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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

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Dream SMP Recap (June 18/2021) - The Outpost Conflict

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I’m trying out a bit of a new format today! Let me know which one you prefer, or if there’s anything you’d like to suggest!

Maybe it will stick, maybe it won’t, but since a lot happened today, this recap is less edited-down than usual and it’s put beneath a cut with some extra labels for each big “section.” I’ll probably continue to stick to the normal format for less story-heavy days.

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The day starts off normal enough, with Ponk building a statue and Foolish working on a gas station.

When Ranboo and Tubbo begin building out a new wall to expand their outpost, though, Quackity comes online to confront them with Purpled and Foolish, getting into a heated territorial dispute.

Tommy meets Slime and begins constructing a railway around Las Nevadas, speaking with Quackity along the way. Slime ends up getting kidnapped over a conflict surrounding Linda the shovel.

After Tubbo tells him about some history that surprises him, Ranboo tries to think through how he feels about it until he comes across a visitor at the outpost.

Ranboo later gets into another lengthy debate with Quackity about the border conflict, after which Quackity speaks with Purpled and Foolish about a possible new plan for Las Nevadas:

An underground district of the city.

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VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Tubbo

Captain Puffy

Tommyinnit

Ranboo

BadBoyHalo

QuackityToo

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DREAM SMP RECAP: JUNE 18, 2021

!! UNDER THE CUT !!

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SECTIONS:

1. Tom Bee

2. Quackity’s Arrival

3. Tommy and Slime Arrive

4. Ranboo and Slime

5. Quackity vs. Ranboo, Area 51

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--- TOM BEE ---

- Ponk tells his landlord story to chat at the Thiccatron

- He makes copious amounts of TNT. He goes and places a single piece on top of the rebuilt Pickle’s head

- Ponk goes to the summer home and brings his supplies to his shack there, then creates a giant statue of Tom Bee wired with redstone

- Foolish logs on by where Ponk is standing. He turns around to see the present

- Ponk places down a sign:

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MOON = FAKE

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and immediately logs out.

- Foolish tries shooting the target block and the Tom Bee statue blinks. Ponk logs back on to say he passed the test, and the next one will be in four working days. He logs back out again

- Foolish sneaks over to the outpost. Ranboo is there, and Foolish keeps stealthy. He spies on Ranboo from the wall until Ranboo notices and comes over, breaking his cover

- Ranboo tells him to leave. Foolish asks for a cookie and Ranboo gives him some

- They discuss gas stations and Foolish asks if he can have a summer job at the outpost to pay off loans. Ranboo declines, as they already have three employees (himself, Tubbo and the guard fox)

- Foolish leaves to start building a gas station just off the main road to Las Nevadas

- Tubbo and Ranboo begin constructing a new wall for the outpost, expanding it outwards

--- QUACKITY’S ARRIVAL ---

- Quackity logs on and whispers to Foolish that there’s an issue. The two speak in Las Nevadas

- Quackity looks at the outpost. Foolish explains the new wall came about extremely quickly. The two walk to the outpost, remarking that it doesn’t look like much of a “cookie outpost”

- Quackity has an idea, and he wants Foolish’s warrior experience for guidance. He’s thinking of covering up the river, making that their border, and building up an even bigger wall. He starts placing down cobblestone to demonstrate

- Ranboo spots Quackity building up outside the outpost, putting his armor on

- Quackity says the walls can’t get any closer. Ranboo challenges this

- Foolish starts building up beside Quackity. The two build a tall wall of cobblestone outside

- Tubbo and Ranboo consider blowing up the ugly wall.

- Purpled comes over to join Quackity and Foolish and Quackity tells Foolish about how he recruited Purpled. Foolish’s main experience with Purpled in the past was when he hired Purpled to kill the L’Sandburgians

- As Quackity fills Purpled in on the plan, Tubbo messages back and forth with Foolish

- They join the Las Nevadans’ VC and Quackity asks why Tubbo’s cookie outpost has a giant wall. Tubbo and Ranboo say the wall is outside of Las Nevadas’ border and is on their land

- Quackity is willing to settle it in court. He tells them about some of their plans for new business and billboards. He offers for Tubbo to advertise their cookie outpost in Las Nevadas

- Quackity offers a compromise for them to take down their walls in return for the cobble wall getting taken down as well

- Quackity finds the wall threatening and asks Foolish and Purpled’s opinions on the wall. Purpled explains how the property value is being lowered by the cookie outpost wall. Tubbo whispers to Ranboo that he has several stacks of TNT

- Quackity says that he and Tubbo can have a private conversation, as Tubbo is a lawyer as well

- Tubbo and Quackity go up to the Needle to look over the land. Quackity doesn’t want Tubbo building towards his country. He doesn’t want to fight Tubbo because of their history, though

- Tubbo explains that he builds walls because he knows things he builds tend to be destroyed, and he needs protection. Quackity offers him a treaty of peace as long as Tubbo takes down the extra wall

- While Quackity and Tubbo argue, Purpled, Foolish and Ranboo stand in a circle throwing miscellaneous items at each other

- Quackity doesn’t want a repeat of L’manburg and doesn’t understand why a cookie outpost would need a wall. Tubbo suggests they get a border map drawn up

- Tubbo wants the borders to follow the river, but Quackity disagrees and wants square borders and flat lines

- While Tubbo and Quackity continue to negotiate, Purpled, Foolish and Ranboo play with a red sheep, jumping around it excitedly

- Quackity reminds Tubbo of how L’manburg started as only a drug van that turned into a massive nation. The outpost may seem innocent at first, but Quackity doesn’t want a repeat of history

- Tubbo says he wants reimbursement before he takes down the wall out of principle, since he spent a lot of time on it. Quackity points out he can’t have formed an emotional attachment to the wall already

- Purpled, Fundy and Ranboo contain the red sheep in a small pit in the ground

- Quackity quotes Sun Tzu and says that Tubbo has the high ground. Tubbo says Quackity’s painting him as the enemy

- They get a second red sheep and put it in the pit with the first one, throwing some more miscellaneous items into it

- Quackity says that Jack Manifold taking Tommy’s hotel never sat right with him. He doesn’t like the wall. He leads Tubbo back down

- They go outside to the others and continue bickering about the borders. Quackity is upset that their reunion is a legal dispute

Quackity: “Well why would you come and build this outpost right here?! Especially after not talking to me for so long?!”

Tubbo: “To be close to people -- that’s because you dropped off the radar! What did you want from me?!”

Quackity: “You saw what happened with Technoblade! Why’d you never come talk to me? Why’d you never come try and find me?”

Tubbo: “‘Cause you ran off, and, like, I dunno, I assumed you were going through stuff. So I’d never came and find you or even, like, reached out, ‘cause how was I supposed to contact you.”

- Quackity takes Tubbo into a separate call to discuss things further. Las Nevadas isn’t finished yet, and the walls jeopardize Quackity’s expansion. He’s already had a similar dispute and explains what happened with Wilbur, and how his space has become limited with both Wilbur and Eret boxing him in

- Tubbo suggests open borders. Quackity says that would mean Tubbo would be under Las Nevadas law, but Tubbo disagrees

- Quackity proposes that they consider Tubbo’s outpost an embassy of Snowchester, while everything else is under Las Nevadas’ jurisdiction

- Tubbo suggests Quackity follow the path of least resistance instead of targetting Tubbo. Quackity says he’ll deal with Wilbur and Eret, but he wants to deal with Tubbo with words. He doesn’t want the outpost there

- They return to the others having gotten nowhere. They keep bickering for several more minutes

- Tubbo asks Foolish why he changed his mind from yesterday, where Foolish built a palm tree

- Quackity says that if he doesn’t stop Tubbo and Ranboo from building this place, what’s stopping them from going around and claiming other things if he lets them have this piece of land? He has to put his foot down

- Quackity says they’ll get rid of the outpost if they don’t come to an agreement. He will not allow more expansion

Quackity: “Is that how you want to take it, Tubbo? Is that where you want to take it?”

Tubbo: “Big Q...what’s happened to you?”

“What’s happened to you, Tubbo?! I’m making a really fair request! I have a country in the middle of nowhere and you decided to come in front of my country and build this massive structure, which you call a cookie outpost -- really, it’s a military outpost! It’s a strategic military outpost, that’s what it is.”

Tubbo: “Yeah, that’s what it is.”

Quackity: “Why wouldn’t you choose -- what?”

- Whether it is or isn’t, Tubbo says, is his business. Quackity says it is his business since it’s right by his country

Quackity: “I’ll bleed and die for my country, Tubbo. Whether it be you, Tommy, whoever else, I’ll bleed and die for my goddamn country!”

- Quackity would rather they come to a compromise. Tubbo says it’s hard to come to a compromise with someone who isn’t compromising

- Quackity doesn’t know why Tubbo would want a strategic military position outside of Las Nevadas and he doesn’t have a good history with walls. He doesn’t want there to be conflict

Quackity: "Tubbo, I'm going to get rid of this cookie outpost."

Tubbo: "Best of luck."

- There’s not enough space in this land. Foolish asks about how Tubbo is with Tommy and Wilbur, how they might join them

- Ranboo says he’s never been violent and they aren’t a threat. Quackity reminds Ranboo about what happened with George’s house, and there’s a first time for everything

- Quackity once believed in peace, and it didn’t work out for him

- Tubbo states that whether or not the outpost is a military base, it doesn’t matter, it could go either way. They should take it up at a later date, once he’s thought things through.

- The two speak in private again

Tubbo: “Hey, so you said you play a lot of Civ V, right?”

Quackity: “Yeah.”

Tubbo: “Are you aware of what Gandhi does in Civ V?”

- While Quackity starts telling him to explain himself, Tubbo immediately hangs up on him. Tubbo returns to the outpost

- Meanwhile, Quackity speaks with Ranboo with Foolish and Purpled. Ranboo warns Quackity to not do anything that would directly harm Tubbo

- Ranboo leaves and Quackity talks with Foolish. For the time being, they’re keeping the Las Nevadas walls up

- Ranboo speaks with Tubbo. Tubbo says they won’t try to fight Quackity. He hasn’t done anything bad towards them yet, and has two other fronts to deal with

- Foolish tells Quackity about how Tubbo lost a nuke, and they aren’t sure who would have it. Las Nevadas isn’t giving into them

- Quackity tells the other two that everyone is going to look for conflict, and he wants to give them a chance to back out now

Foolish: “I’ve been in the sand long enough, and...I think it’s time to change things.”

Purpled: “If I went through all of that just to leave this place, I don’t know where I’d be or what I’d do. I mean there’s not really other options for me, are there.”

- Quackity asks how powerful the nukes are. Foolish tells him he’s seen where they built them and they’ve done a test

- Las Nevadas needs the walls. Quackity wants to run tests with canons to test strength of materials

- Foolish asks who’s a part of Las Nevadas. Foolish hasn’t met Slime yet

- Meanwhile, Tubbo and Ranboo listen to a disc together at the outpost, looking out across the land

- They plan to just let Quackity cool off a bit. Ranboo has no quarrel with Quackity and thinks he’s probably a good person. Tubbo says he’s done some questionable things

- Tubbo tells him Quackity was actually the whole driving force behind Technoblade’s execution. Ranboo doesn’t hold it against him. Tubbo’s worried he’s been on his own for so long that he doesn’t know how the world works anymore

- Tubbo also says that Quackity wanted to execute Ranboo, but Tubbo managed to talk him down

Tubbo: “...Did you know I got executed?”

Ranboo: “Hm?”

Tubbo: “Yeah, I know. Have I never told you this?”

Ranboo: “H -- no, you -- you have -- you -- you did?”

Tubbo: “Yeah. Technoblade. Blew me up.”

Ranboo: “What? He -- why did he blow you up?”

Tubbo: “He was peer-pressured into it by Schlatt and Big Q.”

Ranboo: “Like -- by Quackity again?”

Tubbo: “Yeah, see, I’m starting to establish a pattern of behavior, if you know what I mean.”

- He cautions Ranboo to keep it in the back of his mind in regards to Quackity

Ranboo: “Are you -- are you okay? From that?”

Tubbo: “Yeah, I’m fine. Yeah, you know, a little bit burnt from the firework explosions, but you know, it’s fine.”

- Tubbo’s concerned that there might be something sinister going on beneath the surface of Las Nevadas, which is why he wants to observe. If it’s between violence and nonviolence, though, he wants to do things nonviolently if possible

Ranboo: “Are we doing the right thing?”

Tubbo: “Um...we’re kinda just chilling out, we’re doing our own thing. I mean, right and wrong depends on which side you are. Right and wrong isn’t really a fair way to describe things, like, I’ve done shitty things. You’ve done -- you’ve unknowingly done shitty things, but you know.”

Ranboo: “Am I a bad person because of that?”

Tubbo: “No. Like I said, right and wrong just depends what side you’re on.”

Ranboo: “Okay...you would tell me if I was a bad person though, right?”

Tubbo: “Yeah, I’d tell you if you step out of line. And, like so, you’d do the same for me, yeah?”

Ranboo: “Yeah, yeah, of course, of course.”

Tubbo: “Yeah.”

Ranboo: “We’ll just be...safe.”

Tubbo: “Yeah, if we just stick to our side of the river...”

- And if all hell breaks loose, they have a deterrent

- Quackity takes the Las Nevadans to the side of the outpost and says he wants weapons there. They discuss plans for where to build their wall

- Foolish asks who’s the bigger threat to Las Nevadas right now. Quackity isn’t as worried about Tommy and Wilbur, whereas Ranboo and Tubbo have done rapid expansion

- Foolish has several stacks of obsidian. He asks if Quackity wants any sabotage happening...

- Quackity says that if they so much as destroy a single block of sand, they will react. But until then, they’ll just create the wall. He likes where Foolish’s mind is going, though

Foolish: “Making me feel young again, Quackity!”

- Sam mentioned having a gunpowder farm. Quackity will speak with him

- Quackity asks Foolish about this thing called “L’Sandburg...” Foolish starts explaining it. He says it’s a similar dispute to this one with BadBoyHalo

- Quackity isn’t sure what Tubbo’s relationship with Tommy is nowadays. Foolish tried asking about it and it seems like they went their separate ways

- Quackity asks Foolish and Purpled at how good they are at PvP. Purpled’s pretty good, Foolish might be a bit rusty. Quackity is awful and asks if they could help him train

- Quackity asks Purpled what his relationship with Dream was back in the day. Back in the days of L’manburg, Purpled didn’t have a strong allegiance to anyone. There was never any point where he and Dream really spoke much. Same with everyone else

- As for who Purpled got along with...not really anyone in particular. There was no one person that Purpled was long-term friends with. He spoke with Punz some, but hasn’t seen him in a while. (Foolish saw him recently making a giant trampoline)

- Foolish talks about the missing nuke and mentions he used to be part of Snowchester -- Quackity, hearing this, presses him on it, surprised to learn it. Foolish joined in his first few days, but they kept things from him

- Quackity asks if Snowchester ever tested the nukes, how much damage they could do. Foolish saw the crater

- Quackity asks Purpled if he was there for the destruction of L’manburg. Foolish wasn’t, but Purpled was. Nukes weren’t used, but it was destroyed all the way down to bedrock. If they could replicate that device for defense purposes...

- Foolish also suggests they put together one of the flying versions of the TNT machines. TNT flying bombers. Quackity likes the idea. He wants to be ready for anything

- Quackity tells them both about what happened with Wilbur

Quackity: “When someone goes and claims a part of your land, you don’t really know how to react. But Wilbur took that plot of land and claimed it as his own. What I should’ve done was prevent it from escalating...”

- Foolish asks if Quackity plans to recruit other people. There are a lot of people Quackity hasn’t spoken to, and if he finds people with potential, he might ask them

Quackity: “We don’t want sleepy people in the country.”

Foolish: “Who’s a sleepy person you’re thinking of?”

- Quackity reminds them about George sleeping through the elections. He asks what’s the last they’ve heard about Niki. Foolish last saw her while working on Kinoko, as she was under there first. Quackity is surprised to learn this

- Foolish tells them a bit about what Ponk’s been doing

- There’s also the new guy, Michael. Foolish has spoken with him and thinks he could possibly fit in

- As Foolish and Purpled continue to work on covering up the river, Fundy comes over and Foolish fills him in on what happened

- Fundy is wearing Quackity’s outfit (he went into Quackity’s closet and stole an outfit that fit him). Quackity comes back and notices, telling him he looks great!

- Quackity tells Fundy about what’s going on. They’re building walls right now

- While everything goes on back at the mainland, Puffy takes down her L’Llamaburg towers with plans to move to a more discreet location

--- TOMMY AND SLIME ARRIVE ---

- Tommy logs on and goes exploring around Las Nevadas a bit (and running into Purpled) before heading home. He notices that there aren’t many railways around

- He returns to Las Nevadas and sees Tubbo’s outpost. He makes it to the tollbooth and meets Foolish face to face. He passes through and goes to the headquarters. Wilbur said the goal was to upset Quackity

- Meanwhile, the Las Nevadans go over to the edge and see Tommy down there. Tommy speaks with Tubbo and Ranboo, who both come over to Fort Big

- Tommy makes a memorial for Ghostbur

- Quackity still has his Manberg war banner. Fundy shows him his prized heirloom, Shclatt, passed down to him from Schlatt himself as he died. Quackity also has stacks of obsidian from the L’manburg wall, one of which he keeps for history purposes

- Foolish points out how Tommy is traumatized by Dream and shows Quackity how he can put on Dream’s head to scare him, saying they can play mental games as well.

He also has the Wilbur head as well and puts it on

Fundy: “Oh, I’m not too keen on that one...”

- Fundy presents the Las Nevadas shield to Quackity

- Tommy drinks the invisibility potion and sneaks over to where the Las Nevadans are standing. They know he’s there, but can’t see him

- Tommy shows himself to them as a pair of pants, introducing himself as “Trousers.” He asks if he can join and gamble. Quackity shows him a gambling machine: a pit of lava he can step into

- “Trousers” asks why they hate Wilbur. Quackity says it’s because Wilbur was one of the reasons L’manburg was destroyed (he read it on a Wiki somewhere)

- Tommy notices his time running out and quickly runs back to Fort Big, getting away from them and speaking with Tubbo and Ranboo again. Slime is there watching by the restaurant as he runs by

- Tommy explains Karl Marx to Ranboo while the Las Nevadans discuss what happens “when two pants love each other very much”

- They introduce Slime to Foolish while Tommy comes up with an idea to build a railway around Las Nevadas

- Slime is wearing a new outfit -- a green version of Quackity’s clothes

- They clarify to Slime that pants do not have sex and Quackity goes to ask Tommy what he’s doing. Tommy tells him he’s creating a free railway that costs no money. Ranboo says he’s not involved

- While they talk about Slime’s fear of pants, Slime refers to Foolish as “Foolish From a Long Time Ago”

- Quackity threatens to destroy Tommy’s country the same way Tommy destroyed his house all that time ago

- Quackity brings Tommy over to apologize to Slime for scaring him

Slime: “Hey Tommyinnit From a Bunch of Places, thank goodness you’re not pants!”

- Tommy tells Quackity that he knows Quackity was trying to manipulate him into joining Las Nevadas, and he doesn’t stand with him

- Quackity asks his relationship with Ranboo and Tubbo. Tommy says they’re friends. Quackity apologizes for what happened with Wilbur the other day

- Meanwhile, Slime and the others talk about flowers “breeding” and Foolish asks if earthquakes are mitosis

- Tommy and Quackity talk about Wilbur. Quackity says he’s just returning the favor by rejecting Wilbur from his country. Tommy tells him two wrongs don’t make a right. You can’t just exclude people

- Quackity asks, what if Dream one day walks out of prison and wants to join Tommy’s country? Tommy says it’s different, Wilbur’s changed and Dream hasn’t -- but Quackity asks how exactly Wilbur’s changed

- If Tommy ever wants to have a conversation, Quackity will be in Las Nevadas. He holds no grudges. Quackity leaves and Tommy works on the railway

- Quackity comes back to the Las Nevadans to find that they’re having The Talk. He tells them that Wilbur was manipulating Tommy into joining him

Slime: “Manipulation? That sounds bad!”

Quackity: “Manipulation is bad, Slime!”

- Quackity says goodbye and heads out. Slime sees in full panoramic vision

- Slime digs himself into a hole. Then he tries to teach Foolish how to do mitosis

- Slime asks Foolish what “among us” is and asks if he is “Susicle”

- Tommy comes over

Slime: “Tommyinnit From Nowhere in Particular!”

- He asks them to come to the casino, explaining that he lost something through gambling that he needs to build his railway: his “romantic shovel”

- Slime gives Tommy a loan to gamble for her back. He asks Tommy what “sympathy” is. Tommy scares him away by pretending to be pants

- Tommy tells Foolish his shovel was named “Linda.” Foolish goes to check the system (going outside and retrieving Linda from his Ender Chest)

- Tommy won’t leave until he gets the shovel back and threatens to “take the boy,” turning to Slime and offering to lead him to a box that he can sit in forever. Foolish has Linda, but he wants something in return for spending his money gambling to get her

- Tommy takes a piece of Slime and starts walking away with Slime following to retrieve himself

Tommy: “You’re going to be such a good prisoner.”

Slime: “Like Dream!”

- Foolish puts on the Dream head and Tommy starts running, telling Charlie to follow him. He brings Charlie to Fort Big and puts Slime in a hole

- Slime starts doing mitosis. Tommy tells him to not do it and asks if he would like to betray Foolish, telling him that “betrayal is good.”

Slime: “Dream From Manhunt ate him!”

- They drop some bars

Tommy: “My name is Tommyinnit and I’m here to say, I keep prisoners in a different way! I - am - immoral!”

- Foolish starts digging Slime out. He gives Tommy a fake Linda but Tommy notices the difference. Tommy reminds Slime about betrayal and tells Foolish to leave

- They ask if Slime is having fun

Slime: “I have just been having a time! Since I was sludge! None of it has been good, none of it has been bad, it’s all just been time! Oozing onwards to the inevitable destruction of everything! One day we will all be soup, so in a way I’m not so different than the inescapable future!”

Tommy: “What he means is he’s having fun.”

- Foolish leaves. Tommy keeps Slime’s gloop, which gives him 33% control over what Slime does. The Prisoner Hole in Fort Big will be Slime’s home, and they’ll upset Quackity

- Slime says he’s (definitely not) a pile of goop that’s been in the ground observing everything. Tommy notes that they seem quite alike

Slime: “Tommyinnit...I haven’t been exiled!”

- Tommy asks how he knows. Slime saw. Why didn’t he help? Slime says he glooped around a little.

- Tommy leaves Slime in the hole. He has the idea to threaten him as the legs later

- Foolish worries that if Tommy gets Linda back, he’ll lose the one bargaining chip he has over Tommy and Tommy will just manipulate Slime, who is very impressionable

- Maybe next time he should just fight back instead of trying to work through tricks all the time. He did say he would be changing things. Or maybe he should just get rid of Linda?

- He can also just work on his Dream impression. He ends stream, hoping to finish the gas station tomorrow

--- RANBOO AND SLIME ---

- Ranboo thinks to himself at the outpost. He and Tubbo just wanted to expand their area for a wheat farm, and now Quackity’s gone and gotten in the way as well as covered up the river

- He has no ill feelings towards Quackity, except possibly -- well, he learned that Tubbo was executed, found out that Quackity wanted to have Ranboo executed

- He’s not sure how to handle this. Should he say something to Techno? He wants to stay peaceful

- Ranboo spots the shadow of a nametag moving behind the wall. He pauses work on the farm

- He comes to the gate to find Slime behind the lava wall. When Ranboo lowers the wall, Slime starts running. Ranboo confronts Slime outside and questions what he was doing

- Slime asks who Ranboo is. Ranboo tells him simply, “Ranboo”

- Slime tells him that Tommyinnit From Nowhere has 33% of his “meat” and that he was put in jail

- Slime says he’s from the ground before correcting to “the womb.” Ranboo says it’s nice to meet him and asks if he’s human, noting that he’s “slimy”

- Slime tells him that he was with Quackity From Las Nevadas, but now he is with Tommy From Nowhere because Tommy can control him with “meat”

- Ranboo tells him he -- Ranboo -- is not human. Slime directs him to spin around and jump before referring to him as a “brother slime.” Because if Ranboo is not human, he must be slime

- Slime tells him the truth: he is actually goo. They enter the outpost and Ranboo gives him a cookie to eat. Slime hasn’t seen any other slimes up here. It took a long time and a lot of watching for Slime to look like this

- Ranboo doesn’t think, genetically, it’s possible for him to be Slime’s brothers. Slime tells him genetics are a lie, they must be brothers, and tells him “I forget too”

- Quackity has taught Slime how to be friends! Slime demonstrates by digging himself into a hole and telling Ranboo that he’s going to kill him, then Ranboo will work for him, and thus they are best friends

- Ranboo tells him that isn’t what friendship is, and that friendship is based on kindness. Slime hands Ranboo some bones to keep up his disguise

- People can’t find out what they really are. If they found out, who knows what would happen? Slime has seen what they’ve done...

- After learning that Ranboo has been speaking with the others, Slime asks what he has learned about friendship (he refers to Ranboo as “Ran-goo.”

- Ranboo explains it with acts of kindness, like cookies. Slime tries this by charging interest on the cookie

Slime: “How else is the house supposed to win?”

- Slime learns that people don’t get things back necessarily, but rather trust and friendship. A “bond” (he confuses it for the investment definition)

- Ranboo tries explaining it by talking about an emotional attachment to a pet -- if the pet died, one would feel sad. Slime asks how?

- Slime gives Ranboo some goo to patch himself up. Ranboo “does so,” and Slime says he is now a part of Ranboo

- Ranboo tells him that someone telling them they’ll kill you isn’t a good thing. Slime asks why not -- everyone will be dust eventually

- Ranboo continues to teach Slime about friendship. Slime wants to understand why people do what they do

- Ranboo tries to tell Slime that he’s not a slime, but Slime still doesn’t believe him. He’s part Enderman and part...he’s not slime and he’s also not human

- Ranboo gives Slime his parts back. Slime tells him about how Fundy From L’manburg ate a part of him and now Slime is part of Fundy forever. Slime hands Ranboo more slime and asks if he has a mouth. They can have “a bond”

- Ranboo tells him he’ll keep it on him, but not eat it

- Slime says he hasn’t seen Ranboo. Ranboo hasn’t seen him either, since he seems to be new

- Ranboo tells him he’s been here since after L’manburg got destroyed the second time (which Ranboo refers to as the first). Slime notes that that place got blown up a lot

- Ranboo shows him grass blocks. Slime tries to pick one up, but he can’t

- Ranboo notes that Slime is one of the only people that he can look right in the eyes

- Slime tries to give his cookies back to God. When it doesn’t work, he gives them to Ranboo

- He tells Slime to not hurt people, even if other people tell him to. Slime has to think for himself about what he wants to do

- Slime goes into the ground where he will commune with the gravel to think about what Ranboo has said

Slime: “When I come out, promise you won’t be dust!”

- Ranboo watches Slime, who remains in the hole. Slime begins whispering to himself about the nature of existence while Ranboo stands there listening

- Slime comes back up, saying he was just “processing.” Ranboo tells him he used to go to an obsidian room when he needed to process

- Ranboo tells him that if Slime ever needs advice, he’s free to ask him. Ranboo also tells him that friends aren’t supposed to be controlling of you. Slime won’t let people control him

- Slime leaves to return to prison, telling Ranboo he won’t let anyone keep him down again!

- Ranboo hopes he’ll learn about free will soon. Something tells Ranboo Slime should probably be protected

- When Ranboo met Slime, he saw himself in him. He used to be like Slime back in L’manburg, going along with people and things

- Ranboo just wants to be supportive of Tubbo. He thought the scars came from Tubbo just testing something. He doesn’t know how he feels about Techno doing it

- He hasn’t seen Techno in a while...

