#Three Things You Should Know Before You Enter the Doorway to What Lies Beyond

[gilthairpins]

Book 1 Chapter 9: Plug the Wine

It was almost the beginning of autumn, but the heat hadn’t diminished. On the contrary, it was even hotter. And there is still an old man tiger. It’s unbearably hot. Kangxi decided to go out for a siege [more like tour or escape], one to avoid the summer heat, and two- to practice his skills, to remind future generations not to forget the roots of being a man. Although there were a lot of accidents during this trip outside the Great Wall, I remember that except for the unlucky crown prince and elder brother [unclear of which she was referring to] everyone else was safe and sound. As long as you were careful, you won’t have any trouble. Thinking about the scenery outside the Great Wall and the cool weather, I still hoped I could follow.

I was still thinking about how to go and begged Li Dequan to let me go, but Wangxi had already come and said I should prepare my tea set and go with them beyond the Great Wall. After hearing this, I secretly cried that I couldn’t get what I had wanted, so I happily prepared to pack my things. I spent all my time in Xinjiang before I had entered high school and I had always been full of affection for the grasslands where the skyline could be seen at a glance.

Taking advantage of my off-duty day, I sorted out the belongings I was to take with me, I bowed my head and folded clothing. I heard two, three knocks on the door. Still folding my clothes, I casually turned my head and called, “Come in!” But the door was not pushed open like I had expected.

I put down my clothes and looked at the door and said, “Come in.” Again. There was no movement outside the door. So I stood up questioningly and opened the door. Eighth came into view surrounded by sunlight. Wearing a long blue robe, he stood gracefully under the sweet scented osmanthus tree in the courtyard. He smiled lightly seeing me in the doorway. The sun shines on his face through the leaves, making his smile warmer and filled my heart with the sun’s warmth.

I stood at the door and watched him for a while, and he looked back at me quietly. It took a while to react. Come here. Take two steps forward and say hello.

He smiled and said, “This is the first time I have seen where you live. It’s quiet.”

I said with a bit of pride, “I’m the leading female officer now, so I can’t feel too wronged about the place where I live.” He ducked his head with a small smile, and I couldn’t help but laugh too.

After laughing for a bit, I said, “Yutan and I live in this courtyard. She is on duty today.” After I finished speaking, I felt as if I were implying something and I couldn’t help but feel a bit hot. He smiled and said, “I know.”

I replied in a low voice, feeling more and more embarrassed. I pretended to casually pick up a leaf from the ground and play with it. I was thinking about how Fourteenth was indifferent these days, while Eighth was acting normally. I really wanted to ask him what he thought, but standing there besides him, it was rare to be alone. The summer sun was warm again, and I couldn’t help not wanting to ask anything.

After a while he said, “I want to stay in Beijing for this trip outside the Great Wall.” I hummed in acknowledgment and he continued, “This will be the first time you have accompanied me on a long trip. The road is long. Be very careful.” I hummed again.

After thinking a bit. I raised my head and said seriously, “Don’t worry, I have been in the palace for three years, I’m not that little girl who didn’t understand anything when she first entered and needed to be reminded of everything, what she could do and not. I remember that in my heart.”

He stared into my eyes, and nodded with another smile. He then looked past me, behind, and said, “You have done much better than I had thought in these past few years. I had not thought that Royal Father and Li Dequan would value you so much.” He fell silent and glanced back at me with another faint smile. “But I’m still worried, I’m afraid one day your stubborn temper will break out again.”

I was silent a while and then sighed. “Only by doing well, can I fight for myself.” I forced a smile, “Otherwise, if you had come half a year ago, I wouldn’t have been able to live here and stand and talk quietly.”

He smiled again and said, “If you want something, you always have to pay first.” I felt something in my heart and really wanted to ask him what he wanted most. What was he willing to pay for it. But looking at his smile, I couldn’t open my mouth, but instead just returned his smile.

We stood smiling at each other when a eunuch hurried to the gate of the courtyard calling, “Eighth Lord!” He took off without waiting for orders. Eighth suppressed a smile and said, “I have to go.” I nodded. He took another deep look at me and turned to leave. I watched his figure gradually disappear outside the gate. I took a few steps back and leaned against the tree trunk.

Going up, giving a low sigh and thinking, ‘yes!’ I didn’t even think I would have been successful in the palace. When I had first entered the palace, I only recognized what was shown from television or history. The palace was repeatedly emphasized as a terrible place. So I entered with the utmost caution.

What I saw with my eyes and heard with my ears reminded me I could not make mistakes. I can’t! At first I only held the idea that I would never make mistakes, but the gradually, I felt if I wanted to live comfortably, I could only control my own people. The less the better, so that you could have some autonomy. So it had been decided that since that was the case I could only try my best to fight more for myself. Fight for as much freedom and dignity as possible for myself under strict rules.

While meditating on this I heard Yunxiang’s voice “Young Miss is auspicious.” I got up quickly. She had entered the yard at some point and was bowing in greeting. I quickly had her get up and she smiled and said, “I don’t have much to bring and have already packed everything. So I came to see if you needed any help.”

I let her into the room with a smile. “I don’t have much to bring either, but you came just in time. Okay, help me see if I am missing anything.”

This time the elder brothers who accompanied me included the crown prince, Fourth, and Thirteenth. They are all masters who can ride and shoot well. Once nomadic. Watching them riding over the grasslands, you would have thought this was their home. In fact, they all have strands of wildness in their bones, but usually are restrained within the Forbidden City’s high walls.

I was fascinated by watching them. Yutan approached and asked, “Does sister like riding horses very much?” I continued to watch the people riding in the distance. “Yes, I like it very much. It feels like flying in the wind. Unfortunately I won’t.” I sighed.

Yutan smiled and said, “I don’t know how, unfortunately, although I can see the horses here all day long. I don’t have much of a chance to ride them.”

While considering that this was a man-made problem in my heart, I turned my head to smile at her and asked, “Is everything packed for me?”

She replied, “It’s all in order and has all been packed.” I thought a moment and then asked, “Have you sent for the prepared ice cubes?”

Yutan replied, “Just now. The little eunuch came to urge me again.” I nodded and looked back towards the galloping figure in the blue sky and green grass. I turned and left.

When I entered the tea room, the eunuchs who saw me stopped to greet me. I check the case of various fruits. I have them get up and let them continue working.

Seeing the sour plums on the table, Yutan asked with a grin, “Will that be for iced sour plum soup?” I pursed my lips and said, “Yes, but not exactly.”

We rolled up our sleeves and washed our hands. The ice cubes arrived shortly after. I asked the eunuchs to use planes to shave the ice down into thin slices. I took out various containers I had previously prepared and wrapped the squeezed fruit juices in fine gauze in advance and placed them into the various containers according to color scheme that had been planned and put the ice flakes in. After, I took out the fruit juices that had been soaked in warm water. Dried petals of various colors were used to embellish the vessel. My head was down as I busily set up everything when Wangxi ran in and said, “His highness and all the elder lord brothers are back!” Without looking up I replied. “This is the way to go.” He quickly left.

When everything was done, the tea on Yutan’s side had been brewed so I went to check. “It’s so delicate and beautiful! I feel cool just looking at it.” Good tea. I got ready to send it to the main tent.

Before the person arrived to take the tray, I heard bursts of laughter. I thought Kangxi was really in a good mood today. Entering the tent, Kangxi was seated in the middle and the brothers were seated on either side. I greeted Kangxi first and served tea first. With a smile I said, “Thinking about the emperor riding a horse has to be a bit hot. This servant has prepared some iced fruit juice. I wonder if the emperor would like to try?”

Kangxi smiled and said, “Take it up and have a look. If it is good, you will be rewarded. If it’s not, you will be punished.” Li Dequan, seeing the emperor in a good mood, hurried forward two steps and took the tray from me and gently placed the dishes around the table.

The plate was a green chrysanthemum leaf and the bowl a bright yellow chrysanthemum flower in full bloom on the green leaf. The bowl is full of translucent pear juice with ice flakes floating in it and a few yellow chrysanthemum petals dotting the top layer. Kangxi glanced at it and said, “This took a lot of work.” I handed two silver spoons to Li Dequan who tasted it first before taking the plate to serve Kangxi.

After taking a sip, Kangxi nodded and said, “I’ve never eaten this way before.” He turned to Li Dequan and said. “It was right to bring her out this time.” Li Dequan quickly nodded in agreement.

Seeing Kangxi was satisfied, I turned to serve the brothers. Fourth was given a set with white magnolia flower. The bowl with clear water dishes were made with wave patterns. And the bowl happened to be bright white magnolia flower floating on the water’s waves.

The juice in the cup was green grape juice with a few jasmine petals placed in it. When he saw the dishes and bowls on the table he maintained his calm exterior, but there was a smile in his eyes. He glanced at me and lifted his spoon.

When Kangxi saw that the table had been served, each table was different. The crown prince had a peony, and Fourth’s magnolia. He couldn’t help but become interested. He looked at the table in front of Thirteenth and said, “I want to see what other tricks you have.”

I blessed my body and smiled, “As long as your highness is happy, even if there is no trick, I will figure one out.” After speaking, I reached for the set of snow and red plum from the eunuch and set it before Thirteenth. The plate was shaped like a snowflake, but the bowl was a red plum, proudly facing the frost and snow. With pear juice and scattered plum petals floating inside. Thirteenth nodded at me with a smile and picked up his spoon.

Kangxi smiled and asked, “Why haven’t I seen these dishes before?” I glanced at Li Dequan when he said, “The dishes were from Ruoxi last year. After drawing the pattern, this servant saw it was fresh and interesting. So I asked a purchasing eunuch to run it to a kiln and have it produced.”

Kangxi asked again, “How many patterns were fired in total?”

I replied, “There are thirty-six colors in total, but I have only brought these sets.”

He smiled and said, “If I have the chance, I would see what flowers and plants are left.” He nodded again and said, “I am sorry for your kindness. What would you want me to reward you with?”

I quickly bowed and responded, “Although these things are the ideas of this servant, others have also done a lot. I do not claim credit for their own reward.”

Kangxi said, “Then reward them all.” I quickly knelt down in thanks and so did Yutan and the accompanying eunuch. Knelt down happily, “Thank you!”

He said, “Now you can talk about the reward you would like to receive.” I thought about it and replied, “This servant admires the vigorous and heroic posture of your highness on the horse. So I would also want to learn to ride. Though I don’t dare to hope to catch up to your highness, but as long as I can learn to ride, I will be satisfied. And it will not be in vain for this daughter’s true qualities.” After speaking I despised myself at first.

Suddenly the brothers burst into laughter from both sides. Even Fourth, who appeared indifferent, his lip twitched at the corner. Kangxi laughed as well and said, “You have said so much. You wouldn’t have done so if you hadn’t know I would agree. Yes.” I hurriedly kowtowed to thank him and retreated with Yutan and the eunuch who held the tray.

The two walked with me, thanking me along the way and said, “Money is nothing. The key is face. This reward is from his highness himself!”

The eunuch said with a smile, “When they find out later, they will be overjoyed! This is the first time I have been rewarded by his highness since I have entered the palace.” After speaking, he kept thanking me.

I thought to myself, ‘If I don’t give you some benefits, how can you do things for me whole heartedly?’ I had already understood this truth when fighting in the office, and I had no choice but to carry this practice forward here. Although there were no guarantees that everyone would remain friends, at least it is right to reduce enemies.

Sitting outside the tent to enjoy the shade, I saw Wangxi and Yutan coming in a hurry. I watched them and asked, “What reward did you receive that has made you so happy?”

The two came over to greet me, and smiled, “No matter how favored we are we dare not be frivolous in front of sister! It was the prince of Mongolia who had come to see the emperor and presented two exceptional horses. I heard they were very expensive. The emperor was very pleased and ordered a banquet for tonight!”

When I heard this, I stood up and said smiling, “It’s worth being happy about. The people outside the Wall are most generous and enthusiastic and good at singing and dancing. I will have some fun tonight!”

Yutan clapped her hands. “I knew my sister would be happy!”

The bonfire was lit, the wine was served, singing and laughter rang out. The smell of barbecue mixed with wine and wafted under the star studded night sky. Both Yutan and I were filled with joy. After all, this kind of banquet was more interesting than one in the Forbidden City where etiquette of monarchs and ministers are strictly observed.

Tonight the emperor mainly drank wine, so I had a little eunuch watch the stove and have water prepared at any time. Yunxiang prepares the tea sets. When the emperor wants to drink, we can present it. Li Dequan has to worry about other things, so I am happy and relaxed.

A beautiful woman in luxurious ruby red Mongolian robes was holding a bowl of wine, kneeling before the crown prince’s table, singing a toasting song. I didn’t understand Mongolian and didn’t understand what was being sung. I just felt the indescribable tactful enthusiasm.

The crown prince listened attentively with a bit of embarrassment and some joy. A song had just ended. The crown prince had already taken the bowl and drank it down in one gulp, and there was laughter and applause from around. Sitting at the top, Kangxi was watching with a smile. He turned and said something to the Mongolian prince seated just below.

The prince immediately stood up with a bowl and made a toast to Kangxi and tilted his head back, drinking the wine from the bowl.

At this time the beautiful Mongolian woman had come to the table of Fourth and sang another beautiful song. She swayed her waist lightly and danced a few simple steps in front of the table. I thought it was extremely funny and wanted to see how this person with a cold expression could resist such fiery enthusiasm. Watching carefully I asked Yutan to find out who the girl was.

Unexpectedly, the expression on Fourth was like the snow-capped mountains of Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, which would never change. After listening to the song a bit, he stood to take the bowl and drink the wine amidst the singing. No strange expression?! I shook my head thinking, ‘I’m convinced of you.’

When he handed the bowl back to the woman he happened to seem me shaking my head with a smile in his direction. A smile flickered in his eyes as he glanced at me and sat down.

Seeing her turn to the table of Thirteenth, she was still singing, holding the wine bowl flat with a three point smile and three point arrogance on her face. Yutan quickly came back and whispered in my ear, “She’s the daughter of the Mongolian prince. Suwan Guerjia Minmin, a famous beauty on the grasslands.” I thought to myself, no wonder I can toast my brothers. Just thinking about it, I saw Thirteenth stand with a smile on his face as he drank the wine.

After Thirteenth had finished drinking, he didn’t return the bowl to Minmin Gege like his brothers had, but beckoned the servants, who served off to the side, to refill the bowl. He actually held the bowl of wine with a Shang face and also sang a toast song loudly to Minmin with a three point smile. This unexpected move drew attention from the audience and silence fell. I don’t know whether he is speaking Mongolian or Manchu. Anyway, I can’t understand it, but that doesn’t impact the charm of his singing.

Thirteenth is tall and straight, with heroic features and a passionate smile. His singing voice is deep and clear. And it sways away in the silent night, as if his is the only voice on the grasslands since ancient times. He is like the legendary pegasus on the prairie, when he suddenly appeared, his two simple leaps had already shocked us.

Everyone had already been paying attention to Minmin’s toasts, but at this moment, all eyes focused and ears pricked up. I was also full of smiles when I heard him. My heart full of joy. What a great job, Thirteenth!

I saw Minmin’s face flush and I was a bit surprised. But I just smiled and listened to the song. She then reached out to take the bowl and drain it in one gulp. Thirteenth laughed and clapped his hands a few times. Following his free and easy laughter and applause, the audience also laughed and applauded. I clapped my hands as well and smiled. With a sigh to myself, I thought, ‘Sure enough. She is a daughter of the grasslands.’

After drinking the wine, she handed the bowl to a servant standing nearby. She faced Kangxi and knelt and said loudly, “Please allow, your majesty, a dance from Minmin.” Kangxi smiled and agreed.

She stood slowly, bowed slightly, assumed the posture of riding a horse and stood still. Everyone in the audience watched her silently. Then she clapped her hands rhythmically, the passionate and cheerful grassland dance sounded and she began to move. Bending down and looking up sideways, turning around, kicking her legs, and waist, she used her energetic and easy dancing posture to showcase the unique style of the children of the grasslands. They are eagles, horses, and they are the children of this world.

The Mongolians present also began to clap their hands to the rhythm, some began to hum along with the tune. Gradually, the clapping and singing became louder and louder. They were excited by the dancing red flames in the field.

When she [Minmin] spun around the crown prince’s table, he couldn’t help but startle, but he started to beat the rhythm. She turned a table and lit a flame. Except for Fourth, when she had passed by his table, he also tapped the rhythm, although he retained his calm demeanor.

At the end of the dance, the audience burst into cheers. Minmin smiled and glanced around the audience. She paused a while on Thirteenth. Her gaze went to Kangshi where she patted her chest and saluted him. Kangxi motioned for her to get up. He nodded and said something to the Mongolian prince with a smile.

Seeing this, I sighed in my heart and said to Yutan, “I’m a little tired, so I’ll head back first. Although Yunxiang and Chenying are waiting in front, you should be careful.” Yutan quickly responded with a smile, “Don’t worry sister. Go ahead. There will be no mistakes.” I nodded and squeezed out of the crowd.

As I walked away, the laughter gradually faded behind me. The soldiers patrolling along the way would stop and make way for me. My heart was overwhelmed, so I ignored it and continued along silently.

I have also had the experience of dancing before an audience. Growing up in Xinjiang, Uyghur dancers are by no means inferior to those Uyghur girls who are best at singing and dancing. When I was in Xinjiang, there were many people who could dance which is not surprising.

When I was in highschool, my father relocated us to Beijing. When I dressed in Uyghur costume and danced with my whole heart at our grade’s camp party, the audience clapped and cheered. It was probably at that time he noticed me, although he would occasionally glance at me when I passed because I would occasionally steal his first place position in our grade.

The teachers and parents were all angry at our puppy love, and they didn’t understand how the two top students came out like this. He blatantly walked hand in hand with me in school and still held each other when eating in the dining hall. For this reason, he quickly learned to eat with his left hand. Burning so gorgeously, but so what? He finally left me across the ocean and I could only choose to stay away from Beijing to forget.

I lay on a grassy slope and stared up at the starry sky. I found I could still remember it. When I thought that everything was already a matter of my previous life, tonight, because of the dance- it all came to my mind. Gripping the weeds on the ground tightly with both hands, tears slowly rolled down both sides of my face. If I had known my life would be that short I would never never leave my parents. If I could have stayed with my parents during those three years, maybe I would have less regret now. I had seriously hurt someone who loves me because of my broken heart.

After crying for a while, my heart gradually calmed down. I took a long breath and got up onto my knees and prayed.

‘God, no matter how you will treat me, please be kind to my parents, brother, sister in law. Everything depends on you. ‘

After this silent prayer, I fell to the ground and kowtowed three times. I stayed kneeling a while longer and then got up. As I turned around, I caught sight of Fourth and Thirteenth standing near by quietly. Under the cover of night I couldn’t see their expressions clearly, and forgot to greet them for a moment.

Thirteenth walked forward a quick few steps and asked gently, “Is there anything the matter?”

Fourth also came up and stood next to Thirteenth. I forced a smile and said, “I had just thought about my parents and my heart became a bit flustered.” After hearing this Thirteenth’s face darkened and he fell silent. Fourth glanced at him and patted him on the back.

I quickly changed the subject and said, “Why did you come out?”

Thirteenth adjusted his expression and replied, “I got a little anxious after drinking, so I came out for a walk. To wake up, sober up.” I said ‘huh’ and asked, “Will those Mongolian wine jars let you go?”

He smiled and said, “People have three urgencies, and they can’t let them go.” I smiled but didn’t reply.

After a short silence I said, “It’s been a long while since I was out here. I should go back.”Thirteenth glanced at Fourth and said, “We should head back too.” We walked back into camp together.

Walking along the way, Thirteenth suddenly asked, “Why did you choose red plums for me that day?” I thought to myself. Because you will be confined for ten years in the future, but you will be honored later. Is it that those blossoms come from bitter cold? I replied, “Plum blossoms are one of four gentlemen, don’t you like them?”

“Do you like them?” Thirteenth had smiled and said, “I had just seen you give Fourth his favorite, magnolia, so I just asked casually. That’s all.”

It was fine if he hadn’t said anything, but when he said it, I felt so angry that I blurted out, “I didn’t see you answering the question when I asked you, but now I know everything!” I muttered in a low voice, “It’s not reliable at all.”

He looked at me in embarrassment and then at Fourth and finally with an apologetic smile, “I just tried my best to help you find out. So Fourth had noticed.” I snorted coldly and didn’t speak. He tried again, “Today, in front of Fourth, why don’t you ask him these… these…” He thought for a long time, but he didn’t seem to find any suitable words so he simply fell silent and looked at me sideways.

I looked at the tents around me and said, “Okay, I am going back to rest. You can go back to drinking. Quickly, this servant will leave now!” I didn’t even wait for his response, turning quickly to leave after speaking. I could only hear him speaking quietly to Fourth with a smile on my face.

With Kangxi’s permission, whenever I had time these last few days, I would go and ask for a horse, choose a secluded spot and have a sergeant with excellent riding skills- teach me horseback riding. He said he dared not let me use any honorific titles for him. Seeing his panicked expression, I agreed and called him by his first name Niman. Seeing him, I couldn’t help but think of my sister and that person. Thinking of that person, I am afraid that he will not be so respectful, fearful and restrained. Thinking about this I looked at Niman and sighed.

Niman’s behavior was made even more ridged by my chirping and his sighing behavior. And he doesn’t speak well. Not to mention how well he can teach me.

One taught like walking on thin ice, and the other was very bored while learning. In the midst of all kinds of boredom, I was finally able to ride a horse alone, slowly. Several times, I wanted to run with my legs clamped and the whip, whipped, but I was stopped by Niman. He nagged that I had weak hands and am not familiar with horses. So I cannot be impatient. I will ride the horse slowly and meet!

In fact, I doubted it. Niman didn’t intend to teach me well at all. Probably because he was afraid of falling. He couldn’t bear the responsibility, so he would spend time with me and when the day came to return to Beijing, everything would be fine.

The sun was gradually setting and I was still wandering on the grassland on horseback. Niman urged me several times, but I always pretended I couldn’t hear him and could only stay side by side with the horse, half a head behind.

I was strolling around when I suddenly saw two horses approaching in the distance. I saw the big black horse that seemed to be Thirteenth and quickly reined the horse. After a while I was able to confirm it was indeed Thirteenth with Fourth next to him. Both were wearing riding clothes with leather belts around their waists and a quiver attached to their saddles. Some white feathers stuck out obliquely. It’s just that Fourth was wearing a blue riding suit and was slender looking like a storm and heroic. While Thirteenth was wearing a white riding suit with silver trim that made him look tall and straight.

Niman saw them coming and quickly dismounted to greet them. But I was too lazy to jump up and down, so I just waited until they got close to rein in the horse and bent over in a bow to them. Thirteenth waved Niman to have him stand and quickly asked me, “Have you learned it yet?”

I pouted and said, “I just learned how to sit on a horse without falling off.”

Thirteenth glanced at Niman and dismissed him. “Go back first.” Niman looked over at me and saw I hadn’t objected so he bowed to them and slowly rode back.

Looking at him from afar, I complained, “Where is he teaching me to ride? He is totally coaxing children!”

Thirteenth smiled, “Don’t compare yourself with children, they are much better at riding than you. I think so too. Mongols and Manchus belong to the race on horseback. They couldn’t walk so they would already be riding with their fathers. Smiling and singing.” He didn’t speak.

Thirteenth was silent a while and said, “I’m hungry now. I want to go back to eat. I have time in the evening, if you are free tonight, I can teach you.”

After I heard it, I was so happy I dropped the reins and clapped my hands and just wanted to make a good cry, but I didn’t expect to startle the horse who started spinning on the spot. I was so startled I closed my eyes and exclaimed. I didn’t open my eyes until the horse stopped moving. Thirteenth held the reins for me and handed them over and glanced at Fourth. “It seems I have a long way to go!” I sighed.

Fourth pursed his lips into a half smile and glanced at me. He didn’t speak but looked over at Thirteenth sympathetically.

In the evening I ate dinner casually and rinsed my mouth quickly. I gave instructions to Yunxiang and Yutan and hurried to the appointed place. When I arrived at the grounds there was no one there. And I realized I was so anxious. I had rushed here but I was still early. So I laid out my cloak and lay to look at the stars and patiently waited.

I was in a daze, feeling someone was watching me that I didn’t look over, but patted a spot next to me and said with a smile, “It’s so beautiful to lie down and watch the starry sky. You should take a look too.” A man sat down next to me as I muttered, “I’m tired of waiting, why don’t I learn tomorrow? Let’s just lie here and look at the stars tonight.” It was silent. I opened my eyes and saw Fourth next to me watching the sky. Shocked, I jumped up to greet him.

“Where is Thirteenth?”

Fourth continued staring at the sky before answering, “He had something stopping him, so he asked me to come.”

I quickly said, “This servant girl will go back then, and I can learn another day.” “Do you think I cannot teach you?” He asked lightly.

I quickly shook my head. “No! I’m just a little sleepy.”

“Then, we’ll lie here and look at the stars.”

I almost wanted to bang my head against the ground and lie with Yongzheng [Fourth] looking at the stars. Why not just kill me? And I immediately said, “I’m not sleepy anymore.”

“Then get on the horse.” He said calmly.

I was muttering to myself wondering why Fourth was in such a leisurely mood, was it only for Thirteenth’s request? I looked at the two horses he had brought.

He pointed to the smaller of the two and said, “This pony was especially chosen for you by Thirteenth. It’s very docile. I will ride the mare and it will follow.” After speaking, he turned to mount the horse. I quickly mounted the pony as he slowly rode in front. “Let’s walk around slowly first. Familiarize yourself with the horse. I will tell you what to pay attention to when you run later.” I quickly agreed.

After finally surviving the night, I returned to the tent. I was even more tired physically and mentally so I scrubbed myself several times before immediately throwing myself on my couch.

It wasn’t that Fourth wasn’t a good teacher, in fact he was really good, I had made great progress and I can already slowly trot with the mare and pony from one night. But when I was with him, I was always uncomfortable. When I thought of him being Yongzheng in the future, he would be full of depressing ways of doing things.

At this time I had realized I was no longer that Zhang Xiao. Zhang Xiao liked and admired Yongzheng. Moreover, Eighth and Ninth also had the intention of putting Yongzheng to death. So there was nothing wrong with Yongzheng imprisoning them in the end.

But I am resisting until the end. I am really Martai Ruoxi. When did this happen? Before I knew it the passage of time had changed me. I also considered taking advantage of the rare opportunity to be alone with him. To deepen a relationship to save more opportunities and insurance for the future. But the moment those flattering well thought words wanted to leave my lips, I swallowed them when seeing his moody expression.

I think about these things as well as how I have to learn to ride a horse. Can I not be tired? Lying on the bed, tossing and turning. I still feel like I cannot do it. I had thought that after three years of white-collar work, with the experience of fighting in office plus the three years of rigorous tempering in the palace- I had already become a human being. I hadn’t expected to meet a powerful master who broke the merits immediately.

After thinking about it I had to comfort myself. I didn’t want the merit, I wanted no fault. As long as I don’t offend him, that’s fine. As for pleasing him, it seems I will have to practice for a few more years. After comforting myself, I decided not to learn horse riding from Fourth. It was nerve-wracking having an unpredictable time bomb at my side.

But things in this world are like this: God always takes pleasure in torturing people. Obviously Thirteenth promised he wouldn’t miss our appointment, but it was Fourth who appeared in front of me again. I sighed deeply in my heart, deciding to go back and have a long talk with Thirteenth.

I looked over at Fourth and said apologetically, “This servant has just finished working today. I am a bit tired so I won’t study tonight.” Fourth listened with an indifferent look on his face as he watched me. I puffed up again and bowed in salute. “If Fourth has nothing else, this servant will leave first.” After speaking I squatted down and waited. Seeing as he still hasn’t responded I straightened up with a sigh of relief and scooted around him tentatively. As I got past him, there was still no response. I exhaled and quickened my pace and left as quickly as possible.

But after a moment I heard the sound of pounding hooves behind me and I turned around. I felt Fourth jump off the horse and grab me. He was very close and I couldn’t help but exclaim. He watched me with indifference while I yelled, but it felt off.

There was nothing normal about being this close together. I struggled a few times, but I couldn’t break free. Instead he held me tighter! I stared at him silently trying to figure out if he was teasing me or not. This is outrageous!

Before I could finish my thoughts, I felt a cold pressure against my lips. I threw my head back and tried to push him away, but due to my limited strength, it didn’t work. He had tried kissing me several times more and then raised his head when he found my lips tightly sealed, preventing him from entering.

Immediately (and subconsciously), I reacted as most women in dramas would, when molested- I slapped him. It’s a pity he wasn’t Mingyu. He stopped my hand and forced my arm behind my back. With mockery in his eyes, he said close to my face, “It’s no wonder you spent many years learning about me and my preferences, getting my attention. And now playing hard to get.”

“Congratulations the scheme has succeeded.” He said next to my cheek.

I glared at him angrily, wanting to refute this, but my mind was racing. I didn’t know where to start. I could only say, “Let me go!” He leaned forward again, his mouth soft against my ear. Teasing me, he said softly, “If you want to follow me, I will ask Royal Father to ask for you.” I felt weak. My limbs felt like jelly and my body felt both hot and cold. My heart grew colder and colder. I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down. I laughed softly.

He didn’t slow down when he heard my laugh. I tilted my head back and breathed against his ear, “It’s because fourth master hasn’t brought out a woman. Do you need to vent your fire?” He froze as I gave a light laugh, “If fourth master likes to use force, this slave has no right to object. If fourth master wants to have sex in this wild place, your wish is my command.”

Fourth straightened up and stared into my face. I didn’t hide the sneer on my face and tucked my chin down, and half closed my eyes, appearing at his mercy. A sudden and slow smile crept across his face that shocked me, my sneer frozen on my face. He leaned down and kissed me again. I leaned back, but couldn’t escape. I was cold. The meaning spread from his warm lips to my heart. I closed my eyes and froze. I thought ‘It’s over! It’s really over! Fighting poison with fire doesn’t work!’

While a chill sunk into my heart, his lips suddenly left mine. He let me go and turned to mount the horse. I couldn’t react. Being suddenly let go, I fell to the ground. He looked at me coldly from the horse. “Get on the horse.” It was only then that I realized that I had escaped catastrophe. While secretly thanking gods from all religions, I climbed awkwardly onto the horse, my feet and legs still numb. Seeing him ride in the opposite direction from camp, I just dropped. He called back to me, “Don’t worry, you’re not in the city.” And my heart lifted a bit and I felt a bit more at ease.

