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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: cuties!! hehe we’re finally getting...a couple things in this chapter that i’ve been wanting to share sooo bad! i added question marks to some of the tags to make it more of a surprise! i love hearing what ya thought of it! hehe <3

Five

Pairing: self insert, (?) x female reader x bang chan

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut and angst

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, royal!minho, informantandclubowner!changbin (loll thats so long), (?)!felix, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, mentions of alcoholic drinks and getting drunk, hehe bit of smut/suggestive content (tags omitted for surprise--nothing crazy to tag tho hehe), maknae line are my sons in this fic, binnie in this fic can fkn take me lol

CWs: sizable shoot out in public club with several people involved, presumed that people die because of this event, lots blood and other wounds such as gunshot wounds, mentions of drugs (both recreational and hard drugs) mentions of weapons such as knives and guns--the whole scene is violent

Word count: 8.5k

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE

“Five years later and I’m still tying your ties, F. Some things never change.”

Jeongin cracks a smile, simple and cute, much like the man himself even when he has a handgun glued to his hand.

“It’s still a harder task than some of the stuff that they have us doing. Not gonna lie.”

You smooth down your partner’s lapels where he’s pinned a small pin of the ticking clock. While others would wear crests, the insignia that bonds you to the younger man is this this small instrument. He’s quiet while he watches you fiddle with his silk blue tie that compliments his snow white hair perfectly.

“Are you nervous for tonight?”

Your partner upkeeps his stoic façade the best he can, but tonight there’s something different about him. His silent answer speaks louder than he could ever admit. On the queen sized bed, Seungmin kicks his perfectly shined shoes while flipping through the channels of the TV with a staticky sounding click. Jeongin lightly brushes his hand over the diamond dangling earrings that twinkle as they are supposed to from your ears--likely they’re crystals, not the more expensive jewel.

“I’m not nervous,” He finally sighs, but there’s a bit of a crack to his voice. “I trust you. And Two. I’m trying to focus on that.”

“It’ll be fine.” You assure, “White Rabbit must have his own security that would be at his beck and call. If anyone shoots at us, they’re shooting at him. We’re not alone.”

The young agent nods, then gives a little slap to the college student on the bed. “Get up. We’re leaving. Remember what I showed you?”

Jeongin draws from the bedside a small handgun. It’s more decorative than protective, but still fires bullets that could save his life.

“Keep it in your breast pocket. Make sure that no one sees it. We don’t wanna cause a scene.”

Seungmin’s eyes widen as he feels its weight in his hand. “Got it. I hope I don’t have to use it.”

“Me too,” You give the youngster a soothing smile. “And remember, don’t tell anyone your name. When you’re in there, your name is S. Better yet, it’s best not to interact with anyone.”

He nods, then slides it into the thin fabric of his coat. The young man looks considerably more dapper with The Agency’s clothes: a deep purple velvet two piece with silver cufflinks decorated with white roses--another symbol that you’ve grown familiar with.

The prince saunters up to the bedroom with a slick tap at the opened door. He oozes with regality; not like you expected any less. The royal has dressed himself magnificently without the aid of his help once more: a pure black silk suit with a smart pressed white button up that’s spotless with not one crinkle. The while shirt itself is adorned with two thin silver chains which stretch across his lower torso. At the neck where the shirt meets its last button, there’s a floral brooch: one more more white rose for good measure.

“Wow!!” Seungmin respectfully bows. “Your Highness, you look--”

“--I didn’t fuck up the hair, did I?”

Chan grins as he brings his fingers through his newly colored hair; its much lighter than his dark locks had been before: now a shade of tawny brown. The change to his appearance had come at the request of the palace who suggested that he try to conceal his identity even further as to not arouse suspicion.

“Handsome as ever, your Highness.” You sneer out the compliment.

Since the previous night had turned sour, seeing eye to eye with the prince had become harder to do. It was a wild confliction of feelings when you thought more and more of it. With every glance that he would throw in your direction, along with way that he had stared at you all through breakfast, you couldn’t meet him. You felt as if you had borne a wound for him to see, for him to poke at--the secret kind that was best kept to yourself--and he had dug his finger in; he had laughed.

The prince tilted his head, and you met his eyes for the first time since then. There was a softness about him when you knew that he was inspecting you. You knew you must’ve been overthinking it--and that was what made it so dangerous.

“Looking stunning as always, Bee. I knew that you would wear that dress well.”

You let the words, “Thank you,” leave your tongue before toying with the small handbag provided to you. As always, your thigh holster held steady under your dress.

Four clicks at the suite door sounded, startling nearly everyone in the room, revealing everyone’s nerves which they had denied.

“That’ll be Lee Minho.” Chan announced.

Two answered the door in his own costuming. The two men bowed upon meeting, a usual meeting between strangers. The agent lead him to the room, and the royal buttoned his own suit properly.

“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m Lee--”

“--Minho.” Jeongin dryly cut, “We know who you are.”

Luckily, you and your partner shared the same apprehension.

“I’m Fox. You’ve met Bee. The young kid is S, he’s a new agent. The quiet one that let you in is Two.”

Minho bowed politely with a slight blush. “You weren’t kidding when you said that you were well protected, Your Highness.”

Chan chuckled in response then clapped the other royal by the back.

“You look amazing,” Minho said to the prince who shooed him away with a humble hand.

“You as well.”

Chan sized up the royal who indeed looked like one. His suit was a simplier charcoal grey with pinstripes with a white undershirt that ruffled at the collar. Not typical of the royals that you knew, he also wore dangling silver earrings that would have never passed the royal standard for professionalism. However, it made sense considering that he had been of a lower rank.

“Now that we’ve got the formalities out of the way, shall we head out?” Chan put a very obvious hand to the lower back of Lee Minho while checking with the rest of the group. “It’s best not to keep him waiting?”

Your partner nodded and ushered the group out while giving his body one more pat down to ensure that all concealed weapons were in place. Two checked the assortment of knives tucked discreetly into his own jacket. The man had some kind of wicked and unidentifiable grin while he felt the metal against his fingers. You exited at the rear, feeling a hand tug at your arm.

“--Bee, I’m sorry about what happened...I’m...I hope that you can understand my motivations as to why I said what I did, it didn’t seem like the right time--”

“--There will never be a right time.” You tore your arm free. “Your Highness, what happened...that was a mistake on my part. I acted out of line. There will never be a right time because...I’m your guard, and you’re my prince. Do you understand?”

“But Bee--”

“--End of discussion,” The words burned in your throat seeing the way that he had looked at you just then, and it was clear that he definitely didn’t understand.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

You had heard that the White Rabbit had been a prideful man--this was now an indisputable fact once you pulled up to the roaring nightclub set into one of the busiest streets on the avenue in Cairo. Everything about the place was showy and bright and outrageous. It was a miracle that the man hadn’t been caught considering that his home base was as obvious as it was. The entire front of the night club shone with the brilliance of a million stars in a hundred different colors. A giant marquee held the signage with the title of the place, “The Tea Party” coupled with the image of the white rabbit himself--the one from the old movie--a stout little thing with his pocket watch swinging from his paw. His neck was wrapped up in a white ruff, and he wore a frock pattered in red hearts.

A line stretched from the front entrance for as far as you could see, and clubbers swung their bodies in tune to the muffled sound of the EDM music thumping from inside and throwing cigarette butts to the sidewalk.

“Do we just walk in?” Seungmin hurriedly asked with nervous hands wrapped around his body.

“We’re expected, so, yes.” You snaked your arm through Jeongin’s to look even less conspicuous. “Just relax,” You commanded the group lowly.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the prince slug his arm around Lee Minho who appeared to shrink under the other man’s broad shoulders.

Two large bouncers stood at the entrance with muscles swelling under their shirts stained pink in areas which you assumed to have been white at some point.

“Names?” One of them grunted rather than spoke.

From his pocket, your partner took out his very own pocket watch that had been hidden with the rest of your supplies upon arrival to Cairo. On the opposite side of the watch was engraved the two symbols intertwined: the white rabbit and the the white rose. The two men inspected it, nodded, and opened the door for your small entourage. As soon as you entered the booming central room, you could see Seungmin’s shoulders drop as he relaxed.

“There should be someone meeting us!” Jeongin yelled over the sound of the white noise leading to the bass drop. Hundreds of clubbers danced with the music, throwing their glasses to the air and howling like animals. You wouldn’t have been surprised if at least half of them had been strung out on the very drugs that the man himself had helped peddle.

The young agent pulled you closer to him as stumbling bodies passed.

“They could be here. We have to be on our guard.”

“Let me watch the prince.”

Jeongin nodded, letting you recede to the back of the group where Two had tailed. His eye wound hadn’t healed nearly enough, so he opted to wear the sunglasses once more. It was likely that word had spread about the four of you escaped twice--his eye was evidence. From behind the group, you watched the way the the prince’s hand fell down hold Lee Minho by the hip, and the way that his fingers dug in there slightly. As much as you had denied it, seeing them close brought back the very covetous thoughts you tried to keep at bay.

A slender woman with gorgeous tanned skin pushed her way through the crowd and set her eyes on the white head of your partner. Her dress was even thinner than yours, but she wore it as if it was her second skin. The luxurious red color contrasted perfectly with her dark hair and eyes.

“Are you Fox?” She asked with a thick accent, and cascaded her hand down the young man’s arm.

“Y-yes. I am.”

“Bun asked me to bring you to him. I know the way.”

She let her hand fall into Jeongin’s who whipped his head back to you with dry lips that he wetted immediately. You had expected to have been retrieved by someone a bit stockier than this woman.

“He’s trying to get our guard down.” Two said suddenly as he reached into his pocket to thumb over his stockpile of metal there. “Don’t you think?”

The woman took your group near to the corner of the room where bodies didn’t linger for long, but were drawn in the mosh pit in the center. Tables lined these edges which were fashioned into booths with red velvet curtains for privacy to do much more sinister things. The room smelled heavily of pure alcohol spilled by drunk hands and of synthetic fabrics made of cheap plastics. A dozen different fragrances mingled into one dizzying mess: each a scent so different and chemical that it was toxic.

She walked with a swing to her hips, all the way to a booth that was a bit larger than the others--you could only assume that this must’ve been his booth. The woman gestured for you all to enter before drawing the curtain. At the center of the table, the rabbit’s symbol had been burned into the wood. She wore some kind of thin diamond bracelet which she hovered over the image, causing a winding staircase to pop from the carpeted floor down to a hidden chamber.

“Take the stairs, and it you’ll see it once you get down there.”

Your partner have her a curt nod in thanks, then lead the group further down. A soft green and red glow emanated from the space below, also humming with a concealed type of music different from that which was played in the club. From here, it nearly sounded like jazz.

The corridor under the club was bleak and grey with cement, but wooden crates lined it with stamps on the sides in numerous different languages. Your brain could only fathom where the contents had been before they ended up in this basement. It must have been millions of dollars just sitting undisturbed with enough firepower to blow up the whole building and more.

“Guns. Military grade and a little more improper,” Minho sighed out. “He must have every model in existence here.”

“Do you think that he has like...missiles?” Seungmin reached for his small handgun.

“Ease up S.” You tried to contain your own creeping fear, “Those would be too big to keep down here.”

“Who says that this is his whole stockpile?” Two deadpanned as he cleaned his glasses.

At the end of the hall, one more bulky guard stood expressionless with a small sized machine gun ready in his hands. He opened the door without saying much else, letting loose the red and green lights you had seen before, and with it, the putrid smell of expensive drink and marijuana.

The smaller room was only lit by strobes with multicolored gels, and it was dense with the smoke of many number of drugs and vices. There was a small bar with a bartender with bagged eyes and a swath of women in cocktail dresses and men with ties tugged nearly all the way off their necks with lipstick marks pressed into them.

A single disco ball spun above their heads, spreading shiny squares all across the room. Even more guards waited in the same uniform, but these ones looked more expensive--likely his own personal detail wearing gaudy chains and wrist watches inlaid with diamonds and crested in real gold.

“My friends! You were able to make it!”

The man of the hour spread his legs wide on his leather couch set upon a lion’s coat rug, complete with a head and marble eyes and all. At his sides were two more women more unique than the rest: both of them was breathtakingly gorgeous, one of them jeweled like a queen with a thick gold choker that resembled that which old Egyptian royalty would. Her head was smoothed with no hair at all, but instead intricate and beautiful tattoos decorated her like some kind of otherworldly being. The other woman had a cat-like face with two differently colored eyes; one hazel green and the other icy blue contrasting with her fiery orange hair.

“Carroll told me that you had a bit of trouble before you got here. I’m glad to see that you were able to get here in one piece. It only seems like things are getting more and more...risky these days. Even for people like us.”

“We’re not “people like you,” Rabbit.” You pushed to the font of the group.

The club owner himself was dressed in a purely white fur coat which you presumed to be made of real fur. Considering the material, it must’ve been made from the fur of snow foxes--an interesting choice considering your partner’s persona. The smaller man with a thick and muscled form took off his yellow tinted sunglasses to tuck them into his wildly printed shirt that had tiny buttons doing the work of keeping his chest covered.

“Babydoll! It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard all about you. Your reputation precedes you.” He took a rather greedy bite to his lip whilst looking you up and down. The white dress must have been doing it’s job well.

“Babydoll?” Chan asked with furrowed brows. “What is--who is--?”

“As does your reputation, Rabbit. I wouldn’t have expected less.”

The proud man snorted, “I hope this doesn’t mean that you’ve got any...preconceived notions about my lifestyle. Our dear friend Carroll doesn’t seem to.”

“Of course not.”

“And you...you must be the Prince of Bulgeun! His Royal Highness Prince Chan of the Crown!” The White Rabbit spread out his arms wide in welcome. “I don’t often get royalty in my club--lots of celebrities and the like.” He leaned over to one of his guards, speaking in Egyptian Arabic and asking for drinks for the group.

“Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” Chan bowed deep.

“So respectful!” The White Rabbit chuckled, “You can all call me Bun. We’re all friends here. And you...who might you be?” Bun pointed a finger at Minho who stepped forward.

“Baron Lee Minho, of Bulgeun as well.”

“Ah! And a Baron too! How did I get so lucky to have such honorable company?” Cat-face ticked her long nails against the club owner’s hand slung around her.

“You know what we’re here for, Rabbit. There’s no need for theatrics.” Jeongin huffed his words out with a confident breath.

“You’re the one that they call Fox? Rumor has it that you and Carroll have a rather...special...connection?”

The bartender arrived with drinks, each of them looking expensive with flecks of gold leaf floating on the surface of the clear liquid. Seungmin shot an apprehensive glare once the glasses were left on a small side table. As had been discussed previously, none of your group had picked up a glass.

The woman with beautiful tattoos stretched a hand down one of the White Rabbit’s thighs, reaching dangerously high between them; just enough to make you flinch from the forward action.

“Baby, I see that you’re playing a dangerous game towing this Price around, so of course I’m willing to help a friend of my friend. You’re lucky that I’ve got just the intel that you need. Some people just don’t know how to shut their mouths, especially when the get a taste of what I’m selling.”

“Oh? And what have you been hearing?”

You eyed a leather chair across from him seeing an opportunity.

“Your Highness.” You motioned for Chan to sit in the chair next to yours, swinging your legs crossed to peek from the thin white silk in full view for the Rabbit to see. After, you dipped your chin into your palm, just for the purpose of letting the front of your dress fall slightly. The prince remained quiet while taking his seat and spreading his legs out strongly.

“If it’s compensation that you need Rabbit, the Crown is also willing to make offers for added...persuasion.”

Chan crossed his fingers in his lap leaning forward. His words were slick and domineering--kingly even.

“Is that so?” The White Rabbit tugged at his lip with his teeth, “I wasn’t aware.”

“Double what The Agency is offering. If I like what you say.”

The club owner scoffed with a grin, “Oh, you’ll like what I say.” Cat-face lifted his drink to his lips, then wiped off the excess off with her finger. Both of the body guards appeared to tense before he spoke and tried to be inconspicuous while they reached for their decorated pieces resting in their waistbands.

“Hell, I’ll even tell you what they call themselves.”

In your impatience, you leaned forward, “Who are they?”

“They’re called The Spades. Some kind of new crime syndicate that’s been fucking up my business and making bargains with my customers. Of course, as you know...I work in a very lucrative business.”

“Naturally.”

“They’ve been stockpiling shit like crazy: all kinds of weapons, any kind that you can think of outside of fucking nukes. They’ve even tapped into drugs as well to make extra on the side. I don’t know what it is that they’re doing that makes them so appealing, but suddenly I’m missing out on millions because of those fuckers. They’ve got someone masterminding it all too--some crazed bastard. I’ve been trying to find him ever since they popped up.” He resumed his grasp on both of his women who cuddled into him.

“Mastermind? The one who’s running the whole operation? You know him?” Both you and your partner locked eyes quick enough for the other man to not take notice.

“No, one of his cronies. He runs the business. He’s illusive and fucking insane. Someone whispered once that he’s psychotic or something like that. You think that I’m bad...”

“Who?? Who is he? Where can we find him?”

“Slow your role there doll, I’m just getting to the good part.” The Rabbit nodded for another sip of his drink. “He’s got several names depending on who you’re talking to. Fucking funnily enough, I’ve heard that he goes by “Hatter,” or more commonly “Joker.” He deals in anything: arms, drugs, sex...and he works for The King.”

“The King?” Chan butted in with the mention of a royal name.

“Not your silly little king, prince. The King. The one who runs it all. He tells The Spades what to do. They’re everywhere, taking over every sector in every nation. They’re trying to dismantle it all--every political system, monarchy, presidency...everything. It looks like they’re starting with you, prince. The Spades preach about chaos. Every man for himself...but it’s a lie. Why the hell else would they be stockpiling? They’re trying to take it all over.”

Seungmin gulped audibly as he sunk to the back of the group.

“When there’s no more control the ones with the most resources always end up on top.” The young student whispered.

“This King, do you know who he is?” Jeongin spoke over Seungmin to detract attention from him.

“Nope.” The White Rabbit swung his legs up on the small coffee table with alligator leather shoes. “I’ve been a little focused on taking down the Joker at the moment, for your information.”

“What’s your intel on him then? He must know how to get to The King.” Minho pushed to the front of the group right to Chan’s side. “We’re not satisfied with your information yet.”

The Baron’s sudden demand surprised you: he had been timid before--so you had thought.

The club owner looked to Chan, keeper of his “persuasion” who nodded to prompt him for more.

“He’s on some island off Greece. Private. Tight security, the kind that could shoot you out of the sky.”

“Impressive.” You tutted, feigning confidence once more. “What more do you know?”

The woman with the bangled necklace whispered something in his ear once peeking at a small old-model cellphone in her hand, brushing her lips over his earlobe. Over the sound system, the jazz music turned sultry, and both women moved to join the other intoxicated clubbers in the back to sway around brass poles.

“There’s the freckled bastard. He’s the grunt--and the one that’s been chasing you I think. Real nuisance isn’t he? He’s the Knave. Had a few run ins with him myself.”

You thought back to the gas station and the black SUVs. Between all the shards of glass, it had been hard to make anyone out, but you had figured that he had must’ve been one of the men throwing their bodies out of the windows to shoot.

The Rabbit chuckled out with some kind of hand signal to his guards. “Knowing him, he could be right outside my door for that matter.”

Jeongin’s eyes flew open, sending you “the look.” Your time was running out. Judging by the way that you hadn’t noticed that the Rabbit’s women had cleared out the other clubbers from the room, they must’ve known something that you didn’t. The club owner stood up with a languid stretch and cracked his knuckles.

“We probably don’t have much more time before they come in here guns blazing. Best protect your prince, hm?”

“Rabbit! You must know something about The King?!” You crossed the room to grab at his frim and fuzzy arm.

He slyly smiled, amused by your grip, “Like I said doll, no one knows much about him. Your Baron has got it right. Start with the Joker. But...” His grin cracked even wider, “Good luck.”

Seungmin tugged at Two’s dress coat as the two bulky bodyguards took The Rabbit by the arms to escort him.

“What's going on??” The young man’s voice cracked with urgency.

“Ready that gun of yours.” Two said lowly with gritted teeth.

He strode across the room with his fur coat lazily swaying, then raised the golden rings on his fingers to the air as he exited. He threw his yellow tinted glasses back on, before turning back to your stunned group.

“I estimate that you’ve got...three minutes? --Oh! And one more thing!”

The white fabric of your dress swept to the side, revealing your thigh holster which you grabbed at quickly.

“What?!”

“Every King’s got his Queen? Does he not?”

The enigmatic club owner slipped into the shadows of his private room, leaving your group with the sound of clambering feet on the floor above, followed by muffled gunshots.

“They’re here?” Seungmin readied his small handgun as he was told and looked to the ceiling where the lights flickered from the commotion. “They found us?”

Two twirled two knives in his hands with a silvery glint. Both of the blades were a bit on the shorter side, but you were certain that he knew how to use them. “They’re always following us.”

“We need to get out of here.” Lee Minho drew out his own gun concealed by his suit. It was custom with a pearl handle. You had seconds to make out the insignia, but you could make out the shape of what looked like a red rose. “The place must be crawling with them. We need to find the exit.”

Your partner nodded while taking his own gun. “Stay close, Your Highness. Follow me.”

“Bee?” The prince called your name with a worried cross between his brows. “Give me a gun. Hand-to-hand is nothing against these guys. I’ll stay close. I promise.”

While he held your eyes earnestly, the way that his chest heaved up and down told you something much different.

“You can handle it?”

“I can.”

Jeongin passed him a Glock from the holster strapped behind his shoulders.

You made your way back through halls lit by hissing fluorescent lights with a white burn to them. The crates of weaponry stretched on and on, adding to your unease knowing what could happen if a bullet were to be fired in this hallway. Thick rats skittered in the dank edges of the hall and weaved between boxes labeled in Spanish.

“Drugs.” Minho gripped his gun tighter. “From the looks of it, cocaine.”

Above your heads, a giant boom resounded and dust with drywall fell from the lights that flickered harder.

“Its a fucking maze down here.” Jeongin tapped at his watch in an attempt to find a schematic of the place.

The college student wetted his lips. “At least we’re not up there with them.”

“At least the lead worked out. We know more about these...Spades than we did before. It’s a start.” You tailed the back of the group with careful footsteps and the click of your heels against the cement flooring.

Another resounding boom echoed followed by the shrill screams of clubbers above. It sounded hellish--you could hear the raw fear in their voices. The music thudded on, likely abandoned by someone running for their life. The Prince’s knuckles turned white holding onto his piece of metal near the front of the group.

“F, you know the way up?”

“I-I think. We should be approaching some stairs soon, but there’s nottelling who will be on the other side.”

Two tore off his sunglasses and shoved them into his breast pocket. “We’ll be damn lucky if they haven’t found the hotel yet. If not, we’ve got to run.”

“My laptop??” Seungmin whimpered.

“That damn Chromebook? Don’t worry about it, your life is more important.” Jeongin scoffed. “The Agency can set you up with something even better.”

“I can’t believe that at a time like this all I can think about is my stupid computer.” The young man shook the thought out of his head.

“Stairs up ahead.” Jeongin pointed. “Get ready.”

“Chan?” You pulled at the prince’s trim to his coat.

“I’m fine Bee. Honestly. I trust you.” He attempted a smile. The same smile, that damned charming one that couldn’t get out of your head.

Minho looked back to the prince too with worry, it had been the most sincere motion that you had seen him do as of yet. He reached out to squeeze the royal’s shoulder with a soft smile.

“Don’t go dying on us Your Highness. Think about what that would mean for the kingdom?” He chuckled.

“I’ll try my best,” The prince returned the gesture.

Jeongin reached for the metal door handle to the teal green door cracking with paint. The sound of machine guns had grown even louder, followed by the sound of the shells hitting the wooden dance floor. The air was thin where it crept under the door and carried with it the horrid smell of smoking guns and spilled alcohol.

“Two, Bee, form rank around the group, I’ll lead.”

Two nodded, popping gum into his mouth and blowing large electric blue bubble. “Can do.” Both of his hands tightened around his blades.

“One...Two...Three!”

Time slowed the second that the door opened, and your ears rang with the deathly silence. Bodies to the left and right of you became a blur and they fell to the floor in the silence with their limbs twitching until they didn’t move at all. White collars turned red, as did the white tablecloths of the standing tables. The strobes pranced around the room in a multicolored shower that was as blinding and stained your eyes.

The men in black suits and leather gloves scattered around the room with their red crests glinting. They shouted commands at eachother, but to you, all you could see was the way that their lips curved and cracked. In front of you, your partner leads with a hand gesture that you had memorized from training, and all of your focus was drawn the the back of the group. The trigger of your gun was cold on your finger: you pulled and pulled not even pausing to feel the way that it fought back against your wrist. The men were sprinting with their own guns tight in their hands, but each of them fell before they could get close.

Two’s mouth was in a flat line as he threw tiny blades from his hands to the chests of men running across the balconies and hiding from behind tables. He appeared to have an infinite amount in his coat and saved the longer and more lethal ones for close connections, subsequently dipping his own fingers in red.

The young college student trudged on in the center of the group with his head tucked firmly between his two shoulders. Clear streams of tears fell down his eyes, but he wiped at them furiously between each shot that he took with his small handgun. Next to him, the two royals kept their own heads low aiming shots around them to backup you and your partners.

Their footsteps came echoing behind you, and you walked backwards, taking aim with one eye squinted, while barking out commands from your mouth that you barely even understood. Your heartbeat bumped in your chest nearly in tune with the thudding 808′s of the music that reverberated in your ears. Each of the Spades moved as if they were shadows over the bodies of the fallen, leaping and jumping, nearly floating over dining tables and sweeping off the glassware and silverware with them as they did so.

“BEE, I’M ALMOST OUT!” Jeongin screamed to you nearly before reaching the front revolving doors.

Two tossed another magazine in the young agent’s direction, then threw another dagger with startling accuracy.

For seconds at a time you could see how Minho’s eyes had narrowed with his aim, and he too met every target exactly where he wanted. You figured that the royal must have trained himself well to have that kind of precision. The way that he appeared perfectly calm was startling: his dark eyes squinted and he turned his body swiftly with little effort.

“Fuck--I’M OUT OF ROUNDS!” The prince bellowed before ducking under Minho’s arm which immediately swung over him.

You closed in closer to the group, using your body as a shield for the prince’s back.

Your partner cast aside fallen chairs and tables in his wake, as one of the thugs charged at him. In response, he threw his gun into his waistband, opting to slung the man with a hurried uppercut that sent him spitting blood to the floor before falling, “We’re almost there! Keep pushing!!”

“SHIT!!!” Seungmin groaned out before dropping his small gun to the ground, he trembled with his leg dragging behind him, then soon his pants soaked with a dark stain to his slacks.

“BEE LOOK OUT!!” A voice screamed, seconds before you could register it.

Your head whipped back to the chaos of the club, seeing the “freckled bastard” himself point his decorated riffle at you point blank with a wicked grin on his face. He looked purely evil. There was something about the way that his ears poked, or how his eyes upturned that made him look devilish when his pearly white teeth peeked once he took his shot. He had ashy blonde hair that had strung with sweat over his forehead, and blood wetted the tip of his dress shoes. He cocked his head to the side, as he did too with his gun before the deafening shot cracked through the room.

You were shocked trying to memorize his face, and frozen in your fear from the barrel of the gun facing you right between the eyes.

An excruciatingly tight grasp at your arm pulled you to the side before you could react, throwing you to the hardwood floors before whoever it was pulled themselves in front of the bullet. Your vision was rocked when you hit the floor, missing the glass revolving door by centimeters.

“Y/N!” Your partner screamed, waking you from your haze as the room started to piece back together. “You good?!”

Another hand grabbed you to your feet before shoving you through the door, lightly slinging your arm around his shoulder before taking your gun from your trembling hand to take a few more shots. You realized it was Two this close, and tiny flecks of red splattered at his neck.

“Fuck--give me that--” You grabbed the gun from his hand to fire every bullet that was left at the freckled bastard until you couldn’t any more, and the cool of the evening stung at your heaving lungs once your group reached the sidewalk.

Outside of the venue, clubbers scrambled and ran the streets still shrieking in their fear and tripping over their heeled shoes.

“Chan?? Chan--where-where’s the prince??” The words spilled from your lips in your pure adrenaline.

Right behind you only a couple paces away, the prince stood pale with Seungmin holding between them a groaning and gasping Minho who barely held on to the two men. A bullet wound soaked his black suit jacket, and the red crept up to his white frilled collar.” The wound made a hole right in his shoulder with a visible circle.

Jeongin sprinted to the back of the group looking disheveled himself with sleeves hastily pulled up to his elbows. “Shit--shit!!”

“S-move aside. MOVE!” You commanded the whimpering young man who gave you Minho’s other arm. You wrapped around his wasit and dragged the heavy weight of the man who had just saved your life.

The prince dryly smacked his lips then scanned the street for more of the Spades in his daze.

“Y-you okay?” The words dried up your tongue.

“Yeah...yeah, I’m fine, are you?” His energy had been drained of him, and his knuckles were also cracked, likely from having to throw punches that you haven’t even seen him take.

Gunshots echoed further down the street followed by the screeching of wheels and more panicked yells. The chirps of cop cars pulled up to the scene and their husky demands rounded up the escapees in rapid-fire Arabic.

Jeongin sprinted back with his white hair bouncing to a taxi nearest an intersection. He threw the door open apologizing profusely the best he could before pulling the driver out of the driver’s seat and to the cement. He cursed out loudly in response to which Jeongin tossed out some bills haphazardly to his chest.

“Get in, GET IN!” He called to your group while tapping on the metal side of the vehicle.

Both you and the pricne guided the injured royal in to the backseat between you.

“Minho--Minho, hold on--” Your nervous hands held his pale face in your palms.

The tear of your dress filled the small compartment, prompting the prince to snatch his hand into the other man’s firmly.

“Minho--you fucking dumb asshole--you had to go and he the hero didn’t you?” Chan smiled hopefully.

“Ar-are you alright?” He coughed, “Your Highness?”

“Shut up.” Chan ruffled his hair with another adoring smile. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

Although it was silk, you used every inch of your dress tear to tie around the baron’s shoulder tightly in an attempt to add pressure to the open wound.

