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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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New Ways of Turning Into Stone

A/N Another long drive, another Outlander fanfic idea that dropped into my brain out of nowhere, shoving aside the historical AU I have been wrestling with for months. Here’s the pitch: Claire Beauchamp is a psychiatrist specializing in grief counselling. Jamie Fraser is referred to her by his sister, who is worried for his well-being after a series of family tragedies. You can probably guess the rest, but I’m going to write it anyway. The title is taken from a song by the amazing Phantogram that was playing as the story idea came to me.

After losing my WIP virginity posting Ginger Snap, I’m going out on that limb again and posting this first chapter with only a rough outline mapped out in my head. You people are a terrible influence! Also, there will be some trigger warnings on future chapters, so please watch out for those. And now, on with our show.

Claire Beauchamp glanced down at the leather-bound calendar open on her desk. The ivory page for Thursday was packed to the margins, each hourly block filled with the name of a patient followed by a series of cuneiform symbols she used to remind herself of the last session, course of treatment, overall progress, all while maintaining strict confidentiality. Not even Geillis Duncan, her office administrator and very good friend, knew how to decode the script.

Geillis liked to laugh at the old-fashioned day planner, reminding Claire that their practice utilized software that could perform the same function electronically, but she enjoyed the act of physically logging each session. The solid heft of her Mont Blanc pen in her hand, a medical school graduation gift from her Uncle Lamb. The scratch and grab of the nub as it bled black ink over virgin paper. It was a tactile ceremony in a detached world. Geillis would nod and then tell her she needed to get laid.

Speak of the devil, a sharp rap on her office door was followed by the appearance of her strawberry blonde head. blue eyes alight with mischief.

“Yer two o’clock is here. Did ye need more time tae finish bolting down tha’ chaff ye call a salad, or can I show him in?”

“It’s kale,” she defended. “It’s full of anti-oxidants.”

A disdainful scoff was the only response.

“Yes, Geil, please show Mister...” she glanced down at her planner, “...Fraser in, thank you.”

The tiny rectangle contained only a name, which meant this was their first appointment. Geillis vetted all prospective patients, but Claire preferred to go into the first meeting blind, with no assumptions or pre-conceptions.

She wondered what misfortune had caused Mr. Fraser to seek out her psychiatric services. The death of a child, perhaps, or the end of an extra-marital affair. People grieved for very different reasons and worked through or around that grief with a surprising variety of coping mechanisms. Most called upon her practice in much the same way they would a breakdown truck when their car’s engine failed. They simply wanted to get back on the road to happiness.

Despite the degrees and accreditations that decorated her office wall, Claire wasn’t certain such a thing was possible. In her experience, grief was a phantom limb that never really went away. The best one could hope for was to learn healthier ways of living with it.

The sound of Geillis clearing her throat snapped her back to the present.

“Was there something else, Geil?”

“Och, no’ really. Just, when yer considerin’ how tae thank me later on, remember tha’ my favourite stone is an emerald, that I prefer gold tae silver, but platinum is ne’er amiss.”

“What are you on about, Duncan?” But her friend had already disappeared back into the reception area, leaving behind only the glow of her Cheshire smile. Claire was shaking her head, bemused, when another knock rang out, this one considerably heavier than the first.

“Come in,” she called as she looked up. And up. And up some more.

The man who now practically filled her office door had to be at least six foot four, with powerful shoulders and a broad torso encased in a blue henley. His nearly endless legs were likewise muscular, as testified by the stretch of his jeans across each thigh. As if his physique wasn’t remarkable enough, he had a head of outrageously wavy red hair, worn long enough to graze the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck, but swept back from a high brow by a judicious use of product. His face was angular in a pleasingly unique way, with a day or two’s growth of beard counter-balancing an almost youthful, earnest appearance. But his most striking feature by far were his aquamarine eyes that shimmered like a tropical sea. Eyes that were currently observing her with perplexity.

“Dr. Beauchamp?” a deep Scottish brogue inquired. He pronounced it as though she were French.

“Yes,” she startled. “That’s me. And it’s pronounced Beecham. Please, come in Mister Fraser.” She shuffled a few items around her desk needlessly as she tried to compose herself. Damn Geillis for not giving her a bit more warning that her newest client was some sort of fitness model.

“Thank ye,” he replied. “An’ it’s pronounced Jamie, if ye please.” She added wit to the growing list of the man’s attributes.

If anything, he grew even more impressive as he approached. She could see he was nervous, although hiding it well. His striking eyes darted about the room, trying to get a sense of his environment. She indicated the well-upholstered armchair that sat to one side of her desk.

“Have a seat,” she invited.

With a surprising amount of grace for one so tall, he eased into the chair but didn’t lean back. The fingers of his left hand tapped restlessly against his thigh. She watched him quietly, waiting for him to speak. This was a trick she had learned when she first started practicing psychiatry, but in this case it also allowed her to continue her appraisal. He was, she concluded, the most attractive man she’d ever seen in the flesh.

“No couch,” he finally observed.

“No. That’s a bit of a Hollywood trope, I’m afraid. Lying prone in front of a stranger is hardly conducive to feeling at ease.”

He nodded his acceptance of her logic, but was otherwise silent.

“So,” she spoke at last, unable to wait him out, “what caused you to seek out counselling, Jamie?” His name suited him, she thought as she spoke it for the first time. Both boyish and imposing at once.

“I didna. Twas my sister, Jenny, who insisted I see a doctor.” His mobile mouth twisted into a grimace. She could imagine the sibling discord that such a demand would have caused. Whoever this Jenny was, she was made of strong stuff. Unfortunately for her, a hostile patient would receive no benefit from merely visiting her office. Counselling was a participatory process, and she could tell from the stubborn set of Jamie’s shoulders that he had no intention of participating.

“I see,” she said carefully. “Well, it’s your time and your dime, Mr. Fraser. This session lasts for forty-five minutes, and you’ve not been here for five. There’s a carafe of hot water on the table over there, if you care for some tea. Or you’re welcome to just enjoy that comfortable chair for another forty minutes. I’ll be working on some administrative necessities.”

She turned her chair away from him, but from the corner of her eye she could see his gobsmacked expression. He had clearly expected her to cajole and manipulate him into co-operating, but that simply wasn’t her style.

“I meant no offence, doctor. I’m certain ye’re verra good at what ye do. Tis only... well, Jenny is my older sister, ye ken. She practically raised me. And so ofttimes she treats me like a muckle-sized bairn, and no’ a man who’s capable of lookin’ after himself.”

As he spoke, Jamie leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, expressive hands gesturing in front of his face. Hostile to the notion of counselling he might be, but he clearly wanted her to understand it wasn’t a slight. As a physician, she had been trained to never take a patient’s reactions personally, but it didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the effort.

“No offence taken, Jamie. If you don’t need my assistance, I’m happy for you. That’s one less person hurting in the world.”

“I didna say I wasna hurting. But I can handle it my own way. I am handling it, that is,” he hurried to add.

Unable to sit still any longer, he rose and walked over to the small table where she kept an assortment of herbal teas and a tray of Geillis’ homemade biscuits. Bending over, Jamie set about making himself some; chamomile by the smell of it. The sound of spoon ringing off porcelain as he stirred in some honey made her smile, reminding her of Lamb and his obsession with the lost art of afternoon tea.

“Can I make ye a cup?”

The question was so unexpected, it took her a moment to process it. The tea was there as a distraction for her patients, to give them something to do with their bodies as they worked through difficult emotions. None of them had ever thought to offer her a reprieve as well.

“No, thank you. I just finished lunch.”

He dipped a shortbread into the steaming tea, then ate it in a single bite. Instead of sitting back down, he began to browse the framed certificates and photographs along the far wall as he sipped his tea. With his back turned, her eyes dipped to admire his ass, which filled out his jeans perfectly. When she caught herself, she gave her head a shake, appalled at her lack of professional detachment. Maybe Geillis was right. Maybe she really did need to get laid.

“How long have ye been a doctor?” Jamie asked without turning around.

“Ten years,” she replied. “But I’ve only been a psychiatrist for the last two.”

It was a dangerous topic, and she blamed his ass for letting the words slip out. Fortunately, his inquisitiveness took him in an entirely different direction.

“Were ye some kind of prodigy, then? Ye hardly seem old enough tae have yer own practice, let alone fer a decade. If ye dinna mind me sayin’ so,” he added quickly, as though realizing what he’d just said.

“Not at all. And you hardly seem young enough to be a, what was it? A muckle-sized bairn?”

As he turned to look her way, she understood the expression ‘shot-gun smile’ for the first time. It spread across his face like a sunbeam, transforming what was already remarkable into a work of art. If she hadn’t been sitting, she likely would have stumbled backward from the force of the blow. Scrambling for something familiar to keep her from making a very grave fool of herself in front of this man, she clasped her clinical training with both hands.

“Are you and your sister close?”

“Aye, when we’re no’ tryin’ not tae kill the other. Our Mam died when I was only four, and with Da workin’ dawn til dark on the farm, Jenny was parent, teacher an’ playmate all rolled inta one.”

“You’re not from Edinburgh, then?” Although what that had to do with his counselling, she hadn’t a clue.

“Nah, I hail from a wee village in the Highlands ye’ve likely ne’er heard of called Broch Mordha.” She shook her head to indicate she was indeed unfamiliar with it. Jamie launched into a detailed description of the place, his hands sculpting the landscape out of thin air. He obviously cared very deeply for his home, and she felt a twinge of jealousy, having never known that feeling of deep belonging herself.

“And what brought you to Old Smoky?” she asked as he wound down, her interest piqued. It was like slamming a lead door on his previously sunny disposition.

“Family obligations.” Said in such a way as to make it clear that no further words would be forthcoming on the topic. She regretted her nosiness immediately, despite what it revealed about his emotional state. Jamie was most certainly grieving something, but handling it he was not.

Before she could find a way back to the easy flow of conversation, a chime from her laptop indicated that the session was up. She couldn’t bear to dismiss him without trying to set things right.

“Listen, Jamie, I understand that you only came here today to humour your sister, but I want you to consider something. Whether we’re grieving or angry or jealous, or any destabilizing feeling, we’re often the worst surveyors of our own landscape. Just like you can’t know your place on the sea without referencing the stars, it takes something external to ourselves to measure how far adrift we have become. Your sister obviously loves you. Ask yourself, what has she seen in you that prompted her to force you to seek help?”

They parted with cordial but muted goodbyes. The door closed behind him, leaving Claire to stare at the blank rectangle in her planner that bore his name. No coded symbols flowed from her pen. When the door re-opened, it was Geillis, closing it firmly behind her.

“Weel, did I no’ tell ye? Wee fox, tha’ one. And he told me he liked my shortbread!” Geillis said this as though it was some kind of sexual euphemism, which for all Claire knew, it was.

“Yes,” she replied distractedly. “He’s very nice.”

“Nice! Nice? Tha’ man is tae nice what Wagyu is tae beef jerky. Have ye completely lost yer senses, woman?”

“Yes, well, he’s a patient, Geillis, as you well know. And not one I’m likely to see again,” she added, acknowledging out loud what she already knew.

“Oh, no?” Geillis sing-songed. “Thas’ strange, as he just made an appointment fer the same time next week.”

Claire’s eyes flew to where her friend looked on, smug as could be.

“Yer three o’clock called tae say she was runnin’ five minutes late. I’ll leave ye tae think about yer... patient.”

Claire picked up her pen, trying to pull together something resembling a professional summary of her first appointment with Jamie. Her mind replayed their interaction, but all she could remember was the way his eyes crinkled when he was listening attentively, the tidy half-moons of his fingernails, the seam of his jeans as it contoured his thigh, and the cymbal-crash in her chest that accompanied his smile.

Patient, she reminded herself. Jamie Fraser is your patient.

#my writing #outlander

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flappingdragon200 · 3 years

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Summary}

Noelle gets noticed by her big brother and his rival. Noelle gets caught and the two have to explain themselves (Sorta). But all in all, Noelle finally strikes a deal with her siblings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Previously]

"You know..." Her brother sighed before continuing, " I should have challenged you to a game of poker. I would have won. And I'd also have more money on my behalf." He looked up and smiled, and Fuegoleon dipped Nozel and... and...

MY BROTHER IS GAY?!?!?!?!?!?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Continue...]

Noelle didn't know what to do. She stood there, eye's wide, as her brother's rival kissed him, on the lips, passionately, as his hands traveled up and down Nozel's leg heatedly. Noelle couldn't believe this...

Her brother moaned...

Never in her lifetime of living with her brother, never ever, had she heard him make that kind of sound before. But here she is, seeing what she couldn't believe was possible.

W-wait... What..?! I... I have to be seeing things...

Noelle blinked twice, she even rubbed her eyes to see if it was real. And in fact... It was.

Noelle backed up feeling very confused, but she didn't know that there was a table with a vase on it. And yes by now I think you know what's going to happe-

C R A S H

The vase fell and broke as she bumped her hip against the table.

She saw between the crack of the door, they looked at the crack and saw someone, but they didn't know who...

"See! I TOLD you! You idiotic oaf!" Nozel said as he slapped Fuegoleon in the face with an obvious blush on his face.

Noelle didn't know what to do as her brother came closer to the door. Her feet yet again deciding for her, she sprinted for her life as she ran down the hall.

As Nozel gotten to the doors and opened them to see who was out there. But as he looked from his right to his left, he saw just the outline of someone's feet running the corner of the hallway. Nozel walked back over to Fuegoleon.

"You... Will stay here and wait till I come back. You got that?" Nozel said as he pushed a finger to Fuegoleon's chest harshly as he backed up and put his hands in the air as a, "I surrender" Move.

After he did so, Nozel tried his best to run as fast as he could in heels, hoping to catch the culprit who dared to sneak a peek inside of the room, while he was doing something that he should have never been doing.

Damn it..! My reputation is ruined now..!

{Back With Noelle}

Noelle didn't stop running until she knew she was far away, where any of them couldn't find her.

Noelle put her hands on her knees and bet over, as she caught her breath. It took 5 minutes to regain her normal breathing. Her throat was dry after breathing so hard. Her legs didn't seem to be working anymore, so she sat down and regained her composer.

As she did so, she looked around at where she was at.

She didn't know where she was at. She didn't even know that this place existed. She never saw this place before. But. It looked like it hasn't been touched in years.

It didn't seem like anyone, not even a single soul has traveled through these halls, and you could tell by the many cobwebs and spiders, and the old paint on the broken tables, and the rickety doors that could break any moment someone touched them.

Despite Noelle's legs that ached with every move, she stood up to wander around to see where she was at.

Noelle traveled down hallways, opened up doors to old bedrooms, guest rooms, bathrooms, living rooms, lounge rooms, and many more.

Noelle opened the last door from the hallway she was in and took a quick look inside. Nothing was new, it was just another guest room.

All in all, there wasn't much to explore, there was just 4 guest rooms, 2 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, 1 lounge room, and 2 living rooms, and an abandoned hot spring, with no controls as they were ripped out of the wall, and the pools where the hot water would be were empty and the paint was dried and cracked, and it also smelled horribly disgusting.

Noelle closed the door and continued to walk down the rest of the door-less hallway and turned another corner.

What she saw was, at the end of the hallway there was a pair of double doors, quite large, with gold, and silver designs on them.

Noelle got curious and walked toward the door. She got closer to the door. And soon enough, she was looking at the door handle wondering if she pulled that handle, what would be on the other side of the door.

But she was immediately stopped when she remembered why she was here.

Wait... I'm not here to be exploring! I'm here to fix things with my siblings..!

Noelle shook her head, and walked back down the empty hallway, back the way her siblings were at.

{Meanwhile With Nozel and Fuegoleon}

"This is all your fault..!" Nozel shouted at Fuegoleon as he stripped from his "Dress" and put on his regular attire for the day as Fuegoleon had his back to him, doing the same thing.

"How is this my fault? I had nothing to do with this." Fuegoleon replied while putting on his under white/tan T-shirt, and soon following it, his abnormally heavy cardigan.

"If you hadn't started that fight and struck that deal, then afterward suggested that we did whatever we did in that... Room... Then this would never have happened..! It's your god damn fault! My reputation is ruined because of you and your silly games!" Nozel finished as he put on his choker and went to get his sandals.

"Look. I didn't know that someone would sneak on us and take a look. I can't tell the future Nozel." Fuegoleon said as he tied his belt around his stomach and finished his look by putting on his boots.

In fact, Fuegoleon was right. He couldn't tell the future.

"Well, you better start trying," Nozel said as he put on his sandals and stormed out the door yet again.

Fuegoleon sighed as he picked up the suit he was wearing before this event started, and folded it nicely as he set it down on Nozel's bedside table.

"Well, that was a waste of time. So much for trying to get him to soften up a bit." Fuegoleon said as he rubbed the back of his head as he climbed out the balcony window and went back to the other side of the Silva Estate.

{Yet Again Back With Noelle}

Noelle walked the halls of the Silva Estate in search of someone, a maid, a butler, hell, even one of her siblings.

As Noelle was walking down one of the hallways about to turn the corner, something or someone, rushed by the hallway in front of her.

(If this is confusing I'll just- you know what... Here...)

