#i need to stop looking in the marketplace and adding things to my watch list. it's not helping xD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wandaromanova · 3 years

Text

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Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, failing marriage

A/N: hello! happy reading! <3

anon requested: Wanda x reader where they give her divorce paper because Wanda is always gone and distant

Summary: Even the most unbreakable bonds fall victim to the struggles of marriage.

Word Count: 5.1K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

When you first met Wanda Maximoff, it was under unusual circumstances. You were browsing through a farmer’s market a couple of streets over from your apartment, glancing at various booths as you passed them by. It was a quiet day, the sun was shining down brightly, the heat stifling. You liked to get your groceries from these marketplaces, the fruit and vegetables were fresh and fewer people touched them in comparison to a wholesaler franchise.

You had been stood at one of your favorite fruit stands, warmly greeting the elderly woman who ran the booth and observing some strawberries. Then suddenly, your purse had been snatched from your person. You were startled and caught sight of a man running down, your purse in hand. You intended to run after the thief, but he didn’t get far.

A red glow encased the man, stopping him in his place a couple of feet away from you. Your eyes widened, as did everyone else’s, at the sight. You turned your head over your shoulder and were mesmerized by a brunette woman, eyes red, and her head tilted slightly to the side.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Considering you didn’t live under a rock, you knew exactly who she was; Wanda Maximoff.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You had seen her on the news quite often. She was an Avenger who had unique abilities that surpassed the rest of the group. Your eyes followed Wanda as she walked past you and toward the man who was still trapped by a glow of red. You moved without thinking, following behind her. After all, it was your purse that had been stolen.

“Stealing purses from women? How desperate could you be?” Her Sokovian accent met your ears as you stood back slightly. Wanda tore your purse out of the man’s grip and released him. He looked terrified as he took one glance at the brunette before running in the direction he was originally going in.

Everyone in the marketplace went back to what they were doing while you stood in the middle of the walkway, frozen in place as the Sokovian turned her body around to face you. Television and photos didn’t do her beauty justice; she was captivating.

There was a glow that surrounded her, a silhouette of gold colliding with her brunette locks. Her eyes were emerald with the smallest specks of blue. Her skin was remarkably flawless. You couldn’t help but wonder what her skincare routine was.

Wanda smiled lightly at you, amusement present in her eyes. “I don’t have a skincare routine. I just wash my face with a bar of soap and call it a day.” You blushed profusely at Wanda’s words.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Right… she could infiltrate people’s minds too. How could you forget something like that?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“T-thank you for helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that dude actually got away with my purse.��

You mentally berated yourself for stuttering. The woman smiled at you and handed you the object, which you hung on your shoulder.

“Don’t mention it.” Wanda spoke dismissively with a wave of her hand. “Is there anything I can do to repay you? Maybe buy you a cup of coffee? There’s a really good cafe a couple of blocks down from here.”

You looked at Wanda hopefully, wanting to thank her for what she had done for you.

The brunette took a pause, contemplating her answer before nodding her head. “I could go for some coffee.”

You smiled brightly and pointed behind you with your thumb. “Well, it’s back that way.” You turned back and began walking, Wanda right beside you.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

You sat in a booth with Wanda sat across from you. The cafe was fairly empty, which you were grateful for. Two cups of coffee were resting on the table, steam rising from the hot liquids.

“What’s an Avenger like yourself doing in a little farmer’s market?” You asked, taking a sip of your coffee as your eyes peered at the brunette over the rim of the mug.

“I always loved farmer’s markets. In Sokovia, my country, they were everywhere. So, I really love coming out to these sorts of places. It reminds me of home.”

You tensed at her words. Everyone knew about the rubble that Sokovia had become, and you felt kind of like an asshole for asking.

“I’m very sorry for what happened to your home.” You spoke sympathetically as you put your mug down gently. Wanda sent you a small smile. “Thank you. It wasn’t the greatest country. We were plagued by poverty, but it was still home.”

The Sokovian looked down to the mug in front of her in thought. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“Well, I know a ton of farmer’s markets in this area. I tend to alternate between them, depending on what I need at home.” Wanda’s eyes moved from her mug and to your own.

“If you want some recommendations, I’m your woman. Not to brag, but I’m kind of a farmer’s market pro.” You brushed off imaginary dust from your shoulders and Wanda let out small giggles at your faux cockiness.

“I would love some recommendations if it means you’ll take me on your shopping trips.”

You raised your eyebrow at her with a smirk. “If you wanted to spend more time with me, you should’ve just said so, Wanda. No need to be so coy.”

Wanda threw her head back, laughing wholeheartedly at your words. You couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself for making her laugh.

“Nah, I don’t want to spend time with you, I just want your street knowledge.” Wanda managed to let out, slowly coming down from her laughing fit.

“Oh! So you want to use me? I mean, let’s be honest... I wouldn’t mind if you did.” You spoke dramatically and Wanda laughed once more.

You smiled as you observed her. Her head was thrown back, cheeks red, and eyes closed as the cutest giggles you’ve ever heard met your ears.

It was then you decided that her laugh was your favorite sound, especially when you were the one to evoke them from the Sokovian.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

Since that day, you guys had exchanged numbers and Wanda had accompanied you shopping once a week. You’d drag the Sokovian by the hand through various markets and give her pointers on which stands sell the best produce. You even introduced her to the vendors, even if they already knew who she was.

It was a wonderful time and afterward, the two of you would grab lunch in random restaurants, conversating over anything and everything. You had to admit, you looked forward to the one day a week you got to spend with Wanda. So, it kinda sucked whenever she couldn’t make it, away on some sort of mission.

However, her absence made her presence all the more special. She took time out of her hectic schedule to hang out with you and roam around carelessly.

Truthfully, you were kind of a nobody, just another number to the extensive population of New York. You were the head chef of a fine-dining restaurant, hence your preference for fresh ingredients at home.

It baffled you that someone of Wanda’s caliber would want to spend time with you, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

As weeks turned into months, you had grown exceptionally close to the Sokovian. You had gone from seeing her once a week to every other day, well, when she wasn’t away for work.

Wanda would come over to your apartment, sipping on some wine as she watched you cook dinner. You figured she was intrigued by your gracefulness in the kitchen, but really, she was just checking you out.

She thought you looked amazing in your little chef apron, your hair pulled back into a ponytail to keep your hair out of your face. However, a few loose strands fell and framed your face perfectly.

“Your hair looks sexy pushed back.” Wanda spoke, pulling you out of your concentration. Your eyes moved upward, staring at the woman who sat on a stool on the opposite side of your kitchen island.

“Did you just quote Mean Girls?” You asked amusedly and the brunette shrugged, a small smile on her face.

“Yes, I did. And what about it?” You rolled your eyes at Wanda’s sassiness. You would continue your task, disregarding her comment as best as you could, trying to ignore how flustered the woman made you.

Once dinner was prepared, the two of you would sit on the couch and choose a random movie on Netflix. Those nights were always filled with commentary and laughter. It was so easy to relax around the Sokovian. Everything seemed to fall into place whenever she was near.

So, it was no surprise when you realized you had feelings for Wanda that surpassed friendship. You had been nervous about revealing how you felt to the woman, but when you finally did, you felt like an idiot for being scared.

“I have feelings for you. Like, I like you a lot.” You anxiously played with your fingers, scared of Wanda’s reaction. She had been sat on your couch right beside you and you couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Hey.” Wanda spoke, gently gripping your chin and forcing you to look at her. “I like you, too.” Wanda giggled when your eyes widened in surprise.

“What? Don’t look so surprised. We’re practically dating already.” You rolled your eyes at the brunette with a smile on your face. The two of you sat there, smiling at each other like idiots, but neither of you seemed to care.

Your feelings weren’t one-sided and a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. After that day of confessions, you and Wanda became official.

Truthfully, not much changed between you two. You guys acted the same way you always did, but now kissing was added to the list of activities you would participate in.

ㅤ Wanda Maximoff is the love of your life; ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ and you would never let her go.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

3 Years Later

You had been dating Wanda for three years and things were going wonderfully. She had moved into your apartment with you. It was amazing, knowing that she would end her days in your bed and you’d wake up with her in your arms the next morning.

However, one morning, you definitely weren’t particularly happy with your girlfriend. She had dragged you out of bed at 5AM and rushed you to get ready. Wanda didn’t tell you where the hell she was taking you at the ass crack of dawn. Each time you asked, she just shushed you.

Thirty minutes later, you walked with Wanda hand-in-hand. You knew the route she was taking and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You remained silent until you made it to your destination, and your suspicions had been confirmed; she had taken you to the farmer’s market closest to your apartment.

The area was completely empty, there were fairy lights strung about and a basket full of strawberries sitting on your favorite fruit stand. The sun was rising and the sky looked immaculate, the sun radiating a blood-orange color, complemented by golden yellow undertones. It was beautiful.

Wanda let go of your hand and moved forward, turning around to face you. It was then that you noticed how anxious she looked. Seriously, it looked like she was about to puke. “What are we doing here? Is everything okay?” Your concern for the Sokovian was evident in your tone.

Wanda gave you the best smile she could muster in her nervous state and nodded her head. “Everything is okay. Wait, scratch that. Everything is more than okay now that I have you in my life.” You smiled at your girlfriend as she took a deep breath.

“Y/N. Do you remember this spot?” Wanda asked you curiously and you nodded your head, a laugh escaping your lips. “Well, of course. We come here like once a month, duh.” The Sokovian shook her head at your words, rolling her eyes playfully.

“No shit, Sherlock. I meant, do you remember the significance of this specific spot?” You instantly nodded your head.

“This is where a random ass dude stole my purse and you scared him with your powers.” You smiled triumphantly while Wanda giggled.

“Well, you’re not wrong, but yeah. This is where we first met.” Wanda let out a shaky breath and you stared at her curiously.

“When I first came to America and joined the Avengers, I was petrified. They say this place is the land of opportunity, but it didn’t feel like that to me.”

The Sokovian began to ramble on, her eyes locked onto yours as you listened intently.

“Coming to America wasn’t a choice that I made, but it was the only option I had. I used to think that I could never find a home in this city, but I was wrong. I found a home. Not with the Avengers or in the Compound where I lived, but in this little market.”

Wanda moved forward, taking a step closer to you and holding both of your hands in her own. “I found you.” Your heart fluttered at her words, heat rising to your cheeks despite the cold morning air.

“I’m so happy that I decided to come here that morning because if I didn’t, I would’ve missed my opportunity to find love.”

Wanda let go of your hands and you instantly missed the warmth. However, your eyes went wide when your girlfriend got down on one knee.

“Y/N, you brought hope and love into my life when I ran out of it. I never thought I would entertain the idea of marriage, but now… it’s all I can think about.”

A loud gasp surpassed your lips, your hands flying up to cover your mouth as Wanda pulled out a tiny red velvet box. She opened it slowly and inside sat a stunning engagement ring with a huge diamond sat on top of it.

“Will you marry me?” Wanda looked up at you hopefully as you stared down at her with tears springing to your eyes.

You instantly nodded your head as a few tears fell down your face. “Yes!” You managed to breathe out and the Sokovian was beaming.

She took your left hand in hers and steadily slid the ring onto your finger before kissing the back of your hand. Wanda stood up hastily and pulled your body into hers by the waist, passionately moving her lips against your own.

It was euphoric. The sunrise encased your figures in a golden hue, the cold atmosphere turning warm from each other’s body heat. You were two women who loved each other dearly, kissing in the middle of a vacant farmer’s market without a care in the world.

ㅤ The promise of forever hung in the air that ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤsurrounded you both; and you were free.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

1 Year Later

A year after your engagement, you and Wanda had gotten married. The ceremony was absolutely gorgeous as you were surrounded by your family and friends. You would never forget the way Wanda teared up as you walked down the aisle, your father by your side.

You recall the small giggles you’d share with Wanda as the two of you stood at the altar. Neither of you could take it seriously, whispering quiet flirtatious remarks to each other. However, your laughs died down when you reached your vows.

“Wanda, you are my hero. Sure, you may save the world from threats for a living, but you do so much more than that. You save me from purse thieves and kill the spiders in my apartment because I’m too scared to go near them.”

Wanda and the audience seated in front of you had laughed at your words. You let out a shaky breath, Wanda sending you a reassuring smile before you continued.

“Whenever I order a burger, you always eat the tomato because you know how much I dislike them. You take care of the tiny cuts I get from work, sometimes being a little too dramatic about my injury.

You looked down at your hands nervously before returning your gaze to the brunette who stood in front of you. The white dress she had on was absolutely gorgeous, complementing her emerald eyes perfectly.

“But you’re always so gentle, you’re always there for me. I promise to do the same for you. I won’t kill the spiders for you, but I’ll be there whenever you need me, even when you don’t. I’ll be on standby anyway.”

You were entranced by the woman who stood in front of you. You weren’t too fond of public speaking, but it was easy when Wanda was with you; everything was easier with Wanda around.

“I’m so grateful for you, Wanda Maximoff. You are the other half of my heart and soul that I didn’t realize was missing, but now that I’ve found you; I never intend on letting you go. Sorry, but you’re stuck with me.”

You ended your vows with a small chuckle. Wanda’s eyes were focused on your own, shining brightly as a smile crossed her features. When her turn came around, you were practically a melted puddle by the end of it.

“Y/N, you are my love. I don’t think you realize just how deeply I love you. I would do anything for you. From fighting off an entire army to letting you eat some of my food even if you said you weren’t hungry.”

The room filled with laughter once more, a blush coming to your cheeks from being called out. Food just tasted better when it wasn’t your own.

“I’ll let you fight your own battles, but I’ll always be there for backup. I promise to you that I will do everything in my power to keep you happy and safe because you are my main priority.. I’ll be anything you need me to be; a best friend, a shoulder to cry on, a protector, a wife. You name it and I’ll be it for you.”

You were a crying mess when Wanda finished her vows. You felt an overwhelming feeling of love consume you. Her words struck a chord within you and just… god damn it, you loved her so much.

After the ‘I do’s,’ you and Wanda kissed as if you were the only people in the room. Honestly, it felt like it at that moment. You had just declared your devotion and unwavering love to one another.

It was the beginning of forever and you couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store for you both.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

2 Years Later

Two years of marriage had been interesting. The first year went flawlessly, it was as if you and Wanda were on a high. It was the most intense and passionate year that the two of you had ever shared. The two of you had purchased a condo together, moving out of your former apartment.

Long nights of love-making that spilled over to the morning, working out together, and spending practically every single minute together possible. Of course, the two of you still had your respective jobs, but that never affected your relationship.

The married life seemed like smooth sailing, but little did you know, there was a thunderstorm not too far ahead. Treacherous waves and destructive lightning were in the near future, you just didn’t know it yet.

Things had started going south at a relatively slow pace. Wanda was progressively assigned to more missions, spending less time at home and an increased amount of time at work. You didn’t let it get to you at the time, it was the way life worked. Wanda was literally a superhero and the world always seemed to need saving.

This went on for several months. Waking up to an empty bed and going to bed the same way. You rarely saw your wife and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t upset you. It was a drastic change from what you were used to. You only saw the Sokovian for an hour or two, every other day.

And when you did see her, your time was filled with arguing over things that neither of you could really remember. There was a sudden halt to all forms of affection, animosity taking its place.

It was particularly bad the night you brought up the topic of Wanda’s presence and the lack thereof.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

You had been lying in bed, your head resting against the headboard as you scrolled through your phone. The sound of the front door opening had caught your attention and you quickly tossed your phone aside and stood up, making your way out of the bedroom.

You were met with Wanda taking off her shoes in front of the door. Her eyes darted up to you, the annoyance that crossed her face had hurt you, not that you would tell her that.

“Hey, you’re back early.” You stated, maintaining a happier tone to avoid an argument. Wanda walked past you and toward the kitchen, opening up the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

She shut the fridge and turned around to look at you. “Why? Did you not want me here? Because I can leave if it’s such a problem.”

You were taken aback by Wanda’s attitude. You spoke one sentence and somehow managed to upset her. It was absurd.

Despite your growing irritation, you remained calm. You hated fighting with your wife and you knew that someone had to be the bigger person.

“No, it’s not a problem at all. I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been gone a lot and I miss you.” You smiled, walking over to your wife who still stood in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around her waist.

However, the brunette grabbed your arms and tore them off her body, whipping around to face you.

She was clearly angry and you didn’t understand how any of what you said could’ve pissed her off. “Yeah, I’m gone a lot because people need me. I can’t drop everything to be with you just because you’re needy as fuck.” Wanda spoke bitterly as she glared at you.

Your chest tightened at her words, flashbacks of your wedding day hitting you. You took a deep breath, gulping to prevent a sob from coming out.

“I thought I was your main priority or did you just make that up for show? To have everyone at our wedding believe that I’m of any importance to you?”

You were getting angry, your voice rose slightly. You felt your blood pressure rising, your body getting hot from your frustration.

“Wanda, I just want to see you more because you’re my wife. It has nothing to do with being needy, seeing you more than an hour or two every few days is a fucking standard in a marriage!”

You took a step back from Wanda as you screamed. You were fed up with being made out to be some clingy person when you were simply being a wife to the Sokovian. She rolled her eyes at you, crossing her arms over her chest as she gazed at you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Well, then maybe our marriage was a mistake.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda spoke without thinking, not caring about anything other than going for the killshot and winning the argument. Her words seemed to have worked as you visibly deflated.

Your anger was replaced with sadness. You let out a dark chuckle at her words, shaking your head before walking into the bedroom slamming the door behind you, and locking it.

Wanda didn’t expect that reaction, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that she had won the argument. She figured she would be sleeping on the couch tonight and she was satisfied with that. You didn’t want to see her and she didn’t want to see you.

So, the Sokovian brought her bottle of water over to the living room, placing it on the coffee table before crashing onto the couch. She got comfortable, closing her eyes as slumber took over her.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

3 Weeks Later

Since the argument, things were the same, but different all at once. Wanda still went on mission after mission, but you had taken up more shifts at the restaurant. You didn’t want to be alone in the condo any longer than you had to be. You needed the extra money anyway.

When you were home, you were silent, no longer bothering to speak to your wife. You were two strangers that occupied a living space together. Wanda’s words played in your head like a broken record. It was all you could think about whenever you’d see her.

The promise of forever hung in the air that surrounded you both; and you were trapped. Your life had become a vicious cycle of tension and avoidance.

Your engagement and wedding felt like an absolute lie now. They always say the first years of marriage are the hardest, but you didn’t think it would be this difficult.

You and Wanda had petty arguments over the six years you two had been together, but they were rare and were usually resolved quickly.

But not this, no, this entire situation was different. You were in a never-ending loop of anger and resentment, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

Wanda pulled out her keys and unlocked the door to the condo. She had just gotten back from an emergency meeting with the team. The Sokovian stopped in her tracks as soon as she opened the door.

There you were, sat at the kitchen table. You were leaning back, your arm resting on the table as your hand enclosed around a glass of whiskey. Your bloodshot, red eyes, and the dried streaks of tears that adorned your cheeks were evidence of your crying. Wanda had never seen you so down.

The brunette slowly shut the door behind her, surprised when you spoke. She didn’t think you’d noticed her presence, your eyes trained on the glass in your hand. “We need to talk.”

Wanda nodded her head at your words and slowly approached the table. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she saw a stack of papers on the table.

Wanda sat down across from you and finally, you looked at her. The Sokovian’s heart clenched as you stared at her emotionlessly. You downed the entire glass of alcohol, not even wincing at the burn, but welcoming it. You put the glass down and cleared your throat before speaking.

“Wanda, I love you so much, but we can’t keep living like this.” Your voice was hoarse, a result of your earlier crying and the beverage you had just ingested. Wanda stared at you in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” The Sokovian felt fear slowly creeping in. She didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“Oh, come on. You know what I’m talking about. We act like we don’t even know each other anymore. We aren’t even wives anymore, we’re just two people who live together.” You didn’t have the energy to yell anymore, your voice was soft and calm.

Wanda still didn’t understand the direction this conversation was going in. Nothing could’ve prepared her for your next words.

“I visited a lawyer and hired him. He was going to give you these, but I decided to do it myself.” You sat up and pushed the papers across the table. “I’m officially serving you with divorce papers.”

Wanda’s heart stopped as she comprehended your words. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Wha- what? A divorce? Please tell me you’re joking.” Wanda looked down at the papers and back up to you in utter disbelief.

“I wish I was joking, but I’m not. I want a divorce.” You were eerily calm, maintaining your composure while Wanda felt like she was going to crumble to pieces at any given moment.

“Is this about my missions? If it is, I’ll ask Steve to relax my workload. I’ll be around more often and I’ll stop being an asshole. Just, please don’t do this. I’ll make it right, I promise.” Wanda leaned forward and reached out for your hand pleadingly, but you didn’t let her.

You pulled your arm off of the table and shook your head. “Wanda, you shouldn’t have to make it up to me in the first place. It shouldn’t take a divorce for you to finally act like a proper wife. I’m not changing my mind.” You spoke firmly, but Wanda refused to accept your words.

The Sokovian abruptly stood up, the loud sound of her chair scraping against the floor filled the room.

“So, that’s it? You’re just gonna give up on everything we have? You’re gonna throw in the towel because things are a little rough right now? You’re a fucking coward, Y/N!”

Wanda was enraged as you stared at her unimpressed. Her chest was heaving as she glared at you. “This is exactly why this needs to happen. We can’t have one conversation without someone yelling.” You stood up slowly, rounding the table and making your way to the front door.

Wanda watched your every move like a hawk. You reached for your purse that hung beside the door and flung it over your shoulder before turning around to face the Sokovian. “I suggest you get a lawyer as well.” You spoke simply and turned back around, your hand on the doorknob.

Something in Wanda went off, seeing you about to walk out had raised alarms in her mind. You were really leaving her. The brunette moved without a single thought, rushing over to you as you pulled the door open. She gripped your wrist tightly, causing your head to turn back to her, a sad expression on your face.

“Please don’t leave me. I love you and you love me. Does that not mean anything to you anymore?” Wanda’s anger dissipated to desperation. She stared at you right in the eyes, begging you to stay. Pleading you not to put an end to your marriage.

“Our love means the absolute world to me, Wanda. But sometimes… love just isn’t enough.”

You smiled sadly at the Sokovian before gently pulling her hand off of your wrist. It was kinda difficult considering how firm her grip had been, but you managed.

You walked out and all Wanda could do was sit there and watch as you walked down the hall and away from all of the memories you had made together. You never thought that your marriage with the brunette would come to an end, let alone an ugly one.

But your marriage had become toxic, slowly feeding away at any sort of happiness you had left. It was a painful decision to come to; a divorce, but it felt like the right one. The Sokovian was right, you did love her; which is why you needed to put an end to the torture.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ Wanda Maximoff is the love of your life; ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ but you had to let her go.

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader angst #wanda maximoff angst #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #request done

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xcertaindarkthingsx · 3 years

Text

make you mine

pairing: jealous!mando x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now as a healer and caretaker for the Child. one day, the Mandalorian needs your specific skills to help him catch a bounty, and needless the say he is NOT happy about it.

warnings: two idiots that don’t know they like each other, some fluff and yearning, a smidge of possessiveness/jealousy, canon-typical violence, swearing in basic and mando’a, brief mentions of unwanted touching, mentions of taking care of injuries/stitching and blood, SMUT 18+ (minors BEGONE), porn w/ plot i guess, thigh riding, finger sucking, grinding, a lil’ dirty talk (if i miss any just please let me know!)

word count: 7.6k (i’m soRRY)

a/n: WHEW OK so i originally wrote this for #dincember but because i suck at deadlines and take forever to write it just turned into something else. reader is a lil insecure but mando makes it all better (self-projection, anyone?) ummm, this is my first time writing for din AND my first time writing smut but i hope you guys like it! comments/likes/reblogs/feedback are completely welcome and much appreciated! i apologize if this is a mess kladjflkd but shoutout to @a-dorin and @princessxkenobi for being wonderful beta readers and helping me when i got stuck. i am planning on making this a two parter, so if you want to be added to my tag list let me know! if you prefer to read on ao3 you can do so here . mando’a translations at the end!

gif credit: @bestintheparsec

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Soft coos filled the air inside the Razor Crest as you desperately tried to rock the Child back to sleep. You were almost certain he was starting to get hungry, but you were out of snacks and Mando had told you not to leave the ship under any circumstances.

You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now, after being picked up on Arvala-7. You were a healer—a pretty damn good one, if you had anything to say about it—and had patched him up after a bounty hunt gone wrong.

The Mandalorian thought your services would be helpful if things ever got a little dicey again, so he asked you along for the ride (the reality was you had nagged and scolded him so much about how cauterizing was not the answer for every wound, that he eventually caved just to get you to stop). There wasn’t really anything tying you to Arvala-7, so you agreed.

Plus, the Child had taken a real liking to you, and how could you say no to that precious face?

The Mandalorian was an odd man—well, no. Not odd. More like intriguing, and you were drawn to it. It had been quiet and awkward the first few months. He was a rigid man of few words, never speaking more than necessary (unless he thought he was alone with the kid; the way he spoke with him made your heart melt). But after countless late nights together of taking care of the Child and constantly tending to his injuries, you were surprised to find there was a sense of gentleness under all that beskar.

The Mandalorian had been just as surprised as you when he found himself warming up to your presence. It was all the little moments that had snuck up on him, the stolen glances and lingering touches, and now his heartbeat seemed to quicken every time you were together.

Little did he know, yours did too.

At the sound of the hatch door opening, you looked up. You watched as the Mandalorian walked up the platform, admiring his strut. How someone could look so good just walking, you had no idea, but it was maddening.

“No bounty?” you called out, turning the kid in your arms so he would be facing out towards his dad. It was unusual that Mando hadn’t found the target yet, but you were just thankful he was in one piece for now. He shook his head.

“Not yet. I ran into some… complications,” he huffed and even though his voice was laced with frustration, it put you at ease. Being on the ship alone for nearly the whole day, sometimes you just missed hearing that husky baritone filtering through his modulator.

Not to mention you thought it was sexy as hell.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Complications?”

He heaved a deep sigh, lifting a hand for the Child to grab, which he took happily. “Hey, kid,” he whispered, and you smiled as the Child babbled back. Mando turned his helmet towards you and continued. “Yes, but I found a contact who should be able to give more information. I came back for you and the kid first. I know you guys must be hungry.”

You nodded at the same time the little green bean gave a resounding coo, earning a soft chuckle from the both of you. “I’ll get the pram ready.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

After a quick stop in the marketplace for supplies, Mando had led you two into what seemed to be the only bar in town. It was only late afternoon, leaving it nearly empty, save for a few older patrons lazily sipping on glasses of ale. You ignored the way the Weequay behind the bar seemed to look you up and down.

Mando set you and the kid up with two bowls of soup at a table nearby while he talked business with his contact, who happened to be the bartender. Sipping your soup, you tried not to eavesdrop as the two began to fall into what you would call a heated discussion. On Mando’s end. Apparently, this was a particularly “difficult” target.

“Lucky for you, he’s got an eye for pretty girls,” the bartender drawled, jutting his chin at you. “She’ll do fine.”

Your head snapped up from your task of feeding the child, spoon mid-air. “Excuse me?”

“No. Absolutely not,” resounded Mando’s gruff voice from under the helmet.

“Listen, Mando. This guy is high-profile, practically untouchable, bodyguards with him at all times. And I’m not talkin’ your run of the mill pair of idiots that can’t shoot for a damn, I’m talkin’ highly trained mercenaries.” The Weequay sighed. “I don’t doubt your skills as a Mandalorian, but you’re just one man. You need to get him alone, and she is your only way of doing that,” he insisted.

“I said, no,” Mando gritted out. You were non-negotiable.

The bartender just shrugged. “Then consider this a loss, cause you’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Your heart hammered in your chest listening to the two of them argue. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks, remembering the way the bartender eyed you when you walked in. All you wanted to do at this point was bury yourself in the confines of your room in the Razor Crest.

Mando seemed final in his decision, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he didn’t want you involved or if he thought you simply lacked the skills to do so. He could probably tell you weren’t really the seducing type, and truthfully the thought of trying to do was mortifying.

But Mando needed this, right? You thought of all the things he’s done for you, how he’s protected and provided for you. This was the least you could do for him. You could deal with one night of potential discomfort so he could get his bounty. It was a lot of credits.

“I’ll do it.”

Mando snapped his head around at you so fast, it was a miracle he hadn’t hurt himself. “For the last time, I said you are no—”

“I’m doing it,” you said a little more forcefully, cutting him off. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring daggers into you from underneath the helmet, but it was going to take more than a dirty look to get you to change your mind.

“Excellent!” the bartender’s cheery voice cut through the tension in the room. “Come on back, I’ve got an old dress an ex-girlfriend left behind that you could probably use.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The dress in question was a slinky black number that had you freezing your ass off in the cold of the desert night.

The dress was too… everything. Too short, too revealing, too tight; but the only other thing you had to wear were some oversized t-shirts and utility pants, which aren’t exactly sexy, so you were shit out of luck.

Mando nearly choked when you came out of your room, thankful for the helmet for hiding his widened eyes and agape mouth. You looked absolutely ravishing, the black fabric clinging to all the right places on your figure. His eyes roved over the valley of your chest, the curve of your hips, the length of your legs, and his hands balled into fists, just aching to hold you. It’s as if your skin was begging to be touched.

You cleared your throat, feeling incredibly exposed and wondering what in the blazes Mando was looking at because you were certain you looked absolutely ridiculous. The noise shook him out of whatever daze he was in and he quickly shifted his gaze.

“Not a word,” you warned, wobbling down the platform. As bad as the dress was, the heels it came with were somehow worse. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You shouldn’t,” he answered a little too quickly. “You look…” words were lost on him as he tried to find the right one. One that wouldn’t make it obvious that he was losing his kriffing mind in front of you. “Good,” he finally decided on, and mentally kicked himself for it. Good?

You gave him an exasperated look. “I know you’re just being nice.”

He opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by an ill-timed fit of babbling from the kid. You had bent down as best you could to give him a little pat on the head and he could feel a lump forming in his throat.

Mando couldn’t express how much he didn’t want you to do this. And well, he tried. The whole way back to the ship, in fact. But for some reason you were completely hell-bent on doing this for him, and he didn’t know how to explain that you and your safety meant more to him than a few thousand credits.

The reality was, Mando wanted you. He never thought he’d be so fond for someone besides the Child, but you were the exception. And even though he wanted to make you his, he knew it would be selfish of him to pursue you, to claim you, when he couldn’t give you everything you deserved; his Creed prevented him from doing so.

But Mando was a greedy man, so he took what he could get. He drank up all the kindness you so freely gave him, like a parched soul wandering in the desert, and cherished every little moment the two of you shared. They probably meant nothing to you, but they were everything to him. And he wanted more.

Not only was he a greedy man, but a stingy one as well. The thought of anyone other than him seeing you in that dress was enough to send his thoughts into a jealous frenzy.

“You don’t have to do this,” he tried to reason again.

You placed a gentle hand on the soft spot between his pauldron and neck and offered a small smile. “Don’t worry, Mando. Everything will be fine.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Everything was, in fact, not fine.

The night had started well enough. After all of Mando’s failed attempts at dissuading you again, he had finally resigned to silently stewing in his disapproval rather than voicing it.

You entered the bar while he stayed behind and watched closely from the outside. He had given you a comms device, that, with the push of a button, would let him know you were alone with the bounty and it was time for him to step in.

“Just press it, and I will be right there,” he assured, his gloved fingers pressing the device firmly into your bare palm. Something about the protective tone of his voice stirred something in you. You nodded before looking away, trying to ignore your racing heart.

The bar was rowdy that night, patrons hooting and howling from the booze. The smell of stale spice and death sticks wafted in the air, making you wrinkle your nose. Your newfound bartender friend had waved you over, pointing out the target with a nod of his head.

Your eyes fell on a Pantoran man across the bar with a drink in his hand, dozens of black suits surrounding him. His associates—a Rodian and another Pantoran—seemed to all be talking business. The bartender wasn’t kidding about this guy’s security.

How the hell am I supposed to get this guy’s attention? You desperately racked your head for subtle ideas but came to a halt when his eyes met yours. Kriff, he had caught you staring. So much for subtle. Trying not to panic, you flashed your best coy smile before turning back towards the bar.

Somehow, that was enough to give him the courage to approach you.

Cocky bastard, you thought as he swaggered on up to you, leaning in close, leering. With his chiseled features and striking yellow markings, you would’ve called him handsome— if you didn’t already know what a sleazebag he was. An air of arrogance surrounded him, the type that made him think he could get whatever he wanted with a flash of those pearly whites. Typical douche. You wanted to smack him for being so close.

Instead, you flashed another winning smile. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you leaned in close and with a breathy whisper of, ‘Let’s get out of here’ he was tossing credits to the bartender and signaling to his guards that he was leaving with you.

The Weequay had shot you a knowing look as he watched you leave; a warning. You assured him that everything was fine with a slight nod of your head.

The asshole had his arm snaked around you, hand on your ass, as you made your way to the motel just across the street. You fought back the urge to throttle him, instead fawning about how, ‘I can’t wait to be alone with you, darling.’

Your hands began to clam up as he retrieved the keys from the clerk, and you tried to convince yourself that everything would be fine once you clicked the button on your comm from the inside of the room.

Wrong.

Immediately after the Pantoran locked the door, the unease in your stomach began to grow. Bile rose in your throat at his grinning face, the way he fidgeted and licked his lips as he pressed you into the wall. A hand landed on your bare thigh, trailing dangerously high, where you shuddered in disgust at the feeling.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he whispered, and that was your cue to press the comms device you were desperately clutching in your small purse. Your mistake was failing to mask the faint beeping noise it emitted. Your companion stiffened at the sound, pressing you further into the wall.

