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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

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The Light Within the Dark Trees’ Shadows Fanfic

Title: The Light Within the Dark Trees’ Shadows

Summary: When Logan was younger he sought comfort in the moon. Now he dreads its’ arrival.

Pairings: platonic analogical

Word-Count: 925

Warnings: werewolf transformation, panic, hurt/comfort

Round 2 since Tumblr destroyed the initial post. Awhile back, I asked for input on what prompts i should do next in my inbox and this is the result of it. Hope y’all enjoy <3

When Logan was younger, he sought comfort in the moon. As absurd as that sounded–to seek comfort in something that was a hunk of rock several hundred thousands away. It did not matter to young Logan.

Crescent, Gibbous, Full–he found all of its phases to be astounding. He spent nights gazing at the stars and the moon, imprinting it all to memory. He could look at the daylight sky and point out where constellations rested, invisible to the naked eye.

But as the red-violet rays of the sunset started to die down, he found himself dreading the arrival of the moon. He paced along the forest ground, wringing his hands together. His behavior was absurd. He couldn’t prevent what was to come. It’d be best for him to just accept it.

A twig snapped behind him and he whirled around, a growl stuck in his throat.

“Whoa, it’s just me.” A lanky shadow said, raising their arms up in a placating gesture. As they stepped closer, he relaxed upon recognizing their mop of purple hair and dark brown eyes; Virgil.

“I apologize,” He murmured, fingers tracing his tie, “I shouldn’t have ran off like this.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Virgil waved him off.

Logan nodded, a choked, clenching feeling taking hold of his throat. They stood there silently for awhile, gazing at the fading sunset through the trees.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Virgil blurted out, “I mean, I get if you are. But the twins and I…we’re here for you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not scared.” Logan said, face carefully blank and devoid of emotions.

“Then why did you run off?”

“I needed a breather, I could not take hearing another of Roman’s and Remus’s inane arguments, especially since they refuse to listen to reason, and it has nothing to do with–” Logan’s breath hitched, “what is to come.”

“I’ll…try to talk to them about that,” Virgil promised before hesitating, “but we should head back–”

He couldn’t stop himself. “No!”

“No?”

Logan took pacing again, hands rising and falling as words failed him. A frustrated growl escaped him then, deep and guttural. He froze rigidly at the sound of it.

“Logan,” Virgil took a step forward, “it’s happening soon, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Logan whispered lowly, “and for the sake of your safety, you need to be gone before it happens.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

What?

“You have to,” Logan insisted, “I am not in control of myself when I am like–like that. That’s why–I cannot risk endangering you or the twins!”

Virgil pursued his lips, “And you won’t hurt us, I promise.”

The sky had darkened considerably. A wind shook the trees, sharp and whistling. Logan only had mere moments to persuade Virgil out of this.

“You have no way of knowing that!”

“I do.”

“H-how?!” Logan spluttered, a whine reverberating beneath it.

“Because you had the chance, time and time again, but you haven’t,” Virgil said, “You participate in Remus’ experiments, you provide constructive critique to Roman’s ideas, hell you even help me listen to reason when I spiral. I know that this won’t change anything.”

“This is different!” Logan protested. He opened his mouth to elaborate but all that came out was a piercing scream. He managed one look up at the bright, glistening full moon before collapsing.

The first thing that came was the pain. Some might describe it like an ever-devouring flame, that consumed one’s body and soul. It wasn’t quite that way for Logan. It was more akin to a raging blizzard. So cold and biting he was barely cognizant.

Logically, he should be dead from the strain of it. But this curse did not make logical sense.

At one point, he stopped screaming because he physically couldn’t. His heart stopped, and then started. Multiple times. He was undergoing cardiac arrest from the strain of it. Logically he should be dead. But the curse kept him alive through it, feeling every bit of it.

His bones shifted, extending in some ways and drastically shortening in others. Some of them melded together to form new shapes. His muscles twisted and contorting around them, finding new places to call home. His humanity was slipping away, fading as a something else took hold. A wolf with sharp teeth, blackened fur and elongated claws.

It was Logan, but also not Logan. The wolf was its’ separate entity, one that slumbered within Logan but came out to prowl during the full moon. It did what it wanted, taking very little input from the human conscious.

The wolf rose to its paws, stretching.

“Logan?”

It stopped mid-stretch, it’s golden eyes staring right at Virgil. The human didn’t reek of fear. The human lowered its’ head slightly, compressing his gangly form to appear smaller. A sign of submission–of respect.

‘Pack, pack, pack,’ A foreign thought pressed into the wolf’s mind. No doubt, emanating from Logan. As much as the wolf hated Logan’s interference, it could not argue against this. Never in its’ existence did it have a pack. And this human Virgil was good, it decided. He was worthy of being pack.

This meant, he was very much worthy of taking multiple licks to the face by an overenthusiastic wolf.

“Whoa!” Virgil said with a startled laugh, toppled to the ground by it. He didn’t mind it, however, because despite his own internal fears, he’d been right. The wolf wouldn’t hurt him. And after the sun rose again, and Logan was back–he’d help him get a little closer to accepting the wolf and appreciating the moon once more.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #analogical #kat writes #i will riot if it destroys my read more again

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giuliafc · 3 years

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Stuck in a Cabin (with you) chapter 3

Read on Ao3 || FFN || Wattpad (link to chapter 1)

Summary: Summoned to save his Lady's life, Adrien gets stuck with her in a cabin during a blizzard. Identities get revealed, feelings come out...but who's been plotting to kill Marinette? Will the culprit be punished? Read to find the answer :) (Adrienette)

Read previous chapter here on Tumblr

Written by: JuliaFC

Betas: Khanofallorcs, Agrestebug, Etoile-Lead-Sama and genxha. Thank you all so much!

Cover Art credit: Rosehealer02 on Deviantart

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Chapter 3 — Prince Chat-ming

“WHERE IS SHE, TIKKI?” cried Chat Noir when they reached the lake. The place was silent and not even the sound of the cars in the distance seemed to come to his ear, probably muffled by the billowing wind and the snow that had already wrapped the whole park in its white canopy. If he hadn’t been this terrified, the view would have been breathtaking. But the adrenaline rush running through his body kept his concentration on the task. His eyes darted around, looking for the signs he had seen the evening before when he had come here after the first half of the photoshoot. But he couldn’t find any, they were all vanished in thin air.

A really bad feeling started growing in his gut. This looked like a set up!

“I don’t know…” admitted the kwami, breaking his thread of thought. “I had gotten a couple of landmarks but the new snow must have covered them.” She zoomed away and started zipping around the whole length of the lake, appearing to be always more reckless and anxious. She zipped at the centre of the lake mostly, then she went on the other side, then back there again. Until she erupted in a scream.

“Here, Chat Noir, here!” She pointed at where she wanted him to be.

He ran as fast as he could, while he picked up the blue slice of cheese and put it into his mouth shouting, “POWER UP!” he barely managed to transform into his aqua form before diving into the water. For a second he literally turned into ice. God, it was bloody freezing! The water seemed to be stabbing his skin everywhere even if he was wearing his suit. But he forced himself to get used to the temperature and to the dim light quickly, and his gaze started darting in the water trying to find his Lady.

And that’s when he saw her. His heart stopped.

‘No. It can’t be. It can’t be her. No, no, no, no, no… that’s impossible!’

“MARINETTE!!” he screamed, as he swam towards the motionless form and grabbed her with one hand in a manic frenzy, using his enhanced swimming capabilities to get to the surface quickly. It didn’t seem to work, his limbs were too cold and the water felt almost thick against his arm. Shoot. He looked at Marinette’s face and his heart skipped a beat.

