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simon-x-billy · 9 months

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Simon x Billy

Year of the OTP: June

Chapter 6: Where’s the helipad?

June prompt: Soulmates

AN: Enjoy the sweet sweet sounds of helicopter blades slicing through the air. I love the helicopter scene so much. It is happy-making. It just makes me love both of them for each other. (Let's ignore the fact that I wrote it.)

We are so close to the sex, guys. So close. This is the last SFW chapter for a while. Bask in the virginal dude-bro vibe, and let people know that you read the chapters before they were cool.

TW: Rewrites. Mystifyingly late posts. Drunkenness. If alcohol is triggering for you, no need to read the last teeny section after we first meet Barry. Rest assured that Simon gets home safely and says cute stuff, then happily goes to bed.

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————/Simon/————

I am trying to stop thinking about falling to my death. Give me a minute.

Ok, so this is…………This is a long flight of fucking rickety, wind-blasted wood. Not like that metal set of stairs with all the switchbacks I was complaining about last time I encountered stairs. I take all of my complaints back about that place. That was the height of stair-building technology by comparison. This place is just…..language fails me, like I’m picturing the stairs failing me any second now.

Shush, I need to concentrate.

————/-/————

Oh my fucking god. I can’t breathe. Metaphorically kissing the ground due to sheer survival has become a feature of my stay here. Just cuz I survived. So much ground kissing happening in Italy. Especially near stairs.

So from the size and schmanciness I’m guessing this place was either for a huge schmancy family, or hardcore party animals needing lots of bedrooms (the olden days version). This coastline has been a summer getaway spot for centuries. Scratch that. For millennia. What, like maybe three thousand, four thousand years?

But actual beaches are rare here. Anybody with two inches of it will stick a beach umbrella in it. So imagine owning an entire beach. Right? Beside the hotel, the only other possible access is from the water. And there are a lot -- I mean a lot of yachts around here. They will never, ever look normal to me. But they’re starting to look like a normal thing around here. And I’m told these aren’t even the big ones. Fuck me sideways.

Both shots are from the website of the actual Hotel La Tonnarella, which is the hotel I based my fictional hotel on. Yes, it really looks like that. Yes, I did stay there. Totally worth going into debt. Best decision I’ve ever made. You can faintly see the stairs, at left. It’s that pale diagonal line down the cliff from the hotel at top left down toward the beach, crossing right in front of that ruin in the middle, halfway down the cliff.

Anyway, we’ve seen the (only) road and there’s definitely no place for me to do my morning run. It doesn’t even have a shoulder. I guess if I can’t run without going airborne off a cliff, I could do the steps when I wake up. Better than nothing. It’s just-

Well, we’ve seen that I hate stairs. Steep stairs. Cliff stairs.

Fuck. Besides being terrifying, it was tiring just getting down here. What am I going to do when I have to go back up?

Anyway, Billy’s working down here today. And I really feel like disrupting his job well done.

“Will yeh take a look at yer man now. Down the beach, explorin,” he calls, as I approach the hotel’s tiny beach bar. “You didn’t take the stairs, did yeh?”

“Um, yeah? Certo. I wanted to see the beach.” Obviously.

“Why didn’t yeh take the lift?” he asks me.

I fix the man to his spot with a very frowny, very deep, “Would you mind repeating that, Billy?” Exactly like if Kronk was playing me in the movie. I can barely see through my eyes that have now narrowed to slits of disbelief and distrust and discomfort. “There’s an elevator?”

“Well, yeah man. How else are people meant to get down here? The cliff’s a dangerous way down, innit?”

It’s ok, Lewis. You can incorporate this new information without flipping out. Just be proud of yourself for facing your fears. You descended steep, unsafe stairs. Good job! And you were only vaguely terrified the whole time. Good job!

“Is the cliff so dangerous that they should close it down due to the mounting death toll? Or is it only dangerous in an inoffensive, cute way?”

He huffs out a quick laugh, then returns to slicing up lemons.

“Billy? That was an actual question. Care to provide an answer?”

“Meh, it’s safe enough,” he says. And that, ladies and gentleladies, is all I need to convince me I can indeed use this as my new Italian Morning Exercise. 1. Cliff, 2. Coffee, 3. Cliff, 4. Vomiting coffee. Perfect.

————/-/————

I’ve spent all this week forging a grudging relationship with the beach stairs.

I’m getting a little more accustomed to it. I have a few specific stones and broken twigs I’ve chosen as landmarks, whenever I require reassurance that I am indeed climbing down the right cliff. And if I’ve survived it the last four mornings, I can survive it a fifth time. Flawless reasoning.

Behind the beach bar, Billy spots me and gives me a wave. “You packed, man?”

My insides instantly start fizzing. I am so fucking stoked. I got us an airbnb in Naples for the weekend so we can check out Sabina’s gig tomorrow night. Billy could not say yes fast enough. He’s a social guy, and there’s not a lot of nightlife around here. I have no idea how he’s managed it all this time. Oh wait, that’s right. He’s managed it with women. Lots of women.

Over the last week, I’ve come to the realization that management does not mind a guest hanging out at the bar distracting their employee all day, because while that guest is distracting the employee, he is also ordering drink after frothy fruit-based drink, and healthy fruit-based foods. It’s like they’ve realized that my distraction of Billy might actually be lucrative for them. I even have my own barstool. Officially.

I have an announcement to make. “I have come to a decision,” I announce. “We need a convertible.”

“Sorry?”

“A convertible. We need one,” I repeat.

“Yeah, mate, heard yeh.”

“What, it’s a convertible!”

Billy remains unmoved. “Why can’t we take the train? It’s simplest-”

“We are not taking the train.”

“But I quite like the train,” he claims.

“Because you’re insane and don’t like convertibles.” J’accuse!

“See now, I never said I don’t like convertibles. I-“ he begins.

But I totally interrupt him. “I need to go do something.” Because my brain just exploded with potential.

“What?” He might be alarmed.

Whereas I’m enthusiastic. “Be an Ugly American.”

“Er, that sounds terrible,” he says.

“If you’re gonna be American, you might as well own it. Watch me own it, Billy, watch me.”

Oddly, Billy still looks wary. “That sounds-”

“Awesome.”

“-terrible. You’re not plannin to wear one of them caps with straws into beer cans, are yeh?” He snorts at whatever he’s picturing. “Actually, I might pay yeh to do that.”

“Nah. Not my brand,” I say, sliding off the barstool. I snag an olive and pop it in my mouth, to avoid grinning like someone who grins because they’re about to do something awesome. “Ciao, Beelee.” I wave behind me.

I’ve got the phone out and I’m already dialing before I’ve even reached the stairs. And then I remember I can also take the elevator.

———/-/———

Billy has finally met up with me at the fountain by the hotel entrance. Thank god, cuz I really don’t want him to miss the arrival of that Ugly American thing that required a phone call. Ever notice there’s an ugh in ugly? Just occurred to me.

“There you are, Delaney. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhhh! Prepare to hear the sweet sweet sound of helicopter blades pulsing through the air. It’s done, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

“Simon-”

“So where’s the helipad?” I inquire.

“The what now? Mate, it’s not that kind of hotel. Why are we taking a helicopter to Naples?”

“The correct response would normally be ‘because we can’-” Obviously. Certo.

“That is not a normal response.” Billy looks mystified, yet still amused. So that’s a thing.

“-but not this time,” I finish. “That’s not the real idea.”

“Oh, so you’re tellin me this is a superfluous helicopter. That is ugly.”

“No! It is most definitely not superfluous.”

“Your carbon footprint’ll be spendin all eternity in hell, man.”

“Billy.”

“Simon.”

“Stop talking. And just enjoy the mounting anticipation. The mellow sense of horror, or at the very least a nasty case of creeping dread. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhh!”

“Stop it, mate. You’re gettin evil genius all over my uniform. And you know how I feel about laundry.”

“Just a little bicarbonate of soda. Gets out even the most organic of stains. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhhh.”

“Simon.”

“Billy.”

“Stop talkin. Like an evil genius. We’re gettin complaints.”

“Are not.”

“From me. I’m complainin.”

“What am I going to wear?” I ask. It’s a fair question.

“Simon. Oh my god.”

“I’m serious! I packed for Italy in ten minutes. It’s all socks and shorts.” And sunblock. And chargers.

He’s shaking his head at me. For some reason, this makes me happy. In my tummy. How novel.

“Is that the fire alarm?” he asks.

“Huh? I mean, MWAH hah ha ha haaaah, oh no. What you’re hearing is the sweet sweet purring of a helicopter bearing my booty.”

“You didn’t think that one through, mate.”

“Oh, but yes, yes I did. This booty is worth baring. Can you feel it? The heady excitement of anticipation? The mellow terror?”

“Yes. I feel the terror,” he says blandly. He finds my terror bland.

Wait. “That would be the best cologne flavor ever. Mellow Terror, by Simon Lewis. Pour homme.”

“Are you manic right now?”

———/Billy/————

I was joking, but Simon just went very still. I’ve put my foot in, haven’t I?

“I am a bit manic, am’nt I?” he offers, tossing off a fake laugh.

“Somethin wrong with your shoes, mate? Simon, man, my eyes are up here.”

“Just wait til you see what I’ve done,” he says sheepishly, eyeing me from under his furry eye caterpillars.

“Simon. Should I be worried?”

“Oops?”

Oops? I haven’t a clue what to do with oops.

He grabs me excitedly by the forearm and starts dragging me toward the hotel gates.

That’s…Wait, is that-

“Simon. Did you buy a Mini Cooper?”

“A convertible Mini Cooper.”

“But why?” I ask the reasonable question.

“Because I can!” He’s practically vibrating. I can tell he wants to do his jumping-clapping thing by the way he’s currently bouncing on his toes.

“Simon.”

“Billy.”

“You bought a Mini Cooper. Convertible,” I swiftly add. “You’re in the land that built the Maserati, the Lamborghini, the Ferrari, and every other sports car that ends in i-”

“Not Audi.”

I huff in annoyance, “-and you bought a convertible Mini Cooper. And had it airlifted here. Because you could.”

“I’ve always wanted a convertible Mini Cooper.”

“But not a convertible Ferrari,” I clarify.

“No.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m awesome,” he answers, because he’s Simon.

I decide not to mention that we could have skipped the car altogether and taken the helicopter to Naples.

This is so childish, and impetuous, and reckless, and I refuse to find the actions of a grown man adorable. Jaysus.

“Oh my god!” he squeaks. “They were driving Minis in The Italian Job!!!”

Shaking my head. Just shaking my head. “Did you have them airlift in some clothes, too?”

“Shit! I totally should have!” He appears to actually mean that.

“You should see your face,” he hoots. Feckin hoots, all half bent over from laughin.

And now he’s ignoring me. Suddenly I’m not even here. He only has eyes for his Mini. “Oh my god it’s so kawaii.”

His smile is kawaii.

“Go away,” he flaps a hand at me. “I want to fanboy freely and without judgment from a judgy Irishman.”

“Fine. I need to pack anyway.”

And off behind me I hear him call, “Wait! What am I gonna wear?”

Shaking my head. Just shaking my head.

————/-/————

I’ve gathered my gear, and I can see Simon out by the car park. I’m hitching up my pack, so it isn’t really until I’ve cleared all the foliage that I realize Simon is humping his Mini Cooper convertible. “All right?” I ask, tryin to keep a straight face.

“Oh, yes. All is definitely right,” he purrs.

“Have you turned her on, too?”

He slides off the car til his Converse hit the pavement with a slap.

Now he’s draping himself over the boot. I can’t help it that I’m laughing. Sometimes he hits me just right to set me to belly laughin. Doesn’t happen often with Simon, but when it does, he wears the greatest surprised happy face I’ve ever seen. This time there’s giggling. Off to a good start, which is good. Yes. Good.

I hesitate. “Look, mate. Will this thing actually fit us?” I eyeball the car. “I am quite seriously concerned that we might actually need the top down to ride in this thing. How tall are you, anyway?”

“Six feet. Why? How tall are you? Mate, get off the boot so I can shove this in there and we can go.” He does, and I do.

I have to say it, “Thanks for not getting the red, white, and blue one.” There is a god. Thank you, Poseidon.

“They were out of orange, white, and green, too,” he says with regret.

“You asked about the tricolor, did yeh?” Alright yes, he’s got me laughin again. Simon Lewis. Driving the Irish flag.

“Fuck out of the driver’s seat!” he’s suddenly roaring.

Blimey. He looks proper angry. I may have just flinched. “Don’t you want a car and a driver? No, serious, don’t yeh want me to drive, since I know the way?”

“Get the fuck out of the driver’s seat, Billy. Now!”

“Alright! Fine, fine. You’ll be usin GPS then, will yeh?”

“Si si si, certo.”

I groan. “This is all about to go so very-”

“Awesome,” he declares. “This is all about to continue to be awesome. Be the change, Billy. Be the change!”

“Oh my god Simon.”

“I can hear you rolling your eyes from here,” he says from behind the boot, which he slams shut a little too hard. I feel it in every moving piece of this tiny automobile. Bigger than a SMART car, so I suppose I shouldn’t be complainin.

Well, here’s hoping he’s still so enthused about it at the other end. “Gotta say, mate. I’m surprised you’d want to drive at all.”

“Why not?” he’s askin.

“Because mate, it’s Italy, innit. Famous for frightenin foreign drivers.” He has to remember what the drivin was like on our three other trips down this road. “Well,” I sigh. “At least you get to drive on the ‘right’ side of the road in Italy.”

—--/-/—--

“See? I told you you’d fit.”

“Alright man, you did,” I admit to the muppet.

“Come on, give it up…”

“What?” I’m not laughing, I promise. “Is she a smooth ride? I don’t know, man, why don’t yeh start her up ‘n find out?”

“Well there is that. So yeah,” he says as he pulls out of the car park and up to the mouth of the hotel driveway. “It’s to the left, right?”

“Em, yeah. Yes, the city of Naples is still in the general direction of left. Like the other three times we’ve done this road together.”

He rolls his eyes, and all is right and well with the world. Until the moment he pulls out onto the road. Then I’m brought up quick by the realization that between us we know fuck all about the convertible Mini Cooper. “Wait, where’s the GPS on her, for the flat’s address?”

“I dunno, check the screen thing.” So helpful, yer man Simon is.

“Do you even have an Italian driver’s license? Or insurance? I love this guy. How’ve yeh managed to live this long?” I pause for an answer, but none is forthcoming. “I mean, fucksake, Simon. You called someone to buy you a car and suddenly you’re on the road to Naples. Do you even know where the directionals are? Or like, the wipers? Should I be concerned for my safety?”

“Shoosh. Don’t jinx us,” he sternly admonishes me. “Do you need to have registration in Italy? Or insurance? I don’t know. Italy doesn’t really strike me as a big insurance-y type of country.”

“Fair point. But I take it you have….whatever, I dunno, papers and all that?” How is he like this?

“Don’t know. What’s in the glove box?” He makes a flappy gesture in the general direction of my knees.

“How are you like this? Were you actually born like this, or did it come with fame and wealth?”

“You mean, was I actually born a flaming asshole, or just become one?”

“Meh. Yeah ok,” I shrug. “We’ll go with that. So, what’ll it be?”

“Ow. Straight for the throat, Delaney.” His tone is recriminating as he protects his throat with both hands. “Uncool, man. Uncool.”

I’m flipping through the owner’s manual. Before long I’ve programmed everything, located the GPS, found Simon’s Only In Italy playlist, and even found the button to pop the bonnet. “There you go. It’s workin now.” I toss the manual in the glove box.

“What’s working?” he asks.

I shrug. “Everything, man. Everything.”

He barks out a laugh, the grumpy fuck, and I realize I’m laughing as well.

I plug in the address for the flat and immediately the voice pumping out the speakers is a woman speaking Italian. So I’m maniacally fumbling with it again, while Simon drives on in a fit of laughter.

“Aw, come on! Let’s see how we do in Italian,” he gasps out.

“Fucksake. See how we do in Italian.” Shaking my head.

“No, seriously. Let’s hear what she has to say, this ummmmm, what should we call her - Maria! Because obviously.”

“Certo.” That gets me another laugh.

“Santa Maria, Holy Madonna, show us the way, in Italiano,” Simon pleads in a truly horrendous Italian accent. “I am so happy right now.”

He says it with a laugh. Such a thing to so easily roll off the tongue. Fella I met a few months ago, I never would have pictured bein happy, let alone noticing it, naming it, declaring it. Nice to see. Unexpected, know what I mean?

“I don’t trust you when you’re quiet that long, Delaney.”

“Hm?”

“Exactly.”

Am I missing something?

“Ok, so.” He clears his throat. “We know who I am. Who are you? Let’s hear it. Who is Billy Delaney?”

Aw, man. Serious? “How long we got?” Please don’t make me.

“How would I know?” he shrugs. “Maria’s speaking your language, not mine.”

“Fair enough.” I hit play, hoping the music will make the conversation trail off from there. But of course it doesn’t, because this is Simon. Si. Certo.

“What. Do you have some horrible second identity thing going on? Are you really even Irish? Truth time, Delaney.”

“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine?”

“Yeah, ok,” says the cheeky monkey.

“Oh,” I answer, not sure how else to dodge Simon’s inquisition. Uh, erm….. “Soooo, what mate? What do you want to know?” I ask, though truthfully I wish he’d just let it go.

“Is your name really Billy Delaney, and are you actually even from Ireland at all?”

“Yes.”

“Boring.”

“Brief,” I counter.

“Obtuse,” he counters.

“Si.”

“Oh my god, Billy. So where are you from?”

“Ireland.”

He looks around us rapidly. “Is she going to start speaking Italian? Cuz we just passed Ercolano.”

“Already?”

“Yeah! I know, right? Time flies when you’re torturing someone for information. So should I panic?”

“Nah,” I reassure him. “We've a bit more road before we turn aside. Maria can sleep on.”

“Alright. But I swear to God, Billy. If you don’t start coughing up some details, I'm serious, I will pull this car over. Do I have to pull this car over, young man?”

“Wow, that’s forceful.” Cos it is. “Ow!” I flinch when he swats my shoulder with a backhand. “Fine, ye bastard. My name is actually Lola, but I go by Billy Delaney. And I’m only mostly joking. One of the summer cousins I used to play soccer with couldn’t say William when we were little. So for a few months every year, I was Lola. There. Was that not juicy enough for yeh?”

“Charming. But from that I got these few details: 1. You have cousins. Conceivably fertile ground. We could continue that way. 2. You play soccer, and you call it soccer. Isn’t that illegal outside the US? No- don’t answer that. I’m not finished. 3. You go someplace where there are cousins to play soccer with in summer. Are we even still in Ireland?”

Em. I just sort of sit here and wait.

“And you really don’t want to talk about this, do you?”

“You are so easily distracted,” I tease. “No, but seriously, here’s some details for yeh. I’m 27. Left Ireland at 18, after graduating culinary school, and was sent out to do my apprenticeship. That was at a manor house near Galway,” I say, wrapping up the conversation.

“And…..”

“That’s not enough?” I thought that was a fair bit of information, to be honest.

“Do I have to turn this car around, young man?”

“I fear I might be missin some essential cultural reference here, mate.”

“Don’t distract me with your distractions, Delaney. Feed me.”

And that’s when Maria tells us to turn left.

—--/Simon/—--

I can’t fuckin believe that there are Irish pubs in Italy. Nor can I believe I’m in one. I mean, where do real Italians go to watch soccer? This can’t be right.

“All right?” Billy asks the bartender.

“Howeyeh,” says the man back to him, and Billy’s eyes go comically wide.

Next thing I know, I’m bored stiff, pretending to find the intricacies of European football interesting with a Welsh guy named Barry.

And whoa, turns out Billy’s day-to-day accent is pretty washed out in comparison to the thickness of his accent when he’s speaking to his new BFF. They’re speaking so fast that I can’t understand a word through their accents and grammatical errors. Welsh is so much easier.

That is, until I hear a voice disturbingly similar to Billy’s, requesting a Bud.

I swing back around in time to see Billy’s new BFF nod at him and begin turning toward the draft beers.

“No! Wait,” I wave. “He’s only joking,” I say, emphatically shaking my head no.

“Oh,” the Irish bartender looks back to Billy in surprise. “Were you?”

What, he thinks I’m lying? “Course he was! Certo.”

“Why ‘of course’?!” Billy turns on his barstool to face me. “What the fuck, Simon?”

“Sorry if I fucked up your joke, dude, but don’t drag it out, ok?” I say under my breath.

Disparaging other people’s beer of choice is like a national pastime in Brooklyn, because it frequently employs irony, and we are naturally good at it from birth. Don’t blame him, he’s new.

“I’ll take that Bud,” Billy reiterates. “Ta, mate.” The barkeep returns his nod and goes about the business of it.

“Billy? We’ve talked about this. You swore you’re Irish. Were you lying to me? Are you a lying liar who lies?”

“Why do yeh say that?”

“Because you can’t – you’re not – you’re not, like, allowed to drink bad beer when you’re Irish. Isn’t that illegal? Or fatal, or something?”

The big ape is just lazing back against the bar, sipping his pint of piss beer, looking at me in amusement.

“You’re like a caricature of yourself sometimes, Simon, d’yeh know what I mean?”

“Fuckin- What?! That’s not very nice! I’m outraged.”

“You should see yerself, mate. Yeh look like your face is about ready to split down the middle and outrage’ll start pourin out like lava from the fissures.”

I stop and cock my head at him. “That was both specific and descriptive. Nice one. But that said, how dare you! I demand an apology.” I’m trying really hard to keep a straight face. He has no intention of making it easy for me.

“Apologize? For what?” He gives me a cock-eyed grin. Oh look, his cock eyes are doing that twinkly thing again.

“You have offended my good taste and have let down your countrymen and native soil. Or water or whatever it is that makes all beer taste better in Ireland. The least you could do is the decent thing and apologize to your countrymen, and me, and then hide it in your jacket where no one can see you sneaking sips!”

He laughs because he thinks I’m joking.

“Do you just not like beer at all? And that’s why you don’t order the good stuff?” I prod.

“Simon, you are such a snob,” he says, and goes right on twinkling.

“Correct. And if you’re going to drink cheap beer, for god’s sake, order PBR and salvage at least some of your self respect.”

“Do you know this man?” the bartender asks Billy. “Is he harassin yeh?”

Billy is now laughing so hard that he’s almost fallen off his stool.

“We know each other,” I reassure the barkeep. “Don’t know how long that’ll last, all considered, though. Check back for updates.” I raise my pint of Guinness in respect.

“It’s czech. Budvar,” the man informs me.

“Ah, no! Why’d yeh tell him, mate!” Billy raises his hands theatrically. I’m telling you, theatre school. “Yeh just had to put him out of my misery, yeah?”

“And my misery,” says the man.

—--/-/—--

Ok, so what is it with the whole pub drunkenly singing “oh-ay-oh-ay” at the top of their drunken lungs, sloshin beer out of their pint glasses, whenever Europeans play soccer. Mebbe they sing it in Southmerica, too. Butwhatevercuz I don’ really care.

If you can’t – beat em then join em. Thassmymott, um, -o. Thassmy motto. Motto.

Where’s Billy? I can’t see him. If thissperson would get out of the frickin way. He’s all backed up against my face’n I can’t see. Anything. Nothin to see here, folks. Move along, people, move along.

Where’s Billy? Oyeah, right right right. Right here in my face.

I figure it’ll be easier to keep track of him if I hold onto his belt loop. Or a pocket or something. Yeah, I’m just gonna hang on to his pocket.

Pocket.

I like the word pocket. Lossa hard consnits that pop. Pop.

Pop.

I like the word pop. It sounz like it pops. And it’s the same backwards and forwards an’itsall about the lips. Pop ’ing.

What? Where’s he going? I’m trailing after him with my hand in his pocket. He keeps pullin it out and I keep puttin it back in. Oth’wise I’m gonna get lost and then where would I be? Huh? I wouldn’t even know!

“Oh! Now I know where we are! We’re on the block where we’re were where gonna sleep.” If make it up th’stairs. But Billy’s helping. He’s nice like that.

“You’re nice like that,” I say with a big smile. “And you‘re funny lookin.”

Wait.

“Oops! I mean yerlookin funny at me right now. Whass funny? ‘m’I funny? ‘r’Juss funny lookin?”

I crack myself up. Like in real life, cuz I’m laughing. Right now. Sometimes iss hard to stop laughing but I’ll be ok.

“Billy. Billy! Hey, Billy. What’re you doing? Tryin to get in my pants? That tickles! Oh, hey! Did we win? I mean, I don’really care - just wonren.”

Hey! Tickles! “Stop that! How’dyou know I don’t wanna wear those? I’ll take ‘em off when I feel like it. Prollymaybe take ‘em off tomorrow. Hey! I was wearing that! And that!”

He’s very pushy. “You’re very pushy. Stop pushing!”

I land on the bed and it’s like fluffy clouds of teddybears. “K, fine. I’ll go to bed, jeez.” Alls I wanna do is bury my face in pillow, but can’t breathe when I do that.

“Don’t close the door all the way, Ma. And leave the hall light on, K? g’Night, love you too.”

————/-/————

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yandearest · 3 years

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May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 7: Natural Born Killers

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 9.5K

Warning: This chapter is very heavy with multiple deaths described in detail.

PLEASE AVOID READING IF YOU CONSIDER THIS CONTENT UPSETTING

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6

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You had remained with the girl’s body after her canon sounded. The momentary adrenaline rush from killing her attacker had faded and you were filled with despair at the sight of her lifeless eyes. It was strange how little guilt you were feeling, you had just killed someone – something you never thought you could actually do. Even though what he was about to do to the girl was disgusting, you were expecting to feel some sense of remorse over taking another life, but yet there was none. You remembered Hoseok’s vicious attack on seven from yesterday and shuddered, did you have more in common with him than you wanted to admit?

‘No.’ You shook your head, arguing with yourself. ‘He’s a monster, he took pleasure in his kill. I killed to protect someone else… But didn’t Hoseok kill to protect you?’

Disturbed by your conflicting emotions you hit your head against trunk of the tree, begging for the thoughts to leave your head. It was too much to try and process right now, especially with the girl’s body lying on the ground next to you. The impact on your skull and the rough bark grazing against your forehead provided a welcome distraction from your inner monologue.

For a moment, you thought that a whirring noise was coming from the ringing in your head, until you felt a blustering wind, along with surrounding leaves and twigs beginning to lift from the ground. Confused, you scrambled away from the girl and over to your bag. Shouldering the straps, you whipped your head around trying to see what the cause could possibly be, as the wind and whirring sound only grew stronger.

With nothing abnormal around you, you turned your gaze upwards to see an airship hovering just above the trees. A door along the bottom opened, and a large metal claw slowly began to lower through the leaves, knocking several branches out of the way. You stumbled backwards, not wanting to get in its way, and watched with sick fascination as the claw reached the boy. It hovered for a few seconds, getting its bearings, before the metallic arms began to retract. The gears whirred as they clasped around the body, some digging into the dirt below him, before they formed a tight grip with a sealed clunk. And then the claw was moving upwards, the thick cord retracting until it disappeared into the ship above.

It was such an odd sight, such an inhumane way to treat a dead child (‘the dead child you had just killed’). You just stood there staring, until the claw reappeared at the door, once again empty. You looked over to the girl’s body, regretfully knowing she would be taken next. But there was nothing you could do for her. You didn’t know if the airship could be giving away your location, or whether the other tributes would think to run in the opposite direction, but you didn’t want to stay and find out. Securing your bag, you turned your back and ran.

Two hours later it was difficult to see the sun through the leaves above, which made it hard to try and navigate. You were starting to run low on water and you had an idea to try and get to the edge of the pool behind the cornucopia, closer to the waterfall. Your idea was basically that people who wanted supplies would go to the cornucopia itself and those trying to run away would have gone in the opposite direction. If you could sneak along the edge of the forest, maybe you could reach the fall and stay hidden. Your plan had worked well, after finding where the edge of the forest neared the river, you had stayed hidden in the trees and made your way in the direction of the waterfall. When the cornucopia came into sight, you took a longer detour back inland through the trees, not wanting to risk coming into contact with any tributes who might be hiding so close to supplies.

You knew you were getting close when the sound of crashing water began to get louder, and more rocks started appearing in your path. A canon sounding very close by caused you to jump and momentarily forget your plan. Looking around you had to be at the cliff that would take you up towards the top of the fall. Remembering the careers from yesterday, you knew you definitely didn’t want to keep going in that direction. The noise of the canon seemed to have come from further inside the forest, close to where you had been walking through only moments ago. Climbing up the cliff wasn’t an option, and neither was staying in this part of the woods, so the waterfall remained your target. You let the noise of the water guide you and continued to made your way over – the surface becoming increasingly rockier the closer that you got.

The cornucopia came into view, in all of its temptation. It was across the other side of the rocks that you were traversing. It was less filled than yesterday; however, you could still spot an array of supplies scattered around. For the first time you felt your stomach rumble and you longed to run across and raid it for some of the fruit that you could see. But it was far too out in the open to be worth the risk. So, you continued towards the fall.

The closer you came, the more you were left in awe by the design of its structure. The rocks became harder to climb over, but you realized that they went behind the pounding curtain of water, into a cave. You were apprehensive. It was such a brilliant hiding spot, but being so close to the cornucopia you felt like another tribute had to have found it by now. However, someone could only have seen it if they had chosen to come closer to the fall, rather than the cornucopia, which wasn’t necessarily an expected move.

You didn’t want to take any chances, and pulled your knife out from your pocket, just to be extra careful. Doing your best to balance, and stay hidden between the large rocks, you slowly made your way closer to the water’s edge. Once there you crouched down, repeatedly checking behind your back to make sure no one was trying to sneak up on you, and filled up your container. Once full, you put the cap on and then began to try and scrub off the lingering traces of blood that were staining your hands.

It was as you were finishing up that you spotted a moving figure through a crack between the rocks, in the direction of the woods. You sprung to your feet and quickly hid behind the closest rock. Making sure to check behind your shoulder first (in case anyone was trying to sneak up on you whilst you were distracted), you peered out from behind the boulder to see your worst fear – Hoseok and Namjoon working together.

You spun back around, your back hitting the rock, as you pressed yourself against surface. They definitely hadn’t seen you yet as they were moving towards the cornucopia and neither of them had been looking over in your area. You recalled the canon from before and instantly knew it had to be their work. Your heart was racing and a tightness was beginning to seize across your chest making it harder to breathe. You wished you could somehow melt into the rock and hide inside until these games were over, but you knew it wasn’t a realistic option. Staying outside here would be far too risky with them so close by. The forest wasn’t safe as they would very likely see you if you tried to run back now. Your best option was the cave behind the fall, as it was surrounded with large rocks for cover, and neither of them seemed to know of its existence. The possibility of another tribute being inside no longer scared you when the two worst tributes in the arena were so close by.

Using the rocks as a shield, you scrambled the last remaining meters to the fall. Once safe behind the curtain of raging water you stood in awe of the size of the cave within. The boulders from outside seemed to morph into smoother steps that lead upwards and further inside the cliff structure. There was still no sign of any other life inside, but you kept a firm grip on your knife in case of any hidden attacks. The higher you climbed, the drier the rock below your boots became. With the waterfall keeping you hidden from the outside, you deliberately allowed your footsteps to echo throughout the cave in order to alert anyone inside. You weren’t here to fight.

When you reached the top of the rock steps you found a smooth plateau and the first sign of life. There was a makeshift camp of a few supplies – a sleeping bag, a pot, and flint – set up around the ashes of an extinguished fire. The coals still had a faint tinge of orange, so someone still had to be close by.

“Hello… Is anyone here?”

You called out, but were only met with the sound of your voice bouncing back off the walls.

The sleeping bag looked like it had some sort of shape underneath it, so you slowly walked over, wondering if anyone was still inside. You didn’t want to come off as threatening, but you also weren’t stupid enough to approach someone without a weapon, so you hid your knife behind your back.

“I’m [Y/N] from Four, I ran away from the careers. Two and Four are at the cornucopia now.”

The closer you moved towards the bag, the darker the cave became, but you could still faintly make out some sort of shape. You frowned, why wasn’t the person responding to you?

“Please, I’m just want to hide,” you lowered your voice as you reached the bag.

“I promise I don’t want to hurt you.”

You tapped at the bag with your foot but were met with a hard feeling beneath your toe.

Rocks?

A trap

Leaping away from the sleeping bag, you narrowly dodged the swing of a machete from a figure hiding in the shadows by less than an inch.

“But I want to hurt you”

The voice of your attacker was feminine, but you had no idea who the person is.

“Are you fucking crazy, I’m trying to offer you an alliance against the careers,” you swore as you shuffled backwards, trying to put some distance between yourself and your opponent.