- Ranboo heads to the strip club to visit the place he made

- After thinking some more, Ranboo leaves some signs with a gift chest saying he’s sorry to Quackity that they got off on the wrong foot, and would like to talk some more

--- QUACKITY VS. RANBOO, AREA 51 ---

- Bad and Skeppy log on, Bad planning to possibly build Skeppy’s statue

- Quackity logs on in Las Nevadas and finds some food. He notices the gift box, reads the signs and finds the Yeezys and cookies. He’s not impressed

- He runs into Ranboo coming up from the tunnel and tells him to pay the toll. He gets Ranboo to come back to the toll booth and then blocks off the tunnel, saying Las Nevadas is closed for the day

- The two speak. Ranboo tells him he has no ill intentions. Quackity asks why his partner threatened to nuke Las Nevadas. Ranboo tells him the nukes were decommissioned, but Quackity still took it as a threat

- Quackity tells him the only way they’ll be on a good foot is if they relocate the outpost. Ranboo tries to explain, but Quackity hangs up and walks away

- Quackity explains his thinking, how he feels threatened by why a cookie outpost would need such a massive wall. Quackity has to protect his country

- Foolish logs on. Quackity intends to continue building up the wall until it encloses the entire area

- Quackity speaks with Foolish, who tells him about Tommy taking Slime prisoner because Foolish wouldn’t give the shovel Linda back

- Quackity starts running as Foolish continues to fill him in. Foolish shows him Linda in his hand. Quackity is outraged that Tommy would hurt Slime over a shovel

- He’s also mad that Foolish would let it happen. They get to the tollbooth and spot Ranboo running around again

- Quackity tells Ranboo that if Ranboo wants peace, they’ll have to compromise. Foolish was inspecting the outpost and found gunpowder. Quackity doesn’t like the area that they’ve used to build these farms that are heading towards Las Nevadas

- Meanwhile, Skeppy and Bad argue and Skeppy pricks himself to death on a cactus

- Quackity tries to explain his position to Ranboo again. He wants it on paper that they’ll have no issues, and he wants compromise

- They continue to argue. Las Nevadas has plans of expansion

- They keep arguing and eventually, Quackity tells Ranboo to talk it out with Tubbo and to stop expanding. They part ways and Quackity asks Foolish’s thoughts on this. They talk about the expansion

- The subject returns to Slime, and Foolish explains how Tommy came barging in asking for Linda. Quackity tells him to just give Linda back. He trusts that Tommy’s a good person and won’t cause more trouble if Foolish just returns it

- Foolish asks if another situation like the one with Tommy and Slime happens again, how should he handle it.

Quackity: “You know what we need, Foolish? ...We need laws. We need jurisdiction.”

- Purpled comes over as they start taking down the extra cobble wall they built earlier

- They finish and Quackity speaks with Purpled back in Las Nevadas. Quackity points out that the country is very exposed right now, and they need a backup plan: an underground city expansion

- Purpled tells him about the underground part of his base beneath the UFO he used to have and Quackity asks for him to show it to him. They go over there

- The underground area could be where all of the functional things are, away from the flashy tourist attractions

- They reach “Area 51,” the underground area. Quackity remembers how he and Tommy used to smuggle drugs through the sewers there

- Purpled shows him around through all the secret rooms. They figure out the combination lock

- Quackity also directs Foolish to place more sand, since that’s where people assume the borders stop

- Purpled fixes the entryway to Area 51. Quackity wants something similar done in Las Nevadas

- With regards to conflicts, Quackity trusts them to act on their own judgement. He leaves them with that and heads out

---

Upcoming Events:

- Final Egg lore stream [POSSIBLY SOME TIME NEXT WEEK]

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Dream’s lore video

- Ponk’s lore stream

- Possible Lore Suit court battle

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts #dsmp #this took so long oh my god #apologies for things I missed/messed up!#usually I'd have more time to go back and double-check details but...yeeeah

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

That One Fucked-Up Rexwalker AU

OKAY so people showed interest in this! Cool! This is... actually you know what, yeah, this falls into dead dove territory. It's kind of angst with a happy ending? At the very least it's hurt/comfort.

Warnings: rape as psychological torture by an enemy party, later dubious consent by parties that are at least trying to make it consensual but the situation makes it difficult to navigate

This was inspired partially by the first chapter of this collection by @the-writing-mill, which features Obi-Wan getting absolutely railed by a fucking machine set up by droids who don't understand consent. I got to thinking about the set-up and slid sideways into a slightly different context.

So Anakin, in all his shitty luck, gets captured, as one does. Whoever captures him has strict instructions to avoid physically damaging him or permanently fucking up his connection to the Force, because they'd like to use him as a weapon eventually, but to play around with his psychological damage in whatever way suits.

We'll say it's Ventress, who vastly prefers horrifying physical damage for torture, or killing/hurting people's loved ones in front of them, and now has to get creative to deal with Skywalker, because for whatever reason, she only managed to get Anakin and not any of his friends.

Obviously, Palpatine is the one saying 'don't damage the good.' She doesn't know that, though, just that Dooku said His Sith Master said to leave Skywalker intact for later.

So the easy route to psychological damage is, well, rape. But she's not into him, and there aren't really any other sentients in her little torture castle, but last she checked Skywalker is really needy? She's picked up on the fact that this guy really loves Having people.

She handles it: strip him down, strap him down, and get a fucking machine involved. Naked and cold and with a pipe leaking from the ceiling. Let a protocol droid keep an eye on things so he doesn't have some kind of permanent physical damage, but basically just have him unceasingly fucked for like a week, sometimes edging and sometimes forcing and sometimes just really digging into the oversensitivity, whether he's awake or asleep or what. Nothing but air and metal, and sometimes Ventress when she comes by to taunt him. There's magic involved to up his sexual craving without making it any easier on him.

It's fucked up but he does get saved! Eventually!

Ventress did her job, didn't enjoy it, and doesn't care that he's gone. She has people to kill, okay, she's bored.

So, you know, Anakin needs time to recover. He doesn't try to argue that he doesn't, at least partly because he's having trouble standing. He'll be fine! Stop worrying, guys! It's fine!

It's not fine, everyone tells him, because that was fucked!

It takes a while to get back to Coruscant. It's normally a few days, but there's a disruption on the hyperlane they'd use, sooooooo they're stuck.

Anakin tries to make some calls to Padme. When the calls connect, she helps. Obi-Wan was part of the rescue team, so he's there to do what he can, but Anakin keeps flinching away. Ahsoka is helpful because Anakin's hindbrain reads her as Not A Threat, but nobody's telling her what kind of torture Anakin was dealing with, because she's Designated Baby.

Anakin is alternately overwhelmed by physical touch and craving it, and the fact that he just got the Force back isn't helping.

(It later comes to light that the reason he flinches from Obi-Wan and Ahsoka is because they've got the Force and a person with the Force approaching for that week meant Ventress, and that's--not great. And it's just a LOT and REALLY BRIGHT after his time in the Force-nullifying cuffs.)

So Anakin spends a lot of time alone, craving people while being deeply unnerved by the ones he's most able to ask for that sort of thing (his master and padawan). Rex is one of a handful of clones that volunteer to check in on Anakin until they get to Coruscant. He's not the only one who walks in on Anakin shifting uncomfortably and looking red in the face, but he's the one that actually asks about it.

Anakin, with some prodding, does not admit to the problem. He does, however, admit to a different problem, and asks if Rex would be okay with a hug, or maybe putting an arm around Anakin's shoulder, or--actually, no, this is stupid, forget he said anythi-- Rex sits down next to him and pulls Anakin into his side and just lets Anakin relax into him.

Anakin starts shivering. Shuddering. Crying, after a while. Rex lets it happen and tries not to panic, just rubs an hand up and down Anakin's arm.

They don't really talk about it, but Anakin does end up cuddling with Rex for a few hours a day while they try to get everyone home, and Anakin's kind of on enforced medical leave, so he can't really help until Obi-Wan comes up with a solution that gives Anakin a job directly.

Rex finally gets an answer to why Anakin keeps looking uncomfortable and close to tears but embarrassed about it. He doesn't, for the record, press for that answer. Instead, he accidentally walks in on Anakin three fingers deep in his own ass and whining into his pillow.

Which is. Awkward.

Obviously.

Turns out whatever Ventress did to him has him feeling incredibly empty without something to plug him up! It sucks! He hates it! He's been trying very hard not to submit to this need, but it's still there and he needs to be filled up and just snapped and had to do something about it!

This is, as you can imagine, not a comfortable conversation for anyone, but Rex tries to cheer him up with "Well, Jedi have stipends, right? You can probably find, uh, a toy, right? Once we're back on Coruscant? Or the Senator...?"

Anakin doesn't want Padme to know.

Anakin is also near tears but that's. Well. Rex is used to that by now.

(Anakin isn't using shipboard fabricators to make a dildo or plug because have fun explaining that on the expense report!)

So Rex is in this awkward position of having to comfort his recently-more-traumatized-than-before superior officer, whom he just walked in on furiously and tearfully masturbating due to said trauma...

And Rex is pretty much just like "Dude, please call your wife and have her talk you through the... whole... thing... I'm just, I think you'd probably feel less upset about having to fill yourself or whatever if she was talking you through it?"

They drop the subject for a bit, but Anakin is still Fucked Up in many ways, including new and exciting ones, and it turns out he hasn't been sleeping! And only sleeps if there's someone he trusts nearby!

So obviously Rex volunteers because fuck it, it's not like there's anything about his General he hasn't seen yet, right? So, yeah! Sleepy cuddles! Intended to be platonic!

Rex wakes up hard and flushed and with a very much still asleep Anakin grinding his ass against Rex's crotch.

Which, under significantly different circumstances, he'd not be upset by... But given literally everything going on, um. No?

Rex has no idea what to do, so he just kind of lays there and tries to shift away so his back is pressed to the wall and Anakin isn't accidentally trying to fuck himself in his sleep. Which works.

For about fifteen minutes.

And then Anakin is whining and shuffling back and Rex just tries to wake him up like Dude, You Don't Actually Want This, You Told Me You Don't Want This

And they separate and avoid each other and shower, and Rex leaves to go do Things while Anakin continues to try to meditate away what trauma he can before they get back to Coruscant for extremely long mandated therapy.

Rex shows up that evening to cuddle again, but Anakin tries to turn him away because He Can't Be Sexually Assualting His Friends In His Sleep, so he should honestly just sleep alone, right? Right, okay, bye Rex, Anakin is so sorry about this morning--

And Rex interrupts that he's not actually upset about it, he's just upset about Anakin being in this position, and Anakin doesn't actually want Rex so that's kind of upsetting, and Rex would be very open to this later after the war when they're not in a position to fuck up their entire legion with a change in dynamics--

And this goes back and forth for a bit before Rex realizes that Anakin does actually want him, and did before this whole Situation happened, and Anakin realizes that Rex is interested in him and NOT just trying to 'do his duty for his Jedi' or whatever.

And anyway, it turns into some very sweet lovemaking every night where Anakin gets to fall asleep with a cock in his ass, filled with cum, with Padme's blessing, until they get to Coruscant and he can find a plug for the nights they're not together (and also some therapy).

When Obi-Wan finds out they're fucking, he's actually furious and ALSO unsure of which one's taking advantage of the other.

Initially assumes Rex is taking advantage of Anakin's recent emotional traumas. Anakin protests that he asked Rex for this, and Obi-Wan is asking in horror if Anakin ordered one of the soldier under his command to do this, and it all just kind of goes very poorly.

Everyone means well. Nobody really succeeds at it.

#Rexwalker #Captain Rex #Anakin Skywalker #asajj ventress #Obi Wan Kenobi #star wars #the clone wars #torture tw #psychological torture tw #rape tw #phoenix posts #dead dove do not read #dead dove

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malkumtend · 3 years

Text

I Like Your Laugh - A SquirrelCrow AU - Chapter 23.

Crowpaw hadn’t slept.

He wished it was because of the dusty stink of the rabbit warren his clan had been forced into, or the scream of the monsters outside, far away yet never quiet, or the constant growling and parched coughs of his clanmates that carried on throughout the night like a predator’s call.

But it wasn’t anything like that.

It was the never-changing grind in Crowpaw’s chest. Pounding. Stinging. Unrelenting.

All night he’d stirred restlessly as the nightmare of reality picked at his dreams like ravens at fresh kill. It could have been about anything, the failure of the clan meeting, the growing desperation it was clear Windclan was facing, the knowledge that with every passing second the forest was becoming barren of the prey and shelter they needed.

But it wasn’t anything logical.

Instead, the searing pain that flared over his belly was carried by a wildfire of five words.

She’d be ashamed of you.

Crowpaw breathed in the dead air and tried to imagine that it didn’t burn.

“Crowpaw?”

Stopping himself short, he turned to his mother, feeling suddenly guilty for how sadly she was looking at him.

Crowpaw wanted to give the most simple answer of “Yes?”

But that felt too heavy. His ear flicked instead.

Ashfoot looked down to Crowpaw’s feet, her whiskers shuffling. When Crowpaw followed, he saw his right paw inches from a deep rabbit hole. Crowpaw grumbled to himself, hating his own stupidity. Windclan were taught as kits how to avoid tripping in the many holes that engorged their territory. Angry embarrassment prickled along his neck.

“Sorry, Ashfoot.” He rasped, walking around the trap.

His mother looked at him gently. “Don’t worry, I know it’s hard to recognise much about the moors anymore.”

She wasn’t wrong, but it was still the kindness of a hollow excuse. Somewhere inside, she must have felt ashamed that her own flesh and blood had almost made such a ludicrous mistake. Crowpaw certainly felt the shame curl inside him.

She’d be ashamed of you.

He said nothing more as he followed Ashfoot. There would be nothing to gain from scenting these holes; the prey had long since moved on. There was nothing left here for rabbits or hares.

There was nothing left here for any cat.

But the clan was still starving, and someone needed to feed them. Elders, mothers, and kits needed some cat to search this wasteland for them. Crowpaw had been the first to volunteer.

He couldn’t just sit and do nothing. What point would there be to him if he did that?

Ashfoot slowed her pace to walk beside her son. Crowpaw knew she was staring at him. How exactly she was looking at him he didn’t want to see. “When was the last time you ate anything?” She asked tersely.

Crowpaw’s chest fluttered, “It doesn’t matter.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

It was hard to admit that he was forcing himself to look at his own mother. His tail tried to hide the sink of his ribs along his pelt. “I don’t know.” He lied, “Yesterday morning?” Truthfully, he hadn’t eaten since a few days after he’d left the Tribe’s cave. Even then, he’d been forcing himself. Swallowing just didn’t seem to have a point then. And now he was back, and now that he’d seen every shrinking stomach, the idea of eating felt like something wrong.

His job was to feed those who needed it.

He would survive.

“Then it will do you good to eat when we get back, Crowpaw.” Ashfoot said, “Onewhisker and Tornear caught some prey for the apprentices to share this morning. I’m sure there’ll be spare for you.”

“Give it to another cat. Whitetail and her kits can have it if they saved some for me.”

Ashfoot looked torn between pride and worry. “Crowpaw, I know what you’re trying to do and it’s very noble of you. But we don’t know how long it will be before we move on; you need to make sure you eat as well.”

“If I need to eat, I will. But right now, I don’t.”

Ashfoot’s mew hardened, “And what will happen when you need to and there isn’t any prey? We need to share what we can as a clan! And that clan includes you!”

The clouds overhead didn’t cool the foul winds, they amplified them. Walking toneless underneath the cold grey, Crowpaw felt like an icicle buried in a freezing tomb. When he walked, paws sinking in mud and grot, nothing felt like home. He felt no attachment to this place like he once did. He felt the disorientation of an outsider.

It had been like ever since he’d come back.

“If we don’t know how long we’ll be here for, then it makes more sense for me to make sure the cats who need it the most get fed.”

“It’s not down to you alone, Crowpaw.” Ashfoot said, sighing. “Windclan will do better if you keep your strength up as well. We all work together, like we always do.” She pressed her pelt against Crowpaw’s with an amorous purr.

Crowpaw felt her bony frame and the fur that sagged without weight.

He didn’t like disagreeing with his mother, but she was wrong. It was up to Crowpaw to make sure that cats got the meals they deserved. It was the least he could do after they’d suffered for so long.

“I’m strong enough, Ashfoot.” He said plainly.

Ashfoot gave him a weak smile, “I know you are.” Crowpaw once felt warmed when his mother spoke like this, with the warm drip that stroked her lips and reminded Crowpaw that this powerful Warrior that had raised him and his siblings alone, for the greater part of his life, was his mother.

The mother who despite starving for what must have been a moon, still cared more about the son who had run away.

It was moments like this that made it so much easier for Crowpaw to forget that he was hungry.

Ashfoot pulled away, giving her son a firm look. “But please, you do need to eat Crowpaw. Every cat is hunting, so you mustn’t think you’re being selfish by eating as well.”

“I don’t think that, Ashfoot.” He didn’t. He just knew that someone else deserved it over him.

“You swear?”

“Yes.”

His answer seemed to reassure Ashfoot enough. Good. She could worry about herself now. The same way Crowpaw worried about her.

They travelled over the next two hills and didn’t find anything. Crowpaw could hear the monsters silver claws somewhere, tearing into their home once again effortlessly. He saw his mother shiver, a thin look of dread on her muzzle.

She was no fool.

Crowpaw wished he could say something to ease her thoughts.

But he was no fool either.

“They’re getting closer.” Ashfoot muttered. “It won’t be long until they reach Shadowclan’s territory.”

Crowpaw couldn’t stifle a growl. “Who cares? If they’re going to run away like frightened hares, they won’t need it anymore.”

Ashfoot glanced at him briefly, her tail twitching.

Crowpaw knew how it sounded. The cat who had come back talking of prophecies about the clans leaving together, now damning a clan for fleeing certain death. He didn’t care. He saw Blackstar’s unwillingness to negotiate. The tom had made up his mind before he’d even arrived.

“If he wasn’t even going to listen in the first place, he shouldn’t have wasted our time and just made Shadowclan leave.”

Ashfoot stared ahead gravely. Tallstar had reluctantly informed the clan of the opinion of the leader’s and had advised them to be patient for just a bit longer while they and Thunderclan worked to change their minds.

But no cat had the strength for patience.

“Blackstar has always been…” Her words broke off in a quiet hiss.

“Hare-brained?”

“I was going to say insufferable, but sure.” Ashfoot admitted, the slither of a snarl on her lips. It disappeared with a sigh. “But he is still a leader, and hopefully Tallstar can convince him to leave with us.”

Crowpaw spat, “Nothing would convince that fox-heart of anything!”

“If the monsters make their way through his territory, he may soon be thinking differently.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

Ashfoot nodded silently, lifting her nose to taste the air again. “I wouldn’t either. But Tallstar wants all the clans to leave together, and it’s our duty to stand by his wishes until he thinks differently.” A bitter mew muffled out of the molly. “No matter how long that may be.”

Anger. Crowpaw was accustomed to the feeling. For a long, long time, he’d taken a twisted comfort from it. Anger had pushed him on, made him stronger, chased away enemies. Anger had been a red sky that kept him ready for the battle of this forest.

But now, that anger just tasted like bile.

“Yeah.” Crowpaw muttered bitterly. “Well, maybe we don’t need them if they’re going to make us wait like this.”

Ashfoot whipped her tail pointedly, a knowing frown on her muzzle. “Well, at the very least I know you’ve been listening to your mentor.”

Crowpaw cringed. Mudclaw’s stern face froze over a dark corner of his mind. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” Ashfoot asked, “Crowpaw, you’re the one who told Tallstar about the prophecy.”

Crowpaw walked on wordlessly. His nose felt full of tight air that stung when he inhaled. She was right. When it all came down to it, it had been Crowpaw’s idea. Not to leave, in his heart he knew that Windclan definitely would have come to that conclusion on their own. But to leave with the other clans.

‘I bet you’re really proud to have that kind of influence.’

The snarl prodded Crowpaw with an accusing reminder. Even if Crowpaw hadn’t meant it, maybe Webfoot had a point. His story had created influence over Tallstar’s decision. It was because of that that his leader was reluctant to leave with just his own clan.

He’d probably be begging them to leave when he was close to his own death.

And as the days went on, and Tallstar grew weaker and weaker, that didn’t seem as much of a nightmare as a certainty.

“I’m sorry.” His apology crossed the stale air, hopefully reaching more cats than just his mother.

Ashfoot’s tail stiffened as it rose in the air. “What for?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“And keep Starclan’s message from the rest of us? Don’t be mouse-brained!” Her tail whipped his rump, like she did when he was a grouchy little kit moaning about staying in the nursery. “It’s good you told us, Crowpaw. Now we know what Starclan wants.”

If it was what Starclan wanted, then where were they while the clans argued last night.

“Sometimes I don’t understand you, Crowpaw.” Ashfoot meowed, “Why would you even suggest leaving the clans after what you told us?” Her stare hardened, “Did Mudclaw say something to you?”

‘Remember where your real allies are if the time comes.’

“Not really.” Crowpaw couldn’t make more trouble for his Deputy.

Ashfoot sighed, giving him the look. The look that showed she knew what he was thinking and how he wasn’t being honest. Even now, it made his head drop.

“Well… maybe he’s right? If the clans won’t help us, maybe we should go on our own.”

“Do you really think we could make it on our own?” There was a soft directness there that was open yet judging all the same.

Crowpaw kept quiet. Windclan was weak, he had to admit that, but if no help was going to come whether they swallowed their pride or not, maybe it was best they just did what they could quickly.

“I’m not saying I don’t understand where Mudclaw is coming from. I’m sure he has only Windclan’s best interest in his heart.” Ashfoot smiled, though it looked perfunctory. “But what he needs to remember, as do you.” She mewed, “Is that he is not Windclan’s leader. We don’t need to be raking up old bones at a time like this.”

Crowpaw snorted, “Why not? The other leaders have.”

When Ashfoot looked back at him, Crowpaw suddenly felt tired again. He frowned and made his eyes go low once again, ignoring the discontent, but mostly ignoring the worry that clouded his mother like hail.

The worry he was the cause off.

Here he was again, making problems like he always did.

“Crowpaw…” His mother sounded closer now.

Crowpaw, against his nature, took a brisk step away and let his mouth move, not caring for what words came out. “No! Why should we have to wait because a few leaders can’t see sense?”

“Because that’s how it is.”

It was hard to tell if Ashfoot said that with assurance or reluctance. Perhaps it was resignation.

Like everything was inevitable, no matter what.

“Fox-dung.” Crowpaw muttered. It didn’t have to be that way at all. Blackstar and Leopardstar did what they did because they could, because circumstances had gifted them the luxury of an escape or shelter that the others could not cling too. What did they even know? What had they done while their clans picked at bones for food or sucked on leaves for moisture?

But then, what had Crowpaw done?

He pushed away the dark, nestling into the nest of anger.

He became aware again of his mother’s presence. This time, when she’d pressed their cold pelts beside each other, she used her tail to make sure he didn’t slip away so easily. She kept him by her purring chest, offering a light lick on the back of his head.

She hardly ever did that.

He sighed. Just how terrible did he look?

The comfort, the understanding she offered felt suffocating. She moved so clearly with the honesty of her care. But everything just felt, at best, hollow or, at worst, like a wasp sting swelling up with doubtful venom. For years, his mother’s advice had been like the word of Starclan.

But here, believing at all just felt worthless and empty.

Nothing felt okay anymore.

“I know it’s frustrating for you.” Ashfoot’s voice came down like soft rain, “After everything you’ve been through, I know this isn’t what you thought would happen.”

Crowpaw began to itch all over.

Frustrating for him?

Everything he’d been through.

“But,” Ashfoot had now become close enough that her heartbeat synchronised with his. Her voice was like a morning mist. “Windclan now has a plan for if we decide to leave. That’s because of what you did, Crowpaw. You should be proud of that.”

Crowpaw didn’t say a word as something began to pound again at the back of his head.

“I’m certainly proud of you.”

The fragments of Crowpaw’s meaningless pride began to twist once again.

“You know that, don’t you?” Ashfoot’s questions sounded like a plea in her son’s whirlpool thoughts.

“Yeah, I do.” He just barely formed the stifled grunts into a reply. He did it at first to end the conversation. He did it more to stop the fear from coating his mother’s eyes.

“I might go check if there’s any prey over there.” Crowpaw said, forcing himself to give a courteous press of his tail to his mother’s flank before he walked away.

“Huh?” The fire of a protest built in Ashfoot. “We should hunt together.” Something hurt in her tone.

“The prey’s scattered since the Twolegs came.” As if he had any right to explain that. “I can check one area on my own.”

“But we need to-”

“I’ll see you back at camp.” He said gruffly, steadily pacing away as his mother stared at his back. He pretended not to hear her sigh as she turned to search her own area, the area that covered their border with Thunderclan.

Crowpaw made sure he’d avoid that.

He knew he’d most likely get a scolding later. There wasn’t really a reason why he needed to go on his own. All that stretched in his direction was dead grass and the remnants of bushes, green bodies turning a sickly yellow in the dusty air. He’d find no prey around here, more than likely returning to his disappointed clanmates a failure.

He could only hope Ashfoot had better luck.

He had no choice but to press on, searching yet not truly hunting. It didn’t matter, he realised. The pounding still batted like enemy paws on his neck. He couldn’t escape it. Really, he was more of a fool for imagining that he could.

The tom grit his teeth as his thoughts turned rogue once again. He lifted his sunken eyes to the hill, his neck cracking at the soft movement.

It didn’t make any sense. He knew where his heart had to lie. He knew what side he was on. And he’d made certain to clarify that last night. In the scheme of the stars, of the clans, he’d done no wrong, he’d only followed the paw prints that had guided the clans long before he was born.

So why…

Why did it hurt so much?

Why did the memory of those eyes, once soft, turned furious, make him want to vomit?

There was no reason to be like this. This was how it was meant to be. All that deserved to be on his mind was Windclan’s safety. Anything else was just him wasting time and energy that could be used to actually help some cat.

But try as he might, every thought he made, every move he took, caused a reaction on his body. A pulse in his chest, a tightness in his throat, and that never-ending pounding against his skull. Every second was like a fight.

And it made him tired.

So very very tired.

He shook himself up. What was he thinking? This was no time to be selfish. Windclan needed prey and he had to return with some.

Or why return at all.

Crowpaw whipped his head from side to side, as if the pain in his neck could be removed like a flea.

They didn’t need him.

He began to walk faster, not caring when he stumbled across rabbit holes and tripped through slumps in the hill.

He was just another cat without prey. Like so many others. He was nothing special. He was no help.

“No!” He hissed to whatever monster was making his sight sting. Windclan needed him, they needed all the help they could get. That was his duty. That was his reason to…

Did Windclan need him?

Or did he need Windclan?

Something had begun to buzz in Crowpaw’s ears. But there was nothing to see wherever he looked. Nothing at all.

What Windclan cat thought of the other clans this much?

“No!” Crowpaw yelled into the moors. Any prey for tree-lengths now would surely be scared off.

He was worried about Windclan, that was all. He was worried about his home. It was Windclan where he had been born, it was in Windclan that he had caught his first prey, it was in Windclan where he had struggled and fought fuelled on his determination to be one of their treasured Warriors.

But so had every other Windclan cat.

Nightcloud, Webfoot, even Owlpaw, they had all lived Windclan just like Crowpaw. Their loyalty was just as strong as his. They had watched as their home was destroyed, and they had done everything in their power to keep their clanmates alive and well, to keep Windclan’s spirit alive!

Did he really have the audacity to savour his loyalty as some kind of pride?

Loyalty was just the necessary goal of his existence.

Crowpaw’s legs had begun to tremble. He sniffed the air, his whiskers pathetically seeming to beg in how they wavered in the air like the shaking paws of a kitten. This had to stop, and it had to stop now. What was he even doing? Arguing with himself like this?! What good was he doing, standing in the middle of a prey-less hill, muttering and screaming at nothing?

He wanted to prove himself, didn’t he?

He had to prove himself.

He needed to prove himself.

He was loyal, he knew he was loyal, he’d do anything for Windclan, that was why he’d given up on his fr-

He pressed a paw to his face, exasperated, and didn’t flinch when he felt claws pierce into his fur.

What was he doing? No. They weren’t that anymore. They should have never been that at all. He needed to regret that, forget about everything, if he wanted to carry on, in order to function. They would travel together, but whatever false ties he’d let materialise for too long were cut. He’d seen to that. He’d made it happen.

They hated him. He was sure of that. When they sat beside him last night, there was nothing there but the same countenance as the beginning. That icy silence that should have carried them through the whole journey. Before his leader, Crowpaw had made it clear where he stood.

Last night, associating those faces with their clan had made it so much simpler to push them away into the dark. The grey tom who’s leader had left his own begging for water, the tabby molly who’s clan wanted to hide away in the den of kittypets and Two-legs, and the brown tom who’s leader refused to see sense and stubbornly put his faith in leader’s who’s hearts were already set on their own ambitions.

