because it will happen next time. Claire, it’s one o’clock in the morning already. Let me get you home.”

They kissed once more at Claire’s door and she waved goodbye. She was confused because the last time she kissed like that was at a campus party with someone she didn’t know. In fact, she ended up taking that great kisser home for the night, and it was rather good if she remembered correctly. It made no sense that Chad, a handsome breeder who was easy to talk to, initiated kisses that did nothing for her.

The next day, Jamie was running through the kitchen grabbing some fruit before leaving to watch Nick with the yearlings.

“Come here Jamie, there’s your strumpet, in the paper, laughing with her nose in the air. Come here!”

Jamie looked over Isobel’s shoulder and sure enough, Claire, looking fabulous with…Chad Remington! What the hell was this all about he wondered. Most people assumed Chad was gay so how did she end up at dinner with him? He bit into the apple and left Isobel muttering under her breath.

“Jamie! Glad you could make it. I refuse to say I told you so by the way. Let’s have a look at your magic colt.”

Jamie could see three colts being lunged by a handler who was clicking up their speed, while Midnight Runner was stationary looking at the weird man in the middle without a clue what to do. When his handler used the big whip to get the horse moving, the colt looked at his backside where he heard the whip and then back at the handler.

“Tell the handler to make contact with the whip. Give the lad some incentive to run away at least.”

Nick called out and the handler flicked the whip on the colt’s ass making him jump and glare at the man.

“He still doesna get it. I know someone who might help. I’ll get her here today, but chances are he won’t run. Just like ye told me, Nick.”

Claire clicked off from Jamie’s call feeling weird butterflies in her stomach. She had a vague recollection of his handsome face and a solid memory of what she saw on the inside of the man. It took her back to that day. She didn’t hate Jamie Fraser, and it sounded like he really needed her help. She made two calls to reschedule and told Molly they were going to Highland Brothers for the rest of the day.

Molly had ceased to be impressed by the large breeding complexes, but her eyes were darting all over the compound as she took it all in. Jamie waved them on to the premises.

So he is waiting for me this time. What on earth could be so wrong, she wondered.

Jamie pulled her aside right away so Molly would not hear him. He looked like he was chewing glass when he spoke to her.

“This colt is special, Doctor Beauchamp, I need for him to at least make a showing at the two-year-old races. It could finish me in Kentucky if he refuses to try. Understand? Ye said ye could understand them so I’m askin ye lass, please can ye find out what’s wrong wi’him?”

Claire looked out at the training arenas where three other horses were running on the lunge line and the colt was chewing on the handler’s hair.

“Oh dear, that is a problem. Can you leave him in the ring alone and let me take a look? I need Molly to observe him for me. From what I’m getting from him already, you, Mister Fraser must stay out of his sight. Okay?”

Claire walked into the arena and smiled at this enormous, but childlike colt who trotted to her, so happy to smell and taste someone new. She felt the presence of an innocent who didn’t understand what he was supposed to do. When Claire put her hands on his cheeks, she showed him he was supposed to run, as fast as he could.

He asked why. Why do I run? Is there a treat when I get there? Are you going to run too?

Claire laughed at the similarities between the colt’s thought process and a small child. She told him to get ready to run and called for Molly to get the sugar cubes from the truck. Molly came back to the rail and watched her crazy boss line up to race the horse. She constantly touched his face and they finally lined up together. Claire took off running as fast as she could. The colt stood and watched her but then jolted into a gallop, ears back, butt muscles exploding and passed her like a lightning bolt. He looked around for her, confused again, but saw her big smile and arms held out wide so he ran to her.

Molly saw the beast running right for Claire and she jumped the rail to help her. The colt came to a dead stop a foot from Claire, and Molly could swear he looked happy like this was a game. Claire’s arms were around his neck and she laughed. The colt backed up and reared on his hind legs like a kid saying, “watch this!”

Molly sat on the rail for the next two hours as Claire led the colt through a series of gates and games that seemed to heighten his interest and fun. Jamie pulled Nick to his hiding place to watch the transformation in the colt and the crazy vet that was making it happen.

“Why are we hiding Jamie?”

“The lad thinks I’m his mother and just wants hugs when I’m around.”

“What the hell? I swear it looks like she is speaking to him and he is listening!”

“Somethin like that Nick, she has a way to communicate wi’em. You should see him run, like the wind he is!”

The men watched the duo in fascination as they both lined up to race again. Molly was laughing as she watched Claire seem to taunt him into racing.

“Molly, if you would do the honors of saying bang please.”

“Bang!”

Claire took off as fast as she could run, and the colt watched her until he again seemed to get hit with electricity making him bolt into his own race. Claire knew he could sense her emotion, so she concentrated on winning, at whatever cost, she wanted to beat him.