“No thanks. I had one until your boyfriend killed him…” The girl continued to follow you, and as she steps further into the light, you recognize her from District 7

“…And I’d like to return the favor.”

She swung the machete again, and you narrowly ducked with a shriek, rolling towards the edge of the plateau. You just managed to catch yourself from rolling off the edge, but before you could get to your feet, Seven charged at you with another swing of her blade.

You brought your knife up to block it, which she clearly didn’t expect. She’s too stunned by the fact you stopped her attack to block your leg that kicked up and into her stomach. She hunched over and gasped, barely keeping her grip on her weapon after having the wind knocked out of her. You didn’t give her the opportunity to catch her breath. There was no time for guilt or doubt as you thrust your knife upwards. It sunk in between her ribs with a broken scream, causing her to finally release her grip on the machete. It clattered to the ground beside you as you pulled your knife out.

She was still alive, her hands pressing against the bleeding wound as she stood above you. The previous sight of your would-be-killer is gone, replaced by a scared girl who knows she’s going to die. You can’t exactly blame her for trying to kill you – after all your alliance tortured her district member – but there’s no point in feeling sorry for her now. The best you could do is give her a faster death than her partner. Getting to your feet, you stabbed her again, this time in the stomach. She made a strangled gurgle, coughing up blood as you ripped your knife back out. She moved to try and grab for the machete, but stumbled over her feet and instead slipped off the edge of the plateau.

You looked over the side with morbid curiosity, to see her body had landed amongst the rocky water at the bottom. The pool below is a violent mess of currents created from the waterfall and you watched as her body was quickly pulled under to the sound of a canon.

“I’m almost disappointed by how easy this has been,” Namjoon commented as he picked up a small sack of rice and tossed it into the water. Since disposing of Krystal, the duo hadn’t so much as seen a trace from another tribute on their way to the cornucopia. They had arrived with ease and quickly finished stocking both their backpacks with food items. It was when they discovered there would still be plenty left for other tributes that Hoseok had come up with the idea of throwing whatever they couldn’t take with them into the river.

“If only [Y/N] was that easy to find,” Hoseok muttered in response. Between tossing away any food he came across, he was also searching for more arrows.

“Nothing good is ever easy, she can’t hide forever.”

*boom*

The noise of a canon stopped them both in their place, it had sounded very close by. Namjoon looked around in a circle to see if there was any sign of an airship, whilst Hoseok suspiciously eyed the waterfall. The canon had definitely come from that direction. It was too high to see their camp up the top, but in his mind the noise had sounded closer. For a few minutes there was an uneasy silence, until he spotted something in the water.

“Over there”

Hoseok tapped Namjoon on the arm and pointed towards a figure that was emerging from the raging waters. Forgetting about throwing away food, the two moved towards the edge of the cornucopia’s rock to try and see the body. The water near the fall was a violent mess of waves, before it smoothed out into an eerily placid pool by the cornucopia rock’s edge. They watched as the body was tossed around, pulled underneath the currents, until it eventually drifted further way from the fall and resurfaced closer in their direction.

“It’s a girl,” Namjoon commented as they watched the body float closer.

It was difficult to see any details, but they could both tell the body was too big to be one of the younger tributes. There were no male tributes with hair long enough to tie into a ponytail, which gave away the fact it was a girl. With Athena having short hair, Krystal being killed earlier, and four known female tributes having died yesterday, they both mentally ran through which older females were still left in the games.

“You don’t think it could be…”

“No.”

They were both thinking the same thing, but there was no way Hoseok would allow Namjoon to say your name out loud.

It wasn’t you; it couldn’t be you. There was no way that you could have been taken from Hoseok without him feeling it inside. You were tied together and the second you left this world he would be able to feel it like a tether had snapped, right? He had no idea what he would do if you died before he was able to reach you in these games. It was a given that he would kill whoever was responsible in the most excruciating manner possible, but afterwards? Probably a rage induced rampage until he was the only person left, before killing himself. If you weren’t together with him at the end, then no one could win.

Hoseok followed the body along the rock as it drifted, until it was close enough for him to be able to reach. He could hear the sound of an approaching airship, but he had to see who it was with his own eyes first. Leaning over, he grabbed the body by its jacket and pulled it close enough for him to flip over. His sigh of relief upon seeing some insignificant nobody was audible.

“Not her,” he called to Namjoon, who had followed behind him.

“Stab wounds…” Namjoon acknowledged, nodding at the two bleeding cuts in the body. A solid incision between the ribs and a deeper wound in the stomach.

“From someone who knows how to handle a knife…"

Hoseok’s words trailed off at the end as he recalled your training in the arena. Particularly, your skill with throwing knives. The boys looked at each other, both knowing what the other was thinking. You were very close by. Looking at the waterfall where the body had appeared, there was nothing to suggest that you were around. If it weren’t for the fact that you were trying to stay away from him, Hoseok would have been proud that his girl was so good at keeping herself hidden.

“Look over there”

Hoseok’s head snapped over to the direction Namjoon was pointing at, but couldn’t see anything.

“What am I looking for?”

“The rocks. I didn’t notice before, but look how they trail behind the waterfall. I think there’s something back there… more importantly, someone.”

In an instant Hoseok was at his feet, the body below him forgotten about entirely. His bow and quiver of arrows were already on his shoulder.

“Leave the supplies here, we can come back for them when we have YN,” Hoseok instructed as he walked over to pick up some rope from the cornucopia. He doesn’t want to have to restrain you, but given you ran away it’s not like you’ve left him much choice.

Eying the rope in Hoseok’s hands and the knife in his own, a dangerous smile flashed across Namjoon’s face.

“Let’s go get our girl.”

The guilt you were wondering why you didn’t feel earlier, seemed to crash down upon you all at once. With a horrified gasp you, were hyperventilating over the reality you had now killed two people in one day. You didn’t want to, you didn’t mean to, you knew that you had to otherwise it would have been you that was dead. But it didn’t make the reality any less awful. You wondered what your father would be thinking if he was watching. He had been the one to train you with a knife in case that your name was ever called, but could he handle the reality of actually seeing you kill other kids? What about your mother? She was already dead, what if she was waiting for you to join her in peace, but you were sending other children to her instead?

You felt sick, but there wasn’t any food in your system to throw up. Instead, all you could do was dry reach and cough as you backed away from the ledge of the plateau. Maybe you should throw yourself over into the rocks to drown. You didn’t deserve to live as a killer. But then wouldn’t that make those deaths meaningless? And as selfish as it sounded, you didn’t want to die a painful death. You were scared. Scared to die, scared to suffer, scared to survive and have to live with yourself if you made it.

You crawled backwards until you felt your hand touch something soft. You flinched in surprise, looking down to see the sleeping bag from seven’s camp. It felt wrong to even consider, but you couldn’t help but think it would be a nice spot to hide out for a while. There was shelter and more importantly, warmth. You weren't exactly in the mood to return to the woods again and have to climb another tree. You shrugged your backpack off your shoulders and tried to distract your racing thoughts with the task of pulling the rocks out of the sleeping bag that seven had stuffed inside.

As you worked, you could hear the sound of rocks crunching. At first you thought it was just the sounds of the ones inside the bag as you moved them, but then you paused, and you could still hear the noise. It was hard to hear anything over the sound of the waterfall, but you had a bad feeling. You fumbled for your backpack and began to slide further backwards into the darkness of the cave.

“[Y/N]”

You feel as if your blood has turned to ice at the sound of Hoseok calling your name. How the hell could he possibly know that you were here?

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…

You shuffled backwards until you hit a rock. You couldn’t see anything in the darkness around you, and you could only pray that darkness would keep you hidden from him. You curled your knees into your chest and tried to shrink yourself as small as possible, clutching onto your knife, which would be your only hope of escape if he found you up here.

“Son of a bitch!”

You flinched at the sound of Namjoon’s cursing, and felt yourself panicking. Hoseok on his own was bad enough but Namjoon with him was too much. You doubted you could take one of them in a fight, but you knew that both of them would be impossible. You didn’t know what Hoseok’s plans with you were, but you swore you would rather die on your own than find out. You might not be able to fight them both, but you still had your knife, maybe you could take yourself out on your own terms.

“What?” Hoseok barked, his voice getting closer as he began to climb the rock steps.

“Some little shit is stealing our bag.”

That caused him to pause. Whilst the careers did have some basic supplies back at their camp, because they had thrown away a lot of the other food at the cornucopia, they needed those bags.

“Go stop the prick then, I’ll meet you out there with [Y/N].”

Namjoon nodded with a pissed off frown, turning around and heading back out of the fall the same way that he came. He hated when his plans were interrupted and he was going to make whatever moron thought they could steal from him pay.

You had no idea what bags they were talking about, but felt a sliver a of relief over Namjoon leaving. At least you had a fighting chance now if Hoseok found you. You could hear the sound of Hoseok’s footsteps coming closer, as he continued to climb.

“[Y/N]~” Hoseok’s voice echoed throughout the cave as he sung out your name in a sickeningly sweet call.

“Why are you hiding from me, angel? You should know that I would never hurt you.”

His steps continued to get closer and you clasped one hand over your nose and mouth to try and muffle the sound of your breathing. You tried to breathe as slowly and quietly as humanly possible.

“If it’s over how I tortured that boy from seven, I only did that because he tried to hurt you. But if you want, I’ll make all my other kills quick and painless. I’d do anything for you.”

The sound of his footsteps reaching the plateau kept you paralyzed in fear. He was here, there was no escape anymore. You clenched your eyes shut and prayed that the darkness could keep you covered.

Hoseok’s brows furrowed as he reached the top level and saw the abandoned camp. There were visible signs of a struggle from the earlier fight, but he couldn’t see anything else. The sleeping bag was barely visible in the darkness, but he could vaguely tell there were rocks nearby and some still inside of the bag. So that dead girl had tried to set a trap, but you were too clever. Again, he felt a combination of pride and frustration. If only you weren’t so afraid of him, you would be unstoppable together.

If his vision was to go by, you weren’t here. There weren’t any rocks to hide behind and it was possible you could have run in the opposite direction than where Namjoon and himself had approached from. But why did you feel so close? He narrowed his eyes and tried to squint further into the darkness, how deep did that cave go? Could you possibly be hiding in plain sight?

He pursed his lips, preparing to walk closer before the sound of a canon stopped him in his tracks.

Yoongi was in a bad mood.

After his argument with Krystal, he had been left alone to fish up the stream, but he had a lingering sense of unease. Why didn’t she understand that he was only looking out for her best interest? He didn’t sign up for these games to protect her just to watch her get killed for some stranger. It’s not that he hated you, or wanted you to die. He felt sorry for you and the way that Hoseok had singled you out, but it was better you than Krystal.

His luck with fishing had been mediocre. He had been apprehensive to use their food supplies for bait in case there weren’t actually any fish in the river. On the plus side it turned out there were indeed fish, but on the negative, the ones he had managed to catch were tiny. He lost track of how long he had been fishing for, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his face after such a freezing night, when he was snapped out of his peace by the sound of a canon.

Something was wrong.

He couldn’t put his instincts into words, it didn’t make any logical sense, but he had a very, very bad feeling. It was like a part of him had collapsed inside of his chest.

‘Where’s Krystal?’

Surely, she would be back at camp, just like she was supposed to be?

He tried to shake off the feeling, canons were a normal part of the games, if Krystal was smart then she would still be with Athena. On her own Krystal was a formidable opponent, and Athena was a powerhouse. The only real threat that could take those two were the other careers, but they were all back down the cliff. She should be fine… so why didn’t it feel like she was?

With a huff, Yoongi wheeled in his wire and tossed the coil into the bucket. He would try fishing again later, using the smaller fish as bait. But first he had to go and find Krystal to put his mind at ease. He dipped the bucket into the river to fill it up with a little water, in order to keep the bait fresh in the meantime, then began his walk back to the campsite.

When he rounded the corner of the river that led to the waterfall, he felt his stomach drop upon seeing Athena alone at the campsite.

“Athena! Where’s Krystal” He yelled.

Her head jerked up from picking through a pile of different sticks, organizing them into different firewood. She seemed surprised, but Yoongi just thought that was from how loudly he had yelled at her.

“YOONGI, LOOK OUT!” Athena screamed back at him.

‘Look out for what? We need to look for Krystal?’

But his confused thought was interrupt by a searing pain running through his thigh. Gasping in agony, he was in so much pain he couldn’t even scream. Looking down he saw the long blade of a machete protruding out of his leg. Before Yoongi could even react, he was struck across the back of the head, whilst someone else landed a kick to his speared leg. Disorientated from the pain, the two attackers were easily able to manhandle him face down into the river.

Athena leapt up to help, but was met with a rope being wrapped around her neck from behind. The pressure instantly cut off her air, causing her to choke as she desperately clawed for the rope. But whoever had attacked her had miscalculated their strength. Once she was able to get a grip on the rope around her neck, Athena didn’t waste time trying to pull it away. Instead, she used her hold for leverage and rolled her body forward, causing the girl behind her to come flying over her shoulder.

Laying sprawled out on her back District 8 realized she had made a terrible mistake, but it was too late for her. Athena snatched a nearby spear from the weapons pile and drove it straight down into the girl’s stomach. After ripping the point out, Athena kicked her sharply in the side, sending her rolling into the rushing waters. Whether it was from the stab wound, drowning, or falling onto the rocks below, all Athena cared about was the sound of the canon that followed.

Spear in hand, she raced up the bank to save Yoongi.

One down, two to go.

Hoseok was quick to dismiss the sound of the canon as Namjoon taking care of the boy trying to steal from them, but his head turning towards the direction he thought the sound came from caused him to see a falling silhouette through the waterfall.

“What the fuck?”

He didn’t care for his allies atop the waterfall, but the odds for his plans in the games were better if they could stay alive until the outlier tributes were taken care of. He cast a quick scan around the cave for any sign that you were there, but seeing nothing he huffed and started climbing back down.

You couldn’t believe your luck.

After everything that had gone wrong so far in the arena, the moment you were seconds away from being found by your worst nightmare, something managed to distract him.

You should have felt guilty that the distraction came in the form of another person dying, but you were to high strung to properly register that. Listening to the sound of Hoseok’s footsteps, you waited until he was at the bottom of the steps before slowly moving forwards. Not wanting to risk being seen or heard, you slowly crawled your way to the edge to see Hoseok disappearing back out the side of the waterfall that he had come in from.

There was no way you were going to remain in the same place and risk being caught if he came back. Making sure your backpack was still secure, you climbed your way back down the same steps. But when you reached the bottom, you hurried along the rocks under the fall in the opposite direction that Hoseok had left.

Namjoon and the boy from 10 on the cornucopia had been trapped in a stalemate ever since Namjoon had returned from the waterfall. The boy had been distracted with filling up a bag as quickly as possible that he initially didn’t notice Namjoon sneaking up on him, but a movement in his peripheral version alerted him to the career’s presence. His head snapped up, as he saw him coming back to the cornucopia. Namjoon held the boy’s eyes with a dangerous stare that screamed one thing; ‘you’re dead, kid’.

There were barely any supplies left, the rock was sparse and the last remaining good items were now in the bag slung over his shoulder. Clearly Namjoon had to want what was in the bag if he was coming back for it.

“Don’t come any closer, or I’ll drop it!”

The break in his voice severely reduced the impact of his words, but the boy dangled the bag over the side of the water to show that he was serious.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, clearly not taking the threat seriously as he continued to walk, forwards, only to stop when the boy released the bag entirely. The boy caught the bag by the handle, but held it back up over the side of the edge once more.

‘So, he’s quick,’ Namjoon internally assessed as he held up his hands in a mock surrender.

“You have something of mine that I want back,” Namjoon nodded to the bag.

“If it was yours you would have taken it with you,” the kid snapped back.

“Everything in this arena is mine, including your life. Drop the bag on the rock and your death won’t be a painful one,” Namjoon threatened as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to showcase his muscular triceps that were probably three times the width of the scrawny teenage boy’s.

“Come any closer and your bag will be thrown to the bottom of your river”

Namjoon longed to rush the boy and slam his head against the rock to teach him some respect, but the bag of supplies kept him rooted to the spot. Meanwhile the boy was tossing up his options. The boy from 10 knew that he was fast, but the weight of the bag would slow him down, and it was possible Namjoon could catch him. But if he dropped the bag his odds of outrunning him into the forest were much higher. But the boy wanted the bag just as much as the careers did. He hadn’t eaten since the start of the games. He had scarfed down a protein bar whilst cramming supplies into the bag, but he didn’t think he was going to last long in the forest without anything.

And so, the two stood eyeing each other down, neither willing to cut the loss of the bag, not even a body flying over the edge of the waterfall to the sound of a canon could distract them. However, Namjoon could still see Hoseok resurfacing out the side of the fall.

Hoseok could be brash but he wasn’t an idiot. Seeing the boy holding the bag over the water and Namjoon with his hands up, he could tell that there was some sort of bargain happening. With the boy’s arm over the water, it wasn’t like he could just shoot him with an arrow, without the bag falling in. Being within Namjoon’s line of sight, and with the boy having his back to him, Hoseok sent Namjoon a signal to let him know he would approach quietly.

Keeping his hands raised, Namjoon began to walk around the boy. He maintained the same distance, moving clockwise around the rock with lazy steps.

“You’re not getting off this rock with that bag,” he taunted as he walked, deliberately keeping the boy’s attention away from Hoseok, who was moving closer towards their direction.

“As a matter of fact, you won’t be getting off this rock alive at all”

“Then there wouldn’t be much sense in me keeping a hold of this bag then,” ten sneered.

“The second you drop the bag, is the second you die and you know it,” Namjoon replied coolly as he continued to pace.

“Not unless I make a trade”

Namjoon barked out a laugh.

“For you to make a trade you would need to have something I want. The only thing I want is that bag.”

“Oh really?” Ten asked with a knowing grin starting to crawl across his face.

Namjoon rolled his eyes at the audacity of the kid to think he could possibly strike a bargain, but he had to admit it was somewhat amusing.

“And what else could you possibly have?”

“I saw you and two earlier, I know you’re looking for your district partner. I also saw where she went”

There was a hint of glee in ten’s voice, like he was aware of a hilarious inside joke and Namjoon didn’t like it one bit.

“Bullshit,” he called.

At this reaction, ten outright giggled.

“I know you were tracking her, and that you killed that other career. But I also saw where she was going, and you were both so close.”

“And what makes you think that I believe you?”

Whether Namjoon believed him or not, having the boy keep talking was an excellent way to stall for time as Hoseok continued to get closer. With Namjoon now on the other side of the rock, it was only a matter of time before they had the kid trapped between them.

“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?”

Namjoon let out an exasperated sigh.

“No shit, we’ve all seen her at training and the interviews. Hardly proves you saw her today.”

Ten fumbled the bag slightly, his arm starting to burn with lactic acid from holding it over the water for so long. Bringing it down to the ground, he placed a foot on top, easily able to kick it into the river if he wanted. It was in the process of doing this that he caught sight of Hoseok approaching from his peripheral vision.

“Tell him to stop right now, or I kick the bag,” he immediately threatened.

“Hoseok!” Namjoon yelled, before making a cutting gesture across his throat, to get him to pause.

Hoseok reluctantly listened, coming to a stop just slightly further away from the boy than where Namjoon was on the other side of the cornucopia.

“So now what? I drop the bag and I die, or I give you the bag and I die” Ten deadpanned as he looked between the careers on either side of him, not exactly liking his options.

“Sounds about right to me,” Hoseok grinned, sliding the bow off his shoulder and preparing to load an arrow from his quiver.

“If you shoot me now then I can’t tell you where your girl is.”

Hoseok paused his hand right as it touched upon an arrow.

“Where is she,” he demanded.

Namjoon mentally slammed his palm against his forehead, of course Hoseok would be too blinded by his obsession with you, and buy into this bargain.

“I’m not just going to tell you so you can kill me. Look I can see there’s no situation here where I leave alive with the bag, so I’ll drop it. Here,” Ten paused to toss the bag a few feet in front of himself.

“Walk towards me and let me walk past you” Ten gestured towards Hoseok “and I’ll tell you where she is.”

Hoseok nodded curtly whilst Namjoon just rolled his eyes. He thought Hoseok was a lovesick fool, but was satisfied with the fact they at least had the bag back again.

The walk across the rocks began, ten deliberately tried to walk in a path that would create a gap in width between his body and Hoseok’s when they met. Hoseok read this and navigated himself in a way to lessen that distance, in case Ten tried to run without giving him the information that he wanted.

Meanwhile Namjoon walked towards the direction of the bag to retrieve it, but spotted something from the corner of his eye. There was some sort of shape in the rocks near the waterfall. He knew he should probably be paying attention in case Ten thought it was a good idea to jump his teammate, but Hoseok was strong enough to take care of himself, and this weird shape was bothering him. It was hard to see over the mist that sprayed up from the crashing impact, and when he squinted his eyes to look, it was like it was never there at all. For a moment he dismissed it as a bird until it moved again. A blur ducking up and then disappearing behind the closest rock. And then suddenly it clicked – why Ten had been laughing when talking about how close they apparently were to you before. The boy had seen you…

“HOSEOK!” He bellowed right before the two boys were about to pass each other “SHE WAS INSIDE THE CAVE. SHE’S MAKING A BREAK OUT THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FALL”

Whatever luck you had acquired for Hoseok to leave inside the cave, seemed to have vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. You couldn’t hear the words that Namjoon had yelled over the rumbling noise of water crashing nearby, but you could see him pointing in your direction.

For a split second you all froze. You were caught like a deer in headlights, Namjoon was pointing at you, Hoseok looked livid and the boy from ten was scared to death. There was barely any distance between Ten and Hoseok. They were less than six feet apart, with Hoseok blocking the way to the forest, and Ten had just lost his only bargaining chip seconds away from managing to escape. With no weapon on his body, and no way to get around the armed career in front of him, he made a split-second decision to turn back around. If he was going to die, then he wasn’t going to let those careers get that bag, He’d kick it into the river if it was the last thing he did.

Immediately, chaos erupted.

You took off into a sprint across the rocks. You no longer had to worry about remaining hidden and put all your focus on speed. There was no point in prioritizing your safety on the dangerous surface either – it was either get away, or die. You’d risk slipping and breaking your neck than winding up caught between Hoseok and Namjoon any day. Using every ounce of instinct built from years living on the coast, climbing your boat, and scaling rocks near the sea, you made a break for the forest.

Being the closest, Namjoon would have pursued you, if wasn’t for ten turning around. Reading his move for the bag Namjoon had to race him for it, which was in the opposite direction that you were running. Hoseok and ten were both the same speed, so it was down to him being closer to save their supplies.

“No! Get her! GET HER!” Hoseok yelled to Namjoon as he watched you slipping through his fingers, whilst you ran closer to the forest’s edge.

But Namjoon ignored the demand, leaping onto the bag just seconds before Ten’s foot could make contact with a kick. Instead, Namjoon took the hit to his side and rolled, causing ten to go flying over the top of him.

Ten landed with a sickening crunch. He had thrown his arms out to break the fall, only to break his wrist on impact with the rock. Despite the agony, he used the momentum to keep rolling and fell off the side, into the water below. Namjoon sat up with a grunt, with his water experience, swimming the boy down wouldn’t be a problem, except Hoseok was about to beat him to it.

With his bow loaded, Hoseok shot an arrow straight into the shoulder of ten. The boy let out a muffled scream as he fell underneath the surface, no longer able to swim. With ten no longer a threat, Hoseok looked up to try and find where you were, to see you were right at the border between the rocks and the forest edge.

You had made it to the trees and stopped to look behind to see if you were being chased, when you witnessed Hoseok shoot the boy from ten. You thought that would be it, that he would be left to drown now that he could no longer swim, or that Hoseok would fire a second arrow to be certain. Instead, you found yourself rooted to the spot as Namjoon reached into the water and pulled ten back up to the surface by the arrow stuck inside of his body. As Namjoon continued to drag a screaming ten out of the water, and back up onto the cornucopia rock, Hoseok stood at his side, pointedly staring at you.

Your eyes were locked onto his, trying to read what he was going to do next. You leaned against the closest tree as you tried to suck in deep breaths. Your lungs burned from sprinting over the rocks, but you had to be ready to run again into the forest at any moment. In return Hoseok was eerily still. He watched the rise and fall of your chest with every breath you took, studied the flush of red across your cheeks and beads of sweat trickling from your forehead, and thought of the ways in which he would love to elicit such a response from your body. He ached to run and take you into his arms so he could feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, but knew that you would disappear into the forest the second he tried to. So, instead he chose to drag those seconds out as long as possible, just watching you breathe from a distance to find comfort in knowing you were still alive.

The sound of the canon had distracted the two boys that were holding Yoongi under the water. Turning their heads over towards the sound they were hoping to see Athena dead and the other girl from eight returning to help them take care of the last person at camp, but were met with the sight of an enraged Athena running in their direction.

“Shit! What the fuck do we do?” The boy from district 8 hissed, as he maintained his pressure on Yoongi’s neck to keep him face down under the water.

“How the fuck should I know?” the boy from district 9 snapped back, “You’re the genius who said your partner could take care of her”

“I thought she could! How hard is it to sneak up and kill someone from behind?”

“Too hard apparently”

“WATCH OUT!”

The two boys’ bickering was cut short by eight shoving nine to the side and narrowly avoiding the spear that Athena had thrown.

“That was clos-”

Eight’s sigh of relief was cut short by a second spear landing in his throat.

Nine released a horrified scream at the gruesome vision. The canon hadn’t sounded yet as eight was barely clinging to life, choking out gargled breaths as blood spilled profusely down his neck and into the water below. Nine was so preoccupied by the sight that he didn’t even notice that Yoongi had surfaced from the water. With an agonized grunt, Yoongi pulled the blade of the machete out of his leg and swung it straight into the kid’s head.

Two canons sounded one after the other as the boys died simultaneously.

With the surge of adrenaline fading as quickly as it had appeared, Yoongi collapsed on the shore, vomiting up the water he had been forced to swallow whilst being held under. His injured leg was throbbing, he had a splitting headache and his chest felt like someone had been sitting on it. He was barely conscious when Athena caught up to him and dragged him further out of the water, to make sure he didn’t get caught in the stream and sent over the waterfall.

Pulling her button up shirt from her body (leaving just a tank top underneath), Athena set to work on creating a makeshift tourniquet by tying the sleeves tightly above the wound.

“You know, I could easily just kill you now,” Athena mused.

Yoongi’s response was a laugh in the form of a sharp huff. It was true, he was defenseless. The machete had been lodged into nine’s skull and taken away with his body. He now had no weapon and a major injury in his leg, whilst Athena was a skilled hand to hand combat fighter. She could also easily run back to the weapons at their camp before he could even struggle to his feet.

“So why don’t you?” he grunted, closing his eyes and letting his head fall onto the ground below.

Yoongi knew his shot at the games was practically over with such a severe injury. His bad feeling over Krystal was only made worse by the surprise attack from the three tributes. What if they had killed her when she went off to have a bathroom break earlier? She hadn’t been seen in hours and there were far too many canons that had sounded today. If Krystal was dead then there was no purpose for him to be here anymore, though he hoped to at least wait to see the tribute display in the evening and confirm Krystal was gone before entirely giving up.

“Hoseok and Namjoon,” Athena sighed in response.

Though his eyes were closed, Yoongi raised an eyebrow, indicating for her to elaborate.

“What do you think those two would think if they came back and saw you dead in camp and your sister missing too? They’d probably act like I did it and kill me on the spot for betraying the alliance.”

“That sucks,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Yeah, it does,” Athena laughed. Nothing about the situation was actually funny, but it was such a surreal experience it was all she could do.

“But you know what else sucks?” She continued, earning a questioning grunt from Yoongi.

“That this wouldn’t have even happened if Hoseok and Namjoon didn’t go off on their stupid search for YN. The weird obsession with her, it’s literally insane.”

“I don’t get it either,” Yoongi sighed.

“I’m sick of it. They left us here to die, maybe Krystal already has…”

Yoongi flinched.

“Sorry. But for what? A stupid crush they’re going to have to kill in the end anyway. I didn’t get my name pulled out of that bowl just so I could die as a side character in some weird love story.”

“So, what are you going to do about it? Jump them when they come back to camp?”

Athena scoffed at the suggestion.

“Tempting but I think we both know they’re stronger than I am. I might take down one of them with me but I couldn’t get both. And it’s not like you’d be much help there either.”

“I offer you my complete moral support” Yoongi deadpanned.

Athena barked out another laugh.

“I’ve got nothing,” she sighed. “Maybe we have that in common, and maybe we should at least watch each other’s backs.”

Yoongi opened his eyes and looked up to see Athena staring down at him.

The pain of potentially losing Krystal was still too raw for him to properly process, especially without any closure of knowing that it had really happened (though every instinct in his gut told him she was gone). But he had been so focused on his goal of protecting his sister he hadn’t given much thought to any of his other teammates.

Athena looked tough and intimidating, she scored high in trials and interviewed well. By all standards she was just another typical career, but the reality was she was also human. Yet another sacrifice to the capitol, just like his sister and just like himself. With Krystal, he had someone he loved with him, but Athena had no one. Her closest thing to a partner, in her district mate, had abandoned her for a prettier girl like a child distracted by a shinier new toy. If they were both doomed to die here, then the least he could do was make sure she wasn’t entirely alone.

“Yeah, I think we should”.

The sound of two back-to-back canons cut short whatever moment you were having with Hoseok. It was a slap across the face reminder that this was a game to kill until the last person standing, and the man standing across the rocks from you would ultimately have to try and kill you, no matter what sweet promises he made.

“YN wait, please!” you heard him beg as you broke eye contact, but you didn’t look back again as you turned and vanished into the forest.

“FUCK!” Hoseok screamed in frustration, launching a kick into the ten’s shoulder, the same one he had shot the arrow into. If he couldn’t have you now then he was going to make the little shit who ruined his plans pay.

Namjoon took a step back, and picked up the bag of supplies. He then walked over to a nearby rock and set the bag down in front of him, perfectly secured between his legs. Unzipping the top, he reached inside and dug out an apple, biting in as Hoseok ripped the arrow completely out of ten’s shoulder. Namjoon watched nonchalantly as Hoseok reloaded the arrow and shot it into ten’s other shoulder, the younger boy writhing in agony below.

The torture continued as Namjoon ate his snack. Hoseok would pull the arrow out of ten’s body by twisting it painfully, before reloading and shooting it again into another non-lethal area. His arms and legs were more like a bloody human pin cushion by the time Namjoon had finished a second apple and decided he was bored.

“We should get back to camp,” he declared, shouldering the bag.

Hoseok turned his attention to Namjoon with a raised brow.

“Those two canons earlier, and the one before that, we should check on Athena and Yoongi.”

Hoseok opened his mouth to argue before Namjoon cut him off.

“I don’t care about them either, however it would benefit us to know if they are still alive and who attacked them if they’re not. If there are other tributes working together, we need to take care of them before they go after YN next.”

Hoseok rolled his neck to stare up at the sky with an exhausted sigh. He knew Namjoon was right, and self-indulgent torture sessions weren’t going to get you back.

“Good,” Namjoon confirmed with a smile, before leaning down and snapping ten’s neck with his bare hands.

Another canon.

It took slightly longer than an hour for Namjoon and Hoseok to climb the cliff and return to the campsite, where they were met with the sight of Athena wrapping a bandage around Yoongi’s thigh. The duo was informed the first aid kit was a gift from a sponsor and that the Yoongi and Athena were ambushed by three tributes, all now dead. When Yoongi asked if they had seen Krystal, Namjoon denied anything and asked if they heard any canons before they were attacked. Athena confirmed there had been, and Yoongi had broken down crying.

Hoseok left the other boy to grieve, knowing his sister was dead long before the nightly display confirmed it. Laying down in the tent, he longed to run into the forest and find you right at this second. However, he knew he needed to rest, and that tomorrow when he left camp, there was no way he would return without you. For now, he settled on mentally calculating how many people had to be left in the games. Krystal was gone leaving only himself, Namjoon, Athena and an injured Yoongi in the careers, and of course, there was still you. Eight tributes had died on opening day, two had died over the night, there were two earlier canons that morning, and with the short-lived alliance of three, the person you had killed, and the boy from ten, then that only left one other tribute who was still alive…

You sat high up in a tree, tied to a branch, as you heard the Panem music blast throughout the arena. Shivering under your blanket, you listened as the game maker praised the blood bath of the day, and commented that you were on track for the fastest games in history. When Krystal’s face appeared in the sky as the first tribute, you lost it. You bundled the top of the blanket into a ball and openly sobbed into the fabric, mourning the loss of the only person in the arena who you would have called a friend. You cried far longer than it took for the capitol to display all of the people who had died, and so you honestly had no idea who was left, or exactly how many people there even were now.