His very good friend Marinette. The one whose smile always lit up his day. His everyday Ladybug. The cute, shy, awesome girl who was also one of the strongest people he knew and had been able to stand up to his dad when they had gone to New York. Creative, sweet, determined Marinette. She was his Lady. How did she manage to trick him that well? He clearly remembered having suspected her, but having changed his mind when Kwamibuster attacked because he saw her next to Ladybug! Did she use the Fox Miraculous? She was too clever for her own good.

‘FOCUS! Don’t think about it. Save her now. Freak out later!’

Suddenly, he thought back to the time they faced Evillustrator, when Marinette had shown him how to use his own baton. His lips curled into a small smile. Of course. He picked up his baton from the small of his back and extended it, while holding it tight. The baton reached the bottom of the lake and then started propelling them up and up, until they were out of the water. He waited until it reached a long enough length to have a panoramic view of the lake, and then used the baton to make himself and his Lady fall to the snow-covered grass on the shore. His eyes were full of tears as he held Marinette bridal style to his chest, his heart pounding inside his throat. Was he too late? She was so pale! And cold!

“S-SHE’S N-NOT B-B-BREAT-T-HING!” he said with his teeth chattering, in utter panic, as his ear pushed on her chest to see if she had a heartbeat. A new layer of snow was starting to dust her figure and her hair was already almost covered.

“She must have started to drown, Chat Noir! You need to help her breathe.”

Chat Noir tried to think, although the shivers running through his body and the chattering of his own teeth were so distracting. “I-I n-need t-to… C-P-R…” he managed to say, but then he hesitated.

“What are you waiting for, Chat Noir? Please help her!” begged Tikki. “I can’t do it.”

Although the cold was still biting at him like a rabid dog and he felt his hands slowly turning into ice, he couldn’t help blushing as he nodded warily at Tikki’s plea. Luckily, his father had demanded that he take a first aid course when he had started modeling, as part of the health and safety regulations of the Gabriel brand, and there he had been explained what to do when performing CPR. He knew he had to do it, or she would die.

But it still felt so much like a kiss.

‘Focus, Adrien. She’s dying!’ he thought and gave himself a firm slap in the face to shake himself up. With a determined frown, he moved her head up by pushing on her chin, to give her more room to breathe. Then he put his hands on her chest as he had been shown in the course and started compressing (why had that been such a long time ago? Shouldn’t he have gotten refreshers from time to time, he wondered), trying to remember what to do and how long to count.

Thirty compressions.

Then he gulped and with a firm movement, he opened her mouth and started blowing air into it.

One. two.

Repeat. Chest.

Thirty compressions.

Repeat. Mouth.

One. two.

Repeat. Chest.

Thirty compressions.

Repeat. Mouth.

One. two.

His heart was racing madly in his chest, hoping that he was doing it correctly, as he remembered from the course that if it was performed the wrong way it could have been even more detrimental.

‘Please, Marinette. Please breathe! Breathe for me!’

Hands on her chest. Thirty compressions.

Air in her mouth. One. T—

Marinette started coughing and a massive sigh of relief filled his lungs. He suddenly remembered something that his instructor had said and refrained from hugging her, paying attention to move her a little on the side so she wouldn’t choke again on the water coming out of her mouth. The sound of her laborious breaths was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Now that she had breathed a little, he dared picking her head up and gave her a hug, tears flowing down his eyes on his cheeks, almost getting frozen mid way.

“I need to take her to the hospital,” he announced, picking her up bridal style. She had fallen unconscious again.

“She needs to be warmed up, Chat Noir, and quickly. Do you know where the closest hospital is?” asked Tikki, zipping in front of him and floating on his nose.

He sighed. “No idea. But,” he picked up his baton from the ground, “we can easily check.” He turned on his communicator and saw yet another news alert. He opened it up and saw Nadja Chamack already talking. “—ed. I highlight: Code Red. Stay in. Stay safe. More accidents have been reported on the road. The queue at the local hospitals has increased to three to four hours just to be registered, and even longer to be seen. If you don’t need to go out, sta—” The screen of his baton flickered and turned black. Chat Noir blinked and gave it a shake, trying to get the screen to turn on again.

“What’s going on?” he said to himself, not really expecting an answer.

“Either your phone has died in the cabin or there’s a loss of GPS signal so big that the baton cannot function properly,” said Tikki.

“Shoot!” cursed Chat Noir under his breath. “My phone was nearly dead earlier. What do I do now?”

Tikki sighed. “You heard Madame Chamack. Marinette doesn’t have three to four hours to wait, she needs to be looked after now.”

“Usually, emergencies are dealt with much faster,” argued Chat.

“Can you take that chance?” Tikki looked at him with utter concern in her big blue eyes. Chat Noir lowered his gaze.

“No,” he said in defeat. Then he looked at Tikki again. “I’ll look after her. The cabin should have some blankets, and it’s much warmer than outside.” He saw the wee Goddess of Creation finally curl her lips into a smile and he held Marinette more safely in his arms, bridal style.

“S-so c-cold—” muttered Marinette in his arms, shivering like a leaf. That was the final incentive. Chat Noir grabbed his baton and used it to propel himself forward, trying to reach the cabin as quickly as possible.

oOoOoOoOoOo

“Claws in,” said Adrien as he placed Marinette carefully on the small sofa in the cabin. He made to look for a blanket into the cabinet near the heating system, but as he was walking towards it, Plagg zoomed in front of his face.

“CHEESE!” he demanded.

Adrien raised an eyebrow. “You’ve eaten it all earlier, Plagg. How big is your stomach exactly?”

“You have no idea!” whined the wee black furball, but Adrien didn’t give him any more attention. He opened the press and started rummaging for a blanket, which he found almost immediately. He walked straight back to Marinette and made to wrap her under the blanket.

“That won’t be enough, Adrien,” said Tikki, flying in front of him and stopping him. “You will only make the blanket wet.”

“What do you mean? She’s cold, she needs to be covered up.”

Tikki kept her tiny body between the blanket and Marinette. “You need to take her clothes off. She can’t warm up wearing freezing wet clothes.”

“WHAT?” Adrien's face flushed the color of Ladybug’s suit. “Tikki, I-I c-can’t undress her!”

Tikki gave him a scrutinous look and frowned. “Why? You have two perfectly functional arms and hands. You can certainly take her clothes off.”

“I-I’M A BOY!”

“And she’s a girl who could die of hypothermia!” Plagg appeared munching a crumb of cheese he must have found somewhere in the room, and floated next to Tikki, giving him an amused stare. He folded his tiny paws on his chest and added scornfully, “Who cares if you’re a boy, a girl or even a dog?”

“B-B-B-B-U-T…” Adrien started breathing heavily. “She’s going to kill me!”

“I don’t think so,” said Tikki and Plagg continued, “You need to do it or she will die. I’m sure she will be grateful, gamin.”

“C-cold…” muttered Marinette from the couch. He dashed to her to check if she had woken up — but no, she was still unconscious, probably talking in her sleep. God, she was so pale, she was still shivering badly, her teeth were a constant chattering and her lips were blue. He touched her hands, and they were pieces of ice.

He took a big breath. “O-okay,” he said and started taking her coat off, and then her black blazer, and put everything on the ground next to the small sofa. When she was left in her bra and underwear, he gulped and hesitated.

“Would this be enough?” he asked, looking at his two small companions with a fearful frown. To keep himself occupied he started drying her skin with a dry towel. She was still shivering.

“Would you like to sleep with freezing wet underwear on?” asked Plagg in response.

No, he wouldn’t. But… he couldn’t possibly justify. No, he couldn’t. He ran a hand through his hair and thought carefully of the situation, scratching firmly the nape of his neck. He tried to gain some time by picking a towel and starting to dry her hair. He suddenly realised that she was still having her hair combed into her pigtails, so he put the towel down to take off the elastic bands that held them together.

Shoot. He’d never thought that it would be that hard to detangle elastic bands from wet hair. He felt her wincing as he gave the elastic a firm push and took it off. Quite a few strands of hair came off with it—he felt terrible, but he picked up the towel and carried on drying her hair for a few moments, trying to take away most of the wetness.

