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jjungkooksthighs · 10 months

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Claws of Carnality | jjk (m) (14)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: fluff and angst, abo/werewolf, fantasy

Rating: 18+/nsfw

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: The Duels of the Chosen begin, and the alphas battle the right to take the omega as their own.

Warnings: CHARACTER INJURY, LOTS OF BLOOD MENTIONS, GORE (this will not be for people who are squeamish with blood/gore), dom!jungkook, alpha!jungkook, alpha!Taehyung, alpha!Jimin, sub!reader, omega!reader, cursing, praising, possessive!jungkook, teasing, dirty talk, marking, manhandling

A/N: Hello, all! It’s been some time, but we are back again with another update! I have been very busy with work and school, so that was one of the reasons this took so long. The other reason was that I knew a lot of you were waiting specifically for the long-anticipated fight, and so I became overly critical of myself and didn’t like anything I wrote. This is a chapter that was one of my first ideas for this story, so I wanted it to be as perfect as I envisioned it in my head. Nothing I wrote could match that, and finally I became resolved to just writing without stopping or editing until the end. I hope that you all find this to meet your expectations, given that it is over twenty pages long. Oh, and let me know what you think about that cliffhanger at the end (or anything about this chapter because comments are like the bread and butter of writers), yeah?

Series Masterlist

It is as if time itself has grown tired as the seconds slowly tick by, the silver circlet twining itself around your head becoming heavier the longer it stays nestled there.

It saps your senses and strength away to leave you entirely incapable of movement and thought. In some cases, it even dulls emotions. It was why the substance was forbidden to be used except in ceremonial rites like the Duels of the Chosen.

Soon, even managing a thought becomes a challenge in how the silver intertwists you in numbness in your own head. Even your eyelids fall lower over your eyes in how leaden they have become.

The sound of something distinctly metal comes from somewhere near your feet. It takes a moment for you to drag your irises down your mate’s body to where his hand is fiddling with the bolt holding the first latch closed on the brown wooden box at your feet. The box, like its counterpart that has yet to be opened, is bigger than the one your diadem had come from.

His long fingers easily flick up on the last latch to the second of the three wooden boxes that are of a sepia, umber, and burnt sienna make. It is the second largest box of the three. What your alpha reveals is on a bed of white velvet and you see not one, but two pieces laid under one another that shine in the moonlight.

They are identical and appear to be a kind of cuff for your wrist in their size. They, like are your diadem, have twisting and tangling silver strands that root from the bottom of the piece to the top, and interspersed throughout the bevy of liana-like tendrils, you can make out small, intricately forged flowerets not unlike the curtain of vines that flowers of all colors and sizes cling to along the stony wall hiding the creek that you used to habit.

It's a task to summon the memories of that place with the circlet that siphons away your cognition. Every time you try, what you are searching for seems to swim away from you in the sea of darkness that has swept your mind in its sway.

“Forgive me, my beautiful flower,” your mate’s voice lifts your very soul as you watch him undo the clasps of the first piece, his digits working the hook with ease and, from his knees, he reaches for your arm while he says, “the tradition is that you must be bedecked in silver before I am allowed to go fight. I fear I may not even make it that far if I do not do this now.” His calloused fingers wrap around your forearm and he turns it so that the underside of your arm is extended to him as he lifts the silver cuff toward it with the other. He doesn’t release your forearm, but instead curls his fingers tighter over your bare flesh as he says, “But gods, you test me so.”

Trying to put together words or sentences is like trying to fish in a dark, murky river. As for your emotions, even they have begun to grow dormant under the waters of dullness that try to quiet them.

It's all you can do to let your head fall to the side in question, the leaf-shaped crystal hanging from the middle of your diadem reflecting the light of the moon.

Attuned to you as ever, your alpha grins, “All I meant is that you have a very, very powerful effect on me, my love.” He guides your arm forward until the back of your hand rests on his shoulder. Then, his fingers are gone and he fits the adornment over your wrist as he hooks the first of the five blossoming fastenings along the undersurface of the bracelet over one another while he confesses, “I wanted to keep kissing you,” he closes the last of the fastenings over your wrist before bringing it to his mouth and placing his lips over your bloodied palm before he turns your now limp arm back over so that you can put your dead weight on his shoulder. Then, he’s grabbing your other so that he can adorn it, too, as he tells you, “I wished to keep tasting you,” a pink tongue glides along his lip where your blood now coats it, a groan slipping from him whilst he secures the fixing on the other wrist cuff as he admits, “And I wanted to keep exploring your body.”

You can only whimper in answer, but even that sound is now muted to your own ears as if you have cloth stuffed in them while the silver sifts out the energy from your body like a drain where the metal touches your flesh. It is heavy as a rock, and your wrist is trapped within it as you whimper.

Your alpha’s eyes soften at that, and still on knees, he reaches for the third and largest of the ornately carved boxes. Somehow, his digits work even slower now on this one.

You do not think about why. All you can do is sit and watch as a tethering torpor climbs up your arm like a fungus from where the silver cuffs bind them.

“You probably have already realized it by now, omega,” his eyes are locked on yours when his fingers find the hem of your gown behind your ankle and then he’s balling it in his hand, “but it gives me no pleasure to bind you up like this. I am very well acquainted with what silver does to our kind. I made this silver for you, but I also had to make it for myself, too.” He’s careful to lay both of your hands on your lap, “the only reason I am still capable of basic movement while touching it is because I seem to have made myself somewhat tolerant to it with how much I’ve had it on me during my ruts,” golden irises find yours when he adds, “ruts that I could not spend with you until you had accepted me.”

Your heart gives a weak pang against your ribcage at that.

“I’m almost done, sweetheart. Bear with me.” He tugs up on the ovular clasp on the third, final and biggest of the wooden boxes–this one the length of your calf in its size–before pushing inward, and then he’s lifting up the top of the box to reveal two grandiloquent adornments that you’ve never seen anything the likes of before.

It takes some time to process what they are, but you cannot ignore how wondrously they glint in the firelight that makes them sparkle bright as the stars.

With his hand still gripping at your skirts, your alpha coaxes your knees apart so that he can resituate himself and put one of his knees between yours.

It is a strange thing to be so silent, but you know if you didn’t have this silver on you right now, you would be begging.

Your alpha must know it, because he chuckles when he coaxes your left leg up and onto his so that your foot rests on his thigh, and gods, the sight of him on his knees for you has familiar heat stirring between your legs as your sex cries for him.

The wind chooses that moment to wind around you, and then your alpha is cursing under his breath, his fingers tightening in your skirt as he cusses, “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, omega.”

His movements hasten then, and his eyes dilate in desire. You feel your skirt ascend and climb along your leg until he’s got it bunched up atop your knee, but it is a blur after that the muted sound of a clink. You don’t even realize that he’s fitted the piece over your calf and pulled together the three clamps only with one hand along the back of your leg before he’s heaving a heavy breath and leaning forward to utter, “It is a good thing I am touching this silver and that it deafens my senses to an extent, because if it didn’t,” his lips brush the inside of your knee as he mouths, “I’d have likely been unable to stop myself from standing and taking you against this fucking tree you sit on.”

You have half a mind to tell him you want it, that you want him, but words do not come. Every time you seek them, they bury themselves in the silt of your brain and no matter how hard you try, the silver circling your head hides them from you.

All you can manage is a stuttered,” Ah..al…alpha.”

At the sound of your voice, your alpha’s irises contract from between your thighs as he looks up at you. “Here, my love. I am here.”

You wish you could speak more to him. You wish you could touch him. You wish he would-

“I can hear your desire as much as I can smell it, my love,” your alpha tells you as he brings his lips over to the other side of your knee and he presses his mouth to your skin, “your pre-heat is making you fucking needier as the seconds pass, pretty girl.”

You make an effort to make your thighs meet, but the leg that he’d just wrapped silver in does not heed your mind or your instinct.

You pout. It’s all your body has energy left to do.

You hadn’t noticed it before now, but the usual softness, warmth and wetness of his mouth and fingers was gone. Stolen by the silver that drew sensation away until little to none remained.

Suddenly, there’s something hard gliding along your upper shin, and when your alpha’s mouth leaves you, two fresh, new punctures dot your skin along the base of your knee.

You had not felt him bite you. There had not been any pain due to the dulling effect of the silver just beneath his mark.

Crimson now lines his mouth and he lets it descend from the middle of his lower lip and down his bare neck. You lick your lips as you watch it, your tongue dense as a stone.

Jealousy hangs low in your gut over you in how your own blood gets to trail down his body and you can only watch. Your alpha’s mouth curves up at that, and two canines, each red with your blood, protrude from under his lips.

“Worry not, my love,” your alpha’s fingers find your other ankle and he guides it up so that your foot rests on his leg, his head dipping between your thighs while his digits tug the ball of fabric of your skirts higher so that he has more access to you, “I will satisfy every single one of your fantasies, every single one of your dreams, and every single one of your cravings,” his mouth finds the tender flesh of your inner thigh as he angles his head to the side, your own lips parting as his tongue slides from between his to lick you as he says, “I’ll let you have me anyway you wish, my love. Anything to make you happy, pretty.”

You latch onto that word. You try to follow the line he’s thrown you in the river of languor, and you can manage through the current of listlessness, “Y-yours…w-want to-“

You try again, but attempting to get your head above the water of stupor that has settled around you is too much.

Your alpha coos, “Oh, my omega. I hear you. I see you,” He suckles at your flesh before lightly biting down the same time you hear that clinking sound again, his freed hand placing the other silver adornment along your shin only for the sinking of all of his teeth into your flesh to feel as if he were only nipping you. “I feel your very blood trying to give itself to me like this. How badly I want to give in to you, my little vixen.”

“Pack Alpha Jungkook,” your grandmother’s voice sounds in the distance from where she stands on her place at the edge of the timbered stage, “It is time. She is more than ready for you to go to battle.”

“Give me a moment,” your alpha declares.

You do not hear her at first. The sounds and vocables mix together and you can only discern bits of pieces of it.

Not…not ready…alpha…

They are the only words that you can remember long enough to think them.

In front of you, your alpha’s tongue drifts to and fro over the wounds he’d left on your thigh.

I must, my love. I must.

His voice finds you even though his mouth doesn’t move.

You attempt to reach for him, to get closer to him, but it’s as if a weight has been attached to your arm and no matter how much you attempt it, it is too heavy to move. As if to soothe the frustration you let out in the form of a shaky sigh, he gives you featherlight kisses anywhere and everywhere that he can along your thigh before he turns his head inward toward your other and opens his mouth to mold it against you, his tongue laving at you ardently.

The attention has your core clenching around nothing.

Before he departs from between your legs, his digits finish their work in securing the clamps along the back of the other piece of silver he’d put over your shin.

Like the air, his fingers are ever present and wind over the silver etchings he’d forged for you until they roam to the front of the adornment he’d just attached to you. The knuckles of the hand he has tangled your skirts has gone snow white in the tight grip he has on the thin fabric.

He’s holding it like it is a lifeline, and honestly, it just might be. He’s all that is grounding you right now.

“Stars above, my love, you charm me even when silence and stillness have stolen what is only mine to have,” he gently helps you to put your feet back on the grass, his golden irises sowing themselves deep into yours as he does, “I used to think about what you might look like all tied up and bound for me, but none of my imaginings could ever be as good as this.” He rises to stand above you and it only takes two of his fingers under your chin to lift it enough so that you can keep your gaze on him, your bare neck exposed for him as he inspects his handiwork while he goes on, “You haven’t any clue just how seductive you can be when you aren’t even trying, omega. Look at yourself.”

Distantly, relief trickles over you at how fucking responsive your alpha is to you. You wouldn’t have otherwise been able to move your head so that you could look upon him given that the rest of your body isn’t responding to what the apex between your legs has been sobbing over this entire time.

Your wolf sluggishly stirs at his command, and you do as you are told with your head empty of everything except the need to satisfy him.

It takes some effort. Drawing your eyeline away from him is like towing an anchor through a muddy seafloor. The red paint of your own blood that you’d etched all over him has darkened even more in its dryness across his muscled arms and corded chest. Lighter trails of it have swept themselves down his neck from where it drips from his lips from his earlier ministrations, and with the hooded look in his eyes and wild black hair that curls around his chiseled face, he looks like he wants to devour you.

You know that you’d let him. In the back of your mind, the image of him with his head trapped between your legs, your ankles thrown over his shoulders and his lips wrapped around your pussy flashes. It sends wetness between your already slicked folds.

“Lustful little thing,” your alpha groans when your scent reaches his nostrils, “Stop thinking about getting fucked, pretty girl. I told you I would take care of that when this is over. Now look at yourself,” he orders.

His fingers that he’s kept under your chin lower your head so that you have no choice but to look ahead where he wants you to. You don’t have the strength to move it on your own anymore.

The first thing you notice is that he’s still got your skirts rolled up between his now snow-white knuckles. The second thing you notice is the skin of your thighs is now painted in bloodied trails of your essence that circle and tread toward the very bindings that your alpha had just put on you. The third thing you notice is that just below your knee, rivulets of silver run along your shins and calves. Like they have dripped from the rocks of the creek you often played in as a child and found respite in as an adult, the silver drizzles down your leg until it pools around your ankle in the thick band of metal that encircles it.

“C-creek?” you let the heavy, rolling tide of that thought bring the word forth from your lips.

“Yes, sweetheart. I had hoped to capture the essence of the places you love the most in all of the pieces I made by hand for you,” his fingers loosen around the clump of your skirts under his fingers, and slowly, it descends down your knee, your shin, and then finally your ankle as you both watch. “It’s not a perfect replication, but a lot of silver passed through my hands in my mission to make something only you would be able to wear and bear.”

Affection courses through your veins as steadily as the blood that runs through your body at his words.

“Pack Alpha Jungkook,” the sound of wood rattles against the platform she stands upon when your grandmother strikes the timbered stage with a staff of oaken bark to announce, “With your preparations complete, you must now head to the battle grounds you have chosen where your challengers await your arrival. If you have anything else you wish to say to your intended or to the pack, you must do so now.”

Without taking his eyes off of you, your alpha answers, “I do have something to say.” He coaxes your chin upward with the fingers he still has planted there, and then sunlight in the form of irises finds yours. His voice is carried only to you in the small breeze that blows over you. “I want you to know, omega,” his thumb slides along the cleft of your chin, “that I love you. And this fight…I do it for you. Everything I do and have done up until now has all been for you, my love.” He tilts his head up, his lips finding the spot between your brows just under the crystal that hangs from your circlet and then mouthing, “Be a good for me until I come back to you. I will return shortly.”

You bite at the log he’s thrown you, only a few words leaving you because the rest had sunken under the murky waters of thought in your head.

“Good,” you can’t even scrunch your brows together in consternation anymore because of how leaden even those have become. Your jaw hardly even moves when you speak, because doing so is impossible with the muscles that refuse to respond to you as you say between parted lips, “b-be good for…for y-you. R-ret…return shortly.”

That seems to satisfy the alpha, for he rumbles against you in response. “That’s my girl.”

His mouth leaves you, and though you can’t really feel their warmness or softness anymore because of the silver, you miss them already.

He gives you one last glance, and in those eyes of his, and compassion clings to them as they cross over you.

You want to reach for him. You want to feel those arms of his around you. You want him to stay with you. That thought sinks away from you even though you try to swim after it.

Stay… alpha.

Your alpha steps back, shaking his head as he does.

I will never have to leave you once this is over, my love. Trust in me. I will not fail you.

With those words he sends through your bond, he turns away from you. Panic somehow worms its way into your gut as you watch.

Your alpha’ voice is firm as a tree stump and sturdy as the bark of one when he speaks again as the grass crunches under his feet. “To any alpha here-mated or unmated-do not go near the omega. My omega,” he adds. “Get within in one foot of her, and I will hunt you down.”

Before him, the males put an arm over their front and pound their fist into their chest one by one.

The sea of alphas and omegas part like a river for him, and no one stands in his way as he walks, his shoulders set proudly as he moves with confidence cording his muscles.

You try to whimper, but the sound is lost somewhere in your throat.

The other wolves cluster to one of two sides so that you have nothing blocking your sight from him as he treads on through the grass that catches his feet, the firelight of the braziers set every few feet bathing him in a golden glow. The red paint of blood he wears like a second skin, and it is a dangerous warning to the three that stand several paces apart from each other in the distance ahead.

The continual crunch of grass under your alpha’s feet continues until the grass yields to the dirt of the plain by the old knoll that had stood since the old times.

Your alpha halts, resolve now set in those eyes of his.

Before him to his left, Taehyung stares with a sneer on his face. In the middle of the field, ahead of your alpha is Yoongi, the russet-haired male that has his arms crossed over his chest. To his right, Jimin bares his teeth.

Your alpha reveals his own teeth to them all.

“Pack Alpha Jungkook,” the voice of your grandmother descends over the plain as she ambles, with two other elders, down the stage toward the mound before the plain, “As you have been named the Omega Y/N’s champion, you have been granted the battle rights and so you may choose the terms of this battle.” She peregrinates still, the thick furs around her shoulders unmoved even in her shaky footfalls, “No one may contest your decisions, and your choices are final once given. If any wolf breaks these terms, he will be disqualified and deemed unfit to take the omega as his own. Do you all understand?”

“Yes,” your alpha, without missing a breath, answers.

The other three males nod.

“Very well. Chosen one, do you wish to take on all of your opponents at once, one at a time, or in any sequential order?” She makes it to the top of the knoll, her knees popping as she does.

“I will take on Yoongi alone. The other two I will fight together. It matters not to me which I battle first.” Jungkook asserts.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Scared, Jeon?”

Taehyung laughs under his breath. Jimin cringes at the sound.

“Keep dreaming, Yoongi. I know how dirty you play,” Jungkook picks an invisible fleck of dust off his shoulder.

“Will you fight in your human form, or will you shift to your lupine form?” The elder in grayed, wiry furs is unphased.

“The first battle I will fight as a human. My second I will fight as a wolf. The others will do the same.”

“Will you be using any weapons in your first fight?”

“Hands, teeth, and claws,” your alpha decides.

“Will this be to the death or to the surrender of the fallen combatants?”

“To the surrender. I do not wish to lose any of my alphas. Even if they are a pain in the ass.”

“Are there any other conditions you would like to set, Pack Alpha Jungkook?”