You knew Hoseok and Namjoon were still alive as only one more canon had sounded after you ran into the forest, and there was no doubt in your mind it was for the boy that had been shot with the arrow. You felt physically sick from crying; your sinuses were clogged and you had a nasty headache. You were also dizzy from not eating anything in hours and downright drained from how physically and emotionally taxing everything was. You had zero plan for survival in the arena, and no idea what you were going to do the next time Hoseok came close to finding you. In your exhausted state, you decided that would have to be a problem for tomorrow. Letting your head fall back against the trunk, you closed your eyes and quickly succumbed to your body’s need for rest.

Little did you know that someone very close by had been tracking you since earlier that afternoon, and was waiting for this exact moment.

Note: Ten’s idea was to grab the bag and run, he didn’t stop to search what was inside, and obviously regretted the fact he didn’t check for a weapon when he had the chance

So close to 10K but I didn’t want to fill it with garbage for the sake of trying to boost the word count, so 9.5 it is.

#yandere #yandere bts #yandere hoseok #yandere bts fic #yandere jung hoseok #y!hoseok #bts x reader #dark bts #dark bts au #hoseok fic #hoseok x reader #hoseok au #dark jhope #HUNGER GAMES AU

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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years

Text

Take Everything From Me | Caspian x Reader

Warnings: Arguments, Jealousy, Mention of battle, A few cuss words

Time/Era: Prince Caspian

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Caspian is jealous because of Y/N’s newfound love for high king Peter Pevensie

Request: hi!! first of all i love your writing and thank you so much for saving time to write for us💜 also can you please write a Caspian imagine where reader is his best friend since childhood and while they're having a heated fight about his fight with Peter in the second movie (the reader is trying to explain that they're both wrong), he angrily (because of jealousy maybe?) confesses his feelings and they end up kissing?? pretty please?? lots of love✨

A/N: Thank you for such a nice compliment and for acknowledging the time I spend on my fics! Each imagine usually takes me 1-4 hours (depending on the length) and it’s super fun! I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting! If anyone would like me to write for them (Edmund, Caspian, Peter and some Harry Potter characters) send a request my way :)

masterlist | read on ao3

Prince Caspian was a stubborn, natural-born leader; he had to be. He was raised with harsh expectations and responsibilities due to his bloodline. Because of this, the young prince never had many friends, especially any outside of his bloodline. Y/N L/N was the only exception. She was the daughter of the highest knight in their army, so she was entrusted within a close proximity of the royal family. She was under the same care as Caspian since they were very young, and the two grew to be inseparable.

When the wife of Miraz, Prince Caspian’s uncle, gave birth to a boy and Caspian was threatened to be assassinated, their beloved professor awoke Y/N first. He was in a tizzy and insisted Y/N grab anything she needed in case she was to never return. Confused, but with haste, Y/N packed up her belongings and followed the plump man out of her chambers. She and Prince Caspian had barely made it out of the castle before arrows were being shot at their backs.

“Hold on tightly,” Caspian directed Y/N’s arms to fall around his waist as they rode out of the castle. He sounded out of breath and panicked when he spoke, something Y/N had never heard from him.

“My Prince, they’re gaining on us,” Y/N responded, her voice shrill and strained. Her hands gripped the stiff leather of his chest piece as the horse twisted every which way. Caspian didn’t respond, but instead took one of his hands and placed it over hers.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever grow fond of them,” Caspian grunted, digging a small knife into a wooden stick. He wasn’t whittling anything, nor sharpening anything, but he needed something to keep his hands busy. He observed how the wood splintered into thin curls and how those curls fell onto the forest floor.

“Who? The Kings and Queens of Old?” Trufflehunter responded. The two were sat a distance away from the rest of the group. They were all talking animatedly around a small fire and sharing stories from the past. King Peter seemed to be very invested in whatever tale Y/N was sharing. Caspian stabbed the wood in hand.

“Yes, the Kings and Queens of Old. I thought he was supposed to be magnificent, I’ve heard so many stories.” Y/N reached out and pushed King Peter playfully. He grasps the girl’s wrists and pulls, making her fall forward. The entire camp laughs as she stumbles into Peter. A growing fire develops in Caspian’s stomach and with one flick of his knife, half of the stick falls to the floor.

The badger watches the wood and looks up at Prince Caspian, “Are you disappointed in them? Or just in King Peter?”

“They are much younger than I expected. Much more boastful than I expected.”

“You are also quite young, your highness.”

“Not within the mind, Trufflehunter.” Caspian glances back at the group. King Peter was acting out something using his sword. He had also taken off his armor, leaving him in a loose-fitting shirt and trousers. Y/N looked enthralled as the boy sliced the air with the sharp blade. Caspian’s jaw clenched and he looked back at Trufflehunter.

“See what I am talking about? He is dueling when there is no one to duel! He’s showing off his skills when it is not necessary to use them. And I have to follow his commands.” Trufflehunter placed a paw on the thumb of Caspians right hand, stopping him from slicing his skin in place of the wood.

“And you will be no better without a hand.”

The invasion of the Telmarines went awful. Caspian insisted Y/N stay behind with Lucy, but of course, High King Peter had spoken up.

“No, she needs to come. She’s a valuable soldier. I know because we’ve sparred. We’d be wasting a valuable resource if she stayed behind.” A smile graced Y/N’s face as she made eye contact with Peter. Caspian let out a shaky breath and his grip on the hilt of his sword tightened.

“She’s also close to the majority of the Telmarine Knights. They know her weaknesses. They know all of our weaknesses, this is a bad idea.”

“Which also means I know their’s. Cas, loosen up. I’m going.” Y/N still had a smile on her face.

Peter took hold of her wrist and tugged it gently. “Can you cover my back? I know they’re going to try and overpower me.”

Y/N’s cheeks heated up and she nods shyly. This made Caspian’s blood boil. Not knowing what to do, he makes eye contact with Edmund. The young king rolls his eyes.

When they returned, there was a sorrow surrounding the surviving warriors. There was little speech and the only sound heard was the metal of their armor rubbing against itself as they walked. Y/N had experienced her own father ambush her new friends and kill multiple. She predicted sleepless nights for the following week.

“What happened?” Lucy asked her older brother, a certain softness to her voice. It only made Y/N’s heart break more.

“Ask him,” Peter responded. His voice was sharp, a contrast to the funny, caring guy Y/N had spoken to around the fire. Caspian stopped walking and his head shot up.

“Me? You could have called it off. There was still time.” Caspian responded. How dare King Peter place the blame onto him. He strongly advised against the entire mission, which the High King ignored. This wasn’t Caspian’s fault. He wasn’t the bad guy.

“No there wasn’t, thanks to you.” Peter took a few steps towards Caspian, his face twisting into a scowl. “If you stuck to the plan, those soldiers would be alive right now.”

“And if you had stayed here like I suggested, they definitely would be.” Caspian could feel the hatred for Peter bubbling in his chest. No matter what Caspian did, Peter was always better. Peter was the King and there was nothing Prince Caspian could do about it. He glanced over at Y/N; her arms were crossed against her chest and her eyes were filled with flames.

“You called us, remember?!” The vein in Peter’s forehead was starting to bulge. If Caspian was in any other situation, he would have found that amusing.

“My first mistake.”

“No,” Peter’s voice wobbled and he began to walk away. “Your first mistake was believing that you could lead these people.”

This made something break deep within Prince Caspian’s soul. He had been preparing his entire life to rule and the second he is finally able to do so, some scrawny blonde child rips it away from him.

“HEY!” Peter turns around at Caspian’s outburst, words begging to escape off his tongue. “I am not the one who abandoned Narnia.”

Peter stalked towards the Prince until they were near nose to nose. “You invaded Narnia. You have no more rights here than Miraz does; You, him, your father. Narnia’s better off without the lot of you.”

Caspian ripped his sword out of his hilt and rushed towards Peter.

“That is enough!” Y/N bellowed as if her voice was subdued thunder. “Both of you, get some air. Now.”

“Y/N-” Peter began, placing his own sword in his hilt. She cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“I don’t want to hear it. Go.”

Caspian sat at the edge of the cliff, swinging his feet and watching Y/N speak with Peter. He observes how Y/N’s shoulders shake with laughter and how Peter swings an arm around Y/N fondly. They had been at it for almost an hour, chatting, laughing, and hugging, yet Caspian forced himself to watch. It’s what he deserved; he had driven Y/N away and now she was Peter’s. Peter was the perfect king with the perfect hair and perfect attitude. He had so much to offer. The only thing Caspian had was Y/N, and now High King Peter the Magnificent had that too.

“Hey,” Y/N’s voice sounded from behind him. Caspian must have been staring off into the distance for longer than he thought.

“Shouldn’t you be with Peter?” Caspian replied, not bothering to move his eyes when she sat next to him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that he is your new boyfriend and you should spend time with him. That’s what boyfriends and girlfriends do.”

“What? He’s not- what are you on about, Cas?” She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t call me that,” He shugged her hand off so she wasn’t touching him. “And yes he is, don’t lie to me. You were so fast to comfort him, after all.”

Y/N looked at him with a hurt expression. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Caspian looks over at his supposed best friend for the first time. She was already looking at him with a hurt expression. He turned his head away.

“You were so fast to jump to his aid and you haven’t left his side since we met him. For the love of Aslan, Y/N, you practically drool over the guy.” “I didn’t jump to his aid, I was scolding him about what happened. And I’m sorry, he’s my friend and the only person who has actually spoken to me in the past month.” “Scolding him by hugging and laughing? Very effective, I should use that tactic in the next fight I’m in. ”

Y/N sputtered for a second. “Were you spying on me?!”

Caspian let a single breath rush quickly out of his nose. “No, you just happened to ‘scold him’ in the middle of the courtyard.” He stood up. “You know what? I hope you two are very happy together. Just know he’s going to blame you for shit you didn’t do.”

Y/N quickly stood up as well. “Is that what this is about? Aslan, help me. You were both in the wrong.”

“I didn’t do anything. I advised against his plan, Y/N. This so-called Peter the Magnificent led the Narnian people to their deaths.”

“And yet you thought the best course of action was to disobey his plan? You were just as responsible as he was.” Y/N’s voice was picking up in aggression.

“I had to save him, Y/N.” Caspian started to walk away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Y/N instantly pulled his arm back. “Wouldn’t understand? May I remind you that you’re not the only one with Telemarine family?!” Caspian turned so he was looking directly into Y/N’s eyes.

“I’ve had everything taken away from me, I was not about to have Doctor Cornelius taken from me too.” His eyebrows were furrowed and he pointed at the ground dramatically.

“Everything? Caspian you still have me-”

“That’s the thing, Y/N! No, I don’t! What aren’t you getting? I have loved you since we were six years old and the second I think I have you, some shitty blonde king comes and takes you away from me. Just fucking go, Y/N. Go to your king and be happy.” Caspian shouted so loud he was sure all of Narnia could have heard. What had he done?

“Maybe if you just fucking listened to me, you would realize I love you too, you big dumbass!” Y/N didn’t miss a beat, staring at him with such intensity that he might explode right then and there.

Caspian grabbed either side of Y/N’s face and kissed her. Hard. There was so much emotion wrapped into the simple action and it made both of their heads spin. Anger evaporated with each motion and soon, the two were softly running their hands over each other’s skin. Y/N could feel her angry tears trail down her cheeks but before she could do anything, Caspian brushed them away with his thumb. Her face was cradled delicately in Caspian’s rough hands.

Years worth of unresolved feelings seemed to clear as Caspian worked on her. He kissed firmly, his mouth dominating hers easily, but his hands moved in delicate patterns. First, they were housed on her cheeks, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. Then, they traced her body until they landed on her hips.

“You dork,” Y/N grinned when she pulled away. “I never liked Peter. Aslan, I never liked Peter. It’s always been you.”

Caspian flashed her a toothy smile in return. “I am so in love with you, Y/N. I am so sorry for yelling at you.”

Y/N grinned mischievously and pulled away. “Don’t be, you’re extremely hot when you’re jealous.”

She winked, and Caspian pulled her to him once more. The newfound couple shared a second quick kiss before following the narrow trail for which they came.

#caspian #prince caspian #king caspian #caspian x #caspian x reader #prince caspian x reader #prince caspian fanfic #prince caspian fanfiction #king caspian x reader #king caspian fanfic #king caspian fanfiction #king caspian x reader smut #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #narnia #c.s. lewis #c. s. lewis #ben barnes

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wanderingsoul6261 · 3 years

Text

Ghost Behind the Face

Warnings:None

Pairing:Russell Adler x Bell!Reader (if you look hard enough?)

description:Russell Adler and the rest of his team are taken captive by the one and only Stitch, who has a raging hatred towards the man who has been dubbed as “America’s Monster”. After several days and losing hope that him and his team might be saved, a familiar face shows up. Will it be a sweet reunion, or will his savior hold a grudge?

Based on this post here that I had shared

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Russell Adler had stared at the piece of paper on the board in the safe house for too long. His blue eyes had trailed from the hilt of the blade holding it in place to the message that was scribbled upon it.

Time we end this.

It was written over an ad that celebrated the reopening of a mall. It was there that Adler assumed the altercation was to take place. However, a nagging feeling in the back of his head told him that it was trap. That the very moment they stepped into the building, the enemy would their eyes on them and attack only when they deemed it appropriate. It also didn’t help that everyone on his team agreed with the possibility. But yet, Adler had decided to go through with the plan.

“He’s trying to bait you Adler.” A feminine voice interrupted his thoughts as one of his team members came to stand beside him. The man in question was silent for a split second before he answered her.

“No shit.” Adler had raised his arm to tug the knife from the board, slipping it into a holster strapped to his belt. He had turned away from it, already speaking again as she had started following along side him. “But if we don’t stop him then innocent civilians will die.”

All of that plus their entry into the building had led them to where they are now; captured by Stitch and thrown into a musty room after their discovery of Nova-6 in the mall, which also happened to be a trap. Russell Adler put them blame on himself. He had allowed him and his team to fall into the trap and therefore be captured with no hope that that they might survive and make it out at least somewhat alive.

Him and his team tried to keep faith in hopes that even without weapons or even a designated escape plan, that they would still survive, but realistically, that fire would soon dwindle.

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Multiple guards under Stitch’s command made infiltrating the mall extremely difficult. However, the person had definitely seen and survived worse, and with plenty of patience, had proved successful. She had found out that a team organized and led by Russell Adler had been captured by the enemy, and despite past altercations with said man, had been tasked in saving him.

The only problem?

She was alone.

It had been explained that a team of soldiers going in to retrieve the lost group would have been too much, and the likelihood of all of them being caught was relatively high. Therefore, more troops would be lost. And so came the idea of her going alone. As much as Bell hated the idea, as well as helping the man that had attempted to kill her years ago, here she was, carrying out the mission.

Two enemy soldiers lay dead at her feet, one with a broken neck and the other with a knife protruding from his throat. Bell was successful in gaining intel from one of them after the other was already killed and she threatened to do the same if the surviving guard didn’t give her the intel that she wanted. The CIA operative bent down to retrieve her knife, wiping it clean on the clothes of the dead body before her, before she put back into its designated place on her hip.

And while she thanked the enemy for the lights off and using glowsticks for illumination, Bell had dragged the bodies to rest on either side of the hall. This would prevent anyone else coming down this hall from tripping over them and sounding an alarm.

And then she continued. The night vision goggles wore helped her out more in navigating the halls, as the previously mentioned glowsticks only did so much. The laser dot scanned the walls as she moved quickly but quietly. After all, the quicker she got to them the quicker they could get out and make their way to exfil.

Bell had rounded a corner, before throwing herself back when she saw two enemies advancing down the hall. The hall in which was told to hold the room that Adler and the rest of his team were held captive in. A small breath was let out as she ran scenarios through her. She could do this in a few different ways. Of course, she could just let them pass, but there was a possibility that they would turn down the hall that she was in. In that case, a fight would break out, and therefore, other enemy troops could be alerted. Just because the enemy was scattered few and far between, doesn’t mean that any in the general vicinity wouldn’t come running at the first sign of a problem. The only other option Bell was left with was taking them by surprise. There was still a chance that other enemies could be alerted, but at this point, this was her safest option.

The sound of footsteps could be heard advancing in her direction as she exhaled, dropping her AR so that it hung from its strap around her shoulder. When the first guard could be seen within her line of sight, Bell had made her move. She had grabbed his arm, twisting it and flipping him over her body. The quick movements caused his weapon to fly from his grip as he landed with a loud grunt. He was abandoned real quick as she kicked his partners stomach, shoving him into a wall as she pulled his weapon from his grasp. Bell had used the butt of the weapon to slam it upside his skull, sending him toppling over in a heap, just as his still conscious partner stood up. He had moved to pick up the weapon he had lost his grip on, only to have her throw the stolen weapon she held at him. The movement caught him by surprise, but before he could make any other movement, she had pulled her silenced pistol from its holster, shooting him point blank in the face and then sending a bullet into the body of his partner as an extra measure.

And then she advanced towards the room where Adler and his team were said to be.

Upon arrival at the door, she found that it had no window to look into. Across it was a plaque that read maintenance. She believe that if the guards gave her the correct intel, and the team was in fact in there, that their hands would have been tied to limit mobility and that enemy guards were probably stationed in the room to watch over them. With that in mind, Bell twisted the door handle and let the door slide open just slightly. When she heard a confused noise come from a guard on the other side of the door, she kicked it open, effectively throwing the enemy to the floor as she stomped inside. She grabbed the rifle on the guard still standing, smashing it against his face, pulling her pistol from its holster once against and firing multiple rounds into his stomach through the silenced barrel. Letting him fall, she aimed the pistol next on the guy trying to stand up, but she paused when she saw who had the guard apprehended, his tied hands around the man’s throat, before twisting his neck, a snapping noise resounded the room. Adler knelt over the body of the now dead guard letting out a heavy exhale before turning to their savior, as she still had her pistol drawn and on him.

She tried to not let it get to her. The man who shot her years ago was very much alive and before her. He opened his mouth, but before he had the chance to say what he wanted to, she shook her head abruptly, holstering her pistol. She had turned around, looking out the door and down each side of the hallway before closing the door and turning the light on. Her shoulders tensed as she tore the night vision goggles from her head, and turning towards the team. Her eyes locked onto Adler’s who still knelt over the dead guard. His jaw slackened slightly as he stared at her in disbelief.

Bell.

The woman he shot years ago. The one he saw fall over the cliff side and into the cold waters below. The same one he tried to stop thinking about for years and years after he did was he was supposed to.

Tying off loose ends.

That’s all he was doing. It’s what he was told to do. He was following orders. Adler had watched as she cut the ropes on his teams wrist before she walked over to him. Bell kept her eyes on his as she gingerly held onto his forearm, picking it up from where they rested in his lap to prevent her from cutting his leg as she cut the ropes.

“Bell.”

“It’s a long story.” She mumbled, forcing the blade she held to cut through the rope. “One I would rather have into we are safe and out of harm’s way.” Bell looked away from and focused on the task, as the blade was just about all the way through the rope. “Just know I don’t hold grudges. I knew you were only doing your job.” When the rope was cut, she stood, holding her hand out to him, as he was still kneeling down. Adler looked at her face, expecting to see through her. He expected her to be pissed and lash out at him. It only seemed logical as the last time they saw each other, he shot her. His eyes drifted down to her extended hand, raising his hand to grab it. She helped pull him up, their clasped hand trapped between their bodies.

“Thank you,Bell.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Bell eventually broke away from him as she cleared her throat, kneeling down to pick up of the rifle from one of the downed guards. She passed it to him, watching as he grabbed it from her and had checked the clip.

Bell had looked away from him as he knelt down to grab any extra clips from the dead guard next to him. “Someone else can grab the gun still on the ground. There are more in the hallway.” A dull ache surfaced on her stomach as memories about the man who now came to stand next to her resurfaced. They watched as one of his team members grabbed the gun on the floor, doing the same thing as Adler just did.

Bell nodded in approval, looking amongst the four.

“Now. Let’s go.”

Author’s note: I know it may not be the greatest, but I wanted to try a take at this idea. Thinking of doing a second part that consists of a talk between Bell and Adler after they have reached safety, but I’ll leave that all up to you guys.

#russell adler #adler #have yall seen this man like shit #russell adler x Bell!reader #Bell #Cold War

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Tides of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 25

Tides of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because some fire just proclaimed Tavra the true All-Maudra, the Vapra have joined the loosely affiliated resistance, and skekSa has our heroes back against a cliff. Two chapters left, tensions high!

Last times on book: Amri and co are on a quest to unify the Gelfling clans against the Skeksis. They’ve succeeded with the Sifa, the Dousan, and now the Vapra. But they’re cornered by skekSa the Mariner who is feeling a bit sore about the Sifa ditching her and wants to take Naia to use as political capital with the other Skeksis.

Chapter 25

Amri and the others fight to escape the clutches of skekSa, they don’t get out unscathed

skekSa stared, wide-eye, rage saturating her dark eyes and making her look more Skeksis than ever. Amri tried not to let it frighten him. Not now that they’d had their victory lighting the Vapra flame. All that was left was to escape the Mariner’s clutches. Survive, like Tavra had said.

Win condition: get the heck away.

Similar to the first book conclusion, having to escape the Hunter. Different from the second book where they planned to trap the Satirist to keep knowledge of the resistance secret longer.

Beating skekSa in a fight, not even a viable outcome.

For one, her sword is longer than Amri is tall. That’s a bit of a discouraging thing.

skekSa tries being ‘reasonable’ one last time, offering Naia a chance to surrender for the safety of the others but Naia refuses.

[skekSa] charged at Tae, swinging her sword. Even if its edge were not sharp, the sheer power and weight of it would crush a Gelfling if it struck. Tae leaped, wings taking her up so her toes touched the gleaming metal of the blade. She ran along the sword, leaping again and slashing with her dagger.

That’s some more choreography that I’d love to see in puppets.

It’d look silly if not execute well but maybe good silly.

There’s only so many ways you can portray a small individual fighting a much larger one and its not like Yoda’s method of jumping around everywhere like a grasshopper doesn’t look silly if you’re not in the moment.

Naia runs to help Tae hold off the Mariner and Amri runs to take care of Kylan.

Kylan being Kylan, his first concern is to stop skekSa from destroying any more trees after the trees helped send the message but Tavra chides him they have to save themselves first.

Problem being they’re backed up against the cliff, they don’t see Onica’s lantern down in the ocean, and all the fliers are trying to knife fight a behemoth.

skekSa doesn’t give them space to think about it either, she dashes in and tries to split Amri in half. He tries to block with Tavra’s sword but the Skeksis wrenches it from his hand with the hook on her sword.

Not ideal.

Naia and Tae attack her again and do some damage but she just jumps away from Tae and throws Naia off of her. Fighting Skeksis is hard.

Tae tells Tavra to protect the others and keep lighting the fires no matter what happens and then dives against skekSa from the air.

Tae’s dagger bit. skekSa’s sword flipped into the air, and Amri caught his heart in his teeth when he saw that the Skeksis’ severed hand still clutched the hilt as it flew.

skekSa screamed. She grasped the stump where her hand had been.

“How dare you!” she cried, over and over. “HOW DARE YOU!”

Well, uh, plus side is that now she can get a hook hand to add to her piratey aesthetic?

Minus side is the Swimmer just lost a hand too.

Other minus side, Skeksis have four arms. Two usually vestigial but like the Hunter, the Mariner engages in vigorous exercise in the brisk outdoors and hasn’t had arm atrophy.

Amri tries to warn Tae when he sees the movement but is too late.

One of skekSa’s smaller arms slipped out from the Skeksis’ coat. Something flashed, and a BOOM rang through the mountain air. A cloud of smoke exploded from skekSa’s hip, blasting Tae off her feet. She crashed into one of the Waystar trees, leaving a red mark on its glowing white bark where she struck. Then she fell into the snow and did not rise.

The smoke cleared. skekSa coughed and reached into the depths of her coat again, drawing out a leathery, egg-shaped device and holding it in her tiny palm. Her breath rasped in anger and pain, her blood still falling on the white snow. She stumbled to one knee.

“I can’t believe this,” she panted. “Can’t believe it one bit.”

Holy crap! Guns exist? Skeksis have guns??

This is even weirder than the Emperor doing force lightning.

Guns!

And here I was joking about her improving her piratey aesthetic when she had a gun up her sleeve!

A weird, egg-shaped gun.

The tech level of this world sure is unusual.

-rereading- Oh! Its a grenade!

Yeah, that’s more in keeping with what we have/will see. But geez, she hit Tae with a grenade. Poor Tae.

Also, sure she got blown up for it, but props to Tae for taking off an entire hand in one go.

Down below in the bay, Onica’s lantern has finally arrived and Naia says that their best chance is to fly down. Except now they’re down one flier and have two non fliers to convey.

skekSa throws another egg-shaped grenade, which Amri blocks by throwing a branch in its path. The explosion still knocks him on his ass because that’s what explosions DO.

And by the time he recovers, skekSa reaches them.

She had found her sword, held it in the hand that was intact, carelessly bleeding from the other as if it meant nothing.

“I don’t want to do this,” she said slowly, her blade tasting the snow at her feet. Her voice turned hard at the end, wicked as her sword. “I told you we had a deal -- you ungrateful fool.”

Huh.

I can almost believe she means it.

The Mariner takes a swing but she’s blocked by someone with a Vapra sword and then has her sword knocked off the cliff.

skekSa is having a really bad day.

[Amri’s] eyes were still hazy, trying desperately to focus. But even so, he could see how stood between them and skekSa: a Sifa with hair gold as the sun, holding Tavra’s sword. Shining on her neck was a crystal spider, silver and blue as the moon.

The ringing dulled enough that Amri could hear Tavra’s words, stern and commanding in Tae’s voice.

“Get out of here, to the cliff,” she said. “Run! Fly!”

Tavra spidered Tae!

I guess Tae is alive from being exploded? If her body is still capable of being spidered and fighting?

skekSa tries to lunge past TavraTae to get Naia but without weapons and against someone with a sword who knows how to use it, she’s stymied.

The Mariner even grabs a tree branch and tries to use that to swat TavraTae, without success.

Naia follows TavraTae’s advice and grabs Kylan and jumps off the cliff.

And after breaking from the fight with superior mobility, TavraTae grabs Amri and jumps too.

Amri having a lot of trouble reconciling in his mind Tavra and Tae because its Tavra but looks like Tae and plus he might have a concussion.

Naia still is the Drenchen whose wings have only just come in and haven’t been strenuously tested much so she’s having trouble doing more than slowing down her and Kylan’s fall. Its a nice touch that that’s remembered two books later.

But TavraTae glides close so Amri can take Naia’s hand and they can all glide down together.

As soon as they land on the boat, Tae crumples, probably Tavra abandoning controlling her as soon as its not a life or death situation. Because of ethics. And because moving her around when she’s been exploded can’t be good for her explosion wound.

Naia immediately starts trying to heal her, only pausing so they can all move inside the cabin where its warm.

In the end, the glowing eased and Naia put her hand on Tae’s forehead.

“I’ve healed her body,” she said, brow creased with pain. “But she was deeply injured by that explosion. Even though I’ve mended her cuts and broken bones, her mind still sleeps. I cannot even sense her dreams. I don’t know when she will wake... if ever.”

It was hard to imagine. The Sifa merely looked as if she were sleeping.

“I didn’t mean to...,” Tavra began. She rested on Tae’s cheek, glistening like a tiny moon in a cloud of sun-gold hair. Amri sighed and shook his head. The moon had eclipsed the sun during a storm in Ha’rar, after all.

What a weird prophecy.

In the end, it turns out it wasn’t a prophecy of a sweet, sweet romance. But a premonition that Tae would eventually be body-jacked by a spider that was really a cool Vapra.

Goes to show, prophecies aren’t straightforward. Unless they’re incredibly straightforward. Like the one from the movie.

But sometimes they’re poetic because fate doesn’t like you screwing with it.

Amri tells Tavra that this isn’t her fault because she did all the right things and saved the group which is what Tae would have wanted and which she’ll definitely confirm when she wakes up.

Buuuuuut, the plot hasn’t stopped happening just because there’s like four pages left in the book.

You’d think it would and we’d be winding down and figuring out what to do next. But no.

A familiar metallic whistle shrills through the air. A whistle that Amri knows exactly what it foretells.

Amri ran out onto the deck, followed by the others. The ship trembled as the sea shook. He grabbed hold of the rigging on the ship as waves rolled out from the ocean and crashed across the back of an enormous black shell. A deafening moan trembled through the water and echoed against the steep cliff. Terror shot through Amri’s body as a behemoth mouth rose from the depths, water gushing from its enormous hooked-beaked maw.

It gaped, spreading its jaws. The ocean churned, sucked into the black abyss of the creature’s throat. Onica’s ship was caught in a vortex of inescapable currents, and Amri watched the slowly brightening sky disappear as the monster ship closed its jaws, swallowing them into a sea of darkness.

COME ON!

This is where the denouement is supposed to go! And you go and release the kraken on them?

You’re persistent, skekSa! You’re very persistent!

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Tides of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Amri #Naia #Kylan #Tavra #Tae #Onica #skekSa #the Mariner #one chapter left

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my-happy-little-bean · 3 years

Text

The Bookkeeper - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Wuthering Heights

pairings: logan/patton (logicality), roman/virgil (prinxiety) words: 3216 chapter warnings: mild swearing, mild existentialism chapter summary: once upon a time...

[read on ao3] [masterlist]

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“I know a lot of kids who’ve endured Civil wars and famines These kids are wise Aware And they’re searching for a little beauty in the world Because life without beauty is unbearable”

– Jordan Tannahill, Concord Floral

~*~

Imagine for a moment, the process of a songwriter. One picks a key, uses the notes within the key, and tinkers with the piece until it sounds pleasing, familiar; until it sounds like anything.

All art is, to some extent then, structured and formulaic. So if that is the case, is there any ‘magic’ in art’s rigid form? In practice, art disrupts the very foundation of its being; creating something out of nothing. Hence, is there any true value—under the nihilistic impression that life bears no meaning—in pursuing art if it, at its core, has no purpose? Where could one derive significance from the way notes scatter on the staff, when it holds no initial meanin–

Logan Fray cursed as he slammed his pen into the counter. He gripped onto the surface of the paper he was writing on, crumpled it, and squeezed it out of the spiral binding of his notebook. Without looking up, he hurled it towards the garbage can to his left. He heard the soft sound of it hitting the metal rim and sighed, flicking his wrist without much thought.

A small spiral of shimmering navy dust shot out of his index finger and caught the balled-up paper before it could fall. He glanced over to his left, realization clicking in his head. Logan sighed and, annoyed, steadily moved his finger across his line of sigh. The crumpled piece of paper followed suit until it hovered over the garbage can.

Logan narrowed his eyes at his magic. The blue coated the creased edges of the balled-up paper, as if contemplating the survival of this draft and its feeble grasp on the edge of the tin-can cliff.

“Oh isn’t this quite the show!”

The loud, triumphant voice behind him jolted Logan forward. He lost concentration on his spell and the paper dropped helplessly into the bin.

Logan pushed his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Christ, Roman…”

“Sorry, sorry! Didn’t want to disturb the almighty Wizard Fray and the extraordinary use of his powers! Fray and Far Fables is in for a treat today, fellas!”

Logan rolled his eyes, spinning around in his chair and watching as the small, fairy-like form of Roman floated in front of shelves. Roman’s red magic formed some sort of feather duster.

“Anyway, don’t mind me! I don’t mean to be a heckler — just doing some spring cleaning!” He exaggerated a flick of the magical duster against a book.

“You don’t have to dust the spines of books, Roman,” Logan drawled. “It is illogical. With your magical wards, nothing here collects dust. And even if it did, your size and your...general aura deems you an ineffective housekeeper.”

Roman gasped, twirling around in the air to float over to Logan’s face. He hovered in front of his nose with his hands on his hips.

“I will pretend you did not just hurt my feelings just then!” Roman smiled smugly as he dusted Logan’s nose. Powder puffs of his red magic fogged Logan’s vision. “I will instead pretend you said ‘thank you, Roman, oh dashing bookkeeper!’”

“A happier reality, I’m sure,” Logan huffed, rubbing his nose and holding back a sneeze. Roman floated back to the shelves.

“Besides, someone has to tend to the nooks,” Roman hummed pointedly, landing on the edge of the shelves and leaning against one of the book spines. “Each one is a ghost town at this point.”

“They were always ghost towns,” Logan gritted out, annoyance growing. “There’s nothing in there.”