He was off to one side and accelerated, pointing out my poor posture. I didn’t have the courage to say no again. So I had to obey and forced myself to learn.

When I saw Thirteenth the next day I glared daggers at him. It looks could kill, while he wouldn’t have died, he would have certainly been seriously injured. Thirteenth watched me not daring to meet my gaze, his eyes wandering. I stared at him a while before realizing something was wrong. Seeing Fourth watching me, I panicked and looked away, standing obediently off to the side.

Seeing everyone was focused on the crown prince shooting arrows in the arena, I pretended to change the water. When I passed by Thirteenth, I kept walking, but said in a low voice, “I will find you tonight.” I continued on as if nothing happened.

That evening, once everything was arranged, I went to see Thirteenth. As soon as I approached his tent, a maid approached me in greeting. “My master is walking”

I smiled and said, “I’m sorry to trouble you.”

She quickly apologized. “Young miss, what are you talking about? It is what this servant should do.”

I smiled at her and entered the tent. Thirteenth was sitting on a woolen blanket, leaning against a cushion, reading. He saw me coming in an tossed the book. I glared at him and grabbed two cushions and settled myself comfortably at his table. I poured myself some tea.

Thirteenth scooted closer and asked with an apologetic smile, “How have I offended you?”

I gave a cold snort and said, “If you didn’t want to teach me, I dare not complain. But you didn’t need to tease me repeatedly!”

He straightened. “You misunderstand me. The crown prince really did stop me for small talk that first day. It’s not easy to get out of this. I sent a eunuch to Fourth. The second time was by… it’s true something did happen. I never coaxed you.” He stopped and didn’t continue.

“Except for the emperor and the crown prince, who else could hold you back?” I asked coldly.

With a helpless face, he smiled awkwardly. “Minmin Gege.” I forced a smile, my stomach full of anger. If that was the case I really shouldn’t say anything, but after last night all the anger and resentment came boiling back up. It had nowhere to go. Instead I drank my tea rather viciously.

Thirteenth saw my acceptance of his words and leaned back onto his cushion lazily. “But you should be happy! Why are you so angry?”

I glared at him. “Happy? What was there to be happy about?”

He leaned forward to study my face. “Don’t you have Fourth in your heart?” I was stunned. I laughed out of anger and asked, “When did I ever tell you I had him in my heart?”

Thirteenth shook his head and responded, “Ever since you had served tea that day in the palace. I thought you acted strange when you saw Fourth. You were indifferent to the crown prince, but extremely cautious with Fourth. At that time I kept it in the back of my mind, but half a year ago when you were promoted you asked about his preferences. The tea sets and snacks you served were all his favorites. In the past three years you paid attention to his speech and behaviors. If you really don’t think of him in this manner, then I cannot really figure any other reason. I don’t see you treating the rest of us like this.

The longer I listened, the quieter my heart became. I just felt like I had committed a crime and couldn’t live. There really was no reason to be blaming Thirteenth. I ducked my head down. He couldn’t help but smile proudly and teased me. “Don’t be embarrassed. I think Fourth also has some interest in you as well. Otherwise, given his temperament, he would never personally teach someone to ride a horse. Remember to respect me and thank the matchmaker for the wine. I had praised you in front of Fourth.” He paused and suppressed a smile saying seriously, “Fourth is a person with a cold face but warm heart. You can tell by the way he treats me.” I sat for a long while before getting up. “I’m going back.” I looked over at Thirteenth and said solemnly, “Anyway, I absolutely do not have Fourth in my heart. So don’t argue that with me anymore.” I quickly moved to leave the tent.

While walking back I thought about inquiring after Fourth’s preferences. At that time I was worried about attracting attention and asked after all of the brothers’ preferences. It was perfunctory and most people wouldn’t have realized this, but that Thirteenth and Fourth had noticed! He was so close to me and saw every move I made in deference to Fourth. No wonder he misunderstood me! Now that he thinks that it is no wonder Fourth also thought this.

What’s more, I had only thought to attract the attention when I inquired about private affairs, I hadn’t expected in the past three years Fourth had paid attention everywhere. The eyes of Thirteenth were full of ulterior motives. How could I explain this misunderstanding of three years.

Back at my tent, I found I had nothing to do. I washed my hands completely unconscious of what I was doing and splashed water everywhere, making the carpet wet. I bit my lip and shouted, causing Yunxiang and Yutan to run in. Feeling my distress and the mess of water on the floor, I quickly apologized. “Help me clean this up?”

After I calmed down, I said, “Things are becoming more chaotic.” Slowly my heart calmed.

From that day on, I decided to stop learning horse riding. Thirteenth sometimes would mention this as he turned to look back at me. He would smile and not mention it for a while.

One day while on duty in Kangxi’s tent, a sergeant suddenly came and quickly handed a letter to Li Dequan. The urgent letter couldn’t wait and was immediately handed over to the emperor. I tried to think- did this have something to do with the crown prince? Because I recalled, the crown prince was to be deposed during this trip beyond the Wall. But what specifically happened for Kangxi to depose him was unclear, I only had a vague idea.

Kangxi looked over the urgent letter, his face gradually becoming more serious. Finally he stood abruptly and ordered “Have Kuaima report daily.”

The sergeant kneeling outside responded ‘Cha!’ And kowtowed before quickly setting off.

Kangxi sat down slowly and said in a deep voice, “Pass the decree! Ready to depart to Beijing. I want to see Suwan Guerjia.”

Li Dequan shook all over and kowtowed, receiving this verbal decree. He hurried to carry it out.

The maids and eunuchs on duty all stood quietly, not daring to breathe. I was also worried. Although I knew the results, I didn’t know the details leading up to it. After thinking desperately I couldn’t recall anything about Eighteenth, so I had to remind myself to tread carefully. After finally getting through this shift I had realized I had been standing still the entire time, and I was stiff when I tried to move.

When Kangxi met with the Mongolian prince, Suwan Guerjia, he said he would be departing in advance and that the Mongolians could leave the day after tomorrow. And we began to pack our things. Along the way, people would come and go, busy.

They were preparing their bags and kept their voices down, none of the previous days’ excitement there. I also went back quietly thinking about how to fix things quickly.

I am on duty again and I have to organize things, so although I have was tired, I was in good spirits. Maybe this was because I had told myself repeatedly I must not make mistakes this time.

In the evening on the second day, a few of the eunuchs were carefully wrapping utensils, when there was a suddenly noisy sound in the distance. They didn’t know what had happened and continued to finish their work. After a while the noise disappeared and quiet was restored. I didn’t think further on it and waited until all the utensils were wrapped and packed carefully before entering the tent.

As soon as I entered the tent, Yutan greeted me with a serious face and pulled me to sit next to her. “It seems sister doesn’t know yet. The Royal horse presented by the Mongolian prince caused caused a quarrel amongst the mongols. The horse was dedicated to the emperor, but it was ridden by the crown prince which was disrespectful to them.”

I let out an ‘Ah’ and quickly asked, “What does the emperor say?”

Yutan whispered, “What else could he say? In order to appease their anger he reprimanded the crown prince in front of the Mongols.” She paused a moment before continuing, “But I think the emperor is not only angry, but he is very angry. It’s sad, after all, because of Eighteenth. Everyone is sad now. But the crown prince is riding around now, for fun, during this time.” She sighed softly and didn’t continue.

I got up after listening to her. This was the introduction of a waste of a crown prince. After thinking a while I told Yutan with all seriousness, “No matter how tired you are these days, you must keep your spirits up. Otherwise, if you don’t pay attention it may be catastrophic.” I deliberately emphasized ‘catastrophic’ and

Yutan nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry, sister. I think so too.”

We washed and rested, staying silent. But I was worried about something, and I didn’t know how it was going to impact the rest of the brothers. I couldn’t sleep well, although I knew the general result, I didn’t know the specifics.

My half assed prophecy really wasn’t useful. If I had known I was going to end up going back in time to the Qing Dynasty, I would have memorized their history better. But after considering it, I’m afraid it would have been a useless thing. The history of the three dynasties has always been whitewashed and falsified in order to avoid the taboo of the venerable.

Hearing Yutan turn over it seemed she also wasn’t having an easy time.

The battalion finally set off because news arrived of Eighteenth’s worsening condition. Kangxi’s expression was sad and those of us who served were of one heart carefully serving the officials.

Brother [unclear which one] also had worried expressions on his face. The crown prince’s face was the most complex. There was anger, hatred, and unwillingness mixed with sadness (that I didn’t know if was genuine or not). Kangxi had always become extremely indifferent to him, which made his face even more frightening. In the early morning hours of the second day, I heard Yunxiang’s voice outside the tent waking me from my doze. Yutan and I got up to let her in. After she came in, she came quickly to my side. Yutan got dressed quickly and joined us.

Yunxiang said fearfully, “His highness was very angry last night. The crown prince was attempting to eavesdrop last night and spy on the emperor. He was noticed by his highness. He was shocked and angry. He swept all the things on his table off onto the floor. Li Wenda called for more guards to stand outside the tent.”

After hearing this, Yutan and I couldn’t believe the crown prince was that crazy. How dare he do such a disrespectful thing? Yunxiang quickly said, “Li Wenda also said, even though you weren’t supposed to be on duty, he is requesting your assistance.”

I quickly got up and got dressed. I combed my hair and washed my face. Yunxiang assisted me knowing this was urgent. I wasn’t polite about it either.

After rushing for a few more days, we finally arrived at the Burhasutai Palace. Everyone was relieved, thinking we could all rest a moment. But I became more tense. I remembered this was where Kangxi abolished the crown prince the first time while he was an official outside the Great Wall. He was more careful with his words and actions then.

In the evening while Li Dequan was preparing to wait for Kangxi to rest, an urgent post arrived. After reading it, Kangxi lowered his head and slowly crumpled the report, the veins on his hand stood out. I sighed in my heart. It appeared to be about Eighteenth. He died young, only eight years old.

Li Dequan suddenly knelt, not daring to speak and startle the room. The maids and eunuchs also stood by silently. Kangxi sat in the same position, motionless. In the past I was intimidated by the majesty of the emperor, and it was hard to see him as he was, a man over fifty. Kangxi sitting on the dragon throne tonight really exposed his age of 55.

After a while Kangxi said to Li Dequan, “Everyone, step down.” We retreated quickly and quietly, leaving Li Dequan with him. Outside, I saw the brothers all waiting, having also received the news. Their expressions were worried and anxious and sad. They watched us come out. I whispered to Yutan and the palace maids, “Although his highness had us retreat, someone still needs to be available during the night. Yutan and I will guard the doors tonight. The rest of you go back and rest. Return tomorrow to take care of errands.”

They responded in low voices and dispersed. Wangxi and another eunuch also stayed. Dismissing the others to rest as well. We exchanged a look silently. “What do those brothers say?” He asked me quietly. “You cannot stand here all night. If you hurt your body, even if you die ten times, I will not forgive you!”

I thought a while before answering, “It is impossible right now to ask for orders, why don’t we let them go in first? Let’s go. If there is something needed, send someone to call. However, you already gave this order to the eunuchs who follow you. Let them stay alert tonight, in case the emperor summons us tonight.”

Wangxi thought about the meeting and nodded. He walked forward a few steps and bowed, “ Crown prince, Bei’le, masters, the emperor is resting. Everyone should go back first! If there is anything this slave will come for you.”

The brothers looked at each other after this announcement seeming to be undecided. Fourth and Thirteenth looked questioningly at me. After a bit, Thirteenth glanced over to the crown prince and said, “Let’s go back and rest. Tomorrow Royal Father will be accompanied by someone.” Fourth nodded and turned to leave.

The crown prince stared down Wangxi and asked, “Where is Li Dequan? Let him come out and answer.”

I was shocked. The crown prince was becoming increasingly impatient. Li Dequan was fair and generous. He served Kangxi closely and was deeply trusted by him. Sometimes he could save people from catastrophe with just a wink. People from outside the palace, whether they were concubines, civil or military officials, they were all very polite to Li Dequan, calling him by name.

Wangxi was also stunned. He smiled apologetically. “My master is serving the emperor, I’m afraid he won’t have time.”

The crown prince snorted coldly. “Doesn’t that mean Royal Father has already rested? Why then doesn’t he come out to give us a few words?” Wangxi turned to me at a loss for what to say. I shrank back. I frowned at him, expressing helplessness. I didn’t want to have anything to do with the crown prince now. Wangxi had no choices but to turn back and try to persuade him. But before he could, the crown prince was walking forward.

“I want to see what the hell you slaves are doing.” The guards on both sides of the palace quickly blocked him from the door and he scolded them. “Get out of the way! I’m blinding your dog eyes, don’t you look at me!” The guards refused to move and the brothers rushed forward to grab the crown prince half heartedly.

While making all this noise, Li Dequan opened the door and Kangxi, looking haggard, stared at the quickly kneeling group.

He said wearily, “Order all the civil and military officials to come here.”

Wangxi hurried to fulfill the request and deliver the decree.

Lian Ran stared at the crown prince with a deadpan expression. He was so terrified that he lowered his head and fell to the ground, motionless. After a short while, the civil and military officials who accompanied him arrived and knelt in the crowd.

Kangxi walked around slowly, his eyes still on the crown prince. He was very sad and very angry. After a while he said in a deep voice, “Yinfeng doesn’t listen to the teachings and his sight cannot he saved. For more than twenty years, he not only did not repent, but became more violent. It is difficult to inherit the grandeur of the ancestors.” There were tears streaming down his face before he finished.

The ministers at the bottom only knew how to kowtow. They repeatedly asked, “Your majesty! Please thing twice!”

Kangxi began to count Yinreng’s crimes slowly. “In the twenty-ninth year, I personally conquered Galden, I fell sick and summoned him as he was an official. But he was so focused on his role that the crown prince had no intention of being loyal to the emperor and loving his father, which is really unfilial. Yinreng showed no sorrow for the death of Eighteenth, Yinren. No brotherly love. Yinfeng beats his subjects and common people arbitrarily if he is disobeyed. And his attendants wantonly extort others bullying them in their power which causes public indignation.”

********** Kangxi wept and spoke in pain. Suddenly short of breath, coupled with the sadness of the past few days, he passed out. The audience was in a frenzy again and an imperial doctor was invited and the emperor called. In the end, Kangxi woke up, slowly, but he didn’t have the energy to say anything. He ordered one of the brothers to take care of Yinfeng first. He waved his hand to dismiss everyone. Li Dequan waited for Kangxi to go and rest, but seeing his face, it may be that he wouldn’t be able to rest.

I stood outside, silently, my heart full of sadness. I already knew the ending. For me, this was just another story to pass the time. Even at the time, I felt that Kangxi’s handling of the prince’s affair was very unwise. He knew Yinfeng wasn’t useful. But he always hesitated and repeated. If he couldn’t make up his mind soon there wouldn’t be the tragic scene of Kowloon seizing of the heir.

Now that I have see this myself, Kangxi’s tears shocked me. I don’t know if was because I have served him for so long and was partial to him. Kangxi heart was that of a father’s and that caused the current heartache, helplessness and resentment. As an emperor, he may have not handled this properly, but as a father, he is beyond reproach.

[thatsbelievable]

#Three Things You Should Know Before You Enter the Doorway to What Lies Beyond #tips #tricks #life hacks #helpful hints #advice #grammar

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Five

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Language, Kinda Slow Burn, Fluff, Injuries, Kinda Angst

Word Count: 2.7K

A/n: Happy New Year to all you beautiful people. I’m writing this and I’m feeling pretty happy right now but I’m also feeling very drained because I’m working so much and there's shit going on, BUT I wanted to post this because it’s been long awaited. It’s shorter because it’s a rare (Kinda) fluffy chapter and It ends off on a good place to have me starting the next part openly. My brain is mush rn so Idk if this is even making sense.

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

~*~

“I need to know exactly what you did to her. She is in there, in pain and agony and you stand here acting as though you are the one who had to endure the hardships.”

James grinds his teeth together, wishing his reunion with his beloved was going better.

“I... I was harsh with her. I told her she would never replace you... that her only purpose was to give me an heir and that she could be easily replaced. She... she angered me and I struck her... I have forced myself upon her in my anger and my haste to consummate the marriage. I know I am wrong for all I have done but I am doing everything in my power to right my wrongs.”

He doesn’t see it coming, only realizes it when his nose crunches beneath Steve's fist.

“You are a coward! A King would not behave like that even if he had lost his entire kingdom! You have treated our wife as though she is a prisoner! And I say our wife because in title that is what she is. However, she is my wife in my heart as well. But anyone can see that she is not your wife in yours. The way you have treated her... you should not be allowed near her.”

He strikes his husband again, his knuckles knocking the side of his cheek as the brunet dodges swiftly.

“I know. I understand that what I have done is wrong but-” “No, James, I don’t think you do! She is terrified of you! She’d sooner seek comfort in me, a stranger, than in you. You are the first face of our kingdom that she met and you...” The blond trails off, beyond furious with his husband.

“You have broken that woman. What can you even say for yourself?”

The brunet backs up a step, his hands raised in surrender as Steve steps closer to him, his hands clenching into fists.

“Nothing will excuse my actions and I realize that. But I will not stop trying to fix the damage I have caused.” 

Steve scoffs, shaking his head at the other man.

“I’m not sure if you will be able to fix it.” They’re both quiet for a long moment before Steve speaks again, walking past his husband and towards the door.

“I think it would be best if you gave both (Y/n) and myself some space. Do not come to either of us unless we have directly summoned you.” The brunet nods, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Steve has to focus on his breathing as he walks back to your chambers, wanting to be there when you wake up and wanting to be in a better space as to not scare you.

When the door opens you’re awake, seated on your bed nursing a small cup of tea.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly, dismissing Wanda with a nod. You take a deep breath and smile weakly at him.

“Better than yesterday, Your Majesty.” 

A shake of his head at the use of his title.

“Please, (Y/n). You’re my wife. You may address me by my name,” he says while stepping further into the room. 

“Steve,” you test the name, surprised at yourself for liking the way it feels rolling off your tongue.

He smiles warmly at you, sitting at the edge of your bed when you motion to it. You take a moment to really take him in as he sits in front of you.

The second King of Acadia is as gorgeous as his husband. He’s got endless blue eyes that shine with kindness, a kindness that has been shown to you only by Natalia and Wanda since you entered the Kingdom.

His frame is large and muscular, and you find yourself entranced and intimidated by him. Your brows furrow, however, when you see his split knuckles.

“You are hurt?” You ask, looking pointedly at his right hand. He instinctively clenches it into a fist then sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid I let my emotions get the better of me when I learned of what His Majesty did to you.” You frown, looking down at the porcelain cup in your grasp.

Fragile and delicate, just like you.

“My very presence drives a wedge between the two of you. For that, I am sorry.” He shakes his head, fingers coming under your chin and lifting it until you look at him. The way you flinch when he raises his hand has his heart aching.

“It is not you who has created a wedge, nor is it you who drives it between us. James is well aware of his actions and he must face the consequences. He does not get special treatment because he is King. He’s lucky I only struck him for what he’s done to you. He deserves far worse.” You shake your head, grabbing the King’s hand tightly in yours.

“Please do not punish him. I fear he may think his fears are coming true. I do not wish to replace you nor do I wish to replace him. And by punishing him more I fear he may think that that is what is happening.”

Steve’s brows pull together in confusion.

“Do you not wish for him to feel what it is you’ve felt?” You shake your head, a shaky breath leaving you as you choose your words wisely.

“I... I would not wish my treatment upon anyone. But he has made efforts to repair our relationship. I do not wish to anger him with a relationship with you. I fear that us being close may be enough to bring his anger back to the surface.”

Steve is quiet, pondering your words for a long moment before lifting your entwined hands and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“If he makes one hostile move towards you I will have him thrown in the dungeon. He will not bring you any more pain. I give you my word.” You nod slowly, not used to someone being so protective of you.

“Now I’m sure you need your rest, so I will not deprive you of it any longer.” He goes to stand up but you tug on his hand, not wanting him to leave just yet. His presence is refreshing. Something unlike anything you’ve experienced in years. And you do not want him to leave anytime soon.

“C-could you perhaps stay with me for a while longer? I... I value your presence. I know that I have only just met you, but you... you are a comfort in a kingdom that has brought only pain.” You don’t mean for your words to hurt him, and the sadness on his face nearly makes you regret speaking.

Until he settles back on the bed, a smile on his face as he squeezes your hand gently in both of his.

“I will stay with you until you no longer want me. This place should be a home to you, not a place of pain, and I will do all I can to ensure you feel safe and comfortable in your own Kingdom.”

The new approach has hope sparking in your belly, and you’re cautiously optimistic about your relationship with Steve. You only hope that you’ll be able to repair the one you have with James before he gets angry again.

~*~

“Is she eating?” Wanda nods, smiling at the blond king from her spot in the kitchen.

“Good. She looks ill. I want her to be healthy again. It is my goal to have her happy in her new home. Undo the damage that James caused.” Wanda sighs, shaking her head.

“They were rebuilding their relationship. Slowly but I’m sure they will have grown to love each other,” she says softly, and then it’s Steve’s turn to shake his head at her.

“It would be nothing more than love built on lies and fear. She deserves more than that.” Wanda nods, her heart heavy. She knows you haven’t been treated fairly, but she had hoped you and James would be able to build your relationship.

“Will you forgive His Majesty?” Steve sighs, not truly knowing the answer.

“I want to, but with what he did... it feels wrong to forgive him.” Wanda nods knowingly, gathering things for your lunch.

“Well, I know that the Queen is well on her way to forgiving him. I think it would do you well to forgive him. However, I have already overstepped. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go tend to my lady.”

She pauses at the doorway, looking over at the King and speaking freely for a moment. 

“I think you would do well to speak to the King with a cool head. Consider all that has happened and all that you had planned for your marriage.” She bows her head then leaves the kitchen, having given Steve many things to consider.

He stays in the room for a while longer, gathering his thoughts and trying to figure out what to do.

As he’s leaving, he nearly bumps straight into his husband.

James averts his eyes, although it pains him to do so. He wants nothing more than to devour every inch of the man before him.

He says nothing, instead, bows his head and waits for Steve to do something.

“James.” His eyes snap up, meeting the endless blues of his lover.

“Steve. H-How is she?” Steve grinds his teeth for a moment, Wanda’s words echoing in his mind before he huffs out a deep breath.

“If you would like, I will take you to see her. However, if she requests you leave, you will leave immediately. Do you understand?” James nods, his shoulders lifting slightly.

As they walk towards your chambers Steve takes a moment to take in the appearance of the brunet.

He’s got deep bags under his eyes and a heeling bruise on his cheek branching out across the bridge of his nose.

His skin is pale and almost lifeless, and Steve feels and for a moment. Until he remembers what his husband did to you.

By then they’re already at your door, far too late to turn back, and Steve knocks softly.

“My darling? May I come in?”

Your voice calls out eagerly, allowing him entrance.

In the few days since his return, he’s spent every waking moment with you, and you find yourself missing him in the few moment’s that he is not by your bedside.

He smiles at the sight of you. You’re far livelier than before, a smile on your face as he walks in.

“Good afternoon,” you say softly, your smile fading slightly as you see the man behind him.

“Your Majesty,” you greet him, bowing your head slightly.

“He is your husband, (Y/n). You may address him by his name. We would prefer it if you did.” You look between the two before nodding slowly, scooting back on your bed to make room for the two of them. 

Wanda smiles warmly at you, handing you a fresh cup of tea before excusing herself.

“May we sit?” James asks softly, motioning to your bed. You nod, taking a slow sip of tea while not taking your eyes off of the two men.

“You look well. You are eating more?” You nod, smiling at James softly.

“The same cannot be said for you,” You whisper, frowning at the bruises on his face.

“It is nothing that I do not deserve. I deserve far worse for all I have done. It is only my hope that we can grow together.” You’ve got a sad smile on your face as you look between the two of them, the tension rolling off of them in waves.

“What is it, darling?” Steve asks softly, reaching out to take your hand. You squeeze his warm hand then sigh, struggling for a moment to find the words.

“I have created a wedge between you. That is not something I ever wanted. I never wanted to come between you, nor have I ever wanted to replace either of you. I... I apologize for all that my presence here has caused.”

They both shake their heads, eyes meeting momentarily, Steve's filled with accusation while James’ are filled with guilt.

“You have done nothing wrong. That is something I want you to fully grasp.” You look at James as he speaks, heart thumping in your chest.

It’s been a while since you’ve had him so close to you and you’re not sure how you feel about it.

“Everything that has happened... it is all my doing. You have not done anything wrong. I am the one who has created a wedge between us... the one who has caused such distance. And I will spend every day trying to make up for that. I know you may not trust me or what I say, but I mean every word that I have spoken today.” You look between him and Steve, bottom lip tucked between your teeth for a moment.

“I want to trust you. I want us to be happy and I want us to have a good marriage, however, I will need time. But I do not want the two of you to be at ends with each other because of me. I fear it will cause far more conflict than it is worth.” Steve looks at you for an impossibly long moment before nodding, looking over his shoulder at where his husband is.

“I do not know how you have forgiven him, but I suppose I will try as well. We will forgive, but we will not forget.”

James nods, wanting to feel relieved but something is gnawing at his stomach.

“Your forgiveness is far more than I deserve. I will not, for as long as I live, be able to ever forgive myself for what I have done to you. The pain I have caused.” His eyes flitter down to your stomach, now devoid of the life that was growing. Devoid of the child that would’ve been his. A child that would’ve been the product of pain and of torment.

“How are you feeling, truly? I can only imagine the pain.”

You follow his gaze down to your stomach then swallow hard.

“If I may be honest with you... a small part of me is sad... but a larger part is relieved. I know it is wrong and horrid of me to think, but I am grateful to not be carrying a child that was forced upon me. It is my duty as Queen to give you heirs, and I shall. But not like that. It is too bold of me and I apologize, but if we are to make this marriage work then it is something that you must know.”

He nods easily, understanding what you mean.

“This marriage... we chose you, (Y/n). Specifically you,” Steve says softly, waiting for you to look up at him before speaking.

“We could’ve chosen any woman.” 

Upon seeing the frown on your face, James jumps in. “When he says that, he means that we had been offered wives before but none of them stood out to us. And then we were presented with you...” You look at him, confusion bringing your brows together.

“The princess of Orlen. A woman with kindness and beauty. From the way your father spoke of you, we chose you. If only to save you from a fate that he promised.”

You’re not sure how you feel about this.

“We spoke of you for weeks on end. We spoke of how we would love you, how we would treat you. How we would bed you...” A shiver races down your spine and you glance down, shaking your head.

“I-I do not think I will be ready for that for quite a while. I am sorry, but I just... I cannot. I can hardly walk without being in pain and Doctor Banner thinks that it may take weeks before I can do anything such as that.” Steve’s hand is on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“We will wait. Your body has gone through something that neither one of us could ever imagine. We will not be angry with your healing process and we will not rush it. It is as I said before, your health and happiness mean everything to me.”

James nods his agreement but can’t help feeling left out of the tender moment being shared. As much as he may try, he knows he will not be welcomed with open arms. And he doesn’t expect to be. However, it doesn’t lessen the pain. If anything, it amplifies it.

Jealousy and anger simmer deep in his core, and he has to take careful breaths to make sure he doesn’t let them show. The last thing he needs is to scare you further. And although he truly does wish to be on good terms with you, seeing you with his husband the way you are... it brings something monstrous to the front of his mind.

Something he’s only ever taken out on the battlefield.

The good part if him is afraid for your safety if he cannot reel in the beast. But the beast roars beneath the surface, ready to claw its way out and reclaim what is his.

#king!bucky #king!steve rogers x reader #king!bucky x Princess!reader X king!steve #king!Steve X reader #king!steve x reader #princess!you #queen!reader #dark!fic #dark!bucky #Bucky Barnes x reader dark au #bucky x reader dark au #steve x reader dark fic #bucky x reader dark fic #stucky/reader #Stucky AU #stucky x reader #Steve X reader x bucky smut #bucky x Steve X reader #steve x reader #bucky x Steve X reader smut #bucky x reader

[moon-rabbit-music]

Fuck it, 12:06 a.m. more like time to WRITE

___

Somehow, when Ganon rises, Urbosa isn’t surprised.

It’s just all too cosmically perfect - that the world’s most primordial evil has the perfect timing, to awaken from a slumber of thousands of years at the precise hour at which their hope is lowest. Almost as if it knows.

Almost as if it knows.

That thought nags at her the whole time - as she rides a borrowed steed toward Gerudo Canyon, as she jogs (!) all the way from the stable to Kara Kara Bazaar, as she takes a sand seal the last leg to Gerudo Town, as she boards Vah Naboris. Almost as if it knows - as if it had not, in fact, been as dormant as they had thought, but somehow, had been watching. Planning.

When she activates the terminal and is met with orange light and swirling darkness, she still isn’t surprised. 

The beast is fast, but she is faster. It wields lightning, but hers is stronger.

The fight is a blur, at first. She strikes it down, again and again, dark liquid dripping from her blade, but every time it gets back up, seemingly unaffected. It swings its axe, and it should be as easy to dodge as it was the first ten times but she is beginning to tire and it slams into her shield and there is a horrible crunching sound and Daybreaker cracks, right down the middle. She roars and moves in to strike, abandoning her usual finesse for sheer rage, and the blade sinks in so deep that she nearly loses her grip on it. Then she yanks it out, and the beast screams and it draws back, darkness pouring from the wound like blood. She moves to strike again, but before she can, it retreats inward on itself, a radiant blue glow encompassing its form as it shrinks down into a sphere the size of her fist and flies out of sight.

For one brief, glorious second, she thinks it might be over.

No such luck - she turns around and there it is, hanging in the air, lightning crackling around it - not the lightning she knows and loves, but a sickly green kind, sour and corrupt as the beast itself. Metal stakes appear out of thin air and embed themselves into the platforms and the floor. She almost laughs. It’s too easy. 

As it screeches and raises its arm and the metal stakes begin to spark, she runs. She leaps up the nearest ramp, up until she’s by the terminal again, and she pulls one of the stakes out of the ground. It’s lighter than she expects. She hefts it over her shoulder and throws.