Your alpha’s eyes harden on each of the males before him. “Any wolf that falls in combat will bear those marks for the rest of his life. I will allow no healers or menders to their side unless the injury is life-threatening.”

“Those conditions will be met. Anything else?” The elder beside your grandmother asks.

“Yes. One more thing,” your alpha is unwavering as he takes a step forth, “No challenger may leave the perimeter of these grounds we stand on until the victor has been declared.”

“As you say,” the aged wolf on the other side of the lead elder says.

The rustle of trees sweeps over the land from the woodland around, and the fire of the braziers circling the arena of dirt is swept with the wind until all is quiet again.

Your alpha keeps his back to you, and so fixated on him, you do not see your grandmother lift her hand, the sound of horns filling the air as the two elders beside her blow into the wooden tusks with holes cut into them that they’d produced from the folds of their furs that cover the whole of their body.

“I will remind you, Jeon Jungkook, that as you are the current Pack Alpha, your title and rank will be stripped from you should you lose this battle. The victor will take your title, rank, and your intended should you be unable to beat them in combat,” The two elders at your grandmother’s side speak together, their voices melding into one, “Do you understand and agree to these terms?”

Your alpha doesn’t even flinch at the prospect. “I am aware of what will happen should I fail to be victorious. I consent to those terms.”

“Should any alpha fail to comply with these conditions, they will be exiled, and if it is the victor’s decision, he may decide to exile or end the lives of those he defeats.” The elders wait for all four males to acknowledge this with affirmations before: “Now, with the terms and agreements that have been given,” the elder in gray from atop the knoll who stands as the intercessor of the four alphas below voices, “Let the battle begin.”

For a few moments, all the males do is stand and stare between one another, no one willing to make the first move.

Your alpha is patient, so he waits. He has spent a long, long time waiting for you.

Worry snakes around your chest, its slithery movement slow and lazy as you watch your alpha’s muscles in his back tense as if he’s preparing to be attacked.

As if he can smell your concern, he turns his head to the side, his irises softening as they silently seek yours.

Worry not, my love. Just watch me. This will all seem like a dream in only a short while.

“The hell with this,” comes a dry remark from Taehyung, who shrugs off his black rabbit furs, the bones cracking from between his knuckles as he claws at his black linen shirt so that it falls in shreds at his feet, “I’ve been waiting for a chance to get revenge for what you did to my fucking shoulder, Jeon,” Taehyung covers the five circular wounds in his flesh, his eyes boring holes into your alpha, “and I will finish what I started with the female and make you grovel while I do it.”

“Oh, shut up already, Taehyung,” Jimin throws off his own furs, his eyes narrowing on the brown haired wolf who had just spoken, “I should destroy you first for what you did to my sister. To me,” he rips his own shirt from his body, “You fucking asshole.”

“Can you both just come at me already? I’m getting bored over here,” Your alpha stretches an arm behind his back, “Unless you’d like to let Yoongi have a go at me first?”

“Fuck off, Jeon,” Yoongi picks at his nails, “you two had better start ripping into some limbs, or I will.”

“No,” Taehyung pushes off his haunches and is off, “he’s mine.”

Jimin is on his tail the second he moves. Your alpha is still even though there’s a male running toward him and another behind that one. Taehyung’s arm lifts, his claws in the air and then he’s upon your alpha.

Fear constricts your stomach at the sight.

The brown-haired wolf draws his arm down in an arcing motion as if to slash at your alpha’s chest, but before it can make it there, your alpha’s hand, fast as lightning, races through the air and he grips Taehyung’s wrist with force, each of his nails sinking into the alpha’s wrist as if it were water. The brown-haired alpha barks in pain, his eyes unseeing of the other alpha behind him as he does.

Jungkook smirks, and with no effort, he swings his other arm back, his fingers clenching into a fist and then that fist makes contact with Taehyung’s stomach. Hard. The brown-haired alpha is flung like a pebble into the air and the impact of the throw has his head colliding with Jimin’s so that there’s a loud thud as Taehyung’s skull hits the other’s that is hard as a stone.

“Surely you both can do better than that? I’m a little disappointed. I wasn’t expecting much from Taehyung considering he’s never been that great a fighter,” your alpha wrinkles his nose in disgust at the fresh blood that now coats his hand as he looks down at it, “but Jimin? You usually are faster than that. It’s unlike you.”

“Basta-“ Jimin is silenced when Jungkook impels his foot down on his abdomen to knock the breath out of him.

Your alpha’s tone is devoid of any warmth when he chides, “I thought I told you not to address me with such disrespect.” He stomps on the downed alpha’s chest again, the rib beneath it cracking like a twig as Jimin yips in affliction.

Taehyung gets to his feet and swings, but Jungkook uses the body of Jimin like he’s a stepping stone to jump to the other side so that Taheyung misses and your alpha tuts, “Ah, ah, ah, Taehyung. It is rude to try to punch someone when they’re looking.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Taehyung curses, and when he swings again, Jungkook jumps back with inhuman speed. Across from him, he just narrowly misses Jimin who had rolled to his belly and pushed off his hands to get up.

Jungkook flicks his bloodied hand toward the ground as if to get it off and red dots the ground before he taunts, “You know, I’ve always thought you smelled absolutely rancid, Taehyung,” he wipes the remains on his trousers, “but I didn’t think it was possible for you to smell worse than the bottom of a fucking bog.”

Taehyung responds by yelling out the Pack Alpha’s name, and then he’s making another dash for him. Jungkook isn’t even phased by it. He just steps sideways so that the alpha’s claws and open maw miss him completely. Jimin comes for him next, but he dives toward the ground and rolls when the other alpha tries to swipe at his side from below.

Yoongi, the passive bystander, stays where had been since the beginning and files at his nails using a rock he’d picked up.

Meanwhile, Taehyung scampers like a wild man toward Jungkook. Anger has turned the whites of his eyes red, and his movements only grow more erratic the longer he battles.

When Jungkook rises to his feet once more, he grins at the sight. “Always so quick to anger,” he spins when the brown-haired alpha’s arm descends downward, “and always so easy to defeat.” He rotates the other direction when Taehyung’s attempts to uppercut him, “I knew you would not be difficult to defeat from the moment I threw you against that tree in the fucking forest when you talked back to me. When you dared to disrespect and defile my intended with your tongue,” Jungkook’s fist ascends toward his maw, but the brown-haired wolf holds up both arms in front of his face to block. The force of the blow knocks his arms away from his face, one of his elbows pushed up into an area of his arm that it doesn’t belong as he curses loudly and the wolf staggers backward away from Jungkook, who mocks, “I should take your tongue for all its slander, but taking that ego and pride from you will hurt you more than that ever could.”

Jimin sprints so that he’s waiting on the opposite side of your alpha, but before his outstretched foot can make contact with Jungkook’s stomach, his calf is caught by Jungkook’s fingers. Your alpha keeps that leg in his hold, his claws elongating and puncturing the flesh there so that Jimin winces and cries out.

Momentarily seized by the pain, Jimin grabs at his leg while Jungkook reprimands, “and you, Jimin…You used to be such a good friend to me. I have missed your presence and friendship.” He headbutts the male, “Were you not distracted by Taehyung, you might have actually made me break a sweat.”

The scraunch of dirt sounds from behind him, and Jungkook crouches as Taehyung catapults himself toward him. He hurls Jimin to the ground, and Taehyung’s teeth embed themselves into Jimin’s chest as the two tumble to the ground. In the scuffle, Jungkook’s claws that had been lodged in Jimin’s thigh had cut through his flesh like it was fluid, and blood sprays all around them before Jimin lands with a deafening thump on the dirt that is stirred up in a cloud around the males.

When it clears, a motionless Jimin is lain under Taehyung, who extracts his claws from around his heart and rises without even glancing his direction. Crimson gushes from the downed alpha’s wounds, his skin torn and mangled from his thigh all the way to his foot where his lifeblood flows out of him like a red sea. Bone peeks from beneath the five angry incisions that sever his skin from itself along his leg and his chest heaves with labor where the blood pushes itself out from the five punctures around his heart.

Agitation dots your alpha’s face where Jimin’s blood does not, his entire chest now speckled with crimson that you had not put there.

He had not wanted this to end in death for any under his charge.

“This is your fault, Jeon,” Taehyung spits, “If you had just fucking stood still, you would be on the fucking ground right now, and your little bitch would already be mine.”

That has your alpha’s irises lifting to his. They are colder than ice as he narrows them, “First you defile Jimin, who became your friend because I told him to, and then you insult my intended. Tell me, Taehyung, whose fault is it that you can’t even use your fucking shoulder where my claws severed some of the nerves there when the sun was setting?”

“Hmm,” Taehyung puts a bloody hand to his chin, “I would say it was the she-wolf who is to blame. I wanted to fuck her, and she didn’t want me to. You got in the way.”

“You will never touch her,” Jungkook lifts his lip so his teeth are on display, “and you will never have her,” your alpha growls, “not as long as I live and fucking breathe. I’ll break every bone in your body starting from your toes to your ribs if that’s what it takes to make you understand that.”

“Just as long as it’s not my face. I need that,” Taehyung’s sarcasm is loud, “the bitches I screw love it too much.”

With that, Jungkook roars so even the mountains beyond shake, and he rushes forward toward the brown-haired alpha. He moves with such speed that even the wind cannot blow past him, and it is over in seconds.

One second, your alpha is in front of the older wolf. The next, he’s sliding along the ground under Taehyung’s parted legs, the dirt scattering around him like the bones of prey after a hunt. Jungkook puts one arm out to steady himself before he turns off his heel and rises so he’s stood

behind the unexpecting alpha, and there’s no time for Taehyung to react before both of your alpha’s bloodied claws cut through the air like daggers and he’s dug them deep into the other alpha’s shoulders. Taehyung wails in pain as his freshly dressed wounds are reopened next to five new wounds on his other shoulder where red drips slowly from both shoulders down his bare, naked chest.

He thrashes in your alpha’s hold, but your alpha is stronger, and he knocks Taehyung’s knees out from under him so that he falls onto them in the black dirt.

“You’ve lost once again, you fool,” Jungkook utters, his claws tearing at the other’s flesh every time he thrashes, “now you can atone, at least a little, in your defeat.”

As they are, they both face you, and your alpha’s irises pierce yours when he orders, “Tell my intended that you’re sorry for debasing her with your speech and your actions. Tell her you will never do it again. That you’ll never pursue her again.”

Taehyung snaps, “This isn’t over yet.”

“Oh, but it is,” your alpha decides with derision, “It very much is.”

Taehyung attempts to wriggle out of his hold. Jungkook punishes him, his flesh tearing and ripping where Jungkook twists his claws deeper into him. Taehyung bellows in agony. More blood scatters down his back.

Jungkook huffs, only to extricate his claws from the male’s shoulders and kick him square in the back so that he falls to chest, his arms giving out on him with the way that the nerves had been cut and rearranged in the gory mutilation of his shoulders where flabs of skin barely hang on by a thread.

“Say it,” Jungkook orders as he stands tall above him. “I’m growing weary of waiting. I don’t want to have to use Alpha’s Bidding on you, but I will if I must.”

Taehyung remains silent minus the coughs where more blood spews forth from his lips. He must have bitten his tongue in the fall.

Though he can’t use his dislocated arm, he can still use his other one. That, and his legs.

Before he can even get his first foot on the ground, Jungkook’s hand darts out and his fingers project themselves over and around Taehyung’s neck so that he is held up under Jungkook’s digits. The Pack Alpha squeezes with enough force that Taehyung’s face begins to turn red, his breaths stuttering as his arms unsuccessfully attempt to pull the raven-haired alpha off.

“You’re weak, Taehyung. You always have been, and you always will be. Now give the fuck up already.” Your alpha urges him, the bite in his tone making the wolves around you shudder.

“I’d rather be fucking exiled.” Taehyung attempts to throw his only remaining good arm behind him, but Jungkook seizes his bicep in an iron grip.

Your alpha sighs with exasperation, tsking, “You really should know when to give up, you motherfucker.”

“You don’t say,” Taehyung goads.

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his golden irises flickering as he mulls it over. Those irises settle on yours, and then your alpha’s lips set in a thin line before he acts.

There’s no hesitation when he twists Taehyung’s arm into an unnatural angle, the crack of bones filling the air in warning as the wolf on his knees hisses and howls in agony.

“No,” Jungkook determines, “that would be too easy.” Jungkook’s teeth sharpen and shift so that they are pointed like blades as he growls, “Running would let you forget. But suffering, “ his canines elongate until they extend below his lower lip, “your suffering will haunt you as a wraith for the rest of your life.”

The word has hardly left his lips before Jungkook wrenches Taehyung’s thin arm up, his teeth flashing menacingly before they disappear into Taehyung’s hand, the sickening crack of bones breaking under his teeth as he bites down hard enough that his teeth penetrate the opposite side of his appendage. The male screams, his fingers twitching uncontrollably as blood bursts forth into Jungkook’s mouth.

It is fetid as bile. It is putrid. It is gamy, and Jungkook blanches at its disgusting tang so unlike the sweet sugary taste of your own.

“As much of a thorn in my side as you’ve been, I do not want to see any of the males under my watch be killed. However,” Jungkook throws his head back, his teeth dislodging from around Taehyung’s palm so that an ovular junction of dark holes arc over and under both sides of his hand and then Jungkook’s hoicking crimson spit from his mouth, “that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you for what you’ve done.” He releases Taehyung’s deformed arm that is now bent at an odd direction, his jaw clenching as he says, “It doesn’t mean you are not due for discipline since you seem to have forgotten basic respect and decency.”

“I’ve got plenty of th-“

Before the downed mall can finish, Jungkook slices his serrated claws once across the brown-haired alpha’s back, his expression hardening even though the captured male yelps through the stinging sensations left in his wake, “Silence. I will not hear any more defiance or disrespect from you. You will give me your fealty, or I will make you hurt so much that you’ll never even remember what it was like when you could wake up in the morning and use all of your fucking limbs,” he yanks back on Taehyung’s neck, four of his fingers pricking crescents on one side and his thumb pressing tightly in on the other, his claws dangerously hovering over his nape. Like this, your alpha presents the fallen male to you as he continues, “and you will beg for forgiveness on your hands and knees for daring to deflower my mate in mind and in body, “with the hand that does not hold Taehyung captive, Jungkook’s long, curved claws shear the fallen alpha’s back along the unmarked half, and Taehyung’s eyes go white at that, blood bubbling in his throat as the will to fight falls from him with his blood while Jungkook finishes, “and you will bear these marks I’ve scarred you with for eternity, so that not even the gods may forget your faithless acts of lies and licentiousness with the unknowing omegas you defiled.”

It takes until his cheeks begin to turn blue for him to give a choked sound of defeat, his arms falling loosely at his sides as Jungkook tosses him to the ground as if he were nothing more but a piece of meat next to Jimin, who is still as a corpse next to him.

You grow wetter between your thighs at the display of your alpha’s power. You’d always known he was capable and that he was formidable, but seeing him reduce the pack’s strongest to nothing…it was arousing.

Your alpha bends over between both of the fallen wolves, and then grabs a fistful of hair atop both of their heads and lifts their chins up so that you can see both of their faces.

Taehyung’s face is almost untouched save for the dirt and blood that have caked themselves onto his chin and cheeks. Jimin’s lids are slow to open and close, crimson dribbling from both sides of his stained lips. He is still lain on his back with pieces of his flesh hanging from his leg, the white of his bone peeking through small sections down his leg while his pectorals rising up and down heavily as he heaves air out of his system. His life essence trails sadly down the sides of his ribs.

Taehyung has not fared any better. The bones in both of his arms have been shattered and moved to areas that bones didn’t belong, and his back is marked in several puckered, open valleys of red, angry skin joined by rivers of crimson that make an ‘x’ shape down his back. His limbs are thrown about him where he is prostrate in the dirt next to Jimin.

“This battle is over.” Jungkook states with finality. “Neither of you can continue.”

“I,” Jimin weakly rasps through the blood that bubbles up his throat, “I yield to you, Jungkook. You have beaten me.”

Jungkook’s fingers unthread themselves from Jimin’s hair, his skull landing softly on the ground as Jungkook guides it down. Despite everything, Jimin had once been his friend. Seeing him like this…it was not easy even for the Pack Alpha.

“Get him to the healers. He will bleed out if he’s not tended to immediately.” Jungkook commands, the emotion in his voice held at bay because he knows Taehyung, like a hound, can sniff weakness and prey on it.

Two males depart from the crowd of wolves around them. They do not question your alpha as they lift him carefully off the ground and onto a mat of grass that is attached to a set of wooden poles on each end for them to hold. Before they can walk away, Jungkook holds his only free hand out.

The two males stop immediately.

“You will answer to me from here on,” Jungkook’s eyes blacken in the eclipse from light to dark, his words deep as he spills them, “voice to me your regrets before I have you removed from my sight.”

Jimin can hardly keep his eyes open anymore, his throat aching from wailing too much. Drowsiness from loss of blood makes his eyelids droop, and it’s all he can do to incline his head downward, his eyes closing as he manages, “I have many regrets. One of my biggest,” he hiccups,” was that I thought I could win against you.” Remorse shakes his voice as he lets Jungkook know, “The other was letting Taehyung manipulate me and losing not only our friendship, but the female, too, because of it.”

With that, he’s carried away into a dreamless sleep and the two males extricate him from the battlefield.

“Pussy,” Taehyung hacks up more blood.

“I don’t recall telling you that you could speak. Perhaps I need to give another demonstration to you of just how weak you are,” Jungkook’s other arm raises up, but before it can go near him, Taehyung cringes and buries his face into the dirt.

Taehyung shrieks, “No! Not my face!”

Jungkook lowers his arm, “You’re pathetic, Taehyung. Now give up.”

“Fine. Just don’t ruin my face,” he screws his eyeballs shut, “I was bluffing about what I said before, alright? Alright?”

“I have tried to be a reasonable male,” Jungkook’s fingers bend inward where he still grasps the other male’s hair, and Taehyung’s expression twists in discomfort as your alpha cautions, “But my patience with you is at its end. Yield to me before I break some more bones.”

Taehyung bites down on his tongue, but he has no other options. He knows he’s lost and that he now has no choice but to swallow his pride.

“I…I yield.”

“Good. Now tell her you’re sorry for everything. You had better mean it, or I’ll hurt you even more than I already have.” Jungkook warns.

“Like hell I’ll apologize to a woman.” He defiantly counters.