“Bee--” Minho started with a lazy glare.

“--Keep talking Minho, look at me. You’re gonna feel sleepy, stay awake. You did great, thank you so much for doing that to me. Thank you.” You grabbed his opposite hand firmly. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Lee Minho laughed. “Don’t mention it. And--if you wanted me to keep talking...I wanted to tell you that you’re really stunning Bee. How you handled all th-that. I was really impressed.”

“Hm, I was impressed too.” In his own way, like this, bloodied and a bit delirious, Lee Minho really was as handsome as he let on.

The taxi car whipped around another corner with wind whipping in the windows and each of your masses jostled in the car as if bumped over the curb. The hotel wasn’t that far from The Tea Party, and you knew that any moment you would reach it, but each second stretched longer and longer.��

“Fox?! We’re not there?”

“Fuck--Bee, the whole city is crawling with cops, everywhere I turn, they’re on the hunt, The Spades are everywhere I can’t make it back--no doubt they’re already there...”

In the front seat, Seungmin clung to Two as if his life depended on it as his whole body shook and Two tore his own jacket sleeve to close off the young man’s wound on his leg.

“Wha-what are we going to do?? S-shit!! Ouch!!!” The young student gritted his teeth in his pain while his leg shook terribly. He sobbed, “It hurts, really, really bad!!”

“I planned for this.” Jeongin’s eyes flicked in the review mirror to you in the back. “I asked Carroll to set up for us a secondary place if something went down and we couldn’t make it to the hotel. I figured...if anything happened or if they found us--”

“--Get us there, fucking drive Fox, Minho needs first aid, right fucking now, he’s bleeding too fucking much.”

“I know, I know!!”

“How far is it?!”

“Not far, I promise, twenty minutes--tops.”

“Make it ten!!!”

Jeongin floored it, running lights and becoming a stream under the skyscrapers of Cairo. From the small skylight of the taxi, thin clouds streaked in the evening sky and mixed with the glow of the city. Far, far, above your head, you prayed for the first time in years that you could make it in time.

Seungmin sobbed with puffy eyes from the front seat and writhed, “Hurry! Hurry!” He begged.

Minho’s head lulled in the backseat as he bled though the white silk binding him. His head bounced back and forth from you to the prince with glossy marbles for eyes that blinked slowly. The prince rested his hand on the baron’s thigh and rubbed calming little circles into it.

“Minho, you did so well. Look at me.” Chan coaxed, causing the other to smile adorably grim.

Minho twitched before rolling his head over to the prince. “Your Highness, i-if I may be so bold...I-I’ve got...I’m crush on you.” He finished his sentence with a wrinkled smile.

You scoffed out with a laugh while making knowing eye contact with the prince who laughed out lightly too.

“He sounds like someone I know.” You winked at the royal.

The taxi made one final turn to an alley filled with potholes that jostled each wheel of the car.

“This is it! Right here!” The young agent whipped into a one car garage hidden into the alley. The darkness of the garage filled the car, and snuffed out all of the light from the street, and even muffled the faint sirens of police as they whizzed past. The night was still full of gunshots, but at least now they sounded far enough away to be safe.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The safe house was a modest two floored apartment outfitted with the normal security system of The Agency: window locks and cameras in every corner of every room. As expected, each of the rooms was covered in a fine layer of dust, and the old smell hung with flecks of the material stuck on lampshades and wafting in the light.

Work had been delegated between you and your partners, with the two other men helping treat Seungmin in the second bedroom out of three while you and the prince aided Minho.

The windows were left open to let in some fresh air, also letting in the faint sounds of the city which still surged with life even late into the night. Still, the smell of the desert came floating into the room with a welcome sense of tranquility.

The royal lay on the bed with cracked pale lips while you set to work dabbing at his wound gently with gauze, cleaning the area around the bullet wound. Fearful to cause more bleeding, the bullet would stay where it was for a few moments more for another layer of wrapping. The prince remained quiet, passing you materials as needed with hands stained pink from the other man’s blood.

“How are you feeling?” Chan quietly asked.

“Hurts like a bitch,” Minho smiled, “You ever been shot before?”

The prince shook his head.

“Well, I hope that you never are. Feels like your whole body gets stirred up from the impact and then there’s the sting.”

Carefully you pulled back the remains of the baron’s shirt while lifting him slightly off the bed. As you swept the fabric from behind him, you noticed the thin red line tracing around his shoulder bade which you figured to be blood at first.

“What...what’s this?”

“Oh,” Minho shied, “It’s a tattoo.”

“You’ve got a tattoo? For a royal?” Chan slicked back Minho’s sweaty locks. “You really are full of surprises.”

Gently you laid the baron back down to lay with his new wrappings. “What is it?”

He paused, wetting his lips quickly before he spoke. “It’s a red rose. It’s a bit large--I know--not typical for royals. Don’t worry, you’re the only royal that knows that I have it.”

“Why a red rose?”

Below you, Minho looked relaxed and calm, beautiful even like this bare-chested under the single lamp-light of the bedroom.

“Well...you know the significance of symbols and insignias. We’ve all got our own.” He grinned out while playing with the prince’s free hand.

“I’ve got my white rose, Bee’s got her clock: seems like we’ve all got our own thing.” Chan agreed, watching the way that his fingers interlocked with the other man’s.

In the opposite bedroom, Seungmin cried out sharply to the tune of Jeongin chuckling out, “I’ve got you, you fucker!” The clink of metal fell into the little bowl they used: the bullet was out of the poor boy.

You sighed knowing that the damage caused to your group could’ve been much worse, yet you had made a skillful escape. Still, the thought of the bodies littering the floor...the silence that rang in your ears from the pace of it all and how the energy of survival started to wear off...it was truly gruesome.

“Minho--really, I appreciate you taking a hit for me like that. No one has ever done something like that for me...and you barely know me...”

The baron smiled, taking your hand in his too. “Like I said, it’s fine. Had I not, you wouldn’t have been able to help us out of there...even if you were dragging my ass for the tail end of it.”

The breeze flew in with the dusty curtains; just cold enough to make you shiver in your thin dress.

The prince looked to the both of you, “What happens now?”

Chan himself was a proper mess: he no longer looked like the perfect vision of regality from the earlier evening. He looked like a man, a regular man, scared, unsure, and confused. His knuckles were cracked...and you had promised that you had never wanted to see him harmed again.

The prince’s eyes softened, softer than they had been, soft like they had been the evening before when you had broken.

“We survive. The best we can. We recuperate for a couple days, and ask Carroll what the next steps are. I’d guess it would be Greece then.”

Minho leaned up with a little grunt to face you. “I’m coming with. I can help. I can be valuable if you need another set of hands on a gun.”

“I think you mean hand. Your arm is gonna be out of commission for a little while.”

He smirked, “Still...”

The sweeping red outline of rose peeked to his shoulder, and you wondered how far it really spread.

“Bee, I don’t think that I’ve thanked you.” Chan let the words fill earnestly, throwing that same damned smile at you.

“Chan...you don’t have to thank me. You’re my prince.”

The royal nodded with a contented little grin that tugged a dimple on the side of his face. You found both men looking at you as such, as if they were waiting, or anticipating the unsaid as you were.

Somehow, the room turned silent once more: a void quiet enough to hear your heart beating in your ears.

You bridged the gap, pulling Chan close to you as you pressed your lips against his, using your stained hand to pull his lapel into your body while he melted perfectly into you as he had done before. His mouth tasted slightly like the salt of blood, but that was of no matter to how sweet he was when he gently let himself unfold for you, gasping lightly against you. Chan’s hand reached to your arm to caress the goosebumped skin down, giving you another reason to shiver. You found your own hand tie into his light brown locks and pull deeply at the roots with depths of curiosity and want. Your tongue gently explored his lower lip before teasing right into his mouth which was even warmer than you had imagined it being.

Your other hand found the torso of Minho: bare and quivering under the touch of your fingertips which traced each muscle there. He let out a drawn out sigh, then drew his own hand down the curve of your body to your hip, finally working it back up over your belly to your breasts thinly protected by the dress. He sat up higher and brought his lips to the fabric, kissing right into your belly with the warmth of his mouth. He paused, giving you moments to crave that same feeling on your lips and prompting you to bow down and indulge yourself in the taste of his mouth too.

Chan’s hungry hands came tip-toeing over your back as he watched, and slipped one finger under your thin dress strap to pull it down and press kisses to your shoulder. With his other hand, he let it fall down Minho’s back: over the red rose, right to his thigh which he squeezed at firmly: right between the heat of his legs.

Minho was different from Chan: rougher with his advances, but still addictive in how he would test the corners of your mouth with each kiss more courageous than the last. He ruffled up your torn dress, then let the silk fill up his hands before pulling it in ways to meet your skin with his. Slowly, Chan did the same, edging a hand up to your ass from the frayed bottom of the once-gorgeous dress.

The bed was just big enough for two, but with this new interlocking of limbs as close as possible, you melded into one. Both you and Chan crept over the man between you, painting the blank canvas of his chest with seething hot lips and biting at the flesh of his skin lightly. Minho’s back arched from the beautiful sensation, causing him to giggle in his euphoria.

In the middle, you found Chan once more, and held him close, as close as you had wanted for longer than you had admitted.

“Oh Bee...” He moans into your mouth while releasing all of his glee onto your tongue.

“Chan, I’m not scared anymore. I don’t even care.”

The prince shuddered at the thought, and held you back just as tight finding the corners of your dress to pull over your head.

“Oh my god,” Minho adores you, then reaches out to pull you to his chest.

This mysterious man, melts for you too, whimpering perfectly between your lips. Your legs find their way around his thigh to grind at lightly. There's an innocence to his eyes, much like that of the prince: its a kind of blind adoration that you know all too well. His dedication to Chan, and his gesture to you: the thick bandages around his arm: you find your apprehension slipping to nothing.

Your fingers loop around the white lace of your panties as you kneel above both men, and you swipe your thumb over both of their glistening and trembling lips.

“Well boys, how about I’ll make both of you mine tonight?”

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

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hlizr50 · 3 years

Text

Update: Revelations

Chapter 3: Midnight Conversations

Finally an update for Revelations, where Hawke finally finds out about Poppy's experiences with Lord Mazeen and gets big ragey mad about it (because that's what we live for).

Read on AO3

Hawke stalked down the hall mentally checking off the list of things he needed to address with the fire-haired woman he had just caught on the Rise. Gods, where to even begin?

How did you learn to fight?

Why did you learn to fight?

Why were you on the Rise?

Are you absolutely mad?

Do you have no sense of self-preservation?

Do you own no proper clothing so you aren’t fighting Craven in a nightdress and satin slippers?

He’d taken a few minutes to rinse the blood from his armor and his face and out of his hair. The guard had begun his trek back to the Maiden’s chambers as soon as he’d stowed his broadsword.

Yes, they still had so much to discuss. Those questions – and others – swam through his mind as he reached the heavy oak doors. Using a surprising amount of restraint he raised a fist and rapped on the wood. After a few moments the door cracked open, revealing the lady’s maid – Tawny.

“The Maiden is sleeping –“

“Doubtful,” Hawke interrupted, amused at the untruth. He lowered his chin and gave the lady a pointed look, but she didn’t open the door wider. So he pushed through the opening, mouth quirking as Tawny stood agape. He kicked the door closed and fixed his gaze on Poppy, who’s jaw had also dropped in apparent astonishment. As if she should be surprised to see him there. “It’s time for that talk, Princess.”

The guard cast a glance toward Tawny, jerking his chin in the direction of the door. “Your services are no longer needed this evening.”

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss her!”

Hawke turned is gaze back to the Maiden whose pale cheeks and emerald eyes were alight with ire. He raised a brow. “I don’t? As your personal Royal Guard, I have the authority to remove any threats.” He barely suppressed a dark chuckle at the notion that Poppy’s lady’s maid could pose any real danger.

“Threats?” Tawny’s lips curled down. “I’m not a threat.”

“You pose the threat of making up excuses or lying on behalf of Penellaphe. Just like you said she was asleep when I know for a fact that she was on the Rise,” Hawke retorted. The maid inhaled sharply and whipped toward the Maiden.

“I have a feeling I’m missing an important piece of information,” she accused. An amused grin lifted the corner of Hawke’s lips.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you. And it wasn’t that important,” Poppy argued. Not that important? Oh how she wounded him.

He snorted. “I’m sure it was one of the most important things to have happened to you in a long time.”

“You have an over-inflated sense of involvement in my life if you really think that.”

“I think I have a good grasp on just how much of a role I play in your life,” Hawke deadpanned. Indeed. Her first kiss, the first time she’d even been touched by a man. But it was more than just the carnal urges that had brought them together that first night. He was, as far as he could tell, the only person who was willing to address what the Duke had been doing to her. He felt… drawn to her, felt a nearly overwhelming need to protect her inside this structure of stone and cruelty – one place where she was not able to protect herself.

“Doubtful.” She turned the word back on him and he could barely keep from rolling his eyes.

“I do wonder if you actually believe half the lies you tell.”

“I am not lying, thank you very much.” Gods, she was so stubborn.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Princess,” he breathed with a grin.

Poppy scowled. “Don’t call me that!” she exclaimed with a stomp of her foot. The guard lifted a brow at her, pouting his lips.

“Did that make you feel good?”

“Yes!” she cried. “Because the only other option is to kick you.”

There it was again, the need to fight roiling beneath her skin. That did something to him, sparking a flame deep in his belly. He chuckled. “So violent.”

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“I’m your personal guard. I can be wherever I feel I am needed to keep you safe,” he stated. Hawke wished she weren’t so argumentative. He just wanted to talk to her, to understand her – dig deeper into her strength.

“And what do you think you need to protect me from in here?” She flung her arms out, gesturing to the empty room. “An unruly bedpost I might stub my toe on? Oh, wait, are you worried I might faint? I know how good you are at handling such emergencies.”

The Atlantian smirked. He knew she had been irritated that afternoon in the atrium, as the ladies in wait resorted to ever escalating heights of ridiculousness to garner his attention. He was like a shiny new toy, a handsome new Rise guard from the capital. If only Poppy knew that his attention was ever only centered on her.

“You do look a little pale. My ability to catch frail, delicate females may come in handy,” he countered, earning an enraged inhale. “But as far as I can determine, other than a random abduction attempt, you, Princess, are the greatest threat to yourself.”

“Well…” her lady’s maid drew out contemplatively. At least one of them was reasonable. “He kind of has a point there.”

“You’re absolutely no help,” Poppy spat.

Hawke softened his voice slightly, keeping his eyes fixed on her gaze that was green like Atlantian spring. “Penellaphe and I do need to speak. I can assure you that she is safe with me, and I’m sure that whatever I’m about to discuss with her, she’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Yes, she will, but that’s not nearly as entertaining as witnessing it.”

She was quite the spitfire, as well. The Maiden sighed.

“It’s okay, Tawny. I’ll see you in the morning.” She almost groaned.

Tawny was incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. I have a feeling that if you don’t leave he’s just going to stand there and drain precious air from my room –“

“While looking exceptionally handsome,” Hawke interjected. “You forgot to add that.” Poppy rolled her eyes, but her lady’s maid giggled.

“And I would like to get some rest before the sun rises,” she finished. Likely story that was, coming from the woman who had just left her bed to fight monsters on the city walls.

Tawny heaved an exasperated sigh. “Fine,” she muttered. Hawke glanced at her as she moved to leave. “Princess.”

His lips curled up in a devilish smile. Spitfire, indeed.

“Oh, my gods,” Poppy groaned. He waited for the lady’s maid to exit through the adjoining door before showing his delight.

“I like her.” Hawke grinned.

“Good to know. What is it you wish to talk about that couldn’t wait until the morning?”

As he looked back to her his breath caught. He’d always known that she was a lovely specimen, but seeing her before him in that thin nightgown and red hair unconfined and falling wildly above her shoulders. She truly was magnificent.

“You have beautiful hair,” he murmured. She just blinked, and he could see that she hadn’t been expecting that. He was glad to have been able to take her by surprise.

“Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Not exactly,” he shrugged and then allowed his eyes to very obviously roam over her barely-clothed body. The skin of her shoulders looked so soft, the dip at the base of her neck between her collar bones so inviting. The swells of her ample breasts were barely hidden, and the soft fabric clung loosely over her stomach and hips. And of course those pretty thighs and sculpted calves. She looked absolutely delectable, and the way the flush exploded over her flesh as she felt his gaze feel every curve caused his pants to tighten. She moved to grab the robe that was strewn across the bed and the corner of Hawke’s mouth curved devilishly.

And then she stopped, a challenge settling into those emerald pools as they met his. Ah, yes, she knew he’d already seen most of what her sleeping gown revealed, and a tremor of admiration rippled through him when she straightened, choosing not to hide herself from him.

“Was that all you were wearing under the cloak?” Hawke asked, balking at how utterly insane she must be. Truly.

“That’s none of your concern,” Poppy answered hotly.

“Feels like it should be.” His voice was raspier than he’d intended, throat tight from the vision before him. “I meant what I said that day. The Duke and the Lord told you that it was a lie, but it wasn’t. You are absolutely beautiful.” He noticed the widening of her eyes, the pace of her breathing increase. Again he had caught her off guard, although rage boiled through him with the knowledge that no one had allowed her to even consider the truth of her devastating beauty.

Poppy’s body seemed to sag all at once as she sighed and turned away from him, padding to one of the chairs by the fire. Hawke followed her with a burning gaze, unable to avoid how the slit in her nightgown revealed nearly her entire leg when she walked. Gods, she was going to be the end of him. He fucking knew it.

He followed and stood next to the chair across from her, watching as the reflection of the fire made her eyes appear to glow silver, how her body seemed to now bow into itself. She had fought so well – had knocked him on his ass – but it had only been two days since her punishment at the hands of Duke Teerman.

And Lord Mazeen.

The guard was determined that he would get answers this night. He would find out what the lord was doing in that room, what his interest in Poppy truly was. The oily, heavy feeling deep in his stomach told him that he wouldn’t like the answer.

But he knew he couldn’t just come out and ask, not considering how she’d try to deny the obvious torment even when he could see it with his own eyes and scent it on her skin. He would have to weave his way expertly through their conversation, through her defenses and over her walls.

“I’ve been thinking. About what you said.” Poppy turned her chin to him, the emeralds in her gaze finding him as he remained standing. Hawke was stunned that she had initiated the conversation, and even more taken aback by her quiet, steady tone. It was so unlike her.

“What I said?” he urged before gesturing to the chair. “May I?”

“You told me to think about the things they did. The Duke, the Ascended. To trust my instincts. And I,” she paused, turning her stare back into the fire, “I think Lord Mazeen had something to do with Malessa’s death.”

Hawke had settled into the chair, forearms resting on his knees, when his eyes snapped up. “Why do you think that?”

“He had… he had just come into the hall from that direction. Before she was discovered. He smelled of jasmine, and there was a petal left there. And he seemed… enthralled. He wouldn’t stop staring at her, with her skirts hiked up and her corset pulled down.” Poppy continued boring her eyes into the flames, as if the fire might give her the answers. He observed her with narrowing eyes, absorbing every word, every implication. “It felt so wrong, the way he stared at her. Nobody did anything to shield her, to give her even the smallest shred of dignity in death. But Lord Mazeen… he couldn’t seem to look away.” She looked down at her hands, then, alabaster fingers fidgeting in her lap. Hawke looked down at them, too, carefully considering her words. And only one thing continued to echo in his mind as the silence around them seemed to swallow him whole. One thought that needed only a spark to ignite a killing rage, one question that needed to be answered even though he knew it might boil him alive to hear it.

“How do you know what he smelled like?” Ice laced the words, a quiet promise of torment and death.

Hawke’s voice was usually warm, mirthful. He enjoyed their arguing, liked getting a rise out of her. But this question… the answer that could confirm that the lord – with his reputation for lust and degradation – was close enough to Poppy so she could smell him…

His shrewd eyes noticed everything, like the predator he had trained himself to be since his return to Solis. Her fingers stilled, jaw clenched, shoulders tensed. The redhead was immediately on guard, and Hawke understood with disturbing clarity that the lord would be a difficult subject.

“Poppy.” He whispered a warning. He could see the noiseless tells as she was trying to work through an explanation to feed him, to placate him. With a snarl he rose and strode the short distance between them. Grasping her chin between his thumb and finger he jerked her head to face him. “Don’t you dare lie to me.” Those green eyes flashed in promising defiance, then guttered to a dull, fathomless dark. And for a moment the Maiden before him was just a girl – lost, confused, alone, abused.

Gods, that look broke his heart.

Hawke released her chin and lowered to his knees in front of her, their eyes still locked on the other’s. He hesitated for a breath before reaching to cover her hands with his.

“I swore to protect you, Poppy. But if I am to do that, I need you to be completely honest with me. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what or who is causing you harm.”

She laughed bitterly, turning her gaze back to the flames. “Nobody can protect me from the Duke. From Lord Mazeen. The power they wield, the way they manipulate. I told you before – there’s nothing to be done.”

“Just because nobody has protected you doesn’t mean that I cannot,” he urged, nearly growling with her unwitting admission that the lord was yet another danger. His heart pounded in his chest as he murmured desperately, “What has he done to you?”

He could feel her racing heartbeat in her fingers, could hear it echoing through the hanging silence. His grip tightened, and Poppy’s spring green eyes slid to him.

“Please, Poppy. Let me help you.”

He was in too deep with her, he knew. But there was something about her, something he couldn’t understand. Sure, he could write it off as a decent man seeing a woman who needed help, who wouldn’t stand by while someone innocent was mistreated.

But it was more than that.

And after he’d seen her cutting down Craven on the Rise? A goddess of violence and beauty. He was irrevocably tangled in her web.

“The night Malessa died, Lord Mazeen stopped me in the hall coming from that direction. I had been on my way to the garden with Rylan, but he said he wanted to speak to me. Privately.” Poppy walked through her story with firm determination, nary a tremble detectable in her voice. “He pulled me into an alcove to the side of the hall and began his games. He knew that I knew that I didn’t have a choice. As the Maiden I am not supposed to linger or speak with anyone, but it would also be disrespectful not to participate in the conversation. One word to the Duke for either offense and…”

“And you get called to his study to satisfy his sadistic whims,” he finished the sentence after she trailed off, earning a terse nod. He hated it, hated them. He would kill the Duke for what he’d done, as slowly and painfully as he could.

“Lord Mazeen was taking the opportunity to… remind me… that his position was such that he was above reproach. He… he lifted his hand to my face, touched my cheek, my lips, down over my jaw and neck and… lower.”

Hawke breathed a curse, rage coiling tightly into a spring poised to snap. He squeezed her hands tighter but then let go, fearful that his grip may become painful as his ire grew. Instead he gripped the cushion on either side of her knees, trying to reign in his immortal strength as he kept his gaze fixed on eyes of shimmering green. Her throat bobbed.

“I tried to excuse myself and leave, but he pulled me back to him. His hand was still at my chest, my back against his front. I could… feel him.” Poppy took a deep breath, as if to steady herself. “I always knew he delighted in making me uncomfortable, but I don’t think I realized…”

She shook her head, finally breaking the link between their eyes as her lashes lowered. “That’s how I know he smelled of jasmine. I was able to run away when someone screamed – when they found Malessa.”

Hawke looked down at his hands, knuckles white has his fingers dug into the plush forest green upholstery. Would Lord Mazeen have dared to go further? It wasn’t much of a leap from his slimy touch to further violation. His vision blurred, his chest a chasm of disturbing realizations and maddening what-ifs. He only knew that he was still breathing because he could hear it – labored, sawing breaths. He grounded himself by focusing on her face – the raised pink skin of the Craven scars, the full luscious lips, the smooth porcelain of her flesh that he reached out to touch. Fingers traced over her cheek and jaw before pushing gently under her chin, her eyes raising to look back at him.

“And what about when you are summoned by the Duke. Is he always there, too?”

Poppy’s breathing stuttered, eyes widening as they lined with silver.

“I told you I heard everything, Poppy,” he murmured as his thumb drifted over her skin. “What was he doing there?”

When a tear escaped over her lashes, it was like the world shifted under his feet. When had everything become so fucked up and twisted? He’d always known the Ascended were monsters, but knowing that those two beasts took such great pains to back the Maiden into a corner, with no possible way to escape their sadistic attention… It made his stomach roil.

Slowly, so she would not be caught off guard, he lifted his fingers from her chin to wipe away the droplet that slowly fell over her cheek. Taking a calming breath, he encouraged, “You can trust me, Princess. I know it’s hard to do, and I know that I have only been at your side for a few days. But it is abhorrent that nobody in this Godsdamned castle has tried to shield you from these predators and I will not let it stand a moment longer. I swear it to you, Penellaphe. With my sword and my life, I vow to protect you. Not the Maiden,” he spat, “not the Duke or the Duchess or any of the lords and ladies, not this Godsforsaken castle or anyone else in it. I said your name. I promised you.”

She stared at him, expression calculating, weighing his declaration. Hawke pulled his hand away, resting it against her knee. He braced himself as she swallowed, preparing to speak.

“Lord Mazeen began taking a special interest in Duke Teerman’s lessons a few years ago. He likes to watch.” The redhead paused, gaze returning to her hands. She had started wringing her fingers again when she continued, “The Duke requires me to disrobe to my waist. He prefers to strike bare skin.”

Holy fucking gods. Hawke forced himself to breathe, keeping his eyes trained on her reddening cheeks and dreading that she had more still to tell.

“I lean against his desk to support myself, and in my state of undress I will hold myself up with one arm and try to cover myself with the other as much as I can,” her voice cracked. He could feel the heat wafting from her skin, face flushing with shame. He never could have prepared himself for how complete her degradation had been at the Duke’s cruel hands. “The last time,” she whispered, “it wasn’t enough for Lord Mazeen to just sit there. He… stood in front of me. Leered at me. He pulled my arm away from my chest and held my hands to the desk… so he could look his fill as the Duke took the cane to my back.”

Hawke was frozen, staring at Poppy’s bowed head. He could smell the salt of her tears as they silently coursed down her cheeks, glowing gold in the firelight. Gritting his teeth, nostrils flaring, a snarl rose from his throat. His head was empty of all thoughts, save for the need to massacre the monster. But the shimmering of her crimson locks grounded him, and he lowered his forehead to her knees as he struggled to calm his racing, raging heart. Air hissed from between his teeth, the sound of his ragged breaths roaring in his ears, and he could feel his fingernails clawing through the fabric that covered her cushioned seat.

“Poppy,” he groaned desperately. “I need you to talk. About anything else. I need – I need to find a way to calm down.” The guard’s shoulders tremored with coiled rage.

“Hawke?” Her soft voice pierced through the night. “I don’t understand.”

“The only thing keeping me from finding that worthless pile of refuse and tearing him limb from limb is knowing that I can’t protect you if I’m swinging from the gallows,” he seethed through clenched teeth. “Please, Poppy. I need–“

Any remaining air whooshed out of his lungs when he felt timid, trembling fingers combing through the ends of his hair. Immediately his muscles relaxed, shoulders bowing in. When he lifted his gaze she snatched her hand back, cradling it to her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. The corner of his mouth tipped up.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Poppy’s breath caught, but her eyes stuck on his. Green, like an Atlantian spring. They were beautiful and clear and shining. Hawke felt like he couldn’t look away, and he wondered for a moment – maybe even hoped – if she felt just as entranced as he did.

“What is?”

“How it feels like I’ve known you longer. You feel that, too,” he answered. That gentle tickle of her fingers in his hair, a caress of care and a promise of… whatever this was. It was as if they had always shared such familiarity. But then her hands dropped into her lap, eyes following. “Why were you on the Rise?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

Hawke’s grin grew. “Your motivation wasn’t. At least, tell me that. Tell me what drove you to go up there to fight them.” She paused, casting her stare into the fire as she contemplated.

“The scar on my face. Do you know how I got it?” she asked.

Of course he did. It had been one of the many, many things Vikter had seen fit for him to know. “Your family was attacked by some Craven when you were a child.”

“Vikter filled you in?” Poppy smiled slightly, but it didn’t crawl into her eyes. “It’s not the only scar.”

Hawke didn’t respond to that, but he mentally scowled. More scars meant even less perfection, more opportunities for the Duke and the rest of the Ascended to remind her that she was somehow less. It grated at him.

The Maiden told the story of her family. How the town only had a short wall to protect them, but that it hadn’t seen Craven in decades. That seemed odd. And then how someone had somehow saved her and her brother.

“I woke up days later, back in the capital. Queen Ileana was by my side. She told me what had happened. That our parents were gone.”

He’d had to carefully school his features at the mention of the Blood Queen. To Poppy she had been a guardian, someone she could trust. To Hawke she had been a nightmare. He hoped to the gods that Poppy would understand one day. Regardless, he understood what it was to lose people that he loved. And for her to have been so young. It was truly tragic.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I truly am. It’s a miracle you survived.”

“The gods protected me. That’s what the Queen told me. That I was Chosen. I came to learn later that it was one of the reasons the Queen had begged my mother and father not to leave the safety of the capital. That… that if the Dark One became aware of the Maiden being unprotected, he’d send the Craven after me. He wanted me dead then, but apparently, he wants me alive now.” She laughed bitterly as Hawke quietly analyzed what she’d said. The implication of the Dark One in her family’s attack stood out to him, as he had never been able to control the Craven, much less send them to kill an innocent red-haired girl.

“What happened to your family is not your fault, and there could be any number of reasons for why they attacked that village,” he urged softly as he reached up to tuck a loose tendril of fire behind her ear. “What else do you remember?”

“No one… no one in that inn knew how to fight. Not my parents, none of the women, or even the men. They all relied on the handful of guards,” she explained. It wasn’t necessarily surprising – yet another way the Ascended were able to keep the mortals under their heel. “If my parents knew how to defend themselves, they could’ve survived. It might’ve been just a small chance, but one nonetheless.”

It made so much sense. So much so that Hawke scolded himself for not understanding sooner. “And you want that chance.”

“I won’t… I refuse to be helpless.”

“No one should be.”

And it struck him, then, the double meaning behind his reply. She had taken the steps to ensure that she could defend herself. She was highly skilled, enough to have knocked him on his ass. And brave to the point of recklessness. And yet, inside that hellish study, she may as well have been any lady in wait – with no skill or training or hope of escaping whatever the Duke planned for her. It was so, so wrong.