📷

~~~~~~~

Noelle fell to the ground as she wondered what the hell just happened. She blinked a few times before she stood up once again.

Noelle shook her head in disbelief.

No... That couldn't be him... That can't be-

"Noelle?"

Noelle poked her head up to see her big brother, in his normal attire look at her with a raised eyebrow and a light crimson blush on his face.

Noelle yet again rubbed her eyes to see what she was seeing was true. And yet again, in fact, it was, real.

Noelle's face turned bright red as she got in a stance to run.

And she did.

As Noelle did run her head only thought of one thing,

I'M DEAD, I'M DEAD, IM DEAD!!!

Soon she found herself being wrapped up in something cold, and smooth. Her legs kept swinging as if she was still running when she was actually being lifted up from the marble floor.

And in an instant, she was looking at her big brother's eyes in terror.

"I think we need to have a little talk..."

"Ooh~! H-Hey Nozel~! Didn't see you there! How is life going for you?~" Noelle was sweating underneath her clothing as she felt his cold gaze upon her as she looked anywhere but at him.

"Enough of the pep talk. Your coming with me." Nozel said as she lost all hope of trying to escape from his magic's grasp.

"I'm screwed..." Noelle said as a ghost-like figure came from her mouth as she looked while as a ghost.

[Mini-Time skip!]

Noelle was now, sitting on the couch, accompanied by Fuegoleon and her big brother Nozel.

It was dead silent. Noelle was shaking in her seat.

"Look. Noelle. I'm sure whatever you saw was a big misunderstand-" Fuegoleon was cut off by Nozel.

"She's not an idiot like you. She has eye's you know..." Nozel glared daggers at Fuegoleon and he just sighed.

"Then you take it from here. I have no idea why I was called here in the first pl-" Fuegoleon had gotten to stand up but was grabbed by the arm and pulled down by Nozel.

"You're staying right here, and you're not going anywhere until I say so." Nozel shot daggers at Fuegoleon's figure.

Fuegoleon just sighed and crossed his arms while sitting back in the seat, closing his eyes, waiting for them to continue what they were going to talk about.

"I have no idea who let you in the first place, and if that was you at the door, you have seen nothing. Do I make myself clear?" Nozel said glaring at his little sister as she was in a different dimension at the moment in this timeline.

WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!?! MY LIFE IS DOOMED!

Then an awkward silence fell between them, with Nozel waiting for an answer, clearly, he wasn't going to get any time soon, and Fuegoleon who was just laid back as usual, and Noelle... Going ape shit crazy as of the moment.

Noelle Couldn't focus. But it was only when Fuegoleon called out to her multiple times she awoke from her wonders.

"Uhh... Y-Yes?" Noelle spoke and Nozel sighed, thinking that would be the best answer he was going to get out from the younger one.

Nozel pressed on the bridge of his nose and asked her a question, "What are you even doing here anyway? I thought you didn't like it here..." he spoke not looking in the direction of the teenager.

"uhh... well... You see... uhh..." Noelle was sweating. No. beyond sweating. She felt like a burning volcano.

"Well?" Nozel looked at her in the eye with a questionable look on his face.

Brother Nozel is scary. I think even scarier than Captain Yami...

Noelle gulped, and took a deep breath then shouted, "THE TRUTH IS I WANT TO MAKE A DEAL WITH YOU!!!"

Nozel nearly fell off his seat, and Fuegoleon flinched heavily.

Who knew the girl could scream so loud?

After both of the older males' ears came back from the dead, Nozel asked her another question, "What kind of deal..?"

He was a bit scared. But he wouldn't admit it.

"Well..." Noelle looked around and saw servants looking their way, then responded, "I think it's better with privacy. I don't want rumors spreading..." She then looked back to the ground contemplating her existence.

Nozel shot a deathly glare at the servants signaling to stop whatever they are doing and go as far away as possible.

The servants were now on the other side of the estate.

Nozel looked back to Noelle, "Continue." He said while Fuegoleon sweatdropped.

Noelle looked up to meet her brother's gaze, she once again gulped, but this time, with fear, "The truth is, I don't want the bond we barely even have to break... I don't want to live in fear every time I have to see you or Solid and Nebra anymore. I want to have a normal family, like everyone else..."

Both males' eyes widened at her statement.

Nozel was beyond shock. Fuegoleon just smiled in disbelief.

Noelle looked at Fuegoleon and then her brother. She looked down to the floor. She didn't know what to do. How will they react? What will they think of her?

It was a long silence before someone spoke up. Guess who? It's secret. (Just read ahead)

Nozel cleared his throat before speaking, "I will notify Nebra and Solid about this matter. Until then you will have to wait for an answer. I will send you a letter to your squad's headquarters." Nozel sat up from his seat and pulled Fuegoleon by the ear.

"Ouch! Hey! What's the rush?!" Fuegoleon was dragged across the room, and up the stairs questioning Nozel.

"We, have more important matters to discuss..." Nozel growled as he pulled Fuegoleon, by the ear, even harder.

Noelle watched them bicker as they walked off into the distance. She sat there figuring out what had just happened.

Noelle blinked a few times before smiling and laughing.

Well... That's not what I had expected... But. it's a great start!

Noelle sat up with a smile on her face as she went to leave the estate. As Noelle did so, she passed by the portrait of her Mother. She stopped to look at it and smiled even brighter.

I hope your watching mother... I hope you're doing well. I know I am.

And Noelle continued to walk outside and to The Black Bulls hideout. She cant wait to tell them what had happened.

No. She really can't.

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heliosthegriffin · 3 years

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Jaune “Mean Bastard” Arc AU.

The Arc family is a family stapled into history with their deeds of heroism, their immense physical strength, willingness to accept others into their clan at the drop of a hat, fighting against insurmountable odds for no apparent reason other than it being the right thing to do.

...That was only half the story however.

Ozpin thought to himself as he watched a tall, very lean blonde strut off the airship.

“Please, please don’t make scene today, Mr. Arc.” Ozpin said to himself, but the tone lacked hope, and most of all was riddled with fear. “Your not even a student here! You didn’t even send in transcript! How’d you even get onto the airship!”

But, deep down Ozpin knew, he always knew, he was an Arc, and Arc’s found a way, one that most people wouldn’t call ethical, sane or even reasonable.

Ozpin shivered, the Arc clan had been much too quiet in recent years. Was he the reason?

What terrible reason could this new Arc have to come to his school.

“Gods help us all, gods help every one of us.”

“So, much for a warm welcome to Beacon.” Ruby muttered to herself in her crater.

“Need a hand?” A warm voice asked her.

Ruby looked up into the two bluest eyes she’d ever seen, and blushed deeply.

“You ok? Looking a little hot under the collar.” The man before her asked with concern.

Ruby could hardly speak, he looked like a modern day fairly tail knight. WIth long blonde bangs, sapphire eyes, handsome face, dressed in all white, blue, and gold.

“I..I”..I”m fine!” Ruby squeaked out.

The blonde boy reached out to grab a flailing hand and pull her to her feet. Ruby wasn’t ready for that however and ended up face to abs with him.

‘So warm, so firm, I could stay here forever.’ Ruby thought to herself. Before going atomic on her blushing, and Rose Warping ten feet behind herself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, just thought you could use a hand getting up.” The man said with remourse. “I’ll let you go about your buisness now.

“RUBY ROSE!”

“Hmm?” “MY NAME IS RUBY ROSE! THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR HELPING ME!”

The blonde man reeled back from her sudden outburst of thanks.

A smile graced his face.

“Jaune Arc.”

“So I got this.”

*Unfurls Crescent Rose*

“Neat.”

“So, you got anything?”

“Hmm. not here.” “Oh, did you send it ahead?” “Nope just didn’t feel like bringing it from home. Didn’t think I need a weapon for this.”

“What! How are you going to fight any Grimm if you don’t have a weapon!? Even my sister needs Ember Celica before she goes punching Grimm out!” Ruby said doing so painfully bad shadow boxing.

“Oh, I didn’t come here to fight Grimm.” “What? Why are you here then, if you’re going to be a hunts-man in training you need to fight Grimm.” “Bold assumption, I’m not already a huntsman.” “Oh, yeah right, you look pretty strong and stuff...” “But, a correct one.” Ruby could only pout at being played like she had. Eye little eyes then spyed two blocky pouchs on his waist.

“What are those?”

“Oh those, one is my journal that take notes in, and the other, well, hehehe, I guess you could say it’s ledger.” “A ledger for what?” “Oh, for keeping track of debts and stuff.”

SIlence filled the space between the two.

“Are you a kneecapper?”

“Of sorts.” “I don’t think we can be friends.” “That is fair.”

“Do you work for the mob, or like, Torchwick.” “Nope, I work for me.”

“Freelance?” “All of my debts relates not to money, but personal experiences.”

“Oh, kinda like when you help some move, and they drive you across town?”

“Close enough, and looks like we’re at the auditorium, I’d say see you around, but since we can’t be friends, bye forever.”

“Wait, wait, I take it back!” But Jaune was gone into the crowd.

“Ahh, fiddle sticks.”

Ozpin looked calm and composed on the outside, but he was freaking the hell out on the inside. He lost track of the Arc, he fucking lost him! He could be anywhere doing anything!

He hasn’t even told Glynda, or anybody else, oh, gods this is going to be a blood bath.

He gave a inperceptible sigh, and decided to give his speech. “Hello, children-”

Warm breath behind him caused him to freeze.

‘When did he get behind me!?’

He could see the children murmuring at the unexpected guest.

“Hi, you must be Ozpin!” The warm voice said behind him. “I’m Jaune Arc lord patriarch of the Arc Clan, and you have been at the top of our shit list for five decades, you have a one day to prepare your last will and rights. Tah-Tah see you in twenty four hours.”

“What are you doing here young man! Get off the stage!” He heard Glynda yell at the Arc behind him.

He would stop her, but he needed to right his will again tonight.

Jaune Arc seemingly did nothing to react to Goodwitch but stare at her.

“Are you obstructing me?”

“Why yes I am, you are interrupting the initiation!”

“I see then.” Jaune brought out his note book.

“What are you doing!?” “Adding you to my shit-list ma’am, and if you don’t stop talking I’m going to just put you further up there.” Jaune said as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

“What I, I never, you, you miscreant!”

“Just keeping talking sugar tits, just keep going up my to-do list.” He shot a Glynda a smirk. “I changed my mind I want to break you into the Arc clan, we like ‘em feisty.”

She went Nuclear with rage and leveled her wand at him and fired a telekinetic wave at him.

“Oops,” Jaune said as the wave hit him, sending him out of the room and into the courtyard.

“That’ll teach him, the arrogant miscreant, should have been smarter to pick a fight here.” Glynda said proudly, “Someone get him off this campus and into a hospital.” “Ah, so kind. You do care, too bad you hit like a child.” Jaune said from behind Glynda picking her up in his arms like a princess “Well, fix that later.” Shooting her a wink in his arms.

‘So strong, and comfy.’ Glynda thought gobsmacked in his arms.

He then looked at Ozpin. “Remember old man, a day and no more.”

It was then that Jaune remembered a legion of students looking at him. “The fuck you all looking at, never seen a man take care of business before?”

The student shuffled around awkwardly.

“Yeah, I damn well thought so. Why are you all dressed so damn weird? Am I at a Anime con or a huntsman academy, Ozpin your standards suck.”

‘I like him more already.” Glynda thought. ‘Standards have been dropping for years.’

“Alright, I know whats happening next.” Jaune said proudly. “I am going to walk my happy ass out of here, and if anyone of you can so much as inconvience me, I will personally train or find someone to train you at the Arc compound.”

The student started looking very nervous, the man took down Glynda Goodwitch with no effort. What chance did they have?

Yang thought differently and launched a flying punch at him, Jaune bent his waist and launched a brutal kick straight into Yang's midsection and sending her through the ceiling.

Ruby came next like a rose petal reaper for his bent over next. Jaune grabbed it with his teeth and threw her aside like a puppy with just neck power.

Weiss not to miss a opportunity, speeds forward on glyphs to skewer him also while shoot a wave of ice at his feet, and a stream of fire at his face.

Casually he flexed his legs and shattered the ice, and kicked his leg out hard enough to send a shock-wave that knocked over idle students and killed Weiss flames.

Weiss however sped through the shock wave, and went to stab Jaune. The blade mere inches from his heart, Jaune leaned down to head butt Weiss while dodging the blade. Weiss went down like a sack of potatos.

Nora went down with hammer at Jaune, but he moved and let her fall on his knee, then grab her by the neck with his teeth throwing her through a wall. Jauen followed up with a kick behind him hitting Ren rag dolling him.

Pyrrha appeared last, an launched a series of precise shots and then strikes at Jaune, only for him to dodge each one, and knee her when she over extended by the millimeter.

WIth that the last of the challengers fell unconscious. All within twenty second, All with Goodwitch in his arms.

“Nice try, I’ll come collect the one’s who tried tomorrow, but first.” Jaune grabbed a handful of Goodwitch’s ass, causing her to gasp out. “I got break in the new Arc.”

“It’s Goodwitch..” She muttered weakly.

“Not anymore.” “...Ok.”

“Ozpin, anyone else that wants to try can do so tomorrow when I merc’ you ass.”

And with that the Arc left, taking Ozpins secretary with him.

That was the other side of the Arc clan, one of maruding madmen who recorded their grudges and never let them go, holding onto any slight for centuries, training their young to perfecting and taking fresh blood to increase their grudge spilling power.

Destroying Grimm Hordes because they killed a family pet.

Killing Tyrants for increasing taxes.

Cucking buisness men, because they heard they them demean their name.

The list goes on. But the fact is the Arc Clan is petty beyond reason, and always looking for more members... If you meet their interest that is.

AN: Added a drop of smut in there, don’t know how I feel about it. Hope it turned out ok. Then again it’s crack.

#Jaune Arc #Ozpin #Team RWBY #Crack #Really don't take it serious.#The Arc Clan holds grudes.#Glynda Goodwitch #Team NPR

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imagine-that-one-thing · 3 years

Text

Her Majesty || Chapter 14

No Weddings and Two Funerals.

Two Weeks Later.

Funeral

“What’s happened?” Matthew immediately questions with furrowed brows as I shuffle out of Anna’s room. Everyone stares at me with bewildered eyes, unaware of what has transpired. I bite down on my tongue and compose myself for a minute, clearing my throat as I take a breath. It is nobody’s business what happens behind closed doors between her and me. As far as anyone’s concerned, she had issues with the security plan this morning. “She needs a minute, come back in five,” I glance towards the ladies who are holding Anastasia’s dress and dress coat. “Trust me, you’re going to want to give her a minute.” I half-smile, trying not to sound like a prick, but I don’t think they want to get yelled at in the same manner I did. Anna is not in any state to deal with anyone or anything at this exact moment. She needs a few minutes to calm down, breathe and compose herself, perhaps a few minutes to throw things and get her emotions out. I couldn’t imagine being in her position and having to deal with what today will hold. I understand today is a day that nobody wants to go through, nobody wants to say goodbye to a parent one last time. As much as I understand her need to let it all out and take it out on me, it doesn’t make it easy on myself when I have a short fuse with one-hundred different things I need to do for the day. Without sounding selfish, adding a spiralling Anna to my list of issues is not what I need right now when the palace safety is my top priority.

“Oliver, guard the door and don’t lose the Princess,” Matthew instructs while I storm off.

I march down the hallway and stop at one of the doors before I open it with ease and without much thought. I am on a mission, I know what I am in search of. A lady’s maid turns to glance at me as she is cleaning the room. I provide her with a meagre smile before I exercise to the tea cart that is set up in the room, “Nevermind me,” I comment, taking a glass and pouring myself a bottle of whatever unlabeled whiskey is in the decanter.

“Sir, that was for the guest.” Her voice is low and timid.

I nod my head, “Trust me, I need it more, excuse me,” I mutter, taking the glass with me and stepping out of the room.

Matthew stares at me and shakes his head, “It’s nine in the fucking morning, Harry, you’re still on the job.”

I heavily sigh and hand him the glass, “Take a drink, you’re going to need it.”

Matthew glares at me for a moment before taking the glass, “You’re going to be the fucking death of me, Harry,” Matthew mutters under his breath, taking a swift drink of the stiff whiskey, “What happened in there?”

“Mate, I have no clue, I was told to fuck off and got my ass chewed out, I have no clue what I did,” I respond, bustling down the stairs.

As I reach the middle of the stairs, I observe a woman with lavish, moon gleam-gold hair pulled in an old school style, loose bun, black glasses covering her eyes, and three rows of pearls hanging around her neck, complimenting the all-black dress she has on at the bottom. I raise a brow for a moment while I watch as she clasps her black glove covered hands on the handle of one of the suitcases surrounding her. “What does one have to do to get some help around here,” The unknown woman questions, striking a nerve as she glances over at me.

“And who the fuck are you?” I bitterly question the moment I reach the bottom of the stairs. I am not in the mood to deal with anyone who isn’t meant to be in the Palace nor am I in the mood to deal with anyone who believes they are entitled. I do not deal with entitlement.

“Huh, someone’s in a bad mood. Do you not know who I am?”

“No... How did you even get in? Where’s security when you need ‘em?” I groan, irritated that the security team has let some random woman into the Palace on a day such as today. Matthew really needs to work on our team, they too are starting to piss me off. Perhaps my first order as reigning King should be to reevaluate the security team and find new members. It appears Matthew, Oliver and I are the only ones who are suitable for the damn job.

The woman chuckles and places her sunglasses on her head, revealing her eyes, “Darling, don’t worry, I know who you are, Harry.”

“Well, this is not breakfast at Tiffany’s, so Ms Hepburn, the door.” I gesture towards the door she presumably entered from. I still have no clue on who she is, but she looks very similar to Audrey Hepburn but doesn’t have the soft voice and grace of Audrey, this woman is more daring, bold and outspoken.

She’s the class of woman that could plausibly rip someone to shreds with a mere feather and look absolutely innocent, charming and sweet as she does it— she’d show no remorse.

“I am the princess of Denmark, I believe it is still polite to curtsey.” The woman smiles, gesturing for me to bow and show respect.

“And I am—” I begin but I am promptly cut off.

“Delighted to have you,” Matthew speaks for me. “Aren’t you, Harry?”

I was not about to tell her I am delighted to have her; I was going to hold rank and be an asshole but I must not. “Harry, this is Madeleine Noelle Veil of Denmark.”

“The name sounds familiar…” I trail off, “Oh, god, you’re Madeleine,” I sigh, realising who the woman who stands in front of me is.

Madeleine nods her head, “Ah, we do have signs of life in that forehead,” Madeleine remarks. “Charmed, I’m sure,” Madeleine adds to her insult, somewhat mocking me further. I can tell this woman is going to keep me on my toes until her departure, and I already hope that it is promptly.

“Madeleine is one of Anastasia dearest friends,” Matthew informs me, “Madeleine, Anna is upstairs.”

“Harry, will you be a dear and carry my bags?” Madeleine asks.

“I’d be delighted, Madeleine,” I respond, faking a smile as I realise I have no choice but to be gracious to this woman.

Madeleine hums, “You may address me as Princess Madeleine Noelle Veil of Denmark.”

“Well, Princess Madeleine Noelle Veil, I am sorry to inform you, I can only carry one bag, you may carry the other,” I delicately roll one of her suitcases towards her while I pick up the other.

She stops the suitcase with her hand, “You forgot the ‘of Denmark’,”

“Sorry, Princess Madeleine Noelle Veil of Denmark,” I correct myself, “You May carry this suitcase up the stairs,” I felicitously smile.

I carry the suitcase up the stairs and Matthew brings the other, doing his best not to huff and puff about the weight of the suitcases— it’s as though the woman has packed for weeks— I sure do hope she isn’t staying here for weeks, I might lose it.

I place the suitcase at Anastasia’s bedroom door, “I am sure there will be a guest room for you soon and your bags will be placed in there.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

“You May call me Mr Styles,” I respond, “Good luck in there,” I gesture towards the door that is the only thing between a raging Anastasia and her long lost friend.

Madeleine stares at me with a smile, “I don’t need luck, Mr Styles,” she winks and takes a leap of faith by opening Anna’s bedroom door and striding in.

♛♛♛

I have spent the morning operating around the Palace, doing my best to keep everything in line and making sure that the security team knows precisely how to handle each hour of the day— there is no room for mistakes. Matthew has been taking care of the Queen’s service, doing his best to make sure order is in place with her as well. Today is not like all the other events that I have had to manage or work— this is wholly different from a royal ball or a tea held by the Queen— this is something significant where I have to also worry about the citizens. Today, we are not dealing with a few hundred, no. We are dealing with over two thousand attending the funeral, millions watching it on television and thousands in the streets. There is no room for error.

The funeral cortege is being prepared outside the Palace, they are doing it old school today— as the King would have wanted. Instead of the procession being led by the hearse, with the family and following behind in, the family is walking behind the coffin. I am not surprised by the means of transportation and the old ways, the King always appreciated doing things traditionally. The cortege will start shortly outside the Palace where tens of thousands of flowers have been laid; I have never seen so many flowers before in my life, it’s a sea of blossoms out there and I am in awe at how the public is mourning the death. I am not sure what I had expected, but it wasn’t this. I didn’t anticipate the impact to be this extreme. Anastasia does not know this, but the public has been lining up outside since four this morning.

When I woke up to start monitoring the systems, I was amazed to observe people already lighting candles and paying their respects, ever so peacefully.

I shift the heavy curtain towards the window, stepping away from the overwhelming crowd that is out the front, I turn on my heel and see Oliver standing in front of me waiting for instructions on what to do. I stare at him for a moment and cock my head to the side before taking a sip of my coffee.

Oliver raises a brow and clears his throat, “Why are you staring?”

I don’t respond, instead, I continue to glance at him, attempting to pinpoint what it is that doesn’t seem right about him, “You don’t look right.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Your attire, what’s missing?” I question, eyeing every inch of his suit, “Oliver, do you have your gun?”

Oliver nods his head, “Yes, sir.”

“Fix your tie,” I instruct, “If I see your tie loose again I will do what Matthew did to me and tie your hands behind your back for an hour and make you walk up and down the halls,” I threaten Oliver, “I don’t care if your tie is loose when we are just walking the Palace, but for events, it needs to be well done.”

Oliver nods his head, his hands swift to adjusting his tie, “I trust you know what to do today? Do you have any questions?”

“Whose service am I on? I was never told.”

“We will be watching everyone, this is a time to always keep our eyes open and to observe the crowd and surroundings.” I begin to explain to Oliver that today isn’t about being on a specific service, as a whole, we are to look after everybody. “If we are forced into a protocol, you take Anastasia, Matthew takes the Queen, and I take Madeleine.” I remind Oliver of the protocol Matthew and the Queen has put into place.