“What the hell did you just do?” he growled, using the other hand to rip your arm from your purse. He stared at the comms device with contempt, before turning his attention back to me. “You bi—”

He never got to finish, because the next thing you knew your Mandalorian was crashing through the door, blaster in hand.

The scene Mando had walked in on nearly made him sick. That osi’kovid’s hands all over you, and worst of all, the look of pure fear on your face after being made. He’d planned to put a quick end to the whole ordeal, but the bounty had plans of his own.

Mando rushed him, shoving him into the wall and away from you. As expected, the Pantoran went flying before crumpling onto the floor. What Mando hadn’t been expecting was for him to be armed. He didn’t peg him as the type to get his hands dirty.

The Mandalorian was about to release the fibercord whip from his vambrace when the bounty rose from the floor with a sneer, a small combat knife in hand as he lunged at Mando, before wrestling him to the floor and sending his blaster skittering.

You watched in frozen horror as the two fought for the upper hand. At one point, the bounty had tried to charge at you, slashing wildly, but Mando was already there blocking his blows. The knife caught on the cowl above his chest, slicing the skin underneath with a sickening noise. That seemed to kick your brain into overdrive, and you dived for the fallen blaster on the ground.

You took a steadying breath before you aimed and shot once, twice, at the bounty’s leg. He cried out from his place above Mando before clutching his leg and finally falling over.

Mando rose and immediately released the fibercord, imprisoning the bounty. He held his hand out for his blaster, and you watched with wide eyes as he smacked the butt of it into the Pantoran’s face once, twice, three times. The third time ended with an appalling crack, his head lolling forward, and leaving him unconscious.

You stared as Mando stood in front of the bounty, seething. You could have sworn his hands were shaking.

“Stars, Mando, your neck,” you murmured, breathless. The room was dim, but you could see the dark stain of blood that was beginning to drench his cowl. Your hands went to inspect the wound, but he quickly brushed you off.

“We need to go,” he grunted, gathering the rope and heading towards the back entrance of the room. The two of you hadn’t exactly been quiet and the bounty’s guards were bound to notice their boss had been gone for too long. When you had opened your mouth to argue, to insist that you needed to check his injuries, he was already out the door.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins as you walked back towards the ship. You pulled your arms tight across your body in an attempt to quell your trembling hands; guilt, bubbling up in your stomach as you replayed the events of the night in your head.

You had been the one to volunteer yourself for the mission.

You were the one who had repeatedly insisted that everything would be fine.

And now, your Mandalorian was bleeding profusely from a nasty wound on his neck.

“Mando,” you pleaded, trying to keep up with him in your ridiculous heels. Instead of acknowledging you, your words fell to deaf ears. He was stomping his way back to the ship, the unconscious bounty in tow.

Worry bloomed in your chest. The wound had looked bad back at the motel, but it was as if he couldn’t even feel it. You could hear his ragged breathing from behind; whether it was from the fight, the long walk, or the wound, you weren’t sure.

“Mando,” you tried again, this time raising your voice as you approached the hatch of the ship.

Nothing.

He let out another grunt as he hauled the bounty onto the ship, towards the carbon-freezing machine. You pursed your lips, jaw clenching in his direction. You did not appreciate being ignored, especially after just half-saving his ass just moments before.

Granted, you were the one that had put him in that position, but that was besides the point.

His back was to you and you stepped closer, ready to unleash a piece of your damn mind, when you stopped. You took in his brooding stance and clenched fists. The tremble in his hands. Anger seemed to roll off the Mandalorian in waves, making you falter.

What the hell was his problem?

“Mando, can you kriffing listen to me? I need to treat you, you have no idea if he nicked an important artery or something. I don’t know what you’re so worked up about, but you’ve been bleeding for a few minutes now and I just need to look—” annoyance rose in you as he continued to prep the carbon machine. “Maker, can you even hear me?”

The Mandalorian couldn’t hear you, not clearly anyways. Blood was still rushing in his ears, his vision still tinged red. But with another call of his name, you were finally able to get through and he suddenly whipped around.

“He touched you,” he gritted out, seething and shaking. “That skanah had his hands all over you and I swear if I didn’t need him alive for the bounty, he’d already be dead.” He punctuated the last word with the slam of a button on the machine.

You took a step back, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Something warm tightened in your chest and belly. Wh-why did he care so much? A lump had lodged itself into your throat. “Mando, I—I’m fine. Alright? I’m okay,” you tried to assure. “So, can you please calm down and let me just—"

But the Mandalorian already had his back turned again. You threw your hands up in the air, groaning in frustration as he continued to work. Another minute passed and with a faint whoosh, the bounty was finally set in carbonite.

A shiver ran through your body as the cool night air blew its way into the Razor Crest, raising goosebumps on your exposed skin. Seeing you tremble in the cold seemed to break Mando out of whatever angry stupor he was in.

In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to ignore you, but something in him snapped back at the motel. The image of that skanah touching you had made his blood boil, and his sole goal was to get him back to the ship and be done with it.

“You’re… cold,” he stated, the words coming out slow and soft, like pulling them out of a dream. You must have been freezing in that dress.

Your head snapped up at him. “I—what?”

“Let me get you a blanket or—” He hesitated when he saw you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut.

You couldn’t believe this idiot.

“Mando, seriously?” Your heart and your brain were having a hard time deciding whether you should be flattered about him caring so much or pissed off because he didn’t seem to give a damn about himself.

You chose a mix of the two.

“Mando,” you sighed, looking up at him. “I promise you I’m fine, thank you. Really.” You gave him your most genuine, caring look to show you were thankful for his concern, and then quickly replaced it with a hard one. “But if you don’t get up into that cockpit right now and let me treat you, I’m going to use that damn pulse rifle on you.”

And just like that, you had managed to dissolve the lingering traces of anger in his mind. His lips twitched under the helmet. “That supposed to scare me?”

You glared. “Don’t push it.” You could have sworn he was laughing under there.

The Mandalorian would have laughed if the wound on his neck hadn’t began to ache. Instead, he begrudgingly nodded, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before disappearing into the cockpit.

He began to input the coordinates back to Nevarro into the navicomputer, warmth unfurling in his chest as he listened to you check on the Child. A tiredness had begun to settle in his muscles from the fight earlier, and he grimaced as he reached for a lever on the control panel. The pain on his neck was getting worse, and if he was being honest it burned like all hell, but he was not going to admit that to you.

The door behind him slid open and you stepped in frazzled, medkit in hand. Even with your hair in disarray and scrapes littering your arms and legs, he thought you looked breathtaking.

“Uh, so bad news,” you began, gesturing at the medkit. “They didn’t have any at the market earlier, so we’re out of bacta shots and spray. I’m gonna have to stitch it closed depending on how deep it is.” You shot him an apologetic look.

He nodded, putting in the last of the coordinates before removing his chest plate to give you easier access, and turning his chair to face you. You closed the space between the two of you, quickly going to work. Careful hands began to peel away at the fabric stuck to the wound, a hiss of pain at the tip of his tongue as you ripped off the last of it.

“Sorry,” you whispered, inspecting the fabric before discarding it. “You’re definitely gonna need a new cape.”

He shrugged. “At least now you’ve got a new blanket.” You always had a habit of curling up into all his old stuff.

With a smile, you returned your focus to the task at hand, mentally sighing in relief as you began to clean the wound. It could have been worse, but it was still very deep. An inch to the left and just a smidge higher, and you would have had quite the problem on your hands.

“Idiot,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“Lucky,” you corrected, biting back a smirk. “You got lucky. Any higher and this would be a lot messier.” You tossed the last of the gauze out and prepared the needle and thread.

Mando took in your awkward stance as you tried to bend down and begin stitching. Standing was fine for when you were cleaning, but for something this intricate it wasn’t the best position. You cursed and tried again, trying to get the angle right, but it was no use. The thought left his mouth before he even had a chance to filter it.

“You can sit on me if that’s easier.”

Heat blazed on your cheeks at his words, nearly dropping the damn needle. “Oh—um—” Coherent thoughts didn’t seem to be forming in your head at the moment.

Panic flooded the Mandalorian’s brain as he took in your shocked expression and realized his mistake. “I—well, not like that—what I meant was—” he spluttered, trying to find the right words, thankful that his helmet hid his mortified expression.

“No, no it’s okay I—I know what you meant,” you managed to choke out after picking your jaw up off the floor. It would have been comical—the certain and capable bounty hunter struggling to regain his composure—but his words had flooded your mind with some less than innocent thoughts and images, ones that left you heated and flustered. You swallowed hard in an attempt to relieve your suddenly very dry throat. “I can, if you’re okay with it?”

He slowly nodded, mentally kicking himself for being so daft. He held his breath as you stepped closer, bracing a hand low on his chest as you perched yourself on his lap. You cursed, trying to your best to maneuver yourself onto him without being inappropriate.

Finally, you were situated, hovering precariously over his thigh. You breathed deep, willing your mind and body to calm down. Being in such close proximity to the Mandalorian was… dizzying, but you had a job to do. And so, you went to work.

A few minutes in, Mando could feel the tension rolling off your body, the tremble of your thighs as you tried to hold yourself above him. “You can sit if you need to.”

The thought had crossed your mind, but truthfully you were afraid of how your body would react if you did. Eventually you gave in, shivering at the cold kiss of beskar on the insides of your thighs as you straddled his leg. A knot was forming in your belly, low and warm.

Maker, help me, you thought.

The change in position had slid your dress higher and Mando’s eyes began to wander again, taking in the exposed skin where your dress had hiked itself up, the material bunching around your hips. His hands felt that pull again, that ache to touch you; to dig his fingers into the soft, plump flesh.

Osik, he cursed, trying to control himself. In his mind he conjured up the image of a blaster, mentally taking it apart and putting it back together as a pitiful attempt at a distraction.

You had fallen into a steady rhythm of stitching and knotting, your hands absentmindedly working. The Mandalorian had fallen into a dull haze in the wake of your delicate touches, despite the sting and pull of the needle. But when your hands brushed the edge of his helmet, he snapped to attention, reflexes kicking in.

A strong hand had immediately encircled your wrist, forcefully locking it in place. Your breath seized at the realization of your colossal fuck-up. How could you be so stupid?

“Shit, shit, I—I’m sorry,” you stammered out. “Mando, I—I promise I wasn’t going to take it off, I just needed to adjust it to get the needle under.” Your heart thundered against your chest, and you swear you could hear it in the empty silence of the cockpit. The iron-clad grip he had on your wrist was starting to hurt, biting into your skin.

Mando saw the flash of fear in your eyes, the way you had flinched at his touch and loosened the grip on your hand. Regret began to bubble up inside him. He opened his mouth to apologize, it had just been his instincts, but you beat him to it. Your next words caught him off guard.

“Do you trust me?”

He swallowed hard. Of course he did. There was no question about it. You were the one constant in his life besides the kid; the one he found he could rely on time and time again for anything. You had never betrayed him, in Creed or otherwise. He took a steadying breath before answering. “Yes.”

You tried to ignore the burst of warmth in your chest at his admission and what it implied. Instead, you nodded, slowly allowing yourself to move again and continue your care. “Lean back,” you whispered and he obliged, fully baring his neck to you. It was a vulnerable position, but the cautious movements of your hands crushed any anxiety that threatened to well up in him.

And maybe it was that cautious, careful touch that had begun to wear down his walls; the tenderness you so freely gave that softened his heart and opened him up. He wanted to make up the last minute to you, to show that he really did trust you. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop the next thing that tumbled out of his mouth.

“Din.”

You paused mid-stitch, confusion flickering on your face. “What’d you say?”

His heart felt like it was going to fly out of his ribcage. “My name. It’s Din.”

Confusion slowly morphed to shock at his revelation. He had just shared his name with you; something incredibly personal and dear to him. Knowing it felt… intimate. How many people actually knew his real name? You couldn’t stop that slow smile that had begun to spread on your face.

“Din,” you repeated, hushed as if someone else would hear. His heart skipped at the sound of his name on your lips; the soft way your voice curled around the short syllable. Your eyes peered into his through the visor of his helmet, a question behind them. “Just ‘Din’?”

“Din Djarin,” he corrected.

You repeated it again, delight clear on your face. “I like it.”

I do too, he thought. Especially when you say it. “You can use it whenever, as long as we’re alone or it’s just the kid.”

“Of course,” you nodded, then added a soft, “Thank you.” For trusting me.

The two of you had settled back into a comfortable silence, his hands resting comfortably on your hips, and Din couldn’t fathom why you kept biting back a smile. You were the first to break it.

“I’m sorry, for all this.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that painful.”

You shook your head. “No, I mean—” you gestured at his neck and then to you. “He was aiming for me.”

He scoffed. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d let anything happen to you.” You could hear the anger beginning to simmer beneath his words again. “No, I… I would protect you every single time. Besides, that osi’yaim got what he deserved in the end.”

Your eyes flicked to his visor again and you tried to ignore the way the knot in your belly tightened at his promise to you and the shiver his low voice sent down your spine. Instead, you tried to change the subject. “Osi’yaim?”

“A useless, despicable person. A waste of space.”

A soft laugh escaped you lips. “You need to teach more Mando’a. Something besides the bad words.”

Din’s heart clenched at your request. Something about you asking to learn his language stirred something deep in him. “Of course,” he managed to reply, but it came out more strangled than he had meant it to.

You continued with your task, getting lost in the repeated movements of your fingers.

Watching you work had always fascinated Din. You granted each injury the same amount of attention, whether it was as small as a papercut or as big as the gash he had now. It was endearing. The meticulous way you ensured every stitch, every bandage, was perfect and in place. The adept movements of your fingers, steady with every touch. The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brow as you concentrated.

He was captivated by it, and you, every time.

His gaze was concealed by his helmet most of the time, but tonight you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. Your cheeks began to burn at the thought of him staring at you so closely and you thanked the maker that he couldn’t see the crimson hue painting your face.

“Are you warm?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice startling you.

“What?”

“You’ve been shivering since you started, but… you’re all flushed,” he explained.

Your eyes widened at his words, heart stopping. “Wait—how can you see my—”

“Heat sensors.” Din couldn’t help but notice the way the heat on your face spread even more, down the soft slopes of your neck and chest.

Of course, heat sensors. You were absolutely mortified, a nervous laugh erupting from your chest. May as well be honest.

“No, not warm, more like embarrassed,” you tried to explain, unable to meet his eyes.

Din tilted his head, trying to understand. “Why?”

You scoffed. “’Cause I just realized I’ve been sticking my ugly mug in your face for the past 20 minutes.”

Din was dumbfounded. Ugly? The mere thought of you seeing yourself in that way made his heart ache. How could you think such a thing when he saw you as the most radiant thing in this galaxy? That, every time he saw you, he had to remind himself to breathe?

He had no idea what the in blazes he was doing, but he knew that he couldn’t let you go on thinking such things about yourself. Din reached out and tilted your chin up towards him, making you meet his eyes.

“Cyar’ika, you are the furthest thing from ugly that someone could be. I—you are absolutely stunning. Do you—do you know what seeing you in that dress tonight did to me?” he confessed, letting out a breathy laugh. The front of his pants tightened in reminder. “I’ll teach you something new in Mando’a right now.” He paused, letting his fingers brush over your chin. “Mesh’la.”

It felt like you were on fire at that point, burning under his gaze, but somehow you found your voice underneath all the flames. “What does it mean?” you breathed, unable to mask the tremble in your voice.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

Your body betrayed you, melting into a puddle with just a taste of his touch and the boldness of his words. It was a devastating effect, and there was no denying the dampness that had pooled between your legs now. You managed to stutter out a, ‘thank you’ before trying to finish the last knot of his stitches.

“All done,” you whispered.

Din watched as you admired your handiwork and noticed that you made no move to remove yourself from him. Instead, your hands were softly dragging across the planes of his exposed chest, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. It was such a foreign feeling, flesh against flesh on such a shielded part of his body. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him there, let alone so gently.

A strangled sound caught in his throat as you brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, just above the other side of his collarbone. It was almost too much, the shot of electricity that singed his nerves, but it felt good.

His body involuntarily bucked at the sensation and his hands gripped your hips roughly, pressing you flush against him.

You gasped at the sensation, of your clothed core dragging against the beskar plate on his thigh, your knee brushing against the bulge that had tented his pants. Your hands scrabbled to find something, anything, to anchor yourself from the blinding pleasure that fizzled through you.

“Maker,” Din murmured, letting out a shuddering breath. “Osik, cyar’ika, I’m didn’t mean to touch you like that but—”

“But what if I want you to?” your own voice sounding foreign to your ears. You did not miss the way his breath hitched, caught in the modulator of his helmet.

Din’s mind was reeling. “You—you want me to?” he swallowed thickly around the ball of shock that was caught in his throat.

And you’re nodding, eyes dark and body and mind clouded with need, leading his hands up your torso and chest; but Din, he needs to hear you say it. “Use your words, cyar’ika. I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Din. Please,” and that’s enough to dissolve any shred of self-control he thought he had. The sound of you saying his name like that, a plea for him and only him, was maddening.

His hands were on you in an instant; hands that you had seen nearly beat a man to death just for touching you, but on you they were soft, gentle. Desperate, but tender. Rough, but passionate and loving. The contrast was making your head spin.

“Din,” you whimpered. “You have to be careful, your cut—”

“I don’t care,” he rasped. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you? Make you mine?” He pulled you closer against him, hands grasping at anything he could reach. He wanted to erase any trace of the bounty from your presence.

You tried to answer, but you were a mess, filling the cockpit with soft moans and mewls as you bucked your hips on his thigh.

“I want to watch you make yourself feel good, can you do that? Just like this?” You frantically bobbed your head. “Good,” he answered, stroking your cheek. “You deserve it after tonight, sweet girl.”

The sound of ‘sweet girl’ sent wet heat straight to your core. If anything, you thought he was the one that deserved to be taken care of right now. But you were not about to argue with the Mandalorian who insisted on you using him to get yourself off.

Your hands pawed at his chest again, struggling to find some kind of purchase to anchor yourself. They finally settled for his biceps, nails digging deep. He watched as you grinded down on his thigh, eyes screwed shut. His hands fingered the strap of your dress and you nodded, giving him permission to slide it down.

Din took in the sight of your bare chest, your nipples pebbling in the cold air of the cockpit. He ached to take them into his mouth, hear you whimper and moan against his tongue, but he settled for brushing his gloved fingers over them and watching you arch.

You ground down harder, desperate you get the friction you needed. Din’s hands slipped from your breasts down back to your hips, stilling them. A high whine escaped your throat and it was almost pitiful.

“Up,” he instructed, confusion marring your face as you lifted yourself off his leg. He gripped the thigh plate and dropped it to the ground, promptly setting you back onto his thigh. “Wanna feel you,” he growled, and you could only moan in response.

Soon enough, your arousal had seeped through your panties and onto the fabric of his pants. The heady smell hit his nose and his mouth watered, desperate to know what you tasted like, to know what sounds you would make if he buried his face between your thighs.

You guided his hands back up your chest, up to your neck. His fingers cupped your face again, thumb brushing the bottom of your lip. You held his hand in place, biting the leather tip of his glove and slowly slid it off, letting it drop between you.

The feeling of his bare thumb resting on your lips sent another wave of arousal through you. “Wanna feel you,” you breathed, grinning before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking hard. Din’s eyes rolled back and he groaned; the sight of your hollowed-out cheeks and the sensation of your tongue on the pad of his thumb nearly sent him over the edge.

One hand trailed to the base of your neck, tangling itself softly in your hair. He took in the way your eyes were screwed shut, the furrow in your brows as you chased your high. You had taken your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and almost splitting it from the pressure. It was almost the same concentrated expression you wore as you tended to his injuries, though it was clear you were concentrated on something far more rewarding now.

“Mesh’la,” he commanded. “Look at me.”

You wretched your eyes open, fixing your gaze on him.

Din watched, enraptured, as you continued to pleasure yourself. You were a sight before him; pupils blown, mouth agape, chest heaving as you tried to ease the ache in your belly. He was lost in the way your eyes sparkled, perfectly matching the dark galaxy you were set against just outside the viewport.

Your moans filled the cockpit, desperate sounds and pleads of Din’s name as he sent delicious licks of pleasure throughout your body. You held on for dear life, panting as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

He feels the tension simmering from your shuddering figure, like a coil just waiting to spring.

“Are you close, mesh’la?” he whispered, his words and the rasp of his voice sending you higher and higher. “Are you going to come for me?”

And you’re a wreck, whimpering and pleading, yes, Din, yes; and all Din can think is he can die happy knowing how you moan his name. He shifts you, pulls you right onto the straining bulge in his pants and you both gasp, the sensation pulling you even closer to your orgasm. A bare hand snakes between where the two of you are pressed against each other and he presses right onto your clit.

A sob tears from your throat and stars burst behind your eyes as you’re pushed off the edge; and you’re falling, waves of ecstasy washing over you and burning straight to your toes. Din holds you close as your body continues to shudder, a steady hand on your back coaxing you down from your high. He lets out a groan when he feels evidence of your orgasm seep through to his clothed cock.

Fog clouds the bottom of his helmet as you softly pant, the pleasure lulling to a dull thrum in your veins. He’s admiring your sleepy eyes, the flushed cheeks of your afterglow. You give off a shy smile, peering into his visor. “Beautiful,” he murmurs right next to your ear. “Just like I said.”

“Thank you,” you hum, pressing a searing kiss onto his bare neck and sliding a hand over the hardness trapped beneath you.

Din hisses at your touch and you laugh, trying to ease the ache between his own legs. “Mesh’la,” he warns, grunting at the loss of contact as you lift yourself off him and slide between his knees, kneeling.

“Yes?” you respond, sliding your hands up and down his thighs, and pausing at the button of his pants.

“You don’t have to—” he starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“But I want to, Din,” you assured. You rest your head on his knee, peering up at him with wide, innocent eyes, awaiting his permission. “Wanna return the favor, wanna taste you,” and you grin at the strangled sound that leaves his throat. He couldn’t deny you even if he wanted to.

Finally, he nods, spreading his legs wider to accommodate you. Your smile grows and your nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons on his pants. You’re just about to free him from the confines of his boxers when an alarm signal sounds from the ship, startling the both of you.

“Come in, Mando,” Greef Karga’s voice crackled through the small room. “We’ve got a problem. I repeat, we’ve got an emergency, please come in.”

Din groans and you throw an exasperated look towards the comms on the control panel. “Just ignore him, it can’t be that—” and you’re cut off by another sound.

The unmistakable sound of a baby crying.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your forehead into Din’s knee. You loved that little green bean to death, but damn him for his horrific timing. Din softly slid his hand over yours and you looked up.

“It’s alright, cyar’ika,” he hummed. “Go check on him,” and you slowly nodded, shooting him an apologetic look before rising from your spot on the floor.

Din watched in mild amusement as you wobbled to the door, before turning his chair towards the control panel and sighing. His own arousal was almost overwhelming, but he did his best to shove it to the back of his mind.

Whatever Greef needed, it had better be good, he grumbled in his head.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

mando’a translations:

osi’kovid – shithead

skanah – very hated person, fucker

osik – shit

osi’yaim – cowardly, useless person

cyar’ika – darling, beloved

mesh’la – beautiful

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

thank you for reading! let me know what ya think!

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #star wars fanfiction #make you mine #certaindark writing #the mandalorian smut #smut #AHHHH I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE IT #IDK HOW TO TAG LOL #I’M SO NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS BUT IT’S FINE #din djarin x reader

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sehunniepotwrites · 3 years

Text

AS YOU WISH | J.JH | ONE

cover by @seostudios

SYNOPSIS. He was a boy, she was a girl— can I make it any more obvious?

But actually, she was a cursed genie of two thousand years who longed to be freed of her gilded cage and he was a modern but lonely boy who hoped to free her. He just didn’t expect to fall in love with her in the process.

GENRE. angst, slow burn, romance, genie!au, reincarnation!au, royal!au, thief!au PAIRING. jeong jaehyun x female genie!reader MINOR CHARACTERS. mark lee, moon taeil, jeong sungchan WORD COUNT. 10.6k+

WARNINGS. stealing, mentions of cuts and wounds, blood, physical beating, derogatory name calling

ONE: PAST | TWO: INTERLUDE | THREE: PRESENT

2000 YEARS AGO, THE KINGDOM OF NEIHO

“Stop, street rat!”

Heavens, how you hated that name. You ached to yell a taunting insult back but you were afraid of the royal guards catching onto your identity by hearing the sound of your voice.

“Grab that lousy thief!”

The calls of the guards continued to sound throughout the pathway as you ran for your life. The heavy bag of riches slung along over your shoulder pounded against your upper back as you felt the wind in your hair. The extra weight was beginning to weigh you down but you did not falter. Your strained legs propelled you forward and you stole a quick glance behind you— the burly men with swords were gaining on you and you could not let them.

“Wait— there are two of them!”

You cursed when your partner was spotted. From the corner of your eye, you caught a flicker of his cape turning a corner. You were supposed to be the diversion. The blazing sun burned your skin through your hooded cloak but you had to keep pushing. For them.

You would do anything for them, even give your life for them, just as your mother did before you.

Apologizing as you passed, you threw down displays of fresh produce to throw the guards off. You would come back to help clean up later.

You pulled the cloak down to better conceal your face before sprinting into a hidden nook in the village center. The bolstering guards ran past your hiding spot moments later, their leader barking commands to his subordinates before they all went their separate ways. Peeking behind a wall, you watched as their backs grew smaller and smaller and let out an audible sigh.

You made it another day. With a wide-eyed grin, you pushed yourself out of your hiding spot and walked an easy path to the outskirts of the kingdom where people were waiting for you.

If the guards were smart enough, they would have easily found you by they searched the outskirts of the kingdom’s stone walls. There was an opening in the walls, big enough for one person to fit through. You frequented that small hole often with a large sack hauled over your back. As soon as you passed that point in your path, you tossed your cloaked disguise into a nearby bush before trekking on to your final destination.

The path was lengthy but at least you were in the shade instead of under the blazing sun. The clanking of your stolen riches kept you company as you navigated through the many trees. It wasn’t long until you reached an open area filled with a variety of people. Lousy tents made of the thinnest cloth and held up by fallen branches surrounded the field and in the center was a large fire pit. There were clotheslines, cooking supplies, and a short supply of food scattered around the makeshift camp.

The plentiful conversations hushed when you dropped the sack at the end of the path. A shuffling of footsteps and the tinkling sound of coins clanging against each other reached your ears before another figure plopped down beside you, his body falling splat onto the soft grass.

“I refuse to do that again,” a boyish voice groaned beside you. It came from a boy around your age, give or take a few years, with messy brown hair and the cutest set of doe eyes. His thin face and sharp jawline were lined with dirt but he was still what you considered handsome.

“Minhyung, stop your fusing,” you scolded as you ruffled his hair. The boy whined at your actions, moving away to escape your teasing. “You say the same thing every single time we do this, however, you keep coming back to help me.”

“They almost caught me this time around,” he told you. “I barely escaped— one guard grabbed me by the ends of my cloak and almost saw my face! I thought you were the distraction!”

“I was,” you fired back.

“And yet, they still found me,” Minhyung reported dramatically, swinging an arm over his eyes. There was a beat of comfortable silence as the breeze came rolling in.

“But was it worth it?” you asked with a soft voice.

A pair of dirtied feet appeared in your vision. You and Minhyung tilted your heads up to find a small child, not even five years of age gazing at you expectantly. The child’s body was extremely malnourished and their cheeks were horribly sunken in. They looked bashful as they outstretched an arm towards Minhyung.

He sent the child a tiny smile, his mouth curving up at the ends, as he produced a small loaf of bread from beneath his cloak. The child’s eyes sparkled in delight as they snatched the piece of food from Minhyung’s hold and eagerly bit into it. You patted the child’s head lovingly as you hand them a grip of gold coins. They shuffled back to their family who gave their thanks.

As the other people in the open field started to line up to receive their share, Minhyung simply replied: “Yes, yes it was.”

You grinned at your fellow thief— you thought it was worth it, too.

Your gaze shifts to the high towers of Neiho’s palace peeking from behind the treetops. But sometimes, you pondered over how effortless life must have been when living like royalty— was it easy when everything was provided for you?

Unlike what most people assumed, living the life of a royal was far from easy.

Jeong Yuno, the Crown Prince of Neiho, had a sudden urge to bang his head against the library wall. He refrained from doing so, the action being far from princely. He looked up from his pile of parchment paper with glazed over eyes, the ink from his quill drying from the lack of writing. There were rows of untouched books lined up at his desk and none of them were of his interest. They skirted on the topics of Neiho’s history and politics; although it was something he was already versed in, he hated the subject unlike his younger brother, Chansung, who excelled and loved it.

Yuno longed to touch the atlas that was stationed on his tutor’s desk. He wanted to study it, chart a course to another far off land, and mark it with ink as he visited place to place. But instead of traveling, the crown prince drowned in his studies while his tutor looked down upon his distracted self.

“Prince Yuno, have you heard a single word that has left my lips or is your head still up in the clouds?” Moon Taeil, the kingdom’s main historian and tutor, scolded. His wooden stick struck the surface of Yuno’s desk and the shocked boy jumped. From his own desk, Chansung snickered behind his thin hand.

“My apologies,” the crown prince bowed his head, his ears turning crimson from being caught by the snippy tutor.

“Well, since I have gained you back from the skies, might you list Neiho’s past rulers and achievements in order?”

Yuno bit back a loud groan. He was in desperate need of a sweet escape. His gaze floated out the window and onto the blooming marketplace below. It seemed like the liveliness was calling his name.

One of the things you loved about your mother was her storytelling. You heard stories of all kinds of love while growing up on the fly. She painted clear pictures of people falling at first sight, of hate turning to overflowing affection, and so much more. Your mother sold you tales of star-crossed lovers that found their happy endings before she passed; her fables of love sounded nothing more than poppycock and folly.

That is, until it occurred to the unsuspecting you.

It was a usual day for you in the city— hood up, cloak flowing in the wind with a sack beating your back as you were on the run from the royal guards stationed in the marketplace. You weaved in between the townsfolk, your nimble body easily pushing through nooks and crannies when you bumped into something— or rather, someone strong.

“Oof!”

“Oh!”

The large sack you carried added some extra weight, leading you to topple over the stranger that ran into your smaller build. The stranger was about to mumble a quick apology before you heard the bellowing of the persistent guards.

You cursed. There was no room for hesitation when you were caught in a tight spot such as this. With staggering breaths and a pounding chest, you grabbed the man’s hand and navigated through endless alleyways and store fronts. You mastered the art of escaping at a young age while he had trouble keeping up with your speed.

And so, your first adventure with the man you would soon learn to love began.

Your hurried steps brought you to an unattended rooftop. You put one foot on the ledge and leaned your body over to glance at the commotion in the market. Down below, the guards were scrambling through the bustling crowds in a failed attempt to find you. Watching them struggle on their search sent you into a laughing fit that your then mysterious companion echoed.

With a heaving chest and rushing heart, you finally looked up at him for the first time and saw the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. Despite only seeing him from his place on the balcony or painted portraits before, you immediately knew who he was: The Crown Prince of Neiho. He had deep chocolate eyes and jet-black hair that highlighted his sweat stained skin. His cheeks and ears were flushed with a rosy red as he gasped for air. He was dressed in a horrible excuse for a disguise; the high-end material he wore and golden shoes were purposefully stained. It was as if the prince wanted to be found.

You quickly retracted your dirtied hand from his soft one and immediately dropped to your knees. “My sincerest apologies for placing my soiled hands on yours, Your Highness. I ask for your forgiveness,” you said with a bowed head, your disheveled hair covering your embarrassed face.

Yuno let out a hearty laugh, one that was deep but still sounded like the lightest bells in your ear. “Please, none of that,” he said, helping you to your feet.

“If anything, you helped me escape from those wretched guards,” he sent you an angelic smile and you swore the heavens were smiling down on you at that moment. “I should thank you.”

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as you felt your face flush with an unfamiliar heat.

“May I know the name of my savior?” Yuno questioned teasingly, his eyes looking deep into yours.

“Perhaps another time, Your Highness,” you said quite cheekily before running back into the crowd.

The second time you met Prince Yuno, you were both on the run once again. In a way similar to what you had done in the past, his hand slipped so fluidly into yours before you sprinted through the town square. You knocked a fruit cart down as a diversion and the guards struggled making their way through the mess. Through your hooded cloak that flowed in the breeze, you turned over your shoulder to chuckle at how helpless the so-called protectors looked.

“We must stop meeting like this, Highness,” you breathed out as you kept up with his speed.

“Why? I quite enjoy meeting like this,” he threw back at you with a sheepish grin. There was a glimmer of adventure in his eyes and you chuckled.

The hood of your cape fell back, revealing your face for a quick moment before you tugged it back up. It was too late, though, for he had seen your face. Having only heard your voice before, Yuno’s steps faltered at the sight of you. Taking charge at that moment, you overtook him and jerked him into an unpaved path.

You took him over and under until you found a safe haven on top of a building— your makeshift home. Ratty cotton sheets were tied to poles for shade and a pile of pillows was bunched together to make a bed. Random trinkets were scattered along the rooftop along with a scarce supply of food and sacks of stolen treasures leaning against a wall. You wordlessly made yourself comfortable, pouring yourself two cups of water from a jug and handed one to the stranger in your space. He took it graciously and gulped it down, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he did so.

“From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, my dear savior,” Yuno spoke to you for the second time that day.