“Yeah yeah.” Roman stuck out his tongue. “ ‘Art has no meaning in a meaningless life’ or whatever, which means there’s nothing in art and there’s nothing in books, yada yada yada – you keep telling yourself that, Specs.”

“I am not the only one saying that. If you read Virgil Aries’ work on nihilism and its implications on art as a sort of void—”

“Yawn, Logan,” Roman groaned, “uber yawn. I’m not going to read some sad philosopher’s existential crisis.”

“Virgil Aries was not sad, he was brilliant–”

“I’m sure he was.”

Logan sighed, standing up and sweeping the books off the counter and into his arms. He walked around the counter and across the store, placing the books back on the other shelves. Roman flew closely behind him.

“It is nice to see you using your magic again, even in pitiful displays." Roman nonchalantly tilted his head up. "Almost thought you forgot how to.”

“It was just an impulse, Roman,” Logan muttered, letting Roman dust the floor of the shelves before sliding the books into their proper place. “I was deep in thought and wasn't thinking I will not make a habit out of it.”

“Ugh, when will you understand that I want you to make a habit out of it– I want to have cool magic duels with you!”

“More the reason why we don’t need these ‘pitiful’ displays of magic. First of all, I’m not even supposed to be using my magic while we’re open. What if someone walked in? What would you say to them then, hm?”

“ ‘Hey, do you want to see the coolest thing in your flimsy, mortal life?’ ”

Logan rolled his eyes. “ ‘Cool’ is not how I would describe it.”

“Ouch!” Roman turned his red feather duster into a small, sparkly sword. He dramatically stabbed it into his chest, bits of his red magic exploding in a small puff around him. The sword dissipated upon contact. “What is up with your...your spiciness today?”

Logan slid the last book into the shelf and leaned against it.

“I’m just stuck on this speech again .”

Roman deflated. “Oh, here we go…”

“I just don’t understand what my problem is. I have all my research in place, I know what I want to say about art, I know what I want to do, but nothing I write has any substance! None of it makes sense. I can’t answer the fundamental question of my own damn argument.”

“Which is…?”

“ Why, ” Logan hissed, running both hands through his hair. “Why do people pursue such meaningless tactics of escapism if– if they’re escaping from nothing. That, in turn, makes art nothing. Right?”

“I don't know, Lo. Maybe that actually means it’s not entirely meaningless then,” Roman hummed idly.

Logan glowered at Roman, whose face was plastered with a shit-eating grin.

“I just need to get this speech done,” Logan stiltedly said, evening his breath. “If I get any of it done by the end of the month, I can be reassured that I won’t make a complete fool of myself at the university conference.”

“It’s a convention of sad, young nihilists with student debt. Everyone there is a fool.”

Before Logan could respond, the bells above the front door echoed across the shop. Roman and Logan exchanged frantic looks. Shit. Logan didn’t even realize what time it was.

“Book nook. Now,” he hissed. Luckily, Roman already beat him to it. Roman pressed his hand onto the spine of a nearby book on the shelf. His red magic spread across the surface until his hand could go through the spine. Then, with a small yelp, Roman tumbled into the book and disappeared from Logan’s view.

“Logan! Hi!” a peppy voice rang out at the same time. Logan spun around on his heel to face the front door and forced a smile.

“Salutations, Patton,” Logan replied, awkwardly leaning against the shelves. He snuck cautious glances to the book Roman had hid himself in, making sure he was completely out of sight.

“I’m here for a book!” Patton chirped, tipping his hat at Logan. He looked up at the shelves around Logan with a smile. “And I have a feeling you have just the one for me!”

“You come here every week, Patton. You do not have to repeat the same thing, I know what you are here for.” Logan, despite everything that was occurring, found himself smiling warmly at Patton. “Please roam around as you see fit.”

“I shall!” Patton said, moving past Logan and starting on the opposite end of the shelves Logan was leaning against. Logan’s eyes widened.

“Um, did you end up finishing the book you bought last week? The one by Elizabeth Gilbert?” Logan blurted out as he moved closer to Patton, his back covering the book he knew Roman was hiding in. Patton looked up at him and smiled.

“Oh! Yes, The Signature of All Things, right? I really enjoyed it! I can’t believe you made me enjoy historical fiction — I’d usually fall asleep a few pages in, but Alma’s life is just so interesting!”

Logan nodded tensely as Patton moved closer to him. He pressed his back against the shelves as if that could further hide Roman. “Truly.”

“And I actually brought you a painting!”

“Oh?”

“Yeah!” Patton fished through his messenger bag, his hat nearly slipping as his head tilted down to find it. Logan could hear a small thump! muffled behind his back. Logan winced. He hadn’t even considered the conditions of the book nook. While he knew none of them could ever hurt anyone—especially Roman—he definitely knew some were not ideal.

He tried to quietly grab the book Roman had escaped in, slowly turning around to take it off the shelves while Patton wasn’t looking.

“Here it is!” Patton exclaimed loudly, animatedly pulling out a rolled piece of paper. Logan jumped at the abrupt action, ducking to the side to avoid getting hit by Patton’s arm. “The book took me longer to read– I didn’t even think I’d finish it within a week– so sorry that the painting is a bit crude!”

“That is quite alright, Patton,” Logan said, adjusting his tie. “It is a gift that you do not have to keep giving yet...you do. So I appreciate the painting regardless.”

“Of course! Take a look and tell me how you like it!”

Logan took the paper out of Patton’s hand and unrolled it.

Sprawled across sketchbook paper was splashes of watercolour making up an array of botanical illustrations. The flowers and plants overlapped each other on the old-yellowed background in a way that didn’t seem too suffocated; each plant had space to breathe. Thin, cursive descriptions sprawled across their stems. It almost felt like a map of some sorts, navigating through each individual aspect of a garden.

“It’s a bit reminiscent of my collagist days,” Patton said with a small giggle. “But I like it! I actually drew a lot of inspiration from the cool sketches of all the plants scattered throughout the book.

“Evidently,” Logan hummed, smiling at the painting. He looked up at Patton. “It is very nice, Patton. You capture the book’s essence very well here.”

“Oh, well I know how you feel about the art stuff– but thank you for humouring me, Lo!” Patton giggled. Logan’s smile faltered, but he fought to keep it upright.

Logan kept observing the painting, idly walking away from the shelf, as if mesmerized by Patton’s work.

“Ooh, this book looks interesting!”

Patton’s voice suddenly snapped Logan out of his daze. Roman.

Logan turned around to see Patton standing in front of the book Roman was in. Instinctually, he shot a small burst of magic at the display table behind Patton, sending books tumbling to the floor with a loud thud!

“Oh!” Patton whirled around at the noise. He gave Logan a sheepish grin. “I must’ve bumped into the table or something! Sorry ‘bout that!”

“No worries,” Logan said with a tight smile. Patton crouched down to start picking up the books as Logan tucked the painting under his arm, quickly moving to the book Roman was hiding in. He pulled the book out slightly.

“Roman,” he hissed as quietly as he could. “Get out of there.”

Almost immediately, Roman hopped out of the book, all his clothes dripping wet.

“An unfortunate choice,” Roman muttered, shivering. Logan shook his head.

“You can clean yourself upstairs, just go now– ”

“There you go!” Patton announced, standing back up in a swift motion that knocked his hat off his head.

Logan watched as Roman, clearly panicked, jumped into the back cover of the book and flattened himself onto its surface. Logan, startled, pulled the book off the shelf and pressed it to his chest, attempting to cover the new picture of Roman on the back cover.

“Everything’s in its place!” Patton continued, brushing off his hands. His stare flitted over to the book in Logan’s arms. “Oh! That’s the book I was looking at! Do you mind– ?”

“N-No!” Logan blurted out. Patton frowned at him, and Logan squeezed his eyes shut, clearing his throat.

“I...I mean, no problem. That would be...no problem at all.”

“Cool!”

Patton took the book from Logan, who kept his eyes glued to the frantic 2D-Roman next to the book synopsis.

“Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë,” Patton read aloud. “Huh! Sounds interesting.”

“Y-Yes!” Logan slowly reached to grab the book back. “How about I get a bag for y–”

“Let’s see what this is about!”

Logan paled as Patton turned the book around, almost in bullet-time. Logan caught a glimpse of Roman’s eyes widening and, horrified, watched as Roman slid his flattened form into the spine of the book, becoming squished within its confines.

“ ‘The wild, passionate story of intense and almost demonic love between Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff’,” Patton continued to read. “ ‘Brontë captures the evocative, conflicted interplay of nature and culture in her’– wow, ‘masterpiece of English literature’!”

Patton playfully tossed the book in the air, catching it by its spine. “Sounds like I found a winner!”

Logan yelped, snatching the book back from Patton, who tilted his head to the side. Logan broke into a sheepish smile.

“Er, let me check you out!”

Patton winked. “If you insist!”

Logan flushed red, hurrying to the cash register. He crouched down behind the counter, lowering the book out of sight and disguising his attempts of freeing Roman as him grabbing a bag for Patton.

Logan knocked firmly on the spine, sending Roman disappearing through it and into the book. He then opened the book and Roman emerged with a gasp, as if he was swimming in the pages.

“Good Fantasy- Gucci–”

“Shh!”

“What was that?” Patton asked from above. Logan’s eyes widened as he stuffed Roman in his pocket, despite muffled protests.

Logan shot back up with a small paper bag and a forced grin.

“Shhhh-ure is a great day to buy a book!” An unnatural laugh escaped his lips. “That...that is what I said, heh.”

“Ah, it is!” Patton slid a few bills across the counter and brought the bag to his chest in exchange. “I’m excited for the new book! Sounds good for a rainy day.”

Logan tensely nodded, feeling his pocket slowly dampen. “Mhm.”

Patton’s stare floated over to Logan’s open notebook, his smile faltering.

“Still stuck on your speech, it seems?”

Logan blinked, following Patton’s gaze and sighing. “It appears so, hm?”

Patton nodded slowly.

“I know you explained it to me once, but I still don’t really understand your plan for the speech. Wasn’t the prompt supposed to be ‘finding the meaning of art’?” Patton’s stare flitted towards the shelves behind the counter with all of Logan’s various philosophy and aesthetic texts. “Yet you’re tackling what seems to be the opposite and...and I admittedly don’t get it. Just ‘cause it’s for a bunch of art students doesn’t mean it has to be all deep and dreary, heh.”

Logan shrugged helplessly.

“I just need something new to say,” he mumbled. “You can’t understand art’s meaning without understanding the implied lack thereof.”

“So you’re stuck in the lack thereof?”

Logan looked up at Patton and frowned at his slightly-amused smile.

“It’s a lot more complex than that.”

“Uh-huh.” Patton’s smile felt filled with pity, or perhaps sympathy. “Maybe the solution– just a suggestion– is to go outside? Touch the grass? Find meaning in the world rather than bury your nose in a book?”

“Ironic,” Logan scoffed, though regretted it instantly. Patton, however, just laughed.

“Touché.” Patton shrugged. As he was about to leave, he turned his head over his shoulder. “And hey, I’m sorry that I keep pestering you about the speech, heh. It’s just…”

Patton lowered his gaze, shifting on his heels. In an uncharacteristically hushed tone, he said, “I care about you, Lo. More than you think. I would hate to see you unravel yourself in trying to find the answers and...well, I fear that you already have.”

“That’s impossible,” Logan mumbled, though averted his gaze from Patton. “If I were to unravel, it would be because the answers ended up in me, in which case I would need to access them." Logan tugged his collar awkwardly. "But...but they are not.”

Patton rose an eyebrow. "Maybe we both need to get out there then.”

“ ‘There’? As in...the world?”

Patton grinned, holding his new book close to his chest. “And all the other ones too.”

The door closed swiftly, bells chiming in Logan’s ears. Logan heaved a deep sigh of relief as Roman floated out of his pocket, arms-crossed, unamused.

“We have to be more careful,” Logan muttered. “Who knows what would happen if he figured out about you, about the book nooks, about me… ”

“Come on, Lo. It’s Patton , we’re talking about.”

“Still.” Logan grimaced at the thought. “He could see everything in the wrong way and I would prefer to keep some things normal around here.”

Roman just nodded, shaking off like a dog. Small drops of water splashed against Logan’s cheek.

“Soooo….that Patton sure is a character, hm?” Roman eventually asked, looking at Logan coyly. Logan felt his cheeks heat up.

“That is what you want to focus on?”

“I just think he has a lot to teach you. And it seems as though your heart is telling you the same.” Roman winked. “Maybe it’s time for you to listen.”

Before Logan could rebuttal, Roman flew up the stairs to clean himself off. Logan shook his head, walking over to the door to close up early. On his way, he nearly slid on something on the floor. He frowned, picking the item in question up.

Patton’s hat. He must’ve forgotten about it.

Logan stared at the hat for a few seconds. He held it up and then, without really thinking, held it to his chest. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and then opened them to see a blurry view of the world outside his shop doors.

‘What does it all mean?’

Logan sighed, shaking his head as he flipped the door sign to ‘closed’. He stalked back to the counter, sitting back in his chair and tossing the hat to the side. With a flick of his wrist, a small stream of magic shot out of his index finger and landed on a book behind him, lifting it off the shelves.

He continued to levitate books without turning back, and Logan began to write once more.

—

next chapter >

#TS Storytime 2021 #gabbie writes things #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #logicality #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan/patton #roman/virgil #logic/morality #creativity/anxiety

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i-do-trash-fanfictions · 3 years

Text

Thera’s Journal Entry #54

I heard the door slide open and I looked up. Ann was standing in the doorway and walked in, then plopped down on a chair like she owned the place, pushing the fuzzy decorative pillow (which Crow had gotten me) to the floor.

This was my off day for the week. Or, sort-of-off day. I had some scouting to do on Europa late that night, which I wasn’t happy about. I wasn’t overly fond of the cold planet to begin with, and the weather and temperature wasn’t really better at night fall.

“So what’s up?” I asked, setting aside the holopad I had been scrolling through.

“You know how you haven’t had a chance to meet my new friends yet?” Ann began.

Ann had recently found a set of Guardians to become friends with. Four of them to be exact. A warlock, a titan, and two hunters. I was happy for her, even if that meant she would spend a lot of her time now going on missions with them instead of me. That had been the case lately. I would be free to do something with her, or I’d have a mission that Ikora would tell me I could do with another Guardian, but she would be wrapped up with one or all of her new friends. But I knew how it felt, having friends like that.

I nodded to Ann. She had wanted me to meet them, but all at once, which was hard to do since at least one would be on a mission, and we could never find the time where we were all free.

“Well, they’re all free. And I’m free. And your free. If you’d like, they’re all hanging out on the EDZ. I want to surprise them and show up with you.”

“I suppose we can. I can’t see why not.” I answered.

Ann shot up from her chair, ready to go. I followed close behind.

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

“So who are all of them again?” I asked over the coms. Ann was in her own jumpship nearby.

“Okay, you’ve got Alex. He’s the awoken hunter with the dark blue hair and the orange eyes. Then you’ve got Lana, she’s the other hunter. She’s human, and I’m pretty sure she’s the youngest of the four. Then there’s Jacks-4, the titan and the exo. Lana told me he’s the oldest. And finally there’s Mason, but we all call him Mace, and he’s the warlock with the fluffy dirty blonde hair.”

I nodded. I was sure that they would all introduce themselves, but I would still like to know their names before hand.

We couldn’t land our ships, too many trees, and there wasn’t a big enough area, so we simply swooped down. I saw Ann’s four friends all look up. They sat around a rather large bonfire, and some had bottles in their hands.

Our Ghosts transmatted us out. Ann first, and then me right behind her. Mace, Jacks, Lana, and Alex, all stood in surprise.

“Is that the Young Wolf?!” Lana said excitedly, as if she couldn’t believe that I was right there in front of her.

“It is. Wanted to surprise you guys, so I brought her along. Thera, meet the gang.” Ann gestured to all of them.

I wasn’t sure what to do, and I couldn’t believe it, but I actually felt nervous.

“Hello,” I said rather awkwardly.

Alex turned and grabbed up an unopened bottle of alcohol, said “Catch.”, and then threw it at me. I caught it and opened it, then took a swig.

“Don’t feel intimidated.” I stated.

“Do you mind if we ask you questions?” Jacks asked me as he sat back down near the fire.

“Not at all. Ask away.”

They all sat again, and I sat beside Ann.

“Ya’ll shoulda seen the looks on your faces when the Young Wolf pulled up.” Said Mace with a grin.

Lana looked at him. “Mace, you had on the exact same expression. You’re sitting over there as if you knew the entire time when we all know you didn’t.”

Mace shrugged picked up a book from beside him and opened to a page. He pulled the pencil out from where it had been behind his ear, and began to scribble.

“So, I suppose before we ask questions, we should tell a bit about ourselves. I’ll do the honors of giving you the run down.” Said Alex as he stood on a tree stump nearby.

He pointed to Mace, “Artistic and sarcastic.” Then to Jacks, “The titan Dad of the group who wants to make sure we all have fun but stay safe.” Then to Lana, “She’s the youngest and Jack’s favorite.”

“What about yourself, Alex?” Lana asked.

“Me? I’m the cool one.”

Ann, Jacks, Lana, and Mace all laughed as if it were the funniest joke ever told. I giggled a little at Alex who faked a pout and crossed his arms. Alex sat down.

“So Thera, tell us a little about yourself.” Lana asked.

“Well,” I tried to think about what to say. “I suppose you know everything there is about me. All that hero stuff and what not. That’s all that’s important.”

“No, no, tell us about the little things. Hobbies and what not.”

“Um, well, I like to cook and bake. Though it’s hard to find the time.” I said.

“She makes some good cookies.” Ann told them.

“You should bring some. If anybody likes cookies it’s Jacks.” Said Mace.

“I thought exos don’t eat?” Asked Alex.

“We can, but don’t have to to survive like you all do.” Jacks answered and Alex opened his mouth. “And before you ask, yes, I can still taste.” Alex closed his mouth.

Jacks turned to me. “Thera, if you don’t mind me asking, why aren’t you seen around the Tower much?”

“You make it sound as if I never go out at all.”

“Well it’s just that usually, Guardians don’t see you walking around. Sometimes they will, but not very often.”

“I like being by myself a lot of the time. It’s just an introvert being an introvert really. I’ll go out every once in a while to pick up bounties, turn in bounties, and maybe talk to Ikora or someone, but that’s about it.”

“Do you go out in the City much?” Asked Lana.

“No. Not really. Every now and then I’ll head out with Ann and Shaxx to play dodgeball with the kids.”

“Oh I love the children of the City.” Lana gushed. “I’ll try to go down there at least once every month to talk to them.”

I nodded. “They are very sweet.”

I looked over to the side, where all the Ghosts were clustered together.

“I have an idea.” Said Ann, following my gaze. “Hey Ghosts! Come back here for a minute!”

The Ghosts all returned to their Guardians. Scout lowered down to rest on my knee.

“How about,” Began Ann. “We all tell how we decided on our Ghost’s names?”

Everyone nodded, and even the Ghosts bobbed up and down.

“And you Ghosts can chime in whenever you want to add or subtract from the story. I know some people here who will definitely add in some white lies to their stories.” Ann continued.

Alex leaned over and whispered something to his Ghost.

Ann pointed at his Ghost. “And Chase you better not lie for him!”

We laughed.

We began with Jacks, who said he decided on the name Zuza after she had always stopped to look and scan flowers no matter where they were. Zuza was a name that meant lily. Lana smiled, finding it very cute.

Alex told how he called his Chase, because the Ghost (who was smaller than the rest) had ran down a fallen dreg after they had stolen his gun (which Alex explained had been given to him by Shaxx after a win streak in the Crucible quite soon after he arrived at the Tower after being rezzed). And the Ghost had managed to track down the dreg, reaching them with Alex close behind. Chase had decided to add a detail Alex had forgotten. Chase had been ten times faster than Alex, and had been quite a ways ahead of him the entire time.

Lana said that she had named her Ghost Reeva a week after her rez, because of her fascination with the stars.

Then Ann explained how she had been rezzed in the Cosmodrome in one of the many rusted cars. But, that around the cars there had somehow been poppies growing there.

Mace told his story of how he had been rezzed on a large cliff side and that it was at the break of dawn when he took in his first breath of a new life.

Then, all heads turned to me, and I began mine...

(Yes, I did decide to end it before Thera told how she found the name Scout. But I intend to write that part tomorrow.)

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny guardians #destiny game #theras journal entries

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aqua-murphys-law · 4 years

Text

i can feel it falling (timber)

Rating: G Warnings: None Summary: A look at what inspired Milo not to give up on the possibility of Zack becoming his friend, the day they first met.

A/N: When I fell back into the Dwampyverse fandom, I foolishly said that I didn’t know if I was gonna write anything for MML. I really should’ve known better. So here’s a little something inspired by @wiz-witch‘s post here!

I wish I’d had it done in time for MML’s 4th anniversary but such is life. Reblogs/comments would be greatly appreciated, and a good response will let me know whether I should write the other one-shot ideas I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! - Aqua

(Click here to read on A03 for extensive tags!)

~*~

Milo approaches the bus stop with a bounce in his step.

It’s been a relatively light morning so far. There was just one bird nesting in his hair when he woke up, and it relocated to the backyard without much fuss. He got through both of his showers without slipping, getting soap in his eyes, or breaking the water system (the second shower was because the garbage disposal spewed breakfast scraps back up at him, but still, that could’ve been worse).

He even gets to the bus stop before Melissa, only a few boys from school present. It takes a couple seconds before he hears shoes scuffling away from him, which isn’t surprising. It’s very rare for him to actually end up on the bus, but when he does, it makes for an… eventful ride. He can’t fault them for being cautious, since it’s looking more and more like it might actually be one of those days-

“What’s that all about?”

That’s an unfamiliar voice.

Milo turns to the speaker. It’s a boy around his age, dark-skinned with frizzy black hair. He’s dressed simply in a yellow shirt and jeans, a red backpack at his sneakers. He’s looking at Milo with confusion, and something akin to concern.

“Oh, you’re new here,” Milo realizes. It’s strange for someone to transfer schools after the start of the semester, but stranger things have happened. He sighs good-naturedly, going on to explain, “I’ve got a bit of a reputation.”

The boy blinks before amusement tugs at his mouth, and he quirks a brow. “So what are you, a tough guy?”

That might be teasing, Milo’s not sure. “Oh, I don’t think anyone’s ever called me tough,” he says. And this is really pressing his luck, but he can’t help being polite and offers his hand. “I’m Milo.”

The boy actually takes Milo’s hand, and smiles when he does it. “I’m Zack.”

Of course, the other boys at the stop immediately urge Zack against it, but Milo isn’t fully paying attention. He instantly commits Zack’s name to memory because if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that knowing his classmates’ names helps soften the blow when he accidentally lands them in the hospital for the first time.

Despite the warning, Zack doesn’t let go right away. His hand is warm, and a little bigger than Milo’s. Mostly softer than Milo’s too, but unexpectedly calloused in telltale places, like he plays a guitar of some sort. That’s interesting.

“So what exactly is this reputation?” Zack asks, seeming more curious than concerned now.

Milo tilts his head. “Well, people have used the J-word, but you know what they say. Sticks and stones can damage your vital organs, so always wear body armor.”

The original meaning of the phrase is still implied. As a Murphy, harsh words are extremely low on his list of things to worry about. At least, that’s how he tries to keep it. It’s not that words don’t affect him at all, he just has steps he takes to prepare himself for them, like he would for any other unpleasant event. Just as he wears body armor to protect against physical harm, he protects his feelings under his carefully crafted demeanor.

Lots of people think his cheeriness is default, but in reality, it’s a conscious choice. It’s his emotional armor. Words hurt him less if he chooses to be upbeat and optimistic, rather than let himself despair. That just creates a negative feedback loop, which doesn’t help anything.

Before Zack can inquire further, Melissa shows up to the stop. Milo gets preoccupied by their conversation and forgets that Zack’s still waiting on an explanation until he interjects. But right as Milo is about to elaborate, Murphy’s Law kicks in.

Milo has just enough time to slap his spare helmet onto Zack’s head before they turn and run. And it is both of them; Zack’s taken off without any prompting- he didn’t freeze like so many people do for their first disaster, that’s good. He’s screaming quite a bit, but that’s to be expected. And more surprising is that Zack’s keeping pace with Milo. Not many people can match his speed when he’s going full-tilt like this.

“-wait, why aren’t you screaming?!” Zack demands suddenly.

Milo’s intrigued. Most people who get caught up in his Murphy’s Law don’t have the presence of mind to question why he’s calm while being chased down the street by some devastatingly heavy object.

“I find it doesn’t help,” he answers simply. “Just hurts the larynx.” While he runs and talks, part of him is absentmindedly planning his next move, and he adds, “hand me that bungee, and you’d better hold onto my backpack.”

Milo winds up his throw. Even as Zack exclaims, “Wait, what?” he feels the other boy grab on as instructed, and then they’re up in the air.

Zack maintains his hold while they flip, and when the bungee snaps and drops them on top of the drainage pipe. He’s strong, Milo notes with pleasant surprise. More impressively, Zack doesn’t go careening off of the spinning cylinder- he manages to stay upright beside Milo. That’s a rare skill, for sure. Maybe he’s taken log-rolling classes, for whatever reason. Or, he’s just exceptionally quick on his feet. An athlete, maybe.

“That bungee was definitely defective,” Milo comments, if only to fill the space.

Zack offers no reply, even as Milo sends Diogee home. The pipe takes them through a road barrier, down a rocky incline, through a wooden fence, off of a thankfully low cliff, and into a shallow pit of mud. They barely have time to blink the mud from their eyes before the pipe falls down after them, and Milo tells Zack to scooch over- which he does with little hesitation.

They fit neatly through the center of the pipe, and a wave of mud sends them up to the top.

Zack glances over at Milo, his sudden stillness probably due to shock. “… the J-word wouldn’t happen to be jinx, would it?” he ventures.

Even though he knows it wasn’t used maliciously, Milo can’t stop himself from flinching. He brushes it off with a laugh, though it comes out slightly apologetic. “Yeah, that’s the one.” He pulls himself up onto the rim of the pipe, offering Zack his hand.

Miraculously, Zack accepts his help, and they climb over the edge and drop into the mud below.

Milo wipes his face off with a towel from his backpack. “I have EHML,” he explains. “Extreme hereditary Murphy’s Law. You know, ‘anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.’ Around me.” He studies Zack with a hint of apprehension, the other boy doubled over to catch his breath. He doesn’t look angry or upset or scared, but Milo can’t always tell.

“Well,” is all Zack says. “Alright, then. How are we gonna catch the bus?”

Milo blinks, handing Zack the towel. “Whenever stuff like this happens, the driver usually gives me a few minutes to make it back in case it’s something light. If we hurry, we should be able to get there in time.”

Zack cleans his face and gives the towel back to Milo, brows raised. “Lead the way, I guess.”

Well, indeed. Milo leads the way, and Zack follows.

~*~

Naturally, they miss the bus.

Zack’s definitely in some kind of shock now. He doesn’t even scream when the oil spill in the rock quarry goes up in flames. Milo gently suggests that they go through the woods instead. And then the shock seems to wear off when they’re beset by a pack of hungry wolves.

Shock and panic can interchange remarkably quickly, in some people.

While Milo knows from experience that wolves do, in fact, love peanut butter, Murphy’s Law isn’t yielding anything today. One of the wolves lunges at the same time he tosses the sandwich, and it gets thrown right back, sticking to Zack’s shirt. That elicits a shrill scream from him, and Milo has to fight the urge to cringe. This is not a great first impression, even by Murphy’s Law standards.

At this point, Milo’s pretty sure that the presence of the sandwich has no bearing on the wolves’ desire to attack them, but he grabs a stick and peels it off anyways, if only to try and save Zack’s shirt from being stained too badly.

They escape by scrambling up a tree, but the situation is complicated by the presence of an irate beehive.

A wolf with a beehive stuck on its face is a new one. Luckily, Zack continues to demonstrate remarkable survival instincts, such as ‘dodging when a wolf with a beehive stuck on its face lunges at you’ and ‘running when a wolf with a beehive stuck on its face gives chase.’ He’s keeping up well enough, though he might be starting to fatigue because he lags slightly behind Milo. And he’s still screaming a little, but Milo isn’t holding that against him.

In the end, they don’t escape the wolf so much as they accidentally plunge through an open manhole. But it’s not a high fall, and Milo’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or, to look a sewer in the open manhole.

Milo lands on his feet in the middle channel, which is fortunately shallow. Zack crashes in right behind him.

“Here,” Milo hands Zack a headlamp from his backpack, “these will help us navigate in the dark.”

Zack’s voice follows him after a moment. “Dude… if and when we get out of here, I’m gonna have to go my own way. No offense, I just can’t handle all of… this.”

Milo’s heart trips inside his chest. He wants to protest that Zack has, in actuality, handled everything just fine. Truly, even Melissa would be impressed, and he’s sure she will be when he regales her with the story later today. But he knows that isn’t the crux of the matter.

“A- all of what?” he asks quietly, his voice wavering slightly despite his best efforts.

The answer is painfully obvious as a raccoon leaps out at him from a pipe, sailing over his ducked head and disappearing into murky sewer water. Milo grips his backpack tighter and keeps walking.

“This cyclone of calamity that follows you everywhere you go!” Zack exclaims in disbelief, his voice echoing in the tunnels. “How do you live like this?!”

Milo supposes this was inevitable. It’s not often that someone gives him a chance- usually it’s something like this, a new kid who doesn’t know any better- but it always ends the same way. He accepted long ago that Melissa would be his only school friend, and he’s okay with that.

Right now, they’ve reached the point where Milo will say he understands and apologize for putting Zack in danger. He’ll get him out of the sewer and part ways, only seeing Zack as much as school demands. Or less than that, if Zack decides to switch schools and get a restraining order. That’s happened before. But really, this is where Milo should ‘cut Zack loose,’ if he’s speaking metaphorically.

Except.

Except Milo doesn’t want to.

It’s a bizarre sensation. He’s never put up a fight before, whenever someone decided he wasn’t worth all the danger associated with Murphy’s Law. He almost lost Melissa that way, and was incredibly fortunate she decided to choose him. Typically, it’s easier for everyone if he just accepts it without complaint, and he doesn’t like making a scene. But this time, every part of him is rebelling against the idea.

He really, really doesn’t want to lose Zack. Zack, who’s fast and strong and quick on his feet. Zack, who has good instincts and knows how to trust them. Zack, who willingly followed Milo all this way despite knowing about his EHML. He doesn’t come across people like Zack every day.

Right now, it’s just him and Zack in a dark tunnel. There’s no one else around to worry about, no judgmental looks or scolding words. No one to tell Zack that he shouldn’t be around Milo. So maybe, this time, Zack can really decide for himself. Maybe, deep down beneath the knee-jerk fear reaction, he feels what Milo does, and knows that leaving would be the wrong choice.

Maybe Milo can fight for this.

So instead, Milo asks, “How do you live like that?”

Zack’s voice is hesitant. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Milo turns around, frustration nipping at him because it’s always so hard to put these things into words, “you wanna live like those other kids? They took a bus to school today. A bus! Does that seem like more fun to you?”

That really doesn’t say everything he means. It doesn’t say ‘I think you’re amazing and destined for so much more than an ordinary life’ or ‘I feel better with you by my side so please don’t go.’ But none of that comes easily to Milo, so it’ll have to do.

Zack stops and thinks about it. Really thinks about it. Milo holds his breath.

“Hm. Alright,” Zack says simply. He hops over the middle channel, landing next to Milo on the other side. Closer than most people are willing to get if they don’t have to. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at Milo expectantly. “Where to next?”

Milo is almost stunned by the sheer relief that washes over him, but he pushes through it. “Well, there’s a loose grate up over here to the left,” he says, turning around to resume walking. “I’ve been here before.”

“Of course you have,” Zack says, and it actually sounds fond.

Milo’s heart is running now, though he’s not sure why.

~*~

As they scramble their way through the construction site, Milo can’t help but think that they make a good team.

He knows he’s letting himself get too attached, too quickly. At the end of this, Zack could very well change his mind. Or maybe tomorrow, or after a week. Maybe his tolerance of Murphy’s Law has a limit. He wouldn’t be the first.

But they’re incredibly in-sync, for having just met not even a half-hour ago. They don’t even speak as they navigate the various hazards together. Zack seems to be relying on his instincts and cues from Milo, and they escape unscathed, floating down the river on the detached bed of a dump truck.

After they avoid the wolf (again) and Milo sends Diogee home (again), Zack climbs over to sit next to him, leaning back on his arms. His hand is close to Milo’s knee, close enough that their hands would be touching if Milo put his down. And the way Zack’s looking at him right now… his heart’s acting up again. Maybe he should get checked for arrhythmia.