He still had the other problem, the wet underwear, which he didn’t want to remove. At least not without her being covered. Wait, that’s it! His face brightened and his lips curled in a triumphant smile, as he’d just had an idea and it could really work. He picked up the blanket and placed it on the now soaking wet leather sofa. Then he quickly dashed to the cabinet and got another blanket, which he wrapped around Marinette’s body. Good, now that she was covered, he breathed easier. He moved her towards him and put his hands inside the blanket, starting to fiddle with the little hooks on her bra. Finally, after some effort he managed to open it up and take it off, with some struggle (he was trying to prevent the blanket from falling off as he did so). Then, he picked up a smaller towel and passed it blindly on her wet skin to dry it, making sure that he wasn’t touching anything inappropriate with his bare hands. But as he proceeded to move to the other piece of lingerie that was left on her, he stared at his hands, literally shaking.

“Told you he was useless, Sugarcube,” muttered Plagg from somewhere behind him, his voice full of mockery and mischief. Adrien turned his head to glare at this little friend.

“I’m not,” he argued.

“You are,” argued back Plagg. “Take that piece of fabric off already. You covered her, right? You won’t see anything.”

Adrien sucked his breath in. His heart was in his throat right now. He moved his hands underneath the blanket and had to run them on her body trying to find the border of her knickers. Oh God, she was so cold! When he found the underwear, he pulled it off, let it fall on the floor on top of the other clothes and gave even that part a blind and very quick drying.

When he let even the towel slip on the floor, he breathed better, his head resting against the blanket that wrapped Marinette. Thank God, that bit was done. He thought he was going to die! He carefully let go of Marinette and placed her on top of the blanket he had wrapped on the sofa.

“Good, about time,” muttered Plagg. Again, the wee black furball zipped in front of his nose and looked at him, a gleam of mockery shining through his electric green eyes. “Now it’s your turn.”

Adrien gave Plagg the most confused look ever. “Huh?”

“Adrien,” said Tikki moving next to Plagg, as her little paw touched Adrien’s cheek. “Marinette needs body heat. You need to undress and get under that blanket with her, and hug her until she warms up.”

His heart stopped. “I NEED TO DO WHAT?” he squealed, his eyes as big as saucers as he looked at Tikki in pure and utter terror. "She's naked, Tikki!"

“Come on, you’ve always wanted to do this. Take your clothes off and cuddle her already!” Plagg snorted.

Tikki blinked and then rolled her eyes. “Stinkysock! You’ve got no tact, at all.”

“It's not a question of tact. I know him, Sugarcube. If we let him take his time, Pigtails is going to freeze to death.” Plagg snorted again. “Gamin, come on. Man up and do your job. You want to protect her, right?”

“Adrien, please. The longer you wait the worse Marinette will get. Do it for me. Or for h—”

“—or for whomever. As long as you do it. Her lips are getting bluer than Duusu.”

Adrien gave them a pleading look. Then he gulped, looked at Marinette’s blue lips, shivering limbs and pale complexion and gave them another pleading look.

“Please, Adrien, we would do it ourselves if we could, but we’re too small!”

Adrien whimpered, but his hands started working their way to his coat. He took his coat off and his skin was greeted with the cold temperature of the cabin. God, it was freezing! Did the heater even work? He hadn’t turned it off before getting out of the cabin, it had been on all day! He proceeded to take off his overshirt, and then his black t-shirt. He shivered.

“Ugh!” he muttered and folded his arms around his chest, trying to warm up. The heater was at full heat, he noted, but the cabin was still freezing.

“Come on!” ordered Plagg. Adrien glared at him, but stood up and took his jeans off. Uh, bloody hell, he had goosebumps!

“What are you waiting for, Christmas?” asked Plagg when Adrien had been left with only his boxers to cover him. Adrien forced himself to get out of his self-induced panic and slipped into the blanket, shaky hands reaching the body of the girl of his dreams and pulling her close.

She. Was. A. Piece. Of. Ice! Oh God!!

He gasped so loudly that Tikki flew near him and looked at him with a frown.

“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly.

“Just being spineless,” spurted Plagg mockingly, gaining another glare from his chosen.

“She’s so cold!” whimpered Adrien, but forced himself to embrace her firmly with his arms and squeezed her against his chest. He wrapped his body around her, trying to keep contact with as much of her skin as possible. His hands started rubbing her back and arms, trying to create heat from friction.

Slowly, very slowly, so slowly that for a while he thought that Tikki and Plagg had been mistaken and he really should have taken her to the hospital, Marinette began warming up. As she warmed up, the rigidity in her limbs faded and without waking up, she started hugging him back.

When he realised that Marinette was finally warm and out of danger of hypothermia, Adrien detangled himself from her hold and let himself fall off the front of the sofa.

“Are you hurt?” asked Plagg, looking at him with no real concern from the cushion he had placed himself.

“No,” answered Adrien, “Marinette isn’t frozen anymore. I want to find some clothes to change her into. You know, to prevent her from killing me when she wakes up.” He shivered as the freezing cold of the cabin hit his bare skin, but he proceeded towards the wardrobe.

Plagg sighed and shook his head. “I told you way too many times that you worry too much, gamin. Sleep and when she wakes up she can dress herself!”

“At least a t-shirt, come on…” muttered Adrien chattering his teeth. He rummaged among the spare photoshoot clothes that were left in the cabin — sometimes a t-shirt or a pair of trousers didn’t fit the ensemble and had to be changed. There was no lingerie (and if there had been, Adrien wouldn’t even have touched it. Ew!), but after a quick scan, he finally emerged from the pile holding an XXL t-shirt that he would easily be able to put on Marinette. It was so oversized that he was sure it would cover enough of her minute figure to make it safe. It wasn’t really nice to look at, but it was something.

He approached Marinette and lifted her head softly to put the neck hole of the t-shirt on. Then he proceeded to put one of her arms in the arm hole, and as he was doing that he noticed that Marinette had opened her eyes. Blood drained from his face.

“Mhhhhh,” she murmured, and drifted off back to sleep instantly. Adrien breathed a sigh of relief. He finished to fit her arm on the t-shirt and then moved her slightly to put on her other arm, making sure that the blanket was covering Marinette’s chest. When the t-shirt was on, he pulled it down and admired his work. Yes, it was reasonably okay, the t-shirt was covering her enough.Of course she was still naked underneath it, but at least it was one layer to separate her from… him. With one firm movement, he buried himself again underneath the blanket, and as if she’d been there waiting for it, Marinette wrapped herself around him again subconsciously.

Soon after that, Adrien’s adrenaline rush dissipated. Marinette was finally warm and soft against his body and the smell of coconut and wildflower coming from her hair hit his nostrils. Her regular breathing was tickling the crook of his neck, and he found himself gently stroking her hair, the only part of her body that was still a bit damp, and cold. Her hug had grown stronger as her temperature raised, and now she was holding him tightly.

It was becoming always more difficult for him to keep his eyes open. He hadn’t thought about it as he panicked trying to rescue her, but the run and the manic CPR session, had really taken a toll on him, even if he’d been transformed. Add to that the long day in school and the even longer afternoon posing for the photoshoot—Adrien was exhausted. He placed a light kiss on her forehead.

“Mhhhhh, me and you against the world, mon Chaton,” she murmured in his ear.

His heart started racing as a smile curled his lips. He grabbed one of her hands, tugged around his waist, and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“Always, My Lady,” he whispered before drifting off to sleep.

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

Author’s Note:

Hi again! Here’s chapter 3. Marinette is safe. Adrien… hum… don’t know about that XD

In the next instalment of “Stuck in a cabin (with you)”, “Trapped”:

— “What can be more urgent than the ceiling risking to fall on our head?”