“You saw what happened tonight. They reached the top of the Rise. If one makes it over, more will follow. No Rise is impenetrable and even if it were, mortals come back from outside the Rise cursed. It happens more than people realize,” Poppy rambled. The guard tamed his expression, careful not to react to yet another unintended confession. He had heard rumors that the child of the gods would assist in providing a dignified passing to those who had been bitten. A day or two ago he never would have believed that it was the Maiden, that the chosen one would commit treason to ease the suffering of those cursed. But now… he truly wasn’t surprised. “At any moment, that curse could spread in this city. If I’m going down-“

“You’ll go down fighting,” he finished for her. When she nodded he mirrored it. “Like I said, you’re very brave.”

“I don’t think it’s bravery,” she muttered. “I think it’s… fear.”

“Fear and bravery are often one and the same. It either makes you a warrior or a coward. The only difference is the person it resides inside.” And he knew which one she was, without question. Hawke leaned back, settling himself to sit before her on the ornate rug. It took her longer than usual to respond.

“You sound so many years older than what you appear,” she answered quietly. Gods, if only she knew.

“Only half the time. You saved lives tonight, Princess.” He leaned his forearms upon his knees and peered up at her.

“But many died.”

“Too many,” he agreed. “The Craven are a never-ending plague.” Poppy sighed.

“As long as an Atlantian lives, there will be Craven.” It was all he could do not to roll his eyes. He would have to be as patient as he could for her to see the truth. But that didn’t mean he had to listen to the slander.

“That is what they say,” he answered dryly, turning golden eyes to the fireplace. “You said that more come back from outside the Rise cursed than people realize. How do you know that?”

“I’ve heard rumors,” she offered, voice slightly higher than normal. He could hardly suppress a grin. She really was a terrible liar.

“It’s not spoken about a lot, and when it is, it’s only whispered.” Hawke’s eyes drifted back to find blazing, defiant green.

“You’re going to need to be more detailed.”

He lifted a brow. He already had her backed into a corner, but if she insisted… “I’ve heard that the child of the gods has helped those who are cursed. That she has aided them, given them death with dignity.” The guard studied the Maiden, mussed hair waterfalling over her shoulders and burning against her ivory skin. Her body was rigid with tension, an easy indication that she had been caught. And yet all he could really think about was how her flesh would feel beneath his fingers, against his lips.

“Who has said such things?”

Hawke shrugged. “A few of the guards. I didn’t believe them at first, to be honest.” And that was the gods-honest truth.

“Well, you should’ve stuck with your initial reaction They’re mistaken if they think I would commit outright treason against the Crown,” Poppy huffed, earning a snort from her guard. She lifted a defiant eyebrow in question.

“You’re a terrible liar, Princess.” Indeed, it was any wonder she was ever able to placate the Duke and Duchess. He continued before she could argue, “And I understand why you would. Those men speak of you with such awe that before I even met you, I half expected you to be a child of the gods. They would never report you.” He wondered for a moment if there truly was more to her, somehow. That she could be beautiful and courageous and strong and also… more.

“That may be the case,” she retorted, “but you heard them talking about it. Others could hear them, as well.”

“Perhaps I should be clearer in what I said about hearing rumors. They were actually speaking to me,” Hawke explained, fixing her with a pointed golden stare. “Since I too have helped those who are cursed die with dignity. I did so in the capital and do so here, as well.” Her plump lips parted in surprise, and he desired so badly to touch them with his own.

“Those who come back cursed have already given all for the kingdom. Being treated as anything other than the heroes they are, and being dragged in front of the public to be murdered is the last thing they or their families should have to go through.” Hawke lifted himself from his seat on the floor, brushing invisible lint from his breeches as he basked in the light of the surprise shining in her emerald eyes. Rendered speechless. How unusual. “I’ve kept you up long enough.” With a dip of his chin he started toward the heavy wooden door. He had made it a few paces before her voice called to him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He paused and turned back to her, but she was still facing the fire. All he could see was the fiery mane above the back of her chair.

“Of course.”

“I know that what Duke Teerman and Lord Mazeen do to me is wrong. I know that. And I know that I am trained, and that I could fight back – but I don’t, because it would be catastrophic for Vikter. But…” Her voice trailed off a moment as she seemed to search for words. “I… I could have stopped Lord Mazeen. I could have cut off his most precious, private possession when he tried to touch me. But I didn’t.” Another long, heavy pause. She turned her head so he could see her profile, a silhouette before the flames.

“Does that… what does that say about me?”

Hawke’s shoulders sagged, heart cracking yet again. “The only thing it says, Poppy, is that you are in an impossible situation. That you are locked so tightly in a cage that they have given you no hope for escape. And yet you still stretch your limbs to protest it, in your way, and with great and grave potential consequence. And that is extremely brave.” The guard ran a hand through his unruly dark hair. “And the fact that you bear those consequences – not willingly, but to protect someone you care about – is perhaps even more courageous. You should feel no shame for that.”

With a nod she turned back to the fire. He was hopeful that he had convinced her that it meant nothing beyond the notion that the Ascended were monsters, and that they did nothing but abuse her and use her as a symbol to keep the citizenry in their thrall.

“Get some rest, Princess.” His paces carried him to the door, and as it creaked open under his had he paused again. “And wear better shoes the next time you go out onto the Rise. And thicker clothing. Those slippers are likely to be the death of you, and that dress… the death of me.”

#FBAA #fbaa fanfic #poppycas #poppy balfour #casteel da'neer #hawke flynn #from blood and ash #fbaa fanfiction #ao3 #ao3fic #fanfiction

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

coin flip finale — jhs

Plot: A trained spy and assassin has to choose between his power-hungry brother and the benevolent Queen he’s falling in love with.

Pairing(s): Butler/Spy!Hoseok x Queen!OC (Name: Rosyne)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k

Genre: Royal | Angst | Smut

Tags & Warnings: angst, nudity, explicit smut, pregnancy, hidden pregnancy, violence, minor character death

The clouds gather close together deepening into an almost blackened grey as the air wafting from the windows were harsh and nippy. Hoseok relishes in the sharp breeze while he scratches the quill against the parchment calmly, making sure every word was clear. Today was the day. He could hear Rosyne’s favourite horse neighing outside in the courtyard. Maybe it was in his head since the yard was so far away.

He hears the door click open and merely glances over his shoulder to find Yoongi eyeing him curiously through the gap. “Come in.” Hoseok acknowledges, eyes scanning across the words to ensure everything was correct before placing it into the envelope.

“How’re you feeling?” Yoongis’ raspy voice echoes through his room giving a calming feeling of sorts mixed with the grey sky outside.

Hoseok smiles sadly. “I don’t think it matters what I’m feeling.”

“It matters to me, brother.” The older male walks over to the window, harsh cold breeze hitting his face but he welcomes it openly. “Minnie is still fighting with Namjoon about the whole ordeal. Her voice is hoarse at this point.”

“I can see why you like her more than Joon.”

He raises a brow looking over at him. “Can say the same about you with Rosyne.”

Hoseok couldn’t help but scoff out a light chuckle, losing all Jungkooklity to deny the males’ words anymore. “Kiku?”

“Possibly the scariest woman I’ve ever met and I’ve met my mother.” Yoongi has a small smile plastering on his face despite the dark day settling in the usually bright land of Wisteria. “I want to feel bad…I mean, I do but—there’s something about her…and this place.” He scans around the view of the kingdom.

“It’s not all what it seems.” Hoseok mutters, finger pads brushing across the rough parchment surface. “You almost feel like something’s working in Rosyne’s head but none of us can figure it out.”

Yoongi turns his head to meet the younger males’ gaze, flickering down to the closed envelope on the table. “She’s not completely vulnerable…is she?”

Hoseok chuckles through his nose softly. “Maybe in some vague sense, she is. But no she’s not.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“Protect the mother of my child.”

Yoongi sighs. “Hoseok…”

“If you found out Minnie was pregnant…and she was being mistreated—”

“I’ll kill him.”

Hoseok smiles. “Exactly.”

“The ride is going to happen today…that letter isn’t going to reach on time.”

“The ride is the least of our concerns, believe me I know Rosyne and I know Wisteria.” He taps the letter on the surface. “Rosyne and Kiku can’t send letters, they’re being spied on from every corner.” Hoseok winces knowing he trained all of those goddamn spies at a time. “And Namjoon…Namjoon wants to raise taxes for military forces, do you know what that means?”

“Wisteria won’t be the first kingdom he takes over by force.” Yoongi gulps down. This tower their brother was trying to make was too fragile, so easily breakable by a single gust of wind. “He’s going to do it to more Royals.”

Hoseok nods. “He wants to be a conqueror. A ruthless warrior who cuts down Kings and Queens. So I’m calling his perfect match.” He raises the letter up a little.

“Who’s that?”

“The real Commander of Wisterian Forces.”

*****

When she sat there looking at the empty throne, it was easy to believe that maybe things were not changing. Maybe her father was okay and just out on a walk somewhere while Rosyne could live out more days as a princess without the entire territory dropped onto her shoulders. Life wasn’t always kind that way however.

Rosyne walks through the large double doors into the dark hall. Candles lit around the well-dressed body rested on a lilac and gold altar, so calm and serene almost as if he was just sleeping. Shining sword clasped in his limp hands to showcase that he was a warrior and protector above all things. To the people anyway.

To her, he was the man that encouraged her to be kind and considerate to the people. He comforted her during the time where everything in the world seemed close in on her. He tortured the suitor who took advantage of her kindness when she was a younger princess. The King who many called ruthless was the one of the few people who ever made her feel safe. He made the people feel safe when they were in his hands.

Would they feel the same with her? Were her hands too delicate and loose to hold such a big responsibility?

Light footsteps reverberate through the hall and Rosyne notices Gaia stand next to her from the corner of her eye.

“I half-thought he would’ve died in a war or battle of some kind.” Gaia speaks up. “Mother always said his recklessness would kill him.”

Rosyne couldn’t help but smile a little at the little arguments their parents used to have. King Eirin changed a lot after mother died but his kindness towards his daughters never changed in the slightest. Although Rosyne always noticed the sadness in his eyes. “He’s reunited with her now. He must be happy.” Eyes glazed with fresh new tears but she slowly takes deep breath to calm herself down.

Gaia nods silently, clasping her fingers together in a formal stance as she always did out of habit. “Wisteria is going to be very vulnerable…even with our military forces.”

She relaxes her face into one of preparation now. Every time a royal passed, it had to be immediate decisions here and there, ensuring everything was in place and no loose ends were left untied. “Which is why I need you to leave.”

Forehead knitted, the younger female turns her head to face her sister properly. Trying to find some kind of inhibition that could stop her from finalizing this decision but all she could notice was determination. “I can’t leave you here.”

“If we’re both in the same place at the same time then we’ll be even more vulnerable. Easy to take down.” Rosyne turns her reddened eyes to meet her sister. “We need to be in two places at once until I settle some court matters.”

Gaia fully moves her body, features twisting in concern as her belly kept tugging. “If an enemy cross our borders and I’m not here…”

“You’ll be able to get into the palace walls.”

“If they hurt you—”

“I can take a lot more hurt than you think.” Rosyne swallows the lump in her throat.

Gaia stammers lightly before sighing in defeat. “I know that but that’s not what I mean. I should—be here with you, protecting you.”

“Please just—just trust me.” The older female whispers but loud enough for Gaia to hear.

“And Hoseok—”

“I know you don’t think Hoseok is trustworthy but I believe he’s a good man.” Rosyne reaches out and holds onto her hands. “He’s not going to let anything bad happen.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t. But I’m not going to punish the man I love on a whim. Can you understand that?”

Despite the unconvinced look on her face, Gaia nods. “If anything goes out of order…I’m coming right back.”

Rosyne smiles. “I won’t stop you.”

*****

Clouds looking thicker than ever and the air incredibly cool and damp, King Namjoon’s council stood at the edge of the stairs leading to the entrance of the palace. A tawny horse with a white mane stood calmly in front of them, tapping its hoofs onto the pavement. Rosyne walks down the stairs with a purple velvet robe.

The council members expression immediately soften when they notice the large protruding belly she caresses gently. Even Jimin looks apprehensive to let this happen especially the air was so cool. Too cold.

Rosyne stands next to her horse Misty, patting it lovingly as it neighed a little in delight causing her to smile. She hadn’t gone for a ride in so long that it feels comforting having the soft hair under her palm again.

Hoseok tightens his jaw curling his fingers into fists wanting to swing it at something so strongly but he takes a deep breath. Nothing good will come from getting angry. He walks forward patting Misty gently. “It starts from the silk merchants stall to the university.” He speaks softly so it’s only between the two of them.

She nods, carefully untying her robe so it loosens over her body before shrugging it off her shoulders. Cold winds causes goosebumps to raise on her skin as she shivers a little. Thick long hair over her shoulder covering her breasts though they still ached from the sensitivity. Rosyne hands the robe over to Hoseok who accepts it reluctantly.

“She can’t sit on the leather saddle.” Minnie mutters, feeling utterly putrid for being so warm while the kind Queen was vulnerable and bare in the cold. Sighing she takes off the thick winter cloak from her shoulders leaving her in her off shoulder dress. But her hair was enough to keep them warm. Walking over to the saddle, she drapes it over as neatly as possible.

Hoseok couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips when he watches the queen place something warm on the saddle.

“I know it’s not enough.” Minnie states with a slight rasp in her voice.

“It’s enough.” Rosyne smiles.

Minnie nods despite her face still not relaxed in the slightest as she walks back over to Namjoon’s side. The king merely gives an unreadable side glance before licking his teeth.

Hoseok firmly held onto her hips even though it was difficult to lift her up and try to ensure she was not in pain. It was not safe to be riding in this condition, he knew it. Even Namjoon knew it and the idea itself causes a burn of anger that bubbles right up to his throat. Eventually he heard Rosyne sigh in relaxation, situating herself on the now warm and soft saddle. “Do you feel any pain?”

Rosyne shakes her head absentmindedly caressing the back of his hand. “I’m okay.” There was a dull ache around her belly but she tries to push it down for the time being.

“Perhaps someone should walk with Queen Rosyne…to ensure she’s safe.” Yoongi speaks up this time causing another side glance from Namjoon.

“I’ll go.” Hoseok didn’t hesitate to offer.

“This isn’t some kind of parade.” Namjoon speaks through gritted teeth, shooting glares at both of them. “Queen Rosyne has answered to a deal and I’m sure she can get through it all on her own.”

“Thank you, gentlemen.” Rosyne smiles softly at the two men. “My mother went to battle with my sister in her belly. I’ll be okay.” She lightly nudges Misty with a slight encouraging noise before the gorgeous creature galloped slowly out of the courtyard into the town.

“Where is her sister anyway?” Namjoon asks mostly to himself but Hoseok and Yoongi share a quick glance at one another.

“No one knows. Some speculate she may have died at battle.” Jimin speaks this time in a casual tone once Rosyne disappears out into the town.

The King hums in response and the rest of the council stands in silence until the ride was finished.

The cold seeped through her skin deep, freezing her very bones as they tremble on the horse. Rosyne scans around the silk merchant stall but it was empty. Past the houses and the taverns, all the doors and windows barred causing her brows to furrow for a moment. Though she quickly understands why the city must be empty. It could just be for the storm brewing soon but even in the rain, she would notice some of the taverns booming with happy noise.

There was nothing. She slowly realizes why no one decided to leave their houses and the thought makes her smile a little. Namjoon’s influence was not as strong as he assumed. Rosyne looks up at the darkening sky with a soft expression, still shivering a little as she tries to press her palms against the cloak to provide some warmth.

“We haven’t ridden in so long, haven’t we?” Rosyne asks the creature reaching out and caressing her mane gently with a grin though it feels uncomfortable to move so much. “I’m a little heavier.” She looks down at her protruding belly, palm caressing over the bare, stretched skin. Much to her delight she feels her child moving calmly inside and the ache began again. “We’re almost there, my sweet.”

As they close in on the university, Rosyne still hasn’t seen a single soul out and about. Even the children were back in their homes and some of their clothes still hanging out on lines despite the thunder booming across the skies. She has the urge to hug herself a little as her teeth rattle a little too frequently.

Finally past the university, Misty gallops back into the courtyard where the council still stands proudly. Queen Minnie now has another black cloak over her which Rosyne suspects was lent from Yoongi when all he had was his coat.

Hoseok didn’t hesitate a single second as Misty pauses in front of the stairs, helping Rosyne down and feeling a jolt of fury when he could feel her skin so cold while she tries so hard not to shiver too much. He wraps the robe back over her body again, tying it firmly before rubbing her arms up and down to warm her up. “I’m sorry.” He whispers weakly.

“It’s okay.” Rosyne smiles. “No one was in the town.”

“Excuse me?” Namjoon asks breaking their momentary comfort.

“It seems trying to punish Rosyne in a city that loves her was…not the most effective decision.” Jimin speaks clearly trying not to smile too much for the sake of his King.

“But…” Seokjin speaks up this time with a firm voice. “Lady Rosyne has done what was asked of her. Therefore the deal must be returned accordingly.”

Namjoon feels a sharp rush of cold pass through him when he catches a figure walk from behind him towards Rosyne.

Kiku had an air around her that could cut like ice spikes but it quickly soothed into something comfortable when she sees Rosyne. “Are you in any kind of pain?”

“I’ve been having little cramps here and there.” Rosyne says honestly this time now that the ride was finished.

She nods in response despite the unimpressed look plastering over her face. “Queen Rosyne must rest, she is far too close to her due to be doing anything too straining.” Kiku doesn’t take it as a request and simply holds onto Rosyne’s hand and leads her back up the stairs blatantly passing Namjoon without a look of fear on her face.

Once Kiku and Rosyne walk away, Hoseoks’ eye burn with such a fire as he stares at Namjoon. “If anything…and I mean anything happens to Rosyne or my child…” He walks forward up the stairs right until on the stair Namjoon was standing on. Their gazes boring into each other as the heat of his anger wafted to the King. “You won’t see the light of day again.”

“You’ve been loyal all this time…right to this point…what makes you think you’ll ever have the courage to kill me?” Namjoon scoffs.

“You said it yourself…I don’t even blink after I kill someone. That was for you. But for her? And my baby?” Hoseok smiles with such a sinister aura that Namjoon doesn’t have the strength to keep his firm expression. “I’ll fucking uproot your entire existence…and you’ll spend the rest of your afterlife as a lonely speck of dust.” He seethes. “And you know very well I can do that, brother.”

Namjoon presses his lips together as he forces himself to raise his chin.

Hoseok keeps a sharp glare before bumping his shoulder against Namjoon’s as he walks up the stairs.

A tense silence passes through the council members as they shift in their positions. Except one. Minnie stands calmly, eyes flickering up to the sky as a peek of lightning shot somewhere in the distance. Slowly and dangerously coming slowly their way, light trickles of rain began to darken the courtyard surface. “A great storm is brewing.”

Rain pours in a steady fall once everyone is in the palace. The council members situate themselves in Yoongi’s chambers while Jimin stares out the window. Seokjin, on the other hand spews curses and shouts indirectly shooting at Namjoon and trying to let the frustrations he so graciously kept in during the ride.

“We helped Namjoon because we thought he’d bring a new dawn to the territories! Something modern and helpful!” Seokjin roughly rakes through his hair. “What he did out there is stupidly ancient! Letting the poor girl go out like that when she was so vulnerable!”

Yoongi sits on the edge of the bed quietly, Taehyung perches himself on one of the dining chair and Jungkook leans himself against a wall near the changing partition. All of them quietly listening to their oldest brother. Except Jimin who opts to relish in the sounds of the soft rain slowly gaining in its strengths and dropping harder on the ground.

“It was a good thing Wisteria has more sense than our brother. A whole fucking town knew to respect Rosyne but not this one man.” Seokjin scoffs feeling his legs wobble and fingers tremble from the anger seeping through his veins, slowly with a struggle calming down as he spews more words.

Jimin takes a deep breath in the midst of tension, closing his eyes to let the sound of raindrops hitting the ground relax his bones. When silence spread across Yoongis’ chambers, he begins to speak. “What was the thing our brother said about kindness?”

“What?” Seokjin asks in a slightly weakened voice.

“Hoseok…you said he spoke something about kindness that you liked.” The younger male says still in the same serene tone like nothing ever bothered him.

“Don’t mistake kindness for softness.”

Jimin hums padding away from the window as the rain grew more violent. He walks over to Taehyung and gently perches himself on his lap with the male’s hands around his hips, keeping him secure.

“Why do you ask?” Yoongi narrows his gaze for a moment.

He shrugs nonchalantly, playing with Taehyung’s fingers. “I smell something brewing. Something strong and…angry. Very angry.” Jimin feels the warmth curdle in his gut tugging to warn him that whatever he could smell was nearing.

“A revolt?” Seokjin walks towards the dining table and leans over the edge.

“No…much more dangerous than that.” Jimin shakes his head feeling his gut twist a little. It was close. She was close. “I smell the anger of a warrior. Her fire cracks metal and her mere gaze breaks Kings.”

“Must you always speak in riddles?” Jungkook shakes his head causing Jimin to let out a small giggle.

“You needn’t wait much longer.” Jimin relaxes a little more, brushing his fingers through Taehyungs’ hair. “Our brother Namjoon will soon meet the error of his ways in underestimating the royals of Wisteria.”

The cramps turned into searing pain when the rain began smacking the windows in its might. Her whole body heated, blood rushing through her veins so quickly Rosyne couldn’t keep up with breathing normally. Something wet trickled down between her legs causing a state of panic. She leans against the pillars of the bed, unbridled agonized cry leaving her lips as tears stream down her cheeks.

“Your Majesty…” One of the maids whisper before she shouts at another to call the physician quickly and the young one obliges without hesitation.

Rosyne cries out again, nails scratching against the wood as pain burst like wildfire squeezing through her body. More liquid trailing down her legs onto the floor. She shakily reaches down into her dress before bringing up her drenched hand, the liquid clear and watery. “The baby—”

“It’s normal, Your Majesty, the baby’s coming.” The maid rubbed her back up and down trying to keep a gentle tone though there was a slight shake to it. She guides the Queen properly to lie down on the bed.

Rosyne desperately tries to take in a deep breaths, cheeks puffing out as she exhales. The pain became a little more bearable for a few moments allowing her to properly lie back with a few pillows elevating her upper body. “H-Hoseok, I-I need—” She grabs onto the maid’s hand tightly.

Before she could try and finish her sentences, the door burst open with Kiku, Hoseok and the maid rushing inside. Kiku shrugs off her coat leaving her a loose white shirt, sleeves rolled up before she pulled on some black gloves. The young maid pulls in a tray of tools in front of the bed while Kiku climbs closer, gently spreading Rosyne’s legs.

Hoseok moves over to Rosyne’s side immediately holding onto her hand. “Is everything—”

“She’s okay. You’re in labour.” Kiku mutters gently loud enough for them to hear over the sound of heavy rain outside the palace. She places a gloved hand on the belly as a familiar sharp chill jolts in the room for a brief moment. “Sorry...” She whispers. “Your baby is in the right position, I just need you to breathe.”

Rosyne nods, immediately wincing when the pain burst through her again causing her to whimper, heaving in as many deep breaths as she could. “The—the court…” She gulps down.

“I’ll take care of it.” Hoseok mutters how deeply her nails dug into his skin. “I’ll take care of everything, I promise.” He looks down at Kiku briefly and sees the physician staring right into him. He knows what she’s doing. The male keeps her gaze, firm and ready as a chill ran down his spine before he watches Kiku’s expression—for the first time ever grow soft with a tinge of a smile.

“Your people and kingdom are safe, your Majesty.” Kiku addresses with a much wider smile which Rosyne replies with a mixture of a sob and a chuckle. “Now just breathe.”

“You’ve taken care of us and this kingdom for a long time.” Hoseok whispers in her ear. “Let us take care of you, okay?” He brushes through her dampening hair, gently wiping away the tear rolling down her cheek.

Rosynes’ chest rises and falls deeply before she nods. “O-okay…”

Storm spreads across the land of Wisteria, hues of grey and blue covering each corner of the sky as mud puddles gathers on the grounds. An almost endless line of horses and figures march towards the gates of the kingdoms leaving the watchers in slight shock. Though the purple banners were not hard to miss even in their blurry line of sight. It was one of their own. At least from their ‘previous’ monarch.

The watch guards do not wait long before letting the gates open knowing the figure riding under the purple umbrella attached to the horse was not to be toyed with.

Namjoon sits on his throne feeling much colder than he would like since Minnie refused to sleep next to him after the whole ride to town. He tries to catch a few glimpses of her next to him, her beautiful long hair poorly attempting to hide the purpling marks on her neck which were not made by him. He quickly averts his gaze to prevent the sink in his chest.

“You knew…you fucking knew I loved her.” Yoongi whispered, back facing him as Namjoon broke the news of their wedding. “And you still agreed.”

Namjoon pressed his lips together. “So did she.”

“You’re a fucking Prince in your own right, Namjoon, you could’ve said no.” The older male turned his head to his side. “You know what Minnie’s parents are like. She had no choice.”

“I had to agree to the marriage if I was going to get her parent’s army.” He attempted to explain but he was only met with reddened eyes staring back at him, angry and heartbroken.

“That’s all you care about.” Yoongi shook his head. “It’s not about building a good world with your brothers anymore, it’s just you and your goddamn obsession with power.”

“That’s not true.”

“What else can it be?” He winced.

“Maybe you should stop living in your own head and realize that Minnie might have just wanted to marry me.” Namjoon explained though something nudged inside him that it was a lie. He saw the look on Minnie’s when she had to agree. He noticed the tear rolling down her cheek that she desperately tried to blink away.

Yoongi scoffed bitterly. “Maybe she does.” He gulped down, features contorting as he turned his back to the male again.

Namjoon tightened his jaw biting down any words that may have been used to reassure him somehow. But he couldn’t. It was done.

Perhaps there was a part of him that wanted to believe things would be different and Minnie would soften up to him, forget Yoongi while his brother would do the same. Life was never kind that way though.

The double doors crashes open with a deafening thud alerting the guards as they stumble to get away from the heavy doors while the members of the councils now walk forward closer to the King and Queen. Heavy boots stomps on the wooden floors hitting the walls right to Namjoons’ eardrums as he sees a burst of royal purple walk towards him.

Velvet royal purple coat, long dark curls with a familiar pair of striking violet eyes. Except this one had less roundness to them. Less softness. This was sharp like daggers shooting straight through him so much that he could feel the sting on his skin.

Dozens of guards pad into the throne room behind her marching without a single ounce of hesitation when they stood at the sides of the hall. Now the woman stands in the center, her gaze unblinking as it bore into Namjoon making him feel small despite sitting on the throne.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Namjoon asks as he hears lighter footsteps from his side. From the corner of his eye, he makes out Hoseoks’ familiar figure walking to stand next to him before looking back at the stranger.

The woman flickered those harsh eyes to Hoseok only for a second until her lips part. “Princess Gaia of Wisteria…who are you supposed to be?”

“New King of Wisteria.” Namjoon ignores the sink in his belly as he tries not to glare at Jimin for feeding him false and unconfirmed information.

Gaia presses her lips together again into a thin line. “So I’ve heard.” She raises a brow. Barely a few words spoken from the woman and she already made him feel like he was lying somehow.

He taps the arm of the throne lightly to mask his fingers trembling a little as his eyes scans over to the members of the council who stood silent. “I’m sure this won’t cause trouble between the two of us as I’ve—”

“Your claim to the throne is illegal, new king.”

Namjoon chuckles nervously. “It’s Namjoon.”

“I didn’t ask.” Gaia replies simply creating a pin drop silence in the hall.

Jimin tries his best to bite down an amused smile as he flickers his eyes over to Hoseok who stands calm and confident. Though he smells it far too thickly in the room. A mixture of immense failure and ultimate success. He could guess which scent belonged to whom.

Namjoon immediately clears his throat as he shifts in his throne, glancing over at Minnie who didn’t look like she had any interest in paying attention. “The contract to hand over the kingdom needed to be signed by the Queen and Commander. Which they were.”

“And where’s your commander?” Gaia asks with a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

He confidently gestures to the figure hidden somewhere behind Jungkook. There was no response for a while causing his stomach to twist.

Jungkook moves to pull the armored fool from the shadows and push him towards Gaia.

Metal clangs as the old man lands on the floor making a small noise that could resemble a sob. He kneels down properly in front of Gaia with a loud cry. “I did what you asked, C-Commander! Please d-don’t h-hurt me!”

Gaia asked him to do whatever Rosyne ordered him to do which the man did and the younger female wasn’t sure whether to punish him or reward him for his loyalty. Then again this was not what she expected her sister to do. “It’s alright.” She mutters softly.

Fingers curl up into tight fists, grimacing down at the shivering male bowing down to the woman with the utmost respect and fear. “Command—”

“Oh yes…Princess Gaia…” She bows slightly. “Official Commander of Wisterian Forces.” The ghost of a smirk now forms into a full smile with all the bitterness in the world lacing through it.

Namjoon feels his entire body crash through the floor. The constant feeling of falling with no end rushing through his veins causing his fingers to openly tremble. “You did this.” He turns his head to face Hoseok.

“This is funny the thing about loyalty…” Gaia speaks up tilting her head. “You don’t just take it and expect it to last. You can earn it but just as easily lose it.” She grins, eyes flickering over to the members of the council. “Now get off my sister’s chair...”

Without a single wave of her hand, the guards situated in the room raise their spears and point it straight at him.

“Your Majesty…” Kiku’s voice causes everyone to pause their actions for a moment. She scans around the room, heart relaxing to see Gaia standing in the center while the pretend council was now cornered. “Queen Rosyne has given birth a healthy baby girl.”

Something burst in Hoseoks’ chest as the news lingered in the air, almost like butterfly or angel wings fluttering in his belly. A smile almost immediately stretched across his lips. “Can I—” He whispers in such a soft noise that he worries Kiku might not have heard him but thankfully the Physician nods. He glances over his shoulder to Gaia for a moment.

Gaia doesn’t hesitate to nod for him to disappear out of the throne room.