Yes. It was so much easier when he did that.

And as for his best-

As for Squ-

A-As for that mol-

She’d be ashamed of you.

She must have hated him.

Even in the beginning, she’d never said anything to him with such venom.

Wasn’t that better? No. It was better. It-It needed to- (Please don’t look at me like that. Please. That had been what he’d thought when she hated him)

Why was this happening? She wasn’t any different. Just another cat he’d been forced to complete a task with. She shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. There was no reason he should dwell on her, or for the molly who had (saved his life) died-

He couldn’t let them do this to him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. (They were gone. He was alone. All alone.) It wasn’t his fault they’d believed they were anything more than rivals. If they’d been truly loyal they would have kept away. (They were good cats. Such amazing cats.) The hills stretched to nowhere as he wandered. Lost. Unwanted. Unneeded. (He missed them. Even now he missed them so much.)

The buzzing in his ears was dark and hungry. It growled fiercely.

‘Focus on their clans’, he begged himself, ‘They’ve left you behind. They don’t care. They never did. It’s time to wake up. If you care so much about this, you shouldn’t be here. Be a Windclan cat, for starclan’s sake, be a Windclan cat!’

The others were the problem. Not him. Shadowclan were cowards. Thunderclan were foolish idealists. Riverclan were stubborn, traitors who refused to believe their own cats! Ignored their cats last wishes.

(She died for her clan and for you. What are you doing?)

Crowpaw stopped running – how had he not realised he’d been running – listening to the buzzing drift as it twisted over the pounding of his heartbeat. Once again, he was nowhere sufficient. The grass was cracked and caked with dirt. The scents of prey mingled in a forgotten symphony, too far to be of any use. Even the berries on some lonely bushes nearby had long since dried up.

It was silent.

Silent enough for him to consider the words.

Consider everything actually.

What was he doing?

He was prey-less, far from his clan, twisting over thoughts he shouldn’t consider. His clan was waiting for his help. They had been waiting for his help ever since he had returned.

And he’d done nothing.

The prey he had caught was shrivelled and meaningless, any cat could have caught it, if he had never been on that patrol no cat would have noticed.

He had told the clans they needed to leave. But when he looked at them, how long would it have taken them to realise that in the first place. Tallstar had believed him so easily, it was more than likely they would have chosen to left even if he had never given them the message.

So… What really had he done that any other cat couldn’t have? What help was he really?

What did Ashfoot have to be proud of?

She’d be ashamed of you.

Crowpaw looked up to the grey sky, waiting for a chance of rain that could wake him from this empty state.

Riverclan.

Leopardstar hadn’t believed their words. But her clan’s territory was safe, for now. And there was no chosen cat who could return and tell them otherwise.

Who’s fault was that?

Windclan didn’t need Crowpaw to leave. Riverclan may have needed Feathertail.

But here they were.

The clans were waiting for Riverclan, who could not be convinced by the words of their trusted Warrior.

Because the wrong cat died.

Starclan had not come. Was that because there was no hope? Or could it be because their plans had been compromised by the loss of a Warrior who had been needed, and in her place had been left with the selfish remains of some mouse-brained apprentice?

Crowpaw’s blue eyes searched for another reason, they peered over grey hills and smoky skies, searching for some reason that he was here, that he was needed, that there was some logical explanation for him not being the one who had been left behind.

But the other thoughts, the buzzing forces, they had made everything so dizzy.

He only came out of if out of sheer luck, when a high, angry cry broke through the clouds and launched itself towards him.

Crowpaw turned his head just in time to see the hawk, yellow claws spread like ten furious vipers, rush through the air as it raced from the sky, its eyes blazing right on the young apprentice.

Crowpaw didn’t have time to crash his teeth together, he barely had time for his heavy eyes to widen, all he had was a pure desire that struck his body like a thousand hot claws along his back. It was the desire to live, the primal instinct to survive.

That gave him enough time to pounce to the side, the scabby flesh of the hawk’s feet just hitting the tip of his tail. It missed. Crowpaw was still alive. He caught himself, twisting on his feet so he facing the predator as it cried out angrily, before slamming its strong wings in the air and taking flight again.

Crowpaw scowled at the beast as it hovered in a taunting circle above him. What was a hawk doing in the moors? They usually rested in high trees! Had it been scared from its shelter because of the Two-legs? He may have sympathised with that idea if the bird wasn’t clear on making him its new taste of prey.

Even as he hissed at the hawk, Crowpaw could not hide how scared he felt. He’d never seen a hawk like this before, not on his own anyway. Its wings were bigger than maybe a whole clan cat, beating the air with enraged strikes, its whole body was bigger than Crowpaw, and its dark talons glistened in the misty air, poised and ready to sink into his flesh.

Crowpaw found himself needing to dodge again, his body rolling hotly over the hill as he zig-zagged down the base, when the bird swept down with the grace of a fish in the water. The apprentice’s heart pounded like the predator’s wings. There was no way he was going to outrun this thing. And there was no where he could hide from it either. Even if he tried to slip into the bushes, they were thin, and the hawk would pass through them like clouds. It cried again, angrier this time as it missed its kill, screeching into the sky as it rose above the hills again.

Its huge head turned in the air to its prey, its eyes full of hunger, and more strangely, hatred. For some reason or not, this creature hated him.

Crowpaw couldn’t look away from the hateful stare, but as the bird’s rage thickened like black clouds, Crowpaw felt his own body tightening, fixing in an arched, frenetic reason.

If he couldn’t run and he couldn’t hide, there wasn’t anything left to do but fight.

Because he realised just what this bird was. He looked at this bird and saw a dozen full bellies that eased his clan for another few days. He saw a delighted mother nursing her kits with a body full of milk. He saw eyes that would find him with reason for once.

This bird was a reason to be here.

So, forgetting the growl and jolt of his own hunger, Crowpaw felt the blood fix his vision, and he stiffened to survive.

He would kill this bird. He would kill it to show that he was here and he deserved to be.

He watched the bird carefully, a voice digging patience into him, if he rushed into this there was a good chance this could easily go wrong. He needed to find the right moment and take it. A savage thrill had swelled in his stomach and let his anger and terror merge into a powerful shock along his back.

He had never killed anything this big before. But that didn’t matter. It would be done.

The hawk’s fox-like eyes gleamed, it thrust its wings down with the power of a dog’s jaws before it dove once more. Its beak, as thick as a kits head and strong enough to crush one, snapping open to scream.

His breath held captive in his chest, Crowpaw didn’t look away. He needed to watch if he was going to figure this out or not. He needed to get close. The bird was descending quickly, its massive wings solidly held to their furthest reach as they sliced the open air. Crowpaw waited a heartbeat more, just enough for the hawk to curl its talons from its scaly legs, before he launched himself forward on his belly, giving a kick of his paws to the sky as he felt the powerful friction of air above his back. Even as it missed him, Crowpaw knew that this thing was strong.

One of his back paws hit the tail end of the bird, just where it could hit flesh, but Crowpaw had already rolled away by the time the bird to curl its body around. It screeched, pained and angry, but returned to the sky, its tail feather shaking off the blow as well as it could.

Crowpaw snarled at it as it flapped overhead, if it hadn’t been mad before it was now. Crowpaw hoped it was like a cat, where he knew anger made you reckless. It seemed to fly higher than before, soaring in a dart to where the clouds seemed to just touch its head. But even then, Crowpaw could see them burning down at him.

The dark tom licked his lips and let out a hot angry breath.

When the bird spread its talons, it left its chest and throat open. He had a chance, a small chance, but if he could avoid those talons, he just needed to know where to bite.

And he didn’t have long to figure that out.

The bird was coming down again. Feather’s ruffled in complete rage. It was hurt and resentful, and it desperately wanted revenge. It wasn’t going to wait it seemed. It came down like lightning. Crowpaw watched it dart towards him, its wings curved in prepared tension. Their eyes locked, a burst of rage and hunger connecting them. Crowpaw didn’t mutter a prayer as he began to sprint his way towards the bird. With a frustrated yell, the Hawk flapped to position itself. But no prey had actually ran at it before. Adjusting itself to this new concept, the bird chose to flick its talons out once again. All it needed to do was dig those talons into Crowpaw’s soft belly, and it would be over.

Letting a numb sensation compel him from fury or fright, Crowpaw leapt as soon as the birds talons were a tail-length away.

It was an ugly collision.

The talons just slipped on his back, but Crowpaw’s whole weight stormed into the soft meat of the Hawk’s chest, breaking its grip on him. Crowpaw screwed his eyes closed, grunting as two heavy wings slammed onto his face. The pain was heavy and thick, but Crowpaw slipped through it until his teeth were lodged into the bird’s chest.

The creatures, fighting to be predator or prey, landed with Crowpaw’s jaws wrenching with delirious speed on the bird’s stomach. Feathers and blood were thrown into the air as Crowpaw ripped and ripped. The Hawk let out a sound it had never made, one of real horror, as its beating wings became more and more desperate. It twisted, its feet scratching wherever it could to find the dark-fur of its opponent. Cold pain seared Crowpaw’s flank, but he only bit down again, higher this time, his tail curling when he tasted hot blood.

How long had it been since he’d tasted blood?

Immediately, Crowpaw felt his muscles tense, his claws sprang out to pin the frantic wings, tearing down the fragile skin, fracturing ligament and muscle with every punching scratch. The bird screamed and bit at Crowpaw’s scruff, but the cat launched five claws over its face and it let go with a true cry of real, blood-curdling fear.

Crowpaw realised with savage electricity, that he was winning.

The hawk, realising far too late it had misjudged this battle, changed tactics. Its talons didn’t claw now, they tried to grip the cat, furiously attempting to drag Crowpaw off before he found its throat. It rocked frantically to loosen the cat from its blood soaking feathers. But Crowpaw knew this opportunity would never come again. He wasn’t going to let go, even if those talons found his own throat.

The only time Crowpaw did let go was when the hawk stopped shaking and instead used its damaged wings to roll over to its belly. Its large wings already straightening for takeoff. But Crowpaw was quick, and this bird had made a massive mistake in taking its talons from Crowpaw. As soon as he’d slid onto its back, Crowpaw was safe from the claws and beak. It was almost over.

Crowpaw groaned and bit down on its neck, where the head had to be connected to the spine. The hawk screamed, its body convulsing and large eyes bursting in pure agony. Blood coated Crowpaw’s tongue once more, and just to be safe, he dug his claws right into the base of the hawk’s wings, holding it down. Whether they were too damaged or weak, they slowly began to wither in their rabid twitches for survival.

Crowpaw, deep in his chest, realised that this was over.

But stubbornly the hawk continued to fight, dragging itself along with its weak talons or broken wings, even as Crowpaw bit down hard on its neck, hard enough to hear something crack. The tom let out a hiss as the hawk cried mournfully but continued to struggle. This wasn’t meant to happen. It should have been dead by now.

But it didn’t. Its body twitched along, its head craning out to a bush just ahead of them both, probably seeking the dark safety even as its back cracked behind it.

It was impressive but horrible all the same. Crowpaw bit on the neck again, horrified by how it clung to life despite its little hope. This wasn’t how hunting was meant to be. They hunted to be quick, they hunted to survive, this didn’t feel like hunting, this felt like slaughter.

But Windclan needed to eat all the same.

‘Die.’ Crowpaw thought as he bit and tore and shook. ‘Just die already.’

The hawk responded with a series of sounds that may have been the caw of a bird, but not one that any bird, any creature should make. It hissed and bubbled in the bird’s throat. Crowpaw felt it. For the love of Starclan, he felt it rattle out of the shivering beak. It eyes, glazing quicker and quicker, were wide but slow, blinking in jittering convulsions, still calling for the safety of the bush.

It wanted to live

Crowpaw wanted to scream.

With a needing, breaking yell, Crowpaw slid his claws over the Hawk’s thin, torn throat and ripped back.

With a rasping, wordless gasp that sounded too much like a mewling kit for Crowpaw’s liking, the hawk’s struggles relaxed, and its tattered head fell down stiffly onto the grass.

Blood slowly oozed out onto the shadow of the hill. The dirt did not soak it up, denying the gore, letting it flow down into a dark slide in the grass.

Crowpaw fought for his own breath as he stood triumphantly above his prey.

It should have been triumph anyway.

Didn’t feel like it.

He shook his head. That couldn’t start up now. Yes, it had been messy. But it was done. And prey was prey.

This was actually the largest prey he’d ever caught, this was a meal that would last Windclan for days, this was his chance of doing some real good for his clan, this was his reason for standing here.

Something he’d done mattered.

He looked over his own wounds, the wings had battered his head until it was shaking, and there were some deep gash marks along his flank that he needed to clean before they got infected. But other than that, he was remarkably well.

Much better than the blood-soaked, torn apart, ruin under his paws.

But more than ever, he was alive.

Tired, battered, and hungry, but alive.

So hungry.

Crowpaw’s tongue touched the blood on his lips, he couldn’t suppress a shiver. It tasted good. Good enough that his throat began to hurt at the idea of not tasting it again. He looked down at the hawk, thinking. It was a huge catch. If he took one bite, a small one, enough for him to get by, he could get the rest back to Windclan soon.

His joints ached, and his head spun like crazy. He needed to eat, even just a little.

Crowpaw gave the hawk a wane look. Just one tear off the wing. That would be enough for him.

Slowly, his own stomach cleanching, Crowpaw placed his teeth over the soft meat of the wing. He shivered as the sweet blood permeated his senses.

But then his ears twitched.

Almost angry at his meal, his victory, being disturbed, Crowpaw growled. But then he stopped and really listened. Something was letting out high, bristling squeaks. They cracked into the air pathetically, rustling the air with its light whimpers. Then the sound rustled as it doubled, then tripled, and then Crowpaw was sure he heard a symphony of tiny whelping ring around him.

They were coming from the bush.

The hawk’s head still stared at it lifelessly, but a longing melancholy still quivered in the draining colour of its eyes.

Crowpaw stared as the squeaking continued. The back of his head began to hurt again. His whole body felt cold.

With step after reluctant step, Crowpaw approached the bush, becoming more and more aware of the buzzing that came back to his ears.

He pressed his head in. Four pairs of black, terrified eyes glinted wetly back at him. The chicks, from the looks of their thin tufts of feathers, or the way they held their gaping mouths at him in either fright or hunger, could not have been born more than a day or two ago. They huddled together, some peeping helplessly at him under the darkness of their scrambled, hastily put together nest, the others just stared at him. Stared enough to hurt.

It took only a second for the desperation of the hawk to sink in.

With blank eyes, Crowpaw turned back to the hawk that had died to protect what it loved, the blood had now begun to pool around its head.

Another bloody body, another creature that had sacrificed itself to protect what it loved, flashed over Crowpaw’s eyes.

Once she had, everything seemed so much clearer to Crowpaw.

And he didn’t fight the hungry buzzing in his mind, rumbling, screaming, blaming. It stung, it ached, it swelled.

It reminded.

Sacrifice.

A sacrifice was why Riverclan had no cat to believe, a sacrifice was why the journey was tainted, a sacrifice was why the clans may not survive, a sacrifice was why Windclan was suffering, a sacrifice was why his clan could die.

A sacrifice was why his friends, the only one’s he’d ever really had, hated him.

He’d driven them away because he wanted, in his selfish need for reason, to be seen as important for his clan.

But the truth was, Windclan didn’t need him. They would live or die without him. They always would have. All he’d done returning, robbing Riverclan of a reason to leave, was further the dark towards his home’s destruction.

It was all his fault.

This was all he was.

Letting the buzzing attack his mind, and drown out the chicks’ cries for a mother that would never return, Crowpaw began to drag the hawk back. If this was the only good he could ever do, he should at least do it with some effort of care.

But was it good?

How tough could this hawk have been if an apprentice could kill it? It was weak and hungry, that was all. Any real warrior could do it. They probably could have brought themselves to catch the extra prey as well.

But those chicks’ had such familiar eyes.

The eyes of the weak, saved by the strong.

But what did it matter?

It was over now. Whether they were caught by him, or another cat, or a fox, or even if nothing came for them. Their deaths had been set in the dirt.

That was the cruelty of life. The reality that Crowpaw would do better to accept.

It didn’t matter how much creatures tried to fight nature.

Things that were meant to die? They always did. Someway or other.

Crowpaw would make sure of that.

With this realisation, with empty eyes and passing, silent breath, Crowpaw almost felt a shameful peace that made him blink away the tears so easily.

But he was unfit for peace, so he let the buzzing convince him into feeling nothing.

...

#Crowfeather #squirrelcrow #crowsquirrel #I like your laugh #ashfoot #Warrior Cats #Warriors #warriors au #warriors fic #the new prophecy #windclan #squirrelflight

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dat-town · 3 years

Text

poison like you

Characters: princess!you & guard!Xukun feat. king!Yixing

Genre: historical, fantasy, royalty, bit of enemies to lovers, bit of childhood sweetheart to lovers, bit of i’d die for you, angst with hopeful open ending

Warnings: blood, violence, murder, poisoning and death

Summary: If you wanted to kill the last son of the Dragon Clan, first you needed to get through his right hand man. Too bad he knew you too well but it felt like you didn’t know him at all.

Words: 11.1k

Author’s note: please note that even though this historical fantasy is inspired by ancient China, it is not historically accurate because it isn’t set in any certain era or even at any existing place. the governor structure and politics might be confusing but this is basically about a lot of small kingdoms (called clans) having a never ending war for more power over the area. Chinese mythical creatures exist in this world but have gone almost extinct during the wars. to know how i imagine this world, watch Lay’s Lit mv!

for the one&only @lily-blue 💕

As the only daughter of the Jade Clan's head, you had your responsibilities. To your father, his men and all the people under them. Most importantly, you had to do everything in order to protect the Clan. When the Dragon Clan started expanding its territory, winning over more and more land, becoming more and more powerful, you knew that no army could fight theirs, so you had to go to the war with wits instead of swords.

When your father proposed the idea of a reunion between the two Clans by marrying you to the son of the Dragon, you hated it. The other Clan was everything you despised: ruthless, brutal, selfish and while you knew arranged marriage was your future, you didn't want to rule next to a tyrant. But when your father said that this would be the perfect chance for you to kill their leader and rule over the united clans yourself, it suddenly wasn't that bad of a plan. Although you never wanted a huge empire and you didn't want the responsibility over so many people, freeing them from a bloody rule sounded like the best you could do. Especially now that the man needed an heir to secure his bloodline and power.

It took ridiculously few letters between your father and Zhang Yixing before you were off, on the road with only a chest of your belongings and another one full of gold and other jewels as marriage gifts. You had your most trusted maids and soldiers with you but otherwise you were alone, alone with your plan to poison your husband-to-be. Surely, you didn't think it was going to be easy while being surrounded by his people in a palace but getting there, the dark monstrum of a building wasn't like how you imagined your future to be. Everything wore the pattern of dragon scales, the city burned in the colours of fire and ash, even the waters were dark. People wore black clothes and wore their hair down without many accessories but despite the grayness of the place, the men and women you ran into didn't seem unhappy or living in fear. They must not have known any other life, so you felt sorry for them.

You were escorted to a chamber right away and compared to the light flowery room you were used to at home, this was very different but you didn't complain. Instead you inquired about Zhang Yixing's whereabouts and when you could meet him but the maid told you that he had a meeting with his generals, so you couldn't see him until the next day when you were supposed to have lunch together. You thanked her for enlightening you and after blaming your fatigue on the long voyage, you requested to be left alone. Opening your box of accessories, you pulled out a small glass bottle with yellow liquid inside. A few drops of it was enough to put a man to sleep, a whole spoon was surely death, so your only job was to get time alone with your fiance. Until then, you needed to play your cards well.

You were quite restless and maybe a bit paranoid but you couldn’t sleep during the night fearing that someone might attack you. Even though you knew you were now under the protection of the ruler of the Clan just by being Zhang Yixing’s fiancée, it didn’t calm your traitorous heart. You have seen enemies in every corner and yet, you raised your chin high, confident and proud when you were called to that lunch with your man to be.

Followed by a bunch of maids, you walked to the room on which Yixing decided and you took your seat on the opposite end of the long table full of delicious goods. The young king was already there, his pitch black hair falling into his almond-shaped dark eyes as he looked up at you sternly, eyes narrowing as if he wanted to see through you. His skin was pale against his black clothes that were simpler than you would have thought of a tyrant. You had never met him before but you heard stories of him and you heard descriptions of his looks. However, he was younger than you had expected, only a few years older than you, but with his defined jawline and rigid expression you could imagine him being the one behind the destruction of your neighbours.

He didn’t greet you but signalled that you should start eating and tentatively you reached out for the rice, chopsticks freezing in your hold as soon as he spoke up in a raspy voice.

"It's quite unexpected, your father's wish to join hands," he said calmly and it sounded like a challenge or a test, you couldn’t tell but you didn’t like the tone he was using to talk about your father. As if he was a weakling crawling to his feet.

"Is it?” you raised an eyebrow, daring to look straight into his cold eyes, watching his every move, every twitch. “I think it's a very reasonable timing. After all, you just reached our borders," you explained because he must have known there were not many choices you could take: it was either seeking peace or a war and your nation was a peaceful one, hence you would have done anything to keep it that way.

“Is your father afraid of me?” Yixing questioned and you bet he wanted to believe that, that he could scare the Jade Clan’s head. But your father was a born strategist, he always had a plan.

“Isn’t that why you’re doing this? You want other nations to fear you?” you counterattacked with a question, knowing the lesson yourself as well: If you cannot be loved, you must be feared.

You were well aware that it was a reckless thing to challenge the king. He might have been your fiance on paper but he could have just lifted his hand and have you killed and everybody you had with you to make it look like you were attacked on the road, never reaching his palace. However, for the first time since you had seen him, the man ahead of you looked amused, the corners of his mouth curling upwards.

"You have a sharp tongue for a princess," he said and it almost sounded like a compliment. You took pride in that with a raise of your chin.

"I'm the only child of the Jade Clan's head. I have learned how to wield any kind of weapon," you answered confidently. You might not have been an undefeated warrior but you had learned how to protect yourself and you knew too well that spoken words could cause just as harm as knives sometimes. But still, it seemed to make the young king interested as he bobbed his head towards you, leaning forward with his elbows balancing on the table.

"We could test that. Are you good at archery?" he asked, probably with the intention to invite you for a game. But his smugness irked you because he made it sound like he expected you to lose no matter what. So you did the least princess-like and least wise thing you could have done in that moment: you pulled your hairpin out, letting your long locks fall onto your shoulders before swinging your arm forward and letting the pin fly forward.

In the next moment two interestings things happened. Not only Yixing’s guards weren’t by your side, forcing you down or even killing you for your brazen act but he himself didn’t move. He looked into your eyes without fear and without anger. At the same time, you saw a shadow move so fast you didn’t think it was possible for a human and his sword hit you hairpin out of its path before it could have landed in the painting behind Yixing’s throne, hitting the dragon on it in the eye. The soldier, guard or whoever he was, wore black just like his ruler but there was a textil mask in front of his face, so he must have been a special kind of warrior. Not that you cared, your attention was back on Yixing immediately.

"You tell me... do you think I would be good at it?" you asked, finding the silence a bit unsettling, it was almost like the calm before the storm. But then the king laughed and you were baffled.

“What a bride you will make,” he tilted his head and then finally, you started eating.

You were aware that you were lucky that you hadn’t been executed for that bold move you had made but it only ensured you that Zhang Yixing needed you. Or at least what you represented: the peace deal with your nation and a secured future bloodline. He could have probably forgiven as much. Or was he really that sure that either you miss the target or his guard would save him? You weren't sure but since you needed to know about his most trusted men anyways, you asked your maids about the masked figure. They didn’t know much, so you gave them the task to ask around among the Dragon Clan’s servants. You needed to know who your enemies were and where they laid. You also needed to know the palace as best as you could in case you needed an escape route or a secret passage to get to Yixing faster than anyone.

Hence, your night escapades started: once night have fallen, you pulled out a dark, comfortable clothing usually men wore and tied your hair high to not get into your way as you climb out of your window, up to the roof from where you could see the U-shaped building complex, knowing exactly where you should go: towards the king’s quarters. Running from rooftop to rooftop reminded you of your childhood when you practiced hide and seek in the palace back home. Your father had taught you how important it was to remain invisible and his advice still stayed with you as you made sure to dissolve into the shadows as you jumped to the gardens: step lightly, breath lightly like air in the morning but listen well and open your eyes because the smallest sounds, the smallest movements can be your enemy’s.

There were two guards in front of what you thought was Yixing’s suite but you didn’t care about that. You were more interested in the room where he planned his strategies to see if he really wanted to march through your home and bring war there just to conquer your other neighbours too. But before you could reach for the wooden door, you heard a shush and you crouched down just in time for the dagger to land in the wood instead of you. You bolted immediately, making a run for it, stepping up on a barrel you jumped onto the roof, so you could find a hiding place. You were prepared for such a thing. If things went South, you just needed to sneak back to your room, under the blanket and act alarmed when they banged on your door. You might have been from another Clan but nobody would have disrespected a princess by checking what she wore while sleeping and none of your maids would have said anything against you.

But you didn’t reach your quarters. No matter how lightly and in the shadows you tried to step, the one who followed you must have been really good because from one moment to another you felt yourself being hauled down from the roof, onto the ground. You and the man (based on his build) fell down together and lucky for you, it was him whose back hit the grass first with you on top of him. It gave you a bit of advantage to get to your feet immediately but you didn’t get far away. Dodging the man’s attacks, you had to admit that his training was very good, no fighter made it so hard for you to get even one hit and you grunted in annoyance when your back hit the wall of the stable. It was a full moon, so it was dark, only some tinkling light illuminating the palace for which you were grateful but it also gave you disadvantage because unlike your attacker you didn’t know this place. You felt a sudden pressure on your chest as a strong arm was pressed against it, a blade close to your neck but you only saw a silhouette.

“Speak, are you just a thief or a spy?” he asked, his voice sounding younger, softer than you expected but there was something dangerous to it. You didn’t wait enough to find out what it was. You tightened your grip around the ceramic cup you had picked up earlier and smashed it against his head. You had indeed learned how to use everything as a weapon.

For a moment, it looked as if the guard’s eyes flashed gold in the moonlight but you were too busy running away, into the stable, scaring the horses and hiding behind a straw pile, controlling your breathing until the man who had come after you gave up and left.

You hissed when you touched the wound on your fair skinned neck. It wasn’t deep and didn’t hurt a lot but it was obviously a blade wound, one that a princess shouldn’t have. So to hide it, you brushed your head over your shoulders before you left for your archery practice with Zhang Yixing who wished to see your skills for real. He greeted you with an expectant smile to which you bobbed your head politely.

You didn’t talk much while taking turns, shooting arrows but you carefully and discreetly eyed his guards when it was the king’s turn, wondering if one of them was the one from the day before. Not that you could have told with their masks on.

After practice (you lost but only because you didn’t try too hard), you went to eat fruits in the gardens and you learned that Yixing was about to leave to check on his Eastern borders. He would be away for at least a week but promised to get the wedding preparations started with his servants. You knew that was why you came but still, it made you nervous as it meant you had less time.

“Princess!” A sudden, unexpected voice called after you when you were ready to leave with your maids. Nobody other than Yixing had initiated a conversation with you since you arrived, everyone waited for you to step first. So you were curious what this man, one of the king’s closest guards, could have wanted from you. Turning around, you saw him holding out your hairpin, the one you had thrown towards Yixing the first time you had seen him, the one someone dodged, could it be…

You looked up at the young man, his hair, somewhat ruffled in his forehead, mask covering his face under his eyes. He didn’t look at you, he casted his eyes down like a good servant would.

“Thank you,” you spoke up, a bit uncertain and there was a flicker in the guard’s eyes the moment he glanced up at you after his gaze lingered on your neck: something familiar yet scary but you blinked and it was over. You took the hairpin and left, your dress sweeping the floor behind you. That guard made you feel uneasy for some reason.

The next day Yixing indeed left and when you didn’t bump into the man from the other night for the next three days you were starting to think that he went with the ruler as well. It was only after you managed to sneak into the king’s room and out when you had to realize just how wrong you had been. You knew something was off the moment you stepped into your quarters. Your guards weren’t outside of your doors and the candle you left there lit up burnt out. It was already cold to touch when you lit it again which meant it must have blown out when your intruder opened the door earlier. You pulled out your sword and pointed it ahead of you, alarmed. Your shadow danced on the walls as the candle light flickered.