“It was nothing, Your Highness,” you responded, waving him off as you sat at his feet.

“I feel like this was fate or destiny calling,” Yuno suggested out of the blue.

“This?”

“Us, meeting again,” he answered smoothly, his voice as melodic as a mother’s lullaby.

“I suppose it is.”

“Seeing as destiny brought us together, might I know your name?”

Despite being of a higher status, he didn’t seem as selfish as you thought he would be—Yuno seemed kind and trustworthy. You let down your walls and stuttered out your name. The dark orbs that you got lost in flashed with recognition and you wondered if you made a wrong move by revealing your identity.

“You!” he shouted, his voice booming loudly. “Yes, I have heard many things about you.”

You glared at him with panicked eyes and you rushed to cover his soft lips. “Are you insane, Highness? Speak like that and they will surely find us here!”

“My apologies,” he replied, tugging at his earlobe in embarrassment. “My excitement got the best of me.”

You snorted at his answer, “Excitement?” you probed. “What is there to be excited about?”

“It is not everyday you meet the infamous thief that steals from the rich to give back to the poor,” Yuno grinned with dimples sinking into his soft cheeks.

He was not wrong; you did steal for a living to help the less fortunate. Unlike many others your age, you were able-bodied and felt the mighty need to provide for others who needed extra support. This had been the fifth time the guards had almost caught you but it didn’t matter. As long as the children on the street did not starve, you would risk your life over and over again.

Your mother, compassionate and altruistic as one could ever be, had done so in the past and you were determined to carry her legacy. You wanted to make her proud.

“Are you going to arrest me then?” you challenged with a brow. You took a large step back, ready to be on the run if the situation called for it. “If that is your intention, Your Highness, it is in my best interest to leave you.”

“Oh, no! If anything, I agree with your actions,” he relayed, arms shooting out to keep you in his reach. The Prince’s touch pierced your skin with comforting warmth and you shudder at the odd sensation.

“The Royal Advisor, Rowena, insists on high taxes and taking from the poor while feeding the rich,” he started to explain, taking a seat on the dusty steps.

You hummed, recalling the many times you had laid your eyes on the advisor— she held her head high and wore a permanent, almost sinister smirk on her gorgeous face. Her eyes were as red as blood and hair as black as night. She was beyond intimidating, more so than the Royal Family and their guards.

“What she is doing to the people out here, it isn’t right,” Yuno added on. “They are suffering and I feel as if it is my duty to stop her.”

“I feel as if it is mine as well,” you replied.

“I tried to tell the King of how Rowena’s suggestions have been affecting the community outside the palace walls but it is as if she has him under a spell. He hears not a thing I say,” he explained exasperatedly.

He let out a defeated sigh as you crouched next to him. You let him speak, seeing how distressed he was by the whole situation. “He only listens to her and my younger brother, Chansung; he is the smarter sibling. I am nothing but a pretty face that represents the kingdom,” the prince chuckled darkly.

“Highness—” you tried to intervene, not enjoying how he was belittling himself. He stopped you before you could even begin with a mere glance.

“It is not I who deserves the throne, it is Chansung. I can barely do a thing when my mind is elsewhere. How can I rule when my mind is not focused on the needs of my people?”

You place a tentative hand on his knee to ground him before his thoughts send him spiraling.

“I apologize,” the runaway prince blurted suddenly. “I do not know you and here I am, spilling out my innermost thoughts. You must think I am a fool.”

“No, it’s quite alright. I imagine you have no one to discuss this with within the palace,” you comforted him with a kind smile. You encouraged Yuno to continue, hands urging him on. “But if your mind is not here, then…”

Yuno shot you an empty grin, the upturns of his lips not meeting his reddening ears. “I have been trapped inside the palace since birth. Raised inside these walls all my life. I am safe and sound with a set future here and yet…” his voice trailed off, looking at the overview of the kingdom. His stare then gravitated beyond the kingdom walls.

“And yet?”

“I want to go beyond our borders. I know there is more the world has to offer. I have read about it in books but I want to experience it in person, write it down, and bring back what I have learned to better Neiho.” There was a sense of longing in his voice and you could almost relate to his yearning.

You took a seat next to him, your knees touching his. Your body turned towards him, torso leaning forward to give the prince your undivided attention. “What have you read about so far, Your Highness?”

“Please call me Yuno,” he said gently, clutching onto your hand. You tried to tug it away, flustered from the sudden contact, and he only tightened his clasp.

“Yes, Your Highness,” you replied, “I mean, Y-Yuno.”

The instant his name left your lips, he sent you the most dazzling smile, his pearly white teeth perfectly framed by the pink of his lips and the curve of his dimples. Whiskers appeared around his closed eyes and his nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and you found yourself falling down the rabbit hole one called love.

Ever since that fated day, you arranged countless meetings in random nooks and crannies of the marketplace. Yuno taught you the many things he had learned from his readings while you showed him places he had never been before. He brought you books and taught you how to read. You taught him how to fend for himself in the forest.

You often found yourselves weaving through crowds as the guards attempted to follow your trails. Laughter bubbled through the prince’s chest as you tugged him along with intertwined fingers. Your heart leaped huge lengths across your chest every time he glanced your way through his fluttering eyelashes and you wondered if he felt the same.

Your days with Yuno always ended on that same rooftop, overlooking the beautiful sight that was Neiho, and you adored every second of it.

One night, you blurted out, “Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?” Yuno glanced up at you from your lap, head tilting with curiosity. Your fingers were tangled in his soft, clean hair as his hand played with the ends of yours.

“Do you?” he countered. The point of your elbow dug into his toned stomach and he winced.

“I asked first,” you said and he laughed at your argument.

“And I am the Crown Prince,” he threw back and you pouted at his response.

You were quiet for a moment, gathering your thoughts together before answering your own question. “Yes.”

“And what do you wonder about?”

“There are times I wish for a life where I am comfortable, where I’m not breaking my back for someone else’s sake.” Feeling a bit vulnerable, you drew your hands away from his head and wrapped them around your waist— it was your first time to reveal this hidden thought of yours.

“It’s not that I want to stop helping them,” you explained tentatively, “I just wonder what it would be like to start living just for me, without the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

Yuno only hummed in reply. You shook your head, snapping yourself out of the daze you were in. “Your turn to answer,” you pushed the heavy question onto him.

“I suppose so, yes,” he mused simply. “I would like to be a traveling scholar, see the world through my own eyes. I often wonder about a life of travel, you know this.”

You did know this—Yuno told you this many times.

“There’s another thing I wonder about, though,” he slipped in.

“And what is that?”

“I often wonder what life would be like if I had you by my side.”

You coughed at his sweet words, not at all expecting to hear a statement like that. He reached up to pat your back as you choked on air, giggling at your antics. Your breathing returned to normal and his fingers found their way to yours. With entwined fingers and hearts, he called your name endearingly as his head rested against your lap. You returned his earnest stare under the light of the moon with the same intensity, “Yes, my prince?”

He rolled his eyes at your response.

Yuno, hidden in a ripped cloak, brought your hand against his plump lips and looked into your eyes as he kissed your knuckles. “I arose from bed this morning with a sudden realization.”

“Have you come to the conclusion that Chansung is the better looking royal?” you poked. He gave you a look of betrayal and you giggled at his furrowed brows and flared nostrils.

“It was nothing but a joke, dear,” you laughed, running your fingers through his thick locks of hair. He huffed loudly, turning away from your playful gaze.

“My attempt to confess my love and she makes a fool out of me,” he mumbled under his breath but you could not catch his words.

“You would make a great jester,” Yuno added with another roll of his gorgeous eyes.

“I don’t think I would enjoy being the laughing stock of nobility,” you answered, poking at his soft cheek. He swatted your hand away in annoyance but your fingers were persistent. You continued to sink your finger into the skin of his cheek until he caught it and nibbled on your fingertip. Yelping, you drew back your hand and narrowed your gaze at the prince.

It was his turn to laugh at your reaction, blessing your ears with the sweetest melody. “My darling, you would never be a laughing stock to me.”

Although your finger throbbed, you were happy to see the playful side of the prince— he often had a stoic expression when addressing the people of Neiho from the palace balconies. The sight of his bright smile was enough to light the whole kingdom tenfold.

“What would I be then?” you asked mockingly.

Yuno shifted to face you, his ethereal features glowing in the starlight and captivating you in ways you could not explain. There was a fluttering feeling in your stomach and an intense pounding in your chest as Yuno gave you the simplest answer, “The love of my life.”

His words sent your heart soaring to the highest of places.

In that moment, it mattered not who you were and where you were because you were the love of his life just as he was yours.

Arriving at the clearing deep in the forest, you released the bag of stolen goods from your hold. Panting out breaths, you did your best to steady your heartbeat. The racing palpitations of heart felt different somehow, maybe because for once, they were not caused by the adrenaline of running away but by the highs of being deeply in love.

A gorgeous smile broke out on your face and you hadn’t a care if you looked like a crazy loon.

“Where have you been?” A familiar voice blasted from above you. Looking up, you saw Minhyung seated on a tree branch. He leaped down, landing directly on his feet with a playful smirk.

You coughed the grin right off your face. “I had to take a little detour is all.”

“A detour?” Minhyung questioned.

“Yes, a detour.”

Your friend circled you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Quite unusual for your detours to last until sundown,” he teased, “and you look like you’re walking on air.”

You tried to bite back your grin and you failed. You could never hide anything from Minhyung, he had seen you through it all. He was your brother after all— not by blood but nevertheless, he was family.

“I met the Crown Prince,” you muttered under your breath.

“Do speak up, you know how I hate when you mumble,” Minhyung teased, using the words you often fired at him.

“I said, Minhyung, I met the Crown Prince,” you repeated with a louder voice.

You watched as Minhyung’s eyes widened like saucers and how they gleamed with intrigue as he squeezed you closer to him. “You met Prince Yuno?!” he gasped. “How— why? What?”

“Keep it down, will you please?” Clamping a dirtied hand over his mouth, you tried to shut him up. He simply licked your palm to which you smacked him across the head.

“Well, this isn’t our first time meeting. We’ve met many a time before,” you started off, going down your short history with the prince. Minhyung listened attentively— his admiration for the Royal Family, much like many of the other Neiho citizens, ran deep.

“How is he in real life?”

“Nothing short of wonderful,” you sighed, head turning back to face the city. You wondered how he was doing, if he made it back through the palace gates without any trouble from the guards he was escaping from. “He is like the brightest star I have ever seen, so beautiful and radiant but still so far out of my reach.”

Remembering the sound of his laughter and the look in his eyes, another soft smile appeared on your face. It was a smile Minhyung had never seen on your features. You appeared as if you were the star you just described, shining brightly for one person and one person alone. The light in your eyes was almost too blinding, he wanted to look away but Minhyung couldn’t.

It had been so long since he had seen you this happy— the last time you smiled so cheerfully was with your mother so many years ago. You adopted a harsher look throughout the years that Minhyung was beyond ecstatic to see that happiness still existed within you.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you answered gently. “He told me to call him Yuno.”

“And did you?”

“Of course, Minhyung,” you said with a chuckle, “it would be wrong to not obey royalty.”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Minhyung hummed back.

“He is filled with kindness and loyalty to the kingdom, which is admirable.”

“But?”

Thinking back to the conversation you had with the prince, your eyebrows stitched together when recalling his dreams. “His heart aches for adventure and knowledge, things he cannot find here if he is to be King.”

Minhyung searched your face for a glimpse into your head. “Isn’t that what you’re looking for, too?”

Looking your best friend and fellow thief straight in the eyes, you were posed with a thought that hadn’t even crossed your scattered mind. “I suppose it is.”

Minhyung laughed as you came to the realization. The two of you sat in silence as you breathed everything in.

“The Prince isn’t that far from your reach then,” Minhyung posed with a childlike grin. “He is much closer than you think.”

The first time Yuno kissed you was underneath the setting sun. Hidden behind the stone walls of the palace, he pressed you into a dark corner where no one could catch sight of your unlikely pairing.

It was a long day for the both of you— you had snuck into the houses of nobles, stealing their smallest treasures to sell in order to feed the hungry while he shadowed his father during his audiences with the people of Neiho. Your secret rendezvous started with exchanging stories about your eventful day with shared laughter and the sweetest of touches. Yuno’s smooth hands ghosted against your dry ones several times, each touch sending tingles down your spine.

His arms caged you in between his strong body and the hard stone wall as his face hovered in front of your own. Your breath hitched as his intense stare shifted from your eyes to your parted lips. It was the dead of winter but you had never felt hotter under his fiery gaze.

“May I kiss you?” you found yourself asking as his plump bottom lip grazed against your own. You were shocked by your own bravery and you knew he was, too. Your heart pounded loudly like a beating drum and you swore the prince could hear it as well.

“Do as you wish,” the prince replied almost breathlessly, captivated by the way your eyes kept flickering to the lack of space in between your bodies.

“But is that what you wish for, Yuno?” you countered with a sultry tone. He gulped loudly at how confident you were and nodded almost too eagerly, lips barely brushing against your dry ones. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Then, your wish is my command,” you smile before closing the distance between. A light press of your lips onto his was all it took to send your world spinning round. Yuno deepened it by leaning his body against your smaller build, a hand tilting your jaw up in a different angle.

He held you so gently, making you feel as if you were royalty. Hands in his hair and his arms around your waist, his kiss made it seem like you had chased the blowing winds and touched the pastel sky. His love rose you to the heavens above and you soared with a rush of freedom you had never felt before.

You kissed as the sky cast a golden glow upon your bodies, too lost in each other to realize you were the focus of someone’s envious gaze.

While you flirted with the life of crime, Yuno made his way through the hallowed hallways of Neiho’s palace. His heavy steps echoed throughout the empty path but he couldn't even hear a thing— his mind was littered with scattered thoughts. He marched his way to his younger brother’s quarters, determined that would be the day he would reveal his heart to his kin. The crown prince groaned in frustration, decorated hands messing with his jet-black hair as he tried to piece what to say.

How did one even start this conversation? Yuno never had a conversation as deep as this with his sibling before. The only person he poured his heart to was you.

Does he start with not waiting to take the throne or with his dream of travel? Should he begin with his skepticism over Advisor Rowena and the poor conditions of their people?

Yuno stopped in place— Rowena. He cringed at the thought of her. He heard the rumors swirling around the circle of nobility. The servants in the palace could never keep their mouth shut at the whispers. There were tales of the King making the advisor his betrothed for the sake of a flourishing kingdom.

He couldn’t fathom how his father came to this as a viable option for the betterment of Neiho.

Yuno thought traveled back to you and what you stood for: how your gigantic heart only thought of others. He recalled how your body was drenched with wounds and scars and yet, you still kept going for the people that had everything to lose. He wanted to find ways to make your life easier but he knew he couldn’t find them inside Neiho’s borders. He had to leave in order to find that solution.

Yuno had no idea how long he contemplated in front of Chansung’s room before the door burst open. Yuno let out a shocked yell as his brother cocked an eyebrow at his older sibling.

“Brother, how long were you going to stand outside my door before simply coming in?” Chansung leaned against the wall as Yuno placed his hand over his rapid heart. He tried to catch his breath much to his brother’s amusement, but he was a bundle of nerves.

“Chansung,” he exhaled, still clutching his chest, “how did you know I was here?”

“It is impossible to not hear your stomps and groans through the wall,” the younger prince poked. “I imagine the townsfolk down below could hear your pacing.”

“Of course,” the older prince said with a roll of his eyes. His younger brother wordlessly invited him in by opening the door to his chambers wider and he breezed through, taking a seat on Chansung’s plush mattress. Chansung closed the door behind him to find his usually composed sibling with his head in his hands. A symphony of defeated sighs left Yuno’s lips and Chansung set a comforting hand on his brother’s back.

“What ails you, dear brother?” The younger implored.

“Chansung.”

“Yes, brother?”

“Have you ever felt like there was something more out there in the world, just waiting for you?”

Chansung paused at Yuno’s question, retreating his hand from his brother’s body. A silence surrounded the room as the younger sat next to his sibling.

“I suppose I haven’t,” Chansung answered with a hum. He turned to face his brother, finding the crown prince’s face contorted with furrowed brows and sucked in cheeks. “I knew that my place was always here in the castle and I have always taken that role seriously.”

This was true. Chansung always buried himself in his studies, gathering enough knowledge to to soon overtake the place of Yuno’s future advisor. He studied religiously to not let his people down, just as his Father and Rowena currently were.

The older nodded silently, the black strands of his hair shifting to hide his eyes as he did so. He tugged on his earlobe, a habit he picked up when he was deep in thought or stressed beyond belief. Chansung caught sight of Yuno’s tell-tale and his lips pursed on trying to figure out as to why his brother was stressed.

“See, Chansung, that’s the difference between us,” Yuno broke the deafening silence.

“What is?”

“You are the one who deserves the throne, not I.”

“Brother!” Chansung shouted in defiance. “Why would you say that? You would make a great king!” He pushed with such force. Yuno smiled, his brother always had seen the best in him.

“Chansung, one cannot deny the truth,” the crown prince smiled at his sibling. The upturns of his plump lip showed the prince’s fondness for his brother and a twinge of regret for not being the royal people expected him to be.

“I have known what people have expected me to be and I have tried my best to live up to those expectations but...” Yuno began. He stood up and walked towards the open balcony, Chansung following in his wake. The elder leaned against the railings, hands resting on the cold stone as his sibling chose to press his back against it.

Townsfolk caught a glimpse of them from down below and enthusiastically yelled for the royal duo’s attention. The younger greeted them with matched excitement, bringing his hand up for a wave while the elder just nodded at them with a forlorn expression taking over his handsome face. He stared at the crowd a little longer than he should have, his mind wandering to the thief that stole his heart. His deep chocolate eyes traced the busy streets and alleyways, through the ways of the marketplace and the housing area until he could no longer see the outlines of the path.

“But you feel as if you belong down there,” Chansung finished for him with a hint of understanding.

“Yes,” Yuno breathed out.

“Brother, you have always had a knack for escaping,” Chansung joked lightheartedly to ease his brother’s troubled heart. It was not everyday a royal revealed he wanted to be one of the people after all.

A hearty, deep rumbling laugh escaped the crown prince’s lips. “I suppose I was not as discreet as I could have been,” he said with the shake of his head, “I was too busy running away from the guards to leave quietly.”

“I suppose not,” the younger chuckled along, the sounds of their laughter drifting with the winds.

“But Yuno,” Chansung’s voice called, “will you be alright?” His voice grew faint towards the end of the question and Yuno caught what his sibling was implying. Would the crown prince be alright after leaving a life of comfort?

“Yes,” Yuno smiled, his eyes shining in a way the second in line had never seen before, “for I will be happy.”

“Will you really be happy?” Chansung asked softly, his voice choking at the thought of his brother leaving him behind. He shook the sadness away and grinned widely at his sibling.

“You are leaving your favorite person behind after all,” he teased, barely dodging a playful punch to the chest. Yuno slung his arm over Chansung’s broad shoulder, bringing a hand to ruffle the other’s neatly styled hair.

“When have I ever called you that?”

“Come, Yuno,” the younger man said with a proud smile, “we have much to discuss before we bring this to Father.”

Yuno laughed once more, his heart bursting with an infinite amount of joy. He was one step closer to being free.

Nothing could take away his happiness, or so he thought. Neither brother realized the person lurking in the shadows, hanging onto every word with disdain.

“He wants to abdicate the throne for a measly street rat? How could this be?” Rowena asked herself as she stormed into her secret hideaway within the palace walls after hearing the conversation between the siblings. The fabric of her robe flowed behind her and the mighty jeweled staff pounded against the floor as she rushed her way down steep steps.

“All these years of scheming my way to the top will be wasted if he leaves with that peasant,” she spat harshly. Passing by the mirror hanging on her wall, Rowena paused in place to admire her looks. Running a hand through her shining black locks and stroking the sharp line of her jaw, she wondered what you had that she didn’t.

She had the looks, the intelligence, and the kingdom in the palm of her magic hand while you merely survived by committing to a life of crime. Why wasn’t the prince in love with her?

“Yuno and the position of queen was to be mine,” the advisor hissed, hazel eyes darkening with envy with each word she spoke. “I have not wasted my energy spelling the king only to settle for the second born.”

Her reflection disappeared from her view, a bundle of smoke and clouds hiding her away before dispersing into a sweet image of you and the prince together.

A terrifying shriek left her lips at the new reflection. Picking up the closest item within her reach, she hurled it into the mirror projecting that horrifyingly romantic image. The crack of the glass echoed in throughout the room and it fueled her bubbling ambition.

As her grip tightened against the length of her staff, she felt a new plan hatching in her head and dark magic coursing through her veins. “Prince Yuno and Neiho will be mine, make no mistake about that.”

You thought your love was too good to be true and he tried to convince you otherwise— you were a mere village thief and he was the Crown Prince. You came from practically nothing while he was of royal blood and yet, your fragile heart couldn’t help but fall for the lost man behind the crown and jewels. Your relationship was against the fates and the aligned stars but the prince had the strongest urge to rewrite them just to keep you by his side.

“I have scheduled a private audience with the King tomorrow.”

“And what will you discuss with him, love?” You stroked his fringe away from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your gentle hold.

He nestled into your palm, sighing at your warmth. “Renouncing the throne,” Yuno announced casually.

“I beg your pardon?!” You almost screamed into the night.

The prince ignores your little outburst, continuing his explanation. “The life of a royal is not the life I wish to live. I want to live a life of travel and adventure.” He sat up to clutch your hands in his. “I want to live a life with you, if you will have me.”

“With me?” You managed to mutter. “Out of all people, why with me?”

“Because I’m in love with you. Any day with you would be an adventure.”

“But I don’t have anything— no riches, just rags,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. He took you in, dirt smeared face and ripped clothing, and still looked at you like you held the world in your hands. Yuno saw the stars, the sky, the whole entire universe in your eyes. He didn’t need anything else— he just needed you.

“I love you more than anything else in this world but all I have to offer you is everything in me. I’m not sure if that is enough,” you bit your lip, teething gnawing down on your sensitive skin out of nervousness. He was the boy who had everything and he was willing to give everything up for a life with you.

Yuno brought your injured knuckles to his lips. He kissed them gently, holding your gaze with a soft one of his own. “My love, that is more than enough. You are more than enough.”

“But what about the villagers? What will happen to them if I were to leave?” You sputtered out, worrying about others rather than yourself.

He smiled at your selflessness. “I have already discussed this with Chansung. He is aware of the village’s situation and is willing to make changes to better their livelihood.”

“I can’t leave them behind,” you pulled your hands away. “They need me.”

“He is willing to work with your partner, Minhyung, to reach out to our people. No man left behind,” he replied with a smile. “We thought of all the options.”

You wanted to go with him but they were all you knew. Protecting the villagers and providing them with hope was always your number one priority— you had never thought of anything else. Would your mother be disappointed in you if you left them all behind or would she be happy to know that you have found a potential shot of happiness?

“Please, just think about it, my darling.”

“And Minhyung, he asked me to think about it!” You shrieked while running through the trees, a sack of gold hitting the small of your back. You looked behind you to see your younger partner-in-crime giving you the smuggest smile.

“Well, are you thinking about it?” He questioned, curiosity burning in his doe eyes. He wiggled his brows to tease you and you wanted to slap him with your heavy sack.

“What is there to think about? I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Why is that?” Your friend pushed.

“Because you need me, they need me.”

“Do we really need you or is it you that needs us?”

You frowned at him, not understanding his words. “What do you mean by that, Min?”

He laughed, nose coiling up cutely as he did so. “You have been stealing all your life, it’s all you know how to do. It’s familiar.”

“I do not see where you’re going with this.”

“You love him and you want to go with him but you’re scared.”

“Of what?”

“The unknown.” Minhyung gestured to all the riches you’ve stolen gathered by your feet. “This is all you’ve known but wouldn’t it be nice to do something more?”

“But this is all you’ve known too, Min,” you countered defensively.

“True, but by working with Prince Chansung, I can broaden my horizons.” There was this proud glint in his eye. “I can help more people. And you—”

“And me?”

“— you can finally be free to see what’s out there just like you’ve always dreamed of doing with nothing holding you back.”

Your friend grabbed hold of your hand, his larger one clasping over your own. Minhyung’s grip tightened around your palm to reassure you. “You can be selfish for once, to think only of yourself, and it will be perfectly fine.”

“Min, I want to be selfish but I’m frightened of everything— life beyond the walls and forest. What if everything out there is not what I think it is? What if I’m not prepared to leave this familiarity?”

Minhyung whispered your name as you began to spiral down a road he could not follow.

“And being in love with a prince for that matter! Love could be fleeting. Any given day after I leave with him, Yuno may not want me. He could turn his back on me and leave me to die. He has options, Min. I, for one, am not that lucky.”

Your friend squeezed firmly on your shoulder before reaching down to take hold of your hands. He crossed your arms over your chest and placed each hand on a shoulder, leading your fingers to tap against your skin. Minhyung encouraged you to follow along as he began to guide you through deep, calming breaths.

As your heart rate and thoughts began to settle, you wondered when Minhyung grew up to be the strong boy who stood beside you.

“Life is frightening. We know that more than anyone, flying by the seat of our pants,” Minhyung said with a chuckle of his own. “It’s alright to be scared of the unknown but it should not stop you from living your life the way you wish to live it.”

As you took another breath, you nodded to acknowledge his words.

“Do you want to live a life with the Crown Prince?”

“More than anything in this world,” was your firm reply.

Minhyung grinned at you, “Then that should be enough. Your love will be enough.”

Tugging him into a hug, you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. The act of affection was a “thank you” you cannot express with words. You only hoped your friend would understand the meaning behind the gesture. Luckily, with years of experience being your partner-in-crime, the young Minhyung was able to between the lines.

“Will you be alright?”

“Of course,” he said, placing a faint kiss against the crown of your head. “You’ve taught me everything I need to know.”

Minhyung, the younger and more energetic one of your thieving duo, ran ahead of you into the clearing to make the first drop of goods. You laughed at his excitable demeanor— you knew he would be the person you would miss most once you hightrailed out of the kingdom. He was the only family you had left but there he was, happy that you were finally setting yourself free.

The upward curve of your lips dropped when you heard his voice yell out for help. Heart racing, you let go of your sack, legs running faster than ever before to come to your best friend’s aid.

Once you caught a glimpse of him, your heart dropped to the floor, right by your soiled and tattered coverings you called shoes.

Minhyung was fighting against the hold of the strong guards that always chased your tail. His hands were handcuffed in chains and tears were running down his sunken cheeks as one guard repeatedly abused his small frame. You screeched at the vulgar sight unfolding before you— your little brother was being beaten to a pulp.

Three rough strikes to the stomach was all you could witness before you went flying towards him, hands outstretched to catch him as his body fell to the floor. You never reached him, another pair of guards preventing you from doing so. They immediately cuffed you and pulled your struggling frame towards them. Your shouts and frantic cries for the injured Minhyung were hushed when a restricting feeling took over your vocal chords.

Opening your mouth, you tried your best to make a sound but you found yourself mute.

A horrifyingly disturbing laugh came from behind the trees and you scuffled to find the source through your tears. The tall and sleek figure, dressed far too nice to be caught in these parts, approached you with the most evil smirk. Her back was straightened, chest puffed out, and head held high with pride as she used the tip of her staff to lift your head.

“So you are the one who caught the crown prince’s eye,” the figure said, her voice as piercing as her glare. “The little thief.”

“You,” came your choked reply as she released the spell she casted on you.

“Oh, so you know of me?” she laughed haughtily. “Say my name then, child.”

Refusing to do what she said, you turned your head to look at the unconscious Minhyung who was slumped across the grass.

“I said,” she hissed, using her hand to force your gaze back at her. “Say my name.”

“Rowena,” you growled. “What do you want from me? I have nothing you want.” Her sharp nails dug into your skin and you winced at the pain. The royal advisor clearly did not appreciate your snark.

“That is where you are wrong, my sweet child,” Rowena almost purred back. “You possess the thing I long for most.”

You scoffed at her answer. “And what would that be, witch?”

“Be careful with your words, street rat. I can end your friend’s life in an instant if you fail to hold your tongue,” a nail scratched your cheek, leaving you with a new cut. A thin stream of blood flowed down your face, dripping onto your tattered clothes as Rowena watched amusingly. “You are in possession of Prince Yuno’s heart when it was destined to be mine.”

You fought the urge to laugh, “You are doing this out of jealousy?”

“Hold your tongue, riff raff. You forget who is in control here, I can easily command my men to strike another blow on your poor fri—”

“No!” you yelled, cutting Rowena off, suddenly desperate to get on her good side. “Don’t hurt Minhyung; he has nothing to do with the situation!”

Minhyung weakly called your name and you ignored his cries.

“But he is a thief and it is a great crime to steal in this kingdom,” Rowena drawled on teasingly, like a cat playing with a hopeless mouse.

“No, please,” you begged. “You mustn’t hurt him.”

“Then you must do something for me in return, peasant,” Rowena laughed at how easily she had you wrapped around her finger. You appeared to be strong, but your overly selfless heart was weak.

“I will do anything you ask me to if you leave Minhyung alone,” you petitioned. You couldn’t let anything happen to Minhyung— he was the only family you had left. “He’s a brother to me.”

Minhyung’s head shot up at his new title while he gasped for air. Locking eyes with him, you smiled painfully. He was always at your side, protecting you when he could. Now, it was your time to protect him.

“I will let the boy live if you come with me without a fight,” Rowena schemed, grin growing wider by the second. She had you in the palm of her hands. “He is of no importance to me.”

“He is of the utmost importance to me,” you said, the familial love seeping through your veins. Though physically far apart from him, you hoped he could feel the love you had for him. Minhyung violently shook his head, as if to tell you not to go. He refused to let you sacrifice yourself to let him live, you had done enough for him as is.

“I will go with you, Rowena. Just allow me a moment to say my goodbyes.”

The guards holding you and Minhyung back looked at their commander for an order. With a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand, you and your friend were freed of your confinement. You quickly shuffled to your feet and Minhyung fell into your arms as you sunk to the ground.

“Oh my stars, Min,” you sniffled as you took him in. Sandwiching his fallen face in between your hands, you stroked his cheeks and pushed back the strands of hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead. “Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’ll be alright if you stay here with me,” Minhyung replied with tears welling up in his soft brown eyes. Minhyung was always the crier between the two of you. He cried more at your mother’s death than you did but this time, you let your tears cascade down your cheeks, knowing this was the last time you would see your best friend.

“You know I can’t do that. I can’t let anything happen to you, you have gotten yourself hurt because of me,” You gather enough strength in your shaking hands to squeeze his cheeks, something you always did to cheer him up. “I refuse to be the cause of your pain.”

“And I refuse to let you go,” Minhyung raised his hands to hold onto yours.

“I have made my choice,” you whispered harshly, “and that is to keep you and the others safe.”

You take a moment to hug the younger boy in your arms, trying to commit the feeling of Minhyung in your memory. Flashes of your best friend growing up by your side ran through your mind as your fingers stroked through his hair. Pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head, you shut your eyes and bit back a sob. “Do me one favor? Find your happiness, wherever it may be and never let it go, alright?”

When you released him from your hold, Minhyung whined at the loss of warmth.

“You’re my brother, Minhyung. I love you,” were your last words to your thieving partner before you turned away from him and his heart wrenching sobs and willingly stepped into your doom.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

What started off as secret meetings and stolen kisses in alleyways was ending with you chained to the floor of the palace’s throne room while your lover watched helplessly from the side. He screamed your name and struggled against the hold of his guards but you shook his head to silence him.

Stop, you begged in your head, make it stop.

The King and Prince Chansung did nothing to help you or their kin, only staring blankly at the chaotic scene unfolding in front of them. They had no choice; they were bewitched to be at the sorceress’ beck and call, just like the many guards that protected the kingdom. If only Prince Yuno had realized it sooner.

“Why are you doing this?” Yuno yelled, his deep voice booming throughout the large room. His harsh glare, a look you had never seen on him, was focused on the lady seated on his father’s rightful throne.

“Why?” Rowena echoed. “My darling prince, I did this because of you and your wish to renounce the throne for her.” Her extreme distaste for you was apparent as she hissed the last word.

She left her seat, leisurely sauntering over to Yuno with a smile as if it was a casual meeting when the situation was far from it. Rowena squatted down to reach his level and Yuno hastily turned his head to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. His jaw tightened and his teeth grinded against each other as she forced him to look her directly in the eye. “Marry me and crown me as your Queen. Only then will I let her go.”

Instead of answering the witch with words, he chose to spit in her face instead. “Never, you hag. You are not worthy of ruling Neiho, nor will you ever be.” Yuno’s voice was ruthless and unwavering, just as a prince’s should be. Even in a moment like this, your heart swelled with pride at his bravery.

“Long live King Chansung,” he jeered, which only set Rowena off. “He is the next, rightful ruler of the kingdom.”

“If this is how you want to play, so be it, Prince,” Rowena laughed in his face. The sound of her cackles made shivers run down your spine and cold sweat broke out in a number of places. You were scared of what was to come.

Using her staff to help her back up to a standing position, Rowena made her way towards you with a menacing stare. The curve of her lips grew wider as you flinched back in fear. You heard the clanking of metal chains as Yuno wrestled against the guard’s hold. “Don’t you dare do anything to her!”

“And what will you do, Yuno?” she threw back. “There is nothing you can do to help her now.”

Only a few steps from you, she points the end of her staff in your direction. A gleaming emerald jewel taunted you as you sucked in a breath. “You, peasant, have always given selflessly without expecting anything in return so selfless you will remain,” she started to say, a gust of wind bursted out the end of the jewel. It first surrounded her figure, then you, before spreading throughout the room.