Namjoon couldn’t control himself, heart pounding right up to his throat as he pushed off the throne and lunges on Gaia with his sword in hand. Before his sense could catch up to him, two blades clash with one another. A piercing screech echoes through the room as their sword separate. “You really think I’m just going to give it back to you?” He seethes. “I’ve worked my entire life to ensure this kingdom goes to a better monarch.”

“And you call yourself a better monarch on what grounds? Asking a nine month pregnant woman to ride around town? Simply because she asked for military taxes to be lowered.” Gaia’s eyes burn through Namjoon’s skull. She notices the male raising his sword again which she swung away cutting his hand and forcing him to drop the sword to the ground. The tip of her sword presses against Namjoon’s jugular. “My sister might have been patient with you.” She didn’t hesitate to push the blade further against the mans’ skin.

Namjoon tries to stand up straight and keep his stance but Gaia wasn’t stopping. The blade piercing through his skin, pushing harder causing him to move back. Stumbling a little until he finally dropped, the back of his head hitting the seat of the throne.

“But I won’t waste a single second to gut you right in front of your followers.” Gaia didn’t loosen the pressure on his jugular as the storm smacks on the windows, the wind whistling in such a volume it was almost screaming. “So stay put.” Once she could feel the male staying still enough, she pulls the sword away wiping away the excess blood on the blade against Namjoon’s sleeves.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t abandoned your sister.” Namjoon touches his injury gently, his fingers pads immediately drenching with blood.

Gaia sighs softly unsheathing her sword silently and slowly. Letting the sound of metal lightly sing as it disappears into the sheath. Before anyone could prepare themselves, she raised her heavy booted foot and jabbed right in between Namjoons’ legs.

A crippling shout echoes through the room as she kicks again.

Kick. The throne shifts from its position.

Kick. At the same spot over and over again until Minnie almost catches a whimper from the usually composed male.

She then kicks the throne back even more so Namjoon could fall limp on the ground, groaning and arms covering his destroyed limb, damp with the mud from her boots.

“I didn’t abandon her.” Gaia finally speaks in a calm tone ignoring the look of shock even gripping Jimin’s expression. “It’s usually tradition for siblings to stay in separate places whenever their parent passes away to ensure both of them are not eliminated.” She walks back to the center of the throne room without even a slight shake in her voice. Almost as if she had done this to many people before. “Just in case a lowly prince decides to get any ideas.” Gaia turns back to notice tears gathering in Namjoons’ reddened eyes.

Namjoon keeps breathing heavily, eyes flickering from side to side as if finding some words to spit back at her but nothing came out.

“I’d kill you right now, you know.” Gaia tilts her head. “Wisteria wouldn’t even take a second glance if I had your head on the spike outside.” She gestures out at the windows, still drenching thickly with rain. “But that’s why Rosyne is Queen. So sorry souls like you can get a second chance you probably don’t even deserve.”

“Your Highness…” Seokjin speaks up this time with a careful tone, taking a few steps forward. “May I ask what our punishment will be?”

She shakes her head. “It’s up to Rosyne. Knowing her though, no one is going to be executed.” There was slight sense of disappointed lacing in the woman’s tone but Seokjin nods and kindly takes that as a good enough answer. “Detain them.” Gaia orders and a few guards walk forward to take the council members and carry Namjoon. “Leave the girl and whoever’s called Yoongi.” She gestures to the side who stare at her in deep confusion though the younger female does not explain further.

Frankly the couple was afraid to ask.

Once the throne room was left with the three of them, Gaia walks forward to the throne and gently shifts it back to its place. “Hoseok’s letter informed me that you both aided my sister against your King’s wishes. I thank you for that.”

“Truthfully, Your Highness…” Yoongi speaks up with the same care as Seokjin. “I only helped her because I knew she was important to Hoseok.”

“Nevertheless you helped her.” Gaia gives a small pat on the chair. “Even when you didn’t have to.”

“If I may ask, Princess Gaia—what is Rosyne going to do to them?” Minnie asks. Maybe a small part of her wonders if Rosyne would give Namjoon the second chance or they would have to deal with another surprise.

Gaia sighs as she relaxes on the arm of the throne. “At this point, just hope Rosyne has her same patience after just pushing out a baby.”

Her belly burst with joy hearing that shrieking cry of a tiny angel, drenched in blood and almost looking like it was shivering. Kiku whispers that she was a girl before moving to clean her up. Sheets and sheets soaked in red now thrown into a hamper for cleaning while the crying fades into a calm whining.

Rosyne rests back against the pillow finally being able to breathe a little more easily, dark hair matting to her temples, eyes still reddened from the incessant sobbing and screaming. The storm outside fades back into a steady rain instead of the screaming wind giving off a more relaxing atmosphere. She peers through hooded lids as Kiku walks over to her holding the most precious thing in the entire world in her arms.

Despite all the crying, she still feels her eyes burning with more tears when Kiku places the little girl in her embrace. The child stirs a little slightly waving around her tiny hands with her eyes slowly opening and closing. A light coo emitting from her breath.

“Hello…” Rosyne whispers, shaking her gently. “My princess.” She lets out a small mixture of a sob and giggles before leaning in and kissing the top of the baby’s head.

Kiku had walked out to the throne room to inform Hoseok of the birth while the maids tried to wrap up all the sheets and towels.

In minutes, the door opens with Hoseok walking through, glazed eyes looking over at the scene before him. His whole body fills up with comfortable warmth. A small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was something so strange seeing the little life made by the two of them. A whole person holding a part of him manifested with the woman he loved. “I—”

Rosyne grins lightly patting the space next to her. “Come closer.”

He hesitates for a brief moment before finally moving to sit down on the soft surface. His breath hitches in his throat when he sees her. The sweet little human tiredly opening her eyes to attempt to look up at her mother, blinking curiously while her tiny lips part. Hoseok couldn’t help but grin ear to ear seeing the tinge of violet in the child’s eyes. “She’s beautiful.”

She hums in response biting down her bottom lips as more tears trail down her cheek. “I wanted to name her Chikara.”

“Chikara…” Hoseok mutters to himself before smiling. “It’s good.” His smiles fades for a moment when he notices Rosyne sobbing a little quietly to herself. “Hey—hey, what’s wrong?” He reaches out to wipe away a few tears across her face.

Rosyne quickly shakes her head giving him a quick smile. “I’m just happy.” She holds onto his hand, pressing a small kiss on his fingers before gently placing it near Chikara. “I’ve been hiding her for so long, I almost didn’t believe it sometimes.” She chuckles weakly. “Now she’s here.”

“You did such a good job.” Hoseok wraps one arm around the girl, pressing his lips against her temples. He moves his hand further to caress Chikara’s delicate skin feeling a tingle down his spine. Then the butterflies soared across his chest again when her tiniest fingers wrap gently around his bigger finger. “Gaia’s here.”

“Namjoon—”

“She’s taking care of him.” Hoseok brushes through his hair to soothe her. “You don’t have to worry about anything for now.”

Rosyne relaxes a little and leans her head on his shoulder, finally being able to completely relish in the calm. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Hoseok nudges his nose against her temple. “You don’t ever have to thank me. You deserve all the happiness in the world.” He mutters in her ear with the softest voice he could muster while his eyes focus on little Chikara finally attempting to hold an exhausted gaze. “Princess Chikara.”

It didn’t even take a night’s sleep or time to think when Hoseok decides that he would do anything in the world to protect his family.

Morning brought a bright sun shining in the clear sky, drying up the mud puddles and bringing a new glow to all the crops in Wisterian farms. Inside the palace, Queen Rosyne sits on her throne with the little princess in her arms, raising her tiny hands while her mother playfully taps her nose. Chikara adorns a soft lilac dress which almost feels like a cloud under her palm courtesy of the Royal seamstress who enchanted it to make it as comfortable as possible.

Hoseok stands next to the throne fondly smiling down at his daughters’ little movements with Kiku standing on the other side of the throne. Thankfully Minnie and Yoongi were let off on any imprisonment sentence automatically as they stood at the side of the throne room. The rest of his brothers would also be given less harsh treatments while Rosyne allowed Gaia to lay a punishment on Namjoon. Since Namjoon never harmed Rosyne, he was not to be tortured in any way but simply had to leave the kingdom barefoot for the people of Wisteria to observe.

Double doors thud open with Gaia leading the trail of figures walking through. The council members now released of their shackles while Namjoon was still in chains from his feet to his wrists. Standing in the center of the throne room, Gaia gives a bow and walks to the side of the throne room.

Rosyne presses a small kiss on Chikara’s forehead before gently handing her to Hoseok who holds onto her happily.

Pin-drop silence plunges into the room save for the few cooing noises coming from the child. The Queen raises her chin, hardened expression adorning her features as she observes Namjoon’s ragged clothing and messy hair. “You already know your sentence, I’m sure.”

Namjoon has his head hung purposely staying quiet for a minutes longer than most people’s patience. But then he slowly breaks. “Why have you called me here then?” He mumbles mostly under his breath but Rosyne hears him enough.

“Your soldiers—are relinquishing their allegiance to you.” Rosyne’s announcement causes the male’s head to shoot up a little along with a few confused expressions from the council members, particularly the young Jungkook.

“You mean you forced them to relinquish.” Namjoon seethes.

“I don’t force people to do anything.” Rosyne replies simply. “Your…deal to have me ride around town naked seemed to have caused a light tremor of disbelief amongst your troops. Apparently their Captain specifically taught them not to follow a leader who cannot respect vulnerable people.”

Jungkook’s round eyes widen a little as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, averting his gaze from the front of the throne room.

“Your Captain seems to know more about respect than you do.” Gaia speaks up, hands clasped behind her back.

“Your Majesty…” Jungkook speaks finally although with a careful voice. “Where are the soldiers’ going to go?”

“Some of them want to sign up for Wisterian Forces and fight under Commander Gaia’s name.” Rosyne nods towards her younger sister. “There are a few who want to go back home and begin normal lives with their families.”

“I will not welcome deserters in my kingdom.” Namjoon sends a sharp glare to the Queen but she does not respond with even a flinch.

“It’s not your kingdom anymore.” Rosyne announces.

The male’s brows furrow. “It’s my birthright.”

“You should’ve thought about the consequences before you sent in a spy.”

“A spy who you happily let fuck you without question.” Namjoon smiles bitterly taking a brave step forward despite feeling only immense pain between his legs. “You let him put a goddamn baby in you, for god’s sake.” He chuckles, eyes glossing and reddening by the second. “That child has killer’s blood coursing through her veins, did you know that?”

In mere seconds, the room faded into a frightening chill erupting a small cry from Chikara. Hoseok covers her up in his jacket to keep her warm but the cold only grew stronger.

Kiku walks forward to the center of the throne room watching Namjoon’s neck turn veiny and blue as he let out pathetic choked sounds. “The harshest words always utter from the most terrified people.” She speaks, calmly looking at the male drop down to his knees heaving in deep breaths as the room fades to a normal warmth again.

Rosyne sighs in defeat as Namjoon coughs on the grounds desperately taking in deep breaths that he lost in Kiku’s outburst. “I highly advise not to talk about my child or her father in that manner again.”

Namjoons’ teary eyes flickers up to meet the Queen.

“There may just be a time where they don’t stop. And I won’t stop them.” It never came often. Rosyne always holds a sense of patience around her that to hear her spew a threat in that same gentle tone left a chilling mark in the throne room.

Patient people harbored the most potent fury.

“You will be escorted by my troops and myself back to your kingdom.” Gaia announces, almost sounding like the patient sister for a moment as Rosyne’s quiet anger still lingers in the room. “Anyone who wishes to stay can do so but they will not be allowed in the main rooms of the palace until significant time has passed.” She mostly glances over at Minnie and Yoongi as the couple gave them a brief nod.

Namjoon has confusion gripping his face looking over at Minnie and Yoongi, letting out a shaky breath. “Minnie?” He whispers.

Minnie swallows down the lump in her throat and walks close to Yoongi. Their fingers intertwining together almost perfectly. It didn’t take any words. Not that Minnie could say anything. But the action was enough for Namjoon to hang his head.

“We could have been allies, Namjoon.” Rosyne speaks before sighing. “Unfortunately pride and power always gets the best of someone in a generation.”

No harsh comment were left to swirl in the air. Namjoon keeps his head hanging down almost as if it could detach from his neck altogether. “Just let me go home.” He whispers.

Some strange part of her wants to reassure the male somehow that he could rebuild himself back again if he ever needed to. Except this time Rosyne couldn’t find it in herself to do so. She was still too tired and the soreness still lingered in her body for her to maintain that piece of kindness inside her that would reassure even a raging monster. So in pure silence she nods to Gaia.

Her sister doesn’t waste any time in escorting the council out of the throne room. Minnie and Yoongi follow suit a few minutes after, not forgetting to give a small bow to the Queen before disappearing.

Once the double doors closed, Rosyne lets out a deep sigh and immediately hears Chikara’s fussing a little with small whimpers and whines. She gets up from her throne to see Hoseok gently shaking the baby to a calm state.

“Do you still want me here?” Hoseok asks, his chest clenching a little at the thought of never seeing both their faces again. He hands Chikara over to Rosyne as the woman shushes her quietly and holds her close to her chest.

“I carried her without you.” Rosyne relaxes a little feeling the warmth of her child as she slowly calms down in her embrace.

Hoseok hangs his head, gulping down. Spies and killers never built families or took part in them. They called each other brothers for the sake of appearances for the most part. Namjoon always liked reminding him of that whenever he was sent off to a mission for his conquest.

“But I don’t want to raise her without you.” A smile stretches across her lips as Rosyne reaches out and holds onto his hand.

It doesn’t take Hoseok long to feel his body flutter again with those same butterflies. Wildly soaring across his belly as he moves closer and leans to press a kiss on her lips. One hand cupping her cheeks, he dips down to kiss Chikara’s forehead as she blinks up at him curiously.

Maybe Namjoon was wrong. Maybe Hoseok could finally…truly have a family.

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#hoseok #thebtswritersclub #hoseok fanfic #bts fanfic #hoseok imagines #bts imagines #hoseok royal au #bts royal au #hoseok angst #bts angst #tw: violence

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fleetingpieces · 3 years

Text

My One in a Million Chapter 4

Tagging @donttouchmycarrots and @sunflowerfox87 who I still can’t believe wanted to be tagged 🥺

Thank you so much everyone for your support ❤️

And as always, thank you @inloveoknutzy and Nayla for proofreading, you guys are the best ❤️

My One in a Million Masterlist

Chapter 4 - Morning routines

The feeling of the earth on his bare feet. Long nights playing video games with his friends. Streaming for his fans. Slow sunsets and starry nights. Having the gang at his flat all the time. Relaxing bubble baths. Sunday lunch with the Potters. Making the people who doubted him shove their words up their asses.

Those were all things Sirius Black loved.

Having his brother drilling him at 7 am on an otherwise perfect Friday morning was most definitely not one of them. Not at all.

“I told you a thousand times already, and I’ll say it again one last time. I am not. Going. To that stupid. Fucking. Dinner,” he practically yelled over the phone.

There was a tired sigh on the other end of the line.

“Sirius, please. Could you stop thinking only about yourself for once? They want you to come.” A short pause. “I want you to come.”

Sirius grunted lowly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, Reg. I gave them too much already. I can’t keep giving them more. I’m sorry.” He hung up before Regulus could get another word in and raked both hands through his hair.

Manipulative pieces of crap. They ‘wanted him to come’? What a fucking pile of shit. They had never wanted him there, they only wanted whatever they could get from him, asking for more, more and more, until they could suck him dry. They wouldn’t even be bothering with him if he was of no use to them.

Saying no to Regulus was the hard part. Knowing they were using him precisely because of this, that Regulus himself was using it against him, was almost like a knife twisting in his gut.

It hurt.

It hurt so fucking much, because Sirius still cared about him. He was still his little brother, despite the decisions they had both taken for their lives. But Regulus didn’t see it that way.

Sirius started pacing up and down his room, rubbing a hand through his face as his other went instinctively to his back pocket to grab a pack of cigarettes. He hated feeling like this, hated the push and pull that came with his family’s relationships; craving the acceptance of his own blood, wanting to be close to his brother, but also feeling like he needed to get as far from them as he could. Why couldn’t they understand he didn’t want anything to do with the company? Heck, he didn’t want anything to do with most of them, he only kept some sort of contact because of Regulus. Even if his brother didn’t really want anything to do with him.

A flash of pain slashed him in the middle of his chest, and Sirius stormed off to the balcony, a fag already between his lips.

Lighting it up felt like lifting some of the weight off his shoulders. He pictured all of his problems in his head and imagined exhaling them with the smoke, drifting away in the morning sky until there was nothing left of them.

Sirius snorted. He wished it was that easy to get rid of all his worries, but his brother’s voice kept whispering in his ears, no matter how many times he watched the smoke dissipate in front of his face, mixing with words that were not Reg’s but still sounded in his voice. Stop thinking about yourself. You’re such a disappointment. We gave you so much, and this is how you repay us? You don’t care about me. You don’t care, you don’t care, you don’t care.

“Ugh, fuck,” Sirius grunted as he leaned on the rail and let his head hang low, pressing his forehead against the cold metal.

A low sound reached him through the fog of noises in his head. It was a song he’d never heard before, its rhythm slow and calming, and Sirius tried to focus on that to clear his mind and make the voice shut up.

He raised his head, looking at the place where it was coming from, only to be faced with a sight that almost made him drop his cigarette six floors down.

The new neighbor, Remus, was behind the glass doors of his balcony, standing on top of a yoga mat, wearing a black tank top and a pair of grey shorts that were dangerously hiking up his thighs in the position he was currently in.

His arms were stretched on top of his head, his toned muscles making the veins in his arms pop, and his broad shoulders working with the slow movements he was making. There was such a peaceful air about him. His eyes were closed and the sun was drawing golden lines that flitted through his hair as he bent down at the waist to touch the floor, leaving his back exposed.

The freckles on Remus shoulders disappeared below the t-shirt, and Sirius desperately wanted to know just how far they reached. He swallowed thickly, unable to look away. It was mesmerizing to watch Remus transition between poses, his lithe body flowing like water. He briefly wondered if the man was as pliable in other ways, but when his heart rate started quickening, Sirius decided he should stop being a creep and allow his neighbor the privacy he deserved. Before he could tear his eyes away though, a black shadow darted into the room and tackled Remus to the floor.

Sirius gripped the rail unconsciously before he realised it was just Remus’ dog, and he was left breathless once more at the image in front of him.

Remus was laughing as the dog nudged him with its head, two of its paws pressed over those powerful shoulders as Remus stroked the fur at its sides. The man’s eyes were crinkled, his curls falling onto his forehead in a tawny mess that was so cute Sirius thought he might die.

Seeing him smiling like that, it reminded Sirius of the Halloween party almost a week ago.

At first, he’d been annoyed about Lily bringing Remus and a stranger into his home, but that was mainly ‘cause Sirius had been on edge about the whole family drama. He had been looking forward to a chill night with his friends, and having outsider eyes at that moment felt like something that would have made him step on eggshells all night to avoid revealing his identity.

But Remus had proved to be as interesting as Sirius had thought him to be the first time they talked, always taking him by surprise with his comments and reactions.

Sirius desperately wanted to know where the hell Remus had learned to play like that. It wasn’t every day that he was beaten by someone that didn’t seem to have a lot of time for games, even if he’d been overly distracted by his toned thigh touching his own leg. Yes, Sirius had had a hard time concentrating, but he hadn’t slacked off. Remus was good. And Sirius wanted to know how.

He was intrigued by the man in so many ways, his interest peaking with every new little thing he noticed: the gaming, the yoga, his weird way of thinking -Sirius chuckled when he remembered how Remus had thought he was a fucking drug dealer-, him showing up at a party wearing a jumper that was a few sizes too big for him, looking so impossibly cuddly and warm; his relationship with his dog, his relationship with that Leo guy.

As Remus nuzzled his nose into the dog’s fur, Sirius thought about the rainbow coloured bracelet on Leo’s wrist. He admired the guy for wearing the flag so proudly, just there in plain sight for everyone to see. Sirius wished he could do the same, to stand tall, out in the open. But the consequences for him were way too high.

A small, annoying part of his brain felt the need to remind him that this didn’t mean Remus liked dudes. But Sirius took comfort in the knowledge that, at the very least, it meant that he was ok with it. That he wouldn’t condemn Sirius for it.

Sirius reached for a new cigarette, even if he was already feeling calmer, and put it between his teeth, taking a second before lighting it. While he played with the flame of his lighter, he wondered how Remus knew about Padfoot. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to know that story.

His heart warmed, not for the first time, at how Remus had defended Padfoot so fiercely, having no idea that he was right there; no idea how much his words meant for Sirius. Remus had understood him incredibly thoroughly for someone that didn’t even know who Padfoot was. That he was sitting right next to him. And Sirius wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but he wanted to find out.

It was no surprise that Remus hadn’t recognized his voice, even though he was clearly a fan. Sirius always hid his accent on his videos to conceal any connection to his family, so his parents wouldn’t intervene and ruin everything.

Suddenly, the music drifting from the room next door changed to a more upbeat one. Remus lifted the black dog up in his arms, something that couldn’t be easy given its size, and hugged it as he started twirling around the room, laughing brightly as he did.

He was dancing.

With his dog.

And the face he was making, like the animal meant the world to him... How could someone you barely knew be so fucking endearing?

Sirius was still staring when Remus turned around and lifted his head, his eyes locking with Sirius’. He stopped mid-turn, the smile slipping from his face. Sirius felt a blush prickling at his cheeks at being caught basically ogling him, but he waved with an awkward smile.

His only answer was a scowl, even if from afar he could tell Remus was blushing too. He set the dog down, glaring at Sirius, who let his hand drop slowly as he watched the man close the curtains in a slash.

Sirius hid his face in his hands, feeling the heat radiate from his cheeks. How could he fuck up so much? Remus would think he was a fucking creep now. Dragging his hands down, Sirius knew he would have to genuinely step up his game if he wanted to get to know this man.

In the afternoon, Sirius was still pondering ways to get more acquainted with Remus, and coming back empty handed. He didn’t want to just show up at one of his classes, he lived right next door for fucks sake! He should be able to find a way to start up a conversation with him, right? Although Sirius had to admit, he hadn’t seen much of the guy since he’d moved in. Of course, Sirius hadn’t exactly been in the right state of mind to notice him.

But life seemed to be on his side, at least this once. Because when he stepped into the coffee shop where he was meeting up with James and Lily, the first thing he saw was a head of tawny curls.

Barely keeping in his glee, Sirius walked towards Remus, figuring he could just say hi. He stopped dead in his tracks though, when he was just a few steps behind him and he realized Remus was humming the lyrics of An Open Letter to Myself.

“I love that song,” he said without thinking. The man had a lovely voice, sweet and a bit sad, and it made his curiosity peak again.

Remus jolted and turned around with surprised eyes and slightly flushed cheeks, but as gold met silver, his eyebrows dropped quickly over his eyes. Sirius was taken aback by the clear hostility in Remus’ features, which made him stutter as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I... I saw you and thought... I… uhm... should come and say hi? So...hi,” Sirius said and immediately groaned inwardly at his stupidity. Since when was he this clumsy?

“Hello,” Remus said in a polite, detached tone before he turned away.

Sirius took a minute to rearrange his thoughts while he placed his order right after Remus. They got their drinks at the same time, and before Remus could walk away from the shop, Sirius scrambled for something else to say.

“Your dog is beautiful, what’s its name?”

The corner of Remus’ mouth tickled up at the mention of his pet, but it was pushed down almost instantly.

“Cocoa,” he replied reluctantly, and Sirius almost spit his tea.

“Cocoa? That huge ass dog has a cute name like Cocoa?”

Remus rolled his eyes, but he was almost pouting. “I just really like chocolate, ok? Besides, he’s just a pup,” he said as he moved over to add some sugar to his chai latte. Sirius followed.

“A pup?” he said incredulously. “How is that a pup?!”

Remus huffed. “He’s only about two or three years old.”

Sirius stared at him in disbelief. That dog was already past Remus’ knees, and if what he was saying was right, he was probably going to grow some more.

“Did you adopt him?” he asked, tilting his head, thinking about Remus’ choice of words. He was focusing his whole attention on Remus, and that was probably the only reason why he noticed the slight stutter of his hand as he stirred his drink.

“Yeah,” he said in a breath. Sirius thought that would be the end of the conversation, but then -as if he couldn't help himself- Remus added, “he was very young when I found him. He was abandoned and practically left to die; his previous owners must have thought it was too much trouble to raise a wolfdog, and decided to leave him tied up in the woods instead of being decent human beings and finding him an appropriate home.”

There was such disgust in his voice that Sirius took a step back while his heart melted into a puddle. Of course he rescued dogs. Sirius was starting to wonder if this guy was even real. He’d been so thoroughly captivated by him in such a short time, it was a bit scary. Sirius hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. He hadn’t let himself feel like this, it was too risky, and he knew it would be more sensible to leave Remus alone and stay away from him before things got worse, but he had felt drawn to him ever since the Halloween party.

“That’s awful. No one deserves to be treated like that,” he replied softly against his better judgement. If things got worse, he’d deal with that later.

Remus’ head snapped up, and for a moment it looked like he was drowning. Sirius had no idea what had brought that expression to his face, but the only thought in his mind was how desperately he wanted to erase it.

In hopes of doing so, he tried to change the subject to something lighter. “So, you like games, huh? You really did a number on me the other day. When did you start playing?”

The response he got was not what he’d expected. Remus’ expression hardened, and he turned his gaze away as he discarded the used stick with more force than was probably necessary.

“That’s hardly any of your concern, is it?”

Sirius blinked. And then blinked again. Was he still mad at him?

“Look, I’m really sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, I just-”

“You really think this is all just about this morning?” Remus snapped.

“What?” Sirius was confused. What had he done? He’d made a little fun of Remus the first time they talked, but it hadn’t been that bad, had it?

“At least you weren’t smoking into my room today,” Remus added with a huff, which made Sirius frown.

He supposed he did smoke quite close to the edge of their balconies, but by the way Remus was talking, he felt like there was more to it. He tried to think of all the interactions they had had so far, but he couldn’t think of anything that would elicit Remus’ anger. His mind drifted to them sitting on his couch with the NHL game, how their shoulders had bumped together playfully, how Remus had even seemed to be comfortable once he got a controller in his hands. It was the only time Remus had acted in a friendly-ish manner towards him, without the scowl that seemed to be permanently weighing down on his brows. But none of his smiles had actually been directed at him, they had all been shared with Leo.

He smiled a lot around the blond, but whenever he was close to Sirius he seemed to be in a bad mood. Sirius hated that.

“What did I do for you to dislike me so much?”

“If you need to ask, it just shows that it’s not even worth answering you.”

Remus turned around and walked briskly to the door, leaving Sirius completely dumbfounded. The door opened just as Remus was reaching for the handle, and he almost bumped into Lily and James, who were coming in. Sirius watched as he nodded at them with a few words, threw one last glare his way, and disappeared in the afternoon sun.

Lily watched him walk away with a confused expression on her face. She glanced at James who just shrugged, and then she looked directly at Sirius with a deep frown. He seemed to be getting a lot of those lately.

“What was that all about?” she asked when they got next to him.

“He hates me, that’s what it was,” Sirius grumbled.

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” Throwing his hands in the air, Sirius stared at Lily like she held all the answers in the world. “He looks at me like I’m the worst person to ever walk the Earth. What did I do to deserve that?”

Lily winced, and Sirius felt his heart freeze where it had melted on the floor.

“Well, apparently, you haven’t been a very good neighbor, have you?” she said gently. Everything started falling into place then, and Sirius suddenly had a pretty good idea what she was talking about. He could be a very self-absorbed prick after a row with his family.

“What can I do?”

“Maybe you should try apologizing first,” she doubted for a second before she kept going. “I’ve heard you broke something important of his on the day you two met.”

“That was him?!” Sirius asked in astonishment, remembering the day he’d knocked someone over in the hall, and ignoring the few heads that turned his way at his raised voice.

“You’re joking, right? You didn’t know?” When Sirius only shook his head, still speechless, Lily stared at him, bewildered. “Sirius, how could you not know?”

“I was so angry at the time Lily, I barely noticed anything I was doing!” Sirius said in a pleading voice. He glanced at James for support, who looked at him in sympathy and understanding. Sirius rubbed a hand over his face. “I just needed to get out of the flat, I couldn’t stand the sight of Reg with his cold eyes and-” Sirius stopped himself, clenching his fists.

It all came back to him. How Regulus had suddenly turned up at his flat, even though he wasn’t supposed to know the address. Even though he hadn’t visited Sirius’ home in five years.

How Reg had looked at him with such clear disappointment, like Sirius was nothing more than a waste of space, and had told him that he was expected to attend the annual Black Enterprises’ gala and fulfill his duty to the family. How he had stated that it was time he stopped acting like a child, with his foolish, selfish dreams, and took his place in the company.

Sirius had never wanted anything to do with the monster corporation that was Black Enterprises. He hated the way they did business and how they treated people, like anyone outside the Black family was trash.

A hand on his shoulder shook him away from his memories before he could spiral down into the hole he’d been in in the weeks before Halloween. Sirius looked up, and found James’ kind hazel eyes.

“It’s ok Pads,” he whispered. “You’re out of there. They have nothing on you, and you owe them absolutely nothing. I’m sure you can fix this.”

Sirius hoped his friend was right.

#My One in a Million #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #remus x sirius #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #neighbor!au #yoga!remus #remus #sirius orion black

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

Text

For the Romping and the Roaring- Part 1

Here is my submission for Day 1 of @serpentfever's Inhuman Event!

Link to read on ffn.net

This is part 1 of the story, and the rest of the parts will be posted, one each day, for the rest of the event. Because of the length of this, full story is under the cut. I've provided a little preview of the story below:

Preview

Perhaps the most strange looking thing about the scene, though, was the small boy perched on the badger’s back. Small black horns pertruded from a head of fluffy blond hair, and long, pointed, velvety black ears wiggled eagerly. Short, splayed fingers gripped the badger’s shoulders, and his small, webbed wings proved quite the contrast from Zane’s feathered ones. Perhaps the most noticeable of all, however, was the long black tail that waved behind him, curved fins flaring out at the end of it. And the delighted trills coming from his mouth were definitely anything but human.