The colt passed her going so fast she could hardly see him and she smiled triumphantly as he ran his heart out, right up to Molly to get his treat. Then he ran right at Claire again to bask in the glory of being the winner. He trotted around her as she told him ‘I want to win!” and he taunted back ‘never! I am the winner!’

Claire was still panting and holding her hip but kept up the teasing wanting to implant the love of winning.

“Okay big guy, race you to Molly for the rest of the sugar cubes!”

Claire ran with all her worn-out might as the colt blasted past her filling her head with Ha-ha, Ha-ha.

“Cheeky little bastard.”

Molly looked up as the colt appeared to be a beast of a horse running dead for her. She was so scared she fell backward, right into the arms of Jamie Fraser. She looked up at him and thought she had died and gone to heaven. She smiled up at him and saw their wedding, and children, and a glorious future together.

“Ye alright lass? Ye bumped ye head on the rail.”

Claire was running for Molly, ready to pass out but she opened her arms to hug her across the rail.

“Jesus Christ, Molly. Are you alright?”

Molly shook her head and blushed with embarrassment as Jamie set her on her feet. Nick had joined Claire in the arena and gave the colt some love while he praised her for making him run. Jamie looked at Claire and could see the gears working in her mind. He decided then and there that his prized colt, his road to the Kentucky Derby, and his business, were now the domain of one Claire Beauchamp because if there was a way, only she knew it.

Molly was packing up to leave and Nick had taken the colt back to his stall. Jamie noticed Claire was relaxed around him with none of the flirting jitters most women get from his presence. He found it energizing and delightful like he could be charming without stoking an unwanted forest fire.

“He won’t get the idea from this in one-day Mister Fraser. I had to goad him into running. Without the correct motivation, he won’t run or at least not his hardest. Do you want me to come back?”

“Aye. I know ye have a practice to run so whatever time you give me will be much appreciated and I will pay ye well lass.”

Claire smiled at this incredibly handsome man. “Three times a week for as long as I can.” She started walking to her truck and Molly.

“How ye gettin along wi’out Dusty?”

“It’s hard but Molly is doing great.” Another brilliant smile for the Scott and she climbed into the passenger seat.

“How do you do it Claire? Dusty would have walked off the earth for you, Chad wants to date you, and Jamie looked like he would do a backflip if you asked him to.”

“Claire laughed tiredly. Dustin is very special, Chad-isn’t, and Jamie needs me more than he needs air right now. It isn’t about me, it’s the circumstance we all find ourselves in.”

“Jamie is so good looking, is he married?”

“Almost. I thought you liked Chad!”

“Not anymore.”

Claire looked at her dreamy-eyed assistant as they drove off, and laughed before diving into files to update her notes for the day.

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 18

Summary: Five hundred years before Feyre Archeron is born, the world is much different from the one she lives in. Humans are slaves, seen as little more than animals by the Fae who rule. But things are beginning to change. Talks of rebellion is spreading and on the Continent, some Fae territories begin to consider the potential gain of War. All it takes is one spark and everything will explode.

Masterlist

----

It hurts. For a few seconds, it takes all of Drakon's self-control not to scream in pain. He tries to calm his breathing, but each breath sends needles of pain shooting through his body.

Carefully, he opens his eyes. He is lying on his back on a hard bed, looking up at the ceiling of a tent. He blinks a few times, trying to clear the fog in his mind. The battle is a mess of blood and fire in his mind.  But if he is still alive, they must have won. Right?

Then, another memory resurfaces. A female with light-brown skin and curly, dark hair looking down at him – her face so very familiar. But no, he must have dreamed her. There is no way she could have been here.

Slowly, he turns his head to the side. At the first glance, the tent appears empty save for a mess of books, herbs and clothes lying strewn around. Only when he turns around a bit further does he notice the girl who is sitting curled up in a corner of the tent. Her clothes are still splattered in mud and blood and her hair is falling in her face. She looks like she didn't mean to fall asleep, just sit down for a second.

Drakon wasn't about to wake her, but, like she felt his gaze, her head jerks up and she stares at him. He stares back.

She has grown older in the last years, turned from a stick-thin girl he met in Ravenia`s palace into a grown female. And there is a new confidence in the way she holds herself. Still, there is no mistaking who she is. (Not with her face permanently burned into his mind.)

"You..." He doesn't know how to finish the sentence. She can't be here, he must be dreaming.

She grins at him and courtesies. "A pleasure to meet you again, your Highness."

"You are..." Drakon shakes his head ever so slightly, trying to clear it. "I have been searching for you. For the entire three years, I have been searching."