It hits its mark. The beast falls. She snaps her fingers and the lightning answers her call. The beast does not scream again, for it is dead.

The adrenaline wears off, and she collapses.

Burn marks stain her arms. There is blood running down her side. When she tries to stand up, putting weight on her right leg, it protests but does not give out. She grabs at the edge of the terminal and pulls herself upright. Her fingers dance over the stone, and the angry orange fades to a gentle blue.

She makes her way outside, to the control panel situated atop its head. It isn’t until she’s set Naboris’s sights on the castle that she looks up, and her stomach drops.

Ribbons of darkness, streaked through with a deep, purply red, wrap around Hyrule Castle. Beyond, perched on the side of Death Mountain, Vah Rudania is surrounded by the same. 

She looks to her right, towards Zora’s Domain. Vah Ruta is shrouded as well. To her left. Vah Medoh too, although underneath the darkness she can see the brighter red of its shields. As she watches, the red flickers, and then dies.

She doesn’t know how, but in her gut lies a horrible certainty that her fellow Champions have fallen.

Then, she will have to be strong enough for the four of them. She screams, and Vah Naboris fires.

___

It’s not enough.

Days pass. Ganon rages, but leaves Gerudo Town and the surrounding area alone. Zelda visits, wearing the same expression that she had at her mother’s funeral. She tells Urbosa that the Guardians and the other three Divine Beasts are all under Ganon’s control, that her father is dead, that Link is dead, that Purah and Robbie are taking him to the Shrine of Resurrection, that her powers had awakened only once it was far, far too late. She tells her that she is going back to the castle, to try and contain Ganon until Link awakens and regains his strength. Then she cries, and Urbosa wants nothing more than to hold her close and tell her that she loves her and that she has done her mother proud, but the words don’t come, so she just hugs her little bird as tightly as she possibly can and prays that it is enough.

That night, she dreams of a woman made of stone, whose smile is impossibly sad and whose words are impossibly cryptic. She says that she will give Urbosa one more gift - the gift of time. The rest, she will have to do on her own.

Over the next 100 years, Urbosa only cries twice.

___

She hates being old. Some days, she hates it so much that she wishes she too had succumbed to the scourge set upon her Divine Beast a century ago. She hates being bedridden, hates how the simple act of sitting up makes her back ache in twenty different places and gives her a headache to boot. But more than that, she hates how people treat her. She used to command respect. Now all she gets is reverence. People look at her and they see not a person, but a story. 

Some people are still good to her, though. She corresponds with the Sheikah elder, Impa. Riju, the young chieftain, speaks to her regularly, and her determination and maturity well beyond her years reminds Urbosa of her little bird. She almost forgets why she is allowed to remain alive in the first place.

Then Riju tells her of a mysterious tower, with a heart of orange light, that had suddenly risen near the highlands, and of others like it across the land. Two days later, she receives a letter from Impa.

Link has awoken. I have advised him to find his way to you as soon as he is able. His time in the Shrine of Resurrection robbed him of his memories and his strength, but he seems to be regaining the latter quite rapidly. I have done what I can with respect to the former, but you knew him far better than I ever did. I can only hope that seeing you again will help him remember more of his past. I am sure that this is an unnecessary request, but I beseech you to help him in any way you possibly can.

-Impa

Riju tells the guards to allow a Hylian voe by the name of Link to enter, should he come asking for the Lady Urbosa. No such voe arrives, but they do welcome in a Hylian vai who makes a beeline first to the arrow shop and then to the palace. “She” looks exactly as Urbosa remembers.

“You look as lovely as ever, Link,” she tells him, and he blushes. He stands in the doorway, awkward and hesitant, and she beckons him closer.

“You don’t remember me.” It is a statement, not a question, and he nods.

“I remember bits and pieces,” he signs. “You helped me sneak in. Zelda liked you. She spoke to you as if she’d known you her whole life.” 

She nods slowly. “What else do you remember? Of everything.”

“Very little,” he responds. “Voices. I remember voices, but not who they belong to. And...” He rummages in his bag and pulls out a small, familiar assemblage of wood and cloth. “I remember this...a gift. From Revali.”

It is something of a gift, she decides, that he remembers so little. A painful gift, to be sure, but if he remembered everything...even he would crumble under the weight of all that loss, revealed so suddenly, and in such dire circumstances. She tells him what she thinks necessary for him to know - the names of the Champions, where their Divine Beasts are, that the Zora may still remember him but he will be a stranger to the Goron and the Rito. 

She does not tell him about how Mipha would heal his wounds after every battle and gently scold him for his recklessness. She does not tell him about how Daruk would laugh heartily and slap him on the back with a hand almost as tall as he was. She does not tell him about how Revali would braid his hair each night until he leaned back into the Rito’s chest and fell asleep. Those are not her memories to share.

She tells him to visit, sometimes, and he nods uncertainly before leaving. She raises a hand in farewell, then drops it back down to her side, exhausted.

Urbosa knows the line between hope and belief is a thin one. But deep in her heart, she believes that this time, things will turn out differently.

#breath of the wild #urbosa #link #revali #revalink #(but only if you squint lol) #my writing #i wrote this in 2 hours and i am not going to read over it at ALL goodbye #also the ending is super abrupt but whatever #i am writing an Actual Proper Full Length Fic around this concept though #honestly i might fuckin just. copy paste some shit lmaooo #that is if i ever fuckin get to this point #i'm over 1000 words in and we're still like 1.5 years out from the calamity #i mean there's gonna be hella timeskips #but yeah #ok it is 2 am i am going to SLEEP thank you for reading my bullshit uwu

[zuzu-firequeen]

Fire Queen

Fire Queen Masterlist

~Zuko X OC~

~Lake Laogai~

~o0o~

Jet sits in a chair while the rest of Team Avatar, the fighters, and I stare down at him with suspicion. “There is no way you don’t remember me. What you saw me do.” Jet shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Katara stands beside me stating, “The Dai Li must have sent Jet to mislead us, and that janitor was part of their plot too.” 

Aang looks up. “I bet they have Appa here in the city. Maybe he's in the same place they took Jet.” I look at Jet narrowing my eyes. “Where did they take you?” Jet sits still on the chair, his head hanging low. “Nowhere. I, I don't know what you're talking about.”

“We need to find a way to jog his real memories.” Sokka jumps up quickly. “Maybe Katara could kiss him. That should bring something back.” “Maybe you should kiss him, Sokka.”  “Hey, just an idea.”

Aang huffs looking over at Sokka. “ A bad one.” Aw, how cute! I wonder if Zuko ever got jealous over me? 

“Oo, wait. I got it.” Sokka plucks a straw from his mattress, pokes it into Jet's mouth in trademark fashion. “I don't think it's working.” Jet spits the straw to the floor. Toph carries an idea. “Try to think of something from your past that triggers your emotions.” 

“The Fire Nation, remember what they did to your family.” I look down in regret. I shouldn’t have used my bending against him in the way I did. No wonder he hates fire nation so strongly. No wonder he hates my father even more. 

“Close your eyes. Picture it.”

Jet closes his eyes, and sweat beads on his forehead. His eyes widen with tears brimming the surface. “No! It's too painful.” I bite my lip stepping forward. “Do you care if I try something?” Jet shakes his head allowing me to stand behind him. I place my hands on the sides of his head closing my eyes. I concentrate and maneuver my thoughts through his mind. Everything plays out as a story for the two of us.

A shadow cast on the floor before me by the light of the energies. As my eyes follow the floorboards, gaps appear, revealing blue waters. The far side of the room is replaced by the distant shore of a great lake, and Long Feng can be seen standing in the distance upon its surface. Long Feng regards Jet grimly, and suddenly we plunge into the dark depths of the lake. I emerge inside a vast man-made subterranean chamber. The scene flashes to show Jet being subjected to the hypnotic light of an orbiting lantern by a pair of Dai Li agents. He shuts his eyes against the light. I pull back gasping. “Lake Laogai.” I breathe out leaning onto the wall. 

Redirecting and viewing memories. Check. Father would be proud.

Aang stares at me in a mixture of shock and confusion, but pushes it aside. Better to ask questions later. 

~

“So where's this secret headquarters, Truble?” Sokka asks following my steps. “Under the lake.” Toph stops, pointing to her right. “There's a tunnel right there near the shore.” She walks that direction, whistling. Reaching the water's edge Toph jumps up in an earthbending move, and a stone pathway rises to the surface. Everyone peers down into the dark shaft, and Momo flies away chittering nervously. From the depths of the shaft, I see a narrow ladder leading up to the tiny circle of light where the heroes stand, far above. The scene changes to a view of the underground base similar to the one in Jet's memory, a crosshatch of large passages lit by greenish firestone lanterns. A pair of Dai Li walk off into a side tunnel, and we pan back to see the assembled group cautiously descending a dark stairway to the main chamber.

“It's all starting to come back to me.” Jet says lowly as he walks by my side. Jet edges quietly to a partially opened door, then moves on, followed by the rest of us. “I think there might be a cell big enough to hold Appa up ahead.”  He stops before a sealed stone door. “I think it's through here.”

~

-Zuko-

I slide the stone door away. Light spills into a chamber. Inside Appa is chained to the floor, and the light from the doorway casts my shadow on the floor as the bison rises. “Expecting someone else?” I draw a dword while Appa shifts nervously in his chains.

~

Jet slides a stone door for everyone to enter a massive shadowy cavern, the stone door abruptly slides shut behind them. We spin around in surprise, as the room is plunged into darkness, then green lanterns flare to life, illuminating the vast cave. Only now do they notice the Dai Li high above us, suspended from chains or clinging to the ceiling itself. 

“Now that's something different.” I shrug, “I’ve seen better.”

Long Feng stares at us. “You have made yourselves enemies of the state. Take them into custody.” 

The Dai Li drop down to the floor, encircling us. Two agents launch a stone fist attack, but Toph disintegrates them in mid-flight. As the dust clears, she launches them across the room with a pair of rock pillars. Behind her, I turn and rush another pair, cutting their stone fist in the air. Sliding along the ground past the first, I tripped the second with my foot, slamming him hard to the ground.

Long Feng watches dispassionately as Aang deals with two more of his Dai Li with air and earthbending. Katara and Sokka manage to destroy two more of the glove projectiles before being seized by two more. Toph intervenes with a stone wall before they can be drug to the waiting Dai Li. They send a rush of stone towards Toph, but she rises high into the cavern on a pillar of rock, forcing them to pursue her the same way.

Two more Dai Li race up the walls to either side of her, to strike out at Toph with horizontal columns of stone. High in the cavern, Toph swats aside the first two agents, then leaps to avoid the two columns as they crash together beneath her. Landing atop them, she bends up a pair of stone blocks from the columns, using them to drive away both of the remaining agents simultaneously. A fist of stone grabs the back of her shirt, and she is hauled through the air toward a waiting Dai Li. Jet intervenes at the last moment. Leaping past the hooks her belt with his sword, pulling her to safety as the agent kicks a stone foot attack after them. Longshot covers them as they land, intercepting the missile with one of his arrows. Joined by two of his brethren, the Dai Li retaliates with three fist attacks at Longshot, but Jet cuts them from the air with a whirlwind of slashes. Meanwhile, Long Feng has seen enough. He flees from the room, sealing a stone door behind him. Back at the battle, Aang lands and blows two Dai Li aside with a burst of air.

“Long Feng is escaping!” Aang yells out as he fights. I ran up taking his place and taking down the agent. “Go!” Aang and Jet break free and run after him. 

~

-Zuko-

Appa is growling and stamping his feet as I walk closer to him, standing just beyond his reach. I smirk under the blue mask. “You're mine now.”

The door behind me and a shadow are seen in the light spilling inward. I turn and readies both my swords to attack. Iroh enters the room, closing the door behind him.

“Uncle?”

He gasps, feigning puzzlement. “So, the Blue Spirit. I wonder who could be behind that mask?” I huff removing the mask. “What are you doing here?” “I was just about to ask you the same thing. What do you plan to do now that you have found the Avatar's bison? Keep it locked in our new apartment? I’m sure Truble will love having a new roomie. Should I go put on a pot of tea for him?” 

I look over the huge creature. “First I have to get it out of here.”

“AND THEN WHAT?! You never think these things through! This is exactly what happened when you captured the Avatar at the North Pole! You had him, and then you had nowhere to go!”

“I would have figured something out!”

“No!! If his friends hadn't found you, you would have frozen to death!”

I look at the ground, “I know my own destiny uncle.” “Is it your own destiny? Or is it a destiny someone else has tried to force on you?” I tremble, shaking my head. “Stop it, Uncle. I have to do this.” Uncle Iroh begs with his hands. “I'm begging you, Prince Zuko! It's time for you to look inward, and begin asking yourself the big questions. Who are you? And what do you want?” With a cry of frustration, I hurl both of the swords to the ground, followed by the Blue Spirit mask. 

Iroh’s hands clasp on my shoulders as I lower to my knees. “I don’t want to see you throw your happiness away, Zuko. I will not let you reject Truble from your heart.” I hang my head low. 

“Truble…”  

I stand to turn to Uncle. “We need to find her, Uncle.” He smiles handing my materials to me. “I’m sure she’s close.” I look back at Appa in a frown. What would Truble do? I walk up to him patting his legs. “Hold on, buddy.” I unshackle each leg letting him go and fly away through the ceiling. Iroh grins at me as I walk with him exiting. 

“Wait. Did you leave Zori alone?” Iroh nods. “You worry too much about her.” “Have you met her?” Iroh shrugs. “Good point.”

~

We all rush forward to surround the stricken Jet, wearing sorrowful and shocked expressions. Katara draws forth, bending water kneels beside him, and applies her healing powers to his chest. “How is he?” I ask, biting back my tears. 

“This isn't good.”

Smellerbee states, “You guys go find Appa. We'll take care of Jet.” I shake my head looking at her. “We can’t leave you. There are too many.” An unknown voice rips through the air belonging to Longshot. “There's no time. Just go. We'll take care of him. He's our leader.” The five of us look at him with expressions of wonder. Jet smirks at Katara. “Don't worry Katara, I'll be fine.” Jet smiles weakly up at her, and she closes her eyes in grief before rising to her feet. We all file off somberly, leaving the Freedom Fighters behind. Toph, Sokka, and I bring in the back.

“He's lying,” Toph said softly as she lowered her head. 

We step into another large room only to see the empty stone walls. Only the six manacles lie empty within the prison. “Appa's gone. Long Feng beat us here.” 

“If we keep moving, maybe we can catch up to him.”

Toph earth bends us up from below. A rock bearing a circular stone plug arises at the edge of the lake. Cracks form on the plug, and it shoots off to shatter on the nearby cliff face. The five of us emerge and start racing along the narrow shoreline. Glancing over his shoulder, Aang sees nine Dai Li emerge in pursuit of the hole behind them.

Sokka looks at the agents gulping. “Do you think we can outrun them?” “I don't think it's gonna matter.” Ahead I see six more Dai Li flanking the waiting Long Feng. The six agents bend up a thirty-foot wall of stone beneath Long Feng's feet, sealing the strip of land between the cliffside and the lake. We all draw to a stop, and behind us, the Dai Li raises another wall, boxing everyone in. We are enclosed and surrounded by eighteen Dai Li, who cling to the edges of the walls and the cliffside while Long Feng watches from atop the first wall. Momo sweeps down out of the sky and lands on Aang's shoulder chattering excitedly.

“What is it Momo?”

Momo launches upward, past Long Feng, to disappear into the bright midday sun. Moments later Appa emerges from the dazzling light, hurtling downwards towards them. I gasp looking up. “Wow!” 

“Appa!” Aang cries loudly. Appa swoops down and smashes through the first wall, continuing onward through the second. The Dai Li perched on the wall are knocked senseless by the bursting walls and fall to the ground or spill into the water. Aang and Toph bend the cliff that the remaining agents are perched on, flinging them far out into the lake. Appa circles around to land heavily near the shaken Long Feng, as the remaining Dai Li flee. Turning from his fleeing men, Long Feng faces an enraged Appa. He launches a kick at Appa, who catches his leg in his teeth. With a mighty toss of his powerful neck, Appa sends him skipping far out across Lake Laogai, to disappear with a final splash. The sky-bison pauses momentarily before spitting out his shoe. Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Momo throw themselves onto the shaggy bison, while Toph strokes his nose. I stand back stuffing my feet and watching them. 

“Truble, come over here!” Aang calls. I walk over in front of the beast. He sniffs me in two large gusts of wind before his tongue strides over my body. “He likes you!” Aang laughs hugging onto his friend. I lay my hand in his head, petting the soft fur. “It’s good to meet you, Appa.” 

~

-Zuko-

Iroh and I emerge from the passage. I look over into the sky seeing the large flying bison whisking through the air. “You did the right thing, nephew.” I pull out the Blue Spirit mask, admiring its demonic visage as Iroh rests a hand on my shoulder. “Leave it behind.” I walk to the edge of the bank and drop the mask into the lake, where it slowly sinks into the depths. “It’s time I told her.” I nod looking at my reflection. 

~

I tiptoe across the floor, opening my door. I kick my shoes off and stretch. I lay down and smile at Zori, pushing a few stray hairs out of her face. She opens her eyes and grumbles, “Where have you been?” She cuddles closer to me and sighs. “Zuko was going nuts. He left looking for you in the middle of the night.” I smile biting back a laugh. If he knew I was helping the Avatar…

Would he do what his father did when the king found out about the talents my father kept? 

“I met a sky bison.” She sits up looking at me in shock. “Appa?” I nod smiling. “You’re doing it!” She hugs me close laughing. “I knew you could.” 

Soft knocks at the door break the moment. I look up to see Zuko peeking through the crack. “Come in, Lee.” I giggle. He strides through with a long face. “I know what you’re-” Zuko grabs my waist pulling me flush against him. He presses his lips to mine in a rush. The force of his grasp almost makes me tumble, but he holds me in his stance like a statue. He releases my lips resting his head on mine. 

“Would you look at the time…” Zori mumbles as she leaves the room, closing the door.

Zuko’s grip tightens and his eyes become stiff. “Where were you?” “I was finding the bison.” His mouth opens then closes. His fingers came to grab the gold coin around my neck, running his padded digits over the emblem. “I know this symbol.” I nod putting my hand over his. “I’m sure you do, Lee.” He looks at my orbs, staring deep into my being. “Don’t call me that.” His lips brim closer. “And what shall I call you?” I raise my hand to his cheek, running over the edges of the scar. “I think you already know, Truble.” 

I smile brushing my lips ever so lightly on his before pulling back. “I think you should introduce yourself.” He smiles letting go of a chuckle. “Hi, Truble. I’m Zuko.” I gasp dramatically. “Prince Zuko?” He rolls his eyes and gazes down at the necklace again. “In all my glory.” I laugh bringing my lips to meet his. I rest my head on his chest smiling. “As much as I love this, I am tired.” Zuko nods and kisses my head. “Let’s rest, love.” He guides me to lay down and does the same, holding me close. 

#prince zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x oc #fire lord zuko #zuzu #zuko imagine #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar the legend of aang #the avatar returns #avatar aang #aang #air bender #katara #sokka #water tribe #water bender #toph #earth bender #suki #kioshi #ba sing se #uncle iroh

[nonstoplover]

everglow ~ Luke Hemmings (song drabble)

my masterlist │my song drabbles

song used as inspiration: coldplay ~ everglow

words: 2.1K

approximate reading time: about 10 mins

warnings: mentions of death, cancer

a/n: i just love this song. ever since it came out i’ve been in love with it. but i was too much of an immature child to actually realise it was such a sad song *smh* until i a couple months back had an idea to make it an imagine and started analysing the lyrics. sorry it became so sad. hope you still enjoy it. love ya xx

"...Oh they say people come, say people go, this particular diamond was extra special And though you might be gone and the world may not know, still I see you celestial..."

"You have to move on sooner or later, Luke," Michael pats him in the back as he passes him in the kitchen on his way to the fridge. "That's what-"

"I know!" Luke exclaims back furiously. "I know, 'that's what she'd want'. Everybody tells me daily."

"Then why can't you see the truth in it?"

"Because it's nonsense. No one can really know what she'd want or not want, because she's gone!"

The tears gather in Luke's eyes and he turns his head away from his bandmate. He's slowly getting sick of hearing this sentence almost every day.

(y/n) would want you to move on.

But what if he just can't? It's not like flipping a switch inside him. He loves her, and nothing would or could change that. And why the rush? She passed away only three months ago, why can't he mourn properly - as he himself wishes to do so?

"...Like a lion you ran, a goddess you rolled Like an eagle you circled, in perfect purple..."

He doesn't even notice the tears rolling down his cheeks until Calum's worried face appears in front of him, kneeling on the tiles. "Hey, you alright?"

Luke takes a shaky breath in, trying to shake the sadness away again, but it seems stronger and as a sob escapes his lungs, he wordlessly shakes his head, falling on his knees in front of his friend. Calum puts his arms around him, hoping to give the poor boy some much needed comfort as he cries in his embrace.

"You can tell me - tell us - about it, you know that, right?" Luke hears Cal's quiet mumble, and he blinks rapidly to push the tears away.

Leaning back, he raises his hands to wipe the wet lines off his face with his shirtsleeves as he sniffles loudly, nodding his head.

Calum stands up, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him up before making his way to the living room, pushing Luke in front of him, not letting go until they're both sitting on the couch. Michael follows them suit and drops on Luke's other side while Ashton gets seated in the armchair opposing them.

"...So how come things move on, how come cars don't slow When it feels like the end of my world? When I should, but I can't let you go?..."

They wait patiently for their heartbroken friend to speak, and after a couple minutes it eventually happens, the words bursting out Luke with the barrier that kept them in for the past months finally out of the picture.

"I just can't understand how the world could go on like nothing had happened when she, the engine that made my world turn, is gone."

It sounds so simple, so logical, and the other three friends share a look, wondering what they could answer to such a confession that would ease Luke's pain. Soon it turns out they don't have to say a thing as he continues. And maybe it's better to just let him say everything he wants out loud, anyway.

"I can still feel her. Constantly. Her warmth, her light wherever I go and whatever I do," he places a palm on his chest. "It fills my entire chest."

"...But when I'm cold, cold, when I'm cold, cold, there's a light that you give me when I'm in shadow There's a feeling within me, an everglow..."

"We had so many plans," and for the first time in the past couple minutes, Luke's voice finally gives in and cracks. "So many places to visit, so many memories to make."

Visions flash inside his mind, visions of (y/n) and random pieces of their life together - from when he first asked her out, when they had just started dating four years ago, when they moved in together, when he went to the jeweller to choose the most perfect ring only a year back, before they found out she had pancreatic cancer.

He remembers the day when he once visited her in the hospital and decided to cheer her up by eventually proposing as if it was only yesterday. She looked so fragile, so pale, her beautiful (y/e/c) eyes cloudy. It was a sudden decision, and he moved to carry it out without a second thought, kneeling on the cold hospital floor and pulling the small, velvety ring box out of his jacket's pocket. Oh, how much he blessed himself in that moment for carrying it with himself every day to her, waiting for the perfect timing to show her the jewel.

(y/n) frowned, not having a single clue about what was going on before he opened the box and spoke the words as casually as if he was only asking about the weather. Will you marry me? A soft giggle left her body immediately, one that was so quiet that it just broke Luke's heart again. He was used to her hearty, boisterous laughs, not a giggle resembling the noise a butterfly makes when it flutters its wings. But at least she giggled. That's success.

Are you crazy? She asked with an adoring smile playing on her lips as she glanced down at him from the tower of pillows. No, I wanna marry you, he answered with a serious face. And from then on, planning their wedding - one that they both knew would never actually happen - was part of the routine they had every time Luke visited her. Which was every day - well, except a couple when he had unmissable band duties, but even then he made sure somebody went to her.

"...But the changing of winds and the way waters flow Life is short as the falling of snow and now I'm gonna miss you, I know..."

A bitter, dark chuckle leaves his lips, his eyes cold and emotionless as he stares at the floor in front of his feet. "I can't put the ring away. It still lies on my bedside table," he admits.

His bandmates share another look, only turning back to him when he stands abruptly, leaving the room. "I need a paper tissue," he announces just before he disappears in the doorway.

Rummaging through the bathroom shelf Luke tries his hardest not to look at (y/n)'s part - where she kept all her finery equipments, and where he still keeps all of them - as he pushes everything aside to find a new package of tissues. There has to be at least a couple unopened ones left, his mother bought him an enormous amount just a week or two ago. He couldn't finish them all.

He frowns, pausing for a moment to think back to how many times he actually needed a tissue in the past couple days, then with a shrug he stands back up, moving to the bedroom instead. At least in his bag, or in the bedside table's drawer, there has to be a goddamn tissue.

Just as he thought, there lays a couple fresh ones, and he sighs, pulling them out and sticking them in his sweatpants' pocket except one he unfolds to dry his eyes and blow his nose. When he's finished, Luke makes his way back towards the living room with a new thought forming in his head.

"...But when I'm cold, cold in water rolled, salt And I know that you're with me in the way you will show..."

As he gets closer to the room though, his bandmates' voices enter his ears and when his name pops up, he comes to a halt, freezing in spot on the corridor.

"I don't know, man, Luke's beyond recognition by now," he hears Ashton speak.

Am I?

And would you blame me if I was?

After half of my heart, half of me has been ripped out of me?

"What I think is that he should try to write songs," Calum continues. "That's what he's good at, and maybe it'd help him write his feelings out."

Write songs?

"That's a great idea, but I don't know how you could suggest that to him without immediately making him think that you just want a couple new hits," adds Michael.

That's right...

With a shake of his head Luke moves again and enters the room, pretending that he heard nothing from the ongoing conversation that comes to an abrupt stop when they notice his figure.

"I think I'll head out for a walk now," Luke announces, nodding towards the front door. "I'm sorry for cutting this short, 't was nice seeing you."

The other three immediately stand, their heads moving in understanding nods, but before any of them could say a word out loud, Luke's already halfway out of the door.

"...And you're with me wherever I go 'cause you give me this feeling, this everglow What I wouldn't give for just a moment to hold, because I live for this feeling, this everglow..."

He doesn't come for the next one and a half hour, wandering around in his neighbourhood subconsciously. He pays no attention to his surroundings, where he goes or who is around him, he just walks, buried deep within the world of his thoughts as he walks, his hands stuck in his jacket's pocket.

The idea of writing his feelings out that he’s heard Calum propose back in his house comes back again and again to his mind. Maybe it actually would be a great idea. Maybe it would help deal with these awful, undescribable feelings he never should've experience - at least not so soon.

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

"Today marks day 183 since (y/n) died and here I am with 62 finished songs. This is the last one," Luke speaks to his phone set on his desk, front camera opened and rolling.

His guitar lays in his lap and his fingers effortlessly move to the needed position. He plays the first chords, letting the sound gently fill the room as his eyes stay trained on the small, creased notebook that sits between his phone and himself on the wooden surface.

Soon he starts singing, his voice quiet and overwhelmingly emotional, but he just can't help it. Somewhere during the song he looks at the hand that's wrapped around the guitar's neck to make sure he plays the following chords perfectly - not like he would play them wrong anyway, but it makes him feel calmer when he looks - and when he does, he could swear that from the corner of his eyes he sees (y/n) standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a proud, loving glaze in her eyes.

It encourages him to keep going. He can feel her support hang in the air and fill the room up. She wants to let him know - wherever she is at the moment - that she'll support him no matter what.

No matter what he does, what he thinks, who he's with. She just wants what's best for him. It's like he could actually hear her voice say the words. Let me go. You'd want the same for me if it was the other way around.

And he knows she's right. If he was the one that died, he'd want her to move on and leave him and his memory in the past so she could live a happy life with someone else, because she deserved to have all the experience and memories they wanted to make together, even if it's with another person.

And this thought is enough for him to slowly make peace with the outrageous turn his life has taken, and suddenly he knows that even though she'll always be a part of him and will always have a piece of his heart, he will be able to grow to let the grief - and her - go.

"...So if you love someone, you should let them know Oh, the light that you left me will everglow..."

.::the end::.

my masterlist

#luke hemmings #5 seconds of summer #5sos #5sos luke #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings fanfiction #5 seconds of summer imagine #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #5sos imagine #tumblr writer #tumblr writers #writer #fanfic writer #imagine #fanficiton #musician #youngblood #calm #sounds good feels good #coldplay #everglow #lyrics #song drabble #masterlist

[author-morgan]

Kryptic ↟ Deimos

twenty-seven - a mother’s hope

masterlist

But the great leveler, Death: not even the gods can defend a man, not even one they love, that day when fate takes hold and lays him out at last.

Death submits to no one, not even Dread and Destruction.

They are both weapons of flesh and bone, of warm blood and beating hearts, and they cannot be controlled.

EACH OF THE sentries posted outside the leader’s home cast wary glances to one another after Lesya enters. Ikaros perches on the corner of the roof above the doorway, staring at her with dark, mistrustful eyes. Even with all she has helped Kassandra achieve, the eagle still does not trust her. It remains a mutual feeling as ofttimes Lesya feels she is being watched, and the passing shadow always takes the shape of an eagle. With a loud piping call, Ikaros hops from the roof, spreading his wings into the night.

Lips pursed, Lesya passes through the villa’s entrance, stopping beneath a stoa connecting the andron and kitchen —the Eagle Bearer nor her mother are in the atrium. Ikaros flies above the villa, circling and squawking. The commotion brings Kassandra down a flight of stairs, both her sword and spear drawn. “Lesya!” she cries —sheathing her kopis but not the Leonidas spear— shocked to find the former champion standing before after she left her in Athens. Kass’ initial relief fades, replaced by suspicion surrounding her sudden and opportune arrival. “What happened to you?” She asks, dark eyes narrowing. “How did you get here?”

“Tundareos,” Lesya answers, pushing aside the former question —it will take more time to explain what happened after Deimos left Perikles’ corpse at the feet of Athena. 

“Lamb?” A warm voice calls —reminding Lesya of her mother. The voice belongs to a woman with silver-brown hair and a kindly face that is neither young nor old —her resemblance to Kassandra and even her wayward son is unmistakable. Myrrine. Her gaze falls on the woman standing next to her daughter, a head shorter but just as strong with striking copper hair. “You must be Lesya,” she notes, smiling despite knowing who she is and the atrocities she has committed. Lesya nods, dipping her head down in greeting. 