Well, maybe it was strange-looking to anyone else. But for Kai, it was just an ordinary day.

Prompts Used: Panic, Hiding

Word Count: 10,082

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: Imprisonment, Dehumanization, Mentions of Murder

Part 1

“Wake up, sleepyhead!”

Kai groaned, blinking awake. His sister grinned down at him, her arms dangling in his face from where she was hanging, her spotted tail wrapped tightly around one of the structural beams.

“Go away,” he mumbled, tossing a pillow in her face. “It’s too early.”

“It’s ten am.”

“So? It’s not like there’s anything to do around here, I might as well get my beauty rest.”

“Goodness knows you need it, with that dreaded mane of yours.”

He tossed another pillow at her face, which turned out to be a mistake, because now he was out of pillows.

“Why do you always have so much energy? Don’t you ever sleep?”

She shrugged. “I like to sleep in the afternoons. I guess it’s a leopard thing? They’re nocturnal, you know.”

“I know, Nya. I’ve had a half-leopard as a sister for sixteen years, don’t you think I would know that by now?”

“Debatable.”

“I’ll ignore that comment if you let me sleep for a little more.”

“Have you forgotten what day it is?” Nya chirped, beginning to swing back and forth. “Today Dr. Borg is letting us take Lloyd into the city!”

Kai sat bolt upright. “That’s today?”

“Yes, fish-brain! You should see him, he’s so excited.”

Kai scrambled out of bed, startling Nya and making her fall into the bed with a yelp. He shook his head, letting his mane cascade around his face and down his back. Huffing as half of it fell into his eyes, he wrestled it into a ponytail- part of it, anyway- and walked over to the door, Nya bounding after him. The other four beds in the room were already empty.

Opening the door revealed the same thing it always did. Another room- this one much larger than the last one, but a closed-off room nonetheless- stretched around them. There were a few other doors that led to bathrooms, a room with skylights (made with reinforced glass, of course, so no one could break it, even if they had superstrength) so they could soak in the natural light from time to time, and just some rooms with various activities- paints, notebooks, computers, puzzles, TVs, and all the books and video games they could ever want, or if they just needed some alone time away from the others for a bit.

But none of that changed the fact that the door on the far side of the room was always firmly locked.

In the kitchen, Zane was whipping up a bowl of pancake batter. Tawny-colored wings unfurled from his back, stretching freely now that he didn’t have to hide them. The feathered tufts behind his ears twitched as a loud shriek sounded out from the other side of the room.

Kai turned, a purr rumbling in his throat as he caught sight of the large badger lumbering across the room. A small yellow labrador raced after him, barking excitedly.

Kai’s tail thrashed fondly. Well, maybe it was strange-looking to anyone else. But to him, it was just an ordinary day.

Almost.

“Lloyd, you’re here already!” Kai called, hurrying over. The small boy brightened- even more so than he already was- at the sight of him, and leapt into his arms. Kai stroked him gently, and Lloyd purred softly, his long tail thwacking against his leg.

The badger blinked at him, shaking his head, and, in a flash of light, he was gone, a young man sitting on the floor in his place. His curly black hair, with a white stripe down the middle, nearly hid the small black ears poking out. Round glasses framed his dark eyes as he grinned up at Kai, his fangs glinting. The lab jumped into his lap, and the man scratched behind his ears. With a flash, the lab turned back into a teenager, his auburn curls falling into his freckled face.

“Augh, Jay! Get off of me, you lump!” He shoved his friend off of his lap, sending him tumbling.

“Hey, Cole, you could’ve asked nicely,” Jay whimpered, even though his golden tail was wagging, and his ears were perked.

“Yeah, well next time, don’t transform back when you’re in my lap! Having a small dog sitting on me is one thing, a lanky teenager is another.”

“Stop acting like you’re so superior! You’re only four years older than me, barely out of teenagehood yourself!”

“I’m not acting like I’m superior! I’m just telling you not to sit on top of me!”

“Whatever,” Jay grumbled.

“Hey, guys,” Kai snorted.

“Mornin’ Kai,” Jay grinned. “Have a nice lie-in?”

Cole groaned, shaking his head, and Kai shot Jay a glare.

“You shut up with your damn puns, puppy boy.”

“Jeez, apparently someone’s had his pride hurt.”

“I swear, one more lion pun-”

“Fine, fine! I know when my witty quips aren’t wanted.”

Jay,” Cole sighed, “they’re never wanted. Anyways, you ready for today, Kai?”

“You bet! They brought Lloyd in early, today, huh?”

“Dr. Borg wants us to get him ready and make sure he’s behaving well before we leave.”

Kai raised an eyebrow. “And romping around giving him badger rides and riling him up is a good way to do that?”

“Aw, come on, Kai, he’ll be fine. Besides,” his voice lowered as he went on, “he deserves to have a little fun while he’s here.”

Kai instinctively tightened his grip on Lloyd. None of them knew what happened to Lloyd when their caretakers took him away at night, apart from the fact that Dr. Borg insisted he was perfectly safe, but, at the very least, he was alone, and sometimes, Kai, with his heightened sense of hearing, could hear him whimpering through the walls. Lloyd hated being alone, and Kai didn’t understand why he couldn’t just stay with them all the time.

But, like most things, Dr. Borg just kept them in the dark about it.

Not that he was being ungrateful- Dr. Borg had kept them alive.

Issac Borg, son of Cyrus Borg, had taken over his father’s company when he had died, and, as head scientist at Borg Tower, had made it his mission to help the few living hybrids left- Kai and his friends. Dr. Borg had told them stories of how the human world rejected anything that was different from them- that they feared those with different blood such as Kai and his friends, saw them as “monsters,” and would seek them out and kill them if they ever found out their secret.

But Dr. Borg didn’t think the same way as the rest of the world. He wanted to protect them, to let them thrive and grow strong. So, he took them in and helped keep them hidden. He had given them work to do, too, not normal work, but things that only they could do. Dr. Borg told them how the world wanted everyone to be the same, and to hide what made them unique, but he said that they should be able to play to their strengths. Their trainers helped them learn how to fight, and to use their unique skills to an advantage. At this point, Kai had a repertoire of fighting skills he was eager to bring to fruition, but it seemed like the time never came to use them.

They did get to use their skills in other ways, though. Jay often went out in the streets in his dog form, his quick and cunning nature allowing him to be a natural pickpocket, with the ultimate disguise. Zane’s flight abilities allowed him to scope out Ninjago City, and keep Borg posted on the government’s actions. Nya’s agility skills let her slip around nearly undetected, which kept them out of a lot of fights. Kai’s hearing allowed him to eavesdrop for information, and Cole’s strength and digging skills could break through a lot of walls and barriers.

Except for the ones of their room.

For as much as he loved Borg- he was the closest thing to a father that any of them had- he couldn’t help but feel a bit like a prisoner, trapped up in here. He just wished Borg would trust them more.

Kai was eighteen now. He was old enough to keep himself and the younger ones out of trouble.

Which Borg is depending on me to do today, he reminded himself. The others had gotten the hang of how to behave outside of the tower by now, but Lloyd was still so young and often needed reminding. And it was no secret the little oni, dragon, and human tribrid was especially clingy with Kai. It was his job to keep him under control and on his best behavior.

I can do this. I will prove to Borg how trustworthy I am.

“Pancakes are ready!”

His thoughts were interrupted as Zane chirped at them from the kitchen. Lloyd’s warm, comfortable weight vanished from his arms as he leaped to the ground and scurried towards the kitchen island on all fours, climbing up the barstool to perch on top. He clicked and chirred brightly at Zane, his red eyes glinting hungrily, and the falcon hybrid bit back a grin at his expression.

“Use your words, Lloyd.”

Lloyd’s expression dimmed slightly, and Kai frowned. Lloyd’s reluctance to use human words was probably what worried him the most about integrating him into society. But Zane had been practicing with him ever since he could crawl, and if anyone could get him to speak, it was Zane.

“Can I have pancakes? Please?”

“Yes, Lloyd, you may.”

Zane slid two chocolate chip pancakes onto his plate. The sweet scent of the pastry drifted over to them, and Kai felt his mouth water. Jay, Cole, Kai, and Nya bounded over to the island as well as Zane served them the food. Jay jumped up and dashed towards the cupboard, grabbing out a container of rainbow-colored sprinkles.

Lloyd’s eyes practically glowed as he grappled for them. Jay laughed, and sprinkled a handful onto his pancakes. Lloyd chirred delightedly and hurriedly began to devour his breakfast.

“Jay, don’t give him more sugar. He’s going to be impossible when we go into the city.”

“You’re the one watching him, not me,” Jay chirped.

Kai put his head in his hands, sighing.

“It’s okay,” Zane assured him. “A little milk can go a long way to calm him down. Here Lloyd,” he pushed a sippy cup of milk towards him, “drink some of this.”

Lloyd worked on the milk as the rest of them ate, and, by the time they were all finished, he was looking a lot less feral. Zane was a lifesaver.

Nya glanced at the clock. “It’s almost time to go. We should start getting ready.”

They walked over to the closet where they kept all their gear. The large, loose sweaters allowed them a place to tuck in their tails, and, for Zane, his wings as well. As Kai helped his friend to adjust his coat to properly hide all the feathers, Nya pulled the sleeves of hers longer down her arms, hiding the light rosette spotting there. She had been able to pass it off as a tattoo before, but they really didn’t want to take any chances, especially not with Lloyd along this time.

Cole began to help Lloyd with his jacket, but the young boy swatted his hands away. “I can do it.”

“You sure, bud? It can be tricky-”

“I do it. I do the buttons.” His ears twitched as he ran his fingers over the smooth objects.

While Lloyd worked on the jacket, the rest of them shoved hats over their heads, Kai, with some difficulty, getting his over his mane, but when they turned back to Lloyd, now sporting his lopsided-buttoned jacket, there was evidently a large issue, and it wasn’t Lloyd’s button job.

“What are we going to do about his tail,” Jay asked. “The rest of us have the self control to hold ours under our coats for the time period, but he’s four, he’s not gonna be able to do that.”

“And it’s so long,” Nya pointed out. “I remember having a lot more trouble with my tail than any of you guys did, and Lloyd’s less than half my size!”

“Didn’t we used to tie it up when you were younger?” Kai asked.

“What?” “Here,” Kai pulled a scarf out of the closet. “C’mere, Lloyd.”

The child bounded over to him, and Kai picked up his tail in his hands, examining it. “Hmm. Flexible enough.” Folding it back on itself a few times, Kai used the scarf to tie it up firmly, and then pulled the coat down over it. “That should hold for quite a while.”

Lloyd bared his teeth at him, and Kai winced. “Sorry, I know it’s not the most comfortable thing, bud, but we got to do it, okay?”

Lloyd started to grab for his tail, but his small arms couldn’t reach it. Kai stopped him, nonetheless. “Hey, bud, don’t. I’m not kidding, okay?”

Lloyd huffed dramatically, before pacing towards the door.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Lloyd glanced back, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the small hat Kai was holding in his hands. He squwaked loudly, trying to scramble past him, but Kai swooped him up in his grip. Lloyd hissed and struggled, although his body was trembling with the familiar vibrations Kai recognized as playfulness. This was a game to him.

“Lloyd,” Kai growled through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on the squirming bundle, “Just put on the hat. It’s not the end of the world.”

“No!”

Well, that was one word he knew quite clearly.

Kai jammed the hat onto his head, but Lloyd quickly shook it off and jumped away, scrambling under the couch to hide, his red eyes glowing eerily in the darkness, his pupils narrowed into thin slits.

“Lloyd,” Kai said, letting an authoritative tone slip into his voice- which wasn’t something to be messed with, when you were part lion. “This is not an option. Either you wear the hat and behave, or we don’t go out at all.”

Lloyd’s eyes blinked, and after only a second, he was scurrying back out and reluctantly letting Kai pull the hat onto his head.

And not a moment too soon- Kai’s ears twitched as he caught the sound of movement behind the big, blocked door. His head whipped towards it, and the others quickly picked up on him, revving their gazes towards the door, too. After a few moments, they began to hear it, too. Jay cocked his head anxiously, Zane adjusted his coat, Cole pushed his glasses further up his nose, and Nya narrowed her eyes, grabbing Lloyd’s hand.

The door slowly swung open- Kai had to resist the urge to dash out- and revealed four of their caretakers- Liam, Noah, Rahn, and Kelsey. Kai let out his breath, slowly.

“Are you ready to leave, children?” One of them, Liam, asked. His gaze flitted between each of them, scanning them carefully. He stopped on Lloyd, his eyes narrowing, but if he had a problem, he didn’t voice it. “You look wonderfully human. A job well done, and not an easy one, I’m sure.”

“Yes, but appearances are only the beginning,” Kelsey pointed out. “You must make sure you are all on your best behavior, especially the muta- Lloyd. You all have learned a lot from your human behavior lessons, have you not?”

They nodded, and Kai added, “Is Dr. Borg not going to see us off today?”

“He’s a very busy person, Kai,” Rahn reminded him. “You children are lucky that he makes as much time for you as he does.”

Kai dipped his head, falling silent.

“Don’t worry, he’ll probably check in with you when you’re back,” Noah assured. “For now, we can escort you. Are you ready?”

Yelps and purrs responded him, and Noah shot them a sharp glance. Kai felt his ears droop shamefully as he responded, in sync with the others, “Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s go.” Noah beckoned for Cole to follow him, who was closely followed by Jay, then Zane. Kai and Nya went last, Lloyd bounding between them. His eyes were both bright and wary.

Rahn cleared his throat as they passed, and Nya bent down to Lloyd, whispering, “Two feet, bud.”

Lloyd grumbled, but obliged, taking his hands off the ground and standing up on just his feet instead. His steps were a little wobbly, so Nya and Kai each grabbed a hand. That made him look a little less grumpy about the situation, at least.

The caretakers led them down the floors of Borg Tower, and for the first time in weeks, Kai saw people, more than just doctors and scientists and caretakers, at least. Employers at Borg, but these ones weren’t the higher up, didn’t know their secret. Wary glances were shot at them, but it was probably just because they were wondering what a bunch of kids were doing in Borg Tower, not because they were secretly a bunch of weird monster mutants that had to hide everything about them because no one trusted them and people wanted to hurt them, and they just wanted to be normal kids-

The point was, it was nice to be looked at like a kid, for once.

And then, there were windows, and then-

They were outside.

The little skylight in their room couldn’t bring justice to this. Sunlight streamed around them, bright and cheery and welcoming, and the crisp autumn air tickled his cheeks. There were people everywhere, not Borg employees, but just regular people, talking and laughing with each other. No one was staring at him, conversing in hushed whispers, or telling him off for smiling too much and showing off his fangs. There weren’t any trainers scolding him, or doctors whisking him off to yet another appointment, and most of all, there weren’t any walls.

Kai felt like he wanted to cry. It wasn’t his first time out, Dr. Borg let them out every so often, but…

It had been way too long.

Although he knew that, however bad it was for him, it was worse for Lloyd. While they got to go out every month or so, Lloyd only rarely got cleared to come with them, and he had only been allowed to at all about a year ago. Dr. Borg said it was because he was too young, although Kai swore that he could remember him and the others going out more often when they had been Lloyd’s age, with adult supervision, of course.

Sure enough, Lloyd’s eyes were as wide as saucers as he gazed around, taking everything in in that quiet, attentive way of his.

“Excited, Lloydster?” Kai asked him. “Wanna go to the mall?”

Borg had given them a fairly sizable chunk of money- after all, being the owner of the city’s largest science organization didn’t exactly leave him with empty pockets- to spend as they pleased (as long as it wasn’t anything too outrageous, and their bags and pockets were to be searched before they reentered the tower,) so they went shopping at the mall. Lloyd obviously wasn’t so enthralled with Macy’s, Barnes & Noble, or Hot Topic, so the ninja took turns with Lloyd while the others went shopping. When Kai was with him, he spent a lot of time going up and down the escalator. Kai was worried the behavior might be unusual among humans and draw attention to them, and although they got a few odd looks, after a little while a little girl named Raina started running up and down the escalator with him. Kai had frantically apologized to her mother, but she just laughed, telling him “kids will be kids!” Kai had allowed himself to give her a tentative smile, and had been reluctant when he had to leave with Lloyd. The woman, Jessica, had given Kai her number if Lloyd ever wanted to get together.

Kai didn’t have the heart to tell her it could never happen.

After they finished shopping, the group stopped for lunch in the food court, then headed to the park and chatted while Lloyd ran around.

The afternoon was peaceful and cool, and it was all too soon when he got the call telling them it was time to go back.

“Hey Lloyd, time to go, bud.”

The look that flitted across Lloyd’s face made his heart break. “Can we… can we come back tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so, bud. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

“We can watch a movie when we get home, bubs. You wanna do that?” There was a shake in Nya’s voice as she spoke, and he knew she hated this as much as he did.

“Can we watch… the one with dinosaurs?”

“We can watch whatever you want, bubs.”

The walk back to Borg Tower was grim and quiet. The silence was only broken when Lloyd pointed at the fountain in the town square, as they were walking past.

“Look!” he called, leaning over the side to peer in. “There’s so many shiny things in there!”

“People throw their coins in fountains,” Zane told him.

“Why? I use my coins to buy a lollipop,” Lloyd giggled.

Kai crouched down next to him. “They say that if you throw a coin in the fountain, you can make a wish.”

Lloyd’s eyes were wide. “A wish? Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything you want, I guess.”

Nya crouched down on the other side of him, slipping a penny from out of her purse. “You want to make a wish, bean?”

“Yeah.” Lloyd took the coin and closed his eyes. He was silent for a moment, before tossing it in. They watched it sink, down, down, down, until it hit the bottom.

On the way home, Jay spoke up. “What did you wish for, bud?”

Lloyd was quiet for a moment.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

---

After their caretakers looked through their bags, they brought the group up to the room. The walk was a quiet one. The unasked question in all of their minds hung on the air- they wanted to ask if Lloyd could stay the night, just this once. The boy had been eerily quiet since the fountain, not even protesting when he had been searched, and Nya was holding him gently in her arms now. He wasn’t asleep, but his eyes stared off into the distance, his mind obviously elsewhere.

Dr. Borg himself met them at their door. “My children! How was your day out? Were you on your best behaviour?”

“You already know,” Nya muttered.

Borg frowned. “What was that, dear?”

“Nothing.”

Kai cocked his head at her, and she gave a tiny shake of her head, her glare telling him, not now.

He stared her right back, the message clear. We’ll talk later.

“It was good, Dr. Borg, but we were just wondering- would it be okay if Lloyd stayed the night with us? He’s pretty tired, and it would just be for one night-”

“Zane, I’m sorry, but Lloyd has a very important doctor’s appointment tonight-”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kai caught Lloyd stiffen, gripping tighter to Nya’s shoulder. A low growl sounded in her throat, and she brought her hands up protectively around him.

“Another doctor, Borg?” Kai snapped. “That’s the third one this week. Is there something wrong with him? Something you’re not telling us?”

“Of course not! Kai, calm yourself. What reason do I have to hide Lloyd’s medical records from you? Nothing is wrong, we just want to do some more testing. As you know, we give you all frequent checkups so that our doctors may learn more about you and your bodies. Lloyd is even more unique than any of you, so unfortunately, that just means more appointments.”

“He’s not a test subject,” Nya growled, “He’s family.”

“I never said he was! He is just as much family to me as he is to you!” Borg’s voice softened. “Nya, I know you are protective, but I am doing this for Lloyd. Knowing his body better will help us to help him better in the future, if he is to ever get sick or something.”

Nya wilted. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I know you mean well. Now, c’mon, Lloyd, it’s time to go.”

Lloyd wailed as Borg’s assistant tried to pull him away from Nya, and he clung to her as firmly as his fingers would allow, which, for someone of his genetics, was pretty tight. Eventually, Kai had to step in.

“Lloyd, please. Let go. We’re just trying to help you.”

Lloyd released Nya’s shoulder slowly, but his eyes were round and hurt as he gazed at Kai. He tried not to flinch. Lloyd didn’t understand that this was for his own good.

Kai didn’t really understand it, either.

The group filed into their room- the door locking with a sharp click behind them- and the others wandered off to do their own things. Jay flipped through the TV channels, not settling on anything for more than ten seconds, and Cole and Zane worked on a puzzle, although their progress was slow, and their heart didn’t seem to really be into it.

Kai, however, made no time for pointless hobbies, and headed over to Nya.

“We need to talk.”

“I agree. But not in here.” She pointed towards the bedroom door. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

He followed her in, closing the door behind him, before heading to sit next to her on her bed. “What’s so important that the others can’t hear?”

“It’s not that they can’t hear it. It’s just… I don’t know if they’ll want to. I don’t know how everyone’s going to take it, and I think it’s best to not tell everyone all at once.”

“What?! Nya, you’re killing me, just tell me what’s going on!”

“Someone was following me.”

Kai froze. “What?”

“If I’m right, someone was following all of us.”

“You mean in the city today? Like, a stalker or someone?”

“More like a Borg employee.”

“...What?”

“They’re spying on us, Kai, don’t you see? Dr. Borg sent some of our caretakers out to monitor us today. It’s their own fault, really. If they hadn’t trained me to use my detection skills to their full potential, I never would’ve noticed them.”

“But why? What have we done to break Dr. Borg’s trust? We’ve done this before and never got caught, why would today be any different?

Nya narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t be dense, Kai. He’s been doing it since day one. We’ve just never noticed before.”

Kai was beginning to feel very uncomfortable with the turn this conversation was taking. “How do you know that? Do you have proof?”

“Proof!” Nya stood up suddenly, her eyes blazing so fiercely that Kai flinched back. “What about any given day over the last sixteen years of my life, or the eighteen of yours! We’re prisoners here, Kai. One day a month outside of the tower doesn’t change that, especially when we’re being monitored even then.”

“Nya, don’t get like this again. Dr. Borg saved our lives-”

“From what? He tells us that people want to kill us, but do we have any reason to believe that’s true? What if he’s lying? How do you know he’s not just using us?”

“Dr. Borg is the closest thing I have to family! I trust him. With people like that, you just know.”

Nya’s ears pinned back, her voice wavering. “What happened to this family? True family is always there for you. Jay, Cole, Zane, Lloyd… me… we’ve all done more for you than that old fool ever has.”

Kai flinched, immediately regretting his words. “Wait, Nya, I didn’t mean- of course you’re my family, I’m sorry-” he snatched for her wrist as she began to walk away, but she easily dodged. She turned to look at him, her eyes sad.

“I know you are. You don’t want to hurt anyone- you’re just doing what you think is right, and I get that. But come talk to me again when you’re ready to reconsider.”

---

The next day, Kai had fighting training with one of his trainers. She seemed to be working him especially hard, but he only worked harder, and when he stopped for a rest, it took a moment to calm the adrenaline rippling through his veins. He had always been much stronger than the average human, but… usually it wasn’t so hard to control.

Dr. Borg showed up later in the lesson to pull him aside. “Kai. Your trainer tells me you are doing well. This pleases me. You are growing stronger.”

“I’m trying my best, sir.”

“Good. I expect nothing less. You’re eighteen now, Kai. Officially into adulthood. Soon, you will enter into a noble line of work I have to offer you. Now is no time to hold back. In fact- and keep this between you and me, if you will- I think you have the greatest potential of all your peers. What beast is greater than the lion? They don’t call it the king of the jungle for no reason. Your strength will be unmatched.”

Kai felt like he was supposed to be pleased by that, but something about the words just felt wrong.

“Sir,” he interrupted, feeling the sudden need to ask something, “What… why do I need to learn to fight like this? Who will I be fighting?” “If all goes well, no one. But this is necessary to defend yourself. Like I have told you since you were a cub, the rest of the world wants to hunt you down. You deserve a way to fight for your life and honor- and for the… weaker members of your team, don’t you?”

Kai nodded. “Of course. I was just wondering… is that all it’s for? Self-defence? Nothing more?”

Borg narrowed his eyes, but nodded slowly. “You will only have to do what must be done.”

“…Alright. Thank you, sir.” “And Kai?”

“Yes?” “If Nya’s been putting ideas in your head again, don’t listen to her. I know she means well, but she’s going through that natural ‘teenage rebellion’ stage right now, and isn’t thinking straight. Just take my word for it, alright?”

“O-okay. Have a good evening, sir.”

“Train hard!”

As Kai trodded back to the room that evening, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Borg had said. His words had been so vague. And he had been so quick to accuse Nya! Did he mean what he said, or was Nya right?

Did Borg want to use him for something more?

He still didn’t know what to believe, but one thing he knew was that he didn’t like the way that his sister had immediately been blamed. She had always been the most reluctant to listen to Borg, the most upset about their situation, but he wasn’t going to let Borg do anything to her, if that’s where this was heading.

His thoughts were interrupted as the floor suddenly heaved beneath him, and Kai was knocked to his feet. He barely bit back a scream, his breath coming in shallow pants.

What was it? An earthquake? He had never felt an earthquake before. Oh gosh. Should he be doing something? Was he going to die?!

But as quickly as it happened, it was over, and Kai got to his feet, breathless. After he was sure the floor wasn’t going to collapse beneath him, he set off towards the room in a dead sprint.

“Guys,” he gasped, “Did you feel that?”

Jay glanced up from his phone. “Like, that weird tremor thing, you mean?”

“Tremor? It was way worse than a tremor, the ground, like, bounced beneath me!” He gave a demonstration of this with his hands, but the others just blinked at him, unimpressed. “What?”

Cole shrugged. “I dunno, maybe you were just closer to the source or something. It didn’t seem that bad to us.”

“Do earthquakes even have sources?”

“First of all,” Zane said, “they do, and second, Ninjago City doesn’t get earthquakes. The geographic location makes it literally impossible.”

“But you can’t tell me that was nothing.” His voice wavered, and he caught Nya frown.

“You serious about this, bro?”

“I dunno, it’s just…” he put his head in his hands. “I don’t know what happened. It frickin’ scared me.”

Nya rested a hand on his shoulder, at his side now. “Hey, everything’s okay now. You’re safe here.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to call Borg? I’m sure he can tell us what’s going on.”

“Thanks.”

Nya dialed, and they waited for Borg to answer. He didn’t pick up until the last ring, which was unusual for him. When his voice did come through, it was harried and distracted.

“What is it, Nya?”

“Dr. Borg, Kai was just coming back from training and he felt this weird… earthquake-type-tremor thing. We were just worried. Is everything alright?”

“Oh? Ah, yes, don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe-'' there was some muffled yelling in the background, and the phone went quiet for a minute. “There’s nothing to worry about, we’ve got it under control-”

“But what was it?”

“We’re… uh, still investigating. Maybe some sort of malfunction in the machinery, or radiation leak or something.”

“Radiation?”

“I assure you dear, it’s fine, we’ve got a whole crew on top of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m kind of in the middle of something-”

“What about Lloyd?” Kai asked, leaning over to speak into the phone. “Is he okay?”

“Lloyd… Lloyd’s fine.”

“Can we see him?”

“No,” Borg said quickly. “...he’s seeing people right now. Will be for a while, probably, so don’t even ask.”

By this time, the others had joined them at the phone too, and they all looked at each other at that. “Seeing people?” Nya asked. “What kind of people?”

“Just… double-checking his safety. For… the radiation.”

“Was he close to it?” Nya gasped. “I thought you said he was safe!”

“He is! It’s just a precaution-”

“Then when can we see him?”

“Nya, I told you, not now!” Another muffled shout interrupted him. “I have a lot bigger fish to fry right now, this conversation will have to continue later.” And, with that, he abruptly hung up.

“What was that,” Nya spat.

“If that was your attempt to make me feel better, it failed miserably.”

“I didn’t know he was going to be like that, did I? Ugh, Borg always is so vague, but this- this is a whole new level!”

“We need to find out more,” Zane said. “Borg isn’t giving us clear answers. We need another way to find out information.”

“Luckily for us,” Cole added, “It seems that in all the commotion, they never sent a caretaker down to lock the door after Kai returned.”

The others froze, staring at each other. Slowly, they turned their gazes to the door.

Cole was right. It was still open.

Kai immediately felt his heart begin to race. He didn’t know how to react. This had never happened before.

Zane was the first to snap out of the shock and into action. “Borg is a careful man. It won’t be long before he realizes we have free reign of the place. If we’re going to do something, we need to act quickly.”

“I say we escape,” Nya hissed. “This might never happen again. Kai’s the only one who knows this, but I saw Borg employees following us yesterday. He’s always watching. This could be our only chance to get out of here!”

There were a few uneasy looks at that. “Nya,” Zane warned, “Borg may be secretive, but he’s not a bad person. He’s protecting us.”

“Yeah, and what about the police?” Jay whimpered, his tail between his legs. “Borg told us they would kill us just for being different.”

Nya’s tail lashed. “You all are hopeless! The old fool’s got you all wrapped around his little finger! Can’t you see we’re prisoners here? I’d rather take my chances with the police.”

“Nya,” Cole said firmly, squeezing Jay’s hand, “You’re making Jay nervous.”

“I’m sorry, Jay, but it’s the truth. You’re seventeen now, it’s about time you start hearing it.”

Jay’s ears quivered. “It’s okay, Cole, she’s right.”

Cole grunted. “If we’re doing this, I won’t let no police lay a finger on you.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“I dunno. I’ve never really felt comfortable with Borg. But we’re also safe here. I want to protect you guys. I don’t know if freedom is worth the risk.”

“Well, we don’t have time to think about it. Zane’s right- if we have to act, we act now. I’m going- come or don’t.”

“Nya, come back,” Cole growled. “We’re a family. Whatever we do, we do together. I don’t want us splitting up.”

“Then do the right thing and come with me.”

The tension crackled between the two for a moment, until Cole ducked his head. “Nya-”

“Kai, you’ll come with me, won’t you?”

Four pairs of eyes turned towards him. Kai’s tail twitched, and he tried desperately to still it.

“I… I don’t know what I want to do, Nya. But I’m not leaving without Lloyd.”

Guilt flashed in her eyes. “I… I didn’t mean… of course I would never leave without him, I just didn’t even think… we can go get him, right?”

“Do you know where he is?”