Your alpha growls, and he stomps with force down on the back of Taehyung’s knee, the bone shattering as he does. “I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion. Do it. Now.”

Taehyung shakes his head into the ground, his trembling digits digging into the dirt as the threads of pride that remain in him all but sever.

“Gods, that pride of yours is really something. Perhaps by losing it, you’ll finally gain some sense again.” Jungkook provokes before his heel bears down powerfully on Taehyung’s other knee, the ligaments beneath fracturing and splintering upon impact.

Taehyung groans in torment, and what little of his pride had been left is torn from the very base of his being as Jungkook whips Taehyung’s head back so that his spine is curved up at an odd angle.

A little while away, some alphas observe Taehyung with expressions of disinterest, disgust, and dismay contorting their countenance for his misconduct toward their leader. The others watch their leader with delight dancing in their eyes. As for the omegas, many cling to another at the gory spectacle. A few glare with hatred toward Taehyung, but many more look in awe at your alpha.

“Cough up the last of your pride, you imbecile, because none will be left after this. If you will not submit of your own accord, I’ll just make you.” Jungkook tosses him to the ground as if he were nothing but a ragdoll, his irises darkening like the night, his words cloaked in the veils of shadows. “I command you to get on your hands and knees. You are to beg my mate for her forgiveness for any time you so much as looked at, thought of, or treated her in a way you knew I would be unhappy with. Then, you’ll pledge your loyalty to me.”

How anyone could refuse Jungkook would never be anything you could comprehend, but under Alpha’s Bidding, no wolf could disobey he who was the strongest of them all.

Taehyung grunts as the wolf inside him moves, and despite the unbearable pain that it causes him, he cannot help it.

He bows his head and his mutilated arms, maimed back, and disfigured legs all fold under him as he bites out between blood, “Forgive me, my lady.”

Words do not find you with the silver dampening all thought in your head. And in your gut, you can’t find it in yourself to care what this male thinks, says, or does.

All that matters to you is the one who stands behind him. All that fills your vision is him, and soon, he was going to fill you.

“The days of your disobedience are over. You obey and you serve me. Tell me this is true.” Jungkook demands, his eyes black as ash and his voice gravelly.

Taehyung can’t even pick his head up, for he’d landed on his nose in the dirt. With his dilapidated arms, he’d not been able to break his fall. It’s a struggle for him to speak between sputtering out the dirt, but he cannot ignore the male standing above him even if he wanted to.

His wolf speaks for him, his defiance dripping out of him with his blood onto the ground at the victorious wolf’s feet. “You are true in what you say.”

Jungkook considers him before bidding, “You will never seek my female ever again, and you will do as I say when I command it of you without question, or I will sever your fingers, your toes, your legs, and your fucking arms from your body with my own hands if I have to. Is that understood?”

Taehyung’s skin crawls at the order, fear setting its teeth on him.

The last of his resolve slithers away from him, his muscles slackening as he concedes, “Understood, Pack Alpha.”

“What does it feel like?” Jungkook cocks his head to the side.

“What does what feel like?” Taehyung’s shoulders slump weakly.

Your alpha’s grin is vicious when he reveals rows of sharp teeth, his canines protruding from under his upper lip, “To lose.”

Those golden irises of his land on you and then they’re scaling over you as in a silent journey to appraise you of injuries even though he’s the one in the middle of the battlefield. They grow brighter the longer they are set on you, and with his attention deposited only on you, he doesn’t hear the pounding of paws against the dirt behind him.

All the veins in your body run cold, panic stabbing you through like an icicle. You are frozen in place under the numbing silver, but don’t care about the throbbing in your head from under your circlet that threatens to drag you into dark unconsciousness. Not even that can snuff out the scream that cuts through the air as a shrill sound rifts through your throat in the pitch of it that leaves the ears of every wolf in the vicinity ringing.

Those golden irises that are bright as the sunrise go dim as the dusk under the shadow of russet fur and snapping jaws.

#alpha!jungkook #werewolf!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #dom!jungkook #alpha jungkook x omega reader #jungkook x you #bts abo

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mandowifey · 1 year

Note

For your match up requests can you surprise me? 🥰💙

Of course I can, you lovely bean you. Once again I am a cheater and I know who n' what you like, so with that being said...

I assign you; Bo and Vincent Sinclair!

Note: This is NSFW. Strictly because of gore, blood, violence, and mentions of sexual activities. There are allusions to non-con, as well as dub-con, some domestic violence, and forced relationships. Just overall dead dove, stay safe kiddos! This was also not proofread or edited, and my first time writing for them!

Be gentle.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

There was something deeply unsettling about the smell of burning meat.

When coagulated fat boiled and broke down it released a nauseating odor that permeated the humid Summer air. Sometimes it could take on the smell of barbecue, which was dependent on what animal was chosen.

You didn't care much for it either way.

Lester tosses a lopsided smile in your direction, using one bloodied hand to wave at you before focusing on dragging the decomposing deer toward the burn pile. You offer a tight-lipped smile in return, not wanting to give the impression you didn't have manners. Those were the most important thing to have around this place.

"Jee-zus Christ, why the fuck are you doin' this so close to town?"

The sound of a slamming truck door made you jump, and that familiar voice had you frozen in place. Your fight or flight instincts always had you ready to bolt, but over time and many failed attempts you had learned it was best to stay put. Boots crunch in gravel and you struggle to stay still.

"Ain't got nowhere else t'do it, Bo." Lester retorts before turning his head to spit.

Bo came to a stop beside you and sucked his teeth as his arms folded. You stare forward without looking. Your vision is tunneled now, and all you are aware of is the chirping of birds and crickets. There is a silence that lulls between you, and you've stopped breathing.

"What do you think, firefly?" Came the dull drawl of Bo's voice as his head turned to face you.

Aside from the regular torture, it seemed that Bo enjoyed antagonizing you with biased questions. Always putting you in the middle of things and forcing you to pick a side. The illusion of choice, as you knew agreeing with anyone but him, got you punished.

Both brothers were staring at you now. Bo, with his arms folded and Lester with a fist on his hip. Of the two, you knew Lester handled disappointment far better. That made things marginally easier, though disappointing him still left you uneasy. Aware that you were expected to respond, you begin blinking the sting of smoke out of your eyes. Finally, you cast a gaze upwards, daring to look at the more imposing man beside you.

"T-the breeze c-carries the smell," your voice was a squeak. "S-should try to f-find a different spot, m-maybe-"

A large hand claps your back and makes you gasp.

"Y'see, even she knows better." Bo grinned into his words while his brother scoffed. "Next time find a better spot." He warned, his expression tightened and some of that southern charm lifted, revealing just a glimpse of what he really was under the veil.

Lester waves his hand dismissively and mutters to himself as Bo leads you to his truck. You are silent as you climb into the passenger side, and do not look at the older man as he settles behind the wheel with a grunt. The old engine sputters and then rumbles to life, rattling the frame of the truck.

"Why're you lollygaggin' around with him for?"

The glass of the window cools your forehead as sweat beads along your temple and upper lip. After such a short period outside, the humidity sapped your energy and most of the moisture inside you. Leaving you with a dry mouth and some fatigue. You wanted a clever answer for Bo, something smart and witty that'd appease him, but nothing came to mind.

Impatiently, Bo grips a fist into your hair and yanks your head in his direction. The pain causes you to wince, but you don't fight it. You knew better. Instead, your glassy eyes stare up at him as your face contorts into something apologetic.

"Did the heat fry your fuckin' brain, kid? Answer me." His eyes flick from the dirt road to you.

"I think he gets lonely." Your voice was quiet. "He asked if I wanted to tag along, n' I said sure. That's all."

Blunt nails stung your scalp, his grip relenting only marginally at the answer. Bo snorts and shoves your head away from him.

"Well aint you just a bleedin' heart as always." His large hand fell to your knee, callouses rubbing over the smooth skin before slipping under the hem of your dress. "You wanna fuck him too?"

You knew where this was going. The same thing happened when it came to Vincent. Bo was a confident man with a sizeable ego but got sore as hell when the topic of his brothers came up. He wanted to be your favorite, but he also felt entitled to you, like he owned you. There were impossible, silent conditions he imposed upon you that left you guessing what the right thing was to say.

The trial and error wove itself as scars in various places on your skin. Cruel reminders of what failed attempts got you. Bo liked to caress them, kiss them, tell you what a shame it was to mar that lovely derma and how he wished you hadn't made him do it. Vincent was the opposite. His hands traced along marks while holding you close, remembering which ones he had meticulously stitched together.

When Bo's hand encroached on the junction of your thighs, you were tensing. "No, I don't wanna fuck him." His fingers curl into the yielding flesh of your inner thigh. He said nothing because he was waiting for more out of you. "I-I only wanna fuck you, Bo. P-promise."

He sucked his teeth again and tapped his thumb against the steering wheel, his hand no longer moving. "You sure 'bout that princess? I've seen how you look at Vincent." The words soured on his tongue, causing his brows to vex and his fingers to bruise into your thighs. To call him territorial was an injustice.

"That's a good girl." His palm clapped your leg twice before withdrawing from your dress and back to the wheel. "You're gonna show me once we get to the house."

Nausea settled in your stomach like a bowling ball. Between that and the unbearable heat, you felt certain you were going to puke. You nod because you have no choice, and unless you wanted to be strung up in the dungeon below the station, you had to play the part.

Left to ruminate in your thoughts, Bo drove silently up towards the old home. When he parked, he caught your wrist as you were climbing out. "Straight to the bedroom." His voice lost its pleasant southern twang and had become something angry. His eyes were dark, focused pools staring at you from below the line of his cap.

"O-of course, right away." The power behind his grip would leave your wrist decorated in finger shaped bruises.

Traversing the incline to the front door, you nudge inside and wipe sweat off your face. Before you could move up the old steps, something touches your shoulder and makes you jump.

"Vincent!" You whisper.

Vincent stood tall and silent, staring down at you through black holes in his mask. It had taken quite some time for you to adjust to, but still, the emotionless face could be quite uneasy. More than once, you had seen it from your peripherals, when in the shower or hanging your clothes up to dry. You knew Vincent had a fascination with watching you and often played into being oblivious to indulge him.

The hand on your shoulder withdrew, and he upturned his palm. Your eyes soften, and you offer your wrist. This was routine when you returned from Bo, and while Vincent was no gentle saint, he was far more kinder to you than the latter. His fingers close around your wrist in a gentle but encompassing grip as he begins to look you over.

"No new ones today."

He turns your other arm over, then tilts your chin and checks your throat. Inside the house was much cooler, yet you felt your body getting hot. You couldn't say if he cared out of compassion or pity, though you assumed it was the same care a farmer had towards their livestock. A press to your lips made your eyes widen and warmth bloom across your cheeks.

Your lips part for him as he presses over your bottom teeth and part of your tongue. With your jaw opened wide, you felt fear. Bo had always mentioned how terrible it would be if they had to remove some teeth for bad behavior. While Vincent had a softer touch, he had no problem bruising and taking from you what he could.

Heavy footfalls made you jump, and your eyes go wide. Vincent released your jaw and shoved you up the stairs knowingly. You don't hesitate or look back as you clamber the stairs and round the corner as the front door swings open. Bo's muffled voice emanates up through the floorboards below, and you silence your steps. Tip toeing into the bedroom, you flail your hands out in the dark, your memory of the layout serving you well as you navigate blindly to the bed.

Slipping your dress to your ankles, you step out of your shoes and climb onto the bed. His smell lingers there on the pillow beside yours, which prompts you to turn your head away. In the silence, you hear your pulse and nervous breathing. Your heart sounds like a frightened animal beating against a cage. You also hear Bo asking Vincent to do something for him. Perhaps he was sending him away from the house, back to the museum, where he wouldn't be nearby to listen.

Maybe he was asking him to come watch, to humilate you further by fucking you in front of him. You wouldn't put it past Bo to taunt his brother in such a way. It was no secret Vincent was charmed by you, and while that was no comfort in its own, you delighted in the fact it pissed his brother off.

Everything fell silent as your heart settled to a slower pace. Then, you could hear the steady climbing of stairs and a low whistling tune. Your throat was dry and head pounding from lack of water. If you could spare the moisture, you would have shed tears. After so many weeks trapped in Ambrose, you had hoped that the fear would go away. Instead, the fear had turned into uncertainty; how long would they keep you alive? You wondered if they would grow bored and discard you in the burn pile, or perhaps Vincent would cherish you as one of his figures. You tried to avoid those thoughts.

The whistling and footsteps came to a stop outside the door. "Honey," the knob twists and light cascaded across your bare form. His silhouette was massive and imposing in the doorway. There was a jaunt to his tone now, almost sing-song.

"I'm home "

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butterflydm · 10 months

Text

wot reread: a memory of light (chapter 37)

spoilers for the last book, a memory of light

I am going to do this enormous chapter a little differently than the previous chapters (basically so that I can refer to this post later and understand all the various threads and not get them mixed up with each other). Instead of going in chronological order by each event presented to me, I'm going to have different PoV sections and then have my thoughts under each of those.

Egwene & Gawyn (& Galad)

Gawyn is exhausted, despite the week that they all just took to prepare for this last push of the battle. That's not a good sign. Pretty sure that's the Bloodknife ring sapping his strength. Yeah, when he puts the ring on again "his strength returned". (From TGS: "One never committed Bloodknives unless one was very serious, for they did not return from their missions." "The incredible abilities came at a cost, however, for the rings leeched life from their hosts, killing them in a matter of days. Removing the ring would slow that process slightly but once activated - done by touching a drop of one's own blood to the stone ring while wearing it - the process was irreversible.") He's already dead. He's just still walking around. Oh, hon.

"[Egwene] hesitated for a moment, looking through the gateway to Mat's command post. Egwene met the eyes of the Seanchan woman across the table, where she sat imperiously on her throne. I have not finished with you, Egwene thought." A very mean thing for Sanderson to write here, considering.

From her sense in the bond, she believes that Gawyn has gone off "to join the Andoran army" and sends Bryne to fetch him. Then she assigns Siuan to go "join Mat and the Seanchan Empress and listen with ears accustomed to hearing what is not spoken". Siuan calls Egwene a legacy that will shape "what is to come".

"I'll help watch this Seanchan woman for you, maybe help poor Min crawl out of the fang-fish net she's found herself in." Good luck, Siuan!

Egwene realizes, too late, that she's sent Bryne off to the wrong place, as once she travels to her own new location, that Gawyn is actually "on the Heights themselves, where the Shadow held the strongest."

Honestly, using the Special Assassin Rings to try to commit a Special Assassination on the leader of the Shadowspawn forces sounds like... a good idea? Gawyn knows that the original Bloodknives were doing a very good job specifically murdering Aes Sedai, because that was the crime that he was investigating when he found them in the first place. I also wonder if a lot of people forgot or missed that this attempt to go kill Demandred is not when Gawyn first activated the ring and signed his own death warrant (I bet that I missed it during my first read too). That he first activated the ring back when he and Egwene were pinned down by the Sharans and death seemed right around the corner for both of them. Gawyn's death has been irreversible since chapter 23.

"Once, perhaps, he would have done this for the pride of the battle and the chance to pit himself against Demandred. That was not his heart now. His heart was the need. Someone had to fight this creature, someone had to kill him or they would lose this battle. They could all see it. Risking Egwene or Logain would be too great a gamble. Gawyn could be risked. No one would send him to do this -- no one would dare -- but it was necessary."

He isn't able to get the assassin's blow off on Demandred and it looks like a key element is because Demandred detected the 'weave' that the ter'angreal is using on him. He calls it Night's Shade and confirms that it "leaks your life away".

I wonder why Demandred's face seems "eerily familiar" to Gawyn? I can't think of why that might be. lol, why does Demandred call everyone "little"? "Little man." "Little queen". "Little swordsman". What is your obsessions with everyone's heights? (wait, is he the one that was SLIGHTLY shorter than LTT and pissed off about it? as opposed to Sammael, who was considerably shorter than LTT and pissed off about it?)

haha, Demandred is CONVINCED that Lews Therin is the one directing the battle on the other side, either using Mat's face as a Mask of Mirrors or by sending messages through Mat. He has a spy in Mat's camp, probably, but is convinced that Rand is there somewhere, hiding. I mean, I kinda wish he were, just so that Rand and Mat COULD HAVE A REAL SCENE TOGETHER, but Demandred and I will both have to be disappointed. But it's kinda funny that it feels like Gawyn was rejecting the idea that he is "following" Rand in, like, a philosophical way, but Demandred meant "Lews Therin is literally your battle commander".

Gawyn loses the duel. And I like Gawyn this time around, so I'm much more emotionally affected by it. That's so rude. 😭

Egwene fights to reach Gawyn, feeling how close to death he is. 😭😭

Galad is on the Heights, fighting against Sharan channelers on Mat's orders, wearing a copy of the foxhead medallion. Galad also keeps getting confronted with things about 'his' Children of Light that are making him go 'yikes'. He's killing the Sharan channelers because it makes sense for the battle and he was ordered to do it... but the Children are happy to have an excuse to kill channelers and have some... real strange beliefs that kinda make channelers akin to vampires (...burying the head separately or they will rise again?).

One of the Children finds Gawyn, near death, and brings Galad to him. As he dies, Gawyn is talking over his regrets, starting with regretting staying at the White Tower back in book 4. He tells Galad to tell Egwene that he loves her, and Galad reassures him that Egwene already knows. Galad gets very cold inside when he realizes that his brother is dying. "He had seen men die, he had lost friends. This hurt more. Light, but it did."

When he tries to tell Gawyn that he needs to leave, so that he doesn't leave Galad without a brother, Gawyn tells him about Rand. And he tells Galad not to hate Rand. "I always hated him but I stopped." And Gawyn dies. 😭😭😭

Egwene feels it when it happens. After sending out a burst of flames at the nearby enemies as the pain consumes her, she collapses for the moment (there is a group of Whitecloaks nearby so she was very very close to reaching Gawyn before he died. That is heartbreaking).