“It’s been a while… Princess,” the intruder spoke up much too calmly for someone who broke into a royal’s room. You could have gotten him killed for that but you froze. Not only because he must have known about your night adventures but because the playful tint of his voice was somewhat familiar.

The shadow stepped out from the corner, hands held up, defensive, revealing the guard from earlier. You furrowed your brows, not lowering the sword, not until the other pulled down his mask and the man you faced made you gasp.

“Xukun...” you whispered, almost whimpered, and you felt your knees weaken. But he– you thought he was dead.

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” he suggested with a hint of a smile and you couldn’t agree more.

You could still barely believe that it was Cai Xukun in front of you, alive and grown up unlike the boy you had last seen him as. The boy you practiced fighting with, the son of your father’s general, your childish first love. He had never known, of course, you never had a future to begin with but still. You remembered being sixteen and so in love, secretly gushing everytime he had brought you wild roses saying they reminded him of you. But then at eighteen, he had gone off to a battle and never came back. You remembered the crinkle around his eyes as he joked, telling you not to worry, he wasn’t that easy to kill. Apparently, he was right but you didn’t understand what he was doing in the Royal Palace of the Dragon Clan as one of the high rank guards when he was supposed to be back at your home. If his father still lived, what would he have said about his son becoming a traitor?

“I knew it was you,” he spoke up, eyes a mixed colour, mouth in a thin line. You looked at him questioningly. Then he pointed at your neck without a word and you reached for the now scar on your throat. “Obviously, I didn’t know then. Sorry.”

“Why didn’t you report me then?” you asked directly, looking straight into his eyes and you let your gaze linger on the slope of his nose, the corners of his mouth, the sharp line of his jaw. He had grown up, he was more handsome than ever. “Or why didn’t you kill me during the past two days when you were following me?”

“So you knew,” Xukun nodded at you, impressed but you just raised an eyebrow. You had a guess. Everything was too easy, too quiet. When you didn’t answer, the once boy now man standing in front of you sighed as if he carried the weight of the world with him. “You should know I would never hurt you.”

You scoffed at him. You would have been naive to believe him and you weren’t a child anymore. Hell, you came here to kill the king.

“How could I be sure? It’s been years, Xukun, and you were nowhere! You gave no signs that you were alive and here you are, in an enemy clan serving their ruthless ruler?!” you spat at him and you knew that your words were harsh, that your tone was cold but honestly, you knew a barely 18 years old boy and not the young man who was in front of you. You were conflicted to say the least.

“Zhang Yixing isn’t ruthless,” Xukun corrected you. Of all things you said, he found this the most obnoxious thing you had told him out of all, he decided to correct that. You wondered why. Why was he loyal to him? Why when you had only known him to be a murderer and someone who dared you to show him her best shot?

“Isn’t he? Then how does he keep destroying these nations around us? He burnt the Moon Clan to the ground for the deities’ sake!” your voice rose by the end and you had to remind yourself to stay quiet. It would have been a scandal if someone knew you had a man in your room while your fiance was away. Your whole plan would have gone down the gutter if your reputation was ruined just like that. But you heard all the stories: the massacre in the West, the burnt towns in the South, the sunk ships at the sea. They were his doing or so people said.

“That… that wasn’t him,” Xukun objected, so sure of himself that it almost made you feel sick. “And it’s a war either way. There are no saints here. Your father isn’t one either.”

You knew how wars were fought, you knew that everybody including you was a sinner, you had both grown up in a world where you knew nothing but neverending fights, losing loved ones and never knowing safety. Yet, when the boy who your father thought of fondly dared to call him out, anger flared in you.

“My father sent his only daughter to marry a tyrant to save his people from suffering, so don’t talk about him like you knew him!”

Maybe it wasn’t what you said but how you said it, the sword you still hadn’t let go of trembling in your hand but Xukun paused, licked his lip in consideration and his voice was softer when he continued:

“I can prove that Zhang Yixing isn’t as ruthless as you think he is,” he claimed but you didn’t really care about that. You wanted to know why he was there, in the Dragon Clan instead at what you had known as a home.

“Does it have something to do with why you never came back? Like you promised,” you reminded him, sounding bitter at the memory. Gosh, you had been such a child. But who could have blamed you? He smiled and it tipped your whole world back then. But he just visibly gulped now, so you must have been right.

“I owe him my life,” he said curtly and you sucked in a breath, wondering whether he meant it figuratively or literally. You didn’t have to ask, Xukun kept talking as if now that he started, a river flood. “When the Phoenix Clan attacked us 5 years ago, I was captured. They must have known that my father was a general and they wanted to get to him. When they took me in front of their leader, Yixing was also there, barely a boy not much older than me, caught while sneaking into the tent while stealing maps on a mission for his father. They confused him for someone from the Jade Clan and thought he came for me. They let him go to pass a message to my father and then they left me in the desert far enough from the battlefield with an open wound. I was so sure I would die.”

You had imagined before how it happened. How he died, or so you had thought. You’d had nightmares about it. Seeing his beautiful eyes wide open in shock and pain. You’d imagined it on the battlefield but his body was never found. The nearby river had been red though, so you thought maybe… But it was all wrong. He was never really there.

Xukun unconsciously touched his abdomen with a grimace on his face and you wondered whether he felt the phantom pain of the stab but he kept talking without addressing that.

“The next thing I remember is waking up to being carried on horseback and Yixing yelling for a medic. I wouldn’t have thought he would come back for me, we didn’t even know each other after all,” he stopped short at that as if he was still dumbfounded that the heir of the Dragon Clan saved him then. Honestly, in his place you had been too. Maybe Yixing hadn’t had his reputation back then but you were still enemies. “When the royal medic told him I’m a lost case, he took me to a shaman and they made me drink something that cured my wound by the next day.”

“Dragon blood,” you whispered in shock when Xukun gave you a meaningful look.

There was no other way but the magical powers of dragons. Although there were more rumours than credible sources on that, nobody denied that any essence of the heavenly, snake-like creature could save lives. But there were too few of them, maybe exactly because humans dared to hunt them down for either their scales, antlers or their blood, you wouldn’t have thought it was still possible. Yixing must have paid a fortune to save someone whom he barely knew.

“See why I can’t go back home?” Xukun asked and mouth open in agapé, you casted your eyes down.

Such medication… such witchcraft was illegal in Jade nation. He would have been branded as a monster and exiled even if he went back. Dragons and creatures like that were considered sacred in your home.

“Where did they even get dragon blood from? Nobody has seen a dragon in years,” you took a shallow breath, trying to work through your messy thoughts.

“What do you think caused the fire at Moon nation?” Xukun asked knowingly and with hope in his eyes resembled the boy you had once known. He hoped you would believe him and you did but it wasn’t easy to digest all this new information.

The two of you just looked at each other in silence, a heavy one, before the sounds of the midnight patrol startled you. Hushed, you blew out the candle light, leaving you in the dark, speaking in hushed voices.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do but… please, don’t go against Yixing. I might not be able to save you then,” Xukun spoke up, his deep voice echoing in the room, you clenched your hands in fists. As if he was there to save you in the last years when you would have needed him.

“I don’t need you to save me,” you told him, hurt clear in your voice but he didn’t say anything. He left without saying a word, wind whizzing into your room as he became one with the shadows outside. His last words left you wondering. Would he have died for Yixing, even in his place even if the weapon was in your hands?

You told yourself it wasn’t because of Xukun but you didn’t sneak into the king’s quarters in the next few days. Instead you wrote a letter to your father telling him about recent events and what you have found out about the Dragon Clan’s plans based on what you had found in the strategy meeting room. You entrusted one of your best guards with the letter and sent him home.

Days had passed uneventfully then but only until Zhang Yixing and his men came back with news that knocked air out of your lungs: the Eagle Clan attacked the weakened eastern wing of your nation. You knew they had become daring lately no matter how your father wished to keep it a secret from you but it was still all too sudden. Your army wasn’t ready to not only stand guard in case you got attacked from the South but now from the sunrise side as well.

“You cannot tell me to just wait it out!” you rose from your chair at lunch when Yixing told you the news. You felt offended at how calm he was. It must have been just another attack for him, but for you, it was your home.

“What else could a princess do?” he raised an eyebrow at you challengingly and you would have liked to sneer at him.

“I’m not the type of princess you think I am,” you claimed, hating that he probably thought you were used to letting other people fight your battles for you. Just because your father didn’t let you go into the war because you were the sole heir of the clan, it didn’t mean you couldn’t have. But now, as Yixing’s fiancée you didn’t even have much choice. You knew you shouldn’t go against his words or he might dance back on his agreement with your father. But you panicked, so you did the only thing you could possibly do in such a situation. “What do you want? Do you want to marry immediately, so you would help? Or would you let them destroy my home even then?”

You were desperate, so you would have agreed to anything only if he sent a handful of soldiers to help your people. Hell, if you had become the queen you could have commanded them yourself. But the king seemed to have different ideas.

“I will help. On one condition,” he said slowly, tasting every word and you were holding your breath, waiting for him to reveal what he wished from you. “Show me what type of princess you are then. Let’s not lie to each other about these things, Princess.”

Well, you certainly did not expect that.

“What do you mean?” you stuttered and your heart skipped a beat when the man slid an overly familiar envelope onto the table. You were smart enough to not be obvious about what you wanted to discuss with your father but there were still hints in your letter about things you shouldn’t have known if you were just picking flowers and practicing embroidery like an ordinary princess would have.

“You don’t want to marry me,” the man said and even though it was an accusation, he didn’t make it sound like one. And yet…

“You don’t want to marry me either but it hardly matters what we desire. We come from the bloodline of royals, we have our responsibilities to our people. And my people need me,” you slammed your hand on the table, spilled rice wine pouring like melted snow. You caught one of the masked guards - probably Xukun - turning his head towards you at that.

“You don’t want to be a princess,” Yixing continued and it baffled you. As if you had a choice! “You have the heart of a warrior.”

Well, you couldn’t argue that, so you just gulped, looking over the table, at the man who was a mystery to you. What did he want you to say? You couldn’t possibly admit that you planned to kill him.

“Come with me,” the king said as if it was his ultimatum and there was something knowing in his dark eyes when he explained: “Come with me to the front. Fight with me and then I’ll help the Jade Clan.”

His offer was an interesting one, you didn’t quite get his reason but you nodded anyway. You were ready to fight alongside your people but you didn’t even have to look at Xukun to know he was frowning.

You left the next day, at dawn. You took all your guards with you and Yixing added his own as you departed towards the North… your home. You wore your comfortable man clothes, hair swirling in the air around you as you galloped on your horse next to the others. It took about two days to reach the endangered border, so on the night when you had to set up a tent you could be finally alone a bit. Since you were the only woman you got a separate place and nobody should have bothered you but the tent wasn’t empty when you got in there. Gosh, were your guards so imcompetent or how?

“Reckless of you to sneak into my tent. What would your king say?” you asked, words a bit biting. You didn’t have a chance to talk with Xukun ever since that night in your room and you knew, it could have been indecent to exchange words in front of others even if you explained that you knew each other from before.

“I came exactly because of that,” the once boy explained, sitting near your small table as if you had invited him over for tea. Only because you had known him before you noticed his fidgety fingers as a sign of nervousness. “Did you write about me in the letter he got his hands on?”

Oh. So that was what he was worried about. Disappointment made you taste bile in your mouth. You hated this feeling.

“I’m not stupid,” you told him curtly and turned your back on him to indeed pour some boiled water over tea leaves to soothe your nerves. Honestly, you thought about telling your father about Xukun but then you realized you didn’t know what to write. You weren’t sure what you should have. It wasn’t your place to decide and maybe it was for the better if your father still thought that he was dead.

“He… he has a man watching you. He told me he can’t trust me with that,” Xukun who once had jumped to hover above you when a wooden house fell upon the two of you during a heavy storm sounded pained admitting that. You gulped hearing his words and the worry lacing through them. You didn’t want to think of him caring. He disappeared from your life years ago, he didn’t get to worry about you now.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked, slowly, tentative as you sat by the table across him, putting cups of tea between you. Xukun waited until you looked up, into his deep brown eyes that had the most beautiful golden specks in them you had ever seen. Maybe it was just the lights’ doing but he still took your breath away, unfairly so.

“You need to be careful. He knows you’re up to something,” he pressed, desperate and you forced a smile, a charming, confident one. Oh, Zhang Yixing had no idea what was coming for him if he betrayed you.

“If he helped my people, our people, I wouldn’t have a reason to plot against him, would I?” you voiced out your thoughts, the decision you made on your own. If the king proved to be not as ruthless, just as your old friend claimed, maybe he deserved another chance. So you meant it but Xukun didn’t look convinced.

“Princess, I have something to discuss,” the cold, authoritative voice of the Dragon Clan’s head could be heard from outside and the pace of your heartbeats picked up, whipping your head towards the entrance of your tent then back to Xukun… or where he had been just before. Now, nothing but a smell of smoke lingered after him. You had no idea how he did that.

As it turned out Yixing wanted to discuss the reports he had gotten from the battle and if he had noticed the two cups of steamy tea, he didn’t make a comment on it. The situation was quite bad, the enemy had already gotten over the walls you had pulled up all those years ago. He had already had a man of his own let the Jade Clan general there know that Dragon soldiers were coming to rescue and not to attack, so if things worked out, you could crowd out the attackers from two sides. If you were lucky enough you could bait them towards the river where they were more vulnerable. It didn’t sound like a bad plan at all and hearing Yixing’s strategies, you understood why he had won so many battles but what surprised you was that he didn’t intend to drown everyone in the river or kill them on the spot, he sounded like he hoped they would give up and retreat. You wouldn’t have thought that of the ruthless Zhang Yixing.

Knowing how wars worked was different than being there, in the middle of a battle, sweaty, limbs tired, blood dripping from the end of your sword and a painful bruise blossoming on your left shoulder. You saw red and adrenaline carried you as you shouted and attacked the next man with mace in his hand coming at you.

“Princess!” Someone screamed and you dodged the sword aiming at you just in time but its owner stepped closer, pushing you backwards on the slippery ground. You weren’t strong enough to push him back.

“Princess, huh? How interesting,” the man, covered in dirt and blood not his own, grinned at you, a hand clasping his hand around your throat, squeezing hard. You gasped, clawing at his arm with your free hand because he pushed the one that held the sword close to your chest with his. For the first time in your life, you felt powerless even with a weapon in your hand. You tried to kick and get away from the soldier but you couldn’t and felt disgusted by the names this disgusting leech called you.

You didn’t know how long you had fought back but the noises of the battle started to fade out when suddenly the man was yanked away from you but you still felt his blood splatter across your cheek as a sword pierced through his chest. Panting, gasping for air, you stared at Xukun behind the fallen soldier and he stared back at you, eyes glowing dark and golden. You smelled something burning...

You heard the screams before you had seen the source of sudden panic and shock.

You looked up to where everybody was pointing while running and you had seen a huge dragon appearing above the walls of Jade. Its fur and scales were dark like the night sky except a few gilded ones that looked like burning fire from afar while his antlers were long and ivory. It was terrifying yet beautiful. Its honey-coloured eyes gazed down upon you mere humans and it seemed to have a concrete target in its mind as it flew above you rippling the water and air behind.

Xukun grabbed your arm, trying to pull you away but his touch felt burning too and you couldn’t take your eyes off the dragon that halted in the air, levitating just above the ground, its huge head merely an arm away from Zhang Yixing who stood there alone, unmoving. It reminded you of the day when you threw your hairpin at him, how calm he was and you still couldn’t believe what you saw when the Dragon Clan’s leader lifted a hand and put it on its head as if he was trying to discipline a dog.

Thunder roared above and Xukun managed to pull you away now that everyone had scattered all over hell's half-acre. He took you farther, inside the wall of your nation and you only noticed that he must have been hurt when he stumbled and you had to catch him before he fell.

“Kun!” you shrieked, scared, the old nickname slipping naturally as you put his arm around your shoulder and pulled him inside of a half-destroyed house nearby. Your hands trembled as you let him sit down and then looked around to look for a lantern to light it.

In the dim lit room you kneeled next to the guard, his clothing soaked with his blood and you could see sweat forming on his forehead. How did it happen, you questioned, but it wasn’t the important thing. With a shaky breath, you reached out to peel off the bloody material from his chest to see the sword cut across one shoulder. You hissed seeing the fresh wound and all that blood. You cursed in frustration.

“Shh… it’s okay,” the boy whispered with droopy eyes, taking your hand, weakly pushing it away from the cut.

“It’s not okay,” you argued and you could feel tears in the corner of your eyes. Did he get hurt while trying to get to you? Did he forget to pay attention to himself because he saw you? You felt guilty and you hated that, you didn’t want to be the reason why he was hurt.

“There’s something you should know…” Kun coughed and grunted at the pain flashing through him. He had his eyes shut, teeth clenched and it hurt to look at him. “I– I heal faster than normal… The dragon blood that saved me…”

“I know,” you cut him off, not wanting him to exhaust himself with speaking. You could see him struggle, his eyes bright gold when he opened them briefly. His blood was working its magic.

To be honest, you didn’t know, you just had a guess up until now. His golden flashing eyes, the warmth radiating off him, how fast and soundless he could move or disappear leaving only smoke behind… It was because of the dragon inside of him.

There were legends saying that if a person spared a dragon, it would be bound to him for life and the blood of an alive dragon in a human would create a connection between the two. A connection that could call the other half if one felt threatened. Although it was just a theory, with the intensity of Kun’s eyes on you, the beautiful burning fire in his pupils made you believe you were right, that the dragon appeared because he feared for you.

There was a short cut growl leaving the boy’s mouth and you grabbed his hand, letting him squeeze yours while you could see his skin basically knitting itself back together, the wound closing in as if it had never been there. It might have been only a few minutes but it felt too long with how much it seemed to hurt the boy you had just saved your life. When it was over and he opened his eyes, they were plain brown again – your favourite though – and he looked tired.

Oh, thank the deities, you let out a relieved choked sound and you didn’t even notice you had been crying until Xukun didn’t wipe your tears off your cheek. He looked at you as if he had seen you for the first time, properly at least and you felt your lips tremble. Heavens, you had mourned him once and now you almost lost him again. Suddenly, a rush of emotions rippled through your body, your fingers tentatively touching the freshly healed skin.

“You’re so warm,” you whispered in awe since his skin was hotter than expected and you knew it wasn’t fever caused by the wound.

“Princess...” he muttered oh so gently and his hand, wet with your tears, slipping from your cheek to your neck, caressed your skin just like his voice caressed your soul.

“No,” you stopped him firmly and when confusion flashed in his orbs you told him to call you by your own name. It was a command, a request, a plea. It was everything and a sweet little nothing at the same time.

Kun’s eyes widened at the permission but pushed himself away from the wall to lean closer and he sighed your name into the seam of your mouth. You closed your eyes feeling his hot breath tingling on your lips and when he kissed you, you melted against him like wax melted near fire.

Once the storm passed, you could still feel Kun’s touch on you. It was like a vivid memory and it tasted sweet on your tongue even if you knew you were being naive.

You didn’t talk about it. About what it meant because you both knew you couldn’t. But you were stupid enough to forget about your other problems when you had seen the retreating army. Your people could be a bit more safe at least for a little while.

“Cai Xukun!” Another guard called out when he caught sight of his comrade next to you. He looked panicked and it scared you. What now? The man walking up to your duo looked at you warily before answering the question about his worried expression. “The king is injured.”

Oh. Interesting how it was what you had wanted since you had left home but now that Zhang Yixing was bedridden, you found yourself worrying and by the looks of it Kun too. The two of you were escorted to the king who lay on a makeshift bed, chest wrapped with a cloth that he had already bled through.

“What happened?” you questioned, looking from one soldier to another. This didn’t look like something caused by the dragon’s claws or teeth, it was definitely a human-caused injury and your guess was confirmed when one of the men told you that while he was trying to calm the dragon, someone from afar shot an arrow through him. It made you anxious because what if they captured the dragon? What would that have meant to your people, to Kun?

“And the dragon?”

“It chased them away and is probably in the mountains,” the man said and that made you a bit relieved even though you weren’t sure you were allowed to feel that while your fiance was bleeding out only a few steps from you. You nodded in acknowledgement and made a hand movement to excuse the soldiers. Soon, you were left with only Xukun in the room.

“Why isn’t he healing? Doesn’t he...” you looked at the boy, not understanding why the injury took its toll on the king when Xukun healed within an hour. Was it some kind of special arrow damped in poisonous liquid? Was it...

“No,” The guard cut your words off but you could already tell by the look on his face that it wasn’t how you thought. “He saved the dragon and it now serves him but he never got its blood and I… I think the dragon is hurt, too.”

“What?” you were dumbfounded how he could tell something like that when you had left the field together, so he couldn’t have known about this. Not by seeing it happen. But as Xukun clenched his hand in front of his chest as if he was hurting, you started to understand. They were indeed connected after all.

“I can feel it. I can’t explain but its energy...”

A hurt dragon in the mountains. A hurt king in the desert. Gosh, things really weren’t on the path you hoped them to be. You suddenly weren't sure what worried you more.

“Do you think the dragon is in danger?” you turned to Kun, fingers fidgeting with the handle of your sword by your side. If those from before knew that they managed to wound the creature, were they looking for it? Anyone who got control over a dragon could have immense power, you didn’t even want to think about it. Especially the dragon that had this special connection with the boy beside you. “Go then. Help the dragon!”

He seemed surprised and conflicted at your nudging. He didn’t move, eyes flickering to the bed behind you.

“But Yixing...” His protest fell short when you quickly explained:

“I will stay with him and wait for the medic,” you promised but weren’t sure Xukun trusted you with something like this until he reached out to take your hands in his. His palm was warm like every other part of him too, his fingers felt nice against your dirtied, dry skin. He squeezed your hand gently in agreement.

“Call for a shaman, too,” he added and you nodded with a lump in your throat. You needed to get prepared for any kind of situation.

You could have been called a loyal fiancée based on how you spent day and night next to Yixing, watching over his recovery. However, he didn’t get much better over the course of days and you didn’t hear about Xukun either. The only reassuring thing was that you weren’t attacked there, at the border of three Clans. You couldn’t leave either way because the king wasn’t well enough for such a long voyage and you wanted to be as close as the mountains anyway.

The medic said the arrow hit Yixing so close to his heart that it was a miracle that he was still breathing and it scared you more than you had expected. You let him change the bandage and stayed by the unconscious man, putting fresh wet cloth over his feverish forehead.

That night, marking the third without Xukun, the king stirred awake.

You looked up from your place beside his bed, startled. It was the first time he seemed more conscious than just to drink a bit of water or ginger soup because his eyes looked alert. For the first time since you had met him, he seemed scared.

“The dragon...” he croaked out with a hoarse voice due to not speaking for days.

“Xukun is looking after it,” you told him reassuringly and held a metal cup to the king’s chin, urging him to drink a bit. He gulped down the fresh water as if it was healing potion and once he finished with the entire cup, he fell back onto the sheets with a painful sigh. Closing his eyes, he traced his ribs until he reached the bloody bandage over his wound and hissed. He must have suffered more than he showed.

“I would have never thought I would have my fiancée look after me after a battle,” the man whispered, deep voice weak and uncertain, a little playful though. Although his words were conveying the truth, it made you feel like someone who committed adultery. You knew you didn’t swear either loyalty nor love to each other with the king but after learning how he had saved your first love from certain death, you didn’t want to do something like this to him. You needed to come clean even if the timing was quite off.

“With all due respect, Zhang Yixing, I’m afraid I can't marry you,” you said quietly, expecting a frown or a scolding but none of it came. Maybe because he was injured but he didn’t react at all and for a moment you thought he had fallen back asleep but then he slowly opened his eyes again and turned his head to be able to look you in the eye.

“I had a feeling,” he nodded calmly. He didn’t seem angry nor disappointed. He had already said your father’s proposal was an odd one, one with interesting timing. There was nothing interesting about it, it was just a strategy, a plan you didn’t want to follow anymore. But before you could have spoken up, to apologize, to ask whether it meant your alliance was off, Yixing continued: “Xukun treasures you too much. He was the one who urged me to trust your father.”

“He… Did he tell you about me before we met?” Words stumbled out of your mouth before you could have stopped them. You were more than dumbfounded to know that. Had Xukun known about your father’s wish to marry you to Zhang Yixing even before he agreed? Was it him because of whom the king agreed at all? And here you thought that he had been just another guard, loyal to his king until death.

“He talked about you all the time,” the man reminisced with a faint smile on his lips as he stared at the ceiling. “He always says how I saved his life back then but with him here, not being able to return home, I feel like I have taken his life instead. Taking you from him would have been even worse.”

You cast your eyes down bashfully as you listen to him talk. Yixing’s side of the story was an interesting one as well. Learning how he didn’t save Xukun out of the kindness of his heart but because he wanted intelligence was something you could understand, something you could relate to as you lived in a world like that after all. You couldn’t even be angry, not when he told you how they had become friends over the years. As the king drifted back to sleep, you thought that maybe you could become friends as well, maybe you could still be allies. You didn’t necessarily have to be enemies.

But once being enemies, it was hard to forget and not everybody had the same insights as you.

You woke up to a small noise, only to open your eyes to see one of your own soldiers from Jade Clan stepping inside the tent. You had always felt safe next to your guards but this time, something was off.

“What are you doing here?” you questioned as you sprang to your feet from the seat you accidentally fell asleep in.

“Princess,” the guard bowed with respect. Though, he was clearly surprised to see you still there and you could see the hint of hesitation in his eyes before he answered. “I am here as per your father’s wish.”

You furrowed your brows. You hadn’t been notified of anything like this.

“My father’s wish?” you raised a brow, looking at the man expectantly but he didn’t reply, not with words at least. Instead he took out a small glass bottle with familiar yellow-ish liquid inside. It made the blood freeze in your veins.

“That wasn’t the plan,” you reminded the man even though you hadn’t even known your father told anybody else about it. Didn’t he trust you or…

“It wasn’t your plan but your father had doubts whether you could do it with a cold heart. That’s why he sent me,” your guard informed you dutifully and your brain kept coming up with reasons why this was a terrible idea. It would have been much easier if Zhang Yixing was indeed the tyrant you had imagined him but after learning about his personality and starting to form an amicable acquaintance with him, it just didn’t make sense.

“I’m not the queen yet,” you objected but the guard didn’t seem to care.

He explained how the public sentiment had changed in your favour just because you stayed with the injured king in the last few days and there was something in his explanation that was quite logical: if Yixing passed away now, nobody would have looked for a murderer because he was already on his deathbed. Nobody would have known he didn’t die from the arrow. Nobody needed to know. But… it wasn’t the plan. If he died then, without a queen or heir, the Dragon Clan would remain without a leader and neighbouring nations would all want their pieces of it. If they got to know about the dragon too…

“It’s a chance we can’t waste. We need to prioritize the safety of Jade Clan,” your guard reminded you and for a moment you were stuck. If it hadn’t been for Xukun, you might have done it within a heartbeat, not even considering other options because Zhang Yixing was a dangerous man but now… you were torn, unsure what to believe. Your uncertainty must have been written on your face because your guard pushed the bottle into your hands, encouraging you to make a move and you gulped, too busy with your internal turmoil to react fast enough when you got company.

Four of the masked guards of Yixing stepped into the tent, one of them immediately slicing the throat of your man which made you scream. Two guards held you back from behind, not letting you move, to get any weapon while another one walked up to you, his dark eyes trained on you, his bloody dagger aimed at your throat. He forced the little glass bottle out of your hands.

“There was always something off with you, Princess. You should have been hung the moment you dared to fling your hairpin at the king,” he said, disgusted and you couldn't quite blame him. You raised your chin though, proud because as a royal it was expected of you even when you looked into the eyes of death. You weren't afraid of dying, you had walked out to the battlefield earlier with that mindset too, it was just… you wished you could have said goodbye to Kun.

You knew that the only reason the guard didn't kill you off like he did with your man was because you were a royal. If you died by a hand of a guard of the Dragon Clan, you knew your father would have gone to war against them and you also knew he would have lost which broke your heart even more.

"So what now? Will you kill me too, in the name of justice because one of my men blabbered? You have no idea what we even talked about!" you accused the guard of making a scene over nothing because as of now prolonging the conversation was your best chance. Either Yixing could wake up and stop them, if he believed you didn't want to hurt him any more, or your other guards could show up as well.