“You know,” Zack starts, “I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline talking, but I’m starting to feel like we can handle anything that comes our way.”

If that’s how adrenaline makes Zack talk, Milo certainly doesn’t mind it. It’s not often that someone else is doing the reassuring, unless it’s Melissa or his family. And the confidence Zack says it with is an incredible thing. Even if it is just adrenaline.

Of course, now that Zack’s gone and said something like that, Murphy’s Law can’t resist the opportunity, and a massive tidal wave appears out of nowhere to carry them out of the river and straight off the edge of a cliff.

This time, Zack doesn’t scream. They plummet silently for a couple seconds before he turns his head towards Milo, almost casually, and says, “Well, maybe not anything…”

Milo would laugh at that, but then they faceplant onto the dome of an alien spacecraft and suddenly have other things to worry about.

~*~

Somehow, they end up at school on time and unscathed.

Zack thinks he might not have fully processed everything yet, because he feels… surprisingly okay. Considering what happened. But really, it seems silly to freak out and make a huge deal out of it when they’re both perfectly fine.

Aside from missing lunches, that is, but the redhead sitting in front of him- who he recalls as Melissa- has that covered. They don’t have time for formal introductions before the teacher comes in and begins class, but context clues tell Zack that she’s Milo’s only friend. And from what he can piece together, she orchestrated a betting pool to ensure they’d have something for lunch in the event theirs were destroyed.

So she’s either psychic, or stuff like this happens often.

That gets filed under ‘things to think about later,’ next to everything else that just happened. Right now, he has to focus on getting oriented to his new school. Which is… actually pretty boring, compared to this morning. Meeting his teachers, figuring out his schedule, finding his locker… it’s crazy to think he was stressing about this stuff just last night.

He gets strange looks here and there, and catches a few murmurs of, “Someone better warn the new kid” and “Wonder how long that’s gonna last” that make him… oddly indignant. He doesn’t like the feeling that his new classmates are judging his choice to stick by Milo.

He also doesn’t like the attention he’s attracted from Melissa. She’s nice enough, but he catches her staring at him sometimes, this intense look in her eyes, like she’s trying to puzzle something out, and it gives him the creeps.

Someone remind him not to get on her bad side…

If something’s up, Milo’s oblivious to it. He’s happy to help Zack around to their classes, and never falters under the stares or whispers or occasional small mishaps that occur. And they are small; nothing else that happens that day can compare to their crazy morning.

Which is perfectly fine by Zack. No complaining here.

The relative calm gives him a chance to actually get a good look at Milo- something that was neglected in all the terror. He’s deceptively average at a glance; pale, brown hair, brown eyes. An ever-present smile on his face. His outfit’s a little odd; shorts, sweater vest, loafers. And Zack quickly finds out that Milo’s backpack isn’t just a regular school backpack that happens to contain a random assortment of items.

Milo wears it nonstop throughout the day, never stashing it under his desk or in his locker. Not even during lunch. That also gets filed under ‘things to think about later.’

Along with the fact that Milo has a lot of scars. Like, a lot.

Zack remembers the conversation at the bus stop, but in the light of day it’d been easy to overlook. Milo’s so pale, the faint marks don’t show up that much until they’re under more contrasting light. And again, they aren’t running for their lives, so Zack can take the time to notice the dozens of scars on Milo’s arms, knees, and face.

Some are small pockmarks, some are lines of varying thickness, some are patchy blotches. Some of them look surgical in nature, while others Zack can’t even begin to speculate about. After their morning together, it’s not hard to imagine why Milo’s acquired so many scars in his short life, but it’s… sobering, to say the least.

Today wasn’t the rule. Milo gets hurt a lot. Like, a lot.

And so Zack’s starting to think this morning was actually really lucky, all things considered. Part of him wants to reconsider his decision. Not so much out of fear that he’ll get hurt, but because he’s not sure he can handle seeing Milo get hurt.

But then Milo catches him staring once. Their eyes meet briefly before Milo’s cheeks flush and Zack looks away, his stomach flipping like it did when they were freefalling together, and he already knows he’s in for the long haul.

~*~

Melissa doesn’t get a chance to speak to Milo alone until lunch, when Zack excuses himself to the bathroom and their little three-person table becomes its usual two-person table.

Milo, who had been excitedly recounting the morning’s events for her, suddenly falls silent as soon as Zack’s out of earshot. He looks up at her apprehensively, fidgeting with his hands, and Melissa already knows what’s on his mind before he says anything.

“So, uh, what- what do you think of him?” he asks quietly.

Melissa tilts her head, considering. She hadn’t thought much of the guy at the bus stop, simply recognizing that he was a new kid and thus didn’t know not to stand that close to Milo. She’d been surprised to see Zack stuck with Milo through all that happened, and seemed none the worse for wear.

“It sounds like he handled himself well,” she concedes.

Milo nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, he really did. I was very impressed.”

“I can tell,” Melissa says, amused.

Milo laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Is that a blush? “I just, I know we haven’t really hung out with other people in… forever. I didn’t mean to have this whole adventure with him, without you, it just happened.” His expression sobers. “And- and I like him, and I think he’d be a good fit for us, but if you don’t, then just say the word. I’ll understand.”

Then he gives her that little smile of his, the one that’s sad at the edges like he’s already expecting a certain answer and has resigned himself to it. The one he uses whenever he’s apologizing for some Murphy’s Law related incident. The one that makes her want to shake him and say, “It’s not your fault, you deserve better.”

Over the years, some people have tried to stick around Milo just for the spectacle of it. A chance to see what the deal with the ‘disaster kid’ was (particularly back when Diogee was allowed to accompany Milo to school as his service dog). They didn’t care about Milo as a person.

And worse, Milo never caught on. He really thought someone was giving his friendship a chance, and was crushed when they inevitably decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

It only happened a handful of times before Melissa established herself as “someone you do not want to cross” and people were too scared to try it anymore, but it took a toll on both of them. Milo’s convinced that he’s destined to go through life alone, with no one but Melissa at an arm’s length away.

And Melissa’s instantly suspicious of anyone who shows an interest in Milo. Admittedly, she might’ve jumped the gun a few times, and chased off potential friends who could’ve actually had good intentions. After all, some people genuinely did try to be his friend, and just couldn’t handle Murphy’s Law. Mostly new kids like Zack. But whenever someone who already knew them started getting closer, Melissa’s defensiveness quickly deterred any further advances, before she even knew whether they were sincere or not.

Those are acceptable loss margins in her opinion, if it meant Milo didn’t have to suffer another heartbreak.

But she knows he’s lonely. More than others would think, and probably more than he’s willing to admit to himself. The two of them are close, but one person can’t be someone’s whole world. He’s always wary of putting too much on her, so she knows there are holes she isn’t filling.

If she’s being honest, it might be nice to have someone else around to help handle the Murphy mayhem. From what she’s heard, Zack is plenty capable- and that’s without any prior experience. She could do worse for someone to take under her wing. Plus, she hasn’t gotten strange vibes from him yet, regarding Milo. He seems genuine.

And Milo really seems to like Zack. Probably more than he’s willing to admit to himself.

So much so, in fact, it speaks volumes that he’d break this budding friendship if she asked him to. It scares her, sometimes, how much of Milo’s heart she seems to hold. They’ve won each other’s trust and loyalty a thousand times over since they first became friends, but all she really did in the beginning was show him some basic kindness. That’s all it took for him to decide he was devoted.

The wrong person could really abuse that.

… Zack better not be the wrong person.

“He’s in,” Melissa decides.

The way Milo’s face lights up almost makes all her worries go away.

Almost.

Zack will have to watch himself around her. If she gets a single whiff of any funny business from him, he’s done, and she’ll make him regret ever switching schools.

But even Melissa has to admit, the soft way Zack looks at Milo when he returns to the lunchroom and Milo happily waves him over makes her think she probably doesn’t have anything to worry about.

Probably.

~*~

#milo murphy's law #mml #milo x zack #zilo #my writing

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rwbyvein · 3 years

Text

Firen Lhain: Chapter 506: Yin / Yang

The horrifying shrieks could heard in the distance; Ren remembered them all too well, as if they were permanently written upon his soul. Nora and Ren looked out over the cliff with terror. Nora reached over to grab Ren's hand. "I," she said and paused, "can't leave you." she voiced.

"If we," he said, struggling with breath, struggling with worry, with anger and sorrow, "if we think - it is the only choice."

"But?!" Nora shouted, "I can't leave you!"

"I," Ren voiced, still struggling for breath, still trying to contain all that was within him, "I will join you - as soon as I'm able. But our friends are down there. Jaune and Ruby are down there. They - need - you - far - more - than I."

"But..." Nora tried to say, and Ren pulled on her arm until she looked him in the tear-sodden eyes.

"Make the same choice that Jaune made when we left." Ren said to her, "Do what you can in the now, or there might not be a future." Tears formed in Nora's eyes and gently graced her cheeks. "This is the first time," he said, with a pause, "in a long time - I've seen you with pause. It is... unsettling." he said to her.

Nora let go of his hand and slowly drew Magnhild. She stood on the hammer and with one last sorrowful look, launched herself into the air. Ren watched as her wings opened and she glided off down the cliff. He breathed in deeply a couple times before leaping after her. He snaked from limb to limb of the trees down the mountain, drawing StormFlower's blades when he needed extra grip. As he descended the air became both sweeter and more sickening. He became more and less awake at the same time.

The terror filled him more and more, but the adrenaline it created drove him onward. Fear and failure were the greatest enemies a warrior could face. One he could deal with, the other would destroy him. He couldn't lose any more.

* * *

"So," Taiyang said to Yang as they stood in the barn, "I'll ask you one more time, where - are you going?" He said as her eyes unfocused and flittered about restlessly, as the thoughts bounced around in her head. It was a few minutes before she made any real movement, and it was one step towards him. "Just tell me, Dad, why did you leave me the letter? Okay, I'll admit, I wasn't exactly listening, like usual, but..."

"What letter?" Taiyang asked.

"The one that said Summer Princess?" Yang asked him, accusingly, but Taiyang just looked lost in reply.

"I've..." he tried to say, unsure even of what was happening, "I figured it was... it was from?.."

"Who?" Yang asked.

Taiyang breathed in deep before replying, "I've never called you Summer Princess." he said simply.

"But?.." she asked.

"I call you Summer Dragon." he said, "Or Sunshine." he added, teetering his head.

Before he realized it, Yang had pushed passed him with her regenerated arm and ran out of the shed. She quickly rushed into the house, and up the stairs, the walls and bannister barely surviving the onslaught. She reached her room and picked up the letter, seeing it still sealed. "My Summer Princess."

I don't know how to say this... I'm so sorry... I couldn't be with you...

But Ruby...

Ruby always seems to know where she is needed most... and... I'm sure you've noticed how much help she needs when she gets there... a lot more than I do. But I know you will survive this. You are the strongest, most amazing woman I've ever known. Just thinking about you gives me confidence... confidence I'm afraid I am borrowing from you. It should be you, here, with Ruby, not me... I know you could do a lot more for her than I could...

and I'm rambling about myself. I told you I'm not really good at this... just... like... I'm really not good at anything...

But, uh, hope to see you soon. We could really use your help... and I would love to see your face... even... if for... a moment...

Oh, man, you've got me going now. Uh, bye.

Sincerly,

Jaune Arc

Yang fell down to her knees and her head touched the desk. She stood up and rushed from the room back to the shed, getting on her motorcycle and heading out, barely waving goodbye to her father.

* * *

The terrifying cry echoed about the city like metal scratching the back of their next... like claws on their souls. They paused for a moment before Jaune looked at Ruby. "What are you doing?!" he asked her.

"Fighting with you!" she replied, as she pulled out Crescent Rose and expanded it.

"What?," he asked, "No!" He pulled out Black Prince and extended it to a bill. She nearly cried then and there. "What, no, you're great at swooping in at the last minute with your scythe and saving me. Do that."

"OH!?" Ruby exclaimed, and turned into rose petals, flying up to a rooftop.

"Don't take the first shot!" Jaune shouted, drawing an arrow from his quiver, "Keep your distance!" he said, as he knocked the arrow against the hidden string and pulled. The blade folded forward and away safely, and he still marveled at how perfectly it worked as a longbow. Were modern weapons made of magic. He shook his head. "Keep your distance until we know what it can do!"

"Aye-aye!" Ruby shouted, and Jaune quickly looked up at her.

"What was that?!" Jaune asked.

"I'm agreeing with you!"

"Oh..." he voiced, looking back at where the noises were coming from, "ah..." The black thing came around a corner. It looked liked a colossal black horse with a black rider, but... it definitely wasn't anything like Human. It had a horse-neck and head, four horse legs, two Human-like arms, along with a Human-like head and neck. He really wasn't sure what to aim for, so he picked centre of mass. He pulled his bow to a full bend before loosing it, the power still surprising him. It felt like launching a freight train. Said freight train of an arrow passed clean through the Grimm. It created dissolving black Grimm dust and visibly stunned it, but didn't seem to do any real damage. "Well, that's - just - wonderful." he dejectedly sighed. He turned his weapon back into a bill. The horse-head looked between them before the body lined up with Qrow laying against a tree.

Jaune quickly put his weapon away, on the back of his right hip, and ran towards Qrow. He looked back down to the right momentarily, in awe at how easy it was to fold up and put away. He shook his head and redoubled his efforts to get there, pulling his shield out as he ran. He made it in time and ducked down to pick up Qrow. Ruby dove down as rose petals. She landed just in time to cut through one of the legs with her scythe. The caused the creature to stumble, giving Jaune enough time to pick up Qrow as it collapsed in front of them. Jaune ran away as Ruby fired, hitting it in the withers. It was trying to stand cand collapsed once again. The next shot rocked through the hindquarters, causing it again to stumble. By now Jaune was out of sight, hiding Qrow within a building.

"Just..." Jaune voiced, "just keep calm." Qrow nodded as he struggled to pull out his flask. "Whatever." Jaune voiced, and turned to leave the house. He heard a crashing sound, and as he came out saw a building falling down with the creature rushing through it. Rose petals flittered away, first to one rooftop, pausing to aim a shot. She then flittered to the next roof and the next before aiming once again. This shot landed dead centre in the Grimm body. It caused it to collapse once again, but still... didn't seem to be doing any real damage.

Jaune saw something above and looked up, and it was Nora falling down heavily. The hammer landed on the Grimm and it was followed by a large, pink explosion that knocked the wind out of them. Nora waved when she heard something behind her. She turned about to see the Grimm struggling to stand back up. She visibly sighed at it. "Ugh! It got back up!" she gestured at it.

"Yeah!" Jaune replied, "It keeps doing that! Withdraw!"

Nora stood on her hammer and fired it, moving out of the way just as the creature's claws would have struck her.

"Don't get too close!" Jaune stated.

"You got it!" Nora replied, as another bullet from Crescent Rose shot through the creature. It created black dust that disappeared quickly. The creature now fully stood up, and now fell back to the ground. But again, there weren't any closer to killing it.

"Where's Ren?!" Ruby asked, and Nora visibly sighed. She then looked at Jaune.

* * *

Ren moved as quickly as he could through the trees of the forest, to make his way to the town. He could barely think as the anger and rage flowed through him. He lost his family to this creature before. He wouldn't let it happen again.

* * *

"What's the plan?!" Nora shouted, and it was Jaune's turn to visibly sigh. His eyes then caught something quickly moving. Ren had lept onto the back of the horse, the blades of his StormFlower imbeded in the Human-like part's neck. The spines on it's back quickly grew, but he had already dismounted to the left side. The Grimm's left arm and claws swept towards him, but he was already jumping out of the way of it. The arm than extended, lunging towards him before being intercepted by a pink explosion from Nora's grenade launcher. The hand and arm laid on the ground for a moment. Before it flexed as it started recover.

Ren stood, staring the creature down, looking into it's eyes... or at least one set of eyes. Jaune was already rushing over with his shield in hand to block the claws as they extended to Ren once again. "Keep moving." he said to him. "Circle around it."

Ren stood for a moment longer before he took off running, circling clockwise around the beast. Nora and Ruby were now on the ground, as Jaune put his shield away, drawing Black Prince with his right hand and folding it out to a bill. Jaune, Nora, and Ruby periodically struck through it's body and legs as Ren made well aimed shots to it's Human-like head. His focus was intently laid on the beast, too intently as the creatures claws extended to him. He was knocked backwards with his aura flickering. Everyone stood awestruck for a moment.

Jaune recovered first, "Ren, you're grounded!"

Ren struggled to his feet and stood, looking at the creature. It's arm extended to him once again. This time Ruby's scythe cut it off as Nora rushed towards him. She grabbed his hand, but Ren still looked at the beast. He turned to look her in her eyes and found her crying. She pulled his hand and he resisted. She pulled with her might and Aura, pulling him off his feet as she ran back and under a house.

The Grimm readied to charge at the house when it was rammed full speed by Jaune's antlers, knocking it to the side and causing it to stumble. Ren attempted to rejoin the battle but Nora held his hand in place. "Nora, let go!" he shouted, "Nora, they're going to get hurt if we don't!.."

Without even looking up Nora slapped him hard across the face. He stopped and turned to face her, and she finally lets go, putting her hands in her lap. "No. I won't let you kill yourself like this." she said, every single word sounding like a cry for help. "After everything we've been through, I won't let it end."

She raised her head, but Ren saw his memory of Nora as a scared little girl before blinking and seeing her normally; both had tears in their eyes. So many thoughts and images flashed through his head, but it wasn't the end.

"I can borrow his shield." Ren quietly said, and Nora looked up, tear-sodden eyes seeming to glimpse hope, and she nodded.

Matching strides, they walked out from under the house, hearing the sounds of breaking stone, grunts from Jaune, and a couple of slow shots from Crescent Rose. Jaune dodged one of the extending claws when he turned to see them coming out from under the house. The creature turned towards them when Ruby's scythe cut of one of the back legs causing it to stumble.

"Ren!" Jaune shouted.

"Can I?.." Ren said, and paused for breath, trying his best to calm himself down. He darkened as he summoned his Semblance, "borrow your shield?"

Jaune looked him in the eyes for a moment before using his left hand to grab his collapsed shield and sword. It flashed with his Aura for a moment before he threw it to Ren. "You better have a good plan."

"If you could pin it's arms?" Ren asked, as he expanded the shield, just in time to deflect the claws from the creature. Jaune turned towards it once again and charged it, ramming it with his antlers. While it was kiltering, Ruby landed on it's far arm, using her scythe to pin it to the ground. Ren ran passed Jaune, tilting the the sword's hilt towards him. Jaune drew the sword as Ren ran passed, as Nora struct the horse-like body with her hammer. Jaune then used his sword to impale the arm as Ren walked up to the Human-like body. He paused momentarily to exhale before drawing a dagger from his boot and using it to cut the head off.

#rwby #firen lhain #faunus au #pollinated knight ending

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ficklefics · 4 years

Text

Friends Like These - Chapter Twenty-Eight: Crashed

To escape without disaster would be too easy.

Jerome Valeska x Harleen Quinzel

SERIES MASTERLIST ~ MASTERLIST ~ CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Taglist: @hexqueensupreme

Chapter Warnings: Violence, injury

“You should probably wait out of sight.”

Jerome and I are standing outside of my parents’ house. The lights are on – I just hope they’re still there. That I’m not too late.

“What? I’m not allowed to meet your parents?” He scoffs, but he does retreat into the shadows of the trees that line the sidewalk. I steady myself and walk up the steps. As my hand wraps around the door handle Jerome calls out –

“You’ll be fine!” I can’t tell if he’s serious or joking. Maybe there isn’t ever actually a line with him. I shake my head, ignore him, and try the handle.

The door’s unlocked. A shiver of fear runs through my body as I open it. Please don’t be too late. Please. Jerome watches from a distance. I don’t need to turn around to know that. A shadow passes the window and I burst in. My mom screams and drops the bag she’s carrying. “It’s me!” As soon as she hears my voice her arms are around me. “Harleen!” I think she might be crying. I pry her away from me and hold her at arms-length. “Thank goodness you’re-” “There’s no time,” I pick up the bag and begin searching for my father. “You need to go, now. We’re already pushing it.” He’s in the living room, checking a hastily made list. “Come on.” “We need to wait for Archie to get here.” “No.” I struggle not to shout but I don’t need to create any more stress right now. “You can drive yourself for once.” “But-” “No buts!” I bite my tongue immediately, but it’s made them pay attention. “Now get in the car.”

I grab another bag on my way out and head to the car parked in front of the house. My parents follow me with their own bags. Luckily I can’t see Jerome. Once the bags are stowed away my father opens the back door and stands, waiting for me to get in.

“I’m not coming with you.” My mother steps out of the car and gapes at me. “What do you mean?” “I need to fix this mess. I can’t let them get away with this.” “I won’t let you stay.” “You can’t stop me.” I slam the door from my father’s hand. “Now go.” “Harleen-” He starts, but I don’t have time for a debate. “Dad, just go!” “I’m proud of you.” The words shock me. In eighteen years I don’t think I’ve ever heard that. I don’t quite know how to respond. “I’ll let you know when it’s all over.” It’s all I can say. But I think he understands. “Goodbye.” He gets into the car, turns the ignition, and they’re driving away from me. Left all alone in Gotham City. My dream come true.

I wait until the lights disappear before I let myself fall. All the tension releases from my shoulders and I practically collapse against the wall. A shaky breath makes its way through me and I need to bite my lip to stop myself from bursting into tears.

This is all too much. This isn’t supposed to be my life. I can’t do this. Why me? It’s not fair. Not fair. Not fai-

“Harls,” Jerome’s voice startles me. I swipe hastily at the pooling tears in the corner of my eyes and turn to him. “We should probably get going.” “Yeah.” I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. No more crying. “You alright?” He asks incredulously, head tilted. “I’m fine.” “Sure you are.” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “You get so sappy over your parents. I really just don’t get it.” He stares off into the distance where the car vanished. “They’re good people.” “And?” “Just shut up.” I shake my head at him. Almost relaxed. I stretch, take a moment to breathe now that the urgency is gone.

Or not.

“We need to go.” Jerome grabs my arm and starts pulling me towards the bike. I hiss at the pain emanating from his grip and try to force him away. “What are you doing?!” He doesn’t answer but just points at the three black cars driving towards us. “Shit.”

We leap onto the bike, Jerome behind me again, not even taking the time to put helmets on before I’m veering away from the sidewalk and away from the house. The cars rev behind us – it’s definitely them. I take a sharp turn, hoping that it will at least be enough to slow them down.

No such luck. They’re closing on us. “Hurry up!” Jerome’s voice is faint, muffled by the engines and the wind. “I’m trying!”

I speed up, the bike roaring beneath me. Suddenly we’re in the city, zipping past bright lights that blur into a neon rainbow. I’m trying to keep on track, to get to Penguin’s, but my priority is getting rid of our trail. We can’t let them follow us.

BANG!

Gunshots shouldn’t sound so familiar. I duck swerve instinctively, despite having no idea what direction they’re firing other than “at us”. I dart between cars, but they somehow manage to keep up. Other drivers are pulling out of the way. I can already hear sirens.

My heart is racing. This is too exciting. It’s terrifying but exhilarating. I’m running on adrenaline and it’s a high unlike anything else. I could do this for the rest of my life.

I catch sight of a narrow alleyway. Dumpsters line it – they won’t be able to follow us. It’s a risky shot. But I can make it.

A hairpin turn. Barrelling through traffic, cars swerving everywhere. It’s getting closer. The wind pulls at us as we barely make it through the gap. There’s the sound of a collision behind us, more gunshots firing, but I keep going. Jerome is trying to say something, but I can’t hear him; I’m laughing in relief, practically whooping at our victory.

Through the alley and out the other side. I turn to head out of the city.

But they’re there. Waiting. I skid to a halt. We seem to stare each other down, me and Jerome versus a fleet of cars, of guns, of death. Waiting to see who will bite first.

Except I’m not waiting.

The wheels skid on the asphalt. We’re heading straight towards them. I grit my teeth. Their weapons are pointed at us. Jerome’s arms around me tighten. A deadly game of chicken.

I go straight through them. They fire, bullets flying, glancing off the metal, one even catching my hair. But for once I’m the lucky one. They’re still chasing us, but the blockade means they have to regroup. Our advantage.

Sooner than I expected we’re out of the city, driving through trees down back roads. I’m starting to think we’ve lost them. Starting to hope that we’ll get there safely.

It was foolish to hope.

More cars. More fucking cars. There’s too many. I’m exhausted, body and mind. Just a bit longer. I can do this. I have to.

But then I glance down.

The tank is close to empty. There’s no way we’ll make it. Not if we have to lose them again. They’re getting closer. I bite my lip. Squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for what I’m about to do.

I’m sorry Jerome.

I snap the handles hard to the right, spinning us hard out of control. Jerome yells in my ear. We knock into trees, bushes, and down a steep slope. We fly off of the bike and away from each other. I hit the ground hard and continue falling, hitting what feels like every rock and branch on the way down. There’s nothing I can do. I feel a sharp pain in my head. Taste blood. See black.

“There’s no way they could have survived that.” “We still need to check.” “You want to try and get down there?” “We have to.”

I feel like I’m in a dream. Everything is fuzzy around the edges. But I can see the stars. If they’re the last thing I see, I’ll be happy.

I think I hear cars driving away. I thought they were chasing us? Does that mean I’m dead?

I don’t feel dead. I don’t think I do, at least. But I don’t know what death feels like. The closest to death I’ve felt is leaving Gotham. But I survived that. I don’t think people survive death.

Then again, Jerome did. He died and came back. Quite impressively. Maybe I’ll come back. Maybe I’ll be worse than I was.

“Harleen.” The voice is hushed. Raspy. Familiar. “Jerome?” “I’m here.” I think he’s leaning over me. “Are we dead?” “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Hair is moved from my forehead. There’s something sticky. Smells metally. “Of course not. That was a dumb idea.” I murmur. Talking feels funny. It’s like all the bones and muscles in my head have been shaken out of place. “Come on, we need to keep going.” “Just a little rest.” I try to close my eyes but Jerome makes me sit up. I whine in complaint. “They’re looking for us.” “Oh. They’ll kill us, won’t they?” I hate feeling this stupid, sounding this stupid, but my brain feels fragmented. The thoughts just don’t fit together. “Yup, so we need to get going.” He helps me to my feet but as soon as he lets me go, I stumble and almost crash to the ground. Luckily he catches me and hoists an arm over his shoulder. “How come the guy with the bullet wound in his leg is doing the carrying?” He grumbles. “’Cause you like me.” My mouth speaks without my brain. “I’m liking you a lot less after that stunt throwing us off a cliff.” We begin to shuffle across the damp ground. “Well, you can drive next time.” Being on my feet is starting to clear my head a little, and I pull away to stand on my own. I’m still a little unsteady but we need to move as fast as we can. “You know, I really don’t see how that could have gone worse.” “We could have died.” “Good point.” A moment of silence, but I can’t seem to shut up, “What’s it like?” “What?” “Being dead.” Jerome sighs, glancing around. “It’s not like anything. It’s just… nothing. Empty.” “That sounds awful.” “Well, I’m trying to avoid round two for as long as I can.”

I press my hand against my forehead. It comes away bloody. “I’ll have double face scars now.” “Join the club.” He chuckles. “Nah, I’ll look after mine and they’ll look cool.” He gasps in mock offence. “Are you saying my scars don’t look cool?” “You look like Frankenstein’s monster gone wrong.” “That’s harsh.” “It’s true though.” “You wound me, Harls.” “I think you’ll find you’re usually the one doing the wounding, thank you very much. It’s only fair I get a turn once in a while.” I smirk at him.

The levity disappears quickly when we hear voices calling to each other.

“Here’s the bike!” “They’re not here!”

“Shit.” Jerome hisses. We move as one, hurrying forward as silently as possible. They don’t seem to be too close. Yet. We’re both limping as we make our way through the trees. But the pain now won’t matter if they find us. “Wait.” Jerome’s voice is barely a whisper as he throws an arm in front of me. Ahead of us. A man in leather. Flashlight in one hand, gun in the other. Jerome acts on instinct. Before I can process what’s happening I’m pressed against a tree by his body. He holds a finger to his lips. I nod. Slowly, I raise my arm and pull his hood over the shock of ginger hair.

Our hearts beat as one. Eyes fixed on each other. Breath mingling. My hand hasn’t moved from his hood. My wrist rests on his shoulder.

The moment feels endless.

There’s a sigh from behind the tree. The man is walking away. But Jerome isn’t moving. And neither am I. We’re frozen here, together, separate from the world. For once free from everything else. I’m not scared. Fear doesn’t mean anything anymore. Jerome’s eyes flicker to my lips, and mine imitate him. It seems like the only thing to do.

The sound of cars driving away makes me jump. The spell is broken. Jerome pulls back, leaving the space around me suddenly empty and incomplete. “We should go.” I manage to speak. He nods, and I lead us away from the tree, from that moment suspended in time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

#jerome valeska #jerome valeska x harleen quinzel #Harleen Quinzel #Harley Quinn #joker #gotham #gotham fanfic #gotham fanfiction #jerome valeska fanfic #jerome valeska fanfiction

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mrneighbourlove · 4 years

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Puppet of Malus

Agahnim panted, coughing up a small amount of water. His mouth tasted heavy with iron. He must have cut his mouth open on the fall. Looking back up, he could barely hear the screeching of the monster so high on the mountain top of where he jumped. He was in a group of twenty-two when they left the country of Malus. They knew it wouldn’t be easy, but they never expected the death that awaited in the mountains. The country seemed to be created by the Devil himself to keep the Mortuus inside. The mountains that surrounded Malus were incredibly high and rocky, and, to their lethal unknowing, full of predators. The group was picked off quickly as they ran and fought to the border. Once they reached it, the surviving members found themselves at a cliff side with a sheer drop, and a river below. It was a leap of faith for all those that took it. Agahnim knew this was destiny. He had a mission after all the carry out. Hopefully, some of the others survived, as it would certainly make the tasks of the future more bearable.

Walking down the river side that fed out of Labrymma, the Mortuus flinched seeing a body float unmoving down the river. He didn’t need necromancy to know they were dead. It was then Agahnim heard coughing around the bend of the beach. “Hello! Did anyone else make it!?”

The Mortuus discovered two other survivors. Norgus and Mahen. They looked absolutely exhausted.

"If you call surviving that monstrosity 'making it', then yes, I suppose I did."

"I think the river saved us."

"It was either the water or that thing back there, and I made the decision for you."

"Yeah, by pushing me first into the water, thanks a lot."

"You wouldn't have jumped, you pansy."

"Well that's three of us so far..." Agahnim saw someone trying to swim in the water. Holy hell, it was Dio. The man watched his companion barely pull herself from the river, her arm torn apart in chunks from the fall, having to crawl to the beach.

"H-help me... out of the water."

Pulling Dio out of the water, Norgus and Mahem were soaking wet. Everyone in the group was exhausted but the mission came first. Looking at Agahnim, the two were at a loss for what to do. This was definitely not going as planned.

Dio panted, and cursed looking at her arm. "Someone... get me a corpse from the water or a wild animal."

Agahnim saw the corpse he witnessed floating down the river finally rest on shore. Going over to drag the body over, he saw it was Migal. Poor bastard had his torso cut apart by the rocks from the fall. When he finished dragging the body, Dio used blood magic to heal her arm by tearing the flesh from Migal to heal her own arm. It was an incredibly painful process, her red eyes glowing from using the magic, and her flesh forcibly being sewed together. "Frakalamos Diakanolo… Agahnim. This is all we have left. It's just the four of us."

"I know."

"Do you even think we'll be able to make it to Hyrule?" Norgus asked Agahnim. "We've had so many setbacks thus far. Not to mention, do you even think this queen of magic will help us?"

"Our people have never had to deal with these Lorleidians before, not to mention, Hylians or Gerudos."

"We've never had to deal with anyone before. We live in hell and no one even knows it. We all sacrificed much to get here. Think about this. We are most likely the first Mortuus to successfully escape the country in ages. You put your faith in me before, so I ask for you to keep it now. They most likely won't willingly help us, but we are survivors. Our magic is incredibly powerful, enough to even convince a Queen of Light to help us. I promise you; we will succeed in our mission. All of our companions’ deaths won't be in vain. We will do a great service in the name of Malus that which has never been seen before."

Dio looked blankly at Agahnim, before looking to Norgus and Mahem. "Alright Agahnim… I'm behind you. How about you two? Any regrets?"

"No, no regrets at all. We have to do this to prevent evil from spreading."

"Whatever the sacrifice, whatever is necessary, we'll do so."