I am not too thrilled about not being on Anastasia’s service if something happens but this is the plan the Queen has asked for. I have no choice but to comply for now. As Oliver nods his head, my phone rings in my pocket.

I reach my hand into my pants pocket and slide my finger across the screen. “Harry Styles,” I answer the call from one of the Palace numbers…

“We are aware who we are calling, Harry,” Madeleine’s voice echoes through the phone and I sense my body tense up at the vibration of her voice. It isn’t that I hate her by any means, it’s more so her tone and sass that irks my nerves. It is evident she is going to be a pest, it makes me wonder how she and Anastasia are such close friends, they seem as though they are polar opposites.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Madeleine?”

“Full name, Mr. Styles.” … “I’ll let it slide, I don’t have time for this. Anastasia is requesting you, we have ten minutes until we need to be out that door and, to be honest, I don’t think I will be able to get her out the door. I have gotten this far, you need to come up here.”

I heavily sigh and roll my eyes at her comment, “I will be right up,” I hang up the phone. “You, stay down here and start rounding everyone up. By the time I get back down here, everybody needs to be in a line,” I instruct Oliver before making my way to the staircase and relaying the message through my radio that all security personal need to be lined up and by the doors, pronto.

I hurry up the stairs and make my way down the lengthy hallway, passing staff and other security members, doing my best to keep a steady pace without running.

I reach the doors of the bedroom and Madeleine is already standing outside of them with her arms crossed. I raise a brow, expecting some sort of snarky comment.

“She is requesting you, she was fine until she wasn’t,” Madeleine softly informs me.

“You had one job,” I respond, stepping past her.

I walk into Anna’s room and close the door behind me. I take a breath and there Anna stands in front of her jewellery, her hands pressed the edge of the glass vault and her hair cascading down her back in the most elegant curls that have taken hours to perfect. “Anastasia,” her name falls from my lips softly and she turns to gaze at me.

She looks beautiful, as always. And as beautiful as she looks, I can see the sadness in her eyes and the quiver of her lip that breaks my heart. “I’m sorry for—“ Anastasia begins and I swiftly cut her off, placing a delicate kiss to her lips.

I know she is sorry, I know she didn’t mean to go off on me earlier, she doesn’t need to apologize for how she felt when she was overwhelmed, today is a day that nobody wants to ever go through. Nobody wants to have to lay one of their parents to rest. “I know,” I assure her, my hand brushing her hair away from her face before I kiss her cheek lightly.

“Will you…” Anastasia trails off, trying to catch her breath and not cry, “Will you—“ she can barely find words to escape her lips. She closes her eyes for a moment and holds back tears that she has presumably been holding back since she was forced to get dressed earlier.

“Take a deep breath, we have time,” I assure Anna, unsure of how to comfort her right in this instance, I don’t want to smother her or cause her to get angry again.

Anastasia takes a few deep breaths and opens her eyes, “I need a necklace,” Anastasia’s voice is unsteady like the shaking of her hands. I nod my head and she turns to face her glass box, I step closer and press my hand the small of her back, drawing small circles in a loving way as we both look down at the necklaces to choose from.

“Which one do you like?”

Anastasia shrugs her shoulders, an indication she wants me to choose for her. I take a moment to take in each beautiful piece that lies in front of me. My eyes cast themselves on a triple strand necklace that has rows of graduated stones, suspended between two diamond triangles. I know she hates wearing pearls so three rows of diamonds should be perfect.

I delicately pick up the necklace with my hand, holding my breath as I bring it closer— holding royal heirlooms makes me nervous. I step behind Anastasia and gingerly place the necklace over her head and to rest charmingly around her neck. I carefully clasp the necklace together before tapping Anna’s back to let her know the necklace is secure.

She turns around to face me, her hand reaching to touch the diamonds before she takes a deep breath and grants me a small smile of gratitude. I step away from Anastasia and make my way to where her coat is hanging, I take the heavy coat off the coat hanger and walk back towards Anastasia. She glances at me and then at the coat before looking at me again. I assist her with sliding the coat up her arms and bringing it around her front before I pull her hair out from under the coat, “We have time, darling,” I again reassure her, well aware of her eyes that are threatening to fall with tears yet again. I’m not sure how she’s keeping herself together, I’d be a mess if I was her. I’m even more unsure of how they expect her to speak to the public that has been lining outside the Palace for hours and is currently waiting for her.

“I uh… I..” Anastasia begins but shakes her head.

“Sit down,” I instruct, guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. “Is it the people outside?” I question, wanting to attempt to ease the situation, but I can’t if I don’t know where to start.

“I don’t want to… I can’t… I can’t talk to them,” Anastasia breathes out. “But I have to… They’re waiting.”

I grow quiet for a moment, thinking of what I can do to help her out and calm her down. It’s not fair that on the day of her fathers funeral she is making speeches or addressing the public, she can barely find the words to speak to me, I don’t think she should be forced to speak as the future Queen. “I’ll sort it out, you won’t be speaking to them.”

“How?”

“Just let me handle it… Do you want a few minutes alone?”

Anastasia shakes her head, “You’re not going to be near me today, I want a few minutes with you.” Anastasia responds, finally speaking a full sentence.

I silently sit down beside Anastasia and allow our soft breaths to fill the silence. I am not sure what I can do or say to make her feel better, at this point, I don’t think anything will make her feel better besides just being here for her, nothing I say will change things. I can’t bring back her father and I can’t say for certain just how the events transpired or who killed the King, specifically, but I can support Anastasia, even if it means to sit in silence beside her.

♛♛♛

After giving Anastasia some time to sit in silence with me, I managed to get her out of her room and down the stairs to where we stand, right now, in front of the doors to the outside world.

“Harry,” Anastasia breaks the silence and I hum, waiting for her to speak, “Will you walk with me?” Anastasia asks while everybody is getting ready to step outside the doors and greet the public.

“Where to?” I ask, “We are about to exit.”

Anastasia shakes her head, “I mean… the cortege, will you walk with me?”

“We are walking behind you,” I inform Anastasia, gesturing towards the team who are currently being put in line by Matthew and prepped one last time.

“No… I want you to walk with me, not behind me, please.” Anastasia softly informs me, looking down, almost as if she is nervous to ask such a simple request.

It takes me a moment to understand what it is she is asking… She doesn’t want me to walk behind her as the security guard, she wants me to walk beside her as her husband. Before I can respond, Anastasia’s attention is taken by her mother who hands Anna gloves for her hands, just as Matthew taps my shoulder, an indication that I need to step back because the doors are about to open. I shake my head at Matthew and I step beside Anna as she requested.

The Queen looks at me and gives me a small smile of approval before shaking her head, “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“The cortege? Me neither.” Anastasia mutters.

“You two can’t be on display, at least not yet, we haven’t announced it and it isn’t propper right now.”

“Now we want to discuss proper etiquette?” Anastasia sneers, “Nobody will know, he will walk beside me, if it makes you feel better, we won’t even hold hands.”

“Harry, the Queen is right, the media coverage will be focused on her,” Matthew softly inputs his opinion, “But, your majesty, if I may, I don’t think it would be such bad attention for Harry to walk with her. We can divert the stories later and say it was just protocol…”

Matthew takes me by surprise when he advocates that he approves of Anastasia and I to walk.

I had assumed he would be displeased and expect me to get in line like the other security personal.

The Queen helps Anastasia with her gloves and runs her hand over Anastasia’s wedding finger, “Where is your ring?”

“Harry has my rings,” Anastasia softly informs her mother. “God forbid anyone sees them,” Anastasia mutters unhappily, “The staff were noticing my necklace.”

“Walk beside her, try not to show signs of a relationship… but if you do.. oh well,” The Queen sighs before shrugging, “You’ve already played the monarchy, you may as well play the people,” she whispers before winking at the two of us.

I’m not quite sure when the Queen will give us the permission to have our relationship public, at least to the staff, but something tells me she’s getting closer and closer to her breaking point.

“Hm, maybe you’re not such a bad guy after all,” Madeleine takes my attention for a brief moment.

I glare at her, “Meaning?”

Madeleine smirks and ignores my comment before the doors open and for a brief moment, everything stops.

Anastasia POV

I take a deep breath as Harry takes my necklace off of me and moves towards placing it back in its glass case to put back in safekeeping. I lean against the wall, my eyes dropping to the hem of my black dress— a dress I’ll never want to wear or look at again— a dress I intend to donate to charity so I never have to wear it again. I don’t want to ever relive the moments of what today bought.

“Harry?” I gaze over towards him. Harry hums, closing the glass case and reaching for my coat that he was holding for me as we entered the palace. “Can you tell me there’s an explanation for everything?”

Harry places my coat on a hanger and hangs it up on the wrack the ladies in waiting will roll out when they come up here, “What do you mean?” Harry softly asks.

“Can you tell me that there’s some sort of secret plan devised? That my Dad isn’t really dead, you and Matthew were in on a plan where he had to fake his death? Perhaps even that he was wounded but he escaped the hospital and you guys had to cover it all up? Something? Anything?” I softly request, believing that he has some sort of explanation for my father’s death that he hasn’t told me yet. At this point, I’ll take anything, even if it means my father is off in another country tucked away.

Harry stares at me for a few moments, shrugging his suit jacket off and loosening his tie, “Anna, darling,” Harry begins but he pauses, sitting himself down in a chair against the window, his hands running through his hair before he peers up at me. “I’d love nothing more than to tell you this was a grand plan Matthew and I came up with to save your father from the corruption and the monarch, but that isn’t the case.” … “Darling, I will find who did this.” Harry informs me.

It was wishful thinking to hope that there was a mysterious plan I wasn’t aware of and that my father was living somewhere undercover. “We need to get ready for dinner.” I switch the subject, not desiring to dive further into the feelings and emotions that have been swirling my thoughts since the moment I received the call.

“We?” Harry questions, “I’ve been up since three-thirty, Matthew has relieved me. I’m going to sleep.”

“It’s a private dinner, I’d like for you to attend.”

“Mmm, okay,” Harry nods, leaning back in the chair, “I just need a few minutes.” Harry sighs, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. I know that sigh and by the way his arms are crossed over his chest, he has no desire to get back up. He desires to sleep and stay asleep until he can gain the energy to crawl to bed and stay there.

“The security system is flawed, no offence.” I break the quietness between us, my thoughts failing to cease my predicaments and emotions.

“Where is this going, Anna?” Harry immediately challenges, not too pleased with my commentary nor the fact he can’t get a few minutes of peace.

If I can’t have peace, neither can he.

As selfish as it sounds, I don’t want the quietness, I don’t want to rest here with my thoughts and emotions while he sleeps harmoniously. I’m not entirely sure what I want, but I know it isn’t silence.

“How can the king be brutally murdered if he’s meant to have security? You and Matthew were one of the last people to see him.”

“Are you trying to say I had something to do with it?”

“No… I’m saying, he’s meant to have the highest of security… where were they?”

Harry opens his eyes and lets out a breath, “I don’t want to have this conversation.” I don’t blame him, I’m sure this is a troublesome conversation for him as well. It sounds like security failed him.

“And I really didn’t want to attend my fathers funeral, but here I am.” I gesture to the space between us.

I know the events are far from Harry’s fault. Deep down, I know he did his job the way he was meant to, as did Matthew, but that doesn’t make things any easier. Coming to terms with what has transpired is proving to be more arduous than I ever imagined.

“Everyone was told to stand down, Anastasia.” Harry breathes out.

Stand down? I don’t understand how everyone was told to stand down. The whole purpose of a security team is to ensure the safety of the King. “What?” The word falls from my lips coldly.

“All security personnel were scattered between your mother and you. Your father decided that he’d rather be compromised than for you or your mother to be in danger, you and your mother were and still are at high risk…”

“So, why did you go to visit him? You killed off one of the men and somehow my father still dies.” My words are harsh, but I can’t make sense of the decisions that took place before my Father passed.

“We did our job. We kept the King safe and we kept you and your mother safe, the man who was making threats, he was one of the ones on the boat. We had reason to believe he was the mastermind and most threatening, we were wrong… there’s someone else out there.”

“Why did nobody stay with him?” I ask again, unable to comprehend that with such a high-security team, my father still managed to be horribly murdered.

“As I said, everyone was disbanded. I attempted to stay, he refused and I knew I needed to get back to you. We did everything we could and respected your father’s decisions with forcing us to care for you and your mother. I’m sorry, Anna, I am. But I promise I’m going to find who did this.”

“How? How are you going to do that?” I demand, unsure of how he can execute such a promise. He is part of my security team not a member of the investigating team, he is not a private investigator.

“Don’t worry about how… can we please drop this conversation?”

“Fine, are you going to abolish the monarchy?” I press.

“No, I’m going to take a nap, are you going to join me?” Harry proposes, standing to his feet and making his way to the bed, falling on it and growing comfortable, not minding that he’s still in his suit or his shoes.

I go to speak but I’m halted at the vibration of a knock at the door, “You have to be fucking kidding me,” Harry mutters, “Do I need to go to my apartment to fucking sleep?” Harry huffs.

“You have your own room at the palace, why don’t you try that?” I sneeringly respond and Harry glares at me before I open the door imperceptibly, just enough for the lady’s maid to perceive me but not Harry.

“Do you need my assistance with getting ready for dinner, Princess?”

I shake my head, “No, thank you. Once I take this dress off, I’d like you to dispose of it. Donate it, sell it, burn it, I don’t care. I don't want to ever see it again.”

The lady nods, “As you wish. Would you like Eleanor to come back up?”

“In an hour.” I nod my head, deciding my main lady in waiting can assist me. It isn’t that I necessitate the guidance, I just considerably like the company of Eleanor. “I’d like for you to tell Estelle, my assistant, that she can go ahead and send all the signed letters I have done…” I dismiss the lady and watch her exercise off before I close the door and turn around.

“What letters?” Harry instantly asks.

“The ones I responded to this morning when I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to deal with the funeral.”

“Have you received any letters?”

“Not that I have read,” I shake my head, “Nothing that I know of like the letters you were getting that you tried to keep from me.”

Harry hums and adjusts his arm under his pillow, leaving me with my thoughts while he falls asleep.

Harrys POV

I remain at the dinner table, feeling out of place and unwelcomed as the Queen has me sitting beside Anna and other staff members placing food on my plate. I do not feel as though they should be placing food on my plate or making sure my drink is filled at all times, I am still one of them. I do not desire nor need special treatment for any reasons. To cover up the fact I am attending dinner, Anna’s mother made it known to the staff that the dinner is private and open to Matthew and me as a thank you for all we have done today.

Today has been a day that nobody will forget, the amount of flowers I have perceived and carried on behalf of Anna is outrageous, not to mention the extensive walk we had to make instead of taking a carriage. The day has been a rollercoaster that nobody has wanted to be on, emotions have been all over the place, and Anna has been all over the place. I am surprised we have gotten through dinner without her sobbing. It has been an obstinate line between being a husband and security, a line that I am weary of having to draw and hide. It broke my heart to have to watch her mourn the loss of her father and not be able to comfort her. I could not wrap my arms around her and hold her, I couldn’t take away her pain or do anything beside stand behind her and keep her safe— the best I could do was caress my hand to the small of her back every now and again and manage to subtly whisper an ‘I love you.’

I was bitter that due to circumstances, I couldn’t be there for Anastasia when she needed it, I couldn’t offer any sort of comfort to her or her mother, I couldn’t contribute anything but their safety. I will never forget the glimpse in her eyes when she turned to glance at me for a brief moment, completely heartbroken and somber. It was in that moment where she looked entirely defeated and empty… There was no sort of light in her eyes, nothing but emptiness that can’t be explained.

I pull myself from my thoughts and attempt to focus on the small conversation taking place. Anna’s mother is chatting about some of the minor renovations occurring in the residence Anna and I will be moving into. As far as I know, Anna’s mother insisted on having the living quarters updated for the two of us. I’m not sure what the updates entail, but as long as it’s more than just a room and a bathroom, I’ll be fine. I’ll be even happier when I don’t have to hide things or when I can keep clothes visibly in her room.

I take a breath and grimace slightly at the stabbing pain beginning in my shoulder. It has been coming and going and progressively getting longer and a bit more painful as time goes on. I clear my throat and ignore it, giving Anna’s mother a soft and faked smile as she seems to pay me some attention. I hope she didn’t notice my issue with abrupt discomfort.

“Looks like dinner just got interesting,” Matthew mutters and I side-eye Matthew. I follow his gaze and witness Henry walking in with a security member behind him, accompanied by Oliver.

“He’s here for you, Mr Styles,” Oliver announces, catching me off guard.

I nod my head, dismissing them both before glancing towards my mother-in-law, “Excuse me,” I politely stand up and adjust my jacket before I step to Henry and Oliver.

“Harry, we need to talk.” Henry is swift to demand my attention.

“I’m busy right now, so whatever shit you have done, can wait,” I mutter under my breath, attempting to keep our conversation private. Henry is never the bearer of great news, he is continuously screwing up my plans or causing havoc that I have to fix. I don’t have the energy to fix anything right now.

“I’ve been invited to dinner but I need to talk to you, it is important.”

“Sit down and eat dinner, but I swear if you touch Anastasia or look at her the wrong way, I will escort you outside and—” I begin and Henry cuts me off.

“I am not here to start problems, I want to talk to you,” Henry assures me, for the first time since I have met him appearing sincere. I nod my head and we step back towards the table and I take my position beside Anastasia for a moment.

I benevolently caress my hand to Anastasia’s leg and discreetly move to whisper in her ear, “I will be back, give me a moment,” I discreetly kiss her cheek while no staff is around before politely excusing myself from the table again, gesturing for Henry to follow me.

Henry is expeditious to follow my lead, trailing me like a lost puppy. The moment we get away from the table, Henry begins to speak, “You need to listen to me, Parliament is in on things, including Pippa.”

“Henry, you’re being ridiculous,” I shake my head with a hefty sigh.

“You need to hear me out, the prime minister is a part of it.”

“Henry, shut the fuck up for a second,” I murmur, not wanting this discussion to go any further while in the dining hall.

These sort of conversations, no matter how ludicrous, do not need to happen when there are guests around, especially a mere few hours after we have put the King to rest. I walk out of the dining hall and I signal to Henry to hush as the minute I see his mouth open, “Not now, wait,” I instruct, closing the golden handle and walking down the hallway to the closest bathroom.

I shove the door open and gesture for him to enter before I close the door behind us. “Don’t open your mouth,” I instruct again, my hand reaching for the faucet and turning the water on.

I watch the chilled water run and splash the sink before I glance at Henry, “First of all, you have three minutes once I am done talking, second of all, you never reveal information at a table or when people are in the room, are you wanting to end up like your mother?”

“It’s not like Anastasia is going to rat me out to anyone.”

“No, but that isn’t the point, there is a time and a place, the dinner table isn’t a place.” I remind Henry of minor etiquette that he should already comprehend. I shouldn’t have to remind him of the circumstances of today either. No discussion around Anna is deemed appropriate unless it is anything that can make her smile. Government and royal issues is not a topic of conversation that needs to be discussed today around Anna.

“Look, just listen to me… I think there are more people involved in things than we think, George is one of the men in on things, he has to be.”

“In on what?” I request.

“The King’s death.” Henry bluntly responds.

“And you’re not in on it? You literally tried to marry Anastasia and got mad at the race track, then you spooked her horse and got Anna hurt…. I won’t even mention the fact your mother turned out to be pure evil and was ready to kill someone in the palace before she somehow ended up dead… You and your mother could have conspired everything and you could just be finishing off the plan.`` I remind Henry of the past events that have occurred due to his negligent family who seem to be unethical and evil.

“Fair,” Henry shrugs his shoulders, “But not true, I am not in on it. I was forced into the relationship with Anna, I was forced to throw the fit and make headlines, just like I was forced to get the horse back— that was all my mother, she insisted on making sure I got a higher title and…” Henry trails off, not finishing his sentence before looking down in defeat.

For a moment, I feel bad for him, he seems confined in this circus ring without an escape.

“And she needed money, correct?”

“How did you know?” Henry challenges, staring at me with a heavy sigh leaving his lips. He really is defeated.

“I am good at my job, Henry… Before you and your mother killed the king… actually… the night you guys tried to get us all killed in Greece, the king told me a few things, as did someone else. Your family aren’t as wealthy as they seem. They were blackmailing the King, apparently they saved the Queen’s life at some point, I didn’t get the full story but I got the gist of it.”

“I didn’t kill the king, I had nothing to do with it. I was told that even if I didn’t marry Anna that once the king died I would become King, I would claim a title and my family’s wealth would change. I swear I didn’t kill the King…. I was forced into my mother’s plans. Now listen, Pippa and a few others did, I don’t know why, but it had to be them, look into it, please.”

“I will look into it but I think that is the most absurd thing I have heard all day.”

“Well, it might sound absurd but it’s true, I have had enough time to think about things while hiding from you.” Henry crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes on me as he makes it a point to make it known he has been hiding from me.

I lift my shoulders into a shrug and let out a small chuckle, “Why hide from me? Not like I will kill you,” I sarcastically and innocently respond.

“You had me followed, I am surprised you didn’t kill me. You did pull a gun on me that one day.”

“Eh,” I shrug, “Crossed my mind a few times but I figured you were not a threat until further notice. Now, what else do you know about your mother and her death, what was her deal with Louis? Why frame him?”