Myrrine looks between Kassandra and Lesya. Her soft smile does not diminish. “Will you walk with me?” She asks, meeting the unsettling laurel gaze of the former champion —one of the few people in Hellas who could say they knew her son. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Lesya nods, stepping forward, but the Eagle Bearer watches her leave apprehensively and gives Ikaros a knowing look. Shadows are harder to see at night. 

The trodden path Myrrine leads Lesya down is the same one she’d taken to the villa, but instead of turning toward the docks —they move toward where a great statue of a lion is under construction from flawless white marble. A tribute to Leonidas and defiance against the Delian League, who claim control over the island. She stops beneath the half-shaped mane and sits on a massive paw, clasping her hands together in her lap. 

“Kassandra tells me you know my son,” she starts —love and guilt lacing the statement. In the moonrise, Lesya watches solemnness overtake Myrrine when she nods, knowing there is much that should have been different. The artifact in the Cult’s Sanctuary revealed what happened during a stormy night on the slopes of Taygetos. “She also tells me he’s beyond saving,” Myrrine adds, profound sadness slipping into her voice. 

“That’s not true,” Lesya snaps, anger churning in her stomach. If Deimos were beyond saving, he would not have risked everything to protect her from the kiss of the Cult’s blades when they came. He would not have tended her wounds or sought her out in Korinthia. She will not believe it, for if Deimos is beyond saving, then all her efforts to stop the Cult are in vain —but they are not. 

The unspoken promises on his lips still sting her cheek —one day. Lesya is certain of all the people in Hellas she is the only one who knows what kind of man Deimos is and the man he can be. “Yes,” she starts, softer than before and with tears stinging her laurel eyes at the flood of memories, “he’s done terrible things, but I’ve done terrible things, too.” No one would say otherwise. The blood Deimos and Enyo spilled could turn the Aegean red —they both deserve to rot in Tartarus for their crimes. 

“You love him,” Myrrine notes —having seen the fire rise in Lesya’s eyes. She knew the look of a woman in love too well. 

“I do,” Lesya replies, lips kinking into a smile. “Forgive me,” she begins, gaze downcast, “but Kassandra does not know him.” Three chance meetings could not replace two decades of nigh always being with one another —seldom parted for more than a moon. Myrrine follows Lesya as she begins to pace, unsure what else to tell a mother of her son. 

“Deimos gave me freedom at a great cost to himself,” she admits. The newest scars on his sides were proof enough. “I can’t give up on him.” Lesya turns to Myrrine, hands clenching into fists at her sides and expression turning to a cold grimace. “I will not stop until every Cultist and Cult puppet knows a fraction of the pain we have endured at their hands.” They would all fall eventually, either to her blade or Kassandra’s.

THE SILVER LIGHT of a full moon reflects off the dark waters. Across the narrow channel lies Paros, the golden glow of braziers pocking the harbor and dwindling polis. Lesya stares at the island with contempt —recalling the last time she had stepped foot on the white sands and the reason behind the visit. Silanos’ reign was founded on a path of blood and bone paved by the Cult’s champions. 

“We strike Paros tomorrow,” Kassandra announces, leaning against the balcony. Myrrine and Timo reasoned the sooner they could rid themselves of Silanos, the better. The Athenian polemarch was a nuisance —threatening the security and livelihood of the denizens of Naxos. “What do you know about their leader?” The Eagle Bearer asks, after hearing her mother’s suspicions about his ties to the Cult of Kosmos. 

Lesya shrugs, not taking her gaze away from the neighboring island. “He’s a coward mostly,” she tells Kassandra. Silanos was not a man of repute even amongst the Cultists, relying on deception to climb through the ranks of Kosmos and the Peloponnesian League. “Deimos and I disposed of the previous Parian leader and cemented the way for his rise to power,” Lesya explains. 

From the corner of her laurel eyes, she watches the Eagle Bearer’s face pinch —she often wore such an expression when hearing of Lesya’s exploits for the Cult. “They did not say why we had to do it, but now I know.” Installing Silanos as the Parian leader meant they could keep a chary watch on Myrrine of Sparta.

GUARDIANS WATCH THE docks of Piraeus when a lone merchant vessel arrives in the night, and the Cult’s Champion disembarks, striding forth in only a dark chiton and the Damoklean sword at his waist. Kleon sent a small army through the plague ravished city in search of Deimos in the days following Perikles’ death after discovering his bloody armor at Hermippos’ villa. The coward playwright claimed to know nothing when questioned. Three of the Cult guardians step into Deimos’ path, pointing toward the Acropolis in the distance, shrouded by low-hanging clouds and the night. 

He pauses on the steps below the propylaea. The blood painting the white marble was scrubbed away, yet he still could see Lesya’s blood on his hands. Flexing his scarred hand, Deimos continues through the gateway and toward the Arrephorion, where Kleon now resides after desecrating the House of Athena’s maids. Kleon looks up from the piece of papyrus before him when Deimos enters, setting down a reed pen next to a small pot of wet soot. “Where did you go, boy?” He asks, dry lips curling.

Deimos tilts his head to the side, counting and sizing up the Athenian psiloi posted around Kleon’s quarters on the Acropolis. The small force numbers ten, not counting the ones posted at the temple and treasury. He would not even need the sword on his hip to dispatch them. “Does it matter?” Deimos bites back in the same patronizing tone. 

Kleon grits his teeth at the champion’s defiance and rises from his desk. Hermippos may not have confessed the truth, but with enough persuasion, his servants had. Deimos fled the city aboard a pirate trireme with her. The old hag, Chrysis, had been right to call for Enyo’s execution —if she lived the Cult would never be able to control Deimos again. “You don’t see it,” the new Athenian leader begins, hands clasped behind his back, “but she makes you weak.” Weakness could not be allowed to grow within the ranks of Kosmos. “A demigod groveling for the approval of a woman,” Kleon sneers. 

Deimos cannot help but laugh, his dark gaze a silent threat. In Enyo’s absence, many seemed to have forgotten what she had done for the Cult and what she was still capable of doing. Midas’ mangled corpse in Argolis should have served as a bitter reminder of the weapon they helped create. “You once trembled in fear and called her a demigoddess,” he reminds Kleon before turning and taking his leave of the Athenian general’s presence. 

@wallsarecrumbling @novastale @fjor-ok-skadi @fucking-dip-shit @elizabethroestone @maximalblaze @balmacedapascal @khaoskrossed

#Alexios #Deimos #Alexios x OC #Deimos x OC #Alexios Imagine #Deimos Imagine #Alexios Fanfiction #Deimos Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #story: Kryptic #my writing

[tysonrunningfox]

Two Night Stand AU: Part 8

Sometimes, you finish things on a quest for feeling accomplished and end up not feeling accomplished but also things are done.  And it’s bittersweet, but like, in the baking chocolate way where sure they’re sugar there as a concept but god, at what cost? 

Ao3

“Knock knock,” Ruffnut cracks Astrid’s bedroom door and peeks inside, and thankfully Astrid notices the plate of pancakes in her hand before calling her out on her less than stellar knocking etiquette. 

“Those better be for me, I’m not in the mood to watch you eat pancakes.” 

“A peace offering,” she nods, handing the plate to Astrid.  There’s a smiley face of strawberries on the top pancake and it makes her think of oatmeal from a world ago, and her stomach feels like it’s twisting around a rock. 

“What did I do to deserve a peace offering?” 

“Did you tell her yet?”  Snotlout appears in the doorway, thankfully clothed, and Ruffnut glares at him. 

“Tell me what?” 

“The pancakes were to keep your mouth full while I very gently tried to tell you that well…” She exhales, and Astrid wonders when Ruffnut grew up and started trying to be gentle. 

Or maybe she didn’t.  Maybe Astrid is just fragile now, and it’s a relief when the thought makes her furious, some forgotten lick of heat and anger swirling in her chest. 

“What is it?”  She takes a bite of the pancakes, forcing it down even though it feels dry in her mouth. 

“Should I be here for this, or…” Snotlout points over his shoulder, “or I can go—”

“Just tell me,” Astrid snaps, the newly re-discovered edge in her voice making Ruffnut raise her eyebrows. 

“We really liked having the place to ourselves,” she says, “Snotlout is ready to take over the lease, and since I’m the primary name on the apartment—”

“Yeah,” Astrid doesn’t need to hear the dissertation about why she needs to move on from this stagnant phase, because it’s finally on repeat in her head again, the silent assertion that tomorrow needs to be different.  That she needs to make tomorrow different.  “You’re right, I’ll…start figuring it out.” 

“I told you she could take it,” Snotlout tells Ruffnut, “it’s Astrid, after all.” 

“Yeah, and she hasn’t been acting like Astrid—”

“She’s right here,” Astrid clears her throat, “and I get it, I’ve…kept your second bedroom occupied long enough.” 

“You can stay as long as you need to,” Snotlout nods, “like a day.  Two days.  Through the week, maybe—”

“I’ll…figure it out.”  She says, shocked when she actually believes it.  Or at least she believes she can believe it.  That she might be believable once again.  

The second bite of pancakes tastes better. 

“Ok, then,” Snotlout claps, “we can share boxes, if you want, I’ve got like, a fuckton of boxes at my place—”  He cuts off with a grunt when Ruff smacks him in the stomach.  “Hey, I’m being helpful—”

“What happened to you?” Ruffnut asks, risking her fingers to steal a strawberry off of Astrid’s plate. 

She thinks about telling the whole truth, but doesn’t want to cry about it.  She doesn’t want to hear about what an asshole Hiccup is.  She doesn’t want to think about him, and she’s starting to remember how to force her thoughts in a direction. 

“Apparently it took a near hostage situation for me to get off my ass.” 

“Or some good dick,” Ruffnut jokes, but she looks relieved, and Astrid wonders how long she’s had that worried frown for Astrid to be so used to it. 

“Wasn’t all that,” she lies, still not thinking about him.  Not remembering what he said as she was leaving, after he proved to be everything she hates.  Not thinking about how it hurt to hurt him, even though that’s stupid.  Beyond stupid. 

“Well,” Ruffnut pats her leg, “either way, we have to get ready for the party tonight.” 

“Shouldn’t I be finishing my application or looking for an apartment with a totally possible monthly rent of zero dollars?”  She laughs, a little overwhelmed, but after months thinking she’d never even be whelmed again, it’s not unwelcome. 

“All the responsible returns at once,” Ruffnut snorts, “it’s our last New Years as roommates, come on.  One last party.  Snotlout’s dumb pretty friends are invited, you can continue your successful streak…”

“Oh God, no thank you.”  She sets the half-eaten pancakes aside, “I’m good, on that front.  Dating profile deleted, lesson learned, focus regained.” 

“So it was horrible dick, then,” Snotlout muses, “you know, I always kind of thought something would happen with the three of us while you two were living together.  And now that the days—or even hours, you could say, are numbered—”

“Still my room,” Astrid points at the door, “both of you, out.” 

“All the bossiness back at once,” Ruffnut smacks Snotlout on the back of the head as she stands up, “and you, stop being gross.” 

“You love me,” he follows her, grabbing her butt, and her giggle makes Astrid’s chest twinge. 

And she doesn’t think of Hiccup.  She doesn’t think how for a night it felt like something.  How for a day it felt like friends.  How he looked at her like he saw her, like she was more than her recent mistakes. 

Because even if that were true, it doesn’t change what he did.  When someone tells you who they are, it’s best to believe them, and Hiccup showed his hand. 

And his foot.  And she wishes he’d never made it her business, but there’s no changing that now.  There’s just forward. 

00000

“Really, I think you’d enjoy it.”  The guy who can’t read social cues drones on even as Astrid tries to make herself as obviously uninterested as possible, nursing her third drink of the night and trying not to resent everyone else for having fun.  “I don’t understand the stigma so many adults have against animation, but really it’s a show about the bond between man and dragon, and the world building on an already beloved franchise is vast.  You could say chief-sized.” 

He laughs at his own joke.  The joke that she doesn’t get, or care to get. 

“And with the coincidence of your name and appearance,” he gestures at her and she doesn’t remember Hiccup saying she was pretty over a video call, “I think you could really get into it.  Plus, the romance angle.”  He chuckles and she gets the impression he’s going to reach for her, or something, and she wonders who invited him.  She was promised Snotlout’s dumb, pretty friends, not some guy obsessed with a kids’ show about dragons that he’s been harping on about for twenty minutes.  “A great slow burn between well, the beautiful Viking warrior and the late-blooming future chief.” 

He gestures at himself. 

Her mother always told her that if she doesn’t have anything nice to say, she shouldn’t say anything at all.  Her uncle always told her that was bullshit, and sometimes people need a reality check. 

The only problem is she doesn’t know what reality he’s living in, so she doesn’t know from which direction to apply that check. 

She blinks slowly and chugs the rest of her drink to avoid that decision. 

“You know, it’s polite to respond when someone is trying to have a conversation with you.” 

“Dude,” she stands up, “I’m just intimidated as hell, you know.” 

“Oh, no, Astrid,” he says her name like it matters more than the rest of her and she doesn’t think about Hiccup pleading it at her, saying if he’d known she existed, his life would be different, and it’s a cruel twist that some nerd sees fate in her materialization tangential to his fantasy.  It’s like she hasn’t existed while she’s been unseen, and it makes her want to scream. 

“You’ve got me built up into this whole…thing, and I’m really not.”  She says some sanitized version of what she’d scream at Hiccup if she saw him.  She leaves out the ‘yet’ that she thought he had the capacity to understand, even if only for a second. 

“No, but you are,” he tells her, and she hates that it’s not a line, that he’s staring through her and telling her who he wants her to be.    

Mostly, she hates it because she was hoping for that a week ago. 

She hates it because it’s easy to identify the pivot point where she stopped waiting for someone else to instruct her and started asking for more.  Better.  She hates how she’d have to precede her rant at Hiccup with ‘thank you’. 

Good thing that won’t happen. 

“Fucking hell,” she swears to herself as she flops on one side of the couch, wishing she’d thought to grab another drink. 

“Astrid, right?”  Someone approaches her, a tinge of concern in their drunk voice, and she looks him up and down. 

Handsome, nothing behind the eyes.  No wit or charm or jokes about Bundy paraphernalia that should have made her run. 

“Are you Snotlout’s dumb, pretty friend?”  She asks.  He smirks, but the concern grows too as he points at the open front door where two uniformed police officers are waiting. 

“I mean, I don’t really know him that well, but sure.  I can be.”  He grins, teeth straight and uniform.  And there’s charm there, sure, but it’s generic.  A mass-produced kind of ubiquity to it that’s comforting, like she could get it anywhere and be reasonably confident in the outcome.  “But are you Astrid?” 

“I can be,” she jokes, wondering what the nerd would have said to the same line.  She doesn’t wonder what Hiccup would have said because it probably would have been something obnoxious, like he could pull off ‘I know’. 

“No, I mean—are you the Astrid Hofferson secondary on the lease?  They’re looking for Astrid Hofferson.”  He points at the cops again. 

“Well, considering I’m coming off the lease this week, I think any noise complaints should go to Ruffnut Thorston, who is over there.” 

Maybe it’s the universe righting itself.

“No, they’re asking particularly for you.  Something about breaking and entering?”  Stupid-Handsome scratches the back of his neck and she freezes, smile turned waxy on her face. 

Of course not.  That would require too much luck.  Be too easy. 

00000

“Did you write this note, or not?”  The officer at the station asks for what feels like the hundredth time, and Astrid knows, finally and absolutely, that Thank You notes are stupid and that her mom is and has always been wrong. 

What are you even supposed to do when you get a Thank You note anyway?  Does it require yet another Thank You?  Is it just the start to a never-ending procession of false politeness that people had time for before the internet? 

A gift is a gift, an in-person thank you is enough, writing it down is just a legal liability. 

“I don’t know where you got that.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question, Miss Hofferson.” 

She should ask for a lawyer. 

She can’t afford a lawyer. 

Hiccup should have to pay for her lawyer for framing her. 

“Yes, I wrote the note,” she blurts, “but I did not leave it anywhere than I had broken and entered into—”

“It was found in a Mr. Johann’s apartment, inside of a broken window.” 

“Yeah, I obviously just left an eyeliner note behind after smashing a window.” 

“Is that a confession?” 

“It’s sarcasm,” she sputters, “I didn’t—who told you about this?  Was it a guy?  On the phone he sounds like he’s plugging his nose like a nerd who never learned to hold his breath in the pool?”  She doesn’t think of Hiccup’s voice.  Her heart doesn’t twinge like it’s been stepped on. 

“Let me escort you to the holding cell while I confirm our source.”  The hesitation is obvious, and she feels rooted to the shitty, cold, plastic chair. 

“What happens if I don’t ‘let’ you?”  She asks, half-wishing she’d taken the dragon nerd up on the offer to play Viking warrior in a back room, except even joking about that internally makes her feel claustrophobic, like there’s no room in her for any more complication. 

Like Hiccup is weaseling his way back in where he doesn’t belong and crowding her. 

“Follow me, Miss.” 

00000

The next hour stretches.  In fact, she’s not entirely sure that it’s an hour, maybe all seconds just feel like hours when she’s in a concrete holding cell next to a woman who has puked into a government provided bucket 4 times. 

This is going to look great on her medical school application. 

Why do you want to be a doctor?

Well, my time in jail really showed me that the public’s opinion on alcohol is irresponsible.  Alcohol poisoning shouldn’t be a social activity.  Except it should, because it sounds like something I want to engage in right now, given that I had to mention jail on a medical school application.  Also, I want to help people, or something, especially after all this time I’ve spent being helped.  Not that karma operates on an economic model of supply and demand, but also, from what I know about capitalism and upward mobility, I’m not taking any chances. 

“Astrid Hofferson?”  The officer appears again, asking her name like he didn’t just spend an irrationally long time confirming it.  “You made bail.” 

“That’s impossible.  I haven’t even made my phone call yet.” 

“Well, there’s someone downstairs offering to pay your bail.” 

“Who is it?”  She narrows her eyes, trying to remember where Ruffnut was when she left the party. 

“Some guy,” the officer shrugs. 

“That narrows it down,” she snorts. 

“Most people don’t turn down bail.” 

“I’m not most people,” she crosses her arms, getting comfortable on the bench next to Pukey McPukerson.  “Who is it?” 

“Some guy,” the officer repeats, “tall, skinny, saying something about convincing his neighbor not to press charges.” 

“No.”  She puts her foot down.  Or she would, if it weren’t already down.  It’s so down the ball of her foot is starting to go asleep from the hard floor and she lets the tingle anchor her. 

“No?” 

“I don’t want his bail.  Just give me my phone call.” 

“You’re turning down bail?”  The officer asks and she nods, “I…honestly don’t know what to do with that.” 

“I’ll take it,” Pukey offers and Astrid glares at her. 

“You just stick to your bucket.”  She grumbles, “you only get one liver, you know.” 

“Oh, you’re a doctor now?”  Pukey rolls her eyes and Astrid crosses her arms. 

“Not yet.”  The yet feels like fire under that numb foot and she nods to herself, more resolute in her protest. 

“So, you want me to go tell this guy that you don’t want his bail?”  The cop asks and she raises an eyebrow. 

“I’ll tell him.” 

“I’m not supposed to let you out of holding without bail.” 

“I thought you didn’t know what to do with me,” Astrid antagonizes.  She’s not even sure why.  She’s glad she’s white.  Not in a ‘it’s great to be white’, disgusting way, but a ‘this little emotional peak would have had devastating consequences if she weren’t white’ way. 

She’s entirely shocked when the officer lets her out, apparently taking her suggestion to let her tell Hiccup where he can shove his bail, and that’s how she ends up at the top of the stairs, looking down at him. 

He has balloons. 

He looks miserable.  Desperate.  All of the things that her pettiest side has always wanted someone to feel when she left, instead of the other way around. 

“What if I told you that I helped?  Would you lock me up with her?”  He asks, and the officer behind the desk coughs. 

“Are you confessing, or?” 

“Yeah, no, I have no interest in this particular bail.”  She points back towards the holding cell, “I’d like my phone call, please.” 

“Astrid,” Hiccup calls up at her, like he’s said her name a thousand times, and her fingernails dig into her forearm with the force it takes to keep her arms crossed.  “I—I didn’t know what else to do, you deleted your account—”

“Not this, you idiot.”  She flings the insult like it weighs more than it does, and he goes along with the charade, crumpling slightly in a way she wishes she didn’t notice. 

“I know.  I know, I just—I broke up with Heather—”

“I don’t care.”  She almost wishes that she would yell, to impress upon him how much she means it, but it comes out calculating.  No, more than calculating, like she knows the answers already, and she feels like a liar.   

“Please.”  He begs.  She should like it.  It makes her feel worse and she wishes it were easier to resent him. 

“Phone call.  Please.” 

She gets Ruffnut’s voice mail.  Pukey lives up to her nickname and pukes twice more.  She thinks about her applications. 

Why do you want to be a doctor?

‘Because no matter what has happened in my life, the idea of helping people has been a North Star.  Yes, I know I have a fucking criminal record for breaking and entering, but in my defense, I really had to pee.  Also, the guy who half-framed me used me to cheat on his girlfriend so…

So, it doesn’t matter that he’s smart and funny and that it felt like he saw me.  It doesn’t matter that he admitted he was wrong.  It doesn’t matter that no one has ever looked at me like they were desperate before. 

It doesn’t matter that I liked it, even vindictively.  Even cruelly.  Even in a last-minute attempt to feel like I wasn’t part of the problem.’ 

So, yeah.  She’ll get into medical school. 

As a patient. 

Because how else is she going to get the therapy she so clearly needs without health insurance? 

“Astrid Hofferson,” the officer returns, “you made bail. Again.” 

“Lucky bitch,” Pukey moans into her bucket. 

“Is it—”

“It’s someone else,” the officer sighs, “do you need to vet them too?” 

“I wouldn’t mind.”  She stands up, shocked all over again when the officer escorts her to the top of the stairs. 

Ruffnut is downstairs counting money and the relief is almost perfectly drowned out when she sees Hiccup still standing there, stupid balloon waving in the heater blasting over his head. 

“Is this bail acceptable to you?”  The officer asks and she nods, resolving to ignore Hiccup even as she can’t look away from the fact that even the top of his head is miserable. 

Good. 

He deserves it. 

She’s not sad that he was so stupid.  He doesn’t feel like something lost.  It’s…post-orgasmic hormones that make her want him to be better.  It’s just the result of a long, satisfying experiment that makes her want to accept an apology. 

“Parked the car,” Snotlout appears in the doorway, “paid for fifteen minutes, so can we hurry this up?” 

“Snotlout?”  Hiccup bolts upright, recognition in his voice startling him out of his situationally appropriate moping. 

“Hiccup?”  Snotlout freezes, “what’s—why do you have balloons?” 

“Why…don’t you?”  Hiccup snorts, miserable and funnier for it, “everyone knows that New Year’s Eve is balloon hour at the police station.” 

The TV behind the intake desk shows the ball dropping and Snotlout and Ruffnut move habitually, pecking each other on the lips, and Astrid thinks she’d rather be in the holding cell.  Maybe her bail can be donated to charity.  She could be the face of The ‘don’t online date instead of finishing things’ Foundation.  The ‘just because Grandma is on Facebook doesn’t mean there aren’t still people on the internet who can and will ruin your life’ Initiative. 

The ‘sometimes when you make your bed you do actually have to lie in it’ Charitable Organization, under the sub-heading of ‘Don’t have sex with people who might interact with your arrest record’. 

“Can we go home?”  Astrid breaks the tension, leaning into Ruffnut’s side.  “The meter’s running.” 

“But it’s Hiccup,” Snotlout whispers at Ruffnut, “you know my weirdo cousin—”

“Thanks for that,” Hiccup blushes and Astrid wants to ask why and to hit him and mostly, to never want to see him again, because it’s impossible to stop looking at him. 

“What have you been up to?”  Snotlout punches him in the shoulder and Hiccup looks desperately at Astrid again, undistracted by the distraction.  “Wait—no, you know Astrid?” 

“He got me arrested.” 

“I didn’t know her last name,” Hiccup defends himself, “Astrid—I—there’s no way in any brand of hell that I could stop thinking about you and—”

“You fucked Astrid?”  Snotlout claps his hands against his cheeks, “this is—Oh my God, I don’t think I’ve seen you since high school graduation and now you’re the guy my girlfriend’s roommate hooks up with—”

“Snot!”  Astrid snaps, “let’s go.” 

“Astrid.”  Hiccup stumbles between her and the door, stupid balloon slapping against a corner.  “You have to listen to me.” 

“Hmm, ok, I’ll listen to you when you’re a witness against me, in court, because you got me arrested—”

“That was one time!”  He yells, too loud for a police station, “sorry, I—too soon, I get it.  I get it.  I—we had two nights together.” 

“Because of a blizzard.” 

“Whatever, I don’t—”  He reaches for her but thinks better of it and his hands shake between them with the desire to make his point.  “We had two nights together and yes, I should have told you about Heather.  I thought about it, but I couldn’t—I didn’t want to waste a second—it might not work out.” 

“And he sees sense,” her heart falls anyway, with all that saturated green staring at her, all that intensity that she can’t make unfamiliar in her mind.  “Let’s go, guys.” 

“No, no.  Please.”  He’s smart enough to only tap Ruffnut on the shoulder, “it might not work out, because two nights is…an insufficient trial period.” 

“I’m not a Netflix subscription!”  She snaps, and he has a way of making her certain that she wants to cling to, no matter how stupid that is. 

“No.  You’re—if we spend more time together, you might realize that I’m…insufferable during game shows.  And I might learn that you’re…really into weird cartoons that I hate.” 

“You did not just say that!” 

He read her mind again, and it’s not allowed. 

“Can we move this along?”  An officer indicates and Snotlout ushers them towards the door. 

“Fuck. Shit.  Fuck.”  Hiccup sputters, “not at you, not at anyone, I just—you can’t storm out again.  You can’t.  Not without hearing what I have to say—”

“You got me arrested.”  Astrid growls, “I spent the last few hours in a cell with someone throwing up, I—this is going on my record, how am I getting into medical school now?” 

“You’re applying?”  He grins, too wide, too bright, and she’d hit him if she could trust herself not to enjoy the authenticity in his reaction.  “That’s—I didn’t know what to do—”

“Not get me thrown in jail?”  She proposes. 

“Can we potentially leave jail out of the argument for why you never want to see me again?”  He winces even as he’s talking and she recognizes the face she’s felt herself make too many times, unwilling to stop even though she’s behind.  “For now, at least.  I truly believe this will be funny later, this is something we’ll laugh about—”

“Jail.”  She re-iterates.  “Like with bars. And cops.  And a single phone call.  Actual jail.” 

“I think it’s one of those jokes that needs time.”  He’s defeated.  She hates it.  She hates herself for hating it. 

“Ok,” she takes her phone from the evidence box on the nearby counter and hands it to him.  “Give me your number.  I will call you the second this is funny.” 

Which is never. 

“Ok,” he nods, and she refuses to look at his quick thumbs programming his number into her phone.  She refuses to see whether he’s Hiccup or Princess Outpost, because it doesn’t matter.  She’s not going to text it. 

“Ok.”  She takes the phone back. 

He hands her the stupid balloons. 

“So…bye,” she makes herself say it, waving him towards the door. 

“You’ll…” He swallows the rest of whatever he was about to say and she shrugs. 

He leaves. 

It’s different being left when the other party doesn’t want to go.  Less lonely.  More permanent, if only for her choice being implicated. 

“Sorry about that,” Astrid says reflexively to the officer who’d dealt with her in the cell and he holds a hand up. 

“That guy was nuts.” 

“Can I get his number though?”  Snotlout asks, scuffing his shoe against the linoleum.  Astrid blinks at him.  “What?” 

“You’re so stupid,” Ruffnut fills in the gap, hugging Astrid a little tighter, and Astrid’s going to miss her.  She’s going to miss this entire miserable, unending, painful period of her life, isn’t she? 

Closing doors always hurts, even when they need to be closed.  Even more when they don’t. 

“He’s my long-lost cousin, and I learn that he’s Astrid’s hostage dick?  I’m curious—”

“Snotlout.” Ruff cautions, careful again. 

And that’s not what Astrid wants.  She doesn’t want people to be careful, she wants honest.  She wants…

She blinks back a frustrated approximation of a tear and looks up at the stupid balloon Hiccup gave her.  One side reads ‘I’m sorry’.  The other reads ‘I’m an asshole’. 

She laughs. 

Not a cynical laugh, but a real bubble of something from underneath the layers.  Her intuition taking the reins. 

“Fuck,” she sits down in yet another shitty plastic chair, pulling up her contacts and finding Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III (an awful name).  His address is there.  So is his social security number.  She’d steal his identity and start over if his name weren’t a bodily function.  “You guys can go.” 

“Are you sure?”  Ruffnut asks, but there’s relief there too. 

“Yeah, I’ll get you back for the bail, ok?” 

“And you’ll get me Hiccup’s number—”

“Snotlout, go.”  She orders him like she has the authority and it seems to work.  And then she calls Hiccup.  It gets through half a ring before he’s picking up, breathless and pathetic and like he needs her.  She doesn’t know if she’s ever been needed, but she likes it.  “You are an asshole, for the record.” 

“Recorded.” 

“And an idiot.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And next time you decide to attempt romance, at least practice your speech first because that was awful.” 

“Basically, I was forced to endure it while like, astrally projecting above myself to judge myself.”  He laughs, sound husky in the speakers, and she thinks he’s outside, in the cold.  “It was awful.” 

“In the spirit of constructive criticism, it was appalling.  Truly.” 

“I’m sorry I put you in jail.”  He answers, authentic, and when she looks at the police station door, he’s outside, watching her hold his stupid vulgar balloon while the officers probably judge her sanity. 

She hangs up and steps outside, not surprised when he kisses her even as she doesn’t expect the tenderness in his hand against the back of her neck, the soft desperation in his lips. 

“Too soon,” she pushes him back, fingers staying fisted in his lapels, largely outside of her control. “You got me arrested.” 

“But have you considered how much tougher you seem now?”  He jokes, gloved fingers twined in hers as he tugs her down the sidewalk. 

“Absolutely,” she snorts, “already thinking about how to incorporate this into my application.” 

“Well, don’t worry about Mr. Johann’s interpretation,” he squeezes her hand and she squeezes back, sure of herself for some reason she can’t be sure of. 