— “Look at me, I’m the IMAGE of calm.”

— “Well, this gentlecat deserved a reward, right?”

So… I hope that you enjoyed the fluff at the end of the chapter. This isn’t the end, though. Let me know what you thought about it and drop me a comment! I will continue soon :) can’t promise I will publish every week, but let me know what you think and I’ll publish as soon as I can. Please subscribe if you’re interested in knowing what is going to happen, so you will know when the next update is!

And please check out my other WIPs, “When Magic Fails”, “Caught in the Loop”, “Errata Corrige” and “La Caverne du Papillon d’Or”!

Last but not least, as usual, if you read this and you’re not part of our wonderful Discord server already, but you enjoy reading, writing and talking about Miraculous, please join our Discord server, Miraculous Fanworks (for people on FFN, discord dot gg slash mlfanworks). See you there soon. Not sure when I will update this story but it won't be too long! Promise!

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eirianerisdar · 5 years

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Sins of the Father, Part 1

Summary: What if Claudia hadn’t managed to heal Soren and brought him back to the castle, still paralysed? Viren hears the news from the depths of his cell, and comes to terms with what he has done to his son.

More TDP fanfic! This will probably be a four or five-parter!

>In the end, they didn’t even have the decency to tell him in person.

Viren was sitting perfectly still, head tilted back against the grimy wall with his chains pooling around his wrists and ankles, when he heard it: the careless, too-loud whisper of a guard come to relieve the previous shift. Guards lined the corridor every five paces, Viren knew.

“Did you hear? His children have returned.”

Viren’s next inhale caught in his chest, and he very nearly tilted too far forward in his haste to catch the next words; his chains clinked softly against each other, and he held his breath for one long moment, fearful that the sound might alert the guards that he was listening.

For a moment, the two helmeted shadows slanted along the faint candlelight outside the bars of his darkened cell were still.

Then, the sound of spittle hitting stone. “Pah! Weren’t they sent out to seek the princes? What use was that? King Ezran was found and safely returned by General Amaya’s soldier yesterday.”

Viren ground his teeth. The guards had fairly flung that latter piece of information in his face a day previous as they slammed down his tray of food.

One of the shadows leaned closer towards the other, conspiratorially. “That’s beside the point right now - scuttlebutt is fairly on fire up in the barracks. Rumour has it his lordship’s children didn’t come back...whole.”

And just like that, Viren forgot how to breathe.

Not whole.

Not whole like he was, drained with magic and without access to the creatures he used to rejuvenate his appearance, or not whole as in...

And even as his heart paused before its next beat as though considering whether to go on, as the chains around his wrists and ankles grew instantly heavier - the question appeared before him.

The only question that mattered.

Claudia or Soren?

And perhaps, at this moment, if Viren had been allowed time to think, he might have shamed himself by entertaining the fleetest idea of a preference - but the guard had not stopped speaking, and the answer to the question was there.

“They made quite the scene, apparently. I have it on the authority of the guard at the gate that the Lady Claudia galloped in like there were demons at her heels and didn’t even dismount before she started screaming for her father.”

The second guard snorted. “Fair chance of that coming to any use. What was she screaming for?”

The next words would remain carved into Viren’s memory forever - beyond the image of his wife’s straight-backed form as she rode away to her homeland, beyond the horror in his heart when Queen Sarai’s breath halted right before his helpless eyes.

“Her brother. He took a dragon-tail to the chest and fractured his spine four days ago. He’s paralysed. Can’t even raise his head to drink.”

Viren jerked.

His chains clattered in an echoing cacophony across the grime-stained floor; there was a flurry of motion outside.

Viren halted, chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven breaths.

A moment of silence.

“Do you think he-”

“Shh! Go, go. It’s my shift.”

In the half-shadow of his windowless cell, Viren began to shake.

There was a roaring in his ears that was louder than the memory of Thunder’s gaping maw descending on him and the late Queen; the grey-purple backs of his hands in the darkness, still blanched with the marks of dark magic, shivered in his gaze.

Soren was-

His son was-

Claudia’s lighthearted voice tumbled out of memory, a conversation in Viren’s study which had taken place only a fortnight previous but seemed an age ago now, here in the dank shadows of this solitary cell. “Let’s say we’re attacked by giant bumble-scorps and they’re all like bzzz! Bzzz! and flailing their scorps at us like bzzz! - and I’m forced to choose between saving the egg and saving Soren. What should I do?”

Then, Viren had found himself momentarily speechless - he had looked from Claudia’s dancing, joke-filled green eyes (his former wife’s eyes) and down to the carpeted floor, because she had, in the unassumingly brilliant way of hers, voiced the question he had refused to ask himself.

Claudia had laughed and poked fun at him for not recognising a joke when he heard it, but she had been only a dozen steps to the door when he spoke.

He had taken the guilt and the shame and compressed it into a sphere so tight beneath his sternum it burned, and made the decision for the good of Katolis.

Just as he had made the decision regarding Harrow’s life, and later, to abandon the princes.

For the good of Katolis, and for mankind.

“The egg,” he had said, with that firm, unyielding authority that he knew his daughter would understand. “If you have to choose, choose the egg.”

What horror and sorrow had now bred from his words then?

What had he done?

Viren’s blood flared to fire in his veins, and he scrambled forwards on his hands and knees even as a deep, warning hiss from the worm in his left ear whispered, “Be still!”

Four days ago he would have listened without question. Now, Viren raised his head and shouted with the barking, staccato voice of a throat completely dry:

“Guards!”

The clang of a spear against the bars of his cell. Contempt from the shadows of a guard’s helmet. “Quiet, prisoner.”

“Still yourself and listen to me!” Aaravos’s sly murmur hissed urgently in his ear. “If you do not-”

Viren wet his cracked lips with a tongue so dry it hurt. “Guards!” he snarled, voice snapping like his son’s back must have, out in the wilderness against a dragon he was not equipped to fight. “I need to speak to Opeli!”

A guard’s laugh reverberated down the half-light of the corridor. “Mere prisoners have no right to summon a member of the High Council at whim, no matter their station before their crimes, traitor.”

Of all the words the guards could have chosen, that was the worst.

Traitor. Traitor, he who loved Katolis best - had sacrificed anything for his country and his people, and now had even sacrificed the happiness of his firstborn son.

Viren’s snarl turned into a roar.

“BRING HER TO ME!”

He had no magic here with him, and the voice in his ear would not give it - but the words lashed out of him with such desperate power that for a moment he fancied that the walls shook and the flames of the torches wavered in the corridor.

A muffled curse outside the cell. The rasp of swords being drawn, steel-toed footsteps on the flagstones. A figure in the armour of the citadel guard, silhouetted before the bars of the cell.

“Lord Viren! This is your last warning! Quiet down or we will-”

Viren was straining at the very end of his chains now, and cared not that the taste of iron coated the back of his throat and that steel carved into his wrists and ankles.

“I NEED TO SEE MY SON!”

Whatever the guard did next Viren did not know. The world was spinning before his vision, and the drum of his heart in his head had drowned out all else.

Half-blind with desperation and shivering from unspeakable emotion, Viren laid down the last treasure he had reserved, even bound in the depths of the castle’s deepest dungeons - his pride.

His head lowered to press into his hands, fisted in the grime of the sawdust floor.

The worm was still and silent in his ear.

“I need to see my son,” Viren whispered, with none of the fire of moments previous. “Please. Let me see my son.”

Soren.

And there, curled in his uttermost fall from grace, Viren could only wait.

To be continued

This is part 1! I’m cross-posting this to FFN and I’ll continue with it when I have time. I’ve been pretty busy studying and I only started writing this an hour ago because I couldn’t study any more. For more TDP fic go to my masterlist on my blog, especially His Father’s Back, a look at Soren’s search for his father’s love since his youth.