“I don’t know, I assume the corrupt parliament members got her too. I think Louis was just caught in the crossfire and was the easy target. Mum took his kindness for weakness and it somewhat worked.” Henry responds.

“I liked it better when you were quiet in the cottage outside of London. Why must you complicate things?” I heavily sigh, irritated that Henry couldn’t just stay quiet. “What do you know about your mother’s death?” I immediately request, unsure of how much he knows.

“Besides you moved her body... not much.”

“How do you know that?” I examine, well aware that the media didn’t publish that her body had been moved, they announced where she was found.

“Same way I know about the man Matthew killed who had threatened Anna. I followed leads and hoped you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Starting to wonder whether I should, you know too much information.” I can only assume he has followed me closely, I thought I had seen him a few times but brushed it off. I have had bigger fish to fry than to worry about this little sardine.

“I am not against you. You need to listen to me, Pippa is in on a lot of things, how do you think she knew about the death so quickly?”

“Protocol, she told me,” I answer.

“I think you should consider why she is perfectly okay with you being King and why she doesn’t want Anna as Queen, that’s all I am saying before I end up like my mother and have my body moved by you.”

“I am not going to kill you… yet,” I roll my eyes, “Stay quiet and don’t double-cross me.” I instruct, unsure of how to handle the situation. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about anything anymore. “So you think parliament got to your mother before anyone else could?”

Henry nods his head in agreement, “Yes.”

“What about your father?” I ask, still unsure with how Henry’s father plays a role in any of this, as far as I know, he’s the one that’s more on the mafia side of things. He calls the shots. He was the one who the King was on the phone to when I was in my morphine-induced sleep. I am not too sure if I believe Henry’s thoughts.

Henry again looks down at his shoes before looking back up at me, “Harry, I think he’s apart of it, too,” Henry confesses, “This started from them saving the Queen and it has spiralled into this mess for money and power, he’s very powerful with the connections he has.”

“Could he have killed your mother?”

Henry shrugs his shoulders with uncertainty, “Possibly, not sure what that motive would be… My father was a part of the Greece trip but Anastasia wasn’t meant to be harmed, I found all this out after…”

“So your father is a part of shit, another culprit I can add to my list… But you just told me parliament is a part of it, which one is it?”

“Parliament is in it and I think my Father was in charge of collecting money, assets and the threats. I don’t know, Harry. I’m on your side. I don’t want to be on their side anymore. I don’t want to be their puppets.”

“Mhm,” I hum, “I’m going to go back to dinner, you need to keep your mouth shut and stay under the radar until I figure shit out.”

Henry nods his head and I turn the water off, stepping out of the bathroom before leading back towards where dinner is still being held.

♛♛♛

The security chambers are cold and relatively quiet, the palace is the same way, there’s not much movement occurring and everyone seems to be accounted for. Anna is in her room, the Queen is in her living quarters, Madeline is with Prince Louis in the guest suite and Matthew is roaming the palace, doing another sweep of the floors.

“Oliver, you did good today,” I give him a faint smile as he relaxes down in the chair and presses his fingers to his temple. “A headache is a sign of a day done well,” I chuckle and I pet his back gently while walking past him to reach my sign out sheet.

Oliver sighs and lifts his head to look at me, “Thanks, I think it is lack of sleep.”

“Get used to it, pal,” I respond, signing my name across the line and flicking my wrist to check the time that reads one-fifteen in the morning.

“Lack of sleep or headaches?”

“Both,” I respond, “Aspirin will be your best friend, there will be nights your body will feel like it has been slammed against a brick wall, it isn’t an easy job, as you have seen already, but you’re doing really good.”

“This is the nicest you have been to me.” Oliver cracks a weary smile.

“Mhm, it’s the lack of sleep getting to me,” I grin.

“Most of the other guys are assholes, but not in a good way.” Oliver comments and I nod my head.

I have noticed the others tend to be assholes to Oliver, I’ve overheard a few comments here and there. I haven’t said anything mainly because I believe Oliver needs to stand up for himself, but I’m also waiting for the right moment to stand up and fire back on Oliver’s behalf. The others are merely jealous of the opportunity Oliver possesses.

“They’re assholes because they want your job and despise you, they don’t get to escort the members around, they’re more as back up. Get used to people not liking you, it comes with the job. Half of them can’t stand me and I did nothing, it is just that we are higher ranked, we were chosen and they weren’t.” … “Come on rookie, it’s past your bedtime, sign your signout sheet and we can head on out, Ryan has the surveillance covered,” I gesture towards Ryan who is actively watching the monitors.

Oliver and I force ourselves around the Palace, doing our best to quietly make our way towards the bedrooms. Oliver has temporarily been granted permission to stay at the Palace in a room until we can work something out for him, I was thinking of letting him stay at my apartment that I used when I first started, but I don’t see why he can’t be granted a more permanent decision on being able to stay living on the Palace grounds, there is enough room and it makes it a little bit easier to know Matthew and I are not the only ones constantly on the property, having backup and someone trained the way we need them to be is beneficial. I will have to work something out with Matthew and Anna’s mother for Oliver. Oliver is a good worker, he may be a bit younger than I am, but he has a good head on his shoulder. That isn’t to be biased either because he saved Anna in Greece, he is genuinely a hard worker.

Without a warning, a piercing scream distracts me from my thoughts and causes my eyes to widen. I look at Oliver before my instincts kick in and I begin to run down the hallway, my shoes hammering the red carpet, “I have screams coming from the east rooms, the third floor, I need the Queen and Princess’ locations, lock them down,” I instruct over my radio for all security details to hear.

“Ryan, any details?” Oliver requests on his end, keeping up with my pace while we continue to hurry towards the screams.

I reach a corner staircase the staff use and I am stopped when I recognise Madeleine, standing with her hands cupped over her mouth, her eyes wide and glossy with tears. Deep down, I don’t want to look at her discovery, for I have no clue what she could be staring at. Whatever it may be, it cannot be grand. My heart beats wildly and I take a breath before I take the plunge and glance over to observe what has prompted her to scream.

Oh, no.

I turn away for a brief moment before I shake my head, “Lock the Queen and Princess down, they’re not to leave their rooms or be left unattended, no staff are to leave the palace nor are they to move locations,” I speak into my radio before I grab my phone that is ringing with Matthew’s caller ID. “I need you up here, now… I uhh… I have a dead body.”

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satan-chillin · 3 years

Text

Hereafter (4/7)

Wei Wuxian is sent off of Cloud Recesses, bade by his fathers to “have fun and make friends” which, now that he thinks about it, sounds like a gross oversimplification of what the next six months away from home will entail.

If he happens to form unlikely connections, start a matchmaking, and gets unwittingly involved in the presently strained political state of the cultivation world, those are just par for the course.

Chasing after one of the famed Twin Jades of Lan, however, is an added bonus.

(Or, WWX was sent to Gusu by his fathers Wen Kexing & Zhou Zishu)

Part 2 of Spirited Away Series. Part 1 here.

Also available in Ao3. Hereafter Chapter 1, 2, 3

❆❆❆

Wei Wuxian stumbled, sputtered, and shivered—exactly in that order.

“Lan Zhan, are you alright?!”

The question was apparently unnecessary seeing as Lan Zhan was already standing, unfazed as if they hadn’t been dragged into some—Wei Wuxian’s eyes darted wildly everywhere to take a stock of the white rocky walls—cave underneath a cold spring.

He hauled himself steadily on his feet amidst his heavily drenched clothes weighing him down to the fortunately shallow (but fucking cold brrrr) water. Resolutely, he cleared his throat to hide a cough and another shiver, straightening his appearance as much as he could, sweeping back his wet hair on his now thankfully numb back.

“We’re in a cave,” said Wei Wuxian uselessly. “Ah, do you happen to know the exit?”

Lan Zhan’s mouth remained that firm line before trudging ahead in dismissal. Wei Wuxian followed after him and found that continuous movement helped fend off the chill. After composing himself in silence, he managed to abate the chattering of his teeth and regulated a bit of his internal body heat, a trick he learned young and grew up using in particularly frigid winter nights.

Wei Wuxian paused. Frowning, he reached for his sleeves and found the item he was searching for missing. He had been holding that pouch before falling, hadn’t he?

Oh no.

“Crap.” His voice was loud enough to ring within the cave, halting even Lan Zhan though not exactly turning to look back at his companion to ask. “Wait. Let me go back a bit—the pouch—your ribbon!”

The statement warranted Lan Zhan’s attention this time. Wei Wuxian felt rather sheepish under the stare. Stupid. He was supposed to return it as an apology and then they would go on their merry way and forget Wei Wuxian’s moment of weakness (and stupidity). Resigned and chastised the longer the pointed stare lengthen, he said, “Look, I’m really sorry about what happened. I don’t know if you believe me, but I honestly didn’t know no one’s allowed to touch it.”

Lan Zhan did not blink, and it would have been eerie if he wasn’t doing a great job imitating a magnificent statue carved in jade. The shade of color that stood out the most from him was the gold of his eyes amidst the reflection of what little light there was within the cave walls, like a relic hidden and untouched by time.

Wei Wuxian swallowed down the poetics threatening to spill from his tongue. Not the time.

Wordlessly, Lan Zhan unclenched a closed fist to reveal the familiar pouch and pulled out the ribbon within, blessedly dry, and without breaking eye contact tied it around his forehead before turning his back once more and proceeding ahead.

Wei Wuxian could only blink after him.

… Was that a smile?

His mind must be playing tricks on him, or it could be the cold, come to think of it. It wasn’t hard for him to come to the conclusion that he was indeed still dazed, probably from the rough tumble earlier into this cave and the low temperature, or both, when the next thing he was seeing was rabbits.

Fluffy white bunnies with tiny Lan forehead ribbons. Wei Wuxian wanted to laugh at the absurdity this day was turning.

To be fair, though, those were really cute bunnies with beady eyes that noticed their visitors and sniffed at the ground. Wei Wuxian resisted the urge to gather a bunch of them to cuddle for warmth.

“Lan Zhan,” he called, barely taking his eyes off the little animals that littered the narrow outcropping to the side. “Are you seeing what I’m—”

Wei Wuxian collided with what felt like an invisible force that slammed him back to the water. Indignantly, he rose, hacking out water. “Oh, come on!”

While Lan Zhan didn’t appear to be worried, he was equally confused between the white guqin that was simply sitting there, unassuming, and Wei Wuxian waddling through the water.

He had seen it the second time, a strike that came from a single, resounding note that went from behind Lan Zhan and straight to Wei Wuxian as if it knew he was an offender—and damn if he didn’t terribly regret not having Suibian or at least his fan to counter that. His reflex kicked in, diving narrowly to the shallow surface and twisting.

The next one followed immediately as he was about to pivot his heel and maneuver toward the dry ground. This one, however, did not reach him in time, Lan Zhan’s blade effectively blocking the assault.

Wei Wuxian figured that it was a protective measure of some sort, and whatever this cave was, it was clearly guarding something. Interestingly, it didn’t care enough to throw Lan Zhan out despite the fact that the two of them were technically intruders, recognizing that he wasn’t an outsider like Wei Wuxian was.

Sharply, he glanced back at the harmless rabbits that were seemingly imitating Lan disciples with their snowy fur and little forehead ribbons that, now that Wei Wuxian realized, could only be seen among the inner disciples of the Lan Sect. He was yet to get an explanation why that silk ribbon was too much of a big deal to be considered sacred, although...

Hold on.

“Lan Zhan! You’ll probably hate me for this, and I swear I’m sorry in advance, but unless you want me to die, you’re going to have to let me touch that ribbon again!”

For a split second, Wei Wuxian had an ugly feeling that Lan Zhan actually wanted to be rid of him permanently, and, oh, his cold-hearted muse, a beguiling, unsmiling—

Lan Zhan was on his side in the next beat, the silk ribbon coiled around his and Wei Wuxian’s forearm. The cloth was pulled taut between them, a mere couple of inches that Wei Wuxian was certain he could close with a strong tug.

He raised an eyebrow, lips pursing into a quirk at the edges. “Thank you.”

In lieu of ignoring Wei Wuxian’s eyes and slight grin, Lan Zhan stared at the guqin and led the way back to where he had been. Still a little mesmerized, Wei Wuxian was going to pretend that Lan Zhan’s pace wasn’t slow for his sake.

“I wonder what kind of treasure this is,” he said, humming appreciatively at the craftsmanship of the instrument in ivory and the delicate engraving of patterns, “that it’s not letting strangers near it.”

“Don’t touch it,” Lan Zhan warned needlessly as if Wei Wuxian would dare lay his wet hand on a fine creation. “This instrument is hard to obtain and has magical value. It knows how to target people with a different family name using Chord Assassination.”

Well, damn, that was the longest he’d heard from Lan Zhan. Also, Chord Assassination? Wasn’t that the one Lan Qiren mentioned in one of his lectures an ultimate move passed down from generation to generation in the Lan Sect?

“One of Lan Sect’s heirlooms then?” Though he wondered why hide this exquisite instrument when it could be displayed; why the magical protection for this thing alone? “Hm. Can we investigate?”

“Don’t touch it,” came the same warning. “You’ll be disrespecting my ancestor’s possession.”

“Fine. How are we supposed to investigate it without touching it?”

Lan Zhan moved around and to the other side of the guqin, sitting. Wei Wuxian decided to situate himself next to the instrument, watching raptly at the long fingers that tuned the strings, a pale hue of qi danced across the surface where he touched.

Wei Wuxian was aware that Lan Sect’s expertise lay in musical cultivation, and he had to admit that there was something enrapturing to observe a Lan performing it even if what Lan Zhan was doing was one of the basic aspects of it.

He did not recall closing his eyes, though when he next opened them, Lan Zhan was pointedly looking at the spot where Wei Wuxian sat. Consciously, he stood, patting nonexistent dirt away from the instrument.

Then the notes came, a response to Lan Zhan’s playing. A flash of what must be a surprise lit Lan Zhan’s features.

“It’s her.”

“Who?”

From the walls, there echoed a sudden noise of a hundred thundering steps, of multiple voices clamoring at once. They were both on high alert in an instant upon hearing the recitation of the names of the five major clans. Lan Zhan withdrew his sword, and Wei Wuxian, subconsciously, positioned himself a step in front of him.

There were loud chants of killing a holy mountain and destroying the Stygian metal, of demands for a Xue Chonghai to give up the said Stygian metal. The yells alone were enough to determine that the five major clans were to attack a clan of this Xue Chonghai.

“What is Stygian metal?”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Lan Zhan admitted.

The noise settled into a deafening silence before a clear and gentle feminine voice said: “Stygian metal is cursed. It’s best not to talk about it.”

At the place Lan Zhan previously occupied, a woman in blue of the shade of skies sat down, her face serene and timeless, not a hair out of place as she regarded them.

Lan Zhan went to his knees, bowing deeply, the gesture pulling Wei Wuxian down with him. “Gusu Lan Sect disciple, Lan Zhan, greets Elder Lan Yi.”

Wei Wuxian paid the same respects, almost floundering doing so. “Four Seasons Sect disciple, Wei Ying, greets Elder Lan Yi.”

At him, Lan Yi said, “You came a long way.”

Wei Wuxian was tempted to ask how in the world did she know and if that meant his fathers’ sect could be traced as far back as the ones in the cultivation world. He held his tongue, observing her quite taken with a rabbit that had wandered over to her. She stroked its fur fondly, and for a moment Wei Wuxian could believe that she wasn’t an elder of centuries old.

“Elder, do you raise those rabbits?” he asked.

“Yes. To keep me company,” she answered. “My magic has waned over the years,” she said evenly. “They love to play so they frequently run outside.”

“Elder, they said you passed away years ago,” said Lan Zhan. “Why...”

“Is it related to the Stygian metal?” Wei Wuxian could gather as much from what they’d heard.

A flicker crossed her face, akin to a disturbed surface of perfectly tranquil water. “It is the biggest mistake of my life. Because of it, I’ve used all of my spiritual energy as the price for suppressing the Stygian iron.”

On her palm, she produced an old piece of chipped metal, tarnished but not rusted. This must be the Stygian metal, and Wei Wuxian’s mind raced with questions upon questions and settling for two.

“What’s up with this metal? And the yelling earlier, where do they come from?”

“Since it has been unsealed, my psyche, along with my magical powers, weakens day by day,” she said. “And then you two came. It must be fate.”

Lan Yi spoke of a few hundred years back, when the Stygian metal hadn’t been broken into pieces, and what was presently named Yiling Burial Mounds was then called a holy mountain. She mentioned Xue Chonghai who had been the most powerful advisor to the emperor, and how the facts had been muddled by time as to why he had wielded the Stygian metal to absorb resentment and used human beings as sacrifices. With the Stygian metal, he had controlled a notorious beast known as the Tortoise of Slaughter. Formidable, Xue Chonghai slaughtered cultivators of various sects, both big and small.

“The five major sects,” Wei Wuxian began. “They banded together to bring him down.”

“Indeed. It cost a lot of lives, and the Yiling holy mountain became the Burial Mounds for the fallen.”

“Elder, where was the Stygian metal after that?” Lan Zhan asked.

“It absorbed numerous living beings’ spiritual awareness, and all the resentment couldn’t be contained.”

“The metal was capable of spirit consumption?” Wei Wuxian asked in disbelief.

He’d read of theories and the subjects that encompassed spiritualism, and he would wager that not all the scholars who scribed and penned those in old books and dusty scrolls had seen half of what they’d written in practice, one of those about how a spirit could transform into its own awareness that was capable of destroying either itself or another, or capable to growing itself by multitudes through absorption or consumption.

“The Stygian metal was originally a national treasure that could absorb nature’s natural aura,” Lan Yi said. “Xue Chonghai used that ability to absorb living beings’ awareness and cultivators’ spirit essence, and because of this the resentment completely polluted the metal and can never be cleansed. The closest to suppression the five greatest clans managed was to divide the metal into pieces, stored in four locations where the spiritual vein is in abundance in four cardinal locations. To prevent the same mistake of Xue Chonghai, it was agreed not to pass the knowledge of Stygian iron to any of the future descendants.”

“Forgive me for speaking directly, Elder, but using the logic of absorption, why not absorb instead the opposite of resentment, an amount that can overwhelm the resentment within? And the iron must have its limits too for it’s not a pocket of unlimited space to contain everything there is. Why not stuff it full of resentment until it cannot contain all in itself? It doesn’t have to be the living; the dead or beasts, like the Nie Sect’s way of cultivation. Or—or what if we utilize the resentment within the metal? It won’t be like Xue Chonghai if we—”

“Wei Ying!” exclaimed Lan Zhan. In truth, his volume hardly rose a level, but it was as much of a sound of incredulity at what Wei Wuxian was saying.

She shook her head. “What Young Master Wei said was exactly what I had in mind then. The folly of youth is arrogance and the inexplicable need to prove oneself.” She turned wistful. “As the first female sect leader who wants prestige for her sect and to prove them wrong, I carried those follies through the years and pursued the Stygian iron. It was futile, in the end.” Lan Yi smiled ruefully. “Baoshan Sanren was right.”

Wei Wuxian jolted. “B-Baoshan Sanren?”

“She was a good friend, and she tried to stop me. I’m a fool for not listening.” Her eyes were distant, regretful. “I thought I could enlighten it on my own but merely ended up unsealing the iron. Once unsealed, it couldn’t be reversed. Now here I am in Han Tan Cave, unable to leave after I used my psyche instead. I might not have passed away all those years ago, but I’ve been fading away since then.”

A slow death and dying alone. Wei Wuxian couldn’t think of anything worse.

“What happened to my grandmaster?” he asked quietly.

“Grandmaster?”

Wei Wuxian nodded. “My mother, Cangse Sanren, was a disciple of Baoshan Sanren. She lived with her master and came down from her mountain. She met my biological father afterward and had me.”

“I didn’t know.” Lan Yi stared at him in wonder. “Who would have thought that Baoshan Sanren would take a disciple? We were both young back then, and last I heard of her she went to seclusion. I was… ashamed to seek her.”

“Elder, I have a question,” Lan Zhan spoke. “Are you the one who brought us here?”

“No, not with my weakening state, but I suspect that it’s the Stygian metal. It has been restless since the past decade when the other pieces resurfaced.”

Wei Wuxian shared a look with Lan Zhan. Someone was aiming to be another Xue Chonghai, and it didn’t bode well for their generation and the next.

“The pieces must be gathered together to seal the iron once more.” Her lips pursed. “Only then will the resentment quieten, and hopefully will be laid to rest here forever, frozen in this cave.”

Lan Zhan clasped his hands in front of him, kneeling. “As a descendant of Gusu Lan Sect, Lan Zhan vows to fulfill this obligation to Elder Lan Yi.”

Wei Wuxian imitated the gesture, much to Lan Zhan’s surprise. “Wei Ying of the Four Seasons sect vows to accomplish this with Lan Zhan.”

“This is a matter of the Gusu Lan alone,” Lan Zhan protested.

“I might be from a different sect, from somewhere far away from here, but it doesn’t mean I’ll stand by when there’s potential harm to many. I might have been raised in jianghu, but my fathers raised me to care for the lives of others,” he declared, glancing briefly at Elder Lan Yi and noticing her soft gaze at them. “Besides, Elder is right. Maybe it is fate that brought us here.”

Personally, Wei Wuxian hadn’t been a believer of fate for it only happened to him once: his baba finding him in that terrible snowstorm, way before Sect Leader Jiang or even death itself found him. He felt the tight grip of Lan Zhan’s silk ribbon against his forearm, connecting him to his owner.

Perhaps this, too, was fate.

❆❆❆

Lan Yi’s fading was inevitable, though for it to happen in front of his eyes brought a disquiet in Wei Wuxian’s stomach. What was left of her spiritual essence exploded into blue fireflies, enchanting and separating into several little lights that would never come together again to form a whole.

They stumbled past an egress that magically appeared on a wall, with Lan Zhan half-dragging him out like he was eager to set out as soon as possible to find the remaining pieces of the Stygian iron.

Heh. He probably was.

Completely forgetting being tied to Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian misjudged a step, foot tangling with Lan Zhan’s, throwing them both together on the rocky dry ground.

“Well,” began Wei Wuxian, grinning down coquettishly, after finding himself on top of an alarmed Lan Zhan. “This is a nice end to our escapade, Lan-er-gongzi.”

It would be forever etched in his mind, that adorable shade of scarlet.

#fanfic #fanfiction #shl fanfic #cql #chen qing ling #mdzs #untamed fic #crossover #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #the untamed #word of honor #wwx gets adopted by wenzhou

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zutaraangtastic · 4 years

Note

Idk if it’s too late to submit a prompt but I would love to see more inappropriate uses of bending please !