"We'll follow you wherever you go, Agahnim."

"I just hope we'll have luck with this new queen. I've heard her king is something fierce."

"Not to mention, she's sure to have bodyguards."

"We need to plan how to get close."

"We'll do some reconnaissance. However..." Agahnim took a breath of fresh air, already seeing the future play out perfectly for him. "I believe we have the tools we'll need when we arrive in Hyurle. Now pick yourselves up. We have a long walk to Hyrule."

Klinge was not in the mood for this. Grabbing a mace, he swatted Ba'Puu on the nose rather aggressively. "I don't care if you consider yourself a war hero now. You don't get to eat out of the rations. You want fish? Then fly to the ocean. This food is for the people you damn lizard."

"It didn't have this 'peoples' name on it." Ba'puu snorted at Klinge, and then simply snatched the mace out of the undead's hand and tossed it aside, clanging into brick wall of the courtyard. "Besides, Mama said I could have all the fish I wanted."

"Ba'puu... we talked about this." Zarazu sighed as she heard Klinge and her dragon arguing. "I said you could have all the fish that I gave you. These were set aside for the citizens."

"Well, this pest here could have told me that."

"... you can read, Ba'puu."

"... I forgot."

"Ba'puu, my scaley baby, please don't eat the fish rations here, all right?" Zarazu scratched his snout and then kissed it. "Would you be a good boy and go to the ocean to fish for more? To replace the ones you ate?"

"If the pest apologizes for hitting me with a mace."

"You hit him with a mace?!" Zarazu huffed at Klinge. "I talked to you about that too!"

"Leave us child, just like your mother told you." Klinge pointed an arm out for Ba'puu to leave. Turning his attention to Zarazu, Klinge was rather relaxed in his response. "He can handle worse. He has the skin for it."

"Hmph. The only reason you're still here is because my Mama, for whatever odd reason, likes you." Ba'puu grumbled as he took off in the direction of the ocean. "You better be nice to her."

Once Ba'puu began his flight, Zarazu then turned her attention to Klinge. "That still doesn't mean you can hit him with a mace." The queen poked her finger against Klinge's armor. "He might be a stubborn and clingy dragon, but he's my dragon."

"If he's your child, I must wonder how effective of a mother you were with the lack of manners he has." Klinge rested his back against the wall, content to have a long drawn out debate on the woman's parenting skills if need be. War made him restless, and willing to take any conflict for the next year or so, be it fighting to the death or a verbal argument.

"Excuse me?" Zarazu narrowed her eyes at Klinge, and crossed her arms, standing on her tiptoes to look right through his helmet's slit. That comment made her feel highly insulted. "I did a very fine job, thank you very much! I raised Zolori, Zizi, and Ba'puu, all while working to put food in their bellies!" She shook a finger at his face. "You have no room to talk if you've never raised kids! Much less a baby dragon with no help!"

"I helped raise Gerudo children just fine, until they were massacred. I would have raised my own child fine, if she wasn't taken from me. In fact, I helped raise the royal family where I could." Klinge said the words so matter a fact, it came across as utterly chilling. "No, no, no. You should have been stricter with him, sterner. Now he's grown up to be a little shit disturber quite frankly..."

"Oh, and you think you did such a good job raising them?" Zarazu shot back. "Allowing them to get hurt and one to get kidnapped and other to be so ashamed of being homosexual, he left the damn kingdom?! At least Ba'puu knows he's loved and he's not terrified of me!"

Zarazu could suddenly feel death daggers shot down at her, especially when Klinge slowly grabbed her by the arms, and gently leaned down to her. "Don't. You ever. Ever say that to me again you little witch. Or I will have a reason to look the other way the next time the newest threat to Hyrule comes demanding your blood. You don’t get to tell me how I handled the royal family’s safety." Letting his threat sink in, Klinge gave her a shove against the chest to get out of his way as he walked out her presence as quickly as he could without breaking into a jog.

"Or what?! You'd fight me again and lose your other arm?!" Zarazu challenged angrily, not appreciating the fact that Klinge had grabbed her in such a way. More than anything, she hated being threatened in such a manner. Lately, Klinge had been doing just about anything to pick a fight. Well, he certainly was going to get one. "You'd go against your queen?! Figures, since you still hate Zelda's guts. You can't let go of the past, and you certainly can't look toward the future!" She shouted after him, ice forming underneath her feet. "If you ever touch Ba'puu again or threaten me, I'll find you a deep a grave to rot in!!!"

Klinge clenched his metallic fist, doing everything he could to not throw a punch. "Like the graves of the countless civilians you couldn't save from Vul'kar? Go cool off before you say something your blabbering mouth regrets."

"At least I saved my people!!!" Zarazu growled bitterly. "The Lorleidians are still here!" She spun on her heel and tromped toward the ocean. The sea spires would help her gather her thoughts. Maybe Ba'puu would even take her for a flight later... gosh, being queen was difficult.

Zarazu felt a rock hit her in the back of the head. "Be grateful you still have a people that are not only still thriving, but also not hunted down by others, you spoiled little witch!" Klinge was going to lose it, he could feel the hate rising up. The rock was the least amount of damage he was going to do, but it made him expel just enough energy. Going down the one of the intact hallways, Klinge looked furiously at the family portrait Ganondorf had made of him and his children. They won what should be their final war of their lives, yet he was still angry. People still pushed him to anger. Things were never going to get easier. Why the hell did Klinge EVER consider he could have friends, let alone with someone like her. Covarog probably begged Zarazu to be kind to him in the hospital. What a fool he was to opening up to her about his past. "Never again..."

"KISS VUL'KAR'S ASS!!!"

It was later in the day that Ba'puu found his adoptive mother at the sea spires. He always knew where to find her if there was something on her mind. Landing on the rock, he curled around Zarazu and nuzzled her. There was negativity in her mind and a sense of feeling lost. "Mama?" Ba'puu told her. "I replaced the fish I ate. I'm sorry if I made you upset."

"No, Ba'puu, you didn't upset me." Zarazu sighed, running a hand down her face. "Klinge did. I've been trying my absolute best to get along with him, but at every turn, it seems like he wants to pick a fight with me. I lost my temper with him and said some things I shouldn't have said."

"Everyone does that at some point."

"I know... but I want to be a good queen."

"You are a good queen. Everyone knows that Vul'kar wasn't your fault."

"Then why don't I feel that way?"

Ganondorf was tending to one of his old tridents, when he saw Klinge aggressively clawing at the armour plating on his arm.

"Commander. What's the matter?"

"Excuse me sire?"

"Oh come now, I know that habit of yours."

Klinge shook his head in defeat. He couldn't hide anything from Ganondorf. "It's Zarazu. The woman is maddening. I merely wished to discuss her parenting skills over her childish dragon, when she called me out on my failures over my protection of your own children, as well as my failure to save our people."

"Hmmm, and this upsets you?"

"Yes."

"Not because you can simply kill her like any other fool who'd dare say those things to us."

"No... because I thought she was friend."

"Do you want me to speak to Covarog about your altercation?"

"... no. You don't need to do that."

"Is there anything else on your mind?"

"Why isn't it I feel like we'll ever have peace?"

Ganondorf looked up from shining his trident. "Us... or you?"

At that, Klinge didn't answer. "I'm going to make a report to your son about reconstruction..."

"Very well, take care commander..."

"Considering you had no parents, I think you did all right raising Zizi and Zolori." Covarog sat in his shared bedchamber with Zarazu as she combed his long hair. "Ba'puu is... well..."

"I know, I know, Ba'puu is clingy, stubborn, childish, and a headache to you and everyone else, isn't he?" Zarazu huffed as she continued to work on the tangles. "He's such a pain, he should stay out of the way and just let everyone hit him in the nose with a mace."

"... you're very touchy when it comes to Ba'puu."

"Yes, I am."

"Why?"

"... because he doesn't have anyone else but me."

"He has your sisters, doesn't he?"

"It's... it's different, Covarog." Zarazu sighed, putting aside the brush and started to braid. "Dragons only bond with one human in their entire lifetime. Once I'm gone, Ba'puu... he..." The queen's shoulders slumped. "He won't be the same. I've seen what happens to dragons without their humans."

"Did you really need to argue with Klinge though?"

"Ugh, Klinge has been looking for a fight every single damn day!" Zarazu groaned aloud in exasperation.

"Did you know he was criticizing my handwriting a few days ago? My handwriting! Of all things!"

"He's picky about that." Covarog ran a hand down his face. "I can almost feel the tingle of the ruler on the back of my hand."

"Whether it's handwriting, sword fighting, posture, speeches, whatever it is, he's becoming worse than Zelda is about corsets!!!"

A knock came at the door, rather heavily. Klinge could hear Zarazu complaining heavily. Hopefully he could blank her out of his mind while he addressed Covarog.

"Maybe you two just need to sit down and talk these things out, love." Covarog suggested. "Klinge has certain expectations of a queen."

"I don't want him to view me just as his queen, I want him to view me as his friend too." Zarazu finished the braids for her husband. "I just don't understand why he insists at continuously picking at my faults or finding something..." She sounded defeated. "Something wrong with me."

"Just give him time, my love." Covarog gave her a kiss. "He's not used to having a good friend, much less a very sassy one like you."

"Sassy?" Zarazu quirked an eyebrow at him. "Says who?"

"Says me." Covarog grinned as his hands ran up her hips. "The sassiest queen in existence. With a perfect ass, and huge boobs, and such luscious curves..."

"Covarog!" Zarazu blushed as he flirted. "You have a meeting with---" The knock at the door interrupted her.

"Who is it?" Covarog asked with an impatient growl.

“It’s me sire.” Klinge knocked again.

"Does he have like a fuck sensor? I swear he always shows up when we're about to do it." Covarog whispered to Zarazu with an annoyed tone.

"I'm starting to suspect he does." Zarazu whispered in reply.

“I have a report to give. Put your clothes on and answer the door.”

"Do you have to give it now?" Covarog grumbled.

"Covarog, go open the door." Zarazu urged her husband. "It's probably important."

Begrudgingly, the king opened the bedroom door.

“Good. You can be faster next time.” Klinge took out a piece of paper, carefully reading off his checklist.

“First things first. Your meeting with the Goron Chief will now take place at Death Mountain instead of here. Chief Datakanuva said his son is ill, and he doesn’t want to go too far. I’d suggest packing a bag and leaving right away. The Goron’s help in rebuilding Hyrule is crucial.”

"Oh, good goddesses..." Covarog felt frustrated. All of his recent meetings had been outside of Hyrule and he was getting tired of traveling. For once, he would like to stay home with his queen and feel comfortable. Yet, as king of Hyrule, he understood that this was part of his role. "My queen, will you be able to handle things here while I am gone?"

"As always, my king." Zarazu was not looking forward to her husband leaving yet again, but she had to be patient and supportive. Rebuilding a kingdom from scratch was hard work, and allies were important. Zarazu pulled out Covarog's suitcase. "I'll help you pack."

“Second. Your mother requests Zarazu’s assistance in helping sew Princess Rinku’s tunic. Both a ‘Queenly’ hobby to pick up and learning the importance of the hero in green throughout the ages. Perhaps you can ask her why it’s rude to bring up genocide as well.” Klinge threw in that last comment, still hurt by Zarazu’s words. “And third Covarog, the carpenters want to know if you’d like new designs to the east towers.”

"At least I don't have to sew myself back together." Zarazu snorted under her breath. "Maybe he should have thought of not bringing up the past in the first place when it was someone's fault that Lorleidi was wiped off the map."

"Klinge, Zarazu, will you two please get along?" Covarog gave Klinge a disappointed look. "Stop goading and insulting my queen. Zarazu, leave Klinge be until he cools off." He then ordered. "Go attend to your other duties."

“Tell your wife to be more considerate. And to think that the genocide of our people, and the plight of your siblings affects what little of a soul I have left.” Klinge gave Covarog the paper and walked off.

"Klinge, leave her alone unless you change your attitude first." Covarog was getting tired of all this fighting. "Zarazu, just... avoid him. Now, did you pack my pajamas?"

"Are you using the right stitch---"

"Zelda, if you ask me that one more time, I'm leaving."

"Testy today, are you?"

"Look, Klinge has already expressed his thoughts about my shortcomings, I don't need you picking at my stitching."

"Hrm, looks like Klinge is following the same pattern with you that he used with me."

"That doesn't surprise me."

Ganondorf rolled his eyes, waiting for Zelda to be finished with Zarazu. They had more important tasks than to sew his daughter’s tunic. “Oh please. He doesn’t have that hate towards Zarazu that he once had for you my dear.”

"Then why does he insist on arguing with me? Picking at every single flaw he sees? And worst of worst, questioning my ability to parent or even be a queen!" Zarazu grabbed a pillow off the couch and released a muffled scream into it. "... I'm finally away from fighting and each time I see him, I feel like I have to put my fists up again."

"I know the feeling." Zelda shrugged her shoulders as she added the golden trim onto Rinku's outfit for extra flare. "He still doesn't care for me, I doubt he ever will."

“You put your differences aside after the War of Fire Zelda. That’s respectful enough given your histories. And as for you Zarazu, the man just wants the best for you. You have to understand he’s not like others when it comes to more relaxed interactions. Perhaps if both of you stopped being so stubborn, you’d make some common ground.”

"He's the one being stubborn!"

Zelda raised a brow at her daughter in law. "... uh-huh. And you're not?"

"... no."

"You sure about that?"

"... fine, I'm a little stubborn. Less stubborn than he is." Zarazu would at least admit that. "Though it's not his place to decide what is best for me. I decide what is best for me and I have to do what is best for the people as well. It's not an easy feat."

“And it’s not your place to decide if he failed my people and my children in the past.” Ganondorf rested his gaze on Zarazu. His daughter in law, just like his son, still had much to learn about the world.

"I suppose you're right about that issue." Zarazu rubbed the side of her forehead, getting a headache. "I shouldn't have said the things I did and he shouldn't have either. We both don't know enough about the other and he certainly has a talent for pushing me."

“I think you rival in that talent yourself towards him.” Ganondorf laughed aloud, watching Zarazu darken in the cheeks slightly. “Never would I thought Covarog would pick such a challenging woman as a lover. It’s only fair that you’d be the perfect candidate as a friend to someone as challenging as Klinge.”

"Hmph." Zarazu pouted, the color on her cheeks darkening. "Covarog did say he liked me sassy."

"And Ganondorf likes me assertive." Zelda rolled her eyes. "Men are complex creatures."

Searching the castle ground, Dio entered quietly undetected. It was then that she sensed something peculiar. Looking through a crack in the wall, she saw a massive man in a suit of armour. His soul radiated undeath. It was then he saw a woman in blue clothing and dark skin walk up to him. The man sounded annoyed as he swung his sword against the practice dummies. “What is it you seek Zarazu?”

"Look, Ganondorf and Zelda want us to talk and 'put aside our differences and find commonalities'." Zarazu was trying to keep from gritting her teeth as she spoke. "As the past king and queen, I promised them we would find a way to get along."

“Is that what you want?” Klinge split a dummy in half with his blade.

"Right now? No. I want to scream obscenities at you and give you that version of just how un-queenly you think I am." Zarazu took a breath, trying to keep her wits. "Yet, I have to think about what is best for everyone else, and that depends on you and I getting along for a change. So the answer is yes, I do want to get along."

“That doesn’t really sound like you mean it.” Klinge places another practice dummy to practice on. “After all, you just said no as your initial choice.”

Moving the dummy aside to get his full attention, Zarazu crossed her arms and gave him a hard stare.

"Do you want me to repeat my last statement?"

Klinge was getting annoyed with Zarazu. If she wasn’t going to be honest with him, he rather not see her. And her attitude was pushing his buttons. “Do you want to think for yourself? Have you even had friends before? Do you want one in the first place?”

"... I'll come back later." Zarazu could feel herself growing angry but wanted to please Ganondorf and Zelda. She pushed the practice dummy back into place before walking into the castle once more.

“So that’s a no then.”

"You don't know me and I won't answer your questions unless we can both be civil." Zarazu said under her breath. "If for whatever reason you need the queen, I will be with my sisters in the kitchen. Good day."

“I am civil. I even gave your child some salmon. So how about you apologize for your attitude?” Klinge sheathed his sword, glaring behind his helmet.

"Just because you're nice to Ba'puu when you feel like it, doesn't give you the right to question my skills on raising my sisters or my dragon." Zarazu did not face him, keeping her back to him. "You might have played a role in guarding my husband and his siblings, but you are not a father yourself. You had no right to criticize me." She then had to bite the inside of her gums to keep from growling. "I will at least admit I had no right to accuse you of past failures. We both said harsh statements."

“You want to be treated with respect? Then stop acting like a child, and look me in the eye with a meaningful apology from the heart.”

"No. This is the best you will get right now, lest I be tempted to start another fight if I look at you."

“Fine. Go sulk off to your sisters than. I don’t want Zolori to burn through valuable cooking supplies, so I’d hurry.”

"At least I have people to talk to." Zarazu grumbled as she walked through the hallways and into the kitchen. There, Chef Sophie was trying her best to teach Zolori how to bake cupcakes. At least this was more peaceful than Klinge slamming into dummies.

Dio went back to her group in the sewer under the castle. “I saw Zarazu. She appears to be unarmed, and under her cycle at the moment. I’m unsure how this will affect our plan in acquiring her help.”

Agahnim shrugged his shoulders. “While you were out, I finished reading the Lorleidian text I acquired. As it turns out, the Queen has two gauntlets of great magic in her body. If she doesn’t comply, we can forcibly take them from her.”

"So the queen of magic has a weakness?"

"You know, that undead guard could be useful, don't you think?"

"I'd hate to have to force her to comply, perhaps she'd see the extent of our cause if we take the time to explain to her what is happening."

Dio and Agahnim exchanged looks, the former wondering if this was indeed an option. The woman looked to her two other companions. “After we restrain her. The undead still has a soul, although twisted. We’ll need to trap him in a powerful binding spell if we wish to use him as a tool.

“Agreed. We go ensnare him now, then use him to get close and subdue the Queen. Keep your distance if you can.”

Agahnim knew that once he had the Queen, all his problems in life would be over. The group cautiously found Klinge alone, putting away his equipment. Together with the others, they waited for Klinge to step into their rune. The Warrior never saw it coming. His nerves spiked in pain, and his mind went numb, as if he was still conscious, but not in control.

Dio conducted the undead like a puppet with hand motions. “I’ll go find this Queen now. The rest of you get in position at the library. I’ll bring the Queen to us.”

Klinge’s body walked to find Zarazu cooking in the kitchen. Dio has an easy time talking through him. “Zarazu. A moment of your time alone.”

Zarazu was in the middle of munching on one of her sister's cupcakes. It was a little more crunchy than fluffy, but she had to at least applaud Zolori's effort on not burning them black this time. When she heard Klinge's voice, she released an auidible, irritated sigh. "Can this at least wait until I'm done eating?"

“No. An emergency in the private library requires your attention.”

"...? An emergency?" Zarazu set down her dessert. This was odd. Usually if there was an accident in the castle, Captain Kelly or Tulilad alerted her. Klinge had more important things to do than deal with a mishap. "What happened?"

“It’s a messy situation. Best you come with me.”

Something was off... Klinge would have thrown an insult by now, especially since she was indulging in treats. He always had quip about her getting fat if she ate too many sweets. Zarazu had to act carefully... and keep others out of danger. "Very well." Zarazu had to act fast. There had to be a small test of sorts to see if this really was Klinge. There was a tint of... dark magic in the air. "Please summon Captain Kelly and Captain Tulilad to the library. I'm sure we could use their assistance in dealing with this matter."

Dio realized that perhaps she needed to act more in character if she needed Zarazu in a more private area. “I didn’t realize that you wanted to shirk your responsibility. Again. But if you think you want someone else to help you...”

"My responsibility is keeping my subjects safe and governing the laws of this land, not picking up books or tidying a mess, Klinge." Zarazu made a wave of dismissal with her hand, laying out her little trap. "Of course, if you have come to get me because the Widahidosyi Stone broke in the library, that's another matter."

Shit. What the fuck is a Widahidosyi Stone? Dio tried to think of something clever. “Fine. It’s one of your damn hatchling dragons. It found its way in the library and made a mess. I want you to deal with it before I do in my own special way.”

Hatchlings were not allowed in the castle unless approved by the queen herself. The last time it happened, Klinge was on the war path. He would have tossed the dragon out the window instead of coming to her. Something indeed was wrong with Klinge. Very wrong. So one last little test...

"Another one of Ba'puu's hatchlings?"

“I can’t keep track.”

Ba'puu did not have any hatchlings. Klinge was... unsure. "All right. Lead the way."

Klinge lead them to the chamber, and once they did, opened the door for her. “After you.”

"... what's the emergency, Klinge?" Zarazu stepped into the room, the magic gathering at her fingertips. "Or should I inquire to the person behind him?"

Klinge grabbed a lantern and swung it at Zarazu’s head, intent on knocking her out.

Ice rose from behind Zarazu and latched onto the commander, intent on restraining him. She swiftly dodged his blow and kept a thick wall of ice in-between them. The last thing she wanted was to have to take his other arm.

“Be a good girl and stay still.” Klinge wasn’t using any of his weapons or skill, simply using brute force to smash through the ice. The giant man lunged to bear hug Zarazu.

"The hell I will!" Zarazu blasted Klinge with the full force of her icy talent, plastering him to the wall. "Who are you and what have you done with my commander?!"

Agahnim struck Zarazu from behind with a dark energy sphere, shocking her back. Agahnim motioned for Norgus and Mahem to start their rune around Zarazu. They wouldn’t have much time.

Zarazu released a strident shriek when the dark magic intermingled with her own, giving her body quite the shock. Groaning, she tried to keep from falling, stumbling about into the bookshelves.

“Hold her you fools!” Agahnim struck her again. About this time, Dio stumbled from the closet, letting her control of a Klinge go. She actually puked, feeling the affects of Zarazu’s divine magic through Klinge.

"Get away from me!!!" Zarazu screamed and managed to blast Norgus and Mahem against the wall with a strident slam. "GUARDS!!!"

“You froze your guard against the only door out.” Agahnim zapped her again. “Hit her with the paralysis locks!”

"How dare you control Klinge against his will and attack me in my own home!!!" Zarazu spouted at the intruders, thudding to the floor when Agahnim struck her with magic again. She was seeing black spots. As a last-ditch defense, she coated her own body in a layer of ice.

Dio reached out, using blood magic to stretch Zarazu like a doll. “Stay.... still...”

Now that she wasn’t being blasted or thrashing about, the Queen could see that these group of people looked startlingly similar to Leere.

Agahnim smiled fondly at his comrade. “Could work Dio. Hold her there as I charge my spell.”

The Mortuus! Zarazu wondered exactly how these four managed to find their way to Hyrule. There were rumors of the gate keeping anything from going in or out; at least alive. Still, she did not understand what they wanted with Klinge or her, for that matter.

"...? What are you doing?" Mahem asked Agahnim.

"We need to talk to her." Norgus said.

"She simply won't understand our cause, keep focused on making sure some fool doesn't break through the window."

Dio looked sickly, feeling a back lash of Zarazu's holy magic hit her, but she still had some energy to hold on.

"We won't know unless we try!" Norgus insisted. "We came all this way. She defeated Vul'kar, and has helped other nations. Surely if she hears our cause, she will help us! She's not cruel."

"Uh... guys." Mahem gulped loudly, tapping on Dio's shoulder. "There's... there's a..."

"There's what?"

"There's a dragon staring at us through window. And he doesn't look happy."

Agahnim looked to the dragon. No. He would be rewarded by destiny if he completed his task. He continued to charge the spell.

"It's not going to do anything with her in here. Dio, keep the restraints on her!"

Dio tightened her magic, causing Zarazu to scream. Hopefully that would make the dragon back down. Dio's eyes turned from white and red, to black and red, feeling her body give into her blood magic just to stop Zarazu's own magic from harming her. "What are we doing Agahnim? Are we stealing her gauntlets or not? I'd like it if you hurried!"

"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY MOTHER!!!" Ba'puu roared so loudly, the foundations of the tower shook. It was drawing the attention of others. "I'LL RIP YOU ALL TO SHREDS!!!"

"Urg... mmhnn!" Zarazu was struggling against the blood magic. Lorleidians were of magic, were magic. She was fighting against it with all her strength. She could not even speak, but was doing her best to try to move. Suddenly, a finger twitched.

Klinge quickly assessed what was going on in the room. These damn necromancers took control of his body. They violated his mind by speaking through him. They were going to kill Zarazu. He couldn't let them get away with ridiculing him, or with hurting his friend. When he saw Zarazu twitch her finger, the ice shifted, just enough. Unlike his first battle he shared with Zarazu, he lacked the strength to blast himself from the ice on his own. However, now, he was given the opportunity.

Dio watched Agahnim chuckle to himself. His spell turned from yellow, to a dark shade of blue. For whatever reason, he was going to kill Zarazu. "Wait, what are you-"

They were all silenced as Klinge ejected himself from the icy prison. With roar of anger, he stabbed his hand in Norgus' chest. Throwing his body at Dio, her spell over Zarazu ended as she fell back into a bookshelf. With a quick movement, the massive undead Gerudo roundhouse kicked Mahem out the window towards Ba'puu.

"NOOOOO!!!" Agahnim screamed in frustration, launching a stream of dark lightning towards Zarazu.

Opening his mouth, Ba'puu chomped on Mahem's body, ripping the man in half with a crunch. He then forced his huge claw inside the window, knocking into Agahnim and dragging Zarazu toward him, causing the dark magic to miss her by a hair. Norgus was knocked silly, seeing stars, while Dio was shoving him off of her.

"Get... off... you idiot." Dio hissed, pissed at Agahnim. What was killing her going to accomplish?

Agahnim gasped as Ba'puu knocked the wind out of him. Looking to his two remaining comrades, the man screamed at them. "You fools should have died in that mountain if you were going to be so useless! Kill the Queen! If you don't, we'll never return our country!!!" Agahnim charged up another chain of lightning, when he was sucker punched by Klinge. The undead proceeded to beat the shit out of the man, leading him out of the room, away from Zarazu. The Mortuus' blood sprayed across the new carpets as Klinge kept punching him.

Dio felt a massive headache, and charged her hands. "Norgus you idiot. Stop being a fool, and get up."

"I think I broke something..." Norgus squeaked as Dio pushed him off to the floor. Reaching around, he felt the back of his head. There was blood on his fingers. "Well, that's not good."

"Mama! Mama!!!" Ba'puu held Zarazu in his massive claws and watched intently as the ice started to melt away from around her body. "Are you all right?!"

"I..." Zarazu felt like dead weight as her companion held her so gently. "Can't move..." The queen felt a slight panic at the prospect of not being able to lift her head or any other limb. The dark magic really had stunned her numb.

Agahnim felt confused. How could he fail? He was chosen by the master. He was promised luck on his side, and that he was destined to do anything. The queen should have been dead? How was he losing to an undead? Desperately he tried to control Klinge.

The commander could feel the pull of his strings, but he fought through it. Every punch he landed on the Necromancer, he loosened the control the fiend had on him. Finally, Klinge beat the man's face so deeply in that there was nothing but lumps and blood. Gripping him against the wall, Klinge pulled his fist back and smashed forward, turning the Necromancer's face into mush. The group of knights that had come to assist nearly fainted. Klinge quickly turned to return to Zarazu. "Someone clean this filth up."

Dio held Norgus' body, calculating desperately for a plan. "Heal your wounds. Give in to your blood magic damn it! Do something you fool!"

Agahnim was dead. Norgus felt a chill go up his spine. This Klinge, this commander, was definitely bad news if he could break the control over his body. Still, there was one question unanswered; why did Agahnim want to kill the queen? She could help them! It did not make any sense! His only option now was to run, or else, the undead might kill him too.

Dio considered her options. Agahnim tried to kill Zarazu, most likely as an easy way to complete his quest. His way was utterly foolish. And now, because she let his ego take the lead, they had lost all advantages. The woman felt a vein nearly pop as Klinge slowly entered with a near battalion of armed and shielded guards. "D-damn it all to hell. I was lied to. Who'd have imagined this queen would be so powerful in her own abilities and in allies."

"I don't understand, why would he want to kill the queen? She could help us…" Norgus hissed under his breath, knowing the two of them had to escape. "Got a plan B?"

"No one has stepped foot in Malus... no one would do anything to ever cleanse it. It's a place of darkness and evil Norgus. Perhaps the inner tribes are right. Accepting what the land is, and that power is needed to thrive was the only way we could have truly lived..." Dio watched Zarazu find her standing. A plan B, however, was indeed slithering its way into her mind.

"It doesn't mean it can't be done." Norgus argued with Dio. "We have to have hope that the darkness can and will be expelled one day."

Dio looked down at Norgus. He was losing a lot of blood, and was most likely wasn't going to live for long. "I don't think we'll make it out of here. We failed Norgus... so how about a kiss, for the end?"

"What's... going on?" Zarazu's head was absolutely spinning. The dark magic was working its way out of her system, but it still made her feel downright awful. The queen knew she was safe in Ba'puu's claws.

"Klinge... is he okay?"

"When is he not okay?" Ba'puu grumbled. "He's still Klinge."

"Yeah... a kiss would be nice..." Norgus felt like sleep was pulling on him. "What... do you say?"

"I'm here Zarazu. Ba'puu, make sure they don't run out the window." Klinge motioned the guards to slowly approach.

"Be of use to me one last time." As Dio kissed Norgus, she used her blood magic to drain his energy. It would a somewhat peace experience given how close to death the man was anyways. The women radiated sinful magic, and sparks of red lightning sizzled around her. "Goodbye, Queen of Lorliedi. Not many see a Mortuus, so enjoy the last you will ever see of my image."

Reaching down to the ground beneath her, Dio summoned a portal, letting whatever forces of hell take her. It would be better than dying here.

Klinge was too late to stop her, merely slicing at smoke and electricity in the air as her body disappeared.

It took the rest of the day for Zarazu to feel like herself again, but by night fall, she was feeling quite normal. At least her toes and fingers were not tingling anymore. It was a horrid sensation, something akin to her whole body being asleep. Ba'puu refused to leave her alone for long, so he was resting outside her chamber near the balcony.

"Let me see her Ba'puu." Zarazu could hear Klinge being firm, yet soft spoken with the dragon.

Leaning his massive head down, he sniffed the undead. "Yep. Still you." Ba'puu wanted to make sure the commander was not an imposter. "Still smelling of rot and spite. You never change, do you?"

"I just had my entire mind and body pulled like a puppet due to being made of rot and spite. Can you please desist your hostilities towards me? At least for the day so I may check in on my friend?"

"And risk losing my title of being the sassiest dragon on the earth? Klinge, I cannot believe you'd ask me to do such a thing." Ba'puu craned his neck, pretending to be insulted. He moved his tail out of the way to reveal Zarazu resting against his belly. The water dragon was not letting her out of his sight anytime soon. "Very well. She's still tired, so make it quick."

"I'm sorry they let them get to me. That I while I was aware, I couldn't control my actions... and they hurt you because of that." Klinge took a knee, leaning close to the Queen. "How are you feeling?"

"You have nothing to apologize for, Klinge." Zarazu told the commander, looking exhausted. Lorleidian bodies were not equipped to handle such massive amounts of dark magic. Luckily, little by little, her own magic was expelling it from her system. "We had no idea that the Mortuus were even coming, and even if we did, it still would have been a possibility." She closed her eyes, trying to will away the awful headache. "I will be fine. Nothing that hasn't happened to me before. It's you I'm worried about."

"I'm not fine with what happened. Leere alone scares me with her power. Those people had far more malevolent intentions in what sounded like a neutral stance. One wanted to kill you." Klinge held his head downcast, ashamed at the state he allowed Zarazu to fall into under his protection. "My first reaction was looking into how our armies could invade this kingdom of Malus... but I stopped out of fear. How can I ask the men and woman of this country to fight a threat that easily dominated me."

"We do not need another war on our hands, Klinge." Zarazu really did not want to think about having to fight another battle in her lifetime. "I understand what happened scared you, it scared me too. At first, I thought they were here to use you in a bribe against me. There are some who like to exploit the fact that Lorleidians value all life, and I wouldn't put it past them for wanting to use you against me in any conceivable way."

“I hate that. I... I’m sorry I hurt you.”

"This wasn't your fault. If anything, I should be the one apologizing." Zarazu admitted to the commander. "I let my temper get the best of me. Still, you tried to help me."

Klinge sighed. “I didn’t want our last interactions after our fight to be one of us killing each other. I apologize for pushing your temper.”

"I think maybe we need some more time to learn about each other." Zarazu tried to think in a positive manner. "What each of us like, what we dislike... and definitely learn which buttons not to push."