"I have a good enough guess, Princess, but of course, you can prove your innocence by drinking this. If it isn't poison, you have nothing to lose, am I right?" the man turned the small glass bottle between his fingers. You didn't show reaction to that even though you knew you were going to die if you drank it all. But at least it was said to be a fast killer. You were contemplating whether you should have taken it and then spit it out saying it was bitter for your 'princess taste' because he wouldn't have been able to prove anything then. He could still kill you though but maybe it was worth a chance.

However, before you could have decided the tent's entrance flew open and a very dishevelled looking Xukun showed up. He looked like he was running and hadn't slept properly in days. The presence of guards, his comrades, seemed to surprise him, the dagger at your throat even more.

"What's going on here?" he asked in an authoritative voice even though you weren't sure he had a bigger rank just because he was friends with Yixing.

"The princess and her guard were caught trying to poison the king."

"That's not true!" You protested heavily looking for eye contact with Xukun, hoping he would believe you. It was all just a terrible misunderstanding. Once you might have wanted to cause harm but you had no reason anymore, not if you signed the Lotus pact with Yixing like you had agreed. When you met Kun's gaze, it was confused but not unkind.

"Then prove it, Princess," the older man said and pushed the blade closer to your neck where your earlier scar was still visible. The situation seemed to scare Xukun but you didn't want him to save you again, you only needed him to believe you. He seemed to think differently though.

"Let her go and lower your weapon, we don't have time for this," he stood in front of you pushing the man's hand away and flashing his golden eyes at the guards you kept you caged. Their hands immediately loosened their hold as Kun lifted his bag. "I have the dragon blood. Where is the shaman?"

One of the guards ran off with the bag to fetch the shaman but you could only breathe peacefully for a moment. Then the masked man with a slit across his eye crowded you and Xukun into a corner.

"My bad. Why would I have thought that you of all people can be rational? Do you think you were so discreet about disappearing, just the two of you? Are you maybe in it too? Did the two of you, Jade bastards, plan to get rid of our king to take over?" With each of his words, he poked Kun's chest with his index finger until the younger swatted his hand away. His voice didn't waver as he answered:

"If you really think that after all the fights we fought together, I feel very distraught," he said with his voice so cold like you never heard it before. Xukun's pride must have been on the line with his loyalty being questioned just because of his connection – maybe affection? – to you because the next thing you knew was him grabbing the glass bottle out of the other man's hand. "You know what? I'll prove it to you!"

“Kun, no!” You grabbed his hands in panic, closing your fingers around his, so he couldn't lift the poison to his lips. Was he crazy? Did he want to die just for you to follow?

Or oh… he believed you. He really believed you and that it wasn't poison in the first place or maybe he believed you had nothing to do with it and knew nothing of it because when his eyes locked with yours, he seemed surprised that you stopped him.

You were both startled when the shaman arrived with the finished potion but before he could have stepped to the injured king, the man in front of you lifted his hand. Although you couldn't see his mouth, you would have bet he pulled it into a malicious smirk.

"Ah look at that, trying to save him from harm, how touching," he tsked, mocking before he pointed at the potion in the shaman hands and then at the bottle in Xukun's. “How about this? One cup has dragon blood that could save the Dragon Clan’s last son. The other which you claim isn't poison was retrieved from your room by your own guard. Choose wisely, Princess, what to give our king because your hero will drink the other one.”

“Why are you doing this?” you shrieked, having enough of this mind game of his. You knew he was just a loyal guard of Yixing and you couldn't blame him for not trusting you but did he have to go this far to make you suffer?

“I cannot let the filthy Jade Clan take over the Dragon Clan. So you either save him or be executed for killing him which was your original plan, wasn’t it?”

"Save the king, Princess," Xukun told you, determined and maybe he had a plan, a better one than you or at least you hoped. You looked him in the eyes mouthing Please don't at him but he just smiled. How could he act so nonchalant? "Trust me," he whispered.

You let go of his hands and maybe it was a mistake because he had told you: he owed Yixing his life. You barely stepped to the bed of the king, lifting his head to help the shaman give him the potion when you heard glass breaking. When you lifted your head you saw Xukun swaying, barely grabbing on a chair to stop him from falling and the broken glass was by his feet. The liquid from inside was nowhere which meant…

"Kun!" you screamed trying to run up to him, to help, to do anything but the guards turned towards you with their sword out and you could only do one thing, listen to the boy who had once saved you when the stable's roof collapsed onto you, he hovered over your body with his to save you from the impacts of the falling pieces. He always did.

So when Kun told you to run, you ran. Back to your own tent to get your sword to be able to fight off and it was ridiculous how only a few days ago you fought alongside these men but now they wanted to kill you. Oh, how fast the tables turn but maybe you deserved this, maybe you deserved to die for killing the boy you loved since you had been 16 and had given him your first kiss under the stars. You might not have a future but you wanted to believe nevertheless, but you ruined it all.

You felt tears running down on your cheeks as you dodged the daggers and swords coming your way, hissing when one managed to cut your arm. You ran, you didn't look where, you just wanted to get away. If you killed Yixing's men, peace wouldn't have been an option, so you needed to escape, that was the only way to stop another war.

You stumbled when a huge shadow overtowered you and heard the scared muffled sounds of the soldiers following you as well. Gulping, you looked up at the majestic dragon in front of you, its nostrils flaring and smoke coming out of its mouth as it huffed. It stood above you, staring at the soldiers behind you as if… as if it was protecting you. It made you feel safe, like Xukun, and gosh, you just cried harder because he was trying to save you even now. You fell onto your knees, not knowing what to do with this information and then…

"It isn't nice of you to chase my fiancée away from me, is it?" Yixing roared in a forever calm voice and through your tears you could barely believe your eyes when you saw him walk towards you. And not just him, it was Xukun who helped him move because he must have still been in pain. But how?

The masked guards seemed just as flabbergasted as you were. But Kun, oh the deities, Kun looked almost smug as he passed by them after Yixing pushed him towards you. Then he ran, ran until he knelt next to you, taking your face into his hands. You touched him as if you didn't believe he was real.

"I didn't want to…"

"I know," he assured you with a stupid smile on his stupid face like he did back in that ruined house where he kissed you like you were his life line.

"I can't believe you drank the poison! How could you be sure your blood would fight it off?" you whisper-yelled at him, hitting his chest all too weakly and he laughed, too. The nerve of him!

"I wasn't but Princess, I would drink poison over and over again if it tasted like you," he said with a smirk and you would have bet Yixing told him about your agreement because otherwise he wouldn't have been so daring. Or was it the near death experience? Or the thought of losing each other all over again? The wars might have been still messy, politics stressing, but in that moment, you didn't care, you just closed your eyes and kissed Kun back when he pressed his lips against yours, happily burning with him.

#cai xukun x reader #xukun x reader #cai xu kun x reader #stories #fantasy au #royalty au

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

For the spooky prompts, "Violent Thunderstorms" for Fivan perhaps? 😳

Anonymous asked: Heyyy 2 Vampire for fivan (how to ask for the chapter 2 witout asking for chap 2)

Anonymous asked: Fivan and #2 🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

Very well, I see what the people want, and that is a sequel to this one-shot. I have thus combined these prompts for reasons.

Fedyor spends the next fortnight attempting – with notably indifferent success – not to think about Ivan Sakharov. The Conclave was less than pleased to hear that Fedyor came back empty-handed, having not even secured a promise for Ivan and the rest of the Black Hand to leave off their mischief-making, and in fact has empowered them in their belief that there is nothing the law can do to them. Considering the earful that Fedyor got on that accord, he saw nothing to be gained from mentioning that not only did Ivan blow him off completely, he did it after he had fed on him. It’s entirely possible that Ivan accessed sensitive thoughts, memories, or plans, any scrap of useful intelligence that Fedyor did not carefully hide away in his mind before that too-distracting bite. In short, he has comprehensively botched the entire situation, the Conclave is well within their rights to be very angry with him, and to demonstrate the extent of their displeasure, they have temporarily revoked Fedyor’s right to enter their territory and feed on their drones – willing humans kept for the purpose, who are hoping to be selected for the transformation in exchange for their service. That means if Fedyor wants to eat, he has to go out and hunt an animal, or bamboozle and beguile an unwitting passerby to let him chomp on their neck. Truly, being a vampire can be such a terrible drag.

Fedyor figures that if he keeps his head down, meekly accepts his punishment, and doesn’t make any trouble, the Conclave will get over their anger and reinstate him sooner rather than later. It’s not like he has many other options. If he wants to stay in Belgrade, he will remain in their good graces, and he has no desire to get mixed up with the Black Hand. The rumor is that they were founded by the Black Heretic himself, who has remained out of sight for many decades but is now said to be active again, and the Black Heretic is the scion of the Conclave’s greatest enemy, the vampire that all other vampires fear. Absolutely no good can come of throwing one’s lot in with that crowd, and Fedyor wonders if he is going to have to find a new home. If a stupid supernatural war blows up this city, he’s out.

Most of the fortnight passes without incident, but the flaw in the plan is the unfortunate fact that Fedyor is very hungry. He’s still a young enough vampire that he can’t go two weeks without feeding, and he really hates the messy business of corralling an unwitting human. Besides, the Conclave’s headquarters and chief place of business are on Knez Mihailova Ulica, the most fashionable downtown district right in the middle of Belgrade, and what with Fedyor’s current banishment from the premises, he can’t go there anyway. Hunting it has to be.

Fedyor waits until it is dark, a soft summer rain pattering on the steep-roofed eaves and glowing streetlamps, and then, having changed into clothing more suitable for getting a lot of bloodstains, he slips out. He moves silently in the shadows, past the well-dressed gentlemen and evening-gowned ladies out at the ball or the opera or the latest society supper-party, and escapes the precincts of Belgrade proper for the low green hills that surround it. This is on the Sava side of the river confluence, to the west, and once Fedyor is out of the city, the trees close in thickly. They are only broken by the occasional tiny village: small churches with square steeples and double-branched Orthodox crosses, red-tiled cottages crowded together along narrow dirt lanes, a lantern burning here and there to keep the monsters away. Fedyor can hear human voices, sense the shadows of people moving around behind the shutters, and it gives him a pang. No wonder he is clinging so closely to the prospect of timely reinstatement to the Conclave. Without them, he would truly be entirely alone.

The rain starts to come down harder as Fedyor climbs through the thick green underbrush, and by the time he reaches the top of the hill, it is slicing into his face with a vehemence that even a vampire finds intensely disagreeable. Squinting and swearing under his breath, Fedyor shields his eyes and takes a deep whiff, searching for the scent of a prey animal. He could always hop a fence and grab a cow, but cows can kick surprisingly hard, a poor farmer doesn’t need the hassle of his one beast of burden keeling over, and maybe it is just the city-boy aesthete in Fedyor, but crouching in a muddy farmyard, doing your damndest not to get murdered by a large and angry bovine while you valiantly attempt to suck its blood, is just fucking terrible. There’s nothing to recommend it. Now that he’s out of the fledgling bloodlust, Fedyor has no intention of ever going back.

Thunder booms overhead, making him jump, and a jagged spear of lightning sears the horizon from sky to ground. A tree not that far away lights up in blinding white, and a scorched scent of ozone drifts through the pounding rain. Fedyor flinches, as he has no desire to be set on fire, and decides that either he raids a farm or he heads back home and waits for better weather. But he can catch another scent just ahead, and he’s hungry enough to risk it. He breaks into a run, almost loses his footing, dodges around an enormous dripping tree, and spots a thin crescent of lights high on the bluff ahead. Wait, is that a house? Some Serbian royal bureaucrat’s elegant country retreat, or – something else? Fedyor doesn’t recall that he has seen it before, although he has not spent much time out here alone. That, or –

He has only a split second of warning, his supernatural senses screaming at him to get the fuck out of here right now, before he realizes two things at once: first, that the scent is very definitely hostile, and second, that something is dive-bombing directly toward him, on the strength of a ferocious leap that is remarkable even for a vampire. The next second, it – he – hits Fedyor like a ton of bricks, and they go crashing down the slope, kicking and thrashing and biting at each other in a flurry of blows too fast for a human eye to see. Another enormous clap of thunder rattles Fedyor’s fangs in his head, he slams down on his back hard enough to break his bones if he was human, and then, in the flash of the succeeding lightning bolt, his eyes confirm what his nose has already told him. Of all the stupid, stupid things, he appears to have unwittingly trespassed onto Black Hand territory and tried to hunt their game, and the angry supernatural soldier determined to beat the unholy tarnation out of him is therefore none other than the one and only –

“Stop!” Fedyor wheezes, although he has no idea why he expects it to make any difference. “It’s me! Fedyor Kaminsky! From Terazije!”

The rain stings his eyes hard enough to make him grimace, just as a third incandescent bolt of lightning rattles across the sky. From what Fedyor can see, which is not very much, Ivan looks almost as startled as he feels. They remain staring at each other, their faces barely an inch apart, Ivan’s fangs bared in a way that it is really not the time to find disturbingly attractive. Then Ivan springs off and barks, “What the fuck are you doing out here, Conclave whore?”

“Sorry.” Fedyor sits up. His dark hair is plastered to his head and getting in his eyes, there is mud all over his clothes, and even for an immortal who technically does not need to breathe, he is winded. Ivan, to nobody’s surprise, really packs a punch. “I was just… hungry.”

“You have your own arrangements.” Ivan eyes him suspiciously, arms folded, rainwater running down that magnificently disdainful Slavic nose as if from a statue in the public square. “If anyone besides me had caught you out here, you would be dead.”

Well, that is (not) encouraging. It does, however, point out the fact that Ivan has already had the chance to murder him and held back, and Fedyor is not about to speculate on why exactly that might be. It’s not a good idea, but he’s wet, hungry, has just had to unexpectedly fight like the dickens, and irritated at Ivan for being the one who got him into this mess in the first place. “The Conclave demanded that I return their visiting card,” he says shortly. “I’m not allowed to feed on their drones for some unspecified length of time – which is, I might add, entirely thanks to you.”

“What? Why is that my fault?”

“In case you’ve forgotten our last meeting,” Fedyor snaps, “it was at the Golden Cross, on the Lumière brothers’ film night. I relayed the Conclave’s warning to stop your illegal behavior and associations, and you completely ignored it. As a result – ”

“What, they cut off your feeding access?” Ivan interrupts. He looks utterly incredulous. “That’s charitable of them. A good way to build loyalty among your people. Besides, what the fuck did they expect? That you would walk up and ask me nicely, and that would solve it?”

He does, Fedyor has to loathingly admit, have a point. The best he can muster is, “The Conclave is accustomed to being obeyed.”

Ivan eyes him up, with an expression on his face as if that riposte is so pathetic, he isn’t going to dignify it with the effort of a reply. He is poised on edge, as if he doesn’t consider this matter to be entirely settled by the previous bout of violence, and Fedyor is equally tense. He very much does not want to scuffle with a Black Hand hardman who looks like that and fights like that, especially in the throes of encroaching frenzy, and the attendant loss of control. His fangs dig into his lower lip, seeking out the nearest blood – his own – and Fedyor clenches his fists. “Do you have an animal I can borrow?” he asks, as politely as he can. “I’ll – pay for it.”

Ivan surveys him up and down, dripping like an undead drowned rat and otherwise looking as miserable as Fedyor generally tries not to look (after all, presentation is everything). Then he jerks up an impatient fist. “Follow me.”

Fedyor is unsure what this might entail, but shamefully – whether it is due to his increasingly desperate hunger, or something else – he is not altogether opposed to it. He trails after Ivan, trying not to slip in the wet grass or fixate on Ivan’s scent; he will just get another smackdown for his trouble, like a horse flicking aside a fly, and he is not in the mood for it. After a climb of a few minutes, they reach the top of the hill and cross a deserted lawn to a manor house, scattered lights flickering in steep gables and pointed turrets. It is otherwise entirely dark, even to Fedyor’s vampire senses, as Ivan unlatches the heavy front door and drags it open with a screech. “In.”

Well aware that this is an even stupider idea than the polite request to knock it off – he is putting himself voluntarily in the power of a Black Hand operative, on enemy territory, where nobody knows where he is or what Ivan intends to do with him. If Fedyor’s drained corpse turns up floating in the Danube tomorrow, a warning to the Conclave never to interfere in their business again, he can’t say that he didn’t expect it. He hesitates at the threshold a moment longer, and then, given permission – it’s not essential, but it does help – steps inside.

The hall looks almost exactly as you would expect a secret vampire mansion to look: dusty suits of armor, glowering paintings, a sweeping grand staircase with a gothic balcony, and a chandelier which struggles to illuminate the cracked black-and-white chessboard flagstones. Still dripping, the thunder dulling to a muted rumble, Fedyor looks warily from side to side. There doesn’t seem to be anyone here except the two of them – or at least, he certainly hopes that there are no unwitting humans asleep upstairs. In the state that he’s in right now, he isn’t sure that he could control himself. Unless Ivan is trying to make some tiresome point about the inherent monstrosity of vampires, the sort that certain factions like to use in order to argue against the Conclave’s attempts to civilize them and make them follow human-like rules and laws. Fedyor hopes not, because that would be deeply irritating, but he’s so hungry that he’s about to bite his own wrist, and it would not be his finest hour.

However, Ivan does not lead them upstairs, but through a dim warren of corridors to a small, curtained study in the back of the house. Sullen embers glimmer in the hearth; vampires don’t need fires for heat, or to see by, but the human habit is hard to break, even if it’s one of the few things that can hurt them. Then Ivan shuts the door behind them and says crisply, “I’ll make you a deal. Give me useful information on the Conclave, and I will let you feed.”

“What?” Fedyor gapes at him. That was clearly a starvation-induced hallucination. “On – on you?”

“No,” Ivan snaps. “On the davenport, you idiot. Yes, obviously on me. Or I can throw you out and send you to try your luck in the nearest village. Yes or no?”

Fedyor continues to gape at him. Obviously he does not want to go and rip some screaming innocent villager out of their bed, like the very worst of the strigoi horror stories, but he is not in a hurry to jeopardize his ticket back to the Conclave’s good graces by informing on them to Ivan bloody Sakharov. (Indeed, literally.) Did Ivan make that offer because he knows that Fedyor wants it, and remembers how much of a reaction Fedyor had to Ivan feeding on him back at the Golden Cross? It was impossible to hide it entirely, blast him, and Ivan is too canny not to take advantage of an adversary’s weakness. He’s caught Fedyor dead to rights, trespassing on Black Hand territory, and as he himself said, Fedyor is lucky to escape with his skin. It’s Ivan’s right to exploit that fact, nothing more. If Fedyor refuses, what in the hell is he going to do?

“I don’t know,” he stalls. “I’m not sure that I can – ”

Ivan shrugs, then lifts his own wrist to his mouth and bites the back of it. Slow, rich, dark blood beads up, and he wafts it temptingly in Fedyor’s direction. “So, you don’t want this, then?”

Yes, Fedyor wants it. Fedyor, in fact, wants a few other things while he’s at it, and there is no way that Ivan, with hearing and senses and smell as acute as his own, doesn’t know it. He takes a step forward, but Ivan dances aside. “Information first,” he orders. “Then you may have your reward. Come now, Conclave whore. Why is it any different from last time?”

“Don’t call me that.” Fedyor is seeing red – which, at this point, could be due to just about anything. “I have a name, remember? Fedyor – Mikhailovich – Kaminsky.”

He stumbles a little over the patronymic, as it is an ongoing debate whether proper etiquette for Slavic vampires entails the use of the birth father’s name, or that of the vampire sire. Opinion generally comes down on the side of the latter, since it represents proper respect for one’s new immortal status and supernatural bloodline; you’re supposed to let go of your human family, since pining to go back complicates the already-difficult adjustment period and is impossible anyway. But since Fedyor isn’t entirely reconciled to it, and tries to hold onto his humanity, he tends to introduce himself as Fedyor Mikhailovich, not Fedyor Dmitrievich, and the flicker in Ivan’s eyes means that he has taken note of that struggle. Then he shrugs, crooking a taunting finger at him. “Fine then, Fedyor Mikhailovich. It is your choice.”

“What do you – ” Fedyor is having trouble seeing straight. “Want to know?”

“Anything that might be useful.” If he is worried about being shut in a small room with another vampire on the verge of total frenzy, Ivan doesn’t show it. Indeed, in this paramount confidence and command, Fedyor realizes that Ivan is much older than he initially thought. He took him for one of Catherine the Great’s courtiers, from the late eighteenth century or so, but the well-worn shadow of violence that sits on Ivan’s shoulders is of considerably longer use than that. It’s something else to puzzle out when Fedyor regains the use of his higher critical faculties, which is definitely not the case at the moment. “That is, if you can bring yourself to actually – ”

At that moment, he is cut off as Fedyor, deciding that two can play this game and he is tired of being jerked around by this arrogant bastard, lunges at him. Ivan jumps six feet straight up, hissing, and they end up somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling, only to crash back down to the floor. Even vampires are not immune to the laws of gravity, and they roll around in a second deeply undignified flurry of kicking and biting, as Fedyor finally gets hold of Ivan’s wrists and tries to get his mouth as close as possible to that maddeningly enticing trickle. Then, for a crucial instant, he hesitates. He is very far gone, but there’s enough of his brain left to remember that feeding without permission is regarded quite dimly, and he is trying to prove that he is not a total savage. He gulps and gasps, fangs cutting into his lip, struggling and thrashing, not even able to properly articulate his request, as Ivan still looks – bafflingly – as if he is rather enjoying this. Then he smirks and says, “Very well, Fedyor Mikhailovich. Take it if you can.”

Now that is a challenge, and while it would be very enjoyable to throw it back in Ivan’s face in another fashion, Fedyor has only one concern at the moment. He presses his mouth to Ivan’s wrist, sinks his fangs, and sucks and licks like a man dying of thirst in the desert. Ivan utters a contented purring sound, his head falling back on the carpet, and certainly does not bother to keep struggling while Fedyor is otherwise occupied. Silence falls across the drawing room, except for the soft sounds of Fedyor feeding. He is half on top of Ivan, between his legs, and Ivan does not appear to be objecting in the least. Well. That was… unexpected.

When Fedyor has drunk enough to feel sane again, he pulls back with a jerk, remembers where he is, and fights the wash of embarrassment that floods through him. He wipes his mouth with the cuff of his shirt, then bends down and licks the bite wound closed, which is common vampire practice even if Ivan failed to do it with him. (After all, some supernaturals have manners.) Then they look at each other, and Fedyor doesn’t think it’s his imagination that Ivan’s breath is coming short, a flush visible in his pale cheeks, an enjoyment bearing a remarkable resemblance to Fedyor’s own. The silence persists a moment longer. Then Ivan groans, his legs sprawl further apart, and he orders, doing his utmost to sound gruff and commanding, “You will give me information on the Conclave now, yes?”

It is extremely tempting to tell him to take a long walk off a short pier, to pay him back for that underhanded trick at the Golden Cross, but that requires more command of his verbal processes than Fedyor currently possesses – or indeed, expects to possess in the near-to-medium future. He leans down instead, his nose brushing the hollow of Ivan’s cheek and his mouth ghosting against Ivan’s neck, his fangs tracing the line of the vein as if he might bite there too. Ivan’s hips buck, and his big hands settle heavily on the small of Fedyor’s back. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rough rasp in his throat. “You are wasted on those idiots.”

“Mmm.” Fedyor nips Ivan’s lower lip, with just a hint of fang. Then – although it’s the most difficult thing he has had to do in his life or his afterlife – he rolls off and gets to his feet, leaving the fearsome Black Hand anarchist vampire flat on his back on the drawing room floor. “It has,” he says, “been a lovely evening. But I will be taking my leave now. Good night.”

And with that, in the somewhat shameful epitome of quitting while he is ahead, but wanting to make absolutely sure that the point has been felt, Fedyor turns around and books it. He doesn’t dare to look back as he bursts out of the dark house, pelts across the lawn, and skids down the hill, in the thick and slippery knots of mud and moss. He doesn’t slow down until he spies the lights of Belgrade, and in a few minutes more, he’s thundering into his flat, clothes disheveled and hair a mess and mouth and head and heart still full of the taste and smell and feel of Ivan Sakharov. It’s intoxicating. It’s unbearable. But it can only be once. It will be only once.

The Conclave, Fedyor reminds himself. You’re doing this to get back to them, and you managed to get out of there without saying anything. They’ll appreciate it. They will. And it’s what you want. Keep your head down and don’t do anything else stupid, and it will work.

It’s what he wants.

It’s what he –

Ah, fuck.

#fic prompts #spooky prompts #heartrender husbands #fivan #fivan ff #paging bite anon lmao #vampire au #the book of the raven #starlesscne #anonymous #ask

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tessaliagrey · 3 years

Text

Day 5 - Satine Lives AU

Author’s note: I love Satine Lives AUs, because they allow for such a wide range of thoughts and ideas 🥰

Summary: Assume the Nite Owls attack at just before Maul kills Satine and that they manage to escape Mandalore. What could transpire between Bo and Satine right after?

As usual, you can read it on here on AO3 or below the cut.

Tagging: @bokatanweek

05 - Satine Lives AU

They are in hyperspace now, hurtling toward Krownest. Satine had insisted on Coruscant, naturally. Honestly, that woman. Injured as she is, she is still snarling commands at people. Well, Bo-Katan thinks, you can take the Mandalorian out of the fight, but you can’t take the fight out of the Mandalorian.

Her own thoughts make her frown. Hadn’t been her own reasoning for years that Satine wasn’t Mandalorian? Dar’manda? She sighs. Now isn’t the time to sort this out.

Bo leaves the flying to one of her Nite Owls and walkes toward the ships tiny medical bay where she had left Satine in the care of her medic, together with Korkie and Satine’s Jedi.

Kenobi. How that man had managed to safe Satine is still beyond her. In the end, it was probably sheer dumb luck. Maul had most like been distracted for the fraction of a second by the sudden attack from Bo’s warriors. A blink-of-an-eye moment that was enough for Kenobi to push Satine just enough out of the way with that Force of his for the blade to not pierce her, but to just wound her badly. How badly though… It had been hard to tell in the mayhem that had followed. Satine had slipped in and out of consciousness, swinging between looking almost dead to giving snarky side comments. Honestly, what is it with that woman?

Just as Bo reaches the doors to the medical bay, they open, and her medic comes out of the small room.

“She’s stable for now,” the woman, Nu’ur, says. “But she needs a real doctor as quickly as possible.”

Bo just nods. “We’ll be on Krownest within an hour.”

“That should do,” Nu’ur answers. “She’s awake, if you wanna talk to her.”

With that, Nu’ur walks away in the direction of the cockpit.

Bo doesn’t enter the room immediately but looks at the scene in front of her through the open door.

Satine is on the cot, pale as a sheet, but awake. Korkie is sitting on a chair right next to her, his head resting on the edge of the cot. His breathing looks erratic, though Bo can’t hear any sobs. Satine is gently stroking the boy’s hair. Her lips are moving, but Bo can’t make out the words, whispered so quietly only the boy and Kenobi can here.

Kenobi sits at the foot of the cot, looking at Satine. It’s hard to say how the man is feeling. His expression changes every few moments between impassiveness and such a turmoil of emotions Bo-Katan can’t make them out.

And Bo understands that just too well. She, too, doesn’t know how she’s feeling at the moment. If she is honest, she might not be feeling anything at all right now.

Her father ones explained to her that this happens at times when lives are on the line. When your mind pushes it all to the side. You function, you go through the motions, you do what needs to be done. You don’t think too much, you just act.

So maybe, it’s what she should do. Just keep going, strictly business. Maybe she should just go back to the cockpit and not disturb the scene before her.

But Kenobi had risen while she was standing outside, and he is now heading for the door.

“I’ll be right back,” he says over his shoulder toward Satine and Korkie, and steps into the hallway. He closes the door behind him.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

“Krownest,” Bo answers.

Kenobi nods. “Good, that’s close by at least and Maul won’t expect us to go there.”

“Ever been there?” Bo inquires.

“No,” Kenobi shakes his head. “That was enemy territory during the Civil War.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

They fall silent for a moment.

“Are you alright?” Kenobi asks quietly after while.

Bo opens her mouth to answer and closes it again. Was she alright?

“I don’t know,” she answers truthfully. “I…I haven’t had time to think about all of this too much.”

Kenobi nods.

“Yes,” he answers, “I think I can sympathize.”

“Didn’t you plan on rescuing her?”

“Of course, I did,” he says. “But I haven’t spent a single thought on what the Council will do to me afterwards.”