A golden lamp appeared out of thin air, floating in front of your face before you felt the spark of dark magic course within you. It released you from your physical binds only to leave you immobile. A pair of gold cuffs materialized on your wrists and tugged you closer to the lamp.

“No longer will you be able to act selfishly for you are bound to this lamp and to these chains until a master wishes you free,” she explained. The taunting laughter that would soon haunt your memories echoed in your ears as ideas for a curse were thrown into the wind. “It will be at least two thousand years until you have the chance of seeing your precious prince again, that is, if Prince Yuno finds you first.”

“What? No!” Yuno howled across the room as you were slowly consumed by a dark cloud. Calls of your name were heard but you could not respond as Rowena began to chant,

“Golden lamp of antique old, Bind her body, mind, and soul. May she obey her master’s whim, Turn her future dark and grim. Freedom comes with just one wish Unless it is a true love’s kiss.”

The smoke spread throughout the room, leaving the surroundings in a haze. As the evil enchantress concentrated on the curse, the hold on the others in the room fell through. The king and Chansung snapped out of their daze only to watch the horrific separation begin to take place.

“Brother, what is the meaning of this?!” Chansung shouted to get his sibling’s attention, bringing an arm to shield his eyes from the powerful gusts. His father gripped at his youngest’s sleeve as the gale turned into a hurricane with you in the middle.

Yuno failed to hear his brother’s questions, eyes zoned in on you as your freedom was slowly stripped away from you. The sight of you crushingly accepting your fate tugged on his heartstrings. This wasn’t the ending he wanted for you. This was far from it.

"Remember me! You must remember me," he yelled over the commotion. You watched him struggle over the smoke as you cry out for him.

"How could I ever forget you?" you reassured him with a broken smile. You felt the tail end of your body being pulled inside your new cage and tried to fight the unbreakable force.

Yuno screamed your name once more. You locked eyes across the room, his dark orbs spinning with love and desperation. You wondered if your wet irises looked the same as his.

"I will find you! I will search until the ends of the earth until you are by my side again.”

You wanted to laugh at his hopeful optimism— how did love get you into this situation?

As much as you wanted to believe Yuno would find you, the situation was bleak.

Rowena’s body rumbled with a laughter so sinister, so piercing that you flinched at the sound as her dark magic ran through your veins. “I would like to see you try, my prince, but until then, you and the throne belong to me,” she sneered.

Ignoring the enchantress’ claims, his eyes continued to search for your disappearing figure. “I will come back to you, I promise!” Yuno’s deep voice rang into your ears.

“I hope you will,” you whispered a defeated reply back.

“If not in this life, then I will find you in the next! Mark my words!”

“Yuno…”

“In any version of reality, my darling, I will find you and I will choose you every single time. Do you hear me?”

You nodded vigorously as you choked back your sobs.

Just as the last bits of your being slipped through the spout of the lamp, Yuno broke free from the guards’ hold and rushed to your side. You reached out a hand and his fingertips grazed yours.

“Don’t forget me,” he mumbled through choked up sobs. His shaking hands grabbed at the dreaded lamp, clutching it to his broad chest like it was the most precious thing on earth.

The sight of him so desperate before you was reminiscent of the star-crossed lovers you heard about during your younger years, the ones that ended in the worst of tragedies. You pondered if this was your own personal tragedy, if this particular scene would haunt you for the rest of your cursed life.

You exchanged one last glance. One last touch.

Your hand clutched his cheek like it was made of the most fragile glass and the pad of your thumb stroked his soft skin. Yuno leaned into your touch, wanting to soak in his last moment with you. A spark flickered the place of contact, a sizzle of bright dust oozing from your fingers— your first dose of magic and you couldn’t even use it to keep him by your side. A glittering tear fell from your cheek and landed on his skin.

It was then you muttered your last words to the man who claimed your heart before being completely tugged into your golden cage, “As you wish.”

author’s note. hello, my darling readers! i know many of you have been waiting for this release for the longest time. this is the first of three (or four) parts. this part has been done for quite some time now; i’m just struggling to get the rest of it out.

but i thought it was too good of a story to just sit there in my google docs. i had this need to finally put part of it out into the world so here we are! i’ve been writing this since october and i would like to thank the many people who have helped me with the plot so far: kira, my chaotic gc, allex, and joyce!! ily all!! <3 this is for you!!!

part two is finished and i’m in the process of editing it! will it be out soon? who knows?

taglist. @rindomo @yshbaewenjun @hannie-dul-set @itsapapisongo @babyyynatty @notnctu @w0nni3wrld @yuta1forme @lucyinthesunshinee

i lost my original copy of the taglist so i’m sorry if i missed people! (especially since it’s been so long!) please let me know if you would like to be added to the list for future parts!

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #jung jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #as you wish

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lilydalexf · 3 years

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MustangSally

MustangSally has 33 stories at Gossamer. Even if you haven’t read it, you’ve probably heard of at least one of them, Iolokus, since it’s an X-Files fanfic classic. All her fics hit big and are well worth your time. I’ve recced some of my favorites here before, including And Dance by the Light of the Moon, All the Children are Insane, and Iolokus. Big thanks to MustangSally for doing this interview.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. Yes, because life has moved on since the early nineties and the characters and the fans are in vastly different places now. Our current tech would make the premise of the X-Files impossible. No, because of the longevity of some of the Star Trek TOS work (there’s an archive of hard copy fanzines at the University of Iowa). Top-drawer authors started out in TOS fandom.

I’m just greatly saddened that my physical body is showing wear and tear while the fic doesn’t. Fic gets to stay smooth-skinned and muscular, captured at the peak of perfection.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

At the risk of sounding atrociously trite, I think of the friends I made. I met some very remarkable women that I’ve been able to stay friends with online for over twenty-five years. We may have moved to Facebook and post entirely too much about our pets and which of our body parts has sagged this week, but we’re friends. It’s a furiously funny, feminist, and well-educated group of women with jobs in the highest levels of academia, finance, communications, and media. I’m amused by the fact that if I have a question about how a virus replicates, I can ask a PhD I’ve been drunk with in Las Vegas.

Back in the day, I had a job that sent me traveling around major cities in the US and UK. I could post on a message board and within ten minutes there were people I could go out for dinner and drinks with. We already knew we had something we could talk about for at least a couple of hours. Additionally, most of these people were women so there was an added level of security. Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Well, it was mostly atxc and the Yahoo! groups mailing lists that spiraled out into Geocities sites and, eventually, LiveJournal. The amusing thing is that getting in on the ground floor of social media and the Internet has helped me get jobs! When I look at a new piece of software, I think, ‘this is hella easier than uploading to Geocities.’ We had to walk uphill both ways, in the snow, on dial-up, fighting off dinosaurs with our AOL CDs while writing HTML code. What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.

The past four years in politics have basically been the ugliest online kerfuffle the world has ever seen. I survived the Shipper Wars of ’96 and I thought those were brutal, but that was NOTHING. The only way to win an argument online is to not have the argument at all. Arguing with a troll is like mudwrestling a pig: You both get filthy and only the pig is happy.

Also, READ THE FUCKING TERMS OF SERVICE.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had the most terrible straight-girl crush on Scully. I wanted to be her best friend, I wanted to BE her. I wanted to order Chinese food and paint each other’s nails and talk about bones. Scully and Princess Leia and I could all just hang out poolside with hot and cold running waiters and poolboys, drink margaritas, and bitch about how unfair it all was – if the stupid men would just get OUT OF THE WAY AND LET US DO OUR JOBS, the world would be so much better. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

This question is really about Iolokus, isn’t it? You can’t fool me. [Lilydale note: I can neither confirm nor deny the motivation for this question, but I cannot complain about the answer.]

Simply put, I was enraged. The moment it was revealed that Scully’s ova had been used in experimentation, I lost my feminist mind. It was the most obscene defilement imaginable. Scully wasn’t nearly as angry as I was. What I thought needed to happen was for Scully to become a fiery force of vengeance against the MEN who had done this to her. Clearly, I was not going to get that level of satisfaction from the show, as I was imagining Kali-like carnage on a global scale. I emailed RivkaT (whom I did not know well at that point) with a proposition that we work together. Strangely enough, we didn’t meet face to face until we were well into the project, but we did talk on the phone quite a bit. The rules were simple – everyone had to be punished in truly horrific ways, and at some point, we had to see if we could write a car chase (only because that seemed impossible). Then it basically turned into a very twisted game of chicken to see who could be the most outrageous in terms of killing people off or writing really horrific things that fit within the structure of the narrative. I did, in the end, write the car chase, but RivkaT one-upped me by throwing in a helicopter (a FOX News helicopter, at that).

Really, RivkaT? A helicopter? What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? I am terribly proud of what I wrote, pleased that it brought pain and pleasure in equal amount to people, and, again, thrilled by the people I became friends with. I admit that I stopped watching the show when Scully announced her pregnancy. I could only see a long jump over a shark tank for the rest of the series. I haven’t watched the new episodes, either. It is complete in my mind and doesn’t need to be continued. I wouldn’t say no to having a reunion with some of my fic friends, although we’re still chatting online like everyone does. Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Rivka and I wrote in the Buffy fandom for a few years, but then we moved on to real adult jobs that left absolutely no time for me to write. I’m in education, and I regularly sweat blood for fear that someone is going to find my old fic. The Buffy people were fun; there was a certain *shininess* to them that I really enjoyed. The X-men authors were just batshit and delightful, and some amazing stuff came out of Marvel fandom, particularly in the Thor/Loki and Steve/Bucky subgenres. I’ve learned to appreciate a good coffee shop AU and one famous Erik/Charles fic where all the main characters are crabs. Seriously, crabs—it’s hysterical. [Lilydale note: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia currently has almost 2,500 kudos at AO3.]

Every few years, I’ll have a student try to explain to me what fandom is and I just smirk. Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? No. Not really. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I fell into an X-Men hole a few years back and had a great old time wallowing in the Cherik muck, and there was a flirtation with BBC Sherlock as well. Strangely enough, I became interested in A/B/O fics only because of what they were saying about the role of women in our society. The limitations on the male omegas seem absurd and then you realize those are the same limitations put on women all. the. time.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

RivkaT very nicely formatted everything and put it up on AO3. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I will always be stupidly proud of how shocked and horrified people were by Iolokus. The truth of the matter is that Iolokus has Greek drama at its core. Scully is Medea, and the entire story is lousy with “blood on the threshing floor” and Dionysian rites. The everyday is subverted into horror, and wives and daughters will tear men limb from limb like the Maenads. Since I was ultimately disappointed with what Chris Carter did with the entire show, that approach seemed appropriate.

At a certain level, all fic is corrective fic. Like critic Anne Jamison said, “Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.” And because fic has fallen so much into women’s sphere, a pure form of correction is not just the death of the author but the MURDER, a new creation springing up from the spilled blood like Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth.

Okay, that’s a bit much. Maybe I should just take myself back to the isle of Goth Amazons or something. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I had to write a self-evaluation and a reflection on pedagogy today. If that’s not fiction, I don’t know what the fuck is.

All my creativity is caught up in trying to pretend to be a normal middle-aged white woman so no one knows I am really a lizard.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Keep writing, keep reading, keep fighting the commercialization of narratives. As things grow more and more commodified, all our dreams and desires reduced to tchotchkes made in China, it’s a revolutionary act to separate your work from the marketplace. Be bold, take chances, turn the trope on its ear and kick it in the ass. Take everything the creators have done to make a work palatable to the unwashed masses and set it on fire.

Be subversive.

Be mean.

Have a great fucking time.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 2, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #mustangsally

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Just A Scratch

Asra x M!Apprentice

Word Count: 1.5K Warnings: Slight Angst

Author’s Note: In this house we stan lip scars because they’re enticing and hot. Enjoy! -Thorne

It had been a long three months for Asra. A long and tiring three months away from the man he loved more than the world itself, and even if he didn’t remember Asra’s love, it still hurt to be away from him. By the time he’d reached the outskirts of Vesuvia, his heart was aching to see his face, to hold him again. And while Asra’s trips were usually to get away from his feelings, though he could never outrun them, even if he ran to the ends of the earth, this time, he’d actually had a legitimate reason for leaving: adventuring to find a book that he had specifically requested of Asra, the Grand Arcane Tome of Elemental Magic.

The tome was huge and bound with thick, sapphire colored leather, and buckled with a silver fastening. Its pages were old and weathered, and Asra could feel the deep ingrained remnants of magic from where it sat in his bag. He worried a bit over giving the book to (Y/N). Not that he was worried that (Y/N) couldn’t handle it, but Asra knew well that magic was the husband of chaos, and every spell had a chance to go awry, all it took was one simple miscalculation and it could blow up in your face. The last thing that Asra wanted was to come home to the shop destroyed and (Y/N) seriously injured. Or worse dead, again.

He shook the dark thoughts from his mind as he entered the Marketplace of the Center City district. It was a familiar sight that relaxed him from the distressing feelings he’d conflicted himself with, and took a moment to look around, eyes falling on Selasi’s bakery. The intoxicating scent of fresh pumpkin bread reached him, and his stomach gave an obnoxiously loud gurgle. His cheeks flushed as he started to glance around, hoping no one heard it, but before he could make a move, a wriggling lavender serpent popped out of his shirt.

Hungry!

Asra chuckled and reached up, scratching underneath the snake’s chin. “I bet you’re hungry too, huh Faust?”

Want a fuzzy rat!

He laughed again and headed for Selasi’s shop. “Well, knowing (Y/N), he’s probably caught one and has it waiting for you.”

Excited to see friend!

Asra had barely made it within ten feet of Selasi’s bakery when the baker himself stepped out and waved, a grin growing on his face.

“Asra! You’re back!”

He waved in return. “Just got back into town actually. (Y/N)’s book took longer to track down than I thought it would.” He pulled out his coin purse. “Can I get two loaves? I’d like to surprise him when I get home.”

Something flashed in Selasi’s expression. “About (Y/N)…”

Asra’s heart dropped to his feet, fingers numbing on the spot as his voice raised just a bit from concern. “Is he okay?” he asked, taking a step forward. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

He was almost downright hysterical and Selasi gestured with his hands for Asra to relax. “Calm down, Asra,” he advised, explaining, “It’s nothing serious, but a couple days ago, he stopped a few hooligans from extorting me.” He smiled. “Saved my life, if I’m honest.”

Asra’s brows furrowed. “What happened?”

“Oh, fickle thing,” Selasi waved off. “Every now and then we’ll get a few ‘visitors’ from Goldgrave who think they can bully the lot of us around.” He gave Asra a knowing look. “You know how it is.”

“And (Y/N)?”

“Oh, right! Well, he was here delivering some supplies I had from the docks. Told him he didn’t have to, but you know how he is, always looking out for everyone.” Asra’s heart swelled, knowing (Y/N)’s heart of gold all too well.

“Well, he was leaving when the three of them came in, demanding coin and goods. The ringleader had a knife.” He sighed. “I was just going to hand it over, no sense making a fuss, but (Y/N), bless him, stepped in and told them they needed to leave.”

While (Y/N) was always there to help someone in need, he hadn’t put himself in harms way since before he di—since before Asra left. While he was the same person he’d always been when he came back, quiet, reserved, and always kind, Asra had noticed that he walked away from trouble when he could, only involving himself if he had no choice. So, to hear that (Y/N) willingly put himself between a knife-wielding ruffian and an innocent civilian, was surprising, but not unexpected.

“What happened when he told them to leave?” Asra inquired.

Selasi inhaled and started fixing two loaves to go. “They started laughing and mocking him, asking him what he was going to do about it. The ringleader waved the knife in his face, but (Y/N) didn’t even flinch, he just said, ‘Get out or I’ll make you.’.” He looked at Asra. “I’ve never seen (Y/N) look so serious in all the time I’ve known him.”

Handing over the packaged bread, he added, “They all tried to take him on, but he held his own and sent them packing. Didn’t even use his magic either! Just took ‘em on barehanded! Got banged up a bit, but he was okay afterwards.” Selasi smiled at Asra. “(Y/N)’s a fine young man.”

Asra let go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and took the bread, returning it with coin. “That he is,” he answered softly and nodded before making his way down the street just a little faster.

***

He frowned as his eyes flit between the little box in front of him and the list in his hand. His fingers trailed over every little bottle, mumbling the names as he went down the line.

Two bottles of Sphinx’s Extract, four pinches of Fairy Wing Dust, seven Daydream Blossoms, one pinch of Mound Bindweed, two vials of Werewolf Blood, eight Aromatic Belladonna bulbs, two stalks of Goldho—

The little bell above the door rang, and though his back was to the door, he tipped his head, calling, “Give me just a moment to finish this order and I’ll be right with you!”

A familiar chuckle made his heart thump. “I’m gone for three months and an order takes priority over me, (Y/N)?”

He spun around, a smile crossing his lips as he caught sight of Asra, and Faust sticking out of his shirt. Just as fast as the grin had come across his face, it dropped and he let out a hiss, bringing a hand up to his mouth. Asra set down his bag and the wrapped loaves on the counter, hurrying over. He raised his hands to (Y/N)’s face, worry etched into his expression.

“Are you alright?” he worried, and (Y/N) lowered his hands, nodding with a frown.

“Yeah, just a little scratch.”

He let Asra take his face in his hands and gently examine him. “It looks a little more than just a scratch.” Before (Y/N) could say anything, he added, “This must be what Selasi was talking about.”

“You know about that?” (Y/N) doubted, disbelief in his tone.

Asra snorted. “Please, the entire market is talking about it.” He ran his thumb softly over the scabbing cut that went through the left side of (Y/N)’s top lip. Something flickered in his eyes as he met (Y/N)’s gaze. “Did it hurt?”

He shrugged. “Meh, didn’t even notice I was really injured until Selasi was frantically throwing a towel at me and yelling for a doctor.”

Asra huffed a laugh. “Lemme heal it—”

“Wait!” (Y/N) recoiled from his grasp as if he’d been burned and covered his mouth. It took everything that Asra had in him to not let the pain show. For a moment they stared at one another, not really knowing how to follow through.

It pained him to speak, but Asra did, barely holding it together. “(Y/N)?” He responded, but Asra didn’t catch it. “What did you say?”

Sighing, (Y/N) lowered his hand and mumbled, “I want it to scar.”

Asra’s brows furrowed, and he questioned, “What? Why?”

(Y/N) cleared his throat and shifted on his feet as the heat climbed up his neck and ears. “I want it to scar because it’ll make me look rugged and handsome.” He finished quickly, cheeks hot to the touch and turned around.

“Anyway, I have to finish this up. You should go and unpack. I’ll have dinner ready soon.”

Asra watched him for a moment, a fond smile coming across his lips as he moved back to his bag and gathered it in his arms. He passed (Y/N) who was going between the list and box again, but a closer inspection told Asra that he was so embarrassed that he wasn’t really doing much of anything.

As he reached the steps and took the first one, a devious though crossed his mind. He turned and called, “(Y/N)?”

Looking up, he caught mirthful eyes. “Mhm?”

Asra smirked. “It does make you look rugged and handsome.”

#asra x reader #asra x reader imagines #asra x reader imagine #asra imagines #asra imagine #asra #asra alnazar #asra the arcana #asra x mc #asra x apprentice #asra x apprentice imagines #asra x apprentice imagine #the arcana #the arcana imagines #the arcana imagine #arcana #arcana imagines #arcana imagine

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vanillapie-80 · 3 years

Text

The Road to Recovery Chapter 4: Guilty Until Proven Otherwise

The trial begins

Ao3

In the Hero’s Forge, the Tribunal stood on a viewing deck in the middle that loomed over the group. “The Trollhunter on trial is standing in for James Lake Jr. who chose to go into the Darklands, allowing the release of Gunmar the Black. He has admitted responsibility for his actions. What do you say of the charges?” Usurna asked, her voice booming with authority as Steve was once again in a cage in mid-air.

“We’ll fight the charges!” Blinky declared, taking a few steps forward.

“Once convicted, the Trollhunter will be sentenced to exile in the Deep.” Usurna explained.

“What’s the Deep?” Toby asked the historian.

“A place of unknown madness. No one exactly knows what resides at the bottom of the Deep, since no troll has returned from it.” From a glance, Blinky could tell that his explanation had made Steve very uneasy.

“Well I’m not a troll so maybe I’ll be lucky.” The trollhunter suggested, hoping that such a difference would help him in the future.

“Shall we begin?” Usurna questioned.

“One moment, if you please.” Blinky before turning back to the group. “Before we continue this further, I must remind you all that we cannot fight these allegations.”

“You don’t think we know that?” Steve said. “We’re going through with this because you guys need the amulet to kill this Gunmar dude.”

“Right, then who is going to represent him?” Claire wondered.

“What about you Claire? Your mom is a councilwoman, maybe you learned some tricks from her.” Toby said, to which Claire only shook her head in response.

“I tend to avoid anything involving my mom’s work as much as I can, also I don’t think councilwomen are involved with court cases.”

“What about you Domzalski?” Steve asked.

“To be honest I’m practically on the same boat with Claire, unless you count watching true crime stuff with Darci and court drama shows with Nana as useful information,” Toby answered.

“Well, it is something. And who knows, maybe there might be similarities between human proceedings and troll proceedings.” Blinky stated as he patted Toby in the back as reassurance.

“And besides, some of that stuff of tv has to hold some truth.” Steve added, but Toby only gave them a doubtful look.

“Your time is up.” Usurna declared. “Have you made a decision on who will represent you?”

“Yeah we did. Domzalski is going to represent me” Steve said.

“Very well. The Tribunal will permit a short recess to allow Mr. Domzalski to prepare his case.”

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

“So can we all agree that this is going to be an absolute mess?” Toby asked as they were in the library.

“No doubt about it.” Claire remarked. “But remember, Steve’s life depends on this. You have to give your all.”

“I know, it’s not like I want him dead. But how are we going to prove to the Tribunal that Jim didn’t let Gunmar out?”Toby slides one of the books close to him from the table.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious that he’s guilty.” Claire leaned onto the wall and thought for a moment. “What exactly happens to those who plead guilty?”

“Usually they try to get the lowest sentence possible. But I don’t think it’ll work in this case, there’s no sign that there’s a lower sentence other than the Deep.”

“So that’s off the table.” Claire paced around the room while biting the edge of her finger. “What if.... We prove that someone else was planning to let Gunmar out.”

“I do not understand how that would help our case.” Blinky said.

“It doesn’t. But it might show the Tribunal how pointless this trial is. To show that Gunmar’s release would’ve been inevitable.” Claire explained, sprinting towards Blinky. “And for them to see the bigger picture. So they could focus on the real problem at hand.”

“It is a risky move. But it sounds like the best option.” Toby admitted.

“Very well, it seems like our course of action is very clear. Tobias will try to convince the Tribunal that this trial is pointless with me assisting him, while Claire and Aaarrrgghh will find evidence and root out Gunmar’s agent.” Blinky explained.

“Then we can’t waste any time.” Claire made her way to Aaarrrgghh and tugged one of his arms towards the library’s sentence. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The large troll followed the girl’s lead, waving his companion and wingman goodbye. “Find proof how?” He asked Claire as they walked through trollmarket.

She rubbed the back of her neck, hesitant to speak at first. “You were a general for Gunmar right? Did he have a preferred method for spying on his enemies?”

“Changelings.” Aaarrrgghh answered quickly.

“But aren’t they used to check up on the surface world?”

“Can work both ways.” Claire let the idea linger in her mind. It wouldn’t be impossible, just because changelings aren’t welcomed by trollmarket doesn’t mean that they can’t try to disguise themselves as a regular troll.

“Okay so let’s work with a hypothetical here.” She stated.

“Hyper-thet- tical?” Aaarrrgghh asked as he struggled to understand the word.

Claire gave him an understanding smile and explained. “It means exploring something that might happen even if you’re not sure if it’s true.” She clapped her hands together and began setting up the scene. “So hypothetically, a changeling was assigned to be a spy in trollmarket, a place where their kind is hated, to see if they can get to the bridge pieces to release Gunmar. What would they do?”

As they continued to walk, Aaarrrgghh saw the RotGut’s establishment from afar, and an idea sparked in his head. “Gaggletacks.” He pointed at the store to Claire, who gasped in response.

“Of course!” She exclaimed. “The only way for a changeling to be at risk of being found out in trollmarket is a gaggletack.”

“Changeling have to get rid of gaggletacks.” The large troll added.

“Exactly. This means that if someone bought a gaggletack, we might get some leads.” Claire and Aaarrrgghh began passing through the marketplaces to interrogate RotGut.

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

As the trial was about to begin, Usurna looked displeased at the sight of Blinky being by Toby’s side. “Blinkious. As we have stated you cannot speak on the Trollhunter’s-“

“It’s okay!” Toby interrupted. “He’s going to be my co-counsel, so it’s all good.”

“And how do you plead?” Vendel asked.

“Not guilty.” The redhead said with a confident demeanor.

The Tribunal looked and muttered at each other, perplexed at the teen’s plea.

“So just to be sure.” Steve whispered to Toby. “You have a plan right?”

“Of course.” Toby remarked. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“…. Is it a good plan?”

Toby’s coincidence wavered for a moment but it wasn’t too noticeable. “Well it depends on how fast Claire and Aaarrrgghh can find evidence for our case.” “What?!” Steve exclaimed, trying his best not to raise his voice.

Toby quickly changed the subject, the last he wanted to do was cause more doubt for Steve. “Anyways. First order of business, I would like to request that Gatto is removed as a member of the Tribunal, at least for this trial.”

“And why would we do such a thing?” Bork asked.

“He and I have had a rather delicate history, which I’m afraid might bring his ability to be objective into question.” Toby explained.

"There have been too many delays for this trail as there is.” Usurna stated. “The Tribunal will proceed.”

“But my request is quite simple.” Toby persisted. “All you need to do is remove him from the courtroom. This trial is important, So I’m sure that none of you would want to mess this up, right?” The

Tribunal silently looked at each other. “And besides, the majority of the Tribunal will still be here even with Gatto gone and-“

“Enough.” Vendel interrupted. “You have made your point clear. And I, for one, do not see the issue of following the human’s request.”

“You can’t be serious.” Gatto objected.

“I agree with Vendel. I accept the request” The Quagawump Queen added. “Usurna, do you object to this request?”

Usurna stared at the chubby teen, her eyes narrowed, before saying, “I do not. Gatto, you may leave.”

Toby smiled brightly as he saw Gatto silently cursed at him before the pile of stones that shaped the troll’s face collapsed.

“State your grounds for your defense.” Usurna stated.

“Of course. We know that Jim went into the Darklands.” Steve gave Toby a bewildered expression as he listened to his classmate listing off all of Jim’s offenses. “We know we went in to save him, giving

Gunmar the opportunity to escape.” The redhead continued as he paced back and forth. “But who is to say that someone didn’t plan on doing it in the first place? That is the ground for my defendant. Woah!”

Suddenly the Tribunal began throwing rocks at Toby. “Hey, hey, hey! Easy there!” Toby ran behind Blinky as a cover.

“Uhhhh what’s with the rocks? “ Steve quickly asked Blinky as he also backed away to avoid the rocks hitting him as well.

“I’m afraid it’s a part of troll law.” The historian explained calmly.

Toby sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, as he vaguely remembered that being in one of the books Blinky gave him. “Of course it is.”

Toby hesitantly stretched his hand out away from the historian’s protection and took a sharp inhale as one of the rocks hit his arm and held back the action to yelp in pain.

“Bork’s rock wins. They will be heard first.” Usurna said as her fellow member stepped forward.

“I have a complaint. How does this make your defendant innocent if you admit he’s guilty for releasing Gunmar?”

“Well if someone was already planning to open Killahead bridge, then wouldn’t that mean Gunmar’s return was bound to happen no matter what the trollhunter did.” Toby explained, which seemed to satisfy Bork as she backed away. “So any other questions?”

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

Claire and Aaarrrgghh made their way to the RotGot, and Claire was about to slam at the large door knocker before the large troll stopped her. “What’s wrong?”

“RotGut hard to get information out of.” Aaarrrgghh said. “Need plan.”

“Right, although I haven’t watched a lot of crime shows, there was one episode where two detectives played good cop and bad cop to a witness who wasn’t willing to talk. So maybe we should try that?”

Aaarrrgghh nodded at Claire with a gentle smile.

“Worth a try.” He said.

With excitement now bubbling inside her, Claire slammed the doorknob a few times and then cleared her throat. “Open up RotGut, or I’ll kick down this door!” Aaarrrgghh was caught off guard by how genuine her anger seemed, though he does faintly remember her mentioning once that she was into theater.

One of the speakeasies opened from the door to reveal Gut. “Ailment or curse?”

“Neither, you two-headed dirtbag! We need information.” Rot showed himself as he heard the teen’s yelling. “Gunmar’s got a mole down here, and you’re gonna tell us who it is!”

Rot and Gut looked at each other with confusion. “Why is she being so mean to us, Gut?”

Gut shrugged and looked at Claire. “We don’t share that kind of thing. Salesman-client confidentiality.” He reasoned.

“Oh, so you wanna obstruct official trollhunting business?!” Claire retorted. “Is that what you want to do- huh?!”

Aaarrrgghh suddenly grabbed Claire with both his arms and set her aside out of the trolls’ view. “Take breather.”

She groaned in frustration. “Fine.”

“Whelps.” Aaarrrgghh remarked. “Information important, help save trollhunter’s life.”

“Will it make the small human stop yelling at us?” The large troll nodded at the orange salestroll. “Well…. I don’t know from Gunmar, but there was a guy.”

“It’s Krax, you imbecile.” Gut interjected.

“Yes Krax. He brought out our entire stock of gaggletacks.”

“That’s definitely suspicious.” Claire muttered. “Do you guys have Krax’s address?”

“Uhh sure, give us a moment.” The two trolls looked at the teen, perplexed at the sudden change in mood from Claire, before going around their shop to find the address.

“Good job.” Aaarrrgghh patted the teen by the head.

“Thanks. You know we make a good team.” Claire smiled as she put her hand on her hips. “Let’s hope that Toby and Blinky are as good as we are.”

RotGut returned and gave them a small piece of paper through the speakeasy. “Here’s the address.”

“Thank you.” Claire grabbed the piece of paper and the two walked away from the shop. “We got our first lead. Now let’s if this Krax guy is a changeling, or a troll who just really likes gaggletacks for reason.”

The teen passed the address to Aaarrrgghh for him to see. “Do you think you can find Krax’s house? I don’t know how addresses work here.”

The large troll squinted at the small writing for a few seconds, before looking back at Claire and giving her a thumbs up. Claire’s smile grew brighter and followed Aaarrrgghh’s lead as they walked through Trollmarket in search of Krax’s home.

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

“Isn’t it true that you’ve been to the Darklands?” Toby asked NotEnrique as his witness, dangling a dirty sock to keep the changeling’s attention. “Isn’t it further true that you knew Gunmar was trying to get out of the Darklands on his own, and he probably would’ve gotten out eventually anyway even if we hadn’t gone in to save Jim?”

A rock then hit Toby from the back of his head by the Quagwump Queen.“Sounds like you are the one testifying.”

He looked at the Tribunal, wincing as he rubbed on the dull pain on the back of his neck. “Easy. ‘M trying to be thorough with my questions here, alright?.” Toby explained and turned back to NotEnrique. “So?”

The changeling shrugged carelessly. “Well… Jim’s a good guy. You know, for a human. While he was in the Darklands, he saved me familiar. A pretty cute kid.”

Toby leaned his arm on the slab to where NotEnrique sat. “So to you, Jim is a hero?”

The changeling casually rested his face on his hand. “Yeah, he’s a hero. I mean, if he wasn’t, you guys wouldn’t have gone into-” NotEnrique was then interrupted with Toby quickly shoving the dirty sock in his mouth.

“That’s quite enough.” Toby nervously remarked, trying to get the message across for NotEnrique to stop talking without actually saying.

“No. I think the witness should be allowed to finish.” Bork said.

“Oh no.” Steve whispered. Claire and Aaarrrgghh hadn’t come back yet, so they were practically grasping straws at the moment for any kind of evidence they had, if you could even call it that. He crouched down at Blinky’s direction and tried to get his attention. “Blinky.” The historian looked up at the sound of the blonde teen’s quiet voice. “Can’t I do anything to stop this.”

“Hmm, well you could stand as a witness. However, I’m not sure if it’s even possible as-“

“Good enough for me.” Steve said.

“I beg your pardon?” Blinky watched as Steve stood up and took a few steps toward the front of the cage. “Hey! How about we skip the dramatics and let me speak for myself? Or for Lake, I guess.”

“What are you doing?’ Toby asked as he approached Steve’s cage.

“Trying to make this less bad than it is.” He answered.

“But you can’t-“

“The accused cannot testify for himself, it’s against Troll Law.” Quagwump Queen explained.

“Yeah, what she said.” Toby remarked.

“I say let him speak.” Vendel said as he stood up and looked at Steve, his expression unreadable for the blonde teen. “Go on trollhunter.”

“Right…” Steve struggled to find the right words. Now that his plan was in motion, he realized now that he really didn’t know what to say.

“Come on. Think for once.” The blonde teen thought.

“Okay, um… look I’m probably the last person Lake would want to speak for him. But it looks like to me that all of you guys are really pissed at him for making a choice, a bad one at that. But so what, even good people can make mistakes. And while he’s not here, I’m sure he would admit that what he did was wrong. And come on, don’t tell me that none of you haven’t made a bad choice in your life.”

None of the Tribunal reacted except for the Quagawump Queen, who Steve managed to see her raise her before putting it back when she saw that the others weren’t doing the same. “But in the end, Lake is a good person and just did what he thought was right. And who knows maybe he would do it again but-”

The Tribunal all gasped in shock.