Egwene wakes up after having been removed from the battlefield. She feels empty and heartbroken but, especially after she overhears how badly the battle is going, she knows that she does not have the time for grief or mourning, not now. "Egwene al'Vere lost a man she loved, and she felt him die through a bond. The Amrylin has sympathy for Egwene al'Vere, as she would have sympathy for any Aes Sedai dealing with such loss. And then, in the face of the Last Battle, the Amrylin would expect that woman to pick herself up and return to the fight." It's interesting how (as Rand's foil), Egwene is both the same kind of hero that Rand is, but she's also the kind of hero that Rand expected himself to be but actually ends up not being. Rand's Last Battle is philosophical; Egwene's Last Battle is physical (which is to say, the show gets another point right in how they decided to distribute episode eight out to its protagonists -- with Rand's fight ultimately being in his head while Egwene's is out on the battlefield; that's what Rafe & co meant when they said they were doing a whole-series adaptation and not just adapting book-by-book. they looked at the actual endgame needs of the characters and put in the work up-front to make sure that those would vibe with the set-up).

18. In order to keep herself balanced on the battlefield, Egwene decides that she needs to bond a Warder, though she is far from emotionally ready, and she asked "Leilwin Shipless" if she will accept the duty, getting immediate agreement. And Egwene goes back out to fight again.

19. "Egwene led an assault the likes of which had not been seen in millennia." There's some intense fighting and then Egwene comes face-to-face with Taim, who calls himself M'Hael now. There is an intense battle scene. The battle involves a lot of balefire being tossed around by Taim and, in the back of her mind, Egwene ponders the notion of whether or not the weave really is impossible to counter. Egwene didn't need the help of anyone else's ancient memories in order to rediscover Traveling, after all. That was all her, figuring it out from basic principles.

20. Egwene and her Aes Sedai have been fighting on the Heights for hours. Taim reappears, pouring balefire into her line of Aes Sedai and killing dozens. Egwene thinks again about what Perrin said in TAR about balefire -- "it's only a weave" -- and considers how balefire is considered a one-of-a-kind sort of thing. But what if it isn't? What if it works like any other weave? With the One Power, there are always two halves. Logically, balefire should have an equal and opposite counterpart, just as saidar has saidin. "If a weave exists, so must its opposite". And when Taim strikes again with balefire, she counters with this idea of this weave that she has created, one that is the opposite of balefire. Something that will reinforce the Pattern instead of unraveling it.

She decides that it is called the Flame of Tar Valon, and she uses it to kill Taim.

21. Egwene realizes that she's reached the point of no return -- if she releases her grip on saidar, then she will burn out. There is too much inside her right now. More than she can hold. So she can let go and burn out and survive... or she can take that power and use it.

She tells Leilwin née Egeanin one last command -- find the seals and keep them until she sees 'the moment the light shines'. Then she wraps her up in Air and shoves her through a gateway, releasing their bond.

She closed her eyes and drew in the power. More than a woman should be able to, more than was right. Far beyond safety, far beyond wisdom. This sa'angreal had no buffer to prevent this.

Her body was spent. She offered it up and became a column of light, releasing the Flame of Tar Valon into the ground beneath her and high into the sky. The Power left her in a quiet, beautiful explosion, washing across the Sharans and sealing the cracks created by her fight with M'Hael.

Egwene's soul separated from her collapsing body and rested upon that wave, riding it into the Light.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Before I move on to the next set of plot-threads, I want to ponder a question: why on earth does Gawyn get blamed for Egwene deciding to go out in a blaze of glory? He died hours ago. She bonded a new Warder. She doesn't die out of rage over her Warder's death here. To quote Gawyn: [Her] heart was the need. Egwene looked at what the battle needed from her at that moment, and she made a choice.

Once upon a time, Lews Therin stood on a mountain after losing the love of his life, and his despair created destruction around him. Once upon a time, Egwene stood on a battlefield after losing the love of her life, and her sacrifice healed the destruction around her.

Last time around, Lews Therin was fighting the wrong battle -- and the wrong person was the one fighting in the battle.

re: Egwene dying at all. I actually do think that having one of the Emond's Field Five die was a good choice. Would I have picked Egwene as the one? Probably not. otoh, it kinda seems like the other four were all mentioned as still being alive in Jordan's epilogue, so Egwene was the only one who could die (since the epilogue was considered basically sacred). idk I'm a big softie who has a hard time killing off characters so I'm not really the person to talk to about that subject, lol.

Rand (& Nynaeve)

TDO's attack against Rand starts out as an attempt to break him down and shatter him, but Rand resists. "It was as if the Dark One was shredding him while at the same time trying to crush him entirely, coming at Rand from infinite directions, all at once, in a wave."

When that fails, TDO then 'weaves' a reality for Rand to see. A world 'remade' in TDO's image, where the taint overlays everything, the Blight is everywhere, and Rand has been forgotten in his failure. TDO makes him watch his father die, and then Dannil leads him back to Emond's Field, where a Turned Nynaeve is waiting with channelers and Fades to Turn Rand too. It's an attempt to make Rand feel despair and give up, but when Nynaeve & co begin the process of trying to Turn Rand to the Shadow, he pushes back, rejecting this reimagining of the world that TDO has created. Hmm, Rand finds threads here that are more varied than the five threads of the One Power, calls them "the fabric of creation" and uses them to channel a different reality.

We now get introduced to the world that Rand reimagines. "He passed from nothingness into majesty."

Gorgeous buildings. Wide roads but nothing driving on it, only people walking around, in vibrant clothing. Now, instead of the memory of Turned Chosen enslaving and tormenting the Two Rivers, Rand has willed into being memories of Ogier coming "to the Two Rivers to repay Rand for his sacrifice, intending to build a monument here, [but] the town's leaders had wisely requested help improving their city instead".

Rand doesn't quite imagine paradise entirely -- though he's integrated the Seanchan into his vision of peace here, he doesn't know enough about the Sharans to do the same, so there are still "campaigns" there. And there is a monument dedicated to the fallen of the Last Battle with "familiar" faces that Rand isn't quite willing to look at. Like TDO had done earlier, "He'd built this reality out of the threads of what could be, of mirrors of the world as it now played out".

The knowledge that other people are out there dying and sacrificing for a potential future shakes Rand -- he wanted so much for his sacrifice to be the only sacrifice, which was always going to be impossible. But when he lets that thought enter his mind, this vision of reality starts to get eaten up by TDO and Rand has to force it back into place.

It is the anniversary of the hundred years of peace that Rand had wanted in the Dragon's Peace that he had the nations sign before (and during, in the case of the Seanchan) the Last Battle. Lady Adora, Perrin's granddaughter, is the mayor of Emond's Field. Rand slips past her and into the school. A school for anyone to come and learn, no matter what their background. TDO taunts him again for believing that he can eliminate suffering entirely. So we're kinda doing a "the perfect is the enemy of the good" argument here. Is "better" enough when it isn't "perfect"? And is "perfect" only ever a lie? TDO attacks Rand again, and this world fades back into a faint mirror of possibility. The heart of the Last Battle is a philosophical argument about the nature of reality, and of human nature.

As he stands with the great shadow of TDO, Rand can see the armies outside fighting. TDO is mostly outside of time, except wherever it touches the Pattern. There it is bound to the linear nature of time. TDO tells Rand to watch as the people fighting in his name die, and spins another vision for him.

The new world-possibility that TDO spins for Rand looks very much like the regular world, with some minor differences like steam-drawn carriages driving around. He's in Caemlyn this time, and he can still see the hole in the wall from when Talmanes blew the hole to escape from the Shadowspawn, but there's a bustle and a life around.

He goes to a fruit seller, and she mentions her fresh peaches for sale. "Peaches," Rand said, aghast. Everyone knew those were poisonous. She tells him that they are safe now; the toxin has been removed. Hey, isn't it peach blossoms that Rand made bloom back in Ebou Dar? So that was actually meant as something of a subtle threat, though Tuon took as an Important Omen. As they're talking, a street urchin steals one of the fruits and starts to run off, and the fruit-seller pulls out a rod and does something that instantly kills him. When Rand reacts in horror, she acts puzzled, asking him if "it" belonged to him. Yikes! Yeah, definitely still a very Bad World, Rand. When she asks him what faction he belongs to, he takes that as his cue to leave, very quickly.

He searches Caemlyn to find the Queen's Blessing and, with relief, sees that Basel Gill is working inside. So this one is not a hundred years in the future like the last one. Gill says that they're in the Fourth Age and that the Last Battle was won. After Gill tells him that he'll get him a faction symbol, Rand notices a nothingness that signifies TDO's presence and questions it. This is a world where TDO has tricked people into believing that they won the Last Battle.

When Gill returns, it's with guards to rob Rand for his fancy coat. Rand realizes that TDO has taken everyone's consciences/compassion. This is a world without any spark of 'light' inside people's hearts, only Shadow. Rand tells TDO that seeing this only makes him want to fight harder and now he will show TDO a world "without Shadow".

In the cavern, Nynaeve works to save Alanna's life. All her Power is still wrapped up in the link with Rand, so she has to sew and use her herbs and all her know-how from being the Wisdom of Emond's Field.

As Rand tries to weave together the possibility of a world without the Shadow, he finds that the threads resist him and he wonders if that is because of how unlikely such a world is. iirc, Rand's upcoming dreamworld is a moment that the show has already given us great set-up for with the fantasy that Rand gets from Ishamael in episode 8 and is another illustration of how far ahead Rafe & co were thinking with all their choices in the first season.

He chooses to create Caemlyn, to wash the taste out of his mouth of having seen the horrible vision that TDO showed him last time. Trees are in full bloom, there isn't a cloud in the sky, and children don't recognize what a sword is. He asks to visit the queen and is directed towards the gardens, though he first travels through a hallway of magic mirrors, letting him see this paradise reflected in other lands: a peaceful meadow in the Mountains of Mists, the Stone a museum instead of a fortress, the rebuilt towers of Malkier, the Chora Fields of the Age of Legends surrounding the city of Rhuidean as he hears Aiel voices lifted in song. No locks on the doors. No more need for money -- "a nearly forgotten eccentricity". Channelers create food for everyone and Aes Sedai heal anyone who suffers injury.

His own grave in the Blasted Lands, where his body had been burned after the Last Battle, overgrown with leaves, grass, and flowers. Rand pauses at this window for a long moment before he moves onward into the gardens.

Elayne sits alone in the gardens, not too far from the garden wall where he once fallen in and met her for the first time. "Elayne was as beautiful as she'd been when they'd last parted. She was no longer pregnant, of course. A hundred years had passed since the Last Battle. She appeared not to have aged a day." When Elayne sees him, she greets him in surprise.

18. She wonders if her daughter is using the Mask of Mirrors to play a prank on her, but Rand sinks down to one knee before her and tells her that he's real. And, as he looks into her eyes and listens to her voice, he realizes that "something was wrong".

19. "That simpering tone, that vapid reaction... Elayne had never been like that." He gets more disturbed as she continues, talking about Aviendha spending her week off from singing to do "nursery duty". "Aviendha. Tending children and singing to chora trees. There was nothing wrong with that, really. Why shouldn't she enjoy such activities? But it was wrong, too. He thought Aviendha would be a wonderful mother, but to imagine her seeking to spend all day playing with other people's children..."

20. When he looks into Elayne's eyes, he sees the same kind of blankness that he's seen in those forcibly Turned to the Shadow. He accuses TDO of having done something to her. But TDO asks him, "Did you think that removing me from their lives would leave them unaltered?"

21. "She was not herself... because Rand had taken away her ability to be herself." Again! This resonates so well with what was set up in episode eight! Rafe is playing the long game!

22. I do have to... interject a side note: this scene really couldn't be done with Min because... this horror that Rand accidentally did to Elayne, stripping her of her autonomy in an attempt to create a world without Shadow... is basically what Min did to herself in LoC.

He’ll have to take me as I am, [Min] thought, twitching the reins irritably. I’m not changing for any man. Only, her clothes would have been as plain as any farmer’s not that long ago, her hair had not been in ringlets almost to her shoulders, and a small voice whispered, You’ll be whatever you think he wants you to be.

Honestly, that's a big part of why I dislike how prophecy is used in a couple of the romances (Min->Rand and Mat->Tuon) because it feels like it's been used to strip away their autonomy and yet this loss of their self doesn't get treated like a horror even though their 'choice' to chase Rand/marry Tuon was done because they believed they had no choice.

23. Rand weeps in despair at all the loss of life that is going on in the Last Battle outside of Shayol Ghul. "He should have been able to protect them. Why couldn't he? Against his will, the names began to replay in his mind. The names of those who had died for him, starting with only women, but now expanded to each and every person he should have been able to save - but hadn't." But he refuses to give in to TDO's offer to 'stop fighting and rest'. And TDO spins another possibility for him...

24. The next offer that TDO makes is 'nothing'. Aka oblivion for all of existence. He claims that it is the same as the 'peace of the void' that Rand seeks so often. Rand gives the offer due consideration, and then rejects it.

25. Rand feels Egwene's death and it shakes him hard. Egwene's name is added to the list in his mind, and despair claws at him as TDO gloats that the dead belong to him.

26. Rand is watching the whole battle play out -- he sees Elayne (captive and alone), he see Rhuarc (his mind forfeit), Mat (desperate, facing down horrible odds), and Lan (riding to his death).

Demandred's words dug at him. The Dark One's pressure continue to tear at him.

Rand had failed.

But in the back of his mind, a voice. Frail, almost forgotten.

Let go.

Elayne & Mat (& Fortuona & Min & Galad)

Elayne is heading into the main Seanchan camp to talk to Mat about why he appears to be changing the battle plans without letting her know. Along the way, they deal with some Draghkar and Elayne deliberately deafens her side so that they will be able to ignore their song. After this, she's approached by a sul'dam and damane pair and, reluctantly, allows the damane to heal her ears. Elayne is, btw, wearing sturdy boots.

Elayne has also been paying attention to how the Seanchan behave, and so she does not talk to any of the sul'dam herself, because she's noticed that they care a LOT about who talks to who. This sul'dam in particular is highborn, Elayne suspects from the shaven sides of her head, so she'll definitely feel insulted by Elayne not being willing to speak to her. <3

Elayne also notes here that the Seanchan highborn seem to dislike the idea of being healed with the Power ("Why any of you would want to be Healed by an animal is beyond me," the sul'dam says). But she also points out that there's a gap between what the Seanchan claim is true and what they actually seem to do -- they say they disapprove of healing but are having their damane learn the weaves.

Mat and Elayne's relationship seems to be fairly healthy here which honestly is fascinating given... you know. Tuon and the whole Seanchan defection. Elayne insults Mat when she greets him, but he finds it amusing, just as she suspected that he would. He's made up a throne for her in Andoran red-and-gold, extra cushioned, and with a still-steaming cup of tea waiting for her! Husband behavior! Not the kind of ~husband behavior~ that Mat derided all throughout TGS but actual "I care about your comfort" behavior.

She notes that his clothing "smelled of some kind of compromise" -- Tuon agreed to let Mat wear clothing in the style that he preferred as long as it was silk? Elayne also notes that he's wearing a pink ribbon around his hat. And that is also fascinating because Mat had two very specific memories about Tylin's (pink) ribbons in his second chapter in this book (right before he saw Tuon again), and they were both extremely negative. The first time was when his scarf around his neck reminded him of "a ribbon that felt like a chain" and the second was his flashback to the pink ribbons when he saw Tylin's headboard/bed. So for Mat to put a pink ribbon around his hat is... interesting. A reminder of the chains that he's still wearing? We're not in his PoV, so we don't get his reasoning, and I don't think he ever thinks about it in his own PoV.

"All in all, Elayne was impressed by how easily the scout mixed his obeisance and his report. She was also sickened. No ruler should demand such of her subjects. A nation's strength came from the strength of its people; break them, and you were breaking your own back."

I am also really really curious by what (silent) Fortuona might be thinking of the casual & intimate way that Mat and Elayne are talking to each other here, given how jealous she's gotten in the past. Elayne noted when she entered the tent that Fortuona was present ("dressed in enough green silk to supply a shop in Caemlyn for two weeks" and with Min standing silently at her side) but has not engaged with her at all.

"You spent this whole week planning with us, and you knew the entire time you'd throw [the plans] out with the dishwater." Anyway, Mat says that he didn't know the entire time, but that he needs to keep the plans in his head if they want them to be safe from the Forsaken. Also, Elayne, in contrast to most of the people who have interacted with Mat recently, is able to figure out what he's thinking just from a couple of micro-expressions.

But it's interesting/frustrating the implied changes that have happened over the course of this week of off-screen planning -- aka Tuon compromising with Mat. Because it happens off-screen, we don't actually find out why Tuon was willing to compromise - is it because, with all his friends around, she's realized that it would be impossible to control him with the methods she would use if they were alone, because he could just... walk fifty feet away and hang out with his powerful friends instead of being stuck with her if she pushes him too far (as he did in the previous chapter when she was trying to force him to sit in judgement)? Has she actually had off-screen character development (if so, stop having important emotional moments happen off-screen!)? We just don't know.

Mat is also still calling Fortuona "Tuon". And that scene ended with Elayne never, at any point, engaging with Tuon and she also never thinks of Fortuona as "Mat's wife", only as "the Seanchan Empress". Surely she has to know by this point that they're married but she Does Not Think About It. I genuinely have so many questions -- one of the primary ones being: where has Mat been sleeping this last week? Does the fact that Mat was saying "Tuon's tent" in the previous chapter mean that he has his own tent separate from hers? Tuon positioned "having sex" as a reward-type situation back when Mat first showed up in Ebou Dar, so is that time in the gardens the only time that they've had sex? Given that Tuon seems to want Min by her side constantly, if she did decide to have sex with Mat again, would she insist on Min staying in the tent with them to keep an eye out for sex-related omens? (we already know that Selucia and at least one or two other guard-slaves would likely be present) Has Mat been avoiding having sex with her or sleeping in the same tent as her so that she doesn't get another chance to steal his medallion? So many questions, absolutely nothing in the narration that gives me any hints at answers.

Okay, our first Mat PoV in this chapter is fascinating because Mat has basically the exact same thought here about Galad that he had about Tuon in an earlier chapter. Compare "[Galad] could have been a statue, with that pretty face and unchanging expression. No, statues had more life." vs "Mat shivered. He didn’t like it when Tuon got like this. That stare of hers... it seemed like the stare of another person. A person without compassion. A statue had more life to it." The Whitecloaks = Seanchan comparison is alive and well (or the Seanchan are what the Whitecloaks would be if they had the kind of continent-wide coercive power).