Viren’s a very intriguing antagonist in the sense that he truly believes what he’s doing is right; I’m not defending him in any way, but I loved what tdp season 2 did for explaining the relationship between him and his children, and I couldn’t help but examine it. Credit to @wafflesrisa, my twin, for giving me the plot bunny in the first place.

I’ll also put some links in the replies since tumblr isn’t working with links so well! Thanks for reading and I welcome feedback!

#tdp #the dragon prince #tdp viren #viren #tdp soren #soren #claudia #tdp fanfic #sins of the father #my post #fanfic

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stormlight1 · 6 years

Text

Feral - A Labyrinth Story

Just wanted to say a quick word of thanks to those who are reading/liking/commenting/reblogging. I’m getting used to Tumblr’s platform so bear with me.

Two

Sarah lay on the bed in the guest room that had served as her bedroom for the past eight months, a cold compress over her eyes. Despite the relatively early hour, she kept the lights dimmed and the shades drawn, hoping it would help ward off the tension headache she could feel developing in that spot right between her eyes. She'd just gotten off the phone with her divorce lawyer, who'd wanted to go over the proceedings of tomorrow's court case one final time, to make sure she knew what she was supposed to say and do in order to get her fair share of monetary assets out of the deal.

How ironic, came the humorless thought. She'd never realized just how much getting a divorce resembled putting on a play. Move just so, say exactly this, or else it could all be shot to hell, and the act would be ruined.

"Say your right words," she mumbled as her lips curled into a sardonic smile.

Honestly, she didn't really care how much money she got out of it. She knew she wouldn't get the house—that wasn't up for debate—but she didn't want it anyway. And what in the world would she do with furnishings when she had nowhere to put them? The only concerning matter to her was her daughter. In terms of child support, she would put on her little play and make sure she squeezed every penny she could out of that heartless bastard, if it meant ensuring that Katie would be taken care of until she turned eighteen. Augustine was wealthy enough, thanks to his family; he'd been left with a small fortune when his father died three years ago, so he could damn well see to it that his only daughter never wanted for anything.

It was the fact that, within those pages and pages of documents she'd repeatedly gone over with a fine-tooth comb, not a single mention of her husband's parental rights had come up. As far as she could tell, he hadn't asked for anything regarding joint custody. He'd asked for visitation rights, but it looked as if he had no interest in helping to raise his own daughter. No weekend visits, no splitting her down the middle, living six months in one house and six months in the other…

Not that Sarah wasn't relieved by this. She had spent the first two years of her parents' divorce in just such an arrangement, living in Manhattan with her mother (and Jeremy) over summer vacation and winter breaks. Spending the other nine months in the house she'd been born and raised in, so she wouldn't have to transfer schools. Life there was all so normal and boring.

As a teenager she'd loved the excitement of living with her actress mother, spending as much time behind-the-scenes in the playhouses as she did at home. She'd felt like a grownup when her mother took her to bars with her friends after a successful show, celebrating all through the night. Cocktails and expensive food and beautiful, glittering clothes and jewelry … it had all been so glamorous, and Sarah was determined to have such a life for herself when she grew up.

Then, of course, her father had decided that such a hectic lifestyle was no place to raise a teenaged girl. Especially one as strong-willed as Sarah, who was so clearly influenced by the behavior of the adults around her. He'd filed for full custody, having just remarried himself, and the courts had granted it.

Sarah's mother didn't even put up a fight.

Sarah had hated her father for that, and she'd been sure her "evil stepmother" was the one to blame for convincing him to take her away from that life. Add a new little half-brother into the mix, and she'd been certain it was all some elaborate plot to gain a free babysitter and household slave.

So many years later, though, Sarah could admit she'd been ridiculous. She'd so often accused Toby of being spoiled rotten but she'd been spoiled herself, by her mother, her mother's friends… Her father had been right to pull her away from that world and force her into a life of stability. And now the thought of her own daughter possibly going through such an ordeal made Sarah shudder.

So, really, she should be grateful that her husband didn't want Katie. Had he demanded joint custody—or, heaven help her, full custody—she wouldn't have stood a fighting chance. After all, he was the one with the house, the money, and the steady, full-time career. Everything the courts thought important to properly raise a child.

Sarah, on the other hand, was currently homeless, stuck living in her parents' house, working two part-time jobs in an attempt to save enough money for an apartment close to the neighborhood. Just so she wouldn't have to uproot Katie's life any more than it already had been. Now she wished she'd tried to finish her college courses on top of raising a child, because it seemed a mere high school diploma just wasn't going to get her very far, career-wise. And on top of that, while she was relieved that she wouldn't have to fight Augustine to keep her own daughter, she was also completely outraged on Katie's behalf. Exactly how was she supposed to explain to a seven-year-old that Daddy didn't want her anymore?

A hot tear slipped down Sarah's cheek from the corner of her eye. She irritably brushed it away, knocking the compress to the floor. Outside, a flash of lightning briefly outlined the half-drawn shades, illuminated the wooden floor. She mentally counted to five seconds, before the low growl of thunder followed. A storm was approaching, it seemed. More silence, and then another flicker of light. She only got to three when the rumble followed it. It was coming on fast. She frowned, thoughtful. Toby had taken Katie to the park to play, and it was a bit of a walk. They probably wouldn't make it back before the storm hit, and she didn't like the idea of them out in the middle of it by themselves.

Inspiration struck, and she abruptly sat up, headache forgotten as she scanned the floor for her sneakers. She'd go out and meet them halfway. A walk would clear her head a bit, and besides, she'd always liked the way the air smelled just before a storm. Sharp and fresh, like ozone and rain. As a kid, she used to go walking in storms, just for fun (and as an added bonus, it drove Karen crazy when she came home sopping wet, trailing mud and water). There was always the hum of tension in the air, a slight crackle that brushed the fine hairs on her arms, as if the world held its breath in anticipation.

She slipped on her shoes and grabbed a light sweater, pounded down the stairs to snatch a pair of umbrellas out of the stand beside the door. Her parents had gone out to dinner to meet some of her father's old college buddies. They didn't plan to be home until very late, or very early. Which, of course, left Sarah to keep an eye on the kids. Just like old times, she thought dryly, although Toby hardly needed a babysitter anymore. She pocketed a house key and was just about to step out when the telephone rang in the hallway.

She muttered a curse and answered with an impatient "Hello?" A loud burst of static greeted her and she winced and moved the handset away from her ear. "Hello?" she repeated, a bit cautiously. More static, what sounded like a few garbled words that she couldn't quite catch through the white noise. She thought one of them might have been her name. Thunder rumbled again, an ominous warning. She glanced toward the open front door. "Look, I can't understand you," she said loudly. "The storm must be interfering. I have to step out for a bit, so try calling back later, okay?" And she unceremoniously hung up. It had probably just been her lawyer again, wanting to go over the details of her case for the umpteenth time. She personally thought him a bit anal about the entire event, but she supposed that was what made him good at his job.

She stepped outside and closed the door behind her, hopped down the porch steps just as the wind picked up with a sudden shriek. It buffeted her back as she hurried down the street, whipped her hair into a frenzy around her face and tempted a little giggle from her lips despite her sour mood. Two blocks away, she came upon the children, hunkered down against the gale. Katie walked in front as her uncle walked just behind her, pushing her along. "Ahoy there, mateys!" Sarah called. "Need a little help?"

"Mommy!" Her daughter raced ahead and threw herself into Sarah's arms. "The wind almost blowed me away!" she exclaimed, breathless. "Just like Dorothy and the tornado!"

"It did, did it? I was wondering where that flying monkey had come from!" Sarah nudged her brother's side playfully and gained a light punch in the arm in retaliation. A fat raindrop landed on her cheek, another on her upturned hand. The sky growled its displeasure. "Uh-oh!" she gasped in mock terror. "The maelstrom is about to break! The rain goblins are almost here!"