“An admission!

“He would do it again?”

“It seems like we have our proof. Let us all rule.” Usurna said.

Steve stood still for a few seconds, his mind trying to keep up with what just happened. “What?!” He saw the Tribunal beginning to leave. “Hey! I wasn’t done talking!”

“You have said quite enough.”Usurna remarked. “Now if you’ll-”

“Oh shut up!” The Tribunal quickly turned around, stunned at the trollhunter.

Frustration began to rise from Steve, he was tired and was just about done with the tribunal. “You guys talk about punishment for what happened to Gunmar because I don’t know about you, but getting your ass beaten by the person you let out and fighting for your life in the hospital sounds like punishment for me.” The blonde teen said as he gritted through his teeth.

Steve glanced down at Toby, his eyes filled with panic and disbelief, but as guilt began building up, he looked away. The trollhunter didn’t care if he was making it worse for him, deep down Steve knew that they were going to make him guilty no matter what, so who cares with what he has to say right? The blonde teen was a dead man walking at this point. “You all act high and mighty when in fact none of you seem smart enough to have your priorities straight.”

The anger the Tribunal had for Steve could be felt, but for Usurna she was more than angry, she was outraged by the trollhunter’s words.

“Are you done?” Ursuna asked with a venomous voice.

“Yeah. I said all that I needed to say.”

As the Tribunal left to make their ruling, Toby opened his mouth to speak but not a single word came out. The redhead staggered as the dread of what might happen next infested in his thoughts that it made him sick.

“Tobias?” Blinky placed his hand on the teen’s shoulder, but Toby pulled away from it.

“I… I need to find Claire and Aaarrrgghh.” He muttered under his breath. “I- I have to….” Toby couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence and ran out of the Hero’s Forge.

Steve leaned back on the cage and slid down. As the moments went by, he could still feel Blinky’s presence. “Why are you still here?

“I don’t think I quite follow.”

The trollhunter felt his throat tighten. “I mean the trial is basically over and there’s no one here, even the changeling left.”

“NotEnrique has somewhere to be, keeping watch I believe he said. But for me, I’m right where I’m supposed to be. Technically I’m supposed to be your mentor, so you are my responsibility till the day you reach your last breath”. He explained, still sounding calm with no hints of being angry at Steve at all.

The blonde teen could only stay silent, blinking as he tried to wrap his mind around the troll’s words. “You know it was quite brave of you to speak of the Tribunal like. Not even the bravest of trolls would do such a thing.”

“Or stupid. I don’t think calling out trolls who are important figures in your culture was a good idea.”

“Well, some of the members of the Tribunal were not on good terms with master Jim even before this whole mess began, so don’t feel discouraged.” While what Blinky said didn’t necessarily make Steve feel any better, but at least he knew nothing would please the Tribunal as long as a human holds the mantle of trollhunter.

“Look, I know you’re trying to make me feel better or whatever, but you’re wasting your time. Don’t see how I can be in a better mood when I’m as good as dead now. So just do something better than being here, please.” Blinky stared at the trollhunter. The lack of emotional connection he had with Steve seemed to make it harder for the historian’s words to hold value.

Blinky didn’t want to leave Steve alone in the Hero’s Forge, but it was also apparent that his presence wasn’t doing much good either. “Very well then.” He muttered solemnly, very much reluctantly shuffled away to his library. Using the excuse that he might find something in his books that might help their situation, but he knew better he wasn’t going to find any.

Steve tightly pulled his hair back and began to wonder what would happen if he died he knew he was going to. Would his parents care? He hopes that they would, because it pained him so much to know that everyone else wouldn’t mind. Maybe they’ll feel pity for a moment, but it’ll quickly fade, because Steve hadn’t been given the initiative to show his change just yet. So they’ll just remember him as a dumb bully and nothing else. The world will still be the same. Despite all that, Steve pushed back the feeling of crying. He refused to go out like a crybaby, even if it made it hurt more to think about.

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

“Krax’s house here.” Aaarrrgghh said. It was a cave that looked like any other in trollmarket, with its entrance with a wide flight of stairs that went downwards.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” Claire looked around the cave then back at the stairs. “You guys make it fairly easy to break into homes.” She told Aaarrrgghh.

“Now find gaggletack?” Aaarrrgghh asked as he touched the tire that was in the room.

“That's the idea.” Claire glanced at the many boxes that sat in the corner of the cave.

She approached it and lifted the lid off of one of the boxes. Claire gasped as she saw that it was filled with gaggletacks. “Hey Aaarrrgghh. I found a gaggletack mother lode .” Claire kept opening the other boxes to see if the contents were the same, and they were.

The large trolls looked inside the boxes and picked up a handful of gaggletack. “Enough for proof though?”

Claire's smile faltered a bit and thought for a second. “It makes him suspicious, but being suspicious doesn’t necessarily mean he’s working for Gunmar. So maybe we need more proof?”

“Why not talk to Krax?” Aaarrrgghh suggested.

“Yeah but-“

“Claire! Aaarrrgghh!” Both were caught off guard by the sound of Toby’s voice as he walked down the stairs. “What is taking you guys so long?”

“Well we got a lead on this Krax guy and decided to check his house, which just so happens to be very far away from the Hero’s Forge.” Claire explained. “Hold on a second, why are you here Toby?

Aren’t you supposed to be stalling?”

The two saw as Toby crossed his arms and looked away. “I did the best I could. But the trial is over, the Tribunal is deciding their ruling right now.” He answered with a quiet, regretful tone.

“What?! They can’t do that!”

“Technically they can.” Toby cleared his throat at the sight of Claire’s hardened expression.

“It’s not fair.” She muttered, looking away. For the past few days, Claire had this feeling of helplessness looming over her. She was so close to fixing this, to make things right and prevent someone from being in the clutches of death.

“Claire?” The large troll asked, concerned at the teen’s silence. “We’re not giving up. We keep going.” She said.

“So we still find Krax?” Aaarrrgghh asked.

“Guys. Even if the plan could still work. We have no idea where he could be, and it’s not like we can just wait for him to come back here.” And just as Toby said that, the sounds of heavy footsteps and humming were heard amongst the three.

As Krax entered his home, he gasped at the sight of Aaarrrgghh, Toby, and Claire, who stood absolutely still in silence. “Well then. I guess we can.” Toby remarked. Claire quickly grabbed a gaggletack from the pile Aaarrrgghh was carrying and tossed it at Krax. When he grabbed it, the group shielded their eyes at the bright green flash of light. Now a human stood where the hulking troll once was. The uneasy silence continued for a brief moment before Krax tossed the gaggletack away from him and changed back into his troll form.

The changeling looked at the group, eyes frantically darting left and right, absolutely baffled at what he’s supposed to do now. With no other option to come to mind, Krax swung a punch at Aaarrrgghh and tried to leave the scene, but Claire was fast enough to block his way to the entrance.

“Wait! We’re not here to hurt you. We just want to talk.” She explained.

“And why should I believe you? Coming into my house without my knowledge and having the gall to blow my cover. Don’t you understand? All of trollmarket could be at my throat now because of you!” A pang of guilt came over Claire, her eyes diverting away from the changeling. “Then help us save the trollhunter’s life. Please I know your kind is not evil as everyone down here believes. Right now you can prove them wrong.”

“The trial…” There was no relief on Krax’s face, but rather was full of anguish and pity for the trollhunters. “Oh how much it pains me to see just how naive you children truly are.” The changeling then pulled out a dwarkstone from one of the crates. As he shook it, the dwarkstone began to flash a green glow repeatedly. “That for a changeling, failure such as this is a death sentence.”

Krax grabs Claire by the collar of her shirt and tosses her across the room where Aaarrrgghh and Toby were. The large troll managed to catch the human teen just in time. But Claire was quick to look back at Krax and a thought came to her. The thought that she had enough time to snatch the dwarkstone out of the changeling’s hands and toss it far away from everyone.

So Claire ran. Running as fast as she could towards the changeling as she heard her friends calling her to come back, Claire wasn’t going to let Krax die.

But it was too late. As the dwarkstone went off, Claire was hit by a blinding flash of light and a powerful force that pushed her back. A loud ringing noise clouded her hearing and her vision was blurry for a moment.

“Claire? Claire?! Come on, talk to me!” Toby begged as his voice was becoming less muffled to Claire.

She tried to lift herself up but suddenly felt like the skin in her right arm and the side of her face was on fire and fell back down. As Aaarrrgghh and Toby helped Claire to get up, she glanced at her friend’s face covered in thick gray dust, she looked ahead and Krax was nowhere to be seen, only just dust splattered all over the room.

“He… He’s gone.” Claire whispered, with that looming, helpless feeling now crashing down on her. “I….. I forced someone to kill themselves, and for what?”

“No.” Toby interjected. “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Then whose fault was it?!” Tears were already pouring down Claire’s face.

“No one.” Aaarrrgghh responded, placing his hand on her shoulder. “This is messy side of war. Always hard to see.” The large troll took a look at Claire’s arm and saw the burns she had. “Let’s get back to Blinky.”

“Right…” Toby said slowly. That alone, and Claire staying silent with a blank expression gave Aaarrrgghh the impression that neither of them wanted to face what was next, and he couldn’t blame them. They were just children after all. He of all trolls should know that.

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

Blinky stood in front of a table in his library, two of his hands pressing themselves onto the table. The bitter emotion he felt towards the poor trollhunter’s fate. The Deep was a mysterious and terrifying force of nature, Blinky couldn’t bear to imagine what might happen once Steve made it to the deep.

“Blinkous!” The historian jolted at Vendel’s sudden presence and then saw how upset trollmarket’s elder was. “That trial was a complete disaster! The Tribunal’s votes are practically unanimous to declare him guilty of the charges.”

“Believe me Vendel, I am aware.” Blinky responded. “But surely there is something we can do to-” In a nick of time, Aaarrrgghh suddenly barged inside alongside Toby and Claire. “Aaarrrgghh, you’re back. Did you find something they might give us a chance to fix this?” Blinky asked.

“Maybe. But Claire hurt.” The large troll brought the teen forward, who still seemed to be in shock a bit. “Needs help.”

Blinky gasped at the sight of Claire’s burns. “By Deya’s grace, what happened?”

“Turns out there was a changeling here at trollmarket by the name of Krax.” Toby explained.

“You found one?” Blinky asked in surprise.

“Yeah, but he wasn’t too happy that we found out so he used a dwarkstone to….. dispose of himself.” Toby’s voice wavering and low at that last part, feeling uncomfortable putting what happened into words.

“Oh dear.” Blinky whispered.

Vendel grabbed Claire’s arm that was burned and took out some gauze from his bag. “Tragic, but not surprising. For changelings, this tactic is used quite often when they’re discovered.” As the elder tends to Claire’s arm, Toby couldn’t help but feel uneasy by how casual Vendel made it sound.

“So what do we do now? We still got nothing and it’s not like the Tribunal will take our word for it.” Claire said, wincing at the stinging sensation her arm felt in contact with the gauze.

“Then perhaps they’ll take my word.” Vendel responded, tearing the end of the gauze and gave it to Blinky. “Blinkous, finish tending to her wounds. I shall take this to Usurna and do everything in my power to have her at least consider stopping this trial.”

"Well amongst all the bad shit that has happened today, it seems like maybe things might turn around for the better.” Toby remarked as Vendel exited the library.

“I’m sure at this point we can all agree towards Tobias’ sentiment.” Blinky takes out a first aid kit that was under the table. Jim suggested in the past that Blinky should have one around just in case, and since then he was quickly proven right after a couple of missions. “Claire, I hope you don’t mind asking but how are you holding up? You seem quite shaken.”

The teen held a grip and twisted the fabric of her skirt. “I guess what I saw was… a lot to take in. It’s not right.”

Blinky sighed as he placed a pad where the side of her cheek was burned. “I understand. I suppose it is another problem added to the mix that needs fixing, but sadly that will be more difficult to accomplish. So for now, let us focus on one problem at a time.”

“Right…” Claire muttered. “Do you think that Vendel will be able to save Steve?”

“I have hope. All I know for certain is that with Vendel’s status as trollmarket’s elder, we have a better chance at turning the tides to our favor.” What the historian said to Claire managed to put her somewhat at ease, but after failing so much, the doubt never left her mind.

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

After reuniting the tribunal, Vendel requested that he could speak with Usurna alone inside of the Heartstone.

As they walked, Vendel explained the discovery of the changeling and what occurred after. “A changeling? Here in Trollmarket?”

“Yes.” Trollmarket’s elder confirmed.

“And you are certain of this? That this isn’t a ploy by the trollhunter’s companions to buy themselves more time?” Usurna glanced at Vendel, her expression seemingly skeptical.

“I have it on good authority. If Gunmar’s agents are within the walls, something is afoot. We must suspend the Tribunal at once and deal with the real threat.” Vendel said, looking back at Usurna. “Real threat? You think there may be more than one ally of Gunmar, here in trollmarket?” Vendel was beginning to hope that the Krubera queen was finally coming to her senses and prioritize the real issue that was at hand.

“Yes. If Gunmar has one agent within Trollmarket, who’s to say there aren’t others?” He explained. The livelihoods of trollmarket’s residents were at risk, and Vendel would not allow this to be ignored until it was too late. “It’s time we root out this enemy at the core and end this.”

Usurna halted herself in surprise at what she just heard and watched as Vendel continued to walk forward. “You’re wrong Vendel. There are only two agents of Gunmar within Trollmarket’s walls.”

Confusion riddled Vendel’s mind of hearing Usurna while picking out some of the rocks that were on a table.

“The changeling.” Usurna plucked out a thin, small dagger from the feather-like neckpiece. “And the changeling’s master.”

“What?” Realization suddenly hit the elder. No couldn’t possible that Gunmar would have someone with that great of a position of power on his side. Vendel took a small crystal in his hand before facing Usurna, who was already dangerously close to him. Just in case the worst came to be for him. “How do you know this?” He asked with a heavy voice.

“Because.” Usurna stabbed Vendel in the stomach with the dagger. “I’m the master.”

To the shock of the elder, he was already turning into stone. It seemed that her dagger wasn’t an ordinary weapon. Gasping for breath, Vendel began backing away. He dropped his staff and struggled to maintain movement as his body was slowly beginning to harden.

“I apologize Vendel.” Usurna said, genuinely sounding disappointed. “I was hoping you’d live long enough to see Gunmar’s glorious return.” She placed her dagger back to her neckpiece and grabbed Vendel’s staff.

The elder loses his balance and falls down to his knees. “Usurna… You cannot…” He muttered, his voice becoming hoarse. Even with the burning pain Vendel felt, he had enough tolerance to be able to stand up in front of Usurna. “They’ll stop you. The trollhunter…” Vendel could not finish his last words as his body was now completely engulfed in stone.

“Shall die.” Usurna said. “Both of them.” She used the end of Vendel’s staff to tip his body over, smashing into pieces by the impact of the floor. “Farewell, Vendel, Elder of Trollmarket. A shame that you had to meet your end like this.” The Krubera queen tossed the staff aside and walked away, coming out of the heartstone with a calm expression as if nothing had happened.

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

With everyone back in the Hero’s Forge to finish this trial, the group was quick to notice that Vendel was noticeably absent from the court.

“The Tribunal will come to an order.” Blinky narrowed his eyes in bewilderedness at Ursuna’s lack of acknowledgment of the elder’s absence.

“Wait a minute, Vendel isn’t here.” Steve looked down at Blinky, hoping that he had some kind of explanation for this. “Didn’t you say that he was going to tell them what you guys found?”

"Pardon me but we spoke to Vendel, and he was going to present our newly found evidence to the Tribunal.” Blinky explained.

“When I spoke to him, he said nothing of any evidence.” Blinky’s eyes widened at the notion, while the rest were shocked at what they heard. That couldn’t be right, Vendel was an honorable and quite frankly blunt troll. He wouldn’t lie about such a thing.

“However, it became apparent to me that Vendel’s judgment for this trial might not be as objective as I hoped, so I had him removed from this trial.” Usurna stated. “Hold on you- you can’t….” Toby wanted to object to this decision, but how could he when he requested the same thing with Gatto at the beginning. He could feel his friends and Steve’s gaze, waiting for him to finish saying something that could help them.

“You were saying?” Bork questioned, raising her brow.

Toby was at a loss of words, without the evidence, there was nothing more he or anyone could do. Toby’s silence was all the group needed to realize the painful truth that it was over. They had failed. “Very well.” Usurna took the teen’s lack of response as an indication to continue on. “The Tribunal finds the trollhunter… guilty. He is hereby sentenced into the Deep, to face death at the hands of his greatest fear.” The Tribunal left the viewing deck, but Usurna wanted to see this through till the end, so she made her way down to the Hero’s Forge.

When the cage started to move backwards, the others looked back and began following it. “Vendel was supposed to make things better.” Toby muttered, looking utterly defeated. “We were so close! and now-“

“You tried.” There was a bitter acceptance in Steve’s voice, with his small, tired smile making all the more painful for the others. “You… you all tried. It’s not like we had much of a winning shot anyway.” Soon he felt his throat tighten and the spots of small tears in his eyes, but Steve made sure in all his power that he would push it back down. “At least it has to be me instead of Lake.” “But it doesn’t have to be this way.” Claire objected, sprinting closer to Steve. “I can use my shadow staff. I get you out of the Deep, you don’t have to die.” Steve stayed silent. There was an option that would have him live another day, but what next? Helping him out of his sentence sounded like treason to him. Steve wondered if it was fair to put Claire in so much trouble just to save his life.

“I… I can’t let you do that. Who knows what Trollmarket would do if you do that.” The cage stopped at a bottomless pit that was at the edge of the Hero Forge. Just the anxiety and fleeting fear by looking down made Steve grab the bars of the cage with both hands.

“Master Steve, things may be hopeless. But you mustn’t give up.” Blinky implored. “As long as you keep on fighting, you can be capable of overcoming anything. Please remember that.” Then Usurna stepped in with her Krubera guards. “If there’s any consolation, these past few days have shown me something that humans should have never been a part of troll affair, the mere existence of a human trollhunter should be a violation of Troll Law.”

With that, Usurna signaled a guard to lower the cage to the Deep. The group watched as the cage dropped, Steve’s screaming getting fainter and fainter as it fell further.

He held his breath and braced for impact. The cage crashes below the many edges of the sharp, stony walls, sending Steve flying everywhere and constantly slamming into the bars.

Once the cage finally made it to the ground, Steve crawled out of it as the door seemed to be already open. His whole body ached as he slowly got up on one knee, hearing the quiet wheezing of his breath. The crystal from the cave soon flickered out, leaving the blonde teen in the darkness with nothing but the small glow of the amulet as his light.

Steve wandered cautiously, keeping his hand in contact with the walls as some kind of guidance. As he walked, Steve looked down at his free hand and began to concentrate on summoning Daylight. To his surprise, the sword appeared swiftly at his palm. Sure it took a while to summon, but Steve expected that it wasn’t going to appear at all.

Using his sword as a light source, the trollhunter moved it around to see if there was anything or anyone. Taking a turn around, he felt the wall was becoming smoother, and began hearing the most faint voices. However, they were not like the ones in his dream, it was coming from somewhere. Steve’s mind told him that following the voices was a bad idea, that finding a way to get out would be a better idea. But now there was this nagging thought in his mind.

The blonde teen remembered his fear the pixies had forced to show him. Even now he could still remember how it shook him to his very core. So the question arose in his mind, would his fear be any different now?

Steve grimaced and gripped his sword tightly, then with a frustrated groan, he sprinted towards the voices. Soon the dark cave-like pit soon transitioned to the hallways of Arcadia Oaks High. The voices turned out to be chatter from students that the trollhunter could seem to hear. He tried getting closer, but it didn’t make one of the conversations clearer. Even stranger, no one seemed to take note of him. As if they were ignoring Steve.

“Hello?” He shook a student’s shoulder, but didn’t have any kind of reaction, not even a dirty look.

Suddenly all the lights began to go back and forth between going on and off. The constant switching was getting faster and faster before one by one, each light began to explode, with sparks of electricity flying off of the circuits. Steve was baffled at no one reacting, they just kept talking and remained oblivious beyond belief. Steve steadied his hold on Daylight with both hands and looked at his surroundings with anxious dread.

The sound of metal scraping against each other almost made the trollhunter jump, he turned around from behind and waited as whatever was coming came closer. From a hallway on the right side appeared a dark figure with a black suit of armor and a large sword with a piercing red glow. Their eyes were red as well and wide, and Steve could just tell it was full of hate and anger. A chill went down his spine as they stared him down. They lifted their sword up and brought it close across their face.

The color on Steve’s face drained the moment he saw that this…. thing had his face. The doppelganger found the trollhunter’s reaction amusing and formed a large smile, his teeth sharp with fangs. In his panic state, Steve decided to take this opportunity to strike first. He swung his sword, but the doppelganger quickly avoided it by sliding to the side. They went ahead of Steve and hit his back with the handle of his sword.

Steve stumbled and bent down, having the air knocked out of him. As he tried his best to straighten himself, the doppelganger gave him no time and lunged at Steve, pinning him down to the ground. Steve thrashed around with all his strength, trying to escape the doppelganger’s hold, but nothing seemed to help. “Let me go!” Steve shouted. “Or I swear to god I’ll-"

The doppelganger pressed their finger on the trollhunter’s lips. “Shhhhhhhhhh.” Their voice was raspy and strained, nothing like Steve’s. “Hush and listen. Listen to their whispers.” The students’ conversations suddenly became clear.

“What’s psycho Steve doing now?”

“Is he alright? I’m starting to get scared.”

“Ugh, why does Steve always have to make a scene?”

“He must really like the attention.”

Everyone was talking about him, as if he wasn’t there or was too stupid to notice. Couldn’t they see that he was in trouble? “Please!” Steve cried out. “Someone help me!”

But they just kept talking and talking. “No one is going to help. Why would they?” The doppelganger said, tightening their grip on Steve’s wrist. “Someone as horrible and disgusting as you should get to clean up your mess by yourself.”

The trollhunter hissed as it felt like his wrists were going to break at any moment. Steve head-butted the doppelganger, moved to the side, and kicked them out of his way. As Steve dragged himself back up, he summoned Daylight, leaning onto it like a crutch.

He could tell that the doppelganger was furious now. The doppelganger charged at Steve, raising their sword up high, but barely missing the trollhunter as he slid to the side, with the upper part of his right arm taking the hit.

Steve held back the urge to scream and, as if on instinct, swung a punch at the doppelganger’s face. They didn’t seem affected much by it, and swung their sword again. The trollhunter brought out his shield and was forced to stumble back with each strike the doppelganger made with their sword. Steve knew he couldn’t keep a steady hold for long with how strong their blows were, but he was having a hard time figuring out how to beat something that practically seemed invincible.

“Such a useless coward!” The doppelganger exclaimed with a devilish grin. “Can’t even win a fight with himself.”

When the doppelganger struck the trollhunter’s shield again, Steve brought himself closer to them and pushed the sword out of the way, and thrusted daylight right through their abdomen. The doppelganger recoiled as they spat out blood, and for a moment Steve felt a sense of relief that it was over. “Oh my god! He killed him!” Someone screamed in horror.

Steve looked around and found a crowd forming amongst the hallway, and with it, fear and outcry could be heard all around. When Steve turned to see the doppelganger again, Jim stood there instead. His classmate looked at the blood that covered his hands then looked back at Steve. “You….. Why?”

Just the sound of his voice being so fragile and broken made the trollhunter’s stomach drop. “I…. I…” Then Steve furiously shook his head. “No! This- This isn’t real. You’re not real, none of this is real!”

Tears started to cloud his vision, but he could still see the expression of disbelief and distraught in Jim’s face. “So….. is my pain not real?” Jim slowly started to bring himself closer to Steve, letting Daylight pierce further into his wound. “All the torment you put me and so many others through just doesn't matter?”

Steve tried all that he could to stop Jim without hurting him anymore, but he kept walking forward. “Who are you to tell me that what I dealt with you is or isn’t real.” He snapped through his choked sobs. “What did I ever do to you to deserve this?!”

“You- You didn’t, you didn’t anything wrong! You didn’t deserve anything of what I did to you!” At this point, the two were face to face with each other, where Steve could only see the sword’s handle in front of him. “Please…. I’m sorry! I-I don't know how to make things right. Just tell me how!”

Jim leaned onto Steve, making his struggle to breathe any further loud and clear for the trollhunter. “You already know the answer to that.” A small smile escaped his lips. “To truly redeem yourself, you have to face the crowd and endure all the pain and suffering you deserve. You know as well as I do that you’re not even close to being a person people can tolerate.”

Steve felt like he was suffocating as he now held to Jim’s dead body. With nothing else he could think of, the trollhunter pulled the sword out and moved away from the body as far as he could, letting it collapse to the ground. As Steve walked backwards, the crowd pushed him forward.

“Murder!”

“I can’t believe you could do such a thing?!”

“Get him!”

Booming voices came from who knows how many people, calling him awful things but what he believed to be true. As the crowd was closing in on Steve, he was already at his breaking point. Hands grab Steve to restrain him, and was met with a punch in the face that came out of nowhere. Countless students came forward to throw a punch or kick at Steve. Amidst all of this, Blinky’s words then echoed in his mind. Even if it seemed like there was no way out of this, Steve knew there was still some fight left in him. As the next person got close, Steve kicked them out of the way as far as he could, only to receive a punch in the stomach.

Might as well die trying than not at all.

#tales of arcadia #trollhunters #steve palchuk #toby domzalski #claire nuñez #blinky galadrigal #aaarrrgghh #vendel #usurna #vanilla writing #damn it's been a while since I've updated this fic #but whatever #here it is

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singledarkshade · 3 years

Text

Stuck Together

Summary: When a mission goes wrong, Rip and John need some help to break a curse leading them to Miranda. But will Rip's newly re-established relationship with her survive. Author’s Note: Rip Week Day 2: “Have you two considered couples counselling?” – Who should Rip be with and do they need counselling to stay together? Or it’s not romantic help he needs but a different kind of counselling. Over to you. Enjoy. ********************************************* “Have you two considered couples counselling?”

The two men standing in her living room stopped arguing at the question and turned to where Miranda stood watching them with an amused smile.

“Okay,” she said, as silence had finally descended, “Now I have your attention one of you, and only one,” she cut them off sharply, “Tell me exactly what happened?”

Rip and John shared a look with John finally conceding to let the other man speak. They were here to get his girlfriend’s help after all.

“I was sent to retrieve a book that went missing when it wasn’t supposed to,” Rip explained, “It needs to be returned to the Cairo Museum so that it can be stolen at the correct time.”

Miranda nodded, “Since John Constantine is here, I’m assuming this book has a supernatural connection.”

“It’s a text for summoning creatures from the underworld, amongst other things,” John explained, “I heard it was being sold so thought I would see if I could pick it up and get it out of the hands of anyone who could use it for ‘nefarious purposes’.”

“Okay,” Miranda said, “So, how did it go from a simple retrieval to what happened?”

The two men looked at one another and Rip sighed, “There was an unforeseen complication.”

Rip checked his weapons before asking, “Anything?”

“I’m afraid not, Captain,” Gideon replied, “Mr Constantine isn’t answering his phone.”

“Honestly,” Rip shook his head frustrated, “The one time I actually need his help and I can’t get a hold of him.”

“It is possible that Mr Constantine will be at the sale,” Gideon reminded him, “Considering the item is something he would be interested in.”

Rip nodded, “You’re right. Okay, I am ready. Are you detecting anything I should know about?”

“Not currently,” Gideon replied, “However magic is not always something my sensors can detect.”

“I can always hope,” Rip noted as he headed to the cargo bay.

“Captain,” Gideon said softly, “Please do not rush this mission in your haste to return to Lieutenant Coburn. She will understand if you are not able to spend her birthday with her.”

Grimacing Rip patted the bulkhead, “I know, Gideon but we only found one another again three months ago and I want to spend the day with her.”

“Then you should go now and finish your mission.”

Smiling, Rip patted the bulkhead once more before starting out to find where the book was going to be sold. Heading away from the wasteland he’d parked the Waverider on, Rip walked towards the warehouse that was being used for a marketplace for those in the sorcery/magic business. The place was dank, dirty, and smelled absolutely disgusting.

“And to think I could be having dinner with Miranda,” Rip muttered to himself as he slid into the marketplace.

Looking around he spotted the auction he was looking for, along with a familiar face.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” John Constantine demanded when Rip arrived at his side.

“Hello to you too, John,” Rip replied dryly.

Rolling his eyes, John asked again, “What are you doing here, Hunter?”

“I’m here to collect a book called ‘De Spirituum Summoing’,” Rip told him.

John frowned, “What do the Time Masters want with a book of summoning spells?”

“To put it back in its rightful place,” Rip replied, “And if you ever answered your phone, you’d know this.”

John grimaced slightly, “Yeah too many people I’m trying to avoid know that number.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t put it on your business cards,” Rip reminded him.

Before the sorcerer could retort, the auction began and both men focussed on it.

“Is there anything specific you’re after,” Rip murmured softly as they watched several different items bought by the group around them.

John sighed, “I’m after the book too. It needs to be taken out of circulation.”

“Here it comes,” Rip said.

“How much money do you have on you?” John asked.

Rip smiled slightly, “More than enough.”

“Good,” John replied, “Because there is someone I recognise over there who might be after the book and can outbid me a hundred times over.”

“Did you win the auction?” Miranda demanded when Rip stopped talking.

John and Rip swapped glances before John replied, “Yes.”

“So, what happened?” she sighed.

Rip grimaced, “Well…”

“Where’s my book?” Rip demanded angrily after the auction as the dealer looked at him dumbly.

John sighed, waving his hand in front of the man’s glazed eyes, “He has no idea. It’s a spell. He probably doesn’t remember his own name right now, never mind who took the book. But I have an idea who has it.”

Rip followed John through the maze of the marketplace, dodging around people as he tried not to notice the strange objects being sold. They headed out the warehouse and saw the man who had been bidding against Rip heading towards a van.

“Oi,” John yelled, “Magor, you disgusting bastard. Where’s my mate’s book?”

Rip frowned as he got a good look at the other man, he was thin almost skeletal with yellowing skin and nicotine yellow thinning greasy hair. He gripped the bag he was holding tightly to him as he pressed back against the side of the van.

Rip drew his gun while John readied himself to fight, small ripples of fire flickering from his fingers. Magor stuck his free hand into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle, throwing it at John who automatically went to catch it, the flames from his fingers set it alight covering them in smoke.

“Bollocks,” John snapped, he ran towards the van only to be yanked backwards to where Rip stood.

Rip let out a cry of shock when John’s entire body slammed into him sending them both into the fence behind them. They heard the van speed away as they untangled themselves from one another.

“What happened?” Rip demanded as he tried to catch his breath, managing to stand he brushed the dirt off himself.

“Not sure,” John replied, smelling the air around them.

Rip shook his head and started walking the direction the van had gone, surprise filling him when he was yanked back into John, sending them both to the ground in another heap.

John grimaced after they untangled themselves once again, “He cursed us. The bastard.”

“Cursed?” Rip blinked in surprise before demanding, “How do we break it?”

Sighing John replied, “I’m pretty sure I know which spell he used, I just need to find how to remove it and…”

“And?” Rip demanded worriedly when John trailed off.

“Another person, who we trust, to help with breaking the spell,” John told him, “Do you know anyone because right now my list is pretty small.”

Rip hesitated before he nodded, “There’s one person I can think of.”

“I’m honoured you trust me so much,” Miranda smiled as they finished the story.

Rip shrugged, “Who else would I ask?”

Miranda took his face in her hands and pulled him down to her, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

John coughed getting their attention, “Sorry but I can’t exactly go anywhere while you two have a quickie.”

Rip blushed, while Miranda chuckled, “Alright, do we have a plan of any kind or is this a wing it and see what happens kind of mission?”

“A bit of both,” Rip shrugged, “Our best idea is to head back to John’s place so we can lift the curse and then we track down the man who stole the book.”

She nodded, “Give me a few minutes to collect some things and we’ll head to the Waverider.”

Miranda headed to her bedroom and quickly packed a few essentials for the journey, adding her weapons because, knowing her Rip, things would not be as easy as he hoped. Pulling a coat on, Miranda grabbed the bag and rejoined the two men in the living room, rolling her eyes as they were bickering again.

“Alright,” she cut them off, “Let’s go.”

“Welcome back, Lieutenant Coburn it is wonderful to have you here once more,” Gideon greeted as they walked onboard the Waverider, before adding, “Please remember not to smoke whilst onboard, Mr Constantine.”

John rolled his eyes, “Well, that’s nice. She gets how wonderful it is to see you and I get an order not to smoke.”

“Because you ignore Gideon’s rules,” Rip reminded his friend, “Whereas Miranda is the favourite.”

Miranda chuckled, “I will drop my bag in a room and join you on the bridge.”

Rip caught her hand, “My room.”

“Okay,” she kissed him quickly before diverting off to the living quarters while Rip and John continued to the bridge.

Rip slid into the pilot’s chair and readying the ship for flight, John taking the hastily erected seat at his side as they couldn’t get more than a few feet apart without being pulled together once more.

“Gideon,” Rip called, “Has there been any indications that the book has been used?”

“Not currently,” she replied.

Rip nodded, “That’s good. We are going to head to John’s place to review some research material and hopefully find the spell to break this curse.”

“A wise plan,” Gideon replied, “I do not think the Time Masters would be happy to have Mr Constantine as a permanent resident of the Waverider.”

“Neither would you,” John noted.