Min is spending all her time in the command tent whispering to Tuon. It sure feels like she swapped super-easily from being Rand's prophecy girl to being Tuon's prophecy girl (okay, okay, I'll cut her some slack since Rand did ask her to watch Fortuona). When Elayne's voice sounds "cold" here, Mat compares her to an Aes Sedai, unlike their earlier encounters. Also... it doesn't sound like Selucia is around? Did she get demoted again? Elayne also... sorta speaks to Tuon here? But then quickly swaps back to talking to Mat only lol.

Mat realizes that there's a spy either inside or just around the command tent, because of how quickly Demandred is responding to his changes.

Mat is amused by the fact that Elayne has managed to "shift" her throne around so that it's either the same height or slightly higher than Tuon's, so he hasn't ~embraced Tuon's dignity as his own~ or however the Seanchan might put it.

15. Hmm, we also have confirmation here that Mat has been... flirting (????? sexually harassing???? who knows with New Mat but probably harassing, sadly) with other Seanchan Bloods, if not in front of Tuon, then in front of people who would report to Tuon, which is another interesting piece of data to put into the puzzle. It really does seem like Mat has managed to (off the page) force a certain level of compromise into his marriage.

16. And, here, Mat slips away with just Elayne and Birgitte so that he can reassure Elayne about his plans in private, even though Tuon questions him walking away (and he doesn't even look back at her because "those eyes could drill through solid steel"). It genuinely seems like some fascinating stuff happened in that week of planning that we didn't get to see! Mat seems a lot less scared of doing things that will upset Tuon. But again, we don't know if that's actually due to a change in Mat and Tuon's relationship or if it's Mat's physical proximity to people who would unquestioningly take his side against hers that gives him new boldness.

17. He tells Elayne that he has a plan to deal with the spy that he believes is listening in at the command tent, and he goes through his entire thought process for her here, which is an astonishingly unprecedented amount of communication from Mat. So Elayne is in on his plan -- and away from the command post so that if things go wrong, she can pick another general to lead them; and he sent a message to Talmanes about his plan as well (that Talmanes signaled that he received), so the only remaining question mark for Mat is whether or not he can "coax" Tuon into doing what needs to be done.

I am going to say that I find it very interesting that when Mat is certain that there's a spy in the command tent and that their security is compromised, he finds a reason to get Elayne away from the command tent. The reason makes tactical sense, of course, but it's interesting.

18. Birgitte tells Elayne that all her older memories are gone now. Her first memories are of waking up to Nynaeve and Elayne in this world. Elayne wants to go after Birgitte, to try to comfort her, but Galad arrives. Galad isn't entirely certain why he's been sent here but he's got time to scold Elayne for being on the battlefield "in your condition". Elayne (accurately) points out that if they lose, it's gonna be a lot worse for the kids. So Elayne and Galad can talk about the kids together but Elayne and Tam can't?

19. Elayne knows Mat so well, even as she claims to despair over understanding him. "I'm convinced that Mat only acts simple so that people will let him get away with more."

20. A letter arrives for Galad from Mat, and Sanderson makes fun of himself when he has Elayne note that Mat's spelling and handwriting is much better in this letter than the one he sent her in ToM. Anyway, he's sent the copy he had of the medallion (Elayne does verify here that it's a copy and not the original) to Galad and told him to go kill as many Sharan channelers as he's capable of killing. Because he feels like "a Whitecloak" will have the stomach to go kill a bunch of channelers. When Galad agrees with Elayne that he shouldn't have a problem with "killing women" and explains that women are just as capable of evil as men are, Elayne tells him "You actually said something that doesn't make me want to strangle you." lol, ilu Elayne. Galad thinks she's joking but, no, of course not.

Characterization note: Mat never gave the medallion copy to Tuon. That was the whole reason that he'd originally held onto it after ToM, with plans to give it to Tuon to protect her. ...and then she stole his medallion and it sounds like he had to do some fast-talking to get it back. And then he never mentions or brings up the copy until this moment when he sends it to Galad.

Did Tuon's betrayal of Mat earlier in AMoL mean that he no longer trusted her with a medallion?

Did Tuon's own paranoia and mistrust screw her out of getting that extra level of protection and trust openly given from Mat, and so Mat held onto it to find another purpose for the copy instead?

21. Min apparently is still spending all her time here quietly whispering to Tuon. She's gotta be someone's little whisper, I guess. She's gotten used to it over the last few books. Anyway, Logain is here because he wants to go fight at Shayol Ghul instead of here at the "battle for the little lives of men". Or he wants to be sent against Demandred, as the "dragon's replacement". Mat finally just gives Logain permission to go fight Demandred if he wants to do it so badly.

22. Ah, here is where Mat has another willful delusion (number five? six? not sure): "What he would give to be done with all of these high heads. Mat might be one of them now, but that could be fixed. All he had to do was convince Tuon to forsake her throne and run off with him. That would not be easy, but bloody ashes, he was fighting the Last Battle. Compared to the challenge he now faced, Tuon seemed an easy knot to untie."

Made up a girl in his head, one that Fortuona will never be. Good luck with that, and all.

This does also show that Mat continues to have no interest in being part of the Seanchan hierarchy (and this is something that is backed up by his actions, like refusing to legitimize himself as the Prince of Ravens by refusing to sit in judgement of soldiers throwing themselves on the Empress's mercy). Though Mat shows signs of protectiveness and sometimes affection towards 'Tuon', he shows no signs of wanting to be involved with 'The Seanchan Empress Fortuona'. It does feel a bit like we're continuing the thread where Sanderson actually gave Mat a reason for his bizarre turnaround in CoT/KoD by having him mentally compare the fear that Tuon/the sul'dam have over channeling with the fear that Rand/male channelers have over channeling -- this is an echo of the 'Rand-friend vs Dragon Reborn-scary' battle that Mat has been having in his brain, off-and-on, ever since he first learned that Rand could channel. I wish that Sanderson had leaned into it more, but even this subtext here is more of an explanation for Mat's change in characterization in CoT than we ever got from Jordan.

I have to admit, the way that it's done does kinda remind me of BBC's Merlin -- in S1, Arthur and Merlin go through this entire character arc of Arthur looking past his prejudices about servants as he becomes Merlin's friend. And then the show aired and large parts of the audience went, "huh, kinda seems like they're in love with each other"; and so the show did a hard reset in S2 and Arthur basically went through that exact same arc with Gwen, who was always meant to be his canon love interest, and went back to being more of a jerk towards Merlin. And in WoT, Mat's struggle between caring about a person vs being put off by/scared of that person's public mask was first grounded in his friendship with Rand, but now it's basically been transferred over to Tuon instead. Basically "oh shit, this character arc makes this character look queer; better shift it over to his canon het love interest STAT".

(but imo this thread works so much better with Rand because the READERS know the real person behind the public mask; and I feel like we never really get that with Tuon -- there are hints that a real person exists but even in her own PoVs, it feels like Tuon is still mostly just The Mask)

23. Tuon signals that it's time for her and Mat to stage their fake fight about the Seanchan pulling out of the battle, picking "I can protect myself" as the issue she wants to fight over, which Mat thinks is kinda silly but whatever. "His plan with Tuon was to take a cue from what Rand had once done with Perrin". ...how did Mat find out about that? I guess from Min? Perrin was asleep and Rand was gone, so I guess it must have been from Min. I'm... pretty sure she knew the Rand & Perrin fight was fake? Or maybe Perrin told him about it during the dinner where Perrin laughed and laughed over how droll it was that Mat had married a slaver. Because Perrin and Mat got to have a reunion dinner.

24. A Gray Man attacks. I'm sorry... are we supposed to believe that this is the same Gray Man from Ebou Dar that escaped back in Mat's second chapter? Because I thought Shadowspawn (including Gray Men?) couldn't go through Gateways? Maybe this Gray Man also has Mat's non-channeling teleportation skills. Anyway, this time the Gray Man is attacking Mat just as channelers invade the command tent (so... literally proving the point that Mat had just made about how the tent was no longer secure) so Min... throws herself at Tuon to protect her? Why is Min's first instinct "protect the head slaver"? Why is Min in the tank for the Seanchan so quickly?

Min also manages to knock over Tuon's ten-foot tall throne, so it sounds like it's actually made of pretty flimsy materials. That kinda feels like an unintentional metaphor -- looks imposing but is basically paper mache. lol.

25. Anyway, this is the first time Tuon shows any shred of an actual... like... positive emotion towards Mat? (I don't count "laughing at him because she views him as a brainless sex toy" as a positive emotion) So I guess we should celebrate that. Because when everyone gets attacked, Tuon runs over to try to help Mat with the Gray Man, "growling softly in an almost feral way". Once again, I am deeply curious about the mysterious changes that happened in their relationship during that skipped over week of planning, that resulted in Tuon compromising with Mat and now appearing to actually give a shit that he might die (... or she might just be possessive and not want to lose her new favorite toy? But I will choose to extend the benefit of the doubt).

26. And, once again, Min's entire priority list seems to be Tuon. ?????? Why are you so obsessed with her? Since we're in your PoV right now, could you explain to the readers why you're so deep in the tank for the Seanchan and Fortuona? Would love a reason. Anyway, she can't reach her new-found love, Fortuona, so she slips out of the tent to see if she can help any other way, and runs into Siuan.

27. When Min tells her that she needs to go find Bryne because that's the only way she'll survive, Siuan says that she can't leave because "Cauthon is in danger." Hey, you were willing to call him 'Mat' back in book three. But anyway, she says, "If Cauthon falls, this battle is lost! I don't care if we both die from this. We must help. Move!" So. Siuan. The tent is on fire. Would you say that you were there to help Mat "when the flames are high?" Just asking.

28. Okay, there's a whole group of Gray Men attacking Mat, so we're not supposed to think it was the one from Ebou Dar. But that's a gun that never went off, now that I think about it.

29. MIN! Yelling at the terrified damane to help when her sul'dam is dead is pointless if you don't FREE HER from the collar. She isn't capable of channeling without her sul'dam's permission. You should know this. YOU WERE IN FALME WITH EGWENE! Egwene explained all of this to you! (also, I think Min left the poor nameless damane to die in the burning tent, since she would also be incapable of running away on her own if she's still leashed? Slave-masters always get rescued before slaves, after all, and Min has yet to actually voice any objections to slavery since she has joined up with the Seanchan)

30. Anyway, Min successfully throws a knife at the remaining Gray Man and Mat hauls an unconscious Tuon up over his shoulder, and we have sadly saved the head slaver's life yet again. "Never had [Min] been so happy to see a knife fly true." ????? I mean, I guess the idea is that saving Tuon means that Mat is willing to leave the burning tent but still... didn't she once save Rand's life during some event or other? Or maybe I imagined that and this is the first time Min's knife skills have ever been useful, idk.

31. Oh, and Siuan is dead. Happened when Min wasn't looking. So we traded Siuan's life for Tuon's. Not worth it. Min gets a break from being the Distressed Damsel because Rand isn't around and so Tuon gets assigned the role. I feel like... maybe the narrative should have focused on whatever it was that Siuan was doing to help there, instead of what Min did? Also, it seems somewhat convenient that Siuan died before she got a good look at Tuon, because Siuan has a Talent for seeing ta'veren.

32. I wish... I really wish that Sanderson had given us the compromise conversation between Tuon and Mat. I wish that we'd actually gotten that conversation on the page, instead of just implying that something has changed because Elayne notices the effects. Because then maybe I would also give a shit about Tuon instead of just kinda wishing that someone would let one of these assassins take her out.

33. Okay, our first ~Fortuona~ PoV since the week of planning that appeared to have led to compromises in her marriage with Mat. Let's see how things stand with little miss slaver. She refuses to be healed by damane herself, though she seems vaguely tolerant of the idea of other people being healed by them.

34. I have to roll my eyes over Fortuona thinking about how her slave-guard's 'honor' depends on her fatally punishing them for their failures. It's like how she pretended that she was the one who most regretted having had Selucia beaten a time or two back in her initial intro PoV, rather than the actual person who got their ass whipped. It's just toxic brain-vomit that speaks of how deeply conditioned Fortuona is by her culture. If she actually cared about any of them as people (she doesn't, of course; she cares about them as property that she owns) then she would care about trying to dismantle the part of their brainwashing culture that says that their lives should be forfeit if they have failed her.

Anyway, she assigns them to go off to be suicide troops in the battle. Oh, and Selucia is here now, in the aftermath, with an injury. So I guess she in the tent that whole time, it's just that no one mentioned her. Poor Selucia. She really has gone back to being nothing but Tuon's Voice.

35. Fortuona raises "Darbinda" aka Min to the Blood for saving her and Mat's life, and Min isn't impressed enough for her liking (I'm also not ever going to be using that name for Min again). "How like [Mat] she was. Stubbornly humble, these mainlanders. They were actually proud - proud - of their low-born heritage. Baffling." Have you- have you considered having an actual conversation with one of them about why? And about the name thing too -- both Min and Mat are people who actively choose to go by shortened versions of their names. Maybe ask them why they don't consider forcible re-naming to be an honor (and Fortuona should know that Mat feels that way, since she glared at him and willed him not to argue when she re-named him).

Though, of course, given that Fortuona Must Always Have Slaves Around Her at all times, having a conversation like that with Mat or Min becomes a bit trickier, because if they give good answers to her questions about why they don't care about being part of the Blood, Fortuona's slaves will hear those answers. That's a major downside to the whole "nothing is private (when you have slaves)" lifestyle that Fortuona is rocking. She probably doesn't even really understand what having privacy would be like (once again, I have to say what a huge mistake it was for Jordan to have Selucia along on the circus journey, because it meant that Tuon was still wallowing in her toxic slave-owner culture during that entire time period, because she always had a slave on tap to make sure that she kept The Mask up at all times). Because though Tuon doesn't see her slaves as people, she does always need to be The Owner when they are around (which is always).

36. Mat looks over to her and gives her a nod, to let her know that they should have their fake break-up fight now. Alas that it isn't a real break-up fight. So they fight over how Mat should have warned them all sooner that the tent wasn't safe. Interesting note: though many of the Seanchan look at Mat with "accusing" eyes after she lays her charge, Galgan frowns and Fortuona notes that he doesn't seem to agree with her accusation. "Impressive, that [Mat] had converted Galgan so quickly." Anyway, after a super-quick fight where Mat is just like "okay, fine, storm off in a tizzy if you want, see if I care"; Fortuona turns around and does just that.

37. Interesting that their fake fight actually got Mat's genuine temper up. And he wonders if Tuon was genuinely angry as well and if she will genuinely abandon the fight rather than come back as planned. Interestingly enough, Fortuona didn't have a single spark of genuine anger in her PoV. It was all her following the plan. So it sounds like the fight involved a lot more of Mat's genuine frustrations than it did Tuon's. "I've had it with you. You and your bloody Seanchan rules just keep getting in the way," does feel like a pretty accurate representation of how Mat has been feeling in a lot of the Seanchan-related scenes that he's been forcing himself to endure, yeah. But Fortuona assumed, in her PoV, that Mat was entirely acting and that none of his reactions were genuine -- "he was good at this". Mat and Tuon are still looking at each other and seeing someone completely different than the person who is really there.

38. What Mat says to Min here is also genuinely fascinating. I don't particularly like Mat & Tuon, even now, but I am finding them much more interesting (in a 'watching a bug through a glass' sort of way) than I ever found them in the Jordan books. Because Mat tells Min to "keep an eye on" Tuon and then clarifies that he doesn't mean in a "protection" way but in a "watch her" way. "She worries me, Min."

...I do kinda have to giggle at Mat saying that Tuon doesn't need protection and is a "strong one" when Mat literally just had to haul her unconscious ass out of a burning tent because she basically failed immediately when she went to go help him with the Gray Men. But, hey, I appreciate that Mat didn't let the narrative shoehorn Tuon into the role of his Personal Distressed Damsel even when it was clearly trying its hardest to force her into that position.

39. Oh, so Mat and MIN get a hug when they say goodbye. *eternal grumbles at how the ONLY PERSON who didn't get an emotionally appropriate reunion with Mat was his fucking best friend*

40. Ugh, is this where Mat starts calling her "Fortuona"? Because he's decided to take Karede's suicide troops into battle with him and Karede refuses to go with him if Mat won't call her "Fortuona"? I guess I'll wait and see if the way that he addresses her actually changes.

Anyway, Mat tells Karede to keep Mat alive "for Tuon" because he's "almost certain that she's fond of" him.

*gazes off into the distance, thinking about how everyone else that Tuon is 'fond' of is a slave that she owns and is fully willing to beat or order to their death if they fail her*

41. Bryne dying off-screen affects me a lot less than Siuan somehow managing to die off-screen in a scene that she was actively in. Elayne figures that Bryne's fit of rage that sent him running towards Trollocs and got him killed means that Siuan is dead.

Siuan and Moiraine never got to see each other again. 😭

(fingers crossed for her getting to take Thom's place as the watcher outside the cave in the show version, if we get to the ending)

42. Yeah, from what we've seen in every other PoV and perspective, Perrin is the only person who thinks that Elayne isn't good at tactics. So we can safely discount his opinion as just him being an asshole who thinks that the only woman worth listening to is his wife.

43. "The Shadow pushed with all its might. Humankind did not have days remaining, but hours."

44. A bolt of balefire attacks their camp, and Demandred loudly taunts "Lews Therin" that he is hunting "a woman you love". Of course, Rand can't respond to any of that, no matter how loudly Demandred echoes it across the battlefield with the Power. Birgitte grabs Elayne so that they can get somewhere secret and safe to regroup from, since Elayne herself is the main target now.

45. Of course, Galad can hear the threats and knows that Demandred is actively hunting his sister, so now he has twice the reason to try to kill the man -- killing his brother and trying to kill his sister. In order to get Demandred to fight him directly, Galad loudly proclaims his relationship to Rand. "[The Dragon Reborn] is not here, but his brother is!" And now Galad and Demandred will duel.

46. Mat finds out from Bashere that no one has heard from Faile. He wonders how he can possible finish off this battle without help from the Horn of Valere. ...maybe you shouldn't have deserted from the Last Battle at the start of the book, Mat? Just a thought. Mat yells at Bashere, which makes him grin and his wife give Mat a fond look -- hey, Mat, bet they'd be willing to let you be a third, especially if you yell at Bashere some more. Still healthier than your marriage with Tuon! Give it some consideration!