More inappropriate uses of bending coming right up! Also, this is the only prompt we’ve gotten so far, so for anyone reading this, feel free to ignore the original deadline and send some more in! See this post for suggestions/guidelines. - Mod J

The occasion is some fancy function in the Fire Nation, honoring a cousin of the royal family whose support for Zuko’s reign would carry some weight with the lesser nobles. It’s just bad luck that the evening social comes in the middle of a rare, full week that Aang and Katara have been able to take off to spend with their dear Fire Lord. Of course, they weren’t just going to stay behind and let him go without them. Two extra high-profile guests, the world’s greatest waterbending master and the Avatar, could only help Zuko’s efforts to impress.

The couple arrives fashionably late on Appa, needing a little extra time to fit the dress code – they hadn’t come here expecting to attend a gala, so they raided Zuko’s closet and combined their findings with some reasonably priced streetwear from the city.

The moment Zuko sees them, it’s hard to look away.

Katara is draped in a simple wine-red gown, with an open slit halfway up her thigh and a golden sash wrapped around her waist. Her brown shoulders are bare, though she wears two unattached wide sleeves, secured at her upper arms just beneath the rise of her biceps. Aang, too, has a lot on display, decked out in a flowing, scarlet, gold-trimmed hanfu skirt without a complete robe over the top. A yellow shawl thrown over one shoulder, tucked into the waist at the front and back, leaves half his chest exposed and allows a peek at the other side even beneath the covering.

Zuko’s always enjoyed seeing them in his colors – on Aang, they’re so fitting, only a step to the left from the usual warm tones of his air nomad garb; on Katara, they’re wonderfully surprising, contrasting with her striking blue eyes and her mother’s necklace.

Their clothes are bold choices for a formal event, but it’s the thick of summer, and nobody could blame them for dressing lightly in the heat. Zuko feels conspicuously overdressed by comparison. Even near twilight, with a full moon rising in the sky, it’s oppressive. Besides, their fashion statements can be taken as that – statements. Soon enough, the whole Fire Nation will be trying to replicate the outfits they wear tonight.

After greeting the host, they find Zuko and a quiet spot away from the throng of people, sharing private, eager smiles all around.

“You look…amazing,” Zuko says, and mentally kicks himself for not being able to come up with something more eloquent.

Aang grins, catching his moment of regret, and says, “Really, just amazing? Katara’s breathtaking.”

Katara leans against her husband, holding his arm and smiling up at him. “I think you’re mixing your metaphors, sweetie.” She reaches out to take Zuko’s hand, lacing their fingers together. To any spectator, it might seem like only a familiar gesture of friendship, but the way their gazes meet speaks volumes. “He’s the breathtaking one, don’t you think, Zuko?”

“Well, yeah, so in that case, you’re – refreshing. Like a cold drink! Of, uh, water, or something.”

“I’ll take the ‘or something,’” Katara says, laughing. “The cat-owl’s really got your tongue tonight, Your Fieriness.”

“Or is it Your Hotness?” Aang asks with a look of faux intellectualism. “He has so many titles, I can hardly keep track. I guess that’s what you get for being the best Fire Lord who ever lived.”

He snags Katara that drink from a passing server – he doesn’t partake himself, but he knows it’s a sure way to get her to dance and have a good time. Zuko’s face is mildly red even without any alcohol, and Aang takes full advantage of the chance to fluster him further, sidling closer to bump their shoulders together. “You’re lucky Sokka’s not here to razz you about sharpening your wordbending skills.”

Zuko rolls his eyes, but he’s acutely aware of the jump of his heartbeat, Aang’s strong arm around him, Katara giggling at them both over the rim of her glass. He clears his throat. “You know, that’s how you know I mean it when I say you look good,” he says. “Because it’s not just anyone who can leave me speechless.”

Katara’s expression softens fondly, and she thinks if she’d had a little more sparkling wine by now she’d try to kiss him, secrecy be damned. Instead, she squeezes his hand and says, “There’s the smooth romantic you keep deep down inside!”

“Speechless, huh?” Aang echoes, with a sneaky look on his face.

He doesn’t really think it through – it’s just an impulse, the same as the game of juggling a small fireball back and forth with a shivering Zuko at the South Pole, or passing by a fountain in Republic City with Katara and sprinkling her hair with water. Aang steals the breath from Zuko’s lungs just briefly, not long enough to hurt, but long enough to make him touch a hand to his throat before Aang allows him a normal inhale.

“How’s that for speechless?”

Zuko opens his mouth, closes it again, and there’s a stunned shine to his eyes and a distinct flush high on his cheeks that reminds Aang of a very different kind of play than he had in mind. More of the kind that happens in the bedroom, when Katara makes Zuko’s every muscle arch with bloodbending, when Aang trails a little spark of lightning across Zuko’s chest.

“Don’t – don’t you dare say anything,” Zuko warns, avoiding eye contact and tugging at the collar of his robes, suddenly too warm. “We’ll pick this up later.”

Katara and Aang exchange a look as Zuko disentangles himself from their affectionate holds and darts away to socialize with the nobles he came here to appease.

“Look at you, discovering a whole new way to embarrass him,” Katara says. “In public, no less. You’re going to cause a scandal if you’re not careful.”

Aang blinks a few times, still trying to process what happened. How has he never thought to use airbending like that before? Why did Zuko like it? He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Zuko’s going to kill me, just for this.”

“And you’re looking forward to it, I bet. You’re the one who always wants to play ‘capture the Avatar.’ Maybe I’ll ally with Zuko this time – he’s going to need all the help he can get.”

Katara smirks up at Aang, who blushes and looks away. Subtly, she twists one hand, and he stiffens at the strange sensation as she gently pulls at his blood. She leads him out to a clear space on the floor, bathed in a pool of moonlight, and Aang smiles, his ears tinged pink as she makes him bow and invite her to dance.

Not by coincidence, they end up in the perfect spot to catch Zuko’s attention. He’s composed himself enough to keep up an amiable conversation with his cousin’s husband, but his eyes keep straying to Aang and Katara, twirling each other back and forth with the aid of the cool night breeze and – is Katara bloodbending him? Zuko shakes his head. Breathtaking, indeed.

#atla #zutaraang #zutaraangdrabblechallenge #Anonymous #mod j

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medusozoic · 3 years

Note

okay so, since you like rocks, and i like being told information on things i deem interesting (like rocks, because obviously) what would you say your favourite rock is? and like, why? composition? special uh, oddities? just how it looks? :3c i'm curious

Okay first off thanks for the ask!! again!! i love talking about rocks. This’ll actually be about a few rocks and it kinda has to do with steven universe. (and disclaimer, I DID like rocks before steven universe).

So favorite rock: Lapis Lazuli.

1 bc it is fkn GORGEOUS and

2 bc LAPIS FROM SU IS FKN GORGEOUS

But you should know that lapis lazuli is a rock, and not a mineral/gem. Also, it’s my favorite type of rock, metamorphic. Lapis is composed of the following minerals: lazurite, pyrite, calcite (and sodalite but idk anything about that). I don’t really know any fun things about the rock lapis, but the minerals I know a lot about!!

Ok first off about lazurite. And I’m actually not gonna talk about lazurite but ok. Last year I had to write an essay about my favorite mineral, and I was like YEAH LAZURITE CUZ LAPIS, but then I found out about azurite because the two are often confused (I mean it’s fair they basically look identical). Now THIS IS REALLY INTERESTING (at least imo) but I think lapis (from su) should’ve been azurite. First off, because it’s an actual mineral and not a rock. BUT ALSO azurite has a relation with malachite. When azurite ages/wears down, it ‘turns into’ (pseudomorphs into) azurite. And that’s just like, a fun easter egg in your su rock lore or whatever. And would’ve been cool if it was actually what happened.

Then pyrite, also known as fools gold. If you ever need to know if something is pyrite or real gold, strike it over a porcelain plate. This gives you the minerals streak color, and gold has a golden streak, while pyrite has a dark-brownish streak.

Then calcite. But I’m actually gonna talk about quartz lol. It’s my damn blog and you asked me about rocks and quartz is more interesting than calcite so I'm gonna talk about quartz okay. But they are kinda similar when you find them in the field, so a fun way to find out which one you are dealing with is to grab a pocket knife or any other thing made from stainless steel because stainless steel has a hardness of something below 7, quartz a hardness of 7, and calcite a hardness of 3. So take the rock sample and scratch it over the stainless steel, if it leaves a mark, it’s quartz (bc calcite is softer, and so cannot scratch stainless steel). Also, quartz overall is one of the most interesting minerals. A lot of people don’t know how common it is, because yeah it is really common. It also has a lot of uses, and that would literally be an endless list, so I’m just gonna mention my favorite one. Quartz can be found in LIGHTERS. But only those click lighter thingies.

These bad boys. When you press the trigger, a hammer slams down on a small piece of quartz, because quartz CREATES AN ELECRTIC PULSE WHEN UNDER HIGH PRESSURES. ITS VERY COOL HELLO

PICTURES:

Azurite

Malachite

Half worn down azurite with malachite??? yes pls

Lapis lazuli

#god im so sorry for my other followers who do not care for rocks #here a tag to filter em out #long geology #geology #BRO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK #GOT TO RESEARCH ROCKS AGAIN #also if you ever need info/pictures of rocks/minerals go to mindat.com it has everything #also why do ppl like smooth rocks more then natural form rocks #like are you honestly gonna tellme you'd rather have boring smooth azurite rock then THE PRETTY BLOCKY THING UP THERE #elainetheladyofchaos #geoasks

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steph-writing · 5 years

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The Dawn of Our New World - ClaudexF!Byleth

AO3 link

I never wrote for FE3H before, or any FE tbh, but I recently finished the Golde Deer route romancing the shit out of Claude and the ending left me desperate for some closure on their reunion. So here’s just a lil’ something I’ll prob want to redo in the morning because I love him so fucking much ugh

It’s Claude’s POV, with F!Byleth, and I hope I fucking got him right because he’s too perfect for me to fuck it up. This is super self indulgent so like yeah this is it mate, read under the cut.

*Fear the deer*

It’s been almost a year. Almost a whole year since I’ve seen her, heard her, held her. I’m still not sure how this whole Gods thing work, but this absence must have been some sort of divine punishment.

I know I had to leave, there was still work to be done, but it didn’t make it any easier if we’re being honest here.

It takes all of me to keep my game face on as we march towards Derdriu. It’s so close I can already hear the battle cries, the metallic scent of blood invades our nostrils, smoke coming out of nearby buildings and woods.

As we reach the border of the city, I raise Failnaught and with the Amyran battle cry bursting first from my lunges and soon to be followed by all of my army, I shoot an arrow, piercing some random enemy soldier from those who slither in the dark on the neck.

And thus, our battle begins.

My soldiers storm ahead, spreading out to help the few remaining troops from the Kingdom to achieve victory.

But I… I freeze for a second.

The scene before me is a bloodbath, composed mostly by fallen Kingdom soldiers, and it terrifies me.

I can see the remaining army is still perfectly positioned in a way to try and minimize losses, blocking the enemies’ access to the residential area to, most likely, give the civilians time to escape.

Yet, it’s not enough. Good strategy can only get you so far when the enemy outnumbers you by so much.

The intel I had over the past months told me Byleth was focusing on restoring peace, rebuilding towns and villages, reforming the Church. She didn’t- no, couldn’t have focused on the military as well. It would be suicide, and I was too far away to help her with my schemes.

She did well. She was succeeding. She was being the Queen I knew she would be.

The thought that she could be among the corpses laying on the ground below me was…

No.

I can’t go there.

She’s not dead.

She can’t be.

Snapping out of my daze, I dash ahead with my wyvern, desperately trying to find her among the still standing soldiers, refusing to let my eyes wander to the poor bastards that gave their lives to protect their freedom, refusing to look for her among them.

After mere minutes that felt like hours of searching, I see it.

That red glow from the Sword of the Creator glowing behind a building to my left.

Everything else fades when I overfly the building and look down at the battle going on next to it.

I had my spies give me constant updates on her, sure, but nothing prepared me for this moment, I don’t think nothing could’ve.

The same pale green hair just a bit longer, the same pale skin, the same delicate features laced with determination.

But she no longer looks like Teach, like the friend who walked by my side during the war.

She looks like a Queen.

Her face is fierce, determined to protect her people and their freedom, even if it costs her life. That adorable fool.

It’s not her face that grabs my attention though. Nor the blood splattered all over her, nor the way she seems to be favoring her right leg due to some wound I can’t see from up here, nor the pile of enemies laying dead by her feet.

It’s her eyes. I can see she’s putting up a strong front, trying to come up with some ingenious strategy now that she saw the Almyrans fighting by their side.

But she can’t fool me. I learned to decipher her puzzling expressions a long time ago, and I will never forget how to read her.

She’s afraid.

And that’s not something I can accept.

Blood boils in my veins when I see a shadow lurking behind her, waiting for the right moment to strike while the rebel in front of her robs her attention.

They take a step, and I shoot.

The gurgling sound the man in the shadows makes as he dies from my arrow makes her attention falter, wide eyes turning back to the sound giving the soldier in front of her the opening he needed to strike.

But I’m faster.

In but a moment his body is added to the ones already laying about, my wyvern never failing me as it struck him swiftly with his claws while also flying close enough to allow me to grab Byleth and pull her up with me.

“Wha-“

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, friend.”

I cut her short, holding her tight against my chest as I fly us to a safer place.

She’s filthy from dirt, blood and mud from the battle, but I don’t care.

The tightness on my chest seems to slowly soothe as I hug her closer and closer, burying my face on her hair and taking in her scent. Because under all the battle remnants, she still smells unmistakably like Byleth.

From up close I can see all the cuts and wounds she has, but before I can even catch my breath to say something clever, her trembling hands lay on my chest, her head slowly lifting to look at me.

She doesn’t look like a master strategist. She doesn’t look like the leader of a free nation. She doesn’t look like my old Teach.

“Claude… You came back.”

Her eyes glisten with tears I had only seen her shed a handful of times, and the small smile that tugs at her soft and plump lips, stretching a thin cut she seems to have gotten during this fight, could light up a whole world.

She looks like a Goddess. My Goddess.

“I told you I would.”

“Took you long enough.”

“What, did you miss me that much?”

I can’t help but chuckle as she glares at me, ready to snap back. I just don’t give her the chance to do it, leaning in to steal a swift kiss from her.

“We’re in a battlefield, what are you-”

“I missed you. I love you.” I want to do so much more than kiss you. “And it’s about damn time we see the dawn of our new world together. So, what do you say?”

I ask despite my true wish to whisk her away and never let anything hurt her again, handing her back her sword, just as we overfly a small group of enemies trying to escape our armies.

With renewed determination in her eyes, she nods once, grabbing the hilt of her sword and turning around to have enough room to freely yield it as we, together, cut down the final strings holding back the dawn of our new world.

“And Claude…” She turns to look at me over her shoulder. “I love you too.”

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cypherbyte · 4 years

Text

“Don't poke the bear”

@moan-jeutas

[ Seattle Carrie the Musical ]

words - 1314

Warning for blood and violence

People can snap at any time. It could be after decades of drawn-out suffering and life long pain or just a minor tease that really meant no harm. For Carrie White, it managed to be both at the same time. Everything started fine at first, well as ‘fine’ as any Carrie’s days could possibly be. The average amount of teasing, name-calling, and tripping in the halls. Having to deal with these things daily was already damaging to her psyche, having to go home after all of it just to see her mother made it a million times worse for the poor girl. At least at school, she could retaliate, well retaliate as much as she could with her weak, constantly cracking voice. It would mostly just get her beat up afterward though.

This is what prompted Miss Gardner, the lonely girl’s favorite teacher, to then also become her favorite coach. Miss Gardner had seen bruises and small scratches on the girl’s arm during class, on the rare occasions that the girl took off her bright lobster colored jacket, and gotten concerned but didn’t think much of it at first. But after lunch one afternoon, the teacher quickly took an interest in her favorite student’s wellbeing. The scrawny girl ran into her office and slammed the door behind her, the spotted backpack Carrie held was thrown to the ground as she began to angrily sob. The blonde would have yelled at any other student, but seeing Carrie in a state like this was abnormal, even frightening to an extent. After a few minutes of attempting to calm the girl down, the blonde had finally managed to get an explanation out of Carrie. She raged on about how a group of football players shoved her into one of the trees outside of the school and when she tried to fight back they just picked her up by her jacket and threw her a good couple of feet to ‘teach her a lesson’. This information almost sent Miss Gardner herself into a rage much like Carrie’s own but she managed to compose herself. She told Carrie to meet her out in the teacher parking lot after school and to tell her mother that she was staying after school for extra help. That evening, Carrie was in the local town gym, learning Mixed Martial Arts from her favorite teacher. The Pair went to that gym and practiced for three months, every Tuesday and Thursday after school. Carrie even began to gain visible muscles, though no one could see them since she was always wearing things that covered her arms and legs. The short girl was becoming so skilled she could take on larger male opponents at the gym and have a 75% chance of winning. Her fists could fly through the air and break noses, her kicks could sweep any challenger off their feet in an instant. Carrie was just waiting for the day she could use her mother-figure gave her. The day where she could finally get payback for all the bruises.

The day was finally here, they finally set her off, they gave her the chance to snap. The boy saw her, sitting under the same tree eating her lunch, just like all those months ago. Well, there were a few differences, for starters this boy was alone but what made things even better, he was on the school’s wrestling team. He walked up to her like he owned the damn place, he was on the bigger side, curly ginger hair, and was probably two whole heads above Carrie. The red-head laughed obnoxiously, “Hey ‘Scary White’! Have you spoken to God lately? Or is he too busy damning us all to Hell like you always say?”, Carrie just sat silently, keeping her eyes on the tray of food in her lap. The boy let out a low growl of annoyance as she looked up to give him an unreadable stare, by this time she had finally remembered the kid’s name, Henry, or at least something like that, she didn’t care enough about him to remember accurately. “Hey, Freak! Did you hear me?!”, Henry reached down to wrap his meaty fingers around the collar of the flannel under her jacket, everything was going as planned. The larger boy pulled her up to his eye level, giving her a glare, before he could open his mouth to throw another insult or question, a small fist made contact with the bridge of his nose. Henry staggered back both in shock and pain, but was quick to regain his footing. Carrie landed flat on her feet, already beginning to move her body into a defensive stance, waiting for his next move. “YOU LITTLE BITCH!”, the fiery-haired teen charged forwards, but instead of ramming into his smaller target, he rammed headfirst into the oak tree that Carrie was once standing in front of. Carrie had swiftly moved to the left of the tree before Henry could slam into her, leaving her about six feet away and already ready for her next move. The impact of the tree against his skull left the wrestler dazed and the small martial artist used this as the perfect opportunity to strike. She quickly ran over to his hunched over form and grabbed onto his shirt collar just like he had done with her but instead pulled him back so she could have a clear view of his face and upper torso. Carrie raised her forearm sharply and cut down on the boy’s jaw, then raised her fist up at almost a right-angle and snapped it down on his nose, both attacks gave out a sickening crack. The noise was almost euphoric, the sound was like if someone took a steel mallet to a pile of thin wooden sheets. The feeling of doing it felt even better. She could feel the shattering of this bones once she made impact, it was sort of like clenching a handful of thin wooden twigs, but even better. Both the sounds and feelings sent a shiver up her spine, but it was the good kind, it made her feel powerful. It made her feel like she was finally in control. Carrie had waited so long for a feeling like this, the feeling was like something she had never felt, hell it didn’t even just feel like happiness or even accomplishment. Finally getting what she deserved, yes, that was the feeling.

After a few drawn-out seconds, Carrie dropped the boy, the strike against his jaw must have been so painful it knocked him unconscious. She just stared at her work for a moment. Henry’s face was bloody and already starting to bruise, most of the blood was pouring out of his nose, but some of the dark liquid had began pooling out of his agape mouth. The color looked pretty, other times when she saw blood she hated it, but this was different. This was like liquid gold, it was proof that she had finally won. Proof that she wasn’t just Scary White, that was wasn’t just some frail pitiful freak. It was proof was she had the strength to fight back, and wasn’t afraid to use it. The disheveled girl picked up her backpack and food tray, throwing into a nearby garbage can as she passed. She walked to the entrance to the school, knowing the bell for her sixth period was going to ring any moment. She walked differently though, every other time she made her way around the school it was nothing more and a speedy shuffle with her eyes on the ground and back hunched. This time her head was held high, she took slow calculated, but confidant strides, and her shoulders were held back, making her look a good few inches taller. She radiated an aura that spoke, ‘Don’t poke the bear’.

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

oh look I finally did a Carrie fic after like a few weeks... whoopsies..?

but I actually like this so frick y’all

#Carrie #carrie white #carrie seattle #carrie the musical #carrie fanfic #carrie fanfiction #slasher #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #tw: blood #tw: violence #mini fic #miss gardener #rita desjardin #miss dejardin

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afewofmyfavoritethings9 · 4 years

Text

Final Fantasy 7 Remake: A Fresh Take On An Old Classic