“Your Council didn’t send you?”

“No. I…,” he trails off, looking like a kid who got caught steeling uj cake from the kitchen. “I might have acted against their very clear instruction to leave ‘an internal matter for the Mandalorians’ alone.”

“And here I always thought Jedi were not supposed to have soft spots for other people.”

“And I thought all members of Death Watch wanted the Duchess’ death. And yet, here we are.”

Bo looks down at her boots. “Yes, here we are.”

After a moment, she adds “I never wanted her death. I just…I don’t know. At least not right now.”

Kenobi nods again. “Yes, well, as I said. I can sympathize.”

After yet another moment, Kenobi gestures for the door. “You should talk to her,” he says. “At least…about what will happen next. Or however far ahead you can plan for now.”

Bo takes a deep breath, then pushes the button for the door. The doors swish open, and with an effort of will, Bo steps into the room.

Korkie and Satine both look at her. Korkie gets up.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells Satine, then bows down and puts a featherlight kiss on her forehead. Satine nods, a smile ghosting over her lips.

Korkie straightens up and walks toward the doors. When he reaches Bo-Katan, he suddenly throws his arms around her. For a second, Bo-Katan freezes. But then, as if on its own account, her hand comes up and pats him on the back.

“There’s food and water in the galley,” she finally manages to say. “Try and see if you can eat something maybe, alright?”

Korkie lets go of her and smiles. “I’ll go have a look. Thank you, Aunt Bo. For helping to save her.”

And then he, too, vanishes through the door, leaving only Bo-Katan and Satine.

“Where are we?” Satine asks.

“On route to Krownest,” Bo answers.

“The Wrens?”

“Yes. Their stronghold is well equipped. They can take proper care of your wound there.”

Satine nods. “And the Wrens will just do that?”

“When Ursa tells them to, yes.”

“And will she?”

“Yes.”

Satine closes her eyes. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Satine tries to shift then, and her face contorts in pain. But she does not cry out.

“Keep still,” Bo tells her.

“Easier said than done. Everything hurts.”

“You want more pain meds?”

“No,” Satine answers, her blue eyes fixing Bo-Katan with a threating stare. “No, they make me fuzzy. I don’t want to be…fuzzy.”

“Very eloquent,” Bo snorts. “But I know what you mean.”

The look in Satine’s eyes changes then.

“Bo, come here, sit down,” she says.

“Satine, I-“

“Please. Just for a moment.”

Bo exhales but does as asked. She sits down at the edge of the chair.

“I know this isn’t the time to talk about…everything,” Satine says. “I just…want a moment.”

Bo nods. But the silence that follows feels too quiet.

“Korkie adores you,” she says, looking at Satine. “You’ve always been more of a mother to him than an aunt.”

“He’s easy to love,” Satine answers with a fond smile.

“Yes, I know,” Bo answers.

She suddenly feels Satine’s hand on her arm.

“He likes you, too, you know. Despite everything. His memories of you are very fond. He’s a good judge of character, you know. Just a little reckless sometimes.”

Bo snorts. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“He could be what we are not.”

Bo frowns. “And what is that?”

“The middle ground. The future.”

“Is there such a thing?”

“We must believe there is, Bo. Otherwise, what is all this good for?”

Bo has no answer to that. At least not right now.

“Get some rest, Satine,” she says instead. “You look like hell.”

“Well, look who’s talking.”

And then, they both chuckle until Satine lets out hissed curse.

But Bo does stay a little while longer. They are not talking, but that is alright for now. There will be time for that later.

#bo katan week #bkw 2021 #Bo-Katan Kryze #bo katan kryze #bo-katan #Bo Katan #have I tagged every possible way to spell bo-katan?#star wars #sw tcw #s05e16 the lawless #Obi-Wan Kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #korkie kryze

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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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cinaja · 3 years

Text

Before the Wall part 58

Masterlist

----

The war is over.

Future history books will mark the day the Black Land surrendered as the official end of the war, although in reality, it was only a day after that that the last Loyalist country signed its surrender.

If not for what happened to the Black Land, historians will eventually write, it might have lasted for weeks, maybe months, longer. But as it was, no country wanted to share the Black Land’s fate, and so they surrendered rather than risk their land being turned to ashes. Throughout the centuries to come, historians will never manage to agree on whether that justified Miryam’s actions or not, although in these initial days, the wide-spread opinion throughout the Alliance is that the end of the war is worth any price. And in the human-and-Seraphim camp in the Black Land, everyone certainly agrees on that.

Stranded in a hostile country, there is little room for celebration, but still, a relieved, almost exuberant atmosphere hangs over the entire camp. The shared sense of victory does wonders to bridge some of the gaps between humans and Seraphim, so while they still keep separate camps, the two groups now mingle far more often, both during the marches and sitting around campfires afterwards.

Of course, some tensions remain, but Drakon is still amazed by how well things work out. This, he thinks, is what the future might be like with a bit of work. Humans and Fae, living side by side in peace and mutual respect. It will take years yet to get there – decades, maybe centuries – but they stand a chance.

In spite of all the horror behind them and the long road that is still in front of them, Drakon feels lighter than he has in years. Miryam seems happier as well. Occasionally, her face darkens when they pass barren fields or scorched villages, but she also smiles more than she has in years.

On the fifth day of their march east, towards the sea and the safety that lies beyond, Nephelle lands next to Drakon where he is walking near the front of the column.

“They’re making plans for bonfires now,” she says by way of greeting and grins. “I would personally say we had enough of fire for a while, but they seem to think that a good victory party requires at least one giant bonfire.”

“As long as they don’t get the idea to burn down the forests for celebration, I’m all for it,” Drakon says, grinning back at her.

Two days ago, his soldiers got the idea that they absolutely need to hold a celebration once they get back to Erithia. Celebrate the end of the war, victory and peace and the future that’s ahead of them. Planning has been underfoot ever since.

Some of the ideas they come up with are a bit extreme – for example, he had to categorically refuse the idea of shooting fireworks over the border to Rask – but he is happy that they are having fun, and even more happy that many of them are making a conscious effort to include the humans into their planning. From what he’s seen so far, most of the humans are as hesitant of the idea of a celebration as they are of anything that has to do with Fae (which is more than understandable, given what Miryam told him about what parties in the Black Land tended to mean for the human slaves), but some seem excited about the idea and are even tentatively joining the planning.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Nephelle says. “It’s been a while since we last had a celebration.”

Drakon nods. “I think everyone needed some happiness.”

“True,” Nephelle says. She ruffles her wings, shily glances down at her feet. “Talking about happiness: There was something I’ve been meaning to tell you about.” She looks around, checking that no one is close enough to listen. Slowly, a grin breaks out on her face. “Sinna and I are thinking of getting married.”

Drakon stares at her for a moment. Then, he throws his arms around her and spontaneously wraps her into a hug, grinning broadly. “That’s amazing, Nephelle! Congratulations.”

She grins and steps from one foot to the other. “We haven’t really decided on anything yet,” she says. “But, well. We talked. And I thought I’d tell you first because… well, because I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?” Drakon asks. He can’t remember doing anything that would warrant thanks.

“You suggested I become a cartographer,” Nephelle says, as if that is obvious. When Drakon still doesn’t reply, she sighs. “It was good for me. Personally.” She shrugs. “Because, well, I thought that this – “ She shifts her left wing. “ – somehow made me less worthy. That because I couldn’t fly as well as the others and would never be a soldier, I wasn’t as good as the other Seraphim and the thing between Sinna and me… well, that it would never work out in the end because of that.”

Not knowing what to say, Drakon simply nods. He remembers all too well how insecure Nephelle was about these things before the war. He also noticed that this seemed to change over the years of the war, but it never seemed fitting to ask what had prompted that change.

“Working as a cartographer helped,” Nephelle says. “It showed me that… well, that how well my wings work doesn’t dictate my worth as a person. It made me more secure, about my relationship with Sinna, yes, but more importantly in myself.”

Drakon smiles at her. “I’m so happy for you,” he says. The words aren’t really enough to convey what he is feeling, but Nephelle seems to understand anyways.

They have a small celebration in their tent that night, just Nephelle, Sinna, Miryam and him. Stuck in enemy territory, they don’t have access to any good food and can’t risk drinking alcohol, but well, they can make up for that once they are back in Erithia.

After just over a week on the march, they are finally approaching the ocean. Erithia only has a small fleet, not nearly enough to carry all humans at once, but they won’t need to go far. They will only need to sail through the passage between the Black Land and Seyhin and a bit further inland until they reach Erithia, and having the ships sail back and forth to get everyone across won’t take more than a few hours.

The closer they get to their destination, the better the mood gets. Everyone is excited to get out of the Black Land. The Seraphim are happy to return home to their families, while the humans are looking forward to finally leaving this place they hated and being able to build a home for themselves elsewhere or meet other humans.

Drakon is at the front of the group again, Miryam walking next to him this time. She is smiling and her steps are lighter, like she can’t wait to get out of here either. They have been discussing the developments in the camp for and hour, and Miryam is just beginning to tell him about Niria, one of the people the humans chose as their representants.

“She’s brilliant at logistics,” she says as they are climbing up another dune. “Her owner worked in a trading charter, and she picked up on a lot on how these things will work. She’s great, really. And she’s wonderful with the other humans as well. When they get their own country, I think – “

She breaks off mid-sentence, staring ahead. Drakon, who had been looking at her and not ahead, turns to follow her line of sight.

Below them, the ocean stretches out, waves lapping on a wide beach. Here, the ships should be waiting for them.

Only there are no ships. At least no functioning ones. Instead, the entire beach is littered with burned-out shipwrecks. Charred masts poke into the air like broken fingers. Surrounding the ships, Drakon can make out corpses lying in the sand.

Distantly, Drakon notices that more people are coming up next to them and stopping dead on top of the dune as well. He is still trying to make sense of what he is seeing. This isn’t possible – these ships… The Black Land didn’t have any soldiers in the region, couldn’t have winnowed them in, either. They knew where the Black Land’s soldiers were stationed, they checked that before he sent out orders to send these ships. They were careful. So how could this happen?

Cauldron, the people… The soldiers who were with these ships, they…

Behind him, people begin to mutter, news of what happened spreading through the column like a wave. Then, Sinna’s voice rises out over the general noise, ordering the soldiers into defensive positions. That snaps Drakon back into reality as well. Of course. If there were soldiers here who burned these ships, they might well still be here and setting a trap for them.

Miryam is still staring at the burned ships, like they are the only thing that exists for her.

Scouts are sent out. Sinna and a few other Seraphim go to check the beach for traps. Twenty minutes later, they come back with the result that the beach is trap-free. Having established that it is safe, they let the humans go down to the beach. Sinna orders a few of the soldiers to collect the dead soldiers, a few of the humans volunteering to help.

Miryam finally seems to snap out of her shock and joins Drakon in making rounds with the humans, trying to reassure them. She still seems unusually distracted, though. When she talks to the humans, she sounds nowhere near as confident as usual and between conversations, she keeps stopping to stare at the burned ships.

When they have a moment alone, Drakon puts a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find another way across the sea,” he says, keeping his voice low. “It might take a day or so, but we’ll be able to arrange for other ships.”

That will not bring the soldiers who were burned along with these ships back to life, though. Drakon still doesn’t understand how this could happen.

Miryam nods distractedly and looks over at the ships again. She’s frowning slightly, almost like she is looking at an equation that doesn’t quite make sense to her. Before Drakon can probe any further, though, Sinna steps up to them.

“We need to talk,” she says. “Now. In private.”

Her tone leaves no room for discussion. Miryam and Drakon exchange a look and follow her without question. She leads them a few feet away from the group, then waves a hand, putting up a ward around them.

“The scouts are back,” she says. Pauses. “We’ve got an army incoming, half an hour away. It’s the entirety of the Black Land’s remaining forces, led by Ravenia.”

For a moment that seems to drag on for eternity, all Drakon can do is stare at her. He heard Sinna, but he can’t quite wrap his mind around what she is saying. This is completely and utterly impossible. The Black Land’s army dissolved, and with its leadership imprisoned in Telique, it shouldn’t have been able to reassemble. But of course, Ravenia was meant to be imprisoned in Telique as well, awaiting her execution. How did she get free?

“This isn’t possible,” he whispers. Next to him, Miryam seems to have frozen entirely.

“I don’t know how it happened either and right now, it hardly matters,” Sinna says. “No matter how this happened, they are only half an hour away, they have more than twice our numbers and we are stuck here with no way across the ocean.”

“What can we do?” Miryam asks, abruptly turning to Sinna.

Sinna shrugs. For the first time, she seems completely at a loss. “The numbers stand against us,” she says. “I might be able to turn this around under different circumstances, but not with thousands of civilians to protect.

Miryam starts trembling. “We need to do something,” she snaps. Her voice quivers. It’s the first time Drakon has seen her lose control like this in a meeting, and it scares him almost as much . “We… I…” She shakes her head, pointing vaguely. “We can’t fight this many soldiers. Ravenia’s army is more than thrice the size of ours! They will break through, and everyone will die.”

“And what do you want us to do?” Sinna asks, voice hard. She keeps control of her expression, but Drakon can tell that she’s panicking as well from the set of her mouth, the look in her eyes. “Those ships were vital! There are miles of ocean between us and safety and without ships, we have no way to get across.”

Drakon digs his fingers into his tunic, staring over at the offending ocean. It is calm today, what use is it when it’s too far for the humans to swim through? Him and the other Seraphim could easily fly, of course, but the humans lack the necessary wings.

“Can your soldiers fly them across instead?” Miryam asks.

No, flying won’t work. There are too many humans and too few Seraphim for that. No, they need some way that will allow the humans to get across on their own. But how?

“Won’t work,” Sinna says, echoing Drakon’s thoughts. “Carrying people while flying is difficult, and for this to work, each soldier would need to make dozens of flights.”

Drakon stares at the ocean, wishing he could make it disappear by thought alone. If only they had water powers. Then, they could just make the ocean part for them, creating a passage for them to walk through.

“What if we part the ocean?” He asks, making both Sinna and Miryam turn to stare at him.

“Yes, sure,” Sinna mutters drily. “Let me just ask the water to disappear real quick.”

“I meant with our powers” Drakon says. “We’ve got wind powers. It won’t be ideal, but if we’ve got enough people working together, we could drive the water apart, create a passage for the humans to flee through.”

“And drown when the water comes down,” Sinna cuts in, shaking her head. “Besides, we would have to hold back Ravenia’s army while the humans run and keep the water at bay long enough for everyone to get through. This is impossible.”

“It’s our best chance,” Miryam says. “Unless you’ve got any other ideas for getting across the ocean, because I certainly don’t.”

Sinna evidently doesn’t have any ideas either, and with only half an hour until Ravenia’s army gets here and likely kills anyone in sight. “I guess there are worse ways to die,” she says drily and jumps into motion to get things organized.

----

Somehow, Miryam manages to calm herself enough to explain the situation to the other humans. They take the news calmly – most of them probably more calmly than Miryam herself. Some start crying quietly, but they don’t dissolve into a panic.

Miryam stumbles a bit over her words when she tries to explain the plan, something that never happens to her. It all seems so surreal. The Seraphim will use their magic to part the water for us. Once they do, you need to get through as quickly as possible. Please form an orderly column now, once the passage is open, you won’t have much time.

Crazy as the request is, they accept it and follow Miryam’s directions calmly. She is proud, so very proud of how well they are doing. They don’t deserve this new horror. By all rights, they should be safe, happily on their way towards freedom.

This shouldn’t be happening.

Once she is sure that everything is working out, she hands control over to Niria and the other human leaders. She actually wanted to talk to Sinna or Drakon again, do something useful, but she just ends up staring at the burned ships again. The ships that shouldn’t have been burned. It doesn’t make sense.

One of the Seraphim commanders rushes by, and Miryam waves him over to her. He stops only hesitantly, clearly unhappy about the introduction, and bows to her.

“We had intel on where the Black Land soldiers were stationed up until two days ago, right?” She asks. “And they were all stationed in Lako or west from there?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And to get here, they would have had to be travelling at full speed, right? Meaning it wouldn’t have been possible for them to send any soldiers ahead.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Not as far as I know.”

Miryam nods. “Thank you,” she says, and the soldier rushes on.

She goes back to staring at the ships. They kept it secret. Told hardly anyone about how they were planning to get out of the Black Land. Ravenia shouldn’t have found out about it.

Ravenia shouldn’t have been able to escape from Telique.

And even if both of these things somehow happened, Ravenia could never have gotten her soldiers here in time to burn the ships before their arrival if, travelling at full speed from Lako, her soldiers will only arrive in thirty minutes. Besides, even if they had managed, they would have stayed behind to lay a trap for them instead of winnowing back to join the rest of the army. It simply doesn’t make sense.

And that means…

It means it couldn’t have been Ravenia who burned these ships. But burned they were, and by someone with fire powers. Those are rare, though. Only the Black Land and Rask have them with the Loyalists, and Rask surrendered already. They would have had no reason to go along with Ravenia’s revenge plans and risk the good conditions they managed to secure for themselves.

Besides, Rask wouldn’t have had a way of getting Ravenia out of Telique.

Someone from the Alliance, then. It must have been, it’s the only explanation that makes sense. Only a member of the Alliance would have known about where the ships would be and would also have had a way to help Ravenia escape.

Someone from the Alliance would have been able to get troops here, burn the ships and vanish before they arrived, trapping them here for Ravenia to finish her off. And only someone from the Alliance would have had a reason for vanishing instead of staying to lay a trap.

This isn’t an unfortunate coincidence, or sheer bad luck. It’s an assassination attempt.

Miryam feels strangely detached from the entire situation. It’s like she is watching it from the outside, carefully analysing the patterns and coming to the only logical conclusion. Like this doesn’t concern her at all.

Fire powers, that means either Sangravah or the Autumn Court. Zeku wouldn’t… He broke off their alliance, yes, but he wouldn’t try to kill her, would he? No, that wouldn’t make any sense. And Autumn wouldn’t act alone. But of course, if there is anyone behind this, it must be Shey. Him and those who work with him.

It makes a horrifying amount of sense. Shey has been hoping to get rid of her for a while, maybe tried it once already when he sent her to Kehne. But he can’t get his own hands dirty, so instead, he set this trap. Maybe got Beron, who always hated her, to help. Maybe even had more of the Fae countries on his side, who knows. Once she is dead, he will likely be the next one to lead the Continent. And if it is Ravenia who kills her, no one will ever question it or think to blame him.

He dragged hundreds of thousands of people into it. Drakon and his soldiers, who she asked to help her in this, thousands of them. And the nearly five hundred thousand humans she freed.

None of them have anything to do with this. And yet, they might all die, just because one arrogant, self-centred asshole wants to kill her over a threat that is all in his head.

All these people. So many people.

“Miryam.”

She flinches so hard she nearly jumps into the air.

“Sorry.” Drakon steps up next to her. “I just… Well, I saw you standing there, and I thought since everything is settled, we should maybe use the chance to talk. Since, you know…”

Since it might be their last chance. Since they might both drown in the ocean, or be killed by the approaching army.

In fact, it’s more likely that Drakon will die. He will be on the battlefield, she won’t be. She hardly even has any magic left, and without it, she won’t be any use at all on the battlefield. All she can do is run, how could she? This is happening because of her. Any death that happens will be, in a way, on her. She cannot run while other people die for her.

And anyways, what point is there to running, when Shey and the others will just try to kill her again until they succeed, possibly dragging even more innocents into it? What chance does she even have?

“I should stay,” she says. She turns towards the ocean, imagining the passage that will soon form in there. “You can use all the help you can get down there. I should stay and help instead of running away.”

“Your power still isn’t back,” Drakon says. “And you’re a trained healer, not a soldier. You can help, but not on a battlefield.”

He is reasonable – she knows he is. She never even wanted to learn to use a sword, and now, she suddenly wants to fight in battle? If anything, she will probably be more of a danger to the people around her than to the enemy, untrained as she is.

But she cannot run. She cannot. How can she leave Drakon, leave his soldiers to fight and die down there while she runs?

Drakon is frowning at her. “Alright, Miryam,” he says gently. “What is this really about? Because you and I both know that all you will accomplish by fighting in that battle is to get yourself killed.”

Miryam slowly shakes her head. “I just –“ Her voice breaks, leaving her unable to finish the sentence. Suddenly, tears are running down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“Hey,” Drakon whispers, wrapping his arms around her. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. “Hey, Miryam. It’s alright. We’re going to get through this.”

This just makes her cry harder. How she wishes this was true.

“No,” she whispers. She presses her face into his shoulder and clings on to him like they will be able to disappear if she only holds on tight enough. “No, you don’t understand. This wasn’t Ravenia. It was all Shey and…” She breaks off again. She isn’t making any sense, but maybe Drakon still understands because he tenses.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“The Alliance did this,” Miryam whispers. “Shey and I don’t know how many others. They burned the ships, they let Ravenia out, they… All because of me. All these people will die because of me and I can’t…” She shakes her head. “I can’t run while you all stay here and die.”

Drakon is silent for a while. He doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t question her judgement, merely stands there, absentmindedly rubbing her back.

“But you getting yourself killed won’t change anything, will it?” He finally asks.

Miryam shakes her head. “But I will die either way, don’t you see?” She asks. “I don’t even stand a chance, Shey will just – “

Drakon lets go of her and steps back so he can look her in the eye. Gently takes her by the shoulders. “We’ll find a way to deal with that,” he says. “We will. But we can’t do that if you die today. Please. Please don’t do this, don’t just throw your life away like this and let them win without putting up a fight.”

Miryam swallows. Wipes her tears away. It is so easy, so very easy to believe Drakon when she says she stands a chance. After all, she wants to believe him so badly.

“Alright,” she says, voice thick, and reaches for his hands. “Then I will be at the end of the column.”

Drakon nods. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you too,” Miryam whispers, trying not to think about the fact that this might be goodbye. She doesn’t dare to say anything else, doesn’t want to provoke fate by giving goodbyes. Maybe if she pretends that this is just a normal battle, everything will be fine. Maybe if she only acts like she isn’t worried at all, Drakon will get out of this alive. So she merely squeezes his hands and whispers, “I’ll see you on the other side.”

----

Five minutes later, Drakon has his soldiers assembled on the shore, mere feet away from the ocean. On his signal, they all raise their hands and send a current of wind shooting towards the ocean.

The water doesn’t part easily. The ocean is an ancient, wild thing, and unused to being forced to yield parts of his territory to the air. It fights them every step of the way, tons of water straining against being pushed to the side by the air.

Drakon is shaking with the effort of it, almost thinks he can feel the physical weight of the ocean pressing down on him. Foot by foot, they fight their way forward, until the water is forced to give up, until a path is beginning to form through the ocean.

The passage extends only halfway through the ocean when Miryam signals to the first of the humans to get into it. They hesitate, staring at the walls of water looming up before them, but only briefly. Then, they start moving.

In the end, they barely finish in time. The passage is just finished, the last of the humans (Miryam among them) having stepped into it, when the vanguard of Ravenia’s army appears in the distance. Magic quivering in his grip, Drakon draws his sword and shouts an order to his soldiers to take up position in front of the passage’s entrance.

Looking at the army that is racing towards them, he knows they will never be able to hold it. If they manage to last a few minutes before being forced into a retreat battle, it will be a minor miracle. But for the sake of the humans fleeing behind them, they will have to try.

----

Miryam walks at the end of the long line of humans that is fleeing through the narrow channel Drakon’s soldiers created. Run, that was the order the humans were given, but truth is that they cannot run. Well, many of them can, but there are the old, the injured and the children and no matter how hard they may try, they cannot keep pace. They cannot run, and so those who could don’t, either. Instead, they adjust their pace to that of the slower ones, helping them along instead of rushing ahead.

Miryam herself carries a little girl, four or five years old, on her shoulders. The mother is walking next to her, heavily pregnant. Walking this far at all must be exhausting for her, but she doesn’t complain. Neither does the little girl, for all that she must be terrified. She doesn’t make a noise at all, merely clings on to Miryam’s shoulders and stares, wide-eyed, at the ocean surrounding them.

In the Black Land, even children this small know to stay silent, to be compliant, no matter how scared they may be.

Miryam knows little about children and less about how to put them at ease. With an adult, she would know what to say to calm them, but here, she is at a loss. After a few minutes, the girl begins to play around with her hair. Mortified, the mother chides her, but Miryam waves her off, and so the girl begins to weave tiny braids into her hair.

They move too slowly by far. From what Miryam can see from the back of the line, not a single human has reached the shore yet. She doesn’t know how long the Seraphim will be able to keep the ocean up, and once it comes down, everyone still on the ocean floor will die. Miryam resists the urge to look over her shoulder to see what is happening in the battle that must surely be raging by now. She can’t hear the noise of battle over the roaring wind that is rushing through the passage, but she could already see the Black Land’s army when she stepped into the passage. They must be here by now. She so badly wants to see what is happening there, how the battle is going, but she needs to seem calm. If she shows her fear, the entire group might dissolve into a panic.

Oh, how she hates that she is running. This is only happening because of her – thrice over. They are here because of her, it is her Ravenia is after and the Alliance Fae only initiated this to get to her. Yet she is running while Drakon and his soldiers are risking their lives.

They keep walking. It must have been half an hour by now, yet the opposite shore is still so very far away. Miryam dares a look over her shoulder, but she can’t make out any specifics of what is happening in the battle.

She should have insisted on staying. Even if she would have been of little use in battle, anything would be better than running away, not knowing what is happening or who might be dying. She is the one the Alliance is trying to kill, the one Ravenia will be after.

She promised Drakon, though. She could have insisted on staying and he wouldn’t have been able to stop her, but she didn’t and now, she cannot break her promise.

She bounces the little girl who is sitting on her shoulders around a bit and makes a point to praise and thank her for the beautiful braids. The mother offers her a tired smile, and Miryam smiles back and hands her her waterskin.

After another few minutes, a young man comes up to her and offers to carry the girl for a while. Miryam accepts gratefully – her shoulders are beginning to ache – and lets the girl climb from her back to his.

The girl’s weight has just left her shoulders when a movement in the strings attracts her attention. Something is happening there, something other than the Seraphim magic that is thick in the entire passage. Miryam recognizes the pattern; someone is winnowing into the passage. She turns around to the soldiers that are following their group as a last line of defence and opens her mouth to warn them, but before she so much as gets a word out, a group of soldiers winnows to the end of their group.

Black Land soldiers. Hundreds of them, far, far more than the few Seraphim soldiers that were left to protect them.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still as Seraphim and humans alike stare at the enemies that just winnowed into their midst. Then, the Black Land soldiers attack.

Within moments, the back of the group descends into complete chaos. There are too few Seraphim soldiers here to hold off the enemies and they quickly break through. The formerly orderly retreat falls apart the moment the first soldiers appear. The humans aren’t armed – their only chance is to run, which they do. Crammed as they are in the narrow passage, though, there is no way for them to escape their Fae pursuers, much as the people in the back may be trying to push forward.

Miryam is completely helpless. She doesn’t have a weapon save for a small dagger, and even if she had one, she wouldn’t be able to use it. And her power, drained as it is, will be of little use, either. Her abilities are made for ranged attacks, not for the thick of battle and she doesn’t have enough reserves left to chase off this many soldiers.

Suddenly, there are three Seraphim next to her. One of them pushes her back from the approaching enemies, the other following behind, weapons drawn. As soon as they are a few feet away, the one who tried to push her reaches for her like he wants to pick her up and fly her out.

“What are you doing?” She snaps, pushing his arms away. “There are people dying! I can take care of myself, go help them!”

They exchange a look, then do as she says, disappearing back into the battle. Miryam loses sight of them within moments. Around her, the other humans are still pushing to get away from the fighting, and Miryam gets dragged along, unable to fight the pull of the crowd.

Screams. The clang of weapons. Somewhere next to her, a Fae soldier breaks through the group, his sword coming down on a human man. Miryam tries to move over to help, but there’s no getting through the crowd, and it’s too late anyways. A moment later, they are out of sight.

Miryam is still looking over her shoulder when she suddenly gets pushed against something in front of her. One of the jagged rocks poking out of the ocean floor is rising up in front of her, and Miryam has to quickly grab for it to keep from being pushed to the ground. She clings on to it to avoid the crowd sweeping her along further.

Now, finally, she can breathe again. Distantly, she realizes her arms are trembling. Looks like her lack of battle training is showing. She is completely out of her depth in this situation, has never been in the thick of battle like this.