At Gideon’s silence, Rip chuckled, “Is Miranda on her way?”

“Yes, Captain,” Gideon told him.

The doors opened and Miranda walked onto the bridge, she’d changed into a much more practical outfit than the summer dress she’d been wearing before, and her hair was pinned up the way she used to wear it for missions. Taking one of the seats, she pulled the restraint down and nodded.

“Let’s go.”

John released the protection spells on the door to the Mill House before he motioned the couple to follow him inside. Miranda had a smile on her face as she looked around. At least someone was enjoying themselves.

Leading them into the main room, John gave a wave, “Welcome. Be careful what you touch.”

“I’m going to assume that includes the dust,” Miranda noted pointedly as she studied some of the items around the room.

He grabbed a few of the books he thought might help them and placed them on the coffee table, “Start with these.”

Miranda instantly grabbed one and her eyes lit up with interest as she took a seat on the couch. Rip took a book as well and sat at her side. John could see both the hormones and awkwardness between the couple.

He’d been stunned when Rip had taken them to see Miranda for help, having had no idea that the annoying Time Master had a social life, never mind a gorgeous smart girlfriend who clearly had him wrapped around her finger.

It was odd watching their relationship as it seemed in some ways to be still in the early stages, Rip especially didn’t seem comfortable being intimate with her in front of John but then there were times it was like they’d been a couple for long time as they had an awareness of each other that only came from years together.

“Okay,” Miranda spoke up after about an hour of studying, “I think I’ve found something. John, what do you think?”

Taking the book, he scanned the spell and nodded, “This is perfect, love. But…”

“But?” Rip demanded.

“I have everything needed to create it,” John told them, “The problem is because of the nature of the anti-curse, Miranda has to do everything.”

Miranda’s eyes lit up, “You mean I get to do actual magic?”

John nodded and Rip frowned.

“Are you sure?” Rip asked, “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“If she was doing it without supervision then yes,” John told him, “But I’ll be walking her through the entire thing.”

Miranda moved to Rip’s side and took his hand, “I’ll be fine.”

Rip turned them slightly in the hopes of some privacy, “Magic is volatile, Miranda. We’re already cursed, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“You do remember that I received the exact same training as you,” Miranda replied sharply, “Don’t you?”

“Yes, but…”

“But?”

John coughed before they started arguing properly and spoke up, “Rip, it’s a relatively simple spell and with me watching over her, Miranda will be fine.”

“Not. Your. Choice,” Miranda stated, enunciating every word as she poked Rip’s chest with each word and Rip backed down.

John grimaced at the tension and clapped his hands, “Okay, let’s get this sorted so we can separate us then find the bastard who stole the book.”

Rip didn’t like that Miranda had to work the spell to separate him from John, but Miranda refused to even consider looking for another option. He’d forgotten how much she could frustrate him, how headstrong she was, and how much she liked to argue with him.

“Oh, this is incredible,” Miranda said as John sorted out the ingredients for the spell.

“The good thing about this spell,” John told her, speaking in a way to ensure Rip would listen, “Is that it’s not taking any life energy from you, it just needs the intentions. I’ll be the one who sets it alight to activate the spell, so it’s my energy. What it needs is that you care for, well I’d say both of us would be best, but at least one helps.”

“I care about what happens to you, John,” Miranda said, and Rip felt a small spike of jealousy go through him which eased when she added cheekily, “I need you to make sure Rip doesn’t get himself killed trying to retrieve this book.”

John caught Rip’s eye with an amused smirk before turning back to Miranda.

“Okay,” John said, returning their attention to the spell, “In the order I tell you, and during each step try to focus on whatever good points you believe Rip has.”

Laughter bubbled from Miranda, she tilted her head to Rip, who frowned at her for a second before giving in and pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

John chuckled murmuring, “So well trained,” before letting out a cry of pain when Miranda kicked his ankle.

“Watch it, buddy,” Miranda warned John.

Rip smiled at her defence of him, while John rolled his eyes, continuing to tell Miranda each step. Rip rested his hand on his girlfriend’s shoulder, when John advised it would help with the spell.

“I feel like I’m tingling,” Miranda said as she added the final few ingredients.

John nodded, “That means it’s working.”

“What now?” Rip demanded.

“Miranda,” John ignored him, “Take each corner and bring them together in the centre, twisting the ends then wrap the twine around and tie it in a knot so it holds together.”

She followed the instructions and a few minutes later, sitting on the bench was a small bundle.

“That’s it?” Rip asked.

John nodded, “That’s it.”

Miranda laughed in surprise before asking, “So what do we do now?”

“John?” Rip turned to the other man.

Grabbing the bundle, John handed it to Miranda and motioned Rip to join him, “Miranda when I tell you, throw it at us.”

Miranda picked it up and nodded, “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Just toss it gently,” Rip spoke up, “It’s not a bomb.”

John chuckled as Miranda rolled her eyes, he took a slow breath and allowed his magic to come forth. Flames danced across his fingers and John nodded, “Now.”

When Miranda threw the small bundle, it instantly ignited when John caught it, smoke covering him and Rip making them both cough.

The smoke cleared and Rip looked at John, “Did it work?”

“You walk that way and I’ll walk this way.”

Miranda watched the two men slowly walk in opposite directions both waiting to be yanked back together. Finally, they were standing on opposite sides of the room, well past the limit they’d previously had.

“I’d say it worked,” Miranda smiled.

John nodded to her, “Nice job for your first spell.”

“Only spell,” Rip added.

“Spoilsport,” Miranda said as John chuckled.

Rip frowned at her, “Now we’re separated, you should take the Jumpship home. I’ll pick it up once we’ve retrieved the book.”

Miranda stared at him before stating, “No.”

“Miranda…”

“I’m not leaving,” she replied, “There is still a mission to complete and it’s clear the two of you need adult supervision.”

Rip grimaced, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Miranda stared at him for a moment before grabbing his arm, “Excuse us a minute,” she said to John pulling Rip into the other room.

Once they were alone, Miranda folded her arms and glared at him.

“What?” Rip asked worriedly.

“Do you remember how we met?” Miranda demanded.

Rip frowned confused, “What?”

“Do. You. Remember. How. We. Met?” she enunciated every word sharply.

“Of course I do,” Rip replied, bemusement on his face.

“Then you remember that I was not only trained the same as you, but my scores were always higher,” she stated.

“I just…” he hesitated at her glare before whispering, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Miranda sighed shaking her head, “Rip, I am more than capable of looking after myself. I can’t believe you of all people are treating me like I can’t.”

“It’s been a few years though since you left,” Rip reminded her, “And I have been working as a Time Master for almost five years.”

Anger filled her, and Miranda forced herself not to yell, “I am staying to help but after this…” she paused, hating the next words out of her mouth, “But after this, since you obviously don’t respect me, perhaps we should just part for good this time.”

Sadness and confusion covered his face, “Miranda?”

Without another word she left him standing alone.

*********************************************

John’s location spell had led them to a rundown house on the outskirts of a housing estate and Miranda wrinkled her nose, “Lovely place. Do you think they’d sell?”

John chuckled, rolling his eyes as Rip remained silent. They’d not spoken to one another since leaving the Mill House and John was getting to the point where he was going to bang their heads together.

“Well?” John turned to the Time Master.

“The scans are showing one life sign,” Rip replied, “Presumably our friend.”

Miranda leaned over and checked the scanner, “Do you think he has any more of those tricks up his sleeve? Because as much fun as this has been, John I don’t want to be stuck to either of you.”

John saw a look of hurt flicker across Rip’s face before it became impassive.

“He has power,” John replied, “I should be able to pull together a quick protection spell for all of us to ward off any possible traps in the house, but it won’t help against him.”

Miranda frowned, “So we draw him out to us before we go inside.”

“Good idea,” John noted.

“Miranda is an expert tactician,” Rip noted softly.

John watched a smile touch Miranda’s lips briefly before she remembered she was mad at Rip.

“Okay,” John said quickly, “What’s the plan?”

Miranda chewed her lip for a moment as Rip mused.

“Do you…” they started together both grimacing and Rip motioned Miranda to continue.

“Do you have any way to draw him out of the house?” Miranda asked John who nodded, “Once out here we set up a trap. Either magical or technical. Once he’s trapped, we retrieve the book and get the hell out of here.”

John frowned in thought, “It’ll need to be a tech trap. I’d need more time to make a magical trap powerful enough.”

Miranda turned to Rip, “What do you have with you?”

Emptying his pockets, Miranda smiled at the bits and pieces he produced, “We can set up a grid easily using these,” she shook her head, “I cannot believe you carry this stuff in your pockets.”

Rip shrugged slightly, “You never know when you might need it.”

Miranda turned away, smiling slightly and John rolled his eyes again, he did not have time for this.

“I’m going to check the perimeter,” Rip told them, “Just to ensure there’s nothing unexpected.”

John waited until Rip left before turning to the woman putting together their trap.

“I know he’s an idiot,” John said, not sure how he had ended up in the middle of this and not believing he was actually getting involved, “But he does love you.”

Miranda sighed, “I know. And I love him too.”

“But?”

“But I’m not some damsel in distress that needs protecting,” Miranda noted annoyed, “I can take care of myself. He used to know this but since he came back into my life…”

John grimaced when she trailed off, “He’s scared he’ll lose you. Even I can see that.”

“I’m the one who stays put,” Miranda sighed, “I have a normal life while he could be hurt anywhere in time, and I would never know because the Time Masters don’t know we’re together and would never tell me. I’ve more to fear than he does.”

John shrugged, “The man is a moron but maybe give him another chance.”

Miranda rolled her eyes, “If we get out of this in one piece, I’ll think about it.”

Rip knew he had to focus on the mission, but his mind kept wandering back to Miranda’s words that they should end their relationship. He couldn’t lose her again, he’d spent so long looking for her, missing her and now…

“Gideon,” he called softly, “Have you detected anything from this location?”

“No, Captain,” she replied.

Sighing in relief, he hadn’t noticed anything either and hoped to get through this mission fast so he could persuade Miranda to give him another chance.

“Are you still in Lieutenant Coburn’s bad graces?” Gideon asked, making him frown.

“Why do you…”

“Because I have observed you on all the occasions that she has been onboard,” Gideon cut him off, “And she does not normally look so irritated with you, Captain.”

Rip sighed, “I just want her to be safe, so I suggested she take the jumpship home.”

“Ahh.”

“What does that mean?”

There was silence for several moments before Gideon replied, “It means you have apparently forgotten how capable Lieutenant Coburn is.”

Rip sighed again, “I know she’s capable, but she shouldn’t have to be here.”

“Has it occurred to you that she wishes to ensure you are safe?” Gideon suggested, “Your relationship is not sanctioned and if something happens to you then she may never know. Perhaps you should stop trying to protect her and look at things from her point of view.”

Miranda glanced round to as Rip returned from his walk around the area, “Anything?”

He shook his head, “No. Gideon has detected nothing.”

“Good,” Miranda said, “And we have a trap.”

Rip smiled, “Nice work.”

Glancing up at him Miranda gave him the smirk Rip knew so well, the one that always reminded him that she was not only better than he was but that he knew it. It was one of the reasons he’d fallen for her.

“Alright,” John interrupted, “Are we ready?”

Miranda nodded, “Get him out here and once he’s in the trap you two retrieve the book.”

“Just like that,” John grimaced before closing his eyes and calling forth his power, “Let’s knock.”

Rip and Miranda watched John release the spell to get Magor’s attention and didn’t have to wait long as the man appeared before them.

He was even thinner than before and looked as though a strong wind would break him in two, but his eyes were glowing with power.

“Don’t move,” John told them, “He needs to move closer. His magic isn’t strong enough to get us.”

“Are you sure?” Miranda asked.

John glanced sideways with a shrug, and she rolled her eyes.

Magor walked towards them, each step bringing him closer to the trap they’d set. Miranda’s fingers brushed the button to activate the trap, but they needed him to move just slightly closer.

“You have something that belongs to my mate,” John called, “And he wants it back.”

“Or what?” the other man spat at him, “Because the last time we met, you and your friend lost.”

As he took one more step, Miranda smirked, “That’s because they didn’t have me.”

She hit the button and an energy field sprung up around him. Magor looked around angrily trying to escape the shield.

“Okay,” she said, “Go get what we’re here for.”

John and Rip entered the house, they could hear Magor swearing at Miranda, but she had Rip’s pistol in case he managed to escape.

“Got the cloth?” John asked as he slowly eased his way across the floor into the centre of the room, ensuring he didn’t set off any traps.

Rip nodded, “Just need you to find the book.”

John released the location spell watching it move around the room until it stopped at a cupboard. Before he opened it, John held out his hand and Rip gave him the red material that had been warded to allow them to carry the book. Carefully John lifted the book using the silken cloth then wrapped it, making sure the cloth was secure around the book.

“Let’s get out of here,” John told him.

Leaving the house Rip was about to let Miranda know they had retrieved the book when Magor’s continued attempts to release himself bore fruit. As the shield dropped, the man stepped forward to attack Miranda, falling to the ground when Miranda coolly shot him.

John stared at her for a moment before turning to Rip, “Marry her.” Before Rip could reply John walked over to Miranda, “Is he dead?”

“Unconscious,” Miranda replied, sliding the pistol back into the holster on Rip’s hip the moment he reached her, “Stun setting only. Did we get it?”

Rip held up the book, “Mission accomplished.”

“Good,” Miranda patted his shoulder, “See what you can do when you have supervision.”

With an amused smile she started back to the ship leaving the two men to follow her.

*********************************************

“So, Miranda,” John said as they reached the ship, “This is where I have to say goodbye. It has been an absolute pleasure working with you,” taking her hand he pressed a kiss to the back of it.

Miranda chuckled and hugged him.

“Give the idiot another chance,” John murmured before winking at her, “But give me a call if you get sick of him.”

Laughing Miranda replied, “Look after yourself, John. I don’t want to have to rescue you again.”

Shaking his head, John turned to Rip, “Try to lose my number.”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Rip replied offering his hand.

John shook it quickly before turning and walking away. They watched him leave before turning and walked into the ship. Rip instantly headed to the parlour and placed the book in the safe activating a security shield around it so that it was safe until he could return it to the museum.

Turning he found Miranda standing there and he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Rip whispered, “I know you are not incapable of looking after yourself.”

“Rip…” she started stopping when he held his hand up.

“Please let me finish,” he said softly, “I know you’re not incapable, but I lost you once, and it took me five years to find you again. I’m afraid that I’m going to open my eyes and you’ll be gone again. I love you, Miranda and the thought of not having you in my life scares me more than I can say.”

Shaking her head, Miranda grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled him close, “You’re an idiot,” she laughed before kissing him.

They parted and a relieved Rip smiled, “I’m guessing you’ve forgiven me.”

“For now,” Miranda replied, wrapping her arms around his neck, “So, Captain Hunter it is still my birthday, and we have a timeship. After we return the book to its proper place, let’s do something fun.”

Kissing her once more, Rip murmured, “As you wish.”

#fic #ripfic #rip week #rip week 2021 #rip hunter #miranda coburn #gideon #john constantine #Rip Appreciation Week

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lokilickedme · 2 years

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I posted 2,169 times in 2021

401 posts created (18%)

1768 posts reblogged (82%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 4.4 posts.

I added 384 tags in 2021

#hiddleston fic - 66 posts

#the department - 53 posts

#hozier - 51 posts

#hozier fic - 45 posts

#loki - 38 posts

#loki fic - 37 posts

#new chapter - 37 posts

#hiddleston - 24 posts

#photography - 20 posts

#body double - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and chief has to refrain from killing him on a daily basis because he loves the guy but goddammit he can't keep it in his pants for 2seconds

My Top Posts in 2021

Listed a truck with a bad transmission on a local online marketplace, within an hour I’ve got 19 guys ready to duke it out for dibs. Gonna build a gladiator pit, brb

109 notes • Posted 2021-10-12 20:43:16 GMT

I'd never actually seen him outside of a TV screen announcing his latest public display of shitty behavior and felt myself suck in a breath when I realized who he was. Tall, hair a bit shaggy, needed a shave, didn't look much like a respectable lawyer if I'm being strictly honest. Definitely not the poised and well polished image he'd presented when the local news was shoving cameras in his face asking how many days he'd earned in lockup this time, but there was something in the shape of his jaw that made my fingers grip the steering wheel a tiny bit harder than necessary. He was standing on the curb reaching up to hook a sign onto an awning attachment while a young woman watched disinterestedly from an open doorway.

Thomas Dowd, Attorney At Law

We were stopped at the red light about fifteen feet away from him and for some reason he turned and looked straight at us. My littlest, CJ, waved to him from the back seat.

He didn't wave back. Just sort of tilted his head a little bit, maybe offered up a halfheartedly bemused smile, then stood back and looked up at his sign. The woman in the doorway shrugged and disappeared inside the building, and the light turned green in front of us.

That should have been the end of our association with Thomas Dowd. But as the dirty minded and even dirtier tempered fates would have it, it ended up being nothing less than a beginning, and that sign swinging creakily in the cooling breeze of early Autumn wasn't just a sign telling the small world of Bendale that the infamous Tommy Tantrum Dowd was back in business. It was a sign, period.

But a sign of what, I couldn't have begun to guess.

113 notes • Posted 2021-10-23 06:30:16 GMT

The man muttered something, like he was talking to someone in the dark that Sevensix couldn't see. And then he took a step forward, finally coming into reach of the tempad's warm light. He was squinting hard, his eyes long accustomed to the darkness, holding the Tech's gaze with an unflinching fearlessness that made the Officer behind him take a deep breath. And then the man inhaled deeply, holding it for several long seconds before finally letting it out, slowly, as he straightened his back and stood to full height.

"I am Loki."

*****

Revolution against the Timekeepers has brought about The Great Restructuring and the TVA has been reset, its nefarious purpose reinvented and its staff re-peopled with volunteers. The Sacred Timeline is less of a rigid requirement and more of a strong suggestion these days, with multiple timelines existing in harmony - but variations still have to be monitored and deviations urged back onto their correct paths, since chaos is A Thing and certain beings just can't help themselves.

Many Lokis have been brought in in the years since. One in particular has been in custody of the TVA for longer than anyone knows. Discovered imprisoned in a sealed portal, he claims to have been locked away prior to the overthrow of the Timekeepers. A special Counselor is called in to rehabilitate him for release - but this Loki is a bigger challenge than all the ones she's seen before him. Bitter, angry and dangerous from long years forgotten in a cell with only his memories, he resists despite her best efforts at returning him to a life he can call his own.

Special cases call for special methods.

An AU branching off episode 4 after Mobius' pruning, with the remainder of that and all subsequent episodes never happening.

Chapter One is up!

113 notes • Posted 2021-07-03 01:52:40 GMT

120 notes • Posted 2021-04-13 01:10:40 GMT

Who else was waiting for Loki to tie his nutsack to one of the goats?

190 notes • Posted 2021-06-18 03:32:26 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

You Can STAY- Part Two

F/M Main Pairing: Y/N x Lee Felix (side pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids)

Genre: Fantasy AU; Scarlet Heart AU; OT8 SKZ

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: language

Summary: Y/N has settled into her position as the Castle’s royal mage. She’s also getting to know the King’s sons, even if that means dealing with Seungmin’s challenging comments and Felix’s brooding nature.

Tag List: @angelphantomlove @moonlightracha @staycarat0801 @jjabbur @pinkchcn @smolchild-lol @straykidbaby @moonnstars90 @choisaemi @dru-shadow @skzooyeet

A/N: I’ve completely revamped this series. If you look at the masterlist, there are now only 12 parts instead of 20. For a while, I had writer’s block on this series, but I realized that it was because I was super intimidated by my own outline. I think I’ve figured out how to make it more manageable! Hopefully, this means updates once or twice a month (this will also be the shortest part).

Part Two The fresh herbs sold at the Clè Kingdom’s marketplace were incredibly valuable. They were also of the utmost quality, and I had been spending most of the day occupied by choosing the best selection for my private stores at the castle. But I could easily spend most of my time here, surrounded by the things that I loved to create, and my mind was thinking about all of the combination possibilities.

“How about this one, miss?” a vendor asked, holding up a fresh batch of chamomile for my inspection.

“I’ll take it,” I said, offering her payment in exchange for the chamomile. The smell was delicious, and I inhaled deeply before proceeding on my path through the surrounding patrons.

It was a beautiful day; the kind of day that managed to maintain my cheerful smile. The air was warm and welcoming, and I was beginning to think that I was feeling truly happy despite my isolated existence ever since I had first arrived at the castle.

However, up ahead in the distance, I wavered at a booth selling tulips when a passing group of village girls let out obnoxious giggles. “Did you see the fourth prince? He was so handsome!”

“I can’t believe they’re traveling so far away from the Castle!”

“Look! There they are!”

I followed their gazes, frowning at the sight of the King’s youngest sons walking in our direction. I attempted to ignore them, turning my attention to another vendor, but I startled when I felt a tap on my shoulder. The contact was unexpected, and I spun around in surprise to see four of the King’s sons standing in the middle of the market. “Oh!” I said, adjusting my hold on the basket. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

They were all polite smiles, and I recognized them as Jisung, Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin from our previous introductions during the choosing ceremony. “We haven’t had a chance to be properly acquainted,” Jisung said, bowing low at the waist before standing taller. “We thought you could join us while we visited the town.”

“I don’t know...” I hesitated, wondering what the appropriate response should be considering my status and the eyes of the village watching us with obvious interest.

“It’s alright if you’re concerned,” Hyunjin said with a pleasant smile. “But I always like to have an audience when I play my music.”

“Music?” I questioned, noticing, for the first time, the simple guitar wrapped around Hyunjin’s shoulders.

“I’ve been playing since I was young,” Hyunjin explained. “Of course, my father doesn’t appreciate my music, but I always come to the village to play for whoever wants to listen.”

“He’s pretty good,” Jisung joked, nudging his brother playfully. “It makes for a good use of your time.”

I studied their brotherly banter for a moment before nodding. “I would love to listen.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jisung declared, reaching out to tuck my arm against his. “Let’s go before we lose more daylight!”

My face warmed at the unexpected contact between myself and Jisung, but I chose not to say anything as I allowed the brothers to escort me through the village. From behind us, Seungmin and Jeongin had yet to speak a single word, but I chose to ignore their cold auras. Because Seungmin had already proven himself to be less than desirable.

However, it was easy to disregard Seungmin’s dismissive attitude when I finally heard Hyunjin play for the very first time. It was nothing short of magical, and I should know that better than anyone. In fact, the soft melody of his guitar complimented his raspy vocals, singing an unfamiliar tune that attracted a large crowd of village onlookers who expressed their appreciation for his efforts.

Jisung was the first to start clapping when Hyunjin finished his song, and the other villagers joined along. “Bravo, brother,” Jisung said, clapping Hyunjin on the shoulder. “Another masterpiece.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seungmin muttered. “Can’t we do something else?”

Hyunjin scoffed while Jisung simply chuckled. “Of course! I know we came out here to have fun.”

I glared in Seungmin’s direction, wondering if he was this rude to everyone, before I reached down to grab my basket. “I suppose I should return to my shopping-”

“Hey, mage,” Seungmin interrupted, shoving aside his brothers when he pushed his way to the front. I tried not to roll my eyes at the younger prince, especially considering the way that he held his head high like he was excessively proud of his interruption. He reached into my basket to study one of the fresh apples. “You think you’re too good for us?”

I frowned. “I never insinuated such things.” Seungmin flinched when I held out my hand to summon the apple back from him with a simple command. “And I don’t think you want to challenge me,” I added before taking a bite of the delicious fruit.

Jisung raised a brow, clearly impressed. “My brother would appreciate a challenge! We’re planning to practice archery in the forest.”

Seungmin pouted as he eyed the apple in my hand. “She doesn’t look like she could handle it.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked him. “My father taught me archery when I was younger, and I was the best in our village.”

The comment was intended to act as a challenged, and as I expected, Seungmin didn’t take well to my tone, rolling back his shoulders as he glared at me. “I challenge you to an archery competition,” Seungmin said. “No magic.”

“Okay,” I said with a grin. “But I hope you can accept the results.”

“As long as you’re willing to play fair,” Seungmin huffed, tossing his robes behind him as he started in the direction of the Castle with Jeongin faithfully by his side.

Meanwhile, Jisung looked at me with a wicked smile. “I hope you kick my brother’s ass.”

Hyunjin snickered, tossing an arm around Jisung’s shoulders as they led the way to the royal archery courts.

Seungmin watched me from afar as I busied myself with scanning the available offerings of archery bows that had been delivered by the Castle servants. As someone who considered herself to be of smaller stature, I needed something light-weight and flexible. Thankfully, Hyunjin was more than willing to assist me, and we tried out a variety of bows before settling on an offering that felt like it had been born to serve me.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I said lazily, enjoying the look of frustration written across Seungmin’s countenance at my nonchalant attitude.

He stepped forward with determination, raising his bow and notching the first arrow before he focused all of his attention on the target board waiting in the low coverage of the trees. I held my breath, admiring his perfect form and the light bead of sweat dotting his brow from his intense concentration. Eventually, he pulled back and released the arrow, and we all watched as it soared through the air in a perfect arch before landing close to the middle.

There was a smattering of applause from his siblings, and Seungmin turned around and bowed before smirking. “Try and beat that, mage,” he said, cocking one brow in derision while he joined Jeongin on the sidelines.

I sighed at his tone, taking my position and adjusting my posture. It took me longer to prepare my bow and arrow, but I had not touched the weapon in many years. Still, it was annoying to hear Seungmin snickering at my obvious lack of experience, and I swallowed hard as I tried to remember my lessons. I rolled my eyes as I notched my arrow, holding the bow between my hands as I focused on the target. I released a shaky exhale as I held up my bow and sent the first arrow flying through the air.

With a dull CLINK! it made contact with the very center of the target, and Jisung started laughing and dancing around the field like he was thoroughly entertained by my success. Even Hyunjin planted a hand over his mouth to stiffle his obvious amusement. But Seungmin was positively enraged.

“You’re cheating!” Seungmin exclaimed. “She’s using magic.”

“I told you to accept the results,” I said. “It seems that you can’t admit defeat.”

“Do you expect me to believe that a common mage managed to hit the middle of the target on your first attempt!” Seungmin growled.

“I didn’t use magic,” I retorted sharply, shoving the bow at Jisung. “That is all I have to say on the subject. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to that won’t leave me on the receiving end of a ridiculous prince’s ridicule!”

“How dare you!” Seungmin shouted to my retreating figure, but I payed him no attention as I picked up my basket from the forest floor. He was nothing but a pest who wasn’t used to the common folk challenging his authority. Seungmin was a silly child, and I should’ve anticipated that he wouldn’t let me simply walk away. Still, the impact was jarring, and I fell to the ground with Seungmin on top, fighting for control over my attacking hands which I refused to allow him. In the meantime, his brothers stood off to the side, laughing at our skirmish.

“Seungmin, this is embarrassing,” Jisung said.

“Father would be so disappointed,” Hyunjin added, and neither brother made any attempt to stop our foolish fight. But no matter how many times I tried to throw off Seungmin’s lanky form, he kept up the assault, trying to pin my hands next to my head.

“You’re immature,” I spat at him.

“Well, you’re a cheater!” Seungmin retorted, squealing when I raked my nails down his arms.

“HEY!”

The two of us immediately froze at the sound of a strikingly familiar command, and I glanced over Seungmin’s shoulder and frowned at the approaching figure. “What’s going on here?” Felix demanded, and I shivered at his deep voice.

“N-Nothing,” Seungmin stuttered, and I was fascinated by his abrupt change in demeanor. He rolled off to the side, struggling to stand on his own two feet, while I propped myself up into a sitting position.

Felix glanced between us with narrowed green eyes, and his hair looked like it was practically on fire underneath the influence of the sun. Finally, his gaze settled on me. “Did my father bring you here to play around all day, mage?”

I bristled at his words. “You misunderstand, your majesty.”

There was venom behind my tone, but Felix didn’t appear any less intimidated. “You’re going to be trouble for us, aren’t you?”

I shook my head, returning to a standing position as I confronted the Prince. “Your brother was the one who requested my presence. I won’t have these unnecessary slights against my character.”

“Is that so?” Felix asked, and there was a slight upturn to his upper lip that relaxed some of his earlier tension. “I think you’re awfully proud of yourself, mage, considering that you’re in a position of servitude.”

“One that I agreed to, your highness,” I remarked. “This position is desired amongst my people, and I was able to secure it for myself. Do you really think that after all my hard work, I’d willingly sabotage that which I have earned?”

“I suppose not,” Felix allowed, lowering his gaze. “Forgive me.”

“Perhaps when such forgiveness is justified,” I said, and before Felix could offer another sharp retort, the arrival of a new presence seemed to relinquish the authority to de-escalate the situation even further.

“This is a surprising meeting,” Prince Chan declared upon his entrance, and his smile was wide when he continued in our direction. “Is there a problem?”

“Not anymore,” Felix said, and he had the audacity to smile at me like we were suddenly friends despite his earlier words.

“My apologies, your highness,” I said, offering Felix’s apology to Chan, and I was pleased to see Felix’s smile disappear. “I was invited here by your brothers.”

“All of them?” Chan asked, stopping next to us as he gave Felix a meaningful look. “Father told you to stay inside the castle, did he not?”

Felix sneered, giving me one last lingering look before promptly walking off in the direction of the Castle’s main entrance. In the meantime, Chan looked around at his younger brothers. “I think we’re done here.”

Jisung and Hyunjin bowed in compliance while Seungmin rejoined Jeongin with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest in a petulant manner. “As you wish,” I said, nodding politely before reaching down for my basket.

“Walk with me,” Chan requested, reaching out for my wandering hand, and I was more than happy to oblige.

Chan was quiet during our walk back to the Castle. But conversation didn’t seem necessary, especially when his entire persona evoked a sense of calming. It was peaceful between us, and I continued to sneak glances at his handsome profile, wondering about the person beyond the golden-blonde hair and angelic blue eyes.

“You’re curious,” Chan remarked, pausing outside of the castle’s doors. “It only seem natural considering your circumstances.”

“I suppose,” I said, connecting my hands behind my back. “But it really isn’t any of my business.”

“On the contrary,” Chan said, opening the door for me like some kind of otherworldly gentleman. “I think you should ask questions about the people you wish to serve.”

I nodded my head, but didn’t say anything else as I followed him inside. I wasn’t certain of Chan’s intentions, but he seemed to be taking me somewhere, and I was polite enough to respect him. Of all the brothers I had met so far, with the exception of Felix, Chan intrigued me the most. But at least my curiosity for Chan was genuine while my study of Felix was rooted in suspicion for the young Prince who clearly did not belong here.

“My quarters,” Chan said, pausing outside of a room at the end of the hallway. “I hope you don’t mind, but my wife has asked to meet you.”

I blinked in surprise. “Oh, of course not, your highness.”

Chan smiled, encouraging me to enter the sparsely furnished room where I noticed a beautiful young woman waiting for me on the impressive bed that sat beneath an overhanging window. “Hello,” the woman greeted me politely.

I bowed once, looking back at Chan who observed the two of us without a hint of emotion. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, hesitating only briefly before I walked further inside the room. I swallowed hard when I noticed the raised bumps decorating the skin of her arms.

“The castle’s new mage,” she said. “I’m glad that you could make time for me.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I cannot lie and say that I wasn’t curious when I first learned of your identity.”

“Well, your handmaidens likely only told you about the poor woman who is dying,” she said, and I could see Chan wince from the corner of my eye. “My name is Ella, and I promise that I’m more than that.”

“Oh,” I said, struggling for the right words. “I hope that you don’t think that I’ve thought less of you.”

“Of course not,” Ella said. “However, I know what most of the people here think about me.”

Chan cleared his throat, and he appeared uncomfortable with the conversation. “Darling, I think we can try to visit the gardens tonight, if you’d like.”

Ella nodded, and her eyes glimmered with the promise of such a seemingly innocuous occasion. “I would love that,” she said, before looking back at me. “Chan tells me that you’ve already left a strong impression on his siblings and the King. I hear that you’re the strongest magic user to ever serve the Castle.”

“Well, I’ll certainly have to prove myself worthy of such a title,” I said. “I’ve been practicing magic since before I can even remember.”

“What a beautiful gift,” Ella remarked. “I’m sure you’ve done a lot of good with your abilities.”

“Yes.” I nodded. “I love to help the people in this kingdom.”

“I’m sure you’re also adept at healing,” she continued. “Wouldn't you say?”

I widened my eyes in surprise when I caught the implicit meaning behind her comment. “I have a talent for it,” I said, keeping my remarks vague because I never expected to hear this fragile young woman, during our very first meeting, request that I restore her health.

“Interesting,” she said, giving me a knowing look that I chose to store away until I could process the implications. “I know you have other responsibilities,” Ella said. “Thank you for seeing me.”

I bowed again to demonstrate my respect before I followed Chan back out into the hallway. “I’m sorry,” Chan said, refusing to look at me. “I know it was shameful of her to ask for your help.”

“It caught me off-guard,” I said. “But I don’t like to see anyone suffering. What sort of disease does she have?”

“It’s a very rare disease,” Chan explained to me, and there was a stunning amount of emotion behind his tone. “I don’t know much about it, but I know that they cannot cure her.”

“I see.”

“Y/N.” Chan sighed, and there was a raw vulnerability in his gorgeous blue eyes that exposed his desperation. “Ella hasn’t been herself since her diagnosis. I can barely recognize the woman that I married.”

“Your highness,” I said. “If you allow me, then I’d like to do my best to help Ella. In the best way that I can.”

“Really?” Chan asked, and his eyes glistened at their corners. “I would be forever in your debt.”