"Oh no!" Katie shrieked in delighted terror. "They sound really mad!"

"Don't worry, we've got force-fields!" Toby grabbed one of Sarah's umbrellas and opened it as a short torrent of cold drops hit them. He held it in front of himself and Katie like a shield, but the wind had other ideas, abruptly switching directions and threatening to turn the flimsy umbrella inside-out. "Goblins … too … strong!" he gasped as he wrestled with it. "Force-field … failing… She cannae take much more o' this, Captain!"

Sarah laughed loudly as another torrent of drops splattered her face. "Then there's only one thing we can do!" she announced dramatically, and swooped down to scoop Katie over her shoulder. "Retreat!" She broke into a sprint as the sky opened up and released its furious downpour.

Toby whooped and followed, easily surpassing the girls as his bellows of "Red alert! Red alert!" echoed down the street, and Katie's joyous screams of laughter threatened to drown even the roiling thunder.

The phone was ringing again when the sopping trio finally made it into the house. Sarah unceremoniously dumped Katie into Toby's arms and hurried to answer it, but the machine picked up before she could reach it. She waited patiently for the recorded greeting to finish, notepad and pen in hand to jot down the caller's information. Instead, another burst of static came through the speaker. She grimaced, again picking up a few random, garbled words through the static before the connection abruptly cut off.

Along with the rest of the power in the house.

"Aw … damn it," she muttered, and heard a snicker and a scandalized giggle from just behind her. She wrinkled her nose. "Sorry."

"Mommy has to put a quarter in the Swear Jar," Katie whispered loudly to Toby. "I've almost got a whole five dollars saved up now."

Toby sniggered again.

"Har har." Sarah fished a crumpled dollar bill from her pocket, slightly damp. "Here. Prepayment." She handed over the bill and the small flashlight she'd dug out of the drawer under the phone. Katie accepted both with another giggle and scurried up the stairs to her bedroom.

"Think Mom and Dad'll be home soon? Think they're okay?" Toby shifted uncomfortably as he glanced out the living room window. He wasn't afraid of storms, but dark places always made him edgy. Sarah often wondered if his fear of the dark wasn't some throwback to that night so long ago, when it had been storming just like this and she'd summoned the Goblin King on him. Some deep part of his subconscious could still potentially remember, right? She tamped down a stab of guilt. What was said was said. No amount of wishful thinking would make it otherwise.

"I don't think they plan to be home until really late this time," she explained. "Don't worry, I'm sure they're fine. That was probably them calling just now to check up on us." She switched on another flashlight and held it under her chin. "If you're bored, we can always sit around the coffee table and tell ghost stories," she teased.

He pulled a face. "Eh. Can't you just teach me to play poker or something?"

She laughed. "We need to play something Katie will enjoy, too. How about Snakes and Ladders?"

After several games of Snakes and Ladders, and then a few more of Candy Land (with a fine dinner of peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches and potato chips in between), the power had yet to turn back on, and the camping lanterns Sarah had dug out of the closet were running low on fuel. The storm had raged a good two hours before finally blowing itself out, and she wondered how many power lines it took out with it. It had been a long time since she'd witnessed a thunderstorm that fierce.

She glanced at the clock. Ten-fifteen, and long past time for little girls to be in bed. Or big ones, for that matter, she thought. She did, after all, have her day in court tomorrow. It wouldn't do to show up exhausted. She tended to get emotional and overstressed when she was exhausted, and her lawyer had made it clear that she needed to remain cool and level-headed. "Okay," she announced, "I think it's about time to put games away and go to bed." She ignored the expected protests and ushered the kids up the stairs to their bedrooms. Toby's old nursery looked far more like a twelve-year-old's playground now, and was just about as messy. Sarah gave him a lantern and hastily bid him goodnight before her neat-freak tendencies could kick in and she started tidying up the place. She'd always hated a disorderly bedroom.

Katie's room still looked as it did when Sarah had occupied it way back when. The furniture sat in the exact same spots. The curtains still framed the window just so. Shelves overflowed with stuffed animals and books, knickknacks lined neatly along the edges of the dresser. Posters and pictures had been tacked all over the walls, although Katie clearly preferred her hand-drawn illustrations of horses and kittens over Sarah's former choices of newspaper clippings and theater production posters. A tattered teddy bear held its place of honor on Katie's pillow and Sarah smiled to see it. She tucked her daughter under the familiar worn quilt with its fraying edges. "Did you brush your teeth?" she asked.

"Yup!" Katie confirmed with a nod.

"Did Launcelot brush his teeth?" Sarah teasingly bopped Katie's nose with the bear's.

"He doesn't have any teeth!" Katie squealed around her giggles.

Sarah laughed and ruffled her golden hair. "Okay now. Settle down and go to sleep. Launcelot is tired."

"You're tired," Katie accused.

"I am. So I'm going to sleep now. Goodnight, Katydid." Sarah kissed her and headed to her own room, slipped from her clothes into a pair of cut-off sweatpants and a T-shirt. She probably looked about as sexy as a bag lady in the getup, but it was comfortable and these days comfort was all that mattered. Besides, Augustine had stopped being impressed with her more risque nightwear a long time ago, so she'd long since given up wearing it.

She sighed, pursed her lips as she examined the scattered papers on the bed. Practically a book's worth, she thought. One of those thick, boring ones a person was forced to read in school for their least favorite class. With a sort of childish satisfaction, she gripped the edges of the designer comforter and gave a mighty shake, up-heaved its contents to send papers scattering and flying every-which-way. "Serves you right," she murmured as she slipped between the cool sheets, pulled the comforter over her head to block out the world for a few hours. She'd be forced to face it again soon enough. For now, at least, she welcomed the comfort of sleep, ready to just forget everything for a little while.

"Mommy!"

Sarah slowly roused, groggy and disoriented. And strangely warm. The air was stifling; in her half-asleep state, it took her several moments to realize that she'd fully buried herself under the blankets. She sluggishly clawed around until she found one end and lifted it to allow cool air to flow into her makeshift nest.

"Mommy!" the little voice said again, and she felt something prod at her, trying to shake her awake. She poked her face out from under the covers, squinted up at the small figure hovering over her.

"Katie, it's—" She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "—one-thirty in the morning! What are you doing up? Did you have a bad dream?"

The little girl shook her head, expression oddly grim. "There's a funny man asking for you," she half-whispered, as if afraid someone else might overhear.

"A funny man?" Sarah frowned and scrubbed sleep from her eyes, feeling slightly more alert. Not quite alert enough to understand what her daughter was talking about, though. "Are you sure you didn't have a dream?"

"Nu-uh." Katie shook her head emphatically. "He said the telephone didn't work, so he had to call you this way, instead."

"The tele—" Now Sarah was really confused. "Was he the one trying to call earlier?"

"Yes, but it didn't work."

She sat up, ran her fingers through her tangled hair. "He isn't at the door, is he?" Her heart slammed against her chest at the thought. But both of the kids knew better than to answer the door to strangers, especially in the middle of the night! Unless … this man was already inside the house. And that thought drove any remaining sleep clear out of her head. She scrambled out of bed, shoved her feet into the first pair of shoes she found, looked around the room for a suitable weapon. A tall, slender bronze statuette on the corner of the dresser caught her eye. A naked lady in art-deco style. The thing was ugly as sin and had probably cost a small fortune. She hefted it, testing its solid weight. It would do. "Okay, where's the funny man hiding?" she asked, pushing Katie behind her as she crept into the hallway. "Is he in the living room? Your bedroom?"

"No, he's not in the house. He's in the mirror." Katie spoke as if that should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

Sarah froze, felt the world tilt crazily and realized she'd braced one hand against the wall to keep from tipping right over. "The … mirror?" Her voice emerged as a squeak. "A funny man … is in your mirror."