She frowns ever so slightly. "I didn't think you'd even remember me."

"How could I ever forget you?", he asks. Then, he notices what it sounds like and immediately wishes he could disappear into his pillow. Trust him to make the situation even weirder than it already is.

"Well, I'll assume those are the painkillers talking", the female says.

"In that case, I wish they'd do their job instead of talking", Drakon mutters.

She laughs. She's beautiful - how hadn't he noticed before?

"No more painkillers, I'm afraid", she says, "We are running low on those and have to save the rest in case we need to amputate someone - not you, don't look so worried.  But I could offer you some water." She must be one of the camp healers, Drakon realizes.

"Yes, please", he says, "Do you have any news of the battle?"

"We didn`t lose", the female says, but the way she looks as she says it implies that the victory came at a steep price. She takes a glass of water from a table and helps him drink, which is somewhat humiliating.

"How many?", Drakon asks quietly.

"Eight hundred. Five hundred of ours, three hundred of yours. We haven't counted the wounded yet, though."

Drakon curses softly. He tries to sit up and hisses with pain.

"Oh no, you don't", the female says and rushes over, "I did not spend an hour trying to stitch you up only for you to ruin it all by being an idiot." She glares at him and unceremoniously pulls up his shirt to inspect the stitches. "What is it with you soldiers and being unable to listen to your bodies? Or, you know, the healers?"

Drakon laughs, then immediately stops because it hurts. "Sorry." He gives her a sheepish smile. "And thank you for... you know, keeping me from dying. Looks like I'm in your debt twice over."

"You are in my debt?" She arches an eyebrow at him. "You saved my life, gave me my freedom. If anything, I'm in your debt."

"Your freedom should never have been mine to give, anyways. What I did was basic decency, you needn't feel indebted to me for it. And you kept me from marrying Ravenia, so it's me who owes you."

"No, I..." She cuts herself off and laughs. "This is a stupid thing to argue about."

Drakon smiles. "Indeed it is."

#"Well then, your Highness-"

"Oh please, don't call me that." He holds out his hand to her. "I'm Drakon."

"Miryam."

It's the answer to a question he hadn't known he'd been asking. And then, something else clicks. "Miryam as in one of this camp's commanders?", he says carefully.

"Maybe?"

"You've got to be kidding me!"

He can't quite wrap his mind around the fact that the female his emissary talks about in such glowing colours, the female he heard soldiers whisper about, is the same slave girl who saved him from the biggest mistake of his life. It just seems too unlikely.

"How?", Drakon asks.

But the female - Miryam - is already looking towards the camp's entrance. A shadow passes over her face.

"I can't stay", she says, "I'm sorry, but there is a lot to do. I shouldn't have fallen asleep, that was..." She shakes her head. "Do you need anything else?"

What he wants is for her to stay, but he can't say that. It isn't for him to ask anything of her.  So instead, he says, “Could you maybe send for Sinna or another one of my soldiers?”

Miryam nods, but watches him closely. "You aren't going to do anything stupid the moment I leave this tent, are you?"

"What do you expect me to do? I can't even sit up on my own."

"You'd be surprised", she says, "I once treated a soldier who thought it was a good idea to try and get up even though his insides were hanging out. Needless to say, it did not end well."

Drakon has learned his lesson that laughing is not a good idea, so he just smiles. "Don't worry. That's not my kind of stupid."

“Alright”, Miryam says, “I'll be back in a few hours to check in on you."

Then, she vanishes out of the tent. No more than five minutes pass before the entrance of the tent opens again. This time, it is not Miryam who enters, but a human man, light-skinned and brown-haired. He scans the tent before focusing on Drakon. He gives him a lopsided grin.

"Always a pleasure to find a strange male in my lover's bed."

Drakon winces slightly. It hadn't occured to him whose beg he was lying in. In spite of his assurance to Miryam, it does make him consider trying to get up.

"Given my state", he says, trying to sound light, "I think I can believably assure you that nothing happened."

The man - Jurian, he assumes - smirks. "Given your species and knowing Miryam, I'd believe you even if you weren't injured." He seems to consider and adds, "No offence."

"None taken." After what Drakon has seen in the Black Land, it is a small miracle that Miryam can so much as look at any Fae, much less him.

Jurian makes to turn around, then stops. "Thank you for helping us out there", he says, "Without you, we'd all be dead."

"You're welcome." Drakon feels awkward, accepting thanks for something he deems the bare minimum. He grins at Jurian. "I couldn't well let a commander as brilliant as you die. I heard about how you destroyed Montesere's fleet. Beyond impressive."

"Likewise. Taking the Callian pass - brilliant." Suddenly, Jurian looks a whole lot more friendly. "I'd love to talk more, but I was actually looking for Miryam."