47. "He needed an army. And a gateway. He needed a bloody gateway. Fool, he thought. He had sent the damane away. Could he not at least have kept one? Though they did make his skin crawl as if it were covered in spiders." God, this is the first time since Winter's Heart that the narrative has let Mat openly think about how fucking creeped-out he is by damane and what the Seanchan do with them! Mat was so incredibly disturbed by the damane kennels in WH and then in CoT & KoD, he acted like it was the sul'dam who had the raw end of the deal. So, yeah, Mat's first chapter in AMoL had brain-breaking teleportation and he forgot half of his characterization until he was finally allowed out of fucking Ebou Dar (RIP any hopes of an emotionally-resonant Cauthor reunion), but we have seen, over the course of the last few chapters, the slow return of how incredibly disturbed and creeped-out Mat was over the damane system. This was the thing that Jordan essentially made Mat forget in order to get him to be willing to suck face with Tuon at the end of KoD, so it's really nice to see it coming back to life. Finally.

Maybe Min will also remember at some point how fucking awful the damane system is.

48. Oh, Mat gets to reunite with Loial now? *insert annoyed grumbles about how Mat & Rand is pretty much the only important relationship that got completely cheated by how Sanderson decided to do the plotting of AMoL*

Since I mention Rand:

Those dice kept ratting in his head. He also felt a pull from the north, a tugging, as if some threads around his chest were yanking on him.

Now now, Rand, he thought. I'm bloody busy.

No colors formed, only blackness. Dark as a Myrddraal's heart. The tugging grew stronger.

Mat dismissed the vision. Not. Now.

I feel so cheated that this ends up giving me nothing that I wanted, thanks! Why did we bother! I am vibing with so much of Mat's PoV in this book now that we're out of Light-forsaken Altara but I'm so frustrated by how much Sanderson is teasing something that I already know I will not actually get.

49. Mat gets to reunite with Teslyn here. Not that I am not thrilled to have Mat reunite with Teslyn because I am, but it does... frustrate me all over again, how shallow and limp the Cauthor reunion ended up being, all happening in the shadow of the slaver ball-and-chain. Every time Mat gets a better reunion with someone else, I feel cheated about his reunion with Rand all over again. Anyway, Mat is so happy to see Teslyn that he could kiss her. (he does not)

Teslyn is going to take Mat, Loial, & co up to the Heights. My brain wants to find something symbolic in the fact that after Mat sends away Tuon & the damane, the first channeler that he runs into is Teslyn and she is the one who is enabling all his battleground hopping as he sends out order after order.

Something, something, wrong road vs right road.

Tylin... Tuon... Teslyn. Women that Mat met in Ebou Dar who have similarly rhythmic 'T' names. Tuon was jealous of Joline but it was Teslyn who started the ball rolling on Mat helping the Aes Sedai escape Ebou Dar.

idk. Maiden, mother, crone vibes, but the maiden & the mother are both abusive?

50. Demandred and Galad duel; Demandred tries to taunt Galad about Gawyn's death in order to break his focus. Galad realizes that the main purpose of what he's doing here is keeping Demandred's focus off of the armies and off of Elayne. It's in Galad's best interests to last as long against Demandred as he can. Some more fighting happens but then Galad's arm gets cut off, and he too, has lost his duel against Demandred.

51. I've seen objections to Mat personally leading the fight at this point but -- the situation is pretty dire and his command tent was blown up. Maintaining a mobile unit and darting in and out of the battle seems like the best of the bad options at this point?

52. For the moment, Elayne and Birgitte are out of the direct line of the fight. Elayne is not currently flying her banner, but she's sent messages to her commanders to let them know she still lives. Then a fake band of refugees arrives, hiding Mellar, who still has his copy of the medallion and who is here because he is still obsessed with Elayne. She thinks here that he's "the one many people still assumed fathered her children". So Elayne sent out the "Rand is the baby-daddy" press release but some people actively chose to continue to believe that slimy Mellar was the daddy? Gross. He has, apparently, been trying to track Elayne down this entire time.

53. He kills Birgitte and the loss of the bond -- and the loss of her friend -- tears at Elayne. They also have another corpse -- a woman dressed to look like Elayne, with her hair color -- that they plan to parade around to pretend to everyone that Elayne is dead. His next plan is to cut her babies out of Elayne -- ah, this must be why we jumped her pregnancy so far ahead, so that it wouldn't be quite so ridiculous that her babies could be kept alive after this -- and TDO gets the kids while Mellar gets to keep Elayne.

54. Mat has requested that the Seanchan make their return to the battlefield but instead of doing that, Fortuona is taking some time to listen to her captains debate over the subject of returning. While people suffer and die on the battlefield.

55. ...Min thinks here, with no commentary, that a Captain Yulan "had been the one to lead the strike on Tar Valon". Do you... have any opinions on that, Min? No? No opinions. Okay, noted. Her only worry is that she's started to think of her viewings as 'omens'. She really does lose herself in other people so easily. For literally the first time ever, Min uses her viewings to try to suss out a spy. Wow, Rand would have found this extremely useful, Min! She notices that one of the random so'jihn (those are slaves, Min, btw, in case you've forgotten about the existence of slavery) has a bunch of images over her head the way that normally only Aes Sedai, Warders or ta'veren do.

56. Part of her wants to just try to stab the woman, but instead she goes to confront Fortuona, asking her to please define what a Truthspeaker is. Fortuona... reluctantly... allows that it's her job to call Fortuona out in public if she screws up. So Min turns to the Blood and says, "[Tuon] has abandoned the armies of humankind, and she withholds her strength in a time of need. Her pride will cause the destruction of all people, everywhere."

She calls out the member of the Blood that the spy has compelled while throwing a dagger at the spy -- which is caught mid-air using the Power. After Moghedien (I'm assuming) escapes, Min says that this shows that the Shadow is trying to keep them from the battle. "With that in mind, will you still pursue this course of indecision?"

57. Tuon does claim here that following this mandate that Min has pressed upon her is "follow[ing] what my heart would choose". Is that true? Who knows? At least she's going back. Tuon also seems to regret slightly that she's now placed someone into the position of Truthspeaker who doesn't have the kind of trained-in deference that Selucia had. Grass is always greener.

Question: does Tuon's 'heart' matter if she still actively chooses evil unless her feet are held to the fire? That is the sort of... moral question that I feel like should have been at play way earlier in the Mat & Tuon relationship. Sanderson is actually using the basic foundations of Mat & Tuon to much greater emotional complexity than we saw at work in CoT & KoD but because it's happened after we already saw that stagnant Tuon in those two books... it's hard for this to feel earned by the narrative. It works a lot better if I close my eyes and try to imagine that we had a better lead-up in the earlier books, lol.

58. Mat learns that Egwene has died (Blood and bloody ashes, Mat thought. Egwene. Not Egwene too? It hit him like a punch to the face.) and half the Aes Sedai have exhausted themselves too much to keep channeling but all the Sharan channelers have been taken out of the picture. Then we also witness Mat's coping mechanism in action -- when his mind wanders back to Egwene, he abruptly cuts the thought off. "No thinking of that right now". Instead, he forces his mind back to business and asks if they've gotten any new troops from Mayene, healed up and ready to fight again. Lan says that he'll check.

59. Then Mat digs in his saddlebags, pulling out Rand's banner, "the one of the ancient Aes Sedai" and he tells them, "Somebody hoist this thing up. We're fighting in Rand's bloody name. Let's show the Shadow we're proud of it."

So many things that could be said here. Frustrating how late this happens? I guess that's my main feeling here, which is a shame. I wish that it could feel more triumphant for me, but this is essentially where Mat already was before he had his weird teleportation to Ebou Dar at the start of AMoL, so it's mostly just me being frustrated that none of this was allowed to exist when Rand was actually here for Mat to interact with him. Mat's friendship with Rand disappeared from the narrative just long enough to avoid us actually getting any kind of emotionally-resonant scene between them and that just... will probably always be something that I will find deeply regretful about the choices Sanderson made in this book.

But I don't want to hold onto my frustration forever, I guess. Mat really has gotten a lot better over the last few chapters. I will choose to be glad that Mat has gotten to a better place again with Rand, even if it's still bizarre that he suddenly backtracked on him at the start of this book.

60. Mat is hoping that his luck will come through when another messager brings news. The Queen of Andor is reported dead. (Bloody ashes! Not Elayne! Mat felt a lurch inside. Rand... I'm sorry.) Just like with Egwene, though, he doesn't let any of that emotion show through to the soldiers, only asking the messenger who is now in charge of the battlefield.

61. He wonders if he might not be able to win even if the Seanchan do return. If it might not be better to let the Seanchan/Fortuona hunker down in Ebou Dar and... die anyway in a few weeks or months? lol, that's not a mercy for them, Mat. But he did just hear that two people he cares about deeply are dead, so I'll give him a little slack for momentarily wishing that he didn't have to call Tuon back to her potential death too, even if he's still never given me anything he actually likes about her besides "hot enough to have sex with".

...oh, and he then learns here that Lan disobeyed his orders and went off to head towards Demandred on his own.

But Mat moves forward with his plan anyway, even though he's fairly sure it won't be enough.

Horn of Valere Team (Faile; Olver)

Faile & co run across a camp in the Blasted Lands that is being used as a supply station for the Shadow's army.

Aravine betrays the group and is a Darkfriend. I am... struggling to remember who she is. brb, will check the wiki. ahhh, she's one of the people that Faile met while she was a captive of the Shaido; a fellow captive. Anyway, Darkfriend, and she finds the Horn in Faile's bag at this point and says that she will deliver it to "Lord Demandred". Olver gets free and stabs the woman who is keeping Faile captive.

Faile grabs a horse (miraculously, it is Bela) and gives chase after Aravine, soon joined by Harnan and Vanin. She accuses them of trying to steal the Horn but they protest that they were only trying to steal the tabac that they thought she was carrying, because Mat owes them money, and seeing the Horn in there came as a huge shock to them (which is why they dropped it and didn't take it with them when they ran).

She throws a knife at Aravine's back and recovers the Horn. She finds Olver again, but they are being hunted by the Shadow's forces, who now know they have the Horn. She gives the Horn to Olver and tells him to get it to Mat. Then she gets back on a different horse (not Bela), making sure that the sack she carries is obvious, and heads off on distraction duty.

So Olver has the Horn. He's pretty stressed because now he's all alone again, as the Darkfriends and Trollocs chase after Faile. "How brave he had thought himself. Now, here he was, finally at the battle. He could barely keep his hands from trembling. He wanted to hide, dig deep into the earth."

A Trolloc discovers him and Olver sees Bela still there and runs for her, wishing he had a horse that looked faster. He races towards where he can see Mat's banners on the horizon, but more Trollocs keep appearing. And Bela gets shot by a Trolloc arrow and goes down. He tries racing up the mountain to reach Mat's banners but they're so far away. He finds a crevasse and wedges himself into it, trying to push deep enough that he's out of the reach of the Trollocs. Poor kid. This is all incredibly traumatizing for him.

He couldn't stop shaking. He also couldn't make himself move. He trembled, terrified, as the beasts pried at him with filthy fingers, digging closer and closer.

Other Misc PoVs

We get a Tam PoV that continues to have zero acknowledgement of the whole "Tam knows he's going to be a grandfather" thing. It's just weird at this point.

Okay, what Uno thinks about Mat ("He still didn't understand why anyone would put Cauthon in charge of anything. He remembered that boy, always snapping at people, eyes sunken in his head. Half-dead, half-spoiled.") should also have been what Min remembered about Mat. The last time they both saw him was around that same time period of Falme, when Mat was deep in the grip of the dagger-sickness. This is the Mat that Min would have met!

Perrin wakes up and is told that they were able to heal him so that he wouldn't die and will recover but that's all they can do for him. Healing needs to be saved for other people too, so "your participation in the Last Battle is over". And then he goes back to sleep, but regular sleep this time.

Graendal collects Rhuarc as one of her pets. 😭

...why am I supposed to care that Demandred has feelings for women (or, I guess, A Woman)? I really have absolutely no reason to care about Demandred's love life. Why am I being told any of this? Was someone worried that readers would think Demandred was gay for obsessing so much over Lews Therin, so a "Have I Mentioned I Am Heterosexual Today?" moment was thrown in to avoid that? It does seem put in to deliberately contrast for his, uh, "burning passion that was his hatred for Lews Therin".

Another possibility is that this is a relationship meant to foil/reflect Mat and Tuon's? Shendla sounds just as willfully delusional about her future with ~her Wyld~ as Mat always sounds when he's thinking about his Fictional Tuon Girl. "Oh, just because you do evil things and control an evil army of literal horrors doesn't make you evil, darling! Just because you own slaves command Shadowspawn doesn't make you bad, sweetheart! The evil things that you do don't define you! You can do evil things and be a super-great person! I believe in you!"

We get another Tam PoV where he doesn't think at all about his impending post-Last Battle grandfatherhood.

Our third Tam PoV. No acknowledgement of Elayne's pregnancy and how Rand has been announced to be the father. We have time for Tam to run into Lan and for Lan to be all "ah, the blademaster who gave Rand his sword earned the title" but no time to think about Tam's actual upcoming grandkids. It's so weird how disconnected Elayne's pregnancy manages to be from Rand's plotline even after Rand and her entire army all know about the pregnancy and that Rand is the father! Somehow, this plotline is still only considered relevant to Elayne herself and not relevant to Rand or Tam at all????

Androl pickpockets Taim for the true seals, I think? I feel like maybe Sanderson should have leaned into the pickpocketing thing for Androl. tbh, this plotline has felt pretty pointless, lol. The Asha'man could have just been part of the army in the other plotlines and nothing of value really would have been lost.

Okay so... why are the Sharan channelers such experts in war, anyway? Because it doesn't sound like they've constantly been having civil wars, the way that the Seanchan have, so where have they been getting their experience in fighting? You can't become an expert fighter in a vacuum.

The Band has been secretly hidden in caverns deep underground so that they can work on repairing the dragons (with Aludra's expertise guiding the way, of course), waiting on Mat's order (with Asha'man and gateways to get them out again) for them to attack once more.

The Tuatha'an work as battlefield triage, going through the bodies trying to find those who are only wounded and might be saved. "The Way of the Leaf was an easy master at times, providing a life of joy and peace. But a leaf fell in calm winds and in the tempest; dedication demanded that one accept the latter as well as the former."

Raen asks Ila what they would have asked these people to do, in the face of Trollocs. Ila says that they could have run. That there was no need for them to fight here, right at the cusp of the Blight. Raen says that the Trollocs would have followed. "We have accepted many masters. The Shadow might treat us poorly, but would it really be worse than we have been treated at the hands of others?" Ila asks, but Raen disagrees. "It would have been worse. I am not going to abandon the Way, Ila. It is my path and it is right for me. Perhaps... perhaps I will not think quite so poorly of those who follow another path." Ah. They're talking about/mourning Aram. Ila says, "I shouldn't have turned my back on him. I should have tried to help him return to us, not cast him out." She had always felt as if she knew the answers in life. Today, most of those had slipped from her. Saving a person's life though... that she could cling to. She headed back among the bodies, searching for the living among the dead.

Galad ends up in the Mayane hospital. I wonder if he still has his copy of the medallion. I assume he does. Not sure when he'd have had a chance to give it back.

Ah, asked and answered. Berelain finds the medallion around Galad's neck as he whispers "back to Cauthon", so she takes the medallion and heads off at a brisk pace.

Loial and Erith take a moment to rest together before the final charge of the Last Battle. Loial has managed to take notes here and there, for a story that he'd like to pretend that he'll still get to write. "There was no harm to such a little lie."

The night grows darker as Lan charges towards Demandred and we pass our final Tam PoV of this chapter... still no mention of the fact that he knows he's going to have grandkids. (or the news going through the army that Elayne is reported dead? or anything like that?)

18. Ah, Lan was the one who received the note from Berelain with the medallion - I do not know how Galad ended up with this, but I believe he wished me to send it to Cauthon. I wish that Lan had cleared this plan with Mat tbh! But anyway, Lan does have three things here as he faces off with Demandred: one that Gawyn had (he's a Warder, with that boost in endurance) and one that Galad had (a medallion to protect him from weaves) plus he also has twenty years of experience fighting at the side of an Aes Sedai in a quest to locate the Dragon Reborn. It sounds very much like his reasoning is the same as Gawyn and Galad as well -- this is a necessary job, and I'm a person who is already here and can be risked to do that job.

19. "Lan held nothing back." He knows that he can't afford to give Demandred time to think, so he just goes for a relentless assault. Demandred does pretty quickly figure out the 'just channel things at him' trick, so Lan is dealing with dodging rocks as well. Demandred is just so certain that anyone who can hold their own against him is Lews Therin! It's honestly been kinda the comic relief of this chapter.

20. Then he uses one of the lessons that he taught Rand (that Rand used in his battle against Ishamael in Falme) -- he deliberately lets Demandred stab him so that he can get close enough to stab his own sword through Demandred's throat.

The world grew dark as Lan slipped backward off the sword. He felt Nynaeve's fear and pain as he did, and he sent his love to her.

#wot #wheel of time #wot reread #wot book spoilers #wot spoilers #wot amol spoilers #wot a memory of light spoilers #mat cauthon #egwene al'vere #elayne trakand #rand al'thor #seanchan content warning #faile bashere #olver (wheel of time)

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paintingpuff · 8 months

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Ooh the backstory for the comic sounds so cool! Could you maybe post the short story?

Sure, I'll put it under the cut!

Keep in mind the comic is an adaptation so the story had to go through some changes.

File info says this was made during quarantine which definitely explains why I can't remember writing it

My sister--and most people in our village, in fact--think that my child is not my own. One would assume it was because of the incident a month after my daughter’s birth, where I walked into her room only to find a fairy flying out the window, a bundle in her arms.

But that’s not why my sister thinks my daughter is fae, because I didn’t tell anyone about that incident. Instead, my sister says it’s because my child is acting odd. It’s a logic I can’t understand, since all children are strange to me.

I love the way they approach the world with a mix of naivete and eagerness. I’ve even met children that don’t realize that a scrape or scratch is supposed to hurt until you look alarmed. They have no understanding of common sense, because everything they do is for the first time in their life. They’re honest, harsh, and innocent in a manner that is gradually clogged up with new responsibilities and knowledge as they grow older.

Their world is limited, and as such they completely permeate it. It’s fragile and destructive in a way I don’t think can be replicated, not after that window of early childhood has passed.

I see it in every child, and my daughter does not seem any more unusual. But my sister insists that there is a difference, and shakes her head whenever she thinks it’s relevant.