“I’d like to stop fighting...”

"I'd like the same." Zarazu then suggested. "How about we start over?"

“No. I’m going to remember how much of a pain in the ass you are.” Klinge chuckled. “How about we be mature and just be better from now on?”

"I consider it a compliment that I'm the 'pain in the ass', while you're the classic 'perfectionist' and somehow manage to interrupt any alone time I have with my king." Zarazu laughed at his suggestion. "Mature? Now, now, commander, where is the fun in that? Perhaps mature when the time comes for it, but otherwise, I will still be your annoying friend."

“Good grief.” Klinge rested next to Ba’puu beside Zarazu, tapping his chest. “I’m going to keep this situation from your husband. No one know what happened accept for the guard. I think it keeping panic contained would be for the best.”

"Oh goddesses, if Covarog knew, he'd refuse to leave me alone for the rest of my life." Zarazu gave a most unladylike snort. "I love my husband, though he thinks I'm made of glass sometimes. I do think he's forgotten that I was the one who broke his nose and stole artifacts from the castle those few years ago." As Klinge took the spot beside of her, the queen rested her eyes again. She was so tired. "Do you mind if we continue our conversation later, Klinge? I would very much like to rest a little more."

“Very well. So we’re agreed than?”

"Mmm-mhh..." Zarazu mumbled as the lull of sleep pulled her off into dreamland. Her head tilted to one side, resting on Klinge's armored shoulder. Indeed, the queen was exhausted, and even started to snore lightly.

Klinge looked to Ba’puu. He wasn’t going to move an inch from the dragon. Closing his eyes, he rested as Zarazu against him. “Get all the rest you need...”

Dio felt her body burn as she crawled over the dirt she landed in. Her body was in agony, yet she found herself enjoying it. Her body was becoming fueled by it. The pain of the sun ceased as someone stood over her.

“You are not Agahnim, yet you lived where he could not.”

Dio tried to get a good look at him, but her eyes pained her too much.

The figure’s voice was a whisper. “You come from Malus. A wound in creation itself. I’m impressed by your fortitude. Perhaps I should have approached you over your comrade.”

“W-who are you?”

The figure leaned close, and Dio gazed into a masked figure, locking her sight with two black and golden eyes staring back at her. “I am the inevitable destruction that will cleanse this world. Come with me, and I will give you a purpose child.”

Dio watched as this figure raised a frail hand. When she tried to look into his soul with her magic, she found a void vaster than her imagination could handle. The figure gave a light laugh. “Hee, hee... I look forward to you working at my side, Dio of Malus.”

#Crossover!#Older WIP #ridersoftheapocalypse #Klinge #Mortuus #Zarazu #LOZ #And Time Again

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imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

Mad Predictions

TITLE: Mad Predictions

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 9

AUTHOR: inspired-snowflace

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: “A freedom restrained the sun shall invoke, The gift from the plea a mother spoke, Purpose shall be bestowed upon your life, In form of one you should have called wife, A lover presumed dead shall be back, Now shall you truly pay for your attack.”

Ever since the fortune teller had spilt these words, Loki’s life was thrown into a hurricane. He dared to hope that after the attack on New York and the following arrest, things would get better, but these words seemed to point in an opposite direction.

Things would never remain the same, for better or worse.

RATING: Everyone

NOTES/WARNINGS: Mentions of death. Updates earlier on my tumblr!!!

RECAP : A renewed Chitauri attacked Sokovia, with only you having the powers to beat them. A weapon sails over to you and you assume this to be your end.

Involuntarily, you shut your eyes and started to mumble faster. Nothing came at you for a few moments, but you didn’t breathe a sigh of relief. Instead you just kept on going faster to damn the Chitauri. You decided to dedicate all the anger and resentment in your heart to the stupid aliens who dare decided to attack on your holiday- a casual Sunday.

Your words came to an end as the tone slowly became softer and softer. A huge burst of orange energy flew from your chest- which you assumed was a part of your soul. It radiated around you like a sound wave, spreading over the entire city like a ripple in the pond.

You opened your eyes, to see the place doused with sand, the dust covering everything. As you got more used to the surroundings, you saw not a single person stand in front of you. You could hear what was going on, as if somebody had unplugged your earphones. You heard everyone congratulate over the comms, catching the tail of the conversation, something about Tony saying that orange waves radiating from you, killing aliens who invaded your Sunday, was now officially the definition of kickass. You noticed you were already on your knees and breathing as if you were almost choked to death.

As you absorbed everything, you realised that you guys had just won. And you had played the main part in the victory. You felt as if your soul had drained from your body and something told you that that is exactly what would happen if you used your powers any further. But even after setting that aside, you felt as if something was wrong. Something was just not right. The feeling was just like when you tried to search for your memories before they arrived to you. It was exactly that frustration when something was on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t get it out. You looked around your surroundings, desperately trying to search for that missing detail. Your eyes washed over the half broken buildings, the sun scorching down on you, the breeze tingling the hair on your skin and the car bonnet on which you sat. Your eyes fell to the ground trying to look for an answer in the mounds of dust. Then your eyes fell upon him.

Loki.

Oh shit! Lying amidst the mountains of Chitauri dust, was Loki with something protruding through his chest. By now, you were already zoning out, ready to pass out from the exhaustion. Upon further concentration, you found out that it was the same arrow, all sharp and extra-terrestrial, that had been meant to pierce your heart, stood like a mast of a ship from his chest. Suddenly you were wide awake.

“no no No NO NO !!!!” You screamed as you ran towards Loki. The world around you was spinning and darkening around the corners due to the sudden movement but you didn’t take much notice.

From the fuzzy view, you could see that his chest was still rising and falling. His hand gripped the base of the arrow where it pierced him, as if he had made an attempt to remove it but lacked the energy to do so. You quickly sat besides him and pulled the weapon from his chest. The sharp pain caused his unfocused eyes to look at you. Even after all that had conspired with him throwing you off a cliff, you couldn’t be cruel, he had taken that arrow to save you! To save your life!

“Guys… Backup… I need BACKUP!! City centre… Loki is injured…Tony! Wanda! Steve! Somebody please!!” you said in your comm as your words turned to a sob. All you received was static instead, as if your power waves had messed the comms up. Why did things fail when you most needed them?

“Loki! Loki! Stay with me!! Help is on its way!!” You lied, trying to keep his focus.

“Y/N?” he whispered, his voice filled with pain, though whether it was from the wound in his chest or the fact that you were the last face he was going to see before the darkness consumed him, you weren’t sure.

“Loki. Don’t worry!! Help is on its way!! Thor is coming!!” you said, while trying to press on his wound to make the blood stop.

He raised his hands to allow his fingertips to rest against your tear stained cheek. This caused you to immediately stop your ministrations.

“Dearest, I might be in a fragile state, but I can still sense lies. Besides, you were never good at it…” He whispered and then tried for a smile which immediately turned into a grimace. You didn’t know what your expression was, because all you felt on your face was the soft touch of his fingertips.

Your eyes bore into his, trying to understand the intention of his words.

“I can accept death, knowing fully well that this time around I died trying to protect you.” He continued, “Y/N, I deeply apologise for the things that conspired among us in the past. I loved you and will keep doing so even after this darkness consumes me. But Y/N, the truth is that Thanos tortured me, he put me under the influence of the mind stone. I did not make the decision to hurt you…”

He coughed, staining his mouth with his blood.

“But Y/N, know that when I was being tortured, tortured in ways that the mere recital would bring tears to the eyes, the Titan’s promise being that I would long for something as sweet as pain, In all these moments, I thought about you, about your beautiful smile and my wish of seeing you once again, and that is what kept me going. That is how I survived. The eighteen days I spent with you were the best days of my life. Thank you, for just being there for me. I wish I could have done the same for you. If my next words fill you with disgust and you shan’t want to reply, I thoroughly understand, for what I have done to you is unforgivable. But Y/N, know that, I love you.” Loki finished with occasional breaks forced upon him by his pain.

“Loki, No!! You won’t give up on me!! Please, please, love, please, I love you too, just please be there for me!!” You said through the shrill voice when a sob was such in your throat. But what he said was an absolute shocker!! Thanos had tortured him into cooperation?

Your tears started to fall as you leaned in his touch and entwined his hand with yours, like you had many years ago when he stood in front of the mirror and had self-doubts, as your tears started to fall again. They fell on his face and started to glow a faint orange and slowly seeped into his skin as a droplet gets seeped into wool.

Instantaneously, the few scars on his face healed. At first, you were shocked and confused, but then with a start you realised- YOUR POWERS! Of course!! How dumb could you be!!

“Goodbye, my sweet love.” Loki whispered, his voice very faint. Apparently, he hadn’t noticed his healed scars. You didn’t blame him- pain could be numbing.

“No! Loki, look at me. I have powers! I can heal you!!” You screamed with excitement, even though you knew healing this wound would cost your life. Evidently, you weren’t the only one with that knowledge.

“Y/N, you don’t have enough energy. Don’t worry, I am content in the thought that you love me…” Loki said as his breathe turned shallower and more ragged.

“No. I have just enough energy to heal you.” You then echoed, “A soul for a soul.”

Loki was already slipping into unconsciousness by the time you started. Your hand started to glow a pale orange as if it knew what you were attempting. Your hand came in contact with his chest and you channelled all your love for him through it. You could see the orange pulses move towards your hand, as the colour drained from your entire body. You started to become duller, just like the forgotten books in your library back home. Home, you recalled.

“Loki, beg for my forgiveness from my parents and my brother, for I did not return..” You said in a soft voice.

The wound beneath your hand healed. You let go of Loki’s hand which you held near your cheek. This sudden movement woke him up. You smiled at him for one last time and then looked towards the heaven and a single wisp of orange smoke left your mouth.

You collapsed and the darkness consumed you.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #God of Mischief #Others #Submitted fic #submission #mad predictions #inspired-snowflace

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sapphyrelily · 4 years

Text

(Broken) Shapes of Love

[Alternatively: Loving is Cruel, and Hearts Always Stay Broken]

This is ~9k words ok, it’s pretty long. It’s also my heartbreak valentines’ fic from 2019

Starmist rises from his place between the leaves quietly, eyes tracking the departing saurians. With Mordremoth gone, the Mordrem are no longer an issue, but the jungle poses enough problems of its own.

He sighs under his breath and resumes his trek, eyes watchful, sword ready. The cliff where he will make his dive is just up ahead, but he would greatly prefer it if he could do it unhindered, and without being chased by the jungle's irritants.

Pocket raptors, he thinks sourly, are definitely not part of Ameyalli's provision.

He didn’t think so, at least.

Glancing around him a last time, he steps gingerly onto the branch, inching out along it. His glider is half-formed on his back, ready to be snapped open when he jumps.

He can just make out the ledge he has to get to, the faint sound of the lute almost hidden by the natural sounds of the jungle.

Starmist takes a deep breath, and leaps.

His body snaps up, lifted by the wind catching the corporeal glider formed by Mist energy he ripped out of a rift. It spreads above him in great sweeping wings, translucent but for the ripples of energy that define the shape of a dragon.

He angles the glider towards the ledge he was eyeing earlier, tugging on the tendrils of energy to steer himself.

Twenty metres… Ten metres… Five… He yanks on the energy, compressing it and shoving it back through another rift, just in time for him to drop onto the ledge. His feet land softly on the grass, and he folds the remnants of the glider up, tucking that particular energy signature into a small rift he carved explicitly for that purpose.

He looks up, head cocked; the music has stopped, and he can see why. The strumming Itzel has fallen back, his lute abandoned, bow and arrow nocked and pointed at him.

“Sylvari. But with a spectacular type of glider, the likes of which I’ve never seen. In the shape of a dragon, no less.”

Starmist can hear the unspoken question in his voice, see the wariness in his unblinking eyes.

Do you serve the dragons? Must I end you?

Starmist blinks. Opens his mouth and speaks slowly. “Ibli sent me. He said I might find you here, might perhaps commission a song from you.”

“Commission?” Acan lowers his weapon, just a fraction. “I play for fun. For joy. I had not thought of commissions before.”

Starmist smiles, a small, wry thing. “Murasaki – the Pact Commander – told me you play beautifully. She has not the time to come back, but I thought I might seek you out for a song or two.”

Hesitating for a moment, he adds, “Today is a special occasion, by the human calendars. I thought to celebrate it, with music.”

Acan blinks, the only sign that he registers Starmist's words. “The Pact Commander. Yes, I remember her. In a huge rush at the time, but with a lovely glider as well. Purple and pink – such unusual colours in the jungle. So easy to spot and get shot down, in carelessness.”

The sylvari winces, but nods. “That’s her. I’m her friend. Might I convince you to play me a song, and I give you a glider?”

Acan blinks again. His smile stretches as he lowers the bow and arrow completely. “Teach me how to use it as well, and I shall play you more than a single song.”

Starmist grins. “You have yourself a deal.”

So it was settled. Starmist would teach Acan how to glide once he was off-duty. The Itzel would play him a song right away, since he was still on scout duty, and could easily complete his end of the bargain.

“What would you like to hear?”

Starmist sinks down to the ground and purses his lips, tilting his head back against the log with a small shrug. “Anything. Play me your favourite.”

Acan's eyes flit to him, his fingers absently stroking the strings, half-formed melodies escaping into the air. “You came to bargain for a song, and you will not choose one?”

Starmist shakes his head. “Not because I will not choose, but because I cannot. I do not know any songs.”

Acan’s eyes narrow, and his mouth presses into a flat line. “That is…unusual.”

The sylvari shrugs. “I’ve lost a lot more to the dragons than just echoes of songs. I don’t bother myself with worrying about it for too long.”

Acan appraises him for a moment longer, head cocked. “What were you saying before – that it is a special occasion?”

Starmist nods. “A day of celebration for lovers. I admit that I do not know much other than that.”

Acan nods slowly, his eyes flicking back to the jungle before them. “Have you a lover?”

Starmist almost smiles, a twinge of pain in his chest. “Once.”

“…a song of remembrance, then. For what you once had.”

Webbed fingers begin to work the lute, teasing the strains of a melody from it. It winds and peaks and falls, tugging Starmist along on its journey, drawing him into a nest of memories.

A blue-barked hand takes his, softly illuminated by the glow of fireflies, and glowing within from the sylvari's glow. Starmist looks up into his face, a grin lifting his lips as he squeezes the hand.

“Star, will you dance with me?”

“Of course.”

Their entwined fingers lift, shifting until their hands lie palm to palm, flat against each other. Starmist reaches out to place a hand on his boyfriend’s waist, turning him, moving them, until they are pacing slow circles under the fireflies' glow.

Aeris dips his head, but Starmist can still see his expression: nervous but pleased, and a tad shy. He wants to reach up and kiss him.

Starmist presses his fingertips harder against Aeris’, prompting the other male to look at him. His lips lift at the corner, and Starmist’s hand shifts, sliding to the small of Aeris’ back. His other hand twists their joined palms until he has a firm grasp on his hand, and he steps closer.

Aeris steps back, but he is still in the half-circle of Starmist's arm, and the shorter male takes it as an opportunity to press the dance. Leading them, guiding them.

Aeris’ face falls as he realises it. “I asked you to dance, and yet you’re leading.”

Starmist chuckles. “We can swap, if you want to lead.”

His boyfriend shakes his head. “In a minute. Indulge me, and I’ll take my turn to treat you.”

Starmist can’t help his grin or his next action. The hand holding Aeris’ slides free, moving to cup the back of his neck and pull him down, their lips meeting in a brief but tender kiss. Starmist captures his lower lip between his teeth, tugging at it gently, marvelling at the plush flesh. He releases it and presses another kiss to Aeris’ mouth instead, relishing the taste and feel of him, never wanting to back away.

From the way Aeris’ arm has wound around his back, pulling Starmist against him, he knows his boyfriend feels the same way.

Acan’s song trails off in a smattering of notes and unwound melodies, and Starmist glances up at him. He can feel the wobbly smile on his face, the water clouding his vision, and takes a shaky breath.

“Thank you.”

(Even his voice sounds tinny, stretched thin and about to break.)

Acan nods slowly, his fingers stilling. “The song should invoke good memories. Why do you weep?”

Starmist gives in and wipes his eyes. “…because it was a good memory. A situation that will not happen again. But I am grateful that you reminded me of it. I shall treasure it dearly.”

The Itzel doesn’t look too convinced, but Starmist isn’t an expert at reading hylek expressions.

He leans back against the trunk as Acan begins a new song, uplifting and cheery.

But his heart cannot shake the earlier memory, and a tang of pain remains.

I miss you, my love.

-----

Murasaki trails a hand through the water, the ripples distorting her reflection.

She can’t look at herself. Not now, not ever. Thorns, she is such a fool.

What made you think you were lovable? Naïve, stupid sapling.

You should have died in your pod, let Aeris absorb you. At least then, one of you would have survived, remained useful.

Her teeth sink into her lower lip, and she gnaws at it, refusing to let the tears fall.

Stupid, stupid sapling.

Ayla's never going to love you. Just like Carita. Just like Varshur.

Stop falling in love with others, especially those who don’t – won’t – love you back. Or those who just want to use you. Like Amatsu.

Her fingers tighten into a fist, and another volley of ripples dances away.

Mother spare your soul, but you’re stupid.

Murasaki knows better. Knows better than to be sitting here and pining; knows better than to have this mental breakdown when out there, her soldiers are having problems of their own.

Her soldiers. The Pact.

Not really her soldiers anymore, since she resigned long ago. But everyone still looks to her as a leader, more so than Logan, and they will follow her into fire. They depend upon her leadership, lousy though she has been.

So, they are still her soldiers, after all.

Murasaki draws her hand back, barely flicking the water off before she presses it against her chest, a breath catching on its way out as a memory assaults her.

The Marshal – Trahearne – the firstborn who loved you, and was lost.

Didn’t you love him too?

She knows the answer, as well as each splintered and shattered piece of her remaining soul.

I love him. Loved. Mother forgive me, but I loved him so much.

And now he’s gone.

Just like everyone who crosses my path.

It’s a wonder Star still likes me. It’s a wonder Aoi and Dori still stay. It’s amazing that Aeris acknowledges I exist.

Oh Mother, forgive me.

Please forgive me, and my stupidity.

She can’t stay. She won’t. She has no right to be sitting here, pining and crying over people who will never love her. No right to be sitting here, whole and complete, when her twin is so badly damaged that he is not himself any more.

Not really whole and complete. I died.

Did it matter? Dying? I came back. Came back, and made everything worse.

I should’ve stayed.

The soft rustles from behind alert her to the person approaching, and she draws in a deep breath, wishing away the tears.

A heavily scarred hand flits over her shoulder, the lightness of the gesture betrayed by the weight of the hand.

“Dori wants you to stop sulking and get back out there.” Aoi's voice has an echo to it, despite being soft. “I came to sit with you.”

Murasaki sniffs. Aoi and Midori are the only ones who are allowed to see her cracked façade, and only flashes at a time. “I’m fine,” she insists. “I’ll come right out.”

Murasaki pushes to her feet, pressing harder on the earth than she needs to, allowing the pebbles to grind into her palms. Aoi's eyes are hooded, the extra eyes on the sides of her face downcast.

She must not be wearing her ring, and Murasaki wonders why.

“If…” Her voice stops Murasaki. “If it’s any consolation, I miss Rai terribly. I’m afraid of what he’ll think, when he finds out we’ve failed.”

When he finds out I’ve failed. Aoi and Dori weren’t part of it.

Murasaki holds out her hand, and Aoi grasps it lightly. They share a sad smile.

“Go write him a letter,” Murasaki says. “Tell him you love him, and you miss him.”

Aoi’s eyes widen, understanding flickering in them. Then her expression falls. “Will you write to Aeris?”

To the last person I’ve loved and hurt? No.

She shakes her head. “I’ll find Dori, let her slap some sense into me and start a new plan. Maybe arguing against the Court's mentality will bring me back to myself.”

Aoi’s fingers find hers again, squeezing gently. “Come talk to me after, if your heart still aches.”

It will never stop aching. I love too easily.

Murasaki nods, and turns to stare out at the water for a while longer. Sinks back to her knees, for she is weak.

The spot over her heart is cold, where the wind blows through the wet fabric.

-----

Aeris unloads and oils the gun, checking and cleaning its components thoroughly before putting it back together. He sets it on his left and picks up another rifle to repeat the process.

Outside the curtain, the soldiers keep going about their daily business. Their whispers have a hollowness to them, broken and devoid of life. It’s not hard to understand why, after the news broke.

Aurene, gone. Their last hope of defeating Kralkatorik, snuffed out like a flame. After being impaled, of course.

Aeris exhales deeply through his nose, clicking the rifle shut. His right hand reaches for another, but finds nothing but gunpowder dregs. He stares at the empty spot for a second, then raises his eyes to the high ceiling with exasperation. He didn’t think he’d be done so quickly.

Great. Now he has to go out there and face the rest of the Pact. He doesn’t think he’s ready for that.

Scooping up the guns, he makes his way to the rack and begins stacking them, taking his time. But he’s still done too quickly, and the lack of things to occupy his attention unsettles him.

Aeris picks up a towel and cleans the grease from his hands with it, walking over to the rainwater barrel to rinse. When he’s done, he takes a quick glance around the small area, confirming its emptiness. Good. He needs all the privacy he can get.

Crouching behind a table, he murmurs a spell, fingers tracing the symbols in the air. There’s a whisper and a rush of wind, and he grimaces as he opens his eyes.

He stands and steps over to the water barrel, peeking at his reflection. Ashy skin, wide eyes, fronds pulled back from his face. He smiles at his reflection, and a female sylvari smiles back.

Aeris hopes the illusion will hold, and steps beyond the curtain.

He goes to the forge first, seeking out the only other warbandmate in the Pact. Rune might not have been allowed to help with the dragonsblood weapons, but she would be there all the same. Nothing and no one kept her from working with metal, if they knew what was good for them.

The soldiers don’t glance twice at him as he slips past them, and he allows himself a longer look at their faces. They all look the same: tired, haggard, hopeless. Aeris can’t help but wonder what the Commanders are planning, and if they have told the troops yet. Morale was taking a turn for the worse.

The crowd thins as he makes his way towards the forge, the soldiers choosing to stay close to the hearths and not venture into the cold passageways. The halls of Deldrimor Keep are beautiful, he has to admit. It was a waste to not admire them, especially now that beauty and hope are so hard to find. He hopes it doesn’t stay that way.

The room before the forge is bustling with people, and he sticks to the shadows to avoid any members of Dragon's Watch. Not many would be able to see through his illusion, but Rytlock would be able to, and he didn’t want to face the tribune at the moment.

Aeris hears the forge before he feels it. The Zephyrite choir has stopped, but the ringing of steel hitting steel persists, and the heat from the lava never cools. Pacing around the room, as far from the heat as he can, he tries to spot Rune, and groans when he sees her speaking to the Forgemaster at the centre of the forge.

He supposes he can wait until their conversation is over.

Except that it never seems to end, dragging on and on, until he feels dizzy from the heat and his pacing.

(Really, he shouldn’t be this affected by the heat. He spends his days in Ascalon, and the Pale Mother knows how hot it is there.)

He perches on a crate and watches the two figures, silently begging them to hurry up. He rests his head against the stack of crates behind him, hoping the pressure will alleviate some of his dizziness. But no one comes for him and soon, the light and heat from the forge force his eyes close, and the ringing of steel lulls him into slumber.

His head hurts. His throat is dry and his tongue is thick and heavy in his mouth. The light above him is weak, bits of sunlight filtering through the slats in the roof. A lamp sits on the table, its light dull from the cloth covering it. He wonders where he is.

“Commander. He is awake.”

A throaty voice calls from the mouth of the room, and he turns his head, wincing at the throbbing. He can hear footfalls against sand, and soon, multiple shadows block the doorway.

He closes his eyes. He can feel emotions roiling, and they don’t belong to him. What is this?

“Aeris.” It’s a whisper, a plea. It’s one word, filled with raw emotion – panic, relief, desperation. Love?

It’s one word, and he thinks that’s his name.

Aeris. He tests the name in his mind, rolling it over. It sounds right.

It is your name, dearheart.

He squeezes his eyes shut. Who is that?

I am the Pale Tree. Your mother. You have suffered greatly, my child.

I don’t understand.

Your mind has been damaged by the dangerous magic you encountered. Fret not, for your friends have managed to cure the worst of it.

Then I must thank them.

Aeris opens his eyes, taken aback by the closeness of the person before him. A female, whose eyes are wide and stained with relief. He reaches out with his mind, and what he feels confirms it. She is the one with the wild emotions he feels.

“Aeris,” she whispers. Her hand grasps his, and he pulls it away, disturbed at her casual touch. Who does she think she is?

Her eyes droop at the loss of contact, and he senses that she wants to reach out again. She pulls it back instead – a wise move, he thinks. He’s suddenly not in the mood to deal with people, especially creepy ones.

Over her head, he spots two other females. They look at him; the green-barked one's eyebrows are furrowed, her mouth pressed into a pout. The purple-barked one seems to look at him down her nose – but that doesn’t make sense; of course she’s looking down at him, he’s lying down.

He's confused, and wonders who they are.

The voice – the Pale Tree – said they were friends. But he recognises none of them.

“Ah, he is indeed awake.” A rumbling voice drifts over to them, deeper than the one he heard before. Aeris glances up and blinks in surprise. A giant frog steps towards them, and the female sylvari drift back, allowing him closer.

Hylek, his mind supplies, and he knows this to be true. These giant frogs are a race called the hylek, and they are masters of alchemy.

The hylek places a webbed hand on his forehead, peering into his eyes. “Much better. The fever leaves you.”

“Thank you,” he croaks.

Ha, he thinks. I sound like him. Croaking.

The hylek pats his forehead, his skin cool. “You are welcome. My tribe owes Aoi a favour, and this was too easy to help resolve. Come, can you sit? Have some water, and some broth, if you can stomach it.”

He feels oddly shaky, and flinches when the wild female from before moves forward to help him sit. He can feel her hurt, but she doesn’t say anything, simply handing him the cup.

He sips at it, half-listening to the hylek's explanation of what happened to him. Chaos magic, warping his mind, twisting it to madness. He is lucky, he hears, that his body was not also affected. Does he have any missing memories?

Aeris blinks, stares into his empty cup. Does he?

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I feel as if I do not know anything.”

“What do you mean?”

He thinks about it. “I know some things, like what food is, and where places are on a map. But the specifics of my life… I feel as if I know nothing of that at all.”

The room stills. The sylvari look at him with a mix of horror, fascination and worry. The hylek looks thoughtful.

“Stay with us a while,” the hylek says. “We shall try to acclimatise you to the world as best we can. It would not do to let a patient stumble out and kill himself by accident because he is but a tadpole.”

He grins weakly, tickled by the analogy and strangely unoffended by it. “I have no objections.”

“Good, good.” The hylek turns to the sylvari. “Don’t give him a hard time, okay?”

All of them nod, the one with green bark piping up, “Thank you. You have been very kind.”

“A debt for a debt,” he replies. “I fear that I will have to repay that debt many times before it is repaid in full.”

“Nonsense, Ikniu. It was my pleasure to help.”

The hylek shrugs and bows, stepping outside. The sylvari are upon him in a moment.

“How do you feel?” It’s the wild one again, concern radiating from her. Aeris looks away, too unsettled to answer, and notices that her bark is the same shade of blue as his.

Odd, but not unusual.

The haughty one steps forward and peers into his eyes, harrumphing under her breath. “He looks decent. Disoriented, but fine.”

“Is that your professional opinion, Dori?” The green one asks, her tone lilting, teasing.

“Maybe.”

He feels like he should say something. “Who are you people?”

Hmm, not the best start, but it’ll do.

They stare at him, until the wild one breaks the silence. “You don’t recognise us?”

“No. Should I? You’re kind for helping me, and for that I thank you. But I don’t know you, and this is extremely weird.”

They seem to hold their breath, and it is the wild one who eventually speaks. “I am Murasaki, and this is Aoi and Midori. You’re my pod twin, and they’re my friends.”

Pod twin? Aeris knows that phrase, but to be the twin of this female? The Pale Mother must be joking. She is too intense. He can feel the sea of emotions that ripples under her bark – terror and panic and fierce determination, all lined with the sharp tang of violence. It makes him wary, to know that someone could be so well acquainted with death and not be affected by it.

He shakes his head, fingers gripping the cup tightly. Too tightly, but he can’t help himself. “I don’t know you. Sorry.”

The wild one – Murasaki – laughs weakly. “You’re joking, right? Aeris, this isn’t funny. I thought I lost you.”

He shakes his head more firmly. “No, I truly don’t know you. And you are freaking me out.”

“Aeris–”

He can feel her distress, but the way she says his name, as if he has to listen to her. No, he refuses to do that.

“Listen.” His voice is cold, harsher than intended, but he's in a panic now, and the defensive words flow too easily. “I do not know you, and you are not helping, if you have helped at all. I don’t care who you are, but you act as if you have power over me, and I know that’s not true. I belong to no one but myself, and I am not indebted to you in any way. Now get out.”

She hesitates, resolve faltering, her mouth half-open as if to protest. Aeris grits his teeth. “Get. Out.”

Murasaki’s hands are trembling, but her face has gone still. A mask. She clenches the trembling digits into fists, then turns around and marches out, her steps stiff. The green one – Aoi – glances at him for only a moment before she runs out after her.

The purple one, Midori, sighs and rests her chin in her hand, a small smile on her face. “You’re a lot more entertaining now than before.”

He senses that she means it; she’s amused, rather than panicked like the others are. “So you insist on following her lead as well?”

“Mm, not precisely.” Midori perches on the edge of the bed, a safe distance from him. “I’m a necromancer, and I recognise dead things when I see them. Your past is dead to you, it seems, and I sense that the only way forwards is for you to forget it.”

Aeris feels the knot in his chest loosen. Finally, someone who understands.

“I really do remember nothing,” he admits. “Everything is a blur. Indistinct.”

“But can you discern truth from lie?”

He starts, and stares at her. Midori doesn’t flinch, only raising an eyebrow to push her question.

Aeris nods slowly. “I feel as if I know these things. And I can sense the emotions of others, just a little.”

“You haven’t forgotten everything, then.” She reaches over and plucks the cup from his grip, rising to swap it out for another one on the table. “You were trained in mesmer magic before. Perhaps some of that training remains.”

“Perhaps,” he concedes. He knows what mesmers do, their manipulation of the mind. It makes sense now, how he can feel the tinges of emotion from others.

The cup he is handed is warm, and he sips the broth gratefully. The liquid warms him; he didn’t know he was cold.

Midori regards him a little longer. “My take is this: after the hylek have deemed you healthy, move on. Go into Tyria, explore and find your place. My loyalty will always be with Murasaki, and as much as I want to see her happy again, it will do neither of you good.”

“You don’t believe her, do you?” His voice drips with distaste. “She sounds delusional.”

Midori says nothing, but holds his gaze until he looks away.

“What I believe,” she says softly, “Is based on the truths of the past. The past that I bade you forget.

“To answer you: yes, I do believe her. They are her truths, as they are mine. But for you,” she shakes her head, “They are not your truths. They are a dream, long-forgotten. Dwell on your here and now instead. Make yourself a new life.”

She stands and claps him on the shoulder. “Death stalked you, and yet you got away. Treasure your second chance.”

Aeris frowns at her back, then looks into his half-finished broth.

He senses that she spoke the truth. She feels like the most straightforward of the trio, despite her haughty demeanour.

Perhaps he will follow her advice, and move away from the turbulent and disturbing past that he cannot recall.

“Aeris. Aeris, wake up.”

He blinks blearily, scowling and pressing a hand over his eyes at the brightness. He feels slow and sluggish, and he does not want to wake up.

“Burn Aron for leaving me alone in this,” he hears, before he is picked up. The breath is knocked out of him, and the blurry swishing of something before his eyes tells him what happened.

Rune tossed me over her shoulder.

He doesn’t know to feel smug or ashamed.

Aeris watches the swaying of her tail for a bit, feeling the coolness of the halls as they move away from the forge. He reaches back and tugs on her mane. ”I can walk.”

“Oh? Are you sure you’re awake?”

“I’m certain.”

She lets him slide off her shoulder, glaring at him as he dusts himself off. Ah, the illusion must have shattered when he fell asleep, he’s blue again.

“Your illusion broke when you fell asleep.”

Aeris sighs. “Yes, I just realised.”

“You should’ve just come to get me instead of waiting,” Rune continues. “I could’ve talked forever with the Forgemaster.”

“I realise that now.” Aeris rubs his neck sheepishly. “I just wanted to chat, I finished cleaning the guns.”