"Yup!" Katie regarded her mother strangely. "Are you sick? You look weird."

Sarah swallowed hard and straightened, walked in slow and measured steps down the hall toward the bedroom located at its end. She pushed open the door to find it illuminated in pink from the rose glass of her daughter's bedside lamp; apparently, power had been restored overnight. She started to step in, hesitated as she glanced at Katie. "How about you go sleep in my bed, okay?" she requested. "I want to talk to the funny man for awhile."

Katie shrugged, unconcerned, and trotted back to Sarah's room without argument. Oh, to possess the courage of a child, Sarah thought dryly as she stepped into the bedroom and shut the door behind her. From her position, she couldn't see very well, so she moved further in until she could get a better look. The top of the dressing table glowed softly in a way that had nothing to do with the lamp, and her eyes widened when she stopped directly in front of it and got a first good look at the mirror.

It was definitely not her own reflection staring back at her.

"H-Hoggle!" His name escaped, hardly louder than a whisper as her heart thumped hard against her ribs. A myriad of emotions flowed through her, come and gone so quickly that she hardly had time to feel them, much less sort them out.

"Hello, Sarah," Hoggle replied, and his gravelly voice sounded so dearly familiar, and he looked so genuinely glad to see her that tears sprang to her eyes.

"Where have you been?" she gasped, as the bronze statuette she still held slipped, forgotten, from nerveless fingers. It landed with a heavy thud on the floor, and the startling noise made her jump. "Do you know how worried I've been? You all just … disappeared! Without so much as a goodbye, and I had no way of contacting you or knowing if anything had happened to you and—" She had to stop talking, then, because the lump in her throat had grown too big and tight to speak around. So she stood there and glowered at him, swallowed convulsively to ease the ache in her throat, and swore that she wouldn't break down and bawl like the little girl she no longer was.

Hoggle had removed his cap and now twisted it in his hands, his expression so full of remorse that Sarah almost felt guilty for going off on him like that. Almost. She'd owed him a good chewing-out for just abandoning her, and he owed her one heck of an explanation. "I'm sorry, Sarah," he began, soft and contrite. "I knows just sayin' that won't fix anything. Should've tried harder t' comes back, but it just gots too difficult. Too dangerous t' try an' talk to yas anymore. We thought … it'd be better t' not risk it." He gave her a one-shouldered shrug and a crooked smile. "Figured after a bit, you'd get over it an' go on with life, like you was supposed to."

"How could you expect that?" she exploded, throwing her hands out. "You three were my best friends! How could I just forget?"

"But humans ain't even supposed t' keep in contact, ya know? They ain't supposed t' remember. When they get sent back, they ferget all about the Labyrinth. 'Course, none o' them ever did what you did. You beat Jareth's game, beat the Labyrinth. Don't surprise me none that you remembered, even after we … lost touch." His smile was equal parts smug and impressed, and his eyes gleamed with pride. "'S why I'm here now," he added. "'Cause I thinks you can help. I shouldn't evens be talkin' t' you—Jareth'd boot me straight into the Bog if he found out—but it's worth the risk."

Sarah's stern expression melted into confusion, touched with alarm. "Help with what?" she pressed. "Hoggle, what's going on? Did … did something happen?" She absently worried a thumbnail. "I always felt … maybe something was wrong, back when you three started visiting less and … acting strange. And when you disappeared I wanted to find my way back but I just didn't know how. I'd even considered calling on Jareth to get there. That's how worried I was." She offered a sardonic grin at his snort.

"Good thing you didn't. He'd've never let you go again."

"Yeah." She nodded. "I figured as much." She shifted on her feet, settled herself into the wooden chair to be more eye-level with him. "Will you tell me what's happening? Why did you stop visiting? Why are you risking Jareth's almighty wrath to contact me now?"

He shifted, brow furrowed. "Well, honestly, Jareth ain't in much of a position t' do much about anything, even if he knows. An' I'm pretty sure he does know, tied to the magic as he is."

"What do you mean?" Despite herself, she couldn't tamp the flicker of alarm that caused her heart to quicken in her chest. "I-is something wrong with him?"

Hoggle's sigh was deep and weary and filled with a decade of hopeless struggle. "We tried t' get him t' ask you for help a lot earlier. But you'd … moved on by then. Like we wanted. He refused. Too proud fer 'is own good." He snorted in disgust. "Kept sayin' he'd handle it hisself. Flat-out threatened t' dunk us all in the Bog an' then banish us t' the Wastelands fer good measure just fer thinkin' about askin'. We didn't dare disobey."

"Hoggle, what happened?" Her voice was sharp with worry, and she took several deep breaths in a useless attempt to calm down.

He shifted again, placed his wrinkled cap upon his head, and met her gaze. "Started not long after you left here, an' got lots worse the more time passed. Ain't nothin' anyone can do. Not even the Goblin King." He shook his head, hands twisting his shirt in place of his hat. "Jareth—the Labyrinth—Everything's dyin', Sarah. An' we thinks you's th' only one who can fix it."

Chapter Three

#Labyrinth #Sarah&Jareth #au #drama #romance #humor #tagging is fun #just kidding

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fanfictionchild · 7 years

Text

Oversight

Avengers x Reader One shot

Summary: You’ve finally had enough of the neglect and disrespect after all you’ve done for them

Word Count: 2229

Warnings: Angst, crying, OOC?

A/N: Mmmk so this is the first time I’m posting anything on Tumblr and also the first oneshot I’ve ever produced as well as my first angst story... a lot of firsts. Also sorry if this is crappy, I was just really in the mood to write something and I just kinda spit this out on a whim so I’m sorry if it sucks.

“God damnit!!!” She screams as she pounds on the punching bag taking out an amazing amount of anger on the poor object. She swings and kicks and jabs, the bag starting to swing on the chain holding it to the ceiling. With a last burst of energy she raises her foot and slams it into the bag hard, snapping the chain and sending the bag tumbling off its support to the floor a few feet away from where she was standing. Sweat drips off of her, soaking into her compression shorts and sports bra. Panting hard, she lets out an angry yell and kicks the bag one more time sending it rolling a farther across the floor.

“Wow…” Steve mutters off to the side, amazed on the amount of strength she had presented to him. At the sound of Steve’s mumbles she whips her head around to glare in his direction.

“What are you doing here Steven?” (Y/N) speaks quietly but the rage was pouring off her in tidal waves. His full name came rolling off her tongue with such malice, definitely something he wasn’t expecting, sending a shiver down the mighty captain’s spine.

“I c-came to see if you were okay.” Stevie curses himself for stuttering as he stares into her eyes as her glare darkens.

“Oh? So now you care? So all of you suddenly care that I won’t deal with your guy’s bullsh*it any longer?” She whispers, stalking towards him. Steve goes to take a step back to distance himself from the danger but falters when his back hits the wall, after all he was leaning against it not long beforehand. As she approaches him his face pales and he doesn’t know what to do, once she was close enough she sends a punch flying in his direction. He flinches away and closes his eyes but feels nothing but definitely hears impact. His eyes snap back open, a shocked expression gracing his features as he glances over at the gargantuan hole that has formed next to his head in the solid wall, her bloody fist settled in the center of it. (Y/N)’s eyes glaze over and the snarl marring her lips dies and forms a straight line. Her emotionless demeanor is truly terrifying, even more so than when she was angry.

“Back off Steven. I don’t want to see any of your faces right now let alone speak to any of you. I’m leaving, and don’t expect me back for a while. I don’t want any of you trying to find me, calling me or trying to contact me in anyway, got it?” She breaths out looking at him with dead eyes. He slowly nods still trying to slow his heart rate after the previous events, not really hearing what she said. Once again she snarls and takes a step away from him.