My child has broken the table. Not much, she just jumped on the top one too many times and its leg splintered. I’m not going to get it replaced, or get it fixed, or at least not immediately.

She got in a fight with some other children in town, they said something that she just couldn’t understand and she lashed out with a stick. The other kid only had a red mark on his skin from the impact, at least.

My daughter hates being around others, and spends most of her time back home, where it’s quiet. I once tried taking her to the market and she broke down crying, sitting in the middle of the road. I consoled her there, crouching in the dirt path, and tried ignoring the judgemental stares from people passing by. She would rather spend hours on end at the edge of the forest. I don’t let her explore on her own, and when I’m gone the others say she always stands just before the trees become too dense and stares off, wistfully.

She’s a picky eater, but a very hungry one. I can’t find a consistent set of taste, and each new meal feels like a gamble of my time, but I have to take those chances because I can’t have her eating only eggs and milk for each meal of the day.

She doesn’t like being touched, reacts to my fingers as if they’ve given her rashes, and for the longest time I felt lost because I didn’t know how else to comfort her.

(I found my ways eventually. When she gets upset, I take my grandmother’s woolen scarf from its rack and wrap her in it. She loves running her hands along the threads.)

After long days of gathering food and walking from errand to errand I’m woken up in the middle of the night by her, and we both struggle to go back to sleep from her nightmares. When she was a baby she wailed as loud as she could, because she knew doing that would bring me to her. Now I’m afraid that I won’t hear her and she’ll think I left her alone on purpose. My friends comment on the bags under my eyes always getting darker. I know they’re trying to remind me that it’s a bad thing.

They call her a changeling, something that has replaced my real baby. The child I gave birth to is out in those woods, the stories say, maybe dancing with fairies or being sacrificed to the devil. But in the meantime, they say I am left with a parasitical replica, a creature that saps me of my energy, food and time.

I sometimes wonder if they’ve ever had a child before.

I do my best to brush off the people in town, but my sister is more insistent. I know she’s just being protective since my husband’s passing, but something snapped in me with the way she spoke. I yelled that the stories of the fae were all hogwash, and she asked me how I could be so sure. So I told her the truth:

I had already seen the fairy.

I had returned home early from the market, and had seen my daughter sitting at the edge of the forest, like always. Her hand was raised to the air, a single finger stretched parallel to the ground. This didn’t seem out of the ordinary to me, and I was about to head back inside and prepare dinner, when I saw a flicker of movement.

A tiny sparrow emerged from behind a tree, and settled on my daughter’s finger.

It was difficult to see her face from my angle, but just from the outline of her cheeks I could tell she was grinning from ear to ear. The bird whistled to her, and the child gave a raspy, unpracticed melody in response. She moved her hand around carefully, not wanting to startle the bird, but a part of me knew that something as simple as a jolt wouldn’t make the bird go away.

The bird was only there for a few minutes before it took off and vanished back into the forest. So my child sat up, stained in green but not caring, and ran back to the house. I entered shortly afterwards, acting casual. She didn’t know I saw her, and she didn’t tell me about the bird then, so I can only wonder how many times the bird had come before.

Still, gradually the two of us came to a common understanding: she figured out I knew about the bird, and I knew that she knew.

I hadn’t fully realized we’d had this agreement until my daughter stepped into my house, sharp distress twisting her face. She raised her tiny fingers to show blood spilled on them, but not from any wound of her own. She told me the bird had been missing feathers, had perched on her finger with only one leg, and its song was weaker than before. Her bird calls had already greatly improved, so she imitated the bird’s pained song for me, just to make sure I understood.

She wanted to follow the bird into the woods, see that it’s alright. I crouched down with the scarf, wrapped her in it, and told her that I would find the bird myself.

So I wandered through the dark woods, the sun already starting to set, a torch in hand and a cloak on my shoulders. I heard a whistling in the woods, and the melody rangs familiar. The bird was still singing, and it didn't sound any weaker, but my daughter has always been more attentive to details; I trusted her.

I kept walking, kept following the bird, and for brief flickers in the treetops I saw flaps of wings. It was flying slower than usual. It ducked behind a tree, and when I stepped around to keep my eye on the bird, I saw a child.

It was not my child, but another little girl of a similar age, one with brown hair closer to my own than my daughter’s fiery red. Patterns were dotted across her arms like that of a sparrow’s wings, but her skin was also spotted with bruises and scratches, twigs and leaves and mud in her hair and stuck to her body. She didn't seem to be in pain, and I wondered if anyone had told her that those scratches are supposed to hurt. She hugged the tree, perhaps as a shield or perhaps as comfort.

I crouched down, and kept my voice quiet. “Hello.”

She stepped back a little, keeping her eyes off of me.

“Are you the one who plays with my daughter?”

More silence. I swallowed, my throat already dry. “She considers you a very good friend.”

“She’s my best friend.”

The girl’s voice was rough and unused, but that similar constriction in my chest came when I heard it, and I fully realized that this is just another kid I was talking to. I told her what people call me. The girl gave no response, but I could tell that she was relaxing.

“Are you a fairy?”

The girl nodded. “I can turn into a bunch of different animals.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“A cat, and....a dog, and, uh...I’m a sparrow a lot.”

“Do you like flying around?”

To my surprise, the girl shook her head. She told me she likes landing on my daughter’s finger. “I like singing with her,” she said.

I asked her why she doesn’t transform into different animals to do so much more, and the girl looked at me with the most genuine and honest confusion I’ve seen. She didn’t understand the other options, because this was the only one that mattered to her. Her scope was so small, but she embraced it so wholly that I couldn’t be upset. “Are your injuries okay?” I asked instead.

There was a slight bob of her head, one I almost didn’t see in the dark. “They’ll get healed up.” She pointed over her shoulder to a small ring of mushrooms behind her. I know a fairy circle when I see one, and I nodded in understanding. I left her to vanish in the fog of that forest.

I returned home to my daughter and told her the bird is okay, and will come again tomorrow. She didn’t make a relieved expression or gesture, but gave a very quiet and polite “Thank you,” so I know that she was grateful.

Some of the townsfolk think I’ve had my real child switched with an anomaly, a magic changeling. When I first met the bird, I thought that perhaps she was the changeling that was supposed to replace my child.

But whenever the bird appeared again, I made sure to leave some bread and milk for her, as well as leave our window open, in case she ever needed to rest at our home. My child came to me, wanting to sew a pillow for the bird to sleep on. The snacks I left out became more and more elaborate, from a small bit of porridge to pieces of a cake. Some days I would wake in the morning early enough to see that bird curled up in the roughly made pillow of my daughter’s.

I didn’t even think twice before I moved the pillow to my child’s room, setting it next to her head. I watched her and the bird snore peacefully, and I watched as the bird’s feathers slowly retracted and its silhouette expanded in the faint morning light.

It wasn’t until I saw the two children, holding each other tightly under the warm blankets and roof of their shared house, did I realize that both I and the townsfolk were wrong.

No child of mine had been replaced, nor were they meant to. I simply had two daughters.

#writing #changelings #ask #gray ball

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 3 months

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Sevarion the Torturer (Gene Wolfe's Book of the New Sun)

Sevarion's Advantages: -extensive torture experience -big, sharp beheading sword that he is very chop-happy with -dressed to intimidate as a 80's bdsm goth -believes in some kind of psuedo-christian religion -has his dead noblewoman gf/torture victim's memories and personality -a magical relic that can revive the dead and control minds (when it/Sevarion's feeling it) -he might be an incarnation of Jesus(?) -has canonically climbed a slippery cliff on a rain-swept night

Sevarion's Disadvantages -Incredibly horny, too horny to live -Also the biggest misogynist you can imagine -Not super smart, tends to default to violence -tends to be dominated by strong authorities (given he's lived his life in a super strict caste system) -cannot overstate the horny factor, that alone almost gets him killed like 6 times a book

I think Sevarion makes it? He might just actually be cool with Dracula because the weirdo nobles he serves as a torturer don't seem to be that much better than old batsy. If it comes down to a fight Sevarion has some serious religious clout with the Claw (dunno if it would hurt Dracula, but it seems like it would do something?) and a fighting style based entirely on beheading people, which should be a little scary to a vampire.

What I am getting is that this is a job interview. Dracula is in the market for a Torturer and Sevarion is going to be the next poor sap's problem.

Dracula might be hesitant because, as you say, decapitation is one of the things he's sensitive about. On the other hand Dracula's fatal flaw is arrogance, so this might end up a case of "I never thought the guy who beheads people with his beheading sword was going to behead me!" And you said he comes pre-programmed for obedience.

A horny misogynist who can revive and dominate the dead is going to sooner or later run into the Castle Dracula honeypot - the Girlies. Is he horny, misogynistic, and powerful enough to revive those dead? Fuck you, unvampirizes your babes. Sorry boss, my harem now. Which I think will result in the immediate termination of his employment. But it sounds like he's the kind of guy who knows how to escape out the window without his pants.

So yeah, it sounds like Sevarion the Torturer can survive Castle Dracula, but Dracula might have to delay his dreams of conquest go devote all his energy to correcting that fact, Decapitator or no

#sevarion the torturer #book of the new sun #unindexed

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sweet-villain · 10 months

Text

My Little Joy~ E.M

Words : 6k

Anonymous asked:

Hi!! I love your fics, so i saw is opened and i think it 🤍

I don't know if you make requests about dad!eddie, but here's one; I see a lot of fics about dad!eddie and mom!reader asking their little boy if he wants a brother or sister, but what if they ask and the kid is like "you want another one why don't you like me more?" and start crying? haha poor baby 😅

@babyloutattoo89 @palomam18 @becca-alexa @sadbitchfangirl @alienthingstwo @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch

Those big brown doe eyes lit up as soon as he found out you were pregnant. His mouth was jar as he stared at you in awe and shock. Tears began to shed down his cheeks and you thought he didn’t want this.

“ I-I’m sorry” you mumbled thinking you have made a mistake. Your own hands shock and you dried your bottom lip, wetting it with your tongue and turned around having your back to him.

Eddie’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion on why you turned around and he shooks his head.

He made his way towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into him.

“ No, no, no. You’ve got it wrong, sweetheart. I’m so excited to start a family with you” your pouty lip and the sadness in your eyes changing into surprise and you turned around to look into your husband’s eyes.

It wasn’t that you two talked about having kids one day, it was just after high school things got a little busy with Eddie working in the mechanic shop while you had your own job.

“ Really?” You asked. He nodded, a wide smile appearing on his face.

“ I never wanted something more than this, well more than being your husband is to be a father. To our children” he says, brushing his nose against yours causing you to giggle.

One of his favorite sounds in the world. Your eyes dropped down to your wedding ring on your finger.

It wasn’t too big or too small. It was perfect and it had your initials and his together. He followed your gaze and grabbed your hand in his bringing it up to his lips as he kissed the wedding band.

“ I always think about how lucky I am that day that I got to meet you, to have you as mine, to marry you and live our lives together”

“ You’re such a sap, Eddie Munson” he shrugged with a hint of red on his cheeks.

“ Only for you, sweetheart” his hands came to your stomach, “ I can’t wait to meet our little bugger.”

“ Be nice, Munson” Eddie caught your eye, “ Oh? You want me to be nice? I thought you like it when I’m mean and scary?” He asked, he teased with an eyebrow raised. You couldn’t really tell as it disappeared into his hair line.

“ I like to have both world” you muttered. He was about to say something when your eyes grew wide and you ran to the phone.

“ Wait till Steve and Robin hear about this, and the kids too!” You took the phone off the wall to dial the familiar number that you remember by heart by now. Eddie groaned as he threw his head back.

“ They always have to be the cockblocks” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair and settling down on the couch as he watched you talk on the phone.

From your excitement in your voice and the little jump you had made was that you called Robin first to tell her the news knowing that either Steve was with her or he wasn’t. He would be second to receive the news.

“ He was beyond excited, we’re going to have our little Munson baby” you gushed, squealing. Eddie chuckled before shutting up as you shot him a glare.

He watched as you did the little gesture with putting your hand on your stomach that didn’t even have the bump yet. You were distracted to hear the knock on the door as Eddie turned his head.

He wasn’t expecting anyone and when he looked over to you, your back was to him as you talked on the phone.

He slowly stood up from the couch and made his way to the door.

“ Who is it?” He asked. He didn’t need an answer as the person shoved the other person and the two started to play fight. Eddie rolled his eyes when Dustin and Mike appeared on his doorsteps, shoving one another.

He put his arms across his chest and waited till they were done. You were done on the phone and stood behind Eddie. A chuckle had stopped Dustin and Mike from fighting noticing the door was opened.

“ If you two knuckleheads are done fighting, care to tell me why your here?” Eddie asked. Dustin fixed his hat on top of his head and cleared his throat.

“ We wanted to know if you’ve been working on the next campaign for next week?” Mike asked. “ You’ve postpone the last one and said something about working on something new”

Eddie nodded his head.

“ I’ve been working on something but my two little sheep, I do have a wife” he motions to you which you wave your fingers over at the two of them as they first noticed your standing there. “ And I do have a job too.”

“We-“ Eddie put his finger up to silence them. They know better than to anger Eddie.

“ But, that doesn’t mean I forgot about the campaign and something else has came up, that will have less and less of campaigns happening” Eddie says.

“Eddie” you put your hand on his shoulder, “ It’s okay.” He looked over at you over his shoulder and shook his head. You and his child were going to be more important weather the sheeps liked it or not.

“ What? What does that even mean?” Dustin asked, looking upset between Eddie and you.

“ It means” Eddie took your hand in and smiled.

“ I’m pregnant” you tell them. Both Mike and Dustin looked at each other with happy and shocked looks on their face as they both hugged each other and screamed.

“ Boys!” You shouted causing them to stop their hugging and happy dances.

“ I get it your excited but don’t be so loud. It’s enough that our neighbors don’t like us” you looked to your right and to your left to see if one of. Your neighbors had came out to yell at what or who was being loud.

“ Congratulations Eddie, you’ll be a great dad” Dustin wrapped his arms around Eddie and got a hug and a pat in return as a thanks. Mike went next.

A certain BMW pulled up and an unhappy Steve got out of the car followed by Nancy, Max, Lucas and El who happened to talk all at once. You looked towards at Eddie to crow back at little and over look his shoulder.

“ HEY!” Eddie shouted over them. It all got quiet.

“ Why are you all yelling?” You asked over his shoulder.

“ You told Robin first??? Come on, I was your best friend first” Steve stomped his foot. “ I should of been the first one you should of told” he had his hands on his hips like he usually does. “ And I thought we shared everything together” Nancy said. “ Yeah, sisters for life” El says as had her arms over her shoulder, looking at you grumpily. “ We’re like family” Max added.

“ You’re all like family to me” you came around from Eddie’s shoulder looking at them. “ We’ve been through together so much, and I love each and every one of you. A lot. Trust me.”

“ Doesn’t explain to me why I wasn’t told first” Steve says throwing his hands up in the air.

Dustin looked back at him, “ It’s not all about you.”

Steve gave him a look before he looks back over to you.

“ Congratulations” he smiles over to you.

“ This baby is going to have a lot of aunts and uncles” Lucas says.

“ We’re all spoiling the baby” Mike says.

“ I get first dibs on the first gift” Dustin says and another yelling fight starting on who gets what. The baby was going to be so loved by so many.

“ I love you” Eddie says, kissing your cheeks. “ I can’t wait to start our family, even if this baby is going to have this” he motions with his head towards the scene in front of him causing you to laugh.

“ Eds, they are all going to love our baby” He nods.

“ Our baby” he repeats those words with a a big smile on his face before his eyes grow wide.

“ I have to tell Wayne” he threw his hands up and run out to the street but not before returning as he chuckles to himself. “ I forgot I had no shoes on and no shirt” he says glancing down.

“ Pick up your pants too while your at it” Steve says, scrunching up his nose. “ We don’t need to see anything to scare us off” He says.

“ You’re so funny, Harrington” Eddie says. “ Not like you can get any by looking like that” he points towards him. Steve glances down at his choice of outfit in the polo shirt he’s wearing, some jeans and his shoes.

“ What’s wrong with this?” Steve pouted.

“ It’s not giving an vibes that girls would scream for you”

“ Eddie..” You warned sending him a look.

“ What?I am just telling him how it is”

“ Now is not the time to be a jerk” you pointed towered the road knowing that it wasn’t very far where Wayne lived. “ You have somewhere to be” Eddie did the salute with his forehead and left after putting on a shirt and some shoes.

“ Don’t listen to him Steve, there are plenty of girls for you out there” you motion with your hands around. Steve appreciated it but it did hurt a little and you saw.

“ Does Stevie need a hug?” You asked. Heads turned but Steve put his hands up as he shook his head. “ No, thank you. I appreciate it.”

But you stepped down with a smirk on your face.

“ You better run, Harrington while you still can” Steve’s eyes went wide as he said “ Guys.” But no one was listening as they all took a step forward.

“ Guys, come on” Steve tried again. But then another step until you said the words, “ run” to Steve. He gasped as he turned around and ran for his life with you and the rest running after him. Lucas has caught up to him and tackled him on the ground before a pile was formed on top of him. You stood there laughing, shaking your head.

“ If only Eds could see this”

The nine months flew by before you know it, you weren’t allowed to carry any heavy lifting even nothing from the grocery store. When Eddie was at work, either Steve was with or Robin or Dustin if he could.

You were always with someone. Eddie was too worried that something might happened when he wasn’t there. He picked up extra shifts too, he didn’t want you to work a single finger but you argued with him on it until he gave in.

You were just on your way to the kitchen for a snack when you felt it. You glance down seeing the water on the ground meaning your water had broken.

Your breathing picked up and your eyes grew wide as a mass amount of pain shot through you.

“ Ow!” You shouted gripping your side. Steve who has been in the house had heard it and rushed to your side thinking that something bad was happening. Something was happening alright. His eyes fallen on the water on the ground.

“ What is that?” He asked, his tone growing in panic.

“ What do you think that is?” Your voice grew louder by the end of the question. His hands went to his head as he gripped it. “ Don’t tell me…” you nodded your head, wincing in pain.

“ What are you still standing there for?! I need to get to the hospital” He ran in panic to the phone, “ No time for a phone, Harrington!” You yelled.

“ Get me to the hospital. NOW!” His hands shook as he grabbed your to go back for the hospital and helped you to his car.