"She left a few minutes before you arrived."

"Well, then", Jurian says, turning back to the tent's entrance. "Oh, and if you want some advice: Do as she says. I can tell you from personal experience that she doesn't like it at all when you do things like trying to get up."

Drakon has to bite back a laugh. Somehow, he has the feeling that the soldier Miryam was talking about earlier was in fact the camp's Commander.

“Wouldn`t cross my mind”, he says.

“Well, then. I`ll see you around”, Jurian says and rushes out of the tent again.

----

In the Black Land, it is customary for the dead to be burned. For dead Fae, they put up a huge pyre where the dead are barred up with some of their priced possessions (including, occasionally, still-living slaves). The burning of the pyre is a big celebration. Dead slaves usually just get burned on the spot by whoever can be bothered.

Here in the north, though, the dead tend to be buried instead of burned. Dry wood is rare, fire magic even rarer, so the dead get put into the cold earth. Miryam has always hated the idea. Being trapped in the cold earth, dirt pushing in from every side. Trapped for eternity.

And somehow, she cannot stand the thought of having the humans Ravenia killed put into the earth. These people who spent their entire lives in chains should at least be free in death.

Some of Jurian's soldiers collected the heads. Someone counted. More than one thousand heads. More than one thousand dead people - people who might still be alive if not for Miryam.

She collects the wood from a nearby forest herself. It takes her hours, but she finds enough for a pyre, refuses every offer of help. She only allows one of the Seraphim to use his wind magic to dry the wood. Then, she lights the fire and watches the makeshift-pyre go up in flames.

Jurian finds her before the pyre is entirely burnt down. Miryam is standing there, staring at the flames, when he steps up behind her. Carefully, he wraps his arms around her.

"It's not your fault", he whispers into her hair.

Miryam hasn't cried - not during the battle and not during the long hours afterwards. But now, she does. Jurian pulls her close and doesn't let go.

"I was supposed to save them", she whispers.

"You will." Jurian runs a hand through her hair. "You will."

When Miryam finally stops crying, the pyre is long burned down. Nothing but ashes is left, and those are already being blown away by the wind. She gives Jurian a small smile.

"Thank you."

He carefully lets go of her. She can see the restlessness in his stance. He is itching to get back to his soldiers, but likely doesn't want to leave her alone.

"Go", she says, "I'll be fine."

Jurian hesitates for a moment longer, then presses a last kiss on her temple and rushes off. Miryam checks in on the wounded who are being treated in the middle of the camp, but no help is needed there. The ones who were about to die are already dead, the rest is likely going to make it. So she returns to her tent.

She almost forgot that Drakon is there. He is still lying in her bed, a Seraphim female is sitting on a chair next to him. She is small, one of her wings somewhat malformed. When Miryam enters, they both turn to look at her. She stops by the entrance.

The Seraphim female smiles at her. "I'm Nephelle."

Miryam manages to return the smile. "Miryam. Nice to meet you."

Nephelle exchanges a look with Drakon, then gets up. "Well, I'll be going."

"You needn't-", Miryam begins, but Nephelle has already pushed past her and out of the tent.

Miryam sits down on the now vacant chair. She tries not to stare at Drakon. Tries not to look too uncomfortable. Her tent is her sanctuary and having an almost-stranger - a Fae no less – in here makes her uncomfortable. It means she can't let down her guard.

"How are you", she asks to cover her unease.

She doesn't want Drakon to notice. No matter what he says, she owes him her life. And she doesn't mind his presence as much as she would mind any other male. Having him here, in a way, feels right. Her problem doesn't even have to do with him personally, just the general situation.

"It hurts slightly less", Drakon says. He's watching her carefully. "Look, I'm not the healer here, but I really don't feel so bad. You don't have to have me stay in your tent, really."

Damnit. So much for not looking uncomfortable.

"We're short of beds", she says, "I'm not hurt, you are. It'd be stupid for me to have a proper bed while you don't." When Drakon still doesn't look convinced, she adds, "I really don't mind." Which is, of course, a lie.

"Come on", Drakon says gently, "This is already slightly awkward for me. I don't want to imagine what it must be like for you."

Miryam crosses her arms. "Calling people out on their obvious lies is generally considered impolite."

"Sorry", Drakon says, "But then, lying isn't really polite either, so there's that."

In spite of herself, Miryam smiles. "Well, that point goes to you."

"But seriously: I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Miryam sighs and, for once, chooses honesty. "It's not you who makes me uncomfortable, it's the situation. And if I'd send you away, I'd feel even worse."

Drakon sighs. "Well, who am I to argue with my healer?"