“The King’s sons owe me nothing,” I said. “I have no right to ask of anything in return for my services.”

“But?” Chan questioned.

I took a deep breath, searching the perimeter to ensure that we were truly alone before I leaned in closer. “Tell me everything you know about Prince Felix.”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz #skz fanfic #stray kids fantasy au #skz fantasy au #you can stay #y/n x lee felix #lee felix fanfic #felix fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios

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suntory-toki-senpai · 4 years

Text

Eyes on Fire | Chapter 10

a/n: hi guys! I’m so sorry to keep you in the wait for chapter 10! my car broke down (twice) and I was stranded on the side of a freeway frontage road for,,,longer than I care to remember in this heat. I couldn’t even imagine writing while my hair was falling out from stress. anyway, the toyota is back up and running and so am I with new chapters! I also have this story posted on wattpad for people to share more easily which I can link in another post. I appreciate all the support I have gotten. the love keeps me going!

possible warnings: drunkeness, passing out, illusions to death

Chapter 10 – Inferno

The next morning, I rolled over right into Zuko as I woke up. I had half-expected him not to be there, but being greeted by the warmth of his body was welcome.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“No,” I replied hoarsely. I pulled the sheets over my head, hiding my face in his chest.

“Five more minutes?”

“Yes.” I said, my voice muffled.

A soft knock sounded at the door and an attendant came into the room.

“Good morning, Highness and Sayuri. Breakfast will be ready soon. The Avatar and his companions are waiting,” he said.

I groaned loudly in response.

“We will be ready in a few minutes,” Zuko said. I heard the door close softly. “Looks like you’re going to have to get up.”

“Can’t believe I don’t get morning cuddles,” I groaned, turning away from him.

“I was looking forward to them, too.” Zuko pulled the sheets from over my head and placed a soft kiss on my forehead and worked his way down to my lips. Another knock on the door.

“Good morning, Highness and Sayuri. I have clothes for both of you here,” Lin said by way of greeting, placing bundles on an ottoman. “Your Grace, the dressers will be in soon to help you get ready.”

“Morning, Lin,” I replied.

“Thank you, Lin,” Zuko said.

I covered my face with the sheets yet again. Zuko forced them off, giving me a look. With another knock at the door, the royal dressers came filing in. I got up and made my way to the bundle of clothes waiting for me.

“I guess this is my cue to exit. What a pity I can’t stay for the show,” I said, sassily as I walked toward the changing screen in Zuko’s chamber.

“Someone’s being a brat this morning,” Zuko remarked.

“Sure am,” I replied.

After we were dressed, we went out to join the rest of the gang for breakfast. The plan was for me to leave the palace by ostrich-horse, alone, and to go to the marketplace and open the Tavern as I usually would on any other afternoon. The rest of the gang would come by later in disguise for the diversion. I wouldn’t be able to see Zuko until later, so I prepared myself to say goodbye outside the palace, just before we reached the gates.

“I’ll see you later, then,” I said.

“I will,” Zuko replied, moving a piece of hair away from my face.

I took his hands and held them in mine. “I’m sorry for being a brat this morning. I’m really cranky when I first wake up. My grandpa says I’m an obake.”

“Ah, yes a shapeshifter. That makes sense,” Zuko replied, smirking.

I perched on my tiptoes to give him a kiss. “I’ll see you soon. Don’t worry.”

“That isn’t my strong suit, but I’ll try.”

“You have to trust me and your friends, Zuko. We’re gonna help you stop this, once and for all.” I started to move toward the ostrich-horse when Zuko grabbed my arm.

“Sayuri, I need to tell you something.”

“What would that be?”

“I—uh,” he scratched the back of his neck and looked down at the ground.

“What is it, Highness?”

“I think you have great breath control. That will suit you well today.”

I narrowed my eyes in confusion and turned around to hop up onto the ostrich-horse. “Thanks, I guess. See you later.” I nudged the animal to move with my foot and started toward the gate. I turned my head briefly to see Zuko smacking his head with his hand in frustration. I maneuvered the ostrich-horse down the switchbacks, and left him with the Chen family to watch until I could bring him back to the palace stable.

I made my way over to the Tavern on foot to get the shopping lists and to attempt to go about my day. I knew Zuko had guards watching me in disguise, but I still felt anxious about being alone. I went about my business at the marketplace as calmly as I could. I ordered plums, rice, and picked up some new yunomi for the Tavern. By the time I got back from the marketplace, it was nearly time to open. I quickly set up the tea kettle and made sure there was enough bottled sake and wine for service. I walked over to the door, took a deep breath, and unlatched it. I turned to my left and snapped my fingers to light the candle signifying we were open.

“Now, I wait,” I said to myself. I heard a tapping on the back door of the Tavern and quickly ran to investigate. Two men were standing outside waiting. One was tall, young, and similar in build to Tatsuo, and the other was short, old and stocky.

“Who are you?” I demanded.

“I guess my nephew did not tell you this part of the plan, Sayuri. I’m here as a decoy for your grandfather along with this young man who works in the palace kitchen. My name is Iroh,” the older man greeted.

“Oh, sorry. It’s an honor to meet you, General Iroh, the Dragon of the West,” I said, quickly bowing.

“Retired General, but you can call me Uncle,” he corrected. “This is Jiang, he’s a bit shy.” Jiang waved.

“I guess you will be Tatsuo tonight, Jiang,” I said.

He nodded.

“And I’ll be playing your grandfather! Drinking tea and playing Pai Sho, a role I was born to play!”

I laughed. “Let me get the board and tea set up for you.”

“Ah, my dear, it would be an honor to have tea served by the woman who had stolen my nephew’s heart,” Uncle Iroh said.

“Stolen his heart, huh?” I chuckled.

“He’ll never admit it, but it’s true.”

I led Uncle Iroh to the front of the Tavern and prepared tea for him. A few customers began to shuffle in and out. I served them while Uncle Iroh sat in the back and played Pai Sho with my grandfather’s usual opponents, who welcomed the fresh blood. I tapped viciously on the counter and sipped tea spiked with a bit of sake as I waited for the rest of the gang to arrive. Finally, I saw Aang and Katara wander inside wearing Fire Nation clothing. They gave me a nod, and turned to Uncle Iroh and gave him a nod as well. I walked over to take their order.

“Hi there. What can I bring you to start off with?” I said.

“Spice tea for the table, please,” Aang said.

“Coming right up,” I said. I prepared a batch of spice tea and brought it to their table. I returned to my usual spot behind the bar and continued tapping on the counter and glancing at the door every few minutes.

“Expecting someone?” Uncle Iroh asked, appearing at the bar. “No,” I said.

“Just ready to get this show on the road.” “That isn’t the only thing you’re waiting for, is it?”

“I guess I’m just waiting for Zuko to break through the door and call the whole thing off.”

“My nephew is very overprotective. Especially when it comes to people he cares about.”

“I know,” I said, looking into my yunomi and taking a sip.

“Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in love before,” Uncle Iroh said, tapping his chin.

I choked on my tea. I put the yunomi down and reached for the tokkuri to top off my tea with shaking hands. Iroh laughed out loud.

“Oh, Sayuri. Love isn’t that scary.”

“It is when you don’t know how,” I mumbled.

“Love isn’t something you do. It’s something you chose to live out,” Uncle Iroh said.

“I guess that makes sense. How do you know when you actually love someone?” I asked.

“You have to ask yourself that question. What’s the first thing you think about in the morning? You don’t need to say it out loud.”

I turned and looked at Aang and Katara. They were wordlessly sipping tea. Aang's eyes were on the door and Katara kept scanning the room for threats, but her hand was absent-mindedly running over the top of his. Perhaps, love was less complicated than I understood it to be. I heard the door of the Tavern open as Suki entered, making her way straight to the bar. She looked different without makeup.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” she said with a smile, leaning up against the bar.“It’s a bit strong, but if you like spice tea, you’ll like this,” I replied.

I poured her a cup of tea and added a bit of sake.

“You like a little bit of tea with your sake, don’t you?” Suki said, giving me a look.

“Sun goes down, sake cups go up,” I jeered.

“The young lady is right, Sayuri. Perhaps this will be your last “extra” spice tea,” Uncle Iroh commented. I chewed on my lower lip. He was right, I needed to be as sharp as I could tonight. Time passes more slowly in the Tavern. The usual rowdy crowd comes in closer to the weekends, and nights like these are normally uneventful. I closed up a few tabs and made sure a customer who fell asleep at his table got home safely. It was time to start the diversion. I had made it a point to keep the tokkuri right next to my teacup to pour little bits of “sake” into my tea. Growing up in the Tavern made me aware of when people had had “too much”, and how their behavior visibly changed. Their laughter gets louder, words tend to get slurred, and inhibitions go by the wayside. The only time I’ve ever seen a man braver than a soldier on the frontlines of the war is when he was completely under the table. I picked up the last bit of my spiked tea and downed it. I glanced over to Suki, who met my eyes, and I gave her a slight nod. I moved my hand across the counter and pushed over the tokkuri and shattered it. I belted out a loud laugh.

“Oopsies!” I giggled. “Now, I hafta go back and clean that up!” I slid off the bar chair and walked with an extra bounce in my step. I swept up the mess and disappeared into the back with slow, deliberate movements. I slipped out of the back of the Tavern and wandered towards the front, swaying and humming to myself.

“Pop can’t get mad at me for breaking his sake set if I’m not there!” I sang to myself. I wandered away from the Tavern. After I was satisfied with the distance I had made, I took a deep breath, turned my face to the sky, and slurred out the words to my mother’s song.

“O, dragon’s lair deep down below.

Keep careful watch over our brother’s souls.

As the Fire Nation rises o’er the slough.

Keep watching over…Ursa’s son.”

Smoke began to pool at my feet and at my sides, and I felt a dark presence growing behind me. I let out my best drunken laugh. “Who’s there?” I sang.

“You don’t remember us?” a familiar voice.

“No,” I said, still looking straight ahead. “remind me.”

“Stupid girl. No one is coming for you,” the voice taunted. I turned around to greet the masked figures.

“Maybe no one has to.” I took a deep breath and shot fire from my fists toward the smoke-clad figures before moving back. The figures advanced, one with a mysterious vial in her hands. I backed away, fists up, ready to shoot fire again. As I started to turn to maneuver away, I collided with a masked man, who tried to grab me. It was obvious that I was outnumbered, where the hell were my friends - I slid underneath the masked man’s legs and pushed him over from behind. The Kemurikage veered forward to grab me again and I shot fire from my fists to move them away. I pushed myself past them and started to run back towards the Tavern, clearly something wasn’t right. The gang should have been with me by now. I could see the Kemurikage running on the roofs of the houses that lined the street I was running on. One of them threw knives at me. I bended a shield of water from the nearby stream, then shot ice daggers back. I returned to the Tavern to find it in chaos, the gang were all engaged in battle with another set of masked men and Kemurikage.

“Zuko!” I shouted.

“Sayuri, get out of here! Go back to the Palace!” he shouted back. I watched a masked man come up behind Zuko. I shot a stream of fire from my fists and bended water to freeze him in place. Zuko turned around.

“You were saying?” I asked.

I jumped next to Zuko and bended water from the stream around me into a circle of tentacles, shooting ice daggers at the masked men surrounding us, while Zuko shot fire from his fists. I managed to disable a few of the masked men until I noticed Katara falling down, hit by a Kemurikage’s dagger. I rushed to her side and water whipped the dagger out of the figure's hands, giving Katara time to get up and continue to fight. I turned around to check on Zuko. He had gone over to help Suki and Ty-Lee, who were gradually being cornered into an alleyway. Noticing a Kemurikage coming up on the roof behind them, I snaked a rope of water around the figure’s ankle, causing him to topple from the roof. I froze his hands and feet to the ground. Another Kemurikage appeared out of the shadows and ran over to their accomplice, who was bound to the ground by the ice I’d created. This one moved fluidly and noticeably different from the rest of the group. She broke her accomplice from her bindings and pulled off her mask revealing her identity. It was Azula.

I frantically scanned the area for Zuko, but he was across the street at the entrance of an alley. I was on my own.

“Aww, Zuzu! You brought your friends to the party. This was supposed to be a family get-together to meet your bar wench of a girlfriend!” Azula yelled, sarcastically.

“Give it up, Azula, your Kemurikage game is over!” Zuko shouted. “We took out all your accomplices, and I’m putting them away for a long time!”

“You think this is over?” Azula retorted, her voice echoing across the street.

“In case you didn’t notice, Princess, your buddies are all dregs for the street!” Katara shouted back.

“You think you peasants and the barslut can take me down? You haven’t seen anything yet.”

I spied a Kemurikage getting up from the ground, lunging for Zuko. I bent two water ropes and dragged him by the ankles into the stream.

“Hmm. She is quite powerful,” Azula mused. “Too bad she chose such a terrible boyfriend.” I watched in horror as blue-colored lightning manifested from her fingertips. It sparked from her hands toward me and I felt the whole world slow down. My body felt like I was stuck in a dream, trying to run away but slowed by some invisible force. I angled myself to jump away, but caught Azula’s lightning on my side. Pain tore through my body. Muffled screams filled the air. As I started to sink down, I saw Zuko running toward me, and felt him grab my arm. My whole body became heavier and heavier until my vision washed out and I hit the ground.

taglist: @imagine-yourself-happy @panini-the-bird-killer @imcravingyou @eury-dice3 @nats-the-geek @mixedfeeelings @abuskinswarrior @cciinnaa @bucky-blogs @sparkling-gayyyy @minninugget @lammello

#avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last Airbender fanfiction #team avatar #alta #atla fanfic #zuko #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #fire lord Zuko fanfic #prince Zuko fanfic #Zuko fanfic #fire lord Zuko x oc #fire lord Zuko x reader #Zuko x OC #zuko x reader #prince Zuko x oc #eyes on fire | after the war

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#Concert Tickets #cheap concert tickets #Concert Tickets 2021

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

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What about a little fluffy based one where the reader finds out that its Jaskier's birthday soon, so she tries to throw him a really fun party. And then shes like "wait, I bet Geralt and Yen never had a fun birthday party either!" so it turns into one big birthday celebration and she makes them each a cake and buys whatever stupid gifts she can with spare change, just to make sure they all get some appreciation once in a while.

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x Reader, Platonic!Geralt x Reader, Platonic!Yennefer x ReaderWord Count: 1,217Rating: GTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle a/n: I love the idea of the gang getting a group birthday. Thanks for the prompt!

“But should we have three cakes or just one huge one?”

You addressed the question to the horse standing next to you, a list in hand that you held politely so both of you could see, though you had to keep moving it away from her mouth as she tried to chomp it. You’d written down all the things you thought may need for the evening’s festivities;

Cake (1 – 3)

Candles (3 if possible blue, silver, purple)

Presents (what does one buy a bard, a beast, and a mage? problem for Future Y/N)

“Thanks, Past Y/N,” you grumbled at the paper. You stood before the marketplace which was already fairly picked through. You hadn’t realized it was Jaskier’s birthday coming up until he mentioned it offhand at breakfast. When you’d demanded to know why he hadn’t told you sooner, his answer had crushed and inspired you all at once.

“I just didn’t think anyone would care.”

He hadn’t said the words petulantly like a pouting child. He’d said it like it was a foregone conclusion, likely come to from prior experience. When you cornered Geralt and Yennefer later to demand to know why they hadn’t told you about Jaskier’s birthday they’d both stared at you blankly.

“I know he was born, isn’t that enough?” Geralt had asked.

“No!” you’d cried, “No it is not enough! What about his birthday party?”

Yennefer and Geralt exchanged confused looks and a realization hit you that only deepened your sadness and spurred your determination; they’d never had a birthday party either.

“Right,” you’d said, nodding, “I’m taking Roach.”

You nearly ran out of the inn before Geralt could stop you and that was how you found yourself at the market which was nearly closing.

“They’re all getting a cake. I’ll bake them myself if I have to,” you decided aloud and then the two of you marched through the market trying to gather supplies as best as you could. It hadn’t been a terrible haul, all things considered. By the time you got back to the inn you had enough things to at the very least make the cakes and you had small trinkets of presents. Most importantly, you’d been able to gather a crowd of people who were excited at the concept of a party and all eagerly offered to bring some form of food or drink or entertainment. You hummed with excitement as you strode into the innkeeper’s office with a big, winning smile. Roughly fifteen minutes later you left with permission to use the kitchen and reserve at least one big table for the night, promising that there would be dozens of people coming to spend their coin on drinks and that he would be able to make a plaque that proudly declared the THE WHITE WOLF BIRTHDAY’D HERE.

You’d sent your three friends out, insisting they not return until the sun began to go down and they’d agreed (though Jaskier had protested a bit). When they returned they found the inn full of life. Music poured from the windows and doors and as the three travelers returned they were greeted with shouts of congratulations. This signaled to you their arrival and you doublechecked that everything was in order before running out to greet them.

“Happy birthday!” you cried, throwing your arms out wide. Jaskier (never one to waste an opportunity for a hug) embraced you but Geralt and Yennefer simply looked around a bit dumbfounded.

“They’re all here to celebrate your birthdays,” you explained as Jaskier gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“It isn’t my birthday,” Geralt said.

“Well I know but I figured Jaskier’s was coming soon and we might as well celebrate all you at the once! Everyone was happy to do it, they really appreciate your work, you know. And I just… I thought you should feel appreciated for once without having to literally slay something first,” you said, worrying a little that your surprise wasn’t as welcomed as you’d hoped. Jaskier sensed your concern and wrapped an around your waist, fixing Yennefer and Geralt with a pointed look.

“Wine, women, and song, Geralt,” he said, “And men,” he added, glancing at Yennefer.

Yennefer rolled her eyes at the bard but gave you a gracious smile.

“This is… very generous,” she said, genuinely touched.

“Come on! I have to show you the cakes!”

“Cakes?” Geralt asked, looking a bit more interested as he followed you inside.

“Alright so I don’t know everyone’s favorite flavors but we have an elderflower cake with a lemon drizzle, a chocolate cake with a chocolate glaze, and a rum raisin cake with – ah, yes, there you go,” you said, cut off as Geralt took the latter cake in hand though it was clearly large enough to share.

“Y/N these are gorgeous, where did you find a bakery that could work so quickly?” Jaskier asked, marveling at the delicate glaze and soft crumble of the cake. Yennefer took the cake from Geralt’s hands and put it back on the table so you could stick a silver candle in it and light it.

“Oh I made them,” you explained with an offhand shrug.

“You made these? By hand?” Jaskier exclaimed. You blushed a bit at his awed reaction and finished putting a candle in the other two cakes, chocolate for Jaskier and elderflower for Yennefer. They were quickly lit and you led the tavern in a chorus of happy birthday that was deafening. Jaskier glowed under the attention and even Geralt and Yennefer seemed to be loosening up a little, aided by the mead that was quickly passed their way. People came by to wish happy birthday to the trio, passing out food they’d brough to share while the musically inclined continued to play. Some dancing started and Geralt rose, offering a hand to Yennefer who accepted. The pair moved to dance slowly, a tempo all their own, and you watched with immense satisfaction as they swayed together.

“This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Jaskier called to you, trying to be heard over the music. You planted a soft kiss on his cheek and then stood up.

“Oh there’s one more thing!” you said, and ran out of the room before he could reply. You ran back with a little box in hand.

“It’s not a big thing,” you said, holding it out to him, “But I wanted to make sure you had a present. They have some too but I think they’re happy as they are right now.”

Jaskier opened the little box and pulled out a small glass jar. He unscrewed the top and smelled the rich scent of cedar.

“I noticed you were running low on the oil you use to tend your lute. As I said it’s not a big thing and it isn’t even really fun, just a little necessity but I hope you l-”

Your words were cut off by a kiss, Jaskier still clutching the little bottle in hand as he brushed against your lips again and again, deepening it just a bit before remembering you were still very much in public. When he pulled back you saw the ocean blue eyes alight with joy.

“This is perfect,” he said. You beamed back at him.

“Happy birthday, Jaskier.”

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagines #jaskier fluff

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roll-for-world-building · 4 years

Text

bardic inspiration

Mothen shivered and re-wrapped the thick woolen scarf around his neck. It was not yet quite four hours past noon, but the sky was already dark enough that lamps were being lit across the marketplace, and the wind had picked up a bite. There was a certain feel in the air that told him there would likely be more snow on the way soon.

It had been a good day at the market. This close to the solstice, the marketplace was abuzz with the varied citizens of Lantern Point preparing for any one of the collection of winter holidays celebrated in the city, and consequently the cart full of family goods to sell that they had arrived with had emptied in remarkable time. Mothen had had both coin and time enough to fill the cart back up again with their own purchases while the stalls were still well-stocked. He’d even managed to secure two jars of the pickled fish he and Fhurl enjoyed, which usually got snapped up long before he could make it to the stall.

But it had also been a long day at the market, and though he was well-bundled against the cold, after so long outside in the chill it had begun to find its way through his warm woolen layers and settle under his skin. He was more than ready to be home with his feet warming before the hearth fire and a hot drink in his hands.

There was one more thing still to do before they could set off for home, however.

“Well, that seems to be the last thing on the list,” he said to his son Beah, who was standing in the cart and packing up the last few purchases with great care while an enormous shaggy black dog sat in the seat keeping a calm eye on the proceedings. Their stalwart pony Clara stood patiently in front of the cart, waiting to be hitched. “There’s not anything else we need to get, is there?”

The young halfling looked down over the side of the cart anxiously, wide brown eyes peeping out above the heavy scarf that concealed most of his face. “Da...”

Mothen put a hand to his chin as if he were thinking very hard. “Unless I’m forgetting something? But I can’t think what...”

“Da, you promised.”

“Did I make a promise? Hmm...” Beah was positively squirming by now. Mothen couldn’t hold his straight face any longer. “Ah yes, that’s right! I promised a certain little boy he would get a treat if he helped me out at the marketplace today.”

“I did help,” Beah said, a little uncertainly.

“You did indeed! You helped a great deal. And I always keep my promises.” Mothen reached up and lifted Beah down off the cart. “So, little merchant. Do you know what kind of reward you want for your hard work today?”

“Yes!” Beah took off the moment his boots touched the ground, making with absolute conviction back to the heart of the marketplace. Mothen paused long enough to murmur, “Stay, Clover,” to the dog before following Beah at a rather more sedate pace. He was not concerned about leaving the cart unattended; Clover would brook no interference with it as long as she was on guard, not that most thieves would have bothered in the first place once they saw a halfling-bred guard dog on duty.

He had been rather surprised when Beah had approached him the night before and, rather tremulously, asked if he could have something from the market in exchange for helping with the day’s selling and buying. Normally Beah needed no encouragement to help with the family chores, least of all market day. Getting to come along to the city and watch its motley collection of people as they passed among the stalls had previously been more than enough of a treat for Beah on its own. But now it seemed that his son had some particular mission in mind, and Mothen was curious to find out what it was.

He half expected to see Beah turn to the grocer’s section of the market, in search perhaps of the peppermint candy he was so partial to. But instead the little halfling made for the craftsmans’ stalls, and stopped in front of one where a tired but kindly-looking human woman was selling soft toys.

Mothen’s puzzlement only increased as he watched his son standing on tip toes to peruse the contents of the stall with all the seriousness of a seasoned merchant. Dolls were not something he ever would have suspected Beah to feel lacking in. As the son of a wool-worker, Beah had been gifted with dolls since before he could even walk. They were, admittedly, not exactly of elf-make quality, nor made of the very finest materials, but they were good enough to sell decently well at the market when Mothen was able to add a few to his usual stock of yarn and cloth. Mothen had never been given to pridefulness, but he found to his own surprise that he felt a slight pang of hurt at the thought that his creations were no longer good enough for his son. He wondered if perhaps Beah had begun to grow jealous of the other children he saw in the market, most of whom came from rather more prosperous families than their own.

Or—perhaps not. Beah’s face fell the longer he looked at the dolls until he finally turned away without selecting any of them, although they were all certainly of good quality. Mothen gave an apologetic smile to the stall owner and pulled his son to the side.

“You know,” he said hesitantly, “if it’s a doll you’re wanting...it’s not long now til Gracenight--” In fact he had been careful so far to keep Beah from suspecting anything of the doll Mothen was making for his Gracenight present. It was going to be—he hoped—his best yet. But Beah looked so disconsolate that Mothen couldn’t resist dropping a hint.

Yet Beah barely even seemed to register what his father was implying. “It’s not for me,” he said. “It’s for Thyrjka.”

This was so utterly not what Mothen had expected that for a moment he was completely speechless.

“For...your orc friend?” he managed after a moment.

“Yes!” Beah kicked at the ground in frustration. “She said she’d never ever had a doll, not even one. So I wanted to give her one for Gracenight...but I want to give her one that looks like her. And none of those do.”

Mothen glanced over at the stall. There was a good variety there, with human and halfling-shaped dolls as well as a number of brightly colored stuffed animals. There were even—rather optimistically, Mothen privately thought—a couple of dwarf dolls with braided yarn beards. There were certainly no orcs.

He looked down at his son.

“I’m not sure if orcs--” he began, then stopped. He’d never thought that orc children played with dolls much, but perhaps they did. He was hardly in a position to say, not knowing any personally himself.

“Tell you what,” he said instead, reaching down to clasp Beah’s mitten-clad hands in his own. “How about we go home, and I’ll pull out some of my spare cloth, and you can make her a doll yourself. One that looks just like her.”

For a moment Beah lit up at the suggestion. But then, just as quickly, his face crumpled again. “But I’m not good at making dolls,” he said.

Beah had seemed to be rather preoccupied lately with the idea of not being good at things. It troubled Mothen. “That’s rather a bold claim from someone who’s never made a doll before,” he said. “You might find that you’re in fact rather good at it.” When Beah did not seem cheered by this, he added, “I’ll help you with it. How does that sound?”

At that, Beah finally brightened. “Really?”

“Really. I did promise, didn’t I?”

Beah flung himself around Mothen’s legs in a hug that very nearly sent the older halfling tumbling. Mothen laughed and patted Beah on the head. “Alright then, steady on there. Let’s get on home, shall we? I don’t know about you but my toes are cold.”

“So,” Mothen said, “why don’t you tell me about your friend?”

It had been a cold drive back through the quickly falling dark, and by the time they had reached home the drifting flurries were turning to a proper snowfall. Now heavy flakes were swirling past the windows, promising to turn the little homestead white by morning. But inside it was warm and cozily lit, the air still lingering with the comforting aroma of mushroom stew and fresh bread from their recent dinner.

In truth, Mothen was still a little perplexed by his son’s new friendship. Beah had always been an especially quiet, shy lad and there had not been a great many opportunities for him to meet other children since the family had moved here. They were a little family, by halfling standards, only seven all told: Mothen and his wife Torli, her brother Fhurl, their parents Jay and Rosali, Fhurl’s husband Odah, and, of course, Beah. Theirs was one of a few homesteads that dotted the countryside outside Lantern Point, and although the neighbors were friendly enough in their way, none of them were close enough to allow for regular socializing. The local humans considered this a normal enough state of affairs, but to Mothen’s family, who had grown up among the close-knit homes of a halfling community, it couldn’t help but make for a rather lonely existence.

They did see other halfling families in Lantern Point sometimes, at the market or when they visited the Lady’s temple, and Mothen and Torli had had hopes that Beah would get on with the children there—but he seemed to spend most of those encounters hiding behind his parents or sitting alone in a quiet corner with a book. Mothen was enormously glad that Beah had finally made a friend whose company he clearly enjoyed, but he had to admit he certainly had not expected said friend to be a girl who was twice as tall as Beah and could hit a target with a throwing knife from twenty paces.

He knew that Thyrjka was an orc from the merchant clan that camped in the fields not far from their homestead every autumn, and that she and Beah had become friends since the clan had arrived this year three months or so ago--but that was about the limit of his knowledge. He’d meant to ask Beah more about her before now, but they’d all been so damnably busy all throughout the autumn and somehow he hadn’t managed it. But here they were now, sitting in Mothen’s workroom, Mothen at his work table and Beah sitting on his little stool kicking his legs against the rungs, and it was better late than never, he supposed.

Beah mulled over the question for a moment. “She’s very brave,” he said. “And very strong. And she—she knows a lot of things. A lot of stories. She’s going to be a bard and she says she has to practice a lot every day, to learn everything.”

“Oh, really?” That explained things somewhat. Beah had always loved stories—hearing them, reading them, writing them. No wonder they were friends, then. “That sounds very impressive.”

Beah nodded. “She’s been to so many places. She says, they traveled up here all the way from the Graywold. And in the spring, they’re going to sail all the way to the Wandering Isles!” He seemed both awed and concerned in equal measure. “That’s so far away!”

“Yes, it is,” Mothen said, trying not to smile. Beah had made a not inconsiderable voyage himself once, when they’d first traveled here, fleeing up the coast from one too many troubles back home. But he’d been too small at the time to remember it very well now, and since then he’d barely been any farther away from home than Lantern Point. The distances covered by the merchant clan on their travels, impressive enough on their own, must have seemed as good as traveling to another plane to Beah.

“She says...” Beah frowned in that way he always did when he was trying to figure out how to say something important. “She says she doesn’t mind traveling, and she loves her clan, but she still gets lonely sometimes. Because there aren’t so many other kids there, and she doesn’t know them so well because she used to be part of another clan. And she has to spend a lot of time on her own, with her lessons, so she doesn’t always do the same kinds of things they do together. So I thought—I thought if she had a doll—she’d have something to keep her company.”

Mothen couldn’t think of anything to say for a moment.

“Da?” Beah asked uncertainly.

By the Lady, Mothen thought, we’ve not done wrong raising this one here, and no mistake.

He got up and hugged Beah, who was rather surprised but readily returned the embrace. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Mothen told him. “Shall we start looking at cloth?”

The first time Beah met Thyrjka was in the early autumn, on a bright clear day when the leaves were just starting to turn. He was on his way to the woods north of their homestead, walking out to his favorite secret reading spot. In one hand he held his favorite walking stick; the other rested on his satchel, which in addition to its regular sort of cargo—some interesting rocks, his toy tops, a still-warm cheesebread roll wrapped in a napkin, and of course, Sir Buckley—today contained a very important prize: a new book. He had gotten it only yesterday from the lending library in Lantern Point, and it promised to be an exceptionally good one: an adventure story set on the high seas, full of swashbuckling and treasure and sea serpents. He had been waiting impatiently to start it all throughout his morning tasks and lessons, which he usually enjoyed but had today seemed to last an unbearable age. Now it was finally almost time.

He walked eagerly up the road that wound all the way down the field-lands south of Lantern Point, while beside him one of their farm dogs trotted happily along. Unlike the other dogs, who were all of old halfling working breeds, Patches was a brown and gray mutt of distinctly uncertain parentage who had been found as a stray wandering puppy trying to dig into the chicken coop. She was deviously intelligent and as friendly as anyone could ask for, but distinctly lacking in both discipline and size compared to the other dogs. Uncle Odah, who trained all the dogs, had had to progressively admit that even when fully grown Patches would likely never be suited for herding, or guarding, or cart-pulling, although he hadn’t given up on the possibility that she might be a good rat-catcher. In the meantime, having thus far evaded a permanent occupation, Patches spent most of her time in the woods with Beah, chasing squirrels, rolling in creek beds, and generally endeavoring to get into various kinds of trouble.

The two of them were just about to turn off the main road toward the path that led into the woods when Beah saw a figure standing up ahead, looking into the trees. Beah stopped walking and bit his lip uncertainly. The woods were not his, not anyone’s. They were what his grandfather called greenscommon—land for anyone to forage from or graze their livestock on, although Grandda also usually followed that by grumbling that no one in these parts knew how to use it right. And indeed Beah had very rarely seen anyone besides himself and Patches in the woods, save for when Grandda came out foraging with him. But he knew he had no right to protest anyone else being there if they wanted.

Still, he did not much like talking to strangers at any time, and here was a stranger standing right in his path, where he would surely have to talk to them if he passed by. Nor did he like the idea that they might follow him into the woods and find his favorite special secret reading spot. He decided to leave the road early and cut across the field into the woods before they saw him.

But Patches had other ideas. As soon as she laid eyes upon the stranger she was off, galloping down the road and barking joyfully in anticipation of making a new friend. Beah had no choice but to chase after her, hoping the stranger would not be angry at her enthusiastic greeting.

As he got closer, he realized with some surprise that the stranger was an orc girl, so much shorter than any of the other orcs he had seen before that he had taken her for a human at a distance. He thought she must have been from the merchant clan that was camped up in the fields by the cliffs further down the road; she wore their colors, a blue and white pattern on the tops of her boots and on the band that tied back her thick black braids. There was a knapsack on her back and a couple of large knives strapped to her belt.

Beah slowed down nervously. He was well enough used to the orc merchants, who came every autumn and camped in the fields until spring, but he was still shy of them. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Da when he said that the merchants were friendly folk—it was just that they were all so very much bigger than he was, and they all seemed to have at least one weapon with them all the time. Da had said it was only because the roads were dangerous, but Beah still could not help but feel nervous. The girl up ahead was a lot closer to him in size, but she was still a good deal taller than him, and while she was not carrying a sword or ax or spear, her knives looked a lot bigger and more serious than the little utility knife Beah carried with him, or even than Ma’s biggest kitchen knife.

But Patches was evidently determined to make introductions regardless of whether Beah wanted to or not. Having reached the stranger, she began to jump up and down, endeavoring to lick the girl’s face and bark at the same time. The stranger, to Beah’s surprise and relief, laughed and ruffled Patches’s ears, not seeming to mind that she was getting slobbered all over.