“Oh yeah, did you kill him?” 

“Totally.” 

“Without me?”  She teases, and it’s a new year, the snowbanks on either side of the street barely soot-stained. 

“Too many witnesses out here,” he scans the empty street, “your place?” 

“To be fair, I don’t really have a place, I have a bed for a couple more days of Ruffnut’s charity.” 

“Oh, I only ask because I don’t have a place either,” he says it like he means it and she believes him because she wants to.  Because it feels instinctive in a way she feared she’d forgotten. 

“You’re a catch.” 

“Yeah,” he snorts, and she squeezes his hand first this time. 

“I think I’m ready for that kiss now.” 

“What if I don’t like your prison breath?”  He tucks her hair behind her ear, fingers strong and hesitant under her jaw. 

“Probably shouldn’t have sent me to prison.” 

“Fair enough.” 

#two night stand au #hiccstrid fic #modern au #httyd fic #it's...done #whoop

[inheritance-cycles]

Thorta Du Ilumëo

Trigger warnings for canon-typical graphic violence and torture.

Following the Siege of Dras-Leona, Murtagh and Thorn launch a successful attack against the Varden. During the fight, Eragon falls from Saphira’s back, and Thorn uses the momentary distraction to both wound Saphira and knock Arya unconscious. Murtagh, who originally planned to capture Nasuada, decides to take advantage of this rare opportunity, and during the chaos, Thorn and Murtagh manage to seize Eragon and spirit him away to Urû'baen. Canon non-compliant fic detailing Eragon’s capture, trials, and eventual rescue.

First chapter based heavily on Nasuada’s capture. 

Part 1 || AO3 (parts 2-6)

Eragon opens his eyes.

The first thing he notices is the pounding in his head; an almost percussive agony that brings him more fully to awareness. His thoughts, however, feel thick and slow, as if he were drunk with exhaustion. Turning his head makes the pain worse, so instead he stares with detached interest at the roof above him.

Tiles cover the dark, vaulted ceiling, and upon the tiles are painted angular patterns of red, blue, and gold: a complex matrix of lines that trap his gaze for a mindless while.

The soft crackle of a smoldering fire draws his attention, and at last he musters the will and energy to look away from the intricate designs. A simmering glow emanates from a source somewhere behind him, and he senses more than sees that the illumination is due to a brazier nearby. The glow is just strong enough to reveal the shape of the octagonal room, but not so bold as to dispel the shadows clinging to its corners.

Finally, he looks down, and notices the surface upon which he’s been restrained. It’s cold, smooth, and uncomfortably hard; the rough stone chafes irritably against his exposed hands and legs. A chill creeps into his bones, and he finds himself wishing for something warmer than the tattered tunic and loose trousers he had been wearing whilst drinking with Arya. Eyeing his lower half, he also realizes that he is weaponless, a fact that is unsurprising but disappointing all the same. Chances are, both his bow and Brisingr still lay on the grassy knoll near Dras-Leona where he fell.

But where am I now?  

With immense caution, he pushes his mind out- or tries to- but to his alarm, he only feels a soft, indistinct pressure surrounding him. It’s as if bales of wool are packed around his mind, and he finds that he can neither extend his consciousness outward, nor access the part of himself that houses his magic.

He’s unsure if he’s been drugged, but if this were done by magic, it was a magic that was completely unknown to him.

Eragon shudders, then tries to sit upright, but the padded manacles that he now sees encircle his limbs prevent him from moving more than a fraction of an inch in any direction. He furrows his brow and realizes that a thick leather belt holds his head firmly against the slab as well, preventing him from turning it more than a few degrees.

Even though he knows it’s futile, he strains against the bonds with all his strength, but they are too secure for even him to break. It’s this realization that causes him to truly panic.

Eragon allows himself a few moments of chest-heaving, muscle-trembling terror before he forces himself to calm, one carefully-controlled breath at a time. The only power he has in this situation is self-control, and he is not about to relinquish it willingly.

The pace of his breaths slow further. The regular, smooth flow through his throat and nostrils begins to crowd out all else. Then, once he’s reasonably certain he is not going to come undone, he allows his gaze to wander once more.

Turning his head what little it can, he glances out the window beside him, neck muscles straining with the effort. To his shock, he actually recognizes the landscape from a fairth he had studied while in Ellesmera.

He’s in Urû'baen.

His heart rate spikes once more, and he quickly loses what little hard-won composure he had gained.

Eragon is still working to calm his erratic breaths when he hears the footsteps in the hallway. His sensitive hearing picks them up easily: a group, some marching in rhythm, some not. The cacophony is so great that he’s unable to determine their exact number, nor their exact distance from him.

The second query is soon answered when the procession approaches, stopping directly outside the doorway to his chamber. There’s quiet murmuring, followed by two sets of clacking footsteps- the product of hard-soled riding boots, he guesses- then a single man enters the room.

The door closes with a hollow thud, and Eragon flinches.

Down the stairs the footsteps come, steady and deliberate. In his arms, the man carries a chair and places it somewhat near the brazier, his body only visible in Eragon’s periphery.

Silence reigns as he fills the copper brazier with charcoal, but then he moves it closer to the slab, closer to Eragon, and the motion produces a painful screech that drives into his ears like nails. Being well-restrained, all Eragon can do is cringe inwardly and watch, transfixed. The man takes flint and steel from the pouch on his belt and lights a nest of shredded tinder in the center of the brazier. The sparks smolder and spread, and the tinder glows like a ball of red-hot wires. Then, he bends, blowing on the incipient fire, and the sparks spring into lambent flames.

The man is not large: not fat, but broad-shouldered. A long black cape hangs draped around his well-built frame. Light from the coals cast his form in shadow, his features too dark to make out, even with Eragon’s advanced senses. Still, the shadows do nothing to obscure the outline of the sharp, pointed crown resting upon his brow, and they similarly fail to conceal the three long irons now resting in the heating coals.

Finally, the man drops into the chair with a near-silent exhale.  

One by one, he tugs on the fingers of his gauntlets, then pulls off his gloves. Tossing them carelessly aside, they land with a soft thump of hide on stone. Underneath the gloves, Eragon notices, the man’s hands are the color of tarnished bronze.

Then, the man speaks. His voice is low, rich and commanding, and Eragon shivers again. His skin prickles uncomfortably and he finds himself thinking of Elva, of all people, and her authority over people’s minds. He has no doubt that he is now in the presence of the king.

“Welcome to Urû’baen, Eragon, son of Morzan,” Galbatorix intones. “Welcome to this, my home, ‘neath these ancient piled rocks. Long has it been since a guest as distinguished as yourself has graced us with their presence. My energies have been occupied elsewhere, but I assure you, from now on, I shall not neglect my duties as host.”

The fire crackles menacingly as if to underscore the hard steel underlying the king’s tone, his words. Galbatorix leans forward, and Eragon can feel the weight of his gaze: boring into him, assessing, scrutinizing.

“You are younger than I expected. I knew you had recently come of age, but still, you are no more than a child.” He pauses for a moment, as if in thought. “Most seem as children to me these days. Foolhardy children who know not what is best for them- children who need the guidance of those who are older and wiser.”

Eragon sets his chin, not wanting to show fear or vulnerability in front of the king.

“Such as yourself?” He asks in a scornful tone.

Galbatorix chuckles. “Would you rather the elves ruled over us? I am the only one of our race who can hold them at bay. By their reckoning, even our oldest graybeards would be considered untested youths, unfit for the responsibilities of adulthood.”

“And by their reckoning, so would you.” With each word, his fear melts away, replaced by pure defiance and bubbling fury.

The amusement in the king’s eyes angers Eragon, but he stays otherwise silent.

“Ah, but I contain more than my share of years. The memories of hundreds are mine, whispering their wisdom in my ears,” replies Galbatorix, smirking conspiratorially. “You especially should understand of what I speak.”

Eragon purses his lips and refuses to confirm what they both know is true.

Galbatorix allows the silence to settle for a moment, then gestures at the room with his gauntlets, continuing unperturbed. “This is a place for truths to be told… and heard. I will tolerate no lies within these walls, not even the simplest of falsehoods.”

The legs of the chair scrape over the floor, and Galbatorix’s breath suddenly wafts, warm against his ear. “I know this will be painful for you, Eragon Shadeslayer, painful beyond belief. You will have to unmake yourself before pride will allow you to submit. In all the world, nothing is harder than changing one’s own self. I understand this, for I have reshaped myself on more than one occasion. However, I will be here to hold your hand and help you through this transition. Although we do not have much time, you need not take this journey alone. And you may console yourself with the knowledge that I will never lie to you. Not within this room. Doubt me if you wish, but in time you will come to believe me. You may ask whatever you want, and I promise you, that I shall answer truthfully. As the king of these lands, I give you my sworn word.”

Eragon’s jaw clenches painfully, and from between clenched teeth, he spits, “I’ll never tell you what you want to know!”

A slow deep chuckle fills the room. “You misunderstand; You were not brought here because I seek information. There’s nothing you could say that I don’t already know. You have no secrets from me, none whatsoever; it is pointless to insist upon holding your tongue, for it will only cause you pain and suffering.”

“Why then?” he growls.

Galbatorix moves to better meet Eragon’s gaze with his own.

“Why did I have you brought here? Because, my son, you have gifts far deadlier than anything magic or man could create. You are here because you have proven yourself worthy of my attention. I wish to have you by my side. A new order is about to descend upon Alagaësia, and I would have you be part of it. Voluntarily, if I can.”

Eragon squints, not trusting the king’s words. “Are you not going to use your mind against me?”

He shakes his head. “I have other ways to break you, my son. I could easily seize control of your mind and force you to swear fealty to me, but instead, I would have you make this decision of your own free will, and while still in possession of your faculties. For now, I am satisfied to discover just how brave you really are, Eragon, son of the Forsworn.”

Eragon clenches his muscles to prevent the growing tremors in his arms and legs from becoming visible.

“The Varden are fast approaching, desperate to rescue their Rider, so I will have to do this efficiently, and in a much shorter time frame than I would prefer.” A wickedly devious smile stretches Galbatorix’ cheeks. “Take this, then, as a sign of my regard for you, Eragon, that I must inflict such suffering to assure victory.” His voice drops to a whisper as he leans in even closer. “I would not, however, wish to exchange places with you.”  

This is my final duty: resisting my interrogation. I will not break.

“Now, before we begin,” croons Galbatorix. “I’ll ask you one last time: will you submit?”

Eragon thinks of Saphira, and his resolve hardens. “Never.”

“So be it. Let us begin.”

#Inheritance cycle #IC #Eragon series #Inheritance trilogy #IC fic #fanfic #eragon fanfic #The cyclists #Eragon shadeslayer #Eragon Bromsson #arya drottningu #Arya #saphira #galbatorix

[clad-in-sunshine]

[ID: A picture of my character, Mey. The left half is a woman with long hair and a neutral expression drawn in pencil. Her right side is split into three rectangular blocks that are bolder, drawn with pen, showing the right side of animals: the first is a lion; the second an owl; and the third a wolf. Around them are hawthorn flowers. End ID]

[ID: A drawing of my character Fearn. On the left side a fern, and on the right of it emerges the right side of a cat's face. From the side of that are three profiles, getting darker, and moving towards a more human shape.]

[ID: A digitally sketched outline of a woman in white lines. She's smiling a little, has long hair, and is holding a bow. Behind her is a photograph of a sunset. End ID]

My friend, @shaheenarnitipsyart​ (Instagram link here) drew all this incredible art of my OCs from a narrative poem I wrote just under a year ago. I plan to write more about them, but for now I’ve edited and rewritten bits of the poem itself, to improve on it. It’s fun noticing where I’ve improved. Also thought to record myself reading it, for accessibility.

Wandering Kind

Ellen, she was a wandering kind her spirit aching to be freed from duties that would her confine and now, she thought she’d found the key

So she journeyed, through the trees to the dwelling of a faerie gay Who could set her from her duties free that she might travel the world, away

Into the dark, she raced ahead over leaves that snapped like jaws The plants they swiped her as she fled, gripping tight to her chestnut horse

Eventually she came unto a twisted house: abandoned, torn Yet a sign of life - it lay in view: a fishing line that clothes adorned

Rolling fog around her drew; all sound banished from the night Thoughts, it seemed, were muffled too, then a figure bounded into sight

It landed softly on the ground - a lithe young cat; then bigger still until as a bear it turned around Its eyes were heavy, anger filled

From its mouth a voice did roar: Cracked the air with every word “How come you to my front door? “Are you here, by hatred stirred?”

Boldly then young Ellen moved; from reeling horse did swiftly leap “Fear not, by me you are not loathed- I met one who does your secrets keep

“He told me an exchange to make: for they would have me married be - to one whom I ne'r love nor like, but with your help, that I might flee”

The bear stepped back; it lifted high ‘til on it’s own hind quarters held Then ‘tween two breaths he gave a sigh; him now a man: the bear dispelled

A solid face like oaken bark, and hair like weeping willow worn Upon his chest he bore a mark like a bow; string tightly drawn

He turned and pulled some linen down, wrapping ‘round his torso bare Without a tie or buckle bound, holding tight as he stepped near

“You know my Jack?” he asked of her “then a friend to you I’ll surely be, but I don’t see him with you here, did he not guide you to me?”

His voice rang out as if a song: it danced and moved the air between, to fall then gently, ears upon, warmer than the sun at e'en

Warmed, she took from her waistband: a letter writ from Jack to him She pressed it in the faerie’s hand and his face did soften then

Once he’d read, with gentle eyes he smiled, then broader to a grin “To help you out I can devise, a plan of sorts, but then again -

"I can’t control those human whims such as to wish you to be wed Unless you ask a task so grim: I’ll hunt them down and leave them dead.”

But Ellen asked a different thing, and happily he would comply But to kill the Faerie king - he charged her then, at least to try

Then from his chest the mark he pulled and like a shadow so it formed 'til it could manifest so bold: A wooden bow of body born

She took the wondrous bow in hand and on her fell a strange unease. It seemed to shift, and move around, despite the absence of a breeze

He gave no arrows with the bow, and before she could breathe her thought he reached behind him, bending low and from his back a quiver brought

“This bow of mine is strong and true; the arrows made from mine own heart And when the arrow pierces through, my heart, through his, shall play its part

"You should not afear his wrath, though he can strike a mighty blow If you eat nought along your path - his power wanes, and yours will grow”

It’s then her fingers to her lips, and she aloud did whistle high To her side her horse came thus and she mounted up, away to ride

The bow behind her led the way 'Twas as the faerie by her side And there was nought led her astray ‘til beyond the woods the tower spied

But before the tower was a town: the dwellings there both strange and quaint A sumptuous feast spread out around, and at her heart clawed hunger, want

The bow it morphed to fiddle fine, and with a song it graced the air It sang of trees and summertime; of fae folk joined in mirth and cheer

Then in song did Ellen join as so she went, the food untouched The singing kept her spirit warmed: her fortitude remained unmatched

Then at the tower’s base did stand and from her travelling pack she took, some rope, as woven by her hand; turned her head to upwards look

The tower dwarfed her, tall and dark, bleak though sunlight drenched the stone Below it, Ellen surveyed her task before the fortress, stood alone

Then from the quiver an arrow brought which to the rope she firmly tied And the looming tower, she feared it not, despite the king that lay inside

The bow she raised, and arrow drew: Pulled tight and strong before she loosed And through the air the arrow flew; like a dragonfly, the window chased

It whirled and spun, cut through the air until its destination found It turned and lodged in firmly there: rope hung and swayed above the ground

Then Ellen in her hands did hold the rope that waved before her face And forcefully, with courage bold she tugged it thrice; it held its place

“Wait here, friend” she bid her horse as she upon the tower stepped Began her climb with barest pause- in hand the rope so tightly gripped

Hand and foot were moved with ease She made her way, 'til with a start a bird did fly out from the trees: It dived at her, her hands to part

Then suddenly, without a sound the bow it stretched from on her back it spread and curved out, all around, ‘til the bird’s own snapping beak did break

The bird repelled, she did resume shoulders straining with the force And soon she climbed into a room more comfortable than her own house

All around were colours bright Blinding 'gainst the darker stone She noticed then, within her sight a forlorn figure: curled; alone

“That’s my brother’s bow you bear, have you been sent to set me free? I feared that he had left me here, it’s been so long since him I’ve seen.”

Her voice it murmured, barely reached to fall upon young Ellen’s ears Yet a familiar pattern to her speech, it brought Elinor’s eyes to tears

For where the brother’s voice was warm Hers it strained, retreated, fell She found she reached out with her arms, and this young woman within them held.

A careful moment passed, then two. and leaning back, she spoke betwixt “Your brother’s quest led me to you: I must slay the king, my life to fix”

Reaching hands caressed the bow; and a smile to her face was brought “Come quick, the king lies down below but first to beat him - here’s a thought.

"A curse 'pon me, in prison high that I should ne'er my powers see But if we go where the spell does lie, from aching binds I might be freed”

The bow drawn back; the door then struck It splintered, cracked and fell with ease Through they stepped, and down did look- a dreary light; an upwards breeze

The two then turned; ahead they crept - as fast as foot could fall, step, by step, by step, by step, ‘til they stood before a door.

Ellen turned the handle then thrust it open, and she saw. A room. Far darker than she’d seen before.

There lay a light, all in the centre: the smallest glow, bathed in the black Says the girl “this place, I cannot enter, You must traverse it for my sake”

So striding forward, Ellen went the darkness all around her sealed The air was heavy, burned and bent and twisted all that she did feel.

Until the glowing light did reach her body barely brought her breath but then she moved - the glow to breach and with her blade she broke it. Swift.

From the shards erupted out a spectral shape, then winding through Until the doorway it did meet Unto the sister, shadow flew.

It entered there upon her brow, stained and stirred her unmarred head and from that point a shape did grow till her form into the air it bled

It coalesced 'fore Ellen’s eyes Gathered to an unknown shape And then it jumped, began to fly Above her head: an owl grey

“Come, let us go” she called out then, landing soft on Ellen’s arm, but she had barely spoken, when: A sound did ring out loud and clear;

A voice that set their hearts to fear;

A discordant hum drew ever near;

An echo that did lock them here-

'Til sudden did the king appear.  

Him past the door - in anger flew, then from his thigh a hammer drew the room he lit and traveled through as the space about, around them grew it spread and swelled, 'til they could view…

A quiet clearing laid with dew.

There they stood, in clearing then as the sun it blazed so high and 'twas as though trees knelt for him their branches dipped and bowed close by

And all about the air was still: made room for frenzied king to cry He yelled and into silence spilled, as his body strained and writhed

The twisting hammer in his hand it snaked its way unto his chest it sank beneath his writhing skin and from it then a glow did spread

Then the king he shifted in the space - all as a dragon he did roar And Ellen then her legs did brace as dragon’s breath, it blew a storm

Upon his breath these words did sound: “Mey, my heart! How dare you leave?! I gave you the finest things around! What must I do to win your love?”

As the words slipped from his tongue boldly then the owl proclaimed “I am Mey, and you’re undone - for from your lips I take my name!”

And she has flown, above the field changed to hawthorn: razor sharp And to his scaled body dropped; drove her branches; wrapped him up

The dragon changed beneath her binds, and Ellen now in anger flew She in her hand the bow did find: and against the string an arrow drew

The arrow carved through shifting limb and embedded in the soft green earth but all his limbs did vanish then into a body now of slimmer girth

Not dragon, but a serpent large - it slipped away, and fangs did bare With striking speed the snake did charge to Ellen’s arm, it fastened there

Then Mey became a lion fierce She pounced upon the biting thing and from the teeth that held in place The viper tore: split mouth and fang

The bow then changed all in her grip It twisted, wrapped her arm around An arrow then, as sword did flow from palm, prepared to strike him down

'Tween Mey’s teeth the snake did shrink 'til he fell to ground beneath And raised again; as man did smirk Naught but blood where had lain teeth

Then his feet began to swell His skin did stretch, his bones did too His lips they curled; the blood it fell - hit the grass, to stain the dew

Then Mey she grew, and matched for size and strange enough, did Ellen too 'Til all of them as giants rise and none of them the ground could view

The fight then shook the very air - as giants struck, blow for blow, Until but two were standing there and the King he fell to ground below

He fell so slow that it did seem that time had ceased to do its work Until he landed, as if a dream then from the fall the world did quake

Panting, bleeding they did crouch and shrunk unto their normal size Until so close that they could touch the whites around the giant’s eyes

They walked across him, to his chest as the king did bellows make Holding the bow, now as it was Ellen offered it for Mey to take

But Mey, away the bow did turn - Says “You cannot this offer give, for the faerie king is only slain by a mortal with a faerie gift”

Then Ellen, passion in her eyes did turn unto his beating breast And held the bow; drawn and poised Pulled tighter still, then arrow leased

From the wound dug in his heart, a sound like thunderstorm did draw The arrow where the skin did part, then changed to block the gaping maw

Still the clouds fell all around, and like a hurricane, wind flew They held on tight until they found no corpse beneath - they fell below

Now on the ground, young Ellen ‘mazed as all about - the walls they came Then in the tower found they laid, where they’d started, once again

'Twas with a sigh of bending wood, the arrows to her quiver went They passed her arm, wet with blood and as they did the wound did mend

Looking up to Mey’s own face she noticed then that it had changed Where human 'guise had been in place now features like her brother’s shaped

“Now come, you stranger, tell your name; for you know mine, and I not yours As I my life do owe to thee, although my brother was your cause”

“My name it is Elinor, but your life I do not need - It seems we had a common goal: From love’s cruel clutches to be freed”

To an owl again, then Mey did shift- of a size to let young Ellen ride And joyously held them aloft 'til down below her horse they spied

She mounted up, and rode for home While Mey, as wolf, ran by her side Upon the twisted house they came Saw the cat, with Jack beside

And there as these two friends did speak a smile broke out on wolfish face For Mey into a run did break: on her two feet approached the place

“Fearn!” She cried - to her he leapt, changing quick from cat to man Before her then Fearn almost wept lips spread wide by glowing grin

He threw her clothing from the line, wrapped some more about his waist then to each of them did turn and for each introductions made

Mirth and joy around them grew: it filled the air, and in them welled The siblings - reunited, now stood by two friends, their wants fulfilled

One final task before them lay 'twas of Fearn for Ellen’s wish As such his hand upon her placed whereupon her skin did shift

She felt a buzzing through her bones and there in place did shake and lift 'til in another form she rose Now as a lively horse most swift

She danced and sprung in great delight Changed her form again, again Until as a human bright once more did she appear to them

“And of your other wish,” said he, “that much was done 'fore you returned, When I felt you slay the king, for me - had gold and jewels sent to your home”

Elinor felt her word at ease now all her problems, they were solved She would - to wealth - ne'er wedded be yet family would not want for gold

And though the prince could her confine, she would ne'er as captive lie For she would make the world her home: Content to swim, to bound, or fly. *

Ellen, she is a wandering kind, and her spirit cried out to be freed from duties that would her confine That was, until she found the key

For she sought out Fearn, beyond the trees and when she helped his sister, Mey He set her from her duties free And now she travels the world,

Away.

#Writeblr #Poetry #Fantasy #Narrative poetry #Epic poetry #Aromantic characters #Aplatonic character #Art #me #my voice #audio #Original writing #My writing

[elizabeth-234]

The Hourglass

Previous Chapter Four: Running out of Time

Hi all. Hope you are enjoying. This covers day five of Whumptober: Rescue, On the Run, and Where do you think you're going?

Chapter Five: Honey Bear and Tony to the Rescue

Winter, 2017. Hours into Kidnapping.

He stumbled into a car waiting outside the door. Someone caught the top of his head from hitting the door frame and guided him into a seat. His head rolled back in exhaustion. The side of his neck, burnt and sore, was exposed to the warm air in the car. It prickled at the burns but Peter didn’t try to move away.

“Jesus, Tony. Why the hell do you have a kid with you? And what did you do to him? These are serious burns.”

“It’s a rescue! I couldn’t leave him there. Do you see how young he is?” 



Peter could feel the eyes resting on his frame. His eyes flickered to the seat in front of him where a man was observing him before falling to look out the window. Away from his cell and that place he was untethered. The tiny world he’d become used to, the one he expected to see every morning when he opened his arms, was gone. In place there were leather seats underneath him in an impossibly nice car. There were two men staring at him.

They talked between themselves. There was an insistent, familiar tone in their words that Peter hadn’t witnessed in a long time. They made no effort to calm their voices or lower them for his benefit and the anger underlying their greeting was eclipsed by warmth. It was almost pleasant to sit there and listen as they debated what to do next. If they weren’t trying to factor in his unexpected presence that is.

“Fine, Tone. We can’t sit here and argue the whole night. Let’s go.”

Someone in the front put the car in drive. Peter sat up. His muscles coiled tight. He reached for the door before fisting his hands and clenching them in his lap. His inaction had been too long.

“I need to go back.” He said, eyes darting between the men. Maybe he could persuade him but there was no leeway the face from the man in the cell so he turned to the new person. “Please, I shouldn’t be here. You can’t let this …. I’m being kidnapped… I… Ross!” He finally settled on the name that would stir fear into anyone. “Ross knows. He’ll find me.”

“Fuck him!” His kidnapper snapped and crossed his arms. The other man stared at him for a moment, his eyes softened for a moment before he turned to the cell man. Maybe he was imagining things now. They were conversing in that way old friends did. Their words flowed in silence, moving between their eyes. Every second it went on, the car got farther away. Peter couldn’t see the building anymore. He didn’t know where they were.

Finally, the connection broke. The man from the cell opened a compartment under the seat and pulled out a cell phone. He settled back into the seat and began typing not acknowledging Peter’s outburst.

The car sped away taking all semblance of time away. It spun out of control. He couldn’t tell if hours passed or seconds as the wheels spun. The man, his captor, exuded a willful ignorance. He didn’t care that he had kidnapped Peter; that Peter didn’t want to leave that place. It was only under the dim lights of the car the man began to relax. His tense form slumping against the seat until he was nearly as boneless as Peter. Who was he? Why did he get to relax when Peter was as tense as he’d ever been and no one was answering him?

A hand touched his knee and Peter flinched back. The new man rested his hand there and then pulled back once he saw Peter knew he wasn’t going to hurt him.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Look, please…”



“It will all be okay. Whatever it is you think you deserve, whatever happened, we can figure it out but I need to be sure.”


His wide eyes told no lies but they also held no room for argument. Their expression reminded him of May. The back of his throat closed at the thought. He licked his lips and looked away to hid his discomfort.

“Peter. Peter Parker.”

The man nodded and his eyes flickered over to the man on the cell phone who just continued typing.

“My name is James Rhodes but you can call me Rhodey.”

“Or Honey Bear if he’s angry.”  The other man side with a smirk. He winked at Peter paying no attention to the sigh coming from his friend and went back to his phone.

“Just wait until you see me angry.”

Despite everything Peter felt the beginnings of a smile on his face at their banter.

“This is Tony and you’ll have to forgive his egregious manners. I mean kidnapping? Really Tony?”

The man, Tony he reminded himself, huffed but didn’t look the least bit bothered. In fact, Peter was sure he was the beginning of something, pride maybe, at the thought of his new rap sheet. The two talked of plans and locations, all undecipherable to him. Still, he listened with rapt attention trying to find out any bit of information he could.

Peter felt the wheels turning underneath them and decided that time was slowing in this strange, little world they were in. The three of them in the back of some car. Two friends, one stranger. Two inmates, one free. Three people thrown together and he was the odd man out. To their credit he didn’t feel excluded. They sort of enveloped him. Their eyes flitted over to him to make sure he was listening. The conversation kept him from getting bogged down with thoughts on his mind and Peter found himself nodding to the occasional question.

He decided that this whole situation was like Schrodinger’s cat. He didn’t know where he was going or who they were and once they left the car anything could happen. He could assume the best and worst outcomes at the same time. Strange but it seemed either was possible. He deserved the worse and if it was better, he could go back to that place. His stomach dropped. Somehow the thought wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it would be.

The car entered an underground garage. They drove down and wove through various levels until, after presenting a badge to some tough looking security, they parked in a walled off section separate from the others. It was a bit anticlimactic to be honest. Peter expected a highspeed road chase when they escaped.

“Let’s go.” James Rhodes said.

Peter’s head pounded from earlier. It was difficult to keep track of what turns they made and the stairs they took. Some they walked up and others they went down. He managed to keep track of the two left turns and one flight of stairs up when they finally stopped at their final destination. Rhodes scanned something against the wall, though Peter could see no markings on the wall.

The room beyond the corridor was humble in space and as of the ‘90s it would have been considered in style. The base furniture all looked high end but there were touches of teenager spread throughout. Peter spied a fun phone in the corner in the shape of a faded burger and a deflated bundle of plastic shoved in the corner that in another life was a seat. Fake fruit was in three different bowls scattered around the room. The whole effect was of a room of two times. The air was stale but lacked that distance he normally read in new spaces. He circled the room noticing the picture frames, some featuring Tony and Rhodes. The cushions had divots in the middle with fabric frayed on the edges. Peter could see the scuff marks on the corners of the walls leading into an unlit hallway.

He liked it.

“Alright there, Peter?”

Tony was observing him from the counter in the kitchen. The man looked at home lounging against the island and why wouldn’t he be? Everything indicated he spent time here in the past. The air thickened with the question and the outside world pushed in. Time sped up, piled higher as it fell, as Peter thought of what was happening outside.

It was almost a foreign concept. In the past he had made the outside world distant by forgetting about it. The memories were too tempting so he forced himself to stop thinking of his life. Of his family. But in the process of shunning that part of himself, Peter ignored everyone else’s life as well. Maybe that was why he assumed Tony was no more than an apparition at first? Here in this room he couldn’t ignore the past. Peter ran his hand across a pillow on the couch trying to straighten its fabric.

The couch was the same color as the couch in his old apartment. It was a puke green that May loved so much. They spent weekends cuddled up on the couch watching TV together. He was sure after all this time there was popcorn and snacks forgotten in the cracks. It was the same couch he’d woken cold and numb pressed against on the floor. The same one with blood splatter ruining the color with dark red. He turned away and shrugged.

He wished he was back in his cell, forgotten and forgetting.

“You should take me back, Sir.” His back faced Tony so he missed the wince cross the man’s face.

“I can’t do that. No matter what you think it was wrong for you to be there.”