Nya’s tail drooped. “Then what do we do?”

“Zane’s right- what we need is more information. Running away isn’t the answer.”

“Kai- can you just think about it-”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he roared. “I’ve spent eighteen long years locked away in this room- don’t you think I want to leave, too? But this is about more than just me- this is about us. I have a family to protect, Nya, and this is the best way to keep them safe.”

Nya cringed back from him- something any sane person would do when a lion- or a half lion- was yelling in your face. He didn’t like to use it on his family often, but when he did, it was the quickest way to silence a room. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with a lion’s roar.

“So what are you going to do instead?” Jay asked quietly, after a moment.

“I’m going to go find Borg and listen in on what he’s doing.” Turning to his sister, he added, “Nya? Will you come with me? Your stealth will be useful.”

“You still want me?”

“Don’t be like that, Nya- I’m just doing what’s best for us. You get that, don’t you?”

“I guess.”

“So you’re not coming?”

“No, I’ll come. I’m just still upset with you, that’s all.”

Kai sighed as she whisked out the door past him. “You guys keep a lookout, alright? I’ll have my phone on silent so we don’t get caught, but I’ll be able to feel it vibrate, so shoot me a text if something happens, alright?”

“Good luck,” Zane nodded.

“Hurry back!” Jay called as Kai slipped into the hallway.

He bounded a little ways to catch up with Nya. They walked in silence for a little while until they made it back to Kai’s training room, where he had felt the tremor.

“Smell anything?” Nya asked.

“Jay’s the best tracker, but I think I can pick up Borg’s scent coming from that way.” He pointed a finger down the right hallway.

“Think?” “I don’t know. There’s a lot of foot traffic coming from that way as well.”

“Surely that’s a good sign. If there was some sort of catastrophe, a lot of people would have gone to help.”

“Yeah, but it’s strange. It mostly smells like caretakers and trainers. I would’ve thought Borg would’ve wanted more mechanics and doctors if there was a malfunction.”

“Unless he was trying to keep this a secret.”

Kai shot her a look, and she ducked his gaze. “Sorry.”

Kai shook his head, turning back towards the trail, letting Nya slink down the hallways ahead of him, checking that the coast was clear before he followed. He pointed her in the directions that the scent led, until, at last, it led to a door.

“Borg’s office?” Nya questioned. “His scent will be here all the time. Are you sure that he’s here now, or is it just leftover residue?”

Kai opened his mouth to respond, but froze when he caught the sound of footsteps. “Hide!” he hissed to Nya, and the two of them dove into an empty lab room and pulled the door shut, just as two pairs of footsteps rounded the corner. They came to a halt outside the office door, and Kai held his breath.

“What do you mean you can’t control him, that’s your job!” Borg’s voice, sharp and angry. The rooms in this part of the building were soundproofed, but Kai’s hearing could still detect their voices when he pushed his ear to the door. Nya hovered beside him anxiously, watching his face for signs.

“Sir, we’re doing everything we can, but we’ve never worked with a specimen like this before.”

“Borg,” he whispered to Nya, “and a researcher.”

“Tell me you at least have him contained?”

“He’s chained and isolated right now, sir. And under guard.”

“Did you tell him that we’d punish the others if he stepped out of line?”

“Yes, sir. He’s young, and seems to have some literacy issues, so we’re not sure if he got the entire message, but we believe we got the basic point across.”

“Good,” Borg sighed. “Hopefully that will be enough to stop him from trying anything like this again.”

“Sir, surely you’re not just going to let him stay. People could’ve died today!”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Borg snapped. “Seven of my best researchers have been hospitalized, and now the damn police are on our back and I could get sued. I could lose millions, you know that? And to make things worse, the kids called me and are trying to see him. They suspect something’s wrong.”

Kai’s blood was roaring in his ears. Was he hearing this right?

Nya put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? What did they say?”

He shook his head, gesturing at her to be quiet. “They think Lloyd was the one responsible for the accident. People were hurt. Borg might get sued.”

“Would it really be such a bad thing to let him see them, sir? He obviously is very on edge about the testing and sampling. Seeing the others might put him at ease.”

“They’re already suspicious, and I can’t help but feel I’m losing my grip on them. They’re teenagers, I knew they’d rebel at some point, but… I don’t want to risk him telling them anything. Now that he has power over us, I’m not sure what good the threats will do.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

Borg sighed, slow and tired. “I had hoped it would never come to this, but… I think we bit off more than we could chew with this one. And he’s only four, it will only get worse as he ages. I don’t think we will ever be able to put a handle on him. I had hope, after such great success with the others, but… it just didn’t work out. Breeding oni and dragon and trying to contain it was always going to be a bad idea.”

“Are you sure, sir? There’s no going back if you decide to go through with it.”

“I’ve thought about it for a while now, and today’s accident has only solidified my suspicions. We will still be fine. The others have amazing amounts of strength, speed, stealth, and heightened senses. We can be well-equipped without him.”

“Alright. We will begin making preparations first thing, sir.”

“Make sure you keep the body so we can continue to study it. I want him euthanized first thing in the morning. The longer we wait, the more of a window we give him to act up again.”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Kai squeezed his eyes shut, slumping against the door as the door to Borg’s office was clicked shut. This couldn’t be happening, it was just some sort of sick dream, Borg would never do this-

“Kai, Kai please, answer me!”

He opened his eyes to see Nya shaking him gently.

“You were right,” he croaked, “we have to go.”

“Kai, what’s wrong, what did you hear, you’re scaring me.”

Kai stumbled to his feet, and Nya grabbed his arm as he trembled. There was no time to sit around and mope. Lloyd’s life was on the line.

“Nya, we have to go-” he reached for the doorknob and began to twist it.

“Wait, are you sure they’re gone, we can’t get caught-”

“I’m sure, we have to hurry-”

Nya skidded in front of him. “Kai, tell me what’s going on. I need to know what happend. I can help!”

“There’s no time, Nya,” he gasped, half in tears by this point. “I’ll tell you later. I’m going after Lloyd. You go and get the others. Meet me near that little diner at the edge of the city. The one we went to for your birthday last year, you know the one? We’re leaving. Now.”

“Wait, you mean you changed your mind?”

“No. I told you that I was going to do whatever it took to keep you guys safe. Before, that meant staying here. Now, it means leaving. It is the circumstance that has changed, not me.”

Nya gazed at him, tears glazing her eyes. “I wish you would tell me more.”

“I still need time to process. I’m sorry.”

“I get it. Just stay safe, okay?” She kissed him softly on the cheek, and then, she was gone.

Kai didn’t waste any time, and set right off on the researcher’s trail. Eventually, it led him to a small, closed off wing, where she had then taken a right, but Kai was more interested in the room on the left.

Two guards, armed with guns, stood attentive at it. Kai shifted into a lion, and, trying to remember stalking lessons from Nya, crept along the hallway. If they spotted him before he was within pouncing distance, he was done for. They wouldn’t hesitate with the guns, he was sure.

Luckily, Nya was an amazing teacher, and as one guard fell to the ground with a smack, the other one turned sharply, raising his gun, but Kai was already pouncing, knocking him out.

Shifting back into himself, he grabbed the keys from the guard’s pocket, and unlocked the door.

Inside, the lights were dim. Kai wished he had Nya’s night vision right about now.

When his eyes finally adjusted, Kai choked back a gasp. Lloyd was lying on the floor, chains bolted around his wrists, ankles, and tail. Metal clamps pulled back his wings, and a muzzle had been tied over his mouth.

“Oh my gosh, Lloyd-” Kai dropped to his side, trying not to look at the boy’s face. Blinking back tears- emotion was something they didn’t have time for right now- Kai ripped through the chains and pulled off the muzzle and clamps. Lloyd whimpered, looking up at him with watery red eyes, and reached for him, cooing softly. Kai scooped the boy into his arms, accidentally pulling back his shirt as he did so, and revealing a long, raw, red scar along his side. Kai quickly pulled the shirt back down, looking away, and planted a kiss on his forehead. Bolting to his feet, he took off down the hall, towards the back door.

After only a minute of running, an alarm began to flash, and Kai swore under his breath, praying that the others were already out.

After what felt like far too long, he spotted the door. As he sprinted for it, he heard someone yell out behind him, but it was too late. He was already out the door.

He didn’t stop though. He wasn’t stupid enough to think they would give up chase so easily. Heading down some of the back alleys, he ran in a crisscross of crazy patterns, taking a way which was five times longer and more complicated than necessary, but he wasn’t risking the chance of being caught, or worse, leading the Borg employees back to Nya and the others.

When he began to feel a little safer, he stopped for a rest behind a dumpster. Setting Lloyd down, he checked his phone and saw he had twenty-seven missed calls from Borg.

Shoot, he can probably track this. Cursing under his breath, he tossed the phone in the dumpster. He didn’t like being phoneless, but it was a thousand times better than the alternative.

Lloyd’s stomach growled loudly, and Kai glanced down at him. The boy looked smaller than ever, his red eyes wide and scared. Kai crouched down, pulling his trembling form close, and the two just sat there for a moment, silent. Kai breathed in Lloyd’s comforting scent.

I almost lost this. Forever.

Kai wiped at his eyes. But he hadn’t. And they weren’t safe yet. They had to keep moving, and get as far away from that phone as possible.

But first, he had to find the poor kid something to eat. He looked half-dead on his feet, and Kai felt a surge of anger as he realized that Borg probably hadn’t been feeding him well.

Jumping into the dumpster, Kai scrounged around until he was able to find half of a cheeseburger and a stale bag of pretzels. Not the most sanitary, but it would have to do.

“Here, bud, you want these?” He handed the food to Lloyd, and either the boy was really, really hungry, or his animal instincts were just kicking in, because he scarfed down the food without any reservation about the fact that Kai had literally dumpster dove for it.

As Lloyd finished the food, licking the wrapper, he spoke for the first time since Kai had found him chained up that evening.

“Am I in trouble?” His voice wavered, tears pricking his eyes. “Did I do a bad thing?”

“Honey, no, it’s not your fault,” Kai whispered, pulling him close. “You didn’t mean to do it. Your powers are too strong for your own good. But you’ll learn to control them eventually, I promise.”

“People are hurt,” he whispered. “I’m the reason we had to go.”

“You just opened my eyes to what Borg was doing to you. To his true intentions. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Lloyd looked at him. “He told me he would kill you.”

Kai bit his lip, and Lloyd broke down crying in his lap. Kai curled his arms protectively around him.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I let you go through that all these years and didn’t notice something was wrong.”

Lloyd buried his face in Kai’s shirt. “I just want to be normal.”

---

Lloyd fell asleep soon after that, and Kai carried him towards the meeting place. The walk was long, about two hours, but with every moment that passed, Kai was more and more grateful that he had picked somewhere far away. He was exhausted, and if Borg’s associates found him now, he was in no position to fight back.

It felt like heaven when he finally spotted the little diner in the distance, with its gleaming lights offering a cheery glow to the foreboding dusk. Reluctantly shaking Lloyd awake, he took off his hat and coat and helped Lloyd put them on to carefully mask his monster features. Since Kai hadn’t had time to grab extra, he fluffed up his hair extra (something he hadn’t ever thought he’d do, it was fluffy enough as-is) to cover his ears, and tucked his tail into his pants.

The little bell on the diner door rang cheerily as they pushed their way in. At this time of night, the diner was empty, as expected- but there was one booth in the corner where four people were sitting, eating what looked to be pancakes and bacon. They looked up sharply as the bell rung, and Nya stood up abruptly, meeting his eye.

“Kai,” she cried, running over to him as tears sprung in her eyes. “Oh my goodness, oh my spots, oh my goodness.” She threw her arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder as he squeezed her just as tightly back. “You’re alive, thank the stars you’re alive, I thought I had lost you for good.”

“I’m just as relieved to see you guys,” Kai breathed, walking over to the booth. Although it was only intended to seat four, his friends squished over to make room for him, and he scooped Lloyd onto his lap.

“Kai, what took you so long, you had me worried out of my mind,” Nya muttered, stopping to take a breath and sip from her coffee. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Sorry, we got a little held up. We got caught escaping, and were followed. I spent a good hour, at least, trying to throw them. I wasn’t going to risk leading them anywhere.”

“You could’ve at least texted me, letting me know you were alright. Why didn’t you answer any of my calls?”

“I ditched my phone. Speaking of which, you guys probably should too. I wouldn’t be surprised if Borg had a way to track these things.”

“Get rid of our phones?” Jay whimpered. “How are we going to communicate if there’s an emergency?”

“Would you rather us get caught?” Kai snapped. “We can just buy some of those burner phones from the store.”

“Kai, I think you owe us an explanation,” Cole growled. “We’re tired, hungry, scared, and don’t know why we’re here. Nya told us you overheard Borg saying something, but wouldn’t tell her what he said, and just said to run. Are you going to give us any more than that?”

“I’m sorry, but I was just so scared, and there was no time…” He took a shaky breath, drawing an arm around Lloyd and pulling him closer. In a whisper, he admitted, “Borg was going to kill Lloyd.”

The table lapsed into a stunned silence. Even Nya, who had always been heavily critical and suspicious of Borg, looked shocked and horrified.

“When?” Zane asked faintly.

“Tomorrow morning.”

Cole paled about ten shades, Jay looked like he was going to faint, and Zane just stared as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing.

“One more day,” Nya whispered. “One more day and we would’ve lost him.”

“Don’t remind me,” Kai told her, his breath hitching as he tried to focus on the weight on his lap- warm, gentle, and alive. He was here. He had saved him.

“I don’t understand,” Jay whined. “Why would he do such a thing? I mean, I know we all had our suspicions, but… kill him? Really? What changed?”

“Remember all those ‘doctor’s visits?’ Apparently they’re some sort of testing, or sampling, or something. Show them the scar, Lloyd.”

The boy looked up at him hesitantly, before slowly pulling up his jacket and shirt to reveal the long scar Kai had seen earlier. Four sharp intakes of breath sounded as it came into view.

“Oh, Lloyd, honey,” Nya whispered.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what they were doing at our doctor’s appointments, too, but for some reason they are really obsessed with Lloyd. Something about his lineage, I guess… but it was too much for him. He…”

Kai glanced at Lloyd, who was nibbling at the bacon Cole had slipped him. He didn’t seem too invested in the conversation, but he still kept his voice low.

“That tremor we felt? Apparently, Lloyd caused it. People were injured, and… the police came to investigate… Borg was furious. He decided Lloyd had caused more trouble than he was worth. Lloyd was chained and muzzled when I found him, and I… I couldn’t… I wouldn’t deny it any longer. Borg doesn’t care about us. He never has. He’s just using us.”

Silence gripped the table as his friends stared at him. Jay wiped at his eyes, which were bright and wet.

“What do we do now, Kai?” Nya asked, her voice barely audible.

“What do we do? We survive. You got some money, I hope?”

“We’ve been stashing it. Any time Borg gave us money on an outing that we didn’t use, we kept it. We brought everything we could find. And a few valuable items as well. We can sell them if we need to. Hopefully this will last us a while, if we stick to the necessities.”

“Good. Because we’re going to need every penny we can get. I have no idea how long we’ll have to be out here.”

“As long as Borg is hunting us, nowhere is safe,” Cole warned. “He’s got amasses of people at his disposal. I don’t know where we’re going to go that he can’t reach.”

“I know a place.”

---

“Are w-we al-almost there, K-k-kai,” Nya hissed, her teeth chattering. “I’m freezing.”

“We’re here.”

Jay stopped beside him. “An old warehouse?” “Hey, I remember this place,” Cole said, stepping up beside him. Lloyd was fast asleep in his arms- he had been out cold before they had even left the diner, and when Kai had tried to carry him, Cole had told him off, saying he had already done more than his fair share for the night, and that he ought to give someone else a turn before he keeled over from exhaustion. Kai was grateful for the gesture, although they still had needed to walk another hour to get to his destination.

“When we were younger, Cole and I used to take a bus down here sometimes on our days out to play around in this abandoned warehouse.” Jay raised his eyebrow, and Cole laughed. “When you’re a twelve year old boy, those kinds of things sound a lot cooler than they actually are. Still, I’m grateful you thought of it now. Who would’ve thought, when everyone else failed us, it’s the old warehouse that held through.”

“It’s nothing special,” Kai said as they tramped inside, “but it’s sheltered, it’s sturdy, and, most important of all, it’s unsuspecting. I doubt Borg would ever think to look here.”

“It’s perfect, Kai,” Nya sniffed, “Thank you.”

“I don’t know why you’re thanking me,” Kai sighed, lowering himself onto the ground and wincing at the ache in his back. “I was the one who kept trying to convince you that the child-murdering psychopath actually cared about us.”

“It’s not your fault, Kai. Borg tricked all of us. If it weren’t for your jump into action, we’d have lost our baby brother.”

“I just can’t stop thinking,” he whimpered, squeezing Nya’s hand tighter, and watching Lloyd from where Cole cradled him across the room, stroking him gently, “what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten there in time, or if I had decided to stay back in our room.”

“You can’t spend time dwelling on the past, Kai. You didn’t do those things, and everything worked out- well, as best as we could ask for, at least. You have to have more faith in yourself. We’re scared and confused, and we’re looking to you. I know that’s not fair, that you’re struggling just as much as any of us, but it’s the way things are. We need someone strong, like you, to keep us going.”

“I want to protect you guys, and keep you safe, more than anything else in the world. But I’m lost. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t do this alone.”

“Oh, Kai. No one would ever ask you to do anything alone. Whatever happens next, we’re all right here.”

#ninjago #NinjagoInhumanAuWeek #For the Romping and the Roaring #R&R #Part 1 #rosie writes #ugghhh guys i pounded this out in like four days and i am exhausted #i should've started writing for the event earlier #the amount of writing ive done in the last two weeks is insane #i'm lowkey gonna have burnout after this lol #my fic

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 3 years

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Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Three

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Canon divergent during Chapter 13 of The Mandalorian, serious pining

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

The trip to Nevarro was hell.

The Razor Crest now smelled like Baast, and after using his soap, their two scents had blended, and Din was going out of his kriffing mind. He'd taken to sleeping in the cockpit, having given up his cot, but it did little good.

It was like the essence of her had invaded every part of his home.

He'd started having dreams. Dreams of a world with sand dunes and plains of long grass, where towering forests of old wood grew and swayed in gentle, fragrant breezes. He dreamed of walking the rock and sand trails of jagged mountains, of climbing steep cliffs to drink from sweet falls that appeared out of the clouds.

And when he reached his destination, a rocky outcropping high above the world, a cat leapt over the rocks to land before him. She was sleek lines and dense muscle, her coat tawny, darkening to black over her muzzle and legs. Long tufts of fur drifted in the wind from the tips of her ears, and green eyes watched him with a thousand years of ancient wisdom.

He knelt before the regal creature and pulled off his helmet. She padded closer, circled him once, sniffed him curiously, and began to purr. The rumble soothed his soul, and Din closed his eyes as her sleek, furry cheek rubbed against his.

"Mine," he whispered as he reached for her, waking himself from the dream every time.

By the time they landed on Nevarro, he was desperate for air that didn't smell like Baast. A few more parsecs, he may have done something stupid.

He met her at the gangway with a heavy cloak. "Put this on, draw the hood, and try to remain inconspicuous."

She arched a brow before handing over Grogu. The kid stuck to her like glue, eager to be at her side whenever he was awake. It was a relief to know someone else was watching him, but at the same time, he missed the kid's continual company.

Baast shrugged into the cloak and pulled the hood over her hair before laying her hand on his arm. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You have been distant."

"Just busy." He held out a silver bar roughly three inches long. "Extendable staff, at least until the Alor can get you those sabres."

She smiled at him, the light just catching her fangs. "Thank you, Mando."

He tilted his head but tugged the hood farther forward. "Let's go."

They'd landed well after dusk, assuring a quiet, uninterrupted trip through the streets. Those that lingered paid them no mind used to seeing the silver beskar of an unpainted Mandalorian.

The bar was fairing better after the fight with Moff Gideon. Walls had been repaired, and the damage painted over.

He walked in and headed straight for the back booth, ignoring the eyes that followed. They knew better than to mess with him, and the music stayed lively.

Karga, however, wasn't alone.

"Karga. Dune," he stated, tossing three pucks on the table.

"Only three, Mando? I sent you out with four," Karga teased. "Did a quarry finally escape the famed Mandalorian?"

"She's dead; body recovery was impossible."

He watched Cara's eyes flick to Baast and down to Grogu, a smile growing as she pushed from the table. "There's the little womp rat!"

Grogu squealed his happiness, but Baast growled.

The low sound set his hair on end, causing Din to step back, between the woman and his clan. "Cara, not now," he said, no explanation, not sure he had one to give.

Baast placed her hand on the back of his neck, a place without beskar but covered by his cowl. Still, he felt it like a live wire jolt.

"Usenye!" Baast growled.

"Udesii," Din murmured, turning just enough to know he meant Baast.

"Whoa, someone's touchy," Cara muttered.

Mando didn't need this right now. The longer he stayed here, the more twitchy he felt, like something beneath his skin was itching to claw its way free. "Karga. If they ask, you tell them she's dead."

The man stared at him a long moment, assessing, processing before he gave a short nod. "I will log the information myself." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ingot of beskar. "For your trouble and the three on your ship."

"Where did you get that?" Din asked, picking up the ingot.

"Took it off some Imps after that last clean up." A second pile of credits, smaller than it should be, landed next. "Consider us even."

"Done," he agreed, hyper-aware of Baast's hand still light against his neck.

"And congratulations, Mando. It isn't every day a Mandalorian takes a riduur."

He felt Baast's fingers twitch but didn't correct Karga's assumption.

"You got married!" Cara gasped, loud enough to cause the bar to pause and look their way.

One long stare over his shoulder had them minding their business again.

"Baast'mal. Cara Dune, former shock trooper, now Marshal for the New Republic. Greef Karga, head of the Bounty Hunters Guild, and Magistrate of Nevarro."

"A pleasure," Karga grinned. "Is it true wives put off their armour when they decide to have little warriors?"

Baast snorted. "Di'kutla. Anade knows gar ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya."

Din couldn't help but chuckle. "She says, foolish. Everyone knows you train your sons to be strong, but your daughters to be stronger. My woman is all warrior."

The words slipped out, and he couldn't bite them back. Baast's hand dropped from his nape, but only to lower and slide in at his waist, sneak past layers of beskar and again find flesh barely covered. She pressed closer, a low rumble vibrating between them, and Din felt approval wash from her like a wave.

"Ibic taap, Ni cuy' bat Kyr'nakil," she murmured, low enough only Din heard, informing him she didn't like it there.

He looked down at her, into the deep shadows of her hood as she clutched Grogu to her and found her eyes. This place had her on edge. With her Force sensitivity, he believed her, but he wanted to know why. "Tion'jor?"

"Too many bad feelings," she whispered. "There are hunters, many of them."

He gave a small tilt of his head. "Vaabir val olaror par gar?" he asked, wondering if they came for her.

A slight negative shake. "For news of the child."

Din was instantly enraged and leaned over the table toward Karga. "You're taking a bounty on the kid again?"

"What? No! Of course not!" the man cried in outrage.

"Mando." Cara laid her hand over his. "He hasn't, I swear."

Baast growled, causing Din to move his hand out from under Cara’s and block Baast in the same action. "There are hunters here for news of the kid. Get your cargo off my ship so we can leave." He swiped the credits off the table and turned to go, Karga already barking orders.

Din wasn't surprised when Baast's fingers snuck to the crook of his elbow. Or, he wasn't as surprised as he should be. A riduur walked where her mate could protect them and any children they might have. Her position kept her secure against him while hiding them behind a wall of beskar and weapons, handled by a highly dangerous predator.

"Mando, wait," Cara said, blocking their path. "Come to my place. You can rest, eat, and I can see the kid. I missed him."

Baast's fingers twitched.

"Cara," he hesitated.

"Please. We're friends. Let a friend toast your good fortune."

Another low warning growl rippled from Baast when Cara touched his arm.

"She has nayc staabi!" Baast snarled.

Din looked down at her. "Technically, neither do you."

Her hand snapped off his arm like he'd burned her, shock and disappointment so profound it hurt, hit him like a rampaging mudhorn.

She took a step in retreat, Grogu clinging to her, the kid looking just as devastated.

What had he done? Kriff! Why would he say that?

"Baast!" he shouted but was too late as she spun on her heel and raced from the cantina. "Kriff!" he bellowed and gave chase, Cara hot on his heels.

"What the hell was that, Mando?" Dune demanded as they slammed through the doors only to find a deserted street.

"Not your concern."

"Mando!" She grabbed him by the vambrace. She had no way of knowing how close he came to putting her through the wall. "What's really going on? Who is she?"

"You wouldn't understand. It's a Mandalorian thing." He shook her off and looked for Baast's tracks.

It didn't surprise him at all when they went up a wall and over the roof.

Din took off after her, climbing as if his armour weighed nothing, leaving Cara behind to curse and swear. He followed long strides for some distance as she ran across roofs, finally leaving the residential district to head into a more industrial area.

Again her tracks went up, and he followed, climbing the narrow ladder to the top of a tower that looked out over Nevarro. He found her there; knees pulled to her chest, the hood thrown back, clinging to Grogu as the kid did his best to stroke the tears from her face.

"Baast."

She jerked but didn't move. "Go away, Mandalorian."

"I can't." He went to her and knelt, intent on taking her in his arms, only to have deadly claws close around his throat.

"You have not the right," she snarled, her eyes piercing him through the beskar.

Grogu huffed and sighed, appearing at once both annoyed and exasperated.

"Nayc staabi. No right, that's what you said about Cara."

Baast snarled. "If you want the shock trooper so badly, have her!" she snapped, pushing him back with strength, causing him to rock on his heels.

"I don't, and she doesn't want me. She would be more inclined to go for you," he chuckled.

She blinked big green eyes. "Oh…" Her hand slowly relaxed until it lay on his chest.

This time when he gathered her close, she didn't resist. "Forgive me. I said something stupid."

"But true," she sighed. "You did not dispute the claim of riduur. I knew it meant nothing but got caught up in my role. You are free to do what you wish with whomever you wish," she sighed.

Din didn't think. He didn't plan his next move. It was like instinct demanded he act, and so he did.

"Baast. Close your eyes."

She did so without hesitation or question as Din stripped off his gloves. The helmet hissed when he released it, causing her brow to twitch. Before he took it off, he wrapped his arm around her and covered her eyes with his hand.

"Din?" she whispered, her uncertainty clear.

"Trust me," he murmured, lifting his helmet free with his other hand. They were too high up for anyone to see, and the moons had yet to rise, leaving them bathed in shadows.

Grogu cooed and sat down a few feet away, apparently content to let the adults sort this out on their own.

Din gave him a last look before setting his helmet down and raising that hand to lightly, tenderly, stroke her face. "I don't want just anyone," he whispered, unable to deny what was written in his heart. "Just you," he sighed and lightly brushed their mouths together.

He'd never kissed anyone before, but he wanted to kiss Baast.

***

Din woke with a jolt and a clang of beskar as he fell out of the pilot's chair and onto the floor.

He lay there confused and disoriented until he realized the entire thing had been a dream.

He groaned softly enough that it didn't leave the safety of his helmet and pushed to his hands and knees before sitting back on his thighs. This trip was going to kill him. The dream had been far too real.

He picked himself off the floor and looked up to find Grogu smirking at him. "Don't start."

The kid gurgled a noise that shouldn't in any way have been cute but somehow still was.

"Hungry?" Din asked.

Grogu waddled closer, arms up.

"Of course you are. When are you not hungry?" he chuckled, picking up the kid and heading for the ladder down into the belly of his ship.

He was just getting Grogu situated when the door to the fresher opened, revealing Baast in nothing but a towel.

She jolted in surprise. "I did not expect… you… I…" A bright blush bloomed darkly across her cheeks. Then, she straightened, lifting her chin like a royal, firming her composure. "You have not joined us for meals as of late. I did not expect you and have washed my clothing."

His mouth was desert dry when he attempted to speak, but no words emerged, and Din was grateful for the helmet that hid his gaping mouth. He stared for too long before stepping away from Grogu and his gruel toward Baast. She stiffened, hand flexing where she clutched the cloth closed, but the Zentari didn't back down.

Din moved with cautious steps to the crates piled against the wall and shoved two over before picking up the third and setting it down on top of the others. From within, he pulled out blue silks. "I have this if you want it."

A regal brow arched, her wet hair sleek and sticking to her now brushed the tops of her thighs. "Why does a Mandalorian have a courtesan's dress in his belongings?"

He flinched, having hoped she wouldn't recognize it. "Because an assassin dressed as a courtesan attempted to kill me, but not until after she'd taken her clothes off."

Baast eyed the cloth a moment longer before gliding forward to pluck it from his fingers. "Did she succeed in the seduction?"

"No. That's why she was naked. She made a poor courtesan."

"Hmm," purred from her as she walked back into the fresher, and the door closed behind her. "And you have simply kept it lying around?" she called through the door.

Did she sound jealous, or was he still dreaming? "It's not something a Mandalorian can walk into the market and sell without garnering a second look."

"You were not, perhaps, keeping it for your riduur?"

The door opened, and Din forgot how to speak. Blue silk fell in sleek lines from the golden band that bared the under curve of her breasts. She swept out and headed for Grogu, sailing past him, her damp hair leaving a dark stain on the skirt.

"I haven't thought much about a riduur." Before now.

He followed her like a Bantha would a Tuskin Raider, and when she sat to help Grogu with his food, Din came to a stop behind her.

She looked up, but he knew the beskar made it hard for her to read him. "Is it that terrible? Do I not make a passable courtesan?"

"More than passable," escaped his mouth, his brain still malfunctioning. "But your hair is dripping."

"Wet hair does that," she teased him with a smile.

"May I?"

She blinked as he began to strip off his gloves. "Din?"

"Let me," he murmured, running his fingers like a comb through her thick locks. He sat on a crate and worked free what few tangles had formed before splitting the mass in half. He began the plait high, working it smooth against her scalp and down behind her ear. When his fingers brushed the pointed tip, a shudder raced through her, but a low, happy purr followed. He made it to the end and used a scrap piece of leather to bind the long braid.

"How is it that a Mandalorian knows how to do a woman's hair with the skill of a maid?"