Rune raises an eyebrow. “You mean you want more work? What a surprise.”

“We’re among Pact here,” he hisses. “I’m trying to avoid them.”

The charr snorts. “Not fond of fame, eh? Me neither.”

Aeris throws up his hands. “If you know, why question it?”

“Sometimes it’s better to hear things spoken aloud.”

They continue down the hall, reaching the doorway that opens out into the snowy peaks. After the heat of the forge, the chilly air feels like heaven, and he takes an appreciative breath.

“Why didn’t you go to find your sister?”

Aeris doesn’t look at her, his eyes fixed on the sparking landscape. “I don’t want to cause her trouble.”

Rune snorts. “Trouble? Cub, the Commander loves you more than she does herself. After what happened, she’d be more than happy to see you.”

Aeris keeps silent. He knows it’s true. And though he loves her in his own way, he can never be the one she needs.

Her brother died in the Chaos Caverns. I just wear his body.

“She doesn’t know I’m here,” he says at last. “Last she heard, I was still in Jahai, in Sun’s Refuge.”

“So you’re a surprise. Big deal. At least you’d be a good surprise.”

Aeris sighs heavily. He can’t tell her. Rune wouldn’t understand. The warband wouldn’t understand.

“I need to see Dori first. She’ll know if it’s okay to meet Mura.”

Rune huffs and folds her arms. “Stop delaying, cub. Everyone knows the Commander blames herself for what happened. If we want to get anywhere from now on, we need her back and not mourning.”

“I think she’s allowed to mourn,” Aeris says lightly. Warningly.

“Of course she’s allowed. But Midori and Aoi don’t hold fort as well as Murasaki does. They’ve got less experience to go with the title. We need Murasaki back, or the Pact will really fall apart, even with the Marshal holding it together.”

Aeris knows she’s right, and he hates it.

“I’ll go look for her.”

He turns back into the building, still feeling Rune’s eyes on his back, and murmurs a different spell. This time, he’s rendered invisible, and sticks to the walls.

The Commander’s office isn’t hard to find, and he’s relieved to see only Midori inside. Aeris steps inside the doorway and drops the spell, clearing his throat to alert her.

Midori glances up, the corner of her lips twitching up. “I knew I heard something. I was wondering when you’d come here, actually.”

“How’d you know?”

She shrugs. “Someone just reported that the Commander was taking a nap in the forge. It didn’t seem likely, especially since I know Mura is in one of the lower tunnels.”

“And she hates the heat.”

“Then there is that,” Midori agrees. “But why are you here instead of with her? Surely you’ve heard the news.”

“I have,” Aeris says, eyes downcast. “But I didn’t think I was fit to comfort her.”

“No?”

“While I was in the forge, I– I had a dream. A memory, really.”

He glances up at her; Midori's chin is propped on her fist, and she raises her eyebrows at him to continue.

“I remembered that time when I first woke, and the three of you had taken me to the hylek.”

“Ah,” Midori murmurs. “You were nasty to Mura.”

“Yes,” Aeris mumbles. “I know she wouldn’t be thinking of that right now – we’re twins, not telepathic – but I still feel guilty. Unworthy. She deserves better than me.”

“She does,” Midori agrees, and Aeris flinches. “Don’t look like that, you came to me because you knew I’d give you the truth.”

“Have I ever told you that I hate you for it?”

“Mm, once or twice.” Midori twirls a pen in her fingers, glancing sharply at him. “But that’s not really why you came to see me.”

“No,” Aeris agrees. “I came to check how’s she’s doing, and then I’ll go back to hiding in plain sight.”

Midori glares at him, and he can sense how her mood sours. “You’re an asshole, you know that? She needs you, and you’re going to keep hiding?”

“She doesn’t need me.” Aeris says, hands clenching into fists. “She needs Starmist, or her brother. She needs someone who didn’t die and become a stranger masquerading as her brother.”

Midori suddenly stands, the chair screeching behind her. Rage emanates from her, crashing over him like a spew of hot lava. “Shut up. Shut up. I don’t care that now is the time you've chosen to grow a moral compass, because she needs you, you hear? I don’t care that you remember nothing of your life before the Chaos Caverns. I don’t care, that you’re guilty that you’ll never be who she needs. You’re all she has now, and if you care about her even a bit, you’ll let her cry on your shoulder at least.”

Aeris opens his mouth, but Midori vaults over the table and slaps him. Her hand just barely reaches his face, but his head is thrown to the side regardless.

“You are a coward,” she hisses. “A coward who dwells too heavily on the past, and lets it cloud your judgement of the present. You should be learning from your mistakes instead of letting them weigh you down. You should have learnt that mistakes are only lessons, instead of letting them build up and become a rock you cannot roll away.

“You want to do some good in the Pact? Find Murasaki. Go to her, and bring her back to the present. She has to mourn – we all do – but without her, Aoi and I can’t do anything. We don’t know enough to deal with all of this yet. We can’t move forward until we learn from her. And we can’t learn until she is pieced back together.”

Midori's words sound so similar to Rune's that Aeris is taken aback, but she is not done.

“Do you know what they are saying outside? Have you heard what the soldiers are saying about her?

“'Where's the Commander? Why isn’t she helping us? Why isn’t she fixing this? Didn’t she tell us it’ll all be alright, that we’ll win?'

“'Why is she gone? Why is she mourning for a dragon? The dragons have brought us nothing but destruction, they should all die.’”

Midori’s nostrils flare as she takes a large breath, her hands clenching and unclenching. She looks as if she wants to throttle someone. “Why is she mourning? Because she lost her daughter. Because she lost the last family member who loved her, who was there with her. But do they know that? No! I don’t think they do, nor will they ever understand.”

She fixes her glare on him again, and jabs him in the chest, hard enough that he has to steel himself against stepping back. “They look at her, and they see what they want to see: a sylvari, a fallen dragon minion. Someone they can’t relate to, because she is so high above them. Too far away. She’s not relatable, no matter how hard she tries to interact with the people or help them.”

“What has that got to do with me?” Aeris cuts in, discomfort wriggling under his bark. “Get to your point.”

“My point,” she hisses, “Is that seeing the two of you together helps not only her mental state, but it will do wonders for the Pact as well. It will help them understand. Understand that she is not so much unlike them. That she isn’t cold and unfeeling, that she’s more than a 'freed dragon minion'. That she has family she loves and will do anything to protect.

“They will never understand that she died for Tyria. They will never know that long before that, she lost half her soul when her twin died. They will never know how she kept fighting out of obligation, even as everyone close to her kept leaving or dying. She loves Tyria and will die for it again if it helps fix anything, but spoiler, it won’t.

“You want to help? Go out there, and fix your sister. Apologise to her. Do whatever. You hear me? Paint that pretty picture for the Pact to see. Pretend if you must. But show them that the Commander has something worth fighting for, that she will fight for.” Before he can nod or reply, she continues, “Or I will find a Nightmare Pod and stuff you in it myself. You’ll make a lousy Courtier, but at least I know my Courtiers have purpose. You? You’re no better than a desiccated choya in the desert wind.”

Aeris’ eyes drop as she turns and walks back to the desk. He can feel the weight of her accusations and revelations hanging heavy over him, and it makes his head dip as he shuffles towards the door. All the fight has left him, and now he just feels ashamed.

He can barely cast the invisibility spell before he slowly walks towards the lower tunnels; the buzz of words in his head is too loud.

Is it true? That Murasaki would fight for him? That part of her died when he first woke and shunned her? She always seemed like such a cheerful person, and though he could always sense the tinge of pain under her façade when they were together, he never knew how deep that vein ran.

He wonders if she hates him too, for leaving her, for never giving her a chance.

He wonders if he’ll be brave enough to drop the invisibility when he finds her.

The air grows colder and ever damper as he descends, and he wishes he thought to bring a coat with him. The floor isn’t slippery, but keeping his footing is tough when he’s trying to be silent.

He doesn’t expect to hear voices when he arrives at the cavern, and ducks behind a stalagmite in case his spell wears off.

The voices aren’t loud enough to distinguish words, but the tone and cadence reminds him of Aoi. Her words have sounded oddly twisted ever since she surrendered to Mordremoth and her body got changed. She may have reclaimed her body in the following years, but her voice never recovered.

Aeris looks out from behind the rock, just in time to see Aoi turn back up the path. The smaller figure remains, leaning against a rock and staring out over the water, hands lying limp in her lap.

It doesn’t take long for Aoi to pass by him and his hiding spot, and he waits a few moments longer before ducking out. Aeris lets the invisibility fade away, and approaches her at a normal pace. He knows she prefers to hear someone approaching, rather than sneaking up on her.

But Murasaki doesn’t look up. She’s back on her knees, the gravel scattered on her splayed skirts. Aeris is within five paces of her, and her hands are still loosely curled in her lap. Limp. Careless. Defeated. He reaches out to grasp her shoulder.

She turns her head to look at him, the tiniest of smiles flitting over her face. “I heard you.”

“But you didn’t call me out.”

“No.” Murasaki turns back to the water, but one hand moves to her arm, grasping it through the fabric of her dress. Not just grasping – pressing, crushing, trying to channel her negative energy elsewhere. Aeris only knows this because he has witnessed it before.

“Hey. Stop that.”

Murasaki’s grip tightens further. “You’re not the boss of me.”

He reaches out, but she flinches away, hand moving to her chest, fingers pressing down over her heart. Her expression twists briefly – agony, hurt, resignation – before it smooths into her regular blank look.

“Weren’t you in Jahai?”

Deflection. He recognises this game, has played it before with her when she’s not ready to open up. When she’s too shattered to speak about whatever is bothering her.

“I was,” he agrees. “I came with the Pact to prepare for the fight against Kralkatorik.”

He senses it: the stab and twist of grief, even though her expression doesn’t change.

“Ah. Were you there for the final fight?”

Aeris shakes his head. “I was helping prepare weapons for the soldiers. My Iron Legion training comes in more handy than my actual magic.”

Murasaki glances at him briefly, eyebrows raising slightly when it clicks. “Ah. One mesmer leading the Pact is bad enough.”

“Better not to give them doubt, with a second, similar-looking mesmer fighting on the front lines.” Aeris finishes her thought.

The tiniest smile lifts her lips. “Good thinking. Anyone come with you?”

Aeris takes a moment to lower himself to the ground, resting his head against hers. “Just Rune. Best blacksmith in the warband, maybe the entire legion. But don’t tell any of the other smiths that.”

“Of course I won’t.” She adjusts herself as well, until her head leans against his shoulder. He can feel the coil of emotions unravelling inside her, loosening its iron grip on her heart. It reminds him of what Midori said, and his heart twists. He turns to kiss the top of her head.

“Did Dori send you too?” Murasaki’s voice is soft, a whisper he almost misses.

He sighs and rests his cheek atop her head. “Yes. I didn’t want to bother you, but she guilted me into it.”

“Oh.” The coil of emotion tightens in her chest again, and Aeris feels immediate guilt for telling her the truth.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

(If he is already telling the truth, he might as well explain it to her. He knows she would overthink it if he didn’t.)

Small, cold fingers fumble over his, squeezing his hand. It feels more like a flutter.

“I didn’t want you to see how I’d failed.” Her voice catches, the emotions tighten. The pain magnifies, and he knows there’s something she’s not telling him.

“What else?” Aeris keeps his tone neutral; Murasaki hates crying, and any emotion from others could set her off, this close to the edge.

She doesn’t say anything, but her emotions churn, her fingers tighten on his hand.

“Show me?” He tries to make his voice as soft as possible, the lightest suggestion. He’s not sure he succeeds.

Her head shifts on his shoulder, and her free hand lifts tiredly, weaving images in the air – miniature illusions, figures he recognises.

Carita de Santis. One of the trio of human sisters that Murasaki had been friends with, who had been out of touch for so long, she didn’t know where they were.

Varshur. A rather nice ranger, who had an excellent bond with his pets. Aeris vaguely recalls that Murasaki used to fancy him. He wonders where the man is, now.

Ayla Leothyra. He remembers her. A chronomancer like Murasaki, light on her feet and wove the sturdiest portals that he had ever known.

The last face, he knows by heart. All sylvari do.

Trahearne, firstborn of the Firstborns, the Pale Tree’s favourite son. Unlike the other figures who stand stoically, Trahearne stands with one hand reached out, a kind smile on his face.

Aeris bends to peek at his sister’s face. Her expression is the slightest bit downturned, and her eyes are fixed on Trahearne.

“Mura?”

She doesn’t look at him as she begins speaking. “I love them all. Loved. I don’t know.”

Murasaki takes a long breath, and Aeris can feel the shudders that goes through her. “Trahearne is the only one who loved me back. And he’s dead. I haven’t heard from Carita or her sisters, but I hope they’re okay. Varshur and Dartea have been gone for so long as well. Ayla…” She trails off. “She’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever known, but she’ll never love me. No one does. No one will.”

Aeris squeezes her hand. “You’re being hard on yourself. I love you.”

“But I killed you too.” Murasaki’s voice catches. She looks at him in the eye, her mouth wobbling. “I’ve lost you once. It’s not fair of me to keep you around, since not one part of you remembers me from before.”

“I chose to stay,” Aeris says. “I don’t remember, but this is me choosing to stay.”

“I can’t lose you again!” She turns to grab his lapels and shake him, her fingers like ice, even through the material. Her face is contorted, twisted; she looks terrible when she cries. Her agony tears through him, rending his heart as well. “I’ve lost you twice: once to chaos magic, once when you walked away. That’s not counting every little time you’ve come back and left, not counting each and every time I feel Star's heart break when he’s thinking of you.”

Murasaki's fingers loosen, her expression clearing for a second, though her emotions plummet. Her eyes squeeze shut as her head bows, a single tiny splotch appearing on her skirt. “Oh, Mother forgive me, I killed Star too.”

“He’s not dead. And I left him in the Mists, so the blame's on me for that one,” Aeris points out, trying to ignore the echo of heartache. For the lover he barely remembers. For his pod twin, who does love him, in spite of all he’s done.

“But if I had never listened to you? If I had never introduced you two?” Murasaki dries her eyes with the back of her hands, wiping them on her skirt. “No one would be where they are, in the terrible positions they are in, if I had never interfered. I wish I hadn’t been born. You should’ve absorbed me in the pod.”

“Oi,” he protests. “Don’t talk like that–”

“And hide the truth?” Her emotions are a vacuum – hollow, empty and unending. “No. I’m tired, Aeris. So tired. I should’ve stayed in the Domain of the Lost when Balthazar fried me. I should’ve been impaled when Kralkatorik shot at me. I should’ve died a thousand times over. I should have been there to take the place of every fallen soldier, or at least put a clone in their place. I should have done so much more – I could have done so much more. I’m weak. I'm so weak. And I’m tired.”

Murasaki has been curling further into herself with this speech, pulling away from him. Aeris reaches out for her shoulders, pulling her in and wrapping his arms around her.

She is limp in his arms, even when he rests his cheek on her head. Even when he pulls her all the way into his lap, rubbing some warmth into her shoulders, because blast it, she’s insanely cold.

He doesn’t quite know what to say to her, because in a way, she’s right. But he has to say something, so he settles for, “You can’t save everyone.”

Aeris hears a small sob, feels her emotions crack; he pulls back a little, leaning down to press his forehead against hers. “Shh. Stop crying. Those soldiers knew what they were getting into. This is a war. They knew they might die. They accepted the consequences.”

“I still should have died.”

“And let this coalition crumble around you? I don’t think you could do that.”

Murasaki’s emotions plunge, and he can almost feel her heart break. Again.

Aeris sighs. Her emotions are confusing his own, and he feels the guilt and shame of Midori's words hanging over him again. “I’m not trying to be mean, okay? You just care too much. You don’t want anyone to die, because you’re too self-sacrificing. But you need to see that the Pact will literally crumble without you. Logan’s good, Aoi and Midori are good, but people will follow you. You die, and Tyria will go to mulch.”

“I still want to die,” Murasaki whispers. “For real, this time. I’m so tired of all of it.”

“Dying is the coward's way out,” Aeris says, resisting the urge to wipe her tears away. “Or so a cub once told me. What good is dying? You’re conceding defeat. You’re admitting that you’re not good enough to win. And with old Kralky eating the Mists – I don’t think you really want to die.”

Murasaki sniffs, amusement colouring the emotionless void. “You have a terrible way of comforting people.”

“Blame the charr.”

“You just suck.”

“But you feel better now.”

“No, I don’t.” Her arms wiggle free and wrap loosely around his torso. Aeris can feel the shuddering breaths that she takes, the sobs that she hides in the folds of his shirt. The gulps of air and loud sniffling, and the wetness seeping through his shirt where her tears stain. He rubs her back and rests his cheek on her head, letting the tears run their course, feeling her emotions crest and fall. Mother knows how long she’d been supressing them.

But the tears do come to an end, as does the tsunami of emotion. A listless tiredness rests in its place, and he turns to kiss the top of her head. “Better?”

A slight shifting on his chest is all the response he gets – a nod, and fingers uncurling from his shirt. Aeris bends forward, wrapping his arms more securely around Murasaki as he lifts her, staggering to his feet. He shifts his grip, but Murasaki pokes him weakly. “I’ll walk.”

“Are you certain?”

“It’ll do me good.” She wriggles until he sets her on the ground, sweeping the remaining gravel from her skirts. Then she wraps an arm around his, interlacing their fingers and leaning against him for support. “Walk with me?”

He squeezes her fingers in answer, and they move slowly towards the cave entrance.

Aeris can still feel Murasaki’s emotions in flux, but they are calmer. Duller. He feels like he should say something.

“You know I love you, right?”

He feels the tiny shift in her emotions. The lift; a small, cresting wave. “I love you too.”

Aeris squeezes her fingers. “You love too much, and too hard.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Their footsteps echo off the walls of the tunnel – little clicks that scatter, returning to them like the pattering sounds of devourers' feet. Murasaki turns a little, glances up at him. “There’s so much to love. People. The weather. The lay of the land, the architecture of races long gone. The beauty of relationships, and the comfort we find in them. Isn’t it worth loving?”

Aeris doesn’t know. He’s not much of a ‘feelings' person. “You tell me. You've always had more emotion towards things.”

He stumbles; Murasaki bumped him with her hip. He turns to glare at her, but the crease between his brows fades when he sees her faint smile.

“You’re an emotions person, too, Aeris.” She squeezes his fingers lightly and keeps walking. “We just have to find it again. Chaos corruption can’t keep it away forever.”

Aeris doubts that, but Murasaki's no longer crying, and he’d prefer to keep it that way for a bit longer. “Mm-hmm.”

She hip-checks him again, laughing as he stumbles. “You doubt me. I'll show you.”

Murasaki sniffs suddenly, her emotions plummeting as she clears her throat and wipes her eyes. “I’ll show you. I’ll prove it to you.”

“Mura…?”

“I never got to tell Aurene how much I love her.” Murasaki’s voice is thick. Choked. “My daughter.”

They’re still walking, Murasaki pulling them along. Her grip is crushing, her footsteps like thunder in the tunnel, her breaths ragged and deep as she tries to force more tears back. “I– I’ll prove it to you, okay? We’ve spent this long together. Even if you can’t remember, I’ll show you, somehow. That you can still be an emotional person.”

Aeris lets her hand go, wrapping an arm around her shoulders instead. Her arm snakes around his waist, her sniffles muffled in his shirt. “Let’s bring flowers to Aurene?”

“What flowers?” Her voice is despairing. “Do you see flowers in this frozen wasteland?”

“What about illusions? I can’t shape snow into flowers very well.”

“We could carve crystals.” He can hear the lift in her tone, her attempt at humour.

“That too.”

They banter softly, all the way back to the main hall, past small groups of soldiers who stop and stare, who look baffled and confused. Murasaki notices them, and waves a little at each group. Her hand is now tucked into the crook of Aeris' elbow, rather than around his waist. It makes it easier to walk. It makes their relationship seem a little more acceptable, especially in the humans' eyes. Mother knows why they’re so particular about the proper sort of relationship siblings should have.

They make it back to the Commander’s office, and Aeris really doesn’t feel like facing Midori. She’s the most straightforward of the trio, and right now, that might be good or bad.

He unhooks Murasaki’s fingers from his elbow, whispering when her expression falls, “I don’t want to see Dori yet. I’ll get some crystals while you talk?”

Murasaki’s eyes crinkle. “Come back, okay?”

“I will,” he promises.

She lifts his hand to her lips, kissing the back of it. Her lips are cracked and rough; she needs to take better care of herself. “Thank you.”

He kisses the top of her head in return. “Be safe, until I get back.”

“Is that a threat?”

Aeris shrugs. Releases her fingers and walks away.

He can feel Murasaki’s amusement from behind him, fading away as the distance between them increases.

No, he may not remember much, and he may have messed things up spectacularly, but somehow, he is still loved and accepted.

Aeris doesn’t understand how, but love is a strange, fickle thing.

If only he could remember what it feels like himself. The real thing.

Something that doesn’t feel like an illusion about to shatter in the wind.

#guild wars 2 #starmist whisper #murasaki hikyuu #aeris blizzardglade #aoi munashi #midori igi #rune blizzardforge #my characters #my writing #angst #hurt/comfort

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diazevan · 5 years

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I don't know if you take requests for fics, but I'm gonna ask anyways. This is a weird one, but like would you write a fic where Ned and Peter are on Vormir?

I don’t want to lose (part of me)

Synopsis: Peter and Ned survived the decimation, alongside the Avengers they travel back in time to collect the infinity stones and bring their loved ones back. A twist of fate sees them end up on Vormir [Read on AO3]

Anon, I can’t believe you asked for this, but hey I did it!

Peter had been to space before. It was not an experience he would forget, no matter how much he wanted too. It had been five years, but his nightmares kept it at the forefront of his mind. He had fought against the infamous Thanos on Titan and lost, and then he watched those around him crumbled away into nothing.

He was relieved Tony survived, and he could still remember the hug they shared after the decimation; he didn’t think Tony would ever let go him. When they finally got home, Peter realised he was one of the lucky ones. May lived, and so did Ned. Although, Ned lost everything; all he had left was Peter. The world was not fortunate, and everyone struggled to move on. Half of the population disappeared in an instant, including some of the earth’s greatest defenders: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and James Rhodes.

Peter had never expected a chance to try again, but when Scott Lang returned with a proposition, he knew they had to take it. Peter never thought he’d step on an alien planet again, and he definitely didn’t expect to be doing so with Ned Leeds, his best friend.

Vormir was gorgeous, a dark purple surrounded the duo as they touched down on the surface. Ned chuckled nervously before bouncing away from his chair to look out of the window, “Dude, this is awesome.”

“Yeah, it really is,” Peter chuckled; he deactivated his quantum suit to reveal his retro Stark suit underneath.

“Old school.” Ned gasped as he turned around to face him, “Where’s the Iron Spider?”

“Tony was updating it before all his happened.” Peter shrugged, “So, this one will have to do for now.”

“Nice.” Ned remarked, “Where do we go then?”

Peter walked over to the window, “I’m guessing there.” He pointed up to a daunting mountain in front of them.

Ned tapped Peter’s back, “Let’s get going!”

They stepped off the ship onto the planes of Vormir; it didn’t take long to reach the bottom of the mountain. They both decided to past the time talking about utter nonsense, such as what they were going to have as a celebrational dinner when they got back. Pizza is what they settled on.

“Do we just…climb up?” Ned asked.

“I guess.” Peter stepped back to look up; he held up his arm and sent a line of web up to a ledge, “Or swing up?”

“Cool.“

Peter shook his head as he chuckled, “Two seconds.” He leaned back and propelled himself up onto the ledge, he shot a web down, and Ned grabbed onto it, with one swing he was up too, “Good?”

“I will never get tired of that.”

“Welcome.” An echoed raspy voice came behind them; they both jumped out of their skin and turned around, “Peter, son of Mary. Edward, son of Marina.”

The figure was floating off the ground, and a black hood was covering its face, Ned nudged Peter’s arm, “Dude, it’s a flipping dementor.”

“I know.” Peter muttered, he held his arm out and pointed at the figure, “Hey, how do you know who we are?”

“It is my curse to know all who journey here.” The figure glided through the shadows into the light, to reveal his red skin.

“More like Darth Maul then” Ned muttered under his breath.

Peter stepped in front of Ned, making sure he was in-between him and the figure, “Who are you?”

“Consider me a guide, to you, and to all seek the soul stone.”

“That’s what we are here for.” Peter said, “Can you take us to it?”

“If only it were that easy.”

The Stonekeeper guided Peter and Ned up to the top of the mountain, which was separated by two pillars. Peter had to keep grabbing Ned’s shoulder and pulling him along, his friend was getting caught up in awe of being on another planet.

“What you seek lies in front of you,” The Stonekeeper said gesturing over the cliff face, “As what does what you fear.”

“What?” Ned asked, his forehead creasing in confusion.

Peter held his arm back, telling Ned to stay back; Peter approached the ledge and looked down, “I think the stone is down there.” He turned back on his heel to stare at Ned.

“How do we get it?”

“Only one of you can retrieve the stone.” The figure said; Ned and Peter snapped their attention to him, “…In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange, a soul for a soul.”

Peter pressed his head in his hand as he held his breath, “Shit.” He scrambled away, pressing a hand on Ned’s back; he pushed him away from the Stonekeeper.

“Dude…” Ned placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

“No, no.” Peter sat down on a rock, “I’m fine…just stuck.”

“Wait, you think he’s telling the truth?” He asked, “I mean, how can we trust him?”

“I don’t know man.” Peter bowed his head into his hand, “This is not what I thought….”

Ned shouldn’t be there, that’s all Peter could think about. He let his friend join him on a life-threatening mission, this was his fault. Initially, Tony and Peter were the ones who were meant to travel to Vormir; it only changed when the team realised Tony was needed back in the Battle of New York, alongside Lang, Barton and Banner. Tony would not let Peter go alone, and neither would Ned, who jumped at the chance to protect his friend.

Everyone had thought it was a good idea for Peter and Ned to go, Nebula warned them how dangerous and volatile Vormir could be, and they needed to make sure they got along for the plan to work. Peter and Ned had never fallen out, not really, they had argued about Star Wars theories a few times. Tony had knighted Ned as a ‘ temporary Avenger ’ before the mission, it had been a happy moment amongst the preparation for the time heist. Looking back, Peter wished he had stopped himself; he should have never let Ned come.

“Peter?”

“This isn’t a trick.” He darted his eyes up to Ned, “Nebula told me that Thanos came here for the soul stone with her sister, he came back with the stone, and without her.”

Ned’s breath hitched, and he turned on his foot, looking away from Peter; he bowed his head into his chest, “Remember the time before all of this?”

Peter snorted as he looked up at his friend, “You mean the time before Spider-Man?”

“Yeah.”

Ned absent-mindedly kicked a rock on the ground, he scoffed, “Boring.”

Peter’s forehead creased and raised his eyebrows, “Boring?”

“Dude we were losers before all of this,” Ned said, Peter bounced up onto his feet as they both laughed.

“Nah, I think we’re still losers.” Peter smiled, “MJ would say so.”

Ned nodded as he turned to face Peter, “Yeah, yeah, she would.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he shrugged, “But I mean we’re both Avengers now, that’s quite…cool.”

Peter smiled as he blinked away tears, “Yeah, that is quite cool.”

“So…” Ned trailed off as he dotted his eyes down to his shoes, “What do we do now? You and me?”

“We’re the Avengers, man.” Peter smiled falsely, “I think we…have to finish this.”

Ned swallowed the lump forming in his throat, “We could go back home, try again.”

Peter shook his head and reached forward, placing his hand on Ned’s shoulder, “We have one shot.”

“Okay….” Ned nodded, “So, we know who it….”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter wiped a hand over his face before letting out a deep breath, “We know who it has to be.”

Their hearts sank, and the reality of the situation hit them when, in unison, they both uttered the word ‘Me.’

“No. No, no .” Peter stuttered as he held out his arm, pointing to the ledge, “No, Ned, it has to be me.”

“Dude, you’re Spider-Man!” Ned exclaimed, “You’re a superhero, I’m just …Ned.”

“And?!” He shouted, “Me being Spider-Man doesn’t make my life more valuable than yours!”

“Peter, come on…”

“No!” Peter said sharply, “I’m not worth more than you.”

“Peter, the world needs you.” Ned cried, “You’re not just Peter Parker, you’re–”

“Don’t say it…please.” Peter pleaded, “Spider-Man does not make me better than you.”

“What about May?!” Ned asked, “And Tony, they’re expecting you to come home !”

“Whatever it takes,” Peter muttered repeating Tony’s rallying call, he locked eyes with Ned, “May and Tony…they have other people. May has Happy, Tony has Morgan and Pepper.”

“What about me?!” Ned cried, “What do I have without you?!”

Peter pulled on his shoulder and propped his forehead against Ned’s as he grabbed his hand, “You are doing this to bring back your parents….” He uttered, “I can’t tell them that I let you…”

“Peter, people need you….”

“Doesn’t matter.” Peter closed his eyes, “What’s the point in having these powers if I can’t save my best friend?”

Ned leaned back, wiping his tears away with the back of his sleeve, “…You’re right.”

Peter cautiously looked up and faked a reassuring smile, “It’s gonna be okay.”

Ned looked up to the stone walls, not able to look at Peter, “Yeah.”

Peter edged towards the drop, “…I love you, man.”

Ned tilted his head into his shoulder as a sob caught in his throat, “I love you too.” With all his remaining willpower, Ned kicked the back of Peter’s leg, he grabbed his shoulder and flipped him over onto his back.

Peter hadn’t expected the attack, his senses hadn’t even warned him because Ned had never been a danger. Peter brought his hand to his chest as he coughed, winded by the impact of the fall. He turned onto his side to see Ned charging over towards the edge, “Ned!”

Ned didn’t listen to Peter’s cries, he just kept running until he reached the threshold and jumped over, allowing himself to fall. Suddenly, he jolted and crashed into the wall, he whimpered as he opened his eyes.

“What the–” He looked up to see that he was only a few meters down suspended in mid-air; he noticed a line of web connected to the cuff of his jacket, holding him up, “No.” Peter had taken precautions to keep him alive.

Ned looked up just as Peter leapt off the edge; Ned kicked the wall to knock himself back, he held his hand out and grabbed Peter’s wrist, catching him before he fell; Ned gasped in surprise, not expecting to have the strength and speed to catch him in time.

“Web yourself up!” Ned begged, “Save yourself, please ….” He pulled on Peter’s arm, but he kept slipping away, “Peter, please!”

Peter looked at Ned with his familiar wide-eyes, he smiled; it was small and broken, but it was still a smile. Even in his last moments, Peter was trying desperately to protect Ned, to keep him safe. Like he had always done. His smile didn’t reassure Ned though, not this time, it did the exact opposite, it terrified him.

He pulled desperately on Peter’s arm, “Peter…”

“Ned…” Peter said softly, making sure he kept his eyes fixed on his best friend, “ I’m sorry .”

“Don’t…..”

Peter swung forward, and with one faithful kick, his hand slipped away from Ned’s grasp, and he fell. In a single second, Peter was gone. Ned didn’t have time to reach for him, he didn’t even have time to finish his plea.

“Peter!” He screamed, keeping his hand outstretched; he closed his eyes just before his friend hit the ground. Just before his friend died.

After a few seconds, he opened his eyes. He knew he had too. He had to see, he needed to know that Peter was definitely gone. He regretted, opening his eyes the second he did; Peter was laid on his back, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky, up at Ned. Blood surrounded his head from where he’d hit the ground; his arms were stretched out to their sides while his legs were scrawled to one side, in an unnatural position, from where they had broken on impact.

Ned darted his head away, looking up as he whimpered; the sky above him exploded into colour, and a bright white light blinded him.

He blinked open his eyes; he was no longer hanging off the side of the mountain. He was laid down in a lake, surrounded by nothing but darkness. He sat up, his eyes searched for Peter, but his body was nowhere to be seen. He looked over to his closed fist, to see a glowing orange stone.

He sobbed as he opened his closed hand, “Peter.“

When Ned arrived back in the Avengers compound, he kept his head bowed into his chest as he deactivated his suit. He couldn’t breathe, he knew when he did, he would break.

He listened to the joyful celebrations of the rest of the team, he didn’t want to hear the end of their cheers. He didn’t want them to know what had happened, what Peter had done.

Ned wasn’t an Avenger, not anymore. He was just a boy who lost his best friend.

The laughter in the room came to an abrupt stop as Tony stepped forward, and with a trembling voice asked, “Ned, where’s Peter?”

#peter parker fanfiction #ned leeds fanfiction #peter x ned #peter x ned fanfiction #endgame fanfiction #endgame au #fanfiction #hahaha kill me

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