Peter shrugged again and the man sighed. He tried to hand Peter a glass but his hand was shaking too much to grab it.

“Alright, it’s been a long day. Let me show you to your room. Unless you’re hungry? No, I didn’t think so. Well, there’s food in the kitchen if you need anything.”

-

The air sparked with tension. Peter followed Tony down the hall and fought the urge to look into the rooms as they passed. One door was open and he saw Rhodes sitting at a desk behind a computer.

“Kid, needs to sleep. I’m giving him the blue room.”

“We’ll talk later. Sleep well, Peter.” The man responded with a smile. Peter nodded but kept his face blank.

The room was plain and simple. There was another picture frame on the tall dresser but he didn’t take the time to study it. He sat on the edge of the bed and focused on Tony who was lingering in the doorway. The man ran a hand through his hair and mumbled something before leaving. The bedding was a dark blue color. Worn and cool to his touch. His eyes landed on the balcony covered by drapes in his perusal of the room.

“Shouldn’t go out there tonight but in a couple days it should be safe enough.” Tony was back, carrying something in his hand. He hesitated but walked five steps over to him and sat on the end of the bed. Far enough that Peter could breathe evenly.

He carried various first aid bits and for a moment Peter was on the fire escape. May was about to take off his mask and disinfect his wounds.

“I am sorry about the burn.” Tony said as he brought out the supplies. “I needed to stop them from tracking you and there was no time. Still,” He said and reflexively winced as Peter did. “I’m sorry.”

Peter shrugged. His neck throbbed as the man began dabbing it. He hated to compare but Tony was almost more tender with May. At least in the beginning. When he first became Spiderman, she was frustrated he’d been hurt again or frantic and would try to do everything at once. It took time for her to accept his propensity for flying around the city in spandex and how that habit would get him hurt from time to time.

“Must not have been as deep as I thought, a lot of the tissue isn’t burned too badly.” 


Peter froze. He nodded and forced himself to breath out so Tony wouldn’t notice. That was another one of May and his rules: don’t tell anyone. Don’t let them know he was different. Ross knew but that was okay because by that point he deserved it. Tony didn’t and couldn’t know because something bad could happen. He shrugged again jarring the hand disinfecting the burn. He would hide his neck until it was feasible it was healed.

“That’s the best I can do for now. Here are some pain relievers and I’ll get you a glass of water. We’ll have to change the wrappings again. Burns can get infected easily.” 



He came back from the bathroom and Peter drank deeply. Exhaustion hit him. All of the events of the day came rushing back to him. He’d been kidnapped by this stranger in front of him and now he was offering to change Peter’s band aids like he wasn’t the one who gave him the wound. The anger was there, itching under his skin but not as much as he thought. Peter couldn’t summon the strength to do anything besides stare.

“If you need anything, I most likely won’t be sleeping so you can come get me and Rhodey. Anything you need… And, well, I’m not really sorry about the whole kidnapping thing but I’m here for what it’s worth.”

Peter stared at the man with a scrunched brow. Tony was almost blushing. He shrugged with a smile and closed the door behind him. Peter just continued to stare at the closed door. Maybe he would come back in, guns blazing, and demand action. Maybe he would act like a kidnapper would instead of like a concerned adult.

Peter got up and paced the room before shoving the curtains aside. He unlatched the door and tried to open it but it wouldn’t move. There was some type of invisible lock like the one to get into the apartment. He supposed he could break it open but something stopped him. A twinge resounded at the thought of running the room. He didn’t want glass to spread onto the floor or get on the bedspread. It had to be the fatigue, there was no other reason.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He said to the empty room.

Peter fell back onto the bed, his back sinking into the mattress.

Time slowed again. What should do was go through all of his options. If he could sift through his next steps, tomorrow would be easier to handle. But his neck burned and his body was heavy on the bed. In these strangers’ apartment staled by time but full of home, Peter fell asleep thinking of the Sunday mornings spent on the couch May swore was olive green.

Thank you!

Next Chapter Six: Dreams

#whumptober2020 #whumptober 2020 #no. 5 #rescue #on the run #where do you think you're going #spiderman #iron man #marvel #avengers #mcu #language #peter parker #tony stark #rhodey #james rhodes #fanfiction #ao3 #marvel fanfiction #spiderson #irondad

[nctwd127]

Arranged Marriage.

Chapter Six.

Word Count: 3421

The truck was fully loaded now with Yuta and I’s things. I watched as it drove away, in destination to our new home. The thought alone made me sick and nauseous. How much I hated this. How much I hated our parents for forcing this on us. How much I hated Yuta, just for being himself.

Yuta and I walked over to his parents first, to say goodbye. His arm around my waist made me want to punch him in the neck, but I tried so hard to refrain from doing so. I knew the boys were too. Who was trying harder? Now that was up for debate.

His mother looked at me and then the fading bruise on my face which her own son had caused. “Oh my dear, you ought to be more careful.” She advised caressing my face. I felt Yuta’s fingers dig a little deeper into my waist, as if to warn me to not say anything. I just gave her a tight lip smile and nodded.

“Yuta now you take good care of her and make sure nothing happens to her, she’s a good girl.” Mr. Nakamoto instructed to his son with a genuine smile. His smile and eyes held hope for the future but I knew better than to think anything good could ever come from this.

“Of course dad. I’ll take care of her and protect her always.” He lied, I’m sure. I simply rolled my eyes and looked away, not really caring if his parents saw my eye roll or not. After the goodbye hugs given to us by his parents, we walked over to my parents.

“Yuta please do take care of her and her treat her well.” My mother practically pleaded of him as if I was willingly leaving to start a life with him. “Of course, like I told my parents. I’ll take care of her and protect her always.” Yuta answered as I rolled my eyes again at how easily he could lie to both our parents.

I really had nothing but rage and hatred running through my veins right now.

How everyone is acting like this isn’t being forced on us, is truly beyond me. Like this isn’t a fucking obligation. Like either of us had some kind of fucking say in this! How could they sit here and act like this was truly based off love?

My parents looked as if they were about to say something else so I cut them off.

“I’m leaving now.”

I removed Yuta’s hand from my waist and walked over to my boys who were waiting with open arms for me. “Please let’s go. I really don’t know how much more I can be here before I combust.” They nodded and we walked over to my car.

Ten took the keys from me and got into the driver’s seat, knowing I wasn’t capable of driving straight right now. Hendery and I got into the back seat, I laid my head on his lap and curled myself into a ball. Ten put in the direction into the GPS and started the travel. The drive was quiet and comfortable, trying my best not to doze off as Hendery ran his fingers through my hair, soothing any emotions that would come up to strongly.

“We’re here.” Ten announced as he parked in front of the house. The moving truck was parked in the drive way filled with out things still. We sat in the car and waited till they finished.

Soon enough Yuta and his crew showed up, taking care of whatever the movers needed and helped them as well but since I truly couldn’t be bothered, I laid back down onto Hendery. Everything from earlier was running through my mind and I couldn’t help but ask.

“Was she pretty? Prettier than me?”

My cat like friend turned around in the seat aggressively looking at me as if I had six heads. “Are you crazy? Please we all know, Doyoung could never do better than you. To even think something like that should be a crime.”

Ten has always been so extra and dramatic, his obvious attempt to try to make me feel better didn’t go unnoticed as I gave him a smile and a small chuckle. “You’re right.”

The cheerful moment was gone when someone knocked on the back door window, I looked over to see Sicheng. “What?” I asked annoyed, rolling down the window a little so we could hear each other.

“The movers are done, Yuta told me to tell you that you could go in now.” He sassed, as if it would have killed him to not be a piece of shit.

I groaned and got up, making sure to hit him with the door when I opened it, not too hard but enough for it to make him glare at me. Fully looking at the house now, it was small and beautiful. The outside gave a very warm and cozy vibe to it and I hated it, knowing that the inside would never be like that.

Walking in, the stairs were to the left in front of the door. On the right was an immaculate living room, already furnished in ivory colored couches. A medium height wooden coffee table was placed in the center facing the fire place that will probably never be used because it never was at my house. And on top of course the big flat screen television.

Past the stairs, to the left was the kitchen which I fell in love with. A marble island in the middle, big windows that showed the neighbor’s house, next to the fridge was the door that lead to the backyard, and the counters matched the island, it was truly beautiful. Connected to the kitchen was the dining room, a table for six was placed right in the middle, like anyone would use this.

A bathroom, without a shower, was at the end of the hallway to right. Across from that was an office space but seemed more like a library. It already had some books on the shelves. Thankfully it seemed as my parents picked the books because some of my favorites were there.

Hopefully Yuta stopped reading as much as he did back in day so that I could be the only one to use it.  

Going up the stairs, right away you were brought to two doors, one on either side. One was the master bedroom and the other was a guest room. Down the hall was another bedroom and a full size bathroom across it. Feeling thankful they decided to get us a house with more than one bedroom.

The master bedroom was big and spacious, much like the others it had a walk in closet. But this one had the en suite, so I was very persistent on wanting to get it.

“Wow, your guys parents really went all out for you guys, shit.” Ten marveled as he took in the sight of the master bedroom. A small chuckle left me at his comment. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Are you taking this room or are we sharing?” Yuta smirked as he leaned on the door frame, starling me as I wasn’t aware that he had been there.

“I mean this with all my heart Yuta, you can fuck off and leave me alone. But yes, I am taking this room.” I declared watching his face turn hard at my words. He glared for a split second then turned on his heels to go into the room across from mine.

“He really irks every nerve in my body. I just don’t understand how.” Ten commented watching the empty doorway. His gaze coming back to Hendery and me.  

“Same here, always ready to smack the shit out of him to be honest. But anyways, let’s go get the boxes.” Hendery instructed making way to the door. Ten and I looked at each other and laughed before following him out.

We occasionally bumped into the other three boys that were also here, none of them speaking to me of course. They shared some words with Hendery and Ten, in a friendly nature despite the situation that we were all in. But I could tell that Hendery and Ten felt a little weary of them right now considering they knew about all of this and toyed with them.

Not caring for their conversation, I continued moving my boxes. I carried the lightest ones seeing as I didn’t have much energy left after my panic attack.

Upon entering my bedroom, I noticed Yuta sitting on the bed. “Can I help you? Why are you in my room?” I questioned annoyed at the fact that he was in here already invading the little space I had. I placed the box down and looked at him waiting for an answer.

“We need to have a conversation after our guest leave.” He firmly told me. Before I could protest, he spoke again. “It’s not up for debate.”

I sighed and slumped my shoulders, “Okay.”

Finally all the boxes were sorted in my room, now all I needed to do was unpack but I would save that for tomorrow, for I had no more energy for anything at all whatsoever. And definitely not for a conversation with Yuta.

After spending the whole day with me and helping me move, I was finally walking the boys to the door. Both of them engulfing me in a huge hug, letting me know that everything will work itself out and that if I needed anything, anything at all to call them and they will come over at the speed of light. My heart was really beyond grateful for them, no words could ever explain it really.

Once the door closed, the air felt much darker and thicker. I turned to face the living room where the other four boys sat, just staring at me. I rolled my eyes and went to the kitchen. I hated this. Being in the house with Yuta was more than enough, I don’t understand why the other three insisted on being here.

It wasn’t long after I entered the kitchen that I heard the front door open and close. Hopefully for me, all four of them left. Leaning forward on the counter, I stared out the window taking in the night, watching as the wind blew through the trees. The old leafs cascading onto the floor below.

I’m sure on the nights I wouldn’t be able to sleep I would be out in the backyard. The way I did before when sleep was something unknown to me because of the nightmares.

The only bright side to this nightmare so far was that I had found places to hide away from my reality. The library and the backyard.    

“(Y/N).”

Yuta’s voice rumbled in the quiet that surrounded me, causing me to jump. I turned and saw him standing right behind me, how long had he been standing there? I’m not sure. I avoided his eyes, keeping my eyes trained on his chest and hummed in response.

He scoffed at the avoidance of eye contact, taking my chin into his hand and lifting my face to meet his eyes. My breath hitched as our eyes met. He looked at me hard for a moment before he turned my face to the left so he could see the barely there bruise he marked onto my skin.

“Are you done acting like a bitch?” Yuta snapped at me dropping his hand from my face. Now it was my turn to scoff. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, are you done being a bitch?” He repeated.

“Towards you, I will never be Yuta. I hate you. You ruined my life. Because you didn’t fight this, I was ripped away from the only two homes I had ever known my whole life! Because of you I have to live in this stupid house with you. Because of you, I had to give up the person I wanted to marry to fucking marry you! So to answer your fucking question, no I’m not done being a bitch and I never will be!” I shouted, the tears making their way back to my eyes.

He leaned into me and caged me in between him and the counter. I leaned away from his face, not wanting to make that kind of contact with him again, scared that it could trigger more painful flash backs for me.

Yuta didn’t say anything for a moment, I could tell he was trying to control the anger that was burning through him. He didn’t know how I did it every time, managing to get under his skin the way I did. His once honey brown eyes turned black when he focused on me again.

“I’m going to tell you this once. Learn to respect me, when we’re alone and especially in front of other people. That little commentary you pulled with your friends earlier, is the first and last time you address me like that.” He started, the harshness in his tone made goosebumps rise on my skin and a chill go down my spine. “That ring better be off your finger after tonight. And I forbid you from seeing that bunny boy again. You are not to step foot into his house again. Do you understand me?”

His eyes remained unfazed as he stared into mine, which have blurred him out as the tears were threatening to fall.

I was at a loss for words, I had nothing. I really had nothing. Once he realized that I wasn’t going to speak, he took the chance to add one more thing.

“Don’t test my patience (Y/N). I am capable of so much more than you think.”

Without warning, one hand wrapped around my waist pulling me into his body and the other behind my neck, making our lips crash against each other. The moment my eyes closed, the warmth of my tears trailed down my cheeks. He held me flush against his body as he forced our lips together.

In my moment of shock, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth, exploring the inside like it was a candy he’s never had before. I tried to push him away but he wouldn’t let me, his strength so much more evident than mine.

Yuta’s hands moved from the place they rested to hold my face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that fell as he continued the attack on my lips. My body weak as the nostalgia started to wash over me. It has been years since I have felt him this close to me.

It’s been so long since I have felt his lips move against mine the way they are right now. It was far too much for my body to handle but I had no strength to push him away. More tears broke free remembering the taste of his lips.

It’s been eight years and his taste was still the same.

The need for air finally got to him forcing him to pull away from my lips. His eyes were almost back to their honey color with a tint of darkness still lingering in them. He caressed my face once more before dropping his hands to his side.    

“Starting Monday, we are going public with our relationship.” Yuta looked down at my lips and then walked out of the kitchen.  

~Yuta felt that little tickle in his brain again. Confusing it for thinking that he could start to feel something for her, the person he once called his best friend, the person who left him hanging without reason. He ignored it and pushed it away, not thinking about what he did that caused that tickle, twice. ~  

Sitting on my bed, door locked and music blasting to ignore the outside world beyond these four walls, I stared at the floor. It’s Sunday afternoon and I haven’t slept at all since yesterday morning. I don’t know how anyone could after everything I had to endure in just one week.

With much sorrow, I did as Yuta asked, or more like threatened me to do and took the ring off. He never said I couldn’t wear it around my neck though, so that’s what I did. I took a pendant off one of my necklaces and placed the ring on it. At least this way, it’s still with me.

Unpacking my boxes, I stumbled onto one I had kept in the back of my closet for so many years, it was marked ‘don’t open.’ Curious as to what I had hidden away in there, I opened it, regretting it right away.

It was filled with memories that I had shared with Yuta. From messy post it notes, to embarrassing love letters, small trinkets and a sweater. There was one more thing in the box that opened the door of all memories.

A condom wrapper. I turned it over and it had a small post it note tapped to it, three words in a faded black ink. ‘Our first time.’

Yuta and I were sitting in my living room, watching a movie together like we did mostly every day after school, either at his house or mine. My head laid on his lap as his fingers ran through my hair mindlessly.

“You’re still a virgin right?” Yuta shamelessly and suddenly asked. “Yuta, you can’t ask questions like that, have you no shame?” I scolded feigning innocence with a giggle following right after.

“Oh please, save me the pure act (Y/N), we both know you’re the farthest thing from that. Now answer my question.” He insisted. “Yes I am. Why, are you?” I asked curious to know, sitting up to face him.

He looked at me and nodded, his ears burning a bright pink. I let out a loud laugh. “Oh the great Yuta, that carries himself like a god, is still a virgin!” I teased.

He looked over at me amused at how I joked of the situation, the adoration he had towards me so evident in his eyes, making me laugh louder with a blush creeping up to my cheeks.

We both knew there were unspoken feelings between us. But we weren’t sure if we wanted to take that step further and risk the friendship we had now.

Yuta’s smile turned into a smirk and a whole new kind of spark shined in his eyes. One I had never seen before. I stopped laughing as I noticed. “What?”

“Have sex with me. Let’s lose it to each other.”

Such a vivid memory hit me as I held the wrapper in my hand. Yuta in those days, he was something else. There was never a day he couldn’t make better, a moment he couldn’t make brighter, a smile he couldn’t make wider.

How ironic that the Yuta now, did the opposite of everything he used to do for me back then.      

Knock! Knock!

Startled, I threw everything back in the box and hid it away deep into the back of my closet, never wanting anyone else to find it, barely wanting to remember that it was there myself.

Walking to the door and unlocking it, I took a deep breath before opening it. “Why is your door locked?” Yuta questioned me right away. “Are you my dad? Why do you care?” I remarked.

“What do you need Yuta?” I asked walking away from the door and continuing to move around my boxes, not wanting to have to look at him as the details of our first time ran through my head the moment I saw him.

He stepped into my room and leaned against my desk, just staring at me. I could feel his eyes on my body as I moved around. Feeling overly exposed in my skimpy pajamas. I cleared my throat and he snapped out of whatever thoughts were running wild in his mind.

“I just came to inform you that, the company is hosting a party this weekend to celebrate the success it’s been having lately.”

“Great, okay. I’m assuming that we will be going together?” I sighed, in no mood whatsoever to celebrate anything, especially not the success of a company that ruined my life.

“Of course princess. I’m your one and only now.” He mocked satisfied as he looked at my hand, no longer seeing the ring that hid away inside my shirt, away from his eyes.  

Masterlist

#nct #nct 127 #nct yuta #nct doyoung #nct hendery #nct lucas #nct jaehyun #nct taeyong #nct winwin #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct stories #nct angst #nct fluff #nakamoto yuta #kim doyoung #wong kunhang #chittaphon leechaiyapornkul #wong yukhei #jung yoonoh #lee taeyong #dong sicheng #seo youngho #nct arranged marriage #nct ten #nct johnny #yuta smut #doyoung smut #lucas smut #jaehyun smut

[clansayeed]

Bound by Choice ― I.iii. Divine Intervention

PAIRING: OC x OC x OC (Valdas x Isseya x Cynbel) RATING: Mature (reader discretion advised)

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Choice ⥽

Before there were Clans and Councils, before the fate of the world rested in certain hands, before the rise and fall of a Shadow King ― there was the Trinity. Three souls intertwined in the early hands of the universe who came to define the concept of eternity together. Because that was how they began and how they hoped to end; together. For over 2,000 years Valdas, Cynbel, and Isseya have walked through histories both mortal and supernatural. But in the early years of the 20th century something happened―something terrible. Their story has a beginning, and this is the end.

Bound by Choice and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Choice is the only book in the series not based on an existing Choices story. It is set in the Bloodbound universe and features many canon characters.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Choice/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Cynbel saves a seer.

[READ IT ON AO3]

By the time he arrives back to the estate Cynbel’s anger has given way to fright; one thought consuming him above all others.

They need to leave Rome. They should already be far, far from here. Far from Caesar and his notions of immortality.

“Valdas! Isseya!”

“Cynbel?”

Her voice draws him to her, standing just outside the doors of their shared chambers with the red of a fresh meal still dripping down her chin.

He sweeps Isseya up in his arms and kisses her fiercely. Half to remind himself that she is there, she is safe. Half because what else can he do, he’s powerless, has never been powerless, cannot fathom it without her, without them.

The lust is dashed from her eyes the moment she takes him in fully. “What is it? Cynbel, what has you so?”

“Where is Valdas?”

“I asked you —”

“Where is he?!”

She tears his grasp from her arms and forces him back — enough to return him to sanity if only for a moment. She’s never abided him like this and would not start now. And isn’t he fucking thankful for it.

“Bring yourself back to sense and I may feel inclined to answer,” his darling snaps through vicious teeth. Only when he sags against the now cracked wall with his hands spread out — vulnerable, they are all too vulnerable — does she make good on her words. Holds his upper arms in a deceptively strong grasp and skirts her nose along his jaw to bring a comfort only she can. In a way only she knows.

“You’re frightening me,” she admits, he can hear the waver in her voice even now, “I haven’t seen you like this in so long, so very very long.”

He can’t even remember the last time this mania consumed him. But she’s good at bringing up old wounds, at cutting in the same place time and time again.

“Iss’…” Cynbel loses the last of his fight, his body yields. But it isn’t enough to ease his mind. Nothing but the death of Caesar will do that.

“Was it the Godmaker’s whelp that made you so?”

“No.”

“Swear it. I know you’ve taken to her.”

He knocks their temples together. Bestial headbutting; primal acknowledgment that she’s talking utter fucking nonsense. “Do not insult me so.”

“Not taken her,” though her fondness comes through, “I would make you a eunuch if you even so much as entertained the thought. But she knows something you keep hidden from us. Call me a liar.”

He can’t, so he doesn’t.

Which is all the answer she needs. “I thought as such,” and moves to pull away from him but no, no not now. Now cannot be one of the times for her tantrums because there is so much at risk and they need to find their beloved and leave.

“Believe me now, my love, and I will never give you reason to do otherwise again. For as long as we live. I swear it to you.”

It’s an openness from him that Isseya is unfamiliar with. Enough so that the gravity of his behavior finally seems to come over her. A veil somehow lifted.

“Where. is. Valdas?”

Her eyes flicker towards the depths of the villa yet the relief he hopes for does not yet come. Because his gut knows what else lies within, perhaps.

“Rome is no longer safe for us. We need to leave.”

“What madness is this?

“Our Beloved plans to join the conspirators but they have already failed.”

“What are you rambling about?”

Before he can answer the sounds of the ostium opening catch the lovers’ ears. With them, a wrath he had hoped was lost among the winding pathways of the city.

Instinct has Isseya in his grasp, holding her close as Kamilah darkens the doorway. Eyes glowing red the moment they land upon him and fangs bared.

“I’ll kill you!”

She rushes forward but to them her speed is childish; fumbling. Easily dispatched with a wave of Isseya’s arm as she steps in front of Cynbel with a mirthless laugh.

“The day such is possible, whelp, will never come. Accept that and you may live to see tomorrow at the very least.”

But the defiant Kamilah stands, wipes away the powder of crumbled marble from her cheek and of everything to go afoul this night Cynbel finds this to be the strangest of them.

“I did not force you to leave at my side. Turn your anger inward.”

“You imbecile!”

“I’ll have your fucking tongue!”

“Isseya! Still yourself,” he looks between them and forces himself calm through sheer will; remembers now why they chose to live away from what few others of their kind roamed the hills in the wilderness — passionate creatures were the children of the night.

Kamilah speaks again through ragged breaths; physically healed but in her eyes churned a storm unchained.

“You named me Sayeed, you wretched thing! Did you think I would truly go to the Pharaoh and give her my true name even now when it was the Pharaoh herself who gave my brother word of my demise? That we may be revealed is on your head, brute.”

Beside him, Isseya swears under her breath. “Tell me you didn’t, beloved. Tell me you are not so craven for war so soon.”

“What I am craven for is survival.” He manages through gritted teeth.

“Is that in doubt?”

“It may very well be.”

Even with all of their years now, of all hours, time is not theirs to waste. Clutching for her again, Cynbel presses an open mouth to Isseya’s temple, pulls her with him away before it is too late.

“Cynbel? Isseya? What happened?”

Their god is upon them the moment they enter the exedra with Kamilah unwillingly in tow. From his bench the Godmaker makes no attempt to hide his distaste; curls his lip upwards in a silent snarl.

There is peace in seeing Valdas unharmed — in feeling his face held in the same hands that made him. Even temporary, it is enough. Straw-like strands stick to his brow as his Maker does everything in his silent power to bring about a calm.

But this is no mere fit of madness. It burns Cynbel from the inside out, makes him see the hollow clarity of the Godmaker’s eyes over his lover’s shoulder and want to act as sword and shield.

“Ease yourself, my Golden One,” his grip as rough as needed, words thick with a worry he refuses to let show in his eyes; always the stronger of them, always burdened so they may not be, “surely the theatrics have no place here.”

“Are you safe? Are you unharmed?”

Because he knows better, knows his lovers, Valdas steps back and gestures wide; allows them both to see him in all of his perfection and glory. Untouched, unblemished — for the moment.

“Of course I am.” And because, too, he has seen these fits of mania before, Valdas seeks answer from Isseya foremost. “Why would I be otherwise?”

Her venom spits at the dirt before the Godmaker’s feet.

“Ask him.”

Only the guilty who carry shame play in innocence. Gaius stands and holds out a hand; an offering. But the intended does not take it. Kamilah stands still with furrowed brow. An act minuscule in its defiance; but with purpose served.

“Kamilah, my Queen…”

“They know, Gaius.”

Slowly the hand falls back to his side. His fist clenches briefly, knuckles pop-popping in an echo around the curved room, then gone as if nothing had changed, as if nothing were the matter.

“I see,” with all the temperance of discussing the cloudy night, “and how did this come to light?”

Valdas senses the shift in tension, warily steps between his lovers and his Maker; “Have you care to enlighten those of us blind?”

Apparently he does not. Waits for Kamilah to answer him — she may reject his hand but he is still her King, her Maker, and he will not be denied.

“The victory at hand, it seems, has loosened Caesar’s tongue.”

“Brilliant tactician though he may be, that will need to be trained out of him.” The tsk tsk tsk of the Godmaker’s tongue, such a simple and universal act, sends throughout Cynbel an unease that coats him bodily; makes him feel unclean, despoiled.

“Caesar?” parrots the Made-God in confusion; rising suspicion, “what does Caesar have to do with this?”

Then, because the pieces aren’t fitting together in quite the right way, he rounds on Cynbel. “Why were you taking audience with Caesar?”

“I would quite like to know that myself.”

Even with the full weight of the Godmaker’s stare upon him, Cynbel refuses to give him the satisfaction. A silence not for her sake but that keeps Kamilah’s secret, too.

“Have you gone dumb, boy? Your precious deity has asked you a question!”

The same curl of the tongue as the night before; disgust not quite contained — not deserving of it in his mind. Though to think of what lurks in the Godmaker’s mind is a punishment he would kindly never suffer.

“Caesar knows what creatures wander Rome come nightfall. He knows of us… speaks as if to stand among us, beside us as an equal.”

Brow creased, Valdas shakes his head. “Impossible.”

“Would I lie to my beloved? He gazed upon me a mortal with knowledge beyond his means. Said not in words but intent; to become Dictator Inmortalis with the blood of our kind running the rivers of his veins.”

Would I lie to my beloved? Words overcast that hang in the depths of his lover’s eyes and the pain of them may be too much for Cynbel alone to bear.

And like she shares a home in his mind — and she very well may — Isseya reaffirms her presence beside him. Complete and utter faith; belief in him… in them.

He is never alone.

An understanding comes over Valdas, then. Across his face a hardness; something that does not suffer fools nor being made the fool. That finds him facing his Maker not as the cowed progeny of before but, perhaps, the firstborn who had created the distance between them so many centuries ago.

“Should Caesar find himself among our kind, no blade would fell him. None that mattered; none used by the likes of the conspirators of the Senate.” None used by the likes of me.

The accusation is clear, yet Gaius remains unperturbed.

“Such is the consequence of those who stand in the way of power.”

“What power does he not already covet?”

“How small-minded you’ve become, Valdemaras; fixated on your narrow existence. On these children of yours. Are you truly blinded to the potential laid out before us?”

“Us?”

“Our kind!” cries the Godmaker with a voice that might wake the heavens; “The future I created you for, the one we sought together! The very reason you continue to walk this earth no matter your defiance of me.”

“The world we stand in now is a vastly different one than when I last drew mortal breath, Augustine. The Empire of my birth is no more. Surely Rome, no matter her glory now, will see the same fate.”

“Not as my plans come to fruition.”

“Plans to—to what, to extend the power of Rome through the immortal hand of Julius Caesar?” He scoffs. “We both know him a madman lurking beneath a countryman’s smile. If you still begrudge me my betrayal of you, I would claim that nothing compared to what he might do when you pull on his strings.”

Haughty, defiant; Gaius gestures wide in a grin that bares all of his teeth. “You were the mistake from which I learned the greatest lesson. Caesar will be Turned and brought to heel. And when that is done, the great work of rebuilding the Kingdom She Promised will finally begin.

“You are right, my soldier. Your Empire fell; it began long before I walked your lands and despite my best efforts could not be saved. But with Caesar at my hand, how much of Rome will follow? How much of Egypt once the Pharaoh stands beside us?”

He stands proud, basks in his own glory and might. Looks to find the adoration of his Queen but finds only confusion; a dawning understanding.

“You mean to Turn Cleopatra.”

“I mean to see my promises kept. If that means bringing the rulers of even the smallest kingdoms under my thumb then so be it.” This time Kamilah takes his offered hand. Joins her King as the Queen by his side.

Why should he find himself surprised by it?

“Enough of this.” Gaius continues with a flippant wave of his free hand, “I’ve entertained your pilgrimage for long enough, Valdemaras. Tomorrow will come and your childish plotting will come to a head. When Caesar rises from the bloody hands of his conspirators he will be revered and given absolute power over Rome, the Senate, all of it.

“Where will you stand witness? At my side, or under my rule?”

The answer is an easy one for the likes of Isseya, the likes of Cynbel. Who look at one another with grave unease. All of the events circling around them overhead as vultures do the dying wanderer.

Their love and Light said so himself. To refuse him would be to lose you.

Do not ask it of me. I beg of you.

And what had they answered? Perhaps the only thing they could to ease his aching heart, to bring their god back to his former self because they could not bear the sight of him so broken, wounded… so mortal.

We will not. We will not.