"Very true."

For a while, they sit in silence. Miryam fiddles around with her clothes. She is covered in dried blood, dirt and ashes. Meaning that she really, really needs to change and maybe wash a little, but there's no way in hell that she is going to undress in front of Drakon. (Even though he did already see her in close to nothing. But well, once is one time too often, no need to make it twice.) She is just about to vanish off to Jurian's tent to change, but then she remembers that it burned down during the attack.

She sighs. "I'll go to sleep if you don't mind."

Drakon nods. He watches her search for a blanket and curl up in the corner with an expression that implies he feels terrible about himself. Miryam considers telling him that she slept on the ground for most of her life, but somehow, she doubts that it would make him feel better. So she just curls up into a tight ball and closes her eyes.

Miryam dreams she is back in the Black Land, back in Ravenia`s palace. She is watching as the queen orders the part-Fae slaves brought before her. The first one, a boy a few years younger than Miryam, is forced to his knees. She tries to scream, but she can`t. She can`t move, can`t do anything as a Fae male in a dark mask draws a great sword.

Miryam jerks awake, breathing hard. She looks around wildly in the dark tent. A light flares to life and Miryam nearly screams.

"Sorry", Drakon says hastily, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. But you were thrashing around."

Miryam blushes. Great. Just great. Now she looks like an idiot in front of a foreign Fae royal. Just what she needed today.

"I had a nightmare", she says in an attempt to regain at least some dignity, "Thank you for waking me."

"Sure."

Another awkward silence follows.

Finally, Drakon says, "I heard what she did." There is no need to clarify who he is talking about. "I'm sorry."

Miryam stares down at her knees. "It was my fault." She doesn't know why she says it, she certainly didn't mean to.

"No, it wasn't", Drakon says softly, "It was Ravenia who had them killed. Not you."

Miryam wraps her arms around herself. "I taunted her, though. Even though I know what she's like, I taunted her. I may not have killed them myself, but without me, they might still be alive."

Drakon sits up a little straighter in the bed and winces slightly. Miryam has to bite her lips to keep from telling him to lie back down and that he's going to tear his stitches.

"Don't do this", he says, "Don't try to take the blame on yourself. There is always a possibility that things would have gone differently. Maybe those slaves would still be alive, or maybe Ravenia would have had them killed for another reason. And maybe..." His breath catches, he shakes his head. "The thing is, the blame is all on Ravenia. You are never to blame for the actions of a monster who is trying to ruin your life."

Miryam takes a deep, shuddering breath. She tries to blink her tears away.

"Thank you", she says softly, "that was..."

Drakon's smile turns sad. "It's what I tell myself every day”, he says.

“I`m sorry about your family”, Miryam says.

“So am I.”

Silence falls again. Miryam lies back down on her blanket and stares up at the ceiling.

“After you let me escape”, she says, “I swore to one day return and free my people. And every day since then, I have been trying…” She sighs. “You`ve been to the Black Land. You`ve seen their armies, you know Ravenia. Do you think I even stand a chance?”

Drakon is silent for a moment. Miryam continues staring up at the ceiling, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“I heard the stories about you, you know?”, Drakon finally says, “I heard that you created this Alliance, managed to get humans and Fae to fight side by side. And I heard that you challenged Ravenia during that meeting – something that probably no other Alliance member would have dared.”

Miryam blushes. She is about to tell him that he is exaggerating her importance. She was not the only one working towards the Alliance and her taunting Ravenia was more stupid than brave. But before she gets the chance, Drakon continues.

“I don`t claim to know how this war will end, Miryam. But I do no that if there`s anyone who stands a chance to go up against Ravenia and win, it`s you.”

----

A/N: No cliffhanger for this chapter😉 I'm going on holidays tomorrow and that means I probably won't update for a few weeks (due to lack of time and internet access), so I wanted to end this chapter on a nice note.

Tags: @sjm-things @herpowerisdeath

#miryam #drakon #jurian #nephelle #before the wall

[thatboomerkid]

Crown of Venom & Coil

Crown of Venom & Coil -- Akhu Path for use with Vampire: the Masquerade 20th Anniversary Edition

The art of Serpentis is well-studied by the myriad enemies of Set’s undying faithful; its dread techniques -- by which a Follower might metamorphose her pale flesh into a terrible, soul-devouring simulacrum of Apophis itself -- are legendary in their majestic & obsidian potency.

Over the last seventy dark centuries, many ignorant, fortune-seeking fools have found themselves torn to wet ribbons of spattered crimson & drifting black ash by the fangs of those devoted to the mysteries of Sutekh’s will.