“ Hurry up, Steve” you muttered him grabbing onto his sweater and angrily spatting at him, “ If you don’t get me to a damn hospital right now Harrington, I will end you. You hear me?” He shakily nodded with his eyes widen. He got into the driver side after he put you into the backseat of his car and drove off.

But it seems that he wasn’t driving fast enough and in panic he kept looking back to see how you were doing and it looks like you were in a mass amount of pain. Your face was red, you were panting and gripping his seats.

Your eyes clenched in pain while you tried to take deep breathe in an out. Steve’s foot pressed on the gas so hard he thought it was going to break the gas pedal.

Beat of sweat appeared on his forehead while he looked through the review mirror seeing the pain you were in and his heart raced like no tomorrow.

When he arrived at the hospital, he didn’t even parked the car properly as he raced to the side you were on screaming, “ Pregnant lady needs help!”

You were to busy wincing in pain to shoot him a look as people around you both rushed to help you into the hospital. Steve was gripping his own hair as he looked around in panic when it downed to him that Eddie had no idea you were in labor and having his kid.

“ Eddie!” He shouted racing inside the hospital partially flying over the receptionist desk and sending a few files onto the floor which he ignored.

His chest was rising up and down as he said in one breath “ Need phone now.” The receptionist looked at him like he had two heads instead of one and backed up from her chair.

“ I need to make a phone call” he says after he calmed down a bit, but he wasn’t really calm because you were taken away to have Eddie’s baby and he had no idea what room number or anything.

The receptionist put the phone on top of the counter carefully but Steve was scrambling to get the phone and it slip from his hands but he caught it somehow in mid air and gave the receptionist a look that it was okay.

He ran a hand through his hair while he dialed the mechanic shop. He knew it by heart because Eddie had made him study it for in case of emergencies just like this.

Steve repeated the numbers in his head like he remembered to himself while dialing the number.

On the first few rings, he patiently waited while muttering for Eddie to pick up the damn phone up before he rips his own hair out.

Once the phone picked up, it was Eddie since it was only him while the other two mechanics were helping the customers outside of the shop not hearing the phone.

“ Harrington?” Eddie question hearing Steve’s voice. “ What’s wrong?” Eddie asked hearing the panic in Steve’s voice. “ She’s having the baby!” Steve screamed scaring some on going patients and nurses. “ Sorry!” He shouted while going back to talking to Eddie on the phone.

“ Now, Munson. Now. Hospital!” Eddie gasped on the other line, gripping the phone tight as his eyes widen. You were having his baby right now.

He needed to hurry. Steve has hanged up the phone before Eddie could ask him what room number they rolled you in or anything else for that matter.

Eddie scrambled to tell his boss who walked through the doors a minute ago screaming he had to go because his child was about to be born.

He didn’t even wash his hands racing to the van, and hopped in pressing on the gas racing towards the hospital.

You were screaming at the nurses to give you something from the pain with tears streaming down your cheeks asking where Steve Harrington was at the moment and you swore to god to kick his ass for leaving you alone like this.

Minutes later after you were cursing to yourself in pain and mentally kicking his ass, Steve raced through the doors gripping it. His shirt was soaked with sweat showing in on the futon of his shirt and near his armpits.

His har hung in front of his forehead, some strands plastered to his sweating forehead.

“ Steve Harrington where the heck have you been?!” You winced in pain throwing your head back. Sweat captured on your forehead feeling someone near you and taking your hand in theirs.

“ Eddie is on his way” they say. Steve. The grip on his hand tightened and your eyes flashed open in anger as you looked towards him. “ I swear to god Steve Harrington, after this baby is born. You will have your ass handled for leaving me alone like this”

Steve shook his head, “ I was in panic and had to call Eddie” you nodded your head. “ He better get here in time or your the one that better stay with me.”

Steve was shaking tying to not to panic more than he already is hoping that Eddie was going to make it. He needed his hand and it felt like right now it was going numb from the way you were gripping it.

“ Jesus” he mumbles to himself. “ Munson, you better be racing here.”

Eddie raced through the doors of the hospital in his overalls, a bandana wrapped around his head with his hair tied back. There is grease on his overalls and his arms are covered in sweat too from working on the car all morning.

He is turning his head left in right in panic and races to the receptionists and almost flying over her desk while she looks at him in fright.

“ Sir? Can I help you?” She asks. Her name tag reads “ Marie” which Eddie uses to his advantage.

“ Marie, hi” he says to her throwing her a smile but he’s all dirty and looking freaked out so it scares her a bit.

She has files in her hands and stands a few steps back not knowing what to expect from Eddie.

“ What room is Y/N L/N is?” He asks, he brushes his hands down his overalls knowing they are covered in grease and dirt. He looks around for something to clean his hands but finds nothing and sends the receptionist an uneasy look.

She slowly types in her computer and tells him not asking if he’s related or who he is because she has seen enough for the day. Eddie thanks her and races towards down the hall.

His boots squeaking as he runs passing by nurses and patients who send him a look of if he’s crazy or something. Your screaming trying not to cry being told you were getting closer and closer to the time you were going to pop this baby out of you.

The door flies open at your next scream and it’s Eddie stumbling into the room as he is trying to catch his breath.

He takes in the scene seeing you laying in the hospital bed and in the hospital gown with Steve holding your hand but he’s on his knees in front of the bed holding onto the the bar with his teeth gritted. He can’t feel his hand anymore but sends a look towards Eddie in relief he’s here.

“ I’m here” Eddie slowly walk towards your other side of the bed but your hand reaches out to grip his overalls. His eyes grow to the size of saucers from the grip as you bring him closer to you.

“ Where the hell have you been, Munson?” He softly chuckles, but your eyes are sending him into panic. “ Baby, I got here as fast as I could” he says.

You release the hold you have on Steve’s hand and grip Eddie’s causing him to yelp for the moment.

Steve shakes his hand in hoping he gets blood flowing through his hand and getting to feel it. He doesn’t mind holding your hand, but you have such a tight grip that he never imaged you’d have.

He slowly stands up from the floor and looks down.

“ It’s almost time” he says.

“ Get me a nurse or doctor, Harrington before I rip my own hair out” you spatted to him in anger. You were ready to have this baby. You didn’t want to be in pain anymore.

“ NOW!” You shouted causing Steve to run out the door in panic screaming for a nurse or a doctor.

“ Munson” you mumbled to him. He became alert that you were calling him and leaned closer, “ next time your staying home with me.”

He nods and breaths in relief when a doctor walks in with two nurses.

“ It’s time” he say after he checks to see how much you were dilated. You look at Eddie with worry as he softly smiles at you, “ I’m here. Your going to be great, sweetheart. I’m not leaving you.”

The words reassure you and turned to the doctor with a nod. You looked up towards the bright lights and clenched your eyes, as you pushed.

It felt like hours and hours while you pushed, getting more tired and tired by the minute and by every push.

“ I’m so tired” you cried out. “ I don’t want to push anymore” you cried out.

A pair of lips landed on your sweaty forehead, “ Just a little bit more, sweetheart. You’re doing great. I’m here. The baby is almost here.”

“ Give it a few more pushes” the doctor tells you, “ the head is about to come out. Just give me a few more pushes” he says. You threw him a glare his way, “ I am pushing!”

You shouted, clenching on Eddie’s head who’s ready to pass out not feeling his hand anymore and his heart clenches at your cries as you push.

Then he hears it, the baby’s cries and it brings him to tears. He smoothes the hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“ I’m so proud of you, sweetheart” he says.

“ It’s a boy” the doctor says, “ Congratulations, you two” he says. He gives the baby to the nurse to clean him off and cut the umbilical cord before the nurse comes over to you to hand you the baby.

You have tears streaming down your face, from happiness and from the fact that your a mother now.

“ He’s so perfect” you look down at your son. Eddie is leaning over with tears of happiness and smiles wide. “ What is his name?” The nurse asks.

You didn’t need to ask Eddie what he wanted.

To be because the both of you agreed on the name already. You wanted to name the baby after Wayne, the one person that looked after both you and Eddie.

“ Wayne Munson” you replied before Eddie could. Eddie’s mouth a jar hearing that you were giving the baby’s last name as his.

“ I love you so much” Eddie says. Your eyes meet his brown teary eyes in happiness, “ I love you too.”

Eddie ended up racing out the room to tell Steve that the baby was here to be met by Dustin, Mike, Will, El, Nancy, Robin, Lucas, Max, Steve and Wayne in the waiting room as they all stood up when he appeared.

Hopper and Joyce, and Jonathan walked down the hall just as Eddie appeared.

“ So?” Max asked him, waiting to hear the baby’s name since you haven’t told her or anyone. It was something you wanted to keep until the baby was born.

“ The baby is here” Eddie says in tears. His shoulder s are shaking as he’s crying with happiness.

He was a father, and you were the mother of his child. His heart was so happy and could burst any minute now.

“ What the baby’s name?” El asked. All of them were on their toes awaiting the name. Eddie wiped his eyes with the back of his now cleaned hands. His eyes locked his uncle, and gave him a wide smile.

“ Wayne Munson” he says. Wayne’s eyes grew wide hearing the name and he walked over towards Eddie to bring him into a hug.

“ Son, you better not be joking with me” Wayne says mumbling into Eddie’s headband. Eddie shook his head and pulled away from Wayne staring up at him with big doe eyes with happiness, love and appreciation.

“ I’m not, we wanted to name our son after the person that looked after us all along. It was you, Wayne and we couldn’t be happier with the name” he says.

Wayne couldn’t handle this as he started to cry.

“ When can we see the baby?” Robin asked.

“ Can we?” Dustin asked. The doctor walked out from your room and jumped a bit seeing how many people were in the waiting room with Eddie. All heads were turned to him.

“ I’m guessing you all want to see the baby” he says.

“ Please doctor” Will says. “ She’s our friend, our best friend” he begs.

“ Please” El begs with her eyes as she steps forward staring up at the doctor. Max steps next to her, Robin too and Nancy too as they all glare up at him.

The doctor rose his hands up and chuckled.

“ Only a few at a time” He looks towards Eddie, “ Congratulations again.” Eddie thanks him, but sighs hearing who’s going in with who to see the baby.

He pinches the bridge of his nose but peeks through the window seeing you holding the baby, and cooing at it. He doesn’t miss the smile on your face.

He was a dad. He promised himself he was going to be the best dad there ever will be and was. Wayne slips a hand around his shoulder and pulls him to his side, “ You did good, kid. I’m proud of you and your boy will be too.”

The next couple of days haven’t been too difficult as Eddie took some time off to be around you and little Wayne.

But he had more hands on him to help look after the little one, Steve stopped by with Robin as the two looked after Little Wayne while you and Eddie rested. Jonathan and Nancy had stopped by too.

Everyone has been stopping by and Wayne even stopped by to give you and Eddie a chance to have a date night.

But, you were more happy to stay at home with Little Wayne and spend time with your son.

He was the light to your world, your little nugget and he was starting to have really dark hair like Eddie has. Little curls appeared on top of his head. His eyes were just like yours as your nose while he was the exact copy of Eddie.

Little Wayne cooed every time Eddie took out his guitar and softly sang towards him.

It was like music was pulling your little nugget. He was Eddie’s son, a copy.

You would watch when Eddie spent time with him always talking about music, how beautiful you were and that he was so happy to be a father.

Eddie didn’t miss Little’s Wayne’s first steps, first words which was “ Mama” which Eddie wasn’t too fond off because he pouted about it. He wanted Little Wayne’s first word to be “ Dadda.”

He’s been trying for Little Wayne to say it day after day. Eddie didn’t miss Wayne’s first tooth smile either.

He partially called everyone letting them know that Little Wayne was growing teeth.

Yours and Eddie’s relationship was stronger than ever, you still went out on date nights, sometimes taking Little Wayne with you and everyone gushed about how cute your son was.

Eddie build a back seat in the car and had a car seat for Little Wayne. Sometimes Dustin rode in the back with Little Wayne talking to him.

“ Dadda” Eddie’s head turned as soon as he heard the word and turned off the stove. He was hopping over his soon seeing him awake and reaching up with his arms at nothing in the air. Little Wayne had awoken up a bit before you did. You happen to walk in the time where Eddie had him in his arms, bouncing him on his hips.

“ What happened?” You sleepily asked, yawning.

Eddie had the biggest smile on his face once heard his son speak the word he has been trying to teach him every day for the past few months.

Little Wayne was growing and growing looking more and more each day of a copy of his father.

“ Why don’t you say it again, Wayne? Tell Mommy what you just said”Wayne looked at his dad with curious eyes reaching for his curls and tugged on his hair.

Eddie winced in pain for a moment, but smiled toward his son. “ Come on” he bounced on him on his hips. Eddie pouted and looked over at you.

“ He said “ Dadda”

“ I’m sure he did, Eds” you nodded, chuckling to yourself and turned around to go into the kitchen to make breakfast when you stopped in your tracks hearing it.

“ Dadda” you heard the sound of your son’s voice. You turned your back quickly staring with a wide smile on your face and hands over your mouth.

Little Wayne giggled with his hands on his dad’s face. “ Dadda” he said it again.

Little Wayne noticed that you were by his other side and he turned his head and reached with his hands, giggling saying “ Mama.”

“ That’s right, you little nugget. Dadda and Mama. We are your Dadda and Mama” Eddie tickled his little tummy, the giggle that became your second favorite sound and squirming from your son as he giggled in happiness made your heart swell up in happiness.

“ You two are my favorite” you kissed your son’s cheeks causing Eddie to pout.

“ Excuse me, m’lady but where is my kiss?” Eddie huffed and stomped his foot like a child.

You playfully rolled your eyes leaning over while holding Little Wayne in your arms, kissing him quickly.

“ That’s not fair” Eddie mumbled. Eddie took Little Wayne from your hands and kissed his cheek.

“ Why don’t we attack Mama with kisses? Huh? What do you say, nugget?” He asked his son who giggled.

“ I think that’s a yes” he nods his head and turns his head, “ Mama, get ready for some lovin”

“ Bring it” you giggled as the two chased you around.

Time went by quick, Little Wayne was six years old already running around and trying to learn how to play D&D already, he became interested in the things his father liked to do along with reading books like you like to do.

He took interest in drawing, painting and loves exploring outside. He would go to work with Eddie sometimes, holding a wrench for him or stealing candy from the front desk.

He was loud, adventures, a sweetheart and loved spending time with aunts and uncles.

One day he was drawing in his sketchbook that you had gotten him for his birthday when Eddie came home from work.

Little Wayne dropped the color pencils he had in his hands and raced towards his dad. You were in the kitchen putting away the dishes when you heard the front door open.

You walked in to see Eddie picking up Little Wayne and flying him around making airplane noises with your son laughing in happiness. This was one of your favorite sights to see.

Eddie always came home from work, even with having a bad day, he always put a smile on his face for his son. Eddie put him down noticing you were watching them.

“ Hi, sweetheart” he greeted you. He looked like you have given him the world and you did, you’d given something he wanted. A family.

He was a better father to Little Wayne than his own father was too him.

He never missed Wayne’s birthday, Christmas or any holiday. He always made time to spend time with you and Wayne. He put on hold practicing and doing gigs with Corroded Coffin. They still did it, but once a month.

Family was more important to Eddie. You two came first to him.

“ Hi, Eds” you threw your arms around him. He always smelled like sweat, his cigarettes and something from the shop that was always different. “ How was your day?” You asked.

“ Better now that I’m home” he says, pecking your lips. The shy smile appeared on your lips.

“ I love you Eddie Munson” his hand reached over to wrap around your waist. “ I love you too, sweetheart.”

“ And me??!” Little Wayne shouted jumping up and down in the air. He had those same eyes as his father has looking up with those brown doe eyes.

Your heart melted at the sight.

“ We love you too, our little nugget” you ran your fingers through his hair.

“ Mom!” He shouted, “ You’ll ruin my hair” he says styling back to the way he wanted. Eddie chuckled, shaking his head.

“ Go wash your hands for dinner” you tell your son, “ you too, Munson” you turn to Eddie.

He made a salute with a hand to his forehead as Little Wayne copied his dad too as they both raced towards the bathroom with giggles and laughter.

You walked back into the kitchen to finish off dinner.

A few minutes later, Little Wayne walked in minutes later drying his hands on his shirt.

“ You know there is a towel in the bathroom, sweetheart for your hands” you noticed sending him a look.

He sighed and stomped back into the bathroom to dry his hands grumping underneath his breath.

“ Where is your father?” You asked him.

“ Shower” he answered you walking back getting himself something to drink for dinner. “ he better finish fast, dinner is about done” you mumbled.

“ Dad’s fast” he says as he sets his drink on the table. Eddie walks in ruffling his hair with a towel dressed in a black shirt and some sweats with a pair of sock on his feet.

“ Hey nugget, I have a question for you” Eddie asks as he sets the towel on the back of his hair.

Little Wayne turned to him with his hands on his hips. It reminds you of the way Steve stands like that. He learned it from him wanting to be like his Uncle Steve too.

“ What?”

“ What do you think about having a little brother or sister?” The question caught you off guard as you drop the spoon you were holding to mix something in the bowl you made, eyes wide looking at Eddie in an alarming way.

He put his hand up signaling you to wait for your son’s answer.

Suddenly your son’s lower lips quivers and tears form in his eyes.

“ Eddie” you hissed noticing your son was about to cry.

“ Hey, Hey, Hey” Eddie shakes his head kneeling down and taking his son in his arms. “ What’s wrong, nugget?” He asks.

“ you want another one why don't you like me more?” Little Wayne huffs as tears run down his cheeks. You make your way over to them and kneel down, rubbing his back.

“ Baby we love you so much, more than mommy loves reading and daddy loves playing guitar” Little Wayne sniffles pulling away from Eddie and rubs his eyes.

“ Really?” He asks. He looks between Eddie and you with the little pout he always seems to do when he’s upset. He breaks your heart to see him so sad.

“ Really my nugget, we want you to have someone to play with. Isn’t that right?” You turn to look at Eddie for answer. He nods.

“ Yeah, bud. We love that you love exploring, drawing and painting and reading. But what if you did that with your little sister or brother? Hm?”

“ That sounds fun” Little Wayne says. “ But I want two brothers and sisters” he says causing you and Eddie to chuckle before Eddie grabbed him into his arms and lifting him off the ground as the two ran away together while you got dinner ready.

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