“Goodbye Steven.” She says one last time before striding out the door of the training room and slamming it closed making the door rattle and nearly fall off its hinges. Steve let’s out a shaky breath before pushing himself off the wall to follow after her. As he leaves he catches a sight of her profile in the elevator, angry tears rolling down her cheeks, mixing with the sweat that was there previously. His heart clenches with guilt and regret before tracing her steps to the elevator planning on following her to try to apologize.

Waiting for the elevator to return he asks F.R.I.D.A.Y., “F.R.I.D.A.Y., is (Y/N) heading to her floor?”

“Yes, Mr. Rogers, she is. But she has blocked all access to her floor, I’m sorry sir.” The slightly robotic voice answers. At this new information, Steve’s knees nearly buckle under him.

“No…” Steve whispers before practically slamming the elevator button trying to open it faster. The door doesn’t open for a few more seconds, wasting valuable time needed to get to the others or more specifically Tony so he could lock down the building, preventing (Y/N) from leaving. Finally the door opens and he dashes in, slamming the buttons again. While in the small enclosed room Steve’s mind keeps flashing back to the images of (Y/N)’s hurt, angry, and stoic facial expressions. The guilt grows in the blond’s heart as he realizes what a complete a**hole he had been to the stunning, kind girl. It hadn’t been only him though, it had been the whole Avenger’s team that had neglected her the past few months.

After the war that had happened between them, everyone’s lives on the compound drastically changed. Everyone became less focused on the team as a whole and became more secluded and distant. Hatred was shared between everyone, hating each other for all of their conflicting views.The team quickly grew apart but she, (Y/N), disregarded everyone’s hatred and selfishness and snapped everyone out of their hostile mind sets. She had always been there to bring them back together again, always listening to everyone’s worries and concerns. Being a shoulder to cry on, waking a team member from a brutal nightmare, doing everyone’s chores, always trying to keep us as a family instead of us branching out by ourselves without any support from the others. Slowly but surely the hatred dissipated between them and the Avengers grew close once again, except for (Y/N).

She was left behind, left doing the chores. She still talked to everyone, the people she previously comforted but only when they thought it was convenient. No one tried to involve her back into the group, too ashamed of the things that she helped them through. So no one noticed when her health started failing or when she started to wake up screaming from her own nightmares or sobbed into her pillows due to how lonely she had actually become. And even through all this (Y/N) kept up her wall of fake happiness, still acting as practically everyone’s slave. And then finally today, she snapped.

The team was talking in the common room laughing and having a good time when she walked in. At first her entrance wasn’t noticed due to her now much lighter frame (caused by her unnoticed sickness) and her bare feet barely making any noise on the cold floor, but as soon as she was noticed the voices died down to eventually nothing. When (Y/N) noticed how silent the team had become, she looked up from the laundry basket in her arms towards the couches where they were all seated. She had looked into Tony’s eyes and flashed a nearly dead smile, still trying to desperately preserve her mask but when Tony directed his gaze down to the floor, away from hers, her smile vanished. (Y/N)’s distraught eyes flew around the room looking for something, anything that would keep her from breaking. When no one met her gaze, her facade crumbled and all the contempt, rage and sadness came flooding out of her in screams and sobs of animosity. It had caught every member of the team off guard, the happy, kind, and genuine woman was gone and in her place was a broken and lonely girl. But by the time any of them realized what she had become it was way too late.

When Nat stood up to try to calm the enraged girl down, she practically screeched at her to “Keep the f*ck away from me!” quickly stopping even the Black Widow in her tracks. At that point (Y/N) was seething, actually that doesn’t even begin to cover the bitterness she felt. With a muttered “Stay away from me,” she walked out of the common room to the elevator to go to her room, quickly getting changed into your training gear to head to the training room which led Steve and her to now. The moment where the elevator couldn’t move any slower.

When the elevator door opened, Steve sprinted out like a bat out of hell toward the common room, hoping to find the team still there. As he rounds the corner of the hall, he sees the team all still sitting on the couches, all contemplating how they could of done such a thing to their friend, their teammate, their family. A guilty silence had settled over the room when (Y/N) had left and it hadn’t been interrupted even when Steve had left to go find her but when he came back, he shattered it.

“Stark!!! Lock the building down now! Don’t let anyone leave!” Steve yells. The others jump at the disturbance but Stark quickly answers although hesitantly.

“Cap… why? What’s going o-”“There’s no time Tony! (Y/N) plans on leaving and not coming back! Now move!” That one sentence seems to kick start everyone as the all launch themselves off the couches to help.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Turn off all the elevators and lock all the doors to the outside, we are on lock down till we get (Y/N) to stay, forcefully or not!” “Okay sir.” With that, alarms start going off throughout the Avenger’s Tower, screeching something about a lock down. The team can hear the elevators shutting down and here the panic which is quickly calmed down after Tony calls reception to tell them what is happening. And then the alarms turn off, leaving the whole building in a strange silence. A few minutes pass before the team visibly relaxes and they all decide to try and go see (Y/N) and try to get her to stay, at that point they would all have been willing to beg at her feet to keep her there. Steve relaxes slightly as well but he still can’t help but feel slightly off, like something bad is still going to happen. As all the team walks to the stair well (since the elevators are off), the alarms start blaring again all of a sudden, only this time about the lock down still being in place. The team collectively tenses again but only Tony truly knows what’s happening.

“NO!” He screams quickly calling for all security to look for (Y/N) but stops suddenly eyes filling with unshed tears as he listens to the other side of the line. When the team hears his command their eyes widen.

Steve practically explodes,” Tony! What is happening?!” Tony hangs up his call before slowly sinking to his knees, putting his head in his hands.

“There was a breakout of the building. The garage door was smashed down by a car more specifically, my car so (Y/N) could escape with hers.” He answers quietly, tears trailing down his cheeks. And with that one statement the whole team breaks down, Nat let’s out an extremely uncharacteristic sob and she clutches at her heart while sinking to the floor with Tony. Bruce just stands there in shock, eyes filled with unshed tears and Clint let’s out a heartbroken cry before punching the wall repeatedly before simply leaning up against it, starting to cry as well for his lost friend. Steve stands there, watching his team crumble under the loss of (Y/N), the underestimated, neglected, broken girl that saved them and ruined them. The regret and pain was suffocating him and he had to get away, had to go make sure (Y/N) wasn’t still in her room and just playing a terrible prank on them for hurting her. Steve slowly walks down the stairs towards (Y/N)’s floor in a haze. Not completely believing what was happening when he arrived at her room, the door is hanging open practically taunting him. He gently pushes open the door and the sight knocks the air out of his lungs and he collapses.

The room is practically spotless, closet cleared, dressers empty, bed made. There is no trace that she had ever been there. There’s no way she packed all of her things up that quickly, there was no way! He looks around the room for anything that might make this blow feel less like a bullet to the heart. And then he spots it, a small folded piece of paper sitting on the dresser. He drags himself off the floor not knowing how he was able to stay standing, and slowly steps toward the note. When he reaches it he doesn’t want to open it, it would only make her leaving that much more real. He gently lifts the note from its perch before opening it. The sight inside shatters him, it’s a picture of the team all smiling and having fun during a movie night except the right side is ripped off, the part where (Y/N) was sitting in the photo. Under the picture is a letter stating that she was planning on getting kicked out soon enough (the reason she was so quickly packed up) but this happened sooner, which once again breaks his heart knowing that they made her feel alienated enough that she thought she would be kicked out. She also states that she won’t be back till she is healed enough to deal with them again which has a chance of never happening. But the last two lines spark a small fragment of hope in Steve.

“Please do not beat yourselves up to much for this, what you did was wrong, yes, but you need to learn and grow from it, not wallow in your guilt. Even with how you all treated me, I still love you guys and will miss all of you, I will try to come back as soon as possible.

Love,

(Y/N)”

#avengers #x reader #avengers x reader #avengers x you #steve x reader #natasha romanoff #clint barton #bruce banner #steve rogers

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