Yet there are other mystical traditions of the Snake Clan: when, in 1520 BCE, the God-King himself -- already some three and a half millennia old -- led his most-blessed worshipers to slaughter Nergal and all the whimpering brood of that false god at Knossos, in the culmination of the Second Baali War, the eruption of Thera was called-forth by incalculable blood-sorcery predating the late rise of the trembling Usurpers by more than two thousand years.

In truth, the secrets of Akhu run much deeper, and much darker, than any modern-era student of the occult could dare to suspect.

Brought to you absolutely free to enjoy, to test & to share – as always – by the fine folks of my Patreon.

If you enjoy this content and would like to see more dark, modern horror material by the author, Bloodlines & Black Magic and The Hole Behind Midnight are available now.

Hugest of thanks to Dr. Joe Weinberg and to the The Broken Token for their invaluable editing-assistance and development during the creation of this fan-content.

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All of the arts of the lector-priest are carefully hidden, of course, but the Path known as the Crown of Venom & Coil is perhaps the most protected of all: for it does not allow a practitioner to merely take on the twisting, poisonous shape of a beast pleasing to Set and thereby work the Red God’s will.

Instead, it allows a practitioner to become like Set himself: given command over all the serpents of the night, and the power to call-up a death-dealing ophidian plague with which to scour the cities of men as clean as deepest desert.

To Bear the Crown of Venom & Coil: A lector-priest who desires to call upon the power of this Path -- locked-away, as it is, from use by all but the most devout of the Hierophants and their favored students -- must meet successively greater requirements as her mastery grows:

Level One: The supplicant must be instructed in the art by a mentor.

Level Two: If she does not yet walk a Path of Enlightenment, the supplicant must possess a Humanity of 4 or lower.

Level Three: The supplicant must walk either the Path of Typhon or one of its ordained sister Paths (such as Path of the Warrior).

Level Four: The supplicant must diablerize at least one pretender to the majestic legacy of Sutekh: a non-Setite or apostate Setite known to practice Akhu, Serpentis or another mystical tradition exclusive to the Snake Clan.

Level Five: the supplicant must possess True Faith in the God of Storms and Violence and must furthermore actively seek-out & destroy any and all creatures who falsely claim the magic of Set.

LEVEL ONE -- Wreathe the Flesh in Serpents of Ink & Shadow

By means of this art, the lector-priest gives limited life to the serpent-tattoos which encircle her long, pale limbs: lifting them from her own skin to dance about her in a cloak of terrible fangs ... or sending them invisibly across the airy darkness to wrap a terrified victim in the shifting grandeur of Set’s favor.

System: The lector-priest spends a point of blood and makes a Willpower roll (Difficulty 4); success causes strange illusions of moving serpents to slither across the flesh of the lector-priest, moving as she desires and even rising up off of her skin to take terrible, half-substantial form.

This effect lasts for one scene and requires no active concentration.

Use of this ability is a very clear breach of the Masquerade and leaves no doubt in the mind of any witness that the lector-priest is blessed with dark supernatural gifts. Use of this ability causes all mundane and electronic recording equipment within line of sight of the lector-priest to glitch for the duration of this effect: a camera trained on the lector-priest when she invokes this ability records only eerie static.

While this effect lasts, the lector-priest gains an extra die in her Intimidation dice pools and adds one to the difficulties of all ranged weapon attacks against her. During this time, she may always use an effect identical to Feral Whispers (V20, pg. 129), although she may only affect snakes with this ability.

Alternatively, the lector-priest may cause these writhing serpents to “leap” from her own skin to the flesh of another creature she can see, afflicting the target with a cold, nauseating spiritual venom: an opponent suddenly covered in animate, poison-dripping snake tattoos subtracts a number of die from all her Stamina dice pools (including soak) equal to the lector-priest’s Akhu Trait. A creature targeted in this way makes a Willpower roll (Difficulty equal to the lector-priest’s Willpower): each success reduces the drain her Stamina dice pool by one, to a minimum of zero.

Mortals, ghouls, and other living creatures reduced to zero Stamina by this obscene curse begin to asphyxiate and hyperventilate, dying an ugly and undignified death over the next several minutes: those killed show signs, postmortem, of exposure to thousands of different snake venoms.

Only one target or subject may be affected by this power at any given time: either the lector-priest or a single victim.

The unnatural appearance of this power proves extremely disconcerting to mortals and animals (and, at the Storyteller’s discretion, Kindred who have never witnessed it before). Whenever this power is invoked within a mortal’s vicinity, that individual must make a Courage roll (difficulty 8) or suffer a one-die penalty to all dice pools for the remainder of the scene due to overwhelming fear of the coiling, unnatural serpents.