A little emboldened by this, Beah jogged the rest of the way. “Patches, behave,” he panted as he got near. “Down. Get down.”

Patches paused briefly to consider this, and then promptly carried on jumping and barking.

“I’m sorry,” Beah said helplessly, trying to grab Patches by the collar and pull her away. “She’s not really trained all the way yet. She listens to Uncle Odah most of the time, but not me.”

“That’s alright.” The orc girl gently pushed Patches off of her. Patches sat on the path, wriggling in place. “I like dogs. What’s her name?”

“Er...Patches,” Beah said, thinking as he said it that orcs probably did not name their dogs things like Patches. Probably orc dogs were called things like—he struggled to think of something suitably ferocious—like Bloodtooth or Killer or Foe-Shredder or something like that. He wondered if she would laugh.

“Aw, you’re a good girl, Patches, eh?” Patches’s tail thumped hard against the dirt as the girl scratched her on the back. “For a moment there I thought you were coming to chase me off your land.”

“Oh, no, this isn’t our land,” Beah said. “We live away down the road. This isn’t anybody’s land, here. It’s greenscommon.”

She looked at him blankly. “Greenscommon?”

“Er—that’s what Grandda calls it. It means land that’s free for anyone to forage on. Although that’s really more because no one happens to own it, I think, because no one really does use it much, except me and Grandda sometimes.”

“Oh, forage land. That’s what I thought. It doesn’t look like farmland.” She looked up back into the woods. “That’s good, then. I’m out foraging right now. It’s been trail food the past couple of weeks—jerky, mostly. Not much time to prepare anything else. We’ve been in a hurry—the weather’s been chasing us all the way up the coast. Most everyone else is busy in camp right now, but Rosth—he does most of our cooking—he said if I could get him some nuts he’d make pasties tonight.” She looked at Beah hopefully. “Are there any good nut trees around here? I’d take just about anything at this point.”

Beah hesitated. He had spent enough time in the woods by now to know all the best places to find nuts, including what he was sure had to be the best hickory tree for miles and miles, maybe even in the whole world. But it was his spot, his tree that he discovered, one of his very favorite secret places in the wood. He was loathe to lead anyone else to it, let alone a total stranger, and a little selfish voice in his head whispered that if he just took her to one of the little runty trees on the border of the woodland, he could keep his spot to himself and she would never be the wiser anyway.

But that wouldn’t be right, and he knew it, really. If someone came to you asking for food, you didn’t give them scraps of stale bread so you could keep all the fresh loaves to yourself. You gave them the best you could give. That was hospitality. It was the sort of thing Alanya Lighthand taught people stern lessons about in the stories, usually by stealing all their fresh loaves in the night.

So he said, “I know a good hickory tree. I’ll show you. Come on.”

Her eyes lit up. “Great!”

They set off into the woods, with Patches running ahead, barking happily.

He took the girl to a place where the ground dipped just a little into a slight bowl bordered by an old outcropping of moss-grown rocks. Small white and blue flowers poked up from leaves dappled with early afternoon sunlight. In the middle of the depression the hickory tree stood tall and proud, great crooked branches stretching out in all directions, crowned all over in golden leaves. It had done particularly well for nuts this year, branches drooping with the promise of a good crop.

The orc girl stopped and looked up at the tree with a clear admiration. “Now that is a good tree, and no mistake.”

Beah felt oddly relieved, and a little proud. It would have been too terrible to bear if he’d had to give up one of his best secret spots only for it to not even be properly appreciated.

The girl took off her knapsack and began to search around the tree. Beah went to help her, but despite the richness of the crop above them, they did not find very many in the leaves below. Beah had to admit that he had already picked most of the good nuts from the lower branches. “I thought there would be more fallen by now,” he said gloomily. “But I guess animals have already eaten most of them.”

“Well, that’s not a problem.” The orc girl looked up at the tree, rubbing her chin thoughtfully with one hand. Then she unlaced and kicked off her boots and scrambled up the tree so quickly Beah was astonished.

“Come on,” the girl called down cheerfully from a high branch. “There’s plenty up here. You could get even higher than I could, I bet, you’re so small.”

Beah shook his head frantically. He had never had the courage to climb any higher than the tree’s very lowest branches. Just looking up at her so high above the ground made his mouth go dry.

He was sure she would make fun of him, but instead she looked at him for a moment, then shrugged and said, “Alright. You go get my knapsack and hold it open, then.”

Beah did so, and she began to pick off nuts and throw them down into the open knapsack. She was a good shot, and more of them hit the target than not, but a few went wide and Beah had to quickly step this way and that to catch them in the knapsack. Before long they were both laughing as she shook a rain of hickory nuts down from the branches and Beah ran about, catching as many as he could.

When the knapsack was full to overflowing, the girl climbed back down the tree, gingerly picking her way barefoot through the field of nuts that now littered the ground. “That was fun,” she said. “I didn’t expect to get done nearly so soon. Let’s eat a few—there’s plenty to spare.”

“I usually sit on those rocks over there,” Beah suggested. “They’re good for cracking nuts against.”

They both scooped up a few of the loose nuts on the ground and climbed up onto the rocks. Beah picked up the small flat rock he had set aside for cracking nuts and began attempting to break one open, without much success. The girl watched him for a moment, then shook her head and said, “Let me.”

She took the nut and in one quick movement simply bashed it against the rock, then pulled the cracked pieces of the husk away. Beah was in awe. It usually took him several minutes with a stone to get even one crack in a husk. “You’re really strong!”

She grinned, showing a great deal of very sharp teeth. “Tell you what, I’ll break the husks if you’ll get the meats out.”

Beah took his little knife from his satchel and began to pry the nutmeats out of the inner shells, while she broke the husks against the rock. Working together, it did not take long for them to shell the whole pile. Then they sat, legs swinging off the edge of the rock, enjoying the spoils of victory.

“My name’s Thyrjka,” the girl said after a little while.

“I’m Beah,” Beah said.

“Good to know you, Beah.” Thyrjka reached down for the knapsack and pulled a canteen from the outer pocket. She took a swig and offered it to Beah. “It’s just water,” she added, looking amused at his slightly dubious expression.

Beah took a relieved drink and handed the canteen back.

When they had eaten all the hickory nuts, Thyrjka picked up the knapsack again and, to Beah’s amazement, scooped out half the nuts and pushed them towards Beah.

“That’s your share,” she said.

“But—but I didn’t pick any,” he protested.

“You helped me gather them, though. Anyway, I wouldn’t have known this tree was here if you hadn’t shown me. You did some of the work, so you get some of the reward—that’s only fair.”

Beah considered this. Then he scooped up about half of the nuts Thyrjka had given him. “I’ve already gotten to pick some this year. I don’t need them as much,” he explained. “Besides, they wouldn’t all fit in my satchel.”

Thyrjka thought about that, then shrugged. “Alright. If you say so.”

She piled the leftover nuts back into her knapsack, then hopped off the rock and picked up her boots. While she laced them back up, Beah looked into the space at the top of the knapsack and thought about eating mostly jerky for two weeks.

“I know where to find mushrooms too,” he blurted out.

Thyrjka stopped with her lace half-tied and looked up at him wide-eyed. “Mushrooms?”

Beah nodded.

Thyrjka threw up her hands. “Well what are we standing around here for? Let’s go!”

Beah laughed and scrambled down the rock, and off they went.

Evening was beginning to fall by the time the two of them made their way back to the main road, knapsack and satchel now both comfortably full of the rewards of foraging. Beah was very thoughtful.

“Are you going to stay here long?” he asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. The merchants always came in the fall and went away again in the spring.

Sure enough, Thyrjka said, “We’re staying for the winter. We’ll sell the rest of the goods we have in Lantern Point, and in the spring we take ship for the Wandering Isles to pick up more stock. Then we sail back to Rainharbor and travel up the coast all over again.”

Beah had never really thought about where the merchants went after they left—he only knew that they did leave, and eventually came back again. The Wandering Isles were a long, long way away. He couldn’t imagine making such an incredible journey every year.

“Well, I’m off back to camp,” Thyjrka said. She gave Patches one last scratch behind the ears. “Thanks for your help.”

“Wait!” Beah said. Thyrjka turned to look at him in surprise.“If—if you come back tomorrow, I could...I could show you some more good places. To forage, I mean. In the woods.”

Thyrjka thought for a moment. “I have to do camp chores and lessons in the morning,” she said. “But maybe in the afternoon?”

Beah nodded hopefully.

Thyrjka grinned. “It’s a deal then. See you tomorrow!”

She turned and headed off across the fields. Beah watched her go, then turned down the road back home. He hadn’t read a single page of his new book, and somehow he didn’t mind at all.

Thyrjka came back the next day, and the day after that, too.

It was a rich fall that year, and the foraging in the woods was plentiful. They gathered hickory nuts, and walnuts, and chestnuts; dug up mushrooms and wild herbs and roots; shook small sour apples down from wild apple trees and picked seathorn berries from the edges of the forest where the trees gave way to scrubby grass and the smell of salt on the breeze. Beah’s family had never seen him come back from the woods so heavily laden or so beaming with happiness.

“Now what’s gotten into you?” Ma asked as Beah carefully unpacked a full bag onto the kitchen counter for the third day in a row. “You’ve been especially productive lately.”

“I made a friend,” Beah said.

Ma stopped and stared. So did Da and Grandda and Uncle Fhurl, who had been talking over tea at the table.

“A friend?” Ma said.

“Her name’s Thyrjka,” Beah said. “She’s from the merchant camp. She’s really good at climbing trees.”

The adults all glanced at each other.

“Well that’s unexpected,” Grandda said.

“It’s excellent news,” Ma said firmly. “Tell Thyrjka she’s welcome to come for tea any time.”

But Beah and Thyrjka were too busy most days to come back home for tea. In-between gathering one thing or another they spent a good amount of time simply wandering the woods, tossing sticks for Patches, splashing in the stream, or throwing stones to knock pinecones off trees. Other times they would simply sit for a while, on a fallen log or a sunny patch of rocks, and enjoy the quiet.

“I’m going to be a bard,” Thyrjka told Beah one day as they sat skipping stones over a small pond. “My uncle Kvast is teaching me.”

Beah knew a little about bards, or thought he did. Many of the stories in his books were attributed to bards who had gone adventuring and come back with amazing tales and songs about their travels. He was in awe of the idea of bards, but he had never had a clear idea of how you went about becoming one. He had assumed it was something that just happened to particularly extraordinary people if they traveled far enough and did enough interesting things. The idea that you could simply decide to be one when you grew up had never occurred to him.

But he came to learn from Thyrjka that being a bard was not very much at all like he had imagined it—or at least, it wasn’t for orcs. Orcs took the business of being a bard as seriously as Beah’s family took the business of their crafting and farming. It was a lot of work, and a lot of practice. He was stunned to hear how much time Thyrjka had to spend memorizing songs and stories and learning history and all kinds of other things.

It was a lot of work, but it was important work. A good bard, Thyrjka told him proudly, was every bit as vital to the clan as a good hunter or horsemaster or haggler. You could keep the clan healthy and fed and safe, you could keep the carts rolling and the animals happy and bring the money in, but without a good bard the soul of the clan would start to die. Bards kept the history of the clan, remembered all the important things that had happened, and sang songs of good times and great deeds to raise spirits when times were difficult. Even more than that, they kept alive the stories of the old great heroes of legend, who never really died as long as their tales were still told.

Beah had never heard anyone talk about stories the way Thyrjka did.

He had always loved stories, loved reading them in his books or sitting at the fire while Grandma told a wild yarn that was more lie than true. But he had had for some time a creeping, guilty suspicion that as he got older he would have to stop loving stories quite so much and think about other things instead.

It was a troubling thought. Beah took turns helping out everyone in the family with their work, and he enjoyed all of his own little jobs: digging in the garden with Grandma, helping Uncle Odah feed the chickens and sheep and the two goats, baking bread and making preserves in the kitchen with Ma. He liked the softness and colors of the wool and cloth when he helped Da with the weaving and sewing, liked the smell of fresh wood and the gentle sounds of Uncle Fhurl’s tools when he helped in the woodshop. But he could not seem to find in any of these things what Uncle Fhurl called a spark, a deep-down love for something such that you could happily do it for the rest of your life.

The only thing Beah had been able to find anything that he might call a spark for was writing his stories, and it worried him. No one talked about it much, at least not when they thought he could hear, but he knew times had been hard for the family when they had first come to Lantern Point. They had had very little money to begin with. Things were better now, but he still wanted badly to be able to do something that would help his family, something important. Stories were a nice thing to have, and they could teach you things sometimes, like the stories about the Lady Goddess the priests told at the temple or the tales of Alanya Lighthand in the book Grandma had given him. But stories weren’t important like working in the garden or raising the animals or making food was important. Stories wouldn’t keep the household running, nor could they be sold at the market like Da sold his cloth and Uncle Fhurl sold his woodwork.

But Thyrjka spoke of stories as if they were not just important, but one of the most important things that there ever was. “Stories are history,” she told him. “Everything everyone’s ever done is a story. If someone doesn’t learn them, and tell them, we’d lose it all—all the great deeds, all the important discoveries, it’d be like they never happened, never meant anything.”

Beah had never thought about it like that. It was hard to argue with her unshakable convictions. But he still had an uneasy sense of doubt that his kind of stories were not that important, maybe not important at all. He was quiet at dinner that night, mulling over the matter.

The next day they were gathering firewood. They’d found a tree downed by a storm and Thyrjka had brought a hatchet and a wood-cart pulled by the biggest pony Beah had ever seen. In fact he was not entirely convinced that it was a pony, despite Thyrjka’s insistence; it was twice the size of Clara, and made him worry a little to think what orcish horses might be like.

Thyrjka was chopping up the tree, while Beah gathered up the logs and piled them into the cart. While they worked Thyrjka sang. Beah didn’t understand the words—it was all in Orcish—but he liked to hear it. The song went back and forth, steady and repetitive, making a rhythm that Thyrjka swung her hatchet to, and was so catchy that before long Beah was humming along to it.

When the tree was half gone they stopped to take a break, sitting with their backs against the cart, and Beah asked, “Do you only tell stories about important things?”

Thyjrka took a long drink from her canteen and gave him a thoughtful look. “Kvast says we don’t always know what’s important,” she said. “Not until much later, or sometimes not at all. You know that song I was just singing?”

Beah nodded.

“It’s a work song. I know a lot of them. That one’s for chopping wood. It doesn’t mean anything, not really, but it helps you keep the right rhythm, and that makes chopping easier.” She took another drink, and splashed some of the water on her face. “That was the first song Kvast ever taught me. I was disappointed, ‘cause I wanted to learn something big and grand, like a saga song. But he said the first thing I had to learn was that that song was just as important as any other song I was ever going to learn, even though the words don’t really mean anything. Because a saga song, it might be about something big, something important to remember, but it’s not important at all when you’re chopping wood. When you’re chopping wood, the most important song you can know is a song that helps you chop wood.”

Beah thought about this.

“So,” he said after a while. “So...there might be stories about things that don’t seem very important...but they could be really important, if you told them at the right time?”

Thyjrka nodded. “Exactly.”

“What if it’s…” Beah screwed up all his courage and blurted out, “What if it’s a story that’s not something that ever really happened at all? If it’s all made up? Could that be important too?”

“Of course,” Thyrjka said, so casually that Beah felt a little disoriented. “Saga songs are important because they tell us about something that happened, something we need to keep alive, something that needs to be told. But there are other songs that aren’t true at all or we don’t know if they’re true, and it doesn’t matter, because they’re good to listen to, or they teach you important things. A story can have something true to say even if the story itself isn’t true.”

“Oh,” Beah said.

And then, because he was not sure if he would be able to gather up his courage like this again, he said, “Can I tell you something?”

Thyjrka nodded. Beah reached up to the seat of the cart, where he had laid his satchel, and pulled out his oldest and most favorite doll.

“This is Sir Buckley,” he said nervously. He had never felt embarrassed of his toys before, but in front of Thyrjka, who carried knives and could climb tall trees and had been all over the continent and seemed to him to be mostly grown up already, he found himself feeling considerable trepidation. He was not sure if Thyrjka had any toys at all. She might think Sir Buckley was silly and babyish. But she had told him a lot about herself, and he had not said very much at all about himself, and besides he desperately wanted to tell someone his secret, small and quiet though it may be. “I make up stories about him. Um. About his adventures. I wrote some of them down, even. But they’re not...they’re not anything like your stories.”

Thyrjka did not laugh or sneer. She took Sir Buckley very carefully and looked at him. He was a halfling-shaped doll, with curly brown hair and button eyes and a green hooded cloak. Age and many adventures were beginning to show on him: his cloth skin and clothing were stained and discolored in places, several popped seams and tears had been repaired with discreet stitches, and his eyes were slightly different in size and color, one of the original buttons having been lost somewhere across the sea.

“He looks very daring.” Thyrjka traced a finger along the line of stitching that made up Sir Buckley’s confident smile. “What kind of stories?”

Beah told her, shyly at first and then, when she still did not laugh, more and more eagerly, about Sir Buckley’s many heroic exploits: climbing to the top of the world’s tallest mountain to pick the legendary sky fruit; swimming to the bottom of a great whirlpool to rescue a lost pearl for a mer-rabbit; meeting the Prince of All Dogs, who was so impressed by Sir Buckley’s heroism that they became constant companions.

Thyrjka listened raptly. When Beah trailed off during the story of Sir Buckley and the Dog Prince’s quest to retrieve a falling star and return it to the moon, she insisted he tell her what happened next.

“I can’t,” he admitted. “I haven’t, um, finished it yet.”

“Well you have to finish it!” she told him. “I want to know how it ends. Do they ever make it to the moon?”

“I think they do,” Beah said. “But I’m not sure what happens after that.”

“If you find out,” Thyrjka said, “You have to tell me. Deal?”

Beah smiled. “Deal.”

Thyrjka looked down at Sir Buckley again, an odd expression on her face. “Where did you get him?”

“Da made him for me,” Beah said. “He’s made me a lot of dolls, but Sir Buckley’s the oldest. He’s the only thing I brought from our old home. He came across the sea with me.”

Thyrjka looked up then. “You’ve been across the sea?”

Beah nodded. “We used to live in Kellsdowne, but we had to leave. I was really small, so I don’t remember it much. Grandda says things went bad there, but no one talks about it much. We had to come here on a ship, and we couldn’t take much with us. I don’t remember it very well now, but I was...well, scared, a lot. I didn’t know where we were going, and I was scared of the water, and all the noise...so I held onto Sir Buckley all the time, so he could keep me safe. I still keep him with me, just...just in case I get scared.”

He said this last without thinking, and was immediately embarrassed to have said it. But Thyrjka only looked wistfully at Sir Buckley.

“I get scared too sometimes,” she said.

Beah stared. Thyrjka could climb the tallest trees in the woods while laughing, had traveled all the way across the coast, could tell bloodcurdling ghost stories with a grin on her face. She could throw a knife and shoot a bow and fight with an ax. She had a scar on her nose from falling off a horse and one on her arm from a wild dog and one on her hand from a fire that had taken one of their wagons. It had never, ever occurred to him that she could be afraid of anything.

“What do you get scared of?” he asked.

“Sometimes...” she said, “People ask me to give them a song, or a story, that I’ve learned, just around the fire, like. And I say no, because I don’t have it right yet. But it’s not that really. It’s—I do have it right, I know I’ve learned it right, I can recite it to myself, but when people are looking at me—even if I just think about people looking at me—I can’t do it. It scares me so much it makes my stomach hurt. And that’s an awful thing for a bard, you know.” She smiled shakily at him. “I’ve worked so hard but I’m starting to think—maybe I just can’t do it.”

“But...you sing in front of me,” Beah said, still feeling thrown. “You were singing just now. And, and you’ve told me stories. You told me all those ghost stories, and the story about the bandits, and...”

Thyrjka pulled her legs to her chest and rested her chin on top of her knees. “I don’t know. Somehow I don’t mind around you. It doesn’t feel like it would be so bad, if I didn’t do it perfectly. When I’m in front of my clan...I feel like it has to be perfect, or else...” She sighed and shrugged. “I just want them to think well of me. I haven’t been with this clan too long, you know.”

“You haven’t?” Beah said in surprise. He’d assumed that Thyrjka had always been with the clan, just as he had always been with his family.

“No. See, when I was born we were with my grandmother’s clan. It was her and my mam and my uncle and me, and some others. We used to trade horses. But it wasn’t...great. There was a lot of trouble. We never had much money, and we were traveling in the wilderlands in Ulstver. It’s mostly wild down there. Lots of dangers on the road, and not a lot of people to sell to even if you made it to a town. Then Grandmother died, and I guess she was really the one holding it all together, because most everyone else up and left after that. Aside from the three of us, the only one that stayed with us was Basthyn, our horsemaster. Good old Basthyn, she said she wasn’t going anywhere...” She smiled a little. “But we couldn’t make it any more with so few of us, so we had to set off north. It was hard. We didn’t make it out before the snows came, and we lost most of the horses. But eventually we found Clan Szaghrail, and they took us in. And it’s been better. A lot better. They treat us in just like we always belonged there. I’ve got no right to complain, I know. But I just...I feel alone a lot of the time, still. I want to prove myself. I want to make them proud. But I’m scared.”

She rubbed a hand across her eyes. Beah had absolutely no idea what to do, but he felt he had to do something, so he scooted closer and tentatively put his hand on hers. She gripped it back, tight.

“I’m supposed to sing for everyone, on Ravensfall,” Thyrjka went on after a little while. “Not anything big. Just a little song. But it’s important. And I have to get it right, and I’m—I’m not sure I can do it.”

“What’s Ravensfall?” Beah asked quietly.

“You don’t know?--no, I guess you wouldn’t. It’s on the solstice. There’s a legend, see...well, it’s a long one, but it’s about the first winter, a long long time ago, and how it went on so long the world got too cold and dark to live in, until Kyanygach saved everyone. He’s one of the old heroes,” she added, seeing his confused expression. “It’s a great story. And every year we tell it again, in honor of Kyanygach. Kvast’s going to be telling the story. It’s one of the most important things a bard can do, telling one of the great old stories like that. Someday, if I really do become a bard, I’ll have to tell the story on Ravensfall. But right now I can’t even do one song.” She thumped her fist against the ground in helpless frustration.

They sat there for a while, Thyrjka staring gloomily at her knees, Beah thinking hard.

“Well,” he said eventually, “you could—you could practice with me.”

Thyrjka lifted her head slowly. “I could?”

“Sure. You said you don’t mind singing when it’s just me, so you could sing it to me and—and to Patches and Sir Buckley and, and if that’s not enough I’ll bring all my dolls and you can sing to them too. Would that help?”

Thyrjka smiled tremulously at him. “You know, I think it might be worth a shot.”

The weather was turning from crisp and cool to properly cold. The trees were mostly bare, and there was less to forage every day. Beah and Thyrjka spent little time gathering now, and more time sitting around a little fire by the hickory tree, toasting bread and talking. Thyrjka would climb up on the rocks and practice her song while Beah and Patches listened and applauded, or barked, as the situation called for it.

“Do you want to borrow Sir Buckley?” Beah asked her one afternoon when she was feeling particularly glum. “For when you have to perform, I mean.”

It was a hard thing to offer. He’d never been parted from Sir Buckley before. But it was the best comfort he could think to give, and after all he did have other dolls, while Thyrjka did not.

Thyrjka looked sorely tempted, but she shook her head. “He belongs with you,” she said. “What if you needed him?”

Beah was secretly glad she had said no, and guilty for feeling glad. He thought about it all the way home that evening. After supper he took out all his dolls and lined them up on his bed. He would pick one, he had decided, to loan to Thyrjka.

But looking at his dolls—all seven of them!--somehow only made him feel worse. He had so many dolls. Was it really right to give her one only to demand she give it back? What if she needed it again later? She was going so far away, all the way to the Wandering Isles. Who knew how many scary things she might encounter on the way?

No, there was nothing for it. He would have to give Thyrjka one of his dolls, to keep. That was what Alanya Lighthand would say to do, he was sure.

Only...when he looked at the dolls, trying to decide which one she would like best, none of them seemed right. There was Sir Buckley, and the Prince of Dogs, and two more halfling dolls, a rabbit, a fox, and a cat. They were all dolls made for a halfling. Not only that, they were dolls made for him, and only for him. Thyrjka needed a doll that was hers.

And just like that, he knew what to do.

Mothen had sold or used most of his wool and cloth for the season, but he laid what he had left out onto his work table and hummed to himself as he made some measurements.

“We can make it work,” he said. “But first, we need to plan out exactly what we’re going to make. Do you want the doll to look exactly like her?”

Beah hesitated, not sure how to word what was on his mind. “Not exactly exactly,” he said slowly. “I want it to look like her the way Sir Buckley looks like me.”

“Ah...” Mothen nodded. “I see. Yes. I think we can do that.”

Beah helped him dye the cloth, carefully directing his father on the exact right shade, dunking it in the dye basin and giggling when his hands came out stained green. While Mothen cut and sewed the doll’s body, Beah picked out the right buttons for the eyes and the right yarn for the hair.

“She should have scars,” he said, watching closely as Mothen sewed the hair in.

Mothen paused, needle in midair. “Scars?”

Beah nodded. “Thyrjka has scars. Her doll should have scars too.”

Mothen blinked. Then he shrugged. “Alright. Where do you want the scars?”

They settled on one scar on the face and another on the arm, stitched in neatly with white thread. “You know,” Mothen said as he finished the second scar, “If you asked very nicely, I imagine your uncle might just be willing to help you make a sword for her.”

Beah’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Well, go ask and see. I don’t think he’s too busy right now--”Mothen had barely finished speaking before Beah had bolted out of the room.

“Goodness,” Mothen said to the doll in his hand. “You must be something special.”

Fhurl was a little confused by Beah’s request at first. “Slow down there,” he said, putting down his whittling knife. “You’re making what now?”

“An orc doll. For my friend.” Beah was trying desperately to be calm and polite, and nearly dancing on the spot from the effort of it. “Da said maybe you could make a sword to go with it. Um. Please.”

Fhurl cupped his chin in one hand and looked at Beah for a long moment. Beah tried not to squirm. He could never tell what Fhurl was thinking when he had that look on his face.

“A sword for a doll? I’ve never done that before. But I shouldn’t think it would be too hard.” He pushed his wheelchair over to the box of wood scraps and began to look through it. “I think I have...ah, yes. Here we are.” He held up a block of wood that had been cut off the end of a larger project. “Would this be about the right size?”

“Yes!” Beah said eagerly.

“Is the doll sewn yet? Alright. Go bring it to me and I’ll make some measurements.”

Once Beah had retrieved the doll, Fhurl looked at it for a few moments, turning it around in his hands. “Hm,” he said. “Interesting.” He drew some lines on the wood with a piece of marking crayon. “If your father can supply a piece of cord, about so big?” he said, pointing to a small circle he had sketched where the sword’s hilt would be. “I’ll make a hole here to tie it through. Then she can tie the sword to the doll’s hand if she likes, and it won’t get lost.”

He smiled at Beah’s excitement. “Alright. I’ll get to work. You’d best go take this back to your da so he can finish it.”

Mothen dug into his scraps box to put together a tunic and trousers for the doll. Some leftover leather trimmings made a pair of boots and a belt. From an old blanket in the rag basket he made a soft gray cloak and hood and, at Beah’s insistence, trimmed it in blue and white. The sword, as promised, had a hole for a cord, and fit neatly into the doll’s hand.

“She’s perfect,” Beah said, looking at the doll with something like awe.

Beah had often been too excited to sleep the night before Gracenight, but this was the first time he was more consumed with the anticipation of giving a gift than receiving one. He laid awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to imagine Thyrjka’s reaction. She would like it, wouldn’t she? She had to like it. But what if she didn’t? He tossed and turned for what seemed like years before finally, having exhausted himself, drifting to sleep.

Beah was so excited to deliver his present to Thyrjka that he did not think very much about the fact that he would have to visit the merchant camp to find her. It was only when he got close enough to see the patterns on the carts and wagons that his heart began to sink a little. The camp was big, even bigger somehow than he had imagined, a seemingly endless field of carts and wagons, full of animals and people all bustling about with a great deal of noise, the air thick with the smell of campfires and cooking.

He crept closer, nervously clutching the wrapped package to his chest, looking for any sign of Thyrjka. Everything in the camp seemed to be gigantic. Even the cart wheels towered over him. There were orcs everywhere—talking, laughing, singing, sitting on the steps of wagons or around campfires, carrying things here and there—but every one of them that he could see was terribly tall. He could not see Thyrjka or any other child his own age anywhere among them.

Beah stood by one of the outer wagons, so far unnoticed, trying to work up his courage. Everywhere around him was noise and movement. The people walking past him were so tall he barely came up to their knees. He did not even know where to begin looking for Thyrjka, and though he managed to whisper out a faint, “Excuse me--” a few times, the sound was immediately swallowed up by the cacophony of the camp.

And then, just as he was beginning to feel totally hopeless and more than a little afraid someone would step on him, an orc man holding a lit pipe walked over to the very wagon Beah was standing next to. He settled himself into a comfortable lean against the side of the wagon, took a deep draw on his pipe, looked around lazily as he puffed out a smoke ring—and saw Beah.

Beah opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“Well, hello there.” The orc crouched down and looked at Beah curiously. He had thick black sideburns and heavy-lidded eyes that made him look almost sleepy. “What’s a little thing like you doing here?”

“I’m. I’m. I’m--” Beah took a few frantic breaths. “I’m—looking for Thyrjka.”

“Thyrjka?” The orc cocked his head and looked at him strangely. For a terrible moment Beah feared desperately and irrationally that he was about to say that Beah had the wrong camp entirely, there was no Thyrjka here and never had been.

But instead he said, “Now there’s a thing. What’dya want Thyrjka for? I didn’t know she was expecting callers.”

“She’s not. Er, I mean, I didn’t tell her I was coming.” It occurred to Beah then that he really should have, in fact, told her he was coming. “But I-I’m her friend. I brought her a present.” He held up the package desperately to prove this.

The orc looked at the package and slowly lifted his eyebrows. “A present? Well now, don’t that beat all. We’d better make sure she gets it, then.”

Abruptly he stood up and, before Beah even knew what was happening, the orc was swinging him up into the air and onto his shoulders. Beah had been picked up plenty of times by Mothen, but this was something else entirely. He was so high up the ground seemed to yawn away from him.

“Wouldn’t want you to get trampled down there,” the orc said cheerfully. “Now, you just hold on tight and we’ll go find Thyrjka.”

He set off across the camp with Beah clinging to his shoulders, torn between terror and exhilaration. He was so high up he felt light-headed, but he couldn’t help but marvel at how different the camp looked from his new vantage point. From there he could see it was not the chaotic labyrinth it had seemed to him, but laid out neatly and precisely, with the wagons arranged so that they protected the inner camp from the weather.

It did not take long for the orc to find Thyrjka. She was sitting on the steps of a wagon, frowning down at a hefty book on her knees.

“Oi, Thyrjka!” Beah’s new friend called to her. “Stop studying for half a minute. You’ve got a guest.”

Thyrjka glanced up, looking distracted and irritable. Then she saw Beah, and her mouth fell open in shock.

“Beah!” She slammed the book shut and ran forward as the orc lowered Beah to the ground. “I didn’t expect—aren’t you busy today?”

“Yes, but I had to come here first,” Beah said. He took a deep breath and held out the package. “I brought you a present.”

Thyrjka took the package slowly, confused. “A present? Why?”

“It’s Gracenight! You give presents on Gracenight.”

She looked down at the package uncertainly. “I don’t have a present for you.”

“That’s okay. I know you have other things to do today. But I wanted to give this to you.” He shuffled his feet nervously. “I...hope you like it.”

Thyrjka untied the ribbon and slowly, carefully, unwrapped the cloth. Beah watched on tenterhooks, almost vibrating with anxiety as Thyrjka looked at the doll. What if she didn’t like it?

“It’s beautiful,” Thyrjka whispered. “For me? Really?”

Beah nodded, heart singing with relief. “Da helped me make her, just for you.” Then, immediately struck with a nudge of guilt, he said, “Well, really, Da mostly did it. And my uncle Fhurl, he made the sword. I’m not so good at making dolls. But I told them what it should look like. And—um—well, I thought maybe—you could take her, when you go on the ships, and—you’d have someone to hold onto, like I had Sir Buckley.”

He was cut off by Thyrjka lifting him up into a hug so tight he squeaked a little in surprise.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The fires were lit and the clan assembled, murmuring and chattering, children playing with noisemakers, all waiting eagerly for the festivities to begin. Thyrjka walked, knees shaking, to the front of the crowd, where the drummer and the string player were warming up. Kvast walked beside her, his hand firm and reassuring on her shoulder.

“You’ll do just fine,” he murmured.

Thyrjka nodded. Her stomach seemed to be trying to crawl up her throat.

Kvast walked over to speak with the musicians, leaving Thyrjka to take her position in front of the crowd. The noise began to settle down, dropping into silence as everyone turned their eyes to the performers. In a few seconds, the only sounds were from the crackling of the fires and the occasional very small child fussing slightly.

Then the drummer began to a low, steady rhythm. That was her cue. The song that would begin the story, that called everyone gathered there to attend and listen to the tale…

Everyone was watching her.

Her hand went to the doll hanging at her belt, fingers brushing against the soft yarn hair. She thought about Beah, sitting by the hickory tree, clapping and cheering for her.

Thyrjka took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to sing.

#d&d #dungeons and dragons #dnd #short story tag #short story: bardic inspiration #pl: lantern point #ch: lantern point halflings #ch: clan szaghrail

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