In recent years there's been a bit of an over correction when it comes to FF7's reputation, it may not be the best game ever made in my and many others eyes but it's for damn sure one of the best JRPGs out there. So when FF7 Remake was announced I was skeptical to say the least when it came to Square trying to strike gold twice, especially given the state of modern day Square. Well I've sat down and beat the game and I can confidently say that, for the most part, it's a fantastic remake that compliments the original game in almost every way. For those who don't know, FF7R re-imagines the broad strokes of around the first third of the first disc of the original game (the original having been split on to three separate discs), with certain changes that I won't spoil here. Honestly seeing that first intro cutscene beautiful recreated with modern graphics sunk me right back into my 10 year old body, feeling that same sense of awe and wonder I felt all those years ago. The game focuses on the beginning Midgar portion of the story which originally ran 5-6hrs but has now been stretched into a full 40hr experience, but this extra time spent in Midgar isn't put to waste. You really feel for the many of the side characters and the citizens of Midgar in a way that wasn't really possible in the original opening few hours of the original game. Every area has been reconstructed and improved from the original game. There's nothing quite like entering an area of the game that I remember from my childhood and seeing is meticulously recreated down to the finest details. The game also introduces side-quests that help you gain extra EXP and items as wells as help you understand the everyday lives and plights of the people living in the slum areas of the city.

Square did a better job than I could have hoped for re-imagining the game. The gameplay is tight, responsive and satisfying with a combat system that's clearly a welcome update and refinement of the FF15 battle system. The music has been beautifully re-orchestrated with some absolutely fantastic new arrangements and compositions. The original composer and soul of the FF series himself, Nobuo Uematsu, even composed a whole new theme for the game. And the visuals really bring to light the absolute beauty of the world around you as well as the all of the original casts fantastic new redesigns. One aspect I didn't see coming though was the surprisingly well written script which updates the dialogue of the original game in some fantastic ways that I don't want to spoil here. Now while the games does many and I mean MANY things well, there's one aspect of the game that will no doubt divide old school fans which the revealed in the end game. I'd like to talk a about it here but I'll put up a spoiler warning for anyone who doesn't want to be spoiled.

SPOILERS!!!

One new element of the the game that peaked many fans interest before the game came out were these phantom like creatures called Whispers. As we play through the game it is revealed that these creatures are arbiters of fate, ensuring that nothing and strays from their predetermined destiny. This opens ups some rather interesting places this for this game to go in the future but unfortunately, aside from the potential of a separate timeline and characters like Zack and Biggs being alive, I feel this theme of density just muddies the waters of the original stories message. It's no secret that I don't consider Square's golden boy Tetsuya Nomura, director of FF7R, to be a very competent writer or director outside of a few exceptions and it feels as though these Whispers and interjections about destiny are his doing. But I don't want to put all the blame on him, Kazushige Nojima(who was one of the writers of the original FF7) also seems to lean on this theme of destiny in most of his stories as well. These same themes can seen in other games they've worked on, most notably in the Kingdom Hearts series for Nomura and FF13 and FF15 for Nojima. This obsession with having a concept as ambiguous as density be the crux behind every event in the story completely takes away from the agency of all the characters and dilutes the critical explorations into capitalism, classism, and environmentalism that the original game emphasized. Destiny, in the case of the FF7 story, just seems like a lazy and unnecessary cop out way to simply write in anything they want without actually giving a proper reason for it being there within the existing themes of the original story. Just simply write it off as "destiny".

SPOILERS OVER!!!

While the original game still holds the number one spot in my heart, FF7R is a fantastic experience that everyone should check out. While I wouldn't call it a replacement for the original (primarily because this in reality only covers about 10% of the original games story while also taking major liberties with said story) it's a wonderful companion piece that I definitely see myself playing for a longtime to come and I can’t wait to see where thing go from here.

#final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy 7 #FF7 #ff7 remake #square enix

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scrumptiousalpacadeer · 4 years

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Paul Thomas Anderson’s THE MASTER and what it may teach us about mind-control vs freedom Post-Covid

So last night I watched The Master. It was a most pleasing way to spend a Saturday evening; alone, with two cats draped on the sofa and windowsill respectively, and it rounded off a pretty pedestrian Saturday mostly spent mowing and raking the lawn and scattering grass seed whilst *Boo finished reading Jacqueline Wilson’s Rose Rivers whilst occasionally appearing at the back door to yell; ‘mama, you’re driving me nuts with your gardening!’ Somehow I’d been looking forward to scattering my grass seed all week - the promise of moist new green growth on our dusty brown patches. Thing is - and there is a lesson in here somewhere - the grass seed box said it covered 10m square - I guess I got a bit carried away and basically I ran out after one corner. So one corner of my lawn will look like Eden, and the rest will continue to look like some deserted Sicilian scrubland... That’s life, baby, I guess.

So anyway, The Master....dear God. There are many ways I could go with this...Firstly undiluted, scope, wonder, singular sensitivity, impossible mastery, extreme importance and sheer exalting, agonising beauty of Paul Thomas Anderson’s films is the subject of another post. (I’m still on a high from the explosive visceral experience of watching Daniel Day Lewis in There Will Be Blood and that was, what, 5 years ago? 10 years ago?) Then The Master came out in 2012 and P.T.A. raised his game even more.

I could, and will another time, talk about the astonishing gift Joaquin Phoenix afforded the world with his embodiment of his character, Freddie Quell. (I say ‘embodiment’; ‘performance’ always strikes me as an incorrect way of describing an actors full immersion in an imagined character’s inner life.) To my mind, Freddie is one of the most affecting, heart-breaking, occasionally funny and downright truthful portrayals of a ‘broken’ man; an exiled, psychologically damaged, wild and lonely spirit who roams the world, desperate for love and acceptance, clearly one of the great ‘un-belonging’ of the post-war world in America. In one the open scenes he simulates fucking an over-sized figure of woman carved in sand on a hot beach, for the amusement of his army pals. In the final scene of the film, after his long long incredible journey , we see him caressing this sand woman again, resting his next to a large sandy breast. Oh poor dear Freddy Quell; my tears ran with him last night; knowing myself in this second viewing of the film, to be so like him. Perhaps one day I will be able to shake Joaquin Phoenix’s hand and say ‘thankyou so much for Freddie.....’ I often feel like that with actors work that resonates through the bones.

I could also talk about how Philip Seymour Hoffman was possibly the greatest screen actor of his time, and how crazy it was that the world didn’t seem to mourn his tragic early death. Was it perhaps because he died of an accidental heroine overdose? - and this, well, didn’t sit very well with Hollywood. His embodiment here of Lancaster Dodd, charismatic leader of philosophical cult movement The Cause, is breath-taking. But then all his performances were breath-taking. I had a dream about him once (whole other post entitled CELEBRITY DREAMS coming your way); we were kind of friends even though I knew he was dead and his face kept appearing on billboards all over London. If, when; I meet him in the spirit world, I’d like to shake his hand and thank him for Lancaster Dodd and Brandt in The Big Lebowski, and Truman Capote, and also for providing me with one of the most pivotal theatre experiences of my life. August 2001, Edinburgh Festival, I witnessed his production of Jesus Hopped The A Train at The Gilded Balloon; this was running gold theatre. Within half a second of the play ending the entire full house erupted to it’s feet like we’d all been tasered from the floor. Thank you Philip...you gave me faith then that theatre is important; that art comes from dark places and revives...

I could talk about the astonishing crashing score composed by Radiohead’s guitarist Jonny Greenwood.

I could also talk about Amy Adam’s terrifying portrayal of Lancaster’s icy wife Peggy and her utterly brilliant final put-down to Freddie: “you either do this for a billion years, or not at all...” (she’s referencing Freddie’s abandonment of the cult she’s set up with her husband, but this line, I feel, could apply to motherhood...….)

* * * * * * * * * *

It usually takes me two viewings for a films deeper meaning to seep in, and last night I was struck by what I see as the heart of the film. The core of the film is relationship between Freddie Quell and Lancaster Dodd; it’s an uncompromising study of male vulnerability and the cosmic search for ‘a father figure’... On a bigger scale, its about how those in positions of assumed power and influence ( Dodd) rely on the adoration and worship of those whom society deem ‘worthless’ (Quell). It’s about the fragility and corruption of a society whereby a man promises freedom and empowerment to his followers (Dodd devises a system of ‘processing’ whereby he takes initiates back to past traumas through a curious mixture of interrogation and hypnosis and ‘cures’ them; he posits that his vision can cure leukaemia and will bring about world peace) and how those ‘disadvantaged’, the great ‘unloved’ can be absorbed into such an attractive lifestyle. In one painful scene, Freddie is taken to a party at a mansion, filled with monied people and luxurious things. Freddie is dressed smartly for the occasion; but is sweating with nerves and orders a scotch at the earliest opportunity, before hiding away in a side room and stealing an ornament. It took me back to my own exile, when, at the age of 17 I landed at Brentwood Boys School in Essex, and cut off from my parents, shattered from my sister’s suicide and a lifetime of confusion, I nonetheless attended many a glorious party; a perfect size 10 and top of the class, I knew how to say all the right things. But, like Freddie, I knew I didn’t and wouldn’t ever fit it. Like him, I would often sneak off to the side rooms, get off my head drunk to hide my shame and hopeless, and cause some fight..

In the end, despite himself, Freddie starts to see through Lancaster’s bullshit and returns to his life on the road. Though The Cause had given him a home, suits and ties, friendship, respect and a certain ‘standing’ that he could only have dreamed of, as he confesses to Peggy at the end, before returning to his own brand of personal lonely freedom; ‘it’s just not how I look’.

* * * * * * *

“Don’t you know, They’re talking about a revolution it sounds like a whisper Don’t you know you’d better run run run run run run run run.....” Tracey Chapman

Talkin’ About A Revolution

What I find heartening and deeply exciting about these early post-Covid times, as the first chinks of sunlight pour in through windows that have separated us from friends, lovers, fellow man for so long, is that people are choosing freedom. In small ways, perhaps, but I get the overall sense that for many people, fear has had its day. As my dear friend said over tea the other day; ‘people are thinking fuck this, fuck it, we wanna fuck’....well, exactly.

It was this dear friend I met up with in her wood a few weeks ago; we hugged each other day, and it was such a joyous relief to see her I told her that if I got the virus and killed me, oh fuck it, it would be worth it, just to sit next to her by a river on a sunny day...

I’ve had two other conversations lately to support my little theory; a particularly cheerful friend of mine turned up with her daughter unannounced on my doorstep couple of weeks back - they had a bag of clothes; would Boo like them? Initially we did the ‘2 m’ thing, paying homage to THE RULES as dictated by the blessed government of this land; I hovered on the threshold of my kitchen - she stood outside by the flower-pots. Then I broke the rules; ‘look, do you wanna come in?’ - That was it. The ice was broken - and she stood, blond, beaming and glorious with her big sunglasses on, in my little kitchen - along with her daughter and mine, and I could literally have feasted forever on the sheer joyous fleshiness of having three other living homo sapiens near me. That sunny day in early June, two women in a small village in Sussex chose freedom. ‘I’ve just had enough of all this virus stuff’ she said ‘I’m even dreaming about it! I’ve just had enough’.

Then last week a friend came over with her three glorious girl children and told me how her youngest, a endlessly sweet six yr old, had ‘hidden behind a tree with her friend so that they could have a hug’. Lets think about that for a moment; six years olds hiding behind trees to have a hug. Its pretty damn sad. And weird. This friend had been on full on paranoid lockdown due to one of the children’s potential serious health issues - but she’d reached breaking point. ‘I’ve had enough’ she said. And that day her girls and my daughter raced up and down the stairs and around the garden in glorious flagrance of any state prescribed social distancing rules.

* * * * * * * * * * *

In the end, Freddie breaks free from his master’s and The Cause’s control and continues - we assume - his lonely drift around the world. In their final agonising meeting, Lancaster reveals the smashed ungenerous ego of a despot thwarted by his adoring lover: ‘if I meet you in a future life I will show you no mercy, you will be my sworn enemy’. Freddie, emaciated, tearful and ever desperate to belong, asks Lancaster to reveal to him how and where they’d met in a previous life... He knows it’s bullshit, in the way I knew my father was incapable of loving me, but when you’ve got a Krakatoa sized hole in your heart, you just can’t stop hoping somehow...pledging allegiance to a resplendent asshole is somehow better than our greatest fear; the abyss of loneliness and isolation. Lets face it; freedom is pretty terrifying after such a long stretch of captivity.

That’s the thing in these Covid times; we always have a choice. We have a choice now, whether to be continue to be afraid or whether to choose freedom. Whether to cut loose and go racing into the desert on a motorbike back to his first love, like Freddie does, following his own destiny, not succumbing to control forces that on the surface entice him into a richer more glamorous life.

And I’m not talking about being an complete idiot and denying there’s a serious virus still on the loose, or hugging scared people in the street to prove a point, and I’m not denying that many people are extremely vulnerable - I’m talking about something entirely different; that deep inner decision that calls in all of us - whether to choose the uncharted waters of freedom, or rest in an all-too familiar fear zone.

To conclude, my dear friend Matilda sent me this book ‘Big Magic - Creative Living By Fear’ by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat Pray Love (I’ve just watched the film its rather good I think...) Anyway, there’s this great chapter called Fear Is Boring which rang through me, growing up as I did drenched in the anxiety of a Munchausen Syndrome-by-proxy mother (WHOLE other post...) - but here’s what she says about the time, age fifteen, she ‘wised up’ to fear and chose another way:

“I noticed that my fear never changed, never delighted, never offered a surprise twist or an unexpected ending. My fear was a song with only one note - only one word, actually - and that word was “STOP!”

Dear reader, I’m shitting myself with the best of them, but I’ve had enough of fear. I’m not stopping. I’m going. What do you say?..... xxxx

Big love from Christine

#paul thomas anderson #joaquin phoenix #philip seymour hoffman #elizabeth gilbert #fear #freedom #post covid freedom #exile #post traumatic growth #jonny greenwood #cult #male ego #filmmkrs #film art #grass seed #social distancing #social isolation #amy adams #american films

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anubislover · 5 years

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Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 6: Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

“The Grand Ballroom” was certainly an apt description. The marble dancefloor was inlaid with veins of gold and sparkling quartz, its flat surface so polished it hurt to look at. Plush, wine red carpet lined the perimeter, perfectly matching the cushions of elaborately carved loveseats and couches. Six-foot tall, solid gold candelabras were scattered throughout the room, the flickering flames dancing as gracefully as the guests. Enormous, stained-glass windows depicting hedonistic scenes stretched from floor to ceiling, the colored glass obscuring the view of the outside world. Burgundy velvet drapes trimmed in gold were artfully hung throughout the room, their heavy material casting deep shadows in private nooks perfect for illicit rendezvous.

To the side was a massive buffet, the tables straining under trays of assorted meats, exotic fruits, decadent pastries, tartlets, brie, beef wellingtons, deviled eggs, and more. A literal fountain of wine stood at the center of the smorgasbord, cherubs pouring the intoxicating liquid out of decanters into the guests’ crystal glasses.

The ceiling was the most impressive aspect, though. Above the crowd hung eight massive, golden chandeliers in the shape of octopi, each winding tentacle clutching a light the size of a human head. Multi-faceted crystals dripped off their bulbous bodies like drops of water, making it appear they’d just emerged from the sea and casting shards of light and prismatic rainbows dancing about the walls and floor.

Not to be outdone, the guests that milled about wore their finest costumes, with ballgowns, doublets, tailcoats, hats, capes, masks, and jewelry made from silks, satins, chiffon, precious gems, and exotic furs and feathers. Maids clad in short, tight, copper uniforms wove through the crowd, offering drinks, hors d’oeuvres, and petit fours. A small orchestra was set up in the far corner of the room, filling the air with their slow, elegant music.

It was exactly the kind of party that had Nami salivating. Rich men with thick wallets and wealthy women wearing expensive jewelry were laid out more temptingly than the food.

Still, the décor did bring up a few questions. “If the Baron hates seafood so much, why all the octopi?” she asked curiously, studying the ceiling.

Behind the mask, Law looked thoughtful. “I’d assume it’s a vanity thing; according to my intel, he was touted as ‘The Golden Octopus’ during his time in the Navy.”

“Why?”

“Probably a reference to the number of organizations he was involved in, though there were also rumors about him having an octopus-related Devil Fruit. That seems unlikely, though.”

“What makes you say that?”

“No Devil Fruit user would keep his important files in a Seastone safe. Just touching the damn thing would drain his energy. Besides, don’t you think the World Government would have made that common knowledge to strike fear into pirates? They’ve never exactly been shy about bragging about their officers’ powers.”

Nervously checking her cat mask to ensure it was tightly secured, she said lowly, “You’d better be right; if it turns out he can turn into an octopus or something I’m charging you for shitty intel.”

Casually, the pair meandered through the crowd, giving polite greetings and sizing up potential prey. The Cat Thief had already picked out a few marks; men who’d cast her salacious leers, despite her being on another’s arm. They’d be easily distracted by her cleavage and flattery and wouldn’t even notice their pockets getting progressively lighter. Even better, Law’s presence would also give her the ideal excuse to turn down their inevitable, unwanted advances. Nothing fended off creeps like a jealous boyfriend, after all, and in high society, you never wanted to risk causing a scene. She’d just have to make sure he knew when to step in.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Law murmured in her ear, “I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight, so if you need me, adjust your hairpins and I’ll come to your rescue.”

“‘Rescue’ is a strong word, but I appreciate it,” she responded, tone dripping with false affection as she straightened his lapels, acting as the ever-attentive beau. “Tell me, Adrian, are you the type to tolerate other men flirting with your girlfriend?”

“Of course not. What’s mine is mine, and men challenge that claim at their own peril.” His reply was smooth as polished obsidian, one hand possessively resting on her waist as he steered them over to the side of the dance floor. The thick leather of the black glove shielded her from the heat of his palm, but the weight and press of his fingers into her delicate flesh made up for it.

Teasingly, she tapped the tip of his beak. “That doesn’t sound very doctor-like. Isn’t there a Hippocratic Oath you’re supposed to be following?”

“There are exceptions to every rule.” Long fingers gently lifted her chin so he could gaze deeply into her eyes. “There’s no oath I wouldn’t break to keep my woman at my side.”

Damn, that line should not be so hot, she thought, the faint blush painting her cheeks visible just beneath the bottom of her mask. It was surprising how easily Law managed to turn on the charm and hide the far creepier meaning of his words. If she were an average woman with no knowledge of his criminal activities or identity as one of the most feared up-and-coming pirates of the current generation, she might swoon a little bit.

Nami really needed more practice dealing with handsome men flirting with her. She was far too used to friendly, harmless perverts like Brook and Sanji, or disgusting lechers like Absalom. Besides being physically attractive, Law’s flirtations were harder to brush off because she completely believed him when he said he was pickier about his women than the rest of his crew. Perhaps that was why he got her so flustered; he didn’t wear his desires on his sleeve, so his attention felt more…focused, like sunlight through a magnifying glass, burning away her defenses.

“And what about you?” he coaxed, lifting her hand to delicately press the tips of her fingers to his lips as his eyes bore into hers. Electric shocks tingled up her hand as heat coiled within her belly. It was way too easy to imagine him giving her that look in a dark bedroom as he slowly stripped off her clothes. “Are you the type to play with a man’s heart? The type to stray? Or are you just so naturally charming you don’t realize the kind of thoughts you put in men’s minds?”

It took her a moment to realize he was asking for the sake of the cover; to establish his reaction when he barged in on her flirtations with other men.

His interest and sensual actions were solely for the sake of the cover. For business, not pleasure. None of it was real, and she grasped that fact like a lifeline. It was so much easier to remain in control if she remembered that it wasn’t Law that was flirting with her, but Dr. Goodheart Adrian, Chaton Bellemere’s surgeon lover. Hell, he was wearing a mask—she could easily pretend that he wasn’t her dangerously attractive temporary captain, but another mark she could tease and deceive with no consequences.

Lips quirking in a saucy, mischievous grin, she leaned in close, breath ghosting across his throat as she replied, “I’d never cheat, but I am the kind of woman who likes to see if she can get her boyfriend jealous. There’s something so arousing about seeing such a normally composed doctor so worked up over little old me.”

Her response made Law pause, blinking owlishly in surprise before his grip on her hand tightened ever-so-slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “How jealous do you want?” he rasped, giving the pad of her middle finger a light nip. “I’m happy to break a few jaws before I carry you off.”

A tiny hiss of pleasure escaped between her teeth before she regained control. Pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his sharp jaw, just below his ear, she murmured, “I’m sure these men don’t want any trouble; just come up with an excuse to lead me away. A little decorum goes a long way, after all.”

She’d planned on flouncing away and getting to work mingling and stealing, but her whole body froze as she caught a familiar scent.

Tobacco smoke, thick and sweet wafted up her nose, and as her heart stuttered in her chest, Nami slowly turned her head to the side, following the grey trail to a large, imposing figure glowering at the crowd as if he’d like to arrest half the people in the room. His formal suit was as white as his hair, his forest green tie and matching domino mask the only pop of color. With the long scar down his face and signature cigar, the mask did nothing to hide his identity.

“What the hell is he doing here?” she squeaked, panicked and already trying to figure out the best way to escape.

“Hina, what the fuck am I doing here?!” Smoker growled, not bothering to keep his voice down.

Beside him, a beautiful woman with long, sakura pink hair and a cigarette dangling from her full, red lips sighed. She was dressed in a stunning, form-fitting silver gown embroidered with fluttering blackbirds, the silk flowing down her figure like mercury. Her mask, also silver but with a black feathered plume, hung absently from her fingers. “Because you owe me. After all the strings I’ve pulled over the years to keep you from getting demoted back down to Chore Boy, this is the least you can do.”