He froze, fingers full of sand-coloured silk. "My mother," he murmured. "I once did it for my mother."

Her hand closed gently on his knee, Baast reaching back, otherwise staying still for him. "A good memory, I hope."

"One of my only good memories," he murmured, finishing the section close to her skull and swiftly plaiting the rest. Once he tied the end, she turned to look up at him and left him breathless.

He'd never seen a more mesh'la creature. Men would spend their entire fortune for one night with her. But Din looked at her and saw her dressed in the ornaments of a riduur. Beskar bands for her braids, the cuff that would circle her upper arm and proudly display the mark of the mudhorn, proclaiming her part of his clan. The beskar breastplate that would be hers the moment their first child was born.

"Then, I am pleased to help you remember it." She stroked one of the thick plaits. "I am happy to offer myself to your ministrations in the future, should you so desire to assist me again."

Vital portions of his anatomy tightened, causing him to rise swiftly and step away from her tempting allure. "We'll be in Nevarro soon. I'll see about more suitable clothing when we get there."

He climbed the ladder back to the cockpit, knowing damn well he was running away.

***

riduur - spouse

Usenye! - Go away!

Udesii - Calm down.

Ibic taap, Ni cuy' bat Kyr'nakil - This place, I am on edge

Tion'jor - why

Vaabir val olaror par gar - do they come for you

nayc staabi - no right

***

Next Chapter

#star crossed:bound by blood #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x ofc

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smalltownfae · 3 years

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About Fool’s Assassin

This isn’t really a review, I just want to let my feelings out about this book that made me stop the reread of the series (I will still post the photo for the last book in the series. Don’t worry. Enjoy the worst book in the trilogy.). Spoilers for “Fool’s Assassin” by Robin Hobb.

The first time I read this book, I kind of felt sorry for Fitz and, even though I had my complains, I still gave it 4 stars. Now, I decided it’s a 3 at best and that is because of Molly, Bee and Revel. Them and only them.

I think that the fact that I read these books before also helped to make me more annoyed with it since I know that the potential I saw in this book as the start of a trilogy is never fulfilled. Lant and Shun never become fully fleshed out (even though Shun at least is a bit more interesting), Fitz, the Fool and Nettle keep acting ooc until the end, not everything is explained and the inconsistencies keep pilling up until the very end (”Assassin’s Fate” being the worst offender).

I now decided that this trilogy is a fanfic because it’s a good fic and terrible canon. Honestly, the reread only made me realize that in truth my favourite books are only the ones that are part of the Farseer and Tawny Man trilogies and not the entire series. Even if Tawny Man has an ending that I despise at least that is the only problem with it.

It is now my canon that Fitz didn’t come out unscathed from that time lost in the Skill pillar. From bribing Molly’s kids to get into her pants to mourning a child he never had while his actual child is right there and he needs to “force” himself to at least like her the man gets worse and worse. This is not the character I loved from Farseer and most of the Tawny Man trilogy. If this is who Fitz really is please make him put his memories back into Girl-on-a-Dragon because he was better before. Fitz always had flaws but he also had some relatable characteristics and good sides of him that made him a complex and for the most part likable character. I despise this one character now. This is not the Fitz I know. Besides him being super dumb (when even Web, an outsider says “yeah those guys do look weird” and you didn’t believe anyone when they said that you know you fucked up). Fitz always had his dumb moments, but those were understandable in the context of the story and he was never this stupid. But, I can excuse stupidity to some extent. What I can’t excuse is how he barelly does anything leaving all of the work around the place for Molly and Revel to manage (and complains when he finally has to do something), the way he initially treats Bee just because she isn’t like he hoped and how condescending he is to Lant! I don’t like Lant either but man did Fitz made me hate him with the “I am a better assassin than this literal child” thoughts. In short, I load him. A lot. Sorry. Oh! And now he says part of him liked the killing btw. You know. Something he never ever thought or said before. In fact, he said he hated being an assassin. But he liked it after all because this needs to be dark.

The Fool could possibly have an excuse for how he is acting but the way he says Fitz was always a good assassin is very contradictory from how he viewed Fitz in “Assassin’s Quest”. Did he change his mind or did he say that to convince Fitz to kill for him? I don’t know and I don’t care since even more ooc aspects than shown in this book appear in the next ones. Some I can see why others have no excuse. Don’t even get me started on his backstory that ends up making no sense whatsoever.

Why was that line in Tawny Man about Nettle not being into boys necessary when we enter the realm of heterosexuals again? Whatever. The worst part of Nettle is how she reacts to Bee (runs in the family it seems) and how she seems to love and trust Lant for no apparent reason. I swear she likes Lant more than Bee. Nettle in Tawny Man seemed to love her family and care a lot about all of her brothers no matter what so what changed? Also, since when is she so trusting of others (like Lant)? She really did change a lot - for the worse - like most characters it seems. Kettricken’s reaction to Bee is also not great but knowing how the customes of the Mountain people that doesn’t really surprise me and at least her reaction made sense.

But, I still gave the book a positive rating because the writing is still beautiful as always and I love Bee as a character. She is definitely the most complex and fleshed out in this trilogy which makes this her story and the name of the trilogy a joke. I love the tender moments between Bee and Molly. Molly seems to be the only character that became better. She learned to control her anger and be more understanding. I loved seeing Patience again (even if she died off page and apparently saw Chiv’s ghost which is a thing that is also never explained in the series btw). Revel is another great character and it’s a pity he died so early. He was more entertaining and complex than most new characters and he is only in 1 book! I really liked seeing Jofron again and I like that she basically sent Fitz away from her house to never come back again ahahah good riddance fake!Fitz.

So, yeah, I will definitely not reread this one as much in the future but when I do it will be because of the aspects that I liked and try to do my best to ignore the Fitz chapters.

#realm of the elderlings #rote #fool's assassin #fitz and the fool trilogy #books #I probably forgot something which is good #I want to forget #there is a lot to complain about

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jengajives · 3 years

Text

I can never stop thinking about Barahir and Finrod I can never I can’t

Finrod awoke with the smell of linen and pine and warm body in his head. Beneath the heavy quilt, he felt safe, cozy. He never wanted to leave.

Barahir’s arm was draped over him, and his breath tickled the back of his neck. His body, so warm and firm, pressed lovingly to Finrod’s.

He could feel the hair on Barahir’s chest between his shoulder blades. The sandpaper scratch of stubble against his bare skin whenever Barahir stirred in his sleep.

Finrod chose not to roll over. He chose not to awaken his sweetheart, and he chose to close his eyes and remain there forever.

The knock came relatively early in forever, but that was fine.

Finrod cracked an eye and raised his head just enough to see the firmly closed door. On the other side he could hear excited movements, and another knock made him reach back and grip Barahir’s forearm, willing him not to wake.

“Papa! Papa!”

Despite his best efforts, Barahir began to stir.

“Papa, the chickens got out!”

A groan from somewhere behind. Barahir grumbled something utterly incomprehensible and pressed his forehead against Finrod’s neck.

The most forceful knock of all would have made the Elf-prince jump if he hadn’t already decided to chuckle at it.

“Would you like me to handle the chicken situation?” Finrod asked in a gentle whisper. Barahir groaned again.

“No... Don’t get up...”

His voice was as scratchy and rough as the stubble on his jaw, and when he wrapped his thick arms more firmly around Finrod’s middle, it very nearly convinced him to actually stay put.

“Papa!” Beren cried through the door.

“Don’t get up,” Barahir mumbled again.

Finrod began to carefully disentangle himself from the Man’s limbs, forcibly ignoring how cold it felt outside the embrace. “I’ll come right back.”

The fur rug was warm against his feet when he swung off the bed and stood, stretching, trying to gather what on earth he was going to wear. His riding clothes weren’t the best suited to farm work, so he borrowed Barahir’s tunic and tucked the excess into his belt, and tried very hard to make the combination of home-spun wool shirt and silk leggings crafted by the most skilled weavers of his people look not ridiculous. He didn’t really think it worked.

Some of his braids had come out during the night, so as he walked to the door, he pulled all his hair back and tied it into a knot at the base of his neck, just to keep it out of the way.

When he slipped out into the hall, Beren gave him a very funny look, and for a moment Finrod worried it was because he was seeing another man come out of his father’s bedroom, but then he realized the boy probably just didn’t recognize him without all the jewels.

“Good morning, Master Beren,” Finrod said. “I hear there’s been some trouble with the chickens.”

Any lingering doubt Beren had seemed to clear when Finrod spoke. The child immediately grabbed his hand and began to pull him toward the lodge door.

“I was trying to take some eggs from the coop after I woke up, so I could make you breakfast. Father says I’m very good at making eggs. But Mallen looked sick, so I went over to see what was wrong, and while I was looking, all the hens ran out into the yard, and they’re not supposed to be out there.”

“Yes,” Finrod said as politely as he could manage. “Mallen is...?”

“She’s the oldest one we have, and her eggs are the best, but sometimes she loses her feathers so we have to keep an eye on her. She stayed in the coop because she’s a darling. But you have to help me get the others before Luin wakes up.”

“Of course.” Finrod closed his eyes, desperately trying to recall the name of any animal Beren had introduced him to yesterday. There were just so many. “Luin. Luin the...”

“The dog.” They stepped out the door and into the young morning sunshine, though Beren gave him no time to enjoy it. “He’s old, too, but he can still go fast when he’s chasing chickens. That’s why we have to hurry.”

“Naturally.” A quick glance over the lawn did indeed show a handful of fowl wandering and pecking at the grass. Beren squinted at them like a battlefield strategist, and then turned to Finrod with dead seriousness in his dark eyes.

“Can you talk to birds?”

Finrod, determined to indulge the child, only shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Well, you should try asking them to come back! I can carry them normally but sometimes they’re just... mean.” The lame ending meant he probably could not carry them. Finrod could not suppress a fond smile.

It wasn’t so long afterwards that the hens were secure again in their cozy coop, and Finrod leaned against the wooden fence to watch Glânhen prance around the pasture with Beren on her back. The mare was gentle with him, of course, and every time she trotted past Finrod, she whinnied as if reminding her master what a good job she was doing. As if he expected anything less of her.

It had been such a long time since Finrod heard a child laugh. Listening to Beren’s giggles and whoops almost made him forget he was at war.

Almost.

When a warm hand gently squeezed his shoulder, though, he did forget.

“I see you had no trouble with the chickens.”

Barahir gave him a stern look that simply dripped playfulness, and ran his thumb across the well-worn maroon tunic. The sunlight turned his bare chest tawny.

“You took my shirt,” he said. “I’ve only got the one.”

Finrod smiled warmly, but his mind wandered elsewhere before he could reply. After a long pause, filled with Beren’s laugh and the distant clucking of hens, he finally spoke, quietly.

“I never want unhappiness to find you, Barahir. But, with Angrod and Aegnor gone, I...” He paused, an abrupt pain taking him in the side, where an old wound had never altogether left the skin. “... I cannot keep you safe here.”

Barahir’s smile went slack.

“Finrod-“

“You should come back to Nargothrond with me. You and Beren and all your people. You’ll be safe there, with all my people to guard you. And I’ll be there to look after you, and we-“

“Finrod.”

Two worn, calloused hands closed around his, and the graveness on the face of this carefree Man made his heart go oddly cold.

“I love you.”

A pain in his chest. Those words weren’t supposed to hurt.

“But you know I can’t leave.”

Finrod closed his eyes, trying to push away the memories of blood and steel and screams. His breathing deepened, just for a moment.

He was asking too much, but still he just wanted Barahir to say yes.

“I understand,” he whispered, bothered now even by the fact that this was hurting him when he had no right to be hurt. “I just... had to ask.”

Beren laughed again, and the cold just made Finrod wonder how much more this land would give before it was twisted up and started to take.

#jenga makes junk #fic #Finrod #finrod felagund #felagund #barahir #Beren #finrod x barahir #dorthonion #help me I’m crying

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werenotacoupleyesyouare · 3 years

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Starling and The Fool’s friendship: why it failed

An analysis of two different ways to love

Okay I know I’m already on Ship of Destiny but I still can’t get out of my head the amazing duo that is Starling and the Fool.

They are both serious, goal oriented, competent people, but the moment they are left alone together they turn into basically preschoolers.

Like, take Starling, tragic backstory, big dreams, incredible talent and someone who’s never without a plan. She could outsmart anyone if she set her mind to it, and to be honest Fitz would have never gotten to the mountains if it wasn’t for her. But as soon as she meets the Fool, all of that flies out the window. They can’t stand each other, to a point where it becomes absolutely hilarious. Fitz of course gets caught in the middle of it, and even he can tell there is something weird going on between them. When he arrives to the mountains, Fitz has the first glimpse of the Fool’s life outside of him. They have built a life for themself in that village, and a pretty successful one too, despite dealing with mourning a friend and the huge prophet-existential-crisis that came along with it. The Fool is such a tragic character, I’m not even halfway through the books but the way they deal with the burden of being a prophet and knowing that their life doesn’t belong to them but to their quest, already speaks volumes. But even with all that on their shoulders, the Fool turns into a mean eith-grader as soon as Starling is in their field of view. These two bring out the teenager in each other, which is something neither of them had ever experienced before. Both Starling and the Fool have been forced to grow up too fast, one because of trauma and responsibility, the other for their life purpose (edit: just finished tawny man. Also trauma!), but they still never had a time to be stupid and careless. That’s why I think they were so drawn to one another, because even if through annoyance and rivalry, they recognized they could share something they never had.

Even if it’s through Fitz’s eyes, during the journey up the Skill road, we see Starling and the Fool grow closer, their dynamic developing from a rivalry to a reluctant friendship to becoming each other’s shoulder to cry on.

That’s where the trouble starts.

To fully understand the breach in their friendship, one needs to understand that Starling and the Fool are complete foils in the way they love and care for people.

Starling’s trauma led her to base her whole self worth on how desirable she is. She craves immediate intimacy and codependency in relationships, otherwise she’s afraid people will just leave her behind or take advantage of her. She needs to control people’s perception of her, she needs to know she can use their desire and attraction to her, need be. That’s why she’s so upset when Fitz rejects her initially, even though she has no real feelings for him.

On the other hand, the Fool is convinced that they can’t let themself become too close to people, because they know they will have to leave them eventually. They try to keep themself closed off, often masking their feelings with humor and insults, and even though they make an awful job of it, because as we’ve seen they become quickly attached to anyone who shows them any bit of affection, they keep this outlook of not being allowed to care for anyone otherwise they’ll end up hurting them. Really the only person the Fool is allowed to fully care for because they know they’ll spend their whole life with him is Fitz as he is the Catalyst to their Prophet. That is a huge factor in the Fool’s feelings for Fitz, because the one time they’re allowed to care for someone with no restraints, they instantly become dependent on them, and almost drown in the amount of love they allow themself to feel. Part of me always thinks that the Fool has so much love inside of them, and since they can’t put it anywhere they give it all to Fitz. (And they’re convinced that even the one person who they’re allowed to love will never love them the same way... ouch)

So while Starling cannot take part in a casual friendship and instead demands instant intimacy, the Fool gets scared easily and closes themself off.

This is why their friendship falls apart, two opposite extremes meet and clash, leaving no room for an actual relationship.

Starling responds to this rejection by undermining the Fool and getting closer to Fitz, with whom she believes she has more chances of keeping the control she so needs. This is a huge deal for her and the Fool, because Fitz had never been part of their little bubble. He was a topic they shared, multiple times we can see them teasing each other over how much they care for the man, but he had never been part of that little circle. Starling decides to burst that bubble because the air inside had become too uncomfortable for her to breathe in, and the Fool takes advantage of that to further close themself off as well. Fitz goes from being something the two of them had in common to a weapon to use against each other, so when the Fool tells Starling to go to him at the end of Assassin’s Quest, knowing perfectly that she has no real feelings for him and that she only really gave off that idea because it had become “their thing”, it completely shatters what they had once shared.

Starling and the Fool found in each other something they needed, but their friendship was doomed to fail from the start.

#realm of the elderlings #realm of the elderlings meta #rote fool #rote beloved #rote the fool #the fool #starling birdsong #rote starling #the farseer trilogy #analysis #assassin’s quest #fitzchivalry farseer #beloved #rote #greta reads

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Hunting Hybrids.”

Hope you guys like this one, things are about to get very interesting.

“This news is…. Most concerning, commander. And you disposed of all the creatures.”

“I…. did...regrettably. None of them were viable for life, but you must understand that If i run across one with some semblance of sentience that is not in pain that I will not be able to kill it, and I must insist that you do not either. I…. have a certain…. Attachment to hybrids.”

“Of course commander, we understand. However, Your spiderlings are the result of a natural process and not genetic meddling, but if you do run into a creature who is not tormented and racked with pain, then we urge you to bring them in for testing.”

“Yes ma’am. Have your scientists determined anything about the experimentation>”

“We determined much, but what we learned had only lead us to more questions than it has answers.” The rundi chairwoman gestures with her hand in a dismissive sweeping motion, “Your assumptions were right to begin with. The Prodigum were trying to splice human DNA with their own DNA. The way they were doing it was not particularly scientific. Each of the testing kits that you sent to us contained different variations of DNA implying that they were either trying to find a balance or their operation was being poorly run by people who did not understand what they were doing.”

“What do you believe they were trying to do?”

She turned in a circle facing away from him, “We are not entirely sure. With the human DNA we suspect that they were trying to obtain certain attributes of the human condition that would be beneficial to their own furtherment, though what it is I cannot say.

“The ability not to be ugly as hell.”

“What was that commander?”

“Nothing ma’am.”

“Very well, I want you to start in on this investigation. Figure out what other things they were doing, and determine if anyone else has this technology.”

He bowed his head, yes ma’am.” The line before him shut off and he stood on the center of the bridge hands behind his back.

“What you looking for?”

He turned around blinking in surprise when he found a large furry shape standing behind him.

Glados.

It always blindsided him at how big she was getting. She was as tall as Krill now, almost three feet in height, and the peach fuzz baby fur on her wolfish head and body had long since died off.

The hair on her face was short and tawny though the hair on the rest of her body was still prone to greyish, more like a tarantula than a human.

He took a seat in his chair, and she scuttled over resting her head on his lap.

He ran a hand over her ears, “I think something strange is going on.”

“Strange?” She wondered.

Behind him he heard the scuttling of two other forms as Hal and Glados came crawling onto the bridge.

Man they were getting massive. They were no longer big enough for him to carry, though they tried very hard to keep that traidiona alive, an attempt that usually left him lying on the floor in mock agony as they screeched at each other about having killed him.

“What are you going to do?” Cortana’s voice was warped and distorted, like he was hearing it through a static radio or the voicebox of a warped doll.

“Well, luckily for all of us, I think I know exactly where to start.”

*** Commander Vir and Sunny stood together on the slow-moving elevator into the abyss. Down in the chasm light passed by them on either side as the night life of Noctopolis went on at the fast-paced rhythm that it always had.

He leaned against the railing, while Sunny stayed planted in the middle of the platform.

“You know that if this thing drops and we fall, standing there isn’t going to keep you alive.” He mused.

“Yes, but it will keep me from accidentally falling off. Now get over here before you give me a heart attack.”

“Can Drev even have heart attacks.”

“Perhaps not in the same way, but it applies…. Please.”

He sighed, “Fine.” Stepping away from the rail and walking over to where she was standing.

“Why are we even here?”

“Because, I think I know some people who might be able to help us?”

“How is that.”

He taped his foot against the metal, “I have a sneaking suspicion that the prodigum weren’t the first people to come up with the idea of hybridization. I think that they were either trying to replicate, or someone sold them the secrets on how to do it, and if that is the case, why would someone want to make a hybrid.”

“Mix a human and a Drev and you get an indomitable warrior.” Sunny mused

“There is that…. But who do you think might want a hybrid child.”

She looked on blankly at him, “One of those circus people/”

He shook his head and waved a hand, “I have a sneaking suspicion that this has something to do with hybrid couples.”

Sunny’s eyes widened, “You mean LFIL… “ She trailed off and he nodded

“Think about it, if there is a market, A Tesraki is going to try and fill it. So say one of their friends is in a relationship with a man and one day they overhear how the couple really wants kids, but they can’t have them. They think about adopting, and that's fine, but one of them muses what would happen if it could actually work, and then the third gets a brilliant idea.”

“I suppose it’s possible.”

“I suppose it’s probable, and while I like the LFIL guys, not all of the are going to be upstanding citizens who say no to experimental genetic testing.”

The elevator stopped and the two of them got off walking out into the underground tunnels.

“Where are we going.”

“I’ve been invited to come stop by in their area on one or two occasions, you know after what I did at the last protest.”

“Of course, leave it to you to make friends with literally everyone.”

HE smiled but kept walking shouldering his way down the alley until they finally reached the place he was looking for. Red and purple neon glowed around them, and --through the floor-- they could hear the driving beat of the music.”

Together the two of them pushed open the door and stepped into the dark hallway.

The walls before them were lined with images of little strings of lights. Most of them were depictions of couples in loving poses holding hands hugging or some other form of affection. Little plaques below the pictures read out their stories.

The commander and Sunny walked past these stepping into the large open room.

Music rattled the floor. On one half of the room humans and Drev danced to a driving beat, while on the other Tesraki, Finnari, Drev and Humans alike lounged about a s drinks were brought to them from the nearby bar.

More figures could be seen up on the balconies playing pool and darts and generally laughing.

Sunny stepped up beside him.

A live band played at the other end of the room.”

“Where do we start?” She wondered

He motioned towards the bar, “Where everyone starts.”

Together they shouldered their way through the crowd, though they did not go unnoticed. As a few people turned to recognize them drinks were lifted or they were patted on the back given friendly smiles or waves of approval.

They had almost made it to the bar when most of the crowd turned to look at them.

The music cut off

The commander sighed, “I was hoping that wouldn’t happen.”

“Is that the commander!”

He grimaced and turned on the spot to face the stage where the live band had now turned the entire room to look at them, “It is you! Everyone give this man and his friend Sunny a round of applause!”

He felt his face go red as the entire room erupted in cheering.

He waved a hand trying to get them back to what they were doing.

A few of the people on the dance floor motioned them over, “Come dance with us!” They urged .

“Sorry guys, official business. Maybe later.”

They looked disappointed, but allowed the others to go on. The music started back up, but most of the attention was on them as they made their way over to the bar. When they got there, the bar tender was already waiting.

He was a very tall and skinny man with a studded jacket and a bright green Mohawk. At his side a Finnari was busy pouring drinks.

“Can I get official business a drink? It’ll be on the house.”

“Sorry, I don’t drink on duty”

“Not even soda, or juice.”

“Well I suppose that would be alright.”

The punk smiled at the little Finnari, “You mind, dear.

She nodded and scurried off popping off a bottle lid and pouring the commander a glass while simultaneously passing Sunny another strange concoction which looked like someone was trying to marinate about half a cucumber worth of cucumber slices in some water.

Sunny seemed to enjoy it though.

“So what can we do for you.”

He seemed almost eager to help the two of them out.

The commander took a sip of his drink, “Well, I can’t say specifics, but….. The GA discovered something recently, and whatever it is could be a game changer for the rest of the galaxy…. Do you know of anyone who has been approached by a group or organization that…. Claims to be able to splice two species DNA together?” he kept his voice low hoping that no one would hear him over the music.

He wasn’t expecting the reaction he got.

The man’s eyes immediately widened, and he held up a hand, “Hold on. There is someone I thin you need to talk to.”

Sunny and him exchanged glances but, after a moment the punk bartender returned with two others. A tall woman and her Tesraki partner. The group of them shook hands as they returned before business got more serious.

“So…. you know something about this? The commander wondered.

They glanced at each other, “About… the DNA thing?”

He nodded.

The Tesraki snorted, “Someone approached us with some sort of business proposal, and of course I didn’t take it seriously. I know shady business practices when I see them, I said to silvia I says that they will probably tack on charges to us as everything goes along until eventually we owe them the house and the car.” He waved his hand, “Besides hybrids, there is just something I don’t like about that.”

“So someone approached you?”

“Targeted us more like.” The human said crossing her arms, “Came up to us all shady like asking personal questions about our love life. About how we could have kids if we wanted how it wasn’t fair that we got to see other people with happy families where we can.” She snorted, “Bitch please, there are plenty of orphaned children out there that it would be more than a little selfish, in my opinion, to bring some kind of strange hybrid abomination into this world.”

“You didn’t take their offer seriously?”

“Of course we didn’t. It was probably some kind of scam anyway.”

“Has anyone else gotten these offers?” he wondered

She paused, “Well not that I think about it a few people have, but all of us have sort of ignored it. No one that I know would willingly involve themselves in something like that. Genetic tampering is illegal after all other than for reasons of medical research.” The commander nodded, “And how about everyone else here. Do they share the same views as you…. Or do you think they would be willing to make a deal like that.”

He saw the answer in her eyes before she even said it.

She was unsure.

“Well.” She glanced down at her partner, “Now that I think about it. There are a few people… eccentrics mind you.”

The Tesraki leaned forward, “He means unstable. Our entire community isn’t a haven for the misjudged and oppressed. There are some real craizes in here for very wrong reasons. Some eccentrics who just think its fun to be different.” he glanced around, “They give the rest of us a very bad name, and I would wager to say that something like that would not be above them.”

“And where have these people been approaching you?”

The woman shrugged, “Usually in LFIL friendly bars like this one, but since this one was recently accepted by an establishment by the state things have cleaned up around here.

“I see.” he glanced at Sunny, “Looks like we have some work to do.”

She nodded.

He smiled, “What do you think, what to be my date for a night out of espionage”

She snorted, “You’re gonna have to buy me a drink first.”

“Playing hard to get, I see how it is.” He glanced at the bartender, “Another one of those…. cucumber …. thingies but after that I’m going to need about five gallons of nail polish, some hair dye and a shitty prosthetic leg.”

“Kinky.” The bartender commented on his way back.

“You can shut your trash mouth. I don’t tell you how to spend your free time.”

The group of them laughed for a minute as the commander moved back to being serious glancing back at the room full of people.

What might they know, and how many of them could potentially be involved.

He didn’t want to think ill of anyone, but desperation makes people do some strange things

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solynaceawrites · 4 years

Text

End of Sanctuary

Fandom: Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins Characters: Mael, Meliodas Tags: Post-Canon, Character Study, Canon Character Death, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort written for @nntzine Summary: After the defeat of the Demon King, Mael returns to the only home he knows and engages in a festival to honor the ones who were lost.Originally written for Nanatsu no Taizine: Volume II and published in celebration of autumn.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The sun is low in the sky when he reaches his home. Former home, he supposes, landing lightly in what was once the grand courtyard: the immaculate marble has cracked and fallen, the flowers overgrown by thistles and weeds. Mael tilts his head back, taking in the ruins of the spires of the Supreme Deity’s palace, listening to the wind whistle forlornly through the shattered windows and holes in the walls, and wonders if this is their punishment for their hubris. Dead leaves whisper through the grass, like the voices of so many ghosts; with a sigh, he kneels, sweeping dirt away from the walk. This is the place of his birth, and he remembers with a fond sort of ache the feasts and festivals that were held here, one in particular which was always dear to him.

The Feast of All Souls began as a prayer. To remember those who’d come before, goddesses lit candles within their homes and laid offerings of food and wine on their doorsteps. Eventually, with the war looming over their clan, the Supreme Deity had made it a public event, one which all were encouraged to attend. Private offerings were still left, yet the majority of the evening was spent in the city streets, buying masks and scraps of finest parchment upon which to write hopes, dreams, or words of remembrance. And, once the sun had set and the world was cool and quiet, in the grand courtyard a chosen member of their race would light the torches and dance, and those little bits of people’s lives would be fed to the bonfire, to reach the next life. Mael rubs a dandelion between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. There is no one here, and yet . . .

He has no place in Britannia, nor a reason to return there. Too much suffering is on his shoulders, too much grief for him to express his own. And with the role he played in Escanor’s passing — how foolish he had been to believe that Elizabeth could heal the damage inflicted by Sunshine, how naive to trust in Escanor’s words over his own understanding of the man’s life — he would no doubt face scathing ire from the Sins, who loved Escanor as a comrade and a friend. And the Celestial Realm is in ruins, hardly fit to live in. Mael is well and truly alone in this world, and he presses himself to his feet and lifts his gaze to study the first blooming stars. He does not know where he will go from here, but he decides that, before he meets whatever fate is in store for him, he will honor those who lost their lives in this senseless war.

He will reignite the flames of the Feast.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Mael stands in the center of the courtyard, watching as the sun begins its slow trek below the horizon. It is cold now, the seasons caught between autumn and winter, and the ivy that climbs the stone pillars is a vibrant, otherworldly green against the tawny hues of the rest of the world, and his breath condenses on the inside of the mask he wears. Only the Grace that had returned to him keeps him from truly feeling the chill; he is shirtless, his feet bare, and without Sunshine he would be trembling. Surrounding him are torches, burning brightly against the oncoming gloom, plates of food and wine at their bases, and a pile of dead branches waits for him to set it alight. His mind is as clear as it can be, his limbs tense for the dance he will perform. When the sun kisses the edge of the sky, he leans over and presses one of his own torches to the kindling, and the bonfire, soaked in oil, roars to life.

Then Mael begins to dance.

It is Ludoshel he thinks of first, the brother he had all but worshipped in his youth. He remembers his first flight—more of a glide, really, his wings too small and his feathers too new to hold him aloft for more than a few moments—how Ludoshel beamed with pride as he landed awkwardly on his feet and ruffled the hair that never laid as prettily as his own. Nights passed with stories, his brother tracing the constellations in the sky and telling them how they came to be: the Warrior, forever chasing the Queen he loved; the clever Fox that marked the beginning of autumn, the Saint and the King and the Dove, until Mael’s head was full of starlight and dreams. Ludoshel’s comfort when he was injured, his hands calloused yet soothing as he bandaged scrapes. Ludoshel, his voice hoarse with held-back tears as he clapped Mael on the shoulder and congratulated him on becoming an Archangel. His brother, and confidante, who had his flaws yet was always good to him.

Mael flicks out an arm, the torch in that hand dangling by his fingertips. To my brother, without whom I would not be. I thank you.