They grasp at one another desperately. For him, too, but not quick enough. Valdas steps out of their reach and they want to scream for him, go back on their shared word. Anything to spare them this. To spare him.

“Valdas, please —”

“Do not do this —”

But words spoken in vain mean little now. Only serve to call them liars, to call them unfaithful in the eyes of their god.

But is it a god who falls on bended knee, takes his Maker’s touch in clasped hands and kisses the ring there? It certainly does not look so. It looks like a man losing his world in one simple act.

Or, perhaps, saving it.

The Godmaker’s pride is as venomous as it is stifling. Brings his chin raised high as he takes in the sight of Valdemaras’ beloveds. The things that he would do anything for — that much has been proven enough.

“And your progeny?” Who are not worth the address.

Who bite their tongues until they bleed, who swallow blood and bile and tears down because he has done the same for them, how could they do anything less than follow him even into this?

Their silence is their submission. Down the line, with an ego fat with supped blood and power taken from all corners of the world, he may demand of them a formal oath. And down the line, starved of one another, they may be too weak to do anything but swear it.

For now he takes his Queen and departs. Leaves Valdas low, sinking lower still.

Of one mind and two bodies, Cynbel and Isseya rush to his side, envelop him in them. Show him proof with trembling touch that his act was not in vain and they live. They live.

Fuck pleasantries. He wrenches the feeble door from its feeble hinges and sends it hurtling across the alley. It smashes against the stone front of the domus across like rotted driftwood.

There’s a hint of his true nature in his darkening of their doorway. Filling the space with broad stature and the hunt in his inhuman eyes. Staring up at eight terrified faces huddled around their meager meal.

Every visit before this he has been almost sickening in his placation of them, the mortal curs. No longer.

“The girl.”

Too weak to take part in the bonds of family. Trembling in her bed not out of fear of him but fear of herself and what she has seen, what she may see still. Cynbel scoops her up in his arms and feels nothing when she seeks a warmth in him that does not exist.

“Domine…” and were he capable of kinder words he may tell her to save her strength, for her sake—for his, but as it is every thought must be held back on the tip of his tongue lest he start screaming and never, never stop.

“This night will not be your last, not while I have use of you yet.” By any means necessary he will keep her alive.

Bringing Nona back to the villa is impossible. Were the Godmaker to come into possession of her, what little hope the lovers had left would be dashed. But to leave her under the same roof visited by his Queen was to leave her equally vulnerable.

Surrounded on all sides, there was only one place he could think of which would grant the girl sanctuary in her final days.

On the steps of the Temple, basins of flame barely aglow at the midnight hour, the priestess barely looks the pair of them over before turning them away. But all it takes is a foot to step with, to stop the stone door with a strength no human could muster.

He may only have his One God but the Romans had many, with many names and many faces among them. But what were the gods of mortals but powers beyond their understanding?

“Turn her away and you turn away the eyes of your Minerva herself.”

The pale woman bundles her palla up closer as if to best the wind that whistles through the open doorway. But her caution is her undoing — catches her glittering skin in the vestiges of the flames and eyes a little too wide, too aware.

That he does not pull back her veil to reveal the tips of her unnatural ears is only because now is a most desperate hour.

“The girl is an innocent, she is not of my blood.”

The etherie gives Cynbel the full weight of her glower. Eyes that have already seen a thousand years, maybe a thousand more still. That judge him unnatural and of the dead.

“The girl has chosen her fate, twining with those of the children of Phampira.”

“What fate is yet to come will reach far — even to your ‘tween realm. Whether you believe in my attempt to stop it or no, know that is my prophecy, and it will come true so long as Gaius Augustine wanders Rome.”

It is the name that churns the pot, that has the woman of unearthly magics giving cautionary looks about the abandoned temple steps before ushering him inside.

The smell of their foulness tickles at his nose and burrows like maggots beneath his skin. An itch he cannot scratch, the remnants of which he will feel for weeks to come. Such is the price of survival.

The eldest of them directs stragglers with an unfamiliar tongue. He can feel their glassy stares both direct and lurking afar as the two return with a thin bedroll and some meager excuse for a blanket. Somehow it still feels more substantial than what they had left at Nona’s home.

Their eyes at his back send gooseflesh racing down his arms; still his touch to her damp brow before he can collect himself — before he can work to block them out. This is a sanctuary and nothing more.

“I need you to gather your strength now,” he whispers vainly; knows those around catch his every word even as they skitter off like the fearful wild, “I have need of you yet.”

The first, the High Priestess, approaches on hesitant feet and leaves a clay bowl and cloth at their side. Looks Nona over wise and all-knowing.

“You have stretched this life beyond its means.”

“Save your judgment, etherie.”

“How many more lives will be lost in the storm that gathers at your heels?”

“However many it takes to keep my Beloved safe.”

As though summoned by his words the girl stirs beneath his hand. Clutches with a pale hand for him and she feels more than fragile, more than mortal. She feels as faint as smoke. The embers of her struggling to hold on in the downpour.

With glassy eyes Nona gazes up; looks at him without truly seeing. Moves her peeling lips in words unspoken; visions untold.

Yet no amount of his blood will heal her of this ill. As if he would not have tried it first? He knows the creature beside him could heal her easily. The effort of which would take no significant amount of its eternal years. Yet she watches idle; watches the girl while her life force fades still.

“Cyn…bel…”

Humans are warmth; filled with the heat of passion and life like he can no longer remember. Yet Nona beneath him is cold; grows colder. “I’m here, sweet girl. What do you see?”

He rests her silken touch on his temple, feels the sweat on his brow where gossamer strands stick to his skin.

Nona’s breathing grows ragged — stones in her lungs. The High Priestess can take no more and turns away, her veils lapping at her bare heels. So long as they give her rest it matters not.

“What do you see?”

“Blood. The river… the river runs of blood.”

“Through Rome?”

“Through the world. Spreading… spreading dark, dark out to the sea. Everything it touches; blood. In the lakes, the streams, ocean shores of salted froth and blooded rain falling in torrents. The Kingdom She Promised.”

There it is again.

The same words Gaius had said back in the exedra. A promised land — but for who? Where, and why? A promise to his Queen, Kamilah? Or was there a shadow unseen, behind the long tapestry of their kind made in the Godmaker’s wake, darker and beholding a creature even they could not fathom?

“She promised him peace,” says Nona; shakes Cynbel from his confusion because now was not the time to wonder of the future, the future that would matter not should he lose his love; “forged a blade of a broken shield. Yet now… now it has no master to wield it. The blade cannot wield itself. The blade cannot wield itself.”

Cynbel grits his teeth, resists the furrow in his brow. “That matters not. To me, seer, to me,” letting her tiny palm cradle his cheek, “I need you to see what he will do to my love. Will he be killed should the Godmaker succeed? Will Caesar if blooded of him?”

He would not call her petulant. Can see the toll taken on her even now. Any of a lesser faith would call her afflicted; possessed. Would stifle her gift but he needs it to flourish. If he is to save them it must.

“Answer me, seer. Should Caesar Turn, will my beloved die?”

A spectre passes over her. Nona convulses, then grows still. Lids heavy over eyes dull and near lifeless. Her blood slow, sluggish through her muddy veins.

“Nona — Nona—!”

If what she alone can see be not enough to stir her then so be it — he will be the monster of the abyss. Lets her hands fall limp to the stone floor and grasps her by the throat with a hand that betrays the true fear held back on threads of a barely-contained wrath.

Not long before what little breath she takes is a struggle; her heartbeat picking up in desperation. Eyes flying wide open as a flush overtakes her cheeks and Cynbel stares down unfeeling; no longer willing to be denied what he has been promised.

The world has always best responded to violence. Why should this be any different?

He allows himself — however briefly — to relish in the familiar sight of humanity ebbing from her expression as the animal instinct to survive takes over. Those same parchment-thin hands suddenly clawing at his stronger grip and this time when she tries to speak he knows he has the power to change it.

That’s why he uses her. For the power to change things beyond his knowledge. All of it; for them.

“Are you ready to answer me now?” He asks. Squeezes just… a little… tighter…

Nona continues to choke even when he releases her. Weakling lungs desperate to fill; to breathe — forcing her up through the pain of her affliction to choke and heave and grasp at her throat to remove even the memory of him from her flesh.

But that is a mercy Cynbel will no longer grant. His fingers tangle in her dark tresses — pulls her forward with a harsh tug to bring them intimately close.

He will not ask again. Nona’s life is in her own hands, now.

And fleeting though that life may be — she is desperate for it. “First the Empire, then the Pharaoh’s lands. Every Empire bathed in mortal blood — each crown dipped in his blood—by his hands. This world will fall, the New World will never rise. The dead cannot flourish — the shadow cannot grow. Caesar cannot Turn. It will be the end of everything.”

The end of everything.

The end of them. The end of him. The end of everything they have built.

Nona keens a strangled cry as he pulls her close — holds her aching, grieving. Her tears seep warm into his tunic and if she could she would no doubt wrench herself from him but the seer is weaker now than ever.

“‘For every pain there is purpose,’” Cynbel whispers into her skin; kisses there fond but not friendly — a gesture without love, “‘and every wound bore will bring wisdom.’”

What a comfort those words are. How they wrap around him like strong arms in the moments before the end.

He isn’t going to kill her now. He will; he has little choice in the matter. It has been seen… and cannot be undone.

“Thank you for all you have done for me, my sweet seer. For as long as I live I will be forever in your debt.”

Cruel though he is, it is not in his nature to be ungrateful. He waits until the sobs no longer wrack her body uncontrollable to lay her back upon her bedroll. He soaks the nearby cloth and wrings the water cool over his fingers before letting it rest on her weary eyes. Could the same thing be done for her inner eye he would offer a balm there, as well.

The vampire stands to take his leave; hesitates as he takes in from a distance just how small she is.

“You understand what you have done this night, child of Phampira.”

Cynbel schools his face in cool disinterest as he turns to face the High Priestess. Veils now fallen upon her shoulders, in the dark shimmers of their otherworldly etherie-fire she can be nothing other than what she is; with hair of snow that frames a face of youthful eternity and feline eyes that look upon him and name him behemoth.

“Ne’er again will you step within these halls. Lest even under the moon you feel the boiling of the sun’s light ignited in your veins.”

And he knows the threat is a real one — knows the dangers of those of his kind who have dared to tread over the toes of the etherie. Just as he knows the greed that lies beneath their radiance; greed of gold, of things deemed precious to the world of men.

She will be safe here.

At the base of the Temple of Minerva Cynbel stops and turns his face to what little he can stand of the paling sky. Tastes of the clouds on his tongue and allows himself the burden of memory.

“‘It is in the nature of us to covet, for we are because we could not choose between death and life.’” And as his first and only glimpse of divinity had whispered such gospel in his ear and cradled him in death-into-rebirth, he found them true.

Marcus Brutus changes everything.

When last Valdemaras met with the Senator Cassius it was to convince him to steal away their conspiracy in the night. Not only to secret their machinations to the shadows rather than risk arrest at the hands of Caesar’s loyal, but also to ensure his attendance; for the vengeful god Valdemaras was eager to see the Conqueror of Gaul and the Empire of Rome undone in the name of his beloveds.

But a vision comes to Brutus in the same dawn that reaches Cynbel’s hasty retreat from the temple.

“The Fates whisper to me,” he tells Cassius fearfully, “in such horrible voices. They whisper with the tongues of the dead by Caesar’s hand. They demand him slain at the feet of his Senate. They demand him seen by all, even those who would placate Caesar.”

Even men of little faith such as a Roman Senate do not ignore a righteous calling such as that. They use it to steady their trembling hands, to give justice in their traitorous steel.

So it is done. Caesar does not see sunset on the Ides of March.

He dies a mortal man; surrounded by enemies of his own making.

Godmaker, they call him. And the name rings true. His wrath—enough to stir the heavens and send the sun cowering early into the night.

Bone clutched in sheet-white fists and fangs grit to draw blood between his tongue; his demands not met by an intervention perhaps more sacred than divine. Even his Queen steps clear of his path of destruction — wide, unyielding, merciless.

“You,” snarls the Godmaker when he rounds on their god; turns his eyes with the fury of Titans where the blood god Valdemaras stands between him and his faithful because he could not be anywhere else, “if it comes to light you had anything to do with this—if you so much as whispered in an ear, or sent a blighted missive…”

When his hand raises a collective fear ripples through the three lovers; strong together, yes — but equally as vulnerable.

“I did not.”

“I will wring the truth from the marrow of your bones!”

“I did not!” Valdas screams. Gaius tortures him anyway.

Fire burns in his veins; a thousand deaths that didn’t quite take.

But it, too, passes. As the tempest of the Godmaker moves on from the spec of space they have become in the mere potential of his wrathful wake.

It had taken the lifetime of one influential man, several of lesser status, to bring them the wealth of their villa. Just as it takes the Godmaker one night to turn it all to rubble at their feet.

It is carnage for carnage’s sakes and yet they cannot find pleasure in it — when they look at the hollow, milk-white eyes of servants whose names they would never remember they know it could just as easily have been them in this burial mound of marble destruction.

The devoted of Valdemaras fall to their knees. Raise him up as they have done everything else: together.

And when the Golden Son raises his head he sees, through the cloud of dust and the ruins of their Roman lives, the Godmaker’s Queen does not look as sympathetic for her King’s loss as she should.

Why would she?

They are devoted to him utterly and completely. Yet that does not stop them from exchanging glances over the sweat on their god’s brow that they kiss with lips that taste of their tears.

“Did you do this?” they ask. Valdas did not.

“But I wish I had.”

In the nights that follow there are many times Cynbel feels confession on the tip of his tongue. That he looks upon them and knows in some far-gone and hidden part of him that events may not have unfolded the way they did had he not brought Nona to the etherie; had they not heard her prophecy of The End and somehow were the undoing of it.

But no matter the distance they put between themselves and Rome the darkness of the Godmaker lingers over them — a shroud. To tell them, he believes, would be to cast aside the curtain and burn them all alive.

Perhaps he is wrong. Perhaps this was simply the way things were meant to be.

Perhaps not.

I have proven you wrong, sweet seer. And I will again.

#bloodbound #gaius augustine #kamilah sayeed #bloodbound fanfiction #playchoices fanfiction #oc: valdas #oc: cynbel #oc: isseya #oc: nona #oblv: bound by choice #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

[writethehousedown]

Here Comes the Sun 2/7 (Branjie) -- athena2

Day 2, Umbrella: Brooke returns Vanessa’s umbrella, and grows a little closer to her.

Thank you to Writ for betaing this chapter!

Brooke can’t stop staring at Vanessa’s umbrella. She couldn’t get a good look in the rain, but it’s a vibrant, sunny yellow, the top home to bright purple flowers and soft green leaves and smiling red ladybugs.

She grips the handle and pretends she’s holding Vanessa’s hand. She pictures Vanessa’s hand around hers in a storm, clenched tight in the pouring rain, or maybe relaxed, since rain didn’t seem to bother Vanessa much. Vanessa seems like the type to hum along to “Umbrella” and dance in the rain with woodland animals like a Disney princess, while Brooke gritted her teeth and somehow had raindrops hit her right in the eye.

Eventually she has to put it down and get ready for work, shooting her fellow teacher Nina a text asking whether bringing Vanessa coffee and a muffin is too much of a thank you for an umbrella.

Nina West: I don’t think it’s too much.

Nina West: It would be a good chance for you two to TALK

Nina West: Pretend I’m nudging your shoulder and winking

Two winking emojis follow, and Brooke sighs. Nina, too observant to even be fair sometimes, had picked up on Brooke staring at Vanessa, Brooke losing focus on her lesson plans when Vanessa laughed during lunch, and has been pushing Brooke to talk to her for months. Brooke wishes she could, but being around Vanessa dries her throat out like the desert and plucks every thought from her head.

It’s just coffee, Brooke tells herself. Just a thank you.

She heads out the door, twirling Vanessa’s umbrella in her hand.

—

Vanessa sighs as she enters the school, her shoes squelching even after she scraped them off on the carpet. “Good thing my lunch bag is waterproof. This rain is wild.”

Silky rolls her eyes. “Maybe if you didn’t give your umbrella to Miss Brooke–”

“Hey!” Vanessa snaps. “I lied and told her I had an extra. I didn’t want it to look like I was letting her borrow my only umbrella because–”

“Because you’ve had a crush on her for years?” A’keria chimes in.

Vanessa should’ve never told them she likes Brooke. It isn’t like she’s been discrete about her feelings, though, missing most of the faculty meetings because she couldn’t stop thinking about how cute Brooke looks while she takes notes. Brooke is so meticulous, her decorations looking like a machine made them, but it was just her own clever hands, and so dedicated to her students that she often stays as late as Vanessa to work on teaching plans or get crafts ready. Their classrooms share a wall, and though Brooke speaks softly, sometimes her voice travels through the open window, making Vanessa lose her train of thought to the amusement of thirty five-year-olds.

Vanessa’s been trying to talk to her more, beyond discussing the weather or funny stuff their kids did, but it never seems to work. Brooke is always reading, or working on lesson plans, or looking so happy with her peanut butter and jelly sandwich that Vanessa couldn’t find a way in.

Vanessa unlocks her classroom door. “Have fun grading!” she teases, since A’keria and Silky co-teach fifth grade, where they had to read three-paragraph essays written by kids who had no idea what they were writing. “We’re counting with ladybug toys today.”

Both of them grumble before saying they’ll meet her at lunch.

Vanessa’s classroom is an oasis, bright and joyous yet calm and peaceful. The back right corner is covered by a rug featuring a rainbow against a blue sky, the chair she uses to read to the kids in the center. Cubbies for the kids and shelves crammed with toys and games occupy the back left wall, along with a smaller rainbow rug for anyone who gets overwhelmed and needs a break. Long tables face the chalkboard, with a construction paper name tag (currently chicks for spring) for each kid. It’s the kind of classroom she would have liked as a kid and still likes now, especially the spring flowers along the walls. Her mom used to have an enormous flower garden that filled the whole backyard with sweet lavender and fresh rose scents. Vanessa would pick them and bring them in the house, tearing a few petals in her eager excitement.

She picks up the LEGO blocks littering the rug–maybe she’ll have to sing the clean-up song with a little more vigor today–and puts Bertha’s cage in its usual spot. A knock tears her away, and she turns to see Brooke in her doorway, umbrella in one hand and a coffee cup and bag in the other.

Vanessa’s heart lurches at the sight of her. “Morning, Brooke.” Vanessa takes any chance she can to use Brooke’s name, so used to calling her Ms. Hytes in front of the kids that Brooke feels special, like a gift, one that makes Vanessa warm inside.

“Morning.” Brooke’s cheeks are bright pink and Vanessa warms even more. “Um, thank you again. For the umbrella. I brought you coffee. A-and a muffin.”

Vanessa takes the umbrella and lays it on one of the tables, accepting the coffee gratefully. Brooke even got her little packs of sugar and cream so she could make the coffee how she wanted it, and Vanessa’s heart gives that familiar tug it does around Brooke. “You didn’t have to do all that for me. Best believe I’m drinking it, but you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Brooke insists, handing her a chocolate chip muffin. Warmth radiates through the wrapper, and Vanessa sighs in pleasure, hoping Brooke didn’t hear her moaning over a muffin.

“Thank you.” Vanessa looks up at Brooke, fingers nervously weaving through her blonde hair. “You want half with me?”

Brooke blushes as red as the construction-paper roses on Vanessa’s wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah! This thing’s bigger than my head.” Vanessa grabs a knife and two paper plates from her desk, motioning for Brooke to sit at one of the kid’s tables. Vanessa stifles a laugh as Brooke knocks her knees against the table, rearranging the chair and twisting her legs this way and that like a pretzel before she can sit at least somewhat comfortably. Vanessa plops down in the kid-sized chair like it’s a normal chair, prompting Brooke to laugh until she has tears in her eyes.

“You’re so tiny!” Brooke teases. “Maybe you should use one of these chairs at your desk. You fit in them perfectly.”

“Hey!” Vanessa laughs. “I happen to be petite, thank you very much!”

Brooke just smiles, eyes wide in disbelief at them sitting here like this. Vanessa can hardly believe it either, cutting the muffin just so something in this feels real.

The muffin is reduced to crumbs as she and Brooke talk about Brooklyn Nine-Nine, the minutes flying by. The warning bell rangs, cutting through the trance she and Brooke both seem to be in.

Brooke grabs her bags, and Vanessa decides to just go for it. She knows Brooke gets stuck in her head too much at times, that it might be hard for her to ask even if she’s given Vanessa several hints that she wants to. “Hey, Brooke? Do you maybe want to have lunch together tomorrow?”

“I’d love that, Vanessa,” Brooke says with a smile.

She says goodbye to Brooke, and when she looks out the window, the rain has come to a stop.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #athena2 #here comes the sun #lesbian au #fluff #concrit welcome #spring fling 2020 #day 2: umbrella #submission

[marvelmando]

tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - eight

notes: ((posting my favorite chapter in honor of spider-man returning to the mcu!!!))

this chapter has been in my head for... like, years. i literally created tempest around the scene with marin and peter, and im so proud that i’ve managed to write almost all of it. this is probably one of my favorite chapters, just because i’ve had it in mind for so long, and you finally get a glimpse into how marin’s powers were exposed.

that being said, this chapter has a very in-depth discussion of a murder-suicide, and domestic abuse, so please please don’t read the following scenes if you’re easily grossed out or triggered.

“but it’s the bad parts i remember the most... and it became her undoing.”

“as my mother tried to soothe him... it took a moment to compose herself.”

if you need a general summary of marin’s background, please read the end notes of the chapter!

****contains: mentions of a murder-suicide, descriptions of domestic abuse, mental illness

pairing: peter parker + fem! o.c.

word count: 5k

previous chapter next chapter tempest masterlist

MARIN DIDN'T SLEEP THAT NIGHT. Between the memories that haunted her, and thoughts of a certain boy that kept her mind spinning, Marin couldn't shut her eyes for more than a couple minutes at a time without either gasping or breaking out in a cold sweat.

She laid in her bed until the sun peeked through her curtains, and well beyond that. She probably should have done something more constructive with her time, like train or read a book or something, but her limbs felt like they were weighted down with bricks. She couldn't muster up the energy to sit up in bed, let alone try using her powers or concentrate on anything other than breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.

Like she did every year on that day, she mourned her parents silently. But this year was different only because thinking about her parents, meant thinking about Peter. He currently hated her because he thought she had killed them. And thinking about Peter made her heart sink and her head pound.

But then the pounding wasn't coming from her head anymore—it was coming from her bedroom door.

Marin didn't respond, but Lucy didn't care, because she entered her room anyway. "Marin, you've got to get up."

Marin just buried her face into her pillow.

"Marin," Lucy pushed, grabbing Marin's comforter and yanking it off of her. "C'mon, this isn't healthy."

"Don't care," Marin muttered into her pillow.

"Well, I do. So get up, you're gonna go train your new powers."

Marin lifted her head up at that. "You know about that?"

"Yeah, Professor Xavier told James and I. But don't change the subject—Jean and Storm are waiting for you downstairs in the simulation room." Lucy pulled at her arm now, but Marin obliged into a sitting position. She noticed James lingering in the doorway.

"All right, give me time to shower, at least?"

Lucy narrowed her eyes. "Ten minutes, Frost—I don't want any dilly-dallying in there, because I know you would if I let you."

"Fine." Marin rolled her eyes. "Be ready in fifteen."

+++

It was more like twenty, but Lucy should've only been glad that it wasn't at least thirty-five, like her normal showers.

Sure enough, Storm and Jean really were waiting for her, and they'd set the room up with plenty of rubber mats. Marin eyed the otherwise-empty room warily.

Jean chuckled. "This is just to help you practice your control, Marin. No simulations, yet, so there's nothing to be nervous about."

"We're rooting for you, Marin," Lucy gave her a thumbs-up, and backed out of the room with James at her side.

Marin nodded, shaking the nerves buzzing in her hands. Now that she was out of bed and her mind was distracted, it was easy to put her worries to the side. She signaled that she was ready to the two older mutants.

"Okay, Marin. You've done this before, except this time, you're older—you're in control." Storm exposited. "Close your eyes. Picture the energy flowing in you, swimming in your veins, crawling through the layers of your skin. Just observe it for now—simply acknowledge its presence as a part of you."

Marin concentrated. This lesson was similar to the training she'd gone through with her hydrokinetic powers, but this time, she knew that the power was coming from inside her, which made it more difficult to locate and identify. After a moment of silence, Marin huffed. "I don't feel anything."

"That's okay, just focus, Marin." Jean spoke. "It's there, waiting for you to find it. Don't try so hard, let it come to you naturally."

"The energy fluctuates with your emotions—when you become angry, or upset, it reacts accordingly." Said Storm. "But now, you are in control. The purpose of letting it come to you when you are calm is so that you refuse to let the energy control you."

Marin nodded, relaxing her clenched fists, not remembering when she'd done so. She breathed deeply, searching her body from within.

Somewhere under her skin, she felt a nudge. After the nudge, came a push, and then a rush of emotion. I am in control, she reminded herself. Marin stroked the wave of energy rising inside her with her mind, causing it to hum pleasantly in response. The hum began to vibrate, starting at the center of her chest and radiating outward, washing tingles throughout her entire body. She felt the hair on her arms rise, and the weight of her hair resting on her shoulders lift. Her entire body felt like a single, continuous flow of energy.

Marin opened her eyes, finding the room bathed in a warm blue light. Glancing down at herself, she realized that it was her; the bright aquamarine blue light surrounded her, seeping through the pores of her skin—reminding her of pressing a flashlight against her finger, the light passing through her skin. Except for this light, she could feel as it ignited every nerve ending in her body—glowing from every atom within her.

She jerked when she noticed that she was also hovering a couple feet off the ground, her hair floating around her hair like she was underwater. Panicking, she flailed her arms and unintentionally shot a blast of energy into the wall, blowing a sizeable dent into the cement.

Marin fell, losing her balance and landing on her back. Groaning, she picked herself up. "Sorry," she said sheepishly to her mentors, who looked between each other, and Marin assumed Jean was making a comment to Storm with her telepathy powers. "Was that okay?"

Storm looked at her and smiled reassuringly. "It was great, Marin. You handled it well, especially for using it for the first time in years."

"So... do you think I'm dangerous, then?" Marin grimaced.

"Not at all, Marin." Jean smiled, cupping Marin's cheeks in a motherly fashion. "You just need to train, to practice your control, that's all."

"Okay," Marin nodded, stepping back, and bracing herself. "Let's train, then."

+++

It had taken Marin three years to learn how to freeze and boil water instantaneously, and six years to learn how to heal others with water. But by the time the sun had set that day, Marin had managed to control her powers enough to manipulate the energy around her to fly.

Shooting beams of energy was still tricky and not entirely accurate, but at least she was no longer shooting off blasts by accident. She could summon the energy within seconds instead of minutes, and she was getting the hang of releasing her powers without falling down (even if she landed wobbly nearly every time). By bedtime, she was floating around the mansion with relative ease—the stress of the day's memories never passing her mind when she glided throughout the halls.

"Marin, please get down from the ceiling," Charles called up to her from his wheelchair, his neck craning to address the mutant walking upside down on the ceiling.

"All right," Marin sighed, descending and releasing the energy, her skin returning to its normal, freckled beige.

"Please get some rest tonight, okay?"

Marin smiled. "I will, Professor."

And she had planned on keeping her word, she really did try. But the second she crawled into bed, Marin was restless with the onslaught of unwelcome thoughts. She'd managed to go the entire day without dwelling on her parents' deaths or let herself be consumed by worries about Peter. But now, with her body finally still and her mind no longer distracted, she couldn't help but torture herself with the impulsive desire to show off her new powers to her friend.

Marin sighed after a few minutes of restless silence, giving up on sleep. She got up, and tiptoed to Lucy's bedroom, knocking softly on the door. It was still fairly early in the evening, but she hoped that Lucy hadn't planned on getting an early night's sleep.

Sure enough, a voice said from within, "Come in," and Marin stepped through.

"Hey," Marin whispered, even though Lucy and James were both wide awake and sitting on opposite ends of the bed, seemingly in the middle of a card game. "Can I talk to you guys for a bit?"

"Sure, what's up?" Lucy obliged, scooping the cards away to make room for Marin to sit on the bed. "Is it about the new powers?"

"Kinda." Marin exhaled softly. "It's also about... Spider-Man."

"What about him?"

"I miss him." Marin admitted. "Like, way more than I expected. As I steadily gained control over my powers today, all I wanted to do was go and show him." She wrung her hands together. "But then I remembered that he hates me for things that aren't true, and I can't stop thinking about the horrified look in his eyes when Mr. Stark told him that I killed my parents—and how I never got to explain myself, explain why I lied to him about being a mutant, and I just know that I can't live with that kind of guilt."

Lucy and James studied her as she continued her speech. "I've been alone my whole life. Everyone has always hated me or feared me for horrific actions they believed I committed, and I've lived with that isolation for the nine years I've lived here because honestly, I didn't really know anything else. But then I met him, and he showed me a kindness that I'd never experienced before. I was fine with being lonely until the night I ran away when I followed him through his life—I made unexpected friends, fought my first supervillain, and even met an Avenger. It was like I was seeing a glimpse of the life I feel like I was always meant to have. And now... now, I don't know what to do. Because I know I have to keep training to control these new powers, but I can't help but yearn for that other life. I know I should stay here and train, but my life feels like it was left behind in Queens, and my soul is being split in half."

Marin sniffled wetly as she wiped at her damp cheeks. "I need to tell him the truth. But I don't know ho, because he's there, and I'm here."

Neither of them responded, only looking between each other, probably having a conversation in their minds. Eventually, the nodded, and both looked to Marin.

"We've got an idea."

+++

"Forest Hills—are you sure?" Lucy clarified once more.

"Yes, Lucy," Marin confirmed. "Land in Forest Park like last time, I can make my way from there."

"Won't that take a while?" James asked from his co-pilot's seat.

"I can fly now, remember?"

"Oh, right."

The jet was considerably fast; they reached Forest Park just shy of ten o’clock at night. As Marin was unbuckling herself from the passenger seat, Lucy pivoted in the pilot's chair. "And you're sure you don't need us to go with you?"

Marin shook her head. "No. This is something I need to do alone."

And as Marin took to the skies, she made sure to keep away from open streets, lest someone see her vibrant blue-glowing body flying through the air.