LEVEL TWO -- Depthless Pit of Holy Vipers

By use of this strange and terrifying technique, the lector-priest transmutes the very ground beneath an opponent’s feat into a writing mass of serpents, which immediately envelop the hapless victim: dragging her down into the darkness, enclosing her in a thrashing whirlpool of scales, fangs and unblinking eyes.

System: The lector-priest spends a blood point and makes a Willpower roll (Difficulty 6); the number of successes scored by the lector-priest on the roll is the number of successes the victim must score on a Strength roll (difficulty 8; Potence can add to this roll) to break free of the pit.

Each subsequent round, on her turn, the victim may attempt a new Strength check at the same Difficulty to escape the pit; if she fails to meet or exceed the required number of successes, she suffers one Health Level of Lethal damage as her flesh is torn apart by countless fangs. Mortals submerged in a pit are also subject to poison, dealing an additional Health Level of Bashing damage each turn. This damage may be soaked as normal.

A lector-priest may choose not deal damage to a creature submerged in a pit she has created, if she so desires; at will, she may cease or resume the dealing of damage. In this way, the pit may be used -- in a pinch -- by the lector-priest to evade incoming fire.

A subject may be only held in a single pit at a time, although the caster is free to invoke multiple uses of this power -- over the course of multiple rounds -- targeting separate victims, and may dispel any number of pits at will.

A serpent-pit created in this way reverts back to unblemished earth or flooring when its victim escapes, at the end of the scene, when the victim trapped within dies, or when the pit leaves line-of-sight to its creator, whichever comes first. A creature who dies within the pit is entombed when the pit closes.

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LEVEL THREE -- Blood to Serpents

By the blackest of blessings, the lector-priest transmutes the soul-thick water of her victim’s life-force into a thrashing mass of razor-sharp fangs, foaming venom and squirming serpentine flesh: her victim’s skin bulges and tears as snakes spill forth from his wounds, his mouth, and the ruptured sockets of his eyes. 

System: The lector-priest chooses one target she can see. She may, if she chooses, first touch her intended victim directly or grasp an object spiritually connected to her victim -- such as a scrap of her victim’s hair or clothing, a measure of her victim’s blood, or a living creature with a deep emotional bond to her victim, for example -- to establish resonance.

This ability normally has a range of only one yard. If the target of the effect is not within range after successes are counted (see below), the magic fails.

The lector-priest then spends a blood point and makes a Willpower roll (Difficulty 6; Difficulty 7 if the lector-priest does not have resonance with her target); each success does one of the following:

adds 10 yards to her range

converts one of the victim’s Blood Points into a living serpent, trapped within the victim’s body

One success kills a mortal within a few minutes as the serpent inside him fights its way out, usually exiting his body through the mouth.

Vampires who lose Blood Points to this power also suffer dice pool penalties as if they had received an equivalent number of health levels of injury. This penalty lasts until all serpents have been removed from the victim’s body.

Serpents trapped within the victim’s body attempt to exit as swiftly as possible, dealing one level of Lethal damage apiece as they tear out of the victim’s flesh (this damage may be soaked as normal), with one serpent -- on average -- exiting the victim each round.

Serpents created in this way crumble into ash one round after leaving the body of their victim or when their victim leaves line-of-sight to their creator, whichever comes first.

LEVEL FOUR -- Call Up the Writhing Hydra

Without a word, vast and deadly serpents emerge into the world of flesh from impossible angles to serve the will of their crimson god.

System: The lector-priest spends a blood point and makes a Willpower roll (Difficulty 7); each success enables the creation of a single vast serpent.

The lector-priest loses one point of blood for each serpent created in this way; this is not considered an expenditure of blood for purposes of generational blood expenditure limits.

Each serpent is six feet (two meters) long and possesses Strength and Dexterity ratings equal to the invoking vampire’s Akhu Trait; note that the lector-priest’s Potence and Celerity dots are added to these Strength and Dexterity ratings, respectively. If the lector-priest chooses, she may spend a blood point to increase the Strength or Dexterity of a single serpent she controls by one.

Each serpent has four health levels, is affected by fire and sunlight as if it were a Follower of Set, and soaks bashing and lethal damage using the lector-priest’s Stamina + Fortitude. Serpents called-forth in this way cannot soak aggravated damage.

Serpents created by use of this ability may bite and constrict foes: both attacks inflict (Strength +1) lethal damage per turn. Breaking the grasp of a constricting serpent requires the victim to win a resisted Strength roll against the serpent (Difficulty 6 for each).

The lector-priest controls serpents she creates in this way purely by mental action, and commanding them does not require complete concentration; if the lector-priest is not incapacitated or in torpor, she may control her serpents while carrying out other actions.