Grabbing onto the rock above her, Miryam pulls herself up a few inches until she can look out over the battle. From up here, it looks even worse. The entire battlefield has dissolved into chaos, no clear lines to be seen. If not for the Seraphim’s white wings shining in the light, Miryam wouldn’t have been able to make out who is on which side at all.

Closest to Miryam, things look the worst (or maybe that’s just because she is closer to the carnage here). While further ahead, the Seraphim are still trying to hold off the majority of the Black Land soldiers, here, the ones who made it through are killing their way through the fleeing humans. Miryam looks around, eyes jumping from one horror to the other, until her eyes settle on one figure.

There, surrounded by a group of Black Land soldiers in gold-adorned armour, is Ravenia.

Miryam freezes against her rock, staring at the Queen of the Black Land. Ravenia is wearing an ornate armour, a spear at her side. It’s the first time Miryam has ever seen her in armed.

She didn’t expect Ravenia here, thought she would send her soldiers ahead while staying safe on the shore as she usually does. But the Queen must have decided to come herself, witness her revenge first-hand. Maybe she even came here, to the back of the human group, in hopes of finding Miryam. That sort of petty revenge would be just like her.

If Miryam was smart, she would run. Ravenia hasn’t seen her yet, and surrounded by the other humans, she might get away unnoticed. With her power so drained, she can never hope to best Ravenia and her soldiers in battle, and there are too few Seraphim here to hold them back. She should run now, while she still can.

But around her, her people are being killed, and Miryam cannot go while they are in danger. She can’t leave them to face the enemy alone, or allow any more of them to die so close to freedom.

She looks around, scanning the battlefield for anything she could use for a spell. She doesn’t have enough power left to be able to make any meaningful contribution out of her own reserves, she’ll have to use what is there. Stuck in the middle of the ocean as she is, “what is there” boils down to lots of water and wind magic, both locked in battle, the ocean continuously trying to reclaim the passage, the wind pushing it back.

Messing around with that fragile dynamic while standing in the middle of said passage seems like a bad idea. Unfortunately, Miryam doesn’t have any good ideas at her disposal right now.

With a whispered order, she reaches out towards the magic and tugs a few of the tiny strings moving through the air in her direction. They move unwillingly, not designed to do anything but what the magic-users commanding them want.

The effect is immediate. A wave of water breaks out of the left wall of water and goes crashing down into the bulk of Ravenia’s soldiers. It doesn’t hit, shields going up to intercept it before it reaches the Black Land soldiers. Water hits fire and evaporates on impact, turning into steam. Tons of water crash into the shields, and within a moment, the air is thick with steam, making it impossible to see more than a few feet in the distance.

Miryam lets the wind magic snap back into place, forcing the remaining water back behind the walls of magic but taking care to keep enough control that the wind doesn’t blow the mist away immediately. On the ocean floor, mist is now hanging so thickly it is difficult to see more than shapes. Miryam can make out auras, the movements of magic and the strings on top of that, but for everyone else, fighting has just become a whole lot more difficult.

This, at least, should give the other humans some cover to get away. But the Fae will still be able to give chase and with their better sight and hearing, they will have it easier in the mist.

Miryam hesitates, torn. The mist is not enough to protect her people – as long as she doesn’t find a way to chase the soldiers off, nothing will be able to do that. Yet she is quickly running out of both options and magic, and any moment she lingers increases the risk of getting caught. She needs to think of something, and quickly.

No matter how hard she tries, she cannot come up with a functional way to attack and defeat this many soldiers, not with the state her power is in. But maybe making them believe she can kill them would already be enough to chase them off. After what she did to her country, they are probably already scared of her – she just needs to play that to her advantage.

Still clinging on to the rock, fingers turning stiff with cold, she begins whispering, making up the spell as she goes along. It doesn’t need to be efficient, after all, just flashy.

Around her, the mist seems to solidify in some places. Slowly, shapes form. They are blurry, impossible to make out clearly, but they vaguely resemble great beasts. On Miryam’s command, they go shooting towards the Black Land Fae, seemingly at full run, maws opening as if to swallow them whole.

This causes quite some panic. Miryam can see some of the Fae turning and running, seemingly without thought of their magic. Others regain enough of their senses to set up wards. With a muttered order, Miryam sends those wards shattering.

The strain of it makes her double over, she nearly falls off her rock. Alright. She won’t be able to do that again any time soon, this much is sure. Even the mist spell is already beginning to slip her grasp, some of the mist beasts collapsing in on themselves.

Most of the Black Land Fae don’t seem to notice, though. They are already panicking, maybe thinking of water turning to blood and fire raining from the sky and wondering how they could ever be stupid enough to mess with someone capable of a curse like this. Some winnow out right away. Others merely turn and run, stumbling around in the mist, shying away from the remaining mist beasts. Only a few remain, but they seem unsure as well – or maybe they are simply blinded by the mist, confused further by the shades moving through it. Some humans and Seraphim are there as well, but they seem to be using the cover to get out of here and make for the shore.

Miryam slides off the rock and leans her back against it, panting. A thin trickly of blood is running down her nose and she slowly wipes it away, watching the auras of the Black Land soldiers disappear in the distance.

She can leave now, she thinks. She has done all she can, given her people all the advantages she could. But the world is spinning around her and without the stone at her back, she doesn’t think she would even be able to keep upright.. She closes her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing. Come on, she tells herself, you’ve been through worse. Just get to the shore first, then you get to relax all you want.

Slowly, the pain shooting through her begins to recede. Miryam takes a deep breath and opens her eyes. She straightens and pushes herself off the stone, turning around – and comes face to face with Ravenia.

The Queen of the Black Land is standing only a few feet away. There is blood matted across her brow and she has a wild look in her eyes. In her right hand, she still holds her spear, although its tip is now dark with blood.

For the longest moment, they simply stare at each other. The ocean around them seems to disappear, the shouts and the noise of the wind fade into the background. It’s like they are alone on the battlefield. Just the two of them, and the weight of all the history between them.

Miryam stares at Ravenia, seeing years of suffering and pain, thousands of dead, a childhood destroyed and a life shattered. She sees everything wrong with this world, everything she was fighting against, everything she defeated. (She likes to think that when Ravenia looks at her, what she sees is the change she was unable to stop. The end of her era, the beginning of a world she will never have a place in.)

Maybe it was always going to end like this. The two of them, facing each other on the final battlefield of the war. No other players around anymore, just the two of them in one final confrontation. But what Ravenia doesn’t see, doesn’t want to believe, is that Miryam has already won. Her people made it out, she won the war. Ravenia is already destroyed, and all she can hope to gain from this is petty revenge – and even that won’t be her own but Shey’s, reducing her, at the very end, to a mere instrument in someone else’s game.

Miryam has already won. And Ravenia can only lose, no matter what she does.

They both jump into motion simultaneously. Miryam twists her fingers, making a dark blue string appear. Without her noticing, it wraps itself around Ravenia’s ankles, binding her in place.

Ravenia throws her spear.

Miryam can see it flying towards her, too fast for her to dodge, but in the first moment, she still thinks it missed. There is no pain, only the sensation of being pushed backwards a bit. She stumbles and slowly looks down. The spear’s shaft is poking out of her chest.

Slowly, Miryam looks back up at Ravenia. The Queen is watching her, eyes turning triumphant as her gaze settles on the spear poking out of Miryam’s chest. Then, the wind blows a wave of mist between them, obscuring Ravenia from view.

Only then does the pain hit. Miryam gasps, stumbling another step. She reaches out and her hand finds solid rock. She leans against it, still gasping for air. The pain is different from any she has ever felt before. Duller, somehow, but linked to the terrible, wrong sensation that there is something in her body that shouldn’t be there and it’s killing her.

Another gust of wind blows the mist away, and there is Ravenia, still standing in the same spot as before. Miryam’s palms are quickly turning sweaty and her breath grows shallow. Pain races through her chest, but she refuses to collapse before Ravenia.

“So you’re playing assassin for the Alliance now,” she says, meeting Ravenia’s eyes. Her voice is tight, but at least somewhat calm. “I would have thought this was below you.”

“Big words,” Ravenia replies. “But all I can see is that you’ve lost. You’re as good as dead, and you have lost.”

Miryam shakes her head. Against all reason, a laugh escapes her, immediately followed by a stab of pain, hotter than any before, making her gasp.

“You understand nothing,” she whispers. “All this, just for a bit of pointless revenge?”

It’s pathetic, really. She never knew Ravenia was this pathetic. Just an arrogant, cruel woman, clinging on to power with both hands. Needing to turn to revenge when all else fails because she is unable to face the reality that she lost.

“All this,” Ravenia hisses, “to make you pay. To see you lose.”

Miryam leans harder against the stone. She is beginning to tremble, and her legs threaten to give out from under her, but she still smiles at Ravenia. “But I haven’t lost,” she says. “Don’t you understand? My people are free, your country in ashes, and slavery is over. I still win.”

She can see the fury flash over Ravenia’s face, making her dark eyes flash.

“I’ve killed you,” she snaps.

“Try to winnow out, then,” Miryam replies. “You’ll find that I’ve killed you as surely as you’ve killed me.”

She can see the string she bound Ravenia with strain as she tries to winnow. Tries and fails, the ward string dragging her back before she even fully vanishes. Leaning against her stone, Miryam watches Ravenia’s expression change. Smug satisfaction gives way to confusion, then to panic, eyes widening and calm shattering as clearly clearly realizes what it means for her to be trapped her along with everyone else.

Soon enough, the water will come down again. And when it does, Ravenia will drown along with everyone else

“I win,” Miryam repeats.

Ravenia doesn’t even seem to hear her. In a desperate attempt to rage against the truth Miryam revealed, she tries to winnow again. When it fails, she spins around, an animal in a cage looking for a way out. Her eyes are wide with panic as she seems to realize that there is none.

Miryam smiles bitterly, trying to cling on to the feeling of triumph the sight summons no matter how shallow it may be. Ravenia looks back at her once more before turning to run after her soldiers, and Miryam hopes that is the sight she will think of before she drowns – Miryam standing there, smiling at her defeat.

As soon as she is gone, though, the feeling of triumph fades. Miryam allows herself to slide to the ground, leaning her back against the stone. Her face twists in pain and she lets out a sob. Trembling fingers find the hilt of her spear, but Miryam doesn’t quite dare touch it. Gasping for breath, she stares down at the spear poking out of her chest.

She suffered her fair share of injuries already and is well-accustomed to pain. But this… this feels different. It’s like her body is somehow aware that this injury is fatal, that the bit of wood poking out of her chest is about to kill her, and sending her into a panic accordingly.

Against her will, her mind begins to race through ways to still save herself, even though she knows that it’s hopeless. If it was someone else with the same injury, she might be able to save them – emphasis on the might, though – but not on herself. She cannot move enough to patch up the bleeding, and by now, her fingers are cold and shaking, which is not a good sign. And if she were to pull out the spear, she would pass out within seconds. Besides, even if she was able to stop the bleeding, what good would it do? Instead of bleeding out, she would simply drown.

Miryam wraps her fingers around the spear’s handle. Maybe she should pull it out. She will die anyways. Why bleed out slowly over minutes, or drown when the ocean comes crashing down around her? It would be faster that way.

Her fingers tighten around the handle, but for all she tries, she cannot bring herself to pull it out. So much for being prepared to die. Her grip loosens and she sobs.

She closes her eyes, trying to ignore her racing heart. (Really, you’d think that it would have the sense to beat more slowly. Doesn’t her body realize that this is just making her bleed out more quickly?)

Desperately, she tries to calm herself. There’s no need for her to panic – what happened cannot be changed now, and anyways, does she really get to complain? She got everything she wanted. (Well, except for a chance to live, but if her biggest goal had been to grow old, she really shouldn’t have started this war.) Her people are free and safe, every last one of them. The war is won, slavery abolished, Ravenia defeated and soon dead.

There will be peace. And the sad truth is that her death was the requirement for peace to be possible from the beginning. Shey and the other Fae would never accept any other outcome. As long as she lives, they will keep trying to kill her, and maybe drag other people into it as well. Really, her dying in this battle is the ideal outcome.

She always knew she was ready to die for this. Then why can’t she just take it calmly now?

Maybe she would be able to accept it if it wasn’t so unnecessary, so unfair. For all that she tries to tell herself that she is dying so that the other humans could get away, that isn’t entirely true. They wouldn’t even be here if not for the Alliance Fae and their stupid, irrational paranoia.

It’s unfair and it’s cruel and Miryam doesn’t want to die. Not here, not like this. Not all alone in the middle of the ocean, bleeding out slowly with no one she cares about there to hold her hand as she dies. Leaving Drakon behind to probably wonder for the rest of his life if she went against his back and did this on purpose.

She doesn’t want to die at all, if she is being honest. That’s why she can’t bring herself to pull out the spear. She so very badly wants to live, to see everything she fought for become reality. But she won’t get to, just like Jurian didn’t get to, and it isn’t fucking fair.

----

Nephelle always hated watching battles. When she was younger, after she had first gotten together with Sinna, it was unbearable. Watching her partner go out to battle while she was left behind, useless, unable to participate always felt terrible. Looking back, this, more than anything else, was what initially made her want to join the army. She didn’t want to be left behind, wanted to be by Sinna’s side and prove to her that she could keep up.

It took the war for her to get over that feeling and realize that just because Sinna is a soldier, it doesn’t mean she has to be one as well to be worth something or equal to her. During the last battles, it was easier to stay behind, but this time, knowing how bad their odds are, it’s a nightmare again.

Nephelle ended up in the middle of the human column, together with a few of the other cartographers. A few feet into the passage, she found an elderly man with a stiff left leg and has been helping him along since. With him leaning on her shoulder, she kept walking, all the while trying desperately to keep her eyes trained on the faraway shore instead of looking back towards the battle and imagining the people she loves dying while she is running.

Nephelle is three-fourths through when a commotion happens at the end of the group. People begin to push, forcing those at the front to move faster as well. Nephelle tries to turn around, to see what is happening, but she gets pushed along in the general chaos. She only barely manages to keep a hold of the man she was helping and now has to support a good proportion of his weight. She doesn’t think anyone who is close to her knows what is going on, only that apparently something happened and they need to get away.

It’s a miracle, of perhaps proof of how much the humans care for each other, that things do not spiral into a full-fledged panic. Even in their fear, the humans still watch out for each other. No one gets trampled underfoot or left behind.

After several minutes of running, pushing, tripping, Nephelle gets swept onto the beach. Most people keep moving further inland, like they need to get away as far as possible from the ocean to be safe, but Nephelle now pushes her way towards the edge of the group. She deposits the man she was helping in the sand by the side of the ocean, pausing to ask if he is alright (his is) or needs any further help (no, thank you, he can get by on his own now). Then, she circles back towards the water. By the side of the passage, she stops, standing up on her toes to look out over the people who are still pouring out of the passage.

It takes a while for her to spot a familiar face, a Seraphim soldier who works as a captain under Sinna. He must have been at the back of the group, tasked to protect them should things go wrong, if he is already back at the shore.

“Likian!” She shouts as loudly as she can. (Which is very loud. Sinna once showed her how to make her voice loud enough to be heard over the battlefield.) “Likian, over here!”

Likian looks around, spots Nephelle and pushes his way through the crowd over to her, people making way far more easily for him than they did for her. He has a cut at his brow, and a second one along the side of his wing.

“What’s going on back there?” Nephelle asks. Have you seen Sinna?

Likian shakes his head. “It’s a mess,” he pants. “Complete chaos. Ravenia’s soldiers are everywhere. She had some of them winnow in, and they attacked the back of the column. We only barely made it out.”

Nephelle’s stomach twists. Miryam was at the end of the column. She looks around, trying to find her, but in the chaos, it is nearly impossible to make out individual people. Still, shouldn’t Miryam be easy to spot? If she was here, surely she would be trying to get some sort of order into that chaos, calm people down, anything like that.

“What about Miryam?” She asks. “Have you seen her?”

Likian shakes his head. “Some of the humans were asking after her as well,” he says. “I haven’t seen her, though. But everything was so chaotic, I wouldn’t put too much stock in that.”

“But she should be here already, shouldn’t she?” Nephelle presses.

There are fewer people streaming out of the passage now, and still, no sign of Miryam. Of course, she might still be at the very back, trying to help the slowest of the humans. Still, Nephelle should be able to spot her from here, and she can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

“You need to go back,” Nephelle says, turning to Likian. “Take some other soldiers with you, too, to help you search.”

Likian backs away a step, like she has suddenly grown fangs. “I’m not going back in there,” he says. “The ocean will be coming down any moment. Do I look like I want to drown?”

“Someone needs to go looking for her!” Nephelle snaps, voice growing loud. A few of the nearby humans turn to stare at her.

“Why? She either made it out alive along with the rest, or she’s dead. Either way, me getting myself killed won’t help her.”

Nephelle takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. “I think,” she says softly, voice biting, “that you are a coward.”

Usually, calling men cowards gets them to do whatever you want them to. But Likian must be truly terrified of going back into the ocean, because he barely reacts at all.

“And I think that being General Sinna’s partner does not make you a general yourself, so you don’t get to give me orders,” he says, not quite sharp yet but certainly not pleasant either. “We came here,” he continues, each word pointed, “because Princess Miryam asked us to. I fought in Rahine, and I fought on that damned ocean floor so that the mortals would be able to escape, and I never once complained. I did it gladly. But I’ve got a family at home, and I will not throw my life away here for the off-chance to safe one person, even if she is our Princess.”

Nephelle resents the fact that she can’t even hate him for it, with this reasoning. In his situation, she might even choose the same way. But Miryam isn’t just her Princess, she’s her friend, and Nephelle will never simply leave a friend behind to die. She looks around, but Drakon and Sinna, who would listen to her, are likely still at battle and she can’t make out any other familiar faces. She could go looking for other soldiers, see if she finds one who is willing to take the risk, but that would take too long.

“Fine,” she says, turning away from Likian and stretching her wings, the left one aching with the movement. “Then I’ll go.”

Before she so much as makes it one step, Likian is next to her, grabbing her by the arm. “Come on, Nephelle, don’t be stupid,” he says. “For all you know, she might be here already, perfectly fine. In this chaos, who would notice? No use throwing your life away like this.”

Nephelle shakes his arm off. “If you don’t want to go, fine. But don’t you dare try to stop me.”

She flares her wings, ignoring the pain shooting through the muscles in the left one, and takes off. Below her, there are still humans hurrying for the shore. Some of them shoot Nephelle looks as they pass, likely wondering why she is flying in the opposite direction, but none of them call out to her. And for all that she looks, Nephelle can’t make out Miryam anywhere among them.

She stays close to the ocean floor, low enough that she won’t miss anyone who might be injured down there. Down here, she needs to circle around jagged rocks poking out of the ocean floor, but she doesn’t dare to fly higher for fear of passing Miryam without noticing. By now, there are no humans running below her anymore, only the bare ocean floor. On either side of her, the ocean is raging, walls of water reaching far into the sky and straining against the barriers that are pushing them back.

It is cold down here, far colder than on the shore, and the wind that’s keeping the water at bay makes flying more difficult. Within minutes, the muscles in Nephelle’s wings begin to cramp up, pain shooting through her wings and down her back. Around her, there is only the endless ocean.

Maybe this was a mistake. For all she knows, Miryam may be at the shore already, safe with the others. And Sinna will be at the shore soon, too. Nephelle wanted to be there to welcome her. What if Sinna is back before her and notices she is missing? She will be worried sick. Nephelle doesn’t want her to worry – she knows all too well what it is like to know a loved one in danger – and she certainly doesn’t want to die out here and leave Sinna behind.

She looks back at the shore over her shoulder. It is so far away now. She’s the only living creature around by now, but below on the floor, she can make out the first corpses and in the distance, she can see the battle raging. Now, she’s already gotten this far. Turning around without checking for Miryam would be stupidity.

She dives lower still, scanning the motionless bodies on the ground. Humans. Seraphim. Black Land Fae. Nephelle takes care not to look at any of the faces for too long. Just check if she spots Miryam and move on. She doesn’t want to know if she knows any of the dead lying there, all she cares about is if there’s anyone down there that can still be saved.

All she finds are corpses, though. She glances back to the safety of the shore, so far away now. She is getting closer and closer to the battle and if she goes any further, she will risk getting caught in the outskirts of the fighting. She really should turn around. Likian was right. Miryam isn’t here, or if she is, chances are she is dead. All Nephelle will accomplish is getting herself killed.

Wings dragging with the weight of failure, Nephelle turns to the right, flying a wide circle around one of the bigger rocks poking out of the ground. She just makes to fly higher when she notices the figure leaning against it.

“Miryam!” Nephelle lets herself drop to the ground, feet away from her.

Miryam opens her eyes just as her feet touch the wet sand. “Nephelle?” She asks. Her voice sounds rough.

Nephelle’s eyes wander from her face to her chest, where her clothes are soaked red with blood. A jagged bit of wood is poking out of her chest, the broken end of some spear or arrow.

Nephelle’s stomach turns and she has to bite back a gasp. She spent long enough with the army to know a potentially deadly injury when she sees one. Instinctively, she takes a step forward, raising her hands to do something, but she is no healer. She does not have the necessary skills to heal an injury like this, and if she tries, chances are she will only make things worse.

Miryam pushes herself upright, hissing in pain. “Why are you here?” She asks. “I thought…” She gasps slightly, briefly closing her eyes. “I thought you escaped with the others.

“I…” Nephelle clears her throat, forcefully tearing her eyes away from the spear poking out of Miryam’s chest. “I was looking for you.”

She takes a deep breath, shaking off her shock. All she needs to do is get Miryam back to the shore. They have healers there. They can get the very best healers, and she will be fine.

“You should go,” Miryam says.

“Yeah, we should both go.” Nephelle looks around, searching for anyone to help and finding nothing but corpses. Alone, she can’t carry Miryam. “Come on,” she says, offering her hands. “Get up. We need to get you to the shore.”

Miryam shakes her head. Her entire body is trembling slightly and her face seems bloodless. “I can’t.”

“Well, you need to,” Nephelle says, glancing over towards the battlefield. What if enemy soldiers find them here like this? “They’ll let the ocean come down soon enough, and I don’t want to be here when it happens.”

She offers Miryam a hand again, but she just shakes her head. “You should leave me. Go save yourself while you still can.” She stares down at her blood-stained chest. “Just… tell Drakon that I didn’t mean for this to happen. And my people… he needs to keep them save, he…” She shakes her head, clearly struggling to focus. “He promised me… tell him to remember what he promised.”

“You tell him yourself.”

“Nephelle, this is a fatal injury,” Miryam says. She likely meant to sound firm, but her voice is trembling as hard as she is. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Like hell. “I flew all that way here to find you,” Nephelle says. “If you think I’m going to turn around and leave you to die now, you ought to think again. So we can die here together or we can try to get to the shore.”

This time when Nephelle holds out a hand to help Miryam up, she takes it although Nephelle still basically has to drag her to her feet and then wrap an arm around her waist to keep her upright. Miryam’s face is tight and she looks so pale that Nephelle fears she might pass out any moment. Her tunic seems to turn an even deeper shade of red.

“We’ll take it slow,” Nephelle says, trying to fight her rising panic. She looks over at the shore. It’s only a few miles, but with Miryam, it might as well be fifty. “It isn’t that far,” she lies and starts walking, carrying Miryam along more than anything else.

----

The battle is pure chaos. There are no clear lines, no formations or strategies, nothing. It is everything Drakon hates about battles, only increased tenfold. He doesn’t know how long it has been going on, only that they have been pushed back far already, that the ground is littered with the dead and dying and that he is beginning to shake with the effort to keep his power controlled.

Around him, his soldiers don’t seem to fare much better. Many of them are panting, sweat running down their temples, as they desperately try to keep both the water and the enemies at bay. Flapping his wings a few times, Drakon propels himself a few feet into the air, trying to get an overview of the battlefield.

The fighting is so chaotic that he cannot make out much, but from up here, he sees that they have been pushed back until close to the middle of the passage already and are currently being swarmed completely. Not much longer and the Black Land soldiers will break through entirely, and they cannot allow that.

When he looks to the other side, he sees that most of the humans have already made it to the shore. A few are still in the passage, but they will make it to the shore within the next few moments.

They cannot wait any longer. They need to retreat now or risk losing everything.

Drakon whistles once, sharply, the signal quickly picked up by his captains and commanders. One by one, the Seraphim begin to disengage from the battle and shoot into the air.

At the far end of the passage, the ocean starts crashing down.

----

They’ve only made it twenty feet and Miryam looks like she might collapse any moment when they hear a roaring sound behind them. Nephelle turns around, pulling Miryam along with her, just in time to see the ocean at the far end of the passage come down. The noise is deafening, spray glinting white in the sunlight.

For a moment, Nephelle is frozen in fear. Mesmerized, she watches tons of water come crashing down to the ocean floor with all the force of a tornado.

Then, the fear settles in like a punch to the gut. The ocean is crashing down, they are miles from shore and in minutes at most, the place where they are currently standing will be hundreds of feet under water.

She can fly out. Miryam can’t, though. She can’t even walk.

“Go,” Miryam says, voice barely more than a whisper. “Please.”

Nephelle shakes her head. The only way out is flying. Another Seraphim might stand a chance of carrying Miryam – Sinna occasionally carries her into the air – but Nephelle certainly can’t. And yet, flying is their only chance.

Looking up, she can see Seraphim rising into the air from the battlefield. For a brief moment, Nephelle hopes that one of them might spot them down here and come to help, but they fly high above the ocean and seem to have eyes for nothing but the distant shore. Sinna is with them, that much is sure. When she gets to the shore, she will notice Nephelle isn’t there and she will be worried sick. Just like Drakon will worry about Miryam.

She should at least give it a try. Nephelle tries to readjust her grip on Miryam, making her gasp in pain.

“I’ll try to fly us out,” she says. “It’s the only way we’ll be fast enough.”

“Nephelle, please,” Miryam whispers, but doesn’t say anything else. Nephelle very purposefully does not contemplate how badly she must be doing if she isn’t arguing harder.

She needs to get them out of here. And the only way to do that is to fly them both out. She flares her wings, flapping them twice, thrice, and then takes to the air.

She only barely manages to not fall right back to the ground. Pain shoots through her left wing, muscles cramping as it nearly gives in under her, and she wobbles under Miryam’s weight. Desperately, she flaps her wings, but no matter how hard she tries, she can’t get them more than two feet into the air. Getting them high enough that they are out of the water’s path like this is about as likely as Miryam suddenly growing wings and flying on her own.

“You’re heavier than you look,” Nephelle gasps, mostly to distract herself from the pain.

Miryam doesn’t reply and Nephelle’s heart clenches. Her hands are already slick with blood.

“Alright,” she gasps, flapping her wings in spite of the pain shooting through her body. “It’s only two miles.” Two miles over the ocean floor, with jagged rocks barring her way and tons of water only waiting to come crashing down on them. “I can fly us two miles.”

After that, Nephelle doesn’t say anything else, all her strength going into keeping them in the air. Her breath is soon coming in ragged gasps, her wings are burning, but somehow, she keeps herself and Miryam flying. It’s all she can focus on, one wingbeat after the other. Don’t crash into the jagged rocks standing everywhere. Sometimes, they stand close enough together that the tips of Nephelle’s wings brush the stone.

Behind her, the water is still roaring as it reclaims its territory. Nephelle doesn’t dare to look back to see how close to them the approaching death is already. Miryam is limp in her arms.

All she can do is keep flying towards the distant shore, praying that she will be fast enough.

----

Come on, Miryam begs herself. Just a little longer. You just need to hold on for a little bit.

When Nephelle took off, she tried to cling onto her as well as she could, to make herself as light as possible. Now, all she can do anymore is fight against unconsciousness – and she is in the process of losing even that fight.

She is so cold. If she had any strength left, she would probably be shaking, but as it is, she can’t even lift her head to see how far away the shore is. The edge of her vision is swimming, darkness closing in. She can’t feel her fingers anymore.

The small part of her brain that is still able to function rationally tells her that she is fighting a losing battle, that she is already dying and nothing she does will keep death at bay.

Still, though, she fights it. The shore must be so close now, so very close. She could make it, she could…

Her thoughts are beginning to fracture, desperately, she tries to focus.