After only a couple minutes of navigating the streets of Forest Hills, Marin located Peter's apartment complex. She floated right up to the window, knocking into it slightly with her shoulder as she came to a jerky halt. She noticed Peter jump inside his room where he was standing at his desk, and then peer suspiciously out the window.

He walked toward her, and even though she could see he wasn't pleased to see her, he still pushed up the pane of glass, sticking his head out and glaring up at her. Marin moved back a little, indicating that she wasn't going to just barge right in. "What, so you can fly now?" He snarled at her. "Is that another secret you kept from me?"

Marin sighed, and shook her head at him. "Can I come in? I need to tell you a few things."

Peter stared at her, his expression annoyed yet mildly interested—but mostly just relenting. He exhaled after a few heartbeats and looked back at his closed door. "Not in here, I don't want to wake May up. Go to the roof," Marin nodded, backing up even further so Peter could climb out of the window after her. He clung to the wall, crawling up the side of the building. It was weird to see him do it without the suit, but Marin followed him anyway.

Her landing was unstable and she would've tripped against the graveled roof, but Peter's reflexes acted faster than he could remember his disdain for her. "Thanks," she gave him a grateful look as he steadied her, but Peter yanked his hands back and averted her gaze.

He stepped around her, going to sit on the edge of the roof with his feet dangling over the side. Marin, despite vertigo rolling around in her stomach from the heights, took the spot next to him. They sat in silence for a moment.

Just as Marin opened her mouth, Peter said suddenly, "Why didn't you tell me you're a mutant?" His voice was strained. He was wearing a Midtown sweatshirt, she noticed, as he tugged the sleeves over his hands. It was a nervous tick that Marin recognized from her own habits.

"I... it's kind of a long story." Marin winced, looking him in the eyes.

"Does it have to do with... y'know, your parents?" He cringed, and Marin's stomach twisted anxiously. She was really going to do this, wasn't she?

"Yes." She admitted, eyes shifting down at her hands, which gripped her knees so tightly her knuckles were white. "I... I'm going to tell you everything, Peter. Some of what Mr. Stark said was true, but the truth... the whole truth is complicated and messy, and I've... I've never told anyone else about what happened, so please don't—don't interrupt me until I'm done, because I don't know what would happen if I stopped."

Peter nodded skeptically, and Marin lifted her head up.

"So, I'll start at the beginning, I guess." Marin took a deep breath and began.

"I was born on February third of 2001 to my parents, Jamie and Kelly Frost. My dad... he grew up in an orphanage until he was kicked out when he was eleven because they thought he had schizophrenia. But the voices in his head were real, he just didn't know that he was really a mutant—a telepath, able to hear the minds of those around him.

"They had me really young, my parents. And my dad could never keep a job for more than a couple weeks, so it was up to my mom to provide for the family. But as a teacher in the city, she didn't earn much. We were happy, though, as far as I can remember.

"Truth be told, I don't really remember much, though. I remember some of the good bits, like my parents dancing with me to the music on the radio, or how my mother used to sing lullabies to get me to sleep."

Marin's breath grew shaky as she approached the worst parts of her story.

"But it's the bad parts that I remember the most. My father didn't know he was a mutant, and after a decade of hearing voices in his head, he was growing extremely paranoid. I remember he was always talking to himself, hitting and slamming things against any surface he could find. My mom would find him in these massive fits, and sometimes things got so bad that he would throw my mother around the room, or start beating her. My mom, though, she'd just... take it. She was so kind-hearted, so loving, and she'd never defended herself. She loved my father too much to stand up to him, and it became her undoing."

Marin clenched her eyes shut, the blood in her ears drowning out the noises of the city.

"It was all building to one final explosion. It was nine years ago, as of yesterday. I was six. I'd just come home from my first day of first grade, and I remember being really happy and excited to start the new school year. But I never made it to the second day.

"My dad was in the worst fit I'd ever seen him in. He was shouting into thin air, clutching his head so hard he'd ripped out chunks of his hair. My mom was trying to help him out of it, so she sent me to my room so I didn't have to watch. Normally, I'd obey her, locking myself in my room and burying my head under a pillow to muffle the screams. But I was feeling brave, and too concerned to leave. So instead, I followed them into the bathroom, where my father was thrashing in a drawn bath, still fully clothed. He was rocking back and forth, murmuring to himself angrily.

"As my mother tried to soothe him, he looked up at her—and for a brief moment, I saw his eyes clear. But the next second it was gone, and..." Marin inhaled a shaking breath, trembling violently as she gripped the concrete ledge of the complex. "And almost instantly, he had his hands wrapped around my mother's neck and he was throwing her into the bathtub, holding her under the water even as she struggled against him. It was the only time I'd ever seen her fight back. But it ultimately didn't matter. I watched as the water eventually went still, my mother's limbs went limp, and my father stumbled back as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done.

"He screamed out, telling the voices in his head to shut up, and grabbed the dryer left out by the sink. Somehow, he'd managed not to see me until he was clutching the plugged-in hairdryer in one hand, halfway into the bath. Then his eyes found mine, and he said 'they told me to do it'. He stepped into the water, and electrocuted himself."

It took a moment to compose herself. Marin was thankful that Peter had stayed silent through her story, but she wasn't finished. "I want to clarify something about mutants because I don't know how in-depth public schools teach about us."

She risked a glance at Peter, and was surprised to find tears trailing down his cheeks. He wiped them away, nodding.

"Mutants are born mutants—they already have the mutated gene in their DNA. It's a recessive, hereditary gene, so it's passed on through generations. But for the first several years of our lives, it lies dormant, waiting for something to trigger it. They're usually exposed when a mutant witnesses a traumatic event, or experiences a really powerful emotion. I think it has something to do with an enhanced sense of fight or flight, or for protection purposes or something. It's often destructive, and sometimes fatal, but rarely ever done on purpose.

"And, seeing... what had happened obviously triggered my mutant gene. You know that I can control water, so you can see how that kind of uncontrolled outburst can result in exploding all the pipelines in the building. But, as it turns out, I have a second, hidden power. Professor Xavier calls it Cosmic Energy manipulation, and it basically means that I can manipulate the energy that's normally found in, like, stars and stuff. It's hard to explain without detailing every nuance of astral and quantum physics. The only difference is, is that the energy is found inside me, and I don't need to draw on the energy from other sources like I do for my hydrokinetic powers. I can manipulate the energy to do pretty much anything I want it to do, hence, the flying.

"Anyway, my powers were unleashed to the fullest extent that night. I don't have any memory of what happened in the accident following my father's death—just waking up, surrounded by the decimated remains of my house. I was lucky that no one else was injured, even if the explosion did destroy the abandoned motel my parents had squatted in. When the emergency responders showed up, the entire building was in tatters, my parents' bodies were nothing but ashes, and I was untouched by it all. They didn't know what to think, so they called Charles Xavier.

"After he brought me to the Institute, he tried to figure out what exactly had happened. Charles is telepathic and extremely powerful, but even he couldn't access any memories I'd had, and therefore couldn't determine that my parents' deaths were a result of a murder-suicide, and not of my doing. So he assumed that it was my fault, and because I was uncooperative and traumatized, my Cosmic powers were growing increasingly unstable and destructive. He had no other reason to doubt my role in their deaths, and I gave him nothing to dissuade his opinion."

"I didn't notice that everyone was avoiding me. I didn't realize the looks they were giving me were ones of terror." Marin laughed dryly. "I didn't learn of the rumors until a new kid came to live at the school a few months after I did, and one of the older mutants stopped them just as they were walking up to me. The older student hissed at them, 'Don't go near her, she's dangerous. She'll kill you just like she killed her parents.' And of course, I retaliated, grew angry, and accidentally shot a blast of energy into the kid's leg, breaking it. Charles was freaked out, naturally, and he put a block on my mind so I wouldn't remember ever using my energy manipulation powers. It was supposed to keep everyone safe, but I felt the loss of those powers unconsciously, and I compensated in my hydrokinesis training.

"I spent most of my time training. I mastered most forms of martial arts by the time I was ten, and I could get a bullseye with every type of weapon blindfolded when I was twelve. I studied physics, and literature, and mechanical engineering until I could take any device apart and put it back together again. I was... I was missing something, and I thought that if I could fill it with knowledge and training, that I'd be okay again."

Marin shook her head. "But nothing motivated me more than the desire to help people. Every time I learned a new ability or mastered a new interest, all I wanted to do was show my mom. Then I'd remember the way she fought back, only to die in the end because no one was there to save her, and I'd burn with rage and helplessness. If only I'd had my powers, I could've saved her. I told myself that I wouldn't waste my powers—I'd never have to..."

Marin tilted her head to the sky, letting the wind sting her eyes until they burned and watered. "It's... I mean, have you ever had to watch as someone you loved so desperately, died right in front of your eyes while you watched, powerless to save them? I am haunted by that memory, that feeling of helplessness, and I fear that it will be my downfall, much like my mother's love for my father was hers."

"I have," Peter croaked quietly. Marin turned her head to look at him. There was so much pain in his eyes that it pushed the air out of her chest and clasped her heart in a sharp vice. "My uncle Ben—he was shot, right in front of me. And I was too late to stop the robber that killed him. I'd had my powers for a month, and hadn't used them for anything but selfish reasons. I'd had my powers, but didn't use them for anything good." It was his turn to draw in a shuddering breath. Marin scooted closer to him, brushing her shoulder against his, but otherwise not touching him. "He's why I do it. Why I became Spider-Man, and why I fight so hard to continue fighting bad guys, despite everything—my age, my schoolwork, May, everything. He told me once, 'with great power, comes great responsibility', and after he died, I felt like I was somehow letting him down if I didn't use them to help save those who can't save themselves."

"I know," Marin said. It seemed like it was all she could say. After a moment of silence, she confessed, "I hated being an X-Man, you know. I joined when I was thirteen after we watched the Avengers fight off an alien army on TV. I hated how we just sat there, watching as the world was in mortal danger, and we did nothing to help them. I wanted to save people, and I thought that I could do that as an X-Man. But I was wrong. All we ever did on missions was recruit new mutants and occasionally intercept drug trafficking rings. It was never enough for me. And so I acted out a lot, constantly got myself into trouble because I didn't like obeying orders and staying in line like an obedient little soldier." Marin pulled a face. "I played fast and loose with what lines I could cross as an X-Man, and I didn't care about the consequences. That's why I ran away that night, at the bank. The others heard those women screaming and they didn't care—they'd rather leave them to be killed so they could stick to the stupid orders Charles gave them. I wasn't going to be one of them, anymore.

"They don't care, mutants. All they care about is saving their own kind. Keeping us safe and hidden from the outside world, lest they try to hurt us. They don't care if humans are in danger; unless it's a threat to mutants, they refuse to help save anyone." Marin looked Peter in the eyes. "That's why I didn't tell you what I am. I didn't want to be a mutant if it meant that I'd have to pretend like I didn't care."

Marin sighed softly. "When I got kicked off the team, though, it hurt me more than I'd care to admit. I was a part of something, even if I didn't agree with their motivations. It was the only chance I had at being a hero, and I was too careless and lost it."

Peter ruminated in silence after Marin finished her tirade. The only sounds were the occasional honking of a car, the wind rustling branches and leaves, and their collective breathing.

"When I lost the suit, I felt like I lost a part of myself." He eventually said, his voice steady but low. "That's where we're different—you don't need to be an X-Man to be a hero, but I’m not Spider-Man without that suit. All I am is a stupid teenager who can climb walls and flip around. I’m no one if I’m not Spider-Man.”

Marin scoffed indignantly. "You're not no one—you're Peter Parker." She stared him down, pressing her sincerity into her gaze. "Spider-Man is not a suit. He's a person, and most importantly, he is you. You don't need that suit to be a hero, Pete. I should know, I knew you before you even had it."

Peter's eyes widened, gazing at her softly.

Before he could even think to object, Marin continued to confess, "You're why I left, you know. That night I ran away from the Institute." His expression changed, his eyes growing curious. "There's a reason why I came to you." She nudged his shoulder playfully.

"Why?" Peter whispered; his voice carried off slightly by the wind.

"Because I wanted to be like you." She tilted her head. "You stood down those men at gunpoint, wearing those ridiculous pajamas—"

"—they're not pajamas—"

"—and still saved those women." She grinned, purposely ignoring his protest. "Yeah, I helped some, but you went in there without any ulterior motive, and put your life on the line because you had to. I just went because I had a chip on my shoulder and a point to prove. But you... you going in there alone was both the bravest and stupidest thing I've ever seen someone do."

Peter chuckled. Marin pointed into his chest. "That was Spider-Man. He didn't need that fancy piece of fabric to be a hero, and you know why? Because it's you who's the hero, Peter. Not only did you save those women and countless others, you also gave me a place to sleep when I needed it the most. You gave me hope, and the courage to fight for myself. You gave me a sense of belonging that I've never found anywhere else." Marin smiled sadly. "Don't you see? You don't need to be super to be a hero. You're super because you are a hero. And I know for a fact that your uncle would be proud of you—with or without your powers, no matter what suit you wear."

Peter choked on a sob, curling into himself. Marin wrapped her arms around his trembling body, going to rub his back gently; but at her touch, he twisted, tucking into her chest. Moving her hand from his back to his neck, she ran tender fingers through his hair, soothing him with hushed sounds and words of comfort. It amazed her how quickly this turned from an exposition to an exchanging of bared souls.

They stayed like that until Peter finished crying, and his breath evened out. He nuzzled his face into her shoulder with a deep inhale, and spoke into her jacket, "Your mother would be proud of you, too, Marin."

Marin squeezed him tighter, feeling a fresh tear slide down her cheek. "We do it for them, Peter Parker, and we do it for ourselves."

endnotes:

Marin’s father had no idea he was a mutant, and everyone thought that his telepathic powers were actually symptoms of schizophrenia. Because he wasn’t trained on how to control his powers and was unstable, he often abused Marin’s mother. It all culminated to one night where he drowned Marin’s mother in the bathtub and then electrocuted himself.

taglist

@dark-night-sky-99​ @pushmeinablackhole​ @demi-starzak​ @-thatgirloverthere-​ @silver-winter-wolf​ @yourwonderbelle

#spiderman #spoiler #spider man #Spider Man: Homecoming #spiderman far from home #Avengers #The Avengers #avengers: infinity war #avengers endgame #endgame spoilers #marisa tomei #tom holland #tom holland imagine #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x oc #peter parker x original character #tempest #mysterio #My fic #my writing #Iron Man #Robert Downey Jr #tony stark #marvel #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic

[missmage52]

Excerpt from “Dreaming of a Liar: Kokichi Ouma x Reader” (slight NSFW)

I’ve been writing a fanfiction on wattpad, and this is an excerpt from chapter four that I’m proud of. It’s a Kokichi Ouma x Reader (female). 

Basically Monokuma has gone to the good side and brings all the Danganronpa Characters (from the main three games plus Komaru, excluding Twogami and seperating Hajime Hinata and Izuru Kamakura into seperate entities) and puts them all in one class, but doesn’t hold a killing game for once! 

But in order to have a perfect 50 student total, he needs one more student. So he takes a person from the real world and brings them into the class to learn alongside the students! But it’s while your sleeping, so when you meet an interesting supreme leader, is it really reality, or just a dream?

There’s a specific scene that gets a little NSFW, I’ll give you a heads up when it comes.

I also tried my best to make Kokichi canon as possible, so let me know if I did a good job or if I didn’t.

So, enjoy!

*^*^*^*^*

I followed this Alter Ego hologram along with the rest of the students, as we were instructed to by Monokuma. Of course the one who didn't leave my side was Kokichi.

"Sooooo," Kokichi put his hands behind his head as he walked, which I imagined couldn't be too comfortable. "You mentioned back there that you've never been in a killing game. Like, ever. Is that true?"

"Well, most kids my age aren't put in a killing game," I shrugged. "Can't help but feel bad for the others, though."

"Actually, it's not that bad," Kokichi said matter-of-factly. "Well, for me at least. Nishishi~!"

I rolled my (E/C) eyes. "Oh come on," I scoffed. "There had to be some point where you were scared shitless."

"Scared shitless about what, exactly?"

I stared at Kokichi, dumbfounded. How could he act like being in a killing game wasn't a big deal?! A person would have to be a complete sociopath to act so nonchalant about something so serious and terrifying! I paused, clearing my throat to regain my composure. "W-Well, I don't know, dying?"

Kokichi snickered. "Pfft! Come on, really? Dying? Gee, you are a hoot!" He

"I'm serious!" I remarked, bewildered. "Almost every human being is afraid of what lies beyond death! It's the greatest mystery known to man-!"

He put a finger to my lips. "Notice how you said almost every human being. I am not like most humans, heck, I might not even be human, you never know," He smirked, the glint in his amethyst eyes filled with mischief. "Besides, I was a victim. I said so in my introduction earlier. Squished to death. I already know what lies beyond the grave, Ms. (Y/N), believe me." He hissed into my ear, making me shiver.

"R-Really?" I stuttered, now a bit uneasy. "Is that s-so..."

"Yep!" His attitude perked right back up. "After all, I was revived. Heck, I could even tell you all about it if you wanted, though it's gonna cost you an arm and a leg!"

"But you didn't know what death was like before you died, Kokichi," I glanced up at him, staring into his eyes. "You don't seem like the type of person who is always fearless. In fact, it seems you hide many fears, including death itself," This time, it was my turn to smirk. "Though I'm not one to assume."

Kokichi's face turned pink, sweat starting to roll down his face. He glanced down at the floor, not meeting my gaze. "Well, I never expected something like that to come out of you..." His voice trailed off. "You're certainly something, aren't you?"

"Same goes for you," I responded. He blinkd at me. "You have some good acting skills, but then again, I can't expect anything less from a liar."

"Wooow, you caught on that quickly?" He started to pout, his expression changing like a remote changing the TV channel. "Bummer, I thought I could mess with you for a bit. You aren't so bad yourself, with acting. Kinda caught me a little off-guard there. You suurree you're just a transfer student?"

"I'm sure," I insisted. "I'm not really good at anything specific, skill or anything like that."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire~!" He singed. "You're good at acting, so just take the damn compliment!"

"If you say so..." I whistled shifting my attention to Alter Ego, who stopped at a doorway.

"Right now, we are in the main building on campus. This is where you gather for meals, classes, and special events that take place in the school. Most of the classrooms are unoccupied, so that gives many students a chance to start clubs and hold small get-togethers," The hologram started to elaborate. "Where we just gathered is the gymnasium, which is where most school-wide events and gym classes take place. Right down the hall is the stairwell up to the third floor, which is where most of you came from in pairs of two or three. We have around thirty empty classrooms here."

"Across from the gymnasium is the cafeteria, which will open it's doors along with the gym at seven am. It will close at ten pm. On weekends, it will be closed, and students can only ask permission to use it from the principal and or faculty. From the cafeteria, you can access the kitchen, pantry, and walk-in fridge, but only after three pm to ten pm. Breakfast and lunch will be prepared by the MonoLadies, but dinner must be prepared by the students. The kitchen staff also has access to the greenhouse using a second stairwell located in the kitchen."

As we entered the cafeteria, I couldn't help but marvel at the amount of tables were set up. And just a simple glance at the lunch line made my mouth start to salivate at the thought of so much food.

"Now, right outside the cafeteria are you lockers, which you will store your belongs temporarily. You are allowed to decorate the inside of your lockers however you please, but all personal items must be removed from them before the end of the day. Your monopad serves as your combination and lock. Your monopad will unlock your corresponding locker. Other students can leave you messages, and you can even post reminders and other messages."

I took out my monopad and hit the tab that was labeled Locker. It showed me a map of where it was located, which was the farthest away from the cafeteria door. Easy to remember, but the worst access to food. It had an inbox, which read zero messages, and a calender with bullitins to add on. As other students went to find and test out their new lockers, I went up to mine. As soon as I approached it and held the monopad up to where the lock should be, there was a click and I was able to swing the door right open.

There was shelves to put books and other supplies, hooks to hang up bags and coats, and on the back of the door a digital calender. "Sweet." I remarked.

"I wonder if you can play games on this thing..." The girl who introduced herself as Chiaki said earlier. I glanced over at the locker besides me, and it seems she was my locker neighbor. "Probably not..."

"That would be pretty cool, though." I admitted, grabbing her attention. She gave me a small smile, and I returned the kind gesture.

"If you'll follow me, please," Alter Ego gathered up the students once more. "To the right of the lockers is where you'll find the Fitness Center, where there is multiple work out machines. It's doors open at six am, but you can only access it before seven with a pass from the principal or faculty. It closes at nine pm. Right across from there is where the bathrooms and locker rooms are, as well as the second entrance to the gymnasium. The lockerooms and bathrooms can only be accessed using your monopad, to make sure you aren't going into the wrong one. To the other gender, it is locked. They open at six am and close at ten pm. Like the fitness center, you can only access the lockerooms if you have a pass administered by the principal or faculty."

"Do we have lockers in there like the ones we have at the entrance?" A boy by the name of Kazuichi asked.

"Yes, indeed," Alter Ego responded. "Now, follow me up to the second floor."

We followed Alter Ego back around near the gym entrance and up the set of stairs at the end of the hallway. And the strangest design was that to our right was the greenhouse. The entire wall was glass looking in. The greenhouse was filled with all sorts of plants, flowers, harvestables, you name it. There was even a picnic table in there. "To our right is the greenhouse, which is where we grow our food and many other flora. Students are also allowed to eat and spend time in there, but only with permission from the faculty. Unless students are part of our gardening club, which will open up soon."

I pondered the thought of spending time with Kokichi in the greenhouse. It would be a nice place, but there would be too much stimulation for our noses in there. I didn't know if Kokichi had a flower allergy or not. So the greenhouse was off the list.

Alter Ego lead us down the hallway to a more open space with couches and nice places to sit, with a big entrance labeled Library straight ahead. "This is an area where students can study and interact with each other with a more greater volume," The hologramed A.I. explained. "And down the hall to your right is the multimedia center, where there is printers and computers and other technology. I will give you a few minutes to explore these two areas before we re-group."

I instantly went inside the library. That was my go-to. Growing up with my brother, since we never really had much form of entertainment, would go to the library and read all sorts of books together. Some of my favorite authors were J. K. Rowling, Lemony Snicket, and Stephen King. There were dozens upon dozens of shelves towering above me. There were long tables with reading lamps, a cozy fireplace with large plush-looking armchairs and loveseats. To top it off, one of the walls were completely glass, letting natural light into the room, casting a heavenly glow onto the books. I couldn't stop myself from gawking.

"Wow, you a bookworm or something?" Kokichi came up from behind me. "You seem a little out of it..."

"I read plenty of books when growing up, so I'm practically in heaven," I breathed. I turned to Kokichi, which by the look of his expression was amused by me nerding-out. "This would be the perfect place to hang out!"

"I dunno, libraries kinda make me uneasy..." His voice trailed off. "Ever since Rantaro died in one, they kinda just are sorta creepy to me nowadays..."

I frowned, realizing I was making him uncomfortable. "Oh, I'm sorry Kokichi, I didn't mean-"

"Juuuust kidding~!" He winked. "Libraries just aren't my style, y'know?"

"Liar..." I mumbled.

"That's what I am!" Kokichi beamed with pride. He then grabbed my wrist. "C'mon, let's go check out the multimedia center!" He then started running, dragging me along with him, out of the library and down the hall, where a handful of other students were.

When we entered, the first thing I made note of was the amount of computers there were. Plenty of them, all lined up in five rows of eight. Along the windows were tables with 3D printers and regular printers set up. At the front of the room was a big screen, which I assumed was gonna be used for displaying videos and power points.

"Not gonna lie, I thought it would be more exciting," Kokichi heaved a sigh of disapointment. "All the nerds here must be over the moon, though."

"I think it's a bit over-the-top for a high school computer room," I whistled. "I'm kinda impressed that they have so many resources here. But then again, it's a school for gifted teenagers..."

"When are we gonna go to the next area?" Kokichi examined his hand in what I assumed out of boredom.

"I don't know," I shrugged, longing to explore the library more. "I'm gonna go back to the library." I told Kokichi as I started to make my way back to the room filled with books.

"Well wait for me, idiot." Kokichi sped up so he could besides me.

"I thought libraries weren't your style," I raised an eyebrow at him. "Or was that another lie?"

"Well, you never know if there's a secret room in the library," Kokichi flashed me a mischeivious smile. "Or better yet something even cooler!"

"You make a good point there, Kokichi." I nodded in his direction as I continued my way through the library doors.

(At this point it becomes a bit NSFW)

As I scanned the shelves in the different sections, Kokichi dawdled behind. It was kinda weird, though. He was just staring behind me, as if he was scanning me up and down. Not really observing, but something else...

"What'cha doing back there, Kokichi?" I looked back at him. He was leaning against a shelf, just staring at me."

"Nothing much," He shrugged, smirking. "Just enjoying the view, that's all~..."

I blinked, furrowing my brow. "Of what, exactly?"

"Whaaaaattttt~? You seriously don't know...?" Kokichi came up to me and backed me up into another shelf. He propped his hand against it, leaning into me. "...I'm looking at a snack~..." His voice became low and husky.

I stared at him. "I don't have food on me, Kokichi," I told him. I then paused in consideration. "I would like to have some, though. If I did I would share it with you, if that's what your essentially asking me."

"Nishishi~!" He chuckled. "Oh no, you are sorely mistaken! It's all over you..."

(Becomes SFW once again)

"Do I got a mustard stain on my shirt or something?"

"Kokichi, stop it!!" A voice then came from down the aisle. I turned my head to see the blonde girl that was next to me during everyone's introductions and a guy with cyan-colored hair and thick lower eyelashes. The command came from the male, who was pointing right at Kokichi.

"Shuichi!!" Kokichi seemed to bounce right back at the sight of the cyan-haired male and charged right at him, arms outstretched to give him a hug. The guy then froze up, and was tackled to the ground by Kokichi. "I missed you sooooooo much!!"

"K-Kokichi, get off of me!!" The guy stuttered, struggling to get the smaller male off of him.

The blonde girl came up to me, her eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay? It looked like Kokichi had you pinned against the shelf, there." She asked, pointing to the shelf.

"I'm good- Ah, Katie, was it?" I scrunched up my face trying to remember the girl's name."

"Kaede," The girl corrected me with a bright smile. "Kaede Akamatsu."

"Right, sorry," I quickly apologized. "Yeah, I'm perfectly fine, thanks for asking," I turned my attention towards Kokichi, who was straddling the poor guy at this point. "Uh, Kokichi, I think you should get off him now."

"Awwwww..." He whined, pouting. "Okay, then!" He then jumped right back on his feet, letting the man stand up. Kokichi then skipped back besides me

"Kokichi, what the hell were you doing to this poor girl?!" The guy scolded as he brushed off his black and grey stripped blazer. "I mean, pinning her down, what were you thinking?!"

"Who are you, again?" I pointed at the guy. "Sorry, there was so many introductions I can hardly remember the all."

"Shuichi Saihara," The guy reintroduced himself, giving me a small smile. "Ultimate Detective."

"Nice to meet you, Shuichi," I smiled back. "Same for you, Kaede," I nodded to Kaede. "But uh- no, it's totally fine. He just thought I had food on me and asked for some, it's all good."

"Pffffttthahahahahaha!!" Kokichi doubled over and went out into complete hysteria, clutching his sides and slapping his knees. "Ohmygod you're so stupid!! Hahahahaaaaaa!!" He wheezed.

"How?" I stared down at him in confusion. "You we're looking at me, I asked why, you said you were looking at a snack, I said I didn't have food on me, then you said it was all over me, and then you tackled Shuichi. I don't see why I'm the stupid one here, because you're the one that insisted that I had food on me which I clearly don't." I gestured to my clothes to show the lack of crumbs and stains.

"U-Um, that's- ah..." Shuichi's voice started to crack, him covering his mouth while he looked down at the floor, clearing avoiding my gaze.

"I think what Kokichi was trying to call you was- um..." Kaede's voice trailed off, uneasiness in her voice. "...s-sexually appealing."

"Oh," I blinked, turning my attention back to Kokichi. "Um, thanks for the compliment?"

"I was just messing with 'ya," Kokichi waved it off with a hand, him catching his breath. "I would never think of you like that, let alone perv on 'ya," He reassured me, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Oh my god, that was priceless!" He sighed.

"For you, that is. It's just confusing for me," I shrugged. "I've never really been the type of gal to think about that kind of stuff, so I don't know sex terms or the meaning of when someone calls another person a snack."

"Then toying with you is gonna be more difficult then I thought," Kokichi started to bite his thumbnail, muttering. Then he quickly put his hands resting on the back his head. "Ah well, I'll figure out something. For now, I gotta make sure that filthy cum dumpster doesn't taint your innocent mind~!"

"I'm not that innocent, I'm aware about sex. I just know little to nothing about it..." My voice trailed off at the end. "Also, what's a cum dumpster?"

"Don't ask." Shuichi shook his head.

"Why that loud filthy pig during the introductions, of course!" Kokichi exclaimed, his tone matter-of-factly. "You must stay away from her at all costs, 'ya hear me? She's an absolute slut that will tell you all the terms about sex, and you're too innocent to be taught those awful things!"

"Your treating me like child," I pointed out. And at this point I felt like one, though Kokichi was only a smidge taller than me. "I'm sixteen years old, I can make my own decisions. And I can remember her name no prob, her introduction was the one that was the most out there. Miu Iruma, Ultimate Inventor."

"It's not very nice to call Miu such vulgar names, Kokichi," Kaede informed the violet-eyed boy. "She probably doesn't enjoy the names you give her, either."

"She probably likes it when she's hooking up with someone," Kokichi shrugged. "So I don't see why I can't call her names."

"I think a more polite way to describe Miu is that she's sexually active," I suggested. "Besides, she seems to be brimming with self confidence."

"Well yeah, same thing..." Kokichi muttered, suddenly gaining some attitude. "And that's not self-confidence, it's narcissism." He quickly added on.

"You can't exactly be one to talk, Kokichi," Shuichi pipped up. "You can be a bit full of yourself sometimes."

"Yeah but not as often as Miu, and I'm leaving it at that." Kokichi folded his arms across his chest, leaving us all in an awkward silence.

*^*^*^*^*

Like what you see and wanna read the whole thing? Link is right here!:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/215117714-dreaming-of-a-liar-kokichi-ouma-x-reader

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