“Look, Hina, I know I owe you, but you could have asked me to do your paperwork for a month or something. Fancy crap with stuffed shirts isn’t my thing, especially when it means playing nice with that bastard. Why couldn’t you take someone Fullbody or Django? They’d be happy to shower you with attention and ask you to waltz and that other gentlemanly shit.”

Shoulders tense as she carefully observed the crowd, she stated, “Precisely because this isn’t your thing. I need you to stand next to me looking grumpy and miserable to keep stupid ass-kissers and perverted old octopi from asking me to dance. Hina hates that old creep.”

Though his teeth ground against his cigar, the corner of his mouth lifted into the barest hint of a smile. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess I am the perfect man for the job.”

“Did you know they were going to be here?” Nami asked under her breath, pressing close to her partner. Smoker was only about fifteen feet away, but the din of the crowd and orchestral music helped mask her voice. Her every instinct screamed for her to run, but she knew any sudden movement around the pirate hunter would capture his undivided attention, like a rabbit trying to escape a wolf. Inwardly, she seethed; if Uni had managed to modify the guest list, surely he would have known a certain Marine was coming, right? Why didn’t anyone warn her? Everybody knew there was nothing Smoker would like better than to capture and imprison the Straw Hats.

Her anger ebbed slightly as Law pulled her a bit closer, doing his best to shield her with his body. Though his poker face was still in place, she could feel the tension coiled in his muscles. “I knew Black Cage was invited, but her RSVP was a ‘no.’ I’d assumed she was cleaning up the mess of the war or helping track down the prisoners Mugiwara released from Impel Down. White Chase was definitely not on the guest list.”

“What do we do?”

“Keep calm. It’s a big party, and it shouldn’t be too hard to avoid them. Even if they notice us, our disguises should allay suspicion, and there’s no way they’d expect the two of us together.”

He was right; even if they did somehow recognize Law, they’d never expect the navigator of a rival crew on his arm, meaning she might be able to make a break for it. She wasn’t too worried about his safety; he was a strong fighter and could teleport himself to the other side of the island in a heartbeat. She was the one who would be screwed if she caught a Marine’s eye.

Surreptitiously, Nami peeked around Law’s chest to watch the pair, hoping for some sign they’d move on to another part of the ballroom, but soon found herself staring at the beautiful captain. Bad as her experiences with the World Government were, she couldn’t help but admire a strong Marine woman. And though the hairstyle was different, the color and cigarette briefly brought visions of her adoptive mother, and she wondered if Hina had heard of Bellemere. There weren’t too many female officers in the Marines; had she been renowned enough for someone like Hina to look up to? Or was her decision to give up military life to raise two orphaned girls treated as a disgrace? The Navy hadn’t offered any financial assistance or seemed to care when she’d been murdered by pirates, so the latter seemed more likely.

Of course, a trained soldier would sense she was being watched, and Hina inclined her head towards the incognito couple. “You’ve been staring at me. Why?” she asked suspiciously, taking a long drag of her cigarette as her dark eyes narrowed.

Luckily, years of swindling, being a member of Arlong’s crew, and generally always needing to get herself out of trouble had made Nami a pretty good actress, even under pressure. “I was just admiring your dress. It’s absolutely gorgeous!” she gushed, making her voice as airheaded and overexcited as she could under the Marine’s scrutiny. “Wherever did you get it?”

Apparently, her ruse worked, as she gave a small but pleased smile. “Thank you. There’s a shop in Alabasta that carries beautiful silks. I stumbled across it while on a mission and decided to treat myself. When I learned I’d be attending this…party, a dressmaker on Sabaody made them into a custom gown for me.”

“Alabasta! How exotic! Oh, darling, can we go there on our next holiday?” she asked, looking up at Law, wide brown eyes begging him to play along. “I simply must have a dress like that!”

Catching on, the doctor once more pulled her close, dropping a kiss to her hair. “If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. Nothing’s too good for you, sweetheart.”

She gave him a dazzling grin, wrapping her arms around his waist in an enthusiastic hug. “Really?! Oh, thank you, cuddle bear!”

Internally, Nami cheered in victory as his jaw tightened and blue tint came to his cheeks. She might not get to kick his ass, but she could still make his night hell in all the little ways. “You’re…welcome,” he ground out.

“Hina-chan!” a loud, overly cheerful voice called out from the crowd, and an older, obese man strode over. His tuxedo was gold silk and embroidered with scarlet octopi, a long, crimson cape trailing behind him. His grey hair was thin, braided into eight little rattails, and slicked back with so much oil it gleamed like grease on the water. A gold octopus mask hung from his neck, the tentacles a writhing mass and encrusted with rubies for suckers. “How marvelous! You were able to make it after all!”

Both Marines noticeably stiffened at his approach. “Well, after your call, my superiors were convinced that attending your party was more important than attending to my duties,” she said, tone so frosty it made Drum Island seem like a tropical paradise.

“Oh, don’t be that way, Hina-chan,” Baron Harpin chuckled, giving her an appreciative leer. The way the captain tensed further made it clear the feeling wasn’t mutual. “Always so serious, even back when you were a trainee. Really, you should be grateful I pushed so hard to get you a night off—it pains me to think of such a beautiful flower wilting on the battlefield. I swear I’ll never forgive Sengoku for denying my request to have you as my personal secretary.”

“Hina’s too damn good a soldier to waste on some pathetic desk job,” Smoker’s deep, rough voice cut in, muscular arms crossed tightly over his massive chest. “And she ain’t wilting—she thrives out there.”

The Baron regarded him with undisguised disdain. “I don’t recall inviting you.”

“I’m Hina’s plus-one, or did you not notice that on the RSVP? Pretty sloppy for the head of Navy Intelligence. Sorry—ex-head of Navy Intelligence.”

The pirate hunter’s biting comment struck a nerve, as disregard turned into outright hatred. “Careful, Smoker; I may be retired, but I’ve still got plenty of pull with the Admirals, plus several other organizations. One word from me and your career is over.”

A threatening step forward was all Smoker was able to take before Hina held him back. “He’s not worth it,” she murmured before insistently leading him away.

“Just one moment, Hina-chan,” their host sing-songed. When the woman in question acknowledged him over her shoulder, he gave a haughty grin. “I know I permitted you a plus-one, but that’s because I’d assumed you’d bring along someone with more…class. I surround myself with only the finest things, after all. I’m rather inclined to have him escorted out for the sake of my invited guests; trash like him tends to ruin the ambiance.”

Turning fully towards him, though still keeping a restraining hand on Smoker’s bicep, she stated, “What do you want?”

His returning leer was as greasy as his hair. “A smile. Surely such a rare and radiant thing will counteract your…date’s foul appearance.”

“Oh, that fuckin—” Smoker growled, but Hina’s silent glare stopped him. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, the Marine captain plastered on a bland, completely hollow smile for their former superior before dragging her old friend out to the gardens to smoke in peace.

“Be sure to save me a dance, Hina-chan!” he called after them, entirely too gleeful to have the last word. As he beamed at his guests, his black, watery eyes fell on Nami, and she swore she could feel his gaze creep over her like a writhing mass of tentacles.

Not wanting to hang around lest Harpin decided to come over and introduce himself, she gave Law’s elbow a slight tug, and he willingly let her lead him away towards one of the little alcoves. “Well, he seems…yeah, he’s a total creep.”

“I feel like I need a chemical shower just being in his presence,” Law conferred lowly, grabbing them both a glass of champagne before ducking behind the curtains. The drapes mostly hid them from view, but he strategically positioned himself so his shoulder blocked the slight gap in the heavy velvet, yet still allowed him to notice anyone approaching. “Pity Black Cage didn’t deck him in the jaw.”

“I was hoping Smoker would make him eat his own mask.” She swiftly changed the subject, unwilling to risk one of their fellow guests overhearing them badmouth their host. “I was not expecting those two. I mean, not just here—do you think they’re dating?”

Law rubbed his chin in consideration. “I hope not. Any progeny they might produce would be an absolute nightmare to pirates the world over. The tobacco industry would be thrilled, though.”

Unbidden, a giggle escaped her as an image of a tiny Marine with Smoker’s scowl and Hina’s pink hair popped into her head, an oversized cigar comically protruding from the child’s mouth.

“Of course, that’s assuming they don’t both die of lung cancer before then,” he added absently, sipping his drink. Grey eyes swept the room over his shoulder, noting that most of the guests had the tact to look away from the alcoves, especially those occupied by couples engaged in private moments. A long arm wrapped around Nami’s tiny waist, pulling the gorgeous woman against his hip so he could murmur in her ear, “But enough about that. What else should I know about my lovely Bellemere? How did we meet?”

Playing along, she ran the tips of her fingers along his chest beneath his jacket. They should have discussed this earlier, but in the craziness of the mission prep, it had fallen by the wayside. “At an auction, of course,” she supplied easily. “There was a wonderful mermaid piece that I had taken an interest in.”

A low chuckle caressed her as he wound a lock of purple hair around his finger. The easiest lies to keep up were ones based on truth, and there was no hiding his amusement at how she’d spun the debacle at Sabaody. “Of course. You and your companions got separated, and I graciously offered to keep you company until you could be reunited. Not long after, I performed life-saving surgery on your friend, and you’ve been at my side ever since.”

His arrogant tone made her roll her eyes. “Does Dr. Goodheart have any notable achievements to his name? I can’t imagine I’d be interested in a mediocre doctor, and you must have gotten your medical license somewhere.”

“Gotten a what now?”

When she stared at him in open horror, jaw dropping to the floor, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “I reattached a girl’s leg during my first year at Serenity Hospital in the North Blue,” he stated with a grin. “I was accepted into med school at fifteen and finished my surgical residency in only three years, and I also have several published papers on the effects of lead poisoning in children.”

“Really?” she replied, skepticism dripping from her lips.

“Of course. I could only learn so much through books and practicing on my friends, so I took on the identity of Goodheart Adrian so I could perfect my skills. ‘Trafalgar Law’ was a name I didn’t want gaining notoriety until I had the power and skills to protect myself.”

Well, that was quite the revelation. Frankly, she’d always figured he was only a doctor in the back-alley sense, since no hospital would be crazy enough to give him an actual license. But to have had a second identity for so long…

“Why?”

Grey eyes narrowed behind his mask at her inquiry. “Focus on questions relevant to our current situation, sweetheart.”

Cheeks puffed out indignantly, she let the topic drop, mostly out of irritation that he was right. Besides, she didn’t want to get to know the real Law, did she? “Fine. Where’d you take me on our first date? I’m sure a doctor’s salary could afford a fancy dinner, at least.”

As if a switch had been flipped, his charming persona returned. She knew it was all for show, especially given how the alcove didn’t completely hide them if someone really felt like being a voyeur, but did he have to rub those distracting little circles against her spine? “Since you have such expensive tastes, we went to the En L’iar Rose restaurant on Chardonnay Island. It’s known for its exquisite wines and decadent foods. You ordered the Pane Caldo while I had the stuffed mushrooms, and we shared a plate of assorted artisan cheeses, fruits, and chocolates for dessert.”

“That’s…an acceptable choice, I suppose.” A small, irrational coil of envy tightened in her belly. She wasn’t mad that Law had probably taken some other woman on such a romantic outing—just that no guy had put that much effort into a date with her.

His smirk was decidedly wicked. “You were such a tease with that fruit, eating it so seductively I nearly lost my mind. It took all my willpower not to pin you down and have my way with you.”

Memories of how she’d teased him with the mikans made her thighs clench, as she was suddenly all too aware that she’d been playing with fire that day. He’d definitely enjoyed her attentions and it so easily could have been turned on her. The tips of her ears turned pink as she instinctively tried to push him away, but his muscular arm kept her anchored to his side. “Too bad I’m a classy lady who doesn’t just give it up to a guy because he bought her a fancy dinner,” she snapped quietly.

“Of course you’re not; I wouldn’t have taken interest in you if you were,” he assured, tilting her face to the right and pressing a kiss to her masked cheek to hide her pissed expression. “I’m a man who likes a challenge—a woman easily seduced would bore me. And it’s intriguing how you’re so flirtatious one moment, yet easily flustered the next; makes me wonder what you’ll be like once I finally do get you in my bed.”

Face flushing to match her ears, Nami wasn’t sure if it was due to anger or embarrassment. She also wasn’t sure if he was speaking as Adrian or Law, and it was playing havoc with her sense of control. “Well, you’ll be wondering for quite some time—at the very least until you’ve gotten me a 300-carat diamond.”

A low chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he released her. “I think we’ve got enough of the basics down to pass as a new couple. Ready to get to work?”

It took a moment and a few deep breaths to regain her composure. Her heart was beating too quickly for her liking, and she desperately needed some distance. “Hell yes. Time is money, and right now, I don’t have nearly enough of either.”

XXX

Over an hour later, Nami was immensely pleased with her haul. She’d swiped the wallets of six dance partners, along with a gold wristwatch, emerald-studded cufflinks, and some rings. She’d been extremely careful not to steal more than one thing from each target, and plenty of her dance partners had left unscathed; after all, if every man she came in contact with found their wallets missing, she’d be the prime suspect.

Finding dance partners and wealthy marks alike had been easier than getting Sanji to bring her tea. Men had practically swarmed her the moment she’d broken away from Law, and though she could feel his piercing gaze on her back, he stayed out of her way so she could work her magic.

So far, he’d only had to step in once, when a man with a face like a horse and a unicorn mask to match had gotten a little too handsy, swooping in like a bird of prey and sending her victim scurrying off with nothing more than a sharp glare and a couple cutting remarks. Still, the way he’d clutched his cane told her he’d wanted to do a lot more, reminding her that the Surgeon of Death was not a man to be messed with. While a jealous boyfriend was a great creep deterrent, too much could put off her potential marks. For the sake of that evening’s profits, she vowed to only call him in as a last resort.

She would swear until her dying breath it had nothing to do with the thrill she got at hearing Law defend her honor in his deep voice or the way she could feel the muscles beneath his suit flex when he clutched her to him possessively.

It was nearly nine-thirty when a skinny man in an elaborate peacock mask and flamboyant suit to match lead her onto the dancefloor. He’d approached swinging an emerald and sapphire-encrusted pocket watch like a pendulum, strutting about in a way that instantly practically begged her to rob him. Only men with more money than brains walked like that.

“So, Ms. Chaton,” Kujakumaru began as he pulled her close, “what do you do for a living?”

As easily as Zoro drew a sword, she turned on the charm. “Oh, I’ve done a little modeling,” she replied, fluttering her eyelashes. “Mostly swimsuits and the like.”

“Really? You?”

She blinked, brows furrowing behind her mask in confusion and mild annoyance. “Yes. Not in any big magazines, but I’ve only just started, after all.”

“Ah, no wonder I hadn’t heard of you,” he stated, looking her up and down, eyes lingering on the swell of her chest. “I’ve dated quite a few models, actually. I suppose when you surround yourself with the most gorgeous women in the world, you don’t notice those who are less than a perfect ten.”

An annoyed tic formed on her forehead, thankfully hidden by the cat mask. Sure, he couldn’t see her face, but the way his eyes were practically glued to her cleavage proved he didn’t find her hideous. And what right did he have to call her less than a ten? Her bounty poster was ogled by pirates all over the Grand Line! “Well, sorry I’m not up to your usual standards, Mr. Kujakumaru,” she ground out as politely as she could.

At the brief display of temper, he quickly backtracked, “Oh, I never said that! Of course you’re beautiful, but I’d only rank you less than a ten because you’ve still got a few more years to go before you’ve fully bloomed!” he insisted, gaze flickering between her face and breasts pointedly.

Oh, nice save, she thought sarcastically. It was all too easy to catch onto this idiot’s game; he was trying to bring down her confidence in hopes preying on any insecurities. Women who knew their worth were much harder to lure into bed, after all. “Well, my boyfriend hasn’t had any complaints,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m sure he hasn’t; after all, looks aren’t everything.” When her hazelnut eyes narrowed, he continued, “You misunderstand me; I mean that modeling is just as much about who you know as what you look like. Making friends with the right people and whatnot.”

“Of course.” It was almost funny; the whole night, she’d put up with men looking to get into her pants without so much as blinking, yet this guy was making her lose her cool. Then again, none of the others had tried negging her. People like that deserved a very special place in hell as far as she was concerned. If they’d been in a bar instead of some fancy party, he’d be unconscious on the floor for his comments.

“If you really want to be a model, I have some connections to the West Blue’s top agencies. Of course, I only pass along the names of people I’m personally close to.”

Though she plastered on a smile, inwardly she rolled her eyes. He was the third man that night offering to help her “modeling career” with his “connections,” but they’d at least done their best to stroke her ego first. He hadn’t even waited for her response before slipping his hand off her waist to slide across her rear.

That little grope just cost him eighty million belli, she thought, using his moment of distraction to carefully undo the chain of his pocket watch from his doublet. To disguise the action, she pushed him back slightly, looking away coyly. “Oh, that’s so sweet of you! Unfortunately, it’s more of a hobby than anything else; if I became some big star, I wouldn’t have as much freedom. I love traveling and shopping too much to waste my time in some studio.”

“Sounds like an expensive lifestyle,” he pressed, undeterred by her refusal, just like she’d anticipated. Nami was plenty familiar with men like him; born with a silver spoon in his mouth, raised to believe that he was entitled to anything he wanted and when a woman rebuffed him, she didn’t really mean it.

He was the kind of guy she would love to have Sanji kick into the sun.

Lacking the chivalrous love-cook, however, Nami settled for her current bodyguard. “It is, but Dr. Goodheart has been an excellent provider. His research takes him to so many interesting places, and he’s been adamant about bringing me along. He gets lonely without me.”

“Then I’m surprised he’s letting you dance with another man.”

A mischievous smirk touched the corner of her lips. “We have an arrangement—he doesn’t like to dance, but I simply can’t get enough of it. So, he lets me have as many partners as I please, so long as I never dance with anyone more than once.” As the last notes of the waltz floated through the air, she knew now was the time to make her getaway. Pushing up onto her tip-toes, she murmured in his ear as she carefully lifted the watch from his pocket, slipping it into the tight cuff of her billowy sleeve, “Otherwise, he gets terribly jealous. Normally, he’s so cool and collected, but he’s got a dark temper. It’s hot, if I’m perfectly honest.”

She felt Kujakumaru shudder against her as her hot breath caressed his skin. “Is dancing the only thing he gets jealous about?” he croaked, staring at her with obvious desire, hands impotently grasping at empty air as she stepped out of his reach. “Perhaps we could find a nice, quiet corner and continue our discussion about your modeling career; a beauty like you deserves to be shared, not hoarded away for one man to enjoy.”

Relieved that she could finally turn around and roll her eyes, she strolled towards the wine fountain, calling back over her shoulder, “I appreciate the thought, but I really must get back to Adrian.”

She halted as a thin, sweaty hand wrapped around her wrist. “At a party like this, a man’s never lonely for long. I’m sure he’s found some pretty young thing to keep him company, so why not do the same for me?”

Lifting up her free arm, she allowed the cold metal of the stolen watch to slide down her sleeve into her bodice, grateful that he’d grabbed her left wrist. It would have been disastrous if he’d stumbled upon the payment she’d taken for putting up with his bullshit. Absently, she played with the shimmering barrettes in her hair, making sure they caught the light like an emergency beacon. Surely Law would be there any moment; this was definitely serious enough to get him involved. “Adrian’s quite adamant that I’m the only woman for him, so I doubt it. And if a man’s not lonely for long, I’m sure you’ll find yourself in pleasant enough company soon enough.”

“I want your company. Your little boyfriend can wait until I’m finished with you.”

“He’s hardly ‘little.’”

“He must be if he can’t satisfy a woman as obsessed with ‘dancing’ as you. In fact, how about I invite a few friends to join us?’ You said he doesn’t care how many ‘dance partners’ you have, right?”

Brown eyes darted about nervously, desperately trying to catch sight of her raven companion. She was certain she’d left him by the window next to the fountain, so he should have been at her side already. What, had he wandered off to take a leak? If he didn’t show himself in the next five seconds, she was going to have to do something drastic, like pluck the peacock’s feathers herself.

“What was that you were saying about him not looking at other women?” Kujakumaru crowed, roughly turning her towards the dancefloor.

Her jaw dropped. His height made him easy to spot on the dancefloor, casually leading Black Cage Hina in a foxtrot.

That absolute bastard! Nami thought, rage bubbling up inside of her. He abandoned his partner to deal with some clingy creep so he could dance with a Marine? Was he trying to get them caught?!

“Well, since your boyfriend is otherwise occupied,” the man beside her sniggered, pulling her against him, “what say you and I go someplace private—”

The hard point of a cane slammed into his foot, causing him to yelp ungracefully and release Nami from his clutches. Gratefully, she turned to her liberator, hoping Law had abandoned Hina to finally come save her, only to find herself face-to-face with a rotund, yet rather elegant-looking gentleman dressed as a knight, complete with silver shoulder pads, royal blue cape, and plumed helmet. The faceplate was up to reveal piercing black eyes and a disapproving frown made even more exaggerated by his bushy grey mustache.

“I believe this young lady made it quite clear that your time with her is over, nephew,” he said sternly.

Kujakumaru looked like he wanted to argue, but when he reached for Nami again, the knight brandished his cane like a sword. “Oh, please, do try. Beatrix may spoil you rotten, but I’m certainly not above turning you over my knee right here and now.”

That threat was all it took to send the peacock flying off into the crowd, managing nothing more than, “I’m telling mother!” over his shoulder before he disappeared.

Relieved to finally be free of such sweaty clutches, the Cat Thief studied her wrist to ensure no perspiration had leaked into the luxurious fabric of her sleeve. A handkerchief entered her field of vision, and she smiled thankfully.

“So, did you pick your costume intending to go about rescuing young ladies, or was that just a happy accident?” she asked, wiping off her hand.