She just needs to hold on until they get to shore. Then, they… Her people are there. Drakon… He promised… She doesn’t remember what it was he promised, only that it was important. She can make it, she… Not like this, she doesn’t want…

She is so cold. But it barely hurts anymore. Without the pain, it is easier. She’ll will just close her eyes, only for a moment, and then…

----

Drakon’s knees give out from under him as he lands on the shore and he lets himself drop to the ground. He is trembling, his stomach twisting and turning as his power desperately tries to give out. He refuses to let it, though. He doesn’t know if there are people still out in the ocean, people who will die if they just let the ocean crash down too quickly.

For the first time, he probably comes close to understanding what Miryam feels like after using her power. It is not pleasant at all.

Around him, other Seraphim soldiers drop to the ground as well. To his left, one of them throws up. Another presses her fingers against her temples.

Drakon manages to keep the struggle with his power going for another minute or so before being forced to give up. For a few moments, he merely sits on the ground, gasping for air, trying to control his racing heart.

They made it. They actually made it. He stares up at the sky, not quite able to believe that they got out of this alive.

“Drakon!” Sinna calls.

Drakon tries to sit up, nearly falling over again as the world starts to spin around him. Slowly, he looks up at Sinna who is standing in front of him, swaying slightly. Her nose is bleeding and there is panic in her eyes.

“Nephelle is gone,” she says.

“What?” Drakon’s head clears a little, worry taking over, and he slowly pushes himself up to his feet. Nephelle can’t be gone. She was in the middle of the human column, and most of the humans made it to shore by now. “What do you mean, gone?”

“Gone! One of my soldiers told me. And Miryam is apparently unaccounted for as well. They say Nephelle was looking for her.”

“What?” Drakon manages to fight his way to his feet, dread settling in his stomach.

Miryam can’t be unaccounted for. She had guards with her, and she was safe with the other humans. They all made it out alive as far as he knows. Miryam should have been with them. She has to be with them. Chances are she’s just somewhere in this chaos and he simply hasn’t seen her yet. And Nephelle wouldn’t have flown back into the passage on her own. Would she?

“But there isn’t anyone in that passage anymore?” He asks. “Right?”

Sinna doesn’t answer. She is already striding back towards the coastline, humans and Seraphim alike parting to make space for her. Drakon hurries after her, still a little unsteady on his feet.

The passage they made through the ocean is already more than halfway collapsed, more water coming down by the second. The roaring can be heard even from here, drops of water are hanging in the air like crystals, light painting rainbows into the air. A few Seraphim are still flying in the air above the ocean, but at the first glance, the passage itself seems deserted.

Next to him, Sinna breathes in sharply, taking half a step forward as if she’s about to jump into the passage. A moment later, Drakon spots the lone Seraphim flying through the collapsing passage as well. She is flying low, so low her feet can be no more than a foot above the ground, and although Drakon is too far away for him to make out any details, she is clearly carrying another person in her arms.

Nephelle. And Miryam.

Drakon’s heart misses a beat, terror surging through him and chasing away any lingering dizziness. He flares his wings, ready to take off, but Sinna grabs him by the arm before he can actually do so.

“Don’t,” she says, her voice tight with barely-concealed emotion. “Your magic is completely drained – you won’t be able to fly.”

“But we need to do something!”

Nephelle is still a bit ahead of the water that’s rushing back into the passage, but it is catching up quickly. She doesn’t seem to be able to fly any higher, barely seems to be keeping to the air, and she keeps having to circle around the rocks that poke out of the ocean floor. And Miryam… He prays she is unharmed, that Nephelle is only carrying her because she can’t fly and not for some other reason.

He looks around, trying to spot a soldier who is still able to fly. But all Seraphim he sees seem to be in a worse state than he is.

Sinna didn’t even bother to look around. She just keeps her eyes fixed on Nephelle, like she is scared she will disappear the moment she looks away.

“She’ll make it,” she whispers, fingers clenching at her side. “I know she will.”

----

Nephelle can barely keep herself in the air anymore. The pain in her wings is growing by the second. Whenever she thinks it won’t get any worse, it does, and by now, the muscles in her shoulders and back are beginning to cramp up.

In her arms, Miryam is entirely limp. In the beginning, she was still trying to help, to hold on to Nephelle on her own, but now, she hasn’t moved in a while. Nephelle wants to try talking to her, to somehow make sure that she’s still alive, but she can’t spare the breath. She can only pray that Miryam is only unconscious, not…

Just a little longer, she thinks, unsure if she is begging Miryam or herself. You just need to hold on for a little longer, then it will all be fine.

Slowly, painfully, she lifts her had to look up at the shore. It still seems so far away, but it is closer than the last time she looked. And she can make out figures standing by the beach.

She wonders if Sinna is standing there, watching her. The thought makes her tired wings flap faster again. She will get back to Sinna. She will. And then, they are going to get married. In spring, maybe. A spring wedding would be wonderful.

She is sure Sinna is there, watching. Drakon as well, probably. She will get back, and get Miryam back as well. Then, everything will be fine. The war is over and they will go home and never have to fight another battle again.

So Nephelle keeps flying, even as her wings ache and she wants nothing more than to let herself fall to the ground. She doesn’t have the strength left to look back at the ocean that is still chasing her, or forward to the awaiting beach, but she can hear the roaring water getting closer.

She keeps flying. One wingbeat after the other. Until eventually, the wet sand under her gets replaced by the soft, white sand of the beach. Wings giving out under her, she only barely manages to land on her feet and gently deposit Miryam in the sand before collapsing next to her.

Black dots are dancing before her eyes, and for a few moments, all she can do is gasp for air. Her wings cramp up hard and she sobs.

“Nephelle!” Sinna crashes down to her knees next to her, reaching out to cup her face with her hands. “Cauldron, Nephelle. Are you alright?”

Nephelle nods, still gasping, trying and failing to get to her feet. “Miryam…” She manages. Is she alive? She wants to ask. Next to her, she can hear Drakon calling for a healer.

Sinna still understands. Within a heartbeat, she is on her feet and stands next to Drakon who is kneeling next to Miryam. Nephelle doubles over in pain just as Sinna reaches for Miryam, maybe trying to take the pulse or do some first aid. She looks up again just in time to see Sinna slowly shaking her head.

----

A/N (a long one this time): This is the one chapter out of the entire story that was most closely dictated by canon, and I cannot say it made things pleasant. As some of you may know, I am keeping this fic canon compliant mostly as a challenge to myself (as I do not like canon and it is also full of plotholes). This chapter... made it difficult.

For one, having Miryam get killed at this stage, and by Ravenia no less, was not a choice I would have made for multiple reasons. I tried very hard to make it make sense thematically, ease the (what I found to be) absolutely terrible feeling of her getting killed by her former owner of all people and generally make it fit in with Miryam WINNING in the grand scheme of things. I hope I succeeded.

That aside, I had to make a few exceptions on my rule to stick to what canon dictates (if with a few twists) because some of the details canon offered made no sense, and others were part of a narrative that (to me) felt somewhat ableist in its implications and that I refused to include in my writing. (I’m referring to both Nephelle’s disability basically disappearing and her somehow being able to fly completely perfectly and without any issues (adrenaline will make lots of things possible, but that is too much) as well as that entire business with her (in canon unnamed) lover asking her to marry her directly after, which felt like it was some sort of “reward” for her being able to do something her disability normally made impossible.) In general, there is a lot wrong with that entire sequence in canon, and I tried to ease/change what I could.I hope you liked how I chose to handle it.

Finally, once again, a huge thanks to @croissantcitysucks. Without his help, I don’t think I would have been able to get through writing this chapter, and a few of the ideas to fix things (or meta stuff) were their ideas. (Seriously, thank you so much, Lyn. You are absolutely amazing <3)

Tags: @femtopulsed @aileywrites

#sorry for the cliffhanger guys #also #this chapter was meant to be SHORT #it's over 13k words #yes i'm good at keeping things brief /s #jurian #miryam #before the wall #drakon

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 5: Cramped Spaces. Mista x F Reader 🎀

[Scarlet Ribbons description]

This takes place in Guido Mista’s route, which branches off from the main Scarlet Ribbons story.

Description: Mista never has good timing, but this has to be the worst you’ve ever seen. Not SFW. Tags: Slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, blow jobs, boob jobs, throatfucking, and partially clothed sex. Word count: 1.5k.

You’ve never seen such a disaster of a night.

The expectation of plans going exactly as they are meant to is one you’ve never held, especially when you’re paired up with Mista. Improvisation seems to be his middle name. That’s all well and good. What’s not good is the fact you’ve lost sight of your target, and are currently knee-deep in enemy territory.

Mista is running just ahead, gun at the ready, and you’re following suit. You’re both concerned with the same thing, do you risk fighting here? This building isn’t an ideal place for Mista’s Stand. A cramped nightclub filled to the brim with tourists and locals alike, music blasting at full volume and strobe lights blinding. It’s too risky that bystanders would get caught in the middle.

Even if you could find a more open area to fight, that might not be in your best interest. The rumor of another gang selling narcotics at this establishment is what got you two assigned to this job. Getting in a fight with them now could lead to a full blown turf war, the last thing Passione needs at the moment. This was purely meant to be reconnaissance, not a confrontation. Now it feels like you’ve swatted at a wasp nest.

Utilizing all your stamina to continue weaving in and out of the crowd behind Mista, he suddenly makes a sharp turn into a storage closet. Maybe he’s hoping to gather our bearings, you think. It’s a good idea for the two of you to be on the same page. You follow in behind him, closing the door and wrapping ribbons around the handle for good measure. There, now no one should be able to open it.

“So, what are we supposed to do?” you speak up while shuffling around, trying to get used to this constrictive space. It doesn’t help that it’s so dark you can barely see a thing in here. “I’m pretty sure Mariano spotted one of us. God, what a mess... now they know we’re onto them. Should I call Bucciarati?”

No response.

Well, that’s odd. Mista’s nothing if not talkative. Frowning, you squint, eyes still adjusting to the dim light from a single lightbulb overhead. Mista’s chest is heaving for air. Was the run that winding? You were only sprinting for less than a minute, you’ve seen him exercising for longer periods of time than that. Concern floods into your being at his unnerving silence. Leaning closer to him, you inspect for any possible injuries, hearing how he inhales sharply as you brush against him in the process.

You’re not seeing any visible wounds. “Mista? Are you alright?”

“A-ah, I’m fine [First], just... catching my breath, that’s all...” He trails off, gulping at the end of his sentence. Why does he sound so apprehensive? You feel something hard against the inside of your thigh, mind temporarily going blank. Wait. Hold on just a moment. Everything is starting to add up. Glancing down, you take notice of how your chest is pressing right against his. It doesn’t help that this outfit is particularly revealing, in hopes of blending in with the night crowd. Your cleavage is visible even in the sparse lighting.

“For fucks sake, Mista,” you whisper yell to him, flicking his forehead. “Now is not the time for this!”

“I know that! It’s just, god, you look so hot tonight and I just want to,” he takes a deep breath and cuts himself off. You can tell he’s trying his best to calm down, but now you feel flustered as well. “And we haven’t... well, y’know, in a while because we’re both so busy--”

“You can’t be serious.” You deadpan. Here you two are, on the brink of a possible firefight, and Mista’s incapable of not being horny for just a few minutes. Not that you don’t understand where’s he coming from. With all the work on your plates it’s been far too long since you’ve been intimate together, warmth gathering between your legs at the thought. I guess we’re both a mess. How romantic.

It’s difficult to know what you’re doing without a clear source of light, but you start pulling his pants down, much to his surprise. “Babe, wait, what?”

“Be quiet, would you,” you curse yourself for stuttering, cheeks flushing as you sink down to your knees. The last thing you need is for his head to be in the gutter when your lives are on the line. “I’ll just-- take care of this, so you can use your brain to full compacity again.”

“It’s not like I’m complainin’ or anything, trust me. Fuck, okay, I’ll be honest, this is really hot. I’ve jerked off to the thought of this at least once... maybe twice, actually.”

You manage to get his pants down as he rambles on. He bites his lower lip when you take his length out, which has hardened considerably. Running your fingers up and down his cock, you feel the most prominent veins throbbing from your movements. Stroking him further, the muscles in his legs go taut, and an idea comes to mind. The easy access of your revealing top allows for you to pull your boobs out. Mista’s mind goes blank when you settle his dick in between your cleavage.

“Ahh, fuck, yes,” he groans, bucking into your movements frantically. “I’ve always wanted... to fuck those pretty tits of yours, nn...”

You hum in acknowledgement, pressing your lips around the head of his cock. His precum tastes salty, but you don’t mind, tongue coming out to lap all of him up. Mista throws his head back at the sensation, numerous curses leaving his lips. It feels nice knowing you have this effect on him. While you pleasure his length with your chest, your mouth focuses on sucking and kissing the tip of his dick.

Mista’s hands curl into your hair, pulling your face as close to him as he can. “Make good use of that cute little mouth of yours. Take all of me in.”

Obliging to his command, you open your mouth further, taking in all of his pulsing cock. Mista doesn’t give you any time to adjust. He starts thrusting into your mouth, the sudden sensation causing you to gag. You press your hands on his thighs to keep your balance, feeling how his balls hit your chin with every desperate thrust. He’s too occupied fucking your mouth to think about anything, the loud wet noises he’s making, or the moans that continue falling from his lips.

“Y-you like that, don’t you?” he gasps, slamming his dick into your mouth like a man possessed. “Little... slut... dressing like that... you wanted me to do this to you. Wanted me to use you like the little whore you are.”

You whine against him, the vibration almost sending him over the edge. “Nngh... I’m gonna come right in your mouth, take all of it...!”

Just a few moments later, Mista lets out a low growl, halting his feverish movements. He releases hot loads of cum down your throat, pressing himself so tightly against you that it’s difficult to breathe. Your heart is pounding while he remains still, salty cum coating your tongue. He’s gasping for air when he finally pulls his softening dick from your mouth. Grimacing, you manage to swallow as he asked. Some globs of his cum dribbles down your face from your mouth. That’s going to be a pain to clean up...

Neither of you say a word. Mista puts himself away, then offers you a hand to help get up.

“What a gentleman.” You comment with a roll of your eyes, using the back of your hand to wipe at your mouth. At least your lungs are able to get the air they so desperately need now. A part of you almost forgot the situation you were in entirely, too preoccupied with your horny boyfriend. Not that you’re much better, seeing as your panties are completely soaked. He’s gonna pay for that later. Now you have to walk around the rest of the night in these...

“I second that,” Mista hums. He’s beaming at you, smoothing over your messy hair. “I’ll eat you out later, don’t even worry about it babe. Or we can just fuck, whatever you like.”

“How about we find a way out of this mess first?”

He blinks, realization hitting him. “Oh yeah, I kinda forgot about that.”

“Mista, you’re unbelievable...”

#mista fuckers this one is for you #love u <3 #what if you wanted to go to heaven #and god was like #hey man remember this #not sfw #guido mista #kinktober #mista x reader #mista imagine #mista guido x reader #guido mista x reader #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #vento aureo #vento aureo x reader #Golden Wind #scarlet ribbons #my stuff

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Text

Two Faced | Chapter Five

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it's all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared. for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au, angst, fluff, slice of life etc word count :: 3k author note :: just got diagnosed with covid so i have a lot of spare time on my hands so ummm send in any requests you have into my ask box i’d love to try doing headcanons!! → next part is here!!

Erwin sees the confused look you have and now he too seems lost as he shifts his line of vision to Levi. At that moment your husband slams his heel and grinds it onto your foot. Squirming around in your seat dealing with the stinging pain you catch on that you can't let Erwin think you're clueless.

Quickly, the look of confusion washes away from your features and you return his smile. "I'm willing to do what I must."

You think you've ruined this entirely because Erwin's eyes dart suspiciously between you and your husband. However, Hange intervenes, the interference seems to be enough for him to shake off any skepticism he senses.

Two hands hold onto your frame and squeeze your shoulders. Hange is standing up and seems ecstatic."You two are just so evil." they cackle to themself and you play along laughing too. You are not giving Levi the opportunity to ram into your foot again. Hange who is practically a personified ray of Sunshine at all times does still seem a little down, you did pick up on it when you entered the room. Maybe it was just you overthinking, that's what you assure yourself with.

Then it settles in your bones. Evil? Blinking you turn to look at Levi hoping for some sort of indication about whatever is going on.

"She wouldn't listen to me at all, said she felt the need to step in and help the Empire in some way." His tone is monotonous, still not sparing you a glance and you want to kick him in the shins. He's usually much more affectionate and you're afraid Squad Leader Hange and Commander Erwin will figure out this is all a facade.

"It's a noble commitment to put yourself forward for such a risky position, I see why you and Lance Corporal Levi are a sound match." Erwin isn't smiling this time but his tone is content.

Mind now buzzing with ideas you want to fall face first into the carpeted floor of the office spread out like a starfish. You would prefer that instead of being left in the dark. Could they simply mention the name of whatever it is you've apparently offered to do?

Levi's clearly grimaces but then he moves to hold your hand rather boldly. Shaking him off isn't an available option because of his strong grip. "She wouldn't listen to me at all. If I had it my way she wouldn't step anywhere near enemy soil." He grumbles.

The fake concern he's trying to lace in his voice is having an effect on his two colleagues, they're eating it up and believe this act.

Enemy soil? Risky position? He has to be stealthily plotting your death because you see no other reason for why you would be sent off to venture anywhere near the enemy. You aren't even apart of their regime, or any regime for that matter, you're itching with nervousness and want to free your hand from his desperately.

The only emotion this man is good at feigning is straight boredom, he ignores the way your hand shakes and squirms, ignores how your palms are dampening with sweat, instead the way he holds onto you only strengthens. It's surprising that no one has said a word about the lack of chemistry between the two of you.

Suddenly Hange looks down at their pocket watch and hurriedly gets to their feet dragging Erwin up with them too. "Y/N, I have something to tell you later on, please do stop by HQ when you can, I expect that will be soon." They then tell Erwin that there's no time to loiter and that there are more important meetings to attend to.

Erwin leans into your ear and whispers. "He seems disturbed that you're putting yourself at risk. He means well." You wish that were the case but it isn't. Despite that the way Erwin tries to explain Levi's behavior is sweet.

Hange gives you a cute thumbs up but makes it a point that you need to speak later on, even as they're both walking out the door Hange keeps reminding you to meet up later on. The abnormal behavior between you and Levi may have been noticed but you know if that were the case Hange would have been more vocal about it.

"Combat classes start soon. We know this will all be difficult, building you up from scratch is hazardous but all in good time you will serve a key role in the liberation of Paradis."

Erwin's parting words are gracious.

And then both the Commander and Squad Leader leave, the room is empty but Levi doesn't even wait for the door to shut behind your two visitors.

He makes it a priority to throw your hand away from his, he's now methodically using his handkerchief to dust his fingers off. It's oddly ironic and enrages you because he's the one who grappled your hand into his grasp. What's the point when those same hands until recently looped around your waist in the middle of the night?

He thinks your hand is filthy, that you yourself are filthy and disgusting. At least that's what you think he thinks.

Crossing your arms over your chest you make your feelings known to Levi. You're frustrated beyond the way words can describe, it's not about how he refuses to touch you. Admittedly that does hurt you, makes your chest swell in remembrance of the old days but you really just want to know what he's put you up to without your permission.

Not speaking you wait for him to take the hint but he doesn't get it or he refuses to acknowledge your existence, something tells you it's the latter because all he cares about is sanitizing his hands.

He always had been a clean freak but when he was enchanted it didn't take much for him to touch you. Part of you wonders if it's the nature of the touch that he wants to exterminate or the fact it's your skin he's come in contact with which is bothering him.

"Care to explain?"

"Touching someone such as yourself romantically gives me the urge to retch." The confession is as acidic as the after taste one has after a late night of drinking, but he has no problem telling you the blunt truth.

"I see." You shortly reply, you weren't asking about that, your question was directed more towards the conversation which just took place with his colleagues but now knowing he doesn't want to touch you has an emptying effect on your chest.

A silent minute passes, maybe two minutes, you're not sure all you're doing is eyeing the carpet thinking about how you would like to be asphyxiated and brought to your end, you can't handle this for much longer.

"Sign these papers, we need your written consent." His voice shows no hints hints of Lev. Last night may have been the last time you had a chance to witness him.

A stack of documents is thrown in front of you and then you see it right at the top of the pile. A sheet filled with general information, eyes skim over the "Purpose of employment" section and you don't know what churns in your stomach. Is it Exasperation? Nerves? Grief? It can't be pinpointed, it could be a mix of all three.

"An Informant."

Rereading the title you hold the paper in disbelief between your palms. "You told your regiment that I would be willing to spy in on enemy kingdoms?"

His hands rub at his forehead, he's not perturbed at all. "Is it in your blood to be ungrateful?" Brutally cynical his tone is rocky.

He moves - not even towards you but for some reason you flinch stopping him in his tracks almost immediately. Narrow ice cold eyes trace your face carefully for any signs of manipulation or deception. Gulping anxiously you know you have to be careful with what you say or do. Getting too comfortable or casual around him is a risk you are not willing to take.

"I don't think you understand. I do not have the abilities nor the skill to do this. I would cause more issues." You cautiously move to grab his arm but before you get there he takes a wide step back. He's clearly defining that there's a boundary. You won't step into his territory not when you've already invaded a large portion of it for so long.

"I am no witch. I still don't understand what happened." You mutter hoping he believes you or at least tries to.

"Then die." Levi hisses. He fixes you with his poisonous stare. "Make it quick."

Curse yourself to a life with this man who every step of the way is hoping for your death - maybe he'll even push you towards it purposefully one day. The alternative choice available is to die by the hands of that same man right now.

Guilt and regret are what you feel, you can't look death in the eye proudly. Not right now. If you can't commit to the promise you made mother then there is truly no point in making your way to the afterlife.

Cowardice is not the cause of death you want to present her with.

With a heavy heart you sign the papers.

It's been a few days since then, you've received training from some of Levi's squad, at first the combat is nerve wracking but you get to a level where you feel comfortable in terms of defense.

Oluo is slow, you've picked up on the way his stance predicts every move he's about to make. You're thankful for that because it makes training easier, he's oblivious to just how easy it is to read his movements and you snigger at that. Today he's trying a new technique, it consists of attempting to dive in the direction of one of your shoulders and suddenly darting at the other. It catches you off guard for a second but it's simple to block him. Jumping back from another surprise attack you lunge forward as if you're aiming for his face. He lights up thinking this is his chance unbeknownst to him you've already seen the open opportunity you've been waiting for. You can change the wager in this brawl. Swiftly ducking you undercut him with one of your legs, his balance has been knocked and he stumbles teetering by a thread.

A solid kick to his stomach is all it takes for him to collapse to the ground grumbling in vexation.

Mikasa has been helping you with one on one combat and the extra hours of training behind the stables has clearly been of benefit.

Thinking back to your training sessions with Mikasa you frown, not because of the way she flipped you and shoved you into the dirt, no that part was quite exhilarating. It's Sasha. She's been on your mind. She has to be feeling left out, that's your fault you've kept her in the dark about joining the regime, how could you attend training with her? Your maid waiting on you whilst you were training? Impossible.

The last problem you wish to arise is everyone finding out you're Duchess Ackerman. No one has to know about that minor detail, in fact when you informed Hange and Erwin of your decision they strongly agreed it would be best to hide it.

"I think we should get you strapped into some gear. See how good you really are in the dexterity department." Oluo is spitefully mumbling under his breath red faced.

Offering him your hand he looks like he wants to smack it away, You don't have time for this, you were planning on dropping by and paying Hange their more than overdue visit after training hours were up.

ODM-gear doesn't look too hard, you're sure you can work out the mechanisms if given some time. Calculating and shifting time blocks in your head you can come to an end at Six, if and only if you're able to rush past ODM training.

"Okay, I admit you were tired today I could tell. I'll strap myself into some gear."

At this new new challenge Oluo willingly takes your hand and you heave him up.

He's got a cocky shit-eating grin sprawled across his face as he pats your back enthusiastically.

"Good luck, you're in for one hell of a ride."

Three dimensional ODM-gear, a contraption that is very different to a sword or dagger. Most soldiers find it difficult to master the balancing of all their body weight whilst simultaneously gliding through the air with the grapple hooks. This is why introductory lessons in balance, momentum and effective weight distribution are a must.

It's been instructed that you won't be using ODM-gear nearly as much as other members of the regiment, you're training to become a spy after all and ODM-gear is very obviously visible when a person is strapped into their uniform. Nevertheless it's still a requirement to be able to use it. It's a hurdle because it's not your forte by any means but you can't continue avoiding it.

When living as the Duchess you deemed it pivotal to only interact with a limited number of Levi's colleagues, those who worked at the estate couldn't be avoided such as Mikasa but apart from that Hange was the only outsider you spoke to (Before Erwin had come along). You don't know if you regret that decision because it's definitely why everyone is cackling as you thrash around, they have no idea he has a wife and if they do they show no inclination of knowing you are that woman.

Sniggers can be heard as you struggle to center your strength fully, your instructor bellows at you. "No, come on. STOP FLAILING AROUND!" Particles of his saliva fly in your face and that only feeds into your embarrassment. Paralyzed you don't know what to do, he tells you to not move around then the next minute barks at you to not give up, repeats that you have the agility level equivalent of a sick child.

You've been stuck in this upside down position for more time than you can imagine, at some point a large majority of the scouts including Oluo double down in laughter whenever you make a mistake - they berate you when you are trying your best.

Legs kicking out you're panicking and want to escape the harness you're in.

Oluo was right, nothing could prepare you for this.

Mikasa when she isn't busy assisting Levi is a part of the regime too, that's why she's grinding her teeth this morning when she walks into the training grounds and sees the whole scene play out right before her eyes.

She wants to desperately step in and stop this because you being forced into ODM training without having your core strength developed is unfair.

Then a yell is heard from the crowd "GO Y/N!! LISTEN TO ME ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS KEEP CALM!" Both you and Mikasa turn to see Sasha standing next to her.

Sasha? Mikasa knows very well how you forbade her to follow you today, you gave her the day off to visit her family.

"I thought Y/N warned yo-"

"I am dedicated in my service to the Lady, if she chooses to do this I will be by her side to support her. She does not have to feel embarrassed."

Members of the corps are eyeing her weirdly when she says "Lady" she doesn't know you're keeping your identity secret, that was the reason for giving her time away, you were afraid she'd slip up and expose you but simply hearing Sasha proudly announce her commitment for you in front of all these people knocks the wind right out of your chest. You've never felt this much importance before.

Sasha's motivation is all you need because by a miraculous turn of events you manage to steady your breathing pattern and find it within yourself to focus on your core. Wobbling shakily the transition is far from smooth but you flip yourself right side up, the muscles in your calf ache and throb with pain but you've done it.

Grinning from ear to ear at your two friends you feel light-headed with relief.

"Took her long enough." Levi sneers. He's made his way to the front of the crowd, you wonder when he got here. Beaming at him you think your presentation might be enough to discourage his usual response. You're incorrect.

"She's a shame to this squad, there is no need in motivating someone of her rank." Shallow breaths puffing out of you it comes to your attention that he's addressing Sasha.

She ignores what he has to say about you and stays silent, any normal person would have their head hanging down in shame but she looks into his eyes with a determination that takes your breath away.

He pays her no mind after that and turns back to where you're still struggling to keep steady. "Don't think you're hot shit." Your bottom teeth dig into your lip, and your throat suddenly clamps down on you restricting your breath. "She's no good at combat, no good at using her gear. Do you only excel at spreading lies, Cadet?" The way he's now completely indignant in the way he speaks stings. He doesn't even bother to sound normal in front of Mikasa or Sasha anymore, it makes you manually hollow your cheeks trying to keep your tears at bay.

Lies, you know what he's referencing. You want to grab him by the collar of his shirt and throw him to the muddy ground. That's what he deserves for prodding and poking at your vulnerabilities.

He doesn't understand the degree at which all these sudden changes are affecting you, in his eyes this is light work and shouldn't impact you at all, that's why when you feel a muscle contraction and reel backwards, rapidly falling back into that cursed upside down position. He scoffs, doesn't even move to check if you're okay.

Whispers circle around you and even some of the cadets who participated in ridiculing you step forward to take you out of your harness. However, Sasha and Mikasa get there first and shoot them with their intense glares, the both of them work on hoisting you out of your gear.

Levi takes one last look at you before he storms away convinced you're faking, what else would a runt like you do to escape the situation?

In his mind you lost your momentum and your ship capsized because of your own self sabotage.

Little does he know all that has truly lost momentum is the inner-workings of your heart and that is all thanks to him.

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