Serpents created in this way crumble into ash at the end of the scene or when they leave line-of-sight to their creator, whichever comes first.

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LEVEL FIVE -- Vomit Forth the Serpent-Vessel

By twist of vitae, dark prayer and obscene desire -- in worshipful reflection of Set’s own blessing of undeath upon his adoring Childer -- the lector-priest may call into the world a beautiful, living receptacle for her own occult will.

System: The lector-priest spends 3 blood points, then reduces her permanent Blood Pool by three (but see below), then makes a Willpower roll (Difficulty 8).

One success is required to create either a single constrictor snake or a single poisonous snake (V20, pg 390); this serpent is a ghoul created by the lector-priest with a Blood Pool of 3, and it gains all the appropriate benefits (V20, pg. 388 and 497) of that condition. This serpent immediately emerges from the lector-priest’s mouth, from her wounds, from the folds of her cloak, from the twisting depths of her shadow, or from any other place directly adjacent to the lector-priest; it may immediately act.

A creature created in this way crumbles to ash, blood, shadow, and wisps of ceremonial incense-smoke when destroyed or dismissed by its creator. A lector-priest may always dismiss a serpent she has created in this way back into nothingness at any time even if unconscious or in torpor. A lector-priest may possess any number of serpents created in this way, but she may not reduce her permanent Blood Pool below five.

When a serpent created in this way is destroyed or dismissed, its lector-priest creator immediately increases her permanent Blood Pool by three.

Creatures created in this way obey their progenitor lector-priest to the best of their -- admittedly limited -- ability, otherwise behaving like any serpent born of living flesh.

In addition, the lector-priest may always use an effect identical to Subsume the Spirit (V20, pg. 131) upon any serpent she has created via use of this Path. She may expend a point of Willpower to use this ability over any distance, without making direct eye-contact with her created serpent.

NPCs of the Crown of Venom & Coil

— Cecil Savage is a Caitiff ordained into the Followers of Set as a true believer, a fervent disciple walking the Path of the Warrior. He has a natural gift for Akhu, combining his talent at the Valor of Sutekh (Path of Mars) with a smattering of low-level Disciplines picked up during his time in the Anarch Free States. Over the last few decades he’s found work as a double agent on several occasions: acting as a seemingly-mindless bully-boy to a variety of arrogant Sheriffs while quietly expanding the influence of his ophidian masters in the long shadows of their rotting Camarilla cities.

— Ra-et Amduat is an elder Setitie Sorceress who maintains a number of occult temples throughout Europe and the United States, establishing new power-bases from her stronghold in Las Vegas whenever her auguries show her that the Red God’s war upon the Aeons might find a fertile new battlefront. Her experiments into the deeper mysteries of Akhu are expensive, costing her dark oceans of freshly-spilled blood: for this reason, she maintains a vast web of loyal ghouls, sycophants and novice mystical practitioners.

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— Mr. Habushu is a former Serpent of the Light who long-ago abandoned the Sword of Caine to serve his God more directly. He now works for the Clan & Faith as an active Sabbat-hunter, investigating uses of blood sorcery among that sect and -- in many cases -- cleaning up the legacy of the Tremere Antitribu and diablerizing the occasional Infernalist as he does so. An ally of opportunity to any number of Josian devil-hunters and Sabbat Inquisitors alike, the affable and charming Mr. Habushu keeps a cabal of Yakuza ghouls on-hand to quickly and quietly eliminate any threats to his sleeping master.

— Winter Bellamira is an Elder ex-Assamite Baali entirely devoted to the Path of Screams, a creature of night & horror who walks the coldest, most desolate places of the world with a jagged song in her heart, a smile upon her ruby lips, and blood dripping from her delicate fingers. Amongst her ten-thousand sins, she takes great pleasure in torturing, shattering and re-embracing (V20: Lore of the Bloodlines, pg. 17) weak-willed members of the hated Followers of Set into her own dark religion. Those ex-Typhonists corrupted into mindless slaves of the Aeons by her gentle ministrations are utterly lost: anathema worthy only of swift destruction at the hands of Set’s faithful.

— Ms. Candlebriar and Oberisuku are a mutually blood-bound Tremere & Gargoyle pair, chasing after occult secrets and operating independent of any formal Chantry. The two are dangerously obsessed with unlocking the root powers of Akhu, which they suspect to be a predecessor to Koldunic Sorcery; their methods are extreme even by the standards of other Warlocks, combining Auspex & Dominate “psychic surgeries” performed on staked victims with more mundane techniques of kidnapping, brainwashing and blood-experimentation.

#vampire the masquerade #v20 #snake magic #follower of set #urban #modern #horror #blood magic