He savior’s hard frown morphed into a smile as he offered her his arm. “I had hoped such services would be unnecessary, but it never hurts to come prepared, especially with my family is involved. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

She allowed him to lead her away from the whispering crowd. If she gathered too much attention, it’d be harder for her to sneak away once the plan was in motion, and until Law finished his little dance with Hina, she’d rather not risk being confronted by more creeps who couldn’t take a hint.

Her natural suspicion only briefly entertained the thought that her hero could turn out to be just as bad. Whether it was his protective aura or his mustache, he reminded her of Genzo, and that would always earn a man the benefit of the doubt. “I’m fine. I suppose I should have been clearer that I wasn’t interested.”

“From what I overheard, you made yourself plenty clear,” he huffed. “That boy’s never learned a speck of respect. My sister spoils him, and he takes entirely too much after my brother.”

“Eh, men like him are hardly rare. I appreciate you scaring him off, though.”

“Happy to be of assistance. I hope you don’t mind if I linger a bit? I’d rather avoid the inevitable argument Beatrix and I will have for a little while longer, and I think I should have a talk with your boyfriend about leaving his lady undefended.”

“Oh, no need for that,” she growled, clenching her fist as a murderous flame crackled in her eyes. “I’m happy to do it myself.”

Surprised, the knight let out a full-bellied laugh. “I’m starting to think my rescue was unneeded; you seem plenty capable of handling yourself!”

“Damn right I can!” she snarled before remembering herself. Swiftly plastering on an innocent smile, she amended, “I mean, I wish I could, but a delicate thing like me wouldn’t stand a chance without a big, strong man looking after her.”

Laugh simmering down to a chuckle, he waved off her excuse. “Relax; a lady with spirit is a great thing. You remind me of my granddaughter, actually!” With a deep, proper bow, he introduced himself. “Harpin Reginald, at your service.”

“Harpin?” she asked, suddenly nervous. “Are you related to our host?” If he was, she was in so much trouble. Puzzle pieces began to connect in her head, and the picture they were forming was not pretty.

His massive mustache waggled side-to-side in distaste. “Alas, he’s my elder brother. I don’t particularly like either of my siblings, but our mother asked us on her deathbed to try to get along, so he’s bound to invite me, and I’m obligated to attend. The rest of the time, I put as much of the Grand Line between the three of us as possible.”

“So, was that the Baron’s son?”

“No, my sister’s, though Gerald was the one to teach him such wonderful manners.” He glared disdainfully across the room to where their host was casually groping one of the maids. “I swear, he threw a masked ball simply because he knows how much I detest these things.”

“What, you don’t enjoy the opportunity to dress up as a white knight?” she managed to tease. Her heart was still quaking at the revelation that she’d inadvertently pissed off a former Navy Intelligence officer’s nephew—when she found Law, she’d have to warn him that she’d earned some problematic attention.

After she kicked his ass for abandoning her, of course.

Whether her was ignoring her nervousness or simply failed to pick up on it, Reginald chuckled at her comment. “Well, that I don’t mind, but you’ve seen how outrageous these people get when they have anonymity—Kujakumaru is a perfect example. I doubt you’re the first woman he’s tried to coerce tonight.”

“You have a point, but I’m starting to think every high-class party is a masquerade in its own way.”

A grey eyebrow raised inquisitively. “How so?”

She shrugged, adjusting her cat mask so it rested more securely on her face. “Everyone’s still putting on a disguise; pretending to be more important than they really are, acting like they don’t despise each other with fake smiles and forced politeness, putting up with some creep’s innuendos because if they slap him like they really want to, the illusion’s broken and everyone will hate them for it.”

Reginald rubbed his chin, but a small, approving smile curled his lips. “You sound like you don’t enjoy these kinds of affairs.”

“Honestly, I always thought I would, but I guess I’m a simple girl at heart. I like expensive things, but this,” she pointed at the ballroom, “is disgusting. How much of the buffet is going to go straight in the trash? My friend’s a cook, and he’d have an aneurism over so much food waste.”

“I agree. I wish Gerald would at least send the leftovers to the town; every year, I swear those people look worse and worse. I tell you, I’d much rather be at one of the shindigs my wife’s family throws. Everyone comes for miles to sing and dance and share food, and it doesn’t matter what your status is; you’re welcomed with open arms.”

Nami smiled wistfully. “Yeah. I wish I was back with my friends—Brook’s music is way better than some stuffy orchestra, and Franky would show off some bizarre new move or hairstyle, and Lu—” she caught herself, realizing that she was getting too close to outing her identity as a Straw Hat, “—cy would make up ridiculous games and do stupid impressions, and we’d drink and laugh until dawn.”

“That sounds a hundred times more fun than any affair my siblings have thrown. Perhaps next year I’ll claim to have a prior engagement and seek out your friends’ party,” he joked.

She grinned, elbowing him playfully. “If you can find us, you’re welcome anytime. Heck, you can even say we kidnapped you if you need a better excuse. Consider it my thanks for the daring rescue.”

The playful glint faded from his black eyes. “Speaking of excuses, you’ll probably want to come up with one to leave—even if Kujakumaru doesn’t go crying to his mother, by midnight, this place will be nothing short of an orgy.”

She nearly choked on her own spit. From his dry tone, she doubted he was exaggerating. “Good thing my boyfriend and I already planned to be out by then.”

“See that you do. Why the Navy ever employed a hedonist like my brother, I’ll never know, much less as head of Intelligence.”

From what she’d seen that night, she couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. “Well, you don’t get rich enough to own your own island by not having connections; maybe the Navy felt they were useful enough to excuse his…lifestyle.”

With a huff, he nodded. “Probably, though I also have no doubt that’s why he was eventually convinced to ‘retire.’ He never would have left on his own volition; they would have had to pry it from his sticky, greedy grasp. Gerald’s always hated giving anything up, even if he doesn’t really want it.”

Nami wanted to pry further—this was a goldmine of intel on the man she was about to rob—but she was distracted by a certain man in a raven mask approaching.

Rage once more bubbling up like a geyser, she whirled on Law. “Oh, have you finished dancing already?” she asked sarcastically. “Good thing I didn’t need your help fending off some creep!”

Behind the mask, she could see an array of expressions cross his face; surprise, annoyance, guilt, anger, before finally settling on mildly apologetic. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, reaching out to gently run his fingers across her cheek. When she jerked back, glaring harshly, he sighed, “I saw another lady in need of rescuing and got distracted.”

“Yeah, sure, because Black Cage Hina would ever need to be rescued,” she scoffed.

“Actually,” Reginald said from beside her, “if it’s from my brother, then yes, she would. He’s always had a…thing for her, ever since she was a recruit.”

Law nodded, though he did give the older man a suspicious glance. “I was simply helping her avoid the Baron. But I truly am sorry,” he murmured, hooking Nami’s fingers with his own and carefully drawing her to his side, brushing a kiss across the corner of her mask. “I should have made sure you weren’t in harm’s way, first; you’re always my top priority, and I promise not to leave you alone again.”

Nami really wanted to stay mad at him, but for the sake of both their cover and the job, Bellemere had to forgive her boyfriend’s chivalrous stupidity. The Cat Thief didn’t, though, and she vowed to give him an earful once they were alone. So, she forced herself to wrap her arms around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze as she grumbled into his vest, “Apology accepted, but only because I was lucky enough to have a knight in shining armor to rescue me.”

“I guess so. Care to introduce me?”

Gratefully pulling away from Law’s heated body, she turned to her new friend. “Adrian, this is Harpin Reginald. Reginald, this is Dr. Goodheart Adrian.”

“Goodheart?” the old gentleman asked, eyes lighting up in recognition. “From Serenity Hospital?”

“Yes?” the surgeon replied, immediately on guard. He’d made the connection to their host even more quickly than she had, and the fact that her new friend could identify him didn’t bode well.

“You were the one who reattached my granddaughter’s leg!”

Law blinked in surprise. “Melody-ya was your granddaughter?”

Nami’s eyes widened at both the connection and the way the surgeon’s accent slipped. Even when it was just the two of them, he hadn’t added -ya to anyone’s name since they’d arrived.

Grasping Law’s hand in both of his own, Reginald shook it enthusiastically, tears of joy practically streaming down his face. “Indeed! I honestly can’t thank you enough!” He turned to Nami, smile shining brighter than his armor. “You have no idea how much I owe this man. Melody was involved in a terrible accident that tore off her right leg. The doctors were able to stabilize her, but they said she’d need a prosthetic replacement, and possibly never be able to walk again. But Dr. Goodheart was able to reattach her leg so perfectly, there wasn’t even a scar when they removed her stitches! It was practically a miracle!”

If you count the powers of a Devil Fruit as a “miracle,” she thought wryly, though she found it hard to stay cynical. As unlikely as it seemed that Law would meet the grandfather of one of his former patients here, she’d learned that fate had a funny way of bringing people together. She’d never expected to meet Brook, Laboon’s long-missing friend, on Thriller Bark, and yet he was now a member of her crew, sailing with them to the end of the Grand Line to fulfill his promise.

“I simply did what I could to the best of my ability with the tools I had at my disposal,” Law insisted, though his lips did lift in a slight smile. It was strange to see him acting humble, and somehow, it felt authentic. “How has she been? Any problems with the leg?”

“She’s well on her way to becoming a marathon runner, I can tell you,” Reginald said proudly. “Quick as the wind and eager to see the world! And it’s all thanks to you!”

“Any surgeon would have done the same in my position. I’m just glad she’s made such an excellent recovery; it’s the greatest reward any doctor could ask for.”

Reginald looked like he wanted to sing “Dr. Goodheart’s” praises further, but there was a sudden screech of “WHERE’S THAT WORTHLESS LITTLE BROTHER OF MINE” from the other side of the room, and the knight went rigid.

“Ah, it seems I can’t delay my argument with Beatrix any longer. Keep your heads down while I try to lead her off. Better yet, hide until some other drama occurs—maybe then you could sneak out more easily.”

Law frowned while Nami gave an appreciative smile. She was more than happy to run rather than get pulled into some family spat. “Thanks again for your help, Reginald. Best of luck with your sister.”

Pulling her partner deep into the crowd, the thief refused to stop until they were safe at the far end of the ballroom, the sound of the orchestra covering up their conversation.

“So, exactly what kind of trouble did you get yourself into while I was gone?” Law asked.

“Long story short—the Baron’s nephew propositioned me and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so Reginald put him in his place.”

Anger flashed in the Dark Doctor’s gaze before simmering down to annoyance. “Of all the people you had to piss off…”

“Well excuse me for being a loyal girlfriend,” she snapped. “Unlike you! Why were you really dancing with Hina?” she whispered harshly, poking his chest.

He raised a black eyebrow, and Nami blushed as she realized just how jealous she sounded. “You’re the one who thinks acts of kindness are a weakness,” she insisted, “so there’s no way you helped her out for chivalry’s sake. If it affects the plan, I deserve to know!”

“White Chase had to take a piss, and I noticed our beloved host making a bee-line for her. In the interest of the night not suddenly going to hell ahead of schedule, I figured I’d offer her a temporary escape. Entertaining as it would be, my plan doesn’t factor in the Baron getting murdered this early in the evening.”

“What if she had recognized you?”

“Worried about me, sweetheart?” he teased, stroking a gloved finger down the smooth side of her mask. “I’m sure you’d be able to make an easy getaway in the confusion.”

“If anything happened to you, your crew would be heartbroken and I’d be roped into breaking your ass out of Impel Down,” she argued half-heartedly. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not some powerhouse with more luck than brains like Luffy. You shouldn’t have taken such a risk!”

“Then I promise not to dance with another woman for the rest of the night,” he replied, pulling her close, hands resting gently on the small of her back, rubbing those distracting little circles along her spine. Leaning down, he whispered, “Seriously, I was doing it for our sake; Black Cage apparently has a rather unpleasant history with Harpin, so I dropped a few hints that she and White Chase should call it an early night. Things will go much easier with them out of the way.”

It was funny; despite the knowledge that Law was a sadistic, dangerous pirate and potentially one of Luffy’s greatest rivals to become Pirate King, being in his arms was beginning to feel…not comfortable, but almost normal. If anything, she should be more eager to escape his clutches than any of the handsy men she’d endured that night; at least they were weak enough to clobber if they got her alone. But she didn’t feel gross when Law touched her.

It dawned on her that, despite playing the role of her lover, his touches throughout the night had been relatively innocent. His hand went nowhere more inappropriate than her waist. His eyes stayed locked on her own instead of falling to the plunging neckline of her dress. Even though he’d kissed her several times, for the most part it had been to her wig or mask.

Deep down, she’d expected him to take advantage of their situation; to grope and kiss and tease her, using their cover as a couple as an excuse, secure in the knowledge that there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Why the hell did Nami feel so disappointed that he didn’t?

Shaking herself free of such confusing thoughts, she replied, “How much longer until phase two?”

Taking a glance at his pocket watch, he said, “It’s currently 9:40pm. Shachi’s team will act at 10:25pm, Ikkaku’s at 10:31pm, and Penguin’s at 10:37pm. Be ready to move no later than 10:15pm.”

“So we’ll just waltz into Harpin’s study?” She’d been sure to memorize the mansion’s blueprints, so she knew it was three floors above the ballroom. No matter what route they took, getting there would take time, and Law seemed fairly against using his powers unless strictly necessary.

“When we leave the ballroom, head towards the foyer but take the first right; about fifteen feet down that hallway, behind the red drapes between the painting of Dionysus and the statue of Venus is a hidden door the servants use. Those passageways lead all throughout the house, so we should be able to get around more easily. I’m sure there are guards or at least servants positioned to deter guests from wandering into certain parts of the mansion, but once our little distractions hit, it’s unlikely to be a problem.”

Even with his reassurance, Nami couldn’t help but be nervous. So many things could go horribly wrong, and even if Smoker and Hina left, she doubted they’d ignore the “distractions” Law had in mind.

Either he could see the tension in her shoulders or feel it in her spine, because he immediately set to taking her mind off such concerns. “We still have over a half-hour; I bet you can’t steal ten more wallets before showtime.”

Eyes flashing with greed and pride, she replied, “What’s the prize?”

“Me and the crew always have a party to celebrate a successful job, but I also take the time to treat myself to a nice dinner as a personal reward. Since you’ve been so instrumental to my plan, I was thinking about inviting you along.”

Immediately, she knew what he was proposing. “Loser pays for dinner?”

“Damn right.”

“You’re on.”

To the Dark Doctor’s surprise, she didn’t run off to find a new dance partner; instead, they milled about, wandering past small groups of guests, Nami occasionally stopping to apologize for bumping into someone or to compliment a particularly elaborate costume. By the time they reached the other side of the ballroom ten minutes later, she pulled him towards one of the stained-glass windows, turning them away from the party under the pretense of studying the elaborate scene of a satyr ravishing a forest nymph.

Reaching into the slit of her dress, the Cat Thief pulled out her haul, fanning herself haughtily with the wallets. “Seven down; three to go.”

Impressed at how quickly and subtly she worked, he smirked, patting his pocket to be sure she hadn’t added his to the collection. “Saying this now; my wallet doesn’t count.”

She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “Fine, but only because I already know how easily I could take it.”

“Careful, Nami-ya, or you’re going to find out how easily I can take everything you’ve stolen tonight.”

A strange, pleasant shiver ran up her spine as his dark baritone caressed each syllable of her name. Had he always said it like that? Or was she just noticing now because he’d been calling her “Bellemere” and “sweetheart” all night?

None of that mattered at the moment, as a shrill, angry shriek from behind them quickly soured the mood.

“You! You’re the wretch who insulted my precious Kujakumaru!”

Nami barely had time to slip the wallets back into her gown before five long, sharp, acrylic nails buried themselves into her clavicle. She let out a yelp of pain as she was aggressively spun around, coming face-to-throat with a tall, thin woman with a severe frown, red cheeks, and the same black, watery eyes as the Baron. She was dressed in a chartreuse silk gown, her hair done up in a tight updo, and she clutched a domino mask adorned with yellow and green sequins. But Nami barely noticed that, as her eye was immediately drawn to her necklace; three rows of small, exquisitely cut white diamonds hung around her neck like a collar, framing a heart-shaped yellow diamond the size of a peach stone.

The sharp sting of yellow-painted talons scratching the skin of her collarbone brought the thief’s attention back up to the woman’s face. “I’m sorry; I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Nami ground out through the pain.

“That’s because trash like you doesn’t even belong in my presence! You should be honored my perfect son even glanced your way you harlot!” Looking the younger woman up and down, she scoffed. “I mean, look at the way you’re dressed. Kujakumaru, did you ask this girl to dance out of pity? Such cheap, ugly jewelry for a cheap, ugly girl!”

“Yes mother,” the man in the peacock mask sneered, pushing his way to the front of the crowd, a look of righteous glee in his eyes. “It was an act of charity, and when I refused her advances, she made uncle Reggie beat me!”

Furious at both the insult and the blatant lies, Nami struggled to pull away, but that only made the claws sink in deeper. “Your son’s the one who came onto me,” she snapped, “and maybe if you’d bothered to teach him to respect women, he wouldn’t get so butthurt over a girl rejecting him.”

“How dare you?!”

The woman looked as if she might continue to berate her, but she shrieked in surprise as Law wrenched her hand from Nami’s shoulder, his large fist clenched around her scrawny wrist so tightly she could hear the leather creak. Or maybe it was the bones.

“Lady Beatrix, I presume?” the Surgeon of Death asked, voice cold as chipped ice as he glared with murderous intent. “Regardless of however your son was insulted, I’d appreciate it if you kept your damn hands off my woman.”

As the Baron’s sister trembled under Law’s scrutiny, Nami inspected her shoulder, dismayed to find that the psychotic bitch had drawn blood. No wonder he’d stepped in; regardless of whether or not the Cat Thief could handle herself, he’d paid for her dress, and it already stood to get ruined. Bloodstains were not easy to get out of gold satin, after all.

“U-unhand me, you brute!” Beatrix screeched, writhing about like an eel. “My brother—”

“—would only care if I got your blood on his million-belli carpet. If he actually did give a shit about you or your worthless son, he’d be confronting me himself.” With predatory intent, Law’s eyes swept over the small crowd that had gathered, landing squarely on the man in the peacock mask. “Speaking of, I’m not exactly pleased that he propositioned my lover. She did tell you she was already spoken for, right?”

Smug triumph melted off his face like candle wax, and Kujakumaru looked ready to piss himself. “Sh-she said you had an arrangement! That you didn’t mind her having as many partners as she wanted!”

“Dance partners!” Nami insisted, frowning at Law’s raised eyebrow. “I specifically said ‘dance partners;’ he’s the idiot who took it the wrong way!”

Nodding in understanding, he turned back to the trembling man. “Even if I was the type to share, a lady has every right to refuse a man’s advances. Either you don’t know how to handle rejection, or you’re so pathetic that you couldn’t even pay a woman to sleep with you. I’d put my money on the latter.”

Nami shrieked as Beatrix’s claw-like free hand lashed out at him, but Law managed to catch it mere inches from his face, his cane dropping to the floor with a dull thud. The look in his eye turned sadistically amused at the attempted assault, and Nami had the feeling that if she didn’t put an end to this now, their cover would be blown as the Surgeon of Death decided to find out if the mother and son really did have blue blood.

Grabbing his arm, she yanked as hard as she could, forcing him to release Beatrix’s left wrist. “Darling, that’s enough!” she insisted. “It’s not worth it!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he replied calmly, thought the dark aura failed to dissipate.

More people were gathering to watch, and Nami knew she needed to do something drastic before they managed to catch the Baron’s, or even Smoker and Hina’s, attention. Grabbing his chin, she yanked his face down to her level, cutting off his protests with a desperate kiss.

Law’s lips were softer than she’d expected. Life on the sea was rough, the salty air and burning sun resulting in chapped lips for almost everyone, but perhaps he was one of the few men smart enough to use lip balm. On top of that, they were dry and warm, the smooth skin pliant beneath her own. The man himself didn’t move for a moment, completely caught off-guard by her actions, but after a few agonizing seconds, he tilted his head to better slant his mouth over hers.

It was clear her plan worked when she felt both his hands cup her shoulders, and the harsh click of Beatrix’s heels as she scurried away, not wasting the opportunity to put some distance between herself and the man who dared threaten her.

Part of Nami was tempted to drag the kiss out, especially when she felt Law’s blunt teeth nibble at her bottom lip, requesting entrance. Heat pooled in her belly as his tongue swept over the seam of her mouth, but the sound of the clock striking ten doused it in ice water as she remembered they didn’t have time to waste.

Drawing on every shred of acting ability in her repertoire, she forced tears to well up in her eyes as she shoved him away. “I thought you were different, Adrian!” she sobbed. “You know how much I hate violence!”

“Wha—”

“I can’t believe you’d even consider harming someone, especially a defenseless old woman! I—I never should have come out tonight. I wish we had just stayed home!”

Tears streaming out of her eyes, she gathered up her skirts and sprinted away, weaving through the crowds, effortlessly dodging the concerned hands that reached out for her. Behind her, she heard another shriek, followed by exclamations of “Fire! Put that curtain out you fools!” and in the chaos, she managed to escape into the hall, guests and servants alike paying her no mind in favor of the ruckus that broke out. Nami chanced a glance over her shoulder, bright eyes widening as she saw not one, but at least four fires of varying sizes had sprung up throughout the ballroom, candelabras apparently having been knocked over by the panicked guests.

Not one to look the gift horse in the mouth, she dashed into to the hallway Law had spoken of, eyes quickly locking onto the curtain hiding the servant’s entrance. Hopefully, she’d be able to hide in there and wait for her companion. Not that she was particularly looking forward to being alone with him now; god, what had she been thinking, pulling him into a kiss? A slap would have been better, or maybe a swift kick to the shin!

Hand trembling with fear and adrenaline, she grabbed the corner of the drape, only to be halted by an arm coming out of nowhere to wrap tightly around her waist. Another hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her startled scream.

“You didn’t think you’d escape me that easily, did you?” came a dark voice at her ear.

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