Escanor comes next. Though they had barely known each other at all, the man had been full of kindness and love, the type of person Mael wished he had been three thousand years ago. Their meeting had been violent, to be sure, but even then, even as Estarossa, he had felt a genuine respect for the one who stood against his decree, and knows now that Sunshine did not aid him in that feat. Escanor had not been capable of hatred; his heart was too pure, his capacity for understanding too great. Even in his grief, he had not been cruel, each action meant to end Mael’s life as quickly and cleanly as possible. Well, perhaps that is too generous, but whether or not Escanor knew that Cruel Sun would cause a slow death, Mael does not know. They had been bound by Sunshine and Mael had found him, and Escanor had pleaded with him, not once but twice, refusing to accept the self-loathing brewing within Mael’s chest.

He crouches, twisting the torches over his head in a shower of sparks. To Escanor, who was all that I hoped to be and more. I thank you.

Sariel, who taught him to read the affection that lurked beneath abrasive words, and Tarmiel, the one who had never given up his hope that Mael was good, both dead by his hands. Sariel’s tongue had always been like sandpaper, yet he had been the one to teach him how to be agile, how to stay moving in the air so no one enemy could get close enough to do him harm. Tarmiel, gentle and sweet, had encouraged him, shown him the proper way to grip a sword and how he could use his size to make his opponents think he was slower than he was to keep the upper hand. Monspeet, an unwilling victim of the illness that had festered within Mael as the decree at away at his sanity; Derieri, who sacrificed herself in an attempt to save him; Oslo, who was Rou, a loyal companion that devoured Mael’s magic so that the Fairy King could live.

Without that, without them, he would not have survived, and he lets the fire lick his shoulders as he draws the torches along his chest. To those who gave themselves so that I would be free. I thank you.

In one fluid movement, he lunges forward and places the torches atop the fire, his magic working to heal his hands even as they burn. Then he steps back, removing the mask he had carved from silver aspen and the ceremonial trousers woven from red-dyed wool before placing them within the pile as well, the flames devouring the hopes and prayers held within the objects, turning them into smoke that will hopefully reach the souls they are meant for. The sun is long gone now, the moon at the apex of its journey, and the sweat that had formed as he danced grows cold along his legs and back. Mael picks up the flask of wine he’d brought for himself and opens it to drink, uncaring of his nudity. He must watch until the fire dies, and then he can rest until dawn. Checking the offerings will come in the morning; so he sits and drinks and fasts till only embers remain, smoldering against the shattered stone.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The next morning, he exits his makeshift home, exhausted and more than a little hungover. A quick Invigorate cures him of the latter, but his bones ache as he treks by to the courtyard to clean up the remnants from the Feast. It is an unusually bright day, the sky clear and free of clouds, and the sun warms his back as he kneels down to inspect the first of the offerings, finding it nearly gone. With a faint smile, he moves to the next, and the next, and the last, and each of them has been disturbed more than the birds are capable of, the gifts picked thoroughly and more than half-missing. The sign of a good Feast and answered prayers lifts a weight Mael hadn’t realized he was carrying from his shoulders. He knows that he is by no means forgiven for the atrocities he committed, yet the sight of empty baskets puts him at ease; perhaps now those left behind can begin their healing. He pauses next to the remains of the bonfire to tilt his head back, studying the clear blue stretching endlessly above his head.

“Autumn,” Ludoshel says, placing a hand on his shoulder with a smile, “is a time of rest so that we can be reborn anew, like all that the Supreme Deity’s light touches.”

“I miss you,” Mael replies.

His voice echoes flatly in the air, and he closes his eyes against the grief that swells within him. Rest to be reborn anew.

Footsteps crunch over the dirt, drawing Mael’s attention to the ruined stairs. To his surprise, Meliodas is standing there, his hands in his pockets as he surveys their surroundings, his brows furrowed with what can only be contemplation. Then his green eyes cut across the theater to Mael, and his usual grin slides into place. “I thought I’d find you here,” he says cheerfully, crossing to him. “Or hoped, actually, but Elizabeth said this is where you were most likely to go.”

Mael can only stare at him while his mind tries to comprehend Meliodas being in the Celestial Realm. “Why?” he asks.

He supposes it could have meant why are you looking for me, or why did Elizabeth send you, and Meliodas chooses to answer the former. “I have a proposition for you.” He scratches the back of his head. “Well, the Sins do. With Escanor gone, we’re short one, and all of us are used to fighting with Sunshine around. So we want you to join us. There probably won’t be much fighting,” Meliodas adds when Mael stiffens, “since the war is over, which means you’ll mostly be helping run the Boar’s Hat and keeping the peace when we have to.”

He isn’t sure what to make of the offer. “I’m not sure I’m suited to becoming his legacy.”

Meliodas waves his hand dismissively. “No one’s asking for that, or for you to become the Sin of Pride. We’re offering a home, and a chance to do something other than stay here, alone.” His gaze is calculating now as he looks at Mael, almost as though he is daring him to refuse, and he nearly smiles as the old, Estarossa-like desire to meet the challenge swells within him.

“Alright,” Mael agrees. “I’ll go with you. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Buy me a drink.”

Meliodas grins, holding out a hand that Mael clasps warmly within his own, and there’s a rush of fear, longing and hope that makes him tremble. Be reborn, he thinks. I’ll try my best, brother.

#nnt #nanatsu no taizai #mael #nnt mael #nnt fanfic #nnt fanfiction #my writing #myfic #oneshot #zine work

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author-morgan · 4 years

Note

Oof I have a craving for Jealous!Alexios, but I can't decide between post-Deimos Alexios or just good ole Regular Alexios?? It's an ongoing struggle! But then I'm also intrigued at Alexios meeting Eivor, or post-Deimos Alexios fighting alongside Kass and absolutely LOSING it when she gets injured in battle? I... *sigh*... take your pick if any of these interest you! I trust you and your writing :P

sorry it took so long, but here ya go! went with jealous Deimos, hope you don’t mind.

Deimos!Alexios x fem!Reader

DEIMOS ADJUSTS THE bronze fibulae at his shoulder, shifting around on his feet —uncomfortable with how vulnerable he feels wearing the deep scarlet exomis. He is not used to being without the black-and-gold armor of the Cult nor without his sword but tonight duty demands it. Part of his unease fades as he watches you on the opposite side of the room.

The nigh threadbare material of your chiton puddles around your feet, but you are quick to slide into the deep blue peplos. “Aphrodite would be envious,” he remarks moving to stand before you, in his hand is a golden necklace with red and green stones. Warmth rushes to your cheeks at his flattery —he had been doing that often as of late. Pulling your hair aside, Deimos drapes the jewelry over your head, securing the hook clasp at the back of your neck.

“It’s not wise to invoke her wrath, Deimos,” you chide. The goddess rarely took kindly to being compared to mortals. He rolls his eyes and unwittingly reaches out, thumb tracing over your cheek —tinted pink with crushed rose and red wine. The urge in his heart says to give into years of longing and kiss you, but there is a lump in his throat, and it does not fade. You look up at him, wondering what thoughts plague his mind, and why he ignores the clear connection time has forged between you. Sighing, you step back, and his hand falls back to his side —clenching into a tight fist. “We should go,” you remind him. Deimos nods.

Samos is unlike the rest of the Greek world, despite the corruption of its leader —it is peaceful and prosperous. The agora of the polis is filled with famed Samian wine and oils coveted by Athenian citizens and Olympic athletes alike. Compared to the busy streets of Kirrha and the constant influx of pilgrims seeking wisdom in Delphi, you think a quiet place such as this would not be such a terrible place to live. The thought brings a distant dream back to the forefront of your mind as you look around the seaside city and to Deimos at your side. Maybe one day we can stay in a place like this, you think.

“I despise these things,” he says, brows settling into a deep furrow as you both stop at the villa’s entrance. Deimos preferred to keep to himself if he could not be with you, and he dreads large gatherings —like the one you must attend tonight. The Cult suspects Lasthenes of Samos is dealing information to their adversaries and slowing them from reaching their goals in the Southern Sporades. They have sent their champion to find if there are any truths in the rumors —you accompany him as a temper. Of all the people in Hellas, only you could quell the fire when it burned too hot in Deimos.

You reach for his hand out of impulse —surprised when he slips his fingers between yours. “I don’t care for them either,” you tell him, something about symposiums always puts you on edge, “but at least we’re together.” His lips kink into a fleeting smile, it feels like a small victory to know you are at his side. It does not last long, though as the ladies in attendance sweep you away into conversation, leaving the men to the andron and courtyard.

Time blurs with the droning gossip, tiring of the talk you slip down the stairs from the rooftop and back to the courtyard, eyes scanning those gathered for Deimos. He is not to be seen. Sighing, you turn your sights to the kitchen —eager to fill your belly with wine. Your plan is thwarted when Lasthenes approaches, a serpent’s smile crossing his pinched face. The leader of Samos is garbed in fine robes bought with the blood of innocents.

“Aphrodite has come to visit Samos it seems,” Lasthenes remarks, lifting a jeweled hand to your cheek. You step away from the leader, turning your cheek away from his unwelcome touch. Deimos lingers just out of sight, the blood in veins beginning to boil. “Tell me how I know every face on this island–” Lasthenes steps toward you again, you back hitting one of the marble columns surrounding the perimeter of the courtyard “–and yet I have never seen yours.” It was uncommon for strangers to be invited to his symposiums —even the hetaerae had familiar faces.

You know why Deimos had been sent to Samos and Lasthenes would be more apt to dispel an accidental truth to you rather than him. Drawing in a long breath, you decide to play along. “I have traveled all the way from Delphi to be here tonight,” you tell the leader, taking the offered cup of wine. That much is true, you and Deimos had sailed from Phokis nigh a week ago and had spent two nights on Samos, waiting for tonight.

“The Goddess of love and beauty has travelled far, then,” Lasthenes says, silver-tongue not missing a beat. You laugh, brushing back what hair slips from its bindings and taking a gulp of the sweet watered wine. “Is it to your taste?” He inquires. You nod in response, though before you can speak another man, garbed in Persian robs interrupts —leaning close to whisper something in his ear.

It is not so low that you cannot overhear, though. He speaks of a meeting between a Spartan general and Persian merchant and you can make out the name Perikles on the man’s lips, too. “I’ll be there shortly,” Lasthenes replies, turning his attention back to you. “Those affairs can wait,” he assures, resting his hand on your arm, “I’d like to learn of the goddess before me.” You force a smile and however insincere it may be, Lasthenes takes no notice of it.

When the leader motions toward a private room, you spot Deimos among those gathered alas. His face is almost as red as the exomis he wears, and his hands are clenched into fight fists at his sides. You recognize the cold anger in his dark eyes, but there is something else too. Deimos storms from the villa. Had it been up to his digression, Lasthenes would be dead —anyone suspected of trading secrets would be inclined to actually do it for the right incentives. But that is not all that weighs on his mind as he leaves the symposium.

Your gaze follows Deimos until you can no longer see him. “I have to go,” you announce, somewhat apologetic while looking back over your shoulder at the leader —noticing the suspicion growing in his stare. Lasthenes says nothing as he watches you leave.

Finding Deimos is not difficult as he often ends up on a beach when something has gone wrong or is bothering him. He paces back-and-forth on the white sand before the villa. To anyone else he is a caged animal in these moments —dangerous and to be avoided— but to you he is still Deimos. You step into his path, placing your hand on the center of his chest. “Deimos,” you sigh, “what is it?” His dark gaze flicks downward before he looks at you.

Then you see the glint in his tawny-gold eyes and understand why is acting this way. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” you tell him, lips turning upward into a smile. He huffs, brows furrow, though now his anger has faded. You move the hand on his chest up to his cheek —tracing over the scar below his eye. Had it not been for having to leave earlier, perhaps something could have happened between the two of you.

Without thinking, you push up onto your toes, if Deimos will not act then you will. Your lips find his under the silver light of the moon and stars. His hands are quick to settle on your hips, pulling you closer. It feels like a dream and if it is, Deimos never wishes to wake. All his unease fades into nothing. Feet entangled in the excess fabric of your peplos, you topple forward —not expecting it, both you and Deimos fall back into the sand.

“You don’t have to worry about anyone else, Deimos,” you confess. Flattery and gifts could never buy your love or affection, for your heart already belonged to another. His fingers brush your cheek, moving back into your hair. Despite his sour mood and what had transpired at the symposium, his gaze is soft as he fights to hold back a smile. “My heart is yours.” It had been for some time.

You do not expect Deimos to say anything in turn —he is a man of few words and it may take him a while to find the right ones to say. But the way he kisses you is more than enough for now. Deimos holds you close under a clear night sky —waves breaking softly on the shoreline— as you exchange tender caresses and slow kisses, making up for lost time.

[@novastale @fjor-ok-skadi ]

#Alexios #Deimos #Alexios x Reader #Deimos x Reader #Alexios Imagine #Deimos Imagine #Alexios Fanfiction #Deimos Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #AC: Odyssey #my writing #wallsarecrumbling #requested

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

Text

Heart and Liver

Stephen and Crane are getting ready to uproot their lives and move across the globe to Shangai. Which means Stephen needs to get his mouth around an entirely new language, something he clearly isn't very comfortable with.

But Crane has a way to get him to loosen up.

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I apologise for any mistranslations in this text, I've used online articles and am very aware it won't reflect the dialect used in Shangai in the Victorian Era. Sometimes you just hear the song Sunrise from In The Heights early in your adolescence and your taste for Person A teaching Person B their language fics is solidified.

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Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 and reblogging! <3

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Stephen Day was a very good teacher.

Crane had seen the evidence himself multiple times. He’d seen him talk Miss Saint through the drills he gave her, the way he would correct her mistakes in ways that built her up rather than made her feel small, that steered her towards improvement rather than smacked her down, the way he would praise her effusively even after she’d just launched a gust of wind that had knocked him back on his arse. He’d seen the way that Saint looked at him after she’d mastered some new technique that was incomprehensible to Crane, after hours and hours of patience and encouragement from Stephen. Even through her street sharpened exterior, she would look at him like he’d hung the moon.

And he’d felt it himself, whenever the vast gulf between the worlds they knew would mean Stephen had to explain some magical phenomenon to him. His hands would twitch and turn as he spoke, like he was physically untangling the words themselves to make them understandable. Even if after he was done Crane could only smile and shake his head and shrug, expecting his lover to give up, Stephen would just launch into a slightly tweaked version of his explanation. He’d liken it to something Crane would grasp, analogise etheric currents to stocks and bonds or, in one memorable instance, translocation spells to this thing Crane would do to Stephen in bed whenever he’d either been very good or very bad. And then suddenly things would click in his mind and what, a few years ago, would have sounded like a fairy tale made sense to him.

He’d even seen him do it with Merrick a few times, the usually gruff manservant had taken one look at what Stephen could do with a pack of cards and began watching his hands very, very attentively whenever they’d all sit down to play of an evening. Even then, Stephen had recognised a different, slightly more hesitant student and adjusted his teaching style accordingly. He’d said nothing, he’d just made his movements slower, clearly telegraphed every twist of his slender wrists, casually dropped the names of the maneuvers he was making into conversation. He’d even deliberately flubbed the shuffles a few times, just so Merrick could see the mechanism more clearly as he righted it. It had worked as well as any of his other methods, Crane felt sorry for the boiler room lads on their boat to Shanghai, likely the first people his friend would approach with his new skills.

Stephen was indeed a brilliant teacher. He was patient, kindly when needed, firm when it was called for and always gave everything he had to helping his student achieve their goal. He cared, as simple as that.

So it was both a surprise and a shame that Stephen was such an appalling student.

Crane shifted on the bed, trying to fidget away his growing impatience, along with the growing cramps in his long legs, “Try again, you’re putting too much emphasis on the second syllable. Hunzhang.”

Stephen huffed, arms folding tighter, “I’m putting emphasis on the second syllable because you told me I was putting too much on the first!”

Crane stamped down an urge to laugh that would definitely get him kicked out of the bedroom. Stephen was just inexplicably adorable when he was irritated, it was like watching a puppy bare its teeth.

“Come on, listen to how I say it. Hunzhang.”

Stephen gave him a truly devastating eye roll but he sat up straighter against the bolsters and tried again, “Hunzhang.”

Crane grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Not something he’d ever dare do in one of his fine suits but the sun had long since gone down and he was in his shirtsleeves. Stephen was considerably less dressed, wearing nothing but an older shirt of Crane’s he tended to sleep in. Or get fucked in, more often, but that was having to wait for the language lesson.

“Hark at you! You’d fit right in, any trading floor in Shanghai,” Crane beamed appreciatively. He was being generous, Stephen’s pronunciation was dire but that shirt was riding up and he could see enough freckled thigh to earn some praise, “And what does it mean?”

His little witch pulled a face, “Bullshit. Because, for some reason, you think learning how to curse up one side of someone and down the other is going to help me in Shangai.”

“It’s how I learned,” Crane shrugged languidly, “And you’d be surprised how far a few well placed insults can get you.”

Stephen’s mouth tightened at the corners, his tone staying mildly irritated but that slightest pull of muscle betraying his anxiety, “I’m going to stick out enough on my own without accidentally calling someone a stupid egg of all things.”

Crane’s teasing smile softened. Their departure date was now less than a month away and he could tell Stephen’s nerves were growing by the day. As they prepared to pack up their lives and move to the other side of the world, he could see those lines around his tawny eyes deepening. Part of the reason for this language lesson was to get Stephen more comfortable with the idea, give him some sense of control over the situation so he didn’t feel so much like he was being thrown into deep, unfamiliar water.

Part of the reason why Crane wished it was going better.

“You’re not going to stick out,” he said firmly, reaching over and taking one of Stephen’s hands that had started to twitch and fidget nervously on the bed, “We’re going there so we can belong. You’ll see.”

Stephen nodded slowly, his anxious hands stilling as Crane’s slender fingers stroked the hills and valleys of their calluses and knuckles. Any attention to his hands and the younger man instantly melted, becoming pliant and gentle, receptive to even more language lessons.

“Let’s run through a few words that won’t get you punched in the teeth then?”

Stephen blinked warily, “God, how likely is that?”

Crane had to laugh, “Honestly, quite likely someone will swing for you. Impossible that any will actually land seeing as I’ll be knocking them into the dirt.”

That made him grin toothily, “Defending my honour?”

“The amount of time I spend defending you from people you piss off, might as well call it my profession,” Crane raised his eyebrows teasingly, “But you’re not changing the subject that easily, darling. Let’s see…”

Crane’s cool grey eyes wandered the room. They hadn’t started packing yet- that would be a job for the next few weeks- so the evidence of their secret shared life was still scattered all over the place. There were a few ties carefully hung on the back of the door from Crane choosing which one he wanted to wear that morning, draped next to Stephen’s ratty old coat. There were Stephen’s books on the occult stacked neatly alongside Crane’s stories of far flung places and grand adventures that he’d been reading since he was a little boy, for escape back then and for nostalgia now. There was the scuff marks on the carpet where Stephen would pace whenever some case had been bothering him or the twin marks running parallel to those where Crane would pace with ledgers in hand. Behind these walls, their lives could get hopelessly, wonderfully tangled like they were meant to be. And given that neither man was particularly good at keeping things neat, that left plenty of items and plenty of words.

Crane took a moment, considering before giving him an easy one, “Xié.”

Stephen sat up a little straighter, eyes brightening now he actually had an answer, “Shoes.”

Crane nodded, gesturing towards their shoes, standing side by side at the foot of the wardrobe. Crane’s significantly larger and better made, Stephen’s smaller and far more scuffed from running.

“Shūjià,” he chose next, smile turning challenging.

Stephen clearly stumbled at that, brow furrowing for a few minutes before answering hesitantly, “Book?”

“Close!” Crane said encouragingly, “Bookshelf. Book would be Shū but you can hear how the words sound similar.”

His tone didn’t seem to have done it’s job, Stephen’s face crashed, “Right. I only missed half the damn word.” He took his hands back, folding his arms tightly around his narrow chest again.

Crane knew if Stephen felt dejected, if he felt like he had failed even in the slightest respect, it was so hard to get him going again. For someone who could do impossible things, he didn’t have a lot of faith in himself.

“Come on, one more,” he said, quickly veering away from that word, “You’re on one and a half already! Try...um...Chuáng.”

Stephen opened his mouth, closed it again, cast his eyes around helplessly. After a few moments he groaned, shoulders dropping, “Lucien, I don’t know…”

“You do, you’re just tired,” Crane sighed, a little lost on how to sound encouraging but not patronising, that would absolutely bring this to an end if Stephen caught the slightest hint of pity in his voice, “Chuáng, it's right under your nose. Right under all of you, actually.”

His witch frowned at him, frustration clearly kindled and flaring behind his eyes, “What? Lucien, if you have to give me hints I clearly don’t know the word.”

Crane rather felt like somehow who’d realised that was in fact a waterfall his boat was about to topple over. He cleared his throat and learned back, reevaluating. He was starting to worry that maybe Stephen wasn’t such a bad student, maybe he was just a terrible teacher.

So he would go for something they were both good at instead.

“It was the word for bed,” he skipped lightly over it, his confident smile reignighting, “But I have a new game.”

Stephen exhaled, eyes closing in exasperation, “Lucien, I’m burned out on language learning, can’t we just go to sleep? It was hard enough for me to read and write English, let alone a completely different tongue.”

That very obvious, very heavy shift in the air between them, the kind that only happened when someone had let something slip, when some words had bolted and run loose when they really weren’t meant to. And if it wasn’t obvious already, Stephen’s face had turned roughly the same colour as his hair.

Crane proceeded carefully, so carefully, “What do you mean by that, love?”

His lover seemed to fold in on himself, like a nocturnal animal caught out in the daylight, “I...it’s a practitioner thing. They call it word blindness, I think. When I was a child, I...I struggled. Reading, writing, speaking, all of it. They just wouldn’t stay still on the page or stick in my head. Esther had the same thing when she was a girl and you know Saint’s never got the hang of it but she gets along fine. I...I thought I was just an imbecile for years, that's what all my teachers said, until I realised what I actually was. Until I realised I can manipulate metal and make things levitate easier than I can write my own name.”

Crane watched his love’s face carefully, making certain to keep his own free of any trace of pity even when his heart ached a little for the boy Stephen had been, “Just when I think I can't admire you any more, you go and surprise me.”

If Stephen was red in the face before, he was positively vermillion now, though the hope hesitantly creeping into his eyes offset it nicely, “You find it admirable that I was nearly illiterate until I turned twenty?”

“That you tried,” Crane said simply, warmly, “That you didn’t give up even when you were put through so much. That you’ve gotten through everything life threw at you with sheer determination and spit.”

Stephen didn’t have an answer for that, squirming in that adorable way he did when he was overwhelmed with praise, like it all went straight to his nerve endings, “I mean...it’s making learning Shangaiese a pain.”

“And if you want to take a break, of course we can,” Crane shifted forward, moving into a crouch not unlike a hunting animal about to pounce, close enough that he caught every millimeter as Stephen’s pupils widened, “But I think I have one more idea I’d like to try. If you’re willing?”

Stephen had stopped squirming, pinned under that gaze, swallowing hard, “One more?”

Crane felt that twinge in his chest, the spark of triumph whenever he got this little witch who could throw him across the room with a single thought to bow to his whims.

He deliberately lowered his voice until it was a rumble in his chest, leaning closer until he could graze Stephen’s earlobe with his teeth, “Why don’t you tell me what you’d like to say?”

Stephen’s exhale was shaky, the want rolling off of him, “How...how do you say ‘kiss me’?”

Crane chuckled roughly, “Wěn wǒ. Though I don’t think that’s really what you want, sweet boy. It’s a little...chaste?”

He heard his lover’s coy answering laugh echo through his through, “To start. Wěn wǒ.”

The pronunciation could still use a little work but that was the last thing on Crane’s mind as he answered the request eagerly, moving back and pressing his lips to Stephen’s. He felt his little witch moan and melt into it, arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders and anchor them together. The scrape of stubble against his chin as he deepened their kiss told of the hectic few days Stephen had been having, so much happening at the justiciary that he hadn’t even had time to shave. Crane knew how lucky he was to be getting a whole evening with him and didn’t intend to waste it.

He could feel Stephen’s hands pulling at his shirt, trying to undress him, so he moved away and took hold of those skinny wrists, “You need to ask me.”

Stephen moaned in frustration but Crane rather thought it was his cock talking, the gleam of competition was still shining in those eyes rapidly turning golden, “Fine. My lord, how do I ask you to take off your clothes so you can fuck me silly?”

Crane had to laugh at that, “Well, I’ll shorten it for brevity but...Tuō diào nǐ de yīfú.”

Stephen’s eyes widened for a moment but then his face set determinedly, “Say it again? Slower?”

A mix of relief and pride in his lover made him smile down at him before obeying. He saw that fight in Stephen, the one he’d always admired, the one that had saved their skins on multiple occasions. Granted, it was a little different given that he was clearly aroused and sprawled out on the pillows like a half unwrapped gift.

“Tuō diào nǐ de yīfú.”

Again, the pronunciation was a horror and he wobbled his way through the unfamiliar sounds but he would have been understood at least. Not that he’d be saying it to anyone but Crane, in China or England.

Crane didn’t try to hide his delighted grin as he swept his shirt grandly over his head, followed swiftly by his trousers and everything underneath. He folded it all neatly before returning to the bed, he was never going to understand his lover’s willingness to just toss his clothes all over the place.

The way Stephen’s eyes blew wide at the sight of him was enough for even Crane to plumb new depths of vanity, “God, Lucien…”

“You see me sans modesty most every day, love,” he pointed out, though he wasn’t complaining.

“And I use my magic every day,” Stephen tilted his head slightly so the lamplight caught in his hair and turned it to gold, “It doesn’t mean it’s any less like having a weight taken off my chest.”

Crane didn’t know how he did it, how Stephen somehow found the right strings to pull and send him reeling out of nowhere. How he pulled the ground out from under him without a thought, how he looked right under his skin to the very soul of him and, somehow, found reasons to love it.

How he left him with no answer but to rush forward and kiss him again, forgetting the rules of his own game. Stephen made a noise of happy surprise, moving to match him, hands beginning to wander eagerly, leaving tingling trails across his lover’s skin to mark their passage.

But apparently Crane had sparked some curiosity.

When Stephen took his cock in his clever champagne fingers, he gasped against Crane’s mouth, “And what would I call this?”

His words came out significantly breathier as that fizzing, popping sensation wrapped around him, “There’s a few terms. I’d say jība…”

“Jība,” it was impossible to care about the shaky syllables when he rolled it around his mouth in that unbearably sensual way, when he stroked a calloused thumb across the underside of the thing in question as he said it, “But there’s other ways of saying it?”

“A few more colourful phrases,” Crane admitted, “As in every language I expect but- oh God, Stephen…”

“We can review a few of those later then,” the smile on his face was nothing short of cheeky and he was going to be paying for that very shortly, “And...what exactly are you planning on doing with it, my lord?”

Crane smirked, it’s wickedly sharp edge making it clear that he was very much in control of this lesson and Stephen could just take a step back and remember his place, “Xìngjiāo. Hard and fast and thoroughly until you can’t walk.”

The effect was immediate, his lover turning pliant and wide eyed as Crane put a hand on the small of his back and dragged him closer. The hand snapped away from his cock and instead hovered around his chest with the other like nervous birds waiting for commands.

“Shì de…” he whispered after a moment of thought, eyes sparking with pride in himself though his face stayed carefully obedient.

Well, that went and did it.

Stephen was on his back in an instant, Crane seizing his ankles. Stephen cried out as his knees were shoved to his chest, as the shirt he wore rucked up around his stomach, all of him exposed and ready to be taken. So beautiful, so fragile and given to him so willingly.

“Xīngān…” The word escaped him even without thinking, like it was his heart speaking instead of his head.

Stephen’s lips parted softly, his eyes liquid amber, “What does that mean?”

Lucien’s smile softened slightly, even as he parted his legs further, as he let his hunger flow to the surface.

“Why don’t I show you first?”

After, everything was hot and heavy and heaving, Stephen reclining in Lucien’s arms and waiting for the room to stop spinning around him.

There was so much he wanted to say, as ever, thousands of emotions he wanted to name in the wake of feeling so completely loved but he knew they’d come out muddy and less than what he felt inside him.

Instead he reached up a still trembling hand and traced the line of Lucien’s jaw with a fingertip, “So...what does it mean?”

His lover’s eyes had been closed but now one opened slightly, like a contented cat lying in the sun, “Hm? What’s that, darling?”

“That thing you called me as you took me. Xīngān. What does it mean?”

An uncharacteristic edge of coyness slipped into his voice, one that would only ever come out when it was just the two of them, “Ah. Well. Literally? It means ‘heart and liver’.”

Stephen barked out a raspy laugh, incredulous and delighted, “Excuse me? That was what you chose to call me?”

His laughter was clearly infectious, Lucien shook under him with helpless chuckles, “I know how it sounds but…”

There was a moment, one of those moments where Stephen felt his lover made a choice. They happened often when they were alone together and it would have been so easy to read them as hesitancy. Before, when Stephen had been new to this, when he’d been less sure of himself, that’s exactly what he’d thought it was. He’d taken it to mean Lucien’s heart was already wandering, already thinking of the next man in his bed, fixing a mask in place before every term of endearment.

But he knew better now. He knew that pause, that moment where Lucien chose, was the breath he needed to go against everything he’d been taught. The choice he made in those moments was to open himself up and soften when the world had always forced him to stay out of sight and harden against everything that hurt him.

He moved slightly, letting Stephen turn so they could look into each other’s eyes, “It means ‘heart and liver’ because those are organs you can’t live without. And your Xīngān is the person you can’t live without, the person who you aren’t whole without. And for me, well...that’s you, sweet boy.”

“Lucien…” Stephen murmured, pressing a hand to his chest, “You’ll never have to live without me. Not here, not in Shanghai, nowhere in this world. I’m yours.”

“My heart and liver,” Lucien chuckled softly, cradling Stephen’s face in the softest touch.

“Xīngān,” he breathed, in the moment before their lips came together.

Stephen Day was a terrible student. But he was learning.

#charm of magpies #stephen day #lucien crane #lucien vaudrey #smut and fluff #